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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 2 of 2 for sickfics. Requested by multiple.

At first, Simon thinks the sound of his cellphone is an explosion.

It doesn’t register completely in his dream. It starts as a slow beeping sound, like a ticking, and then morphs into everything else, the usual. Explosions and blood, screaming and crying amidst the rubble, dust swirling in the air. In the dream, he doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know how he got there, only knows that he was looking for you, searching the faces and the limbs of the deceased for any sign of you and Emma, picking through slabs of concrete until the crying got closer, until it sounded like it was right on top of him, or underneath him, somewhere he can’t see but-

“’lo?” “Simon?” He squints, adjusting for a split second, before shooting straight up in bed.

“I’m here.” He told you to call, nearly begged you to ring him if you needed anything after he left your flat earlier. You were still in awful shape, but managed to get in the shower, and Emmaline had been fed and put back down to bed. He was able to help you with your dishes, washing and stacking them where he hoped they went, tucking the bottles upside down on their drying rack. There wasn’t more of a reason to linger in your flat. He didn’t want to be a nuisance.

“I’m s-sorry, did I wake you?” You sound upset. Still heavily sick, throat clogged with a cough, but your voice is distress ladened, sour with fear. You sound like you did that day the guy followed you in the park.

“No. What is it?” He fumbles for his jeans, sliding them on, phone tucked between his ear and chin. The mask is in there, he double checks, and he’s still trying to coax it out of you when he pulls his sweatshirt on.

“It’s Emma… she’s- she’s not getting any better and I don’t know what to do, I need to take her to hospital.” You’re crying, panicked, Emmaline screaming through the walls, and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she getting better? You’re still talking in the background, anxiously explaining her temperature and the reasoning for something medical he doesn’t understand, enough time for him to make the very short trip to your front door. His fingers twist around the handle, grateful it’s locked, frustrated it stands between him and the two of you. “- and what if I waited too long and something really bad has happened and I just know she must be so uncomfortable and I’m a terrible mum I just didn’t think that taking her to hospital was the right thing, there are so many germs already there and what if-“

“Hey, listen. Listen to me, love.” He tries to jog your attention, snapping you free from your spiral. “Everything’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Can you open the door, sweetheart?” He coaxes you, gritting his teeth at the sound of your harsh breathing, combination of your tears and what he’s sure must be a chest infection making you gasp a little bit, like you’re running out of air. He hears the click of the deadbolt, and the scrape of the chain- door all locked up, just like he taught you. Good girl. “That’s it.” He encourages, waiting for the turn of the handle.

You’re hyperventilating on the other side, still gripping the phone tight, crying baby in your arms, all bundled up like you’re preparing to take her outside… except you’re wearing a thin pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, frantic look in your eyes, missing a shoe.

Without thinking, he steps forward and pulls you into his chest, snuggling Emma between you and him, careful not to squish her, but keeps you close with a hand on the back of your head. It’s all instinct, something that’s been wired in the back of his mind, sleeping dormant for so long. He’s not quite sure how his hands know to give you comfort, but they do. Just for you, for Emmaline, and he lets himself fall into it, murmuring something soft into your hair, pulling her from your arms as he encourages you to get a jacket on, helping you with the one sleeve, making sure you both get your hats, helping you get her settled in the carrier. He keeps a hand on you the whole way to the car, your nerves about installing the base easily soothed when he shows you he knows how to do it, (and fails to mention the youtube videos on quick install that he’s been watching recently, just in case) settling her and then you in, even reaching over to buckle your belt as you lean over car seat, anxiously distracted, watching your baby. “Alright, ready?” He asks you gently, and you look to him, eyes wet with tears, limbs heavy. The need to reassure you, soothe you, screams in his head, and he takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. “It’s going to be alright.” I swear. I’ll burn the world if it’s not. “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. I promise.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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slut4daviii · 1 year

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character: t.shigaraki

pt: 01/01

cw: face-fucking, praise, degradation, yandere-themes, vibrational quirk, body worship, dark DARK themes, fingering, marathon cumshots, sexual torture, strong submissive/dom themes, sir/daddy kink, hate-fucking

summary: Shigaraki kills [names] gf then kidnaps him, wanting a relationship but gets something much more…pleasurable.

a/n: this shii is straight ass. i jus finally got over my writers block😻. i swear to you guys, the next smut i write will be 100x better. trust me pls.

title: [name]’s BITCH

wc: 1200-1700

────────────────────────

it was dark.

utter obscurity.

hushed voices whisked around you, echoing into the silent background that was yourself.

you tried to move— tried to undo the bindings around your wrist; they only tightened, burning your skin in an agony you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

you let loose a hiss, somehow putting the whispers to rest. you could feel eyes dart to your body, feel their sting against your revealed skin.

you turned your head away, cursing lightly. ‘where the fuck am I?’ you weren’t asking anyone in particular, just trying to calm your racing nerves.

“finally awake, hm?”

you listened intently, perking your ears to hear better. the voice sound so familiar, as if… you’d known him for years.

“not a talker, huh?”

you continued to listen; trying to make out whom you were speaking with.

“are you mad at me, [name]?”

you gritted your teeth at the question, hissing again at the increased pressure on your wrist.

“oh, please don’t be mad at me [name]! I swear I don’t mean to hurt you! I just couldn’t stand to watch her take you away from me any longer.”

you reeled back, eyes darting aimlessly around the darkness still plaguing your vision.

“I had to do it [name]! if I didn’t, she would’ve took you away from me and became your wife! then you wouldn’t realize how much you need me and not her!”

the words weren’t making sense, ramblings from a person you knew but couldn’t see. through his manic dialogue, you’d figured out one thing— he was the one who killed your girlfriend.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

his mumbling ceased at the sound of your voice. replacing itself with a suppressed moan. “ye—yes sir?”

the words came out jumbled, unformed and quick. breathy and quiet. they made way to your ear, quelling the anger inside of you.

“you killed [gf/name]?” your tone was heavy— deep and rough, sending pleasure running down Shigaraki’s spine.

“she was taking you away from me—! I had to do something to get your attention, please don’t be mad at me!”

you stayed quiet, closing your eyes to slow your breathing.

“s—sir? are you— you mad at me?”

the word ‘sir,’ he kept using it. despite him being in control of the situation. he kept referring to you as the… dominant one; making it clear that he wanted something from you, something that seeing your girlfriend have, made him go crazy with jealousy.

“c’mere.”

Shigaraki moaned softly, his body moving without instruction. he stood over you, awaiting your next command.

“take off this mask and the ropes around my arms”

he hesitated, shaking with anticipation; “b—but sir, you’ll try to le—leave me!” he began begging you, “anything else! please! I’ll do anything for you!”

“anything?”

“yes, yes please! anything!”

“take. off. the mask. and these ropes.”

Shigaraki let out a gasp, sharply inhaling before removing the burlap sack that was attached to your shoulders.

your vision was glared, blurry and unfocused behind the florescent lights overhead. you stared up at Shigaraki, waiting for your vision to clear. when it did, Shigaraki shimmered— his eyes were lined with unspilled tears, his body shivered with emotion, and he looked… ravishing.

“now the ropes.”

tears flooded his face, and an expression of pure despair overtook took him; shoving his pride to unconscious depths.

he did as you said, pulling the ropes from your skin before standing back; waiting for you to leave.

you looked at him, watching at tears ran downwards, falling to his chest. you smirked at this— reaching for his hips and pulling him unto your lap, simultaneously activating your quirk (vibration).

he moaned breathlessly, back arching to a near perfect crescent. “why’re you crying? I haven’t even put it in yet.

before he could answer, you slid your left hand down his back— slipping your fingers into his pants and pass his already prepared hole.

“you’ve already prepared?” you began vibrating your fingers, repeatedly smashing into his prostate.

“GHAK!! [n—name]! yo—you’re nhgk! so fuhgking deeep!”

“oh? do you not like that?” you began thrusting— adding a third in the process. Shigaraki screamed into your neck, cumming instantly.

“ju—just cuhm, came! s—st—stop! too much!”

you tilted your head to the side, smiling up at the fucked out male. “I thought you wanted this? you killed my girlfriend to take her spot right? well now you have it, all to yourself babyboy.”

Shigaraki’s eyes rolled back, his head following suite. you smiled at him, placing your hand on his back and leaning forward to bite his adams’ apple.

his body convulsed, cumming inside his pants once more. “damn, again? usually [gf/name] can last longer, you know? actually make me nut first.”

you withdrew your fingers from him, pushing him onto the floor. he heaved— gasping for air. his body still shook from his previous three orgasms, twitches of pleasure running circles across his nerves.

you laughed, leaning down to grab him by his throat. he went almost completely limp, only smiling as you brought his tear stained face closer to yours.

“do you want daddy’s cum? want me to fuck your face until you pass out?”

Shigaraki eagerly nodded, hands coming up to grasp and grip at your clothed cock. “wan—wanna make s—sir p—proud.”

you felt your cock twitch at his nature— slutty and submissive, a complete 180 of his public figure: cold, heartless, and brutal. you kissed him, passionately swapping your tongue into his mouth.

“open your mouth.”

he obeyed, sticking his tongue out in the process. you grinned and spit into his mouth, “don’t swallow it.” your fingers gripped his neck, digging into the skin, “understand?”

he convulsed, on the verge of another orgasm.

“fucking slut.” your tone was dipped in laughter, mocking his lustrous appearance. you let go of his neck and moved to your own pants— undoing the jaw strings of your sweatpants and pulling out your cock.

Shigaraki looked on with awe, admiring every vein and bulge that lined your beautiful cock. you jerked yourself once or twice, feeling pleasure instantly fill your mind. you looked at Shigaraki through lidded eyes, smirking inward. “you ever taken a dick this big?”

he looked like a bitch in heat: rubbing his thighs together, panting, drool rolling down his chin, eyes glossy and tear-stained.

you clicked your tongue, motioning him closer. he obliged, moving so that your balls were touching his lips.

you lifted his chin, holding your cock at the base. “is it pretty?” he nodded impatiently, sticking his tongue out to lick your tip. “aht aht.” your slapped him with your shaft. one time on the left side of his face, then once on the right. “answer my question first.”

Shigaraki pouted, trying to connect your cock with his tongue. you rolled your eyes and pulled away, slapping your cock on his tongue instead. he moaned endlessly, trying to fit your tip between his lips. “plu—please [name]! fuck me! pound me until I can’t take it! I’m your slut! I’m your slut! pleasee!”

his desperation was evident, making it difficult to keep your composure. yet, you persisted. “how much do you want it?”

Shigaraki groaned, back arching painfully. you tsk’d and grabbed a handful of his hair, shoving your cock into his throat. he choked, spit running down your balls and up your pubes. you pulled him away, giving him a second to breathe before your shoved him back down, going even further— making him take you to your base.

“how much do you want my seed?” you pulled him off and waited for a response.

through spit and drool, he held up his hands, “I’d kill my own family for it! I’d—I’d—I’d leave all for one and the league of villains just for a taste of you! [name], I’d kill myself for your amazing— he began kissing up and down your shaft— beautiful, hard, thick, glorious— he shoved his face into your balls, sucking the skin skillfully— ghod sihzed purfecet dhick!!”

you took pride in what you could do with your cock, and Shigaraki’s begging only intensified your ego.

you pulled his hair, lifting him to your tip. he used his tongue to align it with his mouth, sinking to the base immediately. you sighed blissfully, letting your head fall back, indulging in all the thoughts of what you would do to ‘the king of villains’

you looked down at him, watching as his slid up and down your length, his tongue lapping over even inch of skin and his cheeks hallow enough to pull your soul out.

“what’s your name, Tomura?”

he slowed, coming to your tip with an echoing pop. spit and precum fell from his mouth in an adulterous fashion, a line of spit still connecting him to your tip.

“[name]’s bitch.”

#dom male reader #gay #seme male reader #top male reader #gay smut #mha smut

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tojipure · 5 months

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"you wish you never ever met her at all..."

G.Satoru x f!reader|

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That smirk that plastered your perfect little face. How Satoru would love to fuck it right off your face. He hated you. Satoru loved the attention he would get from the uni campus, but you took it right from him ever since you came.

Now you are crashing his party, which you weren't invited to. Walking in with that little black dress that perfectly hugged your curves. Oh, how he loved it. And so did many others as most eyes were on you. Starting small conversations with everyone you walk past.

What he hated the most was that he didn’t even hate you.

The very first day when you arrived Satoru tried shooting his shot. Immediately, you rejected him. Which lowered his ego way more than he anticipated. Seeing you talk to many other men who weren't even half as good looking as Satoru.

"The hell are you doing here?" His brows furrow as you finally walk up to him. He wasn't stupid though. He knew you'd come.

"Was I not invited?" You pout as you trace your finger along his chest onto his biceps. 'Fuck.' He thought to himself.

"You knew damn well you weren't invited." He shoves your hand that was wrapped around his bicep. Though he loved the thought of your little hands wrapping around him as he fucked you relentlessly.

You looked around acting confused, "But everyone is here, why not me?"

Before he could even bite back, you walked off.

He’s been eager to see you all night but he was unable to find you. That is till he catches you leading some underclassmen into the bathroom of his house. He felt heart rate increasing, pushing past people while he fumes with anger.

He forces the door open to see you sitting on the sink as the random boy leaned up all in your neck. How your lips were plump, hair all messy and the skanky dress revealing your lace black thong. “What the fuck are you doing in here.”

The underclassman swiftly turns around, seeing Satoru furious.“Hey man I’m sorry…she came at me-”

“Get the fuck out.” Satoru says staring deeply into your soul as all you could do was just smirk at him. While the underclassman runs out the bathroom, Satoru slams the door closed.

“So this is what you do? Fuck around with me?” Satoru grabs your face bringing it closer to his. “Wanna act so fucking hard to get with me? Then fuck around with these little boys?”

You squirm trying to get out of his grasp, “They wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

“And you do?” You attempt to say as Satoru’s grip around your face tightens. It started to hurt, feeling his fingers dig through your cheek.

“I can fuck you till you can’t even form a proper sentence.” He grits his teeth, rapidly letting go of your face.

His lips crashing onto yours, your lips tasting like the strawberry glossed you always use. You nibble his bottom lip as the kissing gets slopier. Your hands slid down his abdomen, removing his shirt that defined every muscle he had. But looking at his bare skin was much better.

“God you're so fucking hot.” Seeing the way his lips plumped up and turned red, his hair messed up from removing his shirt.

“Save it for later…” he carries you off the sink, pushing your head down as a sign to get on your knees, “I’m not sucking your dick.” You bark at him but all he did was smirk.

“It’s not really an option.”

The pornographic noises of you sucking his shaft as the music from the party plays in the background. Satoru whispering small ‘fuck’ ‘shit’ ‘good girl’ as he has one handful of hair in one hand while the other holds up his phone. Making sure to get every detail. Your mascara running down, saliva running down from your mouth onto your tits.

“Keep going..almost..there princess.” Satoru sucks in a sharp breath; feeling your cold little hands fondling his balls. His free hand forces your throat to take his dick deeper; repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

“mmm’look at you..gagging on this dick.” He points the camera closer to your face, hungrily fucking your mouth feeling himself reaching his max. He takes his dick out and gives it a few strokes before it paints your face. The frosted liquid drips from your eyebrow onto your eye and some into your mouth.

“Show them my cum all over your face…” he pants while moving the camera all around your face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue following with a high pitched ‘ahh’.

“Should’ve gotten some on those pretty tits of yours” putting the phone down as you heavily breathe for air. Satoru helps you up by your arms and turns you around to look at yourself in the mirror. “Do those little fuckers make your pretty mascara run like that?” you nod, boosting his ego even more.

He bends down examining your tiny wet cunt, giving soft kitty licks. Your body squirming; feeling his soft tongue sucking the juices from your pussy. The pornographic noises are now coming from him as you're begging for him to give you more. “Mm..More Satoru.” you can feel his smirk form on your pussy. His hand now flicking your clit while his tongue explores your warm cunt. You can feel your body quivering under his touch.

“Toru~ m’gonna cum…”

His fingers now thrusting inside you coming in contact with the rubbery gushy spot that made you feel so good.Your legs crossing as he keeps abusing the same spot in your pussy while every now and then he pinches your clit. “Cum on my fingers f’me princess.”

You loudly moan as you feel your climax reach, Cumming all over Satoru’s fingers. “Good girl, do they make you cum just by fingering you?” He whispered as he shoved his fingers inside your mouth. You nod again, and of course Satoru smirks.

“Have you ever done anal?” He nibbles your ear while your body was already so fragile.Bent over the sink as you slightly shiver. He takes a picture of your cunt while he waits for your answer. “Answer me.”

“No.” you breathlessly say, pushing the strands of hair on your face behind your ears. “Do you want it? My dick up your tiny asshole?” He kneads your boobs while peppering your neck with little kisses.

“Yes, daddy.” He could feel blood rush to his shaft, he wasn’t really expecting you to agree with his idea. Nor did he expect you to call him daddy. “Look at you~” He praises you while sending small slaps to your ass cheeks.

He has you bent over the bathroom sink again, this time he gathers a bunch of spit from his mouth and spit on your asshole. Slapping his tip on your ass before positioning himself. “It’s gonna hurt a little.” He warns you, delicately placing soft sloppy kisses on your back.

‘mkay...hurry’ you whined.

And he did, slowly pushing his cock into your tight asshole. Moaning out your name as your tight ass suffocated his dick. ‘Hurts toru~’ You sob. His pace increases as you cry out. ‘shhh i know…’ he watched your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the sobbing turns into lewd moans. ‘Fuck this ass feels sooo good.’ he grunts.

‘Mhm..yeah..’ you moan as you try to reach for his hand. Grabbing his hand and guiding it down to your clit. He chuckled breathlessly, he had already fucked you dumb. Not being able to use your words. Only hearing the high pitched moans coming out of your sweet mouth.

Satoru rubs your clit as he thrust deeper and deeper into your ass. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his climax. And he knew you were too, the moaning getting louder and your body shaking as he increased his speed.

Before he knew it, your asshole filled with his cum. How sexy it looked oozing out of your pretty little ass he couldn't help but snap another picture. One with his dick inside your as and one without.

His hand still rubbing your clit as your moaning took over, your own liquid running down your legs now, ‘Fuck toru~”

Your body was limp and your eyes could not stay open, “Do those little boys fuck you like that? Hmm?” He cleans off all the cum and helps you redress yourself.

“Oh shut up.” You say adjusting one strap to your dress as Satoru was redressing himself now. You whimper as you feel a slap on your right ass cheek.

“Answer me..” he kisses your lips and wipes the mascara from under your eyes as much as possible.

“No they don’t.” You smiled.

“atta girl..that smile suits you more.” He opens the bathroom as you wrap your arm around his.

The embarrassment consumes you as you see many people giggling at you two leaving the bathroom together; looking like you guys just had the time of your lives.

I mean you guys did.

#maneater #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #rosipuree

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

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✨️Bodhi durran ✨️ that's it.

BUT ALSO

Imagine him being the most amazing boyfriend. I don't know if you have seen lockwood and co on Netflix but that scene where lockwood dresses Lucy's wounds and is looking dead ass deep in her soul smiling, my god bodhi material.

To get to my point if you could write a one shot of bodhi finding out you're injured and going ballistic to anyone that let her out of their sight and got hurt and then finding you trying to wrap your wounds and instantly going all soft and helping I would be forever in your debt

Ps. If you haven't watched lockwod and co it's absolutely worth it.

I haven't watched the show so if this isn't exactly how you pictured this, I apologize✨🤍

Worries

"Where is she?", Bodhi yanked onto one of the recruits, who was in the same formation as you, shirt up. The poor lad looked like he was about to shit himself at best as he stumbled over words. The thing was... Bodhi was fun and games until he wasn't. And that wasn't part come a lot sooner than expected. Considering that the past weeks of him being a section leader had been rather calm. But that sorry fuck just had to show off. Had to break formation. Had to try to prove his piss poor ego and get you hurt.

"You're speechless all of a sudden?", Bodhi shook the guy in his grip, "Answer the goddamn question before you end up like a roasted chicken on the solstice table". You could hear a pin dropping in the background that's how silent the squad had gotten. "I think I saw her entering the building", some other recruit cut in. Bodhi narrowed his eyes, "You think or you saw?", shoving the quivering male he stepped aside sizing everyone up.

"You weak shits better listen and better listen well", he practically growled through gritted teeth. His first instinct was to run after you. He saw the blood gushing from your hand after the coalition. But he also knew his title. Causing a bigger scene than necessary would only turn heads your way. And neither of you needed that. Neither of you wanted to become a target leading to one another. "If any of you will ever do anything similar to what Marco did today", Bodhi grunted. Gods, he felt like Xaden. "I will skin you myself and believe me your dragons will smoke you alive. Dismissed", he practically roared as the recruits hurried away. Bodhi ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair.

"She is up in your room", the voice made Bodhi jolt slightly. Garrick was leaning against one of the pillars. "I passed her, she's fine, man", Garrick continued to speak since Bodhi just stood there, "You did well here too. More and more like our beloved Xaden every day". He knew it was a dig. The two cousins had been compared ever since their interactions were brought to the daylight. "Why don't you go fuck yourself", Bodhi grunted as he walked past his friend. "Gets boring after a while", Garrick chirped in return. Bodhi simply snarled but that of course earned a satisfied chuckle from Garrick.

"Show it to me", the sudden bag of the door practically hitting the wall and the raised voice made you drop the blood-soaked rag. You knew Bodhi was gonna find you eventually. Your dragon was practically counting the minutes for you ever since you had flown back first and dismounted. "Bodhi, it's okay", you tried to keep your voice calm. The wound wasn't all that bad it was the angle and the damaged tissue of the skin that caused it to bleed so much. "Don't you it's okay, me", he grunted, "Show me", his voice was lethal low. He never used that tone with you. It was his section leader's voice. The voice he gave a report in. But it never was showcased around the people he trusted and cared for.

"There's nothing to look at it's...", "I didn't ask, I gave you an order", he cut in, grabbing your upper arm gently so he could look at the damage himself. Bodhi's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, his jaw flexed. "Sit", he muttered motioning towards the bed. "Bodhi", you breathed out. "Baby, I swear to everything holy to me", he exhaled a shaky breath, "you either sit or I am carrying to the healer's wing and will put you on bed rest for a week". You huffed at his threat but you knew that he wasn't bluffing so you followed his orders.

Bodhi was so gentle as he carefully wiped away some of the blood before pressing a clean bandage on your cut, securing it in place. Make sure it's tight for a couple of hours before the bleeding slows down. He would redo it in a couple of hours. Wash it off with a salve he would go ask for. Then another bandage. Then... "Bodhi, I can hear you making plans in your head", you muttered. It was cute watching him fuss at times. It was his way of showing love but you also knew that his head was a wild space and it only took one bad thought to have it all spiraling out of control. "Does it hurt a lot? Do you need something for the pain?", he asked, his concerned eyes searching yours. "Start by giving me a hug and then sit down with me", you said softly, "I promise, I'm fine". You reached out for him, taking his hand into yours, squeezing it.

"I just hate seeing you hurt", Bodhi breathed out, his shoulders drooping. "The feeling is mutual but there are times we can't do anything about it", you reached to run your fingers through his messy curls. That now was completely out of control since he no doubt had been pulling at them. "Do we have a murder scene in the backyard?", you nudged your boyfriend's shoulder, making him snort. "Not yet but we might...", Bodhi exhaled, turning to face you.

"You promise you're okay?", you met his worried gaze but this time instead of answering him you just leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and tenderly. Letting him feel your love. "Good enough proof?", you asked when you two finally broke apart. "Not sure... maybe a couple more kisses", Bodhi thoughtfully nodded his head. You giggled slightly before cupping his face once more.

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran imagine #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran fourth wing #bodhi durran iron flame #bodhi durran fourth wing imagine #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #iron flame imagine #iron flame x reader

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cursedvibes · 3 months

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I think Yuuji getting through to Megumi and finding out he has no will to live anymore would've been more impactful if we saw more of him during his possession than the three panels stretched over nearly 40 chapters where he's always just lying on the floor crying.

We initially get input that he's trying to fight back against Sukuna after he was hit with Jacob's Ladder, but then he's essentially just a footnote. "Btw, Megumi is somewhere in there and he's suffering." But we don't really see it.

I think it all comes down that the moment that really broke him, the Yorozu vs Sukuna fight should've given him more focus and Tsumiki. If that moment really hit and we saw him give up, his lack of presence for the rest of the chapters wouldn't be such a big problem.

The Yorozu fight was really just focused on her and Sukuna and their history. You get a mention that Sukuna is doing this to break Megumi and oh no, Tsumiki would die too, but really it's about Yorozu's character and Sukuna learning to handle 10 Shadows. Everything is about them, their jokes and then as a last addition we get "oh yeah, Megumi is sad because someone who has his sister's face died". Everything is already over at that point there is no tension, we don't feel with Megumi because the focus is on other people who vaguely look like him and Tsumiki. Looks are the only real connection to the sibling drama here and I think Yorozu and Sukuna don't even look that much like them. That should've been better balanced.

Take Yuuji's breakdown in Shibuya for example. That makes him want to die as well and throw everything away. We're there with him, how he goes through briefly raised hopes to crushing defeat, how his face distorts as he sees Nanami and Nobara die before him. He's going through anger, fighting with grit teeth for as long as he can until he just curls in on himself and wants to die like his friends. We hear his thoughts, we can emphasize with what is happening. Even when he finds out what happened while Sukuna took over, we see the memories swarm his mind, he desperately clutches his head, claws at the ground, throws up. It's utterly heartbreaking. And that is because we experience it with Yuuji. We don't just cut to him lying on the floor unresponsive and that's the only feedback we get to his emotional state, not even some thoughts.

Megumi clearly saw or felt what happened while Sukuna was in control of his body (I mean, if we didn't have the editor comment like in the volume release you could also think the Bath just numbed him, but I'm not gonna be that picky here). So show him struggle during the fight against Yorozu aka the body of Tsumiki. Show his reaction to being rendered mute and powerless, unable to even lift a finger to hinder Sukuna. Show me his thoughts, he clearly has them. Show me how he eventually came to just give up and wait for death. Just something, anything. All of this I mentioned I am just inferring, we don't get to go through his emotional journey that is clearly very important to the story. All we see is the aftermath with no additional context and then nothing for another 20 chapters or so.

For that matter, show me Tsumiki, if there's anything left of her at all. That is who Megumi tries to fight for after all and she's a victim in all this too. She might've gone through the same things Megumi did, she might've experienced similar pain, but we simply don't know. What would Megumi even be fighting for? Was Tsumiki just dead or gone ever since Yorozu woke up in the hospital or did she witness what was going on as well? Was the Yorozu fight just pointless in that regard because clearly Tsumiki was long gone anyway and Sukuna is essentially just burying a dead body? This fight could've actually been quite dramatic. It claimed to be that due to Megumi and potentially Tsumiki suffering in the background, but it was in the end completely inconsequential. Sukuna and Yorozu would've fought anyway, if Megumi and Tsumiki were there or not, and Yorozu would've always lost. Since except for some throwaway lines and the end panel there isn't really any acknowledgement of the emotional stakes, they fall completely flat. It's about Yorozu and her understanding of love and also a bit about Sukuna's backstory and all this is nice and interesting, I certainly enjoyed it, but this should've laid the groundwork for what is happening to possessed-Megumi as well.

Same with the Gojo fight. Was Megumi effected at all by seeing Gojo there, was he affected by what Gojo said, his disregard for Megumi's body that made Yuuji and Hana question if he even cared? Did he feel anything when Gojo died? Was he still capable of sensing what was going on outside at all or did he sleep through all that. For that matter, how did those 5 Unlimited Voids affect him? His brain should be toast by all accounts. Did he blame Gojo for anything? This could've added some much needed emotional stakes and depth to the Gojo vs Sukuna fight, but again, we don't see anything, just a repeat shot of Megumi crying on the floor.

Megumi went through some pretty significant character development and I assume that is going to go even further now that Yuuji has made contact, but that all happened off-screen. Especially "Tsumiki's" death and its impact should've been shown to lay the groundwork for what happens now. All we got so far is: what happened made him sad. Like yeah sure, I can imagine, but can't we get more than that? That's like skipping the majority of Shibuya except for Nanami and Nobara's deaths and then going right to Yuuji lying on the floor and Todo giving his inspirational speech without showing us even a hint of all the struggle and emotional turmoil Yuuji experienced in the meantime.

I'm not even a Megumi fan, it's just something I noticed while reading. Honestly, the last 30 chapters or so I pretty much forgot about Megumi. Yes, I want Yuuji to save him, but as for Megumi himself my thoughts were always just "well, I guess he's doing badly, who knows". It was all very abstract and hypothetical when it didn't need to be.

#had to think about this because I saw Megumi's and Yuuji's breakdown in Shibuya compared a lot #obviously they are very similar but I think this further emphasizes how Megumi's situation feels like: *insert suffering here*#jjk spoilers #jjk leaks #jjk 251 #fushiguro megumi

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bamsara · 2 years

Note

20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Sun Centric | Wordcount: 1,338 | AO3 Version

I pulled another Solar Lunacy bullet draft out for this prompt, so this is more of a SL crumb than it is a stand-alone drabble. Expect to see this scene again in SL, but maybe written better (and a different beginning and ending, some details more fitting, ect)

To be fair, you had done an excellent job hiding the limp you had so far.

It happened this morning. Routine schedule with a list of tasks and chores that required a cleaning cart's assistance to lug around all the tools and trash, except you got your wheel caught in the small gap at the entrance of the elevator, and your attempt to free it consisted of you pulling and pushing and praying to whatever was out there to dislodge the damn thing while profusly apologizing to the Pizzaplex goers behind you waiting impatiently for use of the elevator while you struggle.

Eventually, you get it dislodged. Yay! Unfortunatly, you twist your ankle when it pops out and you have to do some sort of ninja type of move to prevent from accidently being rolled over on. Only, you were a terrible acrobat, and now your ankle was throbbing and you didn't even have ibeprofen to help with it.

So! Power through it. You'll ice it when you get home. These paychecks won't earn themselves.

You don't allow yourself to limp because you don't want to get any stares or complaints from the families roaming the pizzaplex, or have any of the animatronics send you a concerned look (which makes you act particularly casual when Freddy comes around to say hi. The last thing you want to do is have the busy bear worry about you.) which means you're gritting your teeth and blowing air through your nose, but faking it until you make it seems to work.

That is, until you arrive at the daycare.

You bring a cart full of diapers, wipes and other important items for stock, the heavy lifting the last chore for the day but the one you were dreading the most. Sun greets you at the door, and behind him is a chorus of small voices that yell out greetings to you as soon as you walk in.

Friendly bunch, they are. You're glad the Daycare Attendant has his hands busy with the kids, so if you needed to lean on the desk for a moment, you probably wouldn't look suspisious. Rolling the cart in, you wave to the gaggle of children that sitting on the floor, gathered for story time probably, before wheeling the cart towards the shelves-

Metal hands come around your shoulders, stopping you in place. "My, my! You've brought us so many presents!"

You crane your head back. Sun's smile beams down at you, and you smile back. "Yeah! Hope you like diapers."

"I sure do! Keeps all the messy bits easy for quick cleaning." He jests, and as if on cue a couple of children give a very cute 'eewwwwww' in the background as you snort. Sun's head rotates completely, in full-jester mode. "Oh, you'll be joining us for story time, won't you? Won't you?"

You wave him off, forcing your face to remain plain and chipper despite the pain that was swelling up your leg at the moment. "Sorry, no can do. I gotta get these boxes sorted first-"

"Oh, but I think you can, and you will!" Suddenly, the hands on your shoulders are gripping a little bit tighter. You are all but guided (more like half-dragged) to where the gaggle of children are sitting in a circle and plopped in the middle. "In fact, you should take over! I've been telling the same fairy tales, all princesses and monsters and bears and rabbits-" Sun pats you on the back, non-chalant. "Why don't you tell a story, something new? I'm sure you have it in you friend."

As nice as it was to be sitting down on the mat where there wasn't a weight constant on your ankle, the several pairs of wide anticipating eyes of children was a little unerving. "Uh-"

"Good!" Sun reels back, hands on his hips. In one swift motion, his legs swivel around to start walking towards the cart and boxes, while his head and torso stay facing you and the children. "I'll take care of these gifts! Better this way, I have a very particular way of organizing things you know."

He leaves you there, and now you're stuck entertaining children until he's finished.

...Honestly? Not the worst thing he's done, and there's a sense of reflief since you're not standing anymore, so you'll play right into the game.

You tell the children stories about the horrors of what happens if you don't brush your teeth enough, of a boy that ate so many greens he became the strongest being in the world, of a dog that learned how to play basketball, of aliens that crashed into hawaii and made friends and a family there. Anything you can pull off the topc of your head, really, and lucky enough for you; they were eating the stories out of the palm of your hand.

Sun is quicker than you would have been putting away the boxes, and is at the ready for checkout when some of the first parents arrive to pick up their children. You continue to tell the stories even as your audience dwindles, answering questions when they raise their hands and resisting the urge to laugh when a little boy with glasses too big asks you if Santa Clause was an alien.

Sun finishes the stocking rather quickly, and instead retaking his spot, sits cross legged and joins the circle of children easgly waiting to hear your story. He even goes as far as to lightly clap when you're finished with one, the other children joining in just to mimick him. It's actaully really cute.

The last boy is checked out by his parents. You wave from your spot on the floor mat, not moving because you don't feel like it and uncaring if you looked a little silly to the mother. Sighing, you let relief out of your lungs as Sun closes and locks the Daycare doors behind them.

Sun literally cartwheels back to you, spinning on one heel before plopping down right in front of you. His height makes him tower over you even as you're both sitting down, and you're currently thinking about an excuse to say or mustering up the strength to stand on that leg again.

Sun leans forwards, head resting in his hands and smiling widly. "Looks like you've become quite the favorite around here!"

You return the smile, and move to get up. "Yeah, yeah. Just promote me at this rate and I can take your job all the time-"

A hand clasps around your knee and you wince. The preassure is genlte, not huritng, but heavy enough it forces you back down to the ground where you sit and stare at the Daycare Attendant's grip on your leg, and his thoughtful face as he hums. "And how long did you think you could hide that?"

A tug from your leg to free yourself, his grip doesn't budge. You almost pout. "...hide what?"

Fingers lessen around your pants leg, trail lower down to your ankle and hook underneath the fabric, pushing it up. There's a definate swollenness to your ankle now, more so than the last time you checked. Sun tuts at the sight of it. "This, friend."

Aw rats, you've been caught. "It's fine, I'm not a wuss."

"We never said you were!" Sun gasps, offended. A pause. "Well, I never said you were. Still a terrible idea, though."

Your shrug is half-hearted. "So? I can't exactly slack off, here. I'm already in hot water with managment and bills don't pay themselves."

"You are very lucky I was programmed with much patience!" Sun sounds like a mixture of frusteration, exasperation, and affection. It's a comforting tone of voice, so it doesn't alarm you right away until the animatronic's hands are reaching forwards, hooking underneath your knees and against your lower back before you can protest. "Onwards, to the first aid corner!"

"...Does this mean you've gotten a doctor's license yet?"

"I am not legally required to answer that question!"

#Solar Lunacy #writings #sun x reader #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf the daycare attendant #self insert #whump #crumbs #this is technically a crumb so im tagging it as crumbs #fnaf moon

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strangersmunsons · 5 months

Text

christmas wrapping

“When what to my wondering eyes should appear in the line is that guy I’ve been chasing all year!” eddie munson x reader, ~1500 words

“I love the holidays, I love Christmas,” you mutter to yourself through gritted teeth as you wrestle with the roll of icy-blue paper. Cartoon snowmen and polar bears stare back at you with their unmoving little eyes, mocking your frustration.

Gift wrapping isn’t your strong suit. It’s like as soon as you pick up the scissors, you lose all motor function in your hands. The presents you hand out end up covered in more Scotch tape than they are actual paper.

Armed with a pair of big kitchen shears, you glide the blade as carefully as possible through the paper. The rectangle you’re trying to cut is almost free from the roll when the paper snags, and instead of following the clean line you were aiming for, it wrinkles and veers to the side, leaving you with a huge shred in the corner.

An angry squeal escapes from your lips and you set the scissors down on the plush living room rug. You close your eyes and count to five, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm yourself down.

You swear you’re not usually this grumpy during the holidays. But it seems like everything that you normally love doing in the buildup to Christmas has just been so terribly exhausting.

First, there was a new promotion at work. While the better pay was wonderful, you were slightly unprepared for the extra stress that came with your new position. Every day it felt like you were scrambling to stay on top of everything, putting in extra hours just to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks. It left you with hardly any time to get your shopping done, so you ended up having to take multiple trips to the department store — always just before it closed, God bless retail employees for having the restraint not to kill you right where you stood — wandering around to try and pick out suitable gifts for everyone. Not to mention that there are a few you ordered from a catalogue, which are still nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that it’s Christmas Eve and you needed them like, yesterday.

As if all this wasn’t hectic enough, you had been positively bombarded with invitations. Three separate work parties — office, departmental, and company-wide. Then dinner and drinks with the coworkers you actually like. White elephant with your buddies from college. Ornament exchange with the cousins from your Mom’s side, Secret Santa with the cousins from your Dad’s side. A Christmas movie night with your childhood friends.

The list went on.

Finally, you’d put your foot down. No more parties, no more “fun holiday activities” that were starting to give you more anxiety than joy — you needed a fucking break.

That’s how you ended up alone on Christmas Eve, finishing up the last of your gift-wrapping. Soon you would tuck the final present under your tree, then stick the world’s smallest turkey into the oven, and lay on the couch waiting for it to be done, all in beautiful solitude. You even took the phone off the hook, just in case.

After another brief struggle, you finally manage to cut a substantial amount of paper to cover this last gift. You fumble with the box and clumsily wrap it up, sealing it with copious amounts of tape. There’s a flood of relief that washes through you when it's finally under the tree; it’s as though a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

When that’s finished, you bustle about in the kitchen to make your dinner for one. Bing Crosby croons in the background as you make small portions of your favorite holiday foods, and the sweet fragrance of a cinnamon-scented candle helps boost your mood even further. Gentle snow flurries whirl outside the window.

The afternoon passes by in peace, until you hit one little roadblock: you forgot the cranberries. You lean with your hip against the kitchen counter, tapping a rhythm on the tile with your nails while you debate your next move. Dinner without them isn’t a huge deal, really, you suppose you could do without them, but…there does happen to be a 24-hour grocery store that should still be open. And it’s only a few minutes drive…

Hey, what the hell. You’re rather partial to cranberries.

So you grudgingly slip your feet into your boots, and get bundled up in your winter coat. You jam a woolly hat on your head, sling your purse over your shoulder, and head out the door.

In less than ten you’re at the store. It’s swamped with other last-minute shoppers like yourself, all looking to buy that last ingredient they forgot, eager to return home to their families and friends. There’s a pang in your heart as you watch them mill about; maybe you were being too rash when you decided to spend Christmas Eve alone. Maybe you shouldn’t have let the stress of the season get to you.

God, you feel like the Grinch. Or worse — Ebenezer Scrooge.

You sigh as you pluck a can of cranberries from the shelf, and then unenthusiastically make your way to the checkout aisle. The line is long, clogged up as the overworked cashiers try their best to deal with the onslaught of antsy customers as best they can.

You’re so busy internally sympathizing with the employees (and also feeling guilty for adding to their burden by being there yourself), you almost don’t feel the light tap on your shoulder.

You turn on your heel in surprise, and experience a squirm of pleasure when you see who it is: Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson, who you met about a year ago and liked immensely, but still somehow…failed to make something happen with.

It wasn’t for lack of trying! The two of you had met at a bar where his band had been playing a show; when it was over, he bought you a drink and you talked through the rest of the night, until the bartender all but kicked you out. He left you with his phone number and a kiss on the cheek. You wanted to find time for him, you really did, but it had been a busy year.

You played phone tag for months, always trying to set something up, but never managed to follow through. Life had a funny habit of getting in the way. Even when you two bumped into each other in person again — and it happened more than once — there never seemed to be a time when you were both free. The exception of course being last Halloween, when he was supposed to pick you up for a party, which you're sure would have been a blast...if his car hadn't broken down and derailed you yet again.

And then, when you got your promotion, your love life went on the back burner. Any prospects of going on a date with Eddie pretty much flew out the window.

But now here he is, in the flesh. And God, is he cute.

His hair is damp and a little disheveled, probably the result of snowflakes catching in the curls and melting. He’s not wearing a hat, but there’s a red knit scarf knotted around his neck, trailing down his big black overcoat.

“Hey, you,” he says, rosy cheeks dimpling as he gives you a huge smile.

“Hi,” you reply brightly, overwhelmed with sudden happiness. “Merry Christmas.”

“And you as well, sweetheart. Forgot the cranberries, I see,” he says, pointing at the lone can clutched in your gloved fingers.

“Guilty,” you shrug, unable to keep the silly grin off your face.

He laughs, and his chocolate-brown eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, I can hardly tease you for that, now can I?” He fishes around in the plastic shopping basket hanging from the crook of his arm, and comes up with an identical can.

“Would you look at that? Great minds think alike. Or don’t think alike, I guess.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

The two of you inch forward in the line.

“So, you got big plans this Christmas or what?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

“Actually, no,” you admit. “I’ll visit my family tomorrow, but for tonight it’s just me. I love the holidays, I do, but I just didn’t have it in me to go all-out this year.”

Eddie stops midstep. “You’re spending Christmas Eve alone?”

You shrug uncertainly, once again doubting your plans. “Yeah.”

He cocks his head to the side, playful smirk on his lips. “What a coincidence. So am I.” He shakes the grocery basket, contents rattling around inside. “S’why I came to get the goods. I’m fending for myself tonight.”

You’re a little taken aback by that. “Really? What about your uncle?”

“Wayne? Well, his, ah, lady friend invited him to her family dinner up near Indianapolis. They invited me to tag along, but I said no. Didn’t wanna impose.”

“Oh. I see.”

In a moment’s pause, some understanding passes between the two of you. Eddie busts out laughing again, and you don’t have to ask him what’s funny.

Giggling yourself now, you straighten up and look him square in the face. “Eddie,” you say, trying and failing to keep your tone serious, “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Eddie abandons his shopping basket. (You’ve no idea what he’d been planning on making, exactly; you glimpsed a package of hamburger helper and a jar of pickles, amongst other things.)

But he does insist on paying for your cranberries.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson christmas fic #eddie munson holiday fic

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nethhiri · 1 month

Text

Marooned: Chapter 20

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Violence, murder

Fire-Roasted Revenge

You spent the next several days staking out the base, making a note of where and when guards were posted. You had a plan. The base was bigger than you anticipated. It would have been better to wait until Giemsa left on a ship. Though, you had never been patient and you had waited long enough for this moment. You waited until dark to execute your plan, and hopefully Giemsa.

You had picked off a few guards ands stolen the uniform of one of them, putting it on over your clothes, though keeping your coat on, of course. You put a torch in Mini's mouth and had her light up the perimeter, effectively trapping anyone inside, including yourself, but you would figure that out later. Then, you busted through the doors on boarback, whoever you didn't snipe in front of you was trampled by hooves. You were on a beeline to the captain's office, which was unfortunately in the center of the facility. As you went further, the marines started clearing out, either helping put out the fire or running from it. In the chaos, you were mostly ignored unless you were right in front of someone.

You dismounted as you got close to your destination, changing strategy to be a little more inconspicuous. You had Mini wait down a hallway next to a window. It was your escape plan. It wasn't the smartest idea or the best one, but it would do. Before you left her, you thought for a second, grabbing a sword you had picked up and putting the handle in her mouth. Her tusks were sharp and dangerous on their own, but a sword probably wouldn't hurt. Plus, the pig seemed pleased to be wielding it. "Wait here. If I'm not back in 15 minutes, leave without me and meet me on the docks. And if I'm not there... it's been a pleasure working with you, Lieutenant." You pressed a kiss to her forehead and took off running.

Your path was blocked by a few straggling marines, obviously scared out of their minds, but trying to carry out their duty until the end. Light smoke started to fill the hall. You could hear cries and screaming in the background, nearly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. You forgot how good the feeling of adrenaline was, and how good it would feel to be one step closer to your goal. "You can run and have a slow death or I can show you mercy. Choose." You leveled your gunblade at them. They fled. So much for duty. Melting wasn't a very pleasant feeling, you would know.

The double doors in front of you were locked, not an obstacle for your devil fruit. You pushed them open and saw a man sitting behind a desk. "Giemsa," you said in a phony greeting. You see confusion on his face until you threw your uniform hat to the side. Then the man looked like he wanted to evaporate into thin air. The blood drained from his face. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." You laughed. "Maybe I am a ghost." You shot at him.

He had just enough sense left in his head to dodge. There was a metallic clang as his sword was blocked with your blade. He was faster now than he was then. You managed to back him up with your blade work, pulling the trigger only for him to roll away, leaving a bullet hole in the wall. The man coughed as darker, thicker smoke filled the room. You didn't even feel the stinging in your eye as you cornered him.

"H-how are you alive?"

"I told you. I'm a ghost." You brought your blade down hard, hands shaking as you grunted against the force of his own blade blocking you. Again, you heard screaming. This time you really heard it, though. The voices stirred something in you. In your brief distraction, Giemsa pushed you back, unbalancing you. Your mind was racing. Why did that get my attention? A bad feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You gritted your teeth and kicked him away from you, landing a shot as you did so. He fell to a knee with his side gushing blood.

The room started getting hotter and the screaming got louder. The smoke was starting to interfere with your vision. It hit you like a sea train. The screaming sounded eerily similar to... No. You looked from the direction of the screams to Giemsa on the floor. This was your chance to end him. "Fuck! Tell all your bastard friends that I'm coming for them." You ran in the direction of the screaming, dodging pieces of the ceiling that started to fall. You would be a hypocrite if you let something bad happen to your crewmates when the entire nidus for this revenge was because your former crew let something bad happen to you.

There wasn't a lot of time left. If you got out of this, you would have a massive target on your back now that they knew you were alive. Best case scenario is Giemsa burns alive here. There wasn't time to worry about that now. You were getting closer. These looked like interrogation rooms. You kicked the door down. Without wasting time you were removing shackles from wrists and ankles. "What the fuck are you doing here?! Who else is here?!" You had worry in your eyes as you looked into Quincy's.

"Em-Emma and Dive."

You grabbed her arm and hauled her over to the other doors. "Start checking all of them." You didn't want it to be true, that the screaming you heard was Quincy's. You could hear her voice crack screaming for her captain, but you still didn't want to believe. The amount of guilt you would have on your head if any of them died because of you... You kicked down doors until you came across Dive, releasing her in the same fashion as Quincy. You grabbed her and looked around to see Quincy pulling Emma out of a room, but she looked awfully limp. You ran to her and held Emma up from the side opposite Quincy. You pointed in the direction Mini was in. You hoped that boar still had a stubborn streak.

"You goddamn pig! I told you to get lost!" You slapped her on the back as the four of you made it to the window. "But I'm glad to see you," you said, already helping Quincy and Dive onto her back so they could pull Emma up. "When you get out, you have to get as much fresh air into her as possible. Do you understand?" They both nodded.

"You're saying that like-"

"There's not enough room. I'll be fine." You really hated lying to your friends. You shot out the window and knocked the sharp edges from the frame. "GO!" You shoved Minerva towards the opening.

You turned around to see fire blocking your path in every direction. The oxygen pouring in from the broken window fueled it to burn faster, hotter. Window it is. You climbed out the window, straddling the edge to see a clear exit path. There was another window that didn't have the orange glow of flames on the inside. Using your devil fruit, you made handholds in the brick of the outer wall. You looked down to see a brownish-red blob darting around the courtyard and breaking through a wall to get out. And they say I'm hard-headed. You climbed down towards the other window, but the brick under your hands was hot. Almost there. The skin on your hands started to burn as you swung yourself into the glass, landing in the broken shards. You got up, ignoring the pieces that were embedded in your flesh.

Stumbling into the next hall, you were able to see through the smoke to a stairwell. Seeing that as your best route, you dropped to avoid the smoke that was building up, doing an army-crawl until you got to the stairs. The smoke was still thick, however crawling was not an option. Taking in a deep breath, you got up and ran down the stairs as fast as you could. Nearing the exit, you had to take in a breath. The heat and fumes scalded your throat. At this point you didn't feel very much. You knew you could heal it later. You had to get somewhere safe first. There was a great rumbling somewhere behind you. The ground started to shake harder as the rumbling got close. The building was coming down. You couldn't see well anymore. You ran in the direction of the exit, stumbling a few times as the smoke started to overtake you. At some point you looked down and you were on grass. You turned behind you to see a billowing cloud of rubble and flame. The second you found somewhere slightly hidden, you allowed your body to give out. Thank god. That would have been the lamest death ever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kid's head looked like it was about to explode when Pomp and Reck had told him earlier that day that some of the girls had gotten captured by marines. They hadn't even seen it happen. They only overheard some marines talking about it. Killer, Heat, Wire, and a few others were quick to volunteer to aid in Kid's cause to "kill all those marine bastards".

"Looks like someone got here first." Killer observed. Smoke and flame licked at the sky through broken windows.

A few marines were scattering like ants from the inferno. Kid dragged one over clutched in his metal grasp. "WHAT'S GOIN ON? WHERE ARE PRISONERS KEPT?"

The marine was too scared to form a coherent sentence.

"USELESS!" There was a squelching crunch before Kid tossed him to the ground. The flames were reflected in his eyes. "LET ME FIND OUT THAT BITCH SET THIS FIRE. IF A SINGLE HAIR IS BURNT ON ANY OF MY CREWS' HEADS I WILL RIP HER LIMB FROM LIMB!" Kid was about to barge into the burning mess when Killer held him back.

"I don't think that's wise, Captain."

"SO YER FINE WITH THEM BURNING ALIVE?" Kid looked like he wanted to deck Killer.

"It's too dangerous! You know that!" The first mate was torn. Of course he loved his crew, but Kid was his best friend, the man who was going to be King of the Pirates.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! WHAT KIND OF CAPTAIN WOULD I BE IF I DIDN'T TRY?"

Killer released him. He understood. He didn't like it, but he understood. "Okay. I'm right behind ya then." No way would he let his captain go alone. Killer saw something in the distance and grabbed Kid again. "Wait! Look!"

Kid looked in the direction Killer indicated. He saw the rotund shape of a boar. "I KNEW IT! WHEN I GET MY HANDS-"

"No! On top!" Killer gently smacked Kid on the head.

The closer Mini got, they could make out their missing crewmates. Emma was conscious now, but drowsy. They were all covered in soot, had some minor scrapes, but there were no singed hairs on any of their heads.

Killer helped them get down. He couldn't help but notice the obvious absence of the person he expected to see. "What happened?" He looked them over for any major injuries. Turning to the other pirates, he ordered them to take them all back to the ship and do their best first aid until he got back.

Quincy was on the verge of tears, "It was Y/N. She saved us but...b-but..."

Dive finished for her, "But she's still in..." Her voice faded off as the building in front of them started to collapse. From one end to the other, it folded in on itself, spewing hot ash and smoke in all directions.

They stared in silence. The only sound being the crackling of fire and the settling of twisted metal and crumbled stone.

"Well," Kid started. "That's that then. Rest in pieces, Sea Snake." He turned in the direction of the Victoria Punk, but stopped. He could feel the eyes of Quincy, Emma, and Dive burning into his skull. "WHAT?! I'm only kidding."

Even Killer gave him a disparaging look.

Kid threw his hands up. "FUCK OFF, ALL OF YA! I can tell her stupid fucking gun's somewhere over yonder. Relax!" He flung his hand in the direction of the forested area next to the pile of rubble. Growling and muttering to himself, he grabbed Minerva by the tusk and tugged her in that direction. "Help me find her, pig!" As much as he didn't want to, he owed you. You had saved four of his crew now. Granted, the fire was your fault to begin with, and he wouldn't let you forget it either.

The redhead thrashed through the forest, with Killer behind him, yelling about how stupid your gun looked and that you were lucky you didn't have a real weapon, since that would be indistinguishable from anyone else's. Kid stopped at the place he felt the presence of your gun and looked around. "I don't see anything. Time to go. We tried."

Minerva snorted, nudging at what Kid thought was a soot-covered log. A log that coughed. Kid threw his head back and groaned. "Damn it all to hell. Fucking found her." Killer made a displeased sound. "I mean, phew. Good thing we found the twat," Kid amended. He knelt down and brushed some soot off your face just to make sure.

You were too exhausted to move. You felt someone jostling you a little, no, carrying you, and groaned. Peeling an eye open, you saw a very blurry image of mostly red. Your voice was raspy and grating, yet still carried a tone of disappointment, "Ugh. You."

Kid hushed you, putting his hand over your mouth. "I'm not happy either but my girls would be very upset if I left ya." Kid yanked his hand back quickly and about dropped you right there. "DON'T FUCKEN BITE ME! Ya shouldn't be talkin!"

The great Captain Kid cares about your health? What next? Pigs flying? You frowned and tried to point. "Want Killer," it really did hurt to talk, you were realizing.

"TOO DAMN BAD! YA GOT ME!" Kid grit his teeth.

You could hear Killer laugh at Kid's discomfort. Have you ever heard him laugh out loud before? No. He only looked like he was laughing, never made a sound. You hummed, amused. "Your laugh," Killer tensed at your words. "It's nice."

Kid and Killer shared a glance. Unbeknownst to you, Killer was entirely pink under his mask.

You let your eye close and decided to save your voice, no energy left to wonder if you were safe with them or not. You thought so, though. The soft, rhythmic tamping of Mini's hooves against the dirt and grass lulled you to sleep.

#eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #one piece #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #marooned #I just love the ending to this chapter so much #🥰 blushing and kicking my feet #I hope you guys love it as much as I do

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fanby-fckry · 28 days

Text

A Rose by Any Other Name

Day 3 of Ace Alastor Week: QPR Day

Word Count: 2,533

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Archive Warnings: None

Additional Warnings: Implied/Referenced Kink (in the form of a Fade to Black ending), Implied/Referenced Cheating (no actual cheating occurs), Period Typical Attitudes, Outdated Terminology, (see beginning notes for more info)

Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, Mentioned Lilith Magne | Morningstar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Established Relationship, queer platonic relationship, Polyamory, Open Marriage, Lilith and Lucifer Magne | Morningstar have an Open Marriage, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) Aromantic Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), (but he will deny it until the day he double dies), Bisexual Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, Bisexual Disaster Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, Nonbinary Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, (yup finally getting into Luci’s gender fuckery), Talking, Conversations, Awkward Conversations, Misunderstandings, the ‘what are we?’ conversation except it’s ‘what do we call us?’, what to call your qpp when the term qpp hasn’t been invented yet, Enochian Language (Abrahamic Religions), (taking massive liberties with the Enochian language), Fade to Black, Unreliable Narrator

Series: Part 3 of Fanby’s Ace Alastor Week 2024 ( <- Prev || Next -> ) || Part 6 of The Unholy Trinity

Summary:

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Alright, my darling, spiteful deer. If not ‘paramour,’ then what should I call you?”

Alastor maneuvered himself into a more upright position.

“Hmm,” he hummed. ‘Paramour’ certainly wasn’t the right word, but he was drawing a blank on what was.

Lucifer and Alastor try to come up with a word to describe their relationship to each other. They only get side-tracked once or five times.

Better on AO3

Author’s Notes:

During the gender fuckery portion of their discussion, Alastor uses somewhat outdated language and while he has a vague idea that gender and sex aren’t a static binary, his grasp on the subject isn’t exactly congruent with more modern views.

This fic takes place in 1943. He’s using the language he has access to at the moment, and he’s honestly a bit ahead of his time thanks to Lucifer’s influence.

This is my first time adding notes to a tumblr fic, let’s see how this goes!

It had come up unexpectedly. A word, or rather, the lack of a word.

Lucifer had been telling Alastor about a conversation he’d had with Lilith, and in passing, he’d called Alastor his ‘paramour.’

Alastor cocked his head to the side. “You still call me that?” he asked.

“Hm?” Lucifer hummed absentmindedly. “What, my paramour?”

“Yes, that,” Alastor confirmed. “It makes it sound like I’m your…” Alastor made a conscious effort not to let the corners of his smile drop. “Mistress,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Well, you’re not my mistress,” Lucifer said, far too casually. “Last I checked, you’re a man who uses masculine language.”

Lucifer paused. “Last I checked,” he repeated.

Alastor stared at him, unblinking, wondering what the hell he was on about.

“If you ever feel like changing that, let me know. I’d be happy to call you whatever fits best,” the Devil offered. “And Sinner forms are more malleable than you might think when it comes to physicality.”

“I…” Alastor faltered. He could sense Lucifer’s sincerity on the matter, despite it not being at all relevant.

Lucifer was, in his own words, ‘not bound by human concepts of gender,’ with a particular distaste for ‘that strange binary system that’s gotten so popular.’ He actively encouraged demons and humans alike to live as their true selves even if – hell, especially if – that truth was an unconventional one.

And while Alastor legitimately could not care less about his own gender, he didn’t have it in his heart to spurn such genuine kindness from Lucifer. “Thank you for your support on my hypothetical sex change-”

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer interjected, all sunshine and smiles, and Alastor was hit with a swift and jarring reminder that Lucifer was once a creature of Heaven.

“But that is not even remotely the point!” Alastor said, exasperated. “I meant that it implies that we’re sneaking around.”

“We are sneaking around,” Lucifer said. “You don’t want the public to know about our relationship.”

“It implies that you’re cheating on your wife!” Alastor said, finally, his voice laced with static.

“Oh,” Lucifer said in sudden realization. “I didn’t think about it like that. Lilith and I have both used ‘paramour’ to describe our other partners since the fourteenth century,” he explained. “It just doesn’t have that kind of connotation to us.”

“Well it does to me!” Alastor sighed. “It was one thing when I thought I was an affair partner, but now that I know about your arrangement with Lilith, I’d like to stop feeling like some kind of homewrecker.”

“Hold on, did you actually feel guilty about the idea that we were” – Lucifer added largely unnecessary air quotes for dramatic effect – “‘having an affair?’”

Alastor laughed mirthlessly. “Remorse is for children and weak willed men. I outgrew it by the age of ten!”

“You’re not fooling anybody,” Lucifer teased. “Even if it wasn’t guilt, you felt something. And you were happy to know that you didn’t come between Lilith and I.”

Lucifer tapped his index finger against Alastor’s chest. “You’ve got a heart in there after all.”

“Hahaha, on the contrary, my dear friend!” Alastor swiped Lucifer’s hand out of the way and placed his own hand over his heart instead, curling it into a fist as he spoke. “While I may indeed have a heart, you’ll find it’s filled to the brim with more useful things, like bloodlust and spite!”

Alastor offered Lucifer a rather patronizing smile and wrapped his arm around him, taking advantage of the smaller form Lucifer so preferred to manipulate the Devil like a ragdoll.

“There’s no room for any of that emotional nonsense you’re blathering on about,” Alastor said with a dismissive hand wave.

He pulled out all the stops – sound effects, body language, squeezing Lucifer so hard it would’ve broken his ribs if he were human.

“I need every bit of it working towards my passion for performance! My romance with radio! And of course, my one true love…” Alastor performed a mock swoon to really top things off, one that ended with Lucifer scrambling to catch him. He looked up at Lucifer with half-lidded eyes and purred the word, “Murder.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Alright, my darling, spiteful deer. If not ‘paramour,’ then what should I call you?”

Alastor maneuvered himself into a more upright position.

“Hmm,” he hummed. ‘Paramour’ certainly wasn’t the right word, but he was drawing a blank on what was.

“Boyfriend?” Lucifer suggested.

“Too juvenile.” Alastor promptly shut him down. “I’m a grown man and you’re older than humanity itself.”

“Partner?”

Alastor scoffed. “What are we, cowboys? Businessmen? Coppers? Lawyers? No thank you!”

“Lover?”

“Same implications as ‘paramour,’” Alastor told him. “And it adds the assumption that I love you.”

Something constricted in Alastor’s chest. The weight that was the acknowledgement of their mis-mached attraction, the crushing pressure of expectation.

In a moment of precarious vulnerability, Alastor felt the need to explain himself, the words tumbling off his tongue before he could think to stop them. “I know that you love me, and I care for you, I really do, but…”

Lucifer’s voice cut through Alastor’s rambling. “I know,” he said, gentle yet firm. “And I don’t expect anything else from you. I’m perfectly happy with the way things are between us.”

Lucifer held out a hand, palm up, offering Alastor the opportunity to initiate the touch.

Alastor took Lucifer’s hand. The pressure eased.

“What about something more personalized to you?” Lucifer asked. “Are there any French Creole words that might fit?”

Alastor thought it over, searching his memories for words he hadn’t considered applying to himself since he was a much younger man and still under the impression that he might someday fall in love.

‘Amourè’ had roots in love, as well, and wasn’t something he’d want to be called. ‘Kalin’ was more removed, but Alastor had always found the word a bit peculiar. As a noun, it meant ‘boyfriend’ or ‘male lover,’ but as an adjective, it was used to describe someone as lazy.

“No, none that I can think of!” Alastor said, sparing Lucifer his thought process.

Lucifer hummed. “I’ll just have to continue my guessing game, then,” the Devil mused. “Darling?”

“Too generic. You use that one on everyone from your wife to your one night stands.”

“Fair point,” Lucifer conceded. “How about sweetheart?”

“Too sentimental.”

“Significant other?” Lucifer offered. “S.O. for short?”

“Implies monogamy,” Alastor noted. “Which neither of us has any desire for.”

“Admirer?”

Alastor wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That makes it sound like I’m running a Lucifer Morningstar fan club.”

“I mean,” Lucifer said, drawing out the words in a wheedling manner. “I certainly wouldn’t mind that.”

“Lucifer.”

“I’d even start a Radio Demon fan club to reciprocate,” the Devil promised.

Alastor’s smile thinned to a line. “Lucifer, I’m vetoing ‘admirer.’”

“You’re no fun sometimes,” Lucifer pouted.

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea, myself, but every once in a while, we will have to have a serious conversation.”

“But why does this have to be one of them?” Lucifer asked. “We’ll find a word for us eventually, but what’s the rush? What’s with this sense of urgency? You’re putting yourself under so much pressure, and for what?”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose,

By any other word would smell as sweet.”

Quoting Romeo and Juliet was sickeningly sweet – and so very, very Lucifer that Alastor found it rather endearing in spite of himself. A Shakespearean comedy revered as a romantic tragedy, on the lips of the Devil, himself, as he tried to comfort his not-quite lover.

“Having a name for us might be helpful, but not having one isn’t going to end us.” Lucifer brought his free hand up to Alastor’s cheek, not quite touching it, and allowed Alastor to close the rest of the distance.

“You’re still my Alastor, my darling deer. I’m still your Lucifer, your Devil dearest. We’re still us.” Lucifer squeezed Alastor’s hand and gave him a pleading look. “Try and remember that, please, Al? Maybe it’ll help to take some of the pressure off.”

The realization hit Alastor like a bullet between the eyes. “I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”

Lucifer gave him a lopsided half-smile. “Getting hung up on the details, stressing the fuck out, and getting combative because things were out of your control and that scared you? Yes, yes you were.”

Alastor cursed under his breath. “Alright, how do I…” Struggling to find the right words, Alastor repeated Lucifer’s back to him. “How do I stop getting hung up on the details and stressing the fuck out?”

“Uhh,” Lucifer faltered.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Alastor thought to himself. He doesn’t know either?

“Give me a minute!” Lucifer protested, as if sensing Alastor’s judgment. “It’s not something I have a problem with, myself, and Lilith’s better at giving advice without speaking from experience.”

Alastor watched the Devil flounder for a moment, taking a small amount of sadistic glee in not being the only one struggling with emotional intelligence for once.

“Alright, I got it!” Lucifer said, finally. “You trust me, right, darling?”

“Yes…” Alastor said hesitantly.

“And you choose to trust me,” the Devil continued. “It’s something that you consider to be within your control.”

That wasn’t always the case – trusting Lucifer had been entirely accidental at first; at the time, it felt very much not within Alastor’s control, which had caused Alastor a great deal of distress and nearly led him to sabotaging the relationship on multiple occasions – but now…

“Yes,” Alastor answered honestly. Because trusting Lucifer was now a conscious decision. It was a choice he’d made after waking up in bed with the Devil one October morning, and one he had continued to make every day since then.

“So choose to trust me, now,” Lucifer said. “Trust that I know what I’m talking about, here.”

“Do you know what you’re talking about?” Alastor asked.

Lucifer stuck his forked tongue out. “Rude,” he said. “But fair. I’m asking for your trust and it's well within your right to make me earn it.”

Lucifer paused for a moment, then asked, “Did you know Lilith and I didn’t have a word for what we were for centuries?”

Alastor raised one eyebrow. “I assumed you would’ve called each other husband and wife.”

“Nope,” Lucifer said, popping the ‘p’ sound at the end. “It was a good long while before either of us were ready for that.”

“I mean, Lilith left the Garden so that she could be something more than just some guy’s wife. She wasn’t exactly itching to get married again.” Lucifer ran his free hand through his hair. “And I’d just Fallen so I was still getting used to the whole ‘not dedicating my entire existence to my Father’ thing…”

The Devil got a far off look in his eyes for a moment, and Alastor found himself holding tighter to Lucifer’s hand in an effort to bring him back.

Thankfully, it worked. Lucifer smiled softly and turned his attention back to Alastor.

“There wasn’t really a word back then for someone who was a lover but not a spouse,” Lucifer said. “There were exactly two languages – well, three if you count Tongues – but not one had a word for what we were to each other.”

“Was it…” There were one thousand and one questions on Alastor’s lips. In an effort to save time, he chose the most open-ended one. “What was it like?”

“New,” Lucifer answered. “And terrifying. Everything was, back then.”

“Hm,” Alastor hummed. The words echoed back to him from inside his mind. First in Lucifer’s voice – ‘New. And terrifying. Everything was’ – and then in a voice that sounded like his own – ‘New. Terrifying. Everything is.’

“And despite it all, we survived.” Lucifer’s voice caught Alastor’s ear. “We spent almost five-hundred years hopping between various endearments with nothing ‘official’ to call ourselves because the words to describe our love just hadn’t been invented yet.”

“Almost five-hundred years,” Lucifer repeated. “So, I think you and I can manage a little longer than five minutes if you just calm the fuck down.”

Alastor laughed in spite of himself. “Alright,” he said. “As you seem to be speaking from experience, Devil dearest, I suppose I can place my trust in your time tested hands.”

“Whoo!” Lucifer cheered, face alight with the goofiest grin imaginable.

Creature of Heaven, Alastor reminded himself with a sigh. And what an odd creature he was. Alastor wondered if all angels were like this – when they weren’t coming down in droves to commit mass murder in the name of population control – or if Lucifer was an oddity amongst even his angelic kin.

Lucifer cleared his throat and schooled his features in a rather amusing attempt at seriousness. “Better?” he asked.

Alastor thought about it for a moment before answering. “Yes, actually!”

It was surprising the difference it made to hand over control of a situation rather than feel it slipping through his fingers.

The seemingly impossible task of finding a single word to describe his and Lucifer’s connection to each other was now firmly Lucifer’s responsibility – as were any potential consequences of not finding one.

Alastor didn’t need to think about the what ifs or the what nows; he didn’t need to get wrapped up in the details of linguistic origins or cultural connotations. Lucifer would find something, or he wouldn’t. And either way, they’d be alright.

“I am curious, though,” Alastor said. “About the endearments you mentioned. And how they differ from ‘official’ labels.”

“Oh, that.” Lucifer paused. “If I had to compare… They were more like ‘darling deer’ and ‘Devil dearest’ than ‘paramour’ or ‘partner.’ Words for each other, not for the relationship.”

“Hm,” Alastor hummed, curiosity far from sated. He knew that these ancient endearments were in tongues he couldn’t understand, and yet, he couldn’t help but wonder…

“Tell me one,” Alastor demanded.

Lucifer got a dreamy look in his eyes. “I used to call Lilith” – Lucifer made a sound that Alastor could never hope to replicate, even with the entirety of Hell’s airwaves at his disposal. Perhaps if he had Heaven’s, he might get somewhere close, but it’d never match the reverence with which Lucifer spoke.

It was beautiful, melodic, Heavenly. And for the first time in quite some time, Alastor found himself genuinely awed by Lucifer’s angelic nature.

“It’s the Enochian word for ‘song,’” Lucifer explained.

“Fitting,” Alastor whispered, somewhat breathless. “It sounded like music.”

Lucifer laughed. “Oh the whole language is a bit musical,” he said.

The Devil gasped. “Wait, that’s it!”

“What?” Alastor asked. “What is it?”

“Flame,” Lucifer said, eyes lit up like the sun. “As in, I don’t want to set the world on fire,” he sang.

By the next line, Alastor was singing along with him, the instrumental playing behind them.

“I just want to start

A flame in your heart.”

Alastor kissed Lucifer with rare softness. “It’s perfect,” he whispered against the Devil’s lips.

“Told you we’d last more than five minutes,” Lucifer teased.

Alastor bit him in retaliation. And well, it rather devolved from there.

#fanby’s fuckery #fanby’s fics #acealastorweek2024 #hazbin hotel #alastor #aroace alastor #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #lucifer hazbin hotel #qpr radioapple #radioapple #radioapplesiren #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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gauloiseblue · 1 month

Text

Blue Velvet

(König × Reader × Horangi)

War isn't easy to get through, and the importance of keeping the soldiers' morals is as crucial as their ratios. They need distractions as much as they need food, and the higher ups are forced to provide it to them. It should be a bare minimum, since they subjugated them to fight their war. But they're a bunch of pigs, of course they'd rather keep the money to themselves.

They did give them a show—twice a week, but it felt inadequate. They only call a shrieking woman, with equally loud music to entertain them.

It's appalling to him, and he scoffs at the thrumming beat from the tent, where the singer—if you can call her a singer—screams her tune. The soldiers would whistle at her, stretching their hands to touch her, and she'd playfully evade them. It feels animalistic, vulgar, and he scoffs everytime the music starts. He'd walk to the opposite side, while the soldiers flock to the tent.

He sometimes found the Russian agent by the woods, and they'd sit in silence while the rowdy show filled in in the background. Though he prefers to be left alone, it's a better option than the crowded tent.

They talk when it's necessary, but most of the time they keep their thoughts to themselves. Nikto would stare at the woods, or anywhere else, really. It doesn't matter, since his mind isn't here.

He thought it'd stay that way, until Horangi told him to come.

"It's not the loud American slag," He explained to him, "Trust me, you'll like her."

He was vexed when he dragged him along, but it quickly changed once they got into their seats.

It's not as crowded as usual, and he can hear the soldiers murmur behind him. Some of them have a curious tone, but some of them are derisive. He didn't understand the sentiment, until the lights are dimmed.

And there you stand. On the stage, with the floodlight shines on you.

You were cold, aloof. And there's something delicate in the way you stood. Though it's only a brief moment, before the music plays softly.

As if lured by the tune, you step into the light and sing.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night

Softer than satin was the light

From the stars

The murmurs begin to cease, as you sing the gentle ode.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet were her eyes

Warmer than May, her tender sighs

Love was ours

He holds his breath, as the flutter of your voice reaches his ear.

Ours, a love I held tightly

Feeling the rapture grow

Like a flame burning brightly

But when she left gone was the glow of

His friend glances at him, and a smirk spreads on his lips. He sees it from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't care less.

Blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"Told you you'd like her."

He stares at his friend, before he states a warning.

"Don't act like you know me." He hissed.

Horangi lifts his hands lazily, as he returns to watch the stage.

She wore blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"You know," He started, while his eyes stayed on your figure, "I wouldn't watch her if she's not pretty, but you gotta admit that she's more than just a pretty face." He took a glance at him, "She makes you feel… things, doesn't she?"

"What do you want?"

His voice is enough to convey the message, but his friend doesn't flinch away. He pushes through instead.

"Help me capture the bird, and I'll give you half of it."

The chair screeches when he stands as he glares at him, before he marches out of the room.

His friend's eyes burn holes into his back, and he grits his teeth at the prying gaze. He hates it, he hates that he's seen through him.

#drabble #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #konig x reader #konig cod #horangi x reader #horangi cod #might continue this if people are interested #since it's only the intro of the bigger story #i haven't even written the Nikto's part in this #btw #oh noo konig wasn't the only one who's obsessed. he didn't like that

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abnerkrill · 4 months

Note

Nik! Did you watch Rebel Moon? How was it?

Yes hello this is my 4 star review of rebel moon on letterboxd.

But first: a professional, somewhat critical review of rebel moon that engages with the film well, especially regarding anti-colonial themes, and isn't just knee-jerk regurgitated Snyder haterism:

And now more of my thoughts: [edit: Oh No, He Went And Talked For 3 Hours About It, Thanks For Coming To My TedTalk:)

No one has a better knack at putting together a cast list SO ATTRACTIVE TO THE BISEXUALS. read it and weep, boys. (Jena Malone is there too but really just for 1 set piece)

...Jena Malone's one (1) scene set piece features her as an alien spider woman with legitimate grievances against the Empire who now wants to kill kids because all her kids were killed. Like, so valid, girl. Also, did I say Jena Malone as an alien spider-woman? And this is just one scene.

Look, if that pitch doesn't hook you, this film may not be for you, and that's okay, but by GOD my people are the people who hear "Jena Malone alien spider woman" and perk up. I love you, freaks.

The cinematography is ace and always will be under Snyder's direction. music by Tom Holkenborg SLAPS. Costuming and design overall is super super strong. (People on this hellsite are always complaining about inadequate, boring as hell sci-fi design and you get RM and you don't appreciate it for what it is. WAKE UP.)

Costume showcase! Second from the right in this photo showing off those sweet sweet sci-fi costume designs is my beloved non-binary they/them revolutionary Milius. CANONICALLY non-binary, let me add. Imagine SW doing that lmaoooooooooooo D*ve Filoni would fuckin keel over and die

Kora! Our tragic female protagonist of color who's over 40, with a dark edgy sexy background. [KIDNAPPED AS A CHILD!! DEAD FAMILY!!! DEAD LOVER!!!!!!! SHE FAILED TO PROTECT HER WARD FROM ASSASSINATION!!!!! SHE IS THE MOST WANTED WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!!]

Bitches on tumblr LOVE taking failmen with sad backstories from media and blorbifying them, but the second it's a woman? please. If this was a man people would be writing the filthiest x reader smut you've seen since Mandalorian S1 came out. If this was a man you'd already have seen 20,000 fan drawings of her with her muscles and tits OUT. God where's my Kora fanart.

I personally have no problems with the plot of this movie (part 1 of 2) being "we must collect warriors to fight the evil empire." That's kinda fantasy story 101 and I still love new, varied interpretations of that plot.

If there's not much interconnecting plot because Kora's just gathering fighters, it's kinda like... that's the point, babes, they'll actually get to it in part 2. We're just at the "forming the team" stage. I revel in that part of a fantasy film and I always want it to be longer, so this film is like catnip to me.

Uh, yeah, this is getting long. More under the cut.

Entertainment professional nitpick time! I've seen someone say RM would be better as a TV show to introduce a new character each episode. And I truly don't think that fixes any of the problems this person has with the film, while introducing way more problems. (Who the fuck would go in on an original concept TV show where each episode introduces a new hero. You could not sell that pitch to a studio, ever, and viewers would instantly check out if they didn't like the introduced character of the week, and the same complaints would be made: it’s just a new character intro blah blah blah. This wouldn’t fix anything! It would very much make it worse!)

Me, like every day, through gritted teeth: that's... not... how... tv... works...

Like be realistic for a hot second with me. Television is not "long movie"—it is a different medium with different rules. Yes, the past decade has blurred many lines between TV and film, but they're still different mediums, and when people blur them ("it's a 10-hour movie!") the results often suck ass, because you either lack episodic structure or you lack feature structure. Snyder is a feature filmmaker who has never worked in TV. Whenever features people jump into TV, it's a whole other learning curve! They're usually terrible at it! You want Snyder to have to learn a new medium? You want him to learn 5/6-act TV structure from scratch? You want him to (horrified gasp) lead a writers room? Those are not his strengths, baby. Let him play in his space opera sandbox.

And I'm not done! You want the casting team to have to deal with the headache of getting feature film actors to star in a TV show? (Pay cuts! Longer commitments! TV production timelines!) You want to do that to me, personally, and fuck up the TV landscape some more by going, "Oh, we can basically just make a Longer Feature Film in TV"? Fuck off with that. TV has different production realities and different basic story structures. A [long] film [with two parts] is still a film, in structure and production practicalities.

Truly, Tumblr media studies brains (derogatory) at it again.

To each their own, but again, I think RM's structure is fun because it gives me more of the goodies (badass, varied character intros) for the price of one (2-hour film.) Like... that's the good stuff, that's often the most exhilarating part of a film for me. And contrary to popular belief, it's not intro to intro without rising tension or stakes. It builds tension as it goes because new facets of resistance against the Motherworld are explored in each character's intro scene. New ways they fight back, new worlds on which they fight back. And a ticking time bomb of the King's Gaze (king's gays lol) catching up.

Here, have a trailer bc Tumblr's mad at me for too much text in one block.

youtube

...I like the RM characters. I want to spend time with them and see what other zany shenanigans Snyder will have them do. (Alien bar fights! Taming a space gryphon! Lightsaber battle!) I like the side-quest-y, exploratory, space opera sandbox playground nature. It's fun, and like, again, if you don't perk up at the concept of collecting cool characters like action figures, this film may just not be for you.

To me it's a polycule. Like, the most messed up polycule in the whole galaxy, but it's a polycule.

Speaking of: THE CHARACTERS ROCK. Yeah, we're missing some significant character development because Netflix truncated Snyder's 4-hr, R-rated film into a 2-hr PG-13 version (likely to be able to release the 4-hr cut later, drum up new press, and get more eyeballs on the movie in total in a few months.) That's... not really Snyder's fault [even though he claims he's in on the plan... some part of me thinks it was Netflix's idea and not his. Stinks of studio meddling.] And it's not indicative of the quality of the actual film, which I currently see as more of an abridged version of the R-rated film that's gonna come out and fill up some of these story holes.

If people are judging the film for not being the 4-hour version, and then decide not to see the 4-hour version, that's their call, but it's kinda shitty to act like the 2-hr version is all there is. Like it probably wasn't Snyder's call to do a 2-hr cut! He's said that the 4-hr one is a whole different movie. I betcha the common criticisms (not enough character development, just jumps from character intro to character intro without interconnection, lack of structure) will be helped, if not outright solved, by the longer cut.

I think people are also happy to take a Part 1 of a movie if it's, say, Dune, and the source material has another part, so Part 1 is allowed to be fucking boring, whereas people don't give that kind of allowance to original sci-fi movies, WHICH IS A REASON WE DON'T GET ORIGINAL SCI-FI. If you're painting with as huge and cosmic a palette as space opera Rebel Moon, the 4-8 hours total across the 2 four-hour parts is kinda bare minimum for an epic. So... patience is a virtue? Let part 1 have elements of IT'S KIND OF A PROLOGUE?

What's that saying? If you want the rewards of space opera worldbuilding with an ensemble cast, you must submit to the mortifying ordeal of 2 hours of setup. Geez. Enjoy the wacky exposition or get out of the space opera genre.

Yeah, that leads me to the point of people who don't enjoy space opera are getting mad at RM for fulfilling the promises of the genre. You might truly be happier elsewhere. The whole thing is over-the-top, huge-scale MELODRAMA and I thrive on melodrama. If it's too cheesy for you, don't come to space operas!!!!!!!

On that note, people have said RM is too tropey and too Star Wars-y. But like I said. If you don't love the tropes get out of the genre!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you aren't here for bloodier/hornier Star Wars get out of RM!!!!

Another big idea I would be remiss to skip over. RM is an explicitly, deliberately anti-colonial, anti-imperial text—far, far more so than any other mainstream sci-fi currently being released. Well-intentioned liberals love to tout Star Trek/Star Wars as progressive media but they really hedge and defang all their political commentary, especially in their 21st century franchise form—think the SW sequels/shows straight up woobifying K*lo Ren in realtime and the Trek shows that (while fun!) are really often just nostalgia bait.

RM is pretty fucking radical. Its theme basically is Kill Nazis—or in expanded form, something along the lines of "The empire will eat up everything of value in the universe unless it is met with unified armed resistance built on solidarity."

And just look at RM's casting. We're not colorblind here; we're very color-conscious. (That's a rant for another day, but I've really started to despise colorblind casting for its extremely well-intentioned-liberal "we're all the same" mentality. It just winds up erasing.) Anyway: RM features the explicitly American-English-Afrikaans empire vs. the Algerian Amazigh protagonist, Black freedom fighters, Japanese revolutionary... and like. Snyder's always gonna be into Vikings so obviously we have Space Vikings too, whatever. Look at me, I can criticize Snyder too! The Poor Sad Space Vikings are not the strongest part of the film!

...Anyway of course the empire vs. revolution is absolutely kind of Star Wars-y since RM is highkey Snyder's Star Wars, but it goes so much further than SW dreamed (or, perhaps, nightmared). SW's rebels/resistance continually get defanged because they're kind of foundationally space magic/singular hero's quest deals, and modern SW with the exception of Rogue One/Andor is just politically, socially stupid. In contrast, RM is about forming a coalition, without something like the Force to help you out. I could write an essay on the ways RM starts in the same place Star Wars starts but takes its politics so much more seriously, so much further.

While I'd argue "good politics" and "artistic quality" rarely correlate, RM is explicitly and doggedly a text about the colonial empire that exploits, enslaves, abuses, and seeks to utterly control marginalized people groups in its quest for domination—and god, I would LOVE to see a resurgence in very fanged, very angry political sci-fi.

One more aside. Snyder has been rightfully criticized for his earlier works basking in fascist-adjacent, hypermasculine aesthetics; 300 is notably super duper racist in how it depicts savage/monstrous Persians vs. Beautifully Good White Spartans Defending Their Culture. (more on "300 Bad" stored up in my brain if anyone wants THAT rant.) To Snyder's credit, none of his films since 300 have really done that—parts of Batman v Superman and his cut of Justice League purposefully poke fun at it. The hypermasculinity is kinda still there, but it's subsumed in the service of melodrama and mythic-flavored cinema, and it's kinda a staple of the action genre anyway, and if you're gonna criticize Snyder without criticizing EVERY ACTION MOVIE EVER, that's just more regurgitated Snyder haterism.

No one is doing mythic action like Snyder these days. No one has the balls and the command of melodrama & operatic visuals. And it comes clearly from Snyder's background in art & art history because all his shots are jam-packed with symbolism and meaning and allusion. So criticize the film for its weaknesses if you like but geez, if I see another post railing about the lack of CRAFT in RM, I will start biting. ALMOST NO BLOCKBUSTER HAS THIS LEVEL OF CRAFT. It's okay that you don't understand visual storytelling, babygirl, but please don't accuse Snyder of lacking craft.

Sorry, you've triggered Cinema Defense Mechanisms in me, I'm gonna have to sit down for a while after this.

I have more takes. Takes hot enough to fuel the King's Gaze (king's gays lol.) But I'll end with a funny observation: I transed my gender (cheers, shouts, hoorays) just about the time I was getting ready to watch Rebel Moon, and in one shocking, epiphanic moment I turned to my partner and went "Of COURSE I'm a man. I like Zack Snyder." So........... do with that what you will.

#rebel moon #dragoninthelibrary #rebel moon spoilers #long post

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 2 years

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for you

masterlists

Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary - After an old enemy of Natasha's resurfaces, you take justice into your own hands.

18+ : depictions of violence, murder, blood, knives, guns, weapons, reader is a gorlboss w no remorse

Word Count - 3340

An old enemy of Natasha’s had surfaced after multiple years in a high security prison and the way she reacted at the mention of his name was one of the few times you’d ever seen her truly scared. She’d tracked him for months, a dangerous and ruthless man who was hard to catch and when she finally got close he went after the only person she was close to at the time.

He killed her friend in cold blood, something she worked hard not to make purely for this reason; it was brutal and gruesome, one of the worst things she’d ever seen.

“I don’t think I’d ever seen so much blood.” She uttered quietly as everyone listened to her recounting of events, you held her hand beneath the table, the quietness to her voice hurt your heart. “He goes after the people you’re closest to - the people you love.” She added, eyes darting to you and Yelena.

“We’ll kill him before it gets to that.” She uttered in response.

“Uh, no. We’ll catch him before it gets to that.” Steve corrected, of course earning an eye roll and a shake of the head from Yelena. The ‘no killing’ rule was boring for you both, that’s what you’d both been trained to do, what you were good at and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that enjoyed it. Yelena, however, was a little bit better at following the rules than you - that big sister glare always put her in line.

“He’s dangerous. You don’t find him, he finds you and if he finds any of us we’re dead.” Natasha spoke, the fear was evident in her face, her eyes glossed over in tears at the mere thought of losing either of you. “I swear, Steve, if Yelena or Y/N get killed because you’re not quick enough to find him I will kill him with my bare hands and you’ll be next in line.” She spoke through gritted teeth before standing abruptly from where she sat and left the room.

She didn’t mean what she said, you all knew that but it was rare to see her quite this scared. It made your blood boil. Acid in your veins, burning at your skin - the fact that this man was causing her this pain. Your jaw clenched in anger, one had gripped tightly onto the arm of the chair as the other flicked through the information on him. If anybody saw the visible anger across your body they didn’t say anything.

It was more of a waiting game than anything - either catch him quick enough when he appeared or monitor any suspicious goings on in the background until he popped up. Every system that could find him was working around the clock but so far, nothing had surfaced. A week had passed with odd whispers of his appearance but never anywhere near New York and by the time you’d get there it was as if he was never there.

So keeping a watchful eye out was the best that could be done; security had been upped by Tony, Natasha kept an annoyingly close eye on you and Yelena and Carol and Thor even arrived to act as muscle just in case things went awry.

Natasha was a little less tense about the situation considering it’d be hard for him to strike in these conditions and Wanda decided that movie nights were the ideal solution to keep everyone together and spirits as high as possible. They’d happened every night and were surprisingly enjoyed by all.

You couldn’t quite let things just be a ‘waiting game’ though and took matters into your own hands, you were training harder and scouring through footage into the early hours of the morning. You were going to take him down one way or another and you’re fairly certain on your way of choice.

You were always good at finding people and your talents don’t seem to have failed you this time either; you knew where he was going to be, you had a plan - you were going to end this and make your Natasha happy again.

“I’m gonna go and train for a couple hours - I’ll be back in time for the movie.” You announced, pushing your chair back from the table, kissing Nat on the top of her head and nodding to the rest of the team before you left.

You knew that nobody would be training now, you made sure to be the only one to not go to the gym this morning, so the coast is clear on that front. Your skills with technology came in handy with the looping of the security cameras and you’d made it look as though you were following your workout routine. You felt like a mastermind with the way you’d secured your room completely, an audio set up to respond as you if anyone tried to go in - you had to laugh to yourself at your brilliant idea.

You were quick to change into your suit with a zip up hoodie on top, favourite knives secured to you and your gun in its holster. You scaled the side of the building from your window effortlessly before heading off, your hood hid your face well enough to catch a bus across town without being recognised.

It didn’t take too long to get there, he’d been right under your noses for a few days, an abandoned warehouse was his cliche idea of the perfect location for a criminal hideout.

In a display of overconfidence, his security was sparse and the overly muscular men smoking cigarettes outside the doors didn’t see the hooded figure creeping up on them. It was too late to save themselves when the silencer adorned gun shot bullets through their skulls in quick succession, blood pooling around their lifeless faces on the dirty concrete ground.

You smirked at the sight, pulling off your hood and tossing the garment aside. You didn’t try to be quiet, squeaking the door open and letting it close behind you with a metallic clang, silent footsteps carrying you through until you saw him. He was playing poker with other sleazy looking men, cheap suits over their bodies and the stale and pungent aftershave they all wore made the air thick.

Just as the first man’s eyes widened as they flitted in your direction you shot a bullet right between them, and just as his body slumped onto the table in front of him you sent another through the next one’s head.

It was simple and quick until the last remaining henchman pulled a gun right back at you, though he of course dropped it with a clatter when you threw a knife right through his arm. You sauntered over to his screaming body and pulled it out before stabbing it right into his neck, he gargled on his own blood whilst you watched until his eyes went cold.

All the while, your true target just watched from his seat, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

“Hello, Y/N. I must admit, I’m surprised you’re here solo.”

“I’m better at killing fuckers like you alone.”

“So am I.” He uttered and he must think you’re stupid because the make shift booby trap he’d set up hadn’t gone unnoticed by you and the dagger that came straight for your head was easily caught in your fist. God, who does he think he is - a movie supervillain?

“Nice try.” You deadpanned as he tried to hide the shock on his face, not so subtly unclasping the gun from behind his back. You ran at him, closing the space between you just as he was about to pull the trigger. There was a sickening crunch of bone as you bent his wrist backwards, pulling the weapon from his grasp and leaving him crying out in pain.

“Sit the fuck down.” You seethed through gritted teeth, keeping your gun trained on him as he made his way to a chair. The way you shot through his knee made him crash into the seat quicker with a shout, hole torn through the material of his trousers.

“You fucking crazy bitch.” He shouted out as you smirked.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice place you’ve got here - very…no, I can’t even think of anything. This place is fucking gross.” You muttered, checking in the pockets of the blazers of your earlier victims, pulling out guns which you dropped onto the table before casually reloading your own.

“If you’re going to kill me, just hurry up and do it.” He spoke as you made your way behind him, pulling the duct tape from your pocket and generously wrapping it around his wrists you’d yanked behind him. You hope you’d dislocated his shoulder by the way he hissed.

“No, I don’t think I will.” You returned, coming to stand in front of him now with your hand pushing down onto the bullet wound to his knee. “I’m gonna make this real slow. I want to see you crumble, bit by bit, as I chip away at the little time you have left.” You dug your thumb into the hole, feeling the blood on your skin as he tried to hide how much it hurt.

The knife you pulled out was one of your favourites, the shining silver blade reflected the light that hung from the ceiling and you touched the point of it with your finger, twirling it in your grasp with an excited smile on your lips. It was reminding you of the good old days, where you did this kind of thing for a living - it made you feel powerful, you were in control. You played God. You decide whether he lives or dies.

You dragged the sharp edged metal down his cheek, barely breaking the skin, watching as his eyes strained to look at it - full of fear. It was pathetic really.

“There’s no need to be scared. Fear is for uncertainty.” You spoke, dragging it down to his abdomen until you reached the spot you wanted. “And this,” You pushed the knife into his flesh, not fatal but enough to earn a cry of pain. “This is not uncertain - we know what’s going to happen. You’re going to die. So don’t worry, the pain I’m causing will end…eventually.”

He didn’t speak, he was in too much pain for that. Blood dripped onto the grim floor beneath him, grey splattered with red as a sweat formed over his skin.

The knife from his abdomen was pulled out before being plunged back in on the mirroring side - you could never get bored of the sounds of his pain. The panting for breath through gritted teeth, a high pitched groan at the back of his throat anytime he moved. Perhaps when they speak of the angel’s song in heaven, this is what they mean.

“What next, hm? You wanna choose?” You asked him, a twisted smile of innocence directed his way. “No? Okay then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You wandered over to his stash of weapons, haphazardly displayed on a table across the room, almost as though they were left for you. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, you just had to take your pick and it was like a kid in a candy store.

“You have a sword? That’s cool - a little pretentious for my taste but whatever. Oh, it’s heavy.” You laughed as you picked it up, turning to him in amusement though he didn’t seem to be finding anything remotely entertaining. “Holy shit, you have a rocket launcher - my friend Yelena would love this.” You mused, touching the device where it lay - you were not taking any risks with that right now.

“You’re such a crazy bitch.” He choked out, could he not at least be a tad more creative with his insults? These are pretty lazy.

You stepped back over to him with your chosen weapon of choice, a fancy pair of nunchucks that should hopefully do some slow damage. You sighed in disappointment as you approached, tugging the tie from around the neck of one of the slumped bodies.

“I didn’t wanna have to do this. We were getting along so well.” You tutted, balling the tie up and shoving it into his mouth. “Though I’m not too upset - your voice is really fucking annoying.”

You span the nunchucks in a show off manner, wind whistling through them at the speed before suddenly bringing them down into his shin with a vile crack of broken bone. You did the same to his other legs as tears dripped down his paling face, muffled cries of pain falling on deaf ears.

“These are cool.” You nodded, looking at the weapon curiously.

His head was starting to slump forwards as his consciousness started to dwindle but you quickly flung it back with a punch to his jaw.

“Nuh uh, I’m not done yet.”

You punched his face until your knuckles hurt, blood poured from his broken nose and lips. His eye was swelling shut and you were running out of time. Not only was he on the brink of being knocked out completely but you also had to get back in time for movie night - Wanda had chosen Mamma Mia.

“Okay, dickhead, lucky for you, we’re running out of time. It’s been magical, truly, but there's a pizza with my name on it at home and I’m the only one who likes pineapple so I’m gonna have to speed this up.”

You let your anger at him take over now, repeatedly stabbing the blade of the knife into his body. Over and over and over. You continued even when he’d passed out, pulse weak but still pumping as you got covered in more and more of his blood. The one that finally killed him was the one you sent through his chest, as much force as you could muster with a loud crunching against the metal, blade getting wedged in the bone.

You stood back and admired your handiwork with your hands on your hips and a nod. His head was flopped against his chest, unrecognisable and barely visible beneath all the blood. His white shirt was practically red and the floor surrounding him was glistening crimson; the piece de resistance was the hilt of your knife poking out from his chest, right through that rotten heart.

Your work here was done. He was dead, you’d had a little fun in the process and now it was time to head home. You were covered in blood but you knew the quickest way to walk back without being seen.

You could hear chattering in the living room where everyone else had gathered, just waiting on your arrival from where they believed to be your bedroom. All that killing had worked up an appetite and left you gasping for a drink so you instead made your way to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water and chugging it over the sink.

“What is it, Stark?” You heard Steve hurry out upon seeing the billionaire receive a tense looking call, everybody watched as he rubbed his forehead in frustration and Natasha couldn’t help but think something bad had happened to you. He hung up with an ‘okay’, leaving the room in silence.

“Spit it out, Tony.” She urged.

“Shield agents acted on a hunch that Hill had, they thought sending agents would be best in case they were useless leads, but they found him.”

“They did? Where? Let’s go get him.”

“No. They found him dead, as well as all of his security and an entire poker table of men. They said they’d never seen so much blood.” He returned.

Never seen so much blood.

The cogs in everyone’s head turned until they realised it’s what Nat had said a couple of weeks earlier. It wasn’t hard to realise you were the only member of the team not currently in the room. They all hurried towards the kitchen at the sound of a cupboard shutting and were shocked to find you casually sitting on the countertop sipping on a glass of water.

“Hey, guys.”

You smiled at them as they stood with mouths agape, eyes wide and appalled at what they were seeing. Your face held splatters of blood, your hands were rusty red and your suit was just as covered.

“Why are you staring? Have I got something on my face? Do I have something in my teeth? I had spinach at lunch.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Tony shouted, the vein that only pops out of his forehead when he’s fumingly angry was staring at you too.

“Isn’t it obvious? This isn’t a makeup trend, Tony.” You responded, gesturing at the blood on your face, you saw Yelena fight back a smile. She was pleased with what you’d done, though kind of wish you’d invited her. “I killed him. He’s not a problem anymore, it’s over and me and Yelena can go to that laser tag place that opened up. And Nat can finally live without looking over her shoulder for him.” You shrugged.

“Detka, why would you - why did you do this?” Natasha asked softly, she never thought you’d go off the deep end quite like this but she wasn’t as disgusted as Steve, Tony and Bruce seem to be.

“I did it for you, my love.”

“You went against my biggest rule, Y/N.” Steve shouted. “Not only that but it was so heinous - you didn’t just kill him you killed seven other men. Do you not feel guilty? Ashamed? Like the monster you so clearly are?”

Wanda, Natasha and Yelena all threw him horrified looks at that but your face never wavered.

“Nope.”

Not ten minutes later, he was dragging you to a cell. You didn’t care, you’d done what you had to with not an ounce of regret. He pushed you in there as though he didn’t even know you, like you were the scum on the bottom of his shoe, just another monster.

It was only an hour of you lying on the ground staring at the boring white ceiling until they crept in - Nat, Yelena and Wanda.

“We’re getting you out.” Yelena grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

“Really?”

“Mhm. You’re my best friend Y/N/N and even though what you did was completely unhinged, it was kinda necessary.” Wanda shrugged, using the red whisps to unlock the cell with ease. “And I don’t give a shit about lying to them, you’re not a monster.”

“It was so badass, you’re my new role model.” Yelena added.

“What about you, babe. Any nice words for your beloved?” You asked, poking Natasha’s side when you walked out of the cell.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” She muttered with a shake of her head, green eyes staring into yours. “So so stupid.”

“Sestra, this is not the nice jailbreak we agreed on.”

“For future reference, buying me flowers is a better way to show me you love me.” She smirked, grabbing onto your hand. “Gross, I forgot there was blood on your hands - wow, figuratively and literally.” She laughed. “No but seriously, we need to leave and when we get there you are going straight in the shower.”

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.” She winked before the four of you skillfully left the building unnoticed. It was a rushed goodbye to the other two women before you had to rush into Natasha’s car, packed bags in the back already. They were under strict instruction to not disclose the location of the safe house she’d been hiding all these years and anytime they’d visit must be carefully planned.

But you were on your way to your new life together, on the run from the Avengers but at least you were together. Everything you do is for her after all and everything she does is for you.

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panda-writes-kpop · 6 months

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A/N: Happy Halloween!! I'm spending my day in classes and then doing homework afterward 🥲 but at least I'll get to dress up and be comfortable for one of my favorite holidays of the year! 💖

TW: Physical and emotional bullying, specifics about reader's talents and background are given, kinda sad but kinda happy(?)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by the Wednesday Netflix show (yes, I've been holding this fic for a WHILE it was too perfect for Halloween), and the following works by my friends inspired the universe and its characters: @kingmaker-a Ecdysis, You're A Keeper, and Logistics of a Cat; @foolish-sparrow Felix Votum; and @sanccharine mishaps gone right series, and @neon-city-dreams for being awesome <3

Summary: Your bad relationship with your peers causes you to come face-to-face with one of the most brilliant Ravenclaws, Dami. You're afraid that she's just as judgmental as the rest, but through time, she proves to be one of the most important people in your life.

♡ Masterlist ♡

"Hey, give it back!"

You tried reasoning with the young Slytherin members, but nothing worked. Perhaps being more strict would do the job?

The eldest boy sticks his tongue out at you as he tosses your art notebook to the shorter, younger boy.

"Let's see what kind of weird things the muggle writes in here."

You wince as he starts to flip through the book. After going through a few pages, he laughs before pointing at a drawing of yours.

"Wow, you really are obsessed with that Lee Dami girl, huh? You wouldn't mind if I told her that on your behalf, right?"

The youngest boy runs into the Great Hall as the oldest laughs like a wild maniac. You nervously bite your lip before running after the shortest boy.

"Yeah, go get 'em, squirt!" The eldest boy teases as your legs fail to carry you remotely close to the young boy.

He stops at the Ravenclaw table, right where Dami is seated. You try to, as calmly as you can after running what feels like an Olympic marathon, approach the table and remain calm.

"Hey, Dami, you wanna see something neat?"

You cringe as the boy hands her the notebook. She carefully handles the notebook before looking up at the boy.

"Is this yours? Why are you handing it to me?"

"No, it's theirs." The boy points over his shoulder at you, and you do your best to calmly wave as you try to tame the wild beast that is your rapidly beating heart.

"Then why do I have it?" Dami nonchalantly asks, and a few Ravenclaws around her giggle at the boy in front of you.

His ears turn red as he huffs and slightly turns toward you. You brace for impact as he storms towards you, but you're surprised when he puts on a brave smile and harshly wraps an arm around you.

"Tell her this is one big misunderstanding and that she can look through the notebook, alright," The boy loudly says before leaning closer to you, "otherwise I'll make the rest of your stay at Hogwarts a living hell."

You nervously laugh before slapping the boy's back as friendly as you can appear to be.

"Of course she can look through it!" You say through gritted teeth, and the boy shoots you a deadly glare before you push yourself away from him.

Dami looks at you for confirmation, and you feel your face heat up as you nod at her.

You start mentally planning your funeral as soon as Dami touches the cover. You might as well make plans to move to Africa, where no one knows who you are or what your face looks like.

Perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea since you weren't the most multilingual person, so America would be a better fit, right? You could send an owl to your parents, and they'd figure out the details for you! That'd be great because the Wizarding school there is just as good as Hogwarts, plus you'll never have to face Dami again after she ultimately rejects you because what reasonable person would want a loser like you who can't actually verbalize their feelings and instead draws them from every possible angle and OH MY GOD SHE THINKS YOU ARE A STALKER YOU NEED TO VACATE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY WHAT ARE YOU DOING-

"I-"

Dami pauses after she closes the back of the book. You say a prayer to as many deities and saints that you know as you hope that she'll reject you kindly and you can instead live out your days at Hogwarts in shame without having to move to another country.

She looks up at you before a prominent pink blush settles on her cheeks. She clears her throat before readjusting her glasses as your tormentor closes in on Dami.

"So, what did you think? That art is so stalker-ish and lame, right? You'd never want to be with someone like that, huh."

He triumphantly folds his arms as Dami's sweet, deep voice hits your ears.

"I think it's sweet."

"What?" The boy says in utter shock as his eyes are nearly about to widen past their capabilities.

"What?" You softly repeat as you feel lightheaded.

No, she was supposed to reject you and laugh at you, right? When was this a part of the horrid fantasy that you created 30 seconds ago?

More importantly, when did the room start spinning?

The last thing you remember was Dami calling out your name as you felt your body being tugged towards the floor.

Although your confession wasn’t anything like your dreams, it managed to land you in Dami’s favor, and now you’re on a date with the girl who you’ve been endlessly doodling in your notebook.

This moment, you decided, was one of two things.

Option A.) A cruel joke by the universe, in which one of your peers would jump out of a nearby bush with one of those muggle recording devices, and your life would return back to normalcy.

Or Option B.) You’re somehow dreaming still, and you probably need to see the headmistress because dozing off like this isn’t good for your health or your grades, and you know what your mother will say when your grades start to slip-

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been staring off in the distance for a while…”

Dami calmly observes you as you nervously shift on the picnic blanket.

“I’m okay… I think.”

You mentally scold yourself before nervously playing with a strand of your hair. Dami sweetly laughs before placing a hand on your shoulder. That part of your body heats up, and your internal body temperature rises about 5 degrees as you feel yourself start to sweat.

What a pair the two of you were.

The brilliant scholar, the one who was a prodigy at everything she tried. The radiant Ravenclaw who managed to excel in every subject and charmed her peers and professors along the way.

And then there was you, the tortured artist. The mockery of your peers was a constant negative force in your life, and you always had your head in a sketchbook or notebook.

She was the strong sunshine, constant and unwavering, and you were a waning moon, ready to disappear to make room for something greater.

Yeah, this was definitely a pity date.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well-”

Dami’s ever-so-gentle with you, as if every last word would break your body like a glass figurine shattering when it hits the floor. You’re scared, sure, but you’re not that much of a wimp, right?

“Dami, I-” You pause to chew on your lip before gently reaching for her. “I really like you, and I’m scared of ruining this date because I think that you think that I’m a freak, just like everyone else does!”

You slap your hand over your mouth as Dami begins to rub your back. You bow your head in shame as you feel her free hand touch your extended hand.

“I don’t think you’re anything like the other kids say you are. That’s why I wanted to come out here with you. I want to find out who you truly are,” She offers you a warm smile as you dare to look up at her, “and if it makes any difference, I really like you too.”

“You do?” A sea of hopefulness floats into your voice as you tentatively smile.

“I do.”

Your eyes widen, and you let go of her hand before wrapping both arms around her. Dami looks startled for a moment before she laughs and wraps her arms around you.

Maybe this year would be different, just like your mother had said.

“Do you have the notes for Potions?”

“You weren’t paying attention?” Dami teasingly asks Lia before sorting through the books in her arms. “Color me surprised.”

“Don’t give me the third degree. Ryujin already did that.” Lia scoffs as Dami hands her a few sheets of paper from a book.

“Ryujin sleeps in class almost every day.”

“That’s what I said!” Lia exclaims before quickly looking at Dami’s notes. “My god, you really do take detailed notes.”

“I do my best work in class.” Dami shrugs before looking out at the courtyard. “Do you have Potions today?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but I-” Lia pauses when Dami sticks her arm out in front of both of them. “What is it?”

“Hold my things.” Dami hands her books to a skeptical Lia, who sends Dami a quizzical look until she looks out into the courtyard.

“Oh shit, that’s-”

“Uh-huh.” Dami pulls up her sleeves before grabbing her wand. “That’s why I’m going to interfere.”

“Before they hurt someone?”

“Before someone else jumps in.” Dami corrects as Lia’s eyes widen.

“Are you referring to SuA and Siyeon?”

“Who else would I be referring to?” Dami sighs before walking away. “Make sure nobody tries to jump in, alright? I need to handle this myself.”

“To prove that you’re a good girlfriend?” Lia jokes as Dami walks towards the scene in the courtyard.

“Funny, Lia.” Dami mumbles as she approaches the scene unfolding in front of her.

When you were younger, the teasing and bullying from your peers would bother you to no end. You’d sob in the arms of your friends and Dami every time they decided to mess with you.

Now? They were just an annoyance to you.

“Please give it back…” You hopelessly say as you watch two of your peers hold your books hostage ten feet in the air.

“And why would I do that?”

Because you’re not a total bitch?

“C’mon, don’t you have anything better to do?” Exasperated, you pull out your wand as they both chuckle.

“Oh, what are you gonna do, summon your Patronus?” One teases as the other laughs.

You bow your head in shame before putting your wand away.

“That’s what I thought, you pathetic waste of-”

“What are the two of you doing?”

Your head snaps up as you make eye contact with Dami.

Thank goodness!

“Dami!” One of the students squeaks out before running off, and the other slowly lowers your things towards the ground.

“You’re no fun.” They say before throwing your stuff on the ground.

Your eyes widen as you quickly gather your things from the ground.

“You’re sick!” Lia yells from the side as the other student rolls their eyes.

“We were just joking around, right?” They shoot daggers at you, and you shiver under their glare.

“Ahem.”

You pause as you hear heels click behind you.

“Headmistress BoA, I-”

“My office. Now.” She calmly says, and the student bows their head before walking away. “Oh, and if you track down your friend before I get back, I won’t make you clean out the Hippogriff cages.”

You dare to look at the student who’s walking much faster now, and you find yourself laughing as you gather your things and yourself off of the ground.

“Are you alright?” She gently asks before placing a hand on your back. “They gave you back all of your things, right?”

You swiftly look through your things before nodding.

“Thank you again, Headmistress.” You quietly say as Dami makes her way to your side. “Thanks for saving my ass… again.”

Dami wraps an arm around your shoulders to comfort you before leaning into you.

“I’d happily step in any time.”

Headmistress BoA gently smiles at the two of you before taking a step back.

“I’m glad you have someone like Dami looking out for you,” She says before waving Lia over, “and it seems that you’ve managed to charm quite a few other students as well.”

“Oh, I…” You bite your lip before staring at the ground. “I don’t think I’d call myself charming.”

“Dami would agree to disagree!” Lia teases, which causes Dami to blush, and you to laugh.

“Well, I will leave the three of you to your studies. If there’s anything I can do, please, don’t be afraid to-”

“Headmistress, you’ve already done so much for me…” You softly interrupt her before looking over to Dami. “for us. I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

After you and Dami were close and became ‘more than friends’, the torture that you experienced only multiplied. It went beyond verbal teasing and the occasional shove or someone stealing your notebooks.

It wouldn’t be a day at Hogwarts if you weren’t shoved into a wall and had your face shoved into your food. It got so bad that you ended up confessing to your mother, and when she confronted the Headmistress, they couldn’t find anyone who would talk about the bullying besides you.

You tried to take it on the chin, but after one particularly rough day, you broke down in tears and had enough of their teasing. You stopped reacting to their normal shenanigans, which encouraged them to go farther.

You were walking to The Great Hall while admiring the architecture. You had enjoyed your class, which was mostly because you didn’t have to use your wand all day. It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t the best spellcaster, but you could easily outbrew anyone in Potions and you knew what made the plants grow faster in Herbology.

You were happy because you were to see Dami, and your day was always better when you saw her. In your ignorant bliss, you had failed to notice the snickering students who were holding a pot of honey above your head with their wands.

You had opened the doors to The Great Hall, and everyone in the world seemed to be looking at you when your assailants launched their attacks.

You screamed when the honey fell onto you, and the force threw you to the ground. You managed to push yourself out of the way of the falling pot before it hit the ground.

All of the students outside of the hall were laughing at you, and from what you could see, a good amount of students were laughing in the dining hall.

You immediately started crying before getting up and running away from the dining hall. You didn’t care that you left your things behind, but it didn’t matter since they were probably ruined anyway.

You didn’t stop running until you had reached a bathroom far from the living quarters and The Great Hall. You closed the door, and you fell back against the nearest wall before burying your head in your arms.

A gentle knock at the door manages to disturb your pity party.

“Leave me alone…” You weakly mumble, and you curse yourself for being so weak, just as your peers had said.

“Are you in here?” Dami asks, and you sniffle before answering.

“You should’ve started with your name.” You say before managing to let out a broken chuckle. “The door’s unlocked.”

The door creaks when it is opened, and Dami files in before shutting it.

“My God…” She mumbles before grabbing a washcloth from beside the sink.

Dami puts the stopper in the sink, and she fills the sink with water before running the washcloth under the faucet.

She offers you the washcloth, and your shaking hand reaches out for it before you stop.

“Do you mind if you-”

“No, of course not.” Dami answers before shutting the faucet off.

She sits next to you with the washcloth in her hands.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” You softly say before lifting your head up.

Dami gently begins to rub the honey away by starting with your face. After she finishes with one side, she switches hands, and her right hands cleans your face as the other holds the clean part of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you…” Dami mutters as she gently strokes your cheek with her thumb. “How does this continue to happen?”

“I’m an easy target. I’m useless with my wand, I can’t fly on a broomstick, and I don’t know how to talk to people.” You exasperatedly say.

“But there’s so much that you can do. You’re brilliant with Potions and Herbology.” She compliments you before continuing on. “You’re creative, much more than I am, and you’re kind to everyone, even if they’re not kind to you back.”

“You see the good in everyone, Dami.” You lovingly look at her as she smiles.

“I see the good in you because everyone, including yourself,” She sternly says the last part, “refuses to. Someone has to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You can, but it doesn’t hurt to rely on others.” Dami wistfully says before pulling her right hand away from your face “Let me clean the washcloth, and I’ll work on your arms, alright?”

“Okay.” You feel better as Dami stands and walks over to the sink.

You like the quiet bliss that is between the two of you. No one may understand why the brilliant scholar loves the tortured artist, but you’re starting to get it now.

Suddenly, the door slams open and you jump before curling up into yourself. Dami looks up from the sink before a sour look settles on her face.

“Headmistress BoA…”

“What is going on here?” She sternly says before glancing at you before looking back at Dami. “Did you… were you a part of this, Ms. Lee?”

“I didn’t do-”

“She was trying to help!” You exclaim before tears fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make her go.”

“Are you sure Ms. Lee wasn’t-”

“She wouldn’t hurt me!” You yell before quickly standing up.

You try to take a step forward, but your knees wobble and you fall on the ground.

“My love-” Dami immediately drops the washcloth in the water before placing a hand on your knee. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” You shake your head before placing one of your hands on hers, “I’m alright.”

“Ah, I see what’s going on here.” A glint of mischief appears in the Headmistress’ eyes before she chuckles and smiles. “Clean up, change your clothes, and head to my office once you’re done. I’ll set dinner aside for both of you, and we can chat about finally putting an end to this mess.”

You smile at the Headmistress before looking over to Dami.

“That’d be great, Headmistress. Thank you.”

You grab the key from your coat pocket as you climb the stairs with Dami and Lia by your side.

“Ugh, do I have to go to Potions?” Lia complains before sighing. “I’d much rather go to Defense Against the Dark Arts again then do this shit-”

“I’d trade you.” You mumble.

“How bad was class today?”

“I made a fool of myself, as per usual.” You groan as you remember your classmates’ teasing. “Another failure I will never live down.”

“Don’t let those Slytherins bother you-”

“-They were Ravenclaws.” You correct Lia before she pauses mid-step.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. A lot of the physical teasing comes from Slytherins and Gryffindors, but I can’t count the times I’ve been harassed by Ravenclaws.” You bite your lip before Dami sets a gentle hand on your back. “You think they’d be nicer considering I am a Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t listen to them. They’re judgemental.” Dami reassures you.

“Even you?”

“I’ve learned better from people like you.” Dami honestly says as you reach the fourth floor.

“Well, I’ve got to grab the textbook from our dorms. I’ll see you tonight for dinner,” Lia says to Dami before turning to you, “and I will have a hundred and one questions about Potions to ask you.”

“I’ll do my best to help.” You gently smile before waving Lia off as she continues to climb the stairs.

You loop arms with Dami as you lead her to a locked room, far from prying eyes.

“How was Herbology?” Dami pushes back a strand of your hair before you unlock the door.

“Professor Im says I have a lot of potential in the field. She wants me to start looking into higher level classes for next year. So, it was as per usual. What about you?”

“Potions was simplistic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I-”

You open the door before gently nudging Dami.

“It’s okay, Dami, I know you’re good at it. You’re destined to be an Auror, I know.”

You mutter a soft ‘Lumos’, which sets the room alight with a soft glow.

“You’ve put up more art.” Dami notes as you set your books aside.

“What else do you think I do here?” You joke before grabbing your staple apron. “But I’m glad you noticed.”

“What are you going to work on?”

“Undecided… but maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

You let go of Dami’s arm before grabbing her waist. She smiles before wrapping her arms around your torso.

“I-I am sorry.” Dami mutters as you pull her close.

“For what? None of this is your fault, Dami.”

“I just wish I could’ve done… more.”

“Don’t say things like that-”

“You’re planning about going back to the muggle world permanently after you’ve finished your education at Hogwarts, right?”

Your eyes widen as you let go and back away from Dami.

“Did my mom tell you that?”

“Your dad, actually.” Dami pauses for a beat before grabbing your hand. “When were you going to tell me about the fact that you’re taking muggle classes and classes here? Is bullying the reason why you’re going back to the muggle world?”

“Yeah, it is,” You mumble softly before squeezing her hand, “but I didn’t want to say anything, I know you wanted to be an Auror, you’d be brilliant and the best at it.”

“Why the muggle classes, though?”

“I’m a half-blood. It was my mom’s dream for me to go to Hogwarts, just as she did, and my dad… he’s a professor at a well-known university, so he agreed with my mother as long as I kept up with my muggle work.” You sigh before shaking your head. “Was my dad worried about me?”

“He thought you were making the wrong choice.” Dami explains.

“My dad loves you, and he wants what he thinks is best for me.”

“I want you to stay.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. As much as I want to be an Auror, I couldn’t imagine being there without you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say…” You trail off. “But I don’t belong here. You know that, as do many of our peers.”

“They might not think you belong, but you’ll always belong with me.” Dami pulls you close before you rest your head on her frame. “At least think about it, my love. That’s all I can ask from you.”

“I will, dear, I promise.” You peck her cheek before grabbing a paint brush. “You can go back to the dorms and work in peace if you’d like. I’m going to play some music and-”

“-I’d much rather stay with you.”

33 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 4 months

Text

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (generalized fanon | wfa)

────────────────────

“Past The Time till Midnight” (Jason Todd & Fem!Reader)

| Jason’s a no good bastard and now you’re bored out of your mind.

| SFW, galas, mild(?) discrimination, -platonic!reader & queer!reader

| Could be pre-relationship if you want, I suppose. Background!(Rose Wilson x Jason Todd) & (Rose Wilson x Fem!Reader)

| Pic source — Batman: Wayne Family Adventures webtoon)

| 2k+ words

You’d had zero clue up until tonight just how fun draining a New Year's Eve gala could be. Honestly, you're upset you had to gain the knowledge through first hand experience too, but that only translates to you hip checking Jason when you make your way back to him.

He lets himself rock sideways the tiniest bit for your benefit. You roll your eyes.

“I thought you said this would be fun?”

You pass one of the drinks in your hands to him and he pockets his phone - whatever urgent call dealt with for now.

“Oh did I?” He nods in thanks then knocks back the flute of champagne. “I lied.”

You suck your teeth, “I fucking hate you.”

A burst of brief snickers is all that proclamation provokes.

With a sigh you cross your arms, sipping at your drink at a far more acceptable pace as you people watch.

Jason and you both are largely out of the way by design. You were of the vast majority of people who didn’t see the fun in being scrutinized by droves of rich socialites for hours on end, and Jason was…Jason.

He maybe showed up to two of these things a year - and never without extensive weedling and bribery from some other one of the bats (though noticeably never by Bruce himself who was almost always the host of the Galas that Jason bothered to show his face at).

Two ladies throwing small looks your way, giggling and laughing, catch your interest on your sweep of the ballroom. You squint.

It’s you who redirects Jason’s attention towards them with an elbow to the side. He makes a low irritated sound that makes you laugh but doesn’t even retaliate before following your gaze.

When he does his eyes briefly light up with recognition. Instantly you perk up too.

Finally, something interesting.

The both of you glance at each other - a grin spread across his face and a raised brow on yours - before moving in tandem towards the other duo without another word.

The women straighten, standing impossibly taller, smiles losing their genuity, as you close in on them.

“Hi,” Jason reaches out to take the shortest of the two’s offered hand. He doesn’t bend down to kiss it though, just holds it until the woman frowns at his lack of kiss then let’s go. “We saw you laughing and couldn’t help but want to join in on the fun. These things can be so uneventful sometimes.”

“Oh! Of course.” She laughs, high and melodic and fake, “Any son of Thee Brucie Wayne is always welcome to join!”

“Great.” Watching Jason’s crowd smile spread across his face is fascinating. “No problem telling me what gossip had you laughing and saying my name then? I like to get ahead of the press.”

He caps the sentence off with a jovial shrug, smile still in place, and it works. Even with their reservations in place - and the fact Jason’s never left his pure disdain for the likes of them secret - they don’t seem to catch that they’re walking into a trap, their smiles broadening. Jason has somehow managed a very distinct balance between alarming and painfully boyish and it’s actually working.

If this is what he always looked like when he did this song and dance in the helmet you were going to clown the hell out of him later.

“Well alright, but we were just talking gossip like girls do.”

You exchange another rapid fire look and Jason’s grin dips teasingly, eyebrows raising.

His look says, “You're up. Bet you can’t do better.”

You grit your teeth just long enough he catches your acceptance, then force the corners of your mouth up.

“Oh yeah, about what?” You look between both women. Jason’s already bracing himself, expertly masking his amusement.

Clare laughs in that airy way these types love so much.

“Me and Linda were just discussing how…fitting it is that two people from your backgrounds would come together under the Wayne name.”

“A wonderful coincidence really,” Linda nods along. Any faster and you think her head will fall off. You wonder if it would look like those mannequins that get knocked over at the mall.

You shake your own head, adopting a bewildered expression. “I’m sorry I’m just not seeing what’s so funny. Could you explain?”

Jason chokes - on what? you don’t know - beside you and dissolves into a short coughing fit. You reach around without looking away from your companions to pat him on the back, silently handing him the rest of your drink.

Clare makes an aborted motion as Linda coos uselessly at Jason.

“Well,” she clears her throat, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Well. It’s not funny per say. I think you may have misinterpreted - um, confused - our reactions. We just think it’s sweet that two…um…uh…. disenfranchised people managed to meet and get so close after being helped by Bruce. That’s all hun.”

You're not her ‘hun’ and you want to burn the patch of skin she touches when she pats your arm. A reminder to settle down; like a half trained dog stepping out of place.

Your teeth grind together but you maintain your open expression, saying your next words cheerily.

“Oh! Girl, I’m not ‘disenfranchised’,” you laugh, head thrown back for a moment and all, before dropping your head to look her in the eye, “I’m just black.”

Instantly the laughter Clare had joined in on peters off into silence on her end. She stares at you a little blankly. You smile, continuing, “Yeah, and I - uh - just met Bruce Wayne today actually, but I do think I get what’s funny now. Now I know you’re just as fake as your smile…and your personality too, probably. Hell, I’d even be willing to bet that whatever charities you deign to donate to you bad mouth on the side too. Gotta keep up appearances though, right?”

Clare goes beet red and Linda freezes, her little smile and nod deal etched in place.

Clare sputters, brows furrowing in an especially non flattering way in a bid to find something to respond with.

Jason hums lowly, gesturing idly with your now empty glass and her mouth snaps shut like a snapping turtle with a baby’s finger in its clutches. “And I think the word you were looking for was ‘homeless’, Nats.”

Clare doesn’t respond, she stops doing much of anything in fact, only getting redder by the second in the face of Jason engaging directly with her. Wayne influence was strong enough that everyone wanted to gossip about them but no one was willing to say a damn thing to their faces about it it seems.

You can’t help the little grin that realization pulls out of you. The way your heart starts to race alongside it makes it hard to tell whether you want to spit in her uppity little face or laugh in it.

Ultimately you don’t get a chance because Jason’s face rapidly shifts from that deceptive boyishness to a sneer that’s very skillfully hidden behind his own even nastier grin.

“I don’t like you Nats, you know that, and we’ve blown up about this before so I don’t want to hear any more of your shitty justifications trust me,” he pauses purely because he’s just that dramatic, huff of laughter falling past his lips, “but you know who would like to hear them?”

Clare scowls, lip upturning. “Who Wayne?”

His sneer drops and all that’s left is that grin. Still just as nasty but clearly mocking. “Vickie would. And she’s always begging for an interview with the previously estranged ‘disenfranchised’ son of Bruce Wayne. She’d eat up every word out of my mouth.”

Jason doesn’t wait for a response, just grabs you by the hand and leaves her horrified face and Linda’s meek cries of: “Jason please,” behind.

You blow out of there so fast that Jason eventually ends up having to catch up with you, long strides barely holding a candle to you fleeing the scene like there’s an active fire up under your ass.

“Don’t bring me back to one of these, Jason.”

“Gotcha.”

“I mean it.”

“I know,” he waits a beat, “and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“She insulted you too.”

“Yeah but I’m used to rich people’s inability to feel real human emotion, and even more familiar with Clare Nats’ particular brand of it.”

“Fine.” You step over someone's jewelry laying on the floor. You turn back to your friend after giving the diamonds and gemstones a good glance. “And that was definitely a tie by the way.”

“Sure,” he starts leading you towards the other end of the ballroom. “You want something to drink? I need a drink. Hate name dropping Bruce like that; makes me itch.”

You also already knew that from first hand experience; watching him act like he’d quite literally broken out in hives after needing to pull out his father’s name to get through a hospital of all places faster. Steph was hurt so obviously he’d done it but he’d scratched the whole way to the floor she was being held at in Gotham General like he honestly couldn’t help himself. You hadn’t laughed then and certainly haven’t brought it back up to laugh at him after the fact, but you think about it often.

It was a really good pick me up out of context, how could you not?

The two of you hit the bar like sea drifters catching sight of land for the first time in ages, more so because of Jason than you though. You weren’t nearly that thirsty; just dragged along.

He grips the lip of the bartop hard and flags down the bartender. He’s forcing the coolness in his voice, in his posture, when he orders but it’s not like they’d know that.

“Who is Clare exactly?” You gesture to him, unimpressed. “And is Bruce gonna be pissed you mouthed off or something? It’s not like you just ended all prejudice around the world and now he’s got nothing left to fight for or some shit. Why are you drinking?”

“Fuck you, I do not need his ‘okay’ to talk to people.”

You roll your eyes, “Then why, Jason?”

He glares over his shoulder at the way you accentuate his name, roughly emphasizing the vowels, but you don’t do anything more than stare back.

“Nats and I grew up at the same time and she had a lotta opinions about my adoption back then, but I’m mainly irritated cause they’re gonna start…gossiping now.”

You laugh.

“Aww is the big bad outlaw scared of a few blog articles now? I’ll make sure to keep that in mind for when we go up against some asshole with a gossip column.”

The shot of tequila comes, no chaser, and Jason snatches and downs it in one fluid motion. You cringe just as he brings his head down to look at you, pointing with his hand still occupied by the little glass.

“You are…the worst.”

Your facial expression widens; eyes getting big, brows rising towards your hairline, mouth agape - the whole nine yards.

“Me?” You tutt, “I know you fucking lying. You can’t expect me to take your fear of women who sit in front of keyboards while probably sipping on lattes seriously? Come on, man.”

“It’s not just- It’s not just the keyboards okay? It’s the whispers. I don’t give two shakes of a rat’s ass about what these 10% assholes think of me, but having all their attention…”

You find yourself nodding (and mercifully skipping over the rat comment) and hum quietly. “Alright, when you put it like that I guess I get it.”

Jason grunts, sliding the shot glass closer to the opposite edge of the counter, “Yeahhhh. I hate when this happens.”

The bartender takes the glass without even stopping in their rush to the couple flagging them down and you squint.

“Aren’t you 19?”

“Twenty; and nobody asks questions when it could mean they won’t get paid at rich people parties.”

“How very criminal,” you say. You wait for that to - predictably - get a smile out of Jason before jostling him. “Now come on.”

He follows you easily when you walk away, catching up to you almost immediately now your gait is calmer.

“Where are we going?” Jason’s hands shove into the expensive pockets of his suit pants.

You get part way up the first flight of stairs leading to the second floor till you answer him.

“We’re gonna make Bruce do something embarrassing so everyone’s too busy talking about him to remember you exist.”

“Gee,” Jason scoffs, “you sure got a weird way of showing you love me.”

“It’s in spite of how lame you are, trust me.”

Once you get past the stairs Jason automatically takes the lead and steers you towards the east wing of the house.

You’re both rummaging in the attic for anything sufficient for the combined goal at hand, and you’ve got a mesh bag of brightly colored marbles in your palm, when Jason stops searching and turns to you with a grave look on his face.

For your part you stop too, facing him fully with the bag bouncing in one of your hands.

“Hey, in all seriousness I’m sorry again, yeah? My plan was for us to be bored together, not angry together.”

You can’t help the way your eyes roll. “We literally made the decision to go screw with them, because they were talking about us, to-ge-ther. Chill out.”

For half a second Jason looks like he’s legitimately fighting the urge to flip you off - or set Artemis on you during y’all’s next sparring session - but ultimately he just ends up shaking his head at you.

His lips undeniably quirk in the low lighting you guys are working with though so you’ll call that a win.

“Alright yeah. The way she changed colors was pretty funny.”

“Wish I’d gotten a picture,” you add, nodding.

The two of you glance at each other before bursting out into laughter.

After that coming up with a plan to fuck with Bruce - and Tim, per Jason’s added stipulation - takes barely anymore time.

Although—

Conspicuously you check the time on your phone and when 11:53 flashes up at you you grin.

“Hey, do you know if Rose is still here?”

Jason’s brows furrow, but he shrugs at you as he’s looking out over the grounds. He thinks Bruce is entertaining people outside right now and is doing his best to locate him from afar.

“Pretty sure she is. Why?”

It’s then that he turns to you and whatever flashes through your eyes gives you away apparently because then he’s practically wagging his damn finger at you.

“You better—”

“—You better hope I don’t get to her before the clock strikes,” you cut him off.

A beat passes where Jason clearly digests the challenge issued and then you’re both fighting to get through the little door that leads to the attic.

Your plans for Bruce - and Tim - could wait for later.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This feels slightly all over the place, but whatever. Mind any typos I will catch them later.

Ending off yet another year with a Jason Todd fic. Till next year Lovelies!!!🧡

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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love-toxin · 1 year

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my ass is craving for male! angel face who's in the basketball team and is flirty little shit who's a perv with a perv! bully! Eddie

teehee....flirty male angelface my love.....

pretty boy

(cws: bully!perv!eddie, flirty!jock!m!angelface, homophobia, "freak" used in the homophobic sense, violence/fighting, bruises, one shower trope [kinda], clothes stealing, bullying, eddie's got a staring problem, angel's kind of a charming loner.)

you're kind of an anomaly--you're pretty well-liked, and the girls just flock to you most of the time, but you don't really date or have many friends. of course, that just maximizes the intrigue for the ladies, but you're really not too worried about them....not that they or most people really know that. on the other hand, despite being one of the better basketball players in Hawkins, your team absolutely despises you. Sinclair's pretty much the only one who doesn't, he's a pretty cool kid and you've enjoyed giving him some pointers now and again, but Jason and the rest of them often like to throw names your way and do their best to keep you on the bench as much as possible. if you weren't the one getting them through most of the finals, you'd probably just quit, and the coach wouldn't be begging you to stay--you really only do it cause you like it, and it's a way to pass the time.

of course, the most pressing reason they hate you is cause you're different--you're a freak, and they make sure you remember that every time they force you to wait outside until they're all done showering and changing. and yet you're rarely ever really alone when you finally get off the bench with a sigh and walk in, the empty changing room squeaking to life when you flip on the shower to wash off. if it wasn't for Eddie, they'd probably never suspect you, and you could get through your second try of your last year in peace--you probably wouldn't be on your second try in the first place.

but you have to be honest with yourself. at the end of the day, you haven't really done much to keep him away. you like the attention, but you only really like it from him--including when you feel his eyes on your back as you rub soap down your arms. for all his chains and buttons and leather, the man moves like a damn panther when he doesn't want to be heard.

"if you wanna beat me up, take a number. I already got my ass kicked once today." you chuckle, knowing he's closer than you think if you can feel him staring so intensely, as you call out into the echoey locker room. "unless you're just here to steal my clothes, in which case you're gonna have to figure out my new locker combo. try your birthday, babe." you smile to yourself, knowing you're earning yourself a higher place on Eddie's shit list the more you tease him. although, to be frank, you're pretty much the only name on that list in the first place.

the silence creeps in closer, hanging in the background of the hail of warm water hitting your body and the cold tiles under your feet. there's not even an ounce of shuffling that you can hear, and it dampens your smile until you find yourself scowling at the silver shower handle in front of you.

"they asked about you, y'know." you say with a sobering voice, lathering your body wash in a rougher manner than you need to between your hands. "last time they beat me up. asked if I was gonna go suck you off after practice for your devil rituals."

people's opinions don't generally bother you, you try not to let them--it's one of the reasons why you're such a target, especially for Eddie, who's always trying to get a reaction out of you. he loves it when you show even an inkling of losing your cool, of snapping back at him, but he rarely gets the passionate response that he really wants. so he keeps pushing, pushing, pushing, until it takes all you have to grit your teeth and smile so you don't punch him right in that stupid, pretty face.

"....you know, you really don't make my life easy, you prick." you huff. "but by all means, take what you want. go show it off to your shitty little friends at satan worship club."

you can't imagine he does anything else with the things of yours he steals, other than pawn them off or keep them for whatever reason. you'd feel more violated if he didn't occasionally sneak them back into your locker or your backpack--always washed, which just makes you more concerned than angry.

".....Eddie?" you call out again, leaning back and searching the space you can see from where you stand, a twinge of panic shooting through you at the uncanny silence. if he was watching you, he'd usually make himself known at some point--and now you fear it might not be him, and goosebumps rise to your skin at the thought that some of your team members are waiting in the wings to dish out more humiliating punishment. and if they've been listening to what you've said when you thought you were talking to Eddie, you really fear for yourself. but just as you're reaching to turn the handle and shut off the water, a sudden thud makes you jump and then there's someone standing in the doorway between the shower block and the locker room.

that messy mop of hair gives it away immediately, a towel wrapped round his waist that comes off as he approaches the showerhead right next to yours and turns it on. you catch Eddie's grin from your peripheral as you go from gawking openly at him showing up to averting your eyes when he strips himself bare, so used to avoiding even the appearance of impropriety around other guys that it's just habit--even though Eddie's staring pretty obviously when you manage to look him in the eyes. the wash of water pouring over his head mats down his curls and accentuates the distinct features of his face, as well as the ink contrasting his fair skin that seems to crop up everywhere you dare to look.

"devil rituals, huh? clever." his smile doesn't reach his eyes, those big, brown beauties betraying something that chills you a little when they're directed at you. he goes about washing himself off, but he's clearly distracted--and so are you, rendered speechless even when he steals a bit of your body wash and rubs it down his chest, staring off into the distance as you try to focus on doing the same. it's strange. oddly domestic, showering next to each other.....and Eddie keeps glancing back in the direction of the door, seemingly keeping his ears perked for any sounds outside the norm. "....that where the bruises came from?"

he asks it so casually you almost do a double take, but thinking better of it, you keep yourself fixed on one of the random floor tiles as the answer just dribbles out of you.

"getting 'beat up'....that was a little dramatic. they just kinda....throw me around. can't break their star player's arm, y'know." you laugh without a shred of humour behind it, running through the events of this morning behind the school like they just happened. it's always just a little scuffle, some pushing and shoving and sometimes a punch thrown, it's mostly the jeers that hurt--and you know better than to fight back, lest they flex that power they have to make sure nobody believes you over them. you're associated with Eddie Munson, after all.

you rub over one of the bruises on your ribs, hissing sharply but quietly at the ache as your fingers graze it. doesn't help that your teammates, save Sinclair, thoroughly enjoy elbowing you or tossing the ball hard enough that those spots hurt even more during practice. and Eddie notices, as he always does, even though you'd never think he would.

"let's get one thing straight," Eddie turns his gaze to yours, and pierces you straight to the bone. it's weird, you don't really get close to a lot of people, but Eddie always seems to be able to read you like nobody else could. "it's no fun to dogpile someone that's already on the ground. it's just depressing."

he flicks his wet hair over his shoulder, and you follow the motion it makes as it drapes over his shoulder and down his back. he's not really that hairy, aside from the smattering of hair down his stomach that leads to--you shake your head free of where you're tempted to look, though the thought doesn't wrestle free from your mind and won't for a while. without a reply, Eddie rinses the rest of the soap off that he's lathered around that area, and thinks hard before he speaks again.

"where's the fun in pushing you around if you're just going through the motions? besides, you look so pathetic when you're lonely." lonely. does he really think that way? does he know how often you lay awake in the mornings, knowing what's coming in the day ahead, and wishing you weren't so much of a freak that you could have some friends to rely on when things get too hard to deal with?

"so you're keeping me company?" you test, sharing another look that he keeps locked so you don't even think you could break it if you tried.

"nothing of the sort." he smirks as he takes stock of your body one more time, from the toes to the top of your head. "I'm just enjoying the view."

with that, he shuts off his own shower, and pads away without a second glance to leave you watching his back, up until he turns the corner to the lockers and disappears. with a bit of shuffling and shifting clothes, you listen closely until his shoes thump against the floor and the door opens, before slowly creaking shut with a final thunk.

"so you are a freak." you speak aloud to nobody but yourself, a chuckle coming off your lips borne of nothing but disbelief. you just have to roll your eyes as you turn the handle on your own shower, but there's a grin you can't hide creeping across your lips as the spout sputters to an end and you wrap your towel round your hips, before following where Eddie had gone and approaching the lockers around the corner. but when you see what he left for you, you grimace.

"oh, you asshole."

your locker door left open and empty, your bag sits clearly rummaged through on the bench, one of your socks having fallen to the floor while the rest of your clothes are missing. and when you pull it open all the way to see if there's anything to salvage your dignity other than a measly towel, you're met with a very familiar logo as you lean over it.

sitting crumpled and half-folded, but very clearly smoothed out so you wouldn't miss it, is Eddie's Hellfire shirt. pushing it aside, you see the jeans he must've been wearing today rolled up underneath. no underwear to speak of, although you're not sure you'd wanna wear his anyways. with everyone else gone, you have no other options--so you're forced to don the sweaty clothes that reek of cigarettes and weed, but even moreso, they reek of Eddie. part of you wonders, as you huff and gather your things together to beat a hasty retreat out of the school, whether people will notice that Eddie's wearing your clothes too. maybe they'll wonder....

whatever. you need to get out of here, and you sling your bag over your shoulder before hurrying out the door and shoving your hands in pockets that aren't yours, tilting your head down and hoping nobody spots you--but just as you're at the doors that lead out to your car, you hear someone's voice down the semi-empty hall; what sounds like a very familiar freshman squabbling with someone.

"Eddie, what the hell?! if you're gonna make me cover for you, at least come back on time! and where's your shirt? why's your hair wet?"

"nunya, Henderson. let's get going."

and when you turn to look, there's Eddie, looming over his protégé with that same award-winning smile--the two of them turn to walk down the hall towards their clubroom, but before they duck in through the door, Eddie turns his head over his shoulder to lock eyes with you, completely knowingly. he runs his stare over your body one more time, clearly enjoying how you fill out his clothes as he mouths the words "pretty boy", and winks in your direction before vanishing through the doorway and closing it behind him.

he's one to talk, he's really one to talk--looking so much softer in your sweater and acid-wash jeans, so cute, that you have to cover the flickering smile you've got at the compliment with your hand as you step out into the chilly air, and feel your still-damp skin prickle as the breeze hits it while you walk to your car.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #bully!eddie munson #eddie's angelface #male angelface #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #anons

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