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steddiealltheway · 7 months

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(Part Two aka the final part to this)

As soon as Steve parks outside of Eddie's trailer, he races to Eddie's car door and opens it for him.

Eddie shoots him a bewildered look as he makes his way out of his car. "I can open my door, you know."

"But a proper date opens the door for you."

Eddie snorts. "So this is already starting?"

Steve shrugs as he follows Eddie to his front door. "I need all the time I can get to prove you wrong. Plus, I need to see this charm you insisted you have."

Eddie opens the door and dramatically guides Steve inside, quickly closing the door behind them. He stuffs his hands in his pants and avoids eye contact with Steve, staring off as if contemplating something. Eddie shakes his head and looks back at Steve. "Welcome to my home," he says holding his arms wide.

Steve glances around and nods. "It's cozy. I like it."

"No need to lie to me, Harrington."

"I'm not," Steve insists and laughs humorlessly. "I mean, you should see my house. It's huge but extremely uncomfortable. My parents hired a decorator and insisted that we couldn't make a single change. It's just so..."

"Nice to look at but not nice to live in?" Eddie asks, finishing his sentence again.

Steve nods quickly. "Exactly that."

Eddie gives him a small smile and leans back against his kitchen counter. That same distracted look crosses over his face.

Steve can't help but walk closer to him and say, "Eddie?"

Eddie snaps out of it and asks, "Why are you here, Harrington?"

"To prove you wrong and help Dustin," Steve answers easily, leaving out the part about how he needs to know where this will go.

Eddie hums in response and pauses before asking, "So, you're not going to use this against me."

Steve sighs. "Maybe I would've in high school, but no. I won't tell anyone how much I'm going to 'woo' you." Steve throws up air quotes around the word woo which makes Eddie smile a bit.

"Then can I tell you a secret?"

Steve nods.

Eddie pushes off the counter and steps toward him. "I've never been on a date before."

Steve stares at him for a second. "And Dustin still asked you for help?"

Eddie scoffs and walks past him. "No need to rub it in."

Steve runs a hand through his hair and follows after him. "Sorry, that was stupid to say." He grabs Eddie's hand gently and waits for him to turn to him. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, "Not cool."

Eddie just gives him an unimpressed look.

"It's just hard to share Dustin. I'm used to him only going to me for help. I don't know. It probably sounds dumb."

"It doesn't," Eddie says, squeezing his hand.

Steve glances down at their hands, having forgotten that he had even grabbed Eddie's in the first place. He runs his thumb over the back of Eddie's and says, "Let's do this trial run."

Eddie pulls his hand away and runs it over his face. "Steve, I don't know how to go on a date."

"Which is exactly why we're doing this and whatever else you have planned for Dustin and Suzie after the movie date. Plus, I still have to prove you wrong." Eddie pulls his hair in front of his face nervously. Steve reasons, "Plus, this can be practice for any future dates."

"A date with Steve Harrington," Eddie says with a laugh.

Steve shrugs. "Why not?"

Eddie eyes him and breathes out, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"We can do this trial run, but just because I'm new to this doesn't mean you'll have an easier time winning me over."

Steve smiles and saunters up to him. "Are you sure about that?"

Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips and back to his eyes, immediately making Steve's heartbeat stutter. He doesn't expect Eddie to card a hand through his hair smoothly, tilting his head back and making Steve's knees buckle a little. Eddie smirks. "Careful, you're not the only one who needs to prove themselves."

He backs away quickly and moves to his kitchen, rummaging around before coming up with a bag of popcorn which he pops in the microwave. Steve clears his throat, trying to gather himself before asking, "How have you never been on a date before?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, you have all the... charm stuff down."

Eddie smiles. "So, you're already admitting to my charm."

Steve just puts his hands on his hips unimpressed.

Eddie's smile falters before he answers, "Okay, I mean I've hooked up with people at the Hideout, but no one's stuck around to actually go on a date with me."

Steve nods but replies, "That's hard to believe."

Eddie shakes his head. "Let's just say that it's easier for you than it is for me."

It feels like Steve's had this conversation before with... Robin? But why would it feel so familiar? He glances back at Eddie who has a bit of fear in his eyes.

The microwave beeps and suddenly it hits Steve.

He watches as Eddie grabs the bag, cursing slightly when the steam hits him. For some reason the revelation makes Steve feel a bit more nervous as the chance of something happening increases dramatically.

"Hey," Steve says, "It's okay if you're... you know."

Eddie's head snaps up.

Steve holds his hands up. "I promise I won't tell a soul."

Eddie relaxes a bit, but he stays behind the counter as he asks, "And you still want to do this trial run knowing that...?"

"Yeah," Steve says a little bit too enthusiastically, "Now I can be sure that your judgment of my skills is accurate."

This makes Eddie laugh loudly, and Steve immediately smiles. "You know, I think I'm finally starting to see why Dustin likes you so much."

"And why the ladies love me so much?"

"Don't push it, Harrington," Eddie says, pointing a finger at him before grabbing a bowl to put the popcorn in. He grabs the bowl and gestures for Steve to follow him to the couch. "So, you're the expert here, what do you recommend?"

"Like movie options?" Steve asks as he makes himself comfortable.

"Movie options, seating arrangements, where to put the popcorn..." Eddie trails off.

Steve tucks his feet under himself and shrugs. "Depends. If we were Dustin and Suzie I would say to watch something cheesy or something science fiction that they both enjoy. Dustin should definitely watch to see if her hand is free to hold at any point, but that's about it for them."

"And how would it change for us- or me?"

Steve smiles and scoots in closer, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. "If it's here then definitely get as comfortable and close as you want. As for a movie, it depends. Do you actually want to watch the movie or do you want background noise?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Classy."

Steve laughs. "No, no, I don't mean like hooking up. I mean if you just want to talk and get to know each other maybe make out a little, you want to pick a movie that you've both seen and won't be upset missing." He glances toward a stack of tapes near them and points at one. "Like Back to the Future, great movie to comment on and talk during, but I wouldn't be upset about missing parts. But I'm guessing you're like Dustin and Star Wars would be a no-go for missing scenes. At least, I was that way when watching."

"You've seen Star Wars? Which one?"

"The one with the little teddy bears."

Eddie hums in response.

"So, what are you thinking for a movie?" Steve asks.

"Back to the Future would be nice, but maybe we do like thirty minutes so we can get to my part of the date without you falling asleep on me," Eddie suggests.

"You already have an idea?"

Eddie shrugs and looks away. "It's kind of always been a date idea in the back of my mind."

"Secret romantic," Steve teases, hand dropping down from the couch to Eddie's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Eddie tenses up a little, so Steve asks, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just not used to it," Eddie answers honestly.

Steve nods and pulls away, moving to put the tape in the VHS player before coming back to the couch. He sits a little further away from Eddie and says, "We can keep our distance if that's more comfortable with you."

Eddie just nods and looks ahead at the screen, tilting the bowl of popcorn toward Steve who takes a handful. He tries to find something to say, but he's struck by sudden nervousness and wonders if Eddie's right about him cruising based on his looks because usually by this point whatever girl he's with is giggling and practically climbing into his lap to get closer to him.

But then Eddie relaxes a bit and throws his arm around the back of the couch which fills Steve with relief. "So, how did you get so close to Dustin? He goes on and on about you, but he never has told me that story."

Steve shrugs, trying not to give away how much the question freaks him out. He tries to keep the answer as close to the truth as he can. "He's friends with Nancy's younger brother so he's kind of always been around I guess. One day, I was bringing flowers to Nancy to apologize for doing something stupid, but Dustin found me instead. He told me that Nancy wasn't home and that he needed a ride and help with something, and the rest is history."

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. "I feel like there's more to the story."

Steve shrugs again and shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

"Like the whole bat with nails that Dustin didn't even look twice at. The story between you two doesn't make sense."

Steve swallows his mouthful and moves closer to Eddie. "What if I told you that it's a story I'll have to come back to another time?"

Eddie twists toward him and tilts his head. "Do you really think that's going to make me less curious? And I see what you're doing trying to distract me with your charm."

Steve tucks a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear and asks, "Well, is it working?"

Eddie just shakes his head and says, "You wish, pretty boy." Nonetheless, he turns back to the movie leaving Steve to privately panic over the way the nickname makes him feel.

And maybe he wants to torture himself or something because next thing he knows, he's asking, "Well, how would you have distracted me?"

Eddie's head slowly turns to him, eyebrows raised. "Do you really want to know?"

Steve blames morbid curiosity as the reason he nods in response.

Eddie sets the bowl of popcorn down - and the implications of that scare Steve shitless - and he moves until their knees are touching. He gets a thoughtful look on his face as he recalls their conversation. "So, I was saying something about how the story between you didn't make sense. And instead of agreeing with it, I would've said something like. You know what doesn't make sense? How someone so gorgeous ended up here with me."

Steve flushes red but simultaneously snorts in response, "That's a horrible line."

"Yet, you're the one who is blushing."

Steve raises his eyebrows and says, "Well, if I got a do-over and time to think like you, then maybe I would've done something like this." Steve leans in and puts a hand on his chest, slouching down so he has to look up through his lashes to say, "Maybe that's a story for another time because right now... I have other ideas about what we could be doing."

Eddie stares down at him, hand slipping off the couch to trail up his back and into his hair. "And here I thought that you had said more intimate didn't mean sex."

Steve smiles and hopes Eddie can't feel his heart pounding in his chest. "It's true, but I also told you that some movies are great background noise to make out during."

Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips, and Steve can feel his eyes start to flutter shut.

But then, Eddie abruptly pulls back and says, "Okay, yeah, you got me. I understand the Harrington charm."

Steve only smiles slightly, feeling the disappointment settle in his chest at losing the chance to kiss the boy.

"So, I think date part one is covered. Onto my part?" Eddie asks, already standing up and rushing to stop the film.

"Yeah, sure," Steve says.

Eddie glances at him and pauses before beckoning him to follow him. Steve gets up immediately and follows Eddie to where he assumes his room is and suddenly gets a wave of panic.

Eddie glances back and must catch the look. "Relax, I'm just grabbing you some warmer clothes."

Steve nods but stays in the doorway, glancing around at Eddie's room. Something about it feels so Eddie that he can't help but smile at it.

"Here," Eddie says, thrusting a yellow sweater into his hands, "I haven't worn it in forever but it should keep you warm."

"Thanks," Steve says, stripping off his jacket to throw on the sweater before putting the jacket back on. "But why do I need more clothes?"

Eddie smiles. "You'll see." He grabs the blanket off his bed and walks past Steve to the front door. He opens it and says, "After you."

Steve gives him a look of confusion before heading out the front door. Eddie follows behind him and closes the door before grabbing Steve's hand and leading him around the trailer to a ladder which he immediately starts climbing.

Steve tries to advert his eyes from the view Eddie's giving him before he follows him up the ladder, grabbing Eddie's hand once he makes it to the top in an attempt to steady himself. He's never been the biggest fan of heights, but he doesn't want to admit that to Eddie who guides him to the middle of the roof. He lets go of his hand to lay out a blanket and immediately lays down on it, patting the empty spot next to him.

Steve lays down and lets out a deep breath as he sees their view of the night sky, glittering with stars.

"Pretty amazing, right?"

All Steve can do is nod. He doesn't know if he's ever really taken the time to stare at the sky and appreciate its beauty.

"I like to go up here to clear my mind sometimes. But I've always thought it would be nice to share with someone else. But maybe Dustin and Suzie can just lay out in his yard instead because I think it would be life or death before I let one of them up here. Dustin would break a leg or something."

Steve chuckles and glances at Eddie only to find him staring at him as if trying to gauge his reaction. "Thank you for taking me up here," he says sincerely, going as far as reaching into the space between them and intertwining their fingers.

Eddie's hand squeezes his as he turns to look up at the stars, looking so at peace with the world that Steve can't help but stare at him.

Eddie glances at him. "Look at the stars, Steve. You're wasting your time staring at me."

"The stars are here every night though, so maybe I want to spend all the time I can looking at you."

Eddie turns to him with a conflicted look on his face. "Is this your Harrington charm?"

Steve shakes his head. "It's just the truth." He sighs and looks up at the sky. "Do you ever wish you could start over knowing everything you know now?"

"Yes," Eddie answers immediately, thumb running over the back of Steve's hand. "What would you change?"

Steve considers the question for a moment before turning to Eddie and saying, "Everything."

Eddie looks back at him and asks, "Would you change this?"

Steve's eyes search Eddie's, wondering how he wants him to answer the question, but he answers honestly, "I wouldn't have been such a dick earlier, and I would've changed this from a trial date to a real date."

Eddie whispers, "There's nothing stopping it from changing now."

Steve shifts onto his side and looks down at him. "Are you sure you want a date with King Steve of all people?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I don't think that's you. So why don't you prove me wrong?" he asks, running a hand through Steve's hair before resting it on the back of his head.

Steve lets Eddie take the lead to slowly drag him in, pausing when they're close enough to be breathing each other's air. "Are you sure you want this?" Eddie asks.

"More than you could possibly know," Steve replies before closing the gap between them and gently brushing their lips together before breaking the kiss to look Eddie in the eyes and make sure he's okay.

Eddie just pulls him back in and kisses him as if he's pouring everything he's feeling into the kiss which Steve returns just as passionately, unable to deny the truth that no kiss has ever made him feel this way before.

He cradles Eddie's face as they deepen the kiss and Eddie tries to pull him in impossibly closer, both hands making a mess of his hair until Steve pulls away, breathing hard before moving in to kiss him again as sweetly as he can before he rests their foreheads together.

They both try to catch their breath, and neither dares break the silence between them.

Eventually, Steve gives Eddie a gentle kiss on the forehead and rolls away onto his back, finding Eddie's hand and intertwining their fingers again.

They both stare up at the stars, not looking at each other until Eddie finally breaks the silence to ask, "Steve, where do we go from here?"

Steve turns to him and squeezes his hand. "I don't know," he confesses. "But what if we didn't think about it now? What if we just see what happens?" Steve asks, not wanting to think of the reality of their situation.

Eddie nods. "I like that idea."

So, they both turn back to the stars, wishing that their paths will be able to cross again.

Little do they know that their wishes will be granted soon.

(Super quick happy ending in the tags)

Tag List <3 (Sorry this took longer than planned):

@estrellami-1 @resident-gay-bitch @7-starboi @steves-yellow-cardigin @anaibis @saramelaniemoon @big-ol-regret @piemaker-from-gallifrey @queerriotgrrrl @sharingisntkaren @zoeweee @goodolefashionedloverboi @l0st-strawberry @dragonmama76 @pluto-pepsi @its-a-me-a-morgan @tiny-enthusiast @aol19 @pansexualhousecat @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thesuninyaface @messrs-weasley @gemini-local @paperbackribs

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #So after the man hunt Eddie sees Nancy and Steve and is like #of course me and Steve would have never worked #and he basically tells Steve that he should go after nancy #and Steve is like ???? did you forget about our whole date???#Also their little moment in the woods with Eddie telling Steve that he's actually a good dude is him telling him everything he wanted to sa #During their first date but he didn't #But Steve and Eddie dont get the chance to talk things out and they're filled with misunderstandings until Steve drags Eddie's body through #the portal and they reunite at the hospital where Steve basically tells Eddie he's an idiot for assuming he wanted to be with Nancy #Because he can only imagine being with Eddie #And they live happily ever after

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luxaofhesperides · 4 months

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Wings AU ; requested by @justwannabecat!

“Are you sure it looks good?” Duke asks for the sixth time in an hour.

Tim sighs and says, yet again, “It looks fine. Just give it to him! If he doesn’t love it, I’ll beat him up for you.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I could! But you’re right, I wouldn’t. I would just psychologically torment him until he broke.”

“Don’t do that, please. I’d like to actually have a chance with him, even if he hates this.”

“He won’t,” Tim says. He actually stops typing to give Duke a severe look. “Go and give it to him. If you don’t go now, he’s going to think you bailed.”

Duke glances at the time, then jumps. “Shit! Thanks for your help, man!” He’s out of the door before Tim can say another word. He doesn’t bother with the front door, or even going down the hallway. Instead, he opens the nearest window and flings himself out of it, unfurling his tawny wings to catch the wind beneath them and ride them into the city proper.

He briefly considers stopping for a moment to change into his Signal outfit so he can fly above civilian jurisdiction, then decides that it’s far easier to just bend the light around him so he’s invisible. He wouldn’t want to be late meeting Danny, after all. Especially not for this.

He hadn’t been expecting Danny to be into traditional courting methods. Most people tend to go the more modern way of dating, but Danny had mentioned once or twice that he thought it was romantic. He had blushed, mumbling the words, but Duke heard them and went into researching courting methods to see which ones Danny might like best.

Sure, he could just ask Danny out on a date like he normally would if he liked someone, but if Danny wants to be courted, then Duke is going to court him!

It’s why he’s been planning this out carefully, gathering his primaries after his wings molted a few months ago so he could string them together into a thin wing covering.

Admittedly, this courting method isn’t super common, but the thought of giving Danny his feathers, making it look like their wings are one and the same, has kept Duke up some nights, wanting it so badly.

Besides, he thinks Danny will like it. Considering the state of his wings after the Accident…

Duke holds his handmade wing covers closer to his chest, flier lower as he leaves Bristol and enters Diamond District. The streets are busy, full of people. Most tend to stay on the ground, wings tucked close to their bodies, but there are plenty still flying above cars and buses that Duke has to carefully fly around.

It takes another twenty minutes to get to Robinson Park, where Duke drops down to the ground and takes a moment to make sure all his feathers are straight and neatly displayed. Then he walks into the park, heading towards their usual meeting place.

For once, it’s a nice, sunny day in Gotham. Everyone’s taking advantage of it. The park is full of couples and families, walking around slowly, and kids dart through the air, still unable to go very high with their wings not yet fully grown in. It’s nice to hear the laughter and general chatter of people wandering the park.

Duke doesn’t spend too long walking the paved paths through the park. He steps off of it near the second water fountain on the path, then heads into the trees, passing two moms on a picnic with their three kids rolling around the grass nearby.

Tucked away in this corner of the park is a small clearing surrounded by thin trees. The tile is dirty and cracked, no one maintaining it at all with it hidden away.

He sees Danny’s wings first, with long feathers that trail onto the ground, a black that shines dark blue in the light. He follows the lines of his wings back to his body, where Danny sits on a bench, leaning his weight back against his hands as he lifts his head up into the sunlight, basking in the warmth.

He really is so pretty. He insists that he isn’t, but Duke regularly spends time with the Wayne family, all who have modeled before, so he’s got a better idea than most about what pretty looks like, and Danny fits the bill.

“Hey,” Duke calls out softly, watching as Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and turns to give him a warm smile.

“Hey! I’m free for the rest of the day, which means we have so much time to complain about things today.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“Nope,” Danny says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting, though. I like hanging out with you.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Duke walks forward. He doesn’t know if there’s something specific he has to say when presenting his gift, if there’s a courting tradition involved that he didn’t learn about. He’s terrified Danny’s going to reject it. He’s praying that Danny accepts it.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks, standing to get a better look at him. “You seem tense…” He trails off as he catches sight of what Duke holds in his hands, breath stuttering.

“I’m fine. I, um.” Duke steps into the clearing, entering the sunlight, and holds out his wing covers. “I made them for you. You mentioned before that you thought courting traditions were romantic… I don’t know if you like wing covers, but I thought you’d look good in my feathers… Only if you want it though!”

He’s trying so hard not to cringe away in embarrassment. He’s flirted with Danny before, half jokes and half serious, always playful. Duke was smooth then, delighting in how flustered it made Danny before he hit back with his own flirting. Now he’s a hesitant, stuttering fool, tripping over his words and struggling to find the perfect things to say. Maybe he should have thought up a speech, or something. Memorized a few lines to speak his intentions with this courting gift. Done literally any prep for giving the gift instead of focusing only on making it.

Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either. He just stares, wide-eyed at the wing covers in Duke’s hands.

That’s a bad sign, isn’t it.

His hands lower just a touch, and he quietly prompts, “Danny?”

Just as he’s about to pull back, step away and try to fix things, messily attempt to salvage their friendship because clearly Danny doesn’t want to be courted by Duke, Danny’s hands snap out whip-fast and latch onto his wrists.

“This is… for me?” he whispers, awed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for you.”

“And you’re courting me? Like, for real?”

“Yeah, definitely courting you for real. Do you accept?”

Danny throws himself into Duke’s arms, careful not to crush the wing covers between them. “In what world would I say no?” he laughs, bright with joy. He pulls back a second later, not giving Duke time to hug him back, and turns around, carefully stretching his wings out. “Put them on for me?”

“Of course.”

He starts by smoothing out some of Danny’s feathers. He doesn’t get to do this often; Danny hates having his wings on display for anyone, with how they spasm occasionally, and have empty patches where feathers will never grow in again. The Accident, all that electricity coursing through him, it permanently damaged his wings. There is no healing to be done.

His wings are lacking too many flight feathers and primaries for him to fly. He’s stuck on the ground now, unable to use his wings for more than a minute. Old burns are still visible closer to his spine.

Danny prefers hiding his wings away. He hates thinking about the Accident, hates how it’s taken his wings from him, how it’s changed him completely.

But Duke loves his wings. He loves the softness of Danny’s lower feathers, how they shine in the light, how they always puff up when it gets windy. He’s only gotten to preen them twice before, and he treasures those memories more dearly than anything else.

This easily outshines both those moments.

He gently combs his fingers through Danny’s feathers, straightening them out, then lays the first wing cover over his right wing. His own brown feathers drape over the top of Danny’s wings, hiding the featherless patches from view. He does the same to the other wing, then adjust both until they lay perfectly on Danny’s wings.

As soon as he lifts his hands away from Danny’s wings, Danny is spinning around with a grin, flaring his wings out.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Duke answers. He was right; Danny looks good in his feathers.

He watches, fond and amused, as Danny spins, keeping his wings flared, admiring his new look. “I’m never taking these off,” he says. “I love them so much. I can’t really make one for you, though…”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t just accept this and not give you something in return!”

“Well… There is one thing you could give me. Something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

“What is it?” Danny asks, leaning towards Duke. He’s eager, ready to please, so delighted to be courted.

Duke smiles. “A kiss.”

“Done.”

He doesn’t have time to react before Danny is pouncing on him, hands fisting the collar of his shirt as he tilts his head up and kisses Duke. He pulls back before Duke can kiss back, blushing and unbearably cute.

And all Duke manages to say is, “Cool.”

He’s so good at this.

Danny rightfully laughs at him, then grabs his hand and pulls him down to the bench. “Come on, I promised to complain about my teachers today and I intend to deliver. And maybe later, I could take you out on a date? If you want.”

“Danny, of course I want to go on a date with you. I’m courting you! I thought I made my feelings clear!”

“I’m just making sure!” Danny shouts over him, and Duke can’t resist the urge to pull him closer and pepper kisses along his cheek. “Okay, okay, I got it. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’m going to date you so hard.”

“You better. It’s about time you put some work into our relationship.”

“Excuse you?!” Danny gasps in mock outrage, and they start bickering lightheartedly as they always do.

Even with their feelings come to light, even with a courtship started and a date promised, it doesn’t feel like anything between them has changed.

It’s just them. Just as it always has been.

Duke couldn’t be happier.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was going to be longer bc i got into worldbuilding but then it got TOO long so i scrapped all that to focus on duke and danny #first time writing wing fic.... the amount of thought i put into how this world works had my head spinning #like this one: most people sleep in hamocks or have beds that are off the ground so they can stretch their wings out #regular beds like ours exist but mostly for kids/senior citizens/people with damaged wings who cant fly #like danny. so he has a normal bed and duke has a hammock which means the cuddling situation is Difficult #usually it ends with danny on his back and duke on his chest or danny completely wrapped up in dukes wings #just picture that. youre welcome :)

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yuzuuu4 · 5 months

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he's "sizing him up" or so they say

Summary:

“Haha, I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon, Red! Is this luck?” Those dead blues curve up in amused crescents, staring into Diluc’s. Who would’ve known that what he thought was a simple Fatui lackey all those years turned out to become the eleventh harbinger himself? Celestia sure knew how to play with him in the worst way possible.

And what was a chance meeting between two strangers if they were to never meet again?

That was what Diluc thought as he carefully cleaned the glass in his hands, only to nearly drop it at the sight of orange, grays, and reds at the corner of his eye.

Celestia sure knew how to play with him in the worst way possible.

“I request that you step out of my establishment this instant,” he snaps, suddenly feeling irritated by how carefree the other seemed to be despite waltzing into his territory. It was a shame that he couldn’t bring his claymore to scare him off lest he damage his most expensive liquor behind him.

And to his further irritation, the harbinger had the gall to laugh, and somehow, he found it… pleasant? Barbatos forbid, he even dares to say that the short laugh he heard sounds like music to his ears.

Diluc’s eye twitches at the thought, and he thinks that he must be going insane.

“... … … …! … …? … … … …”

The Fatui harbinger’s mouth opens and closes as he continues talking, but Diluc decides to ignore it in favor of sizing him up. The man has certainly grown in the time that they weren’t able to see each other, and he could see the well-trained muscles hiding behind that awful coat. Tartaglia’s face also seemed to mature compared to before, looking much more slim with a slightly crooked nose from a healed broken nose.

His wandering eyes focus on the freckles he spotted on Tartaglia’s cheeks absentmindedly, his hand traitorously itching to take a pen just to connect the dots.

Damn Fatui and their unfairly attractive ginger diplomat.

“...mrade? …Master Ragnvindr, are you even listening?” Chapped lips slanted lopsidedly in a roguish smirk, and Diluc knew he stared for too long. Damn it.

#totally ! totally.#i trust our local bartender he's def just sizing him up for a fight #he can take him #anyways second time dropping a piece with a fic #first time was with subahokke and i got inspired bc some people reblogged it again #i cant think of any good nicknames for diluc #chiluc #genshin childe #childe tartaglia ajax #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #yufic

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glitterghost · 1 year

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Kind of want to run into an overgrown forest (ao3) and never be seen again (drown happily in my feelings).

#ao3 #archive of our own #fics #writing #feelings #like please i dont want to deal with anything but the very most important dilemma that these characters are having to navigate through #like you dont understand i need to know what happens to them first and foremost before i can attend to my own needs #anyway happy saturday

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marinawolf · 2 months

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It's You (Supercorp)

by marinawolf

The poll has spoken! Here it is- the angsty Supercorp fic (with a little bit of action and plot- it's a little long, sorry. I was gonna do two parts but that just complicates things so it's alllll here.)

Lena finds out after Lex decides to play a cruel game. (Filled with angst, betrayal, yearning etc etc. First kiss.)

3k words

The moon hung low in the inky sky, casting a haunting glow on National City. On the rooftop of the L Corp building, Kara lingered in the shadows, a solitary figure with a completely useless glass of champagne clutched in her hands, her eyes fixated on Lena. Oh, how she longed for the oblivion of intoxication. It would make things so much easier.

Kara sighed, taking a pointless sip from her champagne flute, the bubbles tickling her throat. The cool breeze ruffled her hair as she watched Lena. The world was enchanted by Lena Luthor, and Kara was no exception. She was everything - brilliant, brave, kind and beautiful. So so beautiful that Kara sometimes forgot how to breathe around her. Kara's fingers traced the rim of her champagne glass and she tried to tear her eyes away from Lena, a futile attempt to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

But unable to resist, Kara's gaze lingered on Lena's face, tracing the delicate curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. She watched as Lena moved through the crowd, a vision in a black dress that sparkled in the moonlight, as if there were constellations wrapped around her body. The air seemed charged with an energy that only Kara felt, her super senses attuned to every detail. Lena's laughter, her heartbeat, the subtle shifts in her expressions - all of it was amplified for Kara. She could feel the familiar tug at her heart. Lena seemed so close yet so impossibly far away. The desire to confess, to bare her soul to Lena, burned within Kara. But the fear of rejection, of losing the one person who had come to mean everything to her, kept her rooted in silence. The irony wasn't lost on her - Supergirl, capable of facing the most formidable foes, was paralyzed by the mere thought of losing Lena.

A bitter taste lingered on Kara's tongue as she took another sip, futilely attempting to drown her emotions. If only she could find the courage to tell Lena the truth - that she was Supergirl, and that she was hopelessly and desperately in love with her.

Almost as if sensing Kara's gaze on her, Lena's eyes flickered toward hers and the most breathtaking smile formed on her face, causing Kara's heart to stop for a moment. Rao, those eyes. Kryptonite had nothing on those eyes, and when Kara looked into them, she could see her life unfolding in those shades of green.

Lena immediately made her way towards Kara, her arms already outstretched for a hug that felt like home.

"You look gorgeous, Lena", Kara whispered against Lena's neck, and she could swear that she heard Lena's breath catch.

As they parted, Lena's hand found Kara's wrist, "Why are you hiding in the corner? Come with me," Lena urged, gently tugging Kara towards the bustling crowd.

It was the last place she wanted to be but Kara couldn't say no. With a silent nod, she let Lena guide her, knowing that wherever Lena went, she would willingly follow.

"You okay?"

Kara blinked back to the present as Lena's concerned voice cut through the monotonous corporate chatter. She had zoned out as a man they were talking to droned on about his company. For some reason, she was finding it harder to stifle her feelings for Lena tonight and found herself spiralling, her thoughts running wild.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I am. Why?"

"You just seem out of it tonight. Do you want to leave? I'll just say my goodbyes, and we can get out of here," Lena suggested, her concern evident in her eyes.

Kara smiled at Lena, a warmth budding in her chest. Lena would totally leave her own event to take Kara home if Kara asked her to. She was that wonderful of a friend. They would probably end up at Lena's apartment, drinking wine and watching movies until Lena passed out, cuddled into Kara's side, making it so that Kara couldn't leave. And Kara would allow herself the indulgence- she would wrap her arms around Lena and close her eyes, and pretend that this was something else- something more. She allowed herself those moments of fantasy. And when they woke up entangled in each other the next morning, they would laugh it off, blaming it on the wine.

But no. Lena needed to be here. It was her event, after all and Kara needed to get some space anyway, and maybe some proper alien alcohol from her stash at home.

"You can't leave, Lena," she laughed, "but I think I am a bit tired. So I'm gonna go, okay?"

Lena's frowned, her gaze meeting Kara's, something indiscernible flickering within her eyes.

"Kara," Lena began, her voice holding a note of urgency, yet before she could continue, a sudden, deafening bang echoed through the air. Kara's eyes shot upward, shock and awe registering on her face as the night sky seemingly exploded around them.

Fire rained down on the rooftop and instinctively, Kara moved to take action, but before she could, Lena's arms enveloped her protectively, attempting to shield her from the fire and debris. It was a moment where the absurdity almost made Kara want to laugh. She felt momentarily frozen. Yet, she knew she couldn't remain passive. She had to save Lena. She had to save everyone.

A second explosion jolted the rooftop, causing Lena to lose her balance and her grip on Kara to falter. Taking the opportunity, Kara broke away from Lena and ducked into a corner, returning immediately as Supergirl.

Her first instinct was to ensure Lena's safety, and she grabbed her and lifted her off the rooftop, intending to carry her away from the looming danger. However, Lena resisted fiercely, fighting against Kara's hold, her frantic eyes scanning the rooftop.

"No!" Lena screamed, her voice fraught with desperation. "Kara is still there. I need to get Kara."

The plea reverberated through the night, casting a heavy shadow on Kara's heart.

"I'll find Kara. Don't worry," Kara reassured, her voice strained with the weight of deception.

She could see the anguish and worry in Lena's eyes, a reflection of deep concern that extended beyond the immediate danger. The worry was for her, for Kara, and as Kara soared back into the night sky, leaving Lena on the ground, the burden of keeping her identity hidden, of denying the depth of her feelings, felt like it could pull her down.

Kara cleared the rest of the guests off the rooftop swiftly and returned alone, hovering over it, scanning for the source of the explosion. To her surprise, there was none. It was as if the night had imploded onto itself, as if the air itself had ignited. The absence of a visible threat left Kara unsettled- this wasn't meant to cause any harm. A sense of foreboding washed over her as realization struck—this must have been some sort of diversion.

Panic gripped Kara's mind, and a single name echoed through her thoughts. There was only one person who would cause chaos at an L Corp event, and that meant one thing—Lena was in danger.

Racing back to where she left Lena, Kara found no-one there. In the place where Lena should have been waiting for her, a small white card had been placed on the ground.

Kara reached for the card, her hands trembling.

You are cordially invited to the Luthor family reunion.

The air became heavy with the worst kind of fear, and as Kara clenched the card in her trembling hands, a desperate scream threatened to escape her lips. Where did he take Lena?

At the DEO, Kara's anxiety echoed through the room as she paced, the worry etched on her face. Frustration, fear and desperation boiled within her.

"Why can't we find her?" She shouted, her anger bouncing around the room, shocking the agents around her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Alex, a concerned look on her face,

"Lex is very good at hiding, Kara. We're doing the best we can. We will find her," she reassured, though the words did little to quell Kara's mounting panic.

Kara felt a surge of helplessness, a burning desire to do whatever it took to locate Lena, even if it meant tearing the whole world apart and yet all she could do was uselessly wait around for a lead.

Just as she approached a point of no return, Winn's voice called out,

"I think I have something," he announced, drawing everyone's attention. "I hijacked city cams and ran facial recognition. Traffic cameras picked up Lena's face outside an abandoned warehouse. There's someone with her."

Kara's heart skipped a beat, hope coursing through her veins.

"Where is it?" she demanded, desperation edging her voice.

As Winn relayed the address, Alex grabbed her arm,

"Wait, Kara. Let us prep a team to go with you. It's probably a trap. You can't go in alone."

Kara's resolve hardened, her gaze steely with determination.

"I don't care, Alex. It's Lena."

With those words hanging in the air, she broke free from Alex's grasp and bolted from the DEO, propelled by the determination to rescue the woman she couldn't live without.

Kara reached the warehouse and effortlessly tore through the heavy iron doors. Her determined advance faltered as she took in the scene before her—Lex Luthor, armed and wearing a manic smile, stood with a gun pointed at Lena who, to Kara's relief, looked unharmed. Kara couldn't bare to see the terrified look on Lena's face, but she knew that if she let herself give in to the fear, she would never get them out alive.

"Ah, Supergirl, you made it!" he grinned, reveling in the chaos. "Look, sister, our guest of honor has arrived. Now we can start."

Kara moved towards Lena, but before she could reach her, Lex grabbed Lena and pressed his gun to her head.

"Nuh uh, Supergirl," he tutted, "You don't want your best friend to get hurt, now do you?"

Kara felt a chill creeping over her as she stood paralyzed.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the panic surging through her, "Me? I'm here—let her go, Lex."

Lex laughed. "Oh, Supergirl. Where's the fun in that? Let you sacrifice yourself and be the hero again? No. No, this time we're going to play a little game."

He retrieved a button from his pocket, and the floor beneath Kara illuminated with the ominous glow of kryptonite.

"Supergirl, no," Lena shouted, trying to step forward, but Lex tightened his grip on her, and pressed the gun harder into her temple.

"One little push of this button will make that lead floor disappear, and one little pull on this trigger can end my dear sister's life. Okay? Do we understand the rules? Good, now that the stakes are set, let's play a little game of truth. No dare, just truth."

"Please, Lex," Kara begged, "Let her go."

"Oh, I will. If you play my game, Supergirl."

Kara closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. When she opened it again, she was resolved to do whatever it took to save Lena.

"Fine. Let's play."

"What a good sport," Lex taunted. "The game is simple. You tell the truth—you win. And there's only one question that we need to answer. Lena, who is Supergirl?"

Lena frowned, uncertainty clouding her features. "I don't know."

"Come, sister, you're smarter than that. Think carefully." Lex goaded, a malicious glint in his eyes.

Kara's heart pounded fiercely—this was Lex's plan. He knew. Somehow he knew, and he intended to use that knowledge to shatter the one thing she valued most in the world: her friendship with Lena.

"I. Don't. Know," Lena spoke through gritted teeth, her frustration evident. "Let her go, Lex. Let me go. There's no need for any of this."

"Oh, but there is," he replied, unyielding. "Okay, Supergirl—your turn. Answer truthfully now, or else I'll have to pull this trigger. Does Lena know you? The real you?"

Kara's gaze shifted to Lena, a silent plea in her eyes. She had to answer.

"Yes," she said softly, lifting her eyes to meet Lena's. Confusion etched Lena's face, and Kara's heart ached. Not like this.

Lex's smile widened, savoring the unfolding drama. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Lena, your turn again. Tell me, did Supergirl save your best friend today?"

Kara watched as anguish and panic filled Lena's eyes, the unspoken plea evident. "I don't know. Is Kara...? Is she okay?" The desperation in Lena's voice broke Kara's heart.

Before Kara could utter a word, Lex spoke, coercing Lena, "Come on, Lena. I know you're smarter than this."

He turned his gaze to Kara. "Tell her, Supergirl. Tell her about her best friend."

A sob escaped Lena's throat. "Oh god, please. Tell me she's okay. Tell me she's alive," Lena begged, and Kara felt her heart shatter.

"Tell her, Supergirl. The truth about her best friend."

Lex's words hung heavy in the air, and Kara knew exactly what he meant.

She looked into Lena's tear-filled eyes,

"Lena," she said, softly, "Lena, I—"

But before she could continue, she saw recognition dawn in Lena's eyes.

"No," Lena whispered, her voice trembling. "It's you? It has been you this whole time? Oh god, Kara, I thought you had—" Lena choked on a sob.

Kara remained silent, witnessing Lena's heartbreak unfold as the realization settled in.

"I'm sorry, Lena. I wanted to tell you so many times, but—"

"But you didn't," Lena's voice turned hard, the sense of betrayal evident. "Kara." She said her name like an accusation, and Kara wished she could vanish into the earth.

"I confided in you that everyone in my past had betrayed me. About how much it hurt to have someone you love lie to you and betray you, and you—" Lena's voice faltered, "You were playing me all along, Kara."

Kara felt her own tears fall. She had done the one thing she never wanted to do—she had hurt Lena.

"Lena, I was trying to protect you. Your family—"

"What?" Lena interrupted her, "You thought that you couldn't trust me because I'm a Luthor? Despite everything, Kara, you didn't trust me?"

"I would trust you with my life, Lena. I do trust you with my life. I just never wanted you to ever have to choose between me and your family! I didn't want to put you in that position."

Lex put the gun down, and Kara almost sagged in relief. "My work here is done," he smiled in satisfaction.

Then, surprising them both, he handed the kryptonite remote to Lena. "Take it, sister. I, at least, trust you to do the right thing. You'll always just be a Luthor to them."

When Kara saw Lena's fingers wrap around the remote, her heart shattered. Lex walked away, leaving them alone.

"Lena, please."

"What, Supergirl? Don't kill you? Isn't that what you would expect from a Luthor?" she spat.

"Lena, you're angry. I understand, but—"

"Oh god," Lena said, "You actually think I would hurt you?"

"Never," Kara said, "Lena, I'm—"

"You don't get it, do you, Kara? I would have chosen you. Over anyone. Over anything." She let the remote drop to the floor, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse.

"Lena," Kara whispered, her voice tinged with fear of the impending fallout.

The prospect that Lena might come to hate her felt more daunting than facing any physical threat. She would rather have Lena press that button than have to live with Lena hating her. Lena wasn't just a friend; she was the woman Kara loved, and the thought of losing her was unbearable. With everything on the line, Kara had to say it, to lay bare the truth that had been concealed for so long.

"Lena, I'm sorry. I know I should have told you sooner, about who I am, but please, please believe me. I was only trying to protect you. I didn't know how to tell you. You became my friend, and I thought it would be okay, that I could be Kara for you and still keep this hidden—keep you safe from it all. And then you became my best friend, and by then, I was too scared of losing you to tell you. And then—Rao, Lena, I fell in love with you, and it became too difficult to tell you. I was scared, and I didn't know how. I love you, and the thought of losing you—I knew that I wouldn't be able to breathe if I lost you. Lena, you are the single most important thing in the universe to me."

Lena fell to her knees, and Kara rushed to her, desperate to bridge the emotional chasm that had opened between them.

"I love you, Lena. I have loved you for a long time. Please, please forgive me."

"I want to hate you, but I can't," Lena whispered, her voice a fragile blend of hurt and conflict.

Despite it all, Lena pulled Kara into a fierce embrace, clutching onto her desperately. Kara tightened her grip around Lena, feeling Lena's silent tears seep into her shoulder.

Finally, Lena pushed Kara away, standing up, leaving them both to grapple with the emotional turmoil that hung heavy in the air. Kara rose to her feet, and they faced each other, the tension between them casting a daunting shadow.

"What now?" Kara asked, her voice soft, the fear of Lena's response palpable.

Lena met her gaze intensely, and Kara detected a flicker of conflict in Lena's eyes. It was as if the turmoil within Lena was written in the air between them, as if she was wrestling with a decision.

Then, without warning, Lena pulled Kara in, crashing her lips against hers with a desperate urgency. Kara, initially stunned, quickly melted into the kiss, mirroring Lena's desperation. She could taste the saltiness of Lena's tears on her lips, the kiss carrying a weight as if their very lives depended on it, as if Lena held Kara's breath captive. The world around Kara dissolved, leaving only Lena—her lips, her hands. Lena became the singular reality that mattered to Kara, the only thing tethering her to this world.

Finally, they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, both breathing heavily.

"I'm hurt," Lena whispered, her voice laden with vulnerability. "You hurt me, Kara. But I can't imagine being without you. I love you."

Kara's heart clenched at Lena's words.

And as their lips met again, Kara vowed to spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to Lena. She would never hurt her again.

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lunargrapejuice · 4 months

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every single wish, no matter how small, is worth seeing to fruition

& you are my wish🩷

art by the lovely @mypillowpaper thank you so much for doing this for me 🥺🩷

#diluc n I shared our first kiss at lantern rite so of course i had to get a comm of it #I’ll rb the fic I wrote for it too heheheh #ahhhh I’m so in love with this 🥺❤️#I’m so in love with him!#he looks so handsome #I can’t even #rbs are okay pls just don’t save or use 🥰🩷#self ships <3 #diluc x luna #diluc

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project-sonadow · 6 months

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Shooting Star

Before… everything, Shadow lived on the ARK his whole life. Almost everyone else got to come and go as they pleased. The professor and his scientists frequently traveled down to the planet below, either to conduct more research or to explain the results of their project to the military commanders funding Shadow’s very existence. The GUN personnel aboard the ARK, who stared at Shadow with fear and hostility, always left after a couple weeks, to be replaced by new, bright-eyed recruits who didn’t know a thing about the truth of the project.

But there was one person who was with him, always.

“Shadow, what do you think it’s like on earth?” Maria asked.

“The professor said his life’s work was dedicated to all of those who live down there. He once told that the reason for his existence was making people happy through the power of science.”

It was a line Gerald had fed to him, to give to his granddaughter, naive by the circumstances of her life. There was only one person Gerald dedicated his life to, and only one that he wanted to make happy. But it was a lie Shadow was never going to contradict, especially when he owed his creation to Gerald, and his few moments of companionship to Maria.

“Shadow…”

They were looking out the windows on the ARK, at the black of space dotted all over by light from stars which could be long dead by now. The planet was below them, always below them, a vibrant mix of white and blue and green, brighter than anything on the ARK itself, constructed of sharp edges and dull shades of gray. The two of them were only on the ARK to keep Maria alive, so Shadow could be used to save her life, but neither of them were happy here.

And if Maria wasn’t happy, wasn’t able to live her life, then Shadow’s purpose, his reason for existence…

“Maria… I just don’t know anything anymore. I often wonder why I was created. What my purpose is, for being here. Maybe if I go down there, I will find the answers. Maybe…”

His voice trailed off, and Maria looked at him with sad eyes. It was one of her better days, one where she was able to stand, and talk without gasping for air, but she still looked like a frail, washed out ghost under the harsh lights of the colony.

“Maria…”

And so they remained there, stuck between the planet below and the stars above.

---

When he first met the other hedgehog, Shadow was unimpressed. He had known GUN was going to find some way to justify his existence to the world at large, but he had assumed it would be the GUN Commander, or someone who had been at GUN for over 50 years.

Instead, they had found a hedgehog, similar to him in appearance but different in every other way.

Right now, that hedgehog was glaring up at him, green eyes narrowed in misdirected fury. The destroyed Big Foot crunched underneath Shadow’s shoes, evidence of how weak GUN was, unable to capture even an inferior version of him.

Shadow should have left. He had done his job by stealing a Chaos Emerald, and decimating as much of GUN’s forces as he could in one night. He had a job to do, and he had to get to the ARK. From there, Gerald’s grandson could unwittingly take care of the rest of the plan, if he was half as competent as his grandfather had been.

And yet, he stayed. He blamed his own curiosity- this was the hedgehog GUN had elected to blame for Shadow’s misdeeds, the one who Gerald’s grandson had mistaken him for. Surely there was something special about him.

“What?” the hedgehog said, clearly confused at Shadow’s appearance, and he smirked, holding the Chaos Emerald up high for the hedgehog to see.

“It all starts with this… a jewel containing the ultimate power…”

“That’s the… Chaos Emerald!” the hedgehog said, and Shadow saw a mixture of surprise and rage cross his face. “Now I know what’s going on! The military has mistaken me for the likes of you. So… where do you think you’re going with that Emerald?!”

Shadow said nothing, and simply glared down at the other hedgehog. It would be foolish to charge an unknown opponent directly, especially one with one of the most powerful items on the planet, and yet the hedgehog looked like he was about to do just that, ears pinned back against his head in fury and disgust.

“Say something! You fake hedgehog!”

Shadow didn’t bother to meet his attack head-on, simply tossing the Chaos Emerald up into the air and catching it again. He felt the power of the Emerald pulsing in his hand, bending and malleable to Shadow’s will- “Chaos Control!”

Shadow had planned to simply warp to the opposite building, hitting the hedgehog on the way, maybe hard enough to keep him out of any of Shadow’s plans. But even under the effects of Chaos Control, with the world slowed down to a stop around him- Shadow saw the other hedgehog’s eyes widen minutely, and then his feet skidded on the pavement. Slow, but still just fast enough to change course, to avoid Shadow entirely.

Shadow blinked, and then he was on the opposite roof. The other hedgehog wheeled around, alarm and surprise on his face, before he started speaking to himself again. “Wow… he’s fast! Hey, it’s not his speed, he must be using the Chaos Emerald to warp!”

So, he was able to figure out Chaos Control from only seeing it used once. But that didn’t mean much of anything at all, at least not by itself.

Shadow curiosity- and annoyance- was piqued. He had hoped to be able to eliminate the other in a single encounter. But their time together was already coming to an end. Shadow could see the human’s forces, military and police alike, approaching. What a shame, to not be able to get rid of the blue pest.

“My name is Shadow. I’m the world’s ultimate lifeform. There’s no time for games… farewell!”

It was easy enough to teleport all the way to the Space Colony ARK with just one Emerald, and the last he saw of the hedgehog was him flinching back, a hand going up to cover his eyes, and then he vanished from sight entirely, replaced by familiar halls that Shadow had already come to hate.

Shadow, still tossing the Emerald into the air, closed his eyes and considered the hedgehog for a second.

Fast. Strong enough to destroy a GUN mech entirely and be unharmed by the encounter. Smart enough to figure out Chaos Control without using it himself. But also stupid, to charge into a fight without knowing a thing about his enemy’s capabilities, and capable of being overwhelmed by strong emotion like a fool.

Special. But nothing too special. Nothing like Shadow himself.

---

Shadow hoped he wouldn’t encounter the other hedgehog again, that he would just remain locked in GUN’s deepest, darkest cell until Shadow was able to fulfill Maria’s wish. Sadly, the humans were incompetent at everything, so it wasn’t too long into Shadow’s next excursion down to the planet’s surface before there was another chance encounter.

“Hey, that’s…”

“That blue hedgehog again, of all places…”

“I found you, faker!”

“Faker? I think you’re the fake hedgehog around here. You’re comparing yourself to me… ha! You’re not even good enough to be my fake!”

“I’ll make you eat those words!”

Shadow had been intending to end it quickly. Gerald’s grandson had promised to destroy the entire island, so all Shadow had to do was kill the other hedgehog quickly, or find a way to cripple him and leave him here, to die in the explosion. Shadow was the Ultimate Lifeform. The other hedgehog was nobody.

And yet…

They ended up glaring at each other from across the clearing, both bruised and battered, but neither able to win. Emerald eyes were just as sharp as ever as they glared at Shadow, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the Chaos Emeralds as he stared into them.

Shadow could see that the other hedgehog was exhausted, sweat matting his fur, and panting for air. But Shadow felt even more breathless, more out of practice and weak.

It infuriated him.

It was the beeping from the communicator that distracted both of them. “Shadow! What are you doing? Hurry and get back here right now before the island blows up with you on it!” The other hedgehog’s eyes widened, predictably. “Blows up?”

Had Shadow really wasted this much time with a single hedgehog? He jumped back, and didn’t spare another glance at the hedgehog as he fled. But next time, he swore that he would crush him.

Somehow, Shadow knew he wouldn’t be lucky enough for him to die before then.

---

As it turned out, Shadow was wrong. The explosion lit up the entirety of space, and Shadow, in the same place where he had stood with Maria once, stared at it with nothing but contempt.

“I guess he was just a regular hedgehog, after all.”

---

But even after that, things continued to go wrong. Rouge’s betrayal, the truth about the project designed to create the Ultimate Lifeform- Shadow felt off balance, unsteady, even before he found his way to the one of the many long hallways leading to the Eclipse Cannon and found a ghost waiting for him.

“You never cease to surprise me, blue hedgehog. I thought that the capsule you were in exploded in space.”

The hedgehog grinned at him, and it stoked a fire somewhere deep in Shadow. “You know, what can I say… I die hard! You actually saved me, you know.”

Shadow glanced down at the Chaos Emerald the other held. The fake Chaos Emerald. “It was a Chaos Emerald, wasn’t it? But, there’s no way you could have activated the Chaos Control using an Emerald that’s fake.”

They started running, and Shadow kept up with the blue hedgehog’s pace easily as they ran down the hallway, but glancing down at their feet- the other was wearing ordinary shoes, and Shadow was wearing air shoes, designed specifically to allow him to travel at high speeds. Shadow grit his teeth. “So, there’s more to you than just looking like me. What are you anyway?”

“What you see is what you get! Just a guy that loves adventure! I’m Sonic the Hedgehog!”

Sonic. A regular name for a regular hedgehog. “I see. But you know, I can’t let you live. Your adventuring days are coming to an end!”

They fought, in space, above the planet and below the stars. And Shadow…

Shadow lost.

---

They didn’t see each other again. Not until Eggman won, and Gerald’s plan was complete, his message played across the entire earth so all of humanity would know what was coming for them, how their arrogance and cruelty had sealed their fate decades ago.

And Shadow… thought it was over. Until another hedgehog, this one small and frail and foolish, reached out to him in desperation and hope and an earnest, true love for the planet Shadow hated and all the people on it.

Shadow had thought he would meet with resistance, and suspicion. Instead, Sonic was just confused, and happy, that Shadow was helping.

“Leave this one to me!”

“Shadow, what are you doing?”

“I’ll take care of this, while you run to get the Chaos Emeralds!”

Sonic grinned at those words, and nodded, grabbing his friend by the hand and running around the Biolizard.

The Biolizard itself, supposedly another ultimate lifeform, the prototype of Shadow himself, was so much easier to defeat than one small hedgehog had ever been.

But much like Sonic, it refused to give up, even on the brink of defeat.

The Biolizard vanished- teleported- in a flash of light, and then the shaking of the colony resumed, so harsh and sudden that Shadow almost fell over. Gerald’s grandson spoke to them over the communicators in the ARK, informing them of what it had done, and Shadow- Shadow didn’t know what to do. They had all thrown everything they had at it, and yet-

“Sonic!” the echidna yelled, dragging Shadow out of his thoughts, and he turned to see the two of them, engaged in what looked like a silent argument. Sonic’s eyes glanced between the echidna, the Master Emerald, the Chaos Emeralds- and then Shadow.

Shadow wasn’t entirely sure how he knew what Sonic intended to do, but he just did. It was unlike anything he ever felt before- an eerie calmness, and a sudden surge of confidence that they would win.

Sonic took Shadow by the hand, and led him up to the very top of the altar, where Chaos Energy burned and crackled, where the Chaos Emeralds formed a circle around the two of them. He met Sonic’s eyes once before he closed his own, unable to bear the trust that he saw in them.

He had no idea this was even possible, but it came to him naturally anyway. Chaos Energy flowed through the two of them, and when Shadow opened his eyes he met ruby red on the other side, flickering like fire.

“Come on!” Super Sonic said, a grin of pure excitement on his face. “Let’s go save the world!”

---

The Finalhazard, fitting for a creation of Gerald Robotnik, refused to go down without a fight. And Shadow, despite feeling more powerful than he had ever been, was burning through his power fast. Far too fast for this fight, despite the rings he and Sonic intermittently collected.

And Sonic was beginning to notice.

“Shadow! Your power’s getting weaker! Hey, are you okay?”

Shadow grunted, and tried to focus on the fight.

“Shadow, at this rate, your super form won’t last! Get back to the Colony!”

Shadow landed a hit on the Biolizard, barely damaging it.

“Continuous use of your Super form will cause you to disappear! Get back to the Colony!”

The Finalhazard hit Shadow, sending him directly into Sonic, blasting them both back into space. When they both righted themselves, Shadow took a moment to glare at Sonic. Only a moment, they didn’t have any other time to spare- but Sonic seemed to understand, and gave him a small smile.

The fight didn’t get any easier from there, but things became more bearable when he and Sonic were working in sync, landing blow after blow on the seemingly-invincible creature. The ARK continued to get closer to the planet, and their communicators both crackled, the people on the other side first yelling advice, then warnings, and then pleas for them both to retreat to the ARK. Neither of them listened.

And even when the Finalhazard was finally beginning to weaken, its attacks desperate and wild, Shadow could tell that he and Sonic were on their last legs, burning through the last of the energy. He grit his teeth, preparing for the final attack, and glanced over at Sonic.

Sonic looked fine. His fur sparkled like gold, his eyes like burning rubies. The grin on his face was back, and even from a distance, the way he dodged each of the Finalhazard’s attacks, the backdrop of space behind him- he looked like a shooting star. He looked beautiful.

Sonic…

His light grew brighter, almost blinding Shadow, as he shot towards the Finalhazard.

I think I’ve discovered what the Ultimate Lifeform is…

The Finalhazard screamed, lashing out with all its might, lasers and bombs and flailing limbs. It was all worthless.

It might be you!

Super Sonic collided with the side of Finalhazard, landing the finishing blow, and Shadow didn’t watch as it died. He just kept his eyes on Sonic, even when he knew the other wasn’t looking at him.

Eventually, though, even someone like Sonic needed help, and as Shadow saw him struggle to stop the falling Colony he flew forward, joining Sonic. A Chaos Control of this size and power was something Shadow had never attempted and he knew Sonic hadn’t either, but somehow, he knew that they could pull it off together.

Even if he was almost out of time.

The instant he knew the world was safe- that he had fulfilled Maria’s promise- Shadow felt the last of his power leave him, and he plummeted towards the earth. It didn’t take even a second for Sonic to fly after him, attempting to catch him. Shadow knew it was useless, but he held out his hand anyway, hoping against reality that Sonic would be able to create another miracle.

He wasn’t. Sonic’s fingers snagged against his inhibitor ring, pulling it off Shadow’s hand, and he continued falling, with the expression on Sonic’s face seared into his mind. He closed his eyes, and tried to forget the anguish on it.

“Maria… this is what you wanted, right? This is my promise I made to you.”

Shadow fell, and Sonic remained far above him, a star he could never catch up to.

#fanfiction #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #our first fic woag.......#long post #project writes

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auroramoon-draws16 · 2 months

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*Utter Chaos in the Crossover Bar that is steadily increasing in intensity*

Arthur Morgan, stressed: God, help us.

Desmond Miles, used to it: there is no God, just me.

Arthur, concerned: I can’t tell if that’s better, or worse…

Desmond, amused: let’s find out

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #idk he was the first character to come to mind #the crossover bar au #fandom fun #our lord and savior desmond miles #the host #chat fic

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rosenkranz-does-things · 22 days

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After yet another near death experience, Dana Scully contemplates her unfinished business.

(why yes hello there! I may have written a thing. as you've probably noticed, I'm more of an artist than a writer, but occasionally some writing does happen. this is part 1 of 4. I promise I'll think of a better summary by the time I post the next chapter)

#in the year of our lord 2k24 roz wrote their first x files fic #and im afraid not the last #the x files #x files fanfic #artists on tumblr

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aspiringnexu · 7 months

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Okay so I sort of fell face-first into the Star Trek fandom and went on a Spirk fic reading spree. And, as is usual with my reading, I latched onto a plot that my brain is going nuts over.

There was a fic where Kirk found out he was like, 1/16th Vulcan because some industrious Vulcan lady a while ago decided the only logical way to experience Earth was to settle down and have kids there with a native and not tell anybody. Anyway, its very amusing, turns out Kirk is the last living descendent of some noble Vulcan house and as such can inherit quite a few profitable investments and a potential future High Council seat if he wants, though his taunts of assuming such a position to annoy Spock fall on the back burner when he suddenly goes into Pon Farr because of course he does.

But my brain immediately latched onto 'part-Vulcan Jim Kirk' and went a tiny bit rabid.

So the idea arrived. Kirk, completely unaware of his Vulcan ancestry, encounters Shenanigans on an Away Mission as is customary. Alien medical tech goes a bit bonkers and the captain is hit but physically okay, just unconscious. Bones will still give him hell when he wakes up but Spock can breathe easy. The Shenanigans were mild this time. Or were they? Turns out the medical tech actually did do something. It stimulated the latent Vulcan genes, artificially encouraging growth and change at an incredibly rapid pace, not eleminating Kirk's humanity but elevating him from Human with Vulcan spice, to almost even half n' half.

So we get poor Kirk waking up with undisciplined telepathic powers, a much stronger body, and the worst headache known to humanoids. Bones discovering his patient has miraculously decided to switch species overnight. And poor, poor Spock who just got over the minor heart attack of the previous incident and is now face to face with the prettiest Vulcan he has ever fucking seen.

Because half-Vulcan!Jim is blond, blue-eyed, and radiating 'confused kicked puppy' vibes like the world's most attractive telepathic foghorn.

Bonus points if Spock goes into Pon Farr early because Jim is projecting so much emotion and is also just That Pretty.

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ao3-crack · 1 year

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(x)

#archive of our own #ao3 quotes #ao3 stuff #archive of our own quotes #fanfic #fanfic quotes #funny #ao3 #queer frat bros #this is a hamlet fic #(don’t ask)#and this is in the first paragraph #dude #i have high expectations #for every fic after this

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pa-pa-plasma · 9 months

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#polls #tumblr polls #fanfiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #believe it or not this isn't actually for like. me needing to know about hiatuses #this is just a sneaky way of finding out. something else #Danny Phantom #;)#on an unrelated note how do you feel about waiting somewhere between 2-9 months for a fic to continue on its original course?#it's probably closer to 2 if i actually do it #i mean the fic would still be updating but it would be. uh. spoiler alert cant say it'd just be 2~ months til the main storyline continues #i've been given the go ahead from someone who knows about it all but i need to know how people feel about rereading #it wouldnt be rereading but there would be an element of things repeating. it would seem to be repeating at first but isnt #oh my.... wait no.... i think i just realized where i got this idea from & it's killing me how i failed to see this sooner #literally listening to the soundtrack & watching all versions of it bro. i'm an ADHD stereotype #anyway the reason i want to know this is that. this part of the fic can be skipped. you dont NEED to read it #but you would need to wait for the rest of the fic to continue if you choose not to read it #it IS kinda important. it's just. A Lot #okay saying it's skippable but also important seems weird but trust me it's all in the name of beating this kid to the ground #''character development'' no. character deterioration #how can i make him better if he isn't super fucked up #he can't have a mental breakdown if he's happy. & i need him to have a mental breakdown #yeah im going the psychological torture route #also this isnt about timeloops btw. it might sound like it but it's not

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ventiswampwater · 7 months

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subterranean

FANDOM : house of wax (2005) PAIRING : bo sinclair x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 3.9k

Reader POV. Basement fuckery. He tells you it's to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. You end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

Crossposted on A03 here.

⚠️ Stockholm Syndrome. VERY dubious consent under duress. This was supposed to just be porn without plot. But then I lost my goddamn mind. Oops. Decent amount of weird prose. Depersonalization and derealization. Pet play (but make it weird and kinda metaphorical). Collaring. Forced boot riding. Vibrator and anal plug use. Bondage/gagging/edging. Bo at his absolute WORST (his natural state), being smug and mean and awful. Dirty talk dialed ALL the way up. Extremely dehumanizing and degrading language. Mind break elements. LOTS of backhanded praise. ⚠️

You always got too comfortable.

A lifetime before—when you were first here—you sat on this mattress with him, swallowing down mouthfuls of cold beef and carrots. You can remember the soup swirling in the can, murky and brown like a puddle of stagnant rainwater. He hadn't bothered to warm it up for you, but it hadn’t mattered. The food was something. Sometimes it felt like everything.

You licked the broth off the spoon as he plugged another tape into the VCR.

“One of my favorites.” He told you. Of course it was. Every movie he showed you down here was one of his favorites. Every can of soup might be the last. It was always the same things, over and over.

That’s when you started to lose track of time, you think—when you’d started to cling onto all that nothing.

Time wasn’t all that bad of a thing to lose, was it? Who needed it when his thumb was rubbing against your knee, stroking up your skin? The soup was cold, and his hand was warm. You traded one for the other and you liked it.

Funny. Thoughts like that always felt like they came with an or else tacked at the end.

A chunk of potato sat unpleasantly on your tongue—almost bitter, gravel in your mouth. Just like everything else, you swallowed it down.

He pressed play, his fingers drifting up your thigh. The TV quality was fuzzy, interrupted by the occasional flicker of static. Sometimes the films he chose would start in the middle of scenes. You’d get brief glimpses of things he’d recorded over—the triumphant blare of a talk show theme cutting off mid-note, dropping you in media res. He always assured you that you weren’t missing anything. At least that was one thing he didn’t bother lying about.

The movie wasn’t why you remembered that day, though. It was because of something he’d asked you.

“Where’d ya’ grow up?”

You hadn’t known what to say. He never asked you things like that. Your confusion only deepened when you turned towards him. There was no tension in his jaw, no furrowing of his brow. He looked, for the first time, wholly and startlingly calm.

When you failed to answer, he leaned forward and switched the TV off. He never did that either.

“Tell me ‘bout it. Whatchu do out there, anyway?”

You always regret not lying to him.

The world had shrunk down so much in the time you’d been in the town that it almost felt like you could gather it up and stuff it in your pocket.

You think about home. It looks different now.

Spidery tendrils of dust cling to the gaps between the balusters. It’s so difficult to get light in the house. No matter how many windows you open, there are always corners lost to shadow.

It’s strange how you could be up there one day, replacing the bulb under a fringed lampshade—and the next, you’d be tumbled back underground.

Just last week, you were lying on the couch in the living room.

The dog had padded into the room. She’d been gone for the better part of the day. With the doors unlocked, she went wherever she pleased. It had worried you at first, but it didn't anymore. She'd never leave town. She knew better.

At least, that’s what he’d said.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Jumping up, she curled into the space beside you. You wrapped your arm around her, wrinkling your nose. She reeked terribly of dog, stale corn chips and dirt and musk. You wondered if she might let you give her a bath now that you were in her good graces. It took a while to get there, but she came around. In a manner of speaking, the same thing had happened with you.

Pretty funny, huh?

Earlier, you'd been thinking about the puppies in the pet store window. Did she know about them? Slumbering away behind glass and dust, forever only a couple breaths old. Click. A switch was flipped, and they were as alive as they would ever be, nestled on newspaper shavings. On days like this, did she ever make her way down the hill to see them?

“Girls don’t last in this town.” You murmured, scratching behind her ear. “Just me and you, yeah?”

With a huff, she buried her head in the crook of your neck. It seemed like she was done listening to you.

That was fair, really. Half the time you weren’t even saying what you were really thinking anymore—and when you did, you weren't entirely sure that you made much sense. So much of yourself was locked up in your head and you kept forgetting where you left the keys. It all got clogged up inside your skull and oozed out of your mouth in a trail of sickly platitudes. You were just so thankful, so grateful.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You were always sorry for something, and sometimes you even meant it.

The rays of light were receding off of the arm of the couch, crawling up the wall. Your thoughts filled the living room. You could almost see them floating through the air, bouncing off each other like bubbles. Fleeting, effervescent things, popping as soon as you tried to track their paths. When you turned your head, you could smell his cologne. It was his jacket, hanging discarded over the couch cushions.

For a sudden, terrifying moment, you missed him.

That’s when you said the prayer. You didn't know where you meant for it to go. You guessed it was for whoever was around to hear it. Most days it was him and some of the time it was his mother. Both choices rang false. If God was still in this town, it was here, caught in these beams of light. Or maybe God was the dog heavy on top of you, her breath a rhythmic rumble against your throat.

Maybe you wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

Today, Bo fastens the collar around your neck. The leather feels heavy against your skin.

He tells you it’s to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. All the light bulbs you screw in will eventually need to be replaced. Wiping away the dust only gives way to more dust. You'll end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

This almost feels more like his room than the one he sleeps in up at the house. Here, you can feel him more than anywhere else. There's more of you down here too. Real, tangible parts of yourself. Look around. There you are in the stain on the mattress, the blood crusted on the vinyl.

Welcome back, baby.

You keep your gaze on the ground, searching for something to bore your eyes into. Your eyes land on his shoes. Flecked with dirt, they bear obvious signs of wear. There’s a sizable hole in the toe of one of them. You focus in on that as he readjusts the collar, tightening the strap around your neck.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you hear him click the leash into place. Even without looking up at him, you can picture the expression on his face. It isn’t a good one. You still can’t decide if he looks more or less like himself when he screws his face up like that.

Tugging roughly at the leash, he forces you to look up at him. Wrists bound; your hands flex uselessly against your back.

“Please—”

Without warning, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, forcing them to the back of your throat. You choke, your hands flexing in panic behind your back. When he pulls them out, you cough, eyes watering.

“Now, normally I like hearin’ you, baby.” He says, smiling down at you. His face is a discordant thing. All American, boy next door. A slice of apple pie that someone put a cigarette out in. “But you know somethin’—”

He crouches down in front of you, still smiling. You watch him silently, shifting anxiously on your knees.

“I never did meet a dog who could talk.” Reaching over, he flicks at the metal ring on the collar. “Feels wrong.”

Dropping the leash, he gets to his feet, striding away. You crane your neck to the side as he rustles around behind you. After a moment, he lets out an affirmative grunt.

Quickly, you pivot your head back to the front. Making his way back to stand in front of you, your eyes flash to the item in his hands. Seemingly amused by your concern, he dangles it in front of you.

It’s a ball gag, shiny and black—noticeably a hair newer than the rest of the junk down here. Maybe he bought it just for you. It’d make a pretty lousy gift, but then again, he was always shit at stuff like that.

He had an incredible knack for getting you shit that you never asked for. Everything came with conditions, a laundry list of provisos and conditions that you didn't remember signing up for. Everything he gave you was actually for him.

“Open up, baby.”

Before you can think to do as he asks, his thumb forces your mouth open, pressing down on your teeth. You sputter as he forces the gag into your mouth, securing it around the back of your neck.

“That’s better, yeah?” He asks, grabbing hold of the leash again.

You stare up at him, exhaling tight bursts of air through your nose. You tilt your head a bit, working your jaw around the ball. Your teeth rest uncomfortably on the rubber.

“You been so good today, think we outta give that pussy some attention, huh?” He smirks. “Whatchu think?”

You whine, the noise coming out in an embarrassingly wet gurgle. Spit runs out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and trickling onto your neck.

“So cute.” His voice is syrupy sweet. He can play at authenticity, but never with you.

He kicks your thighs apart with his foot, nudging the tip of his boot between your legs. His eyebrows shoot up expectantly as he nods down at you.

“Go on, then.”

Disgust is an old friend. She disappears for months at a time, only to show up unexpectedly as if no time has passed. She’s back again, turning your stomach around in her hands. You tilt your hips down. Rubbing yourself against the tip of his shoe, you wonder if he’s doing this for old times' sake.

Rocking forward, you imagine a glossy magazine cover. You could see him on the cover of one. He does have the face for it, when he bothers to put it on.

Bored? 50 Ways to Keep the Spark Alive!

Your jaw is beginning to ache. Bo's hand strokes softly at the top of your head. You hate that the pressure against your clit almost feels good. Your mind unhelpfully supplies more article titles, bubbling up in your mind in obnoxiously curly lettering.

10 Mouth Exercises For The Modern Woman. Have You Tried Screaming? It’s All The Rage in This Town. Once You Start, You Won’t Want to STOP!

“That’s it.” He grins. “What a little slut.”

You look up at him pleadingly, another dribble of spit running down your chin.

“Always got told ya’ shouldn’t let dogs up on the bed.” He muses, the amusement plain in his voice. “But you been on your best behavior, huh?”

Last week, you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up somewhere else.

It was dark and you were pressed against something warm. Not the dog, not the light. Those were both gone. His jacket hanging off the side of the couch, maybe. But it was moving now, and so were you.

“Gotta getcha to bed.” He’d muttered, carrying you up the stairs.

You lay across Bo's lap, the side of your cheek against the dirty mattress. You shudder, your legs shaking.

“Pretty girl.” Reaching over, he tugs you up by the leash, forcing your head back.

Every breath you take seems to make your muscles clench around the plug in your ass. He works it in and out of you slowly and you gulp, shallow breaths whistling out of your nostrils. Every time you jolt forward you can feel him press against you, hard against your belly.

“Hey. What’s wrong, baby? That hurt?”

You nod frantically.

“Huh. Funny…'cuz I don't think it does. You wanna know how I know?” You feel him spread you open, fingers dipping into your pussy. “You’re wet for it, baby.”

He pushes the plug deeper, and your head spins at the sensation. A warbling moan pitches out of your mouth as you feel it sink fully into you. You shiver uncontrollably, whimpering around the gag. Saliva gathers on your tongue, and you feel it spill out of the side of your mouth, pooling under your cheek.

“Good.” He rumbles out, stroking his knuckles along your back. “That’s my good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him nudge something between your legs. With a click, the vibrator buzzes to life. You let out a startled cry as he strokes it along your pussy.

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’tchu act like I never gave you anything.”

The vibrator teases against your clit in short bursts, pressing down just long enough to leave you panting before he pulls it away. Almost enough, not quite. You arch back uselessly, chasing after that glittery warm sensation. He laughs a bit, holding the vibrator just above your clit.

You can feel the edge of pleasure, but it’s nothing more than a distant dull thrum. He keeps you hovering over it for what feels like forever, squirming over a feeling that’s hardly there. You bite down on the gag, your sob watery and muffled around the rubber.

“This body’s all mine, girl.” He murmurs, running his thumb down your spine. “I ain’t gotta make it feel good.”

With a hum, he rests the vibrator fully onto your clit. The sensation you’ve been chasing envelopes you, shimmering through your core. Nasally, high-pitched whines escape you in quick, desperate succession.

“But I do, don’t I? ‘Cuz I’m just so sweet.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him in bleary gratitude. He presses down on the plug. The discomfort has crested over and all you feel now is loose and pliant. You moan around the gag, your eyes fluttering.

“You like having somethin’ in your ass while I play with this pussy?”

And you nod, humming out your agreement.

“Mmm-hmm? Yeah?” He teases, mimicking your garbled reply. "That's good, baby. That's real good. Reckoned I’d fuck your ass today, but that pussy’s gettin’ nice and wet for me. Whatchu think? Which hole you want fucked?”

You mumble incoherently through the gag.

“All of ‘em?” He exclaims, the grin evident in his voice. “Well, ain’t that real sweet. Good answer, baby.”

He keeps talking, but it’s getting harder to focus on what he’s saying.

“Next crew that comes through here—maybe I’ll tell ‘em I got a slut who needs breakin’ in. You spread those legs so nice, sure you’d fuckin’ love it.”

The image flashes through your mind. Hands everywhere, laughter and heat and friction from a kaleidoscope of people destined for death. You’re in the middle of all of those faceless people—a tribute to be used up, one last meal for a parade of living corpses.

You’re all destined for the same end, but theirs is closer than they know. Yours is prolonged, tied around touches and salt.

Bo would be in the corner, lighting another cigarette—watching, because he’s always watching. Mouth twitching into a smile because he’s right again. You’re exactly what he thinks you are. You’ll keep your eyes on him because you can’t look at anyone else. After all, if it isn’t his hands, could you even feel it? Would it even count?

The panic is sudden and hot, twisting inside your chest. A desperate little whine builds at the back of your throat.

If I’m everybody else's, I can’t be yours.

“I’d have a hard time sharin’, though.”

Relief. The vibrator pulses against your clit and your eyes go unfocused.

“’S funny. Gotchu down here—and nobody knows.”

Between your legs, your pussy feels pathetically wet, sloppily sliding along the vibrator. You almost wish he’d keep you like this forever, jolts of pleasure lapping hungrily between your legs.

“If there’s even anybody out there lookin’ for ya’…” He muses. “Wish they could see ya’ now, huh? Don’t think they’d feel bad for you, baby.”

Pleasure rolls dizzily through you, electric licks of sensation as he rubs the vibrator against your clit. The rubber in your mouth is an anchor, it feels good on your teeth.

“Betchu thought you were really somethin’ out there.” He chuckles. “How’s it feel to find out you ain’t? Feels good, don’t it?”

You open your eyes and nod up at him, panting out your agreement. Through the haze, you see him smirk. It’s a cruel, cold thing. You’re all full and useless, but he doesn’t need you to say it, because he knows. Thoughtlessly, you shift in his lap, trying desperately to spread your legs wider for him.

“Nothin’ but a little fucktoy.” He coos. “That’s all you are, baby. Want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t need to worry. You remember everything, except what counts.

“Good girls cum, baby. They can’t help it.”

You’re hurtling higher and higher, the pleasure battering against your brain. That’s where the memories are, where the time used to be. It feels better to fill it with this. But then again, you’ve known that from the start.

“Go on, baby. Cum all pretty for me, yeah?”

And you do, a million times over.

He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as you tense up, your hands clenching into tight fists behind your back. Your orgasm is a bone-deep shiver, wracking your legs with uncontrollable chills. The pleasure throttles through the last of your coherency, prizing a desperate noise from your throat. Maybe it’s a word. It might be his name. It might just be the time. Maybe this is how you find it again.

The buzz of the vibrator goes dim and far away as he holds it against you. You’re twitching somewhere above it. Each involuntary movement you make brings with it a new hiccup of sensation. Around you, the room seems to spin—whirling into a terrific blur of green and yellow.

It can be beautiful down here, if you squint.

When he lifts the vibrator off your clit, you pitch forward, warbling out a dizzy laugh behind the gag. You wait for the sound of the wand powering off. It doesn't come. Behind you, the buzzing is a low, incessant drone. You’ve barely managed to ground yourself when you hear it kick up a notch.

Click.

The sheets smell like all the thousand versions of you, each one answering questions she shouldn’t. Four walls surround you and they feel like they’re collapsing down on all sides. They could be made of plaster or stone, but they might just be something else. Your limbs, your heart, your mind, him. Separate appendages, but all linked. All part of the same crumbling structure.

A scream builds at the back of your throat as you feel him set it back on your clit.

“We ain’t done, baby.”

Your sleep is deep. Quiet. Only one dream.

Bo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, an inky blot in the gray morning light. He makes a move to stand up and you grab onto his arm.

“Go back to bed, angel.” He murmurs.

It almost sounds real enough.

When you wake up, you're alone. You try the door and find it unlocked.

Figures.

Upstairs, the shop is empty. There’s a can of unopened Coke on the counter. You crack it open and take a sip. Lukewarm bubbles of carbonation fizz over your tongue. God, he really was shit with gifts.

Walking up the hill, you catch your reflection in the window of a sedan. You look haggard, your hair a raggedy clump around your shoulders. You try the handle and it cracks open easily. Crawling into the dirty belly of the car, you wince as you lower yourself down into the seat. You sit with one leg dangling out, absentmindedly studying the dusty speedometer.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t.

That’s just the way these things go.

You imagine the town collapsing in on itself like a pop-up book. There’s Bo, frowning down at it. He seemed like he’d been the type of kid that wasn’t allowed to check those kinds of things out from the library. He’d bring them back with pages ripped out, scrawled with pen marks. Pilled white card stock where faces used to be.

God, you’re miserably sore. It’s impossible to narrow down the ache to a certain part of you.

Lifting your leg into the car, you pull the door shut. The dust inside tickles your nose. Unthinkingly, you reach up, your fingers brushing against the metal buckle of the seatbelt. The sting is sharp and immediate. You pull your hand away with a hiss, your hand smarting. When you reach for the seatbelt again, you’re careful to avoid the clip.

You buckle yourself in. Click. Alive again, now more than ever. Wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, you close your eyes. The leather is hot against your palms, and it hurts a bit. Just a little. That’s just the pain again, but you don’t really mind. It’s something you can keep. It’s all yours.

Nothin’ you can’t handle, girl.

That’s what he said last night. Afterwards.

You were laying with your head in his lap, the itchy crust of dried spit against your cheek. It was then that you decided that you were so ugly that you had to be beautiful. You had to be worth looking at. You’d rolled over on your back, looking up at him through swollen eyes. That’s when he said it, so low and quiet that you almost didn’t register it. There’d been a an edge of pride to his voice.

Nothin’ at all.

A lick of pleasure thrums between your legs and your eyes flash open. You unbuckle the seatbelt and scramble out of the car, ignoring the pain that sings through your limbs.

Things like that? They always came with an or else tacked at the end. You remember that, don’t you? You couldn’t have forgotten.

Looming above you, the house is a dark blot of ink against the blue sky.

There were no collars for dogs in this town—they didn’t need them. They’d always find their way back home, pawing at the door for some scraps. The only leash is the one that exists in your mind. You can almost see it, trailing off your neck and up the hill, looped messily around the front doorknob.

You were going to die here with all that wetness between your legs, begging him to take out more of you with his teeth.

It's like he said.

You don’t need to tie up a dog if it loves you.

#I FINALLY finished this shit. it's horrific. tysm for coming there are drinks n snacks @ the door #we're goin back 2 ambrose I'm sorry 2 say #and our first stop? oh. just down these stairs #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher community #x reader #my fics #in his basement like damn bitch u live like this #shit is dis cos tang #r/malelivingspace for fuckin real #I've stared @ these bingo bongo ass words for far too long. so I'm sure there's errors. but I will fix them when BRAINCELL lmao

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kichous · 7 months

Text

✧･ﾟ:* you could use me

summary. you're afraid that two weeks in a box is all that it takes to undo all of the progress you've made. series. a night of dark trees. bonus scene ! pairing. gojo satoru x gn!reader. warnings. none. word count. 1930.

Gojo’s different.

Ever since he emerged from the Prison Realm, he has been taciturn, morose, subdued. It’s disconcerting. He’s one of the liveliest people you know. It’s one of the things you love about him.

You’re still not sure how he says those little words so easily. Gojo Satoru’s world was torn asunder years ago, and he’d been dealt the same debilitating, staggering blow that still causes you to panic every time you hear the three syllables ‘I love you.’ Yet, somehow, some way, Gojo finds it in himself to voice that simple declaration to you. And he means it every time, with every fiber of his being.

It’s harder for you to speak it, your vocal cords uncooperative to an almost petulant degree, your subconscious locking the action away even in spite of your visceral protestations. You’re still searching on your hands and knees in the murky depths for the key. Only alcohol makes the search a little easier. But in your heart of hearts, you know it—it is a certainty that you love Gojo Satoru. A fact, as immutable as gravity (unless you were Kenjaku. Then you’d have to come up with another simile).

To that end, his absence hurt you. The moment you allowed yourself to fall for someone else, to finally move on from that one great loss, he was torn away from you. But it’s not his fault.

It must've been infinitely worse to be Gojo himself, stuck in what was essentially a cursed deprivation chamber for any duration of time from eternity to an instant. Not sure if eons had passed or but a second. Not knowing if the world burned his absence and those who remained rued his name, or if it had survived and everyone moved on without him. If anyone even bothered looking for a way to free him. You tried to put yourself in his place, imagining if he had gone and found a third love while you were trapped. You would’ve been happy for him, but you couldn’t deny that the simple idea of it broke your heart.

After he emerged, you stood by his side, your hand in his as he was informed of everything that had happened—everyone that had died—during his imprisonment. With every word, his shoulders sloped more and more, crushed by the weight of the world in each consonant and each vowel.

He won’t talk about it with you. When you kissed his temple and stroked his hair, uncaring of your audience in Shoko and Ino, he’d sighed and leaned a little closer. But he was silent as stone.

You wish you knew what to say to him. The way he and Geto bantered was so instinctual, an easy back-and-forth like a tennis match. You can hold your own with him, no doubt. But you’ve also got a history of deepthroating your foot where he’s concerned, so you can understand why Gojo’s a little hesitant to confide in you. He’s never had to before, why should he start now?

Oh, maybe because you love each other and that’s what supportive partners do—lean on each other? If only he’d stick around long enough for you to just tell him that.

Naturally, he refuses to make anything easy for you. Satoru’s hardly alone these days. You can’t even fault him for spending every waking moment training. If he’s going up against the King of Curses, he’ll need every advantage he can get, no matter how confident he is. You support him where you can in that regard, but you have no choice but to ambush him in between sparring with Okkotsu and sparring with Maki to actually get a word in.

“Hey, dumbass,” you call as you approach. Where it might’ve elicited an equally dry ‘What’s up, shitlips?’ once upon a time, it now earns a tired smile. Not the ideal reaction.

“I didn’t do anything,” protests Satoru, allowing you to soften the insult with a quick kiss. He’s sitting on a bench with his legs wide enough for you to step in the space between, and he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. “Why’re you being such a meanie?”

“Why are you overcompensating?” The verbal suckerpunch gets him in the solar plexus, causing Gojo to stare up at you wide-eyed with his mouth falling open defensively. You press a finger to his lips. Satoru goes a little cross-eyed trying to focus on it, and so you flick him on the nose to retrieve his attention. “I get it, if it’s for the kids. You’re their teacher. You’re everything they want to be when they grow up, they see you as a protector, blah, blah. But you don’t have to be strong with me. I know you. I know you. You don’t have to pretend, okay?”

“Don’t I?”

That stings, probably more than he meant it to. You don’t imagine Satoru ever intends to be cruel, because even at his worst, his sadism is meant for curses. But you’d thought he considered you an equal. Or as close as one could be without being a special grade, at least. It was foolish of you to think that the wall between you had crumbled any, at least as far as your skill level was concerned. It’s been years since anyone ever talked about how you could’ve become the fourth special grade if you ever managed to get a tighter rein on your technique. Okkotsu’s taken your place since then.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you move closer to tuck his head into your sternum. “No, you don’t. We’re partners, aren’t we?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. Something warm stirs in your chest as his eyes flutter shut and he hums a quiet, pleased purr. You’re a haven to him. “You love me and I—I love you. That means you don’t have to do this alone.”

He says nothing at first, simply nuzzling closer. There’s no sound but your shared breath, steady and even. His arms tighten around you. It’s a little uncomfortable having to crane your neck down to kiss the top of Satoru’s head, but the little sigh he gives is worth it. It’s the little things with Gojo. With such a bombastic person, large and grandiose efforts are commonplace, attention-grabbing gestures all Satoru knows. The strongest must be larger than life. So you end up treasuring the opposite—the way his long, spindly fingers fit in the slits between yours, the way his long lashes tickle your cheek when you kiss, how he loves to rest his elbow on your shoulder when you stand next to each other, the perfect roost. These tiny bits combine to make everything feel grounded, real.

After a moment, he pulls away, and light starts to creep back into his eyes. They look more like the sky again, rather than an iceberg field in the Arctic Circle. Good. “Does that mean I can tap you in during the fight?” Satoru asks cheekily.

You toss your head and give an exaggerated tsk. “I haven’t decayed from my Grade One rank, I’ll have you know! I may not be a spring chicken, but I can still pack a punch!” For emphasis, you smash your fist into your other palm.

“Not a spring chicken?” Satoru repeats incredulously. “We’re the same age! What does that make me?!”

You tug lightly on a few strands of his snowy hair. “A geriatric old man, duh.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Could an old man do this?”

Satoru’s up on his feet in an instant, one hand sliding up your back and the other wrapping just below your shoulders as he dips you in a kiss. He savors it, plying gently past your lips with his tongue. Satoru moans as you slip your fingers through his locks, a sound that makes your lips and extremities tingle. He steals the breath from your lungs, and you don’t hate it.

“Well.” Your voice is but a rasp when he finally pulls away. The man radiates smugness. Somehow, you find it endearing. “I’m sure Harrison Ford could.”

Satoru’s face breaks open with a full, hearty, genuine laugh. Pulling you upright to use as an anchor, he buries his face into your neck. His entire body vibrates in tandem with his giggles, the warmth of his breath a pleasant sensation on your skin compared to the wintry frost around you. Satoru blinks as you use your index finger to tip his face upwards. “What is it?” he asks, a little breathless.

“I love your smile,” you tell him honestly. “I love you.”

His cheeks grow pink. You doubt it’s because of the cold, your heart fluttering at the thought. You’ve managed to make Gojo shy. In lieu of a verbal response, he gently rests his forehead against yours. You’re aware you’re probably obstructing the walkway, and that if any of the students happened upon you, they would violently gag, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Satoru is here, in the flesh. You thought you’d lost him when he got sealed away, and then again when he emerged sweeping the broken pieces of himself under the rug. That even if you could hold him, it wouldn’t be the Satoru you loved, nor the Satoru who loved you. Who saw something broken in you that was worth cherishing, worth putting back together piece by painstaking piece. Who never faulted you for giving up but encouraged you to try again, whose heartbreak echoed yours and stood as proof that there was a brighter tomorrow. The Satoru who taught you it was okay to be okay again. You’re sick and tired of lost chances, of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Maybe that’s why the words finally, finally slip so easily from your mouth—so you wouldn’t ever miss the opportunity to tell him again.

Gojo rubs his cheek gently against yours, sharing his heat. He’s always run a little warm. “I promise that I’ll share my burdens with you from now on. Even if I can’t promise you won’t hate me by the end of it.” A solemn vow, the seriousness of his tone unfamiliar to you. But not unpleasant.

“I already knew loving you was going to be rotten work,” you tease. “That’s never bothered me. What you can promise me is that you’ll come back to me. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back as a curse when you die. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Satoru chuckles. “Will you at least make sure I look prettier than Rika?”

“She heard that.” You have no idea how long Okkotsu’s been standing there—what he heard or saw, whether he’s going to blab to any of the other kids. There’s a small bemused grin on his face, but it’s eclipsed by the overall chagrin of his furrowed brows. He’s embarrassed for you. PDA at your old age? His generation probably thinks you look like two skeletons mashing their teeth together.

Breaking out of your frozen shock, you and Satoru share a glance. Then, after a moment, you break the silence with simultaneous cackling. It’s hard to tell whether it’s the situation or the looks on your faces that sparks such an interminable fit. You fall against each other in your laughter, using one another as a column. He’s sturdy and solid and he’s there for you. And that’s what you’ll be for Satoru too. Steady and strong and unmovable. Unbreakable. Everything he’s been for the world, you’ll be for him.

Whatever it takes.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anodt tag.#jjk fic.#we're pretending 236 doesn't happen #or at least we're believing every rebirth theory we lay our eyes on #hey at least he ended up in fewer pieces than reader's first fiancé!

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