#which i would have gone back and fixed except it looked good and it's set in russia so that's forgivable

[heich0e]

bittersweet - vash the stampede/f!reader (trigun stampede): 7k, listen there's only been 2 eps and i don't know the lore so i am loudy and emphatically declaring creative license, in my mind this is set before the start of stampede but not by much, heavy on the wild wild west core here, light angst, smut, fingering, needy vanilla sex, domesticity, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, boot-throwing related violence. 18+ NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

The desert smells bitter.

You wouldn’t think that sand would smell like much at all, but the fragrance that hangs perpetually in the air is heavy, singed, and acrid with the heady scent of life and its misery. Waste and runoff make their unpleasantness acutely known on the hottest days, and the fumes from old machinery that’s barely functioning thanks to age and disrepair—that no one can afford to fix, so they have to hold out hope it keeps running—clogs up the already noxious atmosphere as it rattles on throughout the day. 

Mama used to tell you that outside of Jeneora Rock, the world smelled different. There’s somewhere else past the walls that mark the edge of the only town you’ve ever known, even past the wastelands—a place where almost no one ever goes, but that your Mama saw once. Or at least she said she did.

She told you it smelled clean. Sweet. Untouched by anything but the sun’s heat and the five moons’ glow. 

Mama’s gone, has been for a long time now, and even though she never had much to give to you in the first place, that story is the most precious thing she left behind. You think about it almost as often as you think about her. 

The end of another long day is marked by a familiar heaviness to your bones. Between the suffocating heat that makes you groggy and a hard day's work, there’s a palpable weight that bears down on you as you climb the never-ending metal stairs to your front door—your feet drag a bit more with every step.

The lock to your home is getting hard to turn. You’ve noticed it a few times now: a resistance as you slip your key into the keyhole, a pressure as you urge the mechanism to turn and let you in. There may be sand built up in there to clean out, or maybe it needs some oil.

But oil costs money, of which you don’t have much, so you really hope that it’s the former rather than the latter. 

You examine the keyhole once you manage to force the lock open, dropping to your knees outside your door to peek into the narrow opening on the tarnished face of the lock. It doesn’t do you much good because the sun’s already dropped dark, and even if the light of day still hung overhead you doubt it would be enough to make the issue any clearer. You drag your thumb idly along a little scratch beside the keyhole that's probably been there for years; the metal is still warm to the touch from the heat of the day that still hasn’t quite broken, the surface a little rougher where the score is chipped in.

You sigh, picking yourself up off the ground and dusting off your skirt, and turn the knob into your home. 

It’s dark when you get inside, but something feels wrong.

You shut the door behind you as you enter, pressing your back flat against it as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark. Your home, like every other one in town, isn’t really much to look at even in the plain light of day. You’re luckier than lots of people though, you’ve got a couple rooms all to yourself where some families have no choice but to cram many people into just one. Papa left you this house, cause now he’s gone too just like Mama, but not much has changed since the day he left it to you—except now there’s less empty bottles rolling around underfoot, and you get to call the little bedroom off the main room yours.

It takes a second for your eyes to get used to the dimness with the door shut tight behind you, so you blink hard to make it happen faster. You see the rickety little table against the wall near the door, and the chair on the other side of the room where you sometimes sit by the window to mend your skirts when they wear and tear—but only when you get home early enough to catch the last few moments of sun, cause Mama always used to warn you about sewing by lamplight. The shutters on the window are closed and locked now, but there’s no light outside them to let in anyway. 

Something shuffles in the dark.

Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know.

But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

You keep it and a little stash of 7 bullets underneath your bed where you can get to it quick, but it’s on the other side of the house, and even though that’s not very far away you don’t know what’s waiting for you between the door and your bed. You don’t know if it’s faster than you are, either, so running for it would be a fool’s errand. 

Inside your chest, your heart starts pumping a little harder, ‘til you can feel the wet thump, thump, thump right in the back of your mouth.

You know you need light. You need to be able to see. You can’t make any decisions until you know what’s between you and your Papa's gun tucked up safe underneath your bed.

Slowly your eyes flicker over to the lamp on your table, just within reach. 

You suck a little gasp into your lungs to steel your nerve. The air is less sour in here—more familiar, a little more comforting—but the acrid scent of the desert still lingers on the edge of each breath. Slowly you reach towards the lamp and flick it on.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT ME!”

The frantic plea frightens you so terribly that it sends you tumbling to the hard floor, landing flat on your ass with your back thumping painfully into the wall beside your door. In front of you is a face that has no right being as familiar as it is; eyes wide in panic beneath a round pair of glasses, blonde hair tousled in disarray, two hands (one flesh and one crafted) lifted in innocence. 

Your heart is beating even faster now under the tight pull of your laced waistcoat. 

“Are you an idiot?” you hiss, instinctively tugging your boot off your foot and lobbing it forcefully at the unexpected intruder. “You scared the daylights outta me!”

The man sidesteps the projectile easily, and it clatters to the floor. The expression on his face morphs from one of panic to something a little more chagrined.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, drawing out the word. His tone sheepish, and his lips pull into an apologetic little smile.

You place a trembling hand on your chest, pressing down on the spot where you feel your heart thumping the hardest and willing it to slow. You stare at your scuffed floorboards and take a few breaths to ease the frenetic beat of your pulse, and feel yourself begin to wilt as the adrenaline in your veins starts to fade. 

“How’d you get in here, Vash the Stampede?” you ask, looking up again at the man in front of you from your place on the ground.

“I knocked first,” he says with a grimace, “but you weren’t home and I…”

“Broke in because you’ve got someone looking for you?” you finish his explanation for him, your tone flat and entirely unsurprised.

He sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly as his head hangs forward. 

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

He lifts his chin only enough to guiltily meet your gaze.

“It’s just for one night,” he murmurs the plea, his bottom lip weighed down by a pout.

You shut your eyes tight, hands balling into fists over your skirt to hide the way they tremble.

“Fine.”

Vash falls to his knees in front of you, hands pressed to the floor as he gets right up in your face with a wide, cheerful grin. He’s almost nose to nose with you, the light of the lamp glinting in his glasses.

“Thanks so much! I promise I’ll be outta here before you know it!”

He doesn’t need to tell you that, because the pang in your empty stomach tells you that, even unspoken, you already knew it to be true. 

Vash is travelling light again, just like the last time you saw him. He’s only got one bag that he begins to unpack onto the rickety table in your kitchen, leaving you to quietly go about your own business like you would if you hadn’t found him in your home that night. On the other side of the kitchen you unpack the meagre amount of food you’d managed to buy for yourself that day from little satchel you carried it home in. It’s barely enough food for one, and now you’ll have to stretch it between two. 

“Where’s your father?” Vash asks as he fiddles with his gun at the table behind you. “I thought it was him coming through the door, and I thought for sure he was gonna blow my—“

“He’s dead.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Uncomfortable, even. Vash’s hands still even as yours keep quietly peeling the sad, withered skin from the vegetable in your hand with the blade of a half-dulled knife. 

“I’m sorry,” his next words are quiet. “Your father was a nice man.”

“My father was a drunk who got himself shot in a bar fight with a merchant who came to town and was talking big. He just worshipped you because you saved the plant.”

That same uncomfortable silence creeps in again in the wake of your words, but after a few moments you hear Vash pick up his tools and start tinkering away at whatever he’s working on once more. 

“Is the plant still running?” Vash is the first to speak again, though a fair amount of time passes before he risks another attempt at conversation.

“More or less,” you remark, setting a little pot on the stove to boil with whatever ingredients you’d been able to scrounge together into a meal. You watch the flame of the element burst to life as you flick the switch, a little hiss as the fire licks at the edges of your only copper pot. “Some days it’s more reliable than others. But whatever you did seems to be holding up all right.”

“Good!” Vash says behind you. “That’s good.”

You turn to face him, the unevenly mended hem of your skirt swishing around your ankles. You lean against the little countertop behind you, with your arms crossed behind your back.

“I’ll pop by the plant before I leave town—” 

You watch as Vash’s fingers nimbly fiddle with his gun, broken down into its component parts to be cleaned and maintained. You’re sure it doesn’t need it—are certain he’s fired less shots from that gun in the two years since you’ve seen him than you’ve heard in town this week alone—but it’s kind of nice to watch him work, to appreciate how certain and precise his every move is, and to see how concentrated he is while he goes about it. 

“—just to make sure everything’s still in good shape.”

He looks up at you, like for the first time he feels your gaze as it traces the lines of his profile. He smiles again, that same wide, willful expression of cheer that he always endeavours to wear even though he might be the person least entitled to it.

You hum. “I’m sure everyone would appreciate that. You should stop by to see Rosa too, she’ll box my ear if she finds out you blew though town and didn’t go see her.”

The two of you eat across the table from one another in silence. Just the scrape of cutlery and the occasional loud swallow passing between the two of you. Vash seems hungry, but appears to be trying his best to be at least a little restrained as he eats with you. Even though you’d given him the larger of the two portions, he’s still finished his plate before you’ve finished yours, but he sits patiently across from you waiting for you to swallow your final bite.

“I’ll take these,” he jumps to his feet before you have the chance to even push your chair back from the table, snatching both of your dishes up into his hands. “I’ll clean up, since you’re letting me stay.”

You don’t deny him, and instead slump back into your seat, dragging your wrist along your forehead. Your skin feels grimy from the hot day and the filth outside. Normally you would have bathed before you cooked, but you hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day—and Vash looked like it may have been even longer than that. 

“I’m gonna wash,” you say, standing from your seat. You pause, your fingertips tracing against the rough, rutted surface of the tabletop. You know you don’t have enough water for two baths in your tank. You used to bathe with your mother when you were little, then once you were older and Mama was gone, you got the bathwater first and Papa would get in after you were done. It’s never been an issue until now. “Er—Vash?” 

At the sink where your uninvited house guest is scrubbing at the dishes in the washbasin that you’d filled ahead of time, Vash pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. He’s taken off his familiar red coat, left hanging off the chair he’d been seated in at the table, and the black turtleneck he wears beneath it stretches taut over the musculature of his back as it faces you.

“The bath… there’s only enough water to fill it once. I don’t…Do you want…?” you aren’t sure what you’re even trying to ask him, but whatever is coming out of your mouth is even less clear than the thoughts running through your head.

“I’ll bathe second, don’t worry about me.” 

Vash’s smile is gentle and obliging, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrow into little crescents. You nod stiffly, feeling heat flush through you at the softness in his expression, and shuffle off towards the other side of your home while avoiding his gaze.

The walls of your home are paper thin, and you’re certain that Vash can hear the splash of water in the tub as clearly as you can hear the scratchy, garbled sound of his radio from the other room. Once your skin’s been scrubbed clean of the day, you sit in the water with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin tucked between them. You strain to try to make out what’s being broadcast, but it’s difficult to hear since the reception in town is always so piss poor, and whatever coherent bits of news you manage to catch are just as abysmal as always.

It’s strange, hearing someone else in the house. It’s something you didn’t realize had become so foreign to you in the time you’ve learned to live alone. The idle puttering in the other room is a sound you didn’t realize you had missed. You lean back and dunk yourself into the water, where everything goes quiet. 

The bathwater never gets very hot to begin with—tepid at the best of times, which seems unfair given the climate—but you know it’s not fair to waste time in the tub when someone else is waiting for it. You pull yourself up out of the metal basin, careful not to disturb the stopper in the bottom of the tub, and dry as much water from your skin as you can. Once you’ve deemed yourself sufficiently towelled, you pull on your nightdress and a threadbare housecoat overtop.

Vash looks up from the chair in the corner by the window when you emerge from the bathroom, and he meets your eyes so unwaveringly it feels decidedly like he’s trying hard not to let his gaze wander elsewhere. You fidget under his stare, fiddling with the fraying ends of the towel around your neck that’s catching the droplets that fall from your hair. He must realize that he’s unnerving you, because he averts his eyes to a point on the wall over your shoulder after a moment. 

“My turn?” he asks, his tone chipper but polite.

“All yours,” you nod, stepping into your bedroom and leaving him to his business.

There’s an old trunk at the bottom of your bed where you keep some of the things your father left that you haven’t yet been able to sell or make use of. You find an old shirt of his near the very bottom, soft and worn-thin from years of washing. It’s something you could have easily sold or traded by now, but that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to part with—though you’re certain the day will inevitably come when sentimentality can no longer outweigh your basic needs.

You stand outside the bathroom door for a moment, your father’s shirt clutched tightly in your hands. You can hear the splash of bathwater you’re sure has gone cold from where you stand, only a few feet and a thin door between you.

You muster your nerve and tap your knuckles lightly against the door.

“I have a shirt if you need something to—“

The door opens, and you find yourself unexpectedly facing the bare chest of your one-night housemate, still damp and glistening from the bath, lined with silvery scars that the low light catches on.

You toss the shirt at him unceremoniously and turn quickly away, and Vash himself makes a little sound of surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be—“

“It’s fine,” you answer before he can even finish his apology, still refusing to meet his gaze. You gesture vaguely over your shoulder without turning. “Just take that.”

The bathroom door clicks closed again, and you clutch the belt of your housecoat over your diaphragm. 

You need a drink. 

You cross your home to the cabinet in your kitchen, reaching to the back of the nearly-bare shelf and pulling out a dusty old bottle that’s been there since your father died. It wouldn’t have lasted a day if he were still living, and you’ve made it years without ever so much as cracking it open. 

Today however, you feel it’s well-deserved. 

The dust caked on the bottle smears against your palm as you open it, and you wipe the grime furiously against the material of your housecoat as you pour a long glug of the amber liquor into a waiting glass. It’s vile, lukewarm from the constant heat of your home, and burns every inch of the way down—but as you set the empty glass back onto the counter, you still find yourself grateful for it. 

You pour another drink. 

“Take it easy,” you hear a voice say behind you, accompanied by a breathy little laugh.

You turn and see Vash hovering not far from you, his black turtleneck folded over one arm and your father’s shirt over his no-longer-bare chest. His hair is wet, a towel draped around his shoulders just like yours, and he’s taken off his usual eyewear. The mole underneath his eye seems more prominent now that he’s scrubbed himself clean.

Your empty glass dangles from the tips of your fingers, the acerbic taste of the liquor lingering on your tongue. You hold it out to him in offering, and he scrunches up his nose a little bit. 

“I really shouldn’t—“

“It’s rude to turn down a drink your host is offering you, y’know.”

Things like rudeness don’t mean anything to anyone these days, least of all yourself. Decency is a luxury few people can afford. 

Vash sighs, still smiling, and takes the glass from you. Your fingers brush as it passes from your hand to his, and then you take the bottle and pour another healthy splash into the waiting cup. He brings it to his lips, wincing against the fumes alone that waft up from the glass. 

“It’s better if you don’t sip it,” you offer him, though even then you know the guidance doesn’t help much.

He tips it back and drains it.

Two drinks were enough to have you feeling woozy, but you pour yourself a third for good measure. You spare Vash the pain of another, much to his apparent relief, and let him off with just the one before tucking the half-drained bottle back into the cupboard you’d dug it out of. 

When you turn around again, Vash is crouched down, examining something on the ground. 

Your boot. The one you’d thrown at him earlier. 

He peers up at you from the floor, he lifts the shoe slightly. 

“It broke again.”

A memory floods back to you then, unbidden. 

Sitting side by side with Vash on the edge of the steps outside the same house you live in now, but when the way you lived was different. The plant had just been repaired, and there was a palpable feeling of effervescent joy sizzling through the town around you. An uncharacteristic camaraderie amongst the people of Jeneora Rock as the celebration of Vash’s handiwork spreading through the narrow, grimy streets. The two of you were away from it all, sitting quietly together in a strange sort of celebration of your own.

You were less a woman than you were a girl back then, but still somehow neither. He’d patched the sole of your boot back on when it had ripped loose. And you’d laughed when he handed it back to you with an endearingly clumsy flourish, the sound as high and bright as the sun that hung in the sky overhead. You still remember the way your laughter had made his smile grow.

The patch job had lasted a year. You’d sobbed the day it came loose again, just shortly after the death of your father. You’d been using twine tied tightly around the toe of the boot to hold it together ever since.

Vash blinks up at you from the ground as you stare down at him with what you’re sure is a vacant look in your eyes. 

“I brought you something,” he says, hopping up and skittering over to his rucksack with your boot still in his hand. He rifles around in the bag for a moment, his mechanical arm shoulder deep as he roots for what he’s looking for. His eyebrows shoot up and he grins when he locates it—a wide, brilliant smile splitting across his face as he pulls his arm out. 

He holds his find up in triumph. 

You look at it with narrowed eyes.

“What… is it?” you ask, after a moment of trying to identify the small, relatively unremarkable little container in his hand.

“Boot glue!” he says excitedly, waving it in front of your face. “I thought of you when I saw it! The merchant wanted an arm and a leg for it but I managed to—”

Tears have sprung up in your eyes against your will, and you quickly turn away from him to hide them from his sight. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Vash’s voice is softer now, less enthusiastic and more concerned. 

That softness is what upsets you more than anything. Tenderness is a foreign thing in the desolation of the wastelands.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, scrubbing your hand over your stinging eyes. 

For thinking of me.

For knowing that you’d come back.

You leave that part off, but you feel it just as much as what you say.

You drain that third glass that’s been sitting on the counter waiting for you, hoping the burn of the liquor as it sloshes down your throat to your stomach will give you something else to focus on. Or, if nothing else, that it might numb the sudden pain that’s laid roots down in your core.

Vash sits at the table as he patches up your boot under the lamplight, much like he had the first time. You watch him from the chair in the corner, under the shuttered window, with your knees drawn up into your seat with you. You’re more shameless now than you had been while he cleaned his gun, observing him keenly as he scrubs your boot with a rag and leftover water from the dish pan. He makes sure no more grime clings to it before he carefully smears a thick layer of the glue along the sole, pressing down firmly to make sure the adhesion takes. He holds the boot up in front of him when he’s done, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, eyeing it from every angle to survey his own work.

You watch him just as raptly. 

He turns in his seat once he’s satisfied, holding the boot up. 

“All done!” he says, hopping up to his feet and shuffling towards you. He crouches down in front of you and holds out his hand expectantly. Slowly, you stick your foot out, and he cradles it gently in his roughened palm.

Carefully he slips the boot onto your foot, tightening the laces once it’s fully in place. 

“How’s it feel?” he asks you, peeking up at you from his place on the floor. 

“Feels good,” you reply, with an equally breathy tone. 

The lamplight doesn’t reach this corner of the room quite as brightly as it does at the table, but you can still make out a blush that sits high and pretty at the top of Vash’s cheeks. You wonder if he’s starting to feel the flush thanks to the liquor, or if maybe it’s something else entirely. 

“G-good!” he stammers a little, fiddling with the laces at your ankle. “I’m glad!”

“That glue must have been expensive,” you say. “Thank you, Vash.”

He shoots you a smile as he loops his fingers through the laces. “It's the least I could do, especially with you putting me up for the night.”

For the night. 

Just for the night. 

The reminder makes you ache a little.

Vash helps you slip your boot off again, carrying it over to the door and setting it down beside its mate.

“I’ll leave this here for you, in case you need it again,” he says, screwing the top back onto the little pot of adhesive at the table. “There’s not much left, but there’s some.”

You nod from your seat in the corner, one leg up and one leg still down—your nightdress drawn up to your knee from when he’d helped you into your boot. 

Vash ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck, dry now after his bath. Yours remains a little damp, but you’re sure it won’t last long as the residual heat from the day still hangs in the air even though the sun has long set. 

“It’s late,” he finally says after a moment. “You should sleep.”

You hum in agreement, moving to stand from your chair. The room spins slightly around you, those three glasses you’d knocked back sneaking up on you while you’d been sitting down. Your foot hooks in the hem of your nightdress because of the way you’d been sitting, but before you can stumble theres a strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. A warmth pressing into you as your face meets a heaving chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Vash murmurs, his grip on you tightening for the briefest moment. 

Your hands clutch at his shirt, and you don’t meet his eyes as you nod, letting him lead you towards your bedroom. 

Your hands fumble at the belt of your nightdress, pulling it off and tossing the garment across the end of your bed as Vash helps you onto the mattress. You tuck your feet under the thin sheet before leaning back against your pillows, and Vash is quick to turn and head towards the door after helping you pull it up to your waist.

“Wait,” you call to him before he can retreat. He pauses in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Where are you going to sleep?”

You hadn’t thought much about this, and you ought to have considered it earlier. You only have the one bed, but you have two pillows you can share and a spare blanket in the trunk at the end of it that you could offer him if he wants to sleep on the floor. 

But you don’t want to tell him that.

“I’ll just take the chair,” he says with a blithe smile, jutting his thumb towards the armchair in the other room. 

It won’t be comfortable. You know that from experience, having fallen asleep there a few times yourself after a particularly gruelling day. The stuffing is lumpy and the springs are painful if you press against them the wrong way. You know he won’t complain about it. You even know that it’s probably still more comfortable than lots of other places he’s rested his head over the past two years. 

But you want to be selfish.

For once you don’t want to be alone. 

“Vash,” you say quietly, and you watch his entire body go rigid at the sudden bare vulnerability of your tone. “Please stay with me.”

You’d asked him the same thing once before, but different. The words once murmured desperately against his lips as you clung to his red jacket. Staring at him with eyes full of hope and a freshly patched boot on your foot. 

He’d looked at you the same way back then too. That smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. As gentle of a no that he could ever offer you.

“I know you have to leave,” you murmur, eyes downcast to your hands as they rest atop your lap. “I don’t expect anything like that from you. I know it’s just for tonight.”

“Please don’t cry.”

The bed dips beside you, and Vash tilts your face up towards him. He looks troubled when you meet his gaze, even in the dim light of your bedroom you can make out the conflict on his features. It’s strange to see him not smiling, wrong almost.

But your eyes are dry.

“Stay,” you repeat yourself, meeting his gaze resolutely. You swallow hard over the lump in your throat, bracing yourself for the impending sear of rejection. 

Vash cups your cheeks in his hands, and you can’t tell if it’s your cheeks or his touch that feels so warm.

“You deserve someone that can say yes to that and mean it properly,” he says ruefully, not dissimilarly to what he’d said the first time you’d asked the very same thing of him.

“I’m not asking anyone else,” you whisper, “I’m asking you."

You wonder if your mouth still tastes like liquor as Vash’s tongue dips inside of it, hovering over you as you lay sprawled across your bed. 

It didn’t start like this, of course. The first kiss had been gentle, hesitant even—like Vash wasn’t quite sure if he was going to see it through at all, poised to flee at any moment. But neither of you could deny how right it felt when his lips brushed yours, an immediate wash of relief and of unadulterated want inundating you all at once. You’d been the one to crane up and bridge the gap, but soon Vash was crawling into your bed overtop of you, easing you back to lay flat as he succumbed to the same need you felt thrumming through your veins.

Your hands are tangled in his hair now—a gesture that earned you a pitchy, needy little groan from him as your fingers twisted through the blonde strands. It only seemed to make him more eager as he parted his lips against your own in a deeper kiss.

There’s something a little clumsy about it all, an eagerness and inexperience to every touch and graze. But it’s not the same as it was at first, no longer hesitant or wary—his reservations have been peeled away as surely as the clothes the two of you are wearing, until you feel nothing but his skin against your own.

Vash’s hands are as greedy and rapacious as his mouth; touching, grabbing, grazing anything he can reach. His calloused fingers cup themselves around the swell of your chest, squeezing lightly, and when you reward him with a little moan it stokes the flames of his curiosity, and his touch moves to the pebbled bud of your nipple next. He rolls it tentatively between his fingers, pinching ever so slightly, and when you gasp against his mouth, arching further into his touch, he makes his own little pleased sound of surprise before lavishing your other breast with equal attention. 

His metal hand touches you more gingerly than the other, and he tends to favour the one made of flesh and bone. The contrast in sensations is a little disorienting—smooth, hard metal versus the life-roughened heat of skin on skin. It’s dizzying. You want more.

“Vash,” you murmur against his mouth. 

Your lips are stinging now from the constant kissing. He’s scarcely left your mouth uncovered by his own since they first connected, but at your hoarse whisper of his name he pulls back slightly, watching your face for any sign of reproach. 

“Touch me more, please,” you say to him, cupping his cheeks as he presses his forehead into yours, both of you sharing the same breath in the little space between you.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a hum, nodding a little, and kisses you again as his hands slip further down your willing, waiting form.

If he’s surprised by the wet wet heat he finds between your legs, it doesn’t stop him. One finger and then two find their way inside you slowly; he moves in gentle thrusts and scissoring motions that have your jaw going slack. His palm presses against the swell of your clit, and each time your hips jump it grinds into the heel of his palm, earning a keen from the back of your throat.

“Feels good?” Vash trails kisses up the top of your cheek until his lips are by your ear. His breathing is laboured and the air of each breath is hot as it ghosts across your skin. Your tongue feels leaden, but you nod repeatedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and keeping him close.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to breathe out, “’s good.”

It’s even better when you feel the stretch of him pressing himself inside.

The sound that’s pulled from the depth of Vash’s broad chest as he carves his way into you makes your toes curl—high and sweet and desperate.

“’S hot,” he slurs, his hips giving a shallow, desperate thrust.

He’s needy, pulling you closer as he moves you how he wants you. He loops your knees up over his elbows, his mouth frantically finding it’s way back to yours as the weight of his entire body bears down on you. 

The next thrust is harder, deeper. And the pace only increases after that.

The rickety headboard of your old bed knocks against the wall each time he brings his hips down against yours. It’s loud, but so is the sound of skin on skin, and you have the distant thought as the bed frame creaks that it sounds like it might splinter underneath you—but you don’t find it in yourself to care as the pressure in you core steadily builds, threatening to burst. It blinds and deafens you to anything but the pulse that pounds in your throat. It makes your fingers curl against the skin of Vash’s shoulder blades until your nails dig into skin.

He’s still kissing you, wet and messy and noisy as his tongue presses into your mouth. He never stops kissing you.

It's nice to be with someone. To be touched. To feel wanted and needed.

Especially by him.

Your eyes flutter open, and as though he can sense your gaze on him Vash’s do the same. His expression is heavy-lidded as he pants, a little drop of sweat sitting high on the edge of his blushing cheek. He smiles a little, a soft, gentle expression you’ve never seen before.

A tenderness in his gaze unlike any you’ve ever experienced.

The pressure in your core comes undone.

He takes your face in his hands as pleasure rips through you like a sandstorm, blistering and unescapable. He’s still kissing you. Keeping you so near. In the haze it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins, everything clouded into something thats both and somehow neither. Something new.

“Close,” Vash whines, grinding his hips down against your own.

Your muscles ache, the pleasure has worn you raw, and your lungs are pricking with the need for a full deep breath you haven’t been able to draw into them now for some time. But even so, you don’t want it to be over. Can’t bear the thought of being apart.

The headboard rattles a few more times, and then the pressure between your legs is gone as Vash pulls out and spatters his spend across your stomach with a long, low groan.

It’s hot. The mess on your skin, the sweat that clings to you, the paltry breaths of air you draw into your lungs. Even the sheets of your bed have absorbed the heat from both of your bodies, sticking to your skin as you collapse into them in boneless heaps, chests heaving and hearts racing side by side.

You tilt your face towards the boy crowded into your narrow bed beside you, and find him watching you expectantly.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a piece of hair away from your eyes.

You hum, leaning into his touch.

Vash’s gaze travels down your body, eyeing the mess he’s made of you with wide eyes. He pops up suddenly, clambering out of bed and tripping clumsily over the sheet that’s fallen half-way off the mattress as he skitters out the door. You’re not too worried that he’s going far, considering he’s still stark naked, but you watch the doorway curiously as you wait for him to return.

When he does, he has a cloth in hand—still damp from your bath earlier in the evening. As gently as he can, Vash cleans you up; the cloth cool is against your sticky skin, and feels nice. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he presses a kiss to the valley between your ribs, lifting his face to smile up at you.

You shoot him a feeble smile back.

He slips into bed beside you once more, crawling up towards the pillows and pulling the rumpled sheet up to your chins as he goes. He settles in, and with one sweep of his arm he tucks you safely against his chest, with your ear resting over his heart. His hand pats gently along the back of your hair down your spine, keeping you close to him.

Vash smells good. Clean and comforting. It makes you think of the place your mother told you about once. You wonder if he smells like that place, or maybe even better.

You wonder if he’s ever been there before.

You wonder if he’d tell you if you asked.

You open your eyes, though the effort pains you in your exhaustion, and you see him peering back at you. Vash’s lips pull into a smile, but it's one of the ones that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. An expression that you know is more for you than it is for himself.

You think the two of you have a lot in common, then. That maybe the two of you understand the same loneliness. The same feeling of being haunted.

Your ghosts live on in the trunk at the end of your bed and at the back of your cupboard, covered in dust, tucked away out of sight. 

Vash’s live on inside of him, and it’s where he seems determined to keep them. 

In that moment you know that even if you were to ask, he’d tell you nothing—and he’d do it for your own sake.

Tomorrow you’ll wake and the air will smell bitter and burnt, and he’ll be gone, but your boot will be mended, and the little pot of glue will remind you he was there. But tonight you’ll dream about the place your Mama told you about, and tomorrow you’ll still have the smell that clings to your sheets. So for now, the world smells different. 

And that has to be enough.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede #trigun stampede fic #trigun stampede writing #writing

[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

Honeymoon time 💕

Your wedding to George was a jubilant celebration with your family and friends, a chance to bask in the love you were so thankful to receive from everyone around you. You'd honoured Fred in many ways that day, including photos of him, an empty chair with his name on and many other little ways to make it seem like he was there. You'd noticed George had worn his chain under his suit shirt and the sight of it made butterflies flutter inside you.

It was a small and quaint wedding that had admittedly been rushed in planning, only two weeks after you'd announced your engagement, but it was perfect. No one had doubted your intentions and the day had gone completely to plan, except for the regular hiccups that seem to occur when a group of people are brought together. Muriel had been characteristically foul as usual and had clashed with your great aunt Ariadne though she'd avoided the more triggering topics which was one consolation.

You danced with your friends and your now blended family late into the night, with George eventually stealing you back from dancing with Bill for one final dance.

"Have you had a good day Mrs Weasley?" He asks, holding you close as you sway with surprising grace even with the healthy amount of alcohol you'd both consumed.

"The best, Mr Weasley," you beam up at him, his handsomeness once again hitting you as you look upon his smiling face.

"Couldn't have asked for better. I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful."

The night you'd spent together had not been repeated since, nor had you really spoken about it. There was a lingering tension between you, growing increasingly stronger throughout the day as you thought of your wedding night and honeymoon, the anticipation almost consuming you.

Ginny and Fleur had whisked you away from George not long after your final dance to get you ready to leave for your honeymoon, which you'd be departing for very soon. It was tradition in the Weasley family to immediately begin your honeymoon the night of the wedding and you had readily accepted the chance to exit out of the wedding a little earlier into the night, giving you and George some time alone.

You'd chosen to honeymoon in the U.K. to keep costs down, after all this whole situation was based upon George reclaiming the shop as sole owner and any unnecessary spending would only increase the amount of time you'd be married. Bill and Fleur had graciously offered for you to stay in Shell Cottage with them but George had instead chosen to surprise you with your destination. He'd tactfully evaded every single one of your questions, relishing in his power of knowledge but had thankfully given you a few clues as to what you should pack. Clothes for all weather, from hot to bitter cold, a couple of 'nice' outfits and a bathing suit. So, nothing to really go off.

Percy had arranged a ministry car for you to borrow for the week, his gift for you both and you'd decided to travel like muggles for the week, taking your time and only using magic when necessary. George was driving to your destination, the luggage and travel necessities having been packed up earlier that day by the Weasley boys and Harry.

The crowd cheered as you both walked towards the car that was waiting for you, your family and friends gathered around with jubilant faces as you walked hand in hand towards the car. You both paused to thank and embrace Mr and Mrs Weasley before climbing into the car, George opening the door for you before getting in on his side. You waved at the gathering of people in front of you as George pulled away and as you pulled away from the Burrow, you peered through the back window, squirming around the freshly painted 'just married' sign to see your loved ones fading further away as they carried on the party.

"Are you okay?" George asks gently as he drives out of Ottery St Catchpole, the rolling Devonshire fields passing you by as the sun begins to set.

"I'm... incredible, I don't think there are words for how I'm feeling," you say with a wide smile, giggling a little at your inability to get your words out. He chuckles and reaches for your hand, pulling it onto the gear stick to join his.

"I know what you mean, I feel like I'm floating," he says, flashing you a smile before turning his attention back to the road. You take the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to really look at him,  the plains of his face looking unbelievably handsome to you. He looked stunning in his suit, the colour and cut of the material only serving as a compliment to his gorgeous red hair and sharp features.

"Checking me out Mrs Weasley?" He says with a smirk, eyes still fixed on the road. You fight to hide the creeping blush that appears on your cheeks, realising that he'd caught you staring. You bite your lip and turn away, choosing to look out of the window at the rolling hills instead. "You can you know, I'm yours now."

You turn to look at him and the smile he has plastered on his face fills you with warmth and nervous excitement.

"You look so handsome, I feel like I can't take my eyes off you," you admit, a little bashfully.

He gives a deep chuckle and squeezes your hand that is still held by his own.

"You have no idea how hard it is to drive right now, all I want to do is stare at you," he admits, though he sounds completely unashamed of his words. You blush and look away again, this time out of pure bliss, wanting to remember everything about this moment.

"Get some sleep Angel, it's quite a drive," he says softly a few minutes later, turning down the radio that was playing music in the background.

"I'm okay," you lightly protest, despite feeling relaxed by the drive. "I wish I'd taken this dress off though, not the best travelling outfit."

"And take that joy away from me? How dare you," he jokes, sounding a little outraged. Your stomach instantly fills with nerves and butterflies at his words; he intended to take your dress off.

You fell asleep a short while later, just as the last slither of sunlight had disappeared into the horizon, the long stretch of road ahead now only lit by car lights and the faint cats eyes on the ground. The mixture of the low humming from the radio, the gentle rocking of the car and the presence of George was enough to lull you into a much needed sleep as you cuddled into a pillow you'd thought to pack, wishing that you were wearing something much less restrictive but that couldn't be helped.

When you woke again, it was still pitch black and George was still driving, the car lights ahead of you the only clue to where you were.

"Hi Angel," George says, noticing you staring as he briefly looks over at you with a smile.

"Mmm, hi Georgie," you mumble back, still fighting off the last embers of sleep. "Where are we?"

"Nice try," he says, not falling at the last hurdle and you give a little huff, hoping that one would have worked. "About an hour away."

"Is there time to stop for a coffee somewhere?" You ask, sitting straighten in your seat as you abandon the pillow into your lap.

"I don't know anywhere that would be open," he says, flicking his eyes to the dashboard clock, prompting you to do so and realising that it was now past midnight, much to your surprise.

"McDonald's will be," you say with a little shrug, trying to see any hints from signposts as to where you were of where the next services would be.

"McDonald's?" He asks, completely oblivious and you can't help but laugh, never having thought about how the notion of 24 hour fast food had not yet entered the wizarding world, making George completely oblivious.

"It's a 24 hour restaurant, usually around road services, it's fast food," you explain. He immediately gets it and let's out a little 'ahhh' of understanding, telling you that there was a services coming up and you could check if there was one there. There was.

Introducing George Weasley to drive-through ordering was nothing short of hilarious and you'd briefly lamented the fact that his first McDonald's experience wouldn't be inside an actual McDonald's building but you were not about to enter a fast food joint at a service station in a wedding dress. You'd both ordered a coffee, yourself a medium coke and then you had excitedly introduced him to not only a Big Mac but also chicken nuggets, both of which were a complete revelation to him and you had to hold back serious giggles at his reactions. Half an hour later and you were on your way, coffees in hand and belly's a little fuller as you prepared for the last part of your journey.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take over? I don't mind driving to give you a break," you offered as you watch him put on his seatbelt.

"You don't know where we're going," he says with a devilish smirk but you feign innocence.

"Then just tell me and I'll get us there," you say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Nice try baby," he says with an even more sinister smirk, his eyes roaming your face briefly before he turns on the car and begins to pull away after one last sip of coffee.

You were transfixed as George turned right up a long winding path entirely shielded by trees, the long road leading you deeper under the canopy of trees until you were completely surrounded by woodland. You could make out a small, warm light at the end of the long road and became transfixed on the approaching light, trying to focus your eyes hard on that point, trying to make sense of it. The car swerved a little to avoid a large twig in the road which brought your destination into clear view.

You gasped at the beauty of the scene in front of you, looking excitedly at George who looked more than pleased at your reaction.

"George," you say breathlessly as he parks up in the little clearing beside the place you'd be staying.

It was a rustic log cabin, completely shielded away from everything by a large canopy of trees, a beautiful escape completely hidden away from the outside world. The cabin was almost entirely made of wood with wooden shutters and a wrap around deck.

"George it's beautiful," you say, completely gobsmacked as you look at the gorgeous lodge in front of you, seeing it illuminated by the multiple lanterns that offered a stark contrast against the pitch black night.

"Only the best for my bride," he teases, opening up his car door, prompting you to do the same.

"Want to explore whilst I unload the car?" He asks with a grin, holding the keys to the cabin out in front of you, the little wooden keyring clinking against the two old fashioned keys. You nod enthusiastically and reach out to grab them, pulling George in and without much thought, you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Instantly, you realised what you'd done and took a step back, blushing a little as you avoided his gaze. His hand had instinctively wrapped around your back and he gave your back a little rub as you parted, showing no ill will as you turned and walked excitedly towards the cabin.

Opening the door, you were immediately met with an illuminated room thanks to the warm lighting from multiple lamps and light fixtures. The cabin was warm, as if there was a log fire already burning and the smell was heavenly, clean and fresh but with an indisputable scent of wood and pine, a natural consequence of it's idyllic surroundings. You walked through a little entrance hall that houses a utility room before stepping into an open living room, dining room and kitchen, all of which were warm and inviting with natural wood features throughout and neutral colours, highlighting the windows which you knew would almost certainly have beautiful views in the morning. There were two brown leather sofas that looked absolutely lush and a single armchair underneath a window that looked perfect for reading, a tall lamp beside it and a little table for drinks. There was a television and a cabinet in the corner and beside that was a beautiful log burner that was indeed lit, radiating heat throughout the home. You couldn't see much through the side door that was half glass but the outside light did illuminate the decking a little, highlighting a rather impressive sunken hot tub that was covered, eliciting a little excited squeal from you.

You walked down a small corridor that led off from the main atrium through a beautifully carved wooden door with an old metal latch which led you to the bathroom on the left and two bedrooms. You crept into the bathroom to take a peak and saw a big bathtub to the left and a built in shower to the right, as if every need was catered for. One bedroom has two single beds partitioned with a beautiful shelving unit and the other bedroom was almost certainly the master.

There was a huge four poster bed against the back wall bookended by two beside tables with lamps that looked entirely too inviting. The bedding was sheer white and completely crease free, only adding to its appeal. There was a smaller television in here too, along with a dressing table and a large, ornate wardrobe that looked older than the cabin itself.

"What do you think Mrs Weasley?" George asks from behind you as you pause to run your hand over the ornately carved bed frame. You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, still wearing his wedding suit but now with his tie removed and a few buttons open near his collar.

"I think it's absolutely beautiful Mr Weasley," you reply, turning to him with a look of pure elation.

"Just like my wife then," he says with a look in his eyes that makes your pulse race. He steps towards you with clear conviction and it's all you can do not to melt into a puddle, the look in his eye so dangerously arousing that you're almost frozen to the spot. It was the first time he'd called you his wife and the reaction that it pulled from your body was almost unbelievable, the sound of it almost heavenly in your mind.

As soon as he reaches you, there's a brief pause as if he's searching your face for any hint of resistance, not that he'd find any. When he sees the look in your eye, knowing that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, he steps even closer and wraps his hand around the back of your neck before leaning down and kissing you with a burning passion.

Your hands slip up to his chest, feeling the material of his lapels under your fingers and pull slightly, needing to feel him as close to you as possible as you pull his jacket off. His fingers tangle in your hair as the kiss deepens, tongues working together to fuel the burning desire between you both.

With his right hand cradling your head and his left clutching as your waist, he begins leading you to the side of the bed, silently asking if it was okay to go further.

"Make love to me George," you say against his lips, hardly wanting to pull away for even a second. You hear him groan against your lips before his hand slips from your hair and down to your butt, cradling you and taking your weight. In a move that would otherwise impress you if you'd seen it in person, he sweeps you off your feet whilst climbing onto the bed and lays you down softly before climbing over you, kicking off his shoes in the process.

"I've waited all day to rip this dress off of you," he mumbles against your skin as he begins kissing down your neck, onto your bare shoulders where your dress straps began, the soft layers of the gown suddenly feeling much too restrictive as your skin burnt up with desire. He kisses down your chest as your hands tangle in his slightly grown out hair. There's a single moment where your eyes meet, just as he hovers over your panting cleavage and it takes your breath away how absolutely sexy he looks, the desire and admiration in his eyes mirroring your own. His long fingers drag against your rib cage as they dance over to your covered breasts before he reaches in to pull down the cup of dress, exposing your right breast to him, your dusky pink nipple already hard and waiting for him. He groans, watching your breast spring free and immediately bends down to run his tongue over the pebbled nipple, eliciting a deep, breathy moan from you before his lips wrap about the little bud and begin sucking. You moan out again, throwing your head back into the pillows at the overwhelming sensation and suddenly you feel the whole atmosphere change. There's no trepidation anymore, no resistance or questioning but rather just a primal urge between both of you.

You can tell that George is feeling for the opening your dress so you divert his fingers to the small, concealed zipper on the side and help him drag it down, much too slowly for your liking. He pulls away the dress after you slip your arms out and you watch carefully as his mouth slips open to a little 'o' shape as he pulls the dress from your body, exposing you completely to his gaze. You couldn't wear a bra with your dress thanks to the unique straps but you had thought you buy a tiny white lace thong that you'd had embroidered with a little 'W' on the left side of the crotch, knowing it would either make him laugh or make him growl. Luckily for you, it was most certainly the latter as he groaned as he spotted it, momentarily fixated on your naked breasts that were exposed completely for his view, his eyes travelling down your body with acute precision before he eventually noticed your little customisation. He groans and leans down to press a kiss directly to where the 'W' was situated, just above your mound and you can't help but squirm as the sensation of having him so close to where you needed him. He notices, of course he does, and his eyes flick up to yours with a look of pure mischief as he begins kissing the inside of your thigh and across your bikini line, teasing you. You groan and can't help but roll your hips as he flutters kisses everywhere apart from where you need them.

"My beautiful wife needs something?" He teases, acting completely oblivious when you knew he was very aware.

"Please George," you beg, "need you."

Like a switch had been flicked in George's mind, his long fingers begin tracing your pussy through the very thin and nearly transparent lace, groaning once again when he feels the wetness seeping through the lace. You feel his fingers hook into the side of your thong, catching your labia with a little stroke before he pulls them away from your burning pussy, exposing you completely to his view. He wastes no time and leans down, licking a long stripe across your pussy, catching your swollen clit with the til of his tongue in the most perfect way that has you gasping and moaning.

"Fuck you taste good, so sweet," he whines into your pussy, resting his forehead against your mound for a moment before he slips down again, this time licking you with vigour. "So wet baby."

His tongue is everywhere, delicately stroking and teasing whilst also hitting every spot you need him in perfectly. It's a perfect juxtaposition between his igniting a fire inside of you, making you burn with desire and pure torment whilst also extinguishing the flames with his tongue. As soon as his finger traces your inner lips as it moves down, gently pressing into your waiting hole before he slips one of his long, deft fingers inside of you, you're gone. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, hips rising of their own accord as you grope your breasts, completely consumed by your pleasure. He slips a second finger into you as you cry out, fucking yourself on his fingers as he circles your clit with his tongue, putting pressure on the left side just as he's discovered drives you crazy.

"George, George!" You chant as you feel the beginning of your orgasm rising in you very quickly, consuming you and burning you from the inside out. Your pussy is drenched and you can feel more arousal gushing from you as your climax crests, George's own moans ringing out in your mind as he pushes you over the edge. It's like you're falling, the crescendo of light and burning arousal overtaking your whole body and mind, the only capable thought in your mind is of George. He licks you slowly as you come down, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he laps up your cum, fingers still slowly fucking you bath and forth with gentle strokes, extending your pleasure.

You gasp to catch your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your heart pounds, the effects of your orgasm still lingering as you feel a tingle across your whole body. It takes all of ten seconds for you to focus your attention back to George who has pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing your inner thigh again, soothing you as you return to him.

You sit up and reach for him, pulling him on top of you as you kiss him feverishly, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. He notices and groans deeply against your lips, almost growling as you lick at his lips, desperate for a taste. You claw at his shirt, desperate to even out your nudity and feel his skin against yours and as if he can sense the sheer desperation, reaches down and completely rips the front of his shirt, the flying and falling buttons only an afterthought as you fight to get the shredded shirt away from his body. Your hands slip to his smooth shoulders and down his back as you kiss him desperately, pulling his tongue into your mouth so you can suck on it, relishing in his deep groans and little whines. Your hands rest on his collarbones as you slowly pull away from him, pushing him slightly until he realises was you want. You overpower him with just enough force that he rolls onto his back as you immediately latch to his chest, kissing and biting as you make your way down to your destination.

His suit trousers are completely tented, the sheer size an excitement of him almost intimidating to you as you fight to open the fastenings of his trousers. You don't wait even a moment after they are open to slide them down his hips, along with his black boxer briefs until he was completely bare, except from his sentimental chain and your wedding rings. You crawl back up the bed after throwing aside his bottoms and flick your eyes up to see his own desperate look as you come face to face with his rather impressive member. His lips are parted and he looks completely desperate as he watches you carefully, silently pleading for you to take his aching length in your mouth. You grant him reprieve almost instantly, licking straight from the crest of his balls to the engorged tip of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, following the gentle curve. He cries out at the contact and it makes you want to do everything in your power to hear it over and over again.

You gave into him completely, taking his tip in your mouth and licking all around, earning another heavenly noise from him before you sucked in your cheeks and bobbed up and down his length, taking him deeper and deeper with each fall; never stopping your tongue from running along the length of him. You were addicted to him, the taste, the weight of his length against your tongue, the feel of his smooth skin against your lips. You fought to go further with each bob, sucking him down like the most delicious treat from Honeydukes, giving everything you could.

George was moaning mess before you, desperately searching for any part of your body he could reach as he fought to stop his hips from rising each time you'd pull off, like he never wanted to leave your hot, wet mouth. Sweet names, curses and a load more expletives fell from his mouth as you pleasured him until he reached out, leaning forward to pull you closer to him.

You were dripping, more aroused than ever and so desperate for him to fill you that it was all you could think about. He pauses, looking at the little strip of lace that was still misplaced, concealing nothing of yourself and ripped the thin strings on the sides, tearing it away from your body, both of you complete bare to the other's gaze.

It was so intimate and intense that it stole the breath from your lungs, just how adoringly he was gazing at you. His hand grabbed around your neck, holding your face and threading into your hair as he kissed you completely without abandon, your chests pressed together as your leg slipped between his, desperately seeking friction.

"Ride me baby," he mumbles against your lips and as if acting directly on command, you comply. You lift your hips and straddle him, his narrow hips allowing your thighs to rest against his comfortably as your centres align, the heat and sensitivity joining together to make you both gasp.

He reaches down and holds his perfect cock at the bottom, ready for you to climb onto and you can hardly contain your cries as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretching you out. He pulls his hand away, moaning at the sensation as his hand rests on your bum, the large hand and long fingers wrapping around your bum and thigh.

It's sinful how well he stretches you out, filling you completely without any pain or discomfort, like you'd been moulded perfectly for his cock alone.

When your hips rise again and you sink back down, this time much more confidently, your head flips back at the sensation. George grunts and tightens his grip on you as you slowly begin to ride him, hips undulating and breasts bouncing as you fall into a perfect rhythm. Your hair fans out across your back and you've never felt sexier in that moment, feeling adored under his gaze and praised by not only his words but also his moans and growls.

You're both so worked up, so perfectly in sync that you can hardly contain yourself, not even caring to try and hold off the impending climax that threatens you, creeping up slowly until it's impossible to resist. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your arousal peaking as it leaks out around his cock and you're rewarded with the most incredible moans that spill from his lips at the sensation.

"George, Georgie I'm gonna," you stagger, completely breathless as you keep riding him, finding the perfect spot and movement so that he hits every single pleasure point inside you.

"Cum Angel, fuck, cum around my cock," he pants, groaning and tightening his grip on your hips as he fucks up into you. "Godric you're tight, perfect little pussy squeezing my cock so good. Cum for me Angel."

You chant his name as the heat of your second orgasm consumes you, never once stopping as you bounce on his cock. He takes over fucking up into you as you ride out your climax, filling you completely as he shoves his entire length into you before pulling almost completely out and repeating the motion. You're in complete bliss, overwhelmingly so, and can hardly stop tears of overstimulation brimming at your eyes, blurring your vision only slightly. George lets out a roar as he cums, fucking up into you with a brutal pace that is sinful at best. His hands pull you close to him, bruises forming under his grip but it's perfect.

His thrust stop slowly as he comes down from his high, riding out the last of his pleasure as he pulls you down to rest on him, softening cock slipping out at the angle. You breathe deeply as you feel the evidence of his pleasure slipping out of you slowly, trickling down until it dripped onto your inner thighs.

He cranes his neck to reach out to kiss you again, though this time it's like a warm down, gentle and sensitive.

"Welcome to the family," he wheezes after a few moments of comfortable silence and you let out a loud belly laugh at the absurdity of his words, tapping his chest as you slink down to rest beside him, his arm still keeping you pressed to him. He's covered you both with the duvet and you can't resist slipping into a very comfortable sleep, too comfortable and worn out from the day to fight it.

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@clemlament

@jennapancake

@murderisfunlol

@ohantonia

@storytime-20

@guavacookie23

@satansdarlin

@smartoneamia

@littlelillysjs

@victorylr

@nanamisfootrest

@nulixity

@03michi01

@hjpbiggestdrider

@wzardweasley

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley x you #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley smut #George Weasley fluff #no good deeds

[angstywaifu]

Matchmaker - Ridoc x Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing for Ridoc so I hope you like it. Took a bit of extra thinking this one, but I think I nailed it. Well I hope I did! Ridoc loves Valentine’s Day, so he’s using his antics to set up all his friends. But chaos ensues because he’s not so great at spotting actual compatibility…except he knows he’d be compatible with you.

My corner of the library was nice and quiet. The library mostly empty with the everyone off on dates for Valentines Day. Seemed I was one of the few who had not managed to get a date. Though the library was usually on the empty side anyway.

The quiet doesn’t last long though. A loud band echoes through the library, followed by fast footsteps. Someone was running. I go to turn back to my book when I realise they are coming towards me.

I look up to see Ridoc round the corner of the book case. His head frantically scanning the area till his eyes fall on me. His usual goofy smile forming on his face as he rushes over to me and sits across from me. His eyebrow furrows at the look on my face.

”What the hell is that look for?” He asks.

I close my book and look at him. “What have you done now?”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back in his chair and looks away from me. “Nothing… major.”

I would have almost believed him, but it was Ridoc. And the muffled yell from the hallway tells me it is not nothing major.

”RIDOC GAMLYN!” A yell that vaguely sounds like it comes from Rhiannon, echoes from the hallway, Ridoc’s eyes going wide.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Nothing major? Then why does it sound like Rhiannon wants your head?”

He sighs as he leans forward on the table putting his head in his hands. “You know how I really like Valentines Day?”

I nod. It was all he had gone on about in the recent weeks. Which had surprised me.

”Well I might have had the idea to try play cupid for our fellow squad mates. And sadly I might have made some not so good matches.” He admits with a sheepish smile.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Who the hell did you match Rhiannon up with?”

”I might have set her up to go on a date with Dain.” He admits with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

Ridoc had always said I had resting bitch face. And the look I was giving him right was very unimpressed resting bitch face. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I cringe at the thought of those two together. It was not an ideal match. Especially with how close Violet is to Rhiannon. She knows everything he’s done.

“Why the hell did you think that was a good idea?”

He stands up and starts pacing, his hands gesturing wildly as he explains. “Well I thought because they are both strong leaders, who stick to their values.” He turns and points a finger at me. “And yes I know they have some different values, but I thought the whole opposites attract thing would work perfectly.”

I couldn’t deny it was adorable how into this he was. He was so excited about this thought process, that in the end was not very good. But his intentions were good.

”Rhiannon is too strong willed and independent for Dain. She would squish him like a bug. He needs someone he can essentially control. And that was Violet till she got sick of his shit.” I point out as he nods in agreeance.

He slumps into the chair in front of me. “I know. But now I’m worried my other set ups aren’t going to go well.”

”Wait, who else have you set up on dates?” I ask nervously.

At this rate our entire squad was going to want Ridoc’s head on a platter. And honestly I would help them if there other set ups were as terrible as Rhiannon and Dain. Though I can’t help the slight sadness that takes over me. He hadn’t tried to set me up with anyone. It wouldn’t have been any point. There was only one person I wanted. And it was the floppy dark haired boy sitting in front of me. Completely oblivious to how I felt.

“I might have set our entire squad up on dates.” He admits, a nervous smile on his face as his hair flops into his eyes. “But I think I can fix it if I set up one good date.”

Oh god. Please don’t be me. Please don’t be me. Please. Don’t. Be. Me.

“I am going to set you, my closest friend up on the perfect date for Valentines Day.” He says proudly with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes despite how happy he tries to appear.

I yet again pinch my nose and shut my eyes, my hear thundering loudly in my chest.

”I don’t want a Valentines date.” I almost plead at him.

Wrong. I did. I wanted him. My goofy, oblivious, comedic relief best friend. He almost looks sad at my words.

”You don’t even know who I was going to set you up with!” He exclaims loudly.

I open my eyes and look at him. “Who is it then?”

”That wrecks the surprise.”

”After the way you’re match making is going, I don’t know if I want a surprise.” I tell him sternly.

He sighs. “Fine, it was going to be Sawyer.”

Sawyer wasn’t bad. He was one of my good friends. We got along really well. But there was nothing romantic about our relationship at all. Despite how similar he was to Ridoc at times. But there was just something about Ridoc that just drew me in.

”As much as thats a better match up than Rhiannon and Dain. I’m not doing it.” I say as I start to pack up my things. I don’t miss the hurt but almost relieved look Ridoc gives me.

”It’s just one date, it will be fine.” He tells me hurridly. “You two get along so well.”

“Yes as friends.” I tell him pointedly, shoving a book in my bag.

”Hey this could be the one date that leads to finding the love of your life.” He tries to joke with me.

My head whips so fast towards Ridoc it seems to startle us both.

”Trust me, it’s not.” I say sternly, grabbing the last of my things.

”Well who do you want a date with. I’ll make it work. I just need one perfect match up so the rest of the squad don’t serve my head on a platter for breakfast tomorrow. There has to be some one. Maybe you secretly want Dain.” He tries to joke as he walks around the table to me.

I shudder at the thought of going on a date with Dain. ”Ridoc, just leave it alone. Please.” I plead with him. I’m thankful his signet isn’t super hearing other wise I’m sure he could hear how fast my heart is pounding.

”But-”

“No!” I yell at him before storming off, leaving a very shocked Ridoc standing in the Library alone as I half run back to my dorm room.

I get back to my room, running past a concerned Violet and Rhiannon, who ultimately decide to leave me alone as I slam my door shut. I chuck my bag on my desk before flopping facedown on my bed. There was no way Ridoc didn’t think something was up with how I had acted and yelled at him before running away. I was usually the one that tolerated him the most out of our squad. And despite how he acted most of the time, he wasn’t stupid. Probably not smart enough to put together I liked him. Least I could hide in my room for the rest of the day before facing him tomorrow.

For a few hours I think I’ve managed to avoid him, till a knock sounds on my door. I sit upright on my door and hope whoever is knocking thinks I’m gone. But depending who it is they probably saw me enter and never leave. A minute later another knock sounds on my door. Followed my a thump, almost as if someone as banged their head on my door.

”Y/N, I know you’re in there. Please open the door.” Calls a very muffled, very sad sounding Ridoc on the other side.

I sigh and untangle myself from the blanket and pillows I had wormed my way under and head to the door. I slowly open the door to see Ridoc lazily leaning on my door way fiddling with his hands. He slowly looks up at me. He’s nervous.

He slowly holds one of his hands out to me. “Come with me.”

Before I can think my hand is in his, and he’s leading my down the now very empty hall way that’s usually riddled with cadets at this hour. He doesn’t say a single word as he leads me through corridors and down stair cases. As he leads me towards the healers quadrant, I suddenly get very confused as to where he is taking me. I wasn’t hurt, except for my potential feelings, and he wasn’t. Just like the riders quadrant, it is quieter than usual over here. They must also be very big on Valentines Day over here as well. He leads me to the bottom of the tower closest to the riders quadrant and out a door into the forest.

I want to ask where the hell he is taking me, but I keep as silent as him as he leads me towards a clearing in the trees where I can vaguely see a small lake in the distance. He pulls us to a stop few metres from the clearing, standing in front of as he holds my hands in his.

”Close your eyes for me.” He says quietly and nervously

I nod my head and close my eyes. His hands let go of mine letting them fall to my sides. I hear him walk a few steps away before a cold wind rushes past me, sending a chill down my spine. I know this feeling all to well. Ridoc is using his signet.

Ridoc grabs my hands again and leads me forwards. As we get closer to the clearing I can feel the temperature drop. He definitely used his signet. But for what?

”Open your eyes.”

I open them to see that lake I saw earlier now completely frozen over. It wasn’t a big lake, but it was definitely the largest thing I had seen him freeze. It would have taken a lot of power. I look over at him to see he does look a little more tired than usual. But it doesn’t seem to phase him as he stares at me so intently.

”Do you like it?” He finally asks as he steps closer to me.

I nod my head. “Its beautiful Ridoc. But I do have to admit I’m a little confused.”

He chuckles and nods his head as he leads us closer to the edge. He holds his hand out towards our feet. Within seconds, he has used his signet to make skates for the bottom of our riders boots. I look over at him to see him softly smiling at me. I now know why he’s done this. When it had started getting colder I had mentioned how I use to ice skate as a kid. Well attempt to with what we can. He remembered. He walks backwards onto the ice, pulling me with him.

”I realised as you walked away from me in the library I had been an idiot. And before you say it, I know I am a lot of the time.” I smile and nod at him. “But I’m not a complete idiot. Sawyer isn’t who I really wanted to set you up on a date with. I was just too scared to set you up on the date I thought would actually be perfect cause I wasn’t sure if I was being biased to how I felt.”

Ridoc grips my hands tighter as he pulls me flush against him, his hands now holding me by my waist as he looks nervously at me. One of my hands has taken place on his chest and I can feel his heart beating heavily underneath. Good to know I’m not the only one with a heart about to burst at the seems. But his words start to sink in. Ridoc feels the same way.

”But then the way you reacted, got me thinking. Maybe it wouldn’t be so biased. And then when I came after you after standing in the library like an idiot for a few minutes. I ran into Rhiannon and Violet, who despite wanting my head on a platter, helped me.”

I smile and nod. Violet and Rhiannon did know my true feelings for Ridoc. Gods, they’d been the ones to point it out to me after staring at Ridoc during one of the challenges. They’d taken to teasing me quite a bit, but had agreed to keep my secret. Well till now at least.

I push away from him, skating away, spinning around on the ice. “Well, looks like you might have succeeded on your perfect match up Ridoc.”

The smile he gives me consumes his whole face. “Hell yeah I did!” He yells before chasing after me on the ice.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #the fourth wing #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc x reader #ridoc gamlyn x reader

[thestrangestthing89]

There are thankfully only a handful of people who swear this is a conservative, Christian show but it's interesting to me considering how negatively the show depicts religion.

S1 - There aren't any direct references to religion but subtle hints. It's implied Hawkins is a typical middle class suburban neighborhood. It's 1983, Reagan was president, and there are hints of the towns Christianity through the bullies. When Will goes missing there are several comments that make it clear that the people in this town aren't surprised. The middle school bully makes a comment that he got "killed by some other queer" and says his father was talking about it. Parents in the town talk about Will being gay. We see Steve's friends - the high school bullies - also making homophobic comments about Jonathan and his brother. The bad guys are homophobic. They also all lose fights this season. The show takes an anti-bullying stance and you are supposed to feel for Will and his friends here. He's a child that's gone missing and the people in the town don't seem to care much or act surprised by it.

There are a few exceptions to this - Joyce mentions to Hopper that Lonnie called Will gay slurs because she is also worried he got killed because he's gay. Hopper takes this seriously during a time when absolutely no one would have criticized him for ignoring this situation. Plenty of people were ignoring gay people dying during this time. No one would have batted an eye at a cop acting like this didn't matter. But Hopper pays attention and puts together a search team. So there are a few people in town who do care - Scott Clarke being one of them. And obviously the rest of our main cast doesn't care what people say about Will because they help to look for him all season. The good guys aren't homophobic. The good guys care about Will. And this includes all of our main characters - the people the audience are supposed to root for go against homophobia and bullying.

(Edit: I forgot to include a conversation between Joyce and Lonnie. When Will's fake body is found Lonnie wants Joyce to see a pastor and Joyce says no. Lonnie is trying to convince her she is crazy. He's the bad guy, and the first thing he wants to do to "fix" the situation is to get Joyce to talk to a pastor. It's another negative association with religion. Joyce is right here. She isn't crazy. And Lonnie isn't being comforting when he says this. He's being controlling and dismissing her feelings. It's clear from what we see of Lonnie that he's an asshole. He abused Will and Jonathan (and likely Joyce as well), he tried to turn Jonathan against his mother when Will went missing, he exploited an opportunity for money. He's not a person we are supposed to be rooting for.)

S2 - This season has a more direct reference to Christianity and it's the Reagan signs on some of the front lawns in Hawkins. This isn't surprising considering again, it's a middle class suburb. Reagan was a popular president at the time and got elected by popular vote twice despite his mishandling of the AIDS crisis and a number of other issues. His name is synonymous with the Christian right. During his time in office, the pro-life movement started to take hold, and he cut back on welfare reform and disability rights to name a few of the problematic things he did. Basically, anyone who wasn't an able-bodied, straight, white, middle class Christian male was struggling and yet he won twice. These days, his name is often compared to Trumps - they openly hated the same groups of people.

This sets the stage in a subtle way for what's going on with the main characters. Because our characters are all outcasts - gay, black, disabled, poor, etc - they are struggling to fit in to mainstream society (which makes it so ironic this show is mainstream). Even Hopper who is your typical straight, white, leading man struggles to fit in - his daughter died and he is coping with depression and substance abuse issues. Things no one discussed openly at the time and were viewed as shameful.

So we have the Reagan sign on the Wheelers front lawn. This tells me that at least Ted is a Reagan supporter which makes sense given this is an upper middle class white family. I am skeptical of Karen (or anyone else in this family) being conservative but I will get to that in S3. Dustins house has a Mondale sign so they are democrats which makes sense - Dustin has a disability and his mother is a single parent. Reagans policies would have hurt them. We don't see the politics of the other boys families but I think it's a safe bet to assume they are democrats. Will's family is poor and his mother is also a single mother. Not to mention that there are hints both Joyce and Jonathan suspect he is gay and they love Will so much, there is no way they would have ever voted for someone like Reagan. And even though the Sinclair's are also an upper middle class family they are black and while no group of people votes in the exact same way, Reagans policies were incredibly racist. Lucas mentions struggles to fit into Hawkins because he's black in the book Lucas on the Line. His family wouldn't have fit into this town even though they are financially well off. It's a mostly white town and that would have absolutely resulted in them being on the receiving end of racism on a regular basis. So even though their family technically conforms, people would not have accepted them.

So we know that our main characters don't fit in and we know Reagan represents all things Christianity and conformity. One of the main themes of the show is "forced conformity is killing the kids" a line directly stated by Eddie in S3 so more on this in a bit.

Something else happens this season that isn't a direct reference to religion but an adjacent theme and it's the conversation Nancy and Jonathan have with Murray. They are trying to figure out how to take down Hawkins lab and get people to believe them. Nancy doesn't understand at first why presenting the evidence they have won't work. And Murray says - people don't want to see whats behind the curtain. It's comforting. They like the curtain. - So they water down the story so the town will understand it in a way that they won't resist. This, I believe, is essentially what the writers are doing with this show. They are watering down that this has been a show that is anti-conformity from the beginning and there are signs of it in S1. But they know if they come right out and say that a main storyline is a queer coming-of-age story, a lot of their mainstream audience isn't going to watch. So up until now anyway, they have been subtle about it. But the audience is starting to notice something is off, especially with Mike in S4 because things aren't adding up.

S3 - It is now the summer of '85 and while there aren't direct references to Christianity, we still get some hints of conservatism. The only reference to religion is a passing comment that Dustin's new girlfriend Suzie is a Mormon. There is also a passing comment made by Max in S2 that there were Mormons at the door when Billy questions her. It was Lucas and she is trying to hide him from her racist brother, so she lies and says she was talking to Mormons. These comments are pretty neutral even though Dustin mentions Suzie's father wouldn't approve of him because he isn't Mormon himself. At the time we are seeing this moment, it's hard to tell if Dustin is telling the truth (everyone thinks he's making up his girlfriend this season.) But we see more of this in S4.

And then there is the comment by Karen Wheeler about Margaret Thatcher. She's on the phone with someone and says "I don't know Cath, maybe if I was Margaret Thatcher that'd be an another story." (this is in episode 5 by the way). A lot of people take this comment to mean Karen is conservative but I feel like it's so vague. We have absolutely no idea what the context of this conversation is or even who she is talking to (presumably one of the mothers from the pool). It's unclear if she was saying something positive or negative. We don't know what she is talking about, all we hear is her say Thatcher's name. So I feel like it's a leap to assume it was a conservative statement she was making.

I have a hard time believing that Karen is conservative (or at least not ultra conservative like a lot of Reagan supporters) for a few reasons. One of which is the contempt she has for Ted. She is frequently rolling her eyes at him or annoyed in some way and we know in canon he is the guy who represents conformity. However, Karen doesn't. This season especially she is shown to not be happy with her life. She is supposed to be a conservative housewife, but she almost has an affair and makes a few interesting comments. One of which was during her conversation with Nancy about her job. Nancy is discussing her misogynistic bosses and Karen gives her helpful and supportive advice about not fitting in. It seems personal, and from what we know about her, this sticks out. Because she seems like she is a typical housewife. I always felt like there was more to her backstory, but she seems to relate personally to Nancy's story of being an outcast at her job.

There is also her relationship with Mike. In S1, we see her trying to connect with him emotionally and get him to talk about his feelings about Will going missing. Karen is clearly someone who her kids can talk to, even if they resist sometimes. And her kids don't exactly fit in or represent conformity. She has been shown to be worried about her their safety repeatedly, Mike in particular, and we never see her trying to force them to conform in any way. And this is a thing that someone in her position would have absolutely been teaching her kids - conservative, Christian values. But we don't see anything like this or any hint of this. So I don't buy the 'she's conservative' theory. I don't think we've seen enough evidence of that. And while the Wheelers are probably a family that goes to church on Sundays, I don't get the impression this is a major influence in their lives. There is no religious paraphernalia around the house and this would have been a very common thing for a family that was pro-Reagan to do. I feel like they are passively conservative. It's the popular, normal choice and Karen and Ted are the epitome of doing things because they think they are supposed to. But this hardly makes them die hard believers.

S4 - This is where religion becomes more direct. Eddie is reading a Newsweek article about the dangers of D&D. During this time Satanic Panic was spreading. People feared for the moral values of the US during a time of extreme conservatism. Eddie clearly thinks this article is a joke. He's mocking anyone who conforms and it's clear Dustin and Mike agree. They are outcasts and they know D&D isn't dangerous. Eddie makes them feel like being different is ok.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Jason. He's your typical straight, white, christian male and fits in perfectly. He's the star of the basketball team and has the perfect cheerleader girlfriend (at least on the surface). He's the opposite of Eddie. And he is the villain in this story. THE GUY WHO CONFORMS PERFECTLY IS THE VILLAIN. He gets progressively more insane as the season progresses. He's charismatic and he quotes the Bible to rile the town up to hunt Eddie and Hellfire club down. They are all in a panic about the murders that are happening and the cops aren't doing a great job containing things (they also don't have all the information to be fair). But by the end of the season, Jason is completely unhinged and holds Lucas up at gunpoint. He's also part of the reason why Max ended up dying. It's Satanic Panic that drives this attitude forward. People are panicking over the loss of morals and blaming that for the reason why bad things are happening. Which I think will make for an interesting lead-in next season with regard to a more openly gay storyline.

On top of this display of religious fundamentalism, we see Suzie and her family. They are Mormons and we know her father is strict with regard to religion. However the family we see is chaotic. Suzie's sister Eden mocks Suzie for basically being a goody two shoes. Eden also has no hesitation about getting high and clearly is not abiding by Mormon values. Suzie doesn't always either. If there is a cause she believes in - like helping Dustin - she only has a little bit of guilt about going against her father and her religion. Her father is pretty much a joke. He's a fumbling idiot the kids need to outsmart in order to get the information they need. It's not exactly a positive representation of religion. Suzie shows that even though her religion is important to her, she is capable of thinking for herself. She hacks Dustins school computer and a government computer (although she doesn't know all the info about what she is doing here) with little hesitation. Her religious morals aren't exactly stopping her from doing something illegal or unethical. She's a hacker above all else.

At the end of the season we see Ted - the dude who represents all things common - reacting negatively to the news about what's going on in Hawkins. The guy who represents conformity is questioning the "propaganda" the news is coming out with to describe the situation in Hawkins. He is questioning the status quo. This is meant to show how even Ted is noticing something isn't adding up about the "normal" explanation of things. Something, at this point, that the audience should be questioning especially with regard to Mike. Because if even Ted can see something is going on here, then surely the audience can too.

The series has gotten progressively more direct about its anti-conformity theme which is why it makes no sense for them to suddenly forget this in S5. This show has always been about and for outcasts. The Wheeler family is a cautionary tale that Nancy said in season 1 was so depressing. She wants the opposite of this, which is why her and Steve and their 6 kids is never going to work (there are a lot of reasons why this is never going to work). And it's also why Mike and El aren't going to be endgame. Those relationships are there to represent conformity and none of the characters in those relationships are happy. They are the expected, normal relationships. If they wanted the audience to like these relationships they would have been written more positively.

So it's funny to me when people say the show is never going to go against the status quo because they have literally been doing this from the start. It's what the entire show is about. All of the characters are outcasts. All of them. So if people are claiming to like and support them, then they need to get behind the anti-conformity theme. And if they can't do that - this show is simply not for those people and it never was.

#byler #anti mileven #mike wheeler #gay mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #jancy #anti stancy

[fallenangels1987]

lets face it. the joker sucks as a batman villain. everybody thinks hes good because hes got a cool character design and hes been around since forever and writers keep trying to make him good, but in concept alone he fails to tap into any of the central themes or intrigue of batman, and nor does he reflect any of bruces internal conflict. really, the only use the joker has ever had was creating harley quinn, but now shes an entirely separate character from him so any short-lived relevance he may have had with her is gone. but contrary to what some may think, i dont think the joker should die. that decision would be a big deal and he'd be so dramatic about it, we'd have an entire plotline dedicated to it.... no one wants that. no one wants to see his stupid joker face for longer than physically necessary. it would also be reversed by the next reboot. no, we need a plan to make him irrelevant. more so than he already is, i mean.

first, we have batmans rogues gallery do a drag race. whos judging? poison ivy and the riddler. its green-themed. but see this is genius. cuz who hates the joker more than poison ivy and the riddler? yeah, harley quinn, who is not in attendance cuz she knows whats about to happen. in fact, she planned this, and shes using this as her cover to mess around with selina and try to convince her to be harley and pams third again. it wont work, but the dedication and jakey-haterism is commendable.

the drag race itself is not the focus, however. see, the entire thing has been set up to generate the most drama possible. everyone except for the joker has received invitations that say the show (which is being live broadcast to an unwilling audience of 150,000, all of whom thought they were watching the morning news up until 5 minutes ago, and found themselves unable to switch the broadcast off) will be recording their every move, so they better be on their worst behavior. the joker, unbeknownst to this, is being his usual asshole self, but not even in a fun conniving way, just in the regular asshole way.

at some point, he starts a fight. tensions are already high and hes the fucking joker. just let him dig his own grave here. he starts a fight and his (already shitty, i should add) outfit gets torn. now he has to spend all of his time that should be spent on makeup on fixing the stitching of this dress, and its going awful, and hes been forcibly removed from the makeup/costume making zone so hes just sitting on the stoop outside with a single spool of thread trying to fix this poofy ass dress. soon enough hes got 5 minutes left on the clock and hes still not finished, so hes like fuck it! im just gonna do my makeup and hope for the best. the makeup is atrocious, predictably, he doesnt even get to finish the eyeliner, but he tries to go back inside nonetheless. oops, he got locked out! thank you, tetch. now hes gotta go through the front, all the while trying not to get dirt on this dress which is falling apart on top of him, knowing full well poison ivy and the riddler and the rest of the queens are making fun of him for being late.

he gets back in. by this point, hes sweating like a damn hog, his makeup is running, but hes HERE. he sees amygdala preparing to go down the runway. no no no, the JOKER cant have that. the joker cant have anyone stealing his rightfully earned spotlight. he pushes amygdala out of the way and waits for the go-ahead.

poison ivy and the riddler look confused and disturbed, then whisper to one another for a moment. they turn back toward him.

"didnt we already escort you off the premises like, half an hour ago?" the riddler asks.

"yeah, you weren't supposed to come back," poison ivy says. "that's the point of having henchmen take you out."

they argue about this for a while until joker is thrown out again. the public vote gives him a pitiful 1%.

after that, hes a laughing stock! nobody likes him! hes just the guy who couldnt take a hint even after he was kicked out of a building! he resigns in disgrace and moves to rural ohio where he becomes a gas station attendant. and THAT is how we get rid of the joker.

[elderberries-and-honey]

.・゜゜・𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘥'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 ･ﾟﾟ･｡ (author's note: this is meant to read as if she's been adding to it throughout the day when she finds time to write, hence the sort of choppiness of the entry)

Dear Diary,

Oh, how long it feels since I received my tickets to the theatre, I can hardly fathom that it's truly arrived! All my life I have dreamt of seeing the great works performed on the stage, and my darling husband has somehow made it come true.

Drearily though, this also means that Millie must leave us and return home. She is traveling alongside us into London and we are to part ways at the station. I hate to think of her being away but I have tried not to let it get the better of me.

After she helped me with delivering Atticus, I know now more than ever that she is needed at the workhouse. Lord only knows there are too few midwives who are as compassionate, caring and attentive to women as she is.

Before we set off to the station, everyone gathered in our backyard to bid her farewell and see us off for our trip, with the exception of Valerie who is working longer hours at the pub in Lawrence's absence.

Poor Louise was not taking it all too well. Her and Millie have become very close in their time together here and she turned herself into a mess many times throughout their goodbye. I think I heard her make Millie promise to write half a dozen times before I excused myself to ensure Lawrence was ready to leave, which was silly of me to even ask.

He has been packed since last week and is nearly more excited than I am. I think we could go anywhere though, and he would be more than gladdened to get away. He deserves a good, long holiday but I can only hope this small one will suffice for now.

Beth is going to stay at the house with Ozzy while we're away, and Louise and Jackson are taking Atticus with them back to their cottage. Beth insisted she could look after both our babies and was particularly sour with Lousie over it throughout the day. Nevertheless, everyone else was in agreement it would be far too hard on her and I was silently thankful for this. She is a brilliant lady, but I think she forgets she is growing older.

Truthfully, I troubled myself to leave our children at all. Atticus is still small, no matter how quickly he's growing these days, and Ozzy struggles to be without me somewhere in the nearby, even if it seems he still prefers Beth's company over mine. I have long since stopped trying to fix this, and have been trying to learn how to accept it, even if it still aches in my heart.

We will only be gone for two days but even one seems like far too many. Lawrence has assured me countless times they are in good hands and I know he's right. We are surrounded by people who love and adore our children, and care for them as if they were their own, but I couldn't help fretting over it despite this.

And after all, we are going to see a play written by the beautifully talented Oscar Wilde and how wrong it feels for my Oscar not to be there to see it! Someday, though, we will travel to London and see the great arts together as a family.

The train ride from Wales to London always startles me with how quickly it passes by. You step into the train car and the next thing you know you're already on the platform surrounded by people. It seemed much longer when Lawrence and I first began writing to each other. I would wait for what felt days to receive his letters and it made the distance between us seem much farther than it was.

That's one thing I do miss about London, the hustle and bustle of the inner city and all the interesting strangers you encounter. Seldom do I try to converse, but that's hardly what's entertaining, is it? I think it's much more fascinating to watch them!

But, I was grateful no one seemed to feel the same (too many places to be and people to see, I suppose) because bidding Millie farewell hurt worse than I could have fathomed.

Even Lawrence found himself a bench to occupy, pretending to be terribly interested in the advertisements, so Millie and I could have our "almost" private moment. He is a tender hearted man and I hope we didn't keep him waiting too long.

We hugged each other for a good long while, and whenever I would begin to think I was ready to let go, another bout of tears started to fall. We promised not to wait so long to see each other this time. The few years that we quarreled were agonizing and I will never know what life is like without her ever again.

There is a bond young girls make, one that stays with you in your heart beyond when your time comes, and I'm grateful to have Millie tucked safely inside of mine.

next / previous / first

#1893 #alright that's one heavy deco sim shoot done #now to do the next one ;~; #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 storystelling #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #winifred baudelaire #lawrence baudelaire #oscar baudelaire #atticus baudelaire #millie thomas #beth herbert #jackson mcadams #louise mcadams

[bloody-bee-tea]

The Six Eyes

Suguru had hoped he and Satoru were good after exchanging gifts on Valentine’s day. Had thought so, really, because Satoru had a gift for him too, and he accepted Suguru’s and surely, that must mean something, right?

In Suguru’s world it at least means that nothing much will change, except that maybe they start holding hands and—if he’s really lucky—kiss on top of that too additionally to their already very touchy relationship.

He did not expect Satoru to evade him as if his life depends on it.

At first, Suguru thinks nothing of it. They are both busy these days, mission after mission piling up as if they are machines and not humans, or teenage boys at that. It’s only natural that they don’t see each other as much anymore.

But then things become strange.

Satoru doesn’t drop by his room after missions anymore. He stops crawling into Suguru’s bed in the middle of the night. He turns around on his heels when he sees Suguru coming and just yesterday Satoru honest to the gods teleported straight out of the kitchen when Suguru set foot into it.

Something is definitely wrong here and it’s affecting Suguru more than he really likes to admit.

It’s affecting him enough that he goes to Shoko, with the explicit intent to talk about his feelings for Satoru, which he would normally not even think of, no matter how close he and Shoko are.

“I am not liking that look,” Shoko greets him with when he sets foot into her office and Suguru slumps down in a chair.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters and Shoko immediately snaps to attention, clearly believing that it’s a medical issue.

“Did a curse get to you? What’s the symptoms?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Suguru tries to reassure her. “It’s just—I think I fucked up somehow with Satoru.”

A beat of silence.

“I can’t cure love sickness, if that’s what you’re asking,” Shoko then says, completely deadpan and Suguru drops his head on her table.

“I don’t want you to, not really. I just—he’s avoiding me.”

“Okay, that’s unusual,” Shoko admits, sitting down across from Suguru. “What happened before?”

Suguru takes a deep breath.

“We exchanged Valentine’s gifts,” he admits and Shoko whistles lowly.

“Good for you. Took you long enough,” she then says. “Gojo had something for you as well, I gather?”

“He did,” Suguru agrees, which makes this even more puzzling in his opinion.

If Satoru simply didn’t have anything for him, or if he’d outright refused Suguru’s gift, then his strangeness right now might make sense, kind of. But he had accepted Suguru’s gift, seemingly excited about it, too, and he in turn had given Suguru something of his own.

“And now he’s ghosting you?” Shoko wants to know and Suguru presses his head even harder into the table.

“He teleported out on me when I went to the kitchen. He saw me and then—poof. He was gone.”

“That—does indeed sound as if he’s ghosting you, what the hell,” Shoko mutters and awkwardly pets Suguru’s head. “Let me guess, he didn’t talk to you at all.”

“Of course not,” Suguru gives back. “And he’s not giving me the change to talk to him, either. He doesn’t come by anymore and when he sees me he practically bolts. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“What are you going to do if he admits that exchanging gifts was a mistake on his part?” Shoko asks him and just the thought nearly makes Suguru cry but then again—

“If it means he talks to me again, if we can go back to how we were before, I don’t even mind,” Suguru lowly admits. “I just—I miss him. He doesn’t come by at all anymore and I miss his stupid obnoxious personality and his touchiness and his immature jokes.”

“Oh dear,” Shoko mumbles under her breath. “You really got it bad, huh?”

“I do,” Suguru groans out. “What am I going to do?”

“I’d say talk to him,” Shoko slowly says, “but with how he’s ghosting you, that could be difficult.”

“You don’t say,” Suguru bitterly mumbles because if Satoru doesn’t even stay long enough to tell Suguru to fuck off, how are they ever going to clear this up?

“Have you tried avoiding him?” Shoko suggests and Suguru frowns. He even lifts his head so she can see it.

“What would that accomplish?”

“I mean, sure, he’s avoiding you. But you’re clearly not avoiding him. Maybe that’s the solution. Next time you almost run into him, try to leave first.”

“That—sounds so stupid.”

“So it sounds just like Satoru,” Shoko immediately replies. “If it doesn’t work, you can come back here for more awesome advise.”

“If this doesn’t work, your advise wasn’t awesome in the first place,” Suguru argues but he thinks it might be worth a try.

Satoru likes doing a whole lot of shit, from being annoying to outright mean, but he hates it when people do the same to him, so it might work.

If Suguru is lucky.

“Fine, I’ll try it,” he eventually relents and Shoko pats his head again.

“Good boy,” she mockingly says and Suguru bats her hand away.

“Gross,” he decides but still gives her a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess,” she replies. “Just a heads up though, if things do work out, I am not here to listen to any sickening details of your relationship. And I will use force to make you stop, if I have to.”

“You should tell that to Satoru,” Suguru grumbles, because if anyone is going to pester Shoko with details that should probably stay private, it’s not going to be Suguru.

“I will, too, no worries.”

“Fair then,” Suguru decides and heaves himself up. “I’ll go ignore Satoru now.”

He doesn’t like the thought; he already misses him as is and deliberately ignoring him makes Suguru’s stomach churn with unease.

He really did grow way too accustom to Satoru’s constant presence. It’s probably not a good thing to miss him this much, after just a few days, but it’s not as if Suguru can change it.

“Good luck with that,” Shoko cheerily says and gives him a thumbs up.

Suguru is probably going to need it, too.

~*~*~

It’s kind of easy, to turn the tables on Satoru. Suguru always had incredibly good reflexes and so it’s easy for him to catch sight of a white mop of hair and immediately turn around to change directions. He can’t quite teleport out of a room when he enters it and finds Satoru in there but he can walk out on him again and he knows he wins the rounds when he doesn’t hear the tell-tale pop of Satoru’s teleportation.

It takes Satoru two days to fold.

Suguru is lounging on his bed, trying to catch up on his reading even though his mind keeps straying to Satoru, when the door flies open and Satoru steps in.

Suguru does not smile in victory.

“Satoru,” he mildly greets him, not even turning his eyes away from the book, even though everything in him screams to do so.

Suguru hasn’t gotten a good look at Satoru in what feels like ages.

“You’re avoiding me,” Satoru huffs out and Suguru finally looks at him, one eyebrow raised.

“You avoided me first,” Suguru gives back and watches how Satoru slumps where he stands, nervously tapping his fingers against his thigh.

“I—you know, that wasn’t—fine,” he finally snaps out. “I did.”

Suguru knew, of course he knew, but still, the admission makes his heart drop to his stomach.

“Why?” he whispers out and Satoru looks everywhere but him.

The first time Suguru met Satoru he thought it creepy and uncanny, to have that strange blue-eyed gaze fixed upon him, but now he misses it something fierce.

He wishes he could make Satoru look at him again.

“I didn’t say everything I wanted to when I gave you that chocolate, because I chickened out,” Satoru confesses, his voice barely audible in the room. “There was something else.”

“Like what?” Suguru asks, finally putting his book down and giving Satoru his entire attention, even going so far as to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Like—I mean—there is this—you know?” Satoru rambles out, waving a hand around, clearly unable to put whatever it is into words, and Suguru’s mind is running wild.

And he’s only coming up with one thing.

Satoru didn’t want to give the chocolate to Suguru.

It makes him feel vaguely sick, but he tries his best not to let it show.

“I know,” he whispers out, praying that his voice doesn’t break over the words.

Of course Satoru wouldn’t want to give the chocolate to him, it was kind of delusional of Suguru to even believe so in the first place.

“Oh, that’s really good,” Satoru sighs out, his entire frame relaxing before he tenses up again. “Actually, it’s not. You can’t know. You don’t know. What do you know?”

The rapid fire words would make Suguru smile normally, but he’s too busy keeping a straight face imagining Satoru giving his chocolate to someone else and it takes everything Suguru has not to break down over that.

“You didn’t mean to give your chocolate to me. It was just—you panicked, right? I caught you off guard, but yours was meant for someone else. I should have known,” Suguru whispers and drags a hand over his face. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Satoru blurts out. “No, Suguru, that’s not—I got you dark chocolate. Do you know anyone else who enjoys that stupid, bitter stuff? That was definitely for you, I promise!”

It’s true, Satoru had given him Suguru’s preferred chocolate, so maybe he’s telling the truth.

Still, that doesn’t explain why Satoru would ignore him afterwards.

“I don’t get it then,” Suguru admits and even though he’s still confused as hell, he does breathe a little bit easier, knowing that Satoru did indeed intent to give the chocolate to him.

“Yeah, I know,” Satoru sighs out and crouches down where he stands, tucking his long legs against his chest and hiding his face in his knees. “It’s just—you’re going to be so grossed out,” he mutters. “I guess I didn’t want you turning away from me over it, so I didn’t say even though I intended to do it. But you’re turning away from me anyway, so what does it matter, really.”

“Okay, first of all, you were the one ignoring me,” Suguru corrects him. “I couldn’t even talk to you to get an explanation, so I had to do something to make you come to me. It was Shoko’s idea, really.”

“Of course it was,” Satoru mumbles with a small laugh.

“And second, I’m not going to turn away from you, not for anything. You could like, I don’t know, turn into a curse, and I wouldn’t. So don’t worry about it, Satoru.”

Satoru freezes for a moment before he lets out a desperate little laugh.

“You’re not that far off, you know,” he admits, and instantly Suguru goes cold with panic.

“You’re turning into a curse? How? What happened? How are you feeling?”

Suguru gets up from the bed so he can kneel in front of Satoru, his hands hovering over his shoulders, afraid to touch because he doesn’t know if it might cause Satoru some pain.

“Satoru, talk to me,” he urges him on when Satoru stays quiet for too long and when Satoru finally does lift his head to look at him his expression is so grave that for a second Suguru fears he’s dying.

“The Six Eyes,” Satoru starts and promptly avoids his eyes again.

“Is something wrong with them? Are they hurting you?”

Suguru knows that they cause Satoru no small amount of discomfort, providing him with much more information than he can handle and being incredibly sensitive to light to boot, but Satoru never mentioned that they outright hurt him.

“No, it’s—fuck, why is this so goddamn hard,” Satoru harshly says, pressing his face into his knees again.

Since it doesn’t seem as if he’s dying or in any amount of pain right now, Suguru finally reaches out for him and pulls Satoru into his chest. Satoru tips forward easily, resting against Suguru as if that is where he belongs, and if Suguru had anything to say about it, it would be like that.

But he doesn’t get to decide that for the both of them and clearly whatever it is, it’s something that has Satoru think Suguru will turn away from him over it.

“I’m here, Satoru,” Suguru promises him, voice low and insistent. “I’m not going to leave you, no matter what.”

“Yeah, you say that now,” Satoru bitterly mumbles and then he pulls away from Suguru again. “It’s not a figure of speech, the Six Eyes,” he finally says and then pulls up his shirt.

Suguru’s eyes drop down immediately, roaming over the planes of Satoru’s stomach and while a small part of his brain is definitely losing it over the sight, most of his brain is trying to process the fact that there’s a blue eye at the side of Satoru’s stomach.

When Satoru blinks, the eye does as well.

“Uhm,” Suguru very eloquently says and Satoru drops his shirt.

“I literally have Six Eyes,” Satoru admits, his face turned away from Suguru. “Two obviously stay right where they are supposed to be but the other four,” he cuts off with a shrug. “It’s a surprise every morning, where they end up. They are ever shifting, ever changing positions and it’s—I know it’s freaky. I don’t blame you if you want nothing to do with any of that.”

“Is that why you sometimes wear a turtleneck, even when it’s stupid hot out?” is the first thing out of Suguru’s mouth, because he had wondered about that.

Even more so than the face that Satoru never changed with him in the room and adamantly refused to go to the community showers together.

“One of them likes to show up on my neck,” Satoru confirms with a nod. “It’s fine when they are on my torso or legs, but sometimes they show up on my arms or neck.”

“And once on your face, right?” Suguru asks, thinking back to the time Satoru wore a mask the entire day. He claimed he felt sick, but he hadn’t sounded like it at all and now it starts to make sense.

“It showed up right here,” Satoru says and taps his cheek. “Stupid fucking thing.”

“And you think—what? I’m going to run away screaming from you now?” Suguru asks, done processing the fact that his boyfriend might be a bit more freaky than the average person but then again, Suguru already knew that from the start.

“It’s disturbing, isn’t it? Disgusting even.”

“Satoru, I swallow curses on a daily basis. This,” he gestures at Satoru’s stomach, “doesn’t even really make the cut for me.” Suguru briefly presses his lips together. “Besides, I always thought your eyes are extraordinarily pretty. I don’t mind having four more of them to look at.”

“More like having four more of them look at you,” Satoru corrects him before the words seem to finally hit him. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t,” Suguru is quick to reassure him.

“I’m told my eyes are freaky. My normal ones. It’s not like anyone knows about the other four.”

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Suguru replies, because to him, they are. They might be all-seeing and unsettling with their unusual colour but Suguru only ever found them gorgeous.

“Are you—just saying that to, I don’t know, get into my pants, or whatever?” Satoru wants to know as if he and Suguru didn’t exchange chocolates with the explicit intent of being boyfriends.

“I am saying that because I’m in love with you and I honestly don’t care. I like you how you are. And honestly, if anything could turn me off, it would be your horrid personality, but even that I am helplessly endeared by, so I doubt there’s anything you could reveal to me that would do the trick.”

It’s only half a joke, because Suguru does love all of Satoru, bratty personality included.

“You—seriously?” Satoru asks, clearly unsure about it and Suguru leans forward to rest their foreheads together.

“Seriously. I don’t mind, not at all.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out and his posture finally loses all of its tension. “That’s good. That’s great even. I’m in love with you, too.”

“Good,” Suguru whispers and presses a kiss to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. “Can I see the other ones?”

“Suguru!” Satoru almost yells out. “You just want to see me naked, you pervert!”

“I actually just want to do this,” he presses a kiss over each of Satoru’s visible eyes, “to all of your eyes. They are too pretty to not be cherished.”

“You’re such a freak,” Satoru gets out, though his voice sounds strangled. “You really don’t care?”

“I really, honestly don’t care,” Suguru reassures him.

“Fine,” Satoru says after a short moment. “You can start with the one on my stomach, then.”

“Gladly,” Suguru immediately agrees, but instead of doing that, he pulls Satoru in for a real kiss.

“That’s not my stomach,” Satoru complaints when they part but there’s a pretty blush on his face.

“No, but your mouth is very pretty, too,” Suguru says with a smile and kisses Satoru again.

He’s going to do that a lot, now that he can.

“Mh, I know,” Satoru hums out, his lips brushing against Suguru’s. “Yours, too.”

For that, Suguru has to kiss him once more and then he does it again, simply because he’s allowed to.

It takes them a while to get to the eye on Satoru’s stomach, but Suguru doesn’t mind, because he wants to be thorough with this.

It wouldn’t do to let Satoru think that he isn’t pretty or loved and Suguru is going to kiss that knowledge right into Satoru at every opportunity he gets. He’ll make his way to the Six Eyes eventually.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #misunderstandings #fluff #hurt/comfort #getting together #first kiss #lil eldritch abomination satoru #he's so important to me

[wannaseewhatshangin]

HEY could you do a dally x reader were the reader is a soc and the gang is a little skeptical of dally dating a soc they still excepted the but they’re just a little skeptical about it. Anyway, the reader invites all of them to a party on the last day of summer, and they all go, and the soc’s try to start an argument about how they don’t belong here and the reader stands up for the gang and it to changes there opinion about the reader and dally’s like in ’awe’ and thanking the reader for sticking up for the gang?

If you can’t the ignore this request hope you have a good day/night :)🤍

Omg yesssss! I was just about to go tf to sleep but I just couldn’t ignore this request.

“Maybe she’s usin em .” Steve said, out of the blue as him and Soda worked on a new car that came in.

Soda stopped and looked at him.

“Who, y/n?” He asked, not completely surprised but not totally convinced.

Steve nodded as he put some parts together.

“I mean, why else would a Soc want dally? No offense to dally but, I never woulda though that he actually woulda taken a liking towards her.”

“I guess your right.”

And what a coincidence that the Curtis gang and two-bit were having the exact same conversation.

“Hey, how do y’all feel about Y/n?” Two-bit asked the Curtis brothers.

Darry just shrugged.

“Shoot, ain’t my kid, ain’t my problem. I mean, I care about Dally but if he wants to let a soc break his heart, ima let him.” Darry stated, basically giving out his opinion.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to er. I’ve seen er before but..you know.” Pony said, shifting his position on the couch, returning back to his copy of “Gone With The Wind”

Johnny sat up and snuffed out his cigarette.

“I don’t mind her.”

“What about you, Two?” Pony asked his sideburned buddy.

“I mean, I don’t know. I think she’s just gonna hurt Dally. Hey! You know, what if she just wants something?”

That all agreed.

Just then, Dallas walked through the door.

“Hey guys.” He said, as he shut the door behind him.

“My girl wants y’all to come to her party tonight, she wants to meet y’all. And she’s super excited.”

The gang didn’t know what to think.

They felt off.

“I would love to.” Darry replied.

Dallas turned to the rest.

“What about y’all? Y’all down?”

The gang nodded.

They really wanted to meet the girl that had Dallas Winston wrapped around her finger.

You were a nervous wreck.

What if your hair looked crazy, you thought as you brushed your hair for the 50th time.

You put lights up and set out a speaker with the best music you had.

You didn’t want to be a bother.

You just wanted to meet his friends.

You wanted to make a good first impression.

You heard the doorbell ring.

You ran down and let some people in, telling them where the food and drinks were.

You took coats and hung them up.

You gave everybody bracelets, which you handmade.

Dallas opened the door, letting himself in.

“You look nice, babe.” He said, giving you a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Dally. What did they say?” You asked nervously.

“Oh, yeah they’re comin.” He said

You were scared.

You ran around, trying to make everything look absolutely perfect.

You straightened up pictures.

You fixed your hair constantly.

You changed shoes about a hundred times.

You settled on a pair of rose gold heels.

“Babe, you look great, don’t get so nervous.” Dallas reassured you.

You calmed down and later on the doorbell rang.

You got pale.

The closer you got to the door, the clamier your hands got.

You opened the door to see what looked like greasers.

They must be Dally’s friends.

“Hello everybody. I’m Y/n- oh uh. I made bracelets for everyone.” You said, passing out the bracelets.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Darry said, shaking your hand.

You could tell he was the dad of the group.

“Same to you.” You replied.

By the time you got to two-bit you were laughing.

You don’t know what happened.

When you and two-bit looked at each other you both were laughing your asses off.

You invited them inside.

“The food is over there. And over there is the couch and the tv.” You said, pointing.

Dallas just watched you in the corner.

Then a group of your “friends” walked up to you.

“Those don’t look like Socs.” Your friend, Mary sneered.

You looked at her, shocked at her harsh words.

But you stayed quiet.

The harassing continued.

Bobby, her boyfriend looked at the gang and laughed.

“They don’t belong here. They are dirty. They don’t belong with us socs.”

You looked him right in the eyes, absolutely fuming.

“Look here, Bobby. You have no right to treat such lovely people like that!” You yelled, catching everyone’s attention, even the gang.

“They are human beings too! You guys are cruel! And I would rather be a greaser than what you guys call “upper class” because your attitude is just disrespectful and disgusting.”

You were getting angrier by the second.

“You guys are pigs! And if anything, I need some thrill in my life, because what you guys provide is nothing but..but bullshit!” You screamed. You never cursed that much.

Especially not in front of so many people.

You stepped closer to Bobby.

“Oh and, Mary. Did I tell you about Sophie?” You said with a smirk.

She looked at her boyfriend.

“Who is that?” She asked him.

“Nobody-“

You cut him off

“His side broad. Yeah. I told. Because people like you don’t deserve my respect.”

The gang was standing by Dallas, absolutely shocked.

Dallas, was in awe.

“That’s my girl.” He thought to himself.

“So if you don’t mind, get the hell out!!” You were fuming, opened the door wide open for them, Bobby and Mary arguing on the way out.

This probably ruined your chances of being friends with his family.

Later on the party was over.

You told people goodbye as they walked out, saying they had a great time.

When everyone was gone, you felt strong arms pick you up and swing you in a circle.

But it wasn’t Dallas.

It was Two-bit.

“Thank you! You have no idea how long I’ve hated him!” He said, setting you down.

You laughed.

“No problem.”

“Honestly, we thought you were gonna be just like every other soc in this town. But what you showed me tonight missy, is something I’ll never forget, and you are apart of us now.” Darry said, giving you a hug.

“She ain’t no soc!” Steve said, making the gang laugh.

Everyone else left the party and you sat in the couch.

You felt arms around you.

“Thank you so much, doll.”

You were a bit confused.

“What for?” You questioned.

“For sticking up for my friends.”

You looked at him shocked.

“Well they shouldn’t treat y’all like that. That’s just insan-“ you were cut off by a kiss.

It was soft.

“I love you.” He said as he pulled away.

You both laid on the couch and watched movies all night.

Oh boy, did you love your man.

#dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston x reader #sodapop headcanons #johnny cade #johnny cade headcanons #johnny cade x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy headcanons #ponyboy x reader

[rmoonstoner]

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, volatile emotions, dats a big boi, dats an angry boi, reader gets hurt, whumpy, hit-you-in-the-feels, why are they so sweet?

***

Summary:

Miguel goes out on patrol with you and your friends. Something noteworthy happens. We see a side of your ex that you don't get to.

***

Chapter 6 - Panades, Belize

This empanada is from Belize. Like many other Empanadas, they are usually crescent shaped and packed full of white fish and a variety of beans, sometimes with cheese and other meats. The shell is made of corn flour, giving it a yellow color, and is deep fried in lard until fully cooked and golden and crispy on the outside. It is typically serced with salsa made of onions, cabbage, and peppers.

***

The next morning.

Everyone was seated around the table, except for Stephen and Miguel. Stephen had made it clear that there would be a mandatory meeting this morning, before anyone was allowed to leave for the day.

"What do you think? Is the doc gonna find a missing Spider?" Gwen asked.

"Pffft. If that man is smart, he wouldn't dare leave." America laughed as she jotted down some quick notes for class without even looking up.

"I dunno. He broke my arm. It takes a lot to do that." Peter huffed. America stopped and looked up at Peter with a deadpan expression.

"He what?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. Stephen fixed me up as good as new. Miguel even apologized! I believe his apology was genuine."

"That's not good enough, Peter! He owes you, now. He broke into your building that you inherited from Tony. He beat you up and shattered your arm. You're lucky Stephen was available!" Gwen complained, while America hummed in agreement.

"Shhh, I hear them coming down the stairs!" You hissed at them both and you picked up your tea to feign like you were occupied.

Stephen had Miguel marching into the room in street clothing. Miguel was in simple blue sweatpants, some white sneakers, red socks, and a tight fitting black tee with a faded Led Zeppelin logo on the front. Miguel had a frown and he seemed to squint at the bright lights of the kitchen. He grumbled as he took a seat next to you and started to rub his eyes generously.

"Damn. You look awful." Gwen declared while looking at the large man that was hunched over the table.

"Mmmhmmm." Miguel huffed back. When he removed his hands, he was still squinting badly. He looked like he was hungover.

"He will be fine. He's light sensitive." Stephen said while the lights dimmed and the curtains in the kitchen windows closed. He set down a pair of red sunglasses beside Miguel and patted his back.

"These have special lenses. A friend of mine, Doctor Hank McCoy, developed them for a colleague of his. They should help with your sensitive eyes and also if you happen to have hellfire spewing from them." As he explained the glasses, Miguel snatched them up and put them on.

Stephen was quick to set the table for breakfast with a simple hand gesture and he motioned for everyone to dig in. The moment a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of Miguel, he took it and guzzled it down. He didn't even make a face at the temperature, and merely sighed happily as the caffeine flooded his system.

Everyone ate and talked. Stephen and Peter were discussing the genetic testing he was doing at the lab, and how it was set back a few months for obvious reasons. One of which was sitting there, trying to be invisible. Gwen was helping America with her notes by making flash cards versions of them.

And that left you and Miguel to sit there awkwardly. Miguel was listening to Peter talk about his experiments. You sipped your tea and poked the food around your plate until it was eventually all gone. When breakfast was done and cleaned up, America left through a portal, while Peter and Gwen followed her.

"You're free to leave, if you want, but please remember that when I summon your presence, you better come running." Stephen said as he waved his hand dismissively.

You gawked at him. Whatever discussion they had, they certainly weren't letting on about anything they talked about. Miguel was quick to get up and leave, only stopping briefly at the door to say his goodbyes.

"So, uh… I'll see ya tonight? Sanctum roof?" You asked. He sighed and nodded.

"Yeah. The doctor said I have to stay within sight of one of you four. I assume that includes the black and red Spider-Man?"

"Yeah. He was the new kid, before I came along." You laughed and rubbed the back of your neck. Miguel chuckled and turned to leave.

"If I show up early, can we get pizza again?" He turned back to give you a dopey grin. You blushed and agreed.

"Yeah. We can get pizza." Miguel gave you that adorable fangy grin and he left before he said something stupid.

He made his way down the steps and towards the general direction to his hotel. Miguel's brain was filled with images of the night ahead.

The doctor had basically given him an old school vibe of; 'If you hurt my daughter in anyway, shape, or form, I'll blast you with my boomstick.' The daughter being you, and the boomstick probably being some sort of magic spell pulled from the depths of Hell or something.

The other Spiders were mentioned as well, with him being just as clear about not hurting them either. Miguel understood why. He did kind of severely damage Peter's arm.

But, the man made it very clear he wouldn't tolerate Miguel playing around with you if he wasn't serious, or if you weren't interested. Stephen said, no, he demanded, that Miguel was absolutely not allowed to come on to you first. No intentional flirtatious behaviour or comments, unless you initiated it first, any sex that could happen, he needed your explicit and coherent consent.

No drugs. No alcohol.

No consent. No sex.

It was terrifying and awkward for Miguel to sit there like a shrinking lump in a massive chair. He felt like some awkward and scared teenager in the fifties, and not a grown ass man from the not so distant future, with superpowers and a couple of doctorates.

The fact he was technically a doctor as well didn't even cross Stephen's mind. He knew first hand that having a doctorate didn't make you a good person. He was more worried about the kind of person Miguel was. Miguel didn't even know that yet. He had lost who he was and he was still figuring himself out.

Miguel suddenly smiled at the thought of the major loophole to the wizard's words.

If you initiated the flirting first, he could roll with it. Stephen didn't give him any sort of level to adhere by, except for explicit sober consent from you.

He had a sudden thought that you were still watching him through the window, and he stopped to look over his shoulder. You were there, up on the window where people normally shouldn't be, smiling, your face lighting up when he locked eyes with you and you began to wave in a silly manner. He waved back and felt his face heat up even more. The heat was threatening to sneak on down to his nether regions, but with a quick thought process change, he saved himself from a surprise erection.

What also helped that surprise erection disappear, were the sudden 'ooo's' and 'ah's' and kissing sounds coming from Lyla.

"Shhh. Stop it. Please?" He covered the faceplate of the watch with that deep heat in his cheeks returning full force.

"You like her." She giggled back.

Miguel didn't answer. He started to walk again and picked up his pace as he swiped away Lyla's face and began going through his messages. Stephen had given Lyla the app details and she downloaded the program. It was an app that Peter and the others had worked on for communications between the Spiders and the different hero factions they were a part of.

He saw he was added to three chats. One was the room for the Spiders, and it was named 'Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiders'. Since being added only that morning, there had been an overwhelmingly large amount of texts. He decided to wait until he got back to his hotel to check those.

Another was set to an unnamed chat that contained Stephen, America, Peter, and you. He assumed that was the house chat.

And the last chat thread had been started with just your name at the top of the box. That one made a deep grin form onto his face. It was a simple, yet funny greeting.

5:01am

You:

Hello there, handsome. It's me, the bane of your existence! Lol.

He happily replied and sent back a message.

9:23am

Miguel:

Haha, very funny.

As he was sending the message, he heard a car door open to his left. With a quick sidestep, he avoided the door. A man got out and slammed the door shut as he turned away from Miguel. His collar was up, hiding his face, while the man wore a newsboy cap with the rim over his eyes. The man lit up a cigarette and appeared to be leaning on the cab as he typed away on his phone. He was clearly agitated.

Miguel didn't want to have a hassle with some random guy right after leaving your presence, while still in full view of the Sanctum. He promised the wizard that he would behave himself during his stay here.

That cabbie brought the phone up his ear, and his voice went from frustrated and angry to calm and collected. He wasn't calm for very long, and he started to cry and rub at his face with his sleeve as he pleaded into the microphone.

"Hola. Last call for now. I'll try again tomorrow if I haven't heard from ya by then.-" The sound of that man's voice hit Miguel's ears and he felt a knot twist in his gut. He sounded so God damned familiar, and he couldn't place why.

*- I miss you, my pretty little star, mi estrella. Te extraño mucho. Please consider giving me a call. Te amo…"

And there it was.

The Spanish accent that sounded a little too close to his own. The jet black hair that was slicked under the back of the man's hat and over his olive skin. The little nickname he had heard clear as day in his dream. The one the grey suited man had affectionately referred to you as, right before Miguel took his place.

He took a quick glance at the license plate and subtly took a picture of it with his watch. He even got the man in the photo frame as well. After, he took a video of him typing away on his phone and he turned his head, as if he were about to look at Miguel.

Miguel was quick to speed up and leave, turning down an alleyway and going to his hotel as he shot you a text to message him if you needed him for any reason. The man only caught a streak of him leaving and thought nothing of it as he got back into his cab and drove off.

***

When Miguel left, you found yourself quickly clambering up the wall to the large circular symbol in the glass. You peered out the window to watch him walk away while Stephen chuckled and gave you privacy. You were sure you looked insane, like a gecko stuck to a glass tank, sideways, face close to the glass, but not exactly touching it.

Miguel's ass looked quite nice in those sweats as he was walking away. Your eyes followed him as his form got smaller and smaller. He turned around and saw you, which made you blush and bite your lower lip. You waved. He waved. You smiled. He smiled. He turned around and kept going, and your eyes lowered back down to his rear. It wasn't until he nearly collided with a car door, when your eyes darted away from that scrumptious bottom.

Your heart dropped.

It was Jake. He was wearing a scowl as he absently tossed a middle finger at Miguel for nearly getting in his way and he slammed his door. The sound was so loud, you could hear it. You even saw Miguel wince and quickly move away from him, but not too far as he stared at the audacity of the other man. It didn't look like he had seen Jake's face. If he did, you just knew he would have stopped dead in his tracks and confronted him.

You watched as your heart sped up, thudding harshly in your chest as Jake didn't even look back at Miguel while he pulled out his phone. You gulped as you heard your phone down on the table start to ring and vibrate against the old wood. All you could do was dumbly look down at it while it skittered about making a horrible buzzing noise accompanied with Jake's ringtone.

After six rings, it stopped and the lights went dim. You sighed in relief and relaxed, but then it started to buzz again. You let go of the window and dropped to the floor, eyes not leaving the device. You brought both hands to rest against the table as you leaned over it, glaring when you saw his name flashing across the screen, along with the one photo of his stupid face in that stupid hat of his that you forgot to remove from the phone contact list.

Again the phone stopped, and this time it went to voice-mail. The phone was quiet for a moment, until the voice-mail registered and the screen lit up while the phone vibrated to alert you to a new message.

You let go another heavy breath of air and relaxed, resting your head against the desk and sighing. Maybe he had given up, maybe he wasn't. You had no way of knowing.

However, you did know that Jake must have come back and seen the car missing. He must have panicked when he saw that the house was stripped bare of anything you owned. He was probably actively looking for you.

But he had no idea where you were, right?

Right?

You bit your lower lip and picked up the phone, going straight to look at the alerts and call history. You could see one from Miguel, but it had to wait until you inspected the ones from Jake, first.

Jake had actually called you five times. He left four voice mails. Before listening to them, you checked your text messages. He had sent you around ten of them, right after you had sent Miguel a message and put the phone down for breakfast.

***

6:37am

Jake:

Heya, doll. I'll be coming into town in thirty. See you soon. I missed you a whole lot.

7:02am

Jake:

You still like those Redbulls? I got a couple cases of the ones ya like.

7:07am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

7:08am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

7:10am

Jake:

Is this a joke? Real funny.

7:16am

Jake:

Mi estrella? Hello?

7:21am

Jake:

I talked to the neighbors. They said they saw you packing and getting rid of things. Did you go to the school you were talking about? I must have forgotten.

7:29am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

7:32am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

7:43am

Jake:

Where are you?

7:46am

Jake:

I found the sale papers for the car. Why did you sell it? Was there something wrong with it? Why did you sell it to Clint?

8:07am

Jake:

I called Clint. He said you sold it to him like two weeks after I left. Said you didn't need it and never used it. I'm not mad or upset. It's your car. I'm going to go grab some breakfast and call ya in a bit.

8:45am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

8:50am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

9:13am

Jake:

I am getting worried, here. At least respond to me, so I know you're safe.

9:20am

You have missed a call from Jake Lockley.

9:27am

You have a missed call from Jake Lockley.

9:28am

You have a new voice-mail from Jake Lockley.

9:30am

Jake:

Please, sweetheart. Please reply. I know I said we were on a break, but I came back. I just had to see you. I have only a week, before I gotta go back. I'm sorry. Please, mi estrella?

The messages were sweet and sad. Your heart panged for Jake. He was acting lost without you. He wasn't even showing any signs of being angry. He was clearly worried about you and your safety.

You dialed up your voice-mail and waited to hear his voice.

"Hola! How is my beautiful girl, eh? I see a lot of empty space. What's going on here? Are you renovating? The mailbox is pretty full."

When the message finished playing, you frowned. He sounded nervous, like he was pretending to be optimistic and happy. You could hear the disappointment in his voice. You waited for the next one to play.

"Did you… Did you go to that university that you were talking about? Ya said something about a Stark scholarship a few times. It looks to me like… Like ya moved out. I hope not. There's literally nothing of yours left here, except the junk mail. Uh, anyways, please shoot me a call back."

Now his voice had melted into a hollow tone. You almost cried, but you held them back.

You remembered how violent and volatile he was towards others. Miles had seen him beat the crap out of a few people. Gwen had reported seeing him yelling at gang members... And both Peter and Stephen had some not so nice things to say about him. What if his next voice-mails were rude and belligerent?

What if he threatened you?

"Hola, sweetheart! I am just calling to be sure you know that I support whatever decision you are making. I know you're probably mad at me right now. I get that. That's okay. If you don't want to see me again, please just let me know. I promise I'll leave you alone, once I know that you are okay. Please?"

Your heart broke at his begging and pleading. His voice was cracking and he sounded like he was sniffling. Was he crying? He never did that around you.

"Hola. Last call for now. I'll try again tomorrow if I haven't heard from ya by then. I miss you, my pretty little star, mi estrella. Te extraño mucho. Please consider giving me a call. Te amo…"

By now Jake sounded quite depressed. He wasn't yet giving up, but for today he claimed that he was.

But wait… Did he just admit to loving you? You had to play the message again, and it made you feel both extremely good, and terribly sad.

Now you were crying as you set the phone down. You paced around the room for a long moment, then remembered he was just down the street. With a quick couple of jumps and flips, you got back up to the window and looked to see if he was still there. You completely missed your phone's muffled buzzing again as it sat on your sweater.

He was just getting back into his cab and you cursed to yourself. There would be no way to chase him down with the way he drove. You had a hunch he was looking around the city for any sign of you. You thought about telling someone of what you saw, but then that would just freak everyone out for no reason. You decided to wait and see what happened and kept it a secret for now. You weren't going to reply, not yet anyways, but he'd know you read the messages.

***

Jake was anxious as he walked through a park he used to take you to. It was close to the bridge, with his favorite taco truck near by. He always enjoyed looking at the lights up there. He once admitted to you that he would sit here and smoke weed while watching the Spider-Folk go about their business across the buildings in the night sky.

What he didn't reveal, was that he was there to specifically watch you. How he adored your outfit and the way you'd gracefully leap about with those lights, or swing with your webs. He missed coming out at night for his cabbie job, because he spent most of the night following you around, making sure you were safe.

He even kept his secrets to himself, secrets that would have made everything easier for the both of you if only you knew.

It was the middle of the day, and he sighed as he sat down on a bench with a couple of pork carnitas and watched the boats on the water go by. He chain smoked for a while and eventually went back to his car to drive around for a few hours. He didn't catch any sight of you, but he did see Bruce Banner walking with Natasha Romanoff, hand in hand.

That image made him feel smaller. He had that with you, and he just had to go and fuck it up by not being honest with you.

By nightfall, he found himself driving lazily down a strip of cheap motels with bars and pubs across the street. He wanted to keep himself occupied and his mind off of you, so he went looking for fares.

A few hours in, he'd made a good chunk of money. A bunch of college frat boys needed rides up to a dormitory, and that took up most of his time to make three separate trips. He didn't mind. It was a fair and honest rate and they all tipped him quite well. One of them even handed him a bottle of whiskey and a bag of weed, before he stumbled off to his dorm.

Jake was just making a turn down Bleeker street when he noticed a sparkle of orange on the roof. His foot hit the pedal and he sped up to get closer. Once he was close enough, he parked the cab and got out to get a better look.

There on the roof was one of those portals he'd heard so much about. Jake frowned and watched as you leapt on through and set off some lights into the air. A moment later, a black and red Spider-Man was zipping towards the roof from the left, while the white Ghost-Spider came flying down from the right.

Jake's frown grew wider at the sight of that, but he was relieved that he didn't see the large Spider-Man. He was almost going to call you again, but when he checked his messages, he saw that you left him on read.

He sighed and almost gave up. He decided to have another cigarette and a drink from the booze he was given as he waited a few more minutes, before he would consider leaving you alone.

He was half way through his cigarette when a very tall man walked past him while talking to his watch. He was wearing a baseball cap, his hair falling out the sides and hiding his face. He was wearing sunglasses. At night. Jake raised an eyebrow, but the man was fully occupied. Whatever. He wasn't important. It didn't matter anyways, as the guy just dipped into the pizza place and out of sight.

His attention was caught by the OG Spider-Man walking through the portal, and you going back inside. He grumbled about that, hoping you'd come back out soon.

***

It was exactly an hour before the meet up time, and Miguel was patiently waiting in line to make the pizza order. He was getting what he got last time, while you had sent him a list of what everyone else wanted. There was an extra large pepperoni and mushroom for Miles and Gwen, a pesto linguini for the doctor, and two boxes of wings for you and Peter. After he ordered and got the food, he made his way back to the Sanctum.

On his short little walk, he passed by a cabbie faced away from him that was smoking and drinking a rye and coke in a can. The light was off on the cab, and the man looked exhausted as he blankly stared ahead and power smoked what smelled like weed to Miguel. He chuckled and passed by the poor tired man without another thought, without even looking at his face.

It was New York at night after all.

When Miguel arrived at the Sanctum doors, you greeted him and beamed at the food in his arms

"Heya, big guy! Good to see you!" You said while grabbing his arm. With a tug, you went trotting over to the library, Miguel happily following you and enjoying your hand on his bicep. The door closed itself and Miguel noticed, finding it creepy.

"Stephen! The food is here! Can you please open up a portal to the roof, again? His hands are full." You asked the doctor, who had been peacefully doing Sudoku a moment ago. He looked up at you, then at the bags in Miguel's hands, then raised a brow.

"Oh, uh, before we go up, here's your green pasta." Miguel quickly handed the man his take out box. Stephen's mouth just barely curled upwards, showing Miguel that the man was appreciative of the meal.

"Thank you. The others are waiting upstairs." Stephen said as he opened a portal and went right to work unboxing and eating his food with chopsticks that appeared from thin air. When you got through the portal, Miles stood up and pointed.

"That's the guy?!" He was not subtle, nor was he quiet about his shock and clear disdain for seeing Miguel's face.

"Yes, Miles. That's the guy." Gwen said as she grabbed his arm and tugged him back a bit. The young man was furious to see that face.

"Ya got some nerve, Lockley! Showing your face after what you did to her!" Miles hissed. In an instant Gwen had slapped her hand over his mouth and quietly apologized to Miguel. You decided to speak up and explain.

"Miles. This is Miguel O'Hara. This is not Jake Lockley. Yes, they look a lot alike, but this man isn't my ex. He is one of us. Please welcome him."

"Yeah. He's alright." Peter piped up. Miguel gave him a confused looking eyebrow raise at the lack of mentioning the broken arm. Was Peter just going to pretend it didn't happen? Either way, his calmness was bleeding through to Miles, and the young man calmed down enough to sit.

"Miguel will be patrolling with us from now on. I figure having a massive brick wall on the team will help out with all the smaller Spiders we have." Peter continued as he dug into the food.

Okay. So it did look like he wasn't going to mention the arm.

"What powers does he have?" Miles asked.

"Uh, the usual spider stuff. I have super strength, stamina, speed, agility, dexterity, durability… I can jump thirty feet, more if I absolutely have to. I have sharp fangs that secrete a paralyzing toxin…" He opened his mouth and showed Miles his teeth.

"... Oh, and I have retractable claws." He finished as he held his hands up to show his talons. Miles gawked then looked up at Miguel's face.

"What spider bit you? Did you see it?" Miles asked. Miguel's face scrunched up in annoyance.

"Uh… Well, about that… I did this to myself."

"What!?"

"Yeah… I was experimenting with genetics, and I had a sample of some superhuman Spider DNA, then an accident happened at work, and well… This happened. I bulked up over night, got taller, and I could see better… But I now have an intolerance to bright lights." He explained it like it wasn't a big deal. You suspected there was more to it, but you didn't dare ask in front of the others.

You just wanted to get through tonight.

***

"I don't understand. We have business to attend to, my son." A gravelly voice boomed through the silent night.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I have time." Jake's voice replied. The sounds of metal clicked and snapped, and a flame lit the dark alley up once again. His face was visible, a white stick stuck in the corner of his mouth as he puffed away.

"You have exactly seven days. Seven days, and you go back to Egypt, no matter what." The louder voice hissed, while the quieter and calmer man shot a death glare at the other.

"Mierda, get off my back. You know I'll get us back there in time."

"Are you sure? You said that the last time, and Steven woke up in a ditch, covered in blood, when he had just been at work for a double shift." The comment drew a string of silent curses from Jake as he tapped his cigarette.

"That was my mistake. I didn't get back before the sun came up. At least there was a dead deer on the road, so he just assumed he hit it."

"On his bicycle? Really?"

"Whaddya want from me? They still have no idea I exist."

"Uh huh. They also have no idea you've been dicking down a Spider for the last three years, while Marc's been married to Layla for half of that time."

"It doesn't matter. They broke up when she found out about you."

"That's what you think. Marc left of his own accord and he lied to her about me. Steven wants them to go back to her."

"Not gonna happen. I just know if Steven and Marc see my sweet Galaxy-Spider, they'll love her, too. They'll forget all about their Scarlet Scarab."

"What? You think they will just magically forget about their wife?"

"No, but they will choose her over Layla. I am sure of it. Besides, Steven only just found out about Marc and Layla. He's only ever kissed her once." Jake argued as he summoned his suit.

"Jake, my son… Will they not be furious to find out there's another alter, and that he's been in a committed relationship for this long, with absolutely no sign of it? You basically made Marc into a cheating scumbag, without his knowledge, and Steven by association as he's made it clear that he wants Layla."

"It's different. We are different. Different lives-"

"But will she see it that way? What about Layla? She doesn't deserve this shit, and she's Taweret's Avatar now. She is fully aware that Marc has DID." The old bird said simply. Silence permeated the air as Jake power smoked the rest of his cigarette. Khonshu cleared his throat, then continued.

"And what of your precious little star Spider? Do you think she's going to be happy to find out about Layla? Or that she's married to Marc?"

More silence as Jake refused to look at his boss.

"You really think she's just going to jump back into your arms after you left like that?"

"Of course she will, it's a silent understanding."

"Riiight. And this has absolutely nothing to do with that explicit nightmare you had the other night?"

More silence.

"You better keep the dark suit on, then. It's harder to see than your white and black suit." The loud voice rumbled.

Jake didn't reply as he snuffed his smoke out between his gloved fingers and threw the butt away. He straightened his jacket and adjusted his tie while looking at himself in the windshield of the yellow taxi.

"Mierda …" Once satisfied, a dark grey mask slowly materialized onto his face, stitching itself up over his left eye. He slowly removed his hat and threw it inside of the trunk of the cab, then turned to watch the Sanctum.

He saw four different colored lines zip across the sky to a tall building, while multiple blobs of lights were deployed in the sky. Soon after, five colorful shapes were dashing across the horizon. Jake scowled when he saw another, much larger Spider with them. He took a deep breath and set off in a run to follow them in the shadows.

***

The night was going…

Well, it was going.

Between the four of you, you managed to nab a few gangsters each and drop them off at the police station. You had performed nicely, and had even forgotten the fact that Miguel was a new addition to the team. He seemed to understand what you were doing and didn't need to be verbally told.

Miles was eager to show Miguel his own powers, by demonstrating them on the four guys, right before he had caught them, while Miguel watched them drop like electrocuted flies. Gwen wasn't eager to show off at all, and her and Peter had stayed by the group they had already collected. That just left three guys to round up, and you went after them once Miles began to tie up the ones he grabbed.

Miguel was quick to follow you. He waited for your signals, and he followed your nonverbal commands perfectly. When you pointed to two guys trying to make their way through a crowded street where people were leaving from the clubs and bars. They were obviously trying to blend in, and it almost worked, but your eyes spotted them easily, as did Miguel's. Unfortunately you didn't see where the third one went.

You each picked a side of the street, concealing yourselves in the shadows as you followed them to the bus terminal by the club owned by a local gang leader. If they went inside, you would lose them, and then it would be you and Miguel tucking tail and running.

Miguel found an opening and he gave you a look and quick gesture towards the one that was going around the back of the building. You nodded, and he shot off towards the man at a terrifying speed that sent vibrations through the pavement that you could clearly feel.

That left the other guy, now leaving the safety of the crowds at a run. He moved fast for a big and out of shape guy, but you were certain that you could catch him in time. You pulled some orbs of light into existence right in front of the guy to surprise him. He screamed and swerved away from the gang hideout.

Shooting a few webs at his legs, you managed to catch him. Just as the thrill of it hit your veins, you were hit over the back of the head and passed out.

***

Miguel had seen it all happen. He was tasked to take down the one guy, while she was sent to fetch the other. He made quick work of his target, and just as he was coming back around the corner, his target tied and slung over his shoulder while he kicked and squirmed, Miguel witnessed the third man come out of the hideout and run at the other Spider. Miguel dropped the guy in his grip and sped forward.

As quick as he was, he hit the guy, but he missed the trash can lid that flew out of his hands, hitting her directly in the back of the head. He watched in horror as she made a weak sounding sigh and went down like a sack of potatoes.

A blinding rage filled him as he clambered to the man that had caused the blow to her head. The thug skittered back, his face full of terror as Miguel snarled and grabbed him by the leg. With a heavy jerk, he yanked the man towards him and bit him in the leg. The man screamed and kicked at his face.

Miguel let him go, only to watch him stagger a few car lengths away and collapse to the sidewalk. The bite had taken its toll on him, and he was now out cold and twitching. Miguel figured it was safe enough to go check on the Galaxy Spider, but when he went back to the spot she had fallen, she was gone.

Miguel panicked.

If he came back without her, the wizard would certainly be pissed. Not to mention the other Spiders would be just as displeased. Miguel looked around, his eyes darting every which way. A glinting of some sparkles in the alleyway caught his eye, and he was moving towards them with as much stealth as he could muster.

"Shock, this isn't good. My first night on patrol with her, and she gets kidnapped!" Miguel muttered to himself.

"Perhaps you should be careful about this. Approach from the rooftop." Lyla's voice hit his ears and he scaled the wall immediately with his webbing.

Once on the roof, he made his way towards the other end of the alley. He was careful to remain hidden, but in efforts to do so, he couldn't get a good look at who was hauling her away. Every turn they made, he was always just one step behind, just getting a glimpse of the dark silhouette that held a sparkling Spider.

There were a few times he lost sight of them. Lyla couldn't pick up anything from the security cameras in the area, but his nose caught the scent of flowers in the air. He followed the smell. It was paired with whatever scent the man had, which smelled like some sort of designer cologne, mixed with cigarettes, liquor, and blood.

***

Series Masterlist

***

Notes:

I hope you are liking this story so far. Please let me know. Yes, I know I put she/her instead of you at the end. It's from his POV.

***

Special thanks to:

Beta readers/Ideas:

@einno-arko @theaussiedragon

Proofreader:

@iceclaw101

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#moon knight #marvel moon knight #jake lockley #18+ fanfic #poisoned empanadas #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #spiderman 2099 #moon knight x fem!reader #moon knight x you #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x reader #moon knight x spiderwoman!reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x spiderwoman!reader #spiderman 2099 x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x y/n #spider!reader #spiderwoman!reader

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

here's a question, what do you think happens to Debbie (and Franny) post s11? Personally I'm not a fan of the idea that Debbie would go off with Heidi after she fought tooth and nail to stay in her own house, plus Heidi is...not really what I'd picture for a good ending to Debbie's story. What would you see being a good post script for Debs?

ahhhh i love you for asking this

i mean, there's a part of me that wants to say that everything will go great for them, but i think that it'll be rough for a little while.

to answer the heidi thing (which i have talked about many times before but this ask is a little bit old lol sorry!), she will not last. she'll be gone in like, a week, and will never be heard from again. i think that the finale made that pretty clear, even though other people interpreted it in other ways. when heidi mentioned texas, debbie looked hesitant, and considering how she spent the past season fighting for this house, and the past eleven seasons fighting for her family, there isn't a single part of me that thinks she will be leaving for texas and if she does, her kid will be coming with her 100%.

but anyways, debbie will be going through it. she will have lost her father and her girlfriend in the same week or so and given her abandonment issues, i think she'll probably break. she'll have a whole breakdown over it, then be a bit depressed for a month or two, and then i think she'll slowly start to feel better. also, something that nobody talks about for some reason is the fact that post-11x12 all of the gallaghers (including mickey, tami, kevin, and veronica) all most likely get covid since they were all around frank and like touching him and shit, so that will probably happen.

i think that, as always, she'll pick herself up on her own and fix everything herself. her business will thrive, maybe she'll help out at the alibi if carl and tipping buy it (i hc that they do), but i think that money-wise she'll be set.

she and lip will definitely still have some conflict. every gallagher kid has a complex, difficult relationship with frank (i've actually been writing about this) but these two and frank have always stuck out to me (but they all stick out to me, honestly). i think that since the two of them were already fighting and are both notoriously awful at handling their emotions shit will go down.

debbie will keep the house since it's been in her name since the season nine finale (i mean duh, why would lip get to sell HER house??), lip, tami, and fred will move to milwaukee but then lip and tami will split up and it'll be messy, maybe he'll come back to chicago and they'll get split custody, carl will live there for another year or two, liam will live there until he graduates, and ian and mickey will move back to the south side. debbie will feel uneasy because of all of the change, so she'll insist on family dinners weekly, absolutely NO exceptions (you could be sick with some sort of flesh eating virus and she'd still demand that you attend).

she will never fully process losing frank. even dead, he still manages to fuck her over. i think that she'll set up a memorial for him a lot like the one she set up in 3x01.

if she reads the letter it'll fuck her up even more and i'm hoping that she gets therapy (i have a fic in my drafts about this lol) to help her deal with trauma, abandonment issues, grief, and help her navigate parenting while being only twenty.

i seriously just wish her the best because season eleven really made me realize how much she actually needs help.

live laugh debbie gallagher

#shameless #shameless us #shameless meta #debbie gallagher #franny gallagher #heidi shameless #post-finale #11x12

[quirkwizard]

Vigilante Pursuit: Looking at the Villain Hunt Arc

So for anyone who has followed my blog for any period of time, you know that I dislike the Stars and Stripes arc. However, that isn't the only arc that I take issue with. When I was first reading this arc, I had my issues with it, but I did my best to try and move past them. Unfortunately, my opinion of it has only soured as time has gone on and I have had more time to reread and process everything that happened in it. That being the Villain Hunt Arc.

Yes, I know its official title is the Dark Hero Arc, but that name is dumb, so I'm sticking with the Villain Hunt Arc. To be pretty clear, I don't hate this arc, and I still think that there are some good qualities to it. The fight with Lady Nagant is a dramatic challenge to Izuku's perception of heroes, the confrontation between All Might and Stain was a strong beat for their characters, and the Uraraka's speech is one of the highlights of the later arcs of the series. It is not without its problems, and I do feel a lot of frustration with those problems. So, after reaching nine thousand posts, I thought I would reflect on them and try to figure out how to fix this arc.

Unlike the Star and Stripes Arc though, the problems aren't exactly fundamental to the arc itself, more that there are issues in execution. Even then, it's more of one consistent problem throughout the arc and a few other bits with how things play out. So a lot of this will be more of the rewrite than me simply complaining about it. For the sake of this, I'm going to try to stick to as much of the canon structure and this arc as possible with the rewrites. I may have a lot of issues with Izuku's power progression, which is probably the worst in this arc, but such a thing would require changing whole other arcs or making new ones. And when I am writing this, the most recent Chapter 387. So if anything happens to counter my points, know that it hasn't happened yet.

Just Watch Us

Whenever I think back on this arc, I always think about the lack of character moments that weren't for the usual ensemble. The ones that stand out most to me are Hawks and Endeavor. I can understand why the characters would want to brush past that given their personalities and their circumstances, but it feels unsatisfying to not see them react to what happened to them or have the world change as a result. Endeavor says that he will keep pushing forward and tells people to watch him. Even though he has nothing to show for except his words after one of the worst debacles in hero history. And what he did has no real effect or reaction on anyone outside of the family. There isn't any pushback or reflection on Hawks either. Hawks murdered someone on live television, and the most we get is during the press conference. There's no time to think about Twice or the regret he has for killing. He's an optimist, after all.

And don't think that they are the only ones. So many of the students are barely given any time to process or talk about what happened to them. Mina and Kirsihima saw the brutalized corpse of their teacher. And we barely get anything on that. They just got out of a war, and all of them seem a bit bummed out. This is the worst day for most, if not all, of the characters involved. Why can't we see that tragedy and turmoil in them? This isn't only a thing with the war, either. Uraraka and Iida find out their best friend has lied to them for the better part of a year and has left them behind, with the two having no idea where Izuku is or what's happening to him. There isn't any time to reflect on how they're dealing with any of this. We simply have to assume that all this happened off screen in the month-long time jump, if it happened at all.

Near Miss

So when I said that I didn't dislike the Lady Nagant fight, there were a few asterixis next to it. I know it's a minor point, but it has constantly bothered me: why is Kai here? Now I understand why Kai is around. It's to set up everything with Lady Nagant and Izuku trying to save and help the villains, pairing him up with the most hateable villain that isn't part of the League of Villains. However, that doesn't explain why Kai is here from an in universe perspective. Lady Nagant seemingly brings him out of Tatarus on a whim. She says she wants to use him, but what use is a gibbering ex-convict with no arms? And when they get out, she wants him around to identify Izuku. Why on Earth would she need that? Are you telling me All For One didn't even give her any information on Izuku? Nothing like a photo or a basic description of her target?

My biggest issue with it is the introduction of "Fa Jin". Aside from the pacing issues of introducing so many of his new Quirks in such a short time span, "Fa Jin" is easily the worst of all the "One For All" Quirks. As an actual Quirk, it's fine. Nothing special, but has a unique gimmick. My problems lie in making it a Quirk for Izuku because it doesn't really add anything to his power set. It isn't an interesting expansion on Izuku's arsenal, basically doing exactly what "One For All" was doing before. It's obviously only there as a crutch to get Izuku to One Hundred Percent as fast as possible in the shortest amount of time. What's more is that it ruins the fun cat-and-mouse dynamic the fight had before. It's not something we've seen in the series before and would have given us a chance to see Izuku as the intelligent planner he's supposed to be. Instead, Izuku didn't win through some clever strategy, he won by making his number bigger.

Then there is how the fight ends. Lady Nagant blows up as a part of a cruel tactic by All For One. I understand what the story is going for, having all of Izuku's efforts destroyed to mentally break him, but there are some questions raised. Like how exactly did All For One use a Quirk that wasn't his? Why make it a Quirk he snuck onto her then? Why not simply be the effect of a Quirk he already had? How did Lady Nagant handle three Quirks when even two Quirks are considered extreme and potentially life-threatening? How was Lady Nagant not aware of this? Then following up with Izuku going to the mansion, which only results in All For One reinforcing what we already know and another egregious explosion fake out, just feels like such a limp and pointless way to end this entire segment. It's another symptom of All For One worming his way into every single plot as the big villain. You can't have a moment between a hero and villain without All For One twirling his IV tubes in the background.

How it All Stops

I know I have played up in the past how much I liked this moment. I did feel catharsis when Bakugou finally owned up to how awful he was to Izuku and apologized. But looking back at it with a critical eye, I'm finding a major problem with it: it's all about Bakugou. Don't get me wrong, this is supposed to be a big moment for Bakugou and how he's grown. But the other half of the equation is simply missing. There isn't accountability of what he did to Izuku. It's all justification about why he treated Izuku so poorly, only to then turn it over to how he has been acting in the past. There isn't any kind of acknowledgement or punishment for what he's done to Izuku. It comes across that Bakugou effectively Houdinied his way out of the actual consequences of his actions.

What's more is that there's nothing about how Izuku is processing this. Izuku, the guy who was hurt most by Bakugou's constant bullying and actions, doesn't say or think anything about this. Which is such a massive problem throughout the whole of the arc. There is so little time to give Izuku any moments to himself or thoughts on how he's feeling about everything. This should be a huge surge of emotions and the culmination of everything that's been building up with Izuku. But everything is more focused on the other characters, either through Izuku's own thoughts or writing focusing on them more. All that happens is that he collapses and apologizes to everyone else for insulting them. And this ends Rogue Izuku portion of the story. Did you enjoy the handful of chapters you got? I hope you did, because that is the end of that part of his character. One we barely got to actually see.

After all of that, there's barely anything following up on it. All the building emotions he had about himself and the arc over the years? Gone. A serious talk between Izuku and All Might about everything that has happened? Nothing. Any sort of real connection or follow-up with Uraraka and Iida? Not really. The most we get is simply in service of Toga and Uraraka's plot dozens of chapters later. There isn't anything personal about this arc that carries forward. As far as developing the characters, it may as well not have even happened. Bakugou still acts like a tool to Izuku, making it seem like he didn't really learn anything from all of this. We don't even get any proper follow-up with All Might. He apologizes to Izuku and then they move onto more plot beats. Which is so off the mark that it's downright insulting to both characters' stories. Take a bath and a nap, Izuku. It's clearly what you needed.

I know I keep harping on this part of it, but you need there to be a proper middle ground and payoff in order for the conclusion to feel satisfying. It feels like I'm watching a DVD with scratches on it, constantly skipping between major scenes, and the characters acting like they came to a conclusion without us seeing it. It's what attributed to a lot of rushed feeling for the last few arcs. While I always believed that these rapid plot points began back during the MLA War Arc, they have become so prevalent here. All the characters are being moved to their conclusion faster than the manga can handle in the number of chapters they are given. So a lot of them either feel forgotten in the sweep or have their characters and stories shorthanded to reach the end. Now, how would I fix all this?

Heroes of the Past

To start things off, Gran Torino will die in the hospital, potentially while talking to Izuku. I'm not one for suddenly killing off characters, but he really shouldn't have survived such a massive attack from Tomura and I think this would be a good point for him to bite it. More could be added from his death than from his life, especially if he's just going to sit in the hospital for the rest of the series. It would actually have Tomura kill someone that we know and care about, adding some more stakes and threat to this arc, but it would also start Izuku's spiral during this entire situation. From there, I would change the vestiges role as well for this arc. I would have them put more pressure on Izuku. He is there last shot at stopping All For One and they would try to push him more and more. Having the manifestations act as the voices of overwhelming responsibility would be a really interesting way to represent Izuku's thought process and the doubts he has. It's literally Izuku's power and the ghosts of the previous user wearing down on him.

With Hawks and Endeavor, I would certainly have them both interact on their own as characters away from the plot. Maybe Hawks could see some parallels between himself and Shoto as two young kids who were weapons for the sake of others because of their strong Quirks. Maybe Endeavor could talk about how much he had similar thoughts to Hawks, yet was always able to hold back in the end. You could give some more depth to their histories, like Hawk's life in the Hero Commission or who Endeavor was outside of hero work. And if nothing else, we need Endeavor's reaction to "One For All". The cornerstone of Endeavor's entire character was wanting to surpass All Might. After everything that happened over the past year for him, from becoming the Number One to finding out about Dabi, there should be something to him finding out just how truly futile that goal was this entire time. How much of his life was destroyed for less than nothing.

After that, there should be some external pushback and problems for them. Endeavor could be confronted by civilians and heroes, saying that they don't want to look at him and constantly throwing what Dabi did in his face. You could even have former heroes attack him, believing that someone like him does not deserve to be a hero and is simply a villain corrupting their role. Hawks could come across a scene where he finds a group of minor, but recognizable villains, like the Reservoir Dogs, all strung up on the streets. This could either be done by civilians or rogue heroes, finding Hawk's actions justifiable in killing villains, only exasperated by the extreme circumstances. How could those two possibly confront those circumstances? It'd give us some actual weight and consequence to their actions while fitting with the idea of how the actions of major heroes can trickle down into the rest of society.

vs Lady Nagant

This time around, Lady Nagant will bring Kai out of a sense of empathy for him given his condition, though she will hide it from All For One with the same excuse of thinking he'd be useful, which is technically true. Once she gets her mission, she will bring him along out of a need for information about Izuku. Not he knows what Izuku looks like, but because he knows about Izuku and how he fights. It could help explain why Lady Nagant is doing so well, aside from her simply being that good and give Kai more of a purpose. Instead of using "Fa Jin", just have Izuku uses the benefits of his other Quirks. Let him use his other powers and show off the benefits that "Black Whip", "Float", "Danger Sense", and "Smokescreen" provide for him. This provides a unique chance to have Izuku fight smarter and not harder.

And when the fight is over, don't make Lady Nagant the bomb. Make Overhaul the bomb. All For One could have attempted to take "Overhaul", but failed to do so since Kai's Quirk Factor is gone, which well say works that way for this rewrite, only to then sneak the bomb on him. Then you could have Lady Nagant make a move to save Izuku at the cost of herself. That still has the same kind of tragedy to it. The person he'd tried to save is dead or dying, depending on what Hori wants to do with him, and reigniting those heroic values in someone puts her in critical condition. Plus, I think if Hori wants to do any kind of redemption for Overhaul, people are going to want to see him suffer a little bit more for all the stuff he did to everyone in the Overhaul Arc. And skip All For One taunting Izuku, that simply wasn't needed.

After this fight, we are going to cut away from that part of the story. In order to get some breathing room for the rest of the characters, we need to push Izuku away from the spotlight for a little while. What's more is that gives the audience some tension and concern over what's happening with Izuku. Ideally, we start with Izuku and cut away once the Lady Nagant fight is over. It helps put us into Izuku's headspace some, focusing so much on everything that all the other characters feel so distant, only to cut back to them and feel the worry with them since we know how bad of a place Izuku is in. And could you imagine the reveal when we see Izuku and his monstrous vigilante look? Then, when that happens, we flashback to what Izuku has been doing before all of this happened. Plus, with UA, we could get a look at some of the other civilian reactions to what's been happening.

Back at UA

As for what this would be filled with, the first thing to come to mind would be Kirishima, Mina, and Momo. Look, I don't like how they handled Midnight's death. I think it was an incredibly cheap death, throwing a named character to the wolves to give the deaths on the hero's side some artificial weight without giving her any depth or connections outside of a side manga. But if you are going to kill her, at least do something with the characters it's supposed to affect. Have Mina bring up how much Midnight's classes meant to her, or have Momo think about some advice Midnight taught her. Sure, it's a retroactive fill-in for what should have been actual moments in the story, but it's better than nothing. Maybe let Aizawa come in and talk about her as well. Show us that the death of his friend and colleague of over a decade actually affected him and break down his walls some. Show us he is emotionally invested in someone other than Oboro, the Friendly Dust Cloud. You could even have it tie back into Aizawa's own experiences with Momo and how much they believe in her as a leader.

Then there are Iida and Uraraka. I swear, these two have been pushed so far to the back of the manga for what should be major supporting characters that it's insane. You could have Iida running around UA, trying to help everyone he can, wherever he can. It's all that Iida knows to do when he's stressed. It's all that's keeping him from trying to go against the school and looking for his friend. He needs to be here as the person who bears the name Ingenium, one of the oldest families in heroics, and the successor to his brother. Uraraka is helping as well, but clearly isn't as present. She keeps going back to everything with Toga and what she said. You could then have them both talk to each other, realizing how difficult it is to cope with all this, especially when their best friend is gone. It could play off the traits we know about them and set up stuff for later.

Finally, there is Bakugou. There is a lot that could be covered with him, though I do think that it would help a lot if he had a character to bounce off of. And while there could be a lot of characters to do that, I think that All Might would be the best option. Give the two another scene together, paralleling the one after the first fight between Izuku and Bakugou. With them together, they talk about what was going on with Bakugou and why he did what he did. It could do a lot to help build the bridge between everything that happened during the war and his apology to Deku. This could be where the card scene comes into play during Bakugou's death as well, or at least the set-up for it, like Bakugou holding the card in his hand before cutting away or him stifling his words. Once it's all done, All Might could be the one to spill the beans that they actually lost contact with Deku, prompting the class to want to go after him.

Viglinate Izuku

So with the Final War Arc, there are a lot of issues with society broguht up. Some of which are not as fleshed out as they could have been. Want to know what would help with that? Seeing it in action. We get a few montages of this, but I believe that it needs more time to convey how bad things have gotten. While Izuku is running around as a vigilante, he could be dealing with crisis situations that relate to all of the problems brought up throughout the season. Heck, the whole thing with the giant fox/shark lady is some of the most development we got for the Mutant Plotline in the story. Why not shore up some of the other issues with more evidence of that coming forward? The country degrades as all the nasty sides of society come up as the chapters go on. Izuku's goal of trying to understand only brings him more stress and heartache. Have him deal with something like Wash and Yo Shindo did. Carry over some of the issues that Endeavor and Hawks are dealing with. Have him let someone slide when they are committing survival crimes for their family.

Then we cut back to Izuku after the Lady Nagant fight and meet up with All Might after beating another assassin. He sees the damage done to Toshinori's windshield, realizing that he was attacked and nearly killed by more of All For One's goons. Before he can explain, Deku brings up Sir Nighteye and Gran Torino and how much he's learned from them, but that he's learned the most from All Might. He says that he doesn't need him as his mentor any more, implying that he's doing this so All Might doesn't die as well. After that, it's going to be more of Izuku trying to solve people's problems, and it's only going to get worse from here. It's going to be more difficult situations with less obvious answers, stressing Izuku out more and more, made even worse by the lack of self-care he has been doing.

The final point of this will be at the Hero Commission Building. You know that recording where Lady Nagant talked about everything she did? Well, that got out to the public somehow, maybe by All For One to sow more chaos and distrust. Now people want blood for everything that happened with Lady Nagant. Izuku wants to stop the rioters because there are still innocent people in that building, but the rioters aren't villains. They're civilians who have been hurt by the Commissions attempts to keep the peace. Then we come to the big dilemma: Izuku is stuck between protecting the epicenter of all the corruption in hero work and the people who have been hurt by them. A major moral conflict to punctuate everything Izuku has been dealing with.

It all comes to a head when the Commission demands he help, and the crowd accuses Izuku of not being a real hero. Just another goon of the Hero Commission. Izuku breaks and unleashes "Black Whip" to make a massive webby wall between the rioters and the building, telling the rioters to go home. This is when we get the reveal of the monstrous hero costume in all its glory. And the rioters are terrified, looking on in utter fear and running away. Before the Hero Commission has a chance to thank him, we see the cold eyes of the broken Izuku we see later before he leaves as well. Not only could this show the other dangers of Izuku not taking care of himself and taking on the burden, but his appearance only inspires fear in the people he wants to help, but it also works to punctuate everything that has happened thus far with the various problems.

Izuku vs Class 1-A

Before this fight starts, we are given a bit in the world of "One For All". This is where I would flesh out the vestiges some more and how they view things, something that would have been hinted at through their brief appearances in the rest of the arc. Like we have the Second User saying that what Izuku is doing is fine, but why not have something like the Fourth User saying they should hide while Nana tries to act as the voice of reason? When it comes to the Despot fight, I would add a few more high profile villains to the scene. In the manga, this doesn't feel like a situation that Izuku needed help with, which is the whole point of this scenario. It feels like there should have been more ways for him to deal with this given the tools he had, but he gave up because that's what Hori needed to happen. So between the massive number of civilians and the other villains making it all at risk to do anything, I think that would cement more how screwed Izuku is without other people around him.

And when the students show up, I would give some more time to them to show off their abilities some more. Something that can show both Izuku and the audience that they have grown some over the skip. Maybe show off some new techniques without making a big deal out of it or changing their costumes around to give them a new edge. And with more villains, it gives us more chances to see that. Once the fight is over, the students will then try to ask Izuku to come back. The fight will play out mostly the same, but I would add the bit about how "Danger Sense" doesn't detect certain entities as threats since the students are doing this to help him. I think it explains how they are doing so well in spite of Izuku having a power like that and makes the bit with Toga later seem like less of a contrivance.

After the fight, I would pass off the speech Bakugou gave about returning home to Iida. I think it just works better for him. As for the apology, while you could easily rewrite it, I think it would be better to keep it as is and then build off of it. Just because he's a better person now doesn't mean that he can say sorry and have everything be okay. I think we need some catharsis on Izuku's side and some atonement on Bakugou's part. Regardless, when Bakugou finally apologizes, Izuku isn't going to take it, at least not at first. You could say that's out of character for him, but between Bakugou's self-focused apology and how much Izuku has gone through in the past few chapters, I think you could justify it. This would give Izuku some time to talk about his own problems and how much suffering Bakugou put him through. Heck, a lot of Izuku's self-sacrificing mindset is because of Bakugou and that's what's killing him now.

Izuku is going to lay into Bakugou, verbally and potentially physically, as he tries to let out all of his emotions, as shown by "Black Whip" striking out and wrapping up around Izuku. He tells Bakugou to take everyone and go, saying that they aren't strong enough to keep up and are only going to get in the way. It's basically here to play up everything that Izuku had in his mind as a result of his role and insecurities. But because of the development he's gone through, that doesn't matter to Bakugou. He only wants to help Izuku and reach out to him. Before he acted on instinct, now he's reaching out with the express purpose of trying to save Izuku breaking through the "Black Whips" in order to make it to Izuku and remove his cowl. It's meant to reverse their relationship at the start of the series, both in their positions in dynamic as Bakugou is saving Izuku from something threatening to envelop his whole body.

Returning to UA

Once Izuku gets back, it will mostly be the same, only now the ensemble will be made up of the people who Izuku has helped so far in the arc. I would want a moment between him and Inko as well. Just something sweet and nice, like her using her Quirk to pull the cowl off him to see his face. After this, we'll get some breather chapters and spend more time on Izuku mentally recovering and slowly becoming more and more accepting of himself. How many? As many as we can get, frankly. Seriously, this is such an important time for Izuku and the rest of the cast that they're going to need all the time they can get. Now, while the other characters will play a role, it will fall more to Izuku to evaluate and heal. Like staying on his own some more before slowly coming back into the fold after a period of time.

As for any character interactions, there should certainly be a moment between Izuku and Uraraka. Uraraka stuck her neck out and poured her heart out in order to get him into UA. There should be at least be a thank you from him to her. Then some time with Shoto and Iida as well, with possibly each of them reflecting on their own arcs, like Shoto telling him to take his time with this or Iida saying that he always wanted to go out looking for Izuku since that's what he would do. Maybe would could squeeze in something with Aizawa as well. Who, maybe after scolding from, Aizawa tries to connect his own feelings with Izuku's predicament. How Aizawa kept trying to push himself so hard after Oboro's death and how that affected his life. And while he always wants Izuku to push himself, he never wants Izuku to end up like him.

There will be attempts by Bakugou to make things better, and there will be a notable change in how he acts around Izuku, acting more like equals rather than Bakugou barely tolerating him. However, Izuku is still working through it and makes it clear he isn't ready to truly accept him as a friend. Not only would this be more realistic, but it would also add some more tragedy to Bakugou's "death", making it seem like he died without ever making proper amends to Izuku. And if we go with the idea that the "One For All" visages are less helpful and more confrontational, then maybe we could have a scene with him confronting the vestiges as well. You could have Izuku tearing off the black covering around his body and fully speaking his mind, making it clear that he is certain of how he wants to be a hero and how things have changed since they were around.

Then there is Mirio. Not only would this give us some time to catch up with Mirio, someone who we have barely gotten to see outside of a fight scene since he got his power back, but it would also finish up the comparisons between the two. Now that "One For All" is out in the open, we could settle Izuku's doubts on whether or not he was the right heir. Maybe Mirio could say something about how it was a blessing Izuku got it instead of him because now there are two great heroes, or that him taking it on would have been pointless since it would have only killed him before he had the real chance to be a hero. Maybe even throw something with Eri in here as well. Just something that confirms that, no, Izuku's being chosen was never a mistake and helps on his journey to self-worth.

Finally, I really want there to be a moment with Toshinori and Izuku. The two people who would be most affected by this situation and understand each other the most. This would be a follow-up to the confrontation Toshinori had with Stain. Toshinori simply being there and helping the students is more than enough. He needs to assure Izuku that he is proud of who he is and that he never once doubted his decision. It would be a genuine moment between the two. Not as the Eighth and Ninth Users of "One For All", not as the once or future Pillars of Society, but as Izuku Midoriya and Toshinori Yagi. A fine young man with a good heart, and an old man who did well in rebuilding his life. It would be a good punctuation to both Izuku's journey to rediscovering his own personal worth and Toshinori figuring out how to live a life outside of All Might.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Midoriya Izuku #Deku #Toshinori Yagi #All Might #One For All #All For One #Kaina Tsutsumi #Lady Nagant #Kai Chisaki #Overhaul #Katsuki Bakugou #Ochako Uraraka #Uraravity #Iida Tenya #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #Keigo Takami #Hawks #MHA Meta #MHA Theory

[occasionallyprosie]

Frayed Edges

AO3 Link

The battle’s over. The Shadow is defeated and the Triforce of Power retrieved… so why is the chain still here? Why haven’t they gone home? It’s not like the Shadow has been the one that’s been making the portals the whole time… it’s not like they’re in an unknown Hyrule with no way home.

Aka, Legend fights depression/anger issues except it’s not his own depression and anger issues it’s literally everyone else’s until he’s pushed to doing the nuclear option. Sky (kinda) hugs him tho :)

TW: implied suicidal ideation

——————————————

It was over.

Sighs of relief echoed around the room as the Shadow was finally defeated, as the source of the portals and the monsters it displaced and empowered was finally defeated.

Legend picked up the little triangle off the ground. He sighed softly, clasping his hand around the Triforce of Power and feeling its energy course through him.

"We should put that where it belongs," Sky said.

"Where?" Wild asked, the question clearly made out of curiosity than anything as he sipped a potion. A cut on his cheek healed over. "That thing feels powerful."

"It's a piece of the Triforce," Hyrule said. "I think Legend can hold onto it until we find out where it's held in this era."

"Then we go home!" Wind cheered.

Twilight laughed. "Yeah, then we go home, sailor. So let's make the best of this one last quest."

Legend let the Triforce of Power fade into his skin, the mark on the back of his left hand emblazoned, the top triangle filling in just like the bottom right one.

"Let's find out which era the Shadow was from," Time ordered and they made to exit the dungeon.

Upon investigation, they learned there was no way to access the sacred realm from this time, none of the methods they knew would work nor did the locations where they usually traveled over existed. The Triforce of Courage turned out to be wielded by a little boy no older than three, the mark on his hand having no more meaning than any other birthmark. The Triforce of Wisdom was the same. There was no kingdom, no Hyrule, nothing.

"It's like they're only wielded," Sky said when they went back to the fairly large, abandoned cabin they'd been making good use of. "Which means there's no place to put it back."

"We can't take it back to any of our eras, that's just an awful idea," Warriors agreed. Wind and Twilight both grimaced while Hyrule looked horrified.

"Like that hairstyle you decided on this morning," Legend muttered and Four snorted, Wind giggled softly too. Twilight even rolled his eyes and the tension was successfully cut as Warriors squawked and argued that Legend knew full well that he hadn't had time to fix his hair that morning.

He realized they didn't know.

Legend watched them all slowly come to the realization even as he and Four and Hyrule forged and enchanted a box to hide the Triforce away.

Even once they put it deep in a cave and used a lot of their assorted items and magic to bury it far out of reach, to place traps to keep it impossible to take, and buried it. That way, whenever the next Champion of Din was born, it would go to them and there would be an empty, magically defended, unbreakable box, but until then, the Triforce of Power would be safe and inaccessible.

Once that was done, he saw the expectation, then they all slowly came to the realization.

They had no way back. None of them did. The shadow had brought them here and the Golden Goddesses had left centuries ago while Hylia died, for the second time, whenever Sun died or will die.

Legend sat on the beam in the ceiling of their new abode, the cabin managing to house them well enough especially after Twilight and Time took Wild to repair most of it.

He watched the realization hit Hyrule and in the near same moment it was hitting Twilight.

Twilight was the one to voice it.

"Oh Ordona," he whispered. "We cain't go back, can we?"

"What?" Wild looked up from the cooking pot he'd set up inside the cabin. "What do you mean?"

"The Shadow made the portals," Hyrule breathed, he looked up at Legend. "We don't have a way back."

Legend met his eyes before he looked away and nodded silently.

"You've known," Hyrule realized too.

"Not the only one,” he said, and glanced at Time.

Time had been silent for a while now, but he nodded when the attention was on him, fidgeting with a blue ocarina.

Finally, the realization settled in on all of them. The understanding that they were stuck visibly hit them.

Sky was in denial, Legend noted. The knight insisted they try and find a way to put the Triforce of Power into the sacred realm. Wild was mostly with him, but both did a lot of prayer to the goddesses to give them a portal.

Warriors and Twilight, however, were in anger. Both snapped at everyone, got mad at Sky and Wild for (being in denial) praying and at Time and Four for trying to find a way to fix things. Twilight usually got his anger out through Time making him help with building up the cabin, where Warriors would end up sparring with someone, usually Legend.

Four and Time were in bargaining, searching everywhere for other options, Time even going as far as enlisting Four with his Ocarina of Time to see if they could use the divine, temporal magic in it to create something that got them back home.

Hyrule and Wind were at depression, when Wind realized there was no way back he left the cabin and Legend followed him to find their youngest in tears, sobbing for his grandmother, his sister, and his best friend whom he'd never see again. Hyrule was much of the same, he'd been the only one though who'd gone through the other stages, he'd insisted otherwise at first, begged the goddesses to give them a way home, snapped angrily at everyone for every little thing, then he was just breaking down and stayed in this depressive state as he mourned his home.

Legend noticed he was the only one at acceptance. He was the only one who seemed to realize that bad things happened and there was nothing they could do to stop that, only improve the end result or aftermath.

He started to help around the cabin even as his wanderlust—and everyone else's—began to grow. He started with the cabin itself, he kept Warriors and Twilight busy with chopping wood and helping him put things up, walls and roofing. He pulled Hyrule and Wind into helping with as much as he could, giving them things to do to keep them from sitting in their grief all day. The other four were stubborn that they wouldn't need the cabin much longer and they'd be home sometime soon, but Legend managed to convince them that having a base that allowed them safety and a bit of comfort while they were in an unknown land was the best option.

He held onto the strings of the fraying group and pulled them back together. Dynamics shifted rapidly, Wild and Twilight constantly at ends as Wild shifted from denial to bargaining, still constantly praying but now helping Four and Time. Time and Warriors got into fights as Time grew closer and closer to depression as he seemed to slowly approach the understanding he wasn't getting back to his wife. Hyrule and Wind both becoming recluses and avoiding everyone else. Four shifting from bargaining to anger and depression at the same time, snapping at everyone and crying himself to sleep.

Legend got Four to help him plan a forge and Twilight and Warriors—who both accepted their roles as the heavy lifters—helped them build it. Four agreed to make hinges and nails which Wild supplied the metal for.

He showed Wild how to cut and sand wooden boards and they worked on a kitchen. Twilight was leaving anger as he got the two to work together on that.

He took Hyrule and Wind to help find animals and coax bees into beginning a new hive in an apiary that Legend had spent a while making out of thatch and wood. They made pens for the wild hogs they'd tracked down and caught, Wind somehow being a naturally with them and Hyrule able to keep them somewhat calm with his fairy magic as they worked to domesticate them.

"You're turning this into a permanent residence, vet," Sky said once while Legend enlisted him to come with him to a somewhat distant but nearby village for more supplies.

"So?" Legend didn't deny that.

"We'll go home," Sky said, "those animals will be left alone soon enough."

"I'll make sure they're free to roam again before we leave," Legend promised. "But until then... Rulie and the Sailor need something to focus on, they both love animals and those are a lot of work. Smithy needs a forge to stay present so we got him a forge. Rancher and Wars both have a lot of things to work out so we're working on it."

"I guess," Sky sighed. "I don't see the point. We'll leave soon."

Legend decided not to mention that they'd been here for a year now and Sky had been saying that the whole time.

"Well, we'll want some sheep or maybe goats, Twi would like goats and they have wool... and milk, goats will do well in the area too. We've knocked down a bunch of trees so there is room," Legend mused. "I wonder if I could grow some apple trees while we're here. I know wild animals adore those so it may help with balancing out all the lumber we've cut down."

"I guess that wouldn't be a bad idea," Sky sighed. "We have cut down a lot of trees, so I suppose giving the native animals something to eat wouldn't be a bad idea. Are you aiming for self sufficiency?"

Legend just hummed and shrugged. He was aiming for his brothers not falling apart, but self sufficiency worked.

He noted to get cuccos too sometime soon, Sky would enjoy those. He'd have to figure out how to handle Time...

Two years into their 'brief stay' in the between era, Legend watched them continue to fall apart despite his best efforts.

They had things to do, things to bond over, he'd send Wars, Wind, and Hyrule to help Four in the forge most days as Four refused mostly to leave. The former three were still in anger and depression respectively. Four was more in depression than bargaining now.

Yet they were fraying. Time snapped at everyone, especially Legend, Wind, and Twilight, then Twilight and Warriors were at each other's backs but were constantly at odds with one another, Wild avoided everyone as did Four, and both were beginning to snap at them all. Sky too, he lost the soft, dreamy-eyed look, and was constantly angry at everyone.

Legend tried giving them days to themselves, days with the few they didn't snap at, but nothing worked. He sent Wild and Hyrule, the only pairing that held true even after everything went bad, on excursions to the woods, asking them to be back within the week, to be careful, and 'get a lay of the land'. He had Wind and Time paired off, the former usually able to coax the latter out of any funk, but Wind only seemed to get more depressive and Time more angry that Legend quickly ended that attempt.

He got bounties from the town and would send Sky or Warriors out on them, often Four as well. They seemed a bit better afterwards, between themselves at least, then whatever camaraderie formed during their time out quickly dissolved.

Wind was doing better, when Legend kept him and Time separated. He enjoyed the hogs that were becoming far more domesticated each day, he taught himself how to handle the goats when Twilight began to avoid them and Legend blamed himself for not realizing that the reminder of home could've been a bad idea for some. Sky enjoyed the cuccos but Twilight hated the goats. Wind was good with the goats, he cared for the two they had, came with Legend to the town and asked another farmer how to shear goat wool and purchased shears to do so. That winter, he did exactly that and Legend took the time to sit him down and show him how to turn that fur into fabric.

Time was doing the worst, constantly snapping at people, tearing them down. He knew the truth, Legend was fairly sure, and that just made it worse. It was the worst whenever he was near Twilight, or Wind or Legend, and Legend was certain it was because he had noticed the similarities between the three of them and someone he knew of his own time, they were his successors after all. Twilight to Malon, Legend would guess his was Zelda, Lullaby, though he wasn't sure at all. He had no idea for Wind. Either way, Time got worse when around them and likewise Twilight and Wind began to get worse when around Time.

Legend didn't know how to fix this. Their team had frayed and he didn't know how to keep them together.

No matter how many blankets he wrapped around crying teens, no matter how many soft or even harsh words he offered, no matter how many blades he sharpened, spars he fought, advice he gave, jobs he assigned, nothing worked.

It was when he sent Sky on a bounty with Warriors and Hyrule that he figured it out.

They came back, and as usual with the few who went on the bounties —Twilight refused to go on any, Time was the same, and Legend wasn't risking sending Wind or Wild to go kill a person— they were closer.

Legend hid in the trees, purple eyes glinting red in the darkness of the shadows, and he heard them tease and laugh as they came up the now well-worn path.

Within three days that dissolved, back at each other's throats and not in a familial way.

Legend finishing weaving a new blanket and embroidering a border on it, a pastime he'd picked up last winter when Wind sheared the goats and had kept since, making sure their fairly large cabin was stocked with warm blankets as winters here got as cold as the champion's Hebra blizzards.

"They need something to stand against," he murmured to the Golden Sword on the hook by the door. She was long gone, but he still talked to her. A habit born from anxiety.

He was bordering the blanket with white waves and seashells, putting secret little telescopes with not-so-secret seagulls. It was for Wind, who'd helped him dye the fabric his apparent favorite shade of blue.

"Zelda mentioned it once," he muttered. "When people don't have something to rally against, they turn on each other, for some of the stupidest reasons too."

He glanced up as he heard Four yelling at Wild over goddesses knew what. He should go break that up.

He put the thread and blanket down and went over to break up another fight.

Goddesses, he was tired of his brothers fighting.

Sky shared a room with Time and Four. Legend had initially intended to put Wind and Warriors with Time but that wasn't an option after Time became volatile toward all three of his successors and Warriors became volatile in general.

Twilight and Wild weren't able to be paired either anymore, so Wild was with Hyrule and Warriors and Legend put himself with Twilight and Wind.

He'd tried an intervention. A meeting with everyone and he laid out what he was seeing—only to be immediately talked over and for yelling and arguing to break out. He had to physically separate Warriors and Sky, again, and force Time to leave Wind alone, as the kid had dared to be optimistic around the others and Time hadn't let that fly for a moment.

It wasn't working.

Legend sat in the window, Wind and Twilight dead asleep inside and the world awake outside. Stars gleaming and the moon shining.

He had a chance here. Something that could work.

Wind felt confused.

He started to understand and accept that, yeah, they weren't going back home, that he'd never see Aryll or Grandma again. He could accept that.

He had to. It's not like they could go back. Time and Four had tried to find a way back home, Sky and Wild had spent weeks praying for the goddesses to give them a way home, they'd tried.

And failed. Nine heroes and they'd failed.

Wind knew Legend was what they had left keeping them together. He knew the others had grown distant, dangerous even as time went on. He knew, when Legend had asked him to be in charge of handling the hogs and later telling him he did a great job of stepping up and taking care of the goats when Twilight didn't, that Legend was trying to keep everyone together. He had, albeit with Twilight's and Warriors's help, turned the run down, abandoned, wooden shack they'd taken to using as shelter into an actual home! When he'd always told them that it was a life on the road for him at that.

So yeah, Wind was confused when the status quo suddenly shifted.

When nobody stopped the fighting that broke out, when nobody left to take care of some bounty for a week or two, when he realized how badly their relationships had gotten in the past two and a half years. The Captain was a face he hardly could find safety in anymore, Time was harmful to be near and he had to purposely avoid the older hero 'less he finds himself in a one sided insult battle that matched the sincerity of the Veteran's and the Captain's earliest matches. Sky used to be a safe space but now he was distant at best, volatile at worst, and occasionally—only when he'd come back from those bounty hunts—his old self.

Wind missed his brothers, but when Legend outright disappeared he freaked out just a bit. That was his last lifeline to safety, to stability.

"Hey Smithy?" Wind poked into the forge.

"Wgat?!" Four snapped, turning those vibrantly ever-changing eyes on him. They used to be a constant storm gray, occasionally flicking through another color or two when tensions or emotions were high, but not always shifting through rainbow like they did these days.

"Have you seen the Vet?" Wind asked, careful not to wince. He wasn't a kid anymore, he couldn't show that kind of weakness, especially not in front of the other heroes.

"Tch, no."

Four glared at the metal in front of him, another expertly crafted sword that would be taken to the town next excursion and sold just like the rest of the extra things they had.

His eyes briefly settled red. "He hasn't bothered me in a few days, finally." In a lowered mutter, a strained one too, he added, "Maybe he finally got the hint that we want to be alone."

Wind grimaced as he looked away. "Thanks anyway."

Four made some comment that Wind decidedly ignored as he left.

Hyrule was by the apiary, fairies had taken to being there too and Wind still remembered the day that they'd set up a little fountain of sugar water—which Hyrule replaced daily. The apiary area was filled with bees and fairies.

"Hey, Traveler? You seen the vet recently?"

Hyrule glanced up. He'd been so silent lately, basically ever since they'd been stuck here, he'd been quiet basically the whole time they'd been stuck here. Wind hated it.

"No," Hyrule admitted.

Wind hummed. He wasn't sure who to turn to when he was worried about someone... not when that someone was Legend. Warriors would snap, Hyrule was distant, Sky could be either, Time hated him for some reason, Twilight...

"You know where Twi is?"

"Not really... I think I saw him with the goats."

Wind raised an eyebrow at that. "What's he doing with my goats?" He muttered to himself as he left Hyrule alone to go to the goat pen.

Twilight was indeed in the goat pen, sitting there and trying to coax the goats to him as they eyed him oddly.

Wind sat on the fence and waited. It was almost sweet. Twilight had been quieter lately, the past couple months or two, he'd been quieter, less likely to snap.

The goats noticed Wind first and abandoned Twilight to run over to him. He laughed softly as he jumped down and pet the animals. Twilight watched and Wind made his way over to his roommate.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey, sailor," Twilight replied, eyes flicking up and down at Wind.

Wind crossed his arms, leaning over on one leg. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

Twilight shrugged. "Just... thinking, I guess."

"Smithy thinking or Traveler thinking?" Wind asked.

"Probably, the Traveler's," Twilight sighed heavily. "You remember the other day, when the vet snapped?"

Wind nodded. It was rather rememberable.

Legend had asked everyone to be inside for dinner that day, saying he wanted to talk to them. Then at dinner, he'd cut off every single argument before they started, prompted Hyrule to talk about the apiary, Wild about the surrounding area and his new hobby of cartography, he tried to get them to talk about nice things, things that made them happy. Then Warriors had snapped first.

"Why do you even bother?!" Time had demanded. "How can you act like this is nice? This is good? That it's all okay?!"

Legend had stared, his hands on the table and visibly still as he looked Time dead in the eyes. "Because someone has to."

And thus began a cut-off lecture from their veteran about how they were acting, how they were treating each other, how awful they'd become. That lecture was interrupted quickly by Time, with Warriors beginning some arguments, then Sky joined in, and soon Four as well. Everyone yelling over each other, Wind trying to intervene with some desperate optimism only to be verbally torn apart by his own childhood hero.

"Yeah," Wind said, back in the present. Twilight hummed. "Why?"

"Just thinkin'... when was the last time we actually just sat down and talked? We did it all the time before," before the end, before they were trapped, "at camp, in inns, on the road. We'd just talk, chat, we... we were close. Now... Now I can't remember the last time I was nice to the champion, to you, to anyone."

Wind thought about it.

Twilight kept going. "You're older too! I don't know—somehow I just—I was thinkin' back and then I saw ya an'... you're sixteen now, right?"

"Almost," Wind shrugged, not admitting he'd been counting to basically adulthood. Sixteen wasn't adult, but it was close enough he'd be taken as one. Especially with his height, scars, and how he was slowly losing the baby fat. "Fifteen, almost sixteen."

"Did we even celebrate?" Twilight sounded almost hysterical. "Yours? Or Cub's? Or even the Traveler's or Smithy's?!"

Wind shook his head. "No..." he admitted quietly. "No, we haven't celebrated anything since we got here. Not summer solstice—not winter solstice, birthdays, nothing."

"How..."

"Rancher," Twilight looked up when Wind prompted him, "I came here 'cause I was wonderin' if you'd seen the Vet lately. I 'aven't seen him in a day or two and neither's Rulie or the Smithy."

Twilight blinked, then concern —concern! Wind hadn't seen any of the other heroes look worried in years— flickered across his face.

"Really?" He asked. "He’s normally somewhere nearby, and's definitely always somewhere inside 'round dinner. Wa'n't he in the room last night?"

Wind shook his head. "No. He wasn't."

Then they heard someone running.

Hyrule all but slammed into the fence of the goat pen. "The Triforce!" He cried. "I-I can sense—It's been taken!"

Wind felt his blood go cold as a sense of dread slammed into him.

The table was chaos as the eight of them gathered inside. Hyrule was the most vocal he had been in months and Warriors arguing with him.

"We buried that thing miles underground! We left traps and—nobody could've gotten to it and the other wielders are still alive!"

"I'm telling you, I sensed it be taken! I am—I was the protector of the Triforce back in my era, I can sense it whenever it's not in someone and—That one's gone!"

"It's impossible! Nobody who didn't know exactly where it was could've found it—"

"What about someone who did?" Four spoke up, eyes distinctly darker, shimmering between midnight violet and deep-ocean blue. "I don't see the Vet here."

"As if!" Wind exclaimed. "He's the only sane person here!"

"Weren't you looking for him earlier?" Four retorted. "Isn't it weird that the moment the Triforce goes missing the guy's nowhere to be seen?"

"He's a hero!"

"Of what?! Nobody's hero's here! We're nobodies from nowhere doing nothing!"

They were interrupted by someone banging on the door. They all looked up but nobody moved.

Sky sighed and went to get the door.

"Oh thank the goddesses!" Wind recognized one of the villagers. It was the one who helped him learn how to shear goats. "There's some kind of mage attacking the town!"

The heroes shared a look.

"Show us," Time ordered.

There were a series of attacks, spanning across the whole of this Hyrule. People were able to escape for the most part, but there were burns and injuries everywhere.

Wind didn’t get it. It was like another adventure had begun, but neither the current hero of courage or wielder of wisdom were even called to fight. Wild and Hyrule had gone to check on them, both were happily living in the capital of this not-quite-a-kingdom, which hadn't even been attacked.

It seemed to be going for them.

Legend was still missing, and it freaked Wind out. Legend had been the main one to set the traps for the Triforce. He wondered if Legend had set some kind of spell that would alert him if someone came too close and had gone to handle it alone, and failed.

Twilight had stepped up. They were back in adventure gear and it surprised Wind how quickly things began to set back into... well, harmony. Twilight had asked Wind to give him and Wild a bit and so Wind spent half the night on the sofa, reading some book about... apples? He wasn't sure. It was one he'd seen Legend read a lot. Then Twilight and Wild were better. They found themselves fighting lots of armos and other magical golems, and battle had its way of working out problems within a team.

Warriors and Time made up, Time stopped snapping at Wind and Twilight, Four's eyes slowly stopped constantly changing color and settled back into that slate gray.

Wind figured out why.

"I think this is why we're still here," Sky whispered to him one night.

"The goddesses needed us to fix this new problem too, so they didn't send us home yet?" Wind guessed, looking up at the stars. He'd be rather close to Outset Island if he were in his Hyrule, based off the constellations above them.

"Yeah," Sky murmured softly. "I think so."

Hyrule had came back out of his shell as he began to worry and chastise everyone for their wounds again, him and Warriors falling back into their old place as medics.

Even Wind was feeling more like himself. He hadn't kept his skills sharpened and he'd grown considerably since he last fought, but Warriors had been more than happy to help and Wind found himself falling asleep with a blue scarf over his shoulders just like old times.

The only thing that was missing was their veteran, flames and ice accompanying a singing golden blade, rhythmic steps and quiet humming during and outside of battle. Sharp quips and retorts that lessened the tension.

They found a trail. It hadn't taken long, a couple months at most, before they discovered the golems and armos were coming from some ancient tower.

They made their way there, stopping forest fires, holding off hordes of magically-created monsters, and just getting closer again.

"You know," Wild said one night as they could see that temple in the distance, gleaming with powerful magic. "I... Don't make me be the one to say it."

"Say what?" Hyrule looked confused.

"The Veteran."

Hyrule suddenly looked away, not responding.

Wild sighed, his head dropped down as he settled his distant eyes on the fire in front of him. "Exactly."

"What do you mean?" Warriors asked, clearly a bit more calm than the months, years, before these outbreaks.

"The vet set half the traps that protected the Triforce," Four said, almost deadpan but the red that overtook his eyes briefly over the steel gray betrayed him. "I know I suggested he betrayed us before but— I think... he was always paranoid, so I wouldn't put it past him to set some kind of alarm. And for how we were all acting..."

Wind startled a bit. He hadn't expected anyone to acknowledge their change in mannerisms, yet here Four was…

"He may have gone to check it out alone, and..." Four trailed off weakly.

A haunting tune fell over the air, Wind went rigid while Hyrule shot up.

Everyone was dead silent. Not a sound passed as they listened to the haunting tune, their hands settled on blades.

"Oh, I went there alone," a completely unfamiliarly cold tone in an extremely familiar voice cut through the air.

The tune stopped. Everyone turned and stared at their missing hero.

"Vet!" Wind gaped. "Where—"

Hyrule stopped him. "Why do you have the Triforce of Power, Veteran?" He demanded.

Legend hummed, plucking the strings of some golden lute. The notes rang through the air, but no clear tune was being made anymore. "Because, Traveler. I wanted it."

"What." Time pulled Twilight back a bit as he stepped toward the front. "Why?"

Legend shot him a cold look. Wind hated that look in his eyes. "I was tired. I am tired. I thought I could handle it, I thought I could deal with my whole life being ended and uprooted again, but no. If the goddesses want to play like this, then let's play."

Wind hated how Legend's left hand glowed, only missing a single triangle before it was complete. He hated how his eyes seemed more golden than usual. He hated how the last person he thought he could find safety in suddenly radiated danger in a way even Time hadn’t the past two and a half years.

"You're behind all this?!" Sky tightened his grip on the Master Sword as he spoke. "You—You've been attacking all these people?!"

Legend shrugged. "They're just pawns in the goddess's game. Pawns can get upgraded, I'm eliminating future threats."

Wind wanted to throw up. Warriors was the first one to lunge, but Legend slipped away, a song fell over the air and Legend disappeared.

"What?!"

"He... He betrayed us."

"How could he?"

The final battle was horrible.

They had to stop him, Wind reminded himself. They marched their way up the temple and fought off the dozens of golems and armos that attacked them. They found Legend at the very top, playing that haunting tune again on a pink ocarina.

"Stop," Time ordered. "That's enough, Veteran. It's over."

The crystal-clear notes came to an end but Legend kept his back to them. "You know what I was told once, by the goddess's Oracle herself? I was told I'd be the greatest of all heroes, known for centuries to come, longer than any other. You know what lasts longer than gratitude? Than love?"

He turned and a dose of terror shot down Wind's spine as he saw the cold smirk playing on an emotionless face.

"Fear. Fear lasts generations beyond gratitude,” Legend hummed. A golden power curled around him visibly.

"How could you?!" Hyrule cried, stepping forward. "You're—You're a hero! The Legendary Hero! How can you—Just turn on everything you've done? How can you turn on us?!"

Legend scoffed. "Turn on you guys? It was easier than you'd think." He looked back at the sky. "I doubt you'd get it. Do you realize how hard it is to watch all of the few people you have left deteriorate? Watch them become shells of their former selves, angry at everything? At the world and its inhabitants? Watch them become horrible to interact with? Watch the ones who chose to become filled with anger completely destroy what the ones who became sad, depressive shells had left? DO YOU REALIZE HOW AWFUL YOU WERE TO EACH OTHER?!"

Wind flinched and he felt them all step back.

That cold front that Legend had completely melted and was replaced by a roaring, blazing heated anger. Near immediately as it came, it was cooling back by an avalanche of that cold front yet again.

"I'm doing this because I can, Traveler," Legend spat, blazing heat falling to a simmer and then a frigid chill. "I'm doing this because I want to."

"I don't understand," Wind whispered weakly, his voice strained and his voice choked.

"You wouldn't," Legend responded and Wind flinched at the underhanded jab. "None of you would. It doesn't matter though."

He put the ocarina away and drew a familiar golden sword, that golden magic coalesced to that sword and it gleamed.

"You won't be here long enough for it to matter."

Legend was the one who attacked first.

Warriors stepped forward to meet him.

Wind found himself having to fight his brother to restore peace to Hyrule.

Wind realized how powerful the older… former hero was as they fought. How he fought as if he were dancing to some tune none of them could hear, each movement to a beat but still unpredictable despite that consistency. Blades slammed and magic was everywhere, Wind helped where he could but only so many of them could engage at once and he ended up falling back and taking out his bow like Wild had.

Legend was winning. Somehow, he was winning against them all, Time was hanging from the edge of the tower and Twilight was the one keeping him from falling, audibly begging the older hero to hold on and not let go. Wind ran over to help just as Warriors was thrown into a broken pillar, and Wild had quickly moved to fill in the place that had fallen empty while Hyrule darted to Warriors's side.

Four was driven back and Sky staggered. Wild was thrown into Four and it was just Sky and Legend fighting.

Wind and Twilight got Time back onto the top of the tower as Sky and Legend dueled at a speed and with skill that none of them could intervene. Even arrows shot could hit Sky rather than Legend.

Golden light exploded off them and Wind covered his eyes.

He heard Sky cry out, a scream, and as soon as he could he looked.

Sky was hugging Legend, who had the Master Sword embedded in his chest. Blood trickled from the edge of his mouth.

“Why?!” Sky begged, cradling Legend against him. “You didn’t have to do this! You didn’t—Why did you do this? It never had to come to this, Vet.” Sky sobbed, hugging Legend even as the fallen hero slowly lost the color in his skin.

He laughed, Legend laughed softly and he smiled. He glanced at Wind and Twilight and Time, his eyes flicked over to Wild and Four helping each other up, to Warriors leaning on Hyrule.

"Don't... do it again," he slurred. "You... You're brothers... re... remember to act li'e it."

"What?" Sky questioned softly. They all gathered closer.

"It worked," Legend laughed again, a soft and relieved thing. "You... You worked together... you were nice... happy even... I knew... I knew it... it would work."

"What would work?" Sky asked frantically, he laid Legend down and their fallen brother's face contorted in pain at the movement at the sword being pulled from his chest.

Legend let out a shaky breath. Wind felt a few tears fall down his cheeks and then felt a pair eyes on him.

"Knew... that if... if you had something to... fight against... you wouldn't... fight each other. Peace... peace only... brings infighting." Legend smiled. He smiled softly at the sky above, dazed, slowly dulling eyes shifting from them to the sky. "Don't do it again."

Wind sobbed, his legs buckling. Hyrule dove forward, trying to heal Legend. He felt arms wrap around his shoulders, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to see whose they were.

"No! No, Vet— Don't—"

"You did all that to make us stop fighting?" Warriors breathed, sounding horrified. His voice came from right behind Wind’s head.

"No..." Twilight took a step back.

Legend grinned at them, blood in his teeth and a clear happiness in dimming eyes. "It worked... no more hidin' in the forge... or the apiary... n'more tearin' the rancher or sailor down... n'more fightin'... s'all I wan'ed. All I... wanted. Rule, it won' work. Fi don' heal easy."

"No!" Hyrule cried. "A potion! Please— Vet you can't just... You can't!"

"Mmm... tol' me that... 'hen I fough' Ganon... an' won. I'll do i' if I wan'."

Wind watched Legend fade, eyes settling distantly on the stars above, had it not been for seeing the light leave his eyes, Wind could’ve believed that Legend had just been stargazing.

Legend knew what he was doing when he sat by the window, when he realized what had to be done in order for them to... to come back to themselves.

In order for him to not have to keep an alert and a watch spell on the kitchen at all times, to have one on the forge itself. He knew what had to be done to stop his brothers from pushing each other to their limits.

He had to get them to rally against something. But nothing powerful enough would come anytime soon for them to face...

He glanced back at Wind and Twilight and their sleeping forms. He glanced back outside before he moved inside, grabbed his pouches and hat and sword from his bedside and then dropped out the window.

He didn't regret his decision even as he set a mostly evacuated town ablaze, curbing the flames from truly destroying everything or killing anyone, but doing plenty harm and damage.

He didn't regret his decision when he saw them fight his ever-growing army of golems and armos, watching each other's backs and protecting each other.

He didn't regret his decision when they sat around a campfire while trying to track down the cause of the situation (him), yet had laughed and teased. Though they grew somber at his absence, they were themselves.

Hyrule wasn't eyeing the rooftop.

Four wasn't giving a longing gaze at the forge fires.

Wild wasn't staring at the knife he used to prepare dinner before continuing cooking.

Warriors wasn't twitching his hand toward his sword whenever Sky spoke to him.

Time wasn't constantly degrading Twilight and Wind.

Sky wasn't always ready to fight one of them to the death.

Wind wasn't asking why they even bothered to live anymore.

They were themselves, a bit older, a bit more hurt and strained, but they were themselves for the first time in almost three years.

Legend didn't regret his decision even as he faced them at the top of some ancient tower, temple, that he'd taken over.

He didn't regret his decision as he fought them all off.

He especially didn't regret it as Sky buried Fi's blade through his chest.

He looked over them, how Sky’s eyes filled with tears, how Twilight pulled Wild to his chest and the slightly younger hero broke into sobs in his mentor’s hold, how Warriors pulled Wind slightly back from where he’d crumbled to the ground and buried his own face in his hair.

He regretted the pain he put them in, he knew that.

He did not regret the wake-up call this would hopefully be. He would sacrifice his life a thousand times over, his integrity, his reputation, everything.

He would give it all just to help them, for the chance, that they would at least try to be themselves.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #legend lu #fanfic #lu hyrule #lu wild #lu warriors #lu four #lu sky #lu time #lu wind #lu twilight #implied suicide ideation #major character death

[open-hearth-rpg]

Engagement & Flashbacks: Great RPG Mechanics #RPGMechanics: Week Three

I have sat through hundreds of in-game planning sessions. There’s an objective, maybe specific, maybe general, maybe- god forbid- we’re discussing which objective we want to approach. These can be wonderful and interesting moments to explore character and role play to show what your PC values. They can be. But those are exceptions rather than the rule. I look back at the hours sunk into those which ended up in painful, circular, player-tension exacerbating, and time-consuming bad meetings.

My particular pet peeve from this is the player who listens and waits until someone has proposed a line of action and then says they don’t like it. They point out corner-case problems and wild possibilities which *could* make things collapse. But when pressed for fix suggestions or alternatives, they shrug their shoulders. I loathe them. I’ve seen many of them. Playing them at the ttrpg table made me that much more ready to flip out when people did this in actual work meetings in the real world.

Don’t get me wrong– I love it when a plan comes together. There’s few things more satisfying as a GM than to watch the players consider a problem, develop a solution, and reveal how their individual talents can save the day. But setting a planning session into motion is like lighting a stick of dynamite. Sometimes the players come together and manage to extinguish that fuse. More times the dynamite goes off and blows a hole in the session.

So that has long been an established problem that GMs have worked through, usually by degrees of heavy-handed riding the whip.

Blades in the Dark provided another solution and one, honestly, which completely changed my approach to this at every table I run. You have a job, a score, an objective. You can keep choosing that tight by filing down the number of options. Once you know generally what you want to do, you define the kind task and what’s your key element. Then we go to the engagement roll.

That roll is based on the challenge of the situation, the resources and information you have, and preparation (but only in the loosest sense). Good stuff gives you more dice, bad stuff takes away dice. You roll a pool of d6s and check the result. If the highest die is a six, we start the scene on the job with your characters in control. They’ve gotten past the easy layers and are in the more challenging part, but in a good spot. On a 4-5 it's more a mixed bag– you start out with some things at risk. You have to overcome a standard challenge right away. On a 1-3 we drop you in the shit. You’re in but things have gone wrong and the situation’s desperate.

But it's the other half of the system which completes this and makes things brilliant. Players can flashback to preparations they’ve made. They can improvise these on the fly. They can cost stress and require a test, but that’s dependent on how wild or impactful that prep is. Combining that with the flexible loadout system makes the players feel OK about rolling into a situation without having spent an hour working out all the possibilities.

And at least at my tables, the secret is that flashbacks don’t get done that often. Sometimes PCs will get jammed in a corner or a player will have a particularly clever concept. But Flashbacks IMHO provide a mental cushion for risk-adverse players. It’s the GM saying, “let’s get to playing, I’m not going to screw you over, and you’ll have the chance to pull cool stuff out.” And it works– and I promise you I use it in just about every game I run. We still do meetings and planning discussions, but I know I can wrap it up and move it to the play if that begins to look like it is going to blow up.

Side-note: Blades isn’t the first game to lean on flashbacks as a key element. I think that would be Leverage, which is an amazing ground-breaking game by a dynamite team of designers. It uses that to model the reveals of the TV shows it's based on. There may be others, but that’s the one I remember.

#ttrpg #rpg #rpg mechanics

[astyrial]

seashell pick me up minho x thomas (fluff) synopsis: minho finds a way to make thomas smile word count: 1k warnings: mentions of death, representation of depression masterlist | requests are open inspired by @adoresbenho’s post

    the need for survival was all the gladers had time for. sent to an unknown island with unknown predators, they were completely building a society. for months everyone was working hard to build huts and places to eat. some nights were set aside for replica bonfire nights, but there wasn't much other time for activities. 

  activities in which they're truly living, living for those who couldn't. thomas couldn't wrap his head around it at first. since newt's death and theresa's death all he did was busy himself. even if it was just piling more wood into the bonfire or fixing a crooked table sitting in his hut. and no one could pick up the anxiety building within the teenager. 

  except for minho. having gone through the same tragedies, sticking with thomas from beginning to end, it became surprisingly easy for him to pick up on the cues that were so minute. somehow when thomas' heart would begin to race and he would feel upset, minho would be there trying to cheer him up.

  and one of the places that minho observed that thomas went to usually was the beach. he would go there to wallow a little, wonder what could've happened if the events had been different. so to combat the feelings of guilt, minho started hanging out at the beach with him. 

  whether it be just sitting by the water or even jumping into the waves, he was there for his friend, partner. one thing he began to notice was just how much thomas enjoyed it when minho would jump in and show him a couple of the seashells he would find. mask on, red lines left on his face, and a large smile still there, he couldn't help but smile as well.

  to enhance this feeling, he started handing them off to thomas to keep. some were smaller than others, some with swirls, while others looked similar to clams. "here, why don't you keep this one?" minho asks, slowly making his way out of the water. 

  thomas grabs a hold of the shell, his eyes glistening as the water reflects the evening sun, "alright, i'll put it in my hut, maybe a table. thanks," he widens his eyes a little, trying to hide the very appreciative feeling that swirls through his stomach. 

  and then minho just kept doing it. exchanging smiles and seashells, growing closer, the goggles still leaving marks behind. suddenly everyone begins to notice that thomas is more relaxed. at bonfires he sits back laughing with minho and frypan. he'll lay in the sand and for once his mind is no longer overrun with intrusive thoughts. 

  "you seem happier," minho finally says, walking up to thomas as his legs stay stretched out. 

  thomas looks up at the previous keeper, his hands on his hips and a small smile stretches across his face. he reaches out a hand and pats the sand beside him, wanting minho to sit down next to him, "i am, thanks to a certain someone."

  "frypan? i knew his food could cure all but didn't know it was this good," minho laughs a little as he sits down, his legs crossing to resemble a pretzel. thomas quickly follows suit and crosses his legs, his fingers playing with the sand in front of him. 

  "i was trying to be nice and you ruined the moment," he pushes minho's shoulder with his, shaking his head in annoyance at minho's antics.

  minho looks over at thomas, his eyes closing slowly as he breaths in for a second, truly appreciating the ocean air. he reaches out and grabs thomas' hand, their fingers intertwining as they stare out into the ocean. neither of them look over, afraid to say anything about what's happening.

  "thanks.. i hate to see you in the dumps like that.. you're my closest- you're the closest person to me. and so i gotta protect my interests, you know?" minho glances over at thomas and feels his heart quicken at the mere sight of him. 

  thomas glances back, his free hand now playing with a seashell that sits in his pocket. it's small, round, and perfectly sized for carrying around. "yeah, of course. i don't think i've ever been like this with someone. been close enough to take a million seashells from and store them in my room. which i don't need more of by the way-"

  it doesn't take long for minho to laugh, knowing that thomas is completely right about that. "are you sure? because i can dive right in now," he looks over to see thomas lowering his head and laughing. 

  "you're ridiculous minho, and i love you so much for it," thomas doesn't even think before speaking, the words vomiting out as if he had no self control anymore.

  minho raises his eyebrows looking over at the concerned teen. minho had felt this way about thomas for so long but couldn't say anything because they never had the time to do anything about it. fighting cranks, wicked, and every creature they could create. but now, the two of them are sitting on a beach with nothing else to do but talk. 

  "i, well i love you too," minho softens a little and he can finally show thomas a smile of relief, his hand squeezing his just a little bit tighter, "but you don't want anymore seashells so i guess that's the end of that."

  thomas narrows his eyebrows, his mouth slightly agape at minho, "you're ridiculous. this is not happening because of seashells."

  "it is so happening because of seashells," minho smiles wholeheartedly to thomas, the sun finally half way down the horizon, only a beautiful ombré can be seen. thomas leans over and rests his head on minho’s shoulder.

  the two of them sit there, their eyes not breaking from the sun and the animals breaching the surface of the water. and finally they realize that they are living. they’re living for those who couldn’t. they’re living for each other, and that’s really all the two of them could ask for. 

#thominho #tmr #tmr minho #tmr thomas #the maze runner #the maze runner fanfic #thominho fanart

[witchersmistress]

The Damned and The Damage

Hello Darlings!! can anyone else here this gif or is it just me?? anyway shall we progress with Harper and August?

Trigger warnings: angry, masturbation, rage, lots of it, absolute mindnumbingness. fustration, lack of self love

Word count: 3.8 K

as per usual you do not have permission to use my work, translate my work or copy it, if you do i'll find you a haunt you for the rest of your days

Harper’s POV

I don’t count the days. I know there’s something wrong with me, that this isn’t normal, but I can’t muster enough fucks to do anything about it. When the Phantom hands me a box with a brand-new iPhone, the latest model, and tells me to text whoever, I don't. No one is looking for me. I didn't bother telling him I had a third-hand phone that shut itself off for no reason, couldn’t hold a charge, and had so many cracks in the screen I could barely read an email. It makes no difference what phone I have, if I have one at all. I don’t use it except when he tells me to check in with him while he is gone. Days go by, then weeks. I know work is coming to an end, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

 Mr. D will have pulled my sponsorship, and I wouldn’t be able to face the Walkers and their friends who came back for me that night. work seems trivial and pointless like everything else. It would take effort I can’t give, and so, I don’t. One night, when I wake up mewling like some pathetic, drowning kitten, crying that they’re coming back for me, the Phantom holds me against his warm chest and tells me he’ll keep me safe, that no one will find me here if I don’t go outside. He thinks I’m scared, that I’m hiding like he is, but I’m not. I just don’t have the fight in me to leave. So, I stay. He doesn’t lock me in or even try to convince me not to go. I’m not a prisoner. I could walk out. I even went to the clinic when he told me, the pharmacy where they sent me. I took the antibiotics he handed me each day. But there’s no reason to leave again. I can exist in this neat, orderly space as well as anywhere else. Better. No one demands answers for what’s wrong with me. No one asks for things I can’t give, for me to make impossible choices. The Phantom asks so little in return for this haven in which I can exist in the bubble he’s created, not taking up any space in the world. Maybe we’re both phantoms. He feeds me, putting my food before me and taking it away when he’s done eating, never commenting on how much or little I’ve eaten. After dinner, we go onto the roof where he trims and waters flowers, sprays plants, and admires his garden. Sprouts have grown into plants, and the older ones come alive as if to show them the way—the saw-like leaves of one produce a stalk with clusters of white flowers that hang like bells; orange blossoms like curling starfish emerge from another. I won't go to the edge again. I don’t care enough to jump. I sit in the chair where he tells me to sit, like the good girl he tells me I am. When it’s time to go inside, he brings me back in. He measures me one day, touching my body with possessive thoroughness, detached and entitled, as if I’m a doll and not a human.

He runs his thumb over the silky burn scar on my hip, checks my healed hand, sets my birth control pill on the bedside table each morning. I am another plant to him, a fixture, something to tend. He cuts my fingernails, paints my toenails. He dyes my hair a richer, dark-chocolate brown, irons it straight, and brushes it in front of the only mirror in the house, on the inside of his closet door, while watching a tutorial on how to fix it in different styles. He puts a ring through my belly button and buys me makeup and a bag to keep it in. He calls me his good girl. Soon, among his usual deliveries, more clothes for me arrive—a padded bra with heavy gel inserts that make me more evenly proportioned, skirts and dresses that hug and accentuate my curves without looking trashy. I know they must be expensive, and I’ve never had clothes made for my body that fit me so well. The style is nothing I’d choose for myself, though. They’re rich girl clothes. But then I realize I don’t know what I’d choose anymore. I’m not the girl who liked tiny cut-offs that showed her thigh tattoos, who wore combat boots and hoodies. I don’t know who I am. So I try on this girl the Phantom wants me to be.

He watches with arrogant indulgence, picking out the things he doesn’t like to send back. I look at the straight-haired girl in the mirror with tits that balance her hips, with a tiny waist and red-soled shoes. I wonder if she’ll ever be me again. Every morning and evening, he fucks me quickly and efficiently as I lay there not moving, letting him extract his payment. I’m the whore August always said I was. Once, he slides up on the bed next to me when he’s done. “Want me to finish you off?” he asks. “This isn’t the kind of relationship where I’ll eat you out, but I have a vibrator and a couple clit stimulators.” My stomach clenches with revulsion, almost panic, at a memory I won’t let form. I shake my head quickly. I don’t want or need pleasure. I’d rather just lie here, my body hollow except for what he puts inside me.

August POV

She’s not fucking here. I stand at the base of what I’m pretty sure is the tree where we left her. It’s hard to tell. It’s rained since then, and the water is higher, and judging by the rumbles in the distance, it’s about to get even higher. I bought a pair of thick waders that make me look like I belong on a whaling ship, and I spend the weekends mucking through a fucking swamp, shooting snakes and being drained dry by mosquitos. There is no sign of anyone in the swamp but me. Fuck Harper. She doesn’t fucking matter. She doesn’t deserve this much attention. I should be at the bridge, where someone important died. I should be mourning Crystal, thinking of Crystal. Fuck this shit. I wade out of the swamp, tear off the waders, and hurl them in the back of the Range Rover, not caring if swamp sludge splatters on the back of my seat. I see the blanket there, the one I fucked Harper on so many times. The one I wrapped around her body to keep her warm all through winter. A picture of it hugging her curves rises to my mind, the way it slipped off her thick thighs, showing that fucking tattoo… I climb into the driver’s seat and slam the door, banging my head down on the top of the steering wheel. I’m fucking hard just thinking about her. What the fuck is wrong with me? I peel out, turn around at the next exit, and drive back toward home under the bruise-black sky. Harper doesn’t deserve a place in my memory. What she did goes so far past betrayal, a cut so deep it could never heal. She found a way, and broke the last pieces of my sanity. All along, I thought I was biding my time until I broke her. But she broke me first. I pull up behind a shitty little sedan in her driveway and glance up at the gathering storm clouds.

 Her neighbors are outside, the girl with dingy blue hair and the little kid, who’s prancing around in a hula hoop, wearing shorts and a bikini top that hangs oddly on her flat chest. The doors to their car stand open, and a song that I can only hope the kid doesn’t understand is spilling out from the crackly speakers. I imagine what my mother would say, and I smile at them as I circle my car to grab the box of Harper’s things I bought, as if this were a normal breakup. The blue-haired girl gives me a dirty look, an unlit cigarette drooping from the corner of her mouth. The little kid stops dancing, the hoop clattering to the cracked walkway at her feet. “She ain’t here,” she calls. “So you can go on back home!” The blue-haired girl cuts her eyes at her sister, but she doesn’t say anything. She watches me with sullen eyes and fishes a lighter from her pocket to light up. The low clouds have started spitting rain, and the air is thick and heavy with moisture. The little girl is standing on the roof of the car, dancing in the rain to another song no kid should be listening to. “Yeah, you go on and go home!” Her high voice cuts through the splattering rain. “You ain’t welcome here, on account of you broke Harper’s heart.” Ignoring her, I hurry to get into my Range Rover and climb inside, slamming the door to shut out the rain and the girl and the feeling of that house that clings to me like the skin-crawling sensation of dirt and grime and sweat after a football game. Trash, all of them. Just like Harper. I try to keep that thought in mind instead of feeling like the piece of shit I am, running from them like a guilty conscience. I take a few deep breaths, telling myself I’m imagining the stench of her life lingering around me. Then I shift into drive and take off, back toward the side of town where the rottenness makes sense to me. I don’t go home, though. I keep going, toward old man Darling’s house, the one where we went after I disowned Crystal but before she died.

I pull off at the bridge. This is where I belong. Honoring the memory of a girl who deserves my remorse. The first girl I killed, two and a half years ago. Grey drizzle splatters down on the windshield. It’s not the kind of rain that fell on the night the river took Crystal. It’s the kind that was falling the night Harper came to our house the first time, thinking she’d spy. She was good at finding my hiding spots, the places I go to remember, to prove they don’t hurt me. I have mastered this place the way I mastered Devlin’s balcony. His house is gone now, and Harper can’t haunt his balcony, but she haunts the river. I left her in the swamp, but her ghost is here. It’s in the rain on the windshield, the blanket in the trunk. It’s under the bridge, where we lay and talked and fucked. It’s on the far side of the bridge, where we fought the Darlings, and where I pushed her down and fucked her ass the first time. It’s in the back seat of this car, where I plowed into her and made her scream for me while her cunt choked my cock in its grip. I lean the seat back and slide my hand into my pants. My cock is stiff, my balls ready to dump their contents into her thirsty core. I pull out my phone and thumb it on. I think of what her mother said. I scroll down to her name and read our last OnlyWords messages. 

August: meet u at ur locker after work 

BadApple: c u then 

It’s so normal. So ordinary. I press the button and shut off my screen. I should delete the whole thread, erase any evidence I ever knew her. Instead, I opened the regular texting app that uses our phone numbers, the one we hardly used. It only takes a minute to scroll back all those months, to the first text she sent. It’s a picture of her in my leather jacket, the pic I asked for over Thanksgiving. My dick jerks in my hand, and I close my eyes and take a breath, as if I can coax the smell of her from these leather seats where she lay so many times. But no. That was a different car. She’s only been in this one once—her last night. When I open my eyes, though, she’s still there. She’s not showing a lot of skin. She never sent nudes. That only makes me want to see more, to peel open the jacket and see her tight little tits with the pale pink nipples poking out at me. She’s not wearing anything under it, but only an inch of skin shows between the buttons of the jacket. An inch of flat stomach, the little dip of her bellybutton like a tease. Below the jacket, she’s wearing tiny athletic shorts, knee socks. Her hair is messy around her shoulders, and she’s smiling into the camera, a sassy smirk that tugs at one corner of her lips. But it’s her eyes that seduced me then, her eyes that entice me now. I stroke myself, but it’s not enough. I need her, need to crush her little body under mine, to pin it and penetrate her and hear her gasping for mercy. I look at her picture, and I scroll through the others, tugging at my dick until my skin is rubbed raw, but I can’t find relief. My balls are so full they ache. I just need one little push, but I can’t close the deal. Finally, I throw my phone across the car and slam my head back against the seat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I came here as a remembrance of Crystal, not to masturbate to pictures of a girl who used me in her little games, told her sick old man how big my dick was, how I performed, how I licked her cunt until she gushed all over my face, her soft cries a siren song to my ears. I turn on the car and wrench the wheel around, heading back through the colorless, waterlogged evening. Just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, I found a new way to surprise myself. Like a fucking serial killer, I just jerked off while looking at pictures of the girl I murdered.

#henry cavill x you #henrycavill smut #henry cavill characters #august walker #august walker fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #august walker fanfiction #august walker imagines #henry cavill thirst

[wilsonthemoose]

5.15 angels have gone

In which Sam does almost everything the same except that Dean doesn't show up to be with him when he jumps.

(As told through a series of voicemails)

Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), in that this fic is the events preceding endverse or how endverse came about, Angst, Temporary Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Blood and Violence, Season/Series 05, Episode: s05e04 The End (Supernatural), Hurt No Comfort, also featuring the lucifer rising voicemail and the samulet briefly

He's standing in a pool of congealing blood, bare feet tacky and sticking, "Hey, Dean. It's uh— It's Sam." Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Look I know we both thought this was for the best. Going our separate ways, I mean. But I uh— look I'm sorry okay? And I'm trying to fix it, I'm trying to fix everything and I know you are too. And we just work better together man." Cliché, cliché, cliché. "Call me back? It'd be good to hear from you."

The gun's soaked, chamber clogged. It will take some cleaning.

His hand never shook.

No new messages.

He contemplates calling of course, sometimes. Five drinks into the night.

Open wounds never close but you do them no favours by picking either so he drinks some more instead and checks his messages religiously.

__

"Hey, Dean. Been a while. Just wanted to check in." He's standing against a black '67 Impala he jacked four counties back out of sheer, stupid nostalgia. "Actually, no, I'm working a lead." He hesitates for a moment. "With the Trickster. And I know what you're gonna say—" Just can't stop working with monsters, can you, Sam? "But uh— he did me a real solid, and," he sighs, "It's a chance, you know? Anyway, I could really use your help. I'll send you the coordinates."

The car makes all the wrong noises. He could fix it, if he wanted, but it also doesn't have toy soldiers or legos, and anyway, he's not sure he cares all that much.

"Hi Dean, I had a really great time last—"

Delete messages.

__

"Hey. I know you say no chick-flick moments but—" he sucks a breath in through his teeth, "Dean, I would— I just wanna talk, just once. Baseball scores, weather, anything." He stares between his feet and imagines Dean listening to the message. He'd roll his eyes. He might be angry. He probably doesn't care enough to listen. "I keep—"

To send, press 1. To—

"Are you ready?" she asks, not unkind but bordering on impatient.

She's going to spread his remains over the planet and this time, with any luck—

"Give me a minute."

He digs the phone out of his pocket for a little bit of courage and hits play. "Listen to me you blood-sucking freak..."

__

"Hey, Sam." He clears his throat. "Heard you took down Famine." He takes a swig of whiskey and wipes his mouth. "I talked to Bobby and I can— I'll come and get you, okay?" The sound of Sam screaming 15 feet under the house echoes up to him, a year and a life away. "Just call me, Sam." He's half proud and then half surprised he can still feel that way. "I'm not— I'm not mad at you Sam. Call me."

"You're a monster, Sam. A vampire. You're not you anymore and there's no going back."

He sets a bucket, a few bottles of water, and a small paper clip on the floor and cuffs himself to the tiny cot. He's banking on the hope that he'll be shaking too much by the time he loses his will and tries to get out of the cuffs.

It starts with tremors and hallucinations. Then there's the seizures and the vomiting. At some point (day two or three?) he finds himself on the floor with the unbearable weight of the flimsy steel bedframe crushing him and the room moving violently up and down with a thudding like a bowling ball hitting a carpeted floor.

He only realizes it had been his own head repeatedly jerking to the floor several hours later, standing over his body trying to tear his eyes away from Lucifer in Jessica's body. Her thin-fingered hand stroking blood off the forehead of his corpse with enough tenderness that it might really have been her.

"You don't have to fight anymore, Sam," the voice is a whisper. Almost her in sound but the cadence is off. "You and me, we're the same." It probably says something, that Lucifer only ever talks to his corpse. Lucifer sighs, long and drawn out, "Oh, I know you don't want to hear this, Sam, but I promise," her hand curls around Sam's ear, tucking sticky hair out of the way, "You will understand someday."

His head is whole again when he wakes, but the wrists are torn from the handcuffs and it takes him several hours to steady his hands enough to pick the locks.

__

"Dean, it's been months. Getting kind of sick of the silent treatment, you know?" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I heard about Ellen and Jo." He hates the way his voice trails down at the end, hates the way he should have been the one to die there. Hates the way his brother hates him so much he won't even—

"I'm sorry Dean. I'm here. If you want to—" he almost says talk, "yell or—" he sighs. "I don't think you're listening to these so."

Dean tosses the amulet into the trunk of the Impala and a few weeks later, off the side of the road.

__

"Dean, I'm gonna— I'm going to say yes." His voice is shaking. "I'm going to jump in the Cage and I'm going to take Lucifer with me." He doesn't sound determined even to his own ears. More broken than anything else, half aware he's destined to fail, entirely terrified of succeeding.

"Sorry," he sniffles, "If I thought you were listening, I'd probably try to sound less—" he chokes on a laugh. "Dean, I don't know if I can—"

He takes a steadying breath, then erases and records the message several times until it sounds in turns automated and choked with helplessness.

"I don't think I can do this alone."

He never gets a response.

__

"Sam, I'm disappointed." His voice is half tired, half venomous. "I'm so so disappointed in you— what? You, you can't even—" Would it kill him to call back, just once? He hurls the phone at the ground, crushes the screen under his heel, and goes in to raid Bobby's liquor drawer.

__

He's standing in a pool of blood. The demon he drained is still hanging by the wrists. The bottles of blood make him sick. Probably a good sign except that he thinks he'll flinch at the last second.

He's been standing over the trunk for over an hour staring at the bottles of blood when his phone pings with a voicemail.

"Sam, I'm disappointed." Sam closes his eyes and leans his head against the cool metal of the open trunk. "I'm so so disappointed in you— what? You, you can't even—" There's a crash of the phone being thrown.

Sam sinks to the ground, gravel biting into his knees, and holds his head in his hands.

__

He says yes in Detroit and screams no in his head five years later with his brother's throat under his heel.

#Supernatural fic #Sam winchester #Endverse #Sam winchester fic #Hey :) i wrote something sad :) wanna read? #Fic #Fic tag