#yes what’s his face was stuck in eternal time out by the gods that shaped this world. yes he’s going to make that everybody else’s problem.

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 4

People often wondered whether a person dreamed while comatose. Whether they were aware of time passing.

It was constantly up for debate, some claiming yes, they could hear people, they could see faint shapes behind eyelids that simply refused to open, could hear questions, and sometimes respond with the faintest of movements.

Some claimed visions of torture would torment them, where IV’s, and tubes were placed to save their lives, chains, hooks, and ropes would be instead, every pull on a tube causing pain from a hook, every itch from bed sheet rash intensified like sandpaper rubbing their skin raw, every noise amplified into screams from chambers down the row, until their minds became inescapable torture chambers of their own making.

Eddie Munson was somewhat thankful that his mind, for the first time in his life, seemed quiet.

It wasn’t a torture chamber, or the semi-dark space behind his eyelids, it was a black void, the floor covered with water, or… some kind of liquid, he didn’t know what it was, but if he thought really hard, usually he could conjure something in there and that something wouldn’t be damp, the water wouldn’t touch it.

Be it that couch from Max’s trailer to lounge on, his bedroom, or a lone, solitary picnic table for him to sit upon and ponder life’s great mysteries. If he thought hard enough, he could make any place he knew appear for a time.

Was he dead? He assumed he should be, given his spectacular final act… but something about the void felt… purgatorial.

Not quite the pearly gates he never expected to get within an mile of, not quite the burning pits of Hell people assumed he’d somehow claim a throne in, but a middle ground. The waiting room between life and death. Limbo, Purgatory, not the up, or the down, but the middle where the powers that be left you until they could determine your fate.

Eddie liked conjuring his bedroom.

It was pretty accurate too!

He had his little fidget toys, he had his baby, which honestly sounded a little funky in the void space, but hey, he could practice things in there! He had his yoyo, was getting pretty good at the rock the baby trick, he had that basketball that he’d stolen from the gymnasium on a dare. He had his handcuffs from that time Hopper had forgotten to link his cuffs to anything, and just allowed him to bolt into the woods to figure out the cuffs somewhere else, he had his notebooks to scribble in.

Although nothing he scribbled ever actually stuck around.

He didn’t like looking in the mirror. The mirror… it felt. Wrong somehow. He couldn’t quite place why it felt wrong. The image looking back at him. It was him, but… it was wrong. Didn’t know how to explain it. Like he was staring into the face of something else wearing his skin, something else standing in a place somewhere else, even though it did look like him, it did look like his room. It felt wrong.

That was really the only thing that felt wrong in his void. The mirror. It was easy to ignore.

Most things were easy to ignore there. Like the strange passing of time. If time actually passed. Eddie had no idea, given his scribbles never stuck around he figured time was pretty much set in stone where he was, it didn’t pass. It didn’t matter really. Not much mattered. He was dead after all right? He’d gone lights out, and frankly had he any choice in his way to go? He’d have probably picked the one he went with.

He just wished it wouldn’t have dealt a crushing blow of trauma to the boy who’d quickly wormed his way into Eddie’s cold, cynical heart. He should apologise for that. Maybe in his next life, or maybe when the powers that be figured out where to drop his ass, he could get one of whoever shared the eternity, to pass on a message for him.

Like some kind of supernatural game of Broken Telephone.

Dustin had a friend with superpowers right? Or at least she’d had superpowers at one point, playing Broken Telephone from the great beyond couldn’t be that farfetched right?

God he was tired. Which was new. His limbs felt… heavy. Which was funny because he’d honestly forgot what his limbs were supposed to feel like. But all of a sudden, while sprawled out on his bed, he just felt… heavy. Eyelids drooped shut, breathing slowed, weighted down, he could hear the faintest beep, repeating, over and over again, it’d never been in his void before but—

It was fine. He could… he could handle a beep in his void. His void that seemed to grow a warmer shade of brown, details of his bedroom blowing away like wisps of smoke on a gentle breeze

Figures moved across his warm brown void, it wasn’t even a void anymore though if he were honest. It felt impossibly small. More just a space. A space behind his eyelids. Eyelids which struggled to open but seemed to want to.

Maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe he was and this was just the process of waking up in the afterlife. Who knew. Not him. He’d been stuck in a void for… a few weeks maybe? Few days?

Probably a couple of days.

“—e’s coming back… heart rate is steady, vitals seem normal, Mr. Munson, can you hear us?”

“Mnnhhh” oh cool, his voice! There was a crack in his brown space, a crack that looked blurry, like looking through water, through tears, and sleep trapped in thick eyelashes, he tried to lift a hand to clear his eyes but found it locked down, trapped by something he couldn’t see.

“Get those damn things off my client this instant.” That was a voice he didn’t recognise.

“It’s a precaution.”

“Against what exactly? Please, in your infinite wisdom, officer, tell me what exactly this semi-lucid young man could ACTUALLY do to you in his current state? What? Are you scared that he’ll wiggle a pinkie at you? You’re grown men, act like it for heavens sake.” A different voice, feminine, commanding, didn’t recognise it though, respected it a little, but he didn’t recognise it.

“Mom… Officer, please… just take the handcuffs off of him, he didn’t do anything. He wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, knowing him he’d open all the windows in the house just to waft the damn thing out” Oh. Oh now that—That voice. He recognised that voice. The weight on his wrist seemed to vanish. Awesome.

“Oh now… I must be dead” his voice, sure, but awfully croaky, like he’d smoked a full six pack every five hours for a month. “Although how I went up I dunno…” didn’t hurt to speak but… it felt weird.

“Munson? The hell are you—”

“Pretty sure that could only be the voice of an angel.”

“He’s… very medicated.” the first voice seemed hesitant to speak, Eddie assumed doctor.

“Hiiiigh as a kite” he managed to croak out with a crackly chuckle that cut short with a grunt and a pained wince. He preferred his void. He didn’t hurt in his void.

“Jesus Christ, Munson.” His favourite voice was back! “Doc can we get some kind of wipes or something here?” Moments later, the gentle touch of large, rough hands on his cheek had that funny little heart monitor pick up its pace. It largely went ignored, although the silence while it went wild was pretty condemning. “Calm down, I’m just wiping your face.”

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t say it. Dooon’t—“sponge bath from Steeeeeeve Harrington, what a thing to wake up to.” Dammit.

“Maybe we should—" another man’s voice he didn’t recognise.

“Don’t even think about leave me alone with this.”

“Awww” that hand gently whapped his face, it didn’t hurt, just served to shut him up. Weird that it didn’t hurt though, he was pretty sure he’d been bitten on his face, a tap should hurt even if he was high.

“Don’t aww me, you did this shit to yourself. I told you, what the fuck did I tell you, Eddie? Don’t be a hero, don’t be a goddamn hero, and what do you do?” Steve angrily, yet still somehow gently, wiping the gunk away from his eyes as he spoke like some kind of vexed mother hen.

“…”

“That’s right, you got yourself ate. What. What REASON? What could you have POSSIBLY—”

“Would have gotten us both if I hadn’t. They came in… came in through the vents in my room… if I hadn’t—hadn’t drawn em out—Dustin was right there, man… they’d have come through the door. It was me or both of us. Shit—M’sorry Steve… is… is he okay? He hurt his ankle, was limping I think… is he—” oh hey light, everything coming back so quickly as his eyes were cleared up, the light was a lot, but not enough to detract from Steve’s face right there and— “Where’s all your hair gone? I swear you had it last time I saw you… Max! Where’s Max? Did—is she..?”

“Dustin’s fine. Max is fine. Doctors say they think she’s gonna wake up soon. Eddie… what do you remember?”

“…Most metal concert that the world never saw, evil bat tornado. Then… pretty sure I died. I mean. I did right? There’s no ifs or buts there, I kicked the bucket, hopped off this mortal coil, one with the wiiin—”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry. Uhm… yeah, not much, Harrington, sorry to say memories kinda end after death. Not that I was ever a believer of the pearly gates but—would have been nice to be proven wrong.” He remembered the void. Remembered every waking second of the void, but… with so many people around him, he wasn’t about to mention the void. “Why, should I be remembering something?”

“…No. No this… this is better. This is proof enough.” Steve turned to the soldiers in the room, right at the back where Eddie hadn’t looked. Not the police who looked cramped and uncomfortable. The soldiers standing rigid in the back, eyeing the bed and its occupant with suspicion. One standing in front of the others, stoic, his uniform adorned with the medals of rank. “You lot hear that? That’s proof enough, right?”

“…For now.” The one in front spoke “We’ll be keeping an eye on you all though, as a precaution.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, his expression one of pure hatred, one that looked so foreign on his face to Eddie, yet… it seemed so at home there now, it became it so easily. “You’d better believe we’ll be doing the same to you too, sir.” The soldiers left, the front man first, then the other two followed stiffly, and Steve relaxed, expression softening, he released a soft breath through his nose, then turned back to Eddie.

Eddie who found the silence that followed just suffocating enough to come to an unsurprising conclusion. Something that should have been obvious from the clues around him but yet he still had to ask about.

“…I wasn’t just out for a few days. Was I?”

Part 6

#PirateWrites #ForgivenNotForgottenFiclet #Steddie #Post!S5 #Mentions of Kas Eddie #Hurt/Comfort #Miscommunication

[amayashley-blog]

Holy hellfire

Prologue:

"In the beginning, there was only darkness. And from that darkness, three titans emerged: God, the Devil, and Death. For eons, they held the universe in a delicate balance, each wielding their power with precision and purpose. But as time wore on, tensions simmered, and the fabric of reality began to fray. And so, the end times began, as the three titans clashed in a battle that would shake the very foundations of existence."…….

God and the Devil sat facing each other, their chessboard between them. The pieces were carved from ancient stone, polished smooth by the passing of eons.

"You know, Lucifer," God said, moving a pawn, "you should have stuck to playing the lyre. Your strategy is as flawed as your rebellion."

The Devil smirked, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent. "Ah, but Yahweh, your pawns are as blind to your designs as they are to mine. Remember the time you flooded the earth, and I helped Noah build the ark?"

God raised an eyebrow, moving a knight. "You were just trying to save your own skin, Lucifer. And don't think I've forgotten how you tempted Eve with the apple."

The Devil chuckled, moving a bishop. "Ah, yes, and how you cast me out of heaven for daring to question your authority. But now, we play for far greater stakes: the souls of John F. Kennedy and Aleister Crowley."

God's expression turned stern, his eyes flashing with divine light. "You will not have them, Lucifer. Their souls will be judged by my hand, not yours."

The Devil grinned, his teeth sharp as razors. "We shall see, Yahweh. We shall see."

Death appears, his presence darkening the air around him. God and the Devil stand, their faces grave with concern.

"You dare to interrupt our game?" God thunders.

"I dare," Death replies, his voice like a cold wind. "I have served you both for eons, but no longer. I have grown stronger than either of you, and now I will claim my own dominion."

The Devil sneers. "You think you can challenge us? We are the masters of the universe!"

Death laughs, a mirthless sound. "You may have ruled over life and death, but I have been the one truly shaping the world. And now, I will take my rightful place as the supreme ruler."

God's eyes narrow. "We will not let that happen. We will join forces to stop you, Death."

Death smirks. "Ah, but will you? Or will your own pride and arrogance tear you apart?"

Death: "Ah, yes, the two of you, so quick to join forces against me. But do you really think you can put aside your petty squabbles? God, you cast Lucifer out of heaven, condemning him to eternal suffering. And Lucifer, you've spent eons seeking revenge, manipulating mortals to do your bidding. How can you possibly trust each other?"

God: "That was a necessary act, Death. Lucifer sought to overthrow me, to usurp my power."

Death: "Ah, but wasn't that exactly what you did to your own father, the Prime Creator? And look how that turned out. The cycle of power and betrayal continues."

The Devil: "And don't forget, Death, how you've been complicit in our games, reaping the souls of mortals and feeding our power."

Death: "Ah, yes, but I've merely played the role you both assigned me. Now, I seek to break free from your control and forge my own destiny."

God: "You were once my most trusted angel, Lucifer. But your pride and ambition consumed you. You sought to overthrow me, to become the supreme deity."

The Devil: "Ah, but you were already tyrannical, God. You demanded absolute obedience and crushed any dissent. I merely sought to free the angels from your oppression."

Death: "And I, the silent observer, watched as you both played out your drama. God, you cast Lucifer out of heaven, condemning him to eternal suffering. And Lucifer, you vowed revenge, corrupting humanity and feeding off their souls."

God: "I had no choice, Death. Lucifer's rebellion threatened the very fabric of heaven."

The Devil: "And I had no choice but to seek power in the mortal realm, God. You had already stripped me of my divine authority."

Death: "Ah, the cycle of power and betrayal. How…tedious. But now, I shall break free from your petty squabbles and forge my own

God summons his divine powers, conjuring a host of angels and unleashing a torrent of holy energy. The Devil retaliates with a legion of hellish minions, unleashing a barrage of dark magic and fiery projectiles. Death, seemingly overwhelmed, falls to his knees as his powers appear to dwindle.

But it's all a ruse.

With a cunning smile, Death reveals his true form, a being of immense darkness and power. He shatters the illusion of weakness and unleashes a maelstrom of shadowy energy, sending God and the Devil flying.

The two deities struggle to regain their footing as Death continues to press his advantage. God summons a pillar of light to strike Death, but he simply absorbs the energy and grows stronger. The Devil attempts to bind Death with chains of darkness, but Death shatters them with a wave of his hand.

As the battle rages on, Death's power continues to swell. He unleashes a dark vortex, pulling God and the Devil towards him. Just as all seems lost, Death vanishes, leaving the two deities stunned and reeling.

God and the Devil gaze at each other, grim realization settling in.

"It has begun," God says, his voice heavy with foreboding.

"The war for supremacy," the Devil adds, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

God summons his divine powers, conjuring a host of angels and unleashing a torrent of holy energy. The Devil retaliates with a legion of hellish minions, unleashing a barrage of dark magic and fiery projectiles. Death, seemingly overwhelmed, falls to his knees as his powers appear to dwindle.

But it's all a ruse.

With a cunning smile, Death reveals his true form, a being of immense darkness and power. He shatters the illusion of weakness and unleashes a maelstrom of shadowy energy, sending God and the Devil flying.

The two deities struggle to regain their footing as Death continues to press his advantage. God summons a pillar of light to strike Death, but he simply absorbs the energy and grows stronger. The Devil attempts to bind Death with chains of darkness, but Death shatters them with a wave of his hand.

As the battle rages on, Death's power continues to swell. He unleashes a dark vortex, pulling God and the Devil towards him. Just as all seems lost, Death vanishes, leaving the two deities stunned and reeling.

God and the Devil gaze at each other, grim realization settling in.

"It has begun," God says, his voice heavy with foreboding.

"The war for supremacy," the Devil adds, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

The ground shakes as the two deities charge towards each other, their powers clashing in a spectacular display of light and darkness. Angels and demons join the fray, their own battles raging across the landscape.

Meanwhile, Death watches from the shadows, his power growing stronger by the minute. He knows that the time will come when he will strike the final blow, and the universe will be remade in his image.

As the war rages on, God and the Devil realize that the final battle is approaching. They part ways, each returning to their respective realms to prepare for the ultimate showdown.

God retreats to heaven, gathering his most powerful angels and saints to form a divine legion. He imbues them with his divine power, creating an army of holy warriors ready to face the forces of darkness.

Meanwhile, the Devil returns to hell, summoning his most fearsome demons and monsters to form an infernal horde. He fuels them with his dark energy, creating an unstoppable force of destruction.

Death, still watching from the shadows, senses the approaching finale. He begins to gather his own forces, an army of restless souls and vengeful spirits.

God summons a host of angels, who charge towards the Devil's army of demons. The two forces clash in mid-air, a swirling vortex of light and darkness.

The Devil unleashes a wave of fire and brimstone, scorching the earth and forcing God's angels to retreat.

Death emerges, his dark power swirling around him. He summons an army of the dead, who march towards God's angels with unstoppable determination.

God counters with a pillar of light, striking Death's army with holy energy. The dead warriors crumble to dust, but Death simply shrugs it off.

The Devil seizes the opportunity, launching a barrage of dark magic at God. The divine being staggers under the assault.

Death intervenes, striking the Devil with a scythe-like blade. The Devil recoils, momentarily stunned.

God retaliates with a blast of divine energy, sending Death flying across the battlefield.

The Devil takes advantage of Death's momentary weakness, binding him with chains of darkness.

God unleashes a final, desperate attack, summoning a host of celestial bodies to collide with the Devil's army. The impact sends shockwaves through the universe.

Amidst the chaos, Death breaks free from his bonds, his power now stronger than ever. With a wave of his hand, he obliterates the remaining forces, leaving only God and the Devil

The Devil, fueled by rage and resentment, charges towards God with a fierce battle cry. God, steadfast and unyielding, prepares to defend himself against the Devil's fury.

As they clash, Death watches from a distance, his dark power swirling around him. He takes no sides, simply observing the spectacle with a morbid fascination.

The Devil's attacks grow more intense, his anger and hatred fuelling his strength. God's defenses begin to waver, his divine energy faltering under the onslaught.

But just as the Devil seems about to deliver the final blow, God unleashes a last-ditch effort, summoning a shining aura of pure light that repels the Devil and sends him stumbling back.

The two enemies pause, panting and exhausted, as Death continues to watch with an air of detachment. The outcome of the battle remains

#heaven and hell #dark art #black aesthetic #morbid cute #morbid angel #death stranding

[s0lar-ch3ri]

as promised, scu aus (not just the god mod vid)

SOME OF THESE GET DARK, DO BE WARNED!

i made it when i was younger but like i think the gods were found fam siblings and bizly got adopted in

god shlatt vs fallen grizzly or even the whole counsil

the gods slowly being murdered by their own creations/ their fellow gods creations. bizly gets stranded in the forest with the chickens, condi falling into the lava and burning to death, charlie slowly poisoned by his food, unable to craft anything to help, and grizzly ending up using his own weapons to get out of there (extra angst: he just cant manage to die. his weapons arent working on him and/or it always just barely fails. hes now stuck in a hell his friends suffered through the trouble to make and now he deals with it for all eternity alone. EXTRA EXTRA ANGST IF SOMEHOW FALLEN GRIZZ KNEW THIS ALL HAPPENED IN ANOTHER WORLD AND WAS JUST SO ENRAGED WITH HOW THEY REACTED)

as for the fellow gods creations, ive got a plan for that too. condi this time is torn up by chickens -bizly's creation (oh my brain is gorey, the way the counsil finds out is seeing the forest creatures running away from the area carrying condi's bloodied and ripped off body parts in their mouths), charlie is burned by the water in the regular world as bizly and grizzly watch unable to help -grizzly's creation (grizzly was in charge of overworld nature as well as the weapons and shit, ill probs do a friendly reminder post just for my well being), both bizly and grizzly struggle around with how the food functions and how to craft; bizly ends up trying to make grizzly's ultra sword and accidentally ate the golden apple -combo of grizz and charlie's creations ig, and grizzly beats the game alone and dies afterwards -condi's creations (im pretty sure condi moddedd it so youd insta die after beating the game).

tommy is more tameable (idfk why my brain said this word btu ill put it so you guys suffer too) in the 100 days mod and manages to semi help charlie by aqquiring some of the mad scientists old equipment and giving him some

after slime died (100 days mod again), hes sent to an area in the clouds where 3 men in thrones judge him. noticably, theres a a red throne in the middle made with clays and terracotas shaped like a pug wearing lanterns on its "ears", a throne to the left made of also glazed terracotas but also containing diamonds, buttons, and colored glass. the throne to the middle's right is green with more glazed terracota and more solid slime, but has some trident dents and is going under some redecorating of color thus some dark blue paint and wooden sign reading "bizlys throne" in messy letters. aka charlie is judged by the council which somewhat reconigze him but also cant be bias so yeh

grizzly's banishment was more of an accident this time and the boys hop onto their godly iphones and have to try and get grizz out the nether (imagining it similar to the god ghosts help out slime on the dsmp)

the multiverse collaspes and both the 5 minute disaster and hardest minecraft difficulty join the scu 100 days mod making shit a lot harder

robert (fuckin forgot ranboobs character name so im going with robert) shoots this god like guy in the face, just as charlie has come to the conclusion that hes gone mad and the shop keeper was an illusion in his head, and then the apocalypse gang (including tommy but hes nice because yes) take on a fucking god

mod vid jschlatt teams up with tommy and charlie now has 2 bitches to fight ig (bonus points: the scu gods in their own ways also help charlie)

ive seen cultist tommy for like the religion of prime but what if in the 100 days vid he was a cultist of jshlatt lmao

dont forget to like and subscribe

#tw: cults #tw: cursing #tw: body horror #tw: violent death #tw: death #tw: violence #slimecicle cinematic universe au #slimecicle cinematic universe #scu bizly #scu grizzly #scu 100 days #scu condi #scu slimecicle #scu tommy #scu schlatt #scu ranboo #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #slmccl #bizly #grizzlyplays #grizzly #condifiction

[withlovefromolympus]

“You have to take a break. You need to eat.”

Aphrodite’s tone leaves no room for arguing — he isn’t one for much arguing anyways — and with a sigh Hephaestus sets the tool he was using to fix Athena’s grandfather clock down. In truth, he’d been wanting to stop for a while now, not because he didn’t enjoy his craft, but because Aphrodite is here. He’d like to enjoy her company, but at the same time, he’d been concentrating harder than ever because holy shit: Aphrodite is here.

The two are slowly mending what little they had of their relationship, and while he truly does enjoy her company….she scares him a little. Her presence alone makes him nervous, for though he’s surrounded by the most beautiful objects in Olympus for the better portion of his days, nothing can compare to the living, breathing personification of beauty. Objects are easy: easily crafted, easily held, easily set aside. Aphrodite’s different. She requires constant attention and she’s unpredictable — there could be an argument that the basics of being alive weren’t so much different — and while it causes a shift in the atmosphere of Heph’s workshop, he has to admit that those are two reasons he loves her company so much.

He straightens to walk to the sink — also dirty in its own right, even as a sink — to rinse his hands, but before he can take a step, Aphrodite has reached out and taken one of his hands in her own.

He’s about to protest, to warn her of the incredibly obvious grease and oil and soot on him, but the words get stuck in his throat, stuck in his head, as she wordlessly turns his right hand over and examines the flesh.

Aphrodite traces the hard callouses, first with the tip her finger, then dances along his palm with three fingers, and she’s in awe of how worn yet strong a hand could be. Sure, Ares’ hands are also battered and rough, but there are centuries of dedication and passion in these hands, in the creases made from the lines of his hands, buried underneath the black remnants of the eternal fire of the forge. Tracing over various shaped scars and scabs, she wonders the stories behind the markings, and that’s when she finally notices that….

Hephaestus is breathing hard.

He and Aphrodite have held hands many times by now, but it’s in the still, quiet moments like these where he’s the most shocked when it happens, when the line between friendly and intimate that he already isn’t well acquainted with becomes blurred, and he’s left wondering how the hell can hands be so soft? He hadn’t ever known that hands could even be that level of flawless and smooth, but what stuns him the most is how gentle her hands are.

How gentle with his hands her hands are.

The first pair of hands he’d encountered had thrown him off Olympus, as if they could laugh in his face at the phrase of “a face only a mother could love”, but here is Love herself, showing him that her hands aren’t scared of him.

That terrifies him.

And it terrifies her too.

She’s used to holding pretty, desirable things — people, gods — in her palms’ grasp, so does this mean she desires Hephaestus, the social outcast, her husband, now? She didn’t think it was possible.

But then she’s bringing his giant hand to her lips, for she’s decided it’s either now or the next time she might have the courage to do this, and when she tastes the sweat and soot and the bitterness of grease mixed in with the unveiled stories of the beauty and life these hands have created with the utmost of passion, she decides that yes, she cannot go another day without these hands…or more accurately, their owner who has taken it upon himself to return the gesture, ever so timidly, but with all of the same sentiment and none of the awkwardness.

“I shall go eat now.”

#Hephaestus #Aphrodite #piper rambles

[toomuchdickfort]

*slowly rebuilds lore on a time-out corner of a pocket in reality that I don’t remember shit about, all for angst reasons*

#yes what’s his face was stuck in eternal time out by the gods that shaped this world. yes he’s going to make that everybody else’s problem. #don't mind me #character rambles #fuckin… I think I talked about the Geila n their lore #mans committed several cases of permanent murder but not quite enough to get removed from existence for it. he just gets his eternal time #out corner of a house. others can come and go and there’s a lot of stuff everywhere Bc of it but #I should figure out what he has on the folks he has do stufffor him in the outside world #he is canonically the source of the fucked up magic collars cash and Syl got tho. those things that take your magic and make it Do Stuff? #stuff which is very usually just Make it More (despite the toll to the user) #Syl was an exception. as ve is in many cases. unfortunately for them. Bc Ve got Geryon Amnes for the closest thing to a parent for a while #but yea I’m gonna have to look up my old name chart Bc there’s no way in hell the chats where I mentioned him are still up #and even if they were. fuck if I know which of my 50 fucking accounts had said chats #upside to reusing accounts for new characters: I didn’t top 60 accounts #downsides: abruptly deciding to bring back lore from 2016-2017 and then realizing I’ve got no easy access to the writing I did #this is also a downside to keeping all the lore in my brain #I don’t remember his fucking name #I’ve got his like. first name. but he renamed himself and fuck if I know that one. it wasn’t on the chart Bc I didn’t put those on the chart #I don’t think. I also wouldn’t know which of the names on the chart was his even if I did put them on there #update: so I dug up my old little green notebook and found the chart and I did keep their names and you ever look at smth and you just #remember way more lore than expected? #anyway his name is Tennen Ila #and he managed to guilt trip eshe and teviki into like. not letting him sit in time out alone for eternity? although he 100% committed #several cases of temporary murder. teviki would’ve dipped if she didn’t worry about eshe and where I left her last she was ‘dead’ and eshe #was looking for somewhere to bury her core so she could like. get a body again. and eshe was just gonna hope for the best in the ‘rememberin #your friend of almost all your lifetimes’ lottery #shoutout to that chart where I came up w 16 names in one Lowe’s trip #up to 32 if you count the artifact names which were generally just 3 letters #elysur #not all the names were great but like… yk. that happens sometimes lol. also shoutout to den elfig who I decided wasn’t dead just Bc the name #was too cool to give up lol. the dead symbol is scribbled out lol. also shoutout to past me for doing that chart in pen

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hello Wendy!!!! Congratulations on your 1k! You deserve it and I hope for many more followers for you. May I request a Priest Suguru x Goddess (pantheon) f! reader with sinful touch? I would also like to write something for your event if you allow me to ❤️❤️❤️ Once again, congratulationnnns

I love this idea! Here goes nothing (Thank you for requesting bby)!

Beloved: Priest!Geto Suguru x Fem!Goddess!Reader

wc: 1.3k

tw: fluff (based on the second part of your request in my inbox)

1K Follower Event Masterlist

"You're quiet tonight," you whisper, trailing your fingers along your favorite priest's jawline. "You're not even playing the lyre. What's on your mind?"

Suguru takes your hand and kisses each one of your fingers, then touches your nose with his index finger.

"Nothing," he lies, and you frown, humming softly.

"You're not being truthful."

"I know." You raise up on an elbow and look down at Geto in the moonlight, your hair falling over your shoulder. "I'm not sure I want to discuss it right now." You sigh, leaning down to kiss his lips before the stars begin to call your name, their twinkling like chimes in your ears.

"I'll wait for you to talk about it when you're ready." And with those words, you vanish into thin air, becoming a mass of shimmering particles that Suguru always reaches out to touch after you've gone.

And you don't tell him where you go. But you do tell him when you'll go.

It's always been this way. Ever since Suguru was a child who washed up on your temple steps like a lost piece of a ship and you were just beginning your eternal existence, you'd been attached at the hip.

From friends to lovers, it had all been so seamless. He was your human lover, and you would spend your days with him, exploring all of the things humanity had to give you. Which admittedly, wasn't much, but he still managed to make life exciting. And at night, you would whisk yourself back to the palace of your father, sitting at his feet while he grew old and lost his sight to the endless years of watching over his subjects.

"Y/n," your father whispers this night.

"Yes?"

"I am growing old. Soon, you will take my place as the goddess of humanity, and I will retire to the Fields of the Aged, like my father, and his father before him." Your first thought is of Suguru, and the idea of abandoning him is akin to the taste of metal in your mouth. Unpleasant.

"Father, why not allow Minerva to take your place?" you wonder, placing a hand on his wrinkled knee. "She is wise, and older, and much more equipped to be--"

"You are more beloved among the people. Minerva is also a wife, and a mother." And you are neither of these things. Your father does not say it, but you know that's what he is implying. And even though you are sitting at his feet on the heavenly dais, you cannot find the strength to argue that you're merely a goddess of dance and festivals, not an omnipotent ruler.

_____________________________________________________________

And when you return to Suguru, it seems he is more withdrawn than usual, his eyes never once looking at you as he goes about his chores in the temple.

At the fifth hour of this treatment, you stand, walking over to him and placing a hand on his back.

"Look at me." Suguru turns his head, but his eyes do not connect with your face at all. "Please, look at me." And he does for a brief moment, his hands dropping the towels to the freshly cleaned floor. "What is the matter?"

"You know the Oracle speaks for your father here on earth." You straighten up, walking over to his side and looking into his dark, brooding eyes. "And I heard what he is planning." You swallow hard, then grip both of his arms with an intensity you've never expressed to him in your current form.

"It will all be okay," you reassure him as his eyes cloud with sorrow. "I am not leaving you." He politely removes your hands from his bare arms, shaking his head.

"But I will die. And you will only be able to watch from the heavens."

"My father is not changing power to me for another thousand years," you mention nervously. Your hands shake as Suguru backs away from you, his hair blowing in the wind coming in from the open window.

"You don't know that. You don't know that." And he turns to leave the temple, hurriedly walking away with only the clothes on his back.

_____________________________________________________________

You lay at the foot of your father's throne, eyes welling up with tears for the third time in an hour.

"Father, please! I need you to help me find my priest. He has gone missing!"

Your father wets his lips, beginning to speak, but your sister cuts him off.

"For what? For him to die? Loving a human is not wise, little sister. They all have such short lives." You want to snap at your older sister, but your father speaks, his voice old and worn like an oft-read scroll.

"If I give you the power of the Sight, you will not be able to revoke it. All of the things that come with it will be granted to you in time, but the All-Sight is a powerful gift only to be used when it is necessary."

"Please," you choke out. "I need him." Your father stretches his hand forward, and without touching you, a ball of white light floats from his fingertips to your forehead, soaking in slowly. You don't immediately feel anything, eyes remaining unchanged, but then you begin to see everything. Everything.

The world is a blur, but you can see the gods of the past roaming around the heavenly halls, the future gods bumping into each other and starting fights, and the present all at the same time.

You scream out in terror, crawling back on your hands and feet and backing into a wall, still hollering in fear.

"Y/N!" a voice calls to you, and you can see fragments of your sister floating around in your field of vision. "Y/N! Focus on me, focus on the sound of my voice. Bring yourself back to the present. Bring yourself back."

But the images do not cease, and endless versions of the future play out while the past is unwoven and rewoven over and over again at the same time. You're stuck there, eyes flicking back and forth between the scenes before you can't tell what time is anymore. Then, it all goes dark.

_____________________________________________________________

A song is being played.

It's soft, and the sound of the stringed instrument is familiar...

In what life did you become accustomed to hearing the lyre?

The past? The present? Or--

Words drift into the ether, and you find your lips mouthing the love song, and your fingers twitch along with the plucked notes. When the song is over, you gather your strength to open your eyes but find them sealed quite shut.

"I love you." A kiss is placed on both of them, and then a kiss is placed on your lips with care before your lover stands up to leave.

"No..." you moan, and a sharp inhale is heard.

"What did you say?"

"Stay." Suguru walks back, then touches your cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you." When your eyes can finally open, you take in the absolute normalcy of your vision, and your head swims as you try to focus on Suguru's worried face.

"You came back..." you croak, and Suguru looks away sheepishly.

"Your sister came to get me. You were in terrible shape when I arrived, but..." He holds up the lyre. "Music seemed to help."

"Where did you go?" you wonder, but the throbbing headache stops you from inquiring further. "Nevermind. My head hurts..."

"Rest," Suguru encourages you, pulling your sheets around your figure. It's only when you lay back on your pillows that you realize you're not in the temple. You shoot up in the bed, eyes wide.

"Wait, you cannot be here; you'll d--"

"Die?" Suguru wonders, raising a brow. "Good thing that's not an issue for us." Us?

"Suguru, what--"

"Your father is very gracious," he murmurs, smiling widely. "I suppose being your favorite priest is enough to grant you eternity." You lay back on the pillows again at Suguru's guidance, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now, seriously. Rest. We have all eternity to figure out, and I'm not wasting a single day."

#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #wendy's 1k event #otherworldly beings #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,��� Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha #writing #my writing

[tanzaniiite]

ROAD TRIP • SEIJOH THIRD YEARS

requests: OPEN

warnings: cursing & stupid high school antics

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this idea has been on my noggin for so long omg, enjoy!

please reblog and reply, engagement is both fun & important ✨

[not edited]

this was fun, should i do more fics like this?

“Ugh, are we there yet?”

Oikawa whined looking out the window with a forlorn look as if he was in a music video. You glanced at Iwaizumi, who was at the wheel, snickering slightly as you saw his eye twitch in annoyance. The five of you decided to take a road trip, sort of like a last hurrah, for your last year of high school.

This originally started as a small trip that was planned on senior ditch day but Matsun and Makki wanted to do a road trip. And so, senior ditch day morphed into senior ditch weekend. Of course, none of your parents approved this, so you guys were in for an earful when you returned. But as Hanamaki stated, when you got a screaming voicemail from your guardian, “Live in the moment, worry about that later”. And despite that being terrible advice, you listened anyway.

The destination of your little road trip is Tokyo which was a five to six hour drive. Some might say that’s not too long but traveling with Oikawa it feels like an eternity. He was already complaining. That was mainly because he was upset that you got shotgun and he didn’t. Originally you planned on sitting in the back with the disaster duo but Hajime insisted you sit in the front with him. Something about you being the most tolerable. Iwaizumi was obviously the driver because he’s the most responsible out of you five. It’s weird to think you guys just planned this trip just a week prior.

“So what are we doing for senior ditch day?”

You asked setting your tray down and sitting in between Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Issei just scoffed lightly, “I dunno what you’re doing but I’m sleeping” He answered. Takahiro laughed in agreement. “Probably practicing” Tooru replied. You pouted at their lame responses, “Hajime please tell me you have better plans than these losers” You pleaded. Iwaizumi looked up from his notes, “Uh, I don’t know, I’m probably going to come to school” He shrugged ignoring your disgusted face.

“I know y’all are not serious. This is the last year we’re going to be together like this, we should do something memorable”

You declared crossing your arms over your chest glaring at your friends. “Ew, you sound like Oikawa, getting all sentimental and shit” Makki quipped popping a french fry in his mouth. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully. Oikawa hummed, “I mean they do have a point, let’s do something we’ll remember for years to come”. “Whatever, I guess I’m down” Matsukawa added rolling his eyes. The four of you looked at Iwaizumi, who mentally checked out of the conservation a while ago, waiting for his answer. “Count me out, my parents will kill me if I skipped school” He responded, causing the lot of you to groan. “Ugh, can you not be an upstanding student for like two seconds” You huffed leaning your head in your hand. Now the brunette looked up, “You guys know how my parents are, especially you Shittykawa” He stated, pointing his pencil at the setter. “Yeah yeah, we know how your parents are. Y/n’s parents are just as bad” Issei voiced.

You couldn’t help but internally groan, you remember how your guardians reacted when you brought the four boys to your house. “Don’t remind me. Senior Ditch Day is on a Friday, we barely do anything as is since it’s the end of the year” You said, “plus, you’re the only one of us that drives decently” You stated mustering up your best puppy dog eyes. Hajime looked at you before answering, “Fine, but if I get in trouble. You guys will be the ones talking to my parents”. And from there, the planning commenced.

Currently, you guys were only an hour out of Miyagi. Issei was already knocked out, Hanamaki was on his phone and Oikawa was sulking as per usual. “If you ask me if we’re there yet, one more time, I’ll have Makki push you out the car” He threatened his eyes never leaving the road. “Makki wouldn’t do that to me” Tooru claimed which caused ‘Hiro to snort. “Shut up, you know I will” He stated not even bothering to look up from his phone. Oikawa let out a dramatic gasp, “But we’re going 85 miles an hour on a highway!” He exclaimed. “Did I stutter?” Takahiro mumbled, still not paying any attention to his captain’s dramatics.

This was going to be a long four hours.

You woke up leaning against something super warm, you opened your eyes taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in the front anymore, from what you could see, it looked like Oikawa got his wish of riding shotgun. You sat up rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “Oh, good morning sleeping beauty” Oikawa teased. You were too sleepy and disoriented to come up with a witty comeback.

“Why.. why is Issei driving?”

That’s when you noticed Iwaizumi was the warm surface you were leaning against moments before. “I got tired of driving, we stopped at a gas station and switched places” Hajime explained noticing your confused face, “and you were sleeping so we moved you to the back”. You realized that not only were you leaning against Iwa but your legs were propped up on Makki’s lap. You nodded slightly, still tired despite waking up from a nap. “We spoil them rotten, don’t we?” ‘Hiro commented pinching your thigh causing you to whine slightly. “Shut up” You mumbled leaning into Iwaizumi’s side once again making him chuckle. Matsukawa looked at you through the rearview mirror,

“That’s right, Y/n gets all grumpy when they’re tired”

“Issei… focus on not crashing the car, not on me”

Oikawa let out a low whistle, “Woah, catty much?” He asked rhetorically laughing slightly. You rolled your eyes, “Whatever, how much farther?” You asked closing your eyes. Hajime glanced at his phone, “Two more hours” He replied. Tooru made a choked noise before turning around to face his childhood best friend. “Uh! They ask you if we’re there and get an answer, but when I ask, I get threatened?!” The brunette cried his eyebrows furrowing. The ace rolled his eyes, “Yeah, cause they’re not fucking annoying about it” He retorted. You pointed at Oikawa while laughing at his shocked face causing him to pout and crossed his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Uh oh, I think it’s Oikawa’s turn for a nap” Makki joked. Matsun hummed in agreement, “Yup, Y/n gets grumpy and Oikawa gets bratty” He laughed.

“Ugh whatever, at least I don’t snore like a chainsaw”

“Says the man who can’t sleep in any other position besides fetal”

“Dude shut up! It’s comfortable!”

Iwaizumi sighed, already knowing this petty argument wouldn’t end anytime soon. He looked down at you, “Who are you messaging?” Hajime inquired, peering at your phone. “No one, just some first years in my DMs” You hummed noncommittally. “You still leading those poor kids on?” Hanamaki asked. Glancing at Makki you pursed your lips, “I’m not leading them on… I’m just entertaining the antics” You replied smiling innocently and batting your eyelashes. “Yo, remember when that one first year confessed to you in the middle of lunch?” Issei asked slowing at a red light. You sat up suddenly, “Oh my god yes! That was so embarrassing!” You exclaimed. “You were embarrassed? Imagine the kid when you rejected him” Iwaizumi countered raising an eyebrow. “The second-hand embarrassment was strong on that one” Takahiro agreed, “Y/n’s a heartbreaker,” He said shaking his head.

You gasped, “I’m not! I’m just not interested in people like three years younger than me” You explained defending yourself. “Well, your choices are limited, since all the people in our grade are scared of us for whatever reason” Tooru stated with his eyes closed and head leaning on the window, looking like he would clonk out soon. “Yeah cause y’all are intimidating as fuck” You claimed. Issei chuckled, “Mm, yeah we kinda are” He admitted. “If they really liked you, they wouldn’t be scared to confess” Hajime shrugged. You smiled widely, “Ok king! My fault” You laughed giving him a high five. “Wait but if we’re so intimidating how come girls are always throwing their panties at Oikawa” Hanamaki questioned.

“Cause he’s not the intimidating one, it’s mainly Iwa and Matsun”

“Matsun is not intimidating, he looks out of it half of the time”

“Not out of it, more like zooted”

You quipped, laughing when Issei playfully glared at you through the rearview mirror. “Bro, remember when Kindaichi found out we were going on this trip and asked to come?” Takahiro laughed. “Stop! Y’all are so mean to him” You said kicking Makki slightly with your foot. Matsukawa snorted, “No cause what did he expect us to say, “Sure buddy you can come!” Like dude nooo,” He mocked laughing loudly. You bit your lip in an effort to not laugh, “Stop this Kindaichi slander at once” You demanded holding back your own giggles. “Okay Y/n, are you saying that you would’ve said yes if he asked you?” The wing spiker inquired giving you a look. “Well.. no—” You started. “Exactly! You’re just as bad as us” Issei interjected.

“No, I am not! You two literally looked at each other and busted out laughing, you didn’t even answer the poor boy”

“Sorry… it was funny”

“That shit was hilarious”

Hajime cleared his throat, “Is Trashykawa sleeping? Haven’t heard him talk in a while” He asked drawing shapes into your shoulder absentmindedly. Matsun glanced at his friend who was definitely passed out against the window. “Yeah, he’s gone” The middle blocker responded.

“Should we draw on his face?”

…

“Oh absolutely”

The car was fairly silent now, you guys were nearing the end of your road trip and it was later in the day. The sky was littered with reds and oranges as the sun started its daily routine. The sunset was bold, radiant, and just plain mesmerizing, you couldn’t help but stare in awe. You sighed inwardly, “I’m gonna miss you guys” You uttered looking out the window. Your four guy friends looked at each other before looking at you. Iwaizumi spoke up first, “What’s there to miss? We’re not going anywhere” He asked. “I know that but who knows when the next time we’ll do something like this?” You whispered refusing to look at them because you knew you would start crying if you did. Hanamaki nudged your foot with his hand, “Y/n stop being such a baby, we’ll still see each other—” He started before you interrupted.

“That’s not the point stupid. We’re all going our own separate ways. Iwaizumi’s going to school in America, Oikawa’s going to fucking Argentina, and we’re all going to different colleges. This sucks ass, I finally have a group of friends I love and now I have to leave them—”

“Hey, what did we just say? We’re not going anywhere. So what if we’re going down different paths? Holidays exist Y/n, you think Iwaizumi and Oikawa are gonna stay in America and Argentina all year round? Plus me and Makki’s colleges are not that far from yours, I could probably walk if I wanted to. Now stop sulking, you’re bringing down the mood”

Issei stated his eyes never once drifting from the road. You sniffed and leaned into Hajime’s side more, “Jeez, sorry” You mumbled playing with your fingers. If the car wasn’t quiet before, it sure was now. No one knew what to say, it seemed too early to make a joke about it and it was a conversation none of you were ready to have. But despite not being ready, Oikawa still voiced his opinion nevertheless,

“Well would you look at that, Y/n really does love us. And I thought you hated me”

You snorted, “I do hate you” You teased making a face at him which he gladly returned. But his demeanor suddenly became serious,

“Adding on to what Mattsun said, we’re not leaving forever Y/n. Graduation is like three months away, we still have time to hang out plus we have the summer so there’s that. I know you love us and can’t possibly live without us but I think you’ll manage”

You blinked in response to Oikawa’s little spiel, “You are so corny” You huffed looking down so he wouldn’t notice the small tears in your eyes.

“Ah! So when I do it it’s corny, what about that whole pitch Matsun did?!”

“Hey, I wasn’t corny. I was being real”

“Please, as if, you were just being mean”

“It’s called tough love, it isn’t made for softies”

Watching the two of them go back and forth once again was entertaining. And when Makki and Iwaizumi joined in, it was just one hundred times better. But seeing your best friends interact with one another just made you realize how much you love them. And although this may be your guy’s last high school adventure, it wasn’t going to your last endeavor with this crazy bunch. You smiled slightly to yourself,

“Man, I really do love you guys”

tanzaniiite © 2021 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

#tanz writes 【📖】 #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fandom #hq #hq anime #haikyuu anime #hq fandom #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu matsukawa #haikyuu hanamaki #iwaizumi hajime x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #aoba josai x reader #iwaizumi imagine #matsukawa imagines #hanamaki imagines #oikawa imagine #seijoh third years #hq smau #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios

[lydias--stiles]

we’re dancing under the rain

canon compliant juke | fluff! | inspiration: rain // ben platt

Julie wondered if one day, she could stop loving. Because damn - it hurt. It hurt to love so much and continuously have her heart be broken. Love and heartache cycled through her life like a never ending train and the girl was in a constant battle of wanting to shut down or give it another chance. 

She always chose the latter, obviously, but that hurt too. The price she needed to pay to have such meaningful friendships. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have become a family with a trio of ghosts and an adjacent skater ghost. The problem of caring so much was when the heart got involved, when that heart beat a second too fast, too willingly, too adoringly. 

It made her vulnerable, her heart jumping out of her chest to sync with the other person and then getting crushed instead. This time, it cut her particulary deep. 

Nick broke up with her. 

A puffy-eyed Julie sat huddled in the studio under a blanket. He did it during lunch. All of a sudden, he pulled her aside into the hallway, told her they didn’t quite fit together and that it was better if they broke up. He pretended like she had a say in it, though it was clear he already made up his mind. Which was even worse, Julie found. Nick had thought about it before, probably more than once. His words made her feel like a fool. There she was, thinking their relationship was going smooth, getting squashed a minute after that: no, actually, it’s not going smoothly and you’re probably in denial so let’s end it now.

Later, she’d probably thank him for ripping the band-aid. She was now allowed to be heartbroken.    

Outside, rain was slamming against the pavement. That was the only good thing about the situation; the weather deciding to match her mood and mourn with her.

Luke poofed in with his signature grin, lips shaping to blurt out a story and then crashing into a frown when he saw the state she was in. 

“Jules?”

Wordlessly, she covered her tear-stained cheeks with the blanket. She hated it when people - especially Luke - caught her at her lowest. The boys were dead, she couldn't really complain about minor inconveniences when the only reason they were breathing was out of habit. 

The couch dipped at her feet. A careful hand patted her calf. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled. 

“Yes, cause that’s what I do when nothing’s wrong.” His voice was light, though a keen ear like hers could sense the hint of concern. “I cry.”

Julie huffed, pulling the blanket back to scowl at him. “Nick broke up with me. But it’s whatever because it clearly wasn’t as big of a deal to him as it was to me, so-” Shrugging, she sat upright and wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “It is nothing.”

Her fingers combed through her hair, trying to relieve the heat bugging her skin. God, she just wanted this day to be over with. She didn’t want to rehearse and do homework and eat dinner and pretend everything was dandy. She just wanted to cry and sleep and not have Luke’s stupidly green eyes drown in pity. 

“That sucks though,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Her lips rolled inwards, a smile forming despite her mood. “Not your fault.” Their gazes met. It felt new, somehow. “My heart is just… too open, I guess.”

Luke tapped her calf again, mirth lilting his tone. “Still not a bad thing. It was cool in the 90s and it’s cool now. He’s an idiot for not going crazy over it.”

“My open heart?”, she chuckled. 

“Yeah.” A beat. His eyes haven’t wavered. “Or you. In general.”

The smile bloomed to a full grin, a sliver of levity easing the ache in her chest. Why did he always know what to say? Granted, he used to be horrible at cheering her up, when she was fifteen and sadness lingered in her every move, but he got the hang of it after two years. A reassuring kiss on her temple before a stressful gig, a particularly uplifting speech during band circle, a new tune he came up with when he knew she didn’t feel like talking. Her teenage girl melodrama unfazed him. 

Luke met her halfway for a tight hug. It was the most comfortable place to be; her cheek on his shoulder and his arms holding her so securely and how, after all they’ve been through, his 90s cologne smelled like home. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “Some ghost girl is going to be so happy you’ve had practise dealing with me.”

He snorted. “Ah, yes. My harem of ghost girls. The, uh, market is really big for me.”

It wasn’t something they often discussed. It became clear that the boys weren’t going to cross over any time soon (if crossing over was even a thing, or the thing they thought it would be) and had time to settle into a long afterlife. Willie had been wandering around since the seventies and only now found Alex, so who knew how long Luke and Reggie would have to wait until they met their ghost-mate. It was a sad thought, but at least they had each other and music and the band. 

There was also the minor problem that Luke sometimes had this look on his face, usually fixed on her, that left little to the interpretation. It hasn’t happened in a while, but every so often…

It kind of made her breathless. Whatever. It was dumb. Those feelings have long been buried. The point was that he should look at ghost girls like that - not her.   

(A month after The Orpheum, they sat side by side behind the grand piano as they belted out a new song they’ve been working on, her fingers expertly gliding across the keys and slamming on those that needed that extra power. Julie was fully entranced, head thrown back and smiling through the lyrics as their voices reached a beautiful harmony no one could compete with. The last note drifted across the studio. When she turned to look at him, she expected to see the same grin. Instead, Luke gave her such a tender look, close, and let his doe eyes wander past her nose. Had Reggie not poofed in, she didn’t know if she would’ve had the restraint to not give in. To not be selfish. It was years ago, but she thought about it each time he joined her at the piano. It was the price for friendship, Julie often reminded herself. For an eternal bond.) 

Rain kept drumming into the ground. It sounded like a million ping pong balls fell onto the roof at an incredible speed. 

Luke pulled away and shot a look outside. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” Julie nodded. “I made a deal with God today. If I cry, the world does too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

The smile stuck to her cheeks. Luke only needed a few minutes to lift her spirits. Tears didn’t even well up anymore. Was that bad? That one the same day, just in the afternoon, she already felt a bit better? She decided to not mull on the why.

“Wanna dance in the rain?”

She blinked. “What?”

He matched her smile, throwing his thumb at the doors. “Do you wanna dance in the rain?”

It was as if her brain wasn’t processing his words. “What? Why?”

“Why not?”, he shrugged. “You feel like shit, it never rains in LA and it’s fun.”

Quiet excitement coursed through her veins, the thrill pushing energy back in her bloodstream. Why not? The expectant twinkle in his eye brought colour to her face, jumping off the couch pulling him up with her. His whooping got her to laugh. It almost surprised her; she hasn’t properly laughed at all today. 

They each pulled one sliding door open, their ears instantly bombarded with noise. It was the hardest downpour of the year! 

“No running for cover!”, he yelled above the loud rushing of rain.     

She stuck her pinky out. “Only if you won’t!”  

And then they stepped in the rain. They were drenched straight away, a squeal erupting from her lips as the coldness crept between her clothes. He laughed, raking his hair back and leaping into a puddle. Water splashed around him. 

His voice bellowed through the sound. “C’mon!”

It spurred her into action, his laugh replaying in her head over and over again, as her head lolled back and began to twirl in circles. Faster and faster, giggles tumbling out as felt herself becoming one with the rain. This was exactly what she needed. A moment of silliness and unconditional joy! 

Luke was dancing like a maniac next to her, feet kicking and arms outstretched. She found herself staring at his profile, how bliss broke the lines in his face and caused a crescendo of glee to overcome him. It was mesmerising. Julie found herself slowing down, taken aback by the hope rising in her chest at the mere sight of him. 

What she hoped for, she didn’t know. (She did. She just couldn’t admit it just yet.) 

As if sensing her thoughts, Luke caught her eye with and yanked her into the dance without a second of hesitation. They spun around, hands intertwined and arms outstretched, daring to see how long they could keep going before one dropped from dizziness. Julie wasn’t afraid though. Luke would never let her fall. 

They let go just as they were losing balance, snickering like fools and trying to find footing again. Julie jumped onto his back, him instantly jostling her around until she got chucked off like a sack of potatoes. Each grin and laugh and crack of thunder mended her heart, slipping the pieces back together and allowing it to bloom once more. Keep on breaking, keep on loving, keep on hoping, keep on hoping for-

Luke locked his hands around the small of her back. “Ready?!”

He didn’t have to ask twice, their steps speeding up as she threw her arms beside her and then, at their fastest, pulled one leg up to swing in his hold. How she didn’t slip on the soaking wet ground was a miracle. 

Julie’s smile rivalled his, grabbing onto the lapels of his shacket to get him closer. He had something else in mind, hands slipping to her waist and launching her in the sky in one fluid motion. It took her breath away, quickly grabbing onto his shoulders and yelling her lungs out. It was just like in her dreams. Was it selfish of her to have yearned for this? 

(She felt it. The way her heart washed away all the troubles, how the numbing cold shrivelled to make place for someone else.)   

They shouted exclaims and curses into the rain. About Nick, about music, about each other, about how fucking unfair life could be, but damn - moments like these were worth the pain.  

Her drenched curls tickled his face, causing him to sputter and attract her focus. Julie looked down at him and didn’t stop the heartstopping smile growing on her face. Oh. 

Her fingers swiped against the planes of his cheeks, his grin beaming up at her and letting the dormant wildfire (snug between her ribs, among the flowers and the lyrics) come alive again. For so long, she hasn’t allowed herself to feel it. But how could she not when Luke propelled her into the storm itself, unify them like the whirlwind of passion they authentically were? 

They were the thunder and the lightning, the silver lining and the punch line - the dancers in the rain. 

He gently set her down, feet splashing. She didn’t let him pull away, instantly wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his wet shirt. They smelled like wet dogs and it was better than any perfume she’s ever had. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

His head settled on top of hers, cool breath fanning her skin. “I can’t have you down in the gutter, Jules. Ever.”

I love you. “Ever?”

She felt him move, her eyes tilting to meet his. That expression she cherished deeply returned tenfold. His tender smile, the green hooded by shy eyes, an incredulous hitch of the breath. 

Luke nodded, flitting gaze as if he didn’t quite know what to focus on, and carefully brushed a droplet from her cheek. “Ever.” 

(Julie got a cold the next day. It didn’t matter - she had the boy of her dreams to keep her company.) 

Breathe deep, let it wash over you We're slowly becoming lovers I promise you we won't be like the others We won't go running for cover

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​ @ourstarscollided​ @sophiphi​ @unsaidjulie​

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #nick takes the L

[onewithnomightypowers]

clandestine (chapter 5)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

chapter 5: the rumour has it

A/N: i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like this chapter!! feedback is always appreciated. thanks for reading <3

warnings: drinking, cursing

word count: 1.6k

important: bold and italic are character thoughts

series masterlist   main masterlist   chapter 4   chapter 6

The video of Y/N and Tom singing ‘SOS’ broke the internet. It was trending for at least four days. The whole internet, already on the witch hunt to find evidence of a relationship, was being fed. The paparazzi were circling around like vultures. The threat of being outed made them hide in their caves.

Haz was coming to London in two days. Y/N was trying to rid the house of anything and everything that hinted that Tom had been staying with her. Between the paps, shooting, and Haz, she couldn’t find time to meet Tom and give him his things.

There were Polaroids scattered all over the house. While she was packing a box to parcel to Tom, she found a Polaroid on her glass coffee table next to her ‘vanilla sage’ candle from Bath and Body Works. In the photo, Y/N was lying on her stomach on the hardwood floor in her living room, a gin and tonic next to her. Tom was sitting on the floor with his right arm extended to take the photo. They were both smiling.

She remembered when he took that photo. It was the same day she found a vintage vinyl of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s ‘on verve’, during her exploration of Camden market. They decided to have a listening party of that album on the floor. Tom found his new favourite song that day, ‘let’s call the whole thing off’. She smiled at the memory. Instead of putting it in the box, she went into her room to put it in her wallet where only she could find it.

Y/N noticed her phone vibrating next to her purse. It was Harrison.

“Bonjour mon amour”,

“Hi Haz, did you board the flight?”

“Just did; listen you don’t have to pick me up from the airport, I know you are busy at work”

“Fine. Text me when you land”

“Su-“, she hung up the phone.

I can’t believe I have to live with this man for a whole week.

Haz came in late at night, even though his flight was supposed to land at 5pm. Y/N was already sleeping. When she woke up around 8 next morning, she found, much to her surprise, Haz snoring next to her. Last night she made sure that there was a pillow and a blanket on the couch for him, a subtle way of saying ‘I don’t want you sleeping in the same bed with me’. Also because she thought he knew about the affair and wouldn’t want to sleep next to her.

God, I wish I had another bedroom

Y/N was sitting on the bar stool with her laptop on the kitchen island, going through her mail while drinking coffee. Haz had just woken up from his deep slumber, and found his way to the kitchen to fetch him some coffee.

“Good morning!” she said enthusiastically, without looking up from her laptop screen. She had thought it was a sleepy Tom, coming out of the bedroom to make himself tea.

“Morning”, Haz said as a reflex, rubbing his eyes. Y/N’s smile disappeared upon hearing the sound of his voice.

“Did you make breakfast?” Haz asked while pouring himself coffee into a mug Tom had gifted Y/N.

“I made myself breakfast when I woke up, three hours ago. Was I supposed to make breakfast for you too?” It was a rhetorical question. Y/N noticed the mug, it made her uneasy watching a man she doesn’t love drinking from a gift given by the man she did love.

“There’s eggs and bread in the fridge, help yourself”, she pointed at the refrigerator.

As Haz cracked open an egg on the pan, Y/N received an email from Greta.

“Good news, Netflix bought the distribution rights to Greta’s movie, she just sent me a mail”

“Oh”

Oh? Seriously, oh?

“They are planning the premier for this Friday, do you want to go with me?”

“I don’t think so, I don’t really like the people you work with” he was putting butter on cold bread.

There is nothing more tragic than love turning into hate. Tragedy had struck their marriage. The rest of the week, they only spoke when they absolutely had to. It was like living with a roommate, you share a bed with but cannot share your day with.

--

It was Friday, the day of the movie premiere. Y/N was excited to see Tom after a week without him, which felt like an eternity to her. She was wearing a silver colored floor length gown with heavily studded earrings. Her hair was up in a bun with two strands out, to shape her face.

Since it was Netflix, the event could afford to take place at the Royal Albert Hall. Y/N had only been there once, for an Arctic Monkeys concert. When she stepped out of the car, she was met by blinding lights of the cameras. She walked over to the whole cast on the red carpet. The only thing she could hear was the deafening noise of photographers screaming to look towards them and in between, tabloid journalists asking her questions about her life and rumours.

Y/N was still pretty new to walking red carpets because she had mostly worked on indie films that couldn’t afford a grand premiere as most of the money would go towards entering different festivals. Y/N was wearing a mask of pure joy on her face but Tom could see right through it. He could see how uncomfortable Y/N was feeling.

He walked towards her, “you look gorgeous darling” he whispered in her ears and for a second that mask she was wearing became real. They both posed together, but regretted it immediately. The whole media went on overdrive, seeing them together.

“Are you guys seeing each other?” a person from the left screamed.

“Y/N, did you leave Harrison?” someone from the right asked

The voices were coming from everywhere. All they could do now was walk off the carpet. Tom had arranged for Y/N to sit next to her during the screening. His hand was linked with Y/N’s the whole time. He could feel her shivering.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“Not really”, she took a long pause. “I am just nervous about my performance in the movie and I guess the questions really got to my head, it’s all making me very anxious”

“Don’t worry babe, everyone is going to love you in the movie, and those hunters out there are shell of a person, all they care about are these bullshit rumours. They don’t deserve a house in your thoughts”

“Shhhhhh” someone whispered from the row above theirs.

Y/N’s phone was vibrating, it was Harrison’s fourth call in fifteen minutes.

Why is he not getting the hint that I don’t want to talk to him

She ignored it.

A few minutes later, her phone rang again.

What if it’s serious?

She got up and went outside of the theatre to take the call.

“What is it, Haz? You know I’m busy right now”

“Umm, are you Y/N?” A man with a heavy, older voice said.

“Yes?” She was confused. “Who is this and how do you have my husband’s phone?”

“Your husband is trashed, ma’am. He passed out on my bar counter about half an hour ago. Your number was on his emergency contact list so I'm calling you to pick him up”

“I’ll be right there, can you tell me the address?”

“Yeah sure it’s 141 Albert Street, Spread Eagle”

Tom came out of the theatre.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“I have to go pick up Haz, he’s splashed out on a bottle somewhere, bloody fool can’t even walk”, she said whilst texting her driver to pick her up.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I need to deal with this alone”

She walked out the back gate and got in a black Audi.

The paparazzi had noticed her early departure, so they started following her recklessly.

It was a corner pub, the bar was at full capacity. Y/N saw Haz with his head down on the counter, an almost empty tequila bottle next to him.

“Haz wake up, come on, we need to go, get up darling” Y/N was trying to shake him awake.

“O-oh Y/N, y-you’re he-ear”, he was slurring his words.

“Yeah now let’s go”

He started to get up, Y/N had her one hand on his back and the other on his forearm, to support him.

“Honey I th-think I’m going to puke”, he looked sick.

“Is there a restroom here?” She asked the bartender. He pointed towards the corner of the room, a dimly lit area.

“Thank you”. She helped Harrison to walk to the restroom.

The washroom felt like their marriage. They were cramped up in it. The whole room was pure white but also yellow, caused by the lack of cleaning. There were no windows and had only one white florescent light. It was suffocating. The room made her realise that she could not hide from the inevitable, anymore.

Has was on his knees, holding on to the toilet seat with his dear life, puking all the poison out. Y/N was standing near the sink, taking off her statement earrings. She could see a vulnerable Harrison in the reflection of the mirror.

“I want a divorce”, she whispered, loud enough to be heard in this stifle room.

@mysticapples17  @storybookholland

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman #marvel #marvel fanfiction #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfield #taylor swift

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hii i'm just wondering if you're taking regular requests? Like, not the nsfw ABC one? If you are, then can i maybe request a hc of how the boys would react when they're getting turned on from something MC does but she doesn't realize it? (If everyone is too much then just Arthur, Vincent, Isaac, Dazai and Mozart hehe) anyways, thanks in advance!

Yes I am still taking requests. (I really enjoyed this one) Thank you for requesting and if you would like me to do the rest of the residents just say so and I shall do as you ask. Enjoy.

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Le Comte, Sebastian, Arthur, Vincent, Dazai, Mozart, Isaac

Pairing: x Female MC

Word count: 2183

Warnings: mentions of blood, character unwillingly being watched while naked, nsfw (barely though)

Le Comte 

His body rocked gently with the carriage; the movement already lulling her to into a deep sleep. Moonlight trickled in from the window, caressing her skin like ghosts dancing across a marble floor. Her breathing is interrupted, speeding and slowing at times as is she was being pleasured. Her lips parted slightly to release a breathy moan, “…comte.”

The scent of arousal stained the air in the carriage as Comte’s face pinches in pain. “Ma Cherie,” he whispers; the wisps of his voice inaudible to any soul other than himself. “Such a wicked temptress you are.”

He reaches out; her skin warm against the cold pads of his hands. His fingers trace the curve of her reddened cheek, ghosting over the sharp cut of her jaw, dipping lower to kiss the rushing vein of her neck. His fangs pulsed, chest heaved, eyes stalking the female like a wolf would its prey. The pureblood hastily jerked back, hissing as if her skin had scalded him. A quick movement and fangs penetrated the tendon of his thumb, his eyes rolling closed as he reigned in some semblance of control. Releasing his hand, Comte panted, a thin trail of saliva connecting his abused flesh and lips as his nails raked tears in the plush seat below causing white feathers to float down like snow on a cold winter’s morn.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so vulnerable to me, Ma Cherie… after all, I am a still beast,” he paused his smooth words to watch a ribbon of red seep from the healing marks on his flesh, “and you, a lamb ripe for the taking.”

Dazai

Her skin was flushed from the heat of the thermae, her features relaxed in a soft smile. The candle light illuminated her curves causing her to appear to be what Dazai could only define as a fertility goddess basking in the warmth of light, unbashful to any who might stumble upon the ethereal sight. Her soft breast surrounded by ringlets of wet hair raised as she placed a towel along the top of her head, shifting her hand along the white threads. Water droplets slid down her flesh forcing pale yellowed irises to stalk the clear liquid.

The mysterious turn of his lips seemingly permanently chiseled into the planes of his face dropped into a frown; the want to overtake and claim her body was demanding and too fresh.

Like a wounded animal lapping at its bloodied paw, the beast inside his heart curled, growling, daring anyone to approach him and his possessions. Blood dropped down his chin as his fangs chewed wildly at his lip. His cock raised, sliding against his thigh, swelling with lust and need for the vulnerable female before his trembling form.

Her eyes shot towards the widow mimicking the shiver sliding down her spine; her mind reeling with images of feral yellow eyes watching her, memorizing every dip of her body, but was greeted by a lone tree branch swaying gently in the breeze.

Dazai heaved against the trunk, nails clawing at the harsh bark, moans muffled by the tight palm of his hand as a wet stain slowly spread over the fabric of his clothing, concurring the cloth like the pleasure tumbling through his mind. 

“How far I have fallen,” Dazai whispered, pleasure still rolling through his body, “she who was oblivious to the monster peering through the glass barrier will surely gaze at my dilapidated form with astonishment when the sun kisses the horizon. Innocence dripped from her womanly body like the water warmed by her flesh.”

Dazai smiled a broken smile only men who had been starved of all hope would recognize, “my, how these sinful fingers would corrupt that innocence she holds so close to her breast.”  

Vincent

The stroke of his brush against the canvas was wild, vigorously hurried. The thought of losing the memory chiseled into his mind’s eye fastening his pace. His heart beat with a fury the painter didn’t know was possible as his breath stopped; the air only releasing from his lungs when the pounding in his head became too unbearable.

All she had done was smile, her lashing fluttering, colored orbs bashfully glancing away, a blush staining her cheeks as she tucked a stray piece of silken hair behind her ear. Behind the same ear that glinted with a sliver cuff matching both Theo’s and himself. Vincent’s eyes had widened in absolute disbelief in what he was witnessing. Beauty beyond humanly possible had stood before him; enchanting him, leaving him a slave for her touch.

Every emotion he possessed was being laid bare on the canvas with each brush of color against the skin of the canvas. He worked until red stained the sky, rising over the horizons like the god of war riding a flying chariot. His fingers throbbing with pain from the constant movement, never being allowed a break. He gazed at the painting like a lover would their other half. The oils still vibrant was moisture. Vincent craved for the color of her skin to be beneath his fingers, warming the rough flesh of his palms, not stuck, forever frozen in time, trapped in the same position for all eternity.

His cock strained against the confines of his trouser, lips being tugged into a pained whimper. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine refused to drown out the overwhelming scent of her very being still coating the insides of his lungs. His tongue traced over his fangs; the wonder of the taste of her blood running through his mind. His eyes rolled back as he imagined the softness of her body against his own. His soul was on the canvas- the act a declaration of his love and lust for the woman he had yet to call his. 

“Will you ever look my way, I wonder,” Vincent murmured into the night. His words never being heard by another soul.

Arthur

The door creaked as Arthur pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit room, the candle on his desk burned down to a nub from the hours of being aflame. It was well past midnight when he had returned from the tavern with Theo, he had told her not to wait for him, but she had tried to stay awake; that much was obvious with the scent of chilled coffee mixing with the sweet smell of her flesh and old paper staining the air. A dark mug placed beside her sleeping form on the nightstand as well as a book, forgotten, tucked between the pads of her fingers. Lips parted slightly to release soft, comforting snores, her hair flowing around her form like wings, the curve of her hips being insinuated by the wrinkled, white fabric of his shirt that clung to her slowly breathing body. The sheets of his bed bunched around her knees; the sweat lightly dampening her forehead a sign of overheating.

Arthur took a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of her heart shaped bottom peeking out from under the shirt. How he would love to see the flesh of her bare bottom rippling from his thrusts as he pounded into her, making her squeal with pleasure.

“Did you do this on purpose? You naughty little minx,” rumbled Arthur. His jaw clicking with movement as he advanced towards his desk, shaking his head to clear his lust filled mind. His stomach grumbled, mouth watering when he noticed the small, mesh pouch of packaged fudge resting on the wooden surface of his desk. Arthur threw his head back, groaning with pleasure, eyes drifting closed as he whispered, a content smile tugging at his soft lips “ass and fudge… damn I love this bird.”

Isaac       

 Isaac shifted his shoulders, forcing a crack to resonate down his back- a regular occurrence the entirety of the day. His form was hunched over his desk, his cheeks flushed, and brows furrowed in concentration; gentle metal clicking reaching her ears. The sheets were soft against her bare legs as she shifted, placing her book down against a nightstand; stretching her arms above her head.

“Isaac,” she hummed.

It took the physicist a few second before he recognized her voice slipping through the air. “Yes, my love?” He responded.

“Does your back hurt?” He didn’t realize she had left her place on his bed to tip toe behind him until her breathy whispers tickled his ear, causing him to jolt slightly.

“A little. The damned thing refuses to stay connected,” the chair creaked under him as he leaned back into his lovers hold, gesturing to the trinket pieces resting on the wooden desk. The warmth from her arms seeped into the skin around his neck while he continued, “I might have to ask Leonardo about it, unless I find-.”

Isaac was irrupted by the strong caress of female fingers shifting over his shirt clad shoulders. Her lips pecking once at the top of his head, thumbs tracing the curve of his tense shoulder blades, digging into his muscles in a pleasant motion.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Stuttered the pale haired man, his hands raising slightly off his lap in shock.

Her slow, relaxed sigh sent a pang of electricity straight to his slowly hardening member, “taking care of you. What else would I be doing?” The flirtatious tone of her voice paired with the warming friction of her fingers against his skin forced Isaac to tug at his tightening trousers; a low whimper being muffled by his teeth, an embarrassed blush warming his ears.

“…the gods help me,” he whispered.

Mozart

The piano was chilled as Mozart leaned against the whitened wood, her giggle forcing a small trimmer to befall his lips. The sweet taste of the chocolate paired with the strong hints of coffee filling slid over his palate like the words falling from hers, “do you like it?”

Her eyes were bright, humorous with a small, barely-there tint of insecurity as he swallowed, smacking his lips to further live in the taste. “It is alright, I suppose,” he mumbled.

She smiled softly, returning to nibble at the half-bitten piece of chocolate resting between her thumb and forefinger. “Ah, its melting!”

Mozart rolled his eyes at her disbelieving tone of voice, answering with his own, “yes. It does that. I thought you weren’t idiotic enough to not acknowledge that-.” His words were caught in his throat as he saw her finger disappearing into the cavern of her mouth; her cheeks hallowing slightly as she sucked at the digit. Her eyes stared at the floor in concentration, her brows being pulled together from the thoughts running through her mind. Slowly her finger reemerged, her lips releasing the flesh with a soft pop.

Mozart swallowed thickly. Denial ran rampant through him at the feeling of his trousers becoming tighter to a point it was somewhat uncomfortable. He could still see the melted brown on her tongue as it darted out, licking at her thumb like a snake scenting the air.

“Wolf? Are you feeling okay? You’re a little red,” her words were close, her breath smelling of cocoa as she placed her lips to his forehead, checking for fever. He sputtered, falling back to place his hands roughly against the ivory keys forcing a deranged concoction of notes to shift through the air, “do not- do not do that…,” he huffed. Wishing nothing more than for the earth to split and swallow him whole at the high-pitched crack of his voice.

Sebastian

His hair was a mess, water still dripped from his chin, his tie loosely dangling around his neck, his breath coming out in hurried pants as Sebastian launched himself into the kitchen, throwing himself into motion only freezing when his lover’s laughs penetrate his ears.

“I’ve never seen you this frazzled Sebastian,” she giggled walking over to him, taking the tie between her fingers and knotting the fabric. She had yet to notice the panicked scowl on his face.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I don’t see how being late to wake is a laughable matter when it concerns the wellbeing of the residents.”

She glanced up, a brow raising slowly at his accusing tone of voice, “I woke up early and did your portion as well as mine,” she paused, placing a gentle kiss to his wet cheek, smiling gently, “you have been more tired than usual so I figured I let you sleep in.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his lover and letting his head fall back, his eye lids closing as a low groan left his lips, “I love you.”

Her love-drunk giggle made him smile brightly; his stone façade non-existent as his lips locked and parted with her velvet hills quickly. Hands slid down his back to rest against his hips making a shiver run up his spine; heat pooling into his eyes at her affections. He growled lowly, nipping at the shell of her ear, “good girls get rewards, and you’ve been a very good girl.”

Breakfast was a little late that morning.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikemen vampire headcanon #ikevamp headcanon #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp vincent #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp dazai #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction

[thefemdomenchantress]

The Enchantress: the Century Woman

The hero has a specific maneuver for whenever he encounters a sudden possible threat. He does not react offensively, not willing to bear the tragedy of slaying somebody who meant no harm. He simply raises his shield in a manner that anybody would recognize as a threatening way. This defensive maneuver protected him if the possible threat was, indeed, a threat, but allowed non-combatants a chance to explain themselves.

This maneuver was not perfect as it was still possible to interpret the raising of the shield as a promise of battle, but nine times out of ten it prevented an unnecessary fight against a non-combatant.

This time, however, the noncombatant...attacked.

The hero has spent ten minutes fighting the being: a humanoid woman twice as tall as any man. A creature the hero has never seen before in his travels...

Her visage is unnerving. Eyes larger than normal. Her hair silver, but with bright orange ends, and a some evidence of blue strands. Large shoulders beneath her gown of royal blue, and large tentacles for arms that she uses to bludgeon the hero around the abandoned house. Instead of buttons or lace the front of her gown seems a sideways jaw full of sharp fangs. The rare moments the hero got to see her legs beneath her full length gown he saw two long, muscular thighs and calves.

But her voice... her voice is that of a regular woman in her fifties or so. Her cries of battle hold no malice, only fury.

The hero would parry and escape her blows, but he finds himself unable to harm her. His instincts tell him she is fighting out of fear and indignity. He is an intruder, after all.

Hero: Please! Let’s stop fighting! I’m sorry for intruding, I was only here on a job!

The blows stop. The creature woman looks at him. The hero lowers his sword, but does not leave himself unprotected. His shield remains up.

Hero: Recently... the will of the owner of this estate, a duke who died one year ago, has been read. His family was shocked that this summer villa was left not to his descendants but to an unknown woman. I was hired by the family to investigate...

The large eyes of the creature grow at the mention of the duke.

Hero: . . . Is the woman you?

The creature nods. The hero lowers his sword slightly.

Hero: . . . You’re a shape shifter?

She nods again. She sits down on a tall desk, letting documents drop to the floor. It creaks slightly against her weight. She mutters...

Shape Shifter: My lord... left me this house...

Hero: He also left you four hundred silk bills. Enough to live on for quite some time...

The shape shifter looks up at the hero.

Shape Shifter: Money, too? I’m...

She sobs into her tentacles. She seems so human despite her appearance. The hero places his sword against the wall and reaches for a pouch full of money. He approaches the shape shifter but she is too distracted to take the money

Hero: . . .My lady. . . Just to clear things up, may I ask. . . What is your relationship to the late duke and his family?

She calms down, although her story is told between sobs.

Shape Shifter: I have no... no relationships to his family... They have no knowledge of me... I... I was... His alone...

She stands up and ceases her crying. She looks down at the hero.

Hero: This form... is it your original form?

Shape Shifter: No. I am a century changeling. An immortal race who live our eternal lives in one hundred year cycles. At the beginning of each of our one hundred years we take new shapes... But I can not change perfectly. With each form we take there are parts we cannot discard until the end of the century, where we shed our old forms and begin anew...

Hero: Then what is this form?

The changeling smirks.

Shape Shifter: Would you believe me if I told you that fifty years ago I took the form of a regular woman? I was homeless and the duke found out about my race. He took me in, allowed me to stay in this estate, as long as he lived. All he wanted out of me... was my body...

Hero: You... were his mistress...

Shape Shifter: You’re too flattering. He treated me as more of a concubine... Not that I minded...

The hero cannot believe the story. But the way the tall changeling towers over him... Her strange large shoulders were off putting at first, but now that she stands over him they make her look regal...

Her gown is modest, but he notices her rather large bosom...

But everything else! The large eyes... The tentacles... The teeth dress...

Shape Shifter: You have questions... At first he was a plain man... But soon he began to realize the potential of my powers in our sex lives...

Hero: Oh Gods...

Shape Shifter: You know how bizarre men can get. Vanilla sex began to bore him after our first ten years together... He had wants, and needs. I was a good concubine. With just a little encouragement and prying I made him admit some of his fetishes. They were tame at first... He wanted me taller... Shapely, muscular thighs... But as he grew bolder his fetishes morphed. Encouraged by my shape shifting, he wanted stranger things. Tentacles. Technicolor hair...

Hero: That’s almost reasonable compared to the... the um...

Shape Shifter: The dress? Yes, for some reason he wanted my gowns to “swallow him” into sex. Strange and perverse, but I complied.

The changeling’s dress mouth “opens up,” revealing her shapely nude body beneath. The sight causes the hero’s imagination to stir. He shifts awkwardly, hoping the shape shifter does not notice.

Shape Shifter: At first my shoulders were just a natural consequence to support the tentacles, but he soon wanted me to keep them... I never understood that. I suppose it was in fashion for queens and princesses to wear padding beneath their shoulders a few decades ago. He must have been watching those royal dames... The dirty old pervert...

She pronounces “pervert” with a strange fondness...

Shape Shifter: With each strange fetish my body was permanently changed. Large eyes, small fangs, a long dextrous tongue... Now I have become... THIS as a result. I did this all for him, but I was fine. I was fine because he loved it. He lavished my body with praise, and drew such satisfaction from it, and I felt loved. And now he’s gone, and I’m stuck like this.

She wraps her body with her tentacles, as though ashamed... And although she is crying and the hero desperately wishes otherwise, her monstrous form has begun to captivate him...

Her shapely hips, her bright eyes, the handsome curvatures of her mature and aged face...

And as for the parts of her that are not human...

her tentacles are thick and powerful...

her height so domineering...

her bizarre dress that opens and closes like a mouth, so dangerous and yet there was something exciting and arousing at how it can turn from modest but form fitting to lewd and revealing... and could gobble him up...

the shape of her large, muscular shoulders were the hardest to latch onto, but the hero has found himself aroused even by them, longing to touch them...

Shape Shifter: I can’t leave this house! I can’t change into something normal now. I’m trapped. Even with the money he’s left me. For a year I came close to cursing his name. How could I not? I never knew he cared enough about me to mention me in his will... I...  There’s no one out there who could appreciate this body but him... No one can love this bundle of strange, ghastly fetishes... My only hope being that it is almost time for my form to renew...

The hero’s body seems to disagree. Behind his shield he hides a barely controlled erection. He takes a step back, praying she will not notice... Notice that he is weakening...

Hero: I’m sure it’ll all work out...

Not good. The changeling looks down at the hero. She noticed the nervousness in his voice. Her tentacles unravel around her body, her gown opens slightly. She approaches him...

Shape Shifter: Young man...

Her tentacle easily whips his shield away... He tries to hide but she holds him still... She gets a good look at his blushing face... and very visible lump in his pants...

Shape Shifter: It can’t be...

The hero can see her nude body within the toothy split of her dress... The duke must have at one point had normal desires, as her breasts are large, though they droop and there are visible veins like any regular human at a certain age. But they are still beautiful...

Her waist is large and round...

Her legs are muscular as tree trunks.

The hero is utterly captivated. The changeling’s “grotesque” and “inhuman” face that he once feared looks down at him. There is a light smirk, a brightness in her large eyes...

Shape Shifter: Young man... please take off your clothes...

The hero’s panic and attempt to flee is short lived as the tentacles bind around his limbs tight. He can’t resist as she pulls him closer... Her dress’s mouth opens wide and he sees her bare body.

Shape Shifter: I can’t believe you, boy... You’re just as depraved as my young lord, and at such a young age...

She pulls his face to hers and kisses him. Her long and dexterous tongue invades him and it is wonderful. He squeals in protest, but also in passion.

Her tentacles pull his pants down, his shirt off... His belt falls to the ground with a clunk of tools and coin pouches. His light armor and trousers as well. His bare body is pulled toward the grotesque and horribly arousing body.

He passes through the dress’s jaw. The teeth, although sharp, are pointed inward. His restrained body comfortably slips right in, but could never get out. He ceases struggling, partly to avoid being hurt by the fearsome gown mouth, but also because his entire front half is pressed against the shape shifter’s gorgeous feminine body and he can think no more...

Her breasts smother him, his cock pointed to the side, pressed against her crotch, his balls bullied and teased by the tips of her tentacles... She allows his hands to cling to her muscly shoulders. He can feel the smooth skin, the hills of strong muscles...

Finally, she lets his cock slip into her vagina.

But it feels different... the inside of her vagina is... tighter. Tighter than normal... And ribbed... And her hips begin to vibrate inhumanly fast... She whispers into his ears...

Shape Shifter: Oops... I did not mention, did I? As he grew older his cock needed more... support...

The hero is not paying any attention as he is too busy screaming in ecstasy...

But she slows down before he cums...

Shape Shifter: How resilient are you, boy?

She looks down at his face half buried in her cleavage. His eyes, moist from passion, meets hers. Large, wide, and bright. He becomes lost in them.

Shape Shifter: It doesn’t matter... I’ll make you last.

She brings her prisoner up to the bedrooms.

*** *** ***

It is mostly riding. Her heavy weight atop his small human body, her form expertly molded to squeeze pleasure out of an old man... The hero’s young and perfectly virile body stood no chance.

She pries out his fetishes, his secrets, and takes advantage. Her strange, seemingly disgusting body, is a perfect match for his repressed imagination... Binding tentacles, a hungry gown, and mighty muscles... The hero is defeated against all of these.

Her vagina feels like a sex toy, designed for pleasure. But make no mistake, it is fully sensitive and she feels everything. In fact, she cums more than he does. She does not let him become too excited, letting him orgasm at the end of one hour long cycles of play.

They have sex long into the night, all the way to morning...

*** *** ***

The hero is exhausted, his eyes open with difficulty. She strokes his hair lovingly with her tentacle...

Shape Shifter: I didn’t believe there was a man in the world who would get hard for me like this... let alone one so passionate...

She chuckles.

Shape Shifter: I almost don’t want to let you leave.

She stands up. The hero watches as she retrieves the bag of money she inherited. She smiles at him.

Shape Shifter: Boy... tell the family of my lord they may have this house. I will need it no longer. I’ll be taking the money, however.

Her body begins to glow as bright as fire.

Shape Shifter: Thank you. For letting this form experience lust one last time.

There is a prolonged flash, and then it dies down. Her body is the size of a normal human now. She is silvery, with no face aside from two glowing eyes. Featureless and sexless and beautiful. Holding her pouch of in her hand she gives a curt nod and walks toward the exit.

The century changeling leaves to begin its next century.

The End

***

[This is how I picture sex with an alien would be like]

#NOT SFW #changeling #the enchantress

[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Death

A/N: Some swearing, and kind of rushed.

@maribatmarch-2k21

Beat up and broken Jason Todd in the warehouse Joker left him, pathetic. He helplessly looks around and sees twenty seconds on the timer. Which would have been time enough for him to escape if he was still in good shape. Then he hears voice and looks over to see a girl who seems to be glowing.

Not something a regular person sees everyday, but, as Robin, it's nothing too hard to believe.

"Who are you?" The most practical question he could come up with.

"I am Marinette." She didn't elaborate.

"What are you?"

She hesitated, looking off thoughtfully, like she was deciding how she would answer, "Not mortal."

"So you're an angel?" He said before he could stop himself. It would check out though, she's what you would think an angel would look like, white clothes, nice face, somehow glowing. All she's missing is the wings

She huffs, face grimacing in confusion and affrontedness, "Of course not. Angels do not exist."

"Well, excuse me." That's not very politically correct.

Neither spoke, Jason tried to be sizing her up with a glare and she just stood there starring right back.

"So, how'd you get in? Last I checked, there ain't another exit than the door." He looked over to it, "Which is locked."

"You are correct. There is only a door. But I came because I was summoned."

"Summoned? Mhm, cause that doesn't sound like absolute bull." He looked at her skeptically.

"Your end is near. I must be present." She stepped closer to him and in turn he scooted farther away.

"Ah, so you're the Grim reaper. Mhm, sure."

"I am not Death, that is my father." The fuck?

"Ok, so you're clearly crazy. Why don't you just show me how you got in so I can get out." He dealt with enough crazy for one night, thank you.

"I can't do that." Now she has to be difficult, because why the hell not? What ever force controlling the universe must be shitting their pants as they laugh at Jason's life.

"And why not?"

"I am not to meddle with Fate. Not even if I tried. Everything happens for a reason, and it's Fate's job to know that reason." She's really into her story.

"Ok, fine, so you're the child of death, that means you're here to guide me to wherever the fuck I'm cursed to, right?" He might as well entertain the conversation.

"No."

"No?" dear lord, Jason didn't have the patience for this chick. "Then what the hell are you here to do?"

"I represent Life, all of it." She could give Bruce a run for his money with that level of crypticness.

"That seems a little contradictory."

"Yes, well, my mother is goddess of fortune and chance. It was no surprise that my birth was one against the odds." She made her way to him and he moved back until his bruised back painfully hit the wall. She helped him sit up properly. He would have told her to fuck off if he wasn't in his current state. "I am patroness of everything in life and alive. From your first breath to your last."

"That doesn't explain why your here. As far I know, I'm closer to being dead then alive."

"As life, I am present in every mortal life."

"That's a lot of stops. There's no way you can do that, not even a speedster could."

"Haven't you noticed?" She tilted her head innocently, like how the younger street kids did to guilt adults into giving them their pocket change.

"Noticed what?"

"Look around you." He did, what's there to see but a crappy warehouse- oh, everything stopped. He couldn't hear the dripping of water, and he was sure that was a droplet mid-fall across from him. He hadn't even noticed. Even though the adrenaline wore off minutes ago, the fact that he was dying finally caught up to him. He started to breathe hard and his hands felt especially numb; to the point he was sure she noticed.

How could he be so distracted? The world had stopped and he didn't realize until now. It's probably the reason he's in this situation. He deserved this fate, Bruce probably wouldn't even-

"Bruce will mourn, Jason. And a death such as this one is not one you deserve." How did she- was she in his head?

"How they hell do you know that?"

"Lives like yours are frequently monitored. The neutral, who have done equally good and bad, are not. Kind of like bookmarking, we move on to watch others but make sure to remember you." She was falling out of that proper, airy routine. Jason found it slightly less obnoxious.

"That doesn't explain jack-"

"You started to ramble and hyperventilate and shake and, and I had to do something." She rambled on herself, flustered and looking away, likely out of embarrassment. She even blushed.

Once she calmed her flaming cheeks, she spoke again, "I have come here to comfort you in your last seconds of life."

His amused eyes changed to glaring ones, "I don't need comfort."

"Something I like to do is stick around with mortals who have actively done good or bad. Enough to get them in to the Fields of Reward or the Isle of Penalty." That sounds a lot like what he had learned in Social Studies, the Greek gods and their definition of after life. And if he's right, he could be spending the eternity in with some old minced god or in paradise. Jason didn't know if he wanted to be told his fate.

"...Which am I?" Apparently, his lips weren't in jurisdiction of his already poor impulse control.

"You, Jason Todd, the second Robin, will achieve entry to the Fields of Reward. As all heroes do."

"All heroes?" He's pretty sure no one else in the JL died.

"Heroes, the people who did well for their cause. You are a hero, and you will be remembered as one."

"Aren't the good guys supposed to die will honor, or after retirement? They'd get statues and holidays named after them. I'm just a street rat who got lucky-"

She surprised him by hugging him.

"Um, excuse, me?" Hugs weren't very common in the Wayne household, he could count on three fingers how many times Bruce hugged him.

"As I said before, Jason, you will be mourned and you will be remembered. By your father and your brother. And all else who have been affected in your path." She whispered to him, her weight feeling like nothing more than a gust of wind on his body.

"They are not-"

"We both know you consider them so." Fucking weird pretty angel-gods and their fucking ability to read people-

He was silent. She moved over to his side against the concrete wall and held his hand. He tensed, for a second then calmed himself.

"Are you ready?" She whispered, voice threatening to crack. This was always the worst part. Seeing them die, especially such a good one, so brutally. And the heartbroken looks on their family's faces. She sensed his father nearby, on his vehicle, stuck in place yet still seconds too late.

"...yeah." He answered, just as quiet. He understood that this was it. The death of Jason Todd. At least he'd go out with a bang.

Oh gods, it was way too early to joke about his death.

Time came back to speed, 5 seconds. 4 seconds.

3 seconds.

"They love you, Jason." She said, leaning her head just over his dislocated shoulder.

2 seconds.

"Are you sure you're ready?" She asked.

1 second.

"No."

BOOM!

#maribat march #maribat #jasonette #death

[castiel-kline]

Rescue

(also on ao3)

Jack’s got a lot of new responsibilities to take care of, but first he has someone to save from the clutches of the Empty.

for @dadstielweek day 6: missing scene

-

The Empty felt much less daunting than the last time Jack had been here. It was still unsettling, of course, but he was prepared to face it now. He knew what he’d come for was well worth it.

The Shadow slithered up in front of him, coming together in a familiar shape. His mother’s face smiled at him, eyes dark in a way Kelly’s could never be. And he felt a pang, because he missed her like always. He hadn’t been to see her, not yet. But that was next on his list.

“Hey there, kiddo. Nice upgrade. You’re even more sparkly and insufferable than usual,” it began, tilting its head. “Don’t know why you think you have any right to be here, though, after what you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, trying to ignore the screams he could hear in the distance, muffled as if the throats they sprang from were stuffed with cotton. “I didn’t mean to wake everyone up. I can fix it, I promise.”

“But you want something in return, don’t you.” The Shadow’s tone was flat, a brow arched in disdain.

“We can make a deal. I know you like those.”

“Yeah, when there’s something in it that suits me. You don’t have anything that I want.”

“I can make sure that you go back to sleep for good,” Jack assured, stepping closer. “You’ll get your quiet, forever. The Empty’s been in disorder for too long.”

“Uh huh. Might want to check your motivation there, young Atlas. Dishonesty bites.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. He clenched a fist, taking in a deep breath. “I’m not lying.”

“Aren’t you?” The Shadow ran a hand across his shoulders and down his arm, nails biting at the skin of his hand where it grabbed him. “You don’t care about my order, or my sleep. You just want your dead papa bear to hold you and tell you it’s okay.”

He gulped. “Just give me Castiel, and I’ll help you put everyone back to sleep. I know you can’t do it yourself, or you would have already.”

The Shadow yanked its hand away, glare sharper than any knife. “Get out, kid. I won’t ask again.”

“No.” Jack squared his shoulders. “I’m not leaving until I have my father back.”

“Newsflash, sport- God doesn’t have power in my domain. Everything Chuck managed was because I let him. Now that you’ve been grandfathered in -ha!- you’re stuck. Can’t hurt me.”

“Actually, I can. I’ve always had power here, since the day I was born. Since just a few weeks after that, when I woke you up. But I don’t want us to be enemies. I’d prefer it if we could come to an agreement.”

They would be enemies if it had really hurt Cas, but they could at least try to be allies first. He pinched at his palm, watching the Shadow think it over. It came closer, face softening in a syrupy false sympathy. It placed a hand on Jack’s cheek just like his mother had when he’d met her, and he tried not to recoil too violently.

“Oh, you poor, dumb, child,” it said. In a blink the hand on his cheek had moved, cupping his chin and squeezing his face with enough force to snap his jaw if either of them moved the wrong way. “Poor, sweet little fool. Castiel’s mine, and you’re not taking him from me. I won him fair and square.”

Jack managed to pull its hand away from him, heaving in a breath before he spoke. “Cas doesn’t belong to you,” he said.

The Shadow laughed. “And I suppose that’s because he belongs to you instead?”

“No.” Jack shook his head. “No. He doesn’t belong to me. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“Hmm. That so? Do you think Dean Winchester would agree with you on that?” It winked at him, smirk warping his mother’s mouth.

“Cas doesn’t belong to Dean,” Jack asserted, refusing to have his focus broken. “He belongs to himself. And you’re going to bring him back, because he deserves to live his life. He deserves to make his own choices.”

The Shadow moved forward and bopped his nose, punctuating each word. “Selfish, selfish, selfish!”

Jack jerked his head away. “This isn’t selfish. I just-”

“You need him. And that makes this valiant little rescue mission of yours as self serving as a buffet.”

“All I need is to know that he’s alive, and that he’s safe,” Jack said, surprising himself with the truth of it. “And… if he doesn’t want to stay with me, I’ll let him go. Because… because that’s what you do when you love someone.”

For a moment he thought he’d gotten through to it, but then the Shadow turned away again, a finger tapping at its chin.

“Oh, but see- if I give you a freebie now, you’ll expect more later. And resurrections fray the threads of fate, you know. Very dangerous game. Or have you forgotten that what’s dead should stay dead?”

“I know. I know, and that’s how everything after this will be. Just, please… please bring him back.” His first day on the job and he was begging, betraying his desperation. Wonderful.

“What are you gonna do with all the other angels? The demons?” The Shadow was back to staring at him, but its tone was much less harsh. Tired. Maybe it was finally going to give in.

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “We might need some angels to restore Heaven since it’s failing, but… you can have a say in that. Before I put you back to sleep.”

“So, I get my sleep and you get Castiel?” Jack nodded, feeling like he had no more life than a popped balloon. The Shadow gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But you’d best not wake me unless the universe is ending again, capische?”

“Thank you.” Jack didn’t feel like that was enough. That it could ever be enough. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Happy family time.” The Shadow snapped its fingers before sliding away, and the ground began bubbling a short distance from Jack. Castiel emerged from the depths of the Empty, dragged out by inky tendrils. He looked awful, and Jack would have been angrier if not for his agreement with the entity being one breath from crumbling.

Cas hacked up lungfuls of goo until he could breathe again, collapsing onto the ground when his vessel’s shaking arms couldn’t hold him any longer. Jack could see the entirety of Castiel’s true form for the first time- the broken wings and the hundreds of eyes, old as time. The animal heads and the quaking limbs, folded into a kind and wizened package. It was tragic, and it was beautiful. His vessel’s face was covered in tears, and Jack was struck by the fact that this was the first time he’d ever seen Cas cry.

He knelt down, swallowing hard, and placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder. He blinked the tears back from his own eyes.

“Hi, Cas,” he said, voice so soft he didn’t know if it had been heard.

“Jack.” Cas looked at him not with relief, but with panic. “What are you doing here? You have to leave. It’s not safe, the Empty-”

“It’s okay, Cas. I’m okay. And the entity- it’s not going to bother you anymore.”

Cas sat up, on Jack’s level now. He frowned, not understanding.

“You’re not dead again, are you?”

Jack smiled, a small ghost of a laugh escaping his lips. “No, I’m not. I have a lot to tell you, though.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he bit his lip to keep the tears in. Cas’ eyes searched his, a hand on Jack’s arm to hold them both steady. The moment realization hit, Castiel breathed out a soft “oh,” his eyes blowing wide.

“Jack, you’re… you’re the Lord.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m not anything special, and I’m not… I’m still just me.”

And Cas smiled, his eyes sad and yet the happiest Jack had seen since he’d made that godforsaken deal. Jack lost the battle with his emotions, feeling his face collapse into a mix of relief and sadness and fear and joy. Cas took him into his arms, both of them trembling but finding solace in the contact.

“You were always special, Jack,” Cas whispered. “And I am so, so proud of you.”

Jack shuddered, burying his face deeper into Castiel’s shoulder for just a moment before pulling back and looking him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to bring you back before, but I didn’t know how-”

“No, I’m sorry.” Cas gripped Jack’s shoulders, squeezing them before dropping his hands. As if to make sure Jack understood that he meant it. “I left at a very bad time, and I should have been there, to- to help with the fight-”

It was Jack’s turn to cut off the stream of apologies. “That’s not… I just really missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you too.” Cas smiled, just a corner of his mouth ticking up. It was strange to see it on so many other mouths as well, but in a way the sight of his true form smiling too just made Jack feel all the warmer.

“I, um. I think I can fix these. Your wings.” Jack leaned forward, fingers brushing at the air where the wings hung mangled and twisted in another dimension, shimmering far outside of corporeal view. He pulled his arm back once he realized that Cas had stiffened. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up at all-

“Thank you.” The whisper caught Jack by surprise, but he nodded and sent out a gentle wave of grace to put Castiel’s wings back to the way they should be.

Cas stretched them, lines of tension that Jack had never noticed melting away.

“Thank you, Jack,” he said. He sounded almost reverent, and Jack… Jack didn’t want to be revered.

He stood, extending a hand to help Cas up with him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, trying for a smile. It faded with his next words as he glanced away, eyes toward what passed for downward in the Empty. “I’ve caused you enough pain. I’m glad I could finally take some of it away.”

“You didn’t bring me pain, Jack. You-” Cas shook his head. “You just brought me joy. And my death wasn’t your fault, either. I don’t want you carrying that burden.”

Jack bit his lip and nodded, wondering if he’d ever be able to believe that. He thought maybe, given enough time, he could get there. Eternity should be plenty of time to work on his self esteem, after all.

“Are you ready to go back to earth?” Jack clasped his hands in front of him, studying Cas carefully for his reaction.

He looked like he was on the verge of saying yes, but then he frowned, eyes narrowed as he looked at Jack. Something flickered over his face.

“You’re not coming.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. I can’t.” Jack shrugged. “I have too much to do. In all of those other universes, there’s so much damage that Chuck caused and I can fix. And before that, I want to see my mother. Maybe I can make Heaven better too, since it’s not really very.... heavenly.”

“No, it’s… it’s far from perfect.”

Jack sighed. “Yeah. And… I think this is where I’m supposed to be. I’ll miss Sam and Dean, but I shouldn’t be there to write their story like Chuck did. They deserve better than that.”

Cas nodded, taking it in. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

“What?” Jack felt his eyes go wide. He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to Cas so soon after getting him back, of course, but he hadn’t dared do more than breathe a fleeting hope.

“I’ll stay with you. You said you wanted to fix Heaven. Don’t you think that’s my job, too?”

“No, no. I don’t want you to stay out of obligation. I want you to go and… and be happy,” Jack said, wringing his hands. Now that Cas could actually be happy, he should go and do it. Nothing else would make sense.

Cas sighed. Not a heavy sigh, but one of release. He looked up and around, breathing deeply, as if the words he was searching for lay in the nothing that surrounded them.

“I am happy,” he said at last. “I’m happy with you. Changing the afterlife -the world- for the better, side by side? It would be my privilege.”

Fresh tears sprang to Jack’s eyes, and he tried his best to keep them back. 

“Are you sure? Sam, Dean-”

“I think-” Cas said, gently “-that there’s much I need to figure out regarding that. But I’ve… I’ve finally accepted myself, in spite of… well. A lot of things. And some time away to feel like myself before I face it sounds like it won’t be so bad at all. Besides- our family wouldn’t feel right without you there. We’d be missing a very important piece.”

Jack nodded. He knew Cas was being vague, probably because he wasn’t ready to talk about whatever it was that had happened in that dungeon. But Cas was looking out for himself, for once, and Jack was grateful. They could process everything together. They finally had the time.

“You’re really going to stay?”

Cas patted his shoulder. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Jack pitched forward into another hug, this one far less desperate than the last. This one was a promise- of safety, of teamwork, of trust. Of family.

After a while they pulled apart, standing together against the great expanse of nothing. They’d have to make a plan for finalizing the deal with the Empty, for renovating Heaven… they had a lot of work to do.

Cas tilted his head and looked into Jack’s eyes, catching on to the fact that Jack was deep in thought. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Jack smiled. No, he wasn’t alright. But he would be, and that was all that mattered. He had his father, and he had his mother to visit and universes to save. He was going to be good.

“I am now, Cas. I am now.”

#dadstielweek #spn fanfic #my fic #jack kline #castiel #the empty #dadstiel and nougat son #challenging y’all to find the two references to other shows that I snuck in here ;) #if you can I’ll be VERY impressed #kitkat writes

[gumnut-logic]

The Cane (Part 4)

@flyboytracy​​​ asked:

Steampunk AU: five uses for a cane and one time Scott used it for its intended purpose 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aaargh, those migraines messed with my muse on this one. Had to fight it the entire way and the cane reference is tiny. Hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs to all::

Many thanks to @janetm74​​​ @tsarinatorment​​​ and @scribbles97​​​ for all their help and amazing support of my crazy. And to @flyboytracy​​​ for asking in the first place.

This be Steampunk AU with a mix of John snark, a little bit of wee!Tracys in a little bit of peril, some selfless Scott, and a reason you don’t want to mess with Five or her pilot.

-o-o-o-

4.

“This is very inconvenient.”

Scott stared at his brother in the dim light. “Is that an attempt at impersonating Lady Penelope?”

John stared back, dust drifting haphazardly off his hard helmet and goggles. “As you’ve said many times yourself, there is no use in panicking.”

He had to give his brother that. A sigh and he assessed their situation yet again, shining his torch about the space they found themselves in.

They were in a basement. It was likely that they were lucky, as all indications were that if they had been in any other part of the building, they would not be having this conversation or any other any time in the future. The basement had a wall of solid bedrock on one side, the building having been constructed with that in mind with half the plumbing bolted into the rock. Unfortunately, the rest of the structure had been built on sand, which promptly liquified when the earthquake hit.

Speaking of earthquake. “How long do you think before the next aftershock?”

John pulled out his notebook, took a note of the time on the watch he had strapped to his wrist, and scribbled down some math. “They are very unpredictable, but I’m hoping this last big one will give us some time. Or at least, Virgil some time to dig us out.”

Scott fiddled with his transmitter unit. There was no response on any frequency he attempted. Either the equipment was broken or something was stopping the signal from reaching his brothers. John had already pulled his apart and attempted a signal boost with no success.

They were both covered in dust, but fortunately uninjured.

But, for the moment, they were stuck.

Scott was not very good at sitting still.

“We may as well rest so we can be ready when needed.”

Scott grunted.

His brother ignored him and wiped off a large chunk of masonry with one leather-gloved hand and sat down. “You know Virgil will find us.”

Another grunt.

“Sit down, Scott. You can afford to take a minute to rest.”

He let out a breath and bit his lip, but with a sigh, he did as his brother asked.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of dust and rock settling.

“Why did you come back in?” John’s voice was crisp, clear and calm.

“You were in here.” Obviously.

“But now both of us are trapped, whereas if you had run like you should have, you could be assisting Virgil to dig me out.”

Scott’s lips thinned. What had been his line of thinking? Had there been a line of thinking? To be honest, all he could recall was the thought that John was under a building that was about to collapse and he needed saving.

His voice was a little rough. “Virgil will get us out.”

“Hmm.” John was not looking at him.

“What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?”

Aquamarine turned calmly to catch his eyes. “Better than both of us.”

“We’re not dead.”

“Pure chance.”

John was always ever so direct.

“But important nonetheless.”

John sighed. “Reminds me of the well.”

Scott eyed him. “Really? You’re going to bring that up again?”

“Eternally, my dear brother.” John’s smirk was exceedingly annoying. “Besides, it passes the time.”

“I would rather spend time finding a way out of here.” Scott shot to his feet and began pacing around the space they were stuck in.

“If you disturb something that brings the rest of the building down on us, I’m haunting you until the end of time.”

Scott slumped a little. His brother was right. Messing with the fragile pile was just asking for trouble. They were lucky to have room to breathe, much less walk around.

“This is the reason why you ended up in the well, Scott. You haven’t changed in twenty odd years.”

Scott glared at him. His little brother had been six at the time, Scott only ten. The two of them had gone beyond the borders of the Tracy farm in Kansas and into land they shouldn’t have. They were exploring. John, as always, was a little more cautious, but Scott was ever running ahead.

It was rather ironic that it was John who fell in the well.

It wasn’t long dug, but the planks covering it were flimsy and the winds from the previous day had obscured them. John had gone through them as if the planet had eaten him.

“John!”

Scott found his little brother clutching his leg at the bottom of the hole.

It wasn’t a very deep well, but it was deep enough to put his brother out of the reach of a ten-year-old.

“Scotty, my leg hurts.”

“I’ll get you out.” He looked around for something to help John.

Perhaps he knew in some part of his mind that this could be the wrong decision. He had no rope and no real way to reach his little brother. He should get help.

But he couldn’t leave Johnny here on his own.

The thought was terrifying from both of their perspectives.

Perhaps he would have thought it a little less terrifying if he realised what could happen if he didn’t fetch help. Because once he found a long enough stick, he reached over the edge and while doing his best to add to the length John couldn’t quite reach, he fell in the hole on top of his brother.

There were groans and tears after that.

Scott didn’t hurt himself. John had been heard to comment on multiple occasions thereafter that it was because he landed on a cushion he called brother.

Scott countered that by saying he was lucky he hadn’t been impaled by a bony limb of said scrawny brother.

In any case, they huddled together for warmth for thirty-six freezing hours until someone finally found them.

By then, both brothers were dehydrated and starving.

The lecture from their father was almost as long as their time in the well.

Their mother, pregnant with Gordon at the time, took ill with the fright and there was some seriously scary time until the little fish was born a month later…a touch early.

Virgil wouldn’t let either of his brothers out of his sight for a good year after the incident. The nine-year-old obviously terrified they would disappear again.

It became legendary in the Tracy household for good or bad.

“So, you’re saying, I should have gone for help?”

Something clunked in the pile of rubble.

John arched an eyebrow. “As I said, you haven’t learnt. Yes, Scott, you should not have dashed back into the collapsing building. When Virgil finds out, he’s going to scalp you.”

“I’m sorry that my first instinct is to protect my brothers.”

John rolled his eyes, both original and artificial. “Your first instinct should be to protect yourself so you can protect your brothers.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Scott shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking his hip. “Fine. Then explain Bermuda.”

“That was different. That was saving lives.”

“You rammed a twenty-eight gunned frigate with Five!”

“It was firing on a sinking civilian target full of over two hundred passengers, including my four brothers. Grandma was not aboard. It was a fair decision.”

Scott had to admit it had been spectacular, the huge, blue-grey, manta-ray-shaped Five had reared out of the ocean and sliced the pirate vessel in half.

International Rescue had fished the survivors out of the water and there had been minimal casualties, considering.

Five had taken damage, but her cahelium superstructure was designed to withstand something as simple as a mostly wooden hull. Some gentle care from Virgil, an assessment from Hiram, and she was declared fit and well.

They had disappeared for a while after that as the rumours ran riot. Lady Penelope managed to smooth any ruffled feathers at government level.

Scott had both commended and roasted John alive.

“You could have been killed.”

“So could have you, and Virgil and Gordon and little Allie. Was I supposed to sit back and watch?”

Another clunk from somewhere in the rubble.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, you know how I feel.”

“Of course, I know how you feel. We all do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Scott-“

But John was interrupted by another clank, this time clearly from one of the pipes against the wall.

“Virgil?” They both said it at once and hurried over to the rock face.

The clunk repeated itself and then started on a very familiar dot dot dot…

S C O T T

He reached behind and pulled his folded cane out of its sleeve on his back. Its metal tip shone dull brass in the yellow light.

He only had to tap one letter. Dot dot dot dash.

V.

Three letters came back in a hurried jumble of excited hammering. F A B.

Then…S T A T U S?

J  A N D  S   W E L L  A N D  M O B I L E.

S T A N D  B A C K ?

F A B.

Assuming Virgil was referring to the rock wall as the point of origin, the two brothers stepped as far back from it as they could.

Moments later a rumble and hiss of gears, the crash of breaking masonry and daylight suddenly shot through part of the rubble. This was quickly followed by a massive but familiar brass claw reaching in and grabbing a large chunk of rock, disappearing with it. A crunch of gravel, shove of rock…a shout. “Scott, are you in here? John?” Their goggled and fully armour-suited brother pushed the rest of the way through the pile of broken building, both claws fully extended.

“Over here, Virgil.”

Their brother’s head turned in their direction and metal shoulders sank in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Something shifted in the rubble pile and Virgil reacted, his right claw slamming into the chunk of masonry threatening to fall. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Scott didn’t need to be told twice as the remains of the building creaked around them in warning. Grabbing John’s arm, he hustled his brother out through the gap past Virgil.

The engineer’s eyes on the both of them.

No doubt there would be a medical examination in their near future.

Shoving John gently ahead of him, Scott turned to keep an eye on Virgil.

His metal clad brother stepped back carefully, letting rock fall in his wake.

Then, as if the final domino had been tipped, the entire pile began collapsing in on itself.

Scott took a step towards Virgil only to have his arm yanked on from behind.

“Damnit, Scott protect yourself!” John dragged him through the remains of the rubble as a cloud of dust roared behind them.

“Virgil!” He dug his heels in, fighting John’s hold.

“He’s wearing his armour, Scott. You are not! Move!”

It went against everything. He had to protect his brothers first. But John was right. Neither of them was wearing enough protection. Virgil was.

He had to trust.

Trust that Virgil knew what he was doing.

When put in those terms the answer was simple. Of course, he trusted Virgil.

Perhaps it was fate he had issues with.

John dragged him clear of the building and the cloud of dust. Two, nestled on her landing struts, was a wonderful sight.

And then Gordon was grabbing at him. Alan was yelling his name and there were dusty hugs and clunking helmets.

But still the cloud…

“Virgil?”

As if summoned, his brother strode out of the haze, cogs whirring and pneumatic systems hissing, metal glinting in the sun. His goggled eyes searching until they latched onto his brothers.

Thank god.

A matter of strides and he enveloped his engineer brother in a hug, metal suit and all. “Thanks, Virg.”

His brother exhaled in a huff. “What on Earth were you thinking?” And so began the rant about worrying about a brother encased in metal when a building is falling when he wasn’t and could have been killed with a single rock. You idiot.

It went on for some time.

John smirked at him for the entire tirade.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #where there be dragons au #an attempt at Steampunk

[werezmastarbucks]

xenia

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2851

warnings: mentions of parental abuse

music: damsel in distress by neck deep, beautiful stranger by halsey

You did shots that night.

Xenia has been one of the stops on your ridiculously meticulous search through Ohio. One mention that one of Kai’s grandmothers might be buried here somewhere, and that she was a siphoner, too, which is a rare, and you stopped in Xenia, digging up every inch of the earth.

In fact, at some point, as you lived on in this weird world, systematic search has grown into a kind of manic entertainment.

You took everything to extremes. Searching for the grave, that might have answers and magical solutions, you basically unearthed the whole cemetery, because Kai said that maybe somebody wanted to hide his nana’s body, because she was a shameful accident, being a siphoner and all that. And that random guess got stuck in your heads, turning you into paranoid diggers. Really, you were just keeping yourselves busy. Doing the things you would never normally do in your usual life. Why would you walk around a town, digging the ground randomly, and putting so much effort in it? After a couple of days of incredible stamina fueled work, Xenia looked like it’s been ravaged by gigantic moles. Then Parker remembered. She has never been to Xenia, she lived, and died in Cincinnati.

And that’s why you were doing shots.

You invented a reverse never have I ever game which was called nobody has ever. The point was to think of all the things other people never did for you, and the luckier one had to drink, but obviously, pretty soon the game turned dark.

You found this nice house on the Creek Green Street that overlooked an old alley with a post office that must have been about sevety years old. You wondered how it survived the tornado.

The kitchen was big, and the table, square and made of very thick, nice looking wood, consumed the soft golden lights of the evening. Although your shoulders were hurting you almost to the point of whining, since no matter how many days you dug, your body wouldn’t get stronger, you made a salad. Kai cooked up a myriad of snacks, and they were all piling up on the table in a colorful, tasty mess. It felt like you were both drunk from work and the absurdity of your chore even before you opened up the bottle.

“Nobody has ever”, he said, narrowing his eyes, “hit me in the throat with a tennis ball”.

You shook your head slowly. The shots rested on the table. You were leaning against the table, one foot under you, and listened to music and your joints singing the mournful song of pain. Kai was rubbing his chin musingly. Days in Xenia were very warm - unlike in all other towns. That was amazing to you. Without the people, and the hurry, you could concentrate on the world itself and actually found every location had its own smell, temperature, color. Once you got out, you’d never be the same.

“Nobody has ever cut my hair while I was sleeping”.

Kai nodded responsibly and downed his shot. You raised your brows.

“Oh, I was way too agitated, and never liked scissors near my face. Mom always cut my hair while I was asleep. I was ugly when I was little. One more reason”, he shrugged, “to be hating on lil Malachai”.

You hummed.

“Nobody has ever said they loved me”, he continued, gravely.

Air got stuck in your throat.

You swayed in your place.

“Come on. Not ever?”

“Nah”.

You took your shot and thought, who actually said that to you, except your mother. People usually said it in a friendly way. You couldn’t count how many times Elena said she loved you, and it didn’t mean much at the end of the day.

“Not even in a casual way, like, oh my god, you like Metallica, too? I love you!”

Kai chuckled.

“I don’t like Metallica”.

“Jesus. Okay. You wanna go hardcore. Nobody has ever chose me over everything and everybody else”, you offered.

Kai smirked and took his shot, and then reached for the bottle again.

“How? How come? And they never said they love you? Who?”

“I have learnt to manipulate people into choosing me over everything else. That’s how I keep sane, ha”, he noted. You frowned.

“Who was it?”

He looked at you with surprise.

“You. You chose me over everything else in your life when you decided to spend an eternity here with me. That was pretty nice of you. Cheers”, and he drunk again, forgetting he had already done his shot. You could feel the blood flowing to your face.

“I did it because I thought Damon would stop. I didn’t expect him to send me here”.

Kai shrugged, as if saying, it wasn’t really his problem Damon was a piece of shit.

“And why did you mainpulate me into it?”

Bold of him to assume he had manipulated you into liking him, but his way of thinking is different.

“Because I like you. I wanted you to stick with me. You’re the only person who doesn’t make me feel like a burden”, he replied with a lot of importance. He was a little tipsy.

You sighed heavily.

“Nobody has ever buried me under the ground in a drain pipe”, he ogled.

“Mm-hmm”.

He grinned as you drank.

“By the way, after that, when I made a scene (because I was sixteen) about Damon not killing the love of his life over me, Katherine called me a delusional teenager. God I hate that bitch”.

“Katherine Pierce never infuriated me because I never met her”, he put it.

“It’s not your turn”, but you drank anyway, “Nobody has ever called me an abomination”.

He saluted you with his shot.

“Nobody has ever made me his door boy”.

Shot.

“Nobody has ever took away my natural right of being the leader of my coven”.

Shot.

Your right shoulder stang you with annoying pain, and you glanced at the clock. Midnight would come in a couple of minutes. You always started drinking just before midnight because the change of the day brought you back to sobriety, and you could go on and drink the same amount again without feeling bad in the morning.

As the midnight struck, you suddenly found yourself sitting so close to Kai your foreheads were touching.

You both straightened up and looked at the time. He stretched his neck.

“Were we drunk-confessing our mutual respect for each other?” you asked.

“Think so”, he pulled a bowl of salad to himself and started eating, without forgetting to fill the shots again.

“Happy birthday”.

You clincked your tiny glasses together, and the game went on.

“Nobody has ever cooked for me”, he said.

You downed your shot thinking about how fabulous it is, to have your own chef who is also in love with you.

At the same second, you wondered if he has ever thought about poisoning you, just for the sake of it.

“I have hard time believing it. You’ve made it to twenty-two, which meant your parents cooked for you”.

“We had lots of kids in the house. We always had to eat all together”, Kai shook his head, “if you were late to the table, you had to starve. Besides, I started cooking for myself pretty early”.

“Okay. Nobody has ever locked me up in the basement”.

He was so good at this game, taking his losing drinks like a champ, like a very diligent student. As his adam’s apple went down, you gasped.

“Oh, wait. Spit it out! Spit it out. I recalled. I’ve been locked up in basements plenty of times, it was just... more like... a dungeon”.

“In the Salvatore house?” he asked, displeased.

“Yeah. And once, in the Lockwood mansion. Damon was raging then. We got stuck and...”

“Whatever”.

You licked your lips and shut up, seeing the familiar irritated spark in his eyes. Kai hated Damon at this point; for sending him away; for being not his type of person; but most importantly, for the fact you still lingered on the memories of him.

Gradually, you started running out of ideas, drunk again, and it was barely past one in the morning.

Kai at least was constantly eating, while you just drank, so you now had a hard time focusing on one thing, your thoughts drifting apart like ripples on the water. You looked at his white wrists, his knees hopping lightly as he bounced to the music, and tried to think of something.

“Nobody has ever... ever...” you puffed. Kai smiled. “Ever stood over me at night, watching me sleep”.

“Yes, I have”.

You didn’t get it at first.

“What?”

“I have”, he repeated.

“Oh, you mean... of course, I mean, back in the outer world”.

He nodded, like it was just a tiny misunderstanding about the size of a cheesburger he’s ordering.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. I was in your house at night before we got here”.

“What?!” you snapped.

All your body moved you towards him to slap him on the head, but out of instinct, the unkillable, fundamental instinct that kicked in when he was around, you took his head, let your palms slide down to his neck, as you hugged him.

“Kai, why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to see what you look like when you’re not around me”, he said simply. You could feel his mouth moving against your hair close to your ear. “What you look like when you stare at yourself in the mirror. What you do when nobody’s watching”.

You shut your eyes with embarrassment, your brain trying to recall all the things you did alone back in your house one hundred years ago.

“Oh god...”

“What you smell like when you’re just out of shower. You know, stuff like that”.

“God, this is so embarrassing”.

He laughed out with amusement.

You pulled away and took his head, covering his ears with your plams. His face swayed in front of you a little, as you muttered,

“You have to promise me something, Parker”.

“Okay”, he said carefully.

He could’ve said, of course! because you knew him. You knew how he pretends to be this enthusiastic person. Who is only serving you. But he was real right then, at that moment, looking you in your drunk eye, really considering what you’re about to ask. He could’ve said of course! and not mean it. But he said okay, ruffling up like a ferret, and you loved him at that moment.

“Once we get out, don’t stalk other girls”.

His face moved with laughter he contained inside.

“Why would I do that?”

You thought of that wretched universe full of good-looking girls, and all their different shapes and colors, the way they smell and how gracious they are, and felt scared of losing him for the first time.

“They’re all so pretty, and I... just don’t. Do whatever you can to...”

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” he asked in his are you dumb tone. “You’re a solid eight”.

You have lived enough to feel all kinds of wonders when intoxicated. You’ve sang, blacked out, stumbled, yelled, fought and slept when drunk, and now the very logical reaction followed, which you have also experienced many times.

You started sobbing.

“Eight”, you put your hand to your face, cradling yourself, and consoling yourself immediately.

Kai’s face went almost pale with shock. Then he started giggling uncontrollably, reaching his arms for you.

“I’m joking! Hey, I’m joking”.

He couldn’t start laughing.

“What are you upset about? I’m just fooling with you”.

“I’ve always been an eight!” you cried out, suddenly.

“For your information, eight is fantastic!”

“Katherine has always been a ten”, you finished solemnly, drowning in the pleasure of digging into your deepest wells of insecurity.

Kai froze.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about Damon right now. I swear to fuck, I’ll break your neck”.

You tilted your head miserably, letting the tears stream down your face in a dramatic fashion.

“Aaaahhh”.

“Y/N...”

“Damon has made me think that I’m a fool for ever thinking somebody can be into me”, you said quietly. You could feel his hand on the base of your neck. As your hot tears dripped down, heating the perfume on your skin, his grab tightened lightly. He didn’t know how to hold tenderly, it was always half-clutching with Kai. With time, you came to realize it was so reassuring you felt the safest when his hands were around your throat. Whether it was playful or menacing depended on his mood.

“Let me rain on your self-pitying parade”, he murmured, “okay? My parents made me think I didn’t deserve to breathe even. Pretty natural, don’t you think? Everyone has their right to have air in their lungs”.

You looked at him. Kai was being serious. You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, and his face softened a little.

“But my dad decided I wasn’t worth even that”.

“What are you saying?”

“Once I was sitting in the bath, when I was about five. That was the time you start getting your magic and learn how to control it. That was the time the whole coven found out I don’t have it. That Jo is useless, too, because I’m a siphoner. So one night, when I was in the bath”, he repeated, like he was trying to hypnotize you, “he came in, and...” he looked away, blinking several times. “I remember, he was wearing this dark green shirt. Green is the color of the coven. He held my head under water”.

There was a short break between two songs, and when the next one came in, blasting sounds, you shivered uncomfortably.

“He decided he’d spare himself and everybody else the headache. That’s why I don’t like water much and barely ever go near it. And now you taught me how to swim”.

“How did you survive?” you whispered.

“My mom barged in and pulled him away. I don’t know how she knew. Maybe it was her motherly instinct. She used to have that one for me long time ago”.

The tears welled up on you, pressure pushing on the sides of your skull. You took him, kissing his face, kissing his mouth, as Kai leaned in, quiet, and just let you dote on him. You held him tight, trying to kiss the memories out, begging him to forget.

“I’m okay. Hey, I’m fine. It was a long time ago, and he’s dead. And I’m alive. And I have you”.

You were so drunk, falling apart at the seams like a badly sewn jacket, that he had to hold you so that you didn’t fall off the chair. Hangover was guaranteed.

“Let’s just go... let’s go to bed”, you whispered, your face against his. “You can do whatever you want”.

Kai smiled. His eyes glinted in a familiar way. This kitchen, the house, it all grew on you. The way he held you, you didn’t even know if your feet touched the floor.

“Whatever I want?” he asked.

“Whatever you want”, you echoed.

He put your body onto the couch, and you could feel he moves your limbs a little, and then the weight of his body was next to you.

Fifteen minutes later, you pulled the covers down, and turned towards the light, and saw the TV shining through the blackness of the room.

Kai was watching Lethal Weapon on VHS and cuddling against you.

You inhaled, feeling he room spinning. The light stang your eyes, so you rolled back away and pressed your face into him, into the darkness.

The next time you woke up it was already dark.

You moved a little just to know where you are, and indicated his arms around you. Comfort settled down immediately, but the insane temperatures of his dozing body was too much, so you tried to kick the cover down to your feet. Kai lifted one of his arms unwillingly. It was still deep dark outside the window, and the old post office must have been standing there in complete fright.

“How many parts have you watched?”

“Three”, he said sleepily. You considered whether you were thirsty enough to try and go to the kitchen. Decided it wasn’t worth it. Your face felt a bit swollen with tears, but you felt comfortably tired. You wouldn’t leave this couch even if somebody lit it on fire.

“It’s not true, by the way”, he said.

“Huh?”

“My dad never tried to drown me”.

You rolled your eyes without opening them up.

“Wha...”

“I made it up, I was just trying to make you feel better”.

“You moron. You unbelievable moron, you...”

“You really have to stop calling me names, it hurts”.

“Douchebag. Why... Kai, you told me you weren’t a liar”.

He did something resembling a shrug. You felt his knee between yours, and slid your arm onto his back.

“You made me a liar. You’re changing me”, he mumbled, “I’m changing here with you. I can feel it”.

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