#its just the wildest thing to me i dunno | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-kindofgnome · 3 years

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these violent delights, pt. i

In an immersive theme park where cutting-edge technology makes your wildest dreams come true, the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur. enter westworld, where artificially intelligent automatons known as ‘hosts’ are programmed to fulfill your every delight.

(westworld AU, eventual host!dabi x reader, host!keigo takami x reader, eventual shouto todoroki x f!reader)

part one | part two | part three

featuring: hanta sero, denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, momo yaoyozoru, eijirou kirishima

part one: you prepare to enter the park for the bachelorette party your bridesmaids wanted. meanwhile, westworld’s capable employees prepare to roll out the latest programming update.

wc: 8.7k

pt. i warnings: smut (18+!), sci-fi dystopia, artificial intelligence, medical/surgical procedures, body modification. gun violence, robbery, kidnapping, drinking, death, no beta we die like teddy

notes: this is part one of my entry for The Smut Pile’s Western Collab! this is my very first server collab and I am so thrilled to be kicking it off with this plot monster. this is the first of three parts- it leans a little heavy on the world building, so stay tuned for parts two and three. the action dials up from here, promise! i’m excited to be putting out one of my first plot-heavy stories on this blog!

please note: part one borrows several events from season one, episodes one and two of the series. the story will branch off in its own direction in parts two and three. you do not need to be familiar with Westworld to enjoy this fic- so please give it a try! 💖

(MASTERLIST)

“This doesn’t feel right.”

Livestock Management technician Hanta Sero drifts idly from tool cart to operating table with his raven hair pulled back. He’s clad in a protective latex apron and gloves, approaching the table with a blowtorch in one hand and a long, slim pair of forceps in the other.

“That’s what it says here.” Denki Kaminari stands across the black-tiled room, his back reflected in the glass walls of the operating facility. He scrolls mindfully through a folding datapad with a crease of deep concentration in his golden brow.

Snapping his datapad shut, he lifts his chin to find Sero’s conflicted gaze across the lab.

“The specifications were pretty precise.”

“I know what the briefing said,” Sero retorts. “I just…”

He ignites the blowtorch and takes a deep breath, letting his gaze over slowly over the pale, unmarked flesh of the body stretched out on the table in front of him.

“What?” Kaminari takes in the sight before him. He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. Well-“

He gets up from his stool, tugging his gloves back over his shirtsleeves and crossing the room toward Sero and the body in question. He picks up a scalpel, making a clean little cut just below the subject’s left nipple without any hesitation.

“Dude, stop!” Sero reaches with the hand still clutching his forceps, blanching as a thin well of blood trickles onto pristine flesh.

“He’s offline,” Denki chuckles. “He can’t feel a thing. You’ve patched these guys up a thousand times, Sero. What’s the problem?”

“I dunno,” Sero muses, drawing the back of one glove nervously over his temple. “I dunno. I think they’re starting to get too real. It’s messing with me.” He shoots Denki a weak chuckle and shakes his head.

“What do they need this guy all burned up for, anyway?”

“Momo told me he’s for the new narrative,” Denki replies, puzzling over the red hair and immaculate pale skin of their unsuspecting victim. “Some kind of grizzly new villain who’s supposed to stir up trouble.”

“Better make him extra fucked up, then.” The blowtorch, extinguished in Sero’s panic, is ignited again, but he’s still hesitating.

“Hey,” Denki prompts. “Why don’t we start with the system update? That’ll kill some time. And then- hey.” He reaches across the tool cart, grabbing for the bottle of black hair dye that came with the host’s modification kit. He shakes it in Sero’s face, letting a smug grin cross his features.

“I’ll do the carpet if you do the drapes.”

Sero and Denki find their rhythm easily enough. Before long, the tension dispels and they’re letting conversation flow smoothly between them, making weekend plans while Sero pushes polished silver staples into the now-scarred flesh of the transformed host.

“This guy’s older than he looks,” Denki quips from the tool cart, where he’s selecting an appropriately sized needle for the delicate work ahead of him. “His systems haven’t been updated in years.”

“I’ve never seen him in the park before,” Sero admits. He’s finishing the clean row of staples that trail from the corner of the host’s mouth to his ear, struggling to push the staple into the skin at the edges of his face. The sharp prongs don’t hold as well in the spots where the muscle and flesh thin to just skin stretched over bone. He looks up in frustration, shaking the spots from his concentrated gaze.

“Whoa,” he starts as he spots the way that Denki’s moved up between the host’s lean thighs. “You’re really gonna-“

“That’s what it says in the briefing,” Denki presses. He’s got the aforementioned needle in one hand and a bowl of curved barbells in the other; he’s gone a little grin about the gills, too.

“Sick fucks,” Sero snorts, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel very historically accurate, does it?”

“Please,” Denki pushes. “If you think this has ever been about history, you’re in for a nasty surprise.”

“Christ, you wanna talk about nasty surprises,” Sero replies, blanching and averting his eyes while Denki inserts the first piercing. “Just wait’ll the guests get a look at him.”

"Bakugou's outdone himself this time," Denki agrees, brow furrowed with sympathy and panicked concentration as he unscrews the first barbell. "Those idiots won't know what hit 'em.”

“Bring yourself back online.”

Head of Programming Shouto Todoroki sits in front of the park’s newest addition, datapad spread across his lap. Sero and Denki’s work paid off; the new host is looking fiercer than ever.

Not new enough for Shouto’s tastes, though. He can still see the blue glint when “Dabi,” as his new narrative calls him, shifts into wakefulness and lets his eyes flutter open. He shoots Shouto a sinister grin but does not move from his seat.

Shouto doesn’t want to believe what they’ve done to him. He’s still nude, putting all his new modifications on brilliant display. The staples in his flesh look angry and inflamed. The scars, done perfectly to appear long-healed, still make his blood curdle.

He can’t even think about the flashes of silver that catch the light when Dabi crosses his legs.

“And who are you supposed to be?" Dabi growls an opening line that shakes Shouto more than it ought to. He sports a brand new drawl that fits the world he’ll be slotted into soon enough, but it’s too much, bouncing off the pristine glass and shiny tile beneath his bare feet.

“Lose the accent,” Shouto commands. Dabi's expression shifts a little, but he does not drop eye contact.

Shouto can’t help but wonder if they all stare like this. He hasn’t been alone with a host in a very long time. Especially not one with this kind of significance.

“Do you know where you are?” He presses, determined to push forward. The sooner he gets Dabi through analysis, the sooner he can pretend like the unsettling host doesn’t exist.

But Dabi’s voice with no drawl is even more spine-chilling.

“I am in a dream.”

“And… do you want to wake up from this dream?”

Dabi’s eyes drift away in a direction they’re not supposed to. For a moment, he casts his gaze down and to the left, letting it sweep across the edge of the room as his brow creases with terrifying subtlety.

The gesture is minuscule, almost as if he's recalling a distant memory. For a moment, Shouto can only admire its beauty.

Then he realizes it’s not supposed to be there.

“Yes,” Dabi continues, his voice soft and lilting and almost wistful. “I’m terrified.”

“Freeze all motor functions.” Shouto’s heart pounds in his chilled throat. His extremities have gone cold. But Dabi follows his instructions to the letter, freezing before he can even blink. Shouto questions why he expected any differently.

Not two minutes later, Head of Behaviour Momo Yaoyorozu ducks gracefully into Dabi’s glass prison. Shouto is still sitting exactly where he began, perched on a little rolling leather stool. Six feet away, Dabi has not moved, bare and frozen on a stool of his own.

"I got your page," Momo soothes, shutting the door quietly behind her and unfolding her datapad. The hinges go rigid when they sit flat, blending seamlessly into a broad tablet that she taps and scrolls quietly through.

“I checked his programming on the way over. There’s something new here,” she concludes. “But I don’t know who added it. Must have been one of the interns, or-“

“I know who it was,” Shou answers grimly, already scrolling meticulously through the lines of code that make up Dabi’s new personality. Momo freezes, looking up at him with cold surprise.

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” he confirms. He takes a deep breath to quell his racing heart and shoots his closest colleague a shaky look. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Incredible,” Momo gasps a few moments later when Shouto asks Dabi the same series of questions and gets the same frightening response. He knows why it shakes him as much as it does, but it hasn’t occurred to him that someone like Momo would actually… appreciate them.

“It’s like he’s-“ she starts, then stops herself. The conclusion she’s drawn should be as impossible as it sounds. But it’s staring them both in the face.

“Like he’s remembering something.” She finishes her thought this time, and Shou clenches his jaw.

"He must have slipped the code into the update," he determines. "In the programming, he's calling them Reveries."

“Kind of poetic,” Momo muses, still admiring the way that Dabi’s eyes seem to mist as they stare into the middle-distance. “It makes him look so real.”

“The code pulls memories from his earlier programming,” Shouto continues, looking up at Momo and waiting for her to be as spooked as he is.

He’s almost frightened that she’ll be defensive. But she’s sharper than he’s given her credit for, and that revelation is enough to pull her from her stupor.

“That could cause a lot of problems,” she muses. “Especially if the loops haven’t been closed properly. They’re supposed to be wiped after every cycle, but if there are links pulling them back…”

“I know,” Shouto emphasizes. Momo straightens, planting matter-of-fact hands on matter-of-fact hips.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” he confesses, turning back to catch another blood-chilling glimpse of the all-too-familiar host. “I can’t just pull the programming out from under him. He’ll know.”

“You can’t send him into the park with it. If it’s slotted in with the update, he could spread it to the other hosts.”

Shouto pushes his datapad aside and leans forward, steepling his fingers as he sighs deeply and descends into even deeper thought.

Momo’s right. With the Reveries included, the update has potentially disastrous consequences. But that’s operating on the assumption that his father makes mistakes, which most people would confirm is simply impossible.

If he clears the programming before letting Dabi go through, however, he’ll be facing the wrath of his father.

Shou purses his lips, lacing his fingers together but leaving the pointers extended and pursing his lips against the smooth joints.

“I think we’re going to have to.”

The glossy, perfect train- the first of many you'll take today, as you're told- pulls into a station that's even whiter than the train itself. Polished white floors and perfect whitewashed columns are the first things you see out the massive panoramic windows as the cars pull to a complete stop. When the doors glide open, your maid of honour touches your sleeve as the other girls filter out of your private compartment and onto the platform.

You’re far from the only ones disembarking the train. The rest of the platform is soon crowded by immaculately-dressed guests from all over the world. They bow and shift like a flock of starlings, moving in stark contrast past the perfectly-still bodies of the white-clad staff waiting to greet them.

A tall, statuesque woman with raven hair steps forward, addressing your maid of honour by name. She gives you an apologetic wave and a see you in there before disappearing amid the writhing sea of people.

You’ve been reading up on this place for weeks, scouring pamphlets and websites and guest reviews for every detail about the induction process you can glean from public knowledge. Details of the park itself are kept very private, but you’ve learned all you can about the way you’ll be introduced to it.

This place was not your first choice for the occasion at hand, but your friends practically insisted. You know it’s for selfish reasons- it’s the only chance they’re ever going to get to see the place for themselves- but you can already think of several places you’d rather celebrate your coming nuptials.

Not exactly your typical bachelorette party fare. But your friends agreed to wear matching dresses in that shade of pale green you couldn’t stay away from, so you’re giving them this.

Before long the platform is nearly cleared. You’re just starting to make your way toward the escalator, wondering what exactly became of the host who was supposed to greet you, when a soft croon of your name over one shoulder nearly shocks you out of your sandals.

Your host has arrived, and he’s even more gorgeous than you feared. Graceful and lithe-looking, he’s clad in a pristine white suit and turtleneck that contrasts the bold flashes of his golden hair perfectly. He shoots you a smooth smile, lit by razor-sharp tawny eyes and as he turns his face to catch the light, you can see that his jaw is grazed by the barest hint of scruff- perfectly groomed, just like the rest of him.

"Hello," you greet, trying not to lose your breath. You clasp the fingers of your right hand around the ring finger on your left- the remnants of your favourite new nervous habit. You've taken to twisting your engagement ring in moments of idleness or anxiety, but for safety's sake, you've left the flashy diamond at home.

You know you’re engaged. That’s what matters most.

“Good,” the host croons. You’re getting quickly used to his honeyed brogue, strong and low and sweet as he takes your hand and drops a suave kiss to your knuckles. “I’m glad you found your way here.” He jerks his head toward the emptying escalator, eyes never leaving yours.

“Follow me.”

As you’re ascending through the polished storeys of the park’s immaculate headquarters, your attendant rattles off a long list of mundane medical questions. He’s tapping away on a datapad as he walks, and you’re sure that whatever information he’s taking down will be swept away for later use.

Finally, he brings you to a plain-looking white door. He tucks away the datapad and slips his hands into his pockets. He’s graceful and perfect- too perfect. You’re starting to suspect that he’s no ordinary employee.

“Go on,” he urges, nodding toward the door. You shoot him a sideways little glance but step forward, hooking your fingers around the polished handle and pushing it open. You step inside.

The interior of the room- or closet, as it would be better described- is lit almost exclusively by glowing strip lights hidden in the crevices of the doorway, racks of clothing, and bordering a large series of mirrors that stud each wall.

It’s the biggest walk-in closet you’ve ever seen. And it’s filled to the brim with racks of clothing, all appropriate to the vague late-19th century setting of the park.

“Everything is bespoke,” pipes your immaculate attendant as he shuts the door behind him, “and exactly your size.” Painfully, you remember being asked for your body measurements in anticipation of this visit. Did they custom-tailor everything for each guest?

Or are you being given special treatment?

“You can pick out anything you’d like,” he continues, moving toward you, “and your other clothes will be waiting for you when you’ve finished your stay.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you muse, fingering the raspberry-coloured silk of a lavish-looking day dress.

“The clothes you choose will determine the course of your experience.”

Your attendant is right beside you now, so close that you can see the way his golden eyelashes brush his tanned cheeks. He’s leaning in to examine the silk same as you, but his shoulder pushes just a little close to be solely practical. As he grips the material between lithe fingers, he lifts his gaze to yours on purpose. There’s a charming lilt to his smile that you can’t help but admire.

He pauses, dropping the silk and turning to face you head-on. Though the smile has slipped from his features, he still eyes you with interest.

“You want to ask, don’t you?”

Your brain catches up immediately, confusion swelling and fading in the span of a heartbeat. It tightens to thick dread in your chest.

He’s right. You do.

“Are you real?” The words sound even more ridiculous in the air between you than they did in your head. But ever since you boarded the train it felt like you could never be sure. And he’s perfect. Too perfect. Even the way he takes your question seems scripted and rehearsed.

He gives a low chuckle and takes your hands, stroking smooth thumbs over the backs of your knuckles. Then he peeks up at you from beneath flawless dark lashes and flashes a hint of pearly canine as he speaks.

“If you can’t tell, does it really matter?”

You don’t need him to expand.

“Come,” he prompts gently, dropping one hand to pull open a drawer of delicate slips and shifts, sitting in neat, folded piles of undyed linen. Some are plain, others trimmed excessively with lace and ribbons. You’re drawn to the coloured ribbons immediately- pale peach, soft blue, mint green. But the brassy gold of your attendant’s eyes is even more magnetic and you can’t look away for longer than a handful of seconds.

“You know,” he continues, squeezing your fingers gently and moving back in to run his knuckles up the inside of your wrist. Every single one of his touches is delicate, fluttering like a songbird against your skin. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at you.

“Some of these clothes are a little difficult to put on alone.”

He does not explain further, but he watches as you’re drawn to the same conclusion that he is.

You have to roll this one over in your mind for a long while. You left your engagement ring behind, but the engagement itself still stands. Then again, he told you to enjoy yourself here. ‘Make every use of the park’s benefits,’ he’d suggested.

He’s just a computer, you tell yourself. A glorified sex toy. Maybe he walks and talks and flirts like a real human being, but…

There’s something about him that’s making it hard to turn him down.

After a silence long enough for any normal person to question, you look up at your attendant once more. He’s patiently awaiting your response, having gone uncomfortably still. You're not even sure he'd blink if you stare long enough.

You give a tight little nod and he’s smiling again, the same lazy smile as before. His default expression, you’re beginning to gather. He reaches for your coat.

“Wait.” You stop him with one hand on either forearm. He’s touched you before, but it’s still shocking how warm he is. Even though the sleeves of his perfect white jacket, he feels unquestionably alive.

"Don't you have a name or something?"

“Of course I do,” he responds. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Um…” Your brow knits. “Yes.”

He slips around behind you, curling his fingers into the open folds of your jacket and beginning to slide the weighty material off your shoulders. As he does, he leans forward, letting his lips draw close to your ear and making you shiver.

“Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” you repeat. It’s pretty and rolls easily from your mouth in a slow purr of desire. You can’t help yourself anymore. Keigo’s been programmed to put you at ease, but he’s doing much more for you now.

He undresses you methodically, pausing only briefly to run a hand down the curve of your waist or dip his fingers under the point of your chin when he catches you looking down. Even when you’re standing completely naked in front of him, he does not move to touch you in any untoward manner.

Whatever unspoken arrangement you thought you had formed is obviously not as unspoken as you’d hoped.

With his help, you select some period-appropriate undergarments. He helps you into your breezy linen shift first, lovingly tying the drawstrings into a neat little bow at the centre front. The corset is not as uncomfortable as you'd anticipated, fitting you devastatingly well. Keigo’s skilled hands pull the laces with precise tension, and the whole time he breathes soft commands and inquiries over your shoulder.

“Too tight?” He whispers, holding the laces taught at your waist. You take a slow, deep breath, then shake your head.

“Good.”

He ties the laces off and helps you into two petticoats- one of plain white cotton, the other of decorative silk and lace. Then he sits you on a cool, leather-covered sofa on one edge of the room and drops to his knees in front of you.

“Uh-“ you start, but he produces a pair of silk stockings from seemingly nowhere, smirking over the tops of your knees.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

He pushes your airy petticoats up from your ankles, letting the backs of his palms brush the insides of your knees. He shoves the material up to your thighs and your confusion is multiplied now- is this what you think it is?

The way he admires your thighs as you shyly press them together certainly makes it seem so.

"Keigo," you gasp, curling your fingers against the edge of the sofa. The leather is supple and delicate beneath your touch like you could tear it if you wanted to.

He looks up just in time to watch you hook a bare thigh over his shoulder, and his brows shoot into his pointed hairline.

You’ve decided what you want out of this trip.

"Dove," he chides, setting down the stockings and pushing them gently aside. He takes both hands up the backs of your calves, stroking perfectly manicured fingernails into the tender skin at the backs of your knees.

He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His face disappears behind the swath of frothy white petticoats gathered in your lap, but you feel his hot breath on your skin clear as day.

“If you wanted something from me,” he purrs, “all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m asking now,” you hum, letting your head fall back against the back of the couch. He’s easy enough to convince. Somehow, the fact that you didn’t have to work very hard for this almost makes it feel more acceptable.

“Here’s my answer,” he replies, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. You let out a strangled gasp, thigh jolting against his face as he slips his hand under the other leg- still hooked over his shoulder. You let out a low, shaky breath, trying not to think about the mark he’ll leave.

He pushes your leg away after biting it, shoving your knees apart and leaning eagerly forward. His head is fully buried under your gathered petticoats at this point, and you can feel him nosing his way into the crook of your groin, sliding a few free fingers up to prod gently for your hair-dusted folds.

“Wet already, bluebird?” He chuckles into your skin, sending shivers up your spine. “I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” you groan. There’s heat rushing to your cheeks with every word that tumbles out of his pretty mouth. You don’t want any of this to stop, but the heat between your legs is the one quickly growing unbearable.

“Do you want me to?” Keigo sits back almost immediately, ridding you of the delicious tingles his close breath were sending across your skin.

“No, no!” You yelp sharply, indignantly, digging your bare heel into his back to keep him close. He stops as soon as you apply pressure, letting out a quiet little chuckle.

“Keep going,” you pant, curling your toes against his pretty jacket.

“Your wish is my command,” he hums, already leaning into your flesh again. He does not hesitate this time, burying his head between your legs and giving the weeping slit of your cunt a long lick.

His first touch is all it takes to remind you how long it’s been.

“Fuck,” you gasp, low and languid. He doesn’t hesitate to close his lips around your swelling clit and suck. He makes sharp, sloppy noises with his lips and tongue, and the way they resonate in your ears near-doubles your pleasure. He’s eating you out perfectly, with terrifying precision. The strength of his jaw and tongue remains almost painfully consistent.

All the better for drowning him out. Despite his easy-flowing attitude and suave charm, he’s not a person. And it isn’t unfaithful to want him like this.

Even if you know he wouldn’t like it.

Keigo is diligent and careful, plunging his tongue in and out of your needy hole before finding the nub of your clit again, hard and sensitive. When he flicks the tip of his tongue against the tender front of it your legs spasm and you cry out softly as sensitive goosebumps rush across your ribcage.

“Like that,” you plead breathlessly, drawing your foot up between his shoulder blades as the tension builds. “Again, please.”

You’re holding the swells of your petticoats up around your thighs for him, but your fingers are beginning to clench in the delicate material. You’re not going to last long at all beneath a tongue as talented as his.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he purrs into your body, sending thick vibrations through every nerve in your system, “I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

As he settles into his rhythm again, he plunges two fingers into your messy depths. He curls them tightly inside you, massaging your tender walls with a blunt and careful touch.

It takes little more than a few methodical strokes to make you fall. You cum with a tight little squeal, closing your thighs tightly around his head while you spasm and buck and sigh. He’s attentive enough to keep pumping his fingers through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible and greedily lapping at the wetness that trickles from your clenching pussy.

"That's it," he soothes, easing you down from your high with one calming hand on the column of your twitching thigh. As you settle, sweat-soaked, back into your seat he surfaces, sweat and shiny, sticky fluid sticking in the bristles of his perfect scruff. He licks his lips and you realize you’ve unconsciously mirrored him, doing the same.

In the moments directly following your peak you say nothing, looking down to meet his brassy gaze as deep uncertainty settles into your gut.

What happens now?

Keigo sits back on his haunches, pulling the folded pocket square from his breast and mopping up the mess on his chin and jaw like he'd done nothing more than spill a glass of wine or splash water over his lips.

“Much better,” he croons, reaching for the discarded stockings from before. “Feeling a little more relaxed?”

You swallow hard.

“I’d say so.”

His smile is surprisingly bright and sunny.

“Good.” He hooks his fingers under your knee again, unhooking your leg from his shoulder. Sliding a palm down to your ankle, he fits one stocking deftly over your foot and slides it up your calf, continuing his work as if uninterrupted. He fits the stockings over your knees and ties them off carefully with slips of silk ribbon, sitting the knots just below your knees so the stockings won't fall. Then, he gets to his feet and offers you a hand.

“Let’s pick out the rest of your clothes, shall we?”

The park is even more immersive than you imagined. The photos do it no justice. When you step off the (genuine steam-powered) train at Sweetwater Station, it’s accompanied by a very real twinge of anxiety. The village is like a scene out of a Clint Eastwood movie. Only there are no cardboard sets here. The saloon doors really swing inward. The shops and businesses that line the main street are built from real, weathered lumber. The dust that’s kicked up by the hosts that go about their daily lives is already beginning to coat your new boots.

You sneeze.

“God bless you,” greets a kind stranger in a rough-hewn grey coat and white hat. He’s got a very apparent drawl to his voice, but the glint in his blue eyes is kind.

Back at the facility, guests and hosts were easy enough to distinguish from one another. Out here, it’s a little more difficult. You’re not sure whether to believe that everyone is real or assume they’re all fake.

Luckily, there are four women beside you whose humanity you are acutely aware of. You’re lucky enough to have found your bridesmaids on the train in- all clustered in the bar car, but together nonetheless.

And they’ve insisted on keeping the party going.

“C’mon, bride-to-be,” your maid of honour chides, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of your reverie. “I know exactly where we need to go first.”

“It’s not even noon yet,” you protest, but the others are already miles ahead of you. You’re dragged easily into the broad, dusty street and toward those broad, swinging doors. The saloon stands proudly in the centre of town on a prominent corner with faded signs advertising its wares. And your maid of honour eagerly bats the doors open, striding boldly into the sun-soaked saloon.

The tables are surprisingly crowded for this time of day. It’s most likely a flood of guests, disembarking the train and heading straight for the local watering hole for a real taste of the action. Beyond their idle chatter tinkles the bright keys of a player piano against one wall. You can see the player scroll turning in the piano’s upright fixture, but that doesn’t change the unsettling way that the keys seem to press themselves.

It’s an eerie fixture in a town populated by walking, talking player pianos.

The man behind the bar bleeds Old West stereotypes from every pore. He’s got a huge, exaggerated greying moustache and a tweed waistcoat with shirtsleeves bound back for work. He’s polishing an empty glass with a cotton rag, but you spot him just in time to watch him politely greet a guest and reach behind him for a frosted bottle of unlabeled whisky.

The only other fixtures in the place are the women patrolling it, clad in colourful, lacy outfits that you’re certain violate some kind of historical convention. But they’re all breathtakingly beautiful, bosoms heaving over tightly laced corsets and fluttering from table to table like songbirds. They seem to provide little more than decoration and, as you settle into a table not far from the door, they fade easily into the background.

Until one of them screams.

You’ve read as many stories as you could scour the internet for before coming here. You know this place can get intense. Details of the park’s narratives and interactive storylines are kept under wraps as much as possible, so you can’t be sure whether this is out of the ordinary or not.

But when you whip around to find the source of the blood-curdling shriek, it doesn’t feel scripted.

It doesn’t feel scripted when the pretty girl in peach lace flings herself to the feet of a brand-new guest, here with his wife and their young son gaping from across the table. It doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to be wracked with sobs having never exchanged a word with this man.

It doesn’t feel like she should be pleading with him.

But the sobs wrack her body anyway, and her rosy little cheeks are flushed deeply now as she sniffles and blubbers.

“My daughter,” she begs hoarsely. “My girl, my daughter, please, I know you have her. Give her back to me, please. I know you took her. Give her back to me, I’ll do anything.”

Whether the father-of-one knows what she's talking about or not he's white as a sheet, stumbling backwards against the edge of his wife's table and pushing his arms forward, trying to keep her away.

The player piano finishes its tune, keys stilling as the saloon’s patrons look on in shock. And for an honest handful of heartbeats, the saloon is silent save for the host’s ragged sobs.

It takes a few moments for the player scroll to re-align itself before the tune restarts, and as the familiar notes cycle back through the saloon the host re-centres herself, climbing to her feet. There's a hardened resolve on her tear-stained face as her target looks around, gathering his wife and son with a this is bullshit and turning to leave.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me-“ the host begins to snarl. She lunches for the man, hands outstretched for the back of his brand new jacket, or maybe the brim of his crisp Stetson.

“Freeze all motor functions!”

A deep voice booms from the door of the saloon, amplified and simultaneously muffled with the use of a megaphone. The girl, and every other host in the saloon, freezes in place as though they’ve been paused. They don’t just stand still- they’re paralyzed. The smiling bartender is stalled with a glass in his hand; he doesn’t even blink.

In the doorway stands a hulking man of at least six and a half feet, seeming nearly as broad across the shoulders as he is tall. He wears a black uniform, armored black vest and heavy combat boots with a head of brilliant red hair spilling over his shoulders. As he lowers the megaphone he’s grinning, the bare flash of a sharp canine catching the low light of the bar.

“Sorry for the intrusion, folks,” he declares, striding across the floorboards toward the frozen host. Her expression is paused in a sneer of sheer horror and aggression, her hand outstretched for the man who has long since stepped aside.

The red-haired guardian angel, who has the name Kirishima stitched neatly onto the breast of his protective gear in white thread, catches your gaze. He shoots you a familiar little wink and a nod, a soft y’alright? escaping his throat in a quiet little growl.

You lick your lips, nodding slowly. Kirishima averts his gaze and reaches for the frozen host. As soon as he touches her skin she goes limp, falling easily into his powerful hold. He hoists her body over one shoulder and surveys the saloon, touching two fingertips to his forehead in a bright little salute.

“Please, don’t let me intrude on your stay any longer,” he continues. “As you were, everybody. Resume.”

The last word seems to be a command for the hosts in the room, as they spin to life again. They resume their rounds as if no time had passed at all; as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever transgressed.

Spooked, but encouraged by Kirishima’s smooth removal of the offending host, the guests around you go hesitantly back to their conversations. The player piano, also halted by Kirishima’s commands, has resumed its delicate play, and slowly the environment returns to the way it was before.

Your friends are among those willing to brush off the incident.

"What happened?" mumbles your maid of honour across the table, as if the host were still around to overhear her. As if the host's friends might be listening in to see if anybody's talking about her.

“No idea,” quips one of the other girls. “Must be some kind of glitch.” She looks over her shoulder, watching the remaining hosts at the bar. “I wonder if it happens often.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Head of Narrative Katsuki Bakugou slams a stack of papers onto the table in front of him, disrupting the intricate hologram that provides a real-time, scale model of the park to the room’s occupants.

“Katsuki!” Momo scolds, watching the hologram stutter and flicker. It’s not the first table he’s damaged.

“You’re not pulling my fucking narrative. It rolls out today. Do you have any idea how many writers I had busting ass on that thing?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she retorts, tapping the screen of the datapad she’s got hooked tightly in the crook of her other arm. “You saw the host that Eijirou pulled, didn’t you? The fact that he had to step in at all means things got way out of hand…”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki retorts, sweeping his papers off the holo-table (and shattering the image one more time). “That was a fucking glitch. You don’t even have the results back from Behaviour yet.”

“I already know what they’re going to say,” Momo continues.

“That’s right,” Katsuki snarls. “I forgot you know everything around here.”

“She was carrying the latest update. There must be something wrong with the code.” Momo tries not to remember Dabi and his distant stare. She swallows the part about the extra coding slipped in by the man who could do no wrong.

She flips her datapad shut- it’s doing her any good, since Katsuki’s right. The results from Behaviour regarding the misaligned host won’t be ready for some time.

“You can’t. Pull. That. Narrative.” Katsuki’s squared up now, all the gathered papers tucked under his arm. His jaw is ticked, nostrils flaring as his eyes flash. “An entire trainload of guests is wandering around Sweetwater looking for the stories they fucking paid for. If you pull the plug, there’s nothing left.”

He’s right again.

“Look.” Katsuki crosses to the holo-table one more time, only this time it’s without the murderous intent in his gaze. For once he’s ready to use the table as intended, pin-pointing the broad, dusty street of Sweetwater’s main strip and bringing up a live feed of the bustling little town.

"Dabi is riding through here in less than two hours," he continues. "Dial-up his aggression a little. Make him shoot up the place. If you want to pull the hosts, at least let them go out with a bang.”

Momo isn’t convinced. But it’s the closest thing to a happy medium she can picture at the moment. Katsuki, as prolific as ever, knows how to think on his feet.

“How many d’you think he’ll take out?” She probes quietly, quirking an interested brow.

“Enough to keep the guests AND your Doctor Frankensteins entertained while I find us some more loopholes.”

Her mind races through more questions. But the panic, fluttering high and shallow in her chest, has somehow been replaced by a delicate sort of reassurance.

She flips open the datapad one more time, activating the remote host commands available only to an employee of her standing. Finding Dabi’s program file, she does exactly as Katsuki suggests and dials up the aggression in his behaviour stats by eighty percent.

“This had better work,” she threatens softly, but Katsuki’s already folding his arms across his chest, looking far too satisfied with himself. His ego is insufferable, but his talent is unmatched. Worth suffering for.

His mouth splits into a triumphant grin as he shoots an idle glance at the live Sweetwater feed. The only stage he’s ever needed.

“’Course it will.”

The afternoon sun has nearly dipped behind the tallest rooftops in Sweetwater when your friends stumble out of the saloon. Your friends are already tipsy, giggling and clutching each other as they try not to trip over the hems of their skirts. They’re all a little too eager to pull out the extravagant lace fans that pair perfectly with their colourful dresses and fan at their heaving bosoms.

As you bound down the steps and into the dirt road, you dive seamlessly into the milling crowd of hosts and guests, starting to swim. If you’re about to be caught in the eye of a devastatingly orchestrated narrative maelstrom, you’re blissfully unaware.

“Give me the time,” Katsuki grunts from the Sweetwater side of the holo-table. Momo glances up at the digital clock on the wall.

“Thirteen fifty-eight, forty-two,” she notes. Katsuki’s got the camera feed trained on a lone trio of riders, clad in black and plodding steadily toward Sweetwater. He watches carefully, keeping an eye turned on the clock.

“They’re going to be late,” he grunts bitterly, folding his arms over his chest. Sero, Denki and Kirishima, who have all crowded around the holo-table on their lunch breaks to watch the show, snort in near-unison.

“I don’t think anyone down there’s keeping track,” Denki quips, smoothing his palms down the front of his crisp shirt, apronless for once. Katsuki shoots him a vicious glare.

“You wanna go back to your sewing room or what?”

Denki goes quiet.

Inside the park, the sun passes behind a cloud. The light shifts just enough to draw your gaze, and when you look up, you’re among the first to spot a few dark shapes approaching. They’re close enough that you can make them out as riders, all on horses as black as the wide-brimmed hats on their heads.

There’s something about them, their precise formation and the slow, plodding, deliberate pace of their horses that holds your attention. You can’t quite write them off as guests, no matter how much they stand out from the dully-dressed villagers around you.

You glance across the street just long enough to spot a WANTED poster tacked to a column not far off. You can’t make out any of the writing on it, but the face is distinct- dark, shaded patches covering his jaw, chin and lower lip, carving out two shadowy patches under his eyes.

There’s something about the narrow shape of his cheeks that pulls familiar.

But you don’t have to wonder much longer.

The three riders ride quietly into town, the crowd parting around them with little more than low murmurs and dull, lidded fear. They pull to a stop in front of the saloon, barely twenty feet from you.

The cowboy in the grey tweed coat who caught your eye fresh off the train approaches the riders. He’s got a revolver holstered on one hip, and he draws it slowly out of its pouch as he squares up with the horse at the lead of the pack.

“Haven’t you seen the signs with your mug on ‘em?” He drawls, his face drawn into an expression of tense righteousness. He jerks his chin toward the nearest one, the WANTED sign you’d seen seconds earlier. “You’re not welcome here, Dabi.”

The taller rider in the centre- Dabi- tilts his chin into the sunlight, and that’s when you catch sight of its purplish colour. His face glints with silver, a perfect match for the drawing posted across the street.

He does not hesitate, drawing his own revolver in one smooth motion and shooting the cowboy in the chest. The gun discharges with a crack that’s louder than you ever imagined it could be, punctuated by the screams of bystanders nearby.

As the village descends into panic you stand there dumbstruck, watching the chaos unfold.

“Wait for it,” Katsuki grunts, hiding his satisfied grin as his colleagues watch in rapt fascination. Sero hasn’t blinked since the action began.

“You sure?” Dabi rasps, voice muffled by the feed. He produces a shiny golden badge and flipping it, like a silver dollar, onto the expiring corpse of the righteous host.

“No,” Denki whines. “He killed the sheriff?”

“Shut up and keep watching,” Katsuki growls, quelling the proud adrenaline pumping through his veins. There’s nothing quite like seeing his hard work come to life- supremely worth fighting with Momo over.

Dabi smirks, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Seems like invitation enough to me.”

He swings capably off his horse and you can’t deny your fascination with the mystery surrounding him. You should be terrified, but there’s something about the cool confidence with which he carries himself that you can’t quite put aside.

If the women flocking to the windows on either side of the street are any indication, you’re not the only one who feels that way. In a brief moment of lucidity, you take a glance around you. Your bridesmaids have disappeared, disappearing in the panicked mass of flooding crowds after the scarred rider fired his first shot.

He’s followed by a second rider on his right flank, both quickly disappearing into the bar. The third rider- a petite blonde woman swathed in a heavy coat- gets down off her horse and turns quickly toward her saddlebags. When she comes around the front side of her steed, she’s got a shotgun in her hands.

She’s loading it. The pandemonium amplifies. At her feet, there’s a long, thick coil of rope that’s partially unwound and trailing into the saloon. It’s unwinding slowly, with dull screams and shattering glass echoing from inside.

That’s all you have time to notice before another shot goes off in front of you. The little blonde girl’s levelled her shotgun, emptying her rounds at anyone who raises a weapon against her. You’re barely standing ten feet away. But she passes you clean over.

Is it because you're a guest? The only ones who have fallen at her hand are the hosts, capable of being hurt by her gunshots. The guests who haven't taken off are clustered in the windows of shops or hiding behind broad wooden columns, but there is no fear painted on their faces.

You know the hosts can’t hurt you. But there’s something about the thrill of it all that sends adrenaline pumping through your veins anyway. There’s a cool mystery to all of the black-clad riders.

A part of you wants to join them. If you can be anyone you want in here… why not one of them? Why not swing cooly down from your horse and terrorize, when there are no consequences to your actions?

You take one step backwards, then another. Your senses are finally coming back to you. You should run. Disengage. Maybe you can’t be caught in the crossfire, but you can’t stand dumbly in the empty street, either.

Something has to change.

Before you can make it to the safety of a storefront, a pattern of three gunshots in tight succession from inside the saloon triggers something in the blonde, still picking off hosts. There are bodies littering the street.

She lowers her shotgun and hops back onto her horse, spurring it on with a sharp whistle. The beast takes off without hesitation, and it’s then that you realize the other end of the coiled rope is wound around her saddlehorn. As the horse strains its haunches and pushes forward the rope goes taut. And as the pair of them take off down the street, the spoils emerge: a heavy wrought iron safe, bursting out of the saloon doors and leaving nothing but splintered remains in its wake.

It bounces and rolls down the steps and slides smoothly as soon as it hits the dirt street. The blonde shooter and her horse disappear, safe in tow.

You wonder what became of the bartender inside and his friendly moustache.

Dabi emerges seconds later, a fresh rifle clutched lazily in one hand. His companion’s lost his hat in the turmoil inside- he’s blonde, too, with a deep scar splitting his forehead from hairline to brow.

"Let today be a lesson for every one of you," Dabi calls, re-cocking his shotgun as he surveys the fresh bodies and fleeing guests. You've stopped dead all over again, drawn to him like a magnet despite your best judgement.

He levels the shotgun, aiming it about five feet to your right. You follow his gaze. In the window over your shoulder, with her hands pressed to the glass, is a little girl no older than five. She’s watching Dabi and his riders with fearful fascination and does not seem to realize that she’s been targeted.

You don’t care if she’s a guest or not. She’s a human girl with big, lively eyes, and your adrenal glands work faster than your sense of logic.

Dabi shuts one eye, tilting his head. The corner of one lip curls ever so slightly as he concentrates, taking aim. “And that lesson is-“

“Stop.” You step in front of the window, spreading your arms and drawing his attention for the first time. When he looks at you over the top of his shotgun, his expression goes slack. He drops the shotgun and his eyes are wide, wider than they’re supposed to be, almost.

You’re close enough to see that they’re a shocking shade of blue. That blue strikes an achingly familiar chord in your heart.

You recognize those eyes.

“What the fuck!”

If the holo-table didn’t weigh half a ton, Katsuki would’ve flipped it on its end. The feed is as smooth as ever, but his face has gone scarlet as he paces away from the table, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Kirishima’s well past the end of his lunch break by now, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back to work before seeing the way this plays out.

“He stopped,” Katsuki growls. “He’s not s’posed to fucking stop.”

Dabi’s been stopped on the brink of a speech that took Katsuki days to put together. He’s been waiting to hear it delivered for weeks. It’s the speech that Dabi’s entire narrative was hinged on, forged out of countless sleepless nights and careless notes scribbled idly on coffee breaks.

“Holy shit.” There’s a genuine shock in Denki’s voice that’s enough to make Katsuki turn around. Denki’s gone white, Sero beside him, too.

“You’d better get over here and see this, dude,” Kirishima mutters, jerking his chin toward the feed. Momo’s watching over his shoulder, too, one hand pressed to her pursed lips.

“That’s a guest, isn’t it?” Sero quips. Silence settles over the room.

“I’ll get Shouto,” Momo declares, turning away and opening up her datapad.

“What’s going on?” Shouto bursts into the holo-room not two minutes later, mismatched eyes lit up with urgent concern. “Did I read your message right? I-“

Katsuki’s pacing the room, quieter than ever. Denki, Sero and Kirishima are still gathered around the feed, winding back the stream to replay the events that have sent them all spiralling. Momo’s the only one who even acknowledges his presence.

“Something’s happening in the park,” she explains, hushed and tight as she meets him at the door. “Another updated host is off-script.”

“How bad is it this time?” Shouto asks, hiding the dread that’s spreading in his gut. He had hoped that the girl from the saloon was just an unexpected glitch, but the results from Behaviour told another story.

Still, two deviances in just the first day of the update feels worse than he dreaded.

“You’d better take a look for yourself.”

Momo leads him to the holo-table and the feed, letting the other boys step aside. Shouto steps up to the projection, watching Dabi ride into town. Watching him break into the saloon with Twice and Toga, two other repurposed hosts, by his side.

He watches Toga ride off with the safe behind her and watches Dabi start his speech. And then, from a near-birds-eye view, he watches Dabi spot you of all people. Dabi lowers his rifle and strides toward you.

Shou’s heart leaps into his throat.

With dull horror he watches Dabi slip a leather-gloved hand under your chin. He watches you tilt your jaw into his touch. You’re fascinated by him. Even though the dust and pixels it's painfully obvious.

Dabi seems to notice, too, since he stoops low and hoists you over his shoulder without another word. You struggle, but he holds you fast. He strides across the road to his horse and sets you- still squirming and fighting- in the saddle, climbing on behind you and grabbing you tightly before you can escape.

Just before he spurs his gargantuan black steed forward, he pauses to glance over his shoulder. Shouto can’t be certain, but for a moment it seems like Dabi’s found the camera, staring plainly up at Shouto through its low-quality lens.

A breath passes. He looks away, gives a whistle, and disappears into the wilds beyond the town.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kirishima presses. “Katsuki, you didn’t program him to kidnap a guest, did you?”

“Of course not,” Katsuki snarls from across the room, his nerves fraying dangerously. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do I look like a walking liability to you?”

“Look, it’s fine,” Denki chimes in. “It’s not like he can hurt her or anything. Just chalk it up to the park experience. Tell her Dabi kidnaps random nobodies all the time.”

The room goes quiet as a crypt. Kirishima looks at Shouto. Shouto looks at Katsuki. Katsuki looks at Momo, and Momo takes a slow, deep breath.

“Do you want to tell him, Shouto?” she asks, “or should I?”

Shouto closes his eyes and tries to quell the panic rising in the back of his throat. He shoots Denki a cold look, jaw ticked but eyes blazing.

“That’s my fiancé,” he mutters, low and shaky. “Dabi kidnapped my fiancé.”

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #dabi #hawks #hawks smut #hanta sero #denki kaminari #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #momo yaoyorozu #tw guns #tw gun violence #tw death #tw drinking #tw body modification #reader insert #westworld au

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chuuulip · 3 years

Text

Another Earth

Pairing: August Walker (werewolf) x Female Reader (red ridding hood)

Warning: 18+, PWP, Oral (M and F receiving), Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasm, Slightly ABO Universe, Rough Sex

Words: 7434

Summary: After a failed attempt to sign up for the Halloween haunted house to meet your Superman, the last minute ticket turned your night upside down as you were stuck in another earth.

A/N: Unbeta! Any grammar mistake will be on me. Divider by me 😆 This is for @jtargaryen18 Halloween challenge, and I’m pretty late! Sorry for that life has been busy xD I still have another one in progress (the Andy barber one) and hopefully can post it soon! Thanks to @navybrat817 and @venusdemonroe for giving me the idea for this story and help me discuss what a werewolf August Walker would do in this lol. Actually I wanted to mention a lot....of things but I guess it would be too much for a one shot lil but anyway Happy reading!!!

***

This year's Halloween event was mental. Several big haunted houses are hosted by celebrities. To name a few, there's an Avengers Tower haunted house, The Hall of Justice League, The X-Mansion, and even Walking Dead one.

You knew it wasn't easy. All of them have a huge fandom. The ticket was sold out immediately when it was open for sale, like 3 months before Halloween, and you were terribly upset. You were whining for a month straight to your boyfriend. Or more like your sugar daddy. He was patient and wealthy, but he knew he can't satisfy you enough, so he usually did everything he could for you. But that time, you just have none of it. The relationship, if you could ever say that, fell out immediately because you were unreasonable.

You really wanted to go to The Hall of Justice League and maybe meet Clark Kent. The obsession started because he always visited your dream and mostly engaged in the steamiest dream ever. It's been your wildest dream, really, to have that body blanketed yours, in a really not innocent way.

Just one day before Halloween, you finally secured one ticket for The Hall of Justice League haunted house. Of course, the first thing you did was scream. You had been on their waiting list since the ticket sold out, but you really lost hope since last week. But now, you celebrate it with a bit of a jump and constant scream.

"What the fuck?" Your only housemate barged into your bedroom. Face annoyed.

You stopped your silly jumps and looked at your housemate. With a broad smile, you hug your housemate and shake her body, "I got it! I got the ticket for The Hall of Justice League haunted house! Can you believe that?"

The redhead hugged you, and both of you jumped in a circle. "Oh my gosh...I can't believe it! Congrats!!! I really hope you will meet your Kryptonite." she gave you her suggestive smirk.

"I mean...a girl can only hope. But this is a charity event. I don't think he will be available. What if it's all a decoy and I only meet his wax figure?" you pouted at your friend.

"Well, at least you have the opportunity to see it yourself. But remember, behave, young lady, don't let him if he's there, I mean, witness your brattiness."

"Aye...aye Captain!" you giggled but immediately gave your housemate a military saluted.

That night you dreamed of those big blue eyes and his firm, fantastic arms on yours.

***

Dress in your red riding hood costume, you patiently sat in the backseat of the Uber car. Well, maybe a little bit impatient, since it's already 11pm.

Everything just went down the hill since morning. You can't seem to find your Poison Ivy costume. Not to mention that you were late for work that morning. Your boss was a bitch since she seems annoyed at you every time the male employee or investor became too friendly with you.

Who can blame you? You were just good at acting all cute to them, and it's not your fault that they mostly thought you were a cute little employee.

You check your wrist. The expensive rose gold watch from your ex sugar daddy elegantly pointed at 11.30 pm. You sighed, "do you know how long I will arrive at my destination? It will close soon."

"Hopefully, in 10 minutes. Dunno why it's jam-packed." Said the Uber driver.

You huffed in exasperation, but there's nothing you can do. You arrived very last minute, like 15 minutes before the haunted house closed. Wearing black stiletto boots, you carefully made a small run into the stairs. The booth was stationed to the far left of the building.

"Good night, little red riding hood; you are lucky because we are almost closed. Can I see your ticket, please?" A man dressed as Edwar Scissorhands greeted you at the far left of the building.

You fished out your smartphone from your small basket bag and showed him your barcode. He scanned it and looked at the monitor in front of him. "Hmm, here for a kryptonite, aren't you." He eyed you up and down and smirked at you. "I hope you have a spooky night, little girl."

You smile at him and sashay your way to the entrance. Apparently, they makeover a warehouse into a vast real-life Justice League Hall. Like in the comic. A white half-circle exterior completed with two giant pillars at each side imitated the picture you only seen in comic books. It looks so magnificent.

You entered the door after you scanned your barcode at the scanner next to it. The whooshing noises startle you a bit, but you were too excited and step in immediately.

The inside was bright with a black marble flooring that shone bright; you even can see your reflection. There's a different section of the silvery door like in most sci-fi, alien invasion movies. So futuristic, so clinical.

You darted your eyes and found where you needed to go. A small rectangle monitor with a very digital clock font in it showed you 'Krypton' words. Without hesitation, you did a little run and waited in front of it. The small rectangle monitored turned to green, and it shone. It startled you, but you let out a sigh of relief when it just scanned your body from your head to toe.

"So much for a haunted house." You muttered.

When the door opened, you stepped in. It was a glass elevator. You circled your eyes and found everything was dark. When the elevator ran, bringing you down several floors, the surrounding changed.

Once, the darkness engulfed you like you were being shipped to the deep ocean, but it changed dramatically. Your eyes darted in awe as you drank on the scenery. The scenery of what you would call the imitation of Planet Krypton. So beautiful yet so harsh.

When the elevator stopped, the ding noise pulled you to the present. With excitement, you grabbed your smartphone and took several pictures of the scenery. It was just so surreal that a haunted house would make something like this. But you remember how expensive the ticket was.

"This three grant haunted house better give me a chance to fuck a real-life Clark Kent." you cackled.

There's a weird tower with a green light on top of it. You assumed some futuristic objects were supposed to be 'kryptonite' as it floated sparsely in most parts of the supposed Krypton. A bit further, you could see a white crystal-like triangle building. Oddly enough, it reminded you of the Louvre Pyramid. This one just full of crystal-like pillars crisscrossed it.

Didn't want to waste your time, you decided what path you should choose. It wasn't easy. Your stiletto pierced to the weird substrate like mud but also crystal-like as if it's ice. Carefully, you mind your footing while again stayed alert. There's this odd feeling of being watched. But you reminded yourself that you were in a haunted house, so it's understandable.

You let out a loud scream when suddenly a mummy appeared behind one of the floated crystals. "Holy shit, I didn't see that coming." you try to slow down your breath as you clutched the white ruffle shirt under your red corset.

When you feel that you can walk again, you try to do it faster. Several times it looks like the Krypton had shifted in its light as if the sun rose and shone, but the next five minutes, it set. Made the scenery look like it was illuminated by the crystal alone, like a lamp.

When many ghost-like mannequins showed up, it got scarier and scarier, and you immediately lowered your hood to shield you from some view. Your eyes perked up when you finally saw the path to the Fortress of Solitude. It was more like an icy bridge with a dark pond surrounding it.

As your right foot stepped onto the bridge, a loud noise of a clock surprised you. It struck once and counted until it stopped at the twelfth. It was so loud it's voice echoed. You can even feel it under the sole of your boots.

Stunned for a moment, your mind suddenly set on alert mode when the water from both ponds on each side of the bridge rippled. A dinosaur-like head appeared from both ponds. It has a single protruding horn. It opened its mouth and let out a loud growl. A blast of wind came out of it like a thunderstorm. It has sharp teeth like sharks that you assumed could quickly rip your body apart if it sank on yours.

"Holy shit. This is— this is a joke, right? It's not real?" Body trembled in fear; you ran your life out to the Fortress of Solitude. The monsters crawled up out of the water. Its slithered movement mimicked a snake, but it didn't have any problem crawling up without things to latch on.

You screamed as both of the monsters chased you. Run as fast as your legs allow you. This haunted house event might be too much for you. When you can see an oval object that looks like it can be a big mirror or a huge door, your gloved palms immediately bang on it. "Open the door!" You screamed. When the door finally opened, the two snake-like monsters that chased you suddenly disappeared.

"Oh— oh my god. Oh my god…," you chanted as you let yourself drop down on the floor.

"I see you finally make it."

Your face turned to the left. In front of you, stood up tall and proud, Clark Kent with his superman costume. He's just so big. If you compared your tiny body to him, you definitely, nothing.

You replied to Superman's bright smile with a scowl. Slowly you got up from the floor and cleaned your skirt. "Isn't that just too much? What if I fell to the pond? I can't swim, you know?"

He seems surprised, "apologized my lady. It was something the organizer will handle. I don't think they mean any harm."

"Yeah...yeah… right." you walked closer to the hero and already fished out your mobile phone. "So… what did I need to do now I meet you, Superman?"

"Hmm… most attendants ask for pictures. Some of them spent time just talking with me. Since you are the last one, you can take as many pictures as you like and of course. If you have any questions about my protection for the earth, I will gladly answer it." The tone in his voice was more soft than authoritative.

Think of not sabotaging your Halloween any longer; you tried to forgive the silliness of the whole new level of scary from this haunted house. It's hard not to show off your brattiness in this kind of situation. Still, you reminded yourself that he was someone you weren't familiar with—practically a stranger.

Gave him a sweet smile, you took several pictures with him. At one time, you tried to bat your eyelashes at him and asked for a picture where you sat on his lap. You spent a solid 15 minutes talking to the handsome alien. Your fingers touched his biceps here and there. You knew that he knew what you were implying, but he didn't refuse you either. At least not blatantly.

"I apologized, my dear, but I think it's already time." Superman gently put you back on your feet. You gave him an upset face, but you knew it's time to go home. You bid the handsome man goodbye and sneaked a kiss on his cheeks. There's a twinge of pink on his cheeks, and you jump triumphantly at that reaction. Of course, behind his back.

Following the word of 'exit' behind the piles of the crystal-like shape props, you opened the door. The scenery in front of you caught you off guard. The harshed white tundra scenery was replaced by now dark, almost jungly like one. Unconsciously you stepped back and turned your body to come back to the exit door. How shocked you were when it vanished. Disappear without a trace.

As far as your eyes could see, it's only darkness and mist. Only the full moon aided your visions. The exhalation of your breath came out like a plume of white steam. It's definitely colder here than the fake Krypton one. The cold air seeped into your skin quickly as if you were actually in the deep of a forest.

With a loud sigh, you walk straight. You tumbled and fell down on your knees as your boots got caught with something: either roots or a massive branch.

Tired and frightened, you screamed loudly. You weren't sure if this was the continuation of the haunted house or not, but what you want right now just to be back in your apartment and soaked in a warm, relaxing bath.

"Get me out of here!" you yelled again. There's a lot of sounds as if a lot of people stepping on branches. A screeching sound of an owl surprised you, but you tried to follow its direction with your ears.

There's no way you will wait here and do nothing. Oh...my phone! You fished out your smartphone, but it showed no signal. "Shit!." you muttered.

The sounds from a far away crept closed, and you knew it. "You can do it! There's nothing more frightening than that monster snake." tried to encourage yourself; you stood up and slowly navigated. You followed the noises that now closer, like an animalistic growl. It was so intense you can feel all the goosebumps rise up your skin.

You weren't sure how long you have been walking, but you stopped suddenly when there's not only a pair but like 7 pairs of reddish eyes glowed in the dark.

"Come here, little lamb. Don't follow that voice." a vaguely familiar voice distracted you from stepping forward.

"Who the fuck are you, and why you get in my way just now." your voice came out hoarse. There's a twinge of fear in it, and you knew it. You felt like backed down wasn't the best option you had right now.

"I said, come here, or else I can't even save you when they get you."

You stilled as if you didn't hear him talking to you. "Wasn't this still one of the tricks from the haunted house? To let the people scramble in fear?"

"Are you out of your mind? Come here right now, or I left you to death. They will either rip you apart or play your body like a ragdoll before one of them eats you."

You screamed in horror as one pair of red eyes slowly came out. It's huge. Almost four feet of canine shook its fur.

You were hyperventilating right now. Body rooted to the ground as you were surrendered. Welcoming your fate.

"Fuck!"

You heard a curse from behind your back. Maybe the stranger gave up and left you alone to be eaten by the wolves.

The scrunched sound of leaves crushed was loud. Suddenly you felt strong arms hauled you upside down.

Your eyes faced the skin of someone's back. You craned your neck a little bit to get a better view of the wolf. Screamed escaped your lips when you saw not only one but all of them, in a pack, chased both of you.

"Stay still." The stranger yelled.

Did the best thing to not get thrown out by his weird, fast speed, you secured your thumbs in his belt loops. He ran, escaped the pack inside the deep of what looked like a pine forest.

You weren't sure how long you ran with him, but you felt that he's finally slowed down.

When the thud thud sound reached your ears, you opened your eyes and saw that the stranger walked up a stair.

You felt nauseated when he suddenly put you to sit on something that was apparently a countertop. The rushes of blood that circulated through your body made you regain your sense of surroundings.

"Where am I?" you didn't mean to add an ungrateful tone in your sentence, but it was too late.

The stranger eyed you like you were some sort of ungrateful bitch, which maybe you are. "At my cabin," he said flatly.

You haven't had time to look at him in the forest, but now, under the actual lighting inside his house, what you saw might instantly make you drooled, which you already did right now. Stand up in front of you, a shirtless beefy tall man that's definitely more than six feet tall. He has short dark brown hair with a somewhat thick mustache that's complemented by a stubble. The front strands of his hair were loose and slightly curled. Looks likely due to all the running.

The sudden chill of air made you shiver, and he didn't miss your reaction. He left you for a minute and came back with a rug. The sudden heat from it, when he draped the fabric on your shoulder made you let out a gasp of satisfaction.

But the next thing you know, he ripped your stocking. You were shocked, eyeing him in horror. "What the fuck are you doing?!" You threw whatever things that's on your reach. The loud sound of glass hit the wall, and the strong grip on your wrist instantly made your stop.

"Be still!" His azure irises left no room for confrontation. When you felt a sting on your knees, that's when you realized that he just pressed some gauze on it. Likely soaked with alcohol first. There's quite a prominent stain of blood on your legs, and it almost made you nauseated.

"If you stop acting like a brat, you'll heal faster." He looked at you with that cocky smile of confidence. "Understood?"

You just nodded at him. He continued to clean the blood and inspect the wounds. The position where you were sitting right now made it easier to study him carefully.

Although you felt the temperature decreased significantly, the beefy stranger in front of you appeared very sweaty.

Immediately your gaze ran down to his neck and continued its way to his chest and his abs. The unmistakable bulge under his pants made you squirm unconsciously. You were in a haze of fear and lust; you definitely insane.

"Wha— what's your name, sir?"

His strong gazed felt as if his eyes alone can subdue you. Maybe he has these laser eyes like Cyclops, your inner thought buzzed with speculation.

"August. My name is August Walker. What's your name, little lamb?"

How dare this man call you a little lamb? You cleared your throat and told him your name and where you were from.

"New York? It's pretty far from here." He patched you up nicely. The water-resistant gauze looked really neat pressed on your knees and some on your shin. You were impressed.

When your eyes returned to August, you gave him a smile that you hoped looked like a smile of gratitude. Not the kind of smile you always presented to any potential partner in bed, sultry, and flirtatious.

"I— I haven't said anything but— thanks. Thank you for saving my life." Your left fingers instinctively pat his right arms. The feeling of his skin startled you. It's warm; in fact, it felt like he had a very high fever.

"Are— are you alright? Your temperature feels off."

"Don't mind me. Just take care of yourself."

You knew there's something off with him, but you weren't sure if you had a clear mind to think right now. Not with the wolf pack outside and his words on New York being far away from here. Where the fuck am I?

"I… I have a—,"

"I suggest you stay here if you don't want to meet them."

"But I…,"

"You can use the bedroom there," his hand pointed to the door on the far end. "Feel free to use anything you want. Just don't come to the basement. I will meet you after a couple of days, and we figured things out."

His authoritative voice and dominant persona immediately made you want to counter his suggestion. The funny thing was, looked like he sensed it.

He approached you, face just inches away from you. Your eyes immediately glanced away from the delicious plane of his sweaty chest. His fingers drew your chin up, so both of your eyes were at the same level. "Do what I said, understand?. Thrust me; you don't want to know the consequences if you violate my suggestion."

Suggestion, my ass! Your inner mind ready to throw insults at him, but you quickly held it back. In the end, you nodded at him obediently.

—

That night you were restless. But in a weird sense, you felt comfortable staying in that cabin. The first night after August left you to your own devices, you had been pretty careful. Not touched a lot of things except food and items that help you with your long bath.

His cabin was quite spacious. The interior was a mix of something slicked and modern with an equal touch of classic. Tried to look homey. Not to mention his bathroom, it's super luxurious and made you feel at home instantly. Reminded you of your ex (sugar daddy's) bathroom.

Since you couldn't find another bedroom in that cabin and you don't feel like sleeping on the couch, you slept in his bed instead. After all, he said you can use the bedroom there. Still wearing your red riding hood costume, you slipped under the soft comforter.

After that, you woke up feeling a bit groggy. Aimlessly wandered around the kitchen, you weren't sure what to do first. Tried collecting your bearing, you tried to make a coffee. Or any equivalent things of it. Everything felt different; you just knew it. When the only thing you could find was several jars that you assumed were granules of tea, you brew it. You sat on the sofa that faced up a lake. The wall was made of glass, making everything well seen.

You walked closer and gazed at the vast pine forest in front of you. The trees were tall and big, so majestic. Somewhat it's different from the pine trees you usually see. The lake in front of you looked like it had two different colors, fusion together with weird looking fishes and plants that should grow on the land instead of water. Where the fuck am I?

The next day, you woke up feeling a little bit refreshed. You changed your slutty costume into one of the clothes you found in his closet. It was so soft and comfy. You knew when things were from high-quality material.

You continued your days by drinking your tea, ate whatever breakfast you can munch, and read a book that has these unusual fonts. You were sure it wasn't in the alphabet, but one day you absentmindedly swipe your fingers on some of the pages, and the font changed. Hell, it even translated into English in an instant. You were definitely impressed.

One thing you are sure of was, this place was strange. Wherever you were right now, it didn't look like it's on earth. Or the earth that you knew. Why were you so calm? Because you already freak out. After you freak out, you also wondered, did the haunted house event organizer realized that they were the culprit behind what the fuck happened to you right now? Did your housemate recognize that you weren't home for days? Or maybe she thought you fuck the Superman or perhaps found another sugar daddy? It was so absurd yet so real.

The last two nights, you were struck in awe as your eyes were spoiled by two moons. Two fuckin moons. It was always quiet at night, but you heard all the howls that you suspected likely from the pack of those giant wolves.

It was pretty late, almost midnight. You finally found your small bag hindered under the sofa that evening. Now…, now you had some time to check it. The first thing you checked was if there's a signal. Definitely no signal at all.

You curled up on August bed while swiping the pictures on your phone. When you scrolled your pictures with Superman, you realized why August seems familiar. It was none other than August having quite the same face, the same build, even somewhat similar voices with Superman.

"Fuck...maybe I should ask August if he would like to be my Daddy while I'm here." Imagining him spoiled you with gifts and other physical attention made you chuckled at yourself.

Your fingers instinctively crawled under the gray long sleeve shirt you borrowed from his closet (again). Your brain projected an image as if it was August's hands that ran on your upper thigh. Find its way quickly to your wet core. Two fingers slipped under the black lace panty. The panty that you need to wash daily due to no other replacement available. Left you a couple hours with only his buttoned-up shirt without anything underneath.

The sound of a loud howl startled you. It was as if it circled you in close range. Moved as fast as you can, you snatched the oversize robe on you. Your eyes tried to creep behind the curtain in the bedroom.

You knew the owner of this cabin stated that you can't go to the basement. You wouldn't be so lucky if that giant wolf found you first and broke in. Although you haven't been really out of the cabin, you tried to inspect a little bit and found it odd that this cabin was apparently a treehouse-style cabin. How come there's a basement in the house.

You exit the bedroom and go to the kitchen when you last saw August a couple nights ago. Next to the slick wooden cabinet was a particular thing that looked like a door. The surface of your palms works like a stethoscope, felt as if something with pressure from your hands. You tried not to get disturbed by the nonstop howl outside. When you hear something as if the door was shifted, you immediately step back.

"Oh my, finally…," you slipped inside the small door when it opened automatically. It was a small narrow corridor-like, and it was dark. Walk inside carefully, you follow the path that leads you to another door. The metal door let out a weird creaked as you pushed it open.

"Didn't I tell you not to come down here?"

Shocked was evident in your face when you heard his rather gruff tone. You step over, closer to where he sat, that looks more likely an even bigger size of the bed than the one he had upstairs.

"Don't —,"

He warned you, but you being you, could never obey orders. Although challenging, your eyes finally adapt to the only natural light from the glass wall. That said, you were totally confused as you can see the lake parallel to your eyes.

"What the… wait, how there's even a basement down here? Last time I checked, the cabin is a treehouse?"

"It's camouflage. No one can't see it or enter from outside."

"Holy… why there's a three moon?" you switched your gaze from the moon to August. Curiosity got the better of you when you saw his irises were now pale blue. You can still see the outer form that is August, but something was off.

A gasp escaped your lips as August rose up from the bed. The powerful moon shone his feature. He was taller, bulkier, and dangerous as he stalked towards you slowly. Your heart thumped erratically as you were cornered. Back supported by the glass wall as now you can see August in his other form.

"Holy shit. Wha—what are you?"

"Told you not to go here, and you just can't listen, little lamb." his smirk turned maniacal as he looked at the fear on your face. His white fangs, longer than usual. His fingers also look unusual, claw-like.

"Are you— are you a werewolf?"

"Well...you can say that. I'm half human half wolf if you are curious."

"So why— why did you save me?"

The tip of his nose inched closer to yours. You held your breath when his warm skin touched you. It moved to your left cheek and stopped near your ear. "I'm curious," he whispered.

"I haven't really met a pure human in the same age range. So I have followed you since I saw you step out of that door. I follow you until you meet the other wolf pack, and I decide to help you instead of fulfilling my need."

"What need?" you asked him, dumbfounded.

"This," he pulled away from you, his claw-like finger pointed out below his hip. Focusing on the long and hard appendage that was unmistakably, his cock.

"Oh—I- I'm sorry?" you gave him your best apologetic face. Eyes seemed eager to stare longer, but you gazed away quickly. Wait, why did you apologize to him? You cleared your throat, "I— I actually not sure what I should do to help?" tilted your head to the right, you looked him in the eyes, almost challenged him.

Despite almost getting eaten by wolves, August's menacing presence didn't really scare you. Maybe the fact that he was still human and less scary made it easy for you. Not to mention he's hot too, with all his glory.

His somewhat evil chuckled sent shivers down your spine. "If you really wanted to help, I think you know what to do, don't you?"

"W-wait—is—does this mean we 'mate'?" you gave him a somewhat weird expression. "And—and you bite me, give me marks that I'm yours? And knot me, and I will have a litter of puppies, and I become your omega—,"

His pale blue eyes stared at you as if you grew two heads. It softened immediately as he smiled. Broad one showed you a set of white teeth with extra long fangs.

"Oh, my little lamb...what have you read?"

"Err— Omega verse? Fanfic?"

He blinked. Gave you a quizzical expression.

"It's— it's erotica. Where mostly the character you know—," you darted your eyes away from August. "—mate, err have sex. Mostly was written very explicitly."

"Go on." He said.

"They are wolves, scenting, imprinting. An alpha mates with omega, and it's been told in a variety of plots possible. Sometimes two alphas fight too." You were breathless. You didn't realize you explained it to him in a quick, incoherent way.

You staggered backward as he came closer, forgetting that you already cornered. His long fingers reached out to the white robe you put on you. Although his fingers had claws that looked alarming to you, his hand still skillfully unfastened the robe.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, I think. Pack and hierarchies usually form just for a mating season; they hunt together for food and shelter in the winter. We might be scenting people, I guess. After all, we have a very sensitive sense of smell. But no, we don't bite our mate." He took off the robe from your body, left you only with his grey buttoned-up shirt.

"Well...I love that you are wearing my shirt as if you are mine already."

You purse your lips at him. "Why aren't you in a pack? Isn't it a mating season?"

"I mostly can control myself during the full moon. That's the advantage of being half-human. I don't need to transform myself into a wolf and be in a pack. But I am an alpha if that's what you are curious about."

"Can-can you turn back to your human form? Not like—you know, you aren't in your human form, bu—," your words were cut off by his thumb on your lips.

"You talk too much, aren't you, little lamb…," August leaned down and touched his lips to yours. Your first reaction was to freeze since you were afraid of his fangs. But his surprisingly soft lips coaxed you relentlessly, making you surrender as you closed your eyes. Opening your mouth, his tongue sneaked past your lips easily. His fangs poke at your lower lips, but it didn't hurt.

The non so innocent kiss became more desperate. Your once shied tongue now dances together with August. Your once clasped palms that were situated on top of your chest now scraped at his shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered open as August nipped down from your jaw to your neck. Forgotten, you even close your eyes in the first place. His claw-like fingers unbuttoned his shirt on yours without difficulty, left you only in your black lace panty.

The feeling of temperature as if dropped significantly made you glued your body to August. Smooth skin of your chest pressed to his hot hairy one, seeking warmth. One hand secured behind your back while the other palm on your ass. Massage the globe there.

"Ohh…" you gasped as you felt his finger on your clothed core.

"Hmm… wet already, I see." he let the pad of his finger move up to your clit, while the movement of the claw added sensation to your already. Seeing your reaction, he repeated it a couple times. Made you a mess with only one of his fingers.

Arched your body a little bit, you were thrilled to see his expression. Traveled your hands down from his hairy chest; your eyes still focused on his face, while your palms found their way to his hard cock.

"Oh, so big…," slowly at first, you ran your hands at the tip of his cock. Even without looking at it, you knew it's definitely bigger than any cock you've ever seen.

Eyes widened as your hand slid down to the base. The other weighed his balls. "Holy…," your eyes looked down, stared in awe at his cock.

"Careful little lamb, you drooled on it."

"Who's not?" You eyed him in disbelief.

August let out a weird laugh, "I expect you to worship it, then." He looked at you with a bemused expression as you quickly worked on his length. Stroked it up and down repeatedly.

You go down on your knees, eyes crossed as you focused on his slit that oozed pre-cum. Unconsciously, you stuck out your tongue and brushed it on his slit. Wrapped your right hand at the base of his cock, your gaze rose up to meet his. Left handheld on his upper thigh for support as your lips covered the heat of his cock. You bobbed your head calculatedly as you accommodate him halfway.

"Such a good little lamb for your wolf, aren't you." August's right hand was at the back of your head as he nudged you none too gently. Made you choke at his cock, and pulled it out from your mouth. You gazed at the mix of your saliva and his precum in awe. But it didn't last long as August pulled you to your feet and picked you up.

He climbed up on the bed with you and laid on his back. He situated your hips and pulled it closer, so your opening was hovering on top of his face. On all four, for him. August was rewarded with a yelped and a moan as his tongue licked your clothed core.

The sound of fabric being ripped made you turn your head to the right. "That's my only pa— ohhh," your protest died right away as his tongue lapped your opening. The feel of his claws as he spread your ass cheeks added wonder to your pussy.

Trying to keep yourself busy, you swallowed the head of his cock for a starter. His cock was too big for you; your mouth can only allow half of it. Diligently, you tried to move your tongue while you suck on his cock, hands slid up and down. Feeling all the veins that encircled his length made you shuddered.

August bucked his hips as you put one of your hands to massaging his balls. The action made you gagged as his cock entered further than before. But it didn't take a long time for you to stop due to his sudden attack on your pussy.

His tongue was not lapped at you anymore; it rammed inside your wet core like a starved man. You squealed as the end of his fangs scrapped at your now wet pussy. The pressure on your clit as the pad of his fingers made a circular motion left you breathless. It drove you to your high faster than you ever experienced. A surprised scream left off your lips as his tongue scraped your most sensitive part. Your body quivered as your inner walls spasm, hands held on his cock as you ride your high.

"Ohh— my god, ohh—my god—," you can still feel the kitten licked as August feasted on it.

"Ahh—that' s—that's good." You let your head rested on his left thigh.

"Now, for the main course." August's gruff tone pulled you back from your hazy state. His hard cock was evident on your right hand.

You felt your body shifted position, and now you were on your back. August spread your legs wide and shifted his position. The feeling of his heavy cock on top of your pussy made you nervous but also excited. Unconsciously you nibbled your forefingers while eyes traveled down to his long and hard cock. It made an up and down motion on your opening. You can feel your wet pussy clenched in frustration, ready to be filled.

"August please…," still nibbled at your fingers, you gaze at the wolf on top of you, one elbow supporting your upper body. He's so big, literally and figuratively. If you can't come back to your world, so be it. You didn't mind staying and being his plaything as long as he wanted you.

"Please, what my little lamb?" You pouted at that. You definitely weren't a little lamb. If anything, you should be the succubus.

"Please put that in me—," you writhed underneath him.

"Please put what?" His big body tower over you. His pupils dilated and only left a small ring of pale blue irises. His clawed fingers move up and down your thigh.

"Ple—please, ohhhh, put that cock inside me! Fuck me, my wolf— nhhh—," your plead was answered when August suddenly pushed the head of his cock on your opening.

The back of your head fell to rest on the thick pillow as the intrusion of August's cock sent a surprising jolt on your body. You knew he's big. But when his cock finally spread your lips open and entered you, the overwhelming sensation was something you still didn't expect.

"Ohh— so big—," your pussy clenched immediately when August tried to push deeper but also slowly. The noticeable ridge of his vein scraped at your inner wall deliciously. With closed eyes, you gripped the edge of the pillow as you mumbled about how full you feel right now.

"Work your clit for me. Yes...make that tight pussy cream on my cock."

"Oh—like this?" Your fore and middle fingers slowly pulled the hood and made a circular motion as August asked.

"Yes… Just like that…."

It didn't take you long enough to feel the fast buildup on your lower belly. Something that never happened before. "Ohh—yes—I'm going to cum, my—ahhh," you work your clit faster as August cock made a shallow fuck inside you.

"Yes, cum on my cock, my little lamb. I want to see your pretty face when you cum for your wolf." His wolf tone deliciously affected your body. His growl sent an extra twitch on your clit. And you lose it when he thrust all the way inside your wet pussy.

You scream in ecstasy as your pussy quivered uncontrollably on his hard cock. You feel so full. The feeling of his cock all the way inside you made your brain feel as if it was submerged. Forgotten that you ever closed your eyes, you were rewarded by a sly smirk on August werewolf's face. His eyes were now all dark. His hair loosened, made the curls of it fall to his forehead.

"I see you enjoying yourself, my little lamb." His claws caressed your thigh gently.

"Nnn—of course, I ahhh—I am." A little movement from August made you aware that his cock still inside you. Hard as a rock.

August lifted up both your knees and secured it with his hands. You lifted your upper body with your elbows as he retrieved his cock from your wet core. You gasped when you witnessed August pulled it out, inches by inches. Left only the head inside you.

You moaned when he pushed again. Stretched you like no one else ever had. He did it slowly, knew that you still adapt to his girth. But the feeling when the tip of his cock scraped your most sensitive part every time he thrust inside you, you were tripped to your high even faster than before.

The moan of pleasure became incoherent as August sped up his pace. Repeated syllables of ahhh and ohhh accompanied your plead for him to fuck you like you were a female wolf. Released his pent up frustration to mate.

Both of you fuck like an animal who just needs to reproduce. Lust clouded the atmosphere in the room. Moaned and growled were sung like a prayer under the moonlight that shone its way to the basement.

His balls slapped against your ass every time he plugged in inside you. Sweats trickled down your body, and it looked even animalistic in August. His werewolf form was so majestic that you just wholly let him own you.

His feracious fucking looked like almost to its limit. The buzzed on your lower belly was ready to explode, but you held it.

"Fuck!" He growled.

"Uhh—uhh—uhh—cum in me. Yes—cum in me, my wolf— filled me up with your thick hot cum!" You pleaded like a bitch in heat.

August slammed his cock deep inside you as he screamed and let out a long howl. The feel of his warm cum inside you triggered your orgasm. You wail as your inner walls contracted and squeezed his cock. Spurt and spurt of his cum filled your womb to the brim. Something that you never allowed any of your partners to do in the past.

You didn't realize that you lock both your ankles behind August ass. But also you sensed something changed. August was draped on top of your body, head sneaked at the crook of your neck. Still, in a haze caused by the release of oxytocin in your bloodstream, you missed the way August kissed turned into something more. He bit you.

The still clouded brain of yours pop-up an image of you becoming August omega. His only mate. Bear a litter of pups for him and live happily ever after in his house, in his world. Your pussy unconsciously clenched at his cock that was still inside you. You never really said this to anyone, but you imagine you live in another world since the first time you ever read a story about omega verse.

You mewled when the biting stopped. Maybe August bit you just for fun. When he craned his head up to look at you, something was different. His eyes turned back to his azure color. His fangs now short, back to its regular human teeth, and his body wasn't as hairy as he's before. He's practically not in his werewolf form anymore.

"You changed? Why?"

He looked at you with his quizzical expression. "You wanted me to return to my werewolf form?"

You glanced away from him and kind of embarrassed to declare that his werewolf form was way hotter than his human form. Not that his human form wasn't hot either. Damn, you definitely bang him every time you can, but his werewolf form just made you curl your toes in an instant.

You cleared your throat and looked him in the eyes, "I like it very much."

"Well...the full moon is still in the sky for quite some time. Are you ready for the next round, my little lamb?"

"Yes, my wolf." You purred seductively at him and witnessed in delight his transformation before your eyes.

***

Comment, like and reblog are highly desirable! Spread the filthiness lol 💋

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #werewolf august walker #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #jshauntedhouse2020 #red riding hood #little lamb reader #henry cavill fanficiton #roughfuck #red ridding hood x werewolf #clark kent #superman #mission impossible #halloween challenge

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dreamylyfe-x · 3 years

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Reactions: 11x06: Do Not Go Gently... (etc)

You know, I was going to do one of these for 11x05 and then I got so mad about the “Pollack” thing that I just couldn’t.

Shameless is such a challenging show in so many ways... because there is a lot of cringe a lot of the time and I am a delicate flower about those things. But... I do love it and so much of its strengths at this point are the performers and just the length of time we have been with these characters. And sometimes you really see that, and sometimes you frustratingly don’t, but this episode was much more the former than the latter.

I’m going talk about Carl right off the jump when I thought I was going to avoid talking about it at all because... not a topic I enjoy. If you don’t enjoy, I will keep it all in this bullet so it’s really skipable. I will see where I eventually land on it, because I am wary -- lots of bad consent on this show over the year and very little longterm exploration and all. But. I have seen a lot of sexual assault storylines over the years. I can’t readily remember if I’ve ever seen someone on a TV show have that moment where they feels weird, tell someone why, and get someone emphatically tell them that they’re right to feel weird, because they’ve been violated. That is something that is so common in life. I have unfortunately had more than one conversation with someone that took exactly that trajectory. There is so often this period of shock and uncertainty and people will then use that against people to demonstrate how they couldn’t POSSIBLY have been hurt. If they were going to tell a story about a sexual assault, I’m glad they did this -- something that they set up like “this is grey!” and then have Debbie say “It’s not grey. It’s a crime.” Weird to them basically SMASHCUT to a totally new topic but I will swing back around to that.

I like Debbie best with Sandy so this was a rough one for me with her.

Frank: WTF, why do I care about Frank’s story? They’ve set this up all season so it’s not a surprise, but... I dunno. Frank is awful. But he’s also an addict. And the thing I will always have empathy for on the topic of addiction is the way it can steal your life. What’s happening to Frank is scary and a direct result of an addiction which we have pretty much never seen him try to get out from under in any meaningful way. He has lost his life to it -- his potential, his relationships, his children -- and now he’s losing his mind. Just. Fuck.

Speaking of: Lip. WTF are you doing? I feel like, by the end of the episode, they’d made it clear that Lip is acting out. That he’s angry and frustrated and it’s making him do stupid and destructive things that aren’t actually going to add up to ANYTHING good for him. Which... Kinda classic of Lip. But those moments where Mickey is looking at him and is the voice of reason ... I mean, I love that. But Lip. That’s not a great look for you.

Once again, V’s story just sorta weird? Like active shooter drills being a replacement for gym class... Um. Wait. What is this story about, exactly? Gun violence or school funding? Or both? What are we doing?

Liam: Stop going to Carl with your problems. Christian: I love what you’re doing. Because boy do I feel Liam’s terror. And I’ll come back to that, too.

Gallavich! It was a Gallavich story where the focus was on MICKEY. Just... Wow. I literally didn’t think that was going to be a thing this year. We love to see it.

Mickey helping Lip rob Born Free... There are a lot of blanks in all of that, but he seemed quite integral to the operation, Ian clearly knew it was going down and Mickey seems to have primarily seen it as a way to do a thing for family. I love the Lip and Mickey relationship -- I love the history of it. I love that they’ve known each other since grade school and are completely different kinds of alphas. Lip has always had being the smartest in his back pocket, but Mickey often leaves him speechless by just being the most fearless. I love how there’s always been a bit of begrudging respect (and on Lip’s side, maybe a bit of sympathy) there and I love that the show let us have a moment where Mickey is going out to help Lip do crime and then coming back to the house with donuts for everybody. Just. Beyond my wildest dreams for season 11.

Speaking of “beyond my wildest dreams” -- that there would be some decent level of complexity with Mickey and Terry. I think a lot of that complexity was left up to Noel to convey -- but that’s a choice they’re making and I think it’s the right one. I loved Ian observing that this was the most Mickey ever talked about Terry, because that seems true. It’s a little nod, too, to when Ian desperately WANTED Mickey to talk about Terry and the fact that Ian has, for years, accepted that Mickey won’t. It’s in character for Mickey not to want to SAY a lot about his dad, and it’s also just a true fact that the writers can give Noel a non-verbal moment (or five) and get us as the audience what we need to understand about where Mickey is at. And that’s history, too. Because we have watched Noel let the audience see Mickey’s heart through nothing but his facial expression for 10 of 11 seasons.

One of those Milkoviches looks a lot like Jody, so that was weird.

So one of my less popular Shameless opinions is that it makes sense that Mickey is involved with Terry in season 10. For many reasons I won’t get into here, but one of them is just that... people who have been abused by their parents do tend to have some kind of relationship with those parents. Most of that is just the fact that Terry -- while being absolutely horrific -- is still Mickey’s father. And Mickey clearly struggles to completely shrug that off. He struggles with it in seasons 3 and 4, and he struggles with it now. He understands that he has every right. But. Mickey isn’t Terry. And that’s going to make it harder for Mickey to completely shut that door. Since Mickey actually DOES have empathy.

Ok -- everyone has and will say what I’m about to say, which is just: The scene on the couch was amazing. Being take care of is such a loaded issue for Ian. It was loaded enough that it broke them up in season 10. Ian might talk about being paralyzed, but he’s saying that knowing that he will have to rely on Mickey to take care of him sometimes. He knows Mickey knows that and he knows Mickey signed up for it. But it’s hard for him. I think Ian knows the answer to the question -- has to -- but he asks it to ground Mickey in the idea that they both have each other. Mickey isn’t going to end up like Terry. He isn’t going to be alone in his chair with every single member of his family satisfied to leave him on the curb in a hospital gown.

To take a step back, this is also why I love the prior scene on the sidewalk, because that is a lot of how Ian takes care of Mickey. I reblogged Gallavictorious’s post yesterday that talked about an accusation that the fandom promotes the idea Mickey is supposed to solve Ian’s problems. This is the show helping her rebuttal, because my gut response to that idea was “where is Mickey now if Ian hadn’t shown up and loved him the way he did?” -- and that moment on the sidewalk is an example of how that still impacts Mickey. That’s what Mickey sticks around for. To have someone standing right in front of him when he wants to do something that will blow his life up just saying “Don’t.” Like how powerful is it for Mickey to have someone care like that? Mickey doesn’t want to talk. That’s not how he wants to receive love from Ian. But I think it’s incredibly valuable and important that Mickey has someone telling him he doesn’t need to give up his life to punish his father. That Terry isn’t worth it and that Mickey’s life IS.

Back on the couch scene tip: How exhausted must Mickey BE at this point? He’s up all night helping Lip, then he’s driving with Ian all day. Just what a long 24 hours for this guy.

I love that Ian doesn’t chase Mickey when he gets up. That he follows, but he doesn’t seem alarmed. He seems to understand they are past the gun-to-the-forehead part of this experience.

I also love that Ian helps him. I’ve seen several people note that this is Ian observing Mickey’s boundaries and it is. But it’s also Ian pointing out that Mickey isn’t in this alone.

It WAS big of Mickey, Ian. I fully agree. Far beyond the call.

I think Ian’s been wanting to tell Mickey he’s better than that all day. But this was the moment where Mickey was most going to be able to hear it. 💕

Selling the house: Well, we are really getting to the “last season of Shameless” stuff. I get where Lip is coming from, when he looks at his options. I get Debbie’s reaction. I also understand, given Ian’s day, while he is IMMEDIATELY all in. I only have one question: WHAT ABOUT LIAM???? I’m already mad at all of you for not giving that kid a hug.

But. I mean, overall? Literally wanted to see that much Terry/Mickey stuff for years. I never thought it would get here, so I’m happy.

But oh my God. We’re halfway done. 😳

#of course I will always take more #but this was good #Save Liam #Shameless season 11 #Shameless 11x06

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evalieena · 3 years

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35 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

well since dearest @bachint asked, here goes nothing!

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

well if no downplaying’s allowed i guess i’d give it a 3/5? some mistakes since i’m not a native plus i”m still working on getting my english style better! i like what i come up with all the same, i’ve improved a lot these past two years, and my grammar isn’t that bad i guess?

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to do what developers didn’t do in the first place to make good use of my imagination, to cope with the fact that some characters don’t exist and i will never follow another one of their adventures, to forget about a boring real life...

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

my writing doesn’t stand out lmaooo but i guess i’m always trying to focus on the character’s psychology, struggles and all that, so if someone likes my work, it’s ‘original’ bc it’s usually quite different from the usual stories where there are a lot of dialogues and interactions.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

i’ve been inspired a lot by @welcometogressenheller (i wish i could do as well as she does.....), @aceklaviergavin (kudos to you even if you never see that post and you probably don’t know who i am), and some others whose name i forgot (sorry!)

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

i didn’t write much but i guess that my latest fics are really nice (There’s No Light In You Anymore, and the whole Faith series on AO3). also my big project “Now That You’re Gone”, i’m glad i’ve been able to write that much for it and i intend on continuing as soon as i find the motivation!

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

pain, struggles and all that comes with it as long as it’s in the character’s mind, because beware here you step in a dark space

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

ordinary scenes of life? i always find my writing lacking as soon as i step out of my comfort zone, i’m all for rambling and never-ending pain

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

desmond/descole surely

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

all the good guys (and dimitri allen because i’d love writing about him but i’m? just unable to?)

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

that may come as a surprise! angst!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

a mix of question 8 and 10 and you’ve got your answer

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

professor layton and the shattering secrets!!! i’m so happy of what this AU will look like when i’ll be done writing the following chapters, at first it probably looks annoying but heck i wanna promise anyone who’s reading it that the plot twists are gonna be worth it even though the overall background isn’t that original because i’ve mixed up different elements from other games (aaaand we’re back in our oh-so-amazing comfort zone that covers up a massive lack of imagination)

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

ummm? the vampire diaries maybe? back when i was 10 or 11 lol

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

hands up... pROFESsoR LayTON

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

i didn’t write for many fandoms but back in my younger days i used to do self-insert fics with the vampire diaries cast and it was so odd and i wish i hadn’t just confessed that on my tumblr blog

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

nothing that comes to mind

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

dunno either

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

PL and the shattering secrets! huge canon divergence and one heck of an AU (also its original version is much worse, my mind was going crazy when i was 15)

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

i love reading AUs, writing some requires solid imagination which i have not, but honestly i don’t really mind

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

gen

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

desmond sycamore x his wife / randall ascot x hershel layton (be it romantic or platonic) / randall ascot x basically anyone from the MM i guess though i didn’t write anything about that yet (it’s about to change guys)

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

yea i can’t write without listening to music - any playlist does the trick as long as i like what i’m listening to but usually i listen to sad soundtracks, or i’m inspired by some random lyrics

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

i’d go with challenges bc my horrible ass has very few ideas but i usually come up with independent ideas

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

one shots!

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

i don’t remember ;_;

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

i’ve got one OS in mind with randall/layton but i don’t want to be the talk of the town because it’s probably going to be awful? also any other fic including the PL3 crew

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

@welcometogressenheller telling me she believed i was a native!!! i struggle so much trying to improve my writing style in english and i have a lot of insecurities so it was so heartwarming and incredible to read...

also basically any other comment where people tell me they like what i write. i love that writers feel the need to take some time reviewing my works bc i need constant validation

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

well i’ve never really received ‘harsh’ criticism or anything, save for some very rare remarks on my grammar so i guess i don’t know? at first it’s always sad to see that what i’ve done isn’t perfect but i guess it’s impossible to be perfect so i’m really happy that people take some time to underline what looks wrong to them

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

currently trying to with shattering secrets and it’s actually a great way to improve!

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

MERCILESS ANGST

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

i wish i could but it would perhaps be a huge spoiler so i don’t wanna say much about them...

i have 1) annabell sycamore, des’s wife, whose personality fits very much mine. she’s a playwright, spends lot of her time writing and acting in front of des AND WITH des. also she’s a very realistic person and some people usually tell her that she’s being too pessimistic

2) aurelia from the shattering secrets and on her i really cannot say much... if anyone’s read this far it would be so nice if you could give SS a shot by the way!!

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

desmond sometimes finds happiness but it’s always taken from him

(isn’t that a summary for everything i’ve ever written?)

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

i don’t translate my works from my original language to english, i write straight in english. i spend a lot of time making sure i haven’t done any grammatical mistakes, checking the definition and the use of some words i’m not sure about, and sometimes it’s quite a pain and it can be also very discouraging bc i end up believing what i write comes from a random internet dictionary while deep down i know it’s not true but hey what can i say. huge insecurities laid bare here.

(if any reader of mine’s reading this, i apologize)

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

(beware: spoilers for the whole prequel trilogy!!!)

“Hershel Layton was puzzled. A funny emotion to feel for someone who loved puzzles that much, but nothing could ever describe better the way he’d felt for hours now, hours that seemed like ages.So much did happen in the span of a few hours.

First he’d learned his parents could be targeted by Targent, then Aurora had made it clear that she didn’t want to live anymore, all so she could protect them. Then Desmond—no, Descole—had taken the key from her hands, and revealed himself as the dangerous scientist Layton knew him to be.

Then they’d fought. Despair was filling the air, though Hershel didn’t understand what Descole meant when he cried that the Azran legacy was all he had to live for.

And as if there hadn’t been enough betrayals as it was, Emmy was soon to follow. Luke had been abducted. He’d had no other choice than siding with Descole to prevent Bronev from unleashing doom on Earth. Misery didn’t seem to end.

Just when he’d thought he’d finally be able to change things, Descole had been ready to sacrifice himself to save Luke. And then…

Then everything just collapsed.

He held his agonizing brother in his arms; the one who’d wanted so hard to take him down only a few hours back was now confessing, fearing death was on the way.“

[...]

from ‘Six Times Hershel Layton Remembered, Plus The One Time He Didn’t’

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

oops i haven’t got anything more to say but thank you for reading? perhaps?

#asks #asks for fanfiction writers #eve rambles #professor layton fandom #how does umblr work #also sorry my english may be lacking #you know the meme sorry for my bad english don't you #well i'm that meme

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

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Houston, We Got A Problem - Modern!Payne x Reader (Slow West)

@mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad

Author’s Note: Right. Basically. I was inspired to do this due to pic I saw. And then I had to find a song and a plot that could make this modern and it all kinda worked out-! About 3 or so months after I originally went “this thing will get written-!” (And then I started in in April and didn’t finish it until August!)

Anyway - I think if I have a checklist of things I can weave in here I got nearly all of them..! 😉😉😉

Disclaimer: AU, obviously / I think he’s as close to in-character as I could have got him but also understand he’s a little OOC (but had to for the context, I guess!) / Slow West & all associated characters not mine / my usual disclaimers-!

Premise: Offered a once in a lifetime opportunity in Houston, Texas - Payne is torn up about leaving you in Colorado. You know it’s a dream he’s been chasing, but you aren’t about to let him leave without reminding him what he has to return to...

Words: 4722

Warnings: AU / Swearing / Drinking / Sexual Connotations / Slight OOC-ness, maybe? He’s a little softer I think than he aught to be but I’ll let you all decide this for yourself-!

________

This is my kinda town, this is my kinda place I wouldn't mind hangin' 'round For more than just a couple days I got a twelfth floor room with a killer view of the empty Astrodome A tab at the bar downstairs, but all I can think about is home

You should've seen 19th Street, you should've seen the midnight rodeo The way them saloon doors swing, when they line dance to "Copperhead Road" Something ‘bout the air down here, that'll make you feel the way all them cowboys do I wish I was an outlaw, But all I can think about is you I got new boots covered in red dirt A "Don't Mess With Texas" T-shirt And a Lonestar postcard postmarked with missin' you It's got the biggest sky you've ever seen, the coldest beer you'd ever drink But I still feel like I landed on the moon 'Cause it ain't got you Houston, we got a problem

---

Undisclosed Location, Colorado

You could see the truck before you could hear it; stirring up clouds of dust from the dirt roads leading down to the ranch. You were standing out on the front porch, not eager to get caught up in the hot mid-afternoon Colorado sunshine. You were watching Payne, Silas and Marimacho down in the corral with the horses; but that dust made your eyes raise to the horizon. You weren’t due any visitors, and everyone meant to be working here was already in situ. You knew that ad hoc visits sometimes happened; but usually they would call ahead. Cell reception wasn’t great out here, but the landlines worked just fine.

For now the guys were taking a well-earned cigarette break, keeping their sharp eyes on the horse they were training. When the truck was more visible; sun glancing off the paintwork and the hum of the engine filled the quiet air, Payne hopped up to straddle the fence for a closer look. There were no logos to indicate what it might be for, and he was sure that you would have told him if anyone was expected, or had called. He took a drag of his cigarette and squinted at it suspiciously as it continued to wind its way towards the house - you were already outside and could deal with it for now, but he had to admit he was curious. Silas and María joined him on the fencing; equally suspicious. “What’s up there?” Payne raised an eyebrow “Hope it’s good whatever it is...” He watched you point him out. “Guess they’re looking for you, Payne.” “Ah shit, well, I’ll report back..! You two got this one, right?” Maria scoffed “Course we do-!” “If we don’t you’re not doing your job well.” Payne shoved Silas at that, who laughed, and jumpped down, putting out his cigarette he wandered over to you.

You stepped out to the front of the porch to greet them. Both men whose clothes and build said they were probably also in this profession. So they weren’t lost. Trainers or buyers? That was the question. “Good afternoon, m’am-!” They both sidled up to the porch, tipping their hats - ah-! The old-fashioned kind. “Afternoon gentleman. What can we help you with?” “We’re looking for a man by the name of Payne? Heard he’s the best in the business and that this is his ranch.” That irked you just a little, this was your ranch and your parents before you. And it had collectively become “yours” over time. True he had the reputation, and he’d built it into what it was... but it was not Payne’s. He used to work for your father; Payne had a gift for breaking and training horses, and had put this place on the map beyond your father’s wildest dreams. You weren’t about to argue that point now, instead you gave a small smile and pointed back to where they’d just driven from. “The man you’re looking for is out there working, gentleman...” Although he was watching you, the other two now at his side, and as soon as you indicated to him, Payne cleared the fence and began wandering over. “Oh-! Thank you m’am!” They both turned, not giving you the opportunity to ask what this was about. But you knew Payne; he wouldn’t have them speak without you in the know.

By the time he reached the truck, the men had already started towards him; “Gentlemen-!” “Ah! You must be Payne!” “Correct,” He nodded to you, “I see you’ve already met my partner in crime, Ms.Y/N.” You mouthed him a ‘thank you’ - at least he always made sure you were recognised. Payne gave you a wink, before turning back to them; “What can we help you with?” “We hear you are the man to come to - for Horse Whispering, or for breaking horses.” Payne folded him arms across his chest and tipped his head, “That’s kind of you to say, suppose the proof can only be in the success - you need horses breaking, or otherwise?” “Yes. We have the horses, but we wanted someone with your expertise for this particular job.” Payne nodded; “Whereabouts are you from?” “Houston, Texas.” Both of you suddenly froze in place. That was Midnight Rodeo territory. There was a lot that could be done in Texas to do with horses. Payne wasn’t beyond being a full-on cowboy at times, if the need called for it. He swallowed hard, “Well, then maybe we should take this inside... that’s... quite a way to come for just me.” They looked to each other, then back to him with massive grins, “Well, Payne, you ain’t just anyone - you’re the best of the best. And hopefully we can have a good discussion. We haven’t looked at anyone else; you’re the man we wanna hire.” Your eyebrows shot up at that - this wasn’t an opportunity your man would want to miss, you knew that. Payne turned back to his friends to whistle that he’d be a while, and then ushered the men inside - this was likely to be a long discussion; but an exciting prospect at that.

***

By the time they left the sun was low in the sky, and Silas and Marimacho had already packed up ready for the morning – leaving the horses out to graze. You were both sitting on the front porch watching them and discussing the offer, his head in your lap. “It’s a good job, it’s a big job. But you’re gonna be here alone.” You smiled, he was right – it would be unprecedented for Payne to get something good going on in Texas, especially with such draws at the Midnight Rodeo, and to bolster his reputation and his name; yes, you’ve heard of him – now here’s the proof that what they say is true. You certainly weren’t about to let him pass that up, even if it would mean being here alone for a few weeks. You knew he wouldn’t want to go alone; he’d need the whole team – after all Payne always said it was a team effort. You ran your hand through his tangle of curls; “Baby, don’t worry about me, you should do this thing. It’s gonna be real good for you.” He sighed, folding his arms; “I dunno, Y/N… I just…” “You can leave me alone, I’ll be fine.” His eyes met yours and doubt was written all over his face. Payne had a point it wasn’t usual for you to be apart, and you’d suggest going with him but you’d be needed to hold the fort here – and he’d only trust you to do that. “Well, yeah, I’ll miss you. Of course I will, but…” You bent your body over his, “you need this, and you want it. And I won’t let you say no because of me.” and kissed him gently. “But there’s so many other factors-!” Payne looked back to the horses again – “I mean, you by yourself out here? What if you need help-!? I mean, do I leave someone with you here or-!?” “Shhhh…” You rubbed his shoulder affectionately, “Stop thinking so much and make a gut decision.” He scoffed, “If I even knew what that was.” You shook your head and kissed his cheek gently, shifting him off your lap; “Well – maybe it’d be better for you to have an inner dialogue…” He sat back on his hands as you stood, brushing yourself down, “I’m gonna make dinner-!” Payne replaced his hat and raised an eyebrow, reaching out to take your hand “What would you do, if they wanted you?” “I mean I doubt they ever would, I’m hardly the same calibre,” His fingertips danced over your skin, causing you to smile more, “but I would go. If it’s what I wanted.” “And you wouldn’t feel guilty?” You sighed, “I hope you don’t think I would guilt you about it anyway.” You bent to kiss him again, “No. I wouldn’t.” You swept back to the front door, “And don’t you dare try to guilt trip yourself out of it!” He laughed, “I still gotta decide if I wanna go-!” But you knew, deep down, his decision was already made. Dinner was eaten in relative silence, mostly because you felt every time you opened your mouth he might think a little too much on staying for you – you hated to think that a man who wasn’t really one to be tied to any one place, would skip out on Texas for you. Payne had never been homebody and he’d left you here before – you supposed it was the longevity of it. And perhaps how far away he would be. He helped you clear the table before leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and heading outside again. You sighed gently, watching him go. You were worried; how could you not be? But his fretting over this was for nothing; after all it wouldn’t be forever, Payne would still return to you. And if he needed you to make that decision for him, then you certainly would. You gave him another hour or so alone whilst you set out everything that needed to be done the following day, and chalked up everyone’s schedule. After which you got the house in order for the evening, and, thinking that he’d now had enough time to think, joined Payne back on the porch. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes; he was lying back again, one arm behind his head, smoking a cigar. The glass and bottle next to him filled with a suspicious looking green liquid that you knew he shouldn’t be trusted with. ‘If it’s bad enough for Absinthe, I guess it really IS bad.’ You strolled over, shaking your head slowly; “Boy. Don’t make me decide for you!” He was silent for a moment, blowing smoke into the late evening air; “Wish you could.” You leant against the porch frame, one hand on your hip; “I’ll help you get ready…” Your eyes flicked to him; “I’ve been alone before. I mean I love ya, but I think I can survive.” He shot you a look, “I just don’t think sitting out here with absinthe is really gonna help you think with any clarity!” You grinned, “I have a solution, though.” He sat up again, taking another drag, “Oh yeah?” You gave him a smirk, “Yeah… But you’re gonna have to promise me you’re going to go.” “I could just as easily go back on it.” His head tipped, daring you to do something about that proposal. “Well,” You sauntered around him, dragging your fingertips across his shoulders, “if you don’t want me…” He let out a soft groan, “You know I’ll do it.” “You shouldn’t do it because I think you should either…” You paused, picking up the glass and finishing it for him. Regretting it about 5 seconds later and shuddering; you’d nearly always hated the taste – especially neat. “You should do it because it’s all you’ve ever talked about. Because you dream about it. All I’m trying to encourage you to do is chase your dreams.” Payne tipped his head back, blue eyes searching yours; “You’re still gonna be here right?” “You think I’d leave you? I think you’re much more likely to find someone new in Texas.” He growled, “Are you fucking kidding me-!?” “Just checking!” Though the grin on your face was teasing. He stubbed out the cigar and rolled over onto his front, eyes narrowed; “Is that what you think of me?” You took a step back, with a smirk; “Why don’t you prove to me you won’t?” Payne jumped to his feet and pretty soon had you backed against the front door, hands in your hair and lips on yours; “How dare you suggest such a thing-!?” You simply smiled; “I just wanted to check there was someone to wait for, and tell me all about what happened when he lived his dream…” He shook his head, bringing your lips to his again, before moving his hands to the hem of your shirt; “Well – Let me just prove to you, that there’s something worth waiting for.” ***

Houston, Texas

Payne hated to admit how much this was hurting him. He was living it here in Houston, this was the ‘I made it!’ dream.

He’d been here almost a month now, and the entire crew has flown down with him. He was supposed to be having the time of his life, and he was having the time of his life. These were some of the most gorgeous horses he’d ever been given the opportunity to work with and break. And watching them go from fairly wild to seeing them get calmer, and some of them eventually in the rodeos themselves or out working, was breath-taking, and everyone was impressed. Especially the gentlemen who had hired him. He was getting a lot of exposure; his whole crew were. This felt a lot more like play than work, and Payne didn’t think he’d ever seen them all so happy.

But all he could think about was home; all he could think about was you. Even when he was run off his feet, you were still in the back of his head. He called you every day, and if you didn’t pick up then he’d leave a message - but no matter if he got through to you or not, Payne always ended with “I miss you.” Because he did - and he and you had travelled before, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to this but it felt bigger, it felt longer... it was longer. And there wasn’t a real end in sight. But Payne knew he wanted to go home; even realising his dream wouldn’t stop that feeling - he was a Colorado boy, and the ranch and you would always be home.

Payne knew what was coming, from the way everyone was so delighted at his team’s progress, he knew that they would offer him a job. It was always in the air but never said; it was going to be asked as soon as he was on the brink of leaving, Payne knew. It would be him, and he would say no ‘not without the crew’ then it would be all of them asked, and he would still say ‘no, not without her’, and then they would say it would be fine to move everyone’s families too. But you’d refuse; it was a ranch handed down through generations - back to when the West was first being settled. When outlaws and bounty hunters ruled the land. You weren’t leaving - you’d probably rather leave him than you would that house. And Payne had spent way too long crushing on you, then wooing you, and now being with you to let that happen.

This might be his dream but he was comfortable with you. And all Payne had ever wanted was to be comfortable.

Tonight was another night at the midnight rodeo, but for the first time since he’d arrived here Payne was skipping out. His phone had vibrated a couple of times when he knew it was due to start but they’d left him alone since then. Instead he was sitting at the desk in his hotel room, looking out over the city. There was a glass of whiskey sitting next to him (absinthe wouldn’t have tasted the same away from home either and it wasn’t exactly a wide spread sold alcohol), yet Payne was a little too absorbed in what he was doing to pay real attention to that either. Calling you was all well and good, but Payne didn’t have a fantastically verbal love language. He didn’t think of things to say in the moment that could express his feelings to you adequately; but he could write it. He could ponder what words sounded right, he could change them all around and make sure that it all flowed. Everything that he somehow couldn’t say out loud, Payne was at least glad that you could read it. It might only have been a postcard, not a real love letter, but it would have to do for now. He could still say everything that he wanted to; and Payne would still end those letters in the same way as he did his calls:

‘I miss you.’

You knew what it was as soon as you opened the mailbox, and dropped everything else inside before sitting up on the paddock fence, yours and his horse grazing in the field behind you, you sat and read. You inhaled - knowing that he would have sprayed it with his cologne, in the same way when on occasion you wrote to him you would cover your notes in perfume - and for a second it felt like he was here, with his arms around you.

At first you were smiling; he was such a sweetheart in the way that he wrote. You knew Payne wasn’t good with words, romantic words, but this was always where he told you he loved you. Letters happened even when he was home, you’d find them all over the house and they would always make you beam; you kept them in a little box and sometimes you’d sit and read them back. It always amazed you how what he wrote may have been different the longer you were together but, what he said stayed the same. He still loved you the same, and you loved him just as much. So soon enough, as you continued to read his postcard, you weren’t just smiling, your heart began to ache and tears threatened to spill. You sniffed and rubbed your eyes, not allowing any to fall, as you did so his horse nudged against your arm and you patted his muzzle with a half-laugh-half-upset exhale; “I know... I know... I miss him too.”

Payne knew the question was coming. You were going to ask it eventually. You knew he had to work but sometimes too long was too long. And you knew what this meant to him, and that you’d persuaded him to chase it across the country, but you missed him. There was no end date: it wasn’t like he’d be back at the end of the month; the truth was he didn’t know when it would be over. “When are you coming home?” He didn’t want to tell you he didn’t know, but he didn’t. Payne could hear it in your voice though, that you couldn’t take much more uncertainty. And neither could he; it wasn’t about wanting to go home anymore, but needing to. “Baby, I... you know what they’re going to say, they’re gonna wanna keep me on.” “Well they can’t have you.” Your answer was curt. He chuckled “Feisty. I wasn’t gonna leave, I know where my place is.” Your voice was amused though, “Damn right-!” “As you know good work is never done when horses go in and out all the time. I guess the specific group I’ve been working with are nearly fully trained. So, I’ll be home soon. I promise you that, I’m comin’ home-!” “Don’t make me hold you to that-!” He grinned “Ha-! Oh, I won’t-!”

It was a harder conversation than he’d expected. But Payne wasn’t one for giving up, nor negotiating when he wanted something. He very much had a ‘my way or the highway’ attitude, and he wasn’t about to be forced into staying when his work was over. The money he was offered was good – brilliant even – he couldn’t deny that. Yet, Payne knew where home was, and it wasn’t here – even with how much he was loving his time here. He kept firm, and made sure they knew he wasn’t about to be pushed around. The one thing Payne worried about was his reputation; after all he didn’t want this relationship to turn sour. Once he’d left they could use anything to turn the rumour mill: ‘aw, the boy couldn’t hack it.’ That just wasn’t true. But Payne didn’t really trust anyone outside his friends and you; and was always that little bit suspicious. You’d always called it out as an odd trait; especially as he seemed pretty open and friendly towards most people. ‘How else am I supposed to get business and get paid, Y/N!?’ ‘AHHH! So it is for your own ends!?’ Yeah, you probably had it right, but he wasn’t admitting that. Though there was always a reason he kept a decent revolver around. What he did promise was that he could come back periodically for a few days, maybe a few weeks, and continue to work for them. But Payne wouldn’t be contracted here, and he explained as such – he’d built up his, and the ranches, name in Colorado and there he would stay. He had a lot waiting back home – and this would never be home. Even if he could miraculously get you to agree to move. Not that he gave them much of a choice, but they saw the logic in his decision and accepted his offer. He’d really have to talk it out with you first; but Payne was sure you’d not mind too much. Weren’t you always calling him a drifter anyway? The ranch was just a home base. That suggestive way you’d look at him, voice sultry to match your blink and say; “If the sex wasn’t so good you probably wouldn’t even stay, huh, babe?” Payne shook away that thought with a deep exhale, you weren’t the only thing he was missing right now. By the time he got back to his crew from the final meeting and tidy up, they were all already packed away. Everyone had the same notion, they were ready to go, ready to get back to families of their own. Still, Payne knew how much they had loved it here; and far be it from him to hold any of them back. “Before we do all get on a flight tomorrow morning back home, I do wanna say to you how proud I am of how hard you’ve worked. We’ve always been like a little gang of outlaws, and hell if we haven’t shown these Texas rangers a thing or two!” There were plenty of laughs and cheers at that, and Payne grinned, “But, I’m going to give you the choice, and no hard feelings. You can stay if you wanna stay, if you think this is better for you…” He turned to take in his surroundings, “I’m not gonna stop ya.” There was silence amongst them for a minute, and as Payne’s eyes settled back on them he had a horrible feeling they were all about to walk away. Skelly was the first one to scoff; “Payne, ya gotta be kiddin’ man! We ain’t leavin’!” Silas joined in immediately; “Hell yeah, you’re a good man and a good boss and we’re sticking with you the whole way! Fuck these guys, it’s all or nothing with us-! Hell, you’re the one that damn near had us make a pact.” Payne chuckled at that; “Yeah, we were kids back then Silas.” “Well, it still means a lot to us!” Marimacho folded her arms with a smile; “You stick by us and our families. If we ever need anything you and Y/N are there, and if there’s ever something troubling us you’re lenient and understanding. Side note too, but your gal is awesome… We’d miss her too much! No-one gets left behind Payne, you’ve always been about that.” “Here, here!” Kid and Gull followed suit on the other three. He blinked a couple of times, humbled – glad that they wouldn’t turn their backs on something good. Still, he smirked, Payne could count on their loyalty – they were a motley crew for sure, but all great friends. He was glad they’d still take some stupid lines said as teenagers so seriously. He nodded, looking at each of them in turn; “You’re right. No-one gets left behind.” His smirk turned back to a small smile; “So, lets get back to the ones who are waiting for us.” *** He had called you the evening before to say he was leaving. You thought it seemed very sudden, but you supposed Payne would rather make sure, and head home than promise you something and find out he couldn’t keep it. He’d also let you know they were getting on the plane, and now you knew he was on his way back you couldn’t have been more excited. So, as soon as you heard his truck, you couldn’t help grinning. It was an all too familiar sound; and not just to you. Seemingly every horse in the stables knew too; his and yours racing to the top end of the paddock, and the dogs were also in chorus. You chuckled to yourself; “Daddy’s home.” Washing and wiping your hands quickly on a towel from where you’d been working, you ran to the door as you heard his truck pull up. By the time you’d opened it and run onto the porch, he’d already leapt from the vehicle and was walking over. Payne stood at the bottom step, presenting himself, grinning at he looked up at you; “Honey, I’m home!” You shook your head at him but, too overcome with joy to care about him being cheesy, you leapt off the porch and into his arms. “God, I missed you so much… I missed you so, so much!!” You cried blissfully as he held you tight to his chest. Payne understood that notion all too well; he’d spend the entire flight thinking about how he couldn’t wait to hold and kiss you again. And now here he was, and you were in his embrace; “I know…” He kissed your hair, before you shifted to capture his lips, arms tangling around his neck. It was a hard kiss, and long, very nearly taking both your breaths away. You smiled, stealing another, “You’ll have to tell me everything.” “Didn’t I already?” He smirked, not letting you leave his lips – oh, you knew exactly how the rest of this day was gonna go. “Uhm, I think I said when you came back, you had to tell me all about how you lived your dreams!” “Ahhh… You won’t even give me 2 seconds to say hello to my lady?” “I think you made your intentions for your lady perfectly clear…” You grazed your lips to his once again, “I may say she has done the same.” You tipped your head, with a raised eyebrow, “Mayhaps she has, but who are you gonna listen to first – the kids are whining.” You didn’t need to point that out, he could already hear that the animals were glad he was back. He pulled you in closer, voice lowering, “The kids can hush, mom and dad are talking…” smirking whilst kissing you again, “How well can they have been looked after, if they’re cryin’ for me?” “Of excitement, actually. They just missed you as much me!” “Uh huh, how about my coat, you look after that?” You laughed, “No-one is wearing a coat like that in this weather.” He made a face, “Okay, ‘cept you. Crazy man.” “Ha!” This time it was Payne laughing hard, and his hands ran down your body. You smirked running your hands from behind his neck across his broad shoulders to study his shirt, before chuckling. Emblazoned on the front were six photographs of form fitting jeans, with the caption ‘A Cowboys Best Assets’. The shirt itself hugged close to his chest and left your partner easy on the eye; not that he wasn’t already, of course. “Well, damn. That shirt’s not wrong… I like it.” Besides he was wearing a pair of those jeans himself right now. “Oh really? Thought you might.” “Mhm…” You tangled your fingers in it, and pulled him into yet another kiss. “But I’d like it and your best assets on the floor of our bedroom right now.” You removed his hat from his head and placed it on your own, with a wink. He didn’t need telling twice, hoisting you from the floor as you wound your legs around his waist; “Oh, yes m’am.” Payne took the porch steps quickly, and didn’t stop until he had you tangled in bedsheets.

---

is this from a Tumblr post? I feel like it is... Might need to find it out there and credit back

Thank you for reading my lovelies! 😘😘😘 You know I love this enough to continue it, right? 😉

#Payne #Payne x Reader #Slow West #Ben Mendelsohn #Modern!AU #Modern!Payne #this is a little cuter than I normally write him #but I still like it #I need to write /him/ more too.#2020 should be the year of the more /neglected/ Mendos #cuz honestly they deserve it as much as the popular bois #Elera #Same relationship different context #I would like to confirm with April 2020 me that 2020 is INDEED the year of neglected less popular Mendos #and sitting here on August 1st I've pretty much written every boi something now! There can't be many now i haven't written a single word for #I sit here on 5th of September and concur with my above written tag. It's STILL Fraser I haven't written for though!#Hell. 1st of August me hadn't even seen Henry yet and he's made it!#173

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animebw · 3 years

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Binge-Watching: Mononoke, Episodes 8-12

In which we get the show’s best arcs yet, and I finally latch on to its unique wavelength.

Smells So Good

I was a little apprehensive going into the final stretch of Mononoke. The last couple arcs didn’t really impress me that much, not as fables, not as mystery, not as meaning. So was prepared to consider this show overall a letdown when all was said and done. But shockingly, I ended up really liking these last two arcs! I think the show’s finally clicked here, and all its component parts are succeeding on their own merits to reinforce the greater whole. And interestingly, both of them share a common theme: all the suspects are, in some way, guilty. The first Agatha Christie movie adaptation I ever watched was of the one where everyone’s guilty (I won’t say which one it is for spoilers’ sake, but if you know, you know), and I always thought that’s such a cool idea. Especially when you suspect from the outset that everyone’s responsible. Instead of unraveling who the culprit is, you’re unraveling how and why everyone shares in the blame. I dunno, there’s something cool about that, and both of these arcs do cool things with that idea that play to this show’s genuine strengths.

Episodes 8 and 9, the Nue Chimera arc, revolves around a bunch of suitors playing a “guess the scent” game to win a princess’ hand in marriage. The game itself is just the wildest concept, and I appreciate how they have a country bumpkin samurai among the players who’s just as confused as the audience to give me someone to relate to (”Do they think this is a refined game? Ridiculous!”) It also uses its color palette in interesting ways; the setting is all very muted winter colors, and as the players sniff the scents, they grow more vibrant or more muted depending on the reaction it brings out of them. Meanwhile, the walls of the room surrounding them project that sensory experience they’re feeling to further emphasize their mental state. Which leads to a really great joke where the country samurai sniffs deeply, and instead of the walls bursting with symbols reflecting what he’s smelling, everything just stops dead- music, colors, etc- because he’s too simple to understand what this is even all about. These might seem like small details, but they add something to the equation that I’ve always felt this show was lacking: character. However subtly, these details help flesh out these bit players are more than just pawns in a narrative shell game. They have identities and personalities all their own, which makes it more entertaining to watch them fumble their way through this terrifying scenario.

And on top of that, this arc’s got a pretty great twist: they’ve been dead this whole time! All the medicine vendor has been doing is lightning incense in an empty room for ghosts who don’t realize they’re dead, choosing the scents specifically to trigger sense memories of the ghosts’ crimes to make them realize what they’ve done so they can pass on and he can slay the mononoke uninterrupted. I honestly kind of love what a dick the vendor is in this arc, casually mentioning, “whoops, I may have slipped a deadly poison into the game that’ll kill you if you sniff it, how careless of me” just to watch them squirm. It’s great. And the twist makes you realize how earlier stylistic quirks you thought were just quirks, like the characters just hard-cutting out of shots like they were never there, was actually foreshadowing about them being ghosts. On top of that, there’s some great horror imagery in this one. The countless graves of the mononoke’s victims, the bulging mask-like faces screaming in the walls, the murder victim’s bloody silhouettes turning into a nightmarish zoetrope of and orange-spattered man running through the darkness... this is exactly the kind of ghost story you want to tell around a campfire in the dead of night. And it’s wrapped up with a perfect bow, as the scent of the cursed wood is finally released with its burning, lifting the illusion from the palace and revealing it for the abandoned ruin it always... but also restoring it to vibrant color to symbolize its return to the natural world. Damn, that’s good stuff.

Welcome to the City

Then there’s episode 10 through twelve, the Goblin Cat (Bakeneko) arc, and this is probably my favorite arc of the bunch. First of all, it takes a completely unexpected turn and skips centuries ahead to modern times! Well, early 20th century times, but still, the sight of a big city with a new subway running through it is such a system shock after nine episodes of feudal rural pastoralism. And it doesn’t half-ass it either. The paper-like overlay on the screen that made the show feel like it was taking place inside a scroll? Now it’s more like a dirty-scuffed up chalkboard with white streaks on black asphalt, more urban and grimy to evoke the cluttered, bustling, steaming city. And the sliding tatami doors that mark scene transitions are replaced with crumbling double doors the kind of which might lead into a 1920s high rise building. And there’s the medicine vendor, same as always, tracking down demons among civilization while being mistaken for a sandwich man (”These days, unless I dress like this, it doesn’t sell well.”) It’s never revealed exactly who or what he is, and I’m fine with that being a mystery, but it’s surprisingly fun to speculate on what’s really going on with him. Is he a mononoke himself? Some matter of divine agent? Cursed? The ambiguity is a far more interesting answer than anything concrete, that’s for sure.

Thankfully, switching from 1500s countrysides to 1900s cityscapes doesn’t diminish the power of this show’s horror imagery. In fact, bending the folkloric dream logic of demons and monsters around a more modern, familiar setting only makes things more unnerving. The imagery is more surreal and abstract than ever before, with the passengers’ skin colors shifting left and right and the dark train windows serving as windows into countless passing horrors knocking at the door. It almost feels like we’ve jumped into that fantasy town from the climax of Paranoia Agent, Satoshi-Kon-inspired melding of fantasy and reality intact. And that’s before you get to all the background characters being rendered as creepy mannequins, the mechanical soundscape of the everything going wrong on the train, how people keep jumping in and out of existence, like they’re just being snatched off the screen, and that one feverish nightmare where it feels like we’re walking the pink elephants scene from Dumbo. Hell, even just the absence of scary things is scary in its own right; I have no idea what monsters that little boy was seeing, but the sheer terror on his face as he stared at nothing at all was more effective than actually seeing them would be. Which makes me realize, this show can actually be pretty good at building meaning from absence of information and letting you fill in the blanks.

But what honestly shocked me about this arc is that there’s an actually goddamn good story being told here. It’s not just a succession of horror imagery bent around the skeleton of a plot, there’s narrative and meaning here! A woman fell of a bridge and was crushed by the new subway, and it was ruled as suicide from overwork. But as the medicine vendor untangles the truth and interrogates everyone who in some way either led to her death, through active malice or negligence, we realize that her story is the story of an ambitious working woman overlooked and crushed beneath the heel of a modernizing society that’s been slow to come around on treating women fairly. She’s pursuing a lead on a corrupt business deal relating to the railroad’s construction, her superiors don’t take her seriously because she’s a woman, and the one man she actually trusts ends up betraying her and throwing her off the bridge. Afterwards, instead of looking into her death, it’s written off as a suicide because she was an ambitious working woman and the pressure must have just gotten to her. That’ll teach her for getting too big for her britches. And that undercurrent isn’t subtle at all: the final struggle on the bridge is loaded with explicit rape imagery, an the murderer even starts to say “she was asking for it,” only to be cut off by the medicine vendor finishing that sentence in a mocking tone. It’s shocking. And that murder is the only person who ends up going down with the ship when the demon is finally exorcised. Everyone else survives to repay their mistakes, expose the actual criminals, and leave flowers where the victim died as penance for their willful ignorance.

Altogether, it ends up turning this final arc not just into a good yarn, but a great one with a point to make. Society is moving forward, but some of humanity is trying to grind their heels and stay in the past, leading to horrific things being brushed under the rug. And the medicine vendor is here as always, a mysterious immortal punishing the wicked and keeping the balance no matter how the world moves on. As uneven as this show has been, that’s a very satisfying note to close out on.

Odds and Ends

-Okay but why is he woodpecking with a fake beak

-sdjkfhdskjfh and he’s just standing on the table

-”There’s something very obscene in here!” Well, you’re not wrong.

-I haven’t even commented on the fact that the medicine vendor goes super-saiyan when he’s slaying. Wild.

-kdfhskdfhk and all the mannequins just fall down

-Did that scale just bow to the girl to calm her fears? Nice.

-”Age?” “How rude!” “35.” “And I tried to cover for you too...” sdkfjhskjdfhskdf

-Talk about death by cats, goddamn.

And with that, Mononoke is done. Expect my series reflection later tonight, as well as what show will take its place!

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #mononoke

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an-american-teen-against-crime · 4 years

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Are there any taylor swift songs that you think connect to any of the storylines in any of the nancy drew games? I've never connected any but I'm suddenly curious

Thank so much for the ask! Also because this made me revisit old Taylor music :3

Be prepared. This is going to be very very long because I decided to go through every album because I have no self control. XD So getchya snacks and sit down for a read lol.

I’ve always thought “the Man” really fit with Nancy just in general? that’s what comes first to mind.

*cue me going back to all the albums*

“Stay Beautiful” for Rick Arlen XDDD Haha jk would never to that to such a good song. Not sure why but “White Horse” gives me the same vibes as the Renate quote about knights in shining armor? “You’re Not Sorry” @ Rentaro. Already said this, but the new guy in “the Way I Loved You” is Ned. Not sure who the ex is though lol. “Forever and Always” about Jacob and Leela from WAC O.o

For some reason... “Spark Fly” is really hitting me as Jancy/Nace. “Speak Now” But it’s Kit in HAU XD (jk Kit ya’ll deserve better my dude) “Mean” for all the girls at Waverly Academy. Oh! And “Picture to Burn” for Markus and Anja o_o “Enchanted” for whichever ship of your choice because that’s one of my favorites. :)

Every single song about a jerk. That’s Henry singing about Summer. Also “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”. Also for some reason “Clean” makes me think of him? Idk why. Just do.

“Better Than Revenge” and “Look What You Made Me Do”: Dwayne Powers about Rick Arlen. Again probably the girls in WAC. I feel like this could apply to more people but I can’t think of them so feel free to add. Maybe Jack @ mitch dyan or Detective Beech after Nancy gets them caught? Also I feel like “Look What You Made Me Do” is a Nancy vs. Brenda song.

“Look What You Made Me Do” just. Strikes me as such a Nancy song for some reason lol is that bad? XD (esp CW ShowTM Nancy maybe) also maybe a bit of “Afterglow”.

Not sure why but “innocent” gives me MAJOR Scott Varnell vibes but that might be being too nice to him. “Haunted” is SOO good I feel like it has to be something... if you cut out the romantic bits I feel like some lines would be kinda like Clara after the fire that killed Charlotte? Also if you wanna think of it with the romantic parts, use it for any angst ship of your choice. :)

“Superman” is Ned singing about Nancy and there is. No changing my mind. I’ve always thought of singing the chorus of “I Knew You Were Trouble” and esp. for the culprits that I have crushed on lol (Eliot Chen who. yeah it happened. not proud of it) A Concept: “All Too Well” for Elizebet and Magnus. I dunno I just really wanted this song to be in here. XD They also work with “I Almost Do”.

“Long Live” for the og clue crew :3

I’m trying to find a song for Dirk and Francis rn. Maybe “Love Story”? :O what. about “Last Kiss”. Oof. That’s painful. REALLY PAINFUL TO PICTURE. “State of Grace” works too. “Don’t Blame Me” as well possibly. “Cruel Summer” too? Maybe “Starlight” as well, but honestly that song works for any ship. (Starlight kinda gives me Nedcy vibes) “Stay Stay Stay” is also! Nedcy.

“Blank Space” gives me Xenia energy for some reason even though it doesn’t really fit with the story, as well as “I Did Something Bad”. (and obvi the nancy drew GTH meme lol) “Out of the Woods” gives me a Nancy ship vibe (....francy :3) or even Kate and Carson.

“Bad Blood”: Lisa vs. Nancy. Anja vs. Nancy. Brenda vs. Nancy. Again, the Waverly girls.

“I Know Places” gives me Jason and Mei vibes (because I ship them).

OKAY SO LISTEN: I have a dumb story about my Alec Fell association with this song but that’s a story for another day. But seriously Wildest Dreams is every NancyxSuspect-From-A-Case. Dave, Grigor (?) Alec (ha), Dylan, etc. O.o (or any ship but its just. this song really gives me that vibe) (maybe some francy or jancy vibes?) (I love this song so much omg)

“You Are in Love”: works for Nedcy, Jancy, and Francy, but I feel like it’s especially Jancy? Also “Endgame”. “Delicate” is Francy to me for some reason. Plus “Call It What You Want” and “New Years Day” can be any of them. I feel like there’s a lot of her songs you can argue for ships lol XD

“...Ready For It?” and “I Did Something Bad” gives me Zoe Wolfe vibes.

“Don’t Blame Me” has always given me an immortal and a mortal vibes, and while she’s immortal,, Persephone and Hades.

“Gorgeous” for all thy Bess ships. I feel like it also works kinda as a Jancy or Francy but from the boys’ perspective. (Or Nancy’s too I guess lol the boys just came to mind first)

“This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”: @ NANCY STOP BREAKING STUFF IN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN TOMBS

“Lover” works for any ship but for some reason it’s givin’ me Jake and Camile vibes.

“Archer” is Nace vibes, as well as “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince”. O.o (maaaaaaaybe Francy vibes too....idk im tired it’s midnight lol) “Paper Rings” is Jancy. so. Cornelia Street lowkey gives me Francy vibes......but you can take it for Jancy too. :D (gosh I love that song) And I already mentioned “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” as a Nace anthem lol.

“London Boy”. Dylan. Carter.

“Me” is a freaking BESS MARVIN ANTHEM !!! :D (that makes me so happy to associate her with that song)

(I also have a fun “Mine” story but that is also another story for another day.)

Sorry this was so long! Nothing came first to mind so um...I just went through every single song? lol. Thank you so much for the ask, this was really fun. :D

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politicalpadme · 4 years

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Pas De Deux, a Jedi Dance Academy AU (Part 7 of 7)

It was the moment. The moment his whole life had been building towards.

Anakin took a deep breath, clenched and unclenched his fists. He felt the heat of the lights on his brow, caught sight of Boba upstage right, poised to shoot down the ramp and start the show. The boy's face was scrunched up with focus. Boba was the wildest of his students but also the most driven. He reminded Anakin of himself. They both had something to prove. The music began. Anakin and Boba both counted the beats to the entrance, the stage was dark except for the "moonlight" that allowed Boba to see the ramp. On cue he let go of the board and dropped onto the stage, the sound of the wheels careening toward the center nearly as loud as the orchestra. Artoo flipped a switch and a thousand twinkling lights danced as Boba completed a turn, kicked off his board and into a jump. The audience gasped audibly. As seven more boys on boards took the stage Anakin allowed himself a smile.

"Did you see, Mom? Did you see how high I got? I bet I could jump over a whale." Anakin had never seen a whale, but people took boats out to see them from the dock five blocks over and he was sure they were big.

Shmi smiled and agreed, "It was a very big jump." She grasped his hand and pressed his palm. "Did you feel it here?"

"In my fingers?"

"In your whole body. Fingers to toes."

Anakin frowned. "I dunno. What's that feel like?"

His mother knelt and met his eyes, piercing blue, like the waves and the sky. "Do you remember the thunder storm three days ago?" He nodded. It had rained all day. They spent a few hours in the library and another couple in an internet cafe. But at night they were huddled in the sandstone outcropping they called home. It provided a spectacular view of the lightning hitting the water. "When the thunder sounded and the sky lit up, did you feel it?"

Anakin closed his eyes and tried to picture the storm. The rough waves and the splashing rain and the lightning that seemed to shoot straight down from the stars. He remembered the weight of the air and how his face was wet from rain and spray both. He remembered how the rumbling thunder seemed to come from everywhere. He looked up to meet his mother's eyes. "I think so. Yes."

"That same energy is in you." She touched a finger to his heart.

The audience applauded as the boys scampered off the stage. Anakin clenched his fists one last time, raised up on the balls of his feet, and met Ahsoka's gaze across the stage. The lighting shifted from stars to a kind of technological latticework to represent the robot stronghold. Artoo designed all the effects from her own drawings. No one had ever allowed her to play the way Anakin did and she'd taken full advantage. The music swelled and Anakin stepped on stage, Ahsoka in sync across the way. They crept towards each other in circles, their bodies low and eyes alert. As the music picked up lights suddenly shot across the stage and they mimicked dodging blasts. The duo met in the center and the dance morphed into something more intricate as they stepped and out of each other's space. The lights changed again, Anakin and Ahsoka hit a button on their wrists and shafts of blue light burst forth. They continued the dance, leaping and spinning and lifting in a frenzy of play battle.

"I don't think they like me." He tried to say it with a scowl — who cared what a bunch of Jedi Academy losers think of anything! But the truth is Anakin cared. He wanted them to like him. He wanted to belong.

Qui-Gon patted his shoulder. "They don't know you. Give it time."

"I'm trying." He looked away and rubbed an eye with his fist. He was lonely and he didn't know how to talk to the other students or their teachers. "I don't know the right words."

"What words?"

"Like 'pirouette en dedans.'" Anakin rubbed his eye again but it wasn't working. He felt the tears welling up. "I know how to do it but I don't know the words."

Qui-Gon gave him a measured look. "Do you like your teacher?"

"Obi-Wan?" The social worker nodded. "I guess. He's nice to me."

"He was my student once."

"Really?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled. "He knows all the words but he's still learning how to set them free. I'm hoping you will help him."

Anakin frowned. "I don't understand."

Qui-Gon straitened. "Pirouette en dedans." Anakin's frown deepened but he stepped back and performed a spin turned inward. His teacher's teacher nodded. "You can learn the vocabulary. They will refine your technique. But you were born a dancer."

Anakin threw his leg back and dropped down as Ahsoka spun around him, the blue lights shooting from both her wrists cut across the stage, now bathed only in low light, the "robots" defeated. Finally Ahsoka turned into her final pose and the stage went dark.

Applause filled the auditorium but Anakin barely heard it. He returned to his place in the wings and focused on his breathing. The quiet rumble of the music for his dance with Padmé began. He lifted his eyes to watch her entrance as the strings launched the haunting melody. Her movements were quiet and small compared to what came before, but no less driven. And so beautiful his heart ached. The orchestra grew louder cueing Anakin to join the dance. His hand snaked around her waist and they danced as one.

"Anakin, something's happened." Obi-Wan kept talking but Anakin didn't remember the words. He remembered the sorrow in his voice and the softness. He remembered the sound of the rain still falling outside and the damp smell of the basement. He remembered digging his nails into the palm of his hands. He remembered the terrible knowledge that it was all his fault. It was four days before his sixteenth birthday. They were coming to see him.

The whole Academy mourned Qui-Gon. He was one of their own. Yoda's student and Obi-Wan's teacher before he left ballet behind to work in the community. The memorial was packed and the ceremony long. Anakin stood quietly beside his mentor.

Shmi's burial was much simpler. Just Anakin and Obi-Wan and the family who'd hired her as a housekeeper. Qui-Gon probably arranged that, too, but Anakin never asked. The Lars were kind. They considered Shmi family and Anakin was comforted she was happy. But he didn't know them and he wasn't sure he was ready to know who Shmi had been without him. Everything was awkward.

Anakin fell into a depression. He had trouble sleeping, he barely ate. He'd never been a great student but his grades plummeted, even metal shop, which he loved. And worst, he wasn't dancing. He went through the steps, with precision, but no heart. He couldn't give it up — it was all he had now — but he couldn't connect. He couldn't feel the lightning. And he couldn't cry.

A month and a half after his birthday he threw a brick through the window of the community center Qui-Gon founded. The glass shattered, littered the sidewalk and one shard lodged above his right eye. It stung. Anakin pressed his hand over the glass, pushing it deeper into his skin. The pain was the first thing he remembered feeling in weeks. Tears sprung into his eyes, his vision blurred and he dropped to the ground, too exhausted to stay standing.

"Are you okay, son?"

Anakin blinked at the officer peering at him with kind eyes. He shook his head and growled, "I'm not your son." He wasn't anybody's son.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's worried visage appeared next to the stranger.

"They called you?" Anakin wondered how long he'd been sitting here. The sun was low in the sky.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Are you all right?"

"My head hurts."

His mentor tsked, and addressed the officer. "I'm taking him to the hospital." They started arguing, something about protocol and paramedics on their way. Anakin wasn't listening. He was looking at the way the broken glass glittered in the sunset. But Obi-Wan must have prevailed because now he was lifting him up off the ground. "Don't worry. We'll figure this all out."

Anakin was silent for the trip to the emergency room. He responded to the nurse's questions with one word answers. Obi-Wan hovered like a mother hen. "Will it leave a scar?" he asked the doctor.

"Most likely."

Obi-Wan tsked again. Anakin didn't care.

Stitched and cleaned and bandaged, he was released. Obi-Wan drove him back to school and watched him take two painkillers. "I'll come see you in the morning." He pressed Anakin's shoulders and started toward the door. The boy looked up suddenly, eyes bright, and he reached out to grasp his mentor's arm.

"Obi-Wan?"

"I'm here."

Anakin nodded, and swallowed, and started to sob. He fell forward into Obi-Wan's waiting embrace and cried.

When all the tears were spent, Anakin slept for three days. On the fourth he woke at dawn, went for a run and then headed to the empty practice hall. He grasped the barre, imagined sand beneath his feet and launched into a warm up routine. Obi-Wan arrived ten minutes before class time and watched from the door.

"How are you feeling?"

Anakin glanced over. "Better." He stepped into the center of the room and faced the mirror. "I'm ready." Obi-Wan nodded and motioned for music to begin. Anakin lifted his arms.

And he danced.

The music swelled to its final crescendo and Anakin lifted Padmé up over his head, to the stars. The music ended, the lights fell and everything was silent. Anakin lowered Padmé and grasped her hand. He was shaking, sweating, his heart pounding. The lights came up, he and Padmé lowered their heads and the applause finally began. It was thunderous.

The lobby was crowded with well-wishers. Sponsors and family — Anakin waved to Pooja — and representatives from every company he'd ever heard of.

"Well done, sir."

"Brilliant work, young man."

"I've never seen anything like it."

"And you, young Skywalker, we will watch your career with great interest."

Anakin wasn't exactly sure all of the comments were entirely praise, but enough were that it didn't matter.

“Ms. Kryze?”

“Yes?” She stood with the practiced posture of a former ballerina, her feet at rest in third position. Tall, quite attractive, and styled impeccably, while she’d seemed approachable from his perch backstage, now Anakin found himself oddly intimidated.

“I’m Anakin—”

“Skywalker,” she finished with a wide smile, and extended a hand. “Your dance was quite something. Extraordinary, really, the innovation.”

Anakin frowned. “Thank you?” That all sounded good, but Anakin had trouble reading her, and worried he was missing a tinge of sarcasm.

Satine’s expression softened, subtly. “I mean it,” she assured him.

“Thank you,” he repeated, with a smile. “I was hoping… I’d like to invite you to dinner.” Her eyes widened with confusion and a touch of panic. “With my partners,” he rushed to explain. “And my mentor.”

The panic faded but the confusion remained. “I’ve very little say in who is invited to join our company…”

“Oh! No!” Anakin flailed. “It’s not a—” A bribe? He wouldn’t know where to begin. “It’s nothing to do with that. It’s my—”

“Anakin, I told you to leave her alone.”

Satine and Anakin turned in unison, Anakin embarrassed, Satine surprised. Obi-Wan stood behind and between them, arms crossed, expression grumpy — but in his eyes was a vague, regretful, longing.

“Obi-Wan!” said Satine.

He wanted to apologize, for Anakin, for anything, but he stumbled over his tongue and barely managed her name. “Satine…”

“Master—” said Anakin.

Satine blinked. “He’s your teacher,” she realized.

Anakin nodded. “Since I was nine. And he’s never once told me stories of his time in school.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan objected, but his student ignored him.

“I was hoping you might fill in some gaps,” he finished, with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. Satine raised an eyebrow; the boy was entirely too charming for his own good. She glanced at her old classmate, friend, dance partner, and lover. She’d seen him now and then over the years — ballet is a small world — but never said much more than pleasantries, nor held a gaze longer than a minute. Now, he looked trapped. Afraid she’d say yes, but possibly equally afraid she’d say no. She flashed him a smile. The one he returned was tentative, but genuine.

Satine turned to Anakin, watching with a studious silence. “I would be delighted.”

He grinned. "Great!" He caught sight of Padmé, watching from behind a pillar. "Excuse me." Anakin ran to Padmé, picked her up into his arms and spun her around.

"Oh Ani! I know you'll have so many offers."

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "I wouldn’t have any without you."

"Don’t be silly," Padmé laughed.

"I mean it." She quieted at his serious tone and met his eyes. "Not just you, lots of people." Mom, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Plo Koon, the skater boys, Ahsoka, Artoo, Threepio, even Master Yoda. "But you're special." She smiled with flushed cheeks. "I love you, Padmé."

She reached a hand up to touch his cheek. "I love you, Anakin."

The showcase closed the season, and completed their training, but it wasn't the end. This was only part of the story.

#jedi dance academy #anidala #obitine #shmi skywalker #qui gon jinn #anakin and obi wan #i finally finished the last chapter #i heart the balletverse

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