#beacon roads take me home~ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notmyneighbor · 5 days

Text

Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count 5k

Rating Explicit

CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.

Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.

The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”

You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”

Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.

Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.

Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.

You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.

“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.

In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.

The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.

You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.

You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.

You don’t quite make it.

A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.

No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.

A doppelgänger.

This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.

You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”

He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.

You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.

“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”

Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?

The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.

“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”

You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.

The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.

He’s still hiding.

Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.

The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.

You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”

“Got cut jumping the fence.”

“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.

His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”

“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.

“Get it.”

You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?

“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.

“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.

The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.

You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.

“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.

“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.

You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.

“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.

At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.

“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.

“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.

“I won’t forget this.”

You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.

You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.

What did it mean?

***

He’s in the alley again.

You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.

Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.

“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.

“Healing well. You did a fine job.”

What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.

The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.

Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.

“What do you have to eat?”

“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”

He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.

“I warned you they’d be stale.”

“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”

“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”

He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”

“Yes, we have ground beef.”

“That would be preferable.”

“You just want it…raw?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.

It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.

“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.

You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.

“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.

“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.

Is anywhere safe anymore?

“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”

“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”

“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?

“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.

“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.

“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.

“Is every human the same?”

“Of course not.”

“So why should we be any different?”

“I guess you’re right,” you concede.

You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.

“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”

Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.

You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.

“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.

“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.

The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.

“I know you. You work over at the diner.”

You nod frantically.

“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”

“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”

“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.

“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.

The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.

“You liked that.”

“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“You liked what we just did.”

Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”

“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”

You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.

You’re not.

Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.

You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.

You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.

“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.

To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…

Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.

You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.

He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.

Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.

His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.

His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.

You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.

He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.

The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.

His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.

You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.

“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.

His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.

The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.

“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.

“Don’t care…fix it later…”

Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger��s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.

You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.

The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.

The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.

“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.

He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.

You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…

“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.

“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”

You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.

“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.

He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”

“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.

“Until the debt is repaid?”

“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.

“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.

“Will we do that again?”

“Now?”

His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”

“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”

“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”

“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.

“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”

“Why would I…I hardly know you.”

“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #that’s not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #doppelganger #tnmn milkman #tnmn francis mosses #milkman x reader #milkman x you #divider @strangergraphics

780 notes · View notes

idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 2 months

Text

Reckless Driving - Lando Norris

warnings: slight details of a car crash near the end, character death

You and Lando had just gotten out from dinner, and you had had nothing short of a wonderful evening with him. The moon was sitting as a beacon in the sky, the stars twinkling around it like pin pricks in the darkness.

As you were stood by his car after he offered to drive you home, you suddenly felt the urge to kiss him. It was a very random, spur of the moment thing. It wasn't even that you really meant to kiss him, you just kind of did.

Well, you did, but you didn't think it would go this far.

For Lando, however, that was the one thing that cemented something in his brain. He was in love with you. He was completely, undoubtedly, unequivocally in love with you. Head over heels, in too deep, falling too far.

And that kiss was the thing that proved his suspicions completely right. He held the car door open for you as you clambered in, needing to take a second for himself to breathe. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and he couldn't seem to calm down.

It felt like electricity was surging through his veins, and he was drunk on the taste of you. He was inebriated, but he never wanted to sober up.

On the way back to your house, you had to go down a long street, completely lined by by dark fur trees. The evergreens were completely shadowing the world around you, like you were in your own little bubble. Your own microcosm, your own world.

Lando's glance keeps landing on you, and he can't focus on the road when you're in his car. As he drives, he stares at you like he's not convinced that you are real. It's like he gets distracted, before snapping back to reality momentarily.

It was just an endless cycle of focusing on the road, then letting his eyes wander back over to you, sat cross legged beside him. You looked so stunning, features highlighted by the moonlight as the stars reflected in your eyes.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Norris," you chuckled, half as a joke and half as a real command. You had told him a couple of times when you had caught him staring at you, not wanting him to stop concentrating on the more important task at hand - getting the both of you home safe.

His intentions weren't even to drive you home, he was just going wherever the road took you. All he wanted was to be with you while he figured out how to convey his feelings in a meaningful and sincere way.

He didn't want to bombard you with it out of the blue, but that was seeming like the best option at this point. He wasn't sure how to do romance properly, but he wanted to learn for you. Quite frankly, he'd be whatever you needed him to be.

On the other hand, you were in limbo. You could tell by the tiny glimmer in his eye that he had feelings for you. That was very much reciprocated, but the level to which he felt for you seemed... greater, than what you initially thought.

You almost regretted kissing him because that's when you felt things change. You felt something shift in the atmosphere. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't quite what you felt you were ready for. You didn't love him like that, but he loved you like that. As he sped up, you wished you were driving because you were a more careful driver. Lando was reckless. You were going at one hundred, then one eighty and you could just see it all happen. You could see it all happen in your head as he carried on hurtling down the road.

He was looking again, his eyes glued onto yours when you turned your head. "You'd rather die than take your eyes off me, huh?" you said, more stern in your tone. Lando looked like lost puppy as he turned his head away from yours, but you could see his attention wasn't centered on the road.

He thought your words over in his head, wondering what would happen if you did crash. Would you hold him if you crashed, or would you let him go? He'd hold you, that was for certain. He'd use his last dying breath to hold onto you, keep you grasped in his arms. If you were the last thing he saw, felt, touched, he'd die a very happy man.

"Lando, please can you slow down?" you said, the pine trees on either side blending into a blue of darkness as you could feel the force pushing you back in your weat slightly. Your voice quivered as you talked.

*insert possible dirty innuendo about asking Lando to slow down with a quivering voice good stuff*

"We're fine, Y/N, calm down," he chuckled, not taking your fear seriously. He didn't slow down, instead keeping at the same, fast, dangerous pace.

"I don't want to scrape you off the pavement, and I certainly don't want to be here when you lose control," you carried on, since he wasn't taking the hint. All you wanted was for him to slow down, that was it.

For a moment, you were transported out of the car and into an outside perspective. You could see the headlines now, F1 talent driver Lando Norris and his supposed girlfriend killed in a freak car accident because he was reckless driving way too fast. How ironic.

As his heart beat faster, he pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator. All of the extra adrenaline he was feeling was put into gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white and the car was nearly going flat out.

"Look, Y/N, I really need to tell you something, and you'll probably think it's stupid, but I think I-" he rambled, before being cut off by being thrown to the side. He tried to regain control, but all he could hear was your ear-splitting scream of his name that would haunt him through to the afterlife.

In that split second, he saw his life flash before his eyes. He saw his past and his future, then all he saw was you, flying forward as the seatbelt braced around you. It all felt numb to him as his hand weren't gripping the wheel anymore.

Time and space moved in solemn harmony before screeching to a complete halt with the remorseful crunch of metal and the crack of wood.

And it's over in a second, crashed the car into a tree.

A/N - I am steaming through this series I can't lie, I am rather proud of myself. How is everyone's day going? Hope you've had a good one, requests are open, love you lots!

|masterlist|five seconds flat|

226 notes · View notes

exhuastedpigeon · 3 months

Text

every road and every highway led me right back to your door

Sterek 2.5k Teen

Derek would like it noted that he had been in way worse situations before. He would like that on the official record. His current predicament honestly doesn’t even make the top five worst situations he’s ever been in. It might not even make the top ten.

“A random woman walked out of the preserve, handed you a new born baby, told you to find me and for us raise him like he’s our own, and then turned into mist,” Stiles said, voice incredulous. He’d been back in Beacon Hills for less than three months and in that time they’d had a pixie infestation, a clan of vampires without morals, a clan of vampires with morals, and a feral omega, so Derek wasn’t sure why he was acting like a random woman with a baby was all that unbelievable.

“Yes,” Derek said, the baby still in his arms. He didn’t have anything he needed for a baby yet, so he called Stiles over to hopefully lend a hand in getting the baby out of the woods safely.

“And you didn’t think it was suspicious at all?”

“I thought it was a little suspicious,” Derek shrugged as best he could with the tiny baby in his arms. “But he smells right, like he’s -”

“Like he’s?”

Derek sighed because he had started the sentence so now he had to finish it. “Like he’s mine. Like he’s ours .”

"That is actually not comforting to hear,” Stiles flopped down onto the bumper of Derek’s car. “A random woman handed you a baby that smells like ours? Derek, that's like something out of a fairy tale, and not a cute Disney retelling but a Grimm one.”

“Did you bring the car seat?”

“Did I bring the car seat,” Stiles muttered under his breath, standing up and grabbing something from the backseat of the Jeep. Derek felt a flair of pride at how well it was running, even after five years in the Sheriff’s garage while Stiles was away at school and starting his little consulting agency. Derek had taken to taking the Jeep out for a drive every few weeks to make sure everything was still running so when Stiles came home it would be there waiting for him. He'd chosen to not examine it too closely because if he did he was pretty sure he'd have to look his feelings for Stiles in the face and he hadn't been ready for that. “Of course I brought the fucking car seat.”

Continue on Ao3

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #my fic #babies first sterek fic since 2021

239 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

Note

hello gorgeous, I love your imagination that you put into words. I expecially like your works on daniel&gasly (maybe because they're my favorite drivers). I saw that requests are closed and you're going under the knife (hope it goes well!) but if by any chance you want/have time to write this I'll be happy. Will be pleased with whatever you choose to do with this request.

The reader is a very normal, ordinary person. Rents a flat, has a job, meets with her friends form time to time. Nothing much. Somehow hers and the drivers paths cross. He immediately falls in love with her, she feels the attraction but after one weekend with him she understands that they're too different and it certainly won't work. So he's trying to persuade her to give them a try and she always runs away when her feelings instead of brain start to win. During intimate moments she starts to make awful jokes or act like a child, everything to not let the passion take over and the driver notices that and the seducing begins.

Would love this with dan or pierre but it's up to you.

Have a lovely day! 😊

P.S: Sorry for my English, it's not my 1st language

Romantic at Heart || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Warnings: none really, smut implied WC: 2.3k

F1 Masterlist

You should have been heading straight home, just like you had promised the girls after a Friday night out, but the lights had stolen your attention. At first you thought it was a firefly, a single orange glowing tail on the brick wall. Then you spotted another, but it was blue. Then one by one you noticed them dotted along the wall, all the colours of the rainbow leading the way to the riverbank in the opposite direction to your apartment.

Curiosity had you following the path of tiny LED lights, wondering what it might lead to. The distance between each beacon grew closer until they became clusters, like little galaxies of constellations you could wish upon. A small laugh bubbled up as you skipped along to the next one with childlike excitement, so engrossed in what you were looking at that you didn’t see where you were going.

“Oh, sorry!” you apologised as you bumped into a man, his hands scrambling to catch his camera before it could hit the pavement. “Sorry, I was distracted. Is your camera okay?”

The man had recovered it without incident and smiled as he held it up. “Mind if I check?”

“Check what?” you asked as he raised it to his eye, the lens pointed in your direction.

“If it still works. Smile!”

You laughed at the man’s confidence and you heard the shutter snap the photo before he looked at the display. “Wow, that’s perfect,” he praised, waving you over. “Come look.”

You stepped closer to the man, feeling a sense of recognition though you were certain you hadn’t met him before. He angled the camera so you could see what he had captured and your lips parted in surprise. You couldn’t understand how he had managed to take a simple photo but make it art.

The smile on your face was pure joy, and the lights behind you had distorted under the exposure and contrast to create a halo around your head.

“You look like an angel.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered in amazement, wishing you could have a copy for yourself.

“God?” he chuckled as he held a hand out. “Nah, you can just call me Daniel.”

You shook his hand with a laugh, feeling like it was a sound he was used to hearing from everyone he spoke to, and gave him your name in return.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Daniel started to say and you immediately began to shift uncomfortably on your feet, “but you’re beautiful, and it’s late, what are you doing out on your own?”

“Oh, I was out with my girlfriends and on my way home when I saw these and I kind of, had to, follow them…?” you trailed off and looked back at the dark path you had wandered down, less and less lights illuminating the way home. “I guess I should be going.”

Daniel followed your gaze to the darker end of the road and hated the thought of you walking it alone. Shoving his camera into his hoodie pocket, he offered his elbow. “Care for some company on this fine evening? My mother would throttle me if she knew I let a lady walk home alone at this hour.”

You chewed your lip as you debated his offer. “Are you a serial killer?”

“Only at breakfast.” You took a sudden step back and he screwed his eyes shut as he berated himself. “Sorry, sorry, terrible joke. Terrible timing. I meant Cereal Killer…because I eat cereal for breakfast…I’m sorry.”

“That is not funny,” you said despite laughing. “I watch way too many Netflix shows for that.”

His head tilted to the side and caught the colours of the leds around you as curiosity filled his playful smile. “Have you seen that Formula One show on there?”

Your nose wrinkled at the idea and shook your head. “Sports isn’t really my thing.” Trusting your gut that he was safe enough, you looped your arm in his and set off down the road.

“Then what is your thing?”

“Books,” you admitted, suddenly shy though you had no reason to be. “My friends actually refer to my apartment as ‘the library’. If I didn’t have to work to buy more books I don’t think anyone would see me again, I would just hole up and read.”

“There’s worse ways to spend your time,” he joked with a grin you were starting to think was perpetually painted on his face.

“Yeah, I could watch Formula one.” His smile faded and his laugh puttered out, making you instantly regret the joke. “I can hardly make fun of your thing when I’ve told you mine.”

“I don’t actually watch F1,” he admitted as he stopped walking and you turned to face him. “I’m too busy racing.”

“Racing what?”

He blinked a few times and his lip twitched with a smile when he realised you were genuinely confused. “I race cars…in F1…for McLaren.”

You waited for the punchline to come but for the first time since meeting him, he was serious. “Oh, oh! Okay…wow. I guess that’s why I felt like I recognised you, I must have seen you somewhere. God, I feel stupid.” You laughed to yourself and sighed, whispering under your breath, “you’ve been reading too much romance.”

“You’re not stupid,” Daniel said quietly. “I feel it too.”

Your laugh was an unladylike snort of disbelief. “Don’t be silly, you don’t even know me. You don’t even know my last name or what I do for work.”

“But I want to, if you’ll give me the time to learn. Not that it matters what your job is, you aren’t your work.”

“What if I’m an escort?”

“Are you an escort?”

“Would it matter?”

He was momentarily stunned and you saw him worrying his bottom lip and he thought of an appropriate answer.

“I’m not, but obviously it would matter,” you clarified as you turned and started your walk again. “I’m an admin assistant, not an escort, just so you know.”

“Not a librarian?”

You smiled as you tipped your head back to the starry night. “A girl can dream, but they aren’t positions that tend to come up very often. Even less with everything going digital.”

“You could open your own library, you already have the books apparently.”

You hadn’t realised how far you had walked until you stopped outside your apartment complex. It had been easy to get lost in the conversation with him and you almost continued walking just so the evening didn’t come to an end.

“Apparently?” you giggled as he opened the front door for you. “Do I have to prove it to you?”

He followed you to the elevator and leaned against the wall. “Is that you inviting me up?”

It was daring and absolutely unlike you but when you looked into his eyes you knew you wanted to see more of them so you found yourself asking, “Would you say yes?”

His smile grew as he reached for the elevator button in response and hit it.

Monday morning rolled around too soon and you struggled to pull yourself out of bed to get ready for work. Daniel’s back was to you as he hugged his pillow, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, and you saw the slightly raised marks of your nails over his tan skin.

The weekend had been better than any of the fictional tales that filled the rooms in your house. You hadn’t even left the apartment, too engrossed in each other's company to face the outside world. But that would change as you climbed out of bed and started your usual Monday morning routine.

“Good morning, angel,” Daniel greeted sweetly as he snuck up behind you and kissed your cheek.

You held up the piece of toast you were eating and let him take a bite for himself. “Can I have your number?” he asked after finishing his mouthful and watching you dart around the small kitchen, packing a little lunch to take to work.

“For what?”

“So I can give it to telemarketers,” he joked as he caught you around the waist. “No, so I can call you.”

“This weekend has been…magical, but you’re a famous race car driver, and I’m, well, just me,” you said softly. “I’m under no illusion about how this ends, Daniel, we live in two different worlds.”

“That’s just a cop out,” he argued, picking up your phone and calling himself so he had your number. “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

Three Weeks Later “Daniel’s here to see you.” You looked up from your computer to double check Jess was talking to you and found her grinning like a fool. “I can’t believe he’s actually here.”

“Who?”

Jess reached for the half empty cup of coffee she had made you and sniffed it. “Did I give you decaf? Girl, wake up! You don’t keep a man like that waiting. The PA’s are already sniffing around him.”

Pushing your chair back, you rose at the threat of the PA’s who loved to dote upon any man who had a seven figure salary. Two of the glorified assistants longed to be on Love Island and their entire personality could fit in the extremely large breasts their ex-bosses had paid for - right before the sexual harassment charges were filed. Yeah, you weren’t going to leave Daniel to fend for himself.

Leaving the back offices, you followed the scent of knock-off Marc Jacobs to the reception area where Daniel smiled and joked with the small crowd surrounding him. You were once again struck by how different your lives were, his in the spotlight and yours anything but. It was only as you moved closer that you saw how the smile didn’t reach the creases around his eyes and heard the laugh that didn’t come from deep in his belly.

“Alright, ladies,” you interrupted the group with a wave of your hands, “thank you for keeping Daniel company, I’ll take it from here.”

A few overly keen females pouted as they stepped away and Daniel cast a grateful smile to you before pulling out the gift he had hidden behind his back. It took a second to realise why the bouquet of roses looked strange but then the confused frown was replaced with a smile as you accepted it. Every rose was made of origami, carefully folded and shaped into the blossom and you quickly recognised the lines of Pride and Prejudice, arguably the greatest romance novel of all time.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you held the meaningful bouquet to your chest.

Daniel was all too aware of your curious co-workers still hanging around the area and dipped his head closer to yours. “There’s this angel I’ve been missing, and I just needed to see her again.”

The gesture, the words, it all made your heart skip a beat but you quashed the feelings that arose with it. “That is stalking.”

His laugh was genuine and your smile grew when you saw his reach his eyes as he corrected you, “That is romantic.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you sniffed the paper roses. “Did you spray these with your cologne?”

“The book came from a secondhand store and it smelt like mothballs, which wasn’t the vibe I was going for. I think I smell better than mothballs.”

“Wait, you made these!” Surprise floored you as you looked at them with a new appreciation.

“With a little help and a lot of youtube,” he grinned proudly. “I would have come sooner but it took three weeks to make them all.”

The effort he made brought tears to your eyes and you hurried to blink them away. The man was absolutely relentless in his belief that the connection between you could become something more, but you still struggled to accept it. It wasn’t because you weren’t attracted to him, no that had been instant from the moment you met, you just didn’t understand how someone as famous as him could settle for someone as plain as you.

“Surely you have better things to do with your time,” you said after swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Than thinking of ways to win your heart? No way. So…can I please take you out on a date?”

Your eyes traced the roses, scanning the lines from the pages of one of your favourite books. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh. Daniel made you laugh, he could always make you laugh. The late night phone calls that interrupted your reading time replaced the silence in the apartment with the sound of your laughter. But would it be enough to close the distance between your worlds?

Your eyes followed another petal and felt it resonate within: Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her.

“One date,” you said as you tore your eyes away from the flowers that only seemed to call to you more, begging to find more sweet sentences among the folds. “And nowhere public. I want to actually be able to talk with you, not get swarmed by fans.”

“I can do that,” he said with a wide grin before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He started to leave but he stopped as you softly called his name, looking over his shoulder from the doorway.

“Thank you for these, Daniel. No one’s ever done anything so sweet.”

“It’s just the beginning, angel,” he winked, disappearing out the door as you hid your face in the flowers that smelt just like him.

Crap, you sighed to yourself. He was worming his way into your heart, just like he planned.

#daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

841 notes · View notes

what-the-heck-is-rwby · 3 months

Text

I CALLED IT

DID I CALL IT OR WHAT

I FUCKING KNEW THEY WERE GONNA END IT RIGHT AFTER SHOWING THE MONSTER

Well!! So that's gonna be a thing for next episode. Love me a big fight in the finale

We've finished most of the character arcs for this volume! Yang is on the road (literally) to healing, and is going to find Ruby (probably), so she's on her way to Mistral. Weiss is out from under Jacques thumb and is ALSO heading to Mistral, but to find Winter. Blake is done running from her past and is going to do something about the White Fang, because Adam's posse are planning an attack on Haven. Oscar was convinced to leave his home and is on his way to Haven to meet with Theo

Actually, now that I think about it, pretty much the only person who hasn't finished their volume arc is Ren. Ruby didn't really have an arc, neither did Jaune, or Nora. Ruby stayed pretty stagnant in her trauma, Jaune stayed stagnant in his, and Nora is ignoring hers to better help Ren.

Jaune's deal will have to get addressed sooner rather than later, probably next volume, because at the rate he's going, he's going to fucking implode if it takes longer than that. Nora... Nora's gonna take a bit longer I think, same with Ruby. Ruby at least got a fucking talking to about some of her shit, but that's a drop in the ocean compared the fuckton of trauma that Beacon dumped on her, not to mention the whole "chosen savior" thing with her silver eyes

That's where we are. Qrow is still poisoned, Tyrian reported back to Salem, Weiss and Yang are on the road, and Blake has figured out what she's gotta do. Meanwhile Sad Teens in the Woods are about to fight the literal physical representation of 90% of Ren's trauma

I can only see this going well

So yeah! Thank you to everyone on the Patreon for supporting the blog, you really make it possible for me to keep doing this. Thank you to everyone on the Discord for being there for me and giving me fun facts and support. And thank you to everyone out there for reading

I'll be back next week with the FINALE OF VOLUME FOUR!!!

#rwby #liveblog #rwby liveblog #rwby e11v04

160 notes · View notes

casparscunttt16 · 9 months

Text

"You're jealous" |Stiles Stilinski|Oneshot

Jealous!Stiles x Reader.

Summary: In which your friend Javier is tutoring you for an upcoming quiz in your Spanish class leading you to be spending more time with him rather than your boyfriend Stiles.

Warnings: Jealous Stiles, slight arguing.

(Gif not mine)

I walk through the busy hallways of Beacon Hills High, rushing to my locker hoping I can be quick enough to not get caught in a group of students. I make it to my locker and put away my books and binders, then heading down the hallway towards the cafeteria. "Hey wait up!" I hear a familiar voice and I turn to see my friend Javier. "Oh hi Javi" I smile at the messy haired boy, and pull him into a hug.

"Hey do you wanna start studying now? We can definitely do so in the cafeteria if you're okay with that" he chirped with a toothy grin. "Of course whatever works for you works for me" I respond as we walk down the hallway side by side. "Thanks for tutoring me by the way I really appreciate" I add on. "The least I can do for you helping me snag a date with Danny" he chuckles. "Sooo how's that going?" I drag out.

Javier tells me how it's going with him and Danny and I smile listening to the details of how the date went, how things are between them, if they'll be anymore dates in the future etc. We walk into the cafeteria and sit at a table, Javier places his bag on the table and takes out his laptop, flash cards, highlighters and other things for studying. About 10 minutes into the study session my boyfriend walks over to the two of us.

"Hey baby" he coos hugging me from behind and resting his head on mine. "Hi babe" I say turning around and kissing his lips. "Did you wanna go out to lunch with me and Scott?" he asks casually because on most days thats what we did. "No I can't I'm studying with Javier, maybe after school we can hangout?" I suggest raising an eyebrow. "No yeah that's fine" He smiles and kisses my forehead then walking off to Scott.

"Well isn't he cute" Javier compliments "How long have you two been a thing?" he asks as he picks up the flash cards. "He's very cute, but almost two years. A year and nine months next month" Javier smiles at my answer then parts his lips to speak. "Okay let's get started on fill in the blank, I think that'd be easiest".

Throughout the remainder of the week I was hanging out with Javier in and out of school to prepare for this Spanish quiz, it'll be about 70 percent of our grade because it's about everything we've learned this quarter so this was not something I wanted to take lightly y'know? Today was Thursday and the quiz was on Friday. It was the end of the school day and Javier walked me out to the parking lot. "You're going to do great, girl don't even stress" Javier reassures me then pulling me into a tight hug. "Thanks Javi, but you're literally crushing me" I squirm as he laughs. "Sorry" He smiles before we part ways.

I see Stiles in the distance standing by his jeep as he always did to take me home. I walk over to him eagerly. "Hi Stiles" I kiss his cheek and he looks down at me and rolls his eyes. "What? Did I do something" I ask confused. "Why don't you go kiss Javier since you seem to love his company" he says jealousy dripping off his tongue as he pouts slightly. "Stiles you do know he's been tutoring me right?" I scoff in a bit of irritation as I get in the passenger seat and buckles myself in. "Yeah but it's so painfully obvious he's into you and you're oblivious to it" he says through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as we pull out of the parking lot and begin driving on the main road. "Stiles he is not into me." I respond in a flat tone, the car fills with silence between us for a few minutes, the radio in the background quietly. "You're jealous" I state in a firm yet questioning tone.

Part 2?

#teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teenwolf #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x you #no use of y/n #jealous stiles #jealous

202 notes · View notes

outtoshatter · 3 months

Text

Author spotlight for today is @sugareey-makes-stuff ! They joined the sterek/teen wolf fandom in 2022 and already have so much stuff to choose from!!

Bite sized stories:

Dancing Shadows from Behind | T | 500 tags: urban legends, demons, spark Stiles, alpha Derek Summary: Derek pulls Stiles closer to his chest as more shadows appear. Stalking, taunting and dancing around them. Ready to strike again at any moment.

[Or: Derek has no idea what to do when the Pack is trapped by daevas. But something ignites a Spark, and that's enough.]

Pink Lemonade | T | 600 tags: road trips, adventure, slice of life, established relationship Summary: “Stiles?” Derek murmurs, watching him closely. Almost hesitantly, as if Stiles might bolt at any second.

“Holy fucking—oh my God,” Stiles blurts out instead. He most definitely flails while staring at Derek in awe. “Why have you never told me about this place before?”

[Or: Derek surprises Stiles by taking him to one of his favorite spots for an early morning picnic.]

Memories Bring Back You | G | 200 tags: developing relationship, reunions, fix-it, post-movie Summary: It’s surreal to see Stiles flipping through the pages of his precious journal, soaking in every single word and drawing he’s documented over the years.

“You’re a dumbass, Derek,” Stiles declares plainly.

[Or: Derek tells Stiles how he really feels about him after all these years apart from each other. Because it's written down on paper now, and it's about damn time.]

It's Enough for Now | G | 300 tags: autumn, cold weather, sharing body heat, monster of the week Summary: “You know, I could get another blanket,” Stiles points out, breaking the silence. “Or let me grab my hoodie from the couch—”

“It’s fine,” Derek interjects in a low voice. He tugs the blanket gently, pulling Stiles closer. “Stiles…”

[Or, Stiles and Derek end up sharing a blanket after coming back from the pack's latest supernatural adventure.]

Over 1k:

[Art]Molten | E | 27K with Wolfspurr tags: friends to lovers, canon divergence, mutual pining Summary: "Stiles, is that you?"

He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted.

"Derek?!"

[Art]Brewin' up Love | E | 30k with wanderingeyre tags: alternating POV, getting together, fluff & angst, the pack ships it Summary: The Pack runs Moon Tower Fermentarium, a popular brewery in Beacon Hills, and they are a refuge for supernaturals that need it. Stiles is happy to be Scott's Emissary and loves being the head brewer. His life is great. If only he could get over his feelings for Derek.

Derek finally feels like the Pack is settled and he is proud of what they've built. He doesn't need anything else. He has Stiles in his life as his friend and that's more than he deserves. If he wishes for more in the dark of night, that is between him and the moon.

OR The one where the Pack owns a brewery and Stiles is on fire with the puns. Also, there is angst.

The Walls Came Crashing Down | T | 4k tags: canon divergence, hurt Stiles Stilinski, hopeful ending Summary: “Stop thinking so hard, or you’re going to bleed.”

Surely it couldn’t be—wasn’t his Pack supposed to be duking things out with vampires right now? But a very solid and reassuring hand squeezed his own. Grounding him. Holding on, as if to drain away his pain.

There was only one person who always did this whenever he got hurt.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, his voice raw and scratchy.

[Or: A mission goes horribly wrong, and Stiles finally figures out where he stands with Derek.]

Feel You Breathing | E | 8k | 3 chapters tags: porn with feelings, unresolved sexual tension, writer Derek, bartender Stiles Summary: Derek: So, you need a distraction.

Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D

[Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Made from Scratch | T | 2k tags: alpha Derek, spark Stiles, family feels, fluff & angst, teasing Summary: Derek missed Stiles. He hadn’t realized how much…until now. Something had to change. But where did he even start?

[Or: That one time Derek makes dinner for Stiles, thanks to inspiration from a family recipe and some nudging from Cora.]

Go check out all of sugareey's fics on their AO3 page! Don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos, and maybe even drop a comment!

#sterek #sterek fandom #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #author spotlight #sugareey #spotlight saturday

70 notes · View notes

mannequinreligi0n · 3 months

Note

Hiii!!

I loove your fics and lately I've been begging for some new Nero fics 🫡🫡

Could I request a fic with Nero and fem!reader where they're really good friends and yknow It's really cold outside and they both have to stay in an inn. Maybe one of the two offers their bed? And they both finally give in after a long while of hidding their feelings.

I really really crave some cute fluffy Nero smut, reader being her first🤭

Don't stress too much about this, and of course you can choose to write it or not!!

Thank you sweetie🫶🫶

ty for this !! i love a good ‘oh noooo, there’s only one bed’ trope.

tbh im not the biggest nero lover so this was a slight challenge but it ended up pretty good and a lot longer than expected lol. i also didn’t know how to end it but i hope you enjoy !!!!

Two Pals, One Bed

an unexpected storm puts you and nero in an unlikely situation

PAIRING: DMC5 Nero x afab reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW!: first-time/virgin!reader, fingering, penetration)

WORD COUNT: 2k

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

The sheets of rain pounded on the windshield of the van, making visibility hard on the patchy road. You flicked out the wrinkles in the map, squinting in the light of your phone to see the web of routes.

“Can’t see a damn foot in front of me like this.”, Nero grumbled from the driver’s seat. “No thanks to you, by the way.”

His pointed blame made you crinkle the map in your hands. You both had been driving for seemingly hours, trying to make it home from a job, but the storm was making it hard to navigate the backroads.

“There’s an inn after the next right, we’ll duck from the rain til morning.”

Nero sighed and shook his head. “We would’ve been home by now, if it wasn’t for your dumbass.” He peered over the steering wheel, on the lookout for the upcoming turn.

“Nuh uh,”, you started, a scowl on your face, “don’t pin this on me! I don’t control the weather.”

“Whatever.”

Nero makes the right and after a couple miles of silence, the faint beacon of lit windows pierces through the gloom. Pulling into the lot in front of the inn, Nero parks the car and hops out. You follow suit and hastily trail behind him, using your bag as cover from the harsh rain. Entering the inn, you walk slowly to examine the tacky decor - artificial fish and paintings of sunny beaches mocking your drenched clothes. Nero makes a beeline to the front desk and is quick to return with a set of keys in hand.

“We got lucky. Seems like everyone had the same idea, but they had one room left.” Nero pats you on the shoulder and cocks his head toward the direction of the stairs. “C’mon.”

You nod and follow Nero up the stairs to your appointed room, sighing in relief to be out of the storm. Nero drops his backpack on the desk and stares at the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room.

“……..one bed.”

“One bed.”, you repeat. It seems that the universe thought it would be funny if you two shared a bed after a night of endless bickering and side-eyes. You eventually shrug and flop down on the bed, looking up at Nero. “I mean, we’ve slept in worse conditions, right? You remember the cyclops cave?”

That earns a tiny smile from him, chiseling away at the tension from earlier.

“Thanks for reminding me. It’s not like I spend every waking moment trying to forget the smell of decay and ball sweat.”

You both laugh and you feel the frustration slowly leave your body. Nero digs around his bag for a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom to change. You take this as your cue to do the same, pulling out a clean shirt and pair of underwear and discarding your old ones in the corner of the room. You crawl into the bed, flicking on the tv and settling in. Nero returns a few minutes later, changed and seemingly back to his easy-going self. He switches off the lights and gets into the bed, leaving some space between you both. You both watch a rerun of an old sitcom before Nero breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. You were only trying to help, and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

The apology doesn’t take you completely by surprise, considering that Nero is the most levelheaded person you know, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You pull the covers up over you, sinking down to lay on your pillow as you address him.

“Don’t worry about it, Nero. We’ve had a long day and have gotten thrown every which way - it’s no one’s fault. Besides, I’m happy it was with you and not with anyone else, it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Nero nods in agreement but he’s not lost on the subtle flirting in your last sentence. Nero glances down at you resting form, your eyes trained on the tv mounted to the wall. For the past few weeks, it seems you two have been dancing around the obvious for the sake of staying focused on work. But considering that you both are literally in the same bed, it’s hard to ignore now. You look up to him, his face turning a pretty pink from being caught staring.

“Was there something else?”, you ask, noting his blush.

“You’re really pretty.”

Nero blurts out the compliment, heart starting to pick up from embarrassment. ‘Reaaaal smooth, Nero. Bet Dante would get a kick out of this’, he thinks to himself. Your own face turns red in response, a shy smile on your face.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” Nero starts, sliding down to be beside you under the covers. “And smart, funny, brave.”

You stare at him with awe, in disbelief that those words left his mouth. Without another breath, you lean to the side where he’s laying and kiss him. It’s a gentle, tentative kiss, but full of meaning and longing. Nero’s brain short-circuits and it takes a second before he returns the kiss. Slow and cautious, your mouths explore this newfound feeling. Without breaking away, Nero rolls on top of you, hands running up your sides. Feelings of excitement and anxiety intermingle in your stomach and you break the kiss to look up at him, eyes wide. Nero returns the look with concern, his hand cupping your face.

“You okay? Did…did I do something wrong?”

“No, I-“, you cut yourself off, building up confidence before speaking again. “I need to tell you something.”

Nero raises his eyebrows, interest piqued. “You know you can tell me anything.”

You gulp and take a deep breath, making sure that this is really happening. You look down at the empty space between the two of you as you speak. “I’ve never gone this far with anyone.” You pause, frowning slightly. “I mean, I’ve messed around but I’ve never actually….slept with anyone before.”

Nero runs a hand over your hair and kisses your forehead sweetly. There’s a clear look of understanding on his face. “Y/N, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don’t wanna do anything now, I won’t hold that against you either.”

“I want to, I’m just nervous.” Your eyes have a vulnerability to them, like you’re already standing there naked in front of him.

“It’s okay to be nervous. Fuck, I’m nervous. But, it’ll be okay, as long as you enjoy it. And if you change your mind or need me to stop, that’s okay, too.”

With his reassurance, you nod and pull him back down to reinstate the kiss. Nero sighs into your mouth, happy to be connected again. You feel his hands snake down to your thighs, running over the exposed skin with light touches. As scared as you were, everything felt right in this moment. Your own shaky hands moved to tug at his shirt to help him out of it. Nero yanks the shirt over his head before reaching to pull down your underwear. He stops and looks up at you, waiting for the green light from you; you give him an eager nod and he proceeds. You feel his fingers brush against your sensitive bud and your breathing hitches in your chest. His fingers move slow, tracing circles into your flesh as his mouth trails sweet kisses to your ear.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Nero’s soft voice and tender touches elicits a moan from you, almost forgetting to reply to him. You turn to look at him and mumble a ‘yes’ out, hips rocking against his hand. Nero hums in content, moving his fingers to your already wet slit. He toys with the hole for a moment, testing the waters in case you change your mind. By the way you’re sighing and whimpering, he takes it as his sign to go on, pushing in two fingers slowly. Your back arches, jaw dropping silently. Pumping slowly in and out, his strong, slender fingers tease your g-spot. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping onto him for support. Minutes go by as your climax builds up, your walls pulsing around his fingers. Before you can warn him of the oncoming wave, his fingers slip out, making you groan in disappointment. He laughs at your noise, slipping off the rest of his clothes.

“Easy, tiger. I got more to give, believe me.”, he chuckles. Leaning down to kiss you once more, he positions himself between your legs. “Ready, pretty girl?”

You nod and smile into his mouth. “Ready.”

Aligning with your slick, Nero pushes into you with a moan of satisfaction. You bury your head in his neck, stifling a cry from being stretched. Nero’s arm comes up to wrap around your head protectively, cradling you in comfort. Once fully in, he stays still to let you adjust to the new feeling. You feel your breathing slow down and you nod again, letting him know it’s okay to move. His cock slips almost completely out of you until he pushes it back in, repeating this until he creates a steady, sensual rhythm. Mewls from you are muffled by how close Nero’s holding you - his free hand hooking under one of your knees to lift you ever so slightly. Over and over, the head of his cock hits that sweet spot and you feel your orgasm start to build back up, ready to satisfy the delay from earlier. The moment feels surreal, considering how many times you’ve dreamt of this moment, and you flex your fingers every now and then to remind yourself it’s really happening.

You look out from your safe place in Nero’s neck and see him above you - eyes shut, mouth ajar, and a sheen layer of sweat making him glisten in the light of the tv still playing. The display from him is what sets you off, knowing that you’re the cause of it. Your core tightens and those familiar electric pulses make your body quiver with pleasure.

“O-oh, god, that feels so good…. I’m gonna…gonna…”

“Let it out, I’ve got you.”

The encouragement from Nero is all you need to let go, a wave of pleasure taking over all of your senses. Your legs shake around Nero and a sound you’ve never heard from yourself before fills the room. Fuelled by your reactions, Nero chases after his own high, fucking into you passionately. Sweat dripping down his face, he looks down at you with an adoring smile before his eyes squeeze shut, followed by a series of whimpers and curses. Your walls milk him free of every drop of seed, the feeling overwhelming for him. You stare up at him in awe, your vision going in and out from your own orgasm.

His thrusts slow to a stop, allowing him to collapse on you. Both of you lay there panting, the heat of your bodies almost overbearing. You run your hand up and down Nero’s back, soothing him through the end of his orgasm. Eventually, Nero lifts his head and gives you a weak kiss, bumping his nose to yours.

“You did great, y/n. Seriously, that was….”

“Amazing.”, you finish for him, a giggle following it.

“Yeah, that.”

Nero pushes himself up and out of you, rolling onto his back beside you. He reaches over and pulls you into his arms, stationing you to lay on his chest. You can hear his heart thumping strongly, beating a lullaby to you.

“Get some rest, beautiful. You’ve earned it after that.”

You start to protest sleep but a yawn betrays you, realizing how warm and safe you feel in Nero’s arms. As minutes pass, your eyes grow heavier and soon close for the night, your breathing deep and slow. Nero’s hands tangle in the strands of your hair, twirling them mindlessly until sleep triumphs over him as well.

#nero sparda #dmc nero #nero devil may cry #nero x reader #dmc5 nero #devil may cry #dmc5 #dmc smut #devil may cry smut #dmc #smut #writing #fanfic #oneshot

107 notes · View notes

wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I Find You Again): Part 2

This time we switch to Danny's POV. 2.4k words long.

There's been a bit of a time skip and their friendship has only grown with time.

First

---------

“Mr. Fenton!” and a smack on his desk caused Danny to jump. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring out the window.

“Sorry, Mr. Lancer. Did you ask something?”

“Your grades may have improved over these last few months, but that does not give you leave to daydream in my class. I expect you to pay attention. Now, why don’t you explain what the repetition of ‘Brutus in an honorable man’ in Marc Antony’s soliloquy at Caesar’s funeral means.”

Jason had done such a good job reading that speech that Danny actually thought he could repeat it from memory. “Oh, it’s done sarcastically. To indicate he’s anything but.”

“Hmm. Very good. I hope you can keep up this new studious attitude of yours.”

Danny’s leg bounced as the rest of the class seemed to pass so slowly. As soon as he got home, he wanted to visit Jason again. His friend’s tutelage had helped not only his grades but also his fights. Who knew formal training could have such an affect? Well, he needed to pay him back.

It took all of Danny’s focus to not let his eyes drift out the window again, but he barely heard a word Mr. Lancer said as class dragged on.

And finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

Danny shoved his binder in his backpack and rushed out the door without even waiting for Sam and Tucker.

He was moving as fast as possible without actually running in the halls to switch things out in his locker. It was there Sam and Tucker caught up to him.

“What’s got you in such a rush today?” asked Sam.

Danny flushed. “I’m meeting Jason today. Taking him to Ghost Writer’s lair. He’ll love the library and Ghost Writer said it’d be okay so long as I don’t so much as touch a single piece of paper or even breathe too hard on anything.”

“Dude, how’d you get him to agree to that? Ghost Writer hates you!”

Not wanting to admit how long he’d spent groveling, Danny shrugged. “I apologized to him and emphasized how much Jason loved books and writing.”

“Woah, the Danny Fenton apologized to someone? Is the world ending?”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not that bad.”

“You kinda are, dude,” commented Tucker.

“Pot, meet kettle.” Sam flicked the back of both their heads.

“Now that pick-on-Danny time is over, I need to go!”

Tucker grinned and said, “We want all the details on your date soon as you get back!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Danny waved them off as he half-jogged out of the building. He pulled out his phone to text Jazz.

Danny: Did you get mom and dad out of the house? Jazz: Yep. Jazz: They’re coming to the school for a parent-teacher conference Danny: Thanks! Danny: You’re a life saver! Jazz: Have fun on your date Danny: How many times do I have to tell you! Danny: Not. A. Date.

Running was too slow. Danny ducked out of sight of the road and let the coolness of his transformation wash over him before flying home. So much faster.

And sure enough, when he reached home, the GAV was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief, he phased through the walls right to the lab and through the portal. Even in the ever changing realms, Danny knew the path to Jason’s lair by heart; it’s location shone like a beacon in his awareness.

Something must have been on his side, because he was approaching the island within a few minutes of passing through the portal. From his core, he sent out a greeting. A moment later, he got a return pulse from Jason followed by the ghost himself.

“Jay!” Danny trilled a greeting.

“Hey there, human-boy. Ready to have your ass kicked?” Jason grinned and tossed an ectoblast his way.

Danny laughed and blocked it with ice. “I’ve got a different idea, actually. What would you say to me introducing you to another ghost? I got permission to take you to his lair and you’ll absolutely love it. He may be a bigger book nerd than you.”

Jason hesitated and looked over his shoulder at his lair.

But Danny had anticipated that. Jay was still a young ghost and obviously hesitant to leave his lair. He gave a loud whistle. “Don’t worry so much, a friend of mine will be able to look after your lair for you.”

Before Jason could even ask what he meant, excited barking just barely preceded Cujo jumping onto Danny’s chest and licking his face.

Laughing, Danny asked in baby-talk. “Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy!” Cujo barked at him.

He’d never introduced Jay to Cujo before and Jay was watching them with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Not my dog, he chose me. But he can protect your lair. Right, Cujo? You’ll protect Jason’s lair? And come get us if something happens you can’t fight off?” Cujo barked and rolled over to show off his belly and Danny rubbed it roughly.

Jay laughed. “No offense, but how good a guard dog is he? He seems too friendly.”

Danny looked up and let his grin turn a bit sharper before moving a bit away from Cujo. “Oh, he’s the best. Cujo, big!” he ordered.

Cujo’s happy yaps turned to menacing growls as he grew to his large form, drool dripping from sharpened teeth.

Jason’s mouth fell open and he stared. “Wow. How common is it for ghosts to be able to change shape like that?”

“No idea. Queen Dora can transform into a dragon. And Bernard can take any shape he wants. Spectra goes from a black shadow to a human-looking middle aged woman. Each is a bit different.”

“Every time I think I get used to this place… Are you sure my lair will be safe with him?”

Cujo transformed back into a puppy and ran to Jason barking, circling him once before licking his face, too.

“Here, I’ll prove it. Cujo! What do you do if someone comes close?”

Cujo’s barking got deep again as he grew in size.

“Good boy! And what do you do if someone attacks who you can’t fight off?”

Cujo shrunk down and ran to Jason and nipped at his clothing, trying to drag him towards the island.

Jason grinned. “You are a good boy, aren’t you? Keep it safe for me? We won’t be gone too long.” Though after saying that, he did look up at Danny as if to confirm.

“You’ll wish we were staying longer when you see the place. Jazz knows where I am and can distract my parents for tonight. But I do have to get back and sleep and show my face at some point.”

“Got it.” Jason turned his back to Danny to look over his lair. “Then I think I’m good to go. Should I bring anything?”

“Nah, you’re fine just as you are. Now, come on! We don’t want to waste any time!”

Jason turned back to face him and as he did, his outfit transformed once more into his Robin uniform. His flaming hair matched the uniform perfectly. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Danny smirked. “Let’s see how well you can keep up.” Without waiting an instant more, he flew off. Not at his top speed, but still quite fast. He laughed as Jason cursed him and did his best to keep up.

The Zone must have been in a good mood today because it didn’t take them long to get to Ghost Writer’s lair. Danny paused before crossing the border and flared his aura to announce his and Jason’s approach. Jason copied the gesture a moment later.

Around them, the very air seemed to grow heavy. It felt like someone was looking right through them and examining their very souls. Next to him, Danny could sense Jason tense as he crouched into a defensive stance.

“Calm down, Jay. He’s just checking us out before letting us into his lair.” By the time he’d finished speaking, the heaviness lifted and a sense of Welcome washed over them. The door to the library swung open.

Without waiting for Jay to ask what was going on, Danny grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building where Ghost Writer was waiting just past the doorway.

“So you must be the young Jason that Danny”—his lip curled just a bit as he said Danny’s name and Danny tried not to flinch—“told me so much about. Welcome. I am Ghost Writer.”

Danny looked over to Jason to see what he thought. Jason was staring past Ghost Writer with his mouth wide open. His clothing had transformed back into his civvies and his hair was a burning white inferno on top of his head. Something must have penetrated his brain because he gave himself a little shake. His eyes met Danny’s briefly and Danny had to stifle a laugh at how wide and shocked they look.

But then he fixed his attention on Ghost Writer. “This is your lair? It is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. How’d you get so many books?”

Danny’s once-enemy smiled at the boy. The expression looked out of place on his face. “Every book ever written ends up in my domain.”

Somehow, Jason’s mouth managed to fall open even further. “Every book? How is that possible?”

“Yes, every book. I’ll give you a tour and explain. But first, the rules for all who enter my domain. You will treat every book with care—”

“Of course!” interrupted Jason who had gone back to staring at the high ceilings and walls covered in bookshelves.

“—the instant you damage a book is the last time you will be allowed to visit,” continued Ghost Writer as if he’d never been interrupted. “You may not remove any books from my domain. Danny is not allowed to touch a book. Nor to look at any too closely nor to breathe too hard near them.”

That finally caught Jason’s attention. “What? Why not?”

“He damaged a book.”

Danny looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet Jason’s eyes. He wasn’t proud of his actions that day.

“What? Danny!” scolded Jason.

“Indeed. The only reason he is allowed back here is because he apologized profusely and begged for the chance to take you here. He indicated you have given him a new appreciation for literature which I wish to encourage to keep the rest of my collection safe. Now, follow me and I will show you how to find what you’re looking for.”

Danny tried to pay attention as Ghost Writer showed them around. He really did. But the tour took so long and they traveled through room after room after room. And these were only the books written in English!

Jason didn’t get bored, though. He continued to stare at the walls in wonder, every so often catching Danny’s eyes. Danny liked watching him. Far more interesting than learning which time period or geographical location the current shelves contained.

Finally, after what felt like ages to Danny, the returned to the first room.

“The two of you may stay for three hours. Depending on your behavior, future visits may be longer, shorter, or prohibited.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll definitely make the most of it. Your domain is beyond amazing.” Without wasting any more time on pleasantries, Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him out of the first room through a doorway.

Once they were out of sight, Jason stopped and stared at Danny. He opened and closed his mouth before swallowing as if unsure what to say. They were still holding hands.

Danny laughed self-consciously. “So, do you like it?”

Jason continued to stare at him. “I…” he started. He shook his head, but his eyes were still wide in wonder. Jason bit his lip and then lunged forward. The hand that wasn’t holding his cradled the back of his head as Jason pressed their mouths together hard.

His lips were hot, far hotter than a human’s, but before Danny could react even enough to close his eyes, Jason was pulling away. Danny tightened his grip on his hand to keep him from retreating entirely.

In fact, he took a step closer until scant inches separated them. Moving much more slowly than Jason had, he leaned forward and brushed their lips together softly. Jason twitched, but didn’t pull away, so Danny did it again. Only this time, he didn’t pull away.

Jason’s hand once more found their way to the back of his head. Danny closed his eyes as his lips parted slightly. Jay’s tongue probed, and Danny met it with his own. Deep in his chest, his core pulsed out a message affection, happiness.

Jason replied in kind. Thank you, amazing, disbelief, affection. Kissing a ghost was nothing like kissing a human. The waves of emotion made the connection so much deeper in one way. And even physically, Jason’s mouth was so much warmer than a human’s due to his fire core.

And they didn’t need to stop to breathe. That was fantastic.

However, there time here was limited, so with a pulse of disappointment, Danny pulled away. “We are definitely going to be doing that some more,” Danny said, though he sent out a non-verbal question of you want?, “But you’ve less than three hours here. Make the most of it.”

Jason’s responding pulse of yes, more made Danny grin. Verbally, he added, “Danny… This is… I… Thank you.”

“Of course.” Danny laughed as if it had been easy to set up. “Now go have fun, book nerd.”

Jason tweaked his nose, leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips, and rushed to the nearest bookshelf to see what he could find.

Danny crossed his legs and floated in a sitting position as he watched Jason take down two books and open them both as he examined what was written. “Danny! He has earlier drafts of Bleak House! This is so crazy. I wonder how much Dickens changed from his initial draft to the final printing?”

“Well, looks like now you can find out.”

“I can find out. Holy shit.” Jason sent out another wave of Thank you, affection.

The sentiment warmed Danny up just as much as their physical touch.

----------

Tag list:

@echoednonny, @britcision

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #ghost writer (dp)#dead on main #first kiss!#can you tell i wrote the beginning part to this segment around the ides of march?#these boys like each other a lot #and the fluff is so much fun to write #if i end it here we can pretend things will always be just great for them

325 notes · View notes

fandom-imagination-ss · 1 year

Text

IMAGINE: Derek hale destroying your tire so you can't leave Mid fight

You and Derek rarely have fights.

Not since you graduated high school and told Scott and his pack to Suck it.

Between your cousin Scott lying to you for years about the werewolf thing, being shot in my shoulder by Stiles / Void Stiles by an Arrow. And getting No explanation for it. No one told you what he'll be going on. Until Peter mentioned it and Derek tried to shield you from the truth. It only made you mad. So when Graduated you just left no goodbyes nothing.

But time changes a person, you Forgave your cousin, his hot best friend Stiles, and when Life gave you a curve ball and you returned to Beacon Hill. you gladly became friends with Malia and Started Dating Derek.

the Fight was Stupid. It wasn’t an Earth-shattering Fight, it was a simple Stupid Fight. Derek Forgot about your Dinner date. that you were looking forward to all week. because he was so focused On work fixing a Fancy car. the Idiot who brought in the classic Car. had the Brilliant Idea that if he put Painters’ tape throughout the Entire Car. covering Every Inch of the Car it would protect the paint job... Between the Heat of the Sun beating down on the moving car. and the fact. he used cheap ass painter’s tape. he destroyed the car.. the tape he started peeling off. and took Large chunks of the paint.

Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal that Derek forgot about Date night. bot after the week of hell you dealt with your co-workers. your boss putting a pass at you. again. and you have to file another report to HR. who just swept it under the Rug and then dealt with Eli. Stealing the Jeep Again for the fifth time. this month, and to Top it all off you were Late... you only realized it today once you were getting ready for date night that you weren’t just a little late. you were 3 weeks late. your Plan was to have a wonderful Date night with your man. Slip off to the pharmacy to snag a pregnancy test and hope along and take it. in the store. because you knew. that Derek and Eli would find it at home. That was your Mission for the night. But Derek came home covered in Grease complaining about how the painter taped around the exhaust pipe that the idiot put on. burnt the pipe. and that led to discovering the Oil was leaking and it was a bigger task than he expected. you stood wearing your summer dress with a jean jacket as he looked at you stunned, “why are you dressed all cute?”

“Date night?’

Derek rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘rain check? I’m exhausted?” he walked over kissing your head as he suggested ordering a Pizza instead as you called him a butthead. and grabbed your keys and decided you would go to Walgreens and Skip Part 1 of your plans. and go straight to getting the Test. you were sitting in your car at a Red light. the road was empty. as the light turned green. your Car jumped. but didn’t move. you quickly turned to see Derek standing behind your car. as he’s claws were slowly going back to normal. your jaw dropped as you quickly un did your seatbelt as you shot out. seeing he sliced your back seat driver side tire.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND!” Screaming you walked over lookign at your tire it was ruined no fixing it. you would have to replace it complete.y “My Car!”

‘you don’t get to just Leave!” Derek was trying to contain his anger as you looked up at him.

“I was coming right Back after I hit Walgreen you Jack ass!”

‘you called me Butthead!”

your anger was sidetracked at hearing the hurt ins his voice hearing him say that as you blinked stunned, “I’ve called you So much worst! your fixing this!’ Derek crossed his arms tightly as he snapped, “the last time you called me a butt head you disappeared for three years! you don’t get to just leave because I forgot date night!”

“I was just going to Walgreens! I wasn’t Leaving! I stormed off yes but I intended to COME BACK!” you groaned as he spoke, ‘what was so important that you needed to go to Walgreen you sick?’

“No. I just- needed.. female products.”

A pregnancy test counts don’t it? you hoped he couldn’t tell the difference as he stared at you, “I’ll fix your car. and we can go-”

you shook your head as you crossed your arms, “you can fix my car, and we Can go home! and we are getting burgers. and im getting a milkshake and we are going to watch whatever i want! I can’t believe you Jump from Butthead to me Running off? where would I go? your my Heart!”

Derek sighed heavily as he spoke, “it was Rough the first time you left.. you just called me a fucking Butthead and then you were gone i didn’t even get to know hwere you were”

“Derek- to be fair.. we weren’t close back then you kept your distance.- I would Never leave you.. if i leave you- i’m taking you with me. i’ll stuff you into my trunk- your stuck with me forever.”

he nodded his head stepping over as he cupped your head softly, “im sorry - I overreacted and broke your Car.”

you nodded your head, “Sorry I called you a butthead and stormed off I just- it’s been a rough week.. and I was looking forward to just you and me time.” he sighed heavily soothing your hair, ‘you did look beautiful. you do look beautiful, lets get this car fixed and go have a date.” you smiled weakly as you spoke, “by the time you fix the tire, i’ll be passed beauitful and want to go home.. Lets just fix it. and go home. and order in.” he nodded his head saying okay kissing your lips as he pulled back as you helped him take your tire off, and use your replacement. that he forced you to have in your trunk. when the car was fixed you kissed him and said you would meet him at home as you drove to Walgreens.

you only ever taken a pregnancy test Once, when you were in university. your roommate was worried about taking one so you took one with her. you weren’t pregnant. you weren’t at all in danger of having a bun in the oven. but Now? Now you were in a relationship with a guy who looks like the Greek Gods carved out out of marble! your relationship was at the ‘honeymood” stage... bene together for almost six years. and your “Fun time” was Very much Healthy Relationship. and Sure.. Sometimes you both get caught in the moment and forgot to be smart. and responsible!

Which as you stood at the walgreens counter paying for your Pregnancy Test yo were shocked you were here. buying a test. Sure Rationally you knew, you weren’t excatly “Safe’ 100% of the time.. especially lately. But it still surprised you. you were just paying when Derek came in. and caught sight of you instantly. he’s eyes grew large seeing you holding pregnancy box as he fainted.

Nothing could perpare you for seeing your boyfriend. falling forward completely passed out in shock as you bolted over to him as you rubbed his arm trying to wake him. he woke up instantly as he looked at you as he spoke, ‘your pregnate?”

you shook your head, ‘no- well I mean.. I dont kow..”

“were you going to tell me?”

“yea.. after i took the test.. I didn’t- I didn’t think taking the test at home would be a good idea..”

Derek got to his feet as you helped him as he spoke, “why not?’

“Derek I was hoping to surprise you with the news.” he rubbed his face as he spoke, ‘okay.... Lets go take it.”

“What?” he grabbed the box as he spoke, ‘come on. they have a public bathroom.’

you laughed but was shocked as he picked you up as you gasped he hosted you over his shoulder as you gasped loudly. as he headed to the bathrooms. getitng itno the womens bathroom he went to the wheelchair accessable stall and put you down as he spoke, “here you go.”

he handed the box to you as you spoke, ‘thanks..... we never talked about babies..”

he nodded his head as he spoke, “I would Love- if you aren’t pregnate.. can we have a baby?”

you couldn’t help but smile at the way he asked as if he was asking for a puppy. “you want a baby?” he nodded his head, “I want to have a baby with you. i want our family to grow. I always wanted a big family. you want kids. we talked about this.”

‘yea- Like on our first date! Derek!”

“is it cause we aren’t married yet? Because i’ll pospose right here and we can elope oyu never wanted a big fuss of a wedding!” you couldn’t help but smile. you shook your head fast.

“as much as getting postpose to in the bathroom. is intoxicating. can we pick another time to ask me.. Like when we aren’t in a public bathroom?”

he sighed heavily as he stepped over, “just- can you pee on the stick? I want to know.”

you chuckled as you spoke, “well- leave the stall and I’ll do the test.”

“can’t i stay?” you laughed as you shook your head, “No sicko go!” he grinned slippng out as he closed the stall door as he stayed in the bathroom. you rolled your eyes. Even if he went outside he would still listen in. that’s the problem with having a wereowlf boyfriend. you did what the test required as you walked out. ‘would- it be 50/50 if it’s like you or me right?”

“yea why? does it matter?”

“well Yea! if im gonna nurse i dont want my bits bite off! Oh my god! what if i ahve the baby on a full moon! Derek! does it matter? what if-” derek stopped your rambling as he cupped your face softly, “I would be right there to help, and it wouldn’t be like that. just a little babe. and the powers awaken later.” you nodded your head relieved to that as he spoke, ‘So you would want it?”

you nodded your head softly, “A Chance to see you with daughters. Hell yea.”

he chuckled softly as he spoke, “not a boy?”

“Nope a girl.” he smiled to that as you reached up cupping his face kissing him. when the 2 minutes were up. it was your time to faint. as Derek caught you. you were infact. pregnant.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale imagine #fandom #fandom imagine #imagine #fluffy #TW #TW imagine

251 notes · View notes

shark-myths · 1 year

Text

Sending My Love From the Other Side

Things we should discuss:

Pete’s sexy metal Viking princess unitard, he’s waiting to be rescued by a barbarian, I can only presume he is a bride-prize for the hero who can save him

The Folie-ness of it all, the ship at sea but not doomed, not this time; instead it is a vessel of hope

The mythology-of-the-band frame narrative

How the title references back to Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash

Stardust stardust stardust and Pete’s fear of space objects

What do Field of Dreams and The Princess Bride have in common?

For those expressing concern about Joe’s absence both on Sunday and in this video—he writes in his recent book, None of This Rocks, about emergency back problems during the latter end of this pandemic, compromising his ability to walk for a brief post-surgical time, exacerbated by overworking. He writes about learning boundaries, learning to rest, and asking his band for accommodations for his health. It seems likeliest that he’s recovering from a back-related issue, rather than conscientiously abstaining from participating in this record as he describes doing with MANIA.

General ranting about lyrics:

DISCLAIMER: It’s not me, okay, it’s the text, it’s Pete being incapable of writing anything that doesn’t sound like it’s about forbidden queer love, I could not make this shit up, I truly could not

“Model house meltdown”

Reminds me of walking through the house in your shoes, I’m supposed to love you; reminds me of I’m just playing house, no idea what I’m doing now. It’s a very dark Tim Burton-y sentiment from an outwardly happy man living a domestic fairy tale.

“We were a hammer to the Statue of David, we were a painting you could never frame, and you were the sunshine of my lifetime.”

THE PAST-TENSENESS HERE

Right from the start, this sets us up for something universally perceived as perfect and beloved being destroyed. This could be a reputation, a cultural relic, a profound piece of history, a narrative, a love. We were a hammer that destroyed it, that perceived thing…

We were a painting too profane to be displayed in a museum, hidden and damned? Or we were larger than life, uncontent to be contained by a frame, always in motion, chimeric and twining, together apart, together apart, a tesselated image you can only see if you zoom out and unfocus your eyes.

You have all read my opinions about twenty years of Patrick = sunshine metaphors, which seem to be getting pretty FUCKING literal here at the end of days.

“Nowhere left for us to go but heaven, summer falling through our fingers again”

Among other things, this seems to be a VERY explicit reference to Heaven’s Gate.

I am feeling the hope of MANIA (you know my manic poly dream reading of that beautiful, purple beacon of hope) replaced by what the pandemic / apocalypse did to us all. So much for stardust, indeed.

Summer symbolizing touring, festival circuits, linking to the recent FOB instagram post that showed video from the Hella Mega Tour with the caption “take us back here.” The liminality and fleeting-ness of those spaces, those selves, that unmoored time of doing nothing, being everything. The way they want to be home when they’re on the road and the way they want to be on the road when they’re at home. Summer slipping through our fingers again, like the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, gone past, gone past.

“What would you trade the pain for? I’m not sure”

Isn’t that a fucking question, my friends!!! The pain of longing, unsatisfied, love, unrequited or unconsummated, forbidden and forsaken? The pain of not-having, or of having-had? The pain it was to be together? Welcome to my glossary of suffering

And what would you trade it for? Is this a question of, what is it worth and I can’t imagine giving it up? Or is it a past-tense question—a way of saying, I traded that exquisite pain to get what I have now, and I’m not sure what it was for, I’m not sure if it was worth it.

“Every lover’s got a little dagger in their hand”

Tbh someone smarter than me will have more to say about this, I am sure. Tarot and betrayal and the way love has thorns and anything worth having always hurts, everyone you trust with love will hurt you and let you down at least a little bit, imperfections and prices paid. But it’s also a very classic, very catchy and poetically deep sounding chorus of the type FOB loves to use and do not always hold a deep reading.

“I saw you in a bright clear field, hurricane heat in my head.”

More field-of-dreams invocation and playfulness! If there is not a stadium show at that field, I am going to light something on fire, it is the only pilgrimage I care about from this day forward.

“Inscribed like stone and faded by the rain: Give up what you love before it does you in”

LITERALLY what can I even SAY about this and the past tense and the DECISION, the question popped by MANIA that was answered only by global cataclysm and forced separation, the way they began work on this album in early 2021 (per Joe’s book). I can only hear this in conversation with the tracks on that record.

“The kind of pain you feel to get good in the end”

I was all prepared to do some read about morality and queerness and what you give up for the people you love, until @carbonbased000 said, “I love the pain line and I want to give it a kinky read so badly but we both know it’s about tennis”, and you know what. She’s right.

To summarize: there’s a lot to say, there’s a lot to feel, I love this song immensely and I hope you do too. I hope to explode more thoughts soon and uhhh maybe write another fairy tale. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, EVERYONE!

#tryst theory #peterick institute #so much for stardust #fob8 #fob #peterick #i do not remember my own tags for organizing lyrical analysis so let me get back to you on tht #fob deep lore analysis #sending my love from the other side #fall out boy

187 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 2 years

Text

been thinking a lot lately on yang’s arc in v4 and specifically the advice tai gives regarding her semblance in 4.9 + its payoff during the fight with adam in v6

what strikes me about tai’s role throughout v4 is that he never quite gets it right. the porridge is too hot, the bed is too firm—and tai is too focused on the past to meet yang at the emotional level she needs. so while he does try his best to support her, what he accomplishes is really getting yang back to “functional” rather than facilitating genuine healing or emotional growth. i think tai does an okay job of getting yang over the immediate hurdle of acute post-traumatic depression but he does that in a way that actually inhibits her long-term recovery—

which is WHY the recovery yang made with tai’s guidance and his analysis of her weaknesses happens in “two steps forward, two steps back,” an episode whose title works on two levels: weiss and yang make important progress, ruby and blake run into serious unforeseen obstacles; but also all four of the girls begin their portion of the episode making progress toward their goals, and all four are interrupted by a symbolic or literal obstacle. weiss gets whitley; blake gets ilia and sun’s injury; ruby gets the fork in the road.

and yang gets tai’s advice.

now the interesting thing about the secondary meaning is that, while the two literal obstacles are confronted right away, the symbolic ones just get glossed over. they’re treated like fleeting annoyances at worst, and maybe even ultimately beneficial. weiss channels her irritation with whitley to bring her summoning ability to fruition at last; yang takes what her dad says to heart and becomes a better fighter for it—BUT THEN, much later, the narrative forces both of them to revisit these conclusions, to question the preconceived notions they once accepted.

take weiss, for example:

v1-3: establish that weiss wants to, in effect, rescue her family from her father; she enters the story as an arrogant, bigoted, sheltered perfectionist with no people skills, chooses to do better, and flourishes with the support of people who care about her.

v4: jacques forces weiss to return home and tries his damnedest to get her under control again, with whitley seeming to act as his loyal pawn; weiss sees her brother as a mere extension of jacques and reacts to everything he does with hostility and distrust until she escapes.

v5-6: weiss reunites with her team and again flourishes with their support, but can’t yet escape her father’s shadow; most of her character arc during this leg of the story is defined by the looming threat of returning to atlas again.

v7-8: weiss is able to confront her father with her friends at her side, breaking the last thread of emotional control he had over her; only then is she able to reconsider her perception of whitley, who she comes to see not as an extension of her father but as an abused thirteen-year-old boy whose nasty behavior is exactly the same as her own nasty behavior back when she arrived at beacon. this realization allows her to make an emotional connection with her brother, and by giving him the same grace she was given by her team, by offering him the same chance to get better, she’s able to save not just herself but her whole family from her father’s abuse.

leaving in v4 was the right thing for weiss to do and really the only option she had, but her incorrect perception of whitley is an emotional obstacle she needs to confront and overcome in order to truly heal and grow into the person she wants to be. yeah? so weiss’s portion of 4.9 involves her making important progress towards a necessary short-term goal and making a critical mistake, in treating whitley as a mini-jacques, that becomes the fulcrum of her emotional arc several volumes later.

so. back to yang:

there are, i think, three specific moments prior to the training scene whose primary narrative purpose is to illustrate that—despite his earnest effort—taiyang’s support is inadequate, and more importantly, how and why he’s falling short. these are:

#1: excitedly surprising her with the prosthetic arm.

this scene establishes a really significant piece of contextual information about yang’s recovery that i think tends to get overlooked, which is that yang had no idea that she was getting a state-of-the-art custom-engineered prosthetic until it was almost literally dropped into her lap by her dad, who DID know and has been eagerly anticipating her reaction for months without letting her know that getting a replacement arm in the near future was even a possibility.

think about this from yang’s perspective. she’s a fairly sheltered kid, grew up in a secluded corner of a small island, doesn’t know a lot of amputees. she must know, in the abstract, that advanced prosthetics are available, but she has little if any personal frame of reference for that knowledge. if she was hospitalized after the fall of beacon, it doesn’t seem to have been for very long—she’s home by the time ruby wakes up a few days later. most, if not the entirety of her recovery happens at home, marinating in the background radiation of global chaos and her own freshly-exacerbated abandonment issues. global comms are down, supply lines are under pressure, and physical mail is as unreliable as it has always been.

so... she’d better get used to having only one arm pronto, right? because that’s how it’s going to be for the indefinite future, right? all the adults in her life have bigger problems to deal with. maybe once things are less of a mess she can work on getting a replacement arm, but... who knows how long that will take.

hence: those months tai spent knowing she would get this amazing prosthetic and feeling so excited for her? yang spent those months concentrating on accepting the loss of her arm, figuring out how to live without it, focusing on being okay with not having a replacement. and... while that grieving process was emotionally necessary, the goal she had in mind was getting to “i have one arm and that’s okay”, so upon being gifted the prosthetic she didn’t feel excited or happy—she felt blindsided. it was confusing and contrary to what she thought her recovery would look like, and it was given to her with this clear unspoken expectation of enthusiasm for her that made it feel really scary.

yang says it herself in the next episode: she’s been working so hard to accept what she lost, but she feels like everyone else wants her to just be okay, and the arm being sprung on her felt like being asked to pop on a replacement and act like this horrible traumatic injury never happened. that’s why it’s so hard for her to try it on. she’s not ready, she’s not fine, and “surprise! here’s a new arm!” feels invalidating.

if taiyang had told her, months ago, hey, general ironwood says you fought admirably and he wants to honor that, so he asked some of his top scientists to design a prosthetic for you, what do you think?—if yang had been invited into this process of creating the new arm, if she’d been given time well in advance of it arriving to express the anxiety and mixed-up feelings she has about the idea of replacing what she lost, then actually putting the arm on wouldn’t have been the huge emotional stumbling block that it became.

#2: the dropped glass, and tai saying nothing

anyway, the prosthetic scene then becomes a montage of yang doing stuff around the house—showing some of the ways she’s adapted to normal day-to-day stuff with just one arm, underscoring the point outlined above—ending on a beat of yang having a flashback in the kitchen. a glass slips out of her hand and shatters, the sound triggers a flashback, she stumbles back into the cabinets in terror and freezes for a moment before pounding a fist on the counter in an effort to ground herself.

rwby makes a very deliberate point of showing that tai sees this happen and responds to it by quietly turning around and walking away before yang even realizes that he’s there. right? not because he doesn’t get that his daughter is hurting—he’s visibly distraught—but because either he doesn’t know how to help her or he thinks that giving her privacy and pretending he didn’t see anything is the best thing he can do for her.

to me that feels like it’s coming from a similar place as making a surprise gift out of the prosthetic, in that i think it speaks to a failure to engage with the emotional trauma of what yang went through. tai focuses on the missing arm, and on making sure that yang gets the tools and training she needs to bounce back from the physical injury, but he pretty consistently treats her emotional suffering like a minor side effect, something that is understandable and sympathetic while she’s missing her arm but which becomes “moping” once she’s got a viable replacement ready to go.

like... yang is right? i think tai did kind of have this idea in his head that yang was miserable because she didn’t have her arm and therefore once she got the replacement she’d bounce right back—when the emotional core of yang’s suffering was really the helplessness, the vulnerability, the fear of not being good enough and the pain of having been left behind, all engendered by the loss of her arm but in no way fixed by replacing it.

and i think this is the moment where the long-term harm starts to really crystallize, because—well, think about this: what is yang’s biggest emotional problem in v1-3? what anxieties does she articulate during the mountain glenn arc in v2? she feels rootless. she doesn’t really want anything, doesn’t really have a quantifiable goal for herself, and while she tries to deal with that by being carefree and going with the flow, deep down she worries that’s not enough.

is that still yang’s biggest emotional problem?

nope.

what’s the emotional turning point for yang in v4? what gets her over the emotional hurdle of trying on the prosthetic for the first time? she overhears tai implying that he’s not out looking for ruby because he has to stay home and take care of yang. and after that? yang is one hundred percent focused on getting back into fighting condition so she can go find ruby. she tracks down her mom not for her own sake, not to get the answers she’s craved all her life, but because raven can give her a shortcut to get to ruby faster. she white-knuckles her way back to “functional,” and then throws herself heart and soul into Being There For Ruby.

which is to say: her biggest emotional problem since v4 has been neglecting her own needs for the sake of people she loves. her arc in v4 isn’t a straightforward recovery arc; it’s an arc of both physical recovery and insidious emotional damage, wherein yang isn’t okay, but she gets it into her head that not being okay is actively endangering her sister, so she forces herself to “be okay” way before she’s ready. that’s a self-sacrificing tendency we saw some inklings of in v1-3, but it gets SO MUCH WORSE starting in v4—and while this certainly isn’t an outcome tai intended, his failure to engage with the emotional side of yang’s trauma absolutely enabled it, by fostering an environment where yang was encouraged, maybe even expected to sacrifice emotional healing in order to get back into fighting shape as fast as possible.

all of which is encapsulated perfectly in these two moments, of tai surprising yang with the arm and being taken aback when she’s not happy about it, then later seeing his daughter’s traumatic flashback and walking away.

bringing us to:

#3: “whenever you’re ready to stop moping”

this scene in 4.4, wherein tai evidently decides that what yang needs is some tough love to get her out of her weird little funk about the arm.

and—like, it’s a complicated scene, because tai adopts this harsh “tough love” tone in a really shocking departure from his previous treatment of yang, but on the other hand yang is given the space to articulate the emotional junk that is preventing her from trying on the arm, making this conversation something of an improvement over the festering silence we saw in 4.3.

what strikes me most about it, though, is that tai’s new “tough love” approach isn’t what ultimately makes this talk a positive experience for yang—it’s oobleck and port. tai and yang get into something of a spat about whether she’s old enough to be spoken to like an adult, tai insults her and makes a jab at her missing arm, shocking port and oobleck but also breaking the tension when yang takes it in the spirit he intended—and then! port asks her why she hasn’t tried on the arm yet, oobleck jumps in to emphasize the question, and yang answers that she’s scared, that she feels like she’s being pressured to be okay when she isn’t.

at which point taiyang says this: “you’re right. it’s not coming back. but that doesn’t have to stop you from becoming who you wanna be; you’re yang xiao long, my sunny little dragon. you can do whatever you put your mind to. so whenever you’re ready to stop moping and get back out there, i’ll be there for you.”—and yang doesn’t know how to answer that. she just stammers uncomfortably...

...until port tells her, “fear is like any other emotion; it comes and goes. it’s all in how you handle it. why, even i find myself wrestling with that emotion from time to time,” and oobleck lets yang in on the “secret” that port’s scared of mice and yang relaxes as the conversation swings onto that subject instead.

see the difference? how yang’s teachers non-judgmentally raise the question of what’s holding her back, in contrast to the assumptions tai made about how yang would feel about getting the prosthetic, and how by asking they created the space for yang to express how she really felt, to show real emotional vulnerability she couldn’t before? and how tai’s answer—which acknowledged what she’d said but was ultimately dismissive of her feelings—made her emotionally lock up again, until port and oobleck jumped in to validate her fear, remind her that being afraid now doesn’t mean she’ll be afraid forever, and take the pressure off by going into this bit about port’s phobia of mice?

her professors succeed where tai has been stumbling. yang says she’s scared; tai’s answer is “that doesn’t matter, you can get back out there!” but port and oobleck’s answer is “it’s normal to feel afraid, and it’s important not to let our fears control us.” they meet yang on the level she really needs, accepting “i’m scared, i don’t feel ready” as a perfectly legitimate answer to the question they asked where tai recognizes that she feels that way but seems to see it more as yang just psyching herself out.

so yang gets these two contradictory messages—the harmful one from tai, the healthy one from from port and oobleck—and, although the healthy one sort of “wins” in the moment and she’s able to relax and enjoy herself for a while, ultimately it’s the harmful message that sticks with her and gets reinforced by all her subsequent training with tai.

OKAY. SO. WITH THAT CONTEXT,

yang’s portion of 4.9 largely involves tai imparting advice about what he sees as her biggest weakness: she’s predictable, stubborn, and relies too much on being able to tank her way through most of a fight before using her semblance as a finisher. and... while it’s not bad advice by any means—it boils down to “remember you’ve got more than just raw strength in your toolkit”—much like the way tai handles yang’s recovery, it’s not quite right for yang...

...because it’s not about yang, really. it’s about raven. what tai is responding to in this scene is SPECIFICALLY things he saw in the vytal tournament matches that reminded him of raven, and his advice comes from a place of fear that yang might get stuck in the same harmful patterns he watched raven fall into years ago—but he’s over-identifying yang with raven in a way that, i think, leads him to miss the mark on what yang’s weakness really is.

laying aside the fall of beacon and yang’s altercation with adam—because she made really the only possible choice in that situation and also that isn’t what tai is talking about in this scene anyway—and focusing only on the fights tai actually witnessed, i.e. the tournament matches: there is a problem, or it might be more accurate to say a danger? in the way yang utilizes her semblance throughout v1-3, somewhat exemplified in the tournament matches, but it’s not the problem tai thinks she has.

tai’s perspective is that yang, like raven, thinks “strength is all that matters in a fight” and doesn’t consider alternative strategies, leading to a fighting style that is over-reliant on using her semblance as a finisher.

but what we really see from yang throughout the beacon arc is that she’s pretty cavalier about taking hits, because she knows she can dish it back twice as hard. yang approaches combat with this underlying mindset that it doesn’t really matter if she gets her ass kicked a little—maybe even that it’s good if she gets her ass kicked a little—because then she can bait her opponent out into over-extending themself and decimate them once they think she’s down for the count. that’s the dangerous tendency that comes out during the tournament matches—the 2v2 and 1v1 in particular. beacon era yang has a fighting style oriented around tanking so much damage that she can convincingly trick her opponents into thinking they’ve beaten her, then punishing them for it when they drop their guard.

it’s cunning. it’s inventive. and it works!

it’s also really fucking dangerous, because it gets yang into the habit of not keeping her guard up, not fighting defensively, not treating her protective aura like the valuable resource it is.

so, while tai offers some good general advice, in the process he overlooks the truly important piece of, hey, you wouldn’t tolerate this level of recklessness from any of your teammates, so stop tolerating it in yourself. stop fighting like you’re expendable. you don’t have to take damage for your semblance to be valuable, and that shouldn’t be your first strategy in every fight.

yang takes the general advice tai gives her to heart, and that shows in how she handles herself in v5 and onwards: she fights more defensively, gets more deliberate in how and when she applies her semblance, and makes an effort to think before she punches when the situation calls for it, all of which makes her a better fighter than she used to be...

...but, crucially, she doesn’t address the underlying mindset, the emotional habits that led her to develop that beacon-era fighting style in the first place. she’s still not taking care of herself, still sacrificing herself—it’s just transmuted into neglecting her emotional needs for the sake of her friends.

(possibly worth noting, also, is that the altercation with adam during the fall of beacon is NOT an example of this strategy—it’s yang panicking and leaping to her partner’s defense because holy fuck that guy stabbed blake, and she’s defeated not because of a strategic error but because she’s simply outmatched. i think that’s part of what makes adam so terrifying afterwards—it’s not just the dismemberment, it’s that he cuts off her arm with his first swing, before yang can even touch him, before yang can soak up any damage while her semblance makes her stronger. like, a lot of yang’s identity is wrapped up in being this scrappy underdog who takes everything her opponent dishes out and then hurls it back in their face—this kind of retributive moment where they think she’s down and then she pops back up and proves them wrong. i think, in v1-3, that gives yang this sense of power, of security—the teenager-ish illusion of invincibility turned up to eleven—and adam strips that away from her specifically by ending the fight on the first swing. losing her arm is traumatic in and of itself, but it happening like this—in a way that also just shattered a core belief yang had about herself—i think really intensified the feelings of powerlessness and loss of identity that we see yang struggling with in v4.)

anyway,

so far we’ve gotten, i think, three major beats of payoff for all of this:

first: the talk weiss and yang have in v5, which on its face is about yang’s resentment of blake for running away but also offers a really important illustration of where yang’s head is at vis-a-vis the importance of her own feelings: she expresses anger at blake for leaving, for not letting yang be there for her—and then that anger twists inside out and becomes what if i needed her here for me?, and she just. crumples. and—well, throughout v5 and onwards, yang tries so hard to be there for her teammates. this conversation with weiss is the only time she’s able to admit that she really desperately needs them to be there for her, too, and it’s obvious that she really didn’t want to admit that, that it slipped out because she was too upset to hold it back.

that’s the narrative signal that all is not well, that the recovery arc isn’t done yet.

second: the fight against adam in v6, which yang wins by deploying her beacon-era strategy of baiting adam into over-extending and then demolishing him with her semblance—sort of. there are two differences from beacon-era yang’s style that i think are important to note: 1. she doesn’t start using this tactic until after blake tells her how adam’s semblance works, and 2. after that point, yang not only continues to fight defensively but becomes very careful about how she attacks adam, minimizing the amount of power he’s able to charge up by blocking her attacks. this is a much more careful, much more tactical, and much safer approach to the old strategy, which demonstrates how yang has grown and improved as a fighter...

...but it also involves yang blowing all of her remaining aura on that final punch, which underscores that “safer” does not mean safe and yang took a massive risk when she decided to handle the fight this way. it paid off because she took steps to mitigate the risks to herself, but... if she’d had just a little less aura, or if adam had been able to juice his semblance just a little bit more, she would’ve lost that fight and maybe gotten killed.

in other words, one purpose of the adam fight is to show that, while tai gave her useful advice that yang incorporated to improve as a fighter generally, because he couldn’t see her real problem clearly enough to speak to it directly, the problem is still there. yang is more judicious about when she uses this strategy and more careful and tactical about how, but she is very much still willing to fling herself into the line of fire and gamble on being able to tank her way through defeat to hit her opponents when they think she’s down.

her aura breaking after she tanked that hit and smashed adam is basically a narrative warning bell that says yeah this problem has gotten subtler but it hasn’t gone away.

and third: yang’s final act in v8 is throwing herself between ruby and neo, who one-shots her aura and flings her into the void to her apparent death. sacrificing yourself for someone else, using yourself as bait, gambling on your ability to tank things you have no right to survive—it doesn’t matter how smart or careful you are when you do it, sooner or later it’s going to catch up with you and you’ll get hit in a way you can’t just power through. that’s the crucial flaw that tai failed to speak to back in v4, the crucial flaw that yang was therefore never able to confront in v5-v8, and the crucial flaw that finally came due in v8.

given that v9 is going to revolve around the question of identity... well. yang’s always had this self-sacrificial streak; in v1-3 it manifested mainly in her fighting style, her neglected defense—and then she lost her arm and recovered in an environment that encouraged her to neglect her emotional healing in favor of getting back onto the battlefield, which led to an arc of yang growing as a fighter while the emotional trauma and dangerous self-sacrificial tendencies festered and got harder to see—until she hit critical mass and the act of self-sacrifice essentially got her killed, except instead of dying she got tossed into a bizarre magical land where she’s not going to be able to hide her feelings because the island responds to emotion.

basically, yang’s physical recovery/emotional damage arc in v4 is setup for the identity arc yang will have in v9, with her stuff in v5-8 quietly unfolding and revealing the long-term harm that was inadvertently done to her in v4; showing that the narratives she internalized about herself (that she’s too stubborn, that she relies too much on strength, that she needs to be smarter) weren’t really accurate, and that while the training she received from her dad truly did help her become a better fighter, it didn’t help her at all as a person, as someone who was suffering and needed emotional support, and in fact only exacerbated her real problem, which is that deep down she doesn’t think she’s as important or valuable or worthy of protection as the people she loves.

...

ALSO, i suspect that ultimately this is going to turn out to be another variation on the broader theme of the younger generation overcoming and learning from the mistakes of their predecessors—what little we know of tai suggests quite strongly that he is also a man who deals with his emotional problems by stuffing them into a little box and trying not to think about them, and while he appears to be the most functional member of team STRQ that is... not a high bar to clear. he passes this onto yang by handling her recovery the way he does, because that’s his normal, and he inadvertently enables her self-sacrificing tendencies in the process—

but unlike tai, yang has a team that isn’t falling apart, friends who love her and will be there for her when she finally accepts that she needs support and it’s okay for her to ask for support, so. the things she’s repressing are going to come out, and she’s going to heal instead of calcifying as she is now.

522 notes · View notes

goldenamaranthe-blog · 9 months

Note

How did Yang meet or find Panther Blake?

Hey! So, I've been going off of my "Weclome to Beacon Zoo" fic over on AO3 for that, but I can come up with an Alternative meeting/finding for fun!

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Yang: (visiting a roadside animal park) Uh... Dad, why are we here? All these animals look... depressed.

Taiyang: Oh, come on, Yang. It wouldn't be a family road trip unless we stopped by the local animal park!

Ruby: Then why could't we stop at Mercury's Crocodile Park? This place gives me the creeps.

Taiyang: Nonsense! Taurus Exotic has twice as many animals, and nearly a dozen more species! Look over there! There's a black panther!

JuvenilePanther!Blake: (laying still on the concrete slab in a small cage)

Ruby: Uh... Dad, she looks... a bit small.... and dead...

Yang: She looks like she's been neglected. You can even see her ribs from here.

Taiyang: Sign says her name's Blake and she's one year old.

Ruby & Yang: Dad!!! Will you listen to us for one second?!

Taiyang: Okay! Okay! Sheesh! We'll leave!

Ruby & Taiyang: (start making their way towards the exit)

Yang: (locks eyes with Blake)

J.Panther!Blake: (pitiful squeak whine)

Yang: (looks around) No cameras. Perfect! (grabs a random metal pole on the ground and wedges it into the padlock) You're coming with me.

-4 hours of driving later: Xiao Long - Rose Home-

Ruby: (holding her nose and gagging as she scrambles out of the front passenger seat) Good Lord!!! Yang, what did you step in back at that roadside zoo?! You stink!

Yang: Yup! Totally stepped in something! (hiding a mysterious lump in her hoodie) I'm just gonna go to my room so you guys don't have to smell me. I'm exhausted after that drive anyway. Good night!

Ruby: Uh... good night?

Yang: (sprints to her room after grabbing one of the whole chickens out of the fridge, gently pulls JP!B out of her hoodie and sets her on the floor)

J.Panther!Blake: (looks around and sniffs the air)

Yang: Okay, Blake. We're gonna have to lay low for now. (lays out a towel and places the chicken down) Here, are you hungry?

J.Panther!Blake: (eyes the chicken and Yang warily)

Yang: It's okay, Blake. Here. Watch. (pretends to take a few bites before nudging it closer to Blake) Mmmmm... yummy.

J.Panther!Blake: (takes a few tentative licks before pouncing on the chicken)

Yang: (lays on her bed so she can watch) You'll be safe here. I promise.

-The next morning-

Taiyang: YANG XIAO LONG, COME HERE RIGHT NOW!!!

Yang: (sprints into the living room) What?! What did I do?!

Taiyang: (stares at Yang sternly) Taurus Exotic was shut down last night for being an illegal roadside zoo.

Yang: Wow... shocker...

Taiyang: There's a story on the news about the black panther being missing!

J.Panther!Blake: (pads out of the room and rubs up on Yang's shin affectionately)

Yang: Uhhhh.... (kneels down and scratches JP!B's ear) Can we keep her?

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #panther blake #thanks anon!#ruby rose #taiyang xiao long

64 notes · View notes

ki-irke · 1 year

Text

Ground Zero

Prologue: Fresh blood

"Damn it, Bianca, you can't just leave Mystic Falls!" Klaus shouted, making me stop on the stairs leading to the floor where my room was. A sly smile appeared on my face as I turned to my friend.

"A bet, Klaus?"

Don't bet with me.

"How's it going, Klaus? Any pee break or no?" I asked, taking my eyes off the road for a split second to look at my grumpy friend, who was scrolling through social media. Klaus forbade me from going, even though after so many years (sometimes I forgot how many) I deserved a vacation. Wasn't it true?

"At least check where we are," I said, seeing that houses began to appear around. My new home, here I come!

"Ten miles from some town called Beacon Hills," Klaus replied, taking a swig from his coffee mug. Then he winced as he put the cup back in its holder. "Gross"

"And yet you're still drinking it," I laughed. “We'll stop at the nearest station and wait until morning. I'm getting tired" I explained, and the man nodded. I continued to drive, when Klaus suddenly shifted in his seat, glancing intently in the side mirror.

"I think we'll might have to stop a little further" I furrowed my brows and looked in the mirror. I caught a glimpse of the driver of the car behind us in the mirror and smiled sly at him.

"Klaus, turn the music up" The man did what I asked for and fastened his seatbelts. "This is going to be fun" I said, suddenly hitting the gas. The car following us was also speeding up.

"Any idea?" Klaus asked.

"Hunters. They're going after me for a few weeks. I changed gears and looked in the mirror.

"Automatic transmission is easier, you know?"

"Manual funnier," I said, shifting gears again. Seeing that the car was still following us, I frowned.

"God, I can't have one day off?" I asked, annoyed, and suddenly turned left.

"What's the plan?"

"We're stopping at Beacon Hills. Find some house on sale" he raised his eyebrows, but he didn't comment on it, he just started looking for a house to buy. Money has never been a problem for me. I had loads of them and liked to spend them.

"They're still coming after us?" I asked, focusing on the rough and dark road.

I could see well in the dark, but I preferred to be careful.

"Yupp, they are" he smiled slowly, slowly realizing what I mean. He stretched his arms out in front of him, stretching after a long trip. Wish I could do the same.

I noticed, that the road is closing, so I slowed down and swerved hard, making us face the car that was still following us.

Klaus quickly got out of the car, stretching his body and getting ready for a fight. I stayed in the car, carefully watching the car stop in front of my friend. I noticed something in the woods, like a pair of eyes. I ignored it, though. Seeing the second car, I got out of my car. Several people got out of the cars. There weren't many, maybe five or six.

"Hungry?" asked Klaus, turning his head back to smile at you. You chuckled, showing him your fangs.

The man turned around, as hunters attacked him. They only paid attention to Klaus, which made me yawn and move closer to one of them. I tapped his shoulder twice, and when he turned around, I punched his nose. He tried to punch me back, but his eyes were filled with tears.

I quickly grabbed his hand that was outstretched towards me, and with no hesitation, threw him over my shoulder. As I leaned over to knock him unconscious, another man pulled me back and punched me in the nose.

My head snapped back and my whole body followed, causing me to fall over and roll a few meters. I groaned, feeling tears in my eyes making it difficult to see.

My other senses, luckily, still worked, and I sensed the man approaching me.

He grabbed my right leg, lifting it up, and when he did, I bounced off the other which, thanks to my grace, allowed me to jump on his back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed hard, choking him.

When he finally lost consciousness, he fell forward, allowing me to stand calmly on my feet. I ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling hunger grow stronger through the smell of blood, but there was still one man left. I turned around, facing the last man back, as he fought with Klaus. I came up from behind and hit his temple, which made him lose consciousness quickly as he fell down. I looked at my friend and frowned, seeing as his mouth was already stained by blood.

"And here I was thinking, that you would wait for me with dinner" I sighed, shaking my head, as I moved to one man. I didn't know who it was, all that mattered was the beautiful smell of his blood. He must have had a good diet because his smell was the most inviting. I bend down extending my fangs again, and I quickly showed my fangs into his vein. His blood tasted amazing and fresh.

"Now, now, we talk about not getting used to fresh blood again" Klaus said, pulling me back. I turned around to him, rolling my eyes. He laughed as he came a little closer, gently wiping the blood from around my mouth.

"And now you look decent" he stood up again, giving me his hand to help me up. I accepted the help and when I got up we walked to my car together. Klaus got in, but I felt the need to look around the forest.

I was almost sure that I locked eyes with someone or something, but I shrugged it off and got into the car. I noticed that the sun was slowly rising, so I started the engine and drove away, heading for Beacon Hills, where I had been gone for a long time.

#teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #the vampire diares imagine #derek hale x reader #isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagine #peter hale imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine

103 notes · View notes

throughtrialbyfire · 6 months

Text

𝑾𝑰𝑷 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚 ♥

i hope everyone's doing well and taking care right now!! we're coming into the colder months in the northern hemisphere, and i'm always amazed how fast the sun begins to set around this time!

tagged by the amazingly talented @thequeenofthewinter and @mareenavee !! thank you so much <3333

tagging the incredible @dirty-bosmer @skyrim-forever @gilgamish @aphocryphas @totally-not-deacon @orfeoarte @viss-and-pinegar @thana-topsy @caliblorn @boethiahspillowbook @umbracirrus @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @wildhexe and you!!!! even if your name isnt here, you're always welcome to join in and tag me!!

i've got two story snippets this week! i'm starting on a new fic, but it's going to be slow goings. the working title is "Bone of my Bone", and it's the backstory fic for Wyndrelis of my Dragonborn Trio that i've been talking about! it's going to be a good while before i can post it in full since it contains spoilers for the main fic, but i love working on this and writing in his POV!

Another gods damned rejection. Wyndrelis paced the cramped room of the inn he'd rented, a temporary residence until he'd finished his application with the Synod. Of course, this proved in vain. He bitterly crumpled the parchment between his grey hands, balling it tight until his fingers ached. The Dunmer paused and loosened his grasp slowly, fingers uncurling until the ball landed on his desk in a sorry, compressed state. It curled up next to all the other rejection letters. Quick, biting, quill-strikes. Names of professors he'd never meet. Every Synod Conclave from here to Anvil undoubtedly heard the news, and every single one of them rejected him since that night. He heaved a breath, his cheeks hot with the frustration of the scenario he'd landed himself in. He was far from home, with no longing to go back, and all his bets misplaced in scholars and wizards who would have nothing to do with him. There were other ways, of course, other people, other groups. This did little to ease his vexation.

'Mr. Wyndrelis Femer, We at the Leyawiin Synod Conclave hope that this letter finds you well,' The pleasantries had ended there. Then began the statements of fact, the obvious ban on Conjuration, the musings of how it led to Necromancy, a reference here and there of the end of the Third Era. He rubbed at his temples in small, soothing motions to stave off a headache. He plopped down into a creaking wooden chair. He rushed his hands through his raven-dark hair, his posture slumped, his body thundering with his pulse so deeply it made his temple throb, his hands shake. Anger, no. This was not anger. Frustration, perhaps, or even guilt. Guilt. A sword he swallowed whole. Ever since he was a mere boy, the Hermoric clasping for knowledge pitted his stomach, burning up until he could deny it no longer. He'd devoured every book he could get his hands on that contained any fragmentary notion of the things he sought, and when his family was not around, he'd raise his palm and work the magicka into his fingertips and he'd weave it slow, in, out, like water through a sloshing pitcher. Waves of it, smooth as silk, heavy as lead. He'd learn how to move objects in their home. He'd know how to ignite a tiny spark on his fingertips, and eventually, how to dance it between the tips of several digits without letting it falter. His parents had always despised his knack for the arcane. The curse on their name had been enough to cause his ancestors to scorn the practice, leaving Morrowind generations ago and fumbling their way into a small, mountain town in County Cheydinhal. His home would be a memory he spat out. He was no longer welcome there. He did not want to return.

the next snippet is something i typed up in comic sans to break my brain out of a cage! it's chapter 27 of "Cycle of the Serpent", on the road to Mount Kilkreath to return Meridias Beacon, although they don't really know that's what they're doing. teehee >:3c

Fateless stars align, moons rise and fall, and all Athenath wanted was to be at the Bards College right now. That's what they had come here for, that hallowed institute of the arts, the halls which they'd heard whispers were paved with plaque-decorated displays of instruments from famous bards long passed, the stone paths that wound their ways through the high-rising establishment. From the moment that he'd gotten his wits about them after the first night in Solitude, he'd stretched longing looks in the direction of the building, knowing from the groups shared map what streets of Solitude lead where, and how deeply they wished to just march up the steps themself and ask about applications. The beacon radiated a warmth every time he touched it, like the sun off a rock, or the body heat of a small animal. It alarmed him to some degree, the strangeness of the feeling, but they embraced it. The journey to Mount Kilkreath gave them plenty of time to practice their talents, and practice he did, tossing the beacon to Wyndrelis haphazardly and bouncing from heel to heel, capering down the mountain paths and through the trees with songs bubbling from his lips. Sometimes, they'd trail off, coming to a silent standstill as the words escaped him, before shrugging and pulling back into another song.

[….]

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red…" Athenath sang in a sprightly tone, Emeros' eyes avoiding either companion, something the Altmer had noticed. From the moment the trio had decided to set up camp until now, he could feel Emeros' personal twistings of mental acrobatics, but exactly on what, he didn't know. All they knew was that the sun shone bright off the sea, glittering like beetle wings off an aristocratic Bosmeri gown, in its soft and elegant light. He longed to dive into the sea, deeper and deeper, gather shells in their arms and sort them at the beach, turn them over and over for signs of life, for molluscs and crabs, the kind of games he played on the rare visit to the Anvil beach with his family and their old friends, scent of salty, wet fur a brow-furrowing comfort for the Altmer. They could practically hear their old friends calling him down from the mountain, humming and hawing and beckoning the bard down to the shoreline. A hand on his shoulder planted them firmly in the grounds of reality, and Athenath slowed their stride, spinning to face Wyndrelis. "Yeah! What's up?" Wyndrelis pointed down the road. "We're nearing Mount Kilkreath. Do you want the beacon?" He asked in his usual, cold voice. Athenath nodded rapidly, taking the object into their arms. "Isn't it kinda weird how warm it is?" Athenath asked with a smile spread along his carmine mouth. Wyndrelis furrowed his brow. "Warm?" He repeated. Athenath looked to him, confusion dimming the brightness of their eyes.

if you read until the end of this i wanted to give you a special thanks <3 i hope you're doing well, and i'm casting spell of WIP Motivation be upon ye!!

29 notes · View notes