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running-with-kn1ves · 4 months

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Can you do a yandere killer clown that has been following you all night on Halloween

A/N:I wrote this a long time ago and hated it at the time but it really wasn't as bad as I thought! Hope you all are having a wonderful 2024 :>

Synopsis: A suspicious "killer clown" has been stalking you on Halloween to your dismay. Is it really just a costume?

CW: murderous clown, clownery, slight in-depth stabbing(death), stalking, intimidation, general fear

Word count: 2.7k

“Nice costume, man!” The echoed memory rang hollow inside your bobbing head. “I bet the black helps hide all the blood, huh?”

At the time you mischievously brought a hand to your mouth, shielding it from the eyes of curious and terrified children who mersmerisingly watched you joke to the killer clown. The masked figure hovered in front of you, staring blankly from behind the blur of white and red. The figure didn’t move, didn’t alter to his dominant hand with the bloody knife that rested in his palm.

You were met with silence as your comment passed; dark, invisible eyes watched you through the small eye-slits of the clown’s mask. Its elaborate makeup donned diamonds under and above each eye hole, a spongy red nose covering the mask’s nostrils. Though, you could still hear whoever was underneath, breathing-- the air pushing against the silicone. Painted black lips covered the faint outline on the masks mouth, detailed to almost look feminine. However, the broad shoulders underneath the harlequin patterned suit made you think otherwise.

You gave an amused smile, letting the figure keep in-character as he watched you slowly pass. A whiff of reeking gore and thick blood came across you as you walked away; a thought of ‘maybe you should have honked the clown’s nose for good measure’ crossed your mind, but the smell made you think otherwise. If he was dedicated enough to cover himself in pigs blood, who knew what else he’d do to you to stay in character.

Your mind ran in circles as the heels of your feet ached, your subconscious desperate to know what you said that made it all go wrong, or what made it go too right with this costumed killer clown.

Because here you were, walking down your neighborhood’s sidewalk with flickering light posts barely brightening the road in front of you as you sped passed your front door for the third time. With a dirty hand mirror gripped in your sweaty palm, you faced it slightly below your shoulder, hoping it was low enough that the shadow behind you couldn’t see it. You caught a glimpse of the red-speckled plastic mask and dazzling crimson hair of the clown behind you. Shutting the pocket mirror immediately, you picked up your pace again for whatever time again that night-- you've lost count. But it didn’t matter, the masked freak always seemed to be just a lamp post away, gradually getting closer with a joyful pep in his step.

After your first interaction with him at a lame Halloween festival, you then saw him again at the gas station right across your friends’ street, and once more at that same friend's costume party. You thought it must've been a coincidence to see him inside the gas station, only witnessing the back of his crazy dyed hair that looked too attached to be a wig; talk about being dedicated to the bit. Maybe he gets paid for being a scare actor? You didn't know, you didn't get the chance to ask before he ran out at the sight of a police officer perusing the candy aisle. Too bad for him, it was only a prominent gay dressed up in a sexy uniform.

But there he was again that night, peeking behind your friend's bedroom window that you sat across from. Seeing him there nearly made you shriek, jumping up enough to spill your drink all over the guy next to you. When you tried to explain, the clown had disappeared, only to show up mere minutes later from the bathroom window while you tried to rub beer out of your costume.

Seeing him the second time was nearly as startling, but you managed to keep your reaction to a minimum, merely glaring at the bloodied clown from behind dark glass. You threw your cup at the window, hoping to scare him off or show that you weren’t worth fucking around with, but he… didn’t move. Through the tiny hole in the mouth of the mask, breath came through, just slightly fogging up the glass. How the hell did he get up here in the first place, weren’t you on the second floor??

You turned away, hoping to just turn the light off and that’d be the last you’d see of him; but a thump on the glass told you otherwise. Another thump, this time almost with a clinking crack. Your hand still resting on the lightswitch; you nonchalantly looked back to see a familiar knife jabbed against the window pane, small cracks growing as he twisted it further into the window. Your hope of giving an apathetic reaction to deter him did nothing, gloved hands coming up to squeakily draw a dark red line on the window.

A threat? Maybe he's trying to apologize? What was he going to write-- you wondered if it was worth even sticking around for. But instead of words, the red line was finished with another, creating a small, dripping misshapen heart on the bathroom window. You slammed down on the lightswitch and shut the door quickly at the sight, making your way down the stairs.

He had to be one of your friend’s frat-guy pals, someone who went out of their way to terrorize on the nights of halloween in unassuming grocery stores or parties like this one. Someone here at this party who was just fucking with you-- that’s just what it was.

But now, hours later on the dark pavement of a street that looked so unfamiliar at night, you were starting to second guess yourself. The sweet whistling of what could only be from the clown behind you grew louder, squeaky shoes mimicking your steps and seeming to pick up in pace. You did the same, nearly jogging as you saw something moving in the distance. It was oddly pale and hunched over, going faster than you could run.

It was a biker! Some random fucking guy on his bike at 2 in the morning! You assumed this was what people meant when miracles roamed the earth, waiting to be found.

“Hey!” You shouted, running towards the speedy white demon as you blocked the middle of the sidewalk, hoping the guy would see you waving at him. But his stare was blank, not focusing on you nor the sidewalk in front of him. All he did, was bike.

“HEY! Can you please help me--” a pair of white wireless earbuds were nestled deep in his ears, immune to your shouting. Once he came cycling up close, almost too close, you realized he wasn’t stopping. His eyes completely looked past you, swatting you away with a sweaty arm as you stumbled into the street after narrowly avoiding his bike.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, watching him ride away as you threw your hands in frustration. You stopped to watch as the clown stepped to the side to give the incoming biker a clear path. This guy was just going to go past like everything was fine, not paying attention to the person in distress right in front of him, OR the creepy ass harlequin clown he was approaching. You gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and turned around, beginning to walk again as you hoped maybe the new distraction would stop your bloody walking partner.

But a sudden thud against the sidewalk caught you off guard.

Did he really ride into the clown?

No, from behind you, the man’s bike laid twisted with spinning wheels in front of your hunched clown stalker. The man was grasping his side with one arm, having fallen on top of his bike as his hand shielded from above.

Well, that's kind of what he gets for biking at the witching hour. And for not helping someone in distress! Karma's a bitch.

You hadn't noticed where the gore-striken clown's weapon had landed during the whole ordeal, not even thinking of it until a wet 'shlink!' and violent howl was released. The biker held his raised wrist with a shaking cradle, looking up at the knife that was just pulled out of him.

And just as the knife was removed, it was slammed back in with great inertia and skilled positioning on the clown's part. A wretched sound left the biker's throat, along with the odd crunching that came with him being pushed farther down onto his minimalistic bike.

A great red gash split onto his forehead, leading to the knife's metal stem that seemed to make peace with its new home inside the biker's skull. One of his earbuds popped out, crashing onto the sidewalk as blood flecked into his left eye. He seemed to look at the fallen earpiece, no longer acknowledging the knife now pushed as far as it could stab.

The clown seemed to stand back, watching the creation of his short few motions. He let out a whistle similar to an animated sigh. Comically, he wiped invisible sweat from his brow, looking over at you.

Your feet began to shuffle backward, grating against the rubble on the road as your hands flew to your mouth with an intensity that made you lose breath.

The mask seemed to look at you with no emotion, blankly watching with a sad smile as the clown stood simply. With the silence of the street, the stillness of the wind, you could hear faint breaths from across the street. They were soon replaced by a muffled whistle beneath the plastic, the clown's eyes dark and unseeable behind it. But the tiniest speck of light, a teensy reflection from the streetlight showed the human eyes of someone…unpredictable.

He stopped, only to give a high-pitched whistle as he pulled his steel weapon out of its created hole and rammed the knife back into the cowering biker, this time his chest receiving the treatment. The clown pulled it out again, only to prepare in the same position, raking up the bikers chest with the blade once more. Each time, he whistled and heightened it to mimic the sound of the knife flying through the air, only to crash down into a body of meat. He stopped once the knife made a connection to the skin, only to begin again.

You stood in grotesque awe, mouth ajar as you tripped over the sidewalk's curb. If it wasnt clear already to your record-broken mind, you needed to leave, now. You knew the guy was a creep, someone wayy to into the “murderous killer clown” trope but now, shit was a little too real. You began to run, making your way around the rest of the block without a care of whether or not he chased after you, finding your home. You needed to get inside, somewhere with locked doors that would be a barrier too thick for him to cut down.

Sweat and tears blinded you as black road filled your vision, along with your dim phone screen. you pressed the all too familiar three numbers on your phone. A nine, and two ones.

You waited for the shrill gurgles and distant whistling to stop from behind you, to hear a human voice pickup from the screen against your ear; which thankfully came after about two consecutive rings.

“Hello!?” You unknowingly interrupted, hearing the end of an “your emergency?”

“Hi-- uh, some freak has been following me and,” You were cut off by a grating voice, one slightly deadened and distant.

"Now that's just being mean."

Your heart jumped as you ran, dread settling inside you as the voice hummed in disappointment.

In the distance you could see the familiar front porch of your home, only about five houses down.

"You've got..to be…kidding," you huffed out of breath, elongating your stride to look like a wild runner as you sprinted to your driveway.

"Clowns are universally beloved; maybe you're the freak; considering you picked me I'd say you already had questionable taste."

"How'd you-- but I called--" You huffed, yet the clown cut you off.

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unattended in a room full of people…who knows when a devious comic of a murderer might strike! Especially one so handy in manipulating technology." You could practically hear the animated pose he struck along with the words. "So, having fun yet?"

You didn't answer, or rather couldn't from the lack of oxygen in your throat. All you could do was focus on running; but that's alright, because the freakshow on the other side talked enough for the both of you.

"We'll I hope so; in fact, you know I've chosen you to be my last man standing. My final girl," He paused for dramatic effect "My, surviving victim of tonight's excursion… you'll be a grand commemorating prize to bring back home, to be sure. You're just lucky that buddy boy back here took your place-- if he hadn't, I can't say I'd have been able to restrain myself enough to keep you alive until we got back home."

What the fuck was he going on about? What did it matter anyway, your sides were cramping so twistedly that it and your upcoming mailbox were all you could manage to concentrate on.

An infectious laugh cracked over the line, running from one ear through the other as you ran with your phone gripped tight. Looking down at your smudged screen, the caller ID read a simple “Unknown number.” You tried pressing the end call button, only for your screen to remain frozen. The caller screen almost looked like a screenshot, holding your phone captive as none of the buttons managed to work. The on/off button clicked and clicked, not altering the white screen.

“Ahh I can still see you running down there… trying to hang up on me while sprinting is hard, huh? Just make this easier and stop where you are, save me the trouble of having to play this hide and seek game for tonight. I promise if you make me play, I'll win."

You stop for a moment to catch your breath, turning around to see neon red hair in the distance and a black outline, the red diamonds on the clown's suit blending in. He still stood next to the fallen biker, holding something to his ear.

You wheezed out a laugh, throat beginning to close up.

"Oh yeah?... I'm halfway down the road, bitch! Once I get inside it's.. gonna be over for you. I don't, I don't know what the fuck this is-- but you're not gettin away with--with anything!" You held onto your knees, heaving into the phone as your chest burned. The silence on the other line was hardly noticeable as the sound of blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat drowned everything else out.

"...Don't say I didn't warn you, doll."

The phone without warning went dark, line cutting off as the caller screen went missing.

Through blurry eyes you saw the clown lower his hand that was once at his ear. With a short moment of stillness, he stared at you. That stillness, morphed almost automatically into a full-on run. The pitter patter of squeaky rubber shoes on the gravel was adrenaline-inducing, filling the silence of the dark street besides the heaving of yours and the clown's breath.

"Oh fuck…" you murmured, turning around to begin your sprint once more.

As long as you could reach the house first, open the door with your keys in time, lock the door-- you'd be fine. You didn't have another phone in the house, but you'd be fine-- you'd just, at least be safe. From him.

But speaking of keys, where were yours?

You ran your hands over and over the pockets in your clothes, feeling nothing but the scraps of empty candy wrappers in your pockets. Where the fuck were your keys?!?

Finally, the grace of your front door made its way directly in front of you, your exhausted legs running up the short porch steps. You hadn't given even one second to looking back at your fellow runner, panic of losing your keys and the upcoming door occupying your mind. You jiggled the door handle, banging against the door with your shoulder as you let out a panicked exhale.

You could hear him getting closer, hear the labored breathing and chaotic deep giggling muffled by silicone.

The sound of heavy shrill footsteps stopped-- but beside your rapid heaving, hot breath covered the side of your shoulder. Wet red locks touched your ear, a deep inhale came to grace the top of your matted hair.

Four fingers covered in a frilly, harlequin-patterned glove were thrusted in front of your face, jingling your precious keys in their grip.

"Looking for these?"

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sashi-ya · 6 months

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東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑨 𝑫𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑲, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑶 ㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ trafalgar law x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. would you invite your work colleague Law for ramen after some drinks at the bar?

requested by: @leftladyluminary ➡ May I request Law + A drink after work in a little bar of Shinjuku Golden Gai with a fem reader maybe a little nsfw (or completely lol) tw: MNDI. alcohol usage. nami x vivi heavily implied. abusive coworkers. law saving the night. smut with a "lot" of "plot". mutual pinning that both realized about it just now. oral. nipple play. vag sex. unprotected sex. creampie implied. did they eat the ramen? who knows. The bar does exist! it's the Bar Coo at Shinjuku Golden Gai! same as the train station (Yamanote Line, from Shibuya to Ueno) wc: 4.7k (sowwy) masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep “(Name), come with us to the izakaya! Let’s have some beers!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI just want to go home… “Law is coming too, it’s a miracle!” ㅤLaw? Law? I think I can afford yet another night of barely three hours sleep…

ㅤ“I’ll be there in a minute, let me turn off my computer and grab my coat!”

It’s not new information that your jobs are overexploiting you, working for such big company as the Don Quijote chain requires a lot. It is also not new information that once in a while -almost every time- you need to go have some drinks with your colleagues and bosses… because if you don’t, you aren’t engaging enough in that “work family” nobody likes, but everyone pretends to love.

There was a certain colleague, however, who always finds ways to sneak and never get to the bar with you… and that man, precisely, is the man of your dreams. He doesn’t know, and you are sure you shouldn’t tell him, as him is no other than the boss’ nephew.

Trafalgar Law, a tall man with an unfriendly façade but definitely handsome features. Or more than that, you could say. His eyes sometimes shine golden like the earrings he wear, and sometimes silver like the winter lights in Roppongi. He is covered in tattoos, a pretty unique characteristic for being an employee but a lot more logical if you think a little further about his Uncle. Nobody can say it out loud, but all of you know… they are most probably part of the Yakuza.

Despite that, you couldn’t care a less… Law has been your crush since the day you watch him walk into the office so carefree.

It’s a cold night, winter is coming faster than expected. It always does. November ends up quickly, and the first snows begin to tint everything in pristine white. Your long coat covers your body up to your ankles, as well as Law’s black one. You watch him walk, in silence. Most of your coworkers always try to rip words from his mouth, but he is not really interested in engaging in any conversations.

You watch his tattooed fingers scrolling through his phone, as all of you walk the streets of Shinjuku. The Golden Gai awaits for you in their little old Izakayas, all packed within a narrow passage of warm lights, and flickering signs.

“You are staring way too much, (Name)” Nami, one of your coworkers whispers.

You widen your eyes… “Is it that noticeable?”

“It is, but don’t worry… we all think the same, he is hot but also out of reach. I mean, maybe not for you, that is. You are more than beautiful but remember where he is coming from… be careful” she says, being pure honesty with you. She is only trying to protect you. And Nami is completely right, you should be careful with Law.

You smile at her, and both cuddle in each other’s arm grabbing until one of your colleagues chimes and ask the rest if it would be ok to try for nothing a certain bar that looks a little… secret -suspicious, too-.

“Coo bar? It looks weird… but the painting on the door makes it look pretty interesting” you think, waiting for them to knock on that painted wooden door that reminds you somehow to Van Gogh’s style.

A little window slides open, and a pair of black slanted eyes scan you all. They close the little gate and immediately after the door opens welcoming all of you inside.

Law allows everyone to walk pass first, while his eyes scan the surroundings. You, of course, are not the exception.

“Please, girls” he says, paying special attention to your burning cheeks. Nami, who is not really interested in men, simply smile, and walks inside the bar. You, remain a little bit more lost in his golden eyes, but ultimately walk inside too.

You were mostly sure he wouldn’t even put a foot inside, and rather walk away once all of you were unaware. But tonight, it was different, he stayed.

The inside of the tiny bar looks more like an old Japanese living room transformed into a restaurant. The walls are made of wood, and there are many random things hanging from them. Old maps, old posters, photographs, even a big hamster plush that looks as old as you.

The scent of yakiniku fills the ambience, and your stomachs growl with the simple thought of tasting that salty and sweet meat grilled right in front of you.

All of you get into the biggest table you could find, but the tight will be fit nonetheless. You, who always chose to sit last, this time had to move a little to the side. The man of long legs, and tattooed hands decided to sit right next to you.

“Are you comfortable, Law-san?” you ask, trying to make enough room for him to be sitting comfortably.

“Yes, thank you (Name)-ya” he says, kindly than you have ever listened him spoke.

You smile, softly, looking down at your fidgeting fingers.

Soon enough a friendly waitress comes ready to take your order. Of course not before putting the so awaited portable grill in the middle of the table.

The more meat, the better. All of you ask for it, and a beer each… that you are sure it will turn in more than three.

The conversation bases in gossiping about the office, nothing really deep and most of the topics all end up in laughter. Law, however, doesn’t really laugh and you are sure he is not even listening… he is just pretending to.

You take swift looks at him, glancing with the side of your eye at the tattoos of his hands; at how his phone screen shines constantly with more and more notifications. He must be a very required man, and most probably has a lover already if not more than one.

Of course, you are not an unpopular woman either. And most of your male coworkers always try their -non efficient, and pretty cringey- seductive tricks with you the moment a drop of alcohol reaches the tip of their tongues.

“(Name)! here, I grilled this one for you!” one of them say, using the clamps to pass you a piece of meat.

“Oh, thank you…” you murmur, receiving the food in your plate. A thing you shouldn’t have done as that -simple smelly monkey- man, thinks you want everything from him for just accepting a piece of tiny meat. -as tiny as his dick, probably-

Most of them also offer you to serve you more alcohol, as ordering for a glass turned into “bring us the bottle, it’s faster and cheaper”. They were right, it was cheaper. But annoying.

Nami, whose blood began turning into bubbly alcohol, throws to Vivi’s arms. Yet another sweet coworker, who is married, but her eyes-only shine for the redhaired coworker that’s always by your side. The moment they indulge in alcohol, their inhibitions are set free, and what’s meant to be… it’s meant to be.

And that means a sudden trip to the women bathroom, where you were not clearly invited -unless you were into it, in which case they were more than pleased to welcome you in-. But that also means you are sitting all by yourself now. Surrounded by idiots who, as well as the ladies, wanted to end up their night on a love hotel or maybe just the bathroom of the bar with you.

Law seems unfazed, and keeps eating, drinking, and reading something on his phone. Why is he there, after all, you have no idea.

As soon as Nami and Vivi’s spot are free, the guy who offered meat slides right next to you. Thinking he is sleek, only to hit the table and make most of the drinks to spill on top of it. Yet, he is not even worried about it; he is just interested in one thing, you.

“More?” he asks, coming closer and closer, forcing you to consequently graze Law’s arm with yours.

“Uh.. I’m full thanks” you lie. You aren’t even half full, but you don’t want shit from him.

“I meant in your glass, let me serve you…” he whispers, grimacing. The bottle lets its liquids pour into your tiny glass, with the strong intention of getting you as wasted as possible.

You swallow, you won’t drink that up. Not all of it. But he keeps coming closer, and by now, your leg also touches Law’s. And then your back, until it is too noticeable for the tattooed pal to stand up in a violent, quick motion.

“How much are you going to insist on her? She is practically sitting on my lap from how much you are bending over her” Law says, looking at him with eyes on fire and disgust on his voice.

“Traf- Trafalgar-san, I-“ he stutters, he is not worried about you but about his job continuation after this.

“Get the fuck away from here, I don’t want to see you anymore” Law spits, he is not interested in fighting. He has had enough. You are not sure if it was because your body touched him, or because he was trying to defend you… but in any case, you are grateful he did.

You look to the ground, knowing your position wasn’t safe either. This will have consequences, and misogyny always finds the way to win.

Law sits back down, as the rest move away from the long wooden seat to let the bastard go away. But right before he stood up, he whispered at you disgusting words you were already waiting to hear…

“You are a little whore, and you know that. You are probably sucking his dick, aren’t you… slut. Be very careful when you walk home alone tonight”

You chose to keep quiet, as everybody else did. Because nobody would stood up for a woman, not in a men’s world.

You watch him go, drinking almost all the glass in one chug. You needed something to drown the fear and disgust you were feeling right now.

“Are you ok, (Name)-ya? Don’t worry, he has his days counted” Law suddenly says, grabbing his phone again.

“I am… thank you so much, Law-san” you shily and respectfully appreciate his help. “I am sorry for ruining the night…” you whisper, finally.

“It wasn’t your fault, at all. Men like that don’t belong in our organiz- company”

You swallow… and soon you realize what he meant when he mentioned the man had his “days counted”. You try to think of any words to spare the life of the abuser, but soon you chose to stay silent. You didn’t force him to do anything, after all.

Nami and Vivi leave the bar, without saying much. You didn’t want to tell them about the “situation”; you didn’t want to ruin their -lustful- end of the night.

As for the rest of your coworkers, most stood up to smoke outside, while others already took their leaves. Law, remained on his seat until one of the guys invited him to go smoke with them.

There is no point in staying; that drunk bastard won’t probably fulfil his threats against you as he is most probably passed out somewhere else due to the alcohol. Therefore, you pay your share, take your coat, and get outside the bar.

You try to leave without alerting anyone, but it is impossible to do so as one of your coworkers wave goodbye at you.

“Oi, (Name)? are you leaving already?! See you on Monday!” he screams; a scream that catches everyone’s attention, including Law’s.

You wave at them and begin to walk away with your keys in your hands and praying to reach for Shibuya as fast as possible to take the JR towards home… hopefully safe and sound by the end of the night.

A sudden pull in your wrist scares you and wasn’t for his fast reaction one of the keys would have ended carved somewhere on Law’s body.

“Oi, calm down. It’s me. I heard what he said on the bar, let me accompany you” Law says, putting down your hand slowly so he doesn’t get hurt by your keys.

You sigh, relived. Law is still a stranger, but if you had to die you would prefer doing it by the hand of a hot killer…

“Thank you, Law-san. But do you think is it ok? What are they gonna think? Plus, I live in Ueno” you ask, worried for future -unfortunately fake- rumours.

Law lifts his shoulders. “I personally don’t give a single fuck about that. I do, however, care for your safety”

You scoff sweetly, he doesn’t seem like one… but he is, indeed, a gentleman. A real man.

“If you don’t mind, then let’s go. I will repay the favour with some delicious ramen if you allow me. Right in front of my apartment we have the best convenience store of all Tokyo” you chime, happily. Perhaps you mistaken this by a date, but at least for some seconds you indulge on the happy thought of it.

Law nods. “The best one? What makes it so special?”

“It’s special because I spent many nights studying there late at night having the best instant ramen” you inform, proud of it.

He scoffs, and a little smirk appears on his lips. “Good, I wanna try the ramen there. As long as it doesn’t contain bread, I’m good”

You notice he can be a lot more interesting than what you thought; despite keeping the mysterious aura, he is a very talkative guy when he feels comfortable. And, apparently, he does with you.

Most of the conversation turns into a nerdy talk about his favourite comic series, that it is surprisingly the same as yours. And you couldn’t be happier, at least a dreadful night ended up better than expected.

Getting to Shibuya was easy; but the last train was about to part. Therefore, both of you, a little dizzy from the drinks -specially you- found the running a lot more challenging than expected. Yet ultimately, grabbed by Law’s hand, you were able to reach the train just in time before doors closed.

“I am so relieved we made it in time!” you sigh, sitting on one of the empty seats. “Same… I mean you could have taken a taxi but…” Law murmured, stopping his words midway. He realized that sending you home in a taxi would be the end of the time together… and he didn’t want that.

Law then proceeds to sit right next to you, crossing his long legs in such way it makes you bite your lower lip. He is a tease by total nature, he doesn’t even try. And he probably knows that too well. As the girls right in front of him gossip and giggle while looking at him.

The train ride is a little long, and the exhaustion suddenly hits you. You remember the fact that sleeping had been rather scarce the last few days of the week, plus the alcohol in your system…

The next station is Ueno. Doors will open on the right

“(Name)-ya… I think this is our station… wake up” Law’s soft voice whisper in your dreams, and your comfortable pillow suddenly takes the form of what it really was; his shoulder.

“Oh my, sorry! I didn’t mean…” you apologize, quickly brushing off the sleepiness. You notice he is not mad at you, but his façade has relaxed a lot more since the beginning of the night.

“It’s ok, you’ve been working a lot more than the rest lately. You are always the last one to leave the office” he says, helping you stand up and walking to the doors of the train.

You rub your eyes… he knows? That means he’s been watching you… but for how long, and why?

Ueno is as pretty as Shinjuku. The trees that will turn pink in the spring, now hold flowers made of silver flickering lights. There is a considerably less amount of people compared to the big city, though.

The cold air that hits your cheeks wake you up almost instantly, and you are back at having enough energy to eat that instant ramen that you promise Law.

“So, are you still up for the ramen?” you ask, shy and still ashamed for falling asleep on his shoulder. You wonder if snore or even worse… drool on him.

Law nods with a smile on his face and his eyes closed. He is also tired, but he doesn’t want to leave, and you can tell.

You guide him, and after walking a few blocks, the convenience store appears in the corner of a calm neighbourhood’s street.

“Come on, follow me” you chime, pulling from his hand inside the store.

Law follows, and for the first time both grab each other’s hands tightly. Despite gasping, you keep squeezing it… it feels like a dream…

perhaps it is, and I’m still sleeping on the train?

The cashier greets you both, and immediately after recognizing you she informs that the water boiler won’t be working until Monday in case you were there for ramen.

“We can have it in your place if you are ok with it” Law suggests, and your stomach gets full of butterflies… is this like the korean “would you like to come home for ramen?”, is this your “Netflix and chill”?

You nod. After all he did for you, there is no point in letting him go back to Tokyo with at least nothing warm to eat.

Soon he buys two packets of ramen, two sticks of cheese and two cans of sakura edition Monster. And without much conversation you two cross the street to finally reach for your apartment.

The ride on the elevator was as silent as the very beginning, apparently none of you had something further to say… both were absorbed into your own thoughts; what type were the ones inside his head, you begin to wonder.

“Here we are, my room might be in shambles. But the rest I think looks fine” you joke, opening the door and turning on the light.

You were to lie if you said you weren’t lucky; your department is tiny but still has beautiful looks towards the city. Nothing fancy, but decent and exquisitely decorated.

Law smiles, pleased. He enjoys spaces like yours.

“I like you…r place…” he whispers, right behind your back while you walk towards the open kitchen.

“Thanks…” you whisper back, biting your lower lip; sensing the high tension in the air like little zaps of energy, like counter shocks.

You receive the bag with the food from his hands and put a pot of water on the stove. It is necessary for a good instant ramen to boil the water before putting the noodles in. Or so that’s what you always thought. In any case, you needed your mind to be anywhere else but the idea of pleading him to fuck you against the counter.

“(Name)-ya, are you single?” he suddenly asks, after the last crumble of noodles fall from your hands into the bubbly water.

You turn around, slowly. Your ponder whether you should lie to him, or not. Perhaps a taken woman would be a lot more interesting to chase than looking like a lonely girl.

“Because I haven’t seen any man around you…” he continues, sitting on one of the stools and letting his elbows on the counter.

Busted. You can’t lie.

“I am single, yes. What about you, Law-san?” you ask, it is proper -and necessary for you to know-.

Law bends forward, his chin rests on his hand and his golden eyes fix in yours. You realize there has to be a hint of eyeliner on his waterline, and the dark circles intensify under the low light of your kitchen.

“Would you prefer to listen I am?” he asks, straightforwardly and so sexily.

You swallow; what…. the fuck?

“It depends, honestly. I wouldn’t like to be the other woman if you weren’t single” your words sound bigger than yourself, your eyes widen because you don’t even know who is talking right now… but it is definitely not your normal you; this is most likely, your horny you… the “you” that can’t keep hiding how much you are into your boss’ nephew.

Law stands up, walks around the breakfast bar and dominantly -yet, very, very slow- takes his fingers to your chin. You move slightly to the side, allowing your butt to hit the counter behind.

Your fingers clutch to the cold stone surface, your hips feels like magnets being pulled, attracted against the other’s.

“Is that so, (Name)-ya? Well… I am single, indeed” Law whispers, coming closer, so dangerously closer to your lips. His thumb, inked with the letter D, grazes your lower lip ever so softly. And you pout, just enough for him to be able to play with it.

Your sloppy eyelids, your separated lips, your head barely tilted to the side… like feverish, in need of medicine... Law’s lips medicine.

“I’m glad you are…” you moan, opening your mouth just enough to trap with your front teeth his thumb right after. The tip of your tongue follows, wetting his finger. And then, so that there are no more doubts, you suck on it so deliciously lustful.

Law takes a big breath, and sighs right after. He is smirking, so dark. Like you never seen him before. Like you always wish you did.

He lifts you up, helping you sit on top of the counter. Your legs, spread, allow him to come closer.

“You are glad I am gonna fuck you tonight, too?” he asks, leaving you breathless… continuing with the lack of oxygen, as his lips crash on yours.

His tongue, disrespectfully sexual, violates your mouth in pure impetuous need. With gasping and moaning in between, with heavy breathing, with desire for your flesh that seems to be unleashed after being trapped like a beast for so long.

The more he kisses you, the more he wants more. And you do, too.

His playful hands, lift the blouse that seemed to be so enticing to his eyes all through out the night. His delicate fingers crawl from your belly to your chest, squeezing your breasts with no modesty, with no decency.

When he lets your lips free, you feel them swollen, aching for more. You open your eyes, meeting his and a shiver runs through your back. The most handsome man in the earth is right in front of you, wanting to devour you… so desperately.

“So, are you glad… (Name)-ya?” he asks, again. This time with his hand on your neck, squeezing on the right spot to make you dizzy and horny.

“Mhj… yes… please, fuck me” you beg, so weak for his touch.

“Heh” he smirks, ripping your blouse, making the buttons pop and fly away. He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t care… “This damn blouse… you always wear it on Fridays, don’t you? it was making me so hard to see the way your nipples barely peeking through them with the air conditioner… heh…” he moans, with his lips pressed on the commissure of your lips.

For how long have you been watching me in silence, Law? …

Law kisses you one more time before going down to your neck and breasts. The nipples he mentioned were once and for all right before his eyes, hard because of him and not because of the a/c.

Desperately, he cups your right breast, trapping your hard sensitive button with his front teeth. Sucking, twisting, licking. Your body quivering, spasming. Your nails pulling from his messy onyx hair in response to pleasure.

A few more minutes, where you barely reached for the stove to turn it off, are enough for him to want more and more of your body.

“And then, this damn black tight skirt… were you doing it on purpose? Letting your paperwork to fall to the floor, for me to see right when you bent to pick them up, your panties through your pantyhose…? Mh? (Name)-ya?” he asks, kneeling in between your legs, sliding your skirt up, grazing the nylon tights with his teeth.

Why lie? If he was completely right? You did. You did so many times. And yet, never once you thought he could see, he could notice… you remain silent, because silence speaks louder than words…

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” he scoffs, carving with his middle finger a hole on your thighs, ripping violently down to expose your core. The view is pure art to him… to see your dripping wet panties, and the flesh of your thighs protruding from the indentations and ripped places of your panty hose...

He kisses those patches of free skin, and then bites them too. He enjoys the way the nylon material gets wet around with his own saliva; you quiver to the sensation, the cutting sharp edges, the kisses, his teeth grazing, the wetness increasing.

And those kisses, that keep going up and up, reach your core for the first time. “How much I wanted to taste your sex… you got me wanting to do it so bad” he grunts with his lips on your wet panty. The warmth of his breath against your sex, makes you flinch… a sting on your clit that felt like a bullet.

A kiss, a lick. Fine fabric getting drenched. Eyes turning white, his nose buried, inhaling your scent. Curious fingertips, moving lace away. The moment his tongue reached for your folds; your heels carved in between his shoulder blades.

Eating you out, you throw back your head, moaning loud, loudly. But you want even more… And almost like if he could read your mind, he stands up. Law uses his inked, veiny hand to clean -or rather spread- the mess you’ve made on his mouth and chin.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you… you are insatiable, I’ve always knew it” he growls, perhaps ignorant to the fact you are insatiable but only for him.

“I want you” you simply babble, ripping his yellow shirt off to discover his inked chest. The heart on his pecs that goes down until his belly button, pointing to his hardness fighting against his jeans… “I want you so bad…” you whine again.

“Then let me fuck you the way you deserve, (Name)-ya” he moans, biting your lower lip. You help him to get free from his clothes, desperately. You want it now; he wants it more than you.

Soon, his hardness blesses you with his imponent presence in between his fingers. Drippy, slightly veiny, pinkish tip that turns redder the second it passes. He pumps just enough to spread the precum all over, perhaps in an attempt to lubricate… as if it was really needed… you are sure your juices have dripped to your kitchen floor.

With not much, but only pure passion, he lifts one of your legs up until your whole sole is touching the counter. Well spread, enough for him to fit perfectly in, he pulls you closer to the edge.

“I am dying to try your walls clenching around my dick, (Name)-ya” he huffs, with his forehead pressed against yours.

“I want you inside of me, please…” you beg, taking your hips closer to his drippy gland.

Law kisses you brutally, to impale you equally after. He drinks your moans; you breathe off his grunts. His hands land on the small of your back, moving in an out of you with strong pace. While your nails carve on his shoulders, leaving marks of love.

The sound of skin slapping skin flood the kitchen, mixed with the pleasure song of your throats.

Law carries you to the table, and your body lies there until he can bend completely over you to keep fucking you while kissing and biting everything he has in front. You do the same, pulling from his lip, biting his neck, his shoulders… trapping him against you, with no way out, with your legs snaked tightly around his waist.

Nothing matters the most, than him never leaving your insides. Nothing matters the most that being bound to the other, mixed in one and only.

Filled with his release, he keeps on going. Reaching for one, two, three times the maximum climax… more, more and more…

“We can eat the ramen tomorrow… right?” “Y-yes…”

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heavenlyraindrops · 1 month

Text

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Seven ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Seven Warnings: profanity, Masterlist is here.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Seven]

“Fuckkk,” Lute groaned for the millionth time that night as you hauled her in through the front door of your house. She flopped onto the couch, muttering incoherently as you went into the kitchen, flipping the light switch.

“What’re you doing?” You heard her voice in the living room as you rummaged through the cupboards.

“Making you something to eat. You go to bed with just alcohol in your stomach and your head’s screwed the next morning.” You stalked over to her, handing her a glass of water which she downed reluctantly under your strict eye.

“If I eat anything I’ll throw up,” she complained.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your fingers. A bucket lined with a plastic bag appeared at your feet. “Be my guest.” Before turning on your heel back towards the kitchen.

For a few seconds she just lay on the couch silently while you continued to work away in the kitchen, until you heard noises drifting up from the couch. Your head snapped towards her.

“Lute?”

She was singing.

Badly.

You snickered to yourself, leaving a sandwich in the sandwich toaster and wondering if you should pull out a phone and start recording. You decided not to. Out of the goodness of your heart.

The light on the toaster turned red, indicating the food was ready. You set the plate in front of Lute. She stopped singing abruptly, eyeing you, and then the sandwich distastefully.

“The fuck?”

“Eat.” You sat down next to her. “Or do I have to feed you?”

“No you don’t have to fucking feel me, the fuck? Gay ass.” She scrambled back as far away from you as she could, her back pressing against the cushions on the other end of the couch.

“I said feed, you blithering idiot. Eat.” You pushed the plate towards her.

After a few suspicious looks, she began to eat. You checked your watch. It was almost one in the morning. You sighed as Lute began to ramble, words so slurred you could barely make out what she was saying.

“…did you hear her talking about me in the bar? Pretty cool right? So what I did was, I took my spear and I sliced it right across-“

You had no idea what she was talking about but decided to stay silent anyways, letting her babble on.

“…And there was blood like fucking everywhere- hey, the fuck is that?”

Your eyes snapped up, and you noticed that hers were trained on your collar. Your hand flew to your neck, feeling the marks in your skin. Your collar had ridden down to expose the top part of the bite mark, and a couple of faded bruises.

“It’s nothing,” you said hastily, pulling your collar up. But it was too late. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open.

“Whoa, who knew the great [name] fucks?” She whispered through a bite of grilled cheese. You winced. Judging by how uncoordinated her movements were, she was too drunk to remember anything clearly the next morning anyways. You were lucky.

“I didn’t fuck anyone. Eat your goddamn food.”

“Hey guys, name fucks!” Lute almost shouted. You grabbed her sandwich and shoved it in her mouth, muffling her next words.

“Ohmygodshutthefuckup,” you seethed. Lute stared at you, slowly chewing on the remnants of her sandwich. Swallowed them.

“Ok,” she said.

And then passed out there on your couch.

You stared at her in outraged shock, then your shoulders sagged. Tiptoeing around the kitchen table, you went to your room, retrieving a blanket which you threw across her sleeping form, her head propped up on the arm rest of the couch which you cautiously attempted to replace with a pillow- and succeeded.

You took the plate, dumped it in the sink and switched off the kitchen lights. The room flooded with darkness.

You heard Lute’s soft snores, and the clock ticking. You ran a hand through your hair, stressed, and then down your neck, fingers hitching around the top of your collar and pulling it down slightly. They brushed over your reddened skin. You flinched, then pulled your hand away.

“Time to go to sleep, I guess,” you mumbled to yourself.

♱♱♱

“Holy shi-“ You almost jumped a foot into the air when you walked into the living room and saw a disheveled Lute sitting on your couch. Her eyeliner had smudged, leaving huge dark rings under her eyes, her eyes which shifted towards you. The towel draped around your shoulders to catch the water dripping from your wet hair slid off and onto the floor.

“Hi,” Lute said bleakly. You carefully tiptoed around her towards the kitchen island. “What am I doing here, exactly?”

You pulled the toaster towards you. “I took you here last night after you got… extremely drunk, and you passed out on my couch. How’s your head?”

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business how my head is,” Lute seethed, and you could hear her get up, walk towards you, feel her glare burn holes into your back. Your eyes widened as you remembered the marks on your neck and you quickly readjusted your towel.

“I’m leaving,” she declared, cracking her neck to the side, then the other. She eyed you.

“Yeah, your stuff’s on the shelf by the door.” You slid her a plate. She stared at the toast, then you, then back at the toast again. “What? It’s toast. Do you want, jam, butter or marma-“

“No,” she snapped, and snatched up the toast, chewing on it savagely all while staring at you angrily in the eye. You stared at her.

“Oh, lovely, raw dog your toast then.” You flicked your head at the door, indicating for her to leave.

The door slammed in her wake.

You stared after it, chewing on the toast contemplatively. Then sighed.

♱♱♱

“Six whole months?”

Adam grinned at you smugly, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the chair. You slammed your drink down on the table, a few drops flying up in the air then plopping back in. “Adam, you can’t just decide when the extermination is.”

“Sure I can. Can’t wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts-“

“Well, Sera won’t listen. And isn’t the next extermination in two months?”

“Yeah I mean the one after that.”

“She won’t listen.”

“The one after that, then.”

“Nope.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve noticed, babe, that I’m quite persistent.”

“Yeah, I have.” You rolled your eyes. “And you’re also pretty bad at using persistence to get what you want.”

Adam leaned forward. “Speaking of that-“

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “It was worth a try.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You downed the rest of your drink, peering at home over the rim of your cup. You cleared your throat and set down the empty cup. Adam rolled his eyes.

“Believe me, it’ll happen. I don’t care if it’s this year, the next, or the one after that- I get what I want cause I’m the fucking man and it’s not like that bitch Lucifer will put up a fight either.” You flinched.

“Right,” you said slowly, getting up, knocking your chair back. “You dragged me here, you’re gonna pay, got it?”

“My pleasure, sugartits. Enjoyed our date.”

“Wasn’t a date,” you said flatly, head throbbing with an ache as you stalked off.

He laughed.

Your headache worsened. ♱♱♱

A/N: stay tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle

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skamenglishsubs · 30 days

Text

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 5

Episode 5 starts sometime after August dropped the bombshell about Erik at the end of last episode, and Wilhelm decides for some reason to visit the party palace, in order to make himself feel extra shit? I don't know what's going on here.

Blink and you miss it: Hey, that's one of the clown masks they used for Wilhelm's initiation back in season 1.

Blink and you miss it: Henry and Valter are doing a class presentation on rhetorical analysis, and for some reason they chose former US president George W. Bush as their subject, which is pretty hilarious given that he was a notoriously bad public speaker.

Blink and you miss it: Instead of asking Wilhelm, who is sitting right next to Simon, how he's feeling, he writes the question in his notebook and slides it over.

Subtext: Gotta keep up that facade and bottle all the negative feelings inside!

Lost in translation: Vincent uses the word "nyanländ", "newly arrived", which is the current politically correct way of saying immigrant.

Subtext: ...but in typical bully fashion he asks the target of the racist "joke" if it was funny, and Marwan obviously lies about it as to not upset Vincent.

Subtext: Felice tries to play it off as no big deal, but she actually wants this opportunity to spend time with Sara without her other friends, in order to rebuild the friendship.

Subtext: Sara is right to be suspicious of her dad, because he is a lot more energetic than usual, and excuses his behaviour by him simply being in a good mood. It's probably his new medication that kicked in, though.

Subtext: Speaking of having a hard time showing weakness, that's exactly what Wilhelm's been struggling with by not telling Simon how upset he is about having learned that Erik took part in the gay porn initiation.

Subtext: So the whole subplot of the past four episodes was that the school locked up all the phones, and Wilhelm joined the little strike to get them back, pissing Simon off in the meantime, and now that they have their phones back he's not picking up when Simon is calling him? Not cool.

Culture: The choir is practising "En vänlig grönskas rika dräkt", a Swedish hymnal with text from 1889, but this version of the melody is from the 1930's and composed by Waldemar Åhlén. It's a very well-known summer song that pretty much every Swedish schoolkid has sung at some end-of-schoolyear summer assembly.

Cinematography: We're in the cursed music room, and this time the lighting is harsh and sharp, Wilhelm is in stark contrast to the rest of the room, there's no soft golden light smoothing things out, so we're gonna have an argument!

Subtext: Yeah, no, Wilhelm, sweetie, that's projection, that's what you are thinking about your brother. Simon isn't doing anything wrong here, he's just concerned about you being a moody asshole.

Cinematography: To illustrate how the relationship is going south, the music room which used to be full of instruments, is just getting emptier and emptier, and Simon is left standing alone at the piano.

Subtext: No, he's not feeling ok, and no, he's not interested in making up with Sara right now, because he's still angry at her.

Subtext: There are different kinds of homophobia, for example, there are people who talk loudly about how accepting they are of The Gays, but who react negatively when someone close to them comes out, because they were only fine with it at a distance. And then there are people who are ignorantly homophobic in general, but who turn out to be supportive of anyone close to them who comes out, because they know that that person isn't like The Other Gays. Shitty, but less shitty than the first group, and I think that's how Erik would have reacted had he known about Wilhelm.

Culture: In Sweden, you do the practical driving test in a car provided by the testing centre to make it fair and equal for everyone. These cars all have a red sticker saying they're for driving tests.

Subtext: Micke is failing exactly how he described it in an earlier episode. He's on new medication, it made him feel good and like he was in control, so he thought he could take just one beer with his friends.

Subtext: No, it fits horribly, and you can clearly see that it was on sale and that the price tag is still on it. But this is what Linda can afford.

Lost in translation: Simon actually says "jag vet", "I know", when Sara tells him that their dad let her down and that she is sad and upset about it.

Subtext: Unlike Simon who got a cheap suit on sale, Wilhelm just has his perfectly tailored suit delivered to him by his bodyguards.

Subtext: Last episode Wilhelm picked a sport charity or something that he doesn't actually care about, because he thought it would best fit the narrative the royal court is going for. So now his internal homophobia is screaming at him to remove the nail polish, because it doesn't fit that image.

I don't know what this is: This has got to be an editing goof? This sequence of events doesn't work. Everyone else is up and about, preparing the third year's dinner with the teachers and they're even cooking the food with a chef, but it's early morning and Wilhelm is still sleeping in? Anyway, the whole thing is yet another example of how the school teaches hierarchy. As a younger student you service the older students, and when it's your turn to graduate, someone younger will service you.

Throwback: Aww, Simon made Wilhelm a sandwich, just like Wilhelm made one for Simon a bunch of times in previous seasons.

Culture: Man, early summer in Sweden is beautiful, isn't it? This was shot at Åkeshofs Slott in Stockholm, and if you do a 180 turn on that path, you'll see the subway station Åkeshov, and if you go through the tunnel under the road and then up to your right, you'll end up at a sports centre where I went twice a week as a kid for fencing training!

This tumblr is now about French school fencing! Doublé! Riposte!

Subtext: Time and time again the show has shown us how much August loves this shit, and that he wasn't lying when he said he knew everyone, because clearly he does!

Subtext: And to show how much Wilhelm dislikes this shit, he is so stiff when talking to the invited kids who are actually benefitting from his charity foundation, while August just immediately jokes around with them and is much more comfortable.

Culture: I've seen how a lot of fans think that the flower Wilhelm is wearing is a green carnation, which is a symbol for being gay, popularized by Oscar Wilde. I don't think so, that's not a thing in Sweden as far as I know. Instead, I think it's an alternate version of a Majblomma, which is an actual Swedish charity thing, where you can buy these plastic lapel flowers from schoolkids to show your support around this time of year.

Subtext: Even though Simon is there, he's being shoved to the back, because his presence doesn't fit the narrative. If Wilhelm instead had chosen to start some kind of LGBT charity, Simon would have had a much more prominent role. Oh, and poison or not, that Princess Cake looks delicious!

Subtext: Farima is expertly letting August down, who of course pretends that he's not the least bit disappointed at being excluded from having dinner at the royal palace.

Blink and you miss it: IT'S LISA! HI LISA!

Culture: Kalle Stropp och Grodan Boll are two characters from a radio show for kids from the 1940's, but they've also been featured in books, comic books, a live action movie, and animated cartoons. It's about the two titular characters, a cricket and a frog, and their adventures. The last movie was made in the 1990's though, so I'm not so sure kids these days knows who these characters are. Personally, I can't hear this song without hearing their silly character voices.

Subtext: The Queen is still keeping up appearances and lying through her teeth about how she's actually feeling.

Culture: In real world Sweden, Victoriadagen is celebrated in mid July when Crown Princess Victoria has her birthday, she hands out a sports award, there's a concert, some charity stuff, and you can sort of meet the royals or sing her happy birthday or something.

Subtext: August is repeating the excuse Farima used on him as to why he didn't attend the birthday dinner.

Blink and you miss it: That's a Rolex Oyster Perpetual GMT-Master II. It's only about $10,000 and change.

Subtext: Simon, sweetie, I don't think the royals have any clue as to what "the usual" means when you're describing how regular people celebrate birthdays.

Culture: Simon actually says Laserdome, which is a company in Sweden that has been running laser tag arenas since the 1990's. I had no idea they still existed!

Culture: They're singing Lambo, a drinking song for students. It's a challenge song, so while the rest of the table sings, the target has to finish their glass, correctly sing the response lines, and turn the glass upside down over their head. If you fail, like August does in this scene, you have to do a penalty round and chug another glass.

Subtext: ...before her parents heaped all of their family's expectations on her. But maybe if Felice can break free she could pursue her actual dreams?

Throwback: Remember the scene in S1E3 when Simon is practising the Hillerska song in the music room?

Subtext: Queenie, sweetie, you're not looking Wilhelm in the eyes, you're not engaging in the discussion, and the only thing you do is to talk about Erik every chance you get. No wonder Wilhelm has had enough and explodes at his parents.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent won the "Daddy pays" award. Pappa betalar.

Subtext: In this context the award just means that he's the image of a bad boy, a player. But throughout the season, August has been struggling with whether or not he's actually a bad person, which is why he's not exactly happy with the award.

Cinematography: Fuck me that's a pretty shot of a typical summer sunset. In late May in the Stockholm area, sunset happens at around 9:30 in the evenings.

Subtext: One more explanation for August's body dysmorphia is that he got bullied for being weak and scrawny when he first started at Hillerska, so he decided to start working out more.

Blink and you miss it: The reason Fredrika is outside and happens to see Sara and August kiss, is because she's trying to sneak away the bottle of wine she stole earlier from the kitchen.

Subtext: And the reason Felice looks upset when Fredrika tells her what she saw is because she truly thought Sara was over August, and that's a condition of them reconciling.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm plays the first few notes of the original Hillerska song.

Subtext: And to cap off this terrible no-good horrible cliffhanger episode, Simon breaks up with Wilhelm by repeating the words his mom said to him earlier in the episode.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

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transhawks · 5 months

Text

Top Ten Hawks Moments of 2023

For Keigo's Birthday and for the end of this year, I have decided to make my top ten Hawks moments for all the chapters published this year.

10. "Hawks" gets torn into shreds by AFO

we had a lot of near-deaths for Hawks this year, but I think this was the most memorable as it happened, giving a very needed burst of humor to the AFO vs Hawks and the Heroes fight. Tokoyami's reaction was particularity heartbreaking.

9. Whatever Level of Gay was Achieved Here

This entire chapter was framed in a way that constantly put Hawks and AFO contrasting and melding and there are panels where their thoughts connect. I thought it was a very good way for Hori to make their dynamic fighting each other stand out. Also, the fight was ridiculously homoerotic.

8. Hawks Reminds Us It's About Connections, Stupid.

A theme for the post-Jaku part of this manga has always been heroes needing to bridge that gap and see if they can connect with the villains. It's interesting that Hawks has been the canon mouthpiece among the adults for that view when he so utterly failed his own narrative-assigned connection. I know there was so much pushback in this moment because Keigo again thought of Endeavor, but it stood out to me in repeating this allegory of OFA linking everyone as the solution to the conflict in the first place.

7. Realizing They All Have the Power to Make Their Own Narrative

Against a villain like One For All who wants to believe he's in his own light-novel, Keigo's own issues distinguishing reality and fantasies managed to settle down. He's always resigned himself to being a caged bird and a martyr, so being pitted against a villain so into life being a foregone conclusion helped Keigo remember they all have more agency than they give them credit for.

6. I think all of Keigo's Rizz was in Fierce Wings

Seriously, this is his normal fake hero persona on STEROIDS? It's fascinating how naturally this stuff comes to him. Like damn, he even has his tongue out, mocking All For One as he gets hoisted by his own petard, and has an arm around a vestige lady who looks suspiciously like All For One's mom, which I am accepting as canon until told otherwise. Say what you want about Hawks, for all his failures and paradoxes, the dude has serious BDE. I'd rate this higher but he had a lot of good moments.

5. Nothing beside remains, round the decay

Probably one of the most striking panels this year, seeing a defeated, quirkless Keigo struggle to get up and meet the horde of encroaching Toga-Twice clones, holding the last remaining feather in a landscape of complete destruction made me think heavily of the Ozymandias poem. Keigo, who has always represented the hero system with his whole diamond-insignia carrying chest, seeing all the consequences of his actions and the futility of his actions in stopping the very future he'd allowed himself to commit murder to prevent. I wonder if it struck him how little it all meant as he faced his "presumed" doom.

4. Farewell, Fierce Wings!

we bid goodbye to the quirk that continued to fight even as it was stolen into the eldritchian amalgamation that is All For One! The look in the vestige's face is so resigned and bitter-sweet as he decays away. Keigo isn't his quirk, but it's remarkable how willing to face death both of them are.

3. What he really wants

The interesting thing is the narration implies that either Keigo was telling Naomasa that the aging made AFO stronger as the battle happened, or still had enough control over his emotional state after being left in the dirt to tell him what he observed. The latter is, well, not that surprising when it comes to Keigo, who won't let being quirkless or maimed or delimbed get in the way of being at his job, but that's not what Hori shows us.

No, Hori doesn't show us Keigo standing up or sitting up, no he shows us a Keigo clinging to Tokoyami, a complete break in the many masks he wears to show actual devastation and need for comfort.

There's no Keigo pretending he's okay. There's just one panel showing us a young man embracing his unconscious student after probably one of the most horrific experiences in his life. Keigo, who has been mentioned to be a person who puts so much distance himself and other people, is the one the one clinging to Fumikage.

2. He really was, wasn't he?

As the Twice clones disappear, we see a melting Toga-Twice on the brink of killing Keigo, who makes no move to stop her as she slices him open. No, he seems almost penitent as he accepts death, only pausing to tell her he knows why she's killing him. Make no mistake, the moment he saw Twice back, he knew what this was all about; killing Jin. In this moment, he doesn't hold himself back with saying killing Jin was necessary - the future Jin's murder was meant to prevent came about anyway, no, this is just Keigo being honest that he really liked Jin, anyway. This panel might show the first real regret we've gotten from him, which is likely why he was so open about not fighting back. Because Keigo knows that he does "deserve" this.

1. Haven’t you already done your best, Hawks?

Chapter 185, this panel introduces us to Hawks.

Two hundred chapters later and we finally see Hawks, for all intents and purposes, resoundingly defeated. His quirk is gone. The army he had as back up, defeated. His student lying defenseless beside him. His hero-partner having left to fight his own battles.

And yet, despite it all, despite losing his quirk, despite every sign of failure around him, especially as he now has to reckon with his own moral event horizon, Keigo's capable of saying one thing:

#hawks #bnha #takami keigo #a happy birthday hawks post #keigo takami #keigo

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olsenmyolsen · 5 months

Text

This Is Me Trying - Two - (A Y/N Parker Spider-Woman X Kate Bishop Story)

masterlist

Summary: The Hawkeyes and you seem to be on the same track...

Word Count: 3.5K

Content: College stress, Flirty Kate Bishop, Clint being a dad

"Kate Bishop! Your crush! Asked you that!? No way!" Ned, of course, couldn't believe it. But this was the same man who didn't realize he was going out with Betty Brant for two weeks

"What did you say after she asked?" MJ questioned when she looked up from behind her laptop on the couch.

"I said, "yeah!" and "that's awesome." Was that good?"

MJ shook her head. "Truly a wordsmith." Sarcastic as ever. MJ went back to her screen to basically ignore you and Ned.

"Well, anyways, congrats," Ned said, getting up from the dining room table where his and Peter's LEGO Death Star was kept. Why was it in your dorm and not there's you had no idea. But MJ helped from time to time, so you figured it was okay.

Ned and you walked into your room and closed the door.

"You know it's a good thing everyone knows you're gay, or else the amount of time we go to your room alone would be suspicious." You froze and thought about Ned's words. "Yeah, I guess... I wonder what MJ thinks we do?"

"I think Peter said we watch movies that she'd disapprove of."

That made sense. "Hmm, alright." You walked over to your bed and flopped onto it while you waited for Ned to do what he needed to do.

3...2...1. "Okay, got it." He said as your fingers formed into a 0. "Alright, what am I looking at?" Ned had pulled up security footage from a traffic light from three weeks ago.

"Okay, this was when that building on 10th in Hell's Kitchen burned down." Ned played the video, and it showed a group of guys in Tracksuits fleeing from the building as they piled into a black SUV moments prior to the building going up.

"Okay. So the Tracksuits are back.." You thought out loud as Ned moved his cursor to another video.

"This was from last week on 3rd in Harlem." The video played and was almost identical to the third one. Except the SUV and the plates on the car were different.

You stood in thought as the last video started. "This was last night."

You recognized the building immediately as you remember zipping past it last night. Just like the other two videos, it played out the same. When the video stopped, Ned looked at you.

"Okay, so as bad as their fashion choice is, they're not idiots. They have different cars and plates every time. Their faces are covered, and let me guess, if we follow the cars light by light, they end up at a chop shop?"

Ned nodded.

"So... it's gotta be the buildings." Ned tilted his head. "What do you mean? It's not the chop shops?" You shook your head. "Chop shops are easy to bust. It's like they want you to follow them there. The buildings. The ones they burn. That's the real money."

Ned looked from you to the screen.

"So you think these tracksuit guys are burning the buildings for insurance money?" You shook your head and entered your closet to change into your Spidey Suit.

Just because you're gay doesn't mean you want guy your friend Ned to see you.

"No, I think someone is hiring these guys to do it." You huffed as you remembered who had the tracksuit mafia in his pocket last time.

Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin.

He was a roach you could never squash just right.

If he owned the buildings, that means there was a lot more at play.

"Okay." You stepped out of the closet and quickly scarfed down a leftover slice of pizza Ned had. "Do you think you could find out who owns these buildings?" Ned nodded. "It's probably a bunch of shell companies, but I can do my best." You patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man." You hurried across your room and grabbed your mask.

"Oh, and when Peter comes over, could you maybe not tell him I went patrolling? Tell him I overheard something on the radio." Ned gave a flat smile.

Lying was not his strong suit.

"If you do, I'll-"

"Hey, Y/N, are you still in there?" You gave a panicked look to Ned before putting on your mask and twhiping away before MJ wildly opened the door.

She looked from the open window to Ned.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Uhhh..." Ned was really bad at lying. "She left..ago- a while ago!" He was in trouble. "Yeah?" MJ crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "How come I didn't see her leave?"

Ned's brain scrambled.

"Blindness?" Ned said, making MJ stand up straighter. "I turn a blind eye to many things, Ned, but this won't be one of them." She uncrossed her arms and stretched her arm out to grab the door handle to the room. "By the way, nice camera footage, totally not suspicious at all." She thinned her eyes and hummed as she closed the door.

After swinging for what felt like a good enough distance away from campus, you stood on the roof of an old pizzeria.

Your phone chimed, and you had a text from Ned. "Did my best. Sorry. 😭😭😭"

You laughed and reassured him that he wouldn't be fired from his guy-in-the-chair duties.

"Keep me posted on the buildings." You sent your final text and put your phone away.

You then stared out into the boro you find yourself in. In the distance, you can see what remains of a shootout you helped rescue people from two months ago. You think about a girl you saved who said she wanted to be like you when she grew up.

Your heart warmed, and you told her to stay in school and that she'd be better than you.

Which was looking more and more accurate by the day as you leaped off the pizzeria, ignoring a text from your brother about the essay you still needed to do.

At the same time, Kate Bishop entered her dorm room, walking past her blonde roommate and fast friend Cassie Lang at her desk before Kate collapsed facedown onto her bed.

"What's wrong?" The slightly shorter of the two, Cassie, turned around and asked. "Tired." Kate's muffled voice spoke.

"How late were you out last night?" Cassie asked as she stood up, approaching her friend's bed. "Past 3," Kate said, making Cassie go wide-eyed. "Kate Bishop! The rule was 2:30 at the latest!"

Kate rolled over and lifted herself up. "I'm sorry." She pouted at her friend, who instantly pulled her into a comforting hug that turned into Kate leaning on Cassie's shoulder. "What else is wrong?" Cassie asked as she saw how exhausted Kate looked.

"Nothing," Kate said, but Cassie wasn't so sure. "Are you doing some overthinking?" Kate froze eventually before nodding. "What about?"

"Clint and the Tracksuits."

Kate spoke freely about her other life to Cassie.

Kate used to tell people openly about how she was working with an Avenger, but after what happened with her mom and Kingpin last year, she toned it down.

Now, the only people who know are Cassie, Pizza Dog, and a rouge assassin for hire. Plus, Clint and his family.

Cassie only found out when she woke up in the middle of the night to see Kate in her Hawkeye outfit on the floor.

Kate tripped, falling through the window, and busted her chin.

Kate wanted to tell more people like you. But as previously mentioned. She liked you and didn't want you to get hurt because of her.

So, she kept her Hawkeye circle small.

However, Kate couldn't get the idea out of her head... what if she told you?

"Kate?" Cassie poked the forehead of her dorm mate. "Where'd you go?" She asked.

Kate sat up and cracked her neck, ignoring the question. Cassie noticed as she raised her eyebrows and returned to her desk. Choosing schoolwork, Chemistry in particular, over prying answers from Kate.

"Do you think I should tell Y/N?" Kate spoke up and waited for Cassie to turn around. But she didn't.

"Cass?" Kate asked as she stepped off her bed and walked next to her friend. "Cass?" She asked again before realizing Cassie had put in her AirPods.

Cassie turned to her left and jumped, startled, before pulling them out. "Oh shit. What's up?!" Kate opened her mouth. "I..- nothing. I just was going to tell you that I.. wanted to.."

She couldn't do it.

"I wanted to invite Y/N to my archery practice!" Kate put on a smile and watched her friend's face light up.

"Oh my God, I love that! Please do it! Ugh, she's so pretty!" Cassie was happy for her friend finally doing something about her crush. "She is," Kate replied with a blush. "Think she'll show?" Kate then asked.

"Why wouldn't she?" Cassie tilted her head, entirely focused on the conversation.

Cassie and you had hung out briefly when your friend group and Kate's got together, but she has never witnessed how your superhero life affects you.

Kate shrugs. "Lately, Y/N has been... flaky isn't the right word.. but not here? I guess? She's always tired too. She bails on plans with her and Peter sometimes."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"I've seen it at the library. Their study block is next to mine." Cassie nodded. "Plus, MJ's told me."

"Michelle Jones?" Cassie questions, making Kate nod. "She's roommates with Y/N, right?" Kate nods again. "Well, what does she think." Kate folds her lips into her mouth and raises her eyebrows.

"She thinks Y/N is The Spider."

Cassie's mouth drops before forming into a smile of laughter. "What?!" Kate nods with her own smile. "It's true. She's convinced."

Cassie laughs, making Kate giggle. "She took pictures of The Spider over a summer once. That doesn't mean she's THE Spider." Kate nodded as her smile naturally faded. "That would be funny," Kate said, making Cassie laugh again.

"Well, good luck with having your crush at practice tomorrow." Kate waved Cassie off as she went to the bathroom to shower and change. "Going out?" Cassie yelled through the closed bathroom door.

"Not till later. Why?" Kate replied as she took her top off. Her eyes finding a yellow bruise on her chest. "Looks like it's gonna snow."

And snow it did.

It started to come down after you stopped an armed robbery. Armed being used lightly as the men committing the crime were carrying toy guns.

Plus, the bank they chose to hit was a block down from a police station.

So, as you swung back up onto a nearby roof, snow hit your mask. You smiled and lifted up the mask to expose your mouth and nose. You inhaled and exhaled, watching your breath hang in the air.

The snow touched your face and melted against your warm pink cheeks.

It was cool and calming.

A few seconds of much-needed peace.

"I love snow." You whispered to yourself as the wind blew, making you shiver, but you remained now sitting on the roof with your smiling face to the darkened sky.

After enough time, you pulled out your phone.

"I should see if anyone needs any help." But before you could check the Friendly Neighborhood Spidey App, you were receiving a call from an unknown number.

"Ew, who calls anyone after 7?"

You weighed the options of answering it due to your fear of talking on the phone, but after three rings, you caved. "Hello?"

"Yes, hello, I'm calling for a Y/N Parker." The male voice on the other end sounded familiar.

"This is she." You said, standing up. "Ah, Y/N! Nice to put a voice to a list of your academic achievements." The male chuckled. "This is Dr. Otto Octavius." You physically stopped pacing and smiled. Holy crap! You were speaking to THE Dr. Octavius!

"Dr. Octavius! Hello! Wow, I can't believe you called. I take it Dr. Connors passed along... well, my life." You sent a small laugh Otto's way. "He did." He replied with a smile. "And I must say he was right; you're a bright student, Y/N."

You made a "yeah!" gesture with your arm.

"But-" Oh no! "I agree with Connors when he says you've been struggling. I can see just by looking at your grades and past reports that you're lazy. Brilliant but lazy."

"I- I'm trying to do better." You paved around the empty rooftop. "I've just had a lot of personal stuff happening lately."

The other side of the line went quiet.

"Parker, intelligence is not a privilege. It's a gift."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, butDr. Octavius stopped you. Do you think you'll be free after the holidays?" You perked up at that and stood on your tiptoes.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

"Uh yes- yes sir! You'll have my undivided attention!"

Dr. Octavius hummed.

"On the second Monday after the new year, I'd like to speak with you face to face. From there, we can see how we'll proceed with one another. That's about a month away, Parker. That should give you time to get your other affairs in order."

You nodded your head. "Yes, sir. Thank you!"

"I'll email you the information and where to meet me two weeks from now. Happy Holidays."

The line went dead, and you cheered. You just got an interview with Dr. Otto Octavius. He called you lazy, but he also said you were brilliant!

You put your phone away and jumped off the roof of the building with an aloud cheer that you were certain people did not appreciate.

Meanwhile, Kate was unlocking the door to her aunt's place to meet up with Clint. What she wasn't expecting was for Clint to be there already.

"Trust me, I don't plan on missing two Christmas' in a row."

Clint was on the phone.

Kate quietly closed the door, dropped her bag, and quiver on the floor.

"Laura..." Clint sounded tired. "With Kingpin back, I'd feel awful if I left and something happened." Kate's lips formed into a flat line. "Yeah, no, she's great. Kicking ass on her own." Clint said and laughed when his wife replied back.

Kate tried to remain quiet, but a floorboard creaking under her left foot gave her away. Lucky's head shot up from Clint's lap, making the archer turn around. "Hey, babes, Hawkeye just arrived, so I gotta go. Yeah. Yeah. I'll be safe. Love you too."

Clint smiled before hanging up. "She says hi." Kate nodded and told Clint to tell Laura hi the next time they spoke.

Kate grabbed a spot on the loveseat next to the couch.

"I didn't hear you come in," Clint spoke up as he put his phone away. "Don't know if that's my old age or..." He tapped his ear. "Maybe I'm just getting better at sneaking around," Kate replied with a smile.

Clint nodded his head with a chuckle. Kate was saving him from embarrassment.

Clint was still struggling with his hearing loss.

"Yeah, well... maybe it's all three," Clint said as he looked away from Kate. His hand still petting the dog.

Something in the room always shifted when talks like these happened. It reminded the two archers that time and missions with one another were limited.

Clint couldn't do this forever.

He didn't want to do this forever. He had a family and a life outside of being Hawkeye.

But damn, if he wasn't going to miss someone, he considers family—an annoying girl who was somehow more skilled than him but clumsy as hell, Kate Bishop.

Clint kicked his tongue and scooted Lucky off his lap before getting up and grabbing a water from the ridge and a laptop from his bag. "While you were at school. I got a friend to do a little research."

Clint returned, sitting at the edge of the couch closest to Kate. He opened the laptop and clicked on a folder of files. Blueprints. Bank records. Phone calls and messages all popped up on the screen.

"A friend?" Kate asked with a knowing smirk.

Clint ignored her as he took a sip of water. Clicking on the map of the city. Certain buildings highlighted in red. Others in grey. "What am I looking at?"

"The red ones are the burned-down buildings." Kate took a look at the map again. "And the grey... Potential targets?" Clint nodded before clicking on another file. It was a picture taken by Clint last night. "This is a zoomed-in photo of the blueprint on the Tracksuits wall."

"Their next target?" Kate asked. "I think so. We find one of the grey buildings that matches this blueprint." He pointed to the screen. "We can stop them."

Stop them, hurt them, make them confess, give us the details and whereabouts of Wilson Fisk.

You know, that kind of stop them.

Kate looked at the screen again. She moved pieces of her hair behind her ears before leaning into the screen. "How do we know they'll target one of the grey ones?"

Clint moved the cursor on the screen and clicked on an open tab. Finical records. "The ones burned down and these ones." The ones highlighted grey. "Are all owned by different shell companies, but when you really start digging deep, you find that they all go to the same place. Red Lion National Bank."

"Kingpin," Kate said.

Clint nodded. "He owns them all."

"So what he uses these buildings as cash houses and then burns them down when they aren't needed?" Clint shrugged. "It's a working theory. I'm sure there's more involved than money." Kate agreed.

"This one looks like the blueprint. But... but so does this one." Kate said as she clicked between two different buildings.

"It's probably built by the same company that's why they're not so different." Clint thought. "We could go stake out one and see how much movement happens."

"Sounds good to me. Doesn't look that far away. I mean it's far but- you get what I mean." She flopped her hand at Clint.

He laughed.

"Alright well, let me go get changed and we'll be off." Clint stood up and clapped his hands. "Oh, I also already fed Lucky and took him out so no need to worry."

Pizza Dog perked his ears up.

"Awww did Uncle Clint already take care of you?" Kate turned on her baby voice as she leaned over to kiss and pet the dog. "You're such a good boy!" Lucky's tail started wagging. Clint playfully rolled his eyes as he walked to the bathroom.

As she waited Kate's mind started to wander.

"Alright, we just about ready?" Clint asked as he zipped up his vest and grabbed his bow. Kate stood up putting her phone into her pocket and nodded. "My stuff's by the door."

"Great." Clint and Kate made their way to the front door to finish gathering what they needed. "Oh, here." Clint tossed Kate a purple beanie.

She smiled and looked at Clint. "Occasion?"

"It's cold and snowing outside. Can't have you getting sick." Kate's heart warmed at that whether it was sarcastic or not. "Thanks. Where'd you get it?" She asked a she released her hair from its ponytail

"Stopped by my place in the city earlier. Found it in the closet."

What Clint failed to tell Kate is that the beanie wasn't store-bought.

It was handmade.

And before you ask. God, no Clint didn't spend hours crocheting a hat together.

Natasha Romanoff did.

"Looks better on you kid." Clint smiled as Kate dawned it with pride. "Hawkeye and Hawkeye. One with a beanie the other with a hearing aid!" Kate posed as if she was shooting an arrow and exaggerated her voice.

"Had to ruin it didn't you?" Clint teased as he opened the door.

"Bye, Lucky!" Clint waved to the dog before entering the hall. "Bye, Pizza Dog! Be good!" Kate flipped all but one light switched off and locked the door.

As the two archers made their trek to the location marked on Clint's phone he spoke up simply because he couldn't help himself.

"So... who were you texting earlier?"

Kate looked to her right confused. However, she knew what Clint was talking about. "Come on. Don't give me that look. I may be deaf at times but I'm never blind." Clint bumped into Kate as they kept waking. "Don't forget I'm also the father of a teenage daughter."

Kate had him there.

"A friend." She said. "Oh, a friend! Are they nice?" Kate nodded. "She's nice." Clint smiled. She. "Does she know about this?" Clint pointed to the arrows on Kate's back.

Kate shook her head. "She knows I do archery but that's it." Clint looked at Kate's side profile. "But you want to tell her?" Kate looked up. "How'd you know?"

Clint exhaled.

"Because Kate you like this friend of yours. You're young. Oh, and you're terrible at keeping secrets."

"Am not."

She was.

In Clint's eyes, it was a miracle the whole world didn't know the real identity of the "new" Hawkeye.

"Regardless, are you going to tell them?"

Kate shrugged. "I don't know."

Clint patted her shoulder. "That's alright." Kate smiled. "I invited her to my archery practice tomorrow and to study afterward. The text was about her coming over."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Oh well as long as you're safe."

Kate furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. But before she could reply her phone buzzed.

It was a text from you.

"Sounds great! 🎯"

You smiled as you hit send.

Your fingers remained tightly gripped around your phone as you twhiped yourself through an alleyway.

You thought about double-texting Kate. Asking her how she was or what she was doing. Or why the sudden invite to her archery practice?

Was it just for fun? The want to hang out with you? Or did Kate truly just want to show off her toned arms and skills with a bow?

Could it be all of the above?

You closed out your messages app before you could accidentally send a double text and focused on your tingling.

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bomertheshark · 3 months

Note

Helloo it’s 🧸 Anon, I really love the poly! Ghostface!! I would love to ask, do you watch hunger games by any chance? I’m really into hunger games right now and I don’t see any of male readers for it, so you could maybe do teen Coriolanus snow x male reader? Where Coriolanus and reader both mentors and dating, reader got jealous that Coriolanus and lucy gray are close too close to each other, reader distance himself from Coriolanus, and coriolanus got confused as to why reader is ignoring/distancing himself from coriolanus, Coriolanus ask why and tell the reader that he and her are nothing and its only so he can win and stuff. Only if you watch and want to write it of course, thank youu. It’s a angst fluff or add smut if you feel comfortable with it

I am so sorry! I didn’t post until this late at night after the day I said I would, I got caught up with not scheduling it to be released that day and then didn’t write it after going out with friends to watch the Super Bowl (all of that and the 49ers didn’t win.) I hope this is to your satisfaction I’m so sorry! There is only slight implication to smut.

Suspecting

Coriolanus Snow x Male reader

Short

!!VERY OOC LUCY GRAY!!

You woke up to the sound of someone moving in your cabin. You sat there controlling your breathing until they got close enough for you to gauge where they were. You got up with a start, quickly pinning down the culprit who broke in ready to fight for your life, surprised to see that it was none other than the man you had been trying to avoid this entire time. Coriolanus Snow.

All of this had started when you pretty much met Coriolanus, finding him incredibly attractive and charismatic it wasn’t hard to fall in love with him an and care for him. Sure it started off slow but you always knew you liked men so you had no sort of denial from it. It only started to get harder when he would care for Lucy while being close to you. You talked to some of your friends who knew you were gay about your fondness for him. They mentioned how you should either talk about it with him or talk to Lucy about it. You felt rather than talking to the man you decided to talk to Lucy.

The conversation went kind of weirdly she never once had ever been against someone being gay but this time was oddly different, she had never felt more rude towards you. Laughing at you when you had even tried to come to the notion that they weren’t dating. Instead of putting your head to rest she made it worse by saying things like “he only acts like that because you’re annoying” and “why would someone like him date someone like you?” You left her cabin even more worried than ever. You never got into your head about things like this but the change in Lucy Gray’s attitude really threw you off.

You started distancing yourself from him and her especially when you would notice when she would drape herself over him and catch your eye only to smirk at you. Every time Coriolanus would come up to you, you would distance yourself by giving short answers or giving an excuse to leave the conversation early. You did this for months on end, obviously he was starting to catch on and would try to corner you alone to get answers, getting frustrated every time. Thankfully you had your friends to thank whenever they would find you in the situation and get you out of it with god knows what.

You knew he was getting frustrated but you didn’t know what to do. Only moving further and further away from him, leaving every time he would enter the room or your vicinity. He almost caught you when you were out gathering supplies in the forest. After a while he started to leave you alone after so long, you finally thought you were in the clear until now. You had woken up to the sound of someone in your cabin. There was a rule, no one go into peoples cabins at lights out. People liked their alone time and their sleep, so hearing someone in your cabin at this time was automatically suspicious.

You controlled your breath to make it seem like you were still asleep, waiting for the culprit to be closer to you before getting shooting up and pinning them to the bed ready to call out for the others and to fight if you needed to. You were expecting to fight for your life but what you weren’t expecting was to see the very man that you had been avoiding the entire time. Coriolanus Snow in the flesh pinned under you, under normal fighting or sparring circumstances you would immediately get off of him but he wasn’t supposed to be in here. How did he get in here? Why was he in here? You immediately asked him these questions, not getting any answers you were starting to get a little aggravated. “Why are you in here?” You asked sternly.

What was very out of character for him, Coriolanus answered “I uh I, I wanted to talk to you about something…” he was so unsure about yourself it was weird. You asked him what he meant and that you still wanted to know how he got in, especially because he broke in to your cabin in the middle of the night. He didn’t answer only watching you, with labored breathing, and… blow pupils… oh. You thought totally understanding now. “You like being pinned and choked?” You asked, putting more pressure on him. The squirming and whine that escaped him answered everything you needed to know. Including the thrusting up to gain friction against you. You gave in to him putting away how much you would have to talk about with him in the morning. And more than anything the seedling of victory and ego you gained for ravishing him while Lucy Gray slept alone.

I don’t really like this one all that much so maybe later in the year all rewrite it when I’m focused and all that jazz.

#bomertheshark #top male reader #dom male reader #x male reader #male reader #seme male reader #bottom character #late night bomer post #gay #coriolanus x male reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #🧸-Anon

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strawberryspence · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson first falls in love with the water at the age of seven. On his seventh birthday, his Mom and Dad drives him to California. It was one of the few times he remembers being happy with his family. His father stole an RV, just for them. His mother wasn’t really happy with it, but had to let it go when Eddie lights up at the news of a road trip to California. He remembers seeing the beach, the feeling of the sand on his feet, the blueness of the Pacific Ocean and the warmth of the water against his skin. In his room, one of the few items he packed when finally ran away from home, is a small seashell. It’s small enough to hold with your fingertips. On bad days, Eddie holds it near his ear and tries to hear the soft whisper of the ocean.

Eddie Munson is thirteen when he starts hiding behind the bleachers to watch a boy swim. He knows he’s gay, has known since the age of nine that he doesn’t feel what the other boys feel for girls. Eddie finds the swimming stands by accident, he just wanted to find a smoking spot when he finds a screaming crowd. It’s nothing like the ocean, no sound of waves crashing against the shore, the blueness only reflects with the light. A boy swims, he swims like he was born to be in the water. When he comes out of the water, he shines against the sun, golden hair wet and smile bright. Eddie falls in love. Eddie Munson’s first love is the ocean, second is Steve Harrington.

Eddie Munson is seventeen when he learns how the water can be used as a cruelty. Wayne drives the both of them to help look for this boy, just a small boy, lost in the woods. Wayne tells him that if he sees a mother, looking for her son, don’t look away, don’t glare, don’t give her pitiful looks. Give her a gentle smile, a helping hand. They trek the woods, a few times for the next few days. Eddie will never forget that day, Wayne was driving them back to the trailer when they see flashing red and blue lights just below the quarry. They both stop, looking over the edge of the man-made water, watching as Chief Hopper pull Will Byers’ body out of the water. Only then did Eddie realized how dark and menacing the water could be at night.

Eddie Munson is twenty when he starts hating the water. He’s in a boat, again, after having the worst three days of his life. Steve Harrington is more grown now, Eddie’s not entirely in love with him anymore, not when he spent a few years in high school with a group that bullied Eddie. But he doesn’t deny the way his heart beats out of his chest when Steve dives into the water, because he was born to do so, always meant to be in the water. He doesn’t know why Robin and Nancy are scared, Steve can do this, he belongs in the water. He watches as Steve lunges, breaks the barrier, and a split second of relief before Steve gets dragged down. Eddie follows the girls down the water. It’s cold and dark and it pulls him into the mouth of hell.

Eddie Munson is twenty-one and he hasn’t been in the water in almost a year. He knows, the golden boy with the the heart of gold, the boy he knew who was born to be in the water, hasn’t been in a pool just as long. Eddie understands, after the night at Lover’s Lake and after learning that Barb died in the pool. He watches the kids, splashing water around and playing games. He finds Will, laughing and smiling as he floats in the water and Eddie forces himself to remember this moment and not his fake body floating around the Quarry. Steve’s fixing the snacks with Nancy and Robin’s reading a book beside him, her head on his shoulders.

The kids have been bugging him to get in the pool, but Eddie has been dodging their requests for almost a year now. It’s suspiciously quiet for a moment and before Eddie can understand what’s happening the girls are counting down as the boys hold him by the shoulder and by the feet and throw him in the water. He hears a stream of screaming before the water hits his ears, and it swallows him whole. It’s nothing like the soft and warm embrace of the ocean. It’s cold and dark and suddenly it’s pulling him back into the mouth of hell. He wants to swim up, he needs to swim up, but he sees the vines pulling him and tries to fight it, trash against it. It doesn’t budge, so he let’s himself be pulled in.

Steve Harrington hasn’t been in the water in 11 months, 24 days, and 8 hours. But at that moment, every thought and fear in his body vanishes when he sees Eddie sinking into the pool, fighting the water before letting it swallow him whole. Steve dives so fast, he forgets how much he’s hated the coldness of the pool. But Eddie’s down there, and no place with Eddie in it will ever be dark. Eddie’s eyes are closed, as he scoops him in his arms, swimming back to the surface and immediately laying him down on the poolside.

“Move!” Steve shouts, and the kids are so surprised that they pave a way for him, they’ve never seen Steve this mad at them. He gives Eddie CPR and suddenly, he’s back in the Upside Down. His hands are red with blood, Dustin’s begging him to help Eddie, Robin’s cradling Dustin as Nancy tries to stop the bleeding. He does the same prayer as he pumps at Eddie’s chest, please let him live please let him live please let hi— Eddie coughs water. The kids collectively sigh as Robin and Nancy both wrap them in towels. But in the chaos, Steve just cries, trying to remember how to breathe again because they’re in his backyard, not in the Upside Down. Eddie’s okay. Eddie’s okay. He’s not bleeding and in the cusp of dying.

“Oh, love. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay.” Eddie holds him, wincing at the pain in his chest, but still holds him in his arms. Eddie glares at the kids, looking up to Robin and Nancy to gesture for them to go in the house and leave them. When it’s finally just them, Eddie pulls away, wiping at Steve’s cheeks and cupping his jaw. Eddie preens at the fact that Steve doesn’t pull away.

“Hey, you good?” Steve laughs at the question, “I should be asking you that.” Eddie chuckles at the sound of his laugh.

“I am okay. I’ll live. How about you? You haven’t swam in a while and you gave me another CPR. I am sorry.” Steve shakes his head.

“Don’t say sorry. I’ll do it all again for you.”

Eddie does what he’s always wanted do since the age of thirteen. He kisses Steve for the first time, and it’s like falling in love with the water all over again. He remembers the light, the blue, the warmth. It's like being seven again and wiggling his toes in the sand for the first time.

Eddie Munson is twenty-seven when he gets married. Not legally, but married in the eyes of their family. Steve’s laughing with the kids as they play chicken, the water splashing around. Eddie lets himself enjoy the sand beneath his feet, the sound of the water crashing against the shore, the sounds of Robin and Argyle arguing about the snacks and the kids laughing.

“Eds!” Eddie looks up from his book.

Steve is calling him from the water, golden hair wet and smile bright, “Come in the water! It’s warm!”

Eddie smiles back at him, slipping a bookmark between the pages before running to Steve’s arms, making both of them fall into the water. There’s no fear, not when he’s in the arms of his husband, the boy who was born to be in the water. It’s warm and soft and it’s home.

Eddie will always come back to the water, always waiting for it, always watching it, will always love it.

Because Eddie Munson is the shore, and Steve Harrington is the ocean.

"Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the [shore] refuses to stop kissing the [ocean] no matter how many times it [had went] away." — Sarah Kay

#LMOAOOOOOOOO THIS TURNED INTO A FULL FICLET IM SORRY #this was honestly horrible i hated this but here you go #steddie rants #daeheadcanons #dae writes #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harrington x eddie munson fluff #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie headcanons #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #tw trauma #tw ptsd

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 6 months

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Sword gays showdown, round 1 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Di Feisheng:

First off there's literally a bit where he's being nice to the evil lady who is obsessed with him and then one of her lackeys goes "miss, this is kinda suspicious he's never been interested in women before I think he's planning something" and he's got the most homoerotic relationship with like his ex and his ex's new bf. ALSO as for his swordiness, he names his sword "sword" because he doesn't see the point in naming a sword but he's also overprotective af over it and like has to be bribed to show it off to other people because they're not worthy to see it

My man had one goal and that was to become the #1 swordsmaster in the land. And then he does!! but then decides his sole aim over the entire course of the show is to fight the (now retired and dying) former #1 with whom he has intense gay divorced vibes. He literally is the strongest dude in the place who could probably take over the throne and be the Villain the world thinks he is but no. He is too busy roadtripping and trying to heal his husband so they can have their promised swordfight. His sword is named "sword". He's the most sword gay of all sword gays. He also has a very unique blade that's explained in amazing detail here

For Yin Hanjiang:

You've heard of gays who studied the sword now get ready for the gay who IS the sword.

Yin Hanjiang was fished out of a mass grave by the head of a demonic sect, and developed homoerotic loyalty towards the man, becoming his sword. He seems emotionless and calm, but he will go murderously feral if something were to happen to his Venerable (aforementioned head of demonic sect, Wenren E). Learning this caused Wenren E to look at his subordinate in a new light, eventually leading to them getting together. Also various fun moments like "if you want me to put down my sword, why don't you ask first if my sword is willing?"

#sword gays showdown #yin hanjiang #devil venerable also wants to know #dvawtk #di feisheng #mysterious lotus casebook

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mlmxreader · 7 months

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My Agent | Johnny Cage x m!reader (🍋)

『••✎••』 ↳ ❝ Just wanted to say I ADORE your writing, literally feeding the males and the gays and it’s just- *Chefs kiss.*

Was wondering if I could request a Johnny cage(mk1) fic where M!reader is his new agent(?) who Johnny instantly takes a liking to because they can match his wits? Was thinking something like Johnny having the reader ride him in his personal limo after they leave a gala, like back to chest type beat? I don’t mind any other kinks tbh.

Have a great day/night!

-🦊 anon (is that how that works???) ❞

: ̗̀➛ Johnny takes an immense liking to his new agent, even if he wasn't exactly keen on hiring somebody new.

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

: ̗̀➛ anal sex, breeding kink, LIGHT (very light) choking kink, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

At first, Johnny was far from keen at even the thought of having a new agent, but given that there wasn’t much he could do about it, he did begrudgingly accept your offer; all of your previous references checked out, more shining than anything else.

Johnny had to wonder - why would you want to work for him when you had been working as an agent for a much bigger, more famous, Hollywood star?

He was suspicious, until he read in the papers that your previous employer had retired from acting. He needed an agent though, so he couldn't exactly turn you away given that his last one quit on him. Something about his ego.

The rest of Johnny's team liked you though, his publicist said you were a good looking guy, presumably single, dedicated to your work and not shy of bragging about who you had worked with before. His assistant told him that you were more than good looking, and that you were funny.

Johnny had no idea that the day he met you, he would fall absolutely head over heels the second you opened your mouth. Mouthy like him, flirtatious and charming and fuck… you were certainly funny, and Johnny could only think about how his publicist and assistant bad lied to him: you weren't just handsome, you weren't just good looking.

You were the single most fucking stunning man Johnny had ever laid his eyes on.

Love at first sight, Johnny did everything he could to woo you; lavish and luxurious dates, spoiling you with whatever you happened to nonchalantly mention that you liked - clothes, food, bits and pieces for your home, if you mentioned it, Johnny bought it the next day. He adored that you could actually match his wit and humour, even more so that you sometimes left him absolutely speechless and just gawking at you with a slight grin.

But it paid off, and although the relationship wasn't public - Johnny was sure that there would be a mass amount of animosity towards you for fucking your boss and an equal amount towards him for fucking his employee - he took you to every public event as his plus one.

People thought that it was sweet of him, and often referred to you as his "close friend/agent". They had no idea.

Of course, Johnny took you with him to the most recent gala; showing you off to his Hollywood friends, proudly grinning as he placed his hand between your shoulders and told them who you were. Winking at you when a few of them handed you their cards and asked if you could represent them as well; he would shake his head and laugh.

"No, unfortunately, he's all mine."

The comment made you laugh, heart pounding as you leaned into him slightly, all but hanging off of his arm; you mostly kept quiet during the events though, even if Johnny did try and encourage you to be yourself. You couldn't turn your professional mode off, you never could, but you were slowly starting to let it slip slightly.

At the end of the night, Johnny had you in the back of his private limousine, your shoes and trousers and boxers scattered on the floor. His trousers and boxers pushed down to his ankles. You were so fucking glad he kept a bottle of lube in the seat pocket.

Your back against his chest as he held one hand against your throat, the other on the inside of your thigh; he pushed his hips up, fucking your ass as you let out a soft moan of his name.

"Shit, Johnny," you breathed out. "You're almost as good at this as I am."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," Johnny growled out, softly kissing your neck. "I've got a lot more planned for tonight."

You ground against him, gripping your cock and slowly stroking it. "No homo, though, right?"

Laughing softly, Johnny gently bit down on your neck, his grip on your thigh getting slightly tighter, fingernails digging into your skin. "I think it's a little late for that, don't you?"

"You're right," you chuckled quietly. "It's way too late for- oh, fuck! Right there!"

He grunted softly, picking up his pace a little bit, the sound of skin slapping taking over the sound of the radio in the front; 'International Love' by Pitbull was playing. You threw your head back against his shoulder, panting heavily as you begged him for more.

"Switch positions," Johnny panted out, pushing you off of him when you agreed before making you turn around.

He was quick to pull you back, thrusting into your ass and letting you hold onto his shoulders, his hand firmly around your throat but not squeezing. He could feel your pulse against his fingertips as you stared into his big brown eyes.

He swallowed thickly, thinking about whether or not to say it. Fuck it. It could wait.

You felt so good, like your ass was made to take every inch of his cock; he couldn't help it, pulling you down for a kiss and stealing every single ounce of breath that you had.

"Johnny," you whimpered upon pulling away, your hands on his chest as you pressed your face against the side of his neck. Forcing his grip on your throat to let go. "Fuck…"

"You want me to breed you?" Johnny asked, chest heaving as he reached around and grabbed both your ass cheeks. "Huh? You want me to breed your perfect ass?"

You nodded.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he breathed out. "Use your words like a good boy."

"I want you to breed me, Johnny," you said quietly. "Please."

It was music to his fucking ears as he picked up his pace, fucking up into you as quickly as he could and as hard as he could. The sounds of your moans and grunts and his harsh breaths and soft growls mingled with the slapping of skin, much, much louder than the radio.

He was getting close, but he was behind you; he didn't care, keeping up the pace until he could feel you cumming on his stomach, staining his shirt. He could get it washed.

"Finish in me, Johnny," you begged. "Please, Johnny, finish in me, breed me."

Johnny was all too eager to oblige, filling and stuffing you with his cum as his orgasm washed over him; but he didn't care, fucking it back into you as he tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes. Your ass clenching around his cock. Fuck.

He kept going, desperate to fill you and to make you all his. Fuck. You felt so good, he didn't want to stop. But when you tapped his left ear, he knew he had to.

He gave you time to get off of him, letting you flop on the seat beside him; Johnny couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you pulled your trousers and boxers back on at the same time he did. Fuck. You were definitely a keeper.

"Johnny?"

"Hmm?"

"If you're gonna stare like that, you better be thinking about round two."

Johnny grinned as he licked his lips. "Oh, don't worry. I am."

He didn't say it. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He'd wait for later. Maybe when you were half asleep next to him so he could deny that he ever said it if you didn't feel the same.

"I love you," you told him with a smile, moving to sit back on his lap.

For a moment, Johnny stared at you, nearly gawking. "Huh?"

"I love you," you told him.

"Can we start round two now?"

"John."

He swallowed thickly, daring to grin. "I love you, too."

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abbysbunny · 7 months

Text

NEW STUDENT

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

part two

plot: hazel joins a new school and maybe makes a new friend

warning: none, like a tiny weeny bit of fluff, this is low-key boring so:3+not proofread because I'm dyslexic and lazy

word count: 0.7k

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

school. it's boring and confusing, but lucky for you a new classmate was joining you today. the bell rang, signifying the start of first period, you say down in your assigned seat and noticed the spot next to you was empty, 'huh weird' you thought, thinking nothing of it.

Ms.smith walked into the class with a short haired girl behind her, "good morning class, this our new student hazel callahan, be nice and give her a warm welcome", some people around the class said hi but no one really cared, she ajusted the sting of her backpack before sitting down in the seat next to yours.

you looked at her with a small smile on your face, giving her a little wave, she just glaced at you before turning around to pull out her notebook. the smile on your face quickly turned into a slight frown, you whipped your head around to face the chalkboard.

it felt like 10 hours had passed before the bell ringed, you finally had break. after a quick snack it was time to go out in the freezing cold, 'great, I'm cold and have no friends to hang out with' you mentally noted. suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder interrupting your train of thought.

you turned around and saw, hazel. she looked at you with an awkward smile before speaking, "um, Ms.smith said I could ask you to give me a tour around the school, is that okay with you?" she anxiously scratched the back of her neck, you thought about it for a moment, with a small amount of hesitation you said yes.

you grabbed her hand and led her around the school, showing her the bathrooms, classes cafeteria and even cracking a few jokes here and there making her chuckle, by the end of the tour you felt proud of yourself for maybe making a new friend. the bell ringed, again, and it was officially time for second period, today was gonna be a long day.

lunch was always loud and lonely, you grabbed your plate of suspicious looking food and sat down at an empty table guessing someone with a dog collar would sit down next to you and gush about some anime. surprisingly someone different sat down, hazel sat down.

"hey hazel, how're you liking the school?" you said in a hopefull sounding tone,"it's okay" your conversation attempt was shut down with her dry tone, you continued eating your french fries before noticing hazel was reading. 'reading? at lunch? with this chaos?' you thought.

looking at hazel really scanning her face you realized that she was actually attractive, like really attractive, usually the most attractive person at your school is a teacher who kinda looks like Sarah Paulson, but someone your age who looks attractive who's also gay? here that's crazy. 'wait is she gay? I mean she dresses like a little boy who just discovered urban outfitters' you were 99% sure she was, but...was it better to ask?

"hey hazel?" she quickly lifting her head, her eyes peeking out of her bangs, "are you gay?" hazel slightly choked on her sandwich before taking a big gulp of water. she looked at you with a confused look, "uhm, yeah I am but uh why do you wanna know...?" you thought of a quick reason without trying to sound offensive, "I don't know I guess I wanted to know if I'm the only gay person at this school...?" you awkwardly chuckled.

"oh well you're not I guess..." you noticed a light shade of pink on her cheeks, you opened your mouth to speak but before you could get anything out the bell rang, had it already been a half hour? 'fuck we have Mr.Gs class now' you sighed, "hazel since we have Mr.Gs class now and it's not that important, so wanna sit next to me and maybe chat a bit?" she looked at you for second and quietly agreed.

by the end of the school day you and hazel had actually gotten to know each other pretty well, you walked out of class together, her hand accidentally brushing against yours, making your face hot, "hey uh, could I get your number or Instagram, or whatever you wa-" hazel was cut off from her awkward ranting by your voice.

"yeah I'll give you my number" you exchanged numbers before saying your goodbyes, maybe school isn't so bad after all.

notes: this is my first post I'm so scared please don't be mean I'll pee my pants, also I rushed the ending😛 if you fruity people want a part two tell me😈

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan oneshot #hazel callahan fanfiction #ruby cruz x reader

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xjustakay · 9 months

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(8/25) prompt: gold — 1150 words (firefighter james episode 2: being a menace - pt.1, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus loves photography, he does. It’s been a great hobby to pass the time and an excellent excuse for his mildly pretentious takes when it comes to ‘aesthetic.’

The thing is, he really should have thought this particular project through a bit more.

A day off from the coffee shop to work on a shoot, sure, great. In theory. In context? In the context of taking photos of oiled up firefighters in various states of partial undress for a charity calendar? Mistakes may have been made. He’s too gay for this —a realization made too far into the commitment to back out.

Really, it hit him like a fist to the face the moment James’ turn came up.

Stupid. Idiot. Absolute fucking fool.

As if Regulus didn’t know that the man he’s been steadily seeing and getting to know recently —the man who suggested he help with this project in the first place— wouldn’t volunteer to be part of the group for the photoshoot. Of fucking course James would; “it’s for charity,” he’d said.

Regulus is going to throttle him later.

Or mount him.

Could go either direction at this point.

They’re around the back of the station building, just the two of them. It was specifically stated that the individuals who were volunteering to take part in the calendar would have to utilize one of their rare days off to shoot their photos so the fire station wasn’t under-covered on staff. Regulus and James could be doing anything else in the world with this day, but no. No, they’re here, with James rubbing baby oil over his naked torso while Regulus tries to keep from literally fucking salivating.

He’s known James was fit from the moment he walked into the coffee shop and made a place for himself in Regulus’ life. Fully clothed, the man is unbearably gorgeous. Underneath his clothes? God, it’s worse. It’s painful.

All defined lines of muscle and warm tan skin. James works out on a regular basis, has to stay in shape for his job, but it’s more than that. Regulus has learned that James has always been athletically inclined. James prides himself on his body, and he’s not shy about it.

Which is obvious in the way that he looks up from his own bare chest and catches Regulus staring, a knowing smirk instantly twitching at his lips.

“Care to help slick me up?”

“I should kill you.” It slips past Regulus’ lips without thought to pause, but all James does is laugh loudly, head tipped back with the lovely sound. Regulus huffs, shifting on his feet. “Are you almost done? I have other things I want to be doing.”

“Care to share?” James tosses the bottle of oil onto the grass, wiping off the remainder on his hands down the ridges of his stomach. “Don’t spare any of the dirty details now, love.”

Regulus manages to glare at him, but it’s weak considering the blush that colors his cheeks. “You’re a menace to society.”

“Public hero, menace to society.” James lifts his hands, leaning one direction then the next, like weighing an invisible scale.

“Fix your fucking suspenders.”

“Fix them for me.” Both dark brows lift over the gold frames of James’ glasses, a dangerous grin stretching across his face.

Letting his camera hang from the neck strap, Regulus lets out a dramatic sigh but crosses the small distance toward him. James positively lights up as he approaches, standing miraculously still to let Regulus do what he needs.

James is wearing the yellow turnout pants typical of his uniform, obviously sans a shirt. The pants hang suspiciously lower on James’ hips today, the defined line that narrows beneath his waistband on display. Attached to that band, though, are the usual thick red suspenders, hanging on either side of James’ legs presently. Regulus tugs one up fully over James’ left shoulder, actively working to keep his eyes from venturing to anything more distracting.

“Keep this arm bent against the wall.” Regulus handles him a little roughly on purpose, yanking his arm up as needed to pose him beside the brick wall.

“And this one?” James asks, sliding his opposite hand down Regulus’ side, squeezing at his hip when he gets there.

Regulus takes a slow deep breath through his nose before glancing up at James’ face finally. He swats at the hand on his hip blindly. “Keep it to yourself.”

A charged pause, Regulus’ head cocking to the side before:

“For now.”

James huffs a laugh, but the smug satisfaction on his face shines brighter than his amusement. Regulus loops the other suspender over James’ right forearm, hooking it in the crook of his elbow when he guides James to bend the arm. He presses James’ right hand against the top edge of his turnout pants, meeting his eyes evenly.

“Tuck your thumb into them a little,” He instructs.

James immediately follows direction and it sends a static through Regulus that makes him wish they weren’t quite literally outside James’ place of work currently. James tugs at the waistband slightly more than entirely necessary, exposing more of the sharp line that Regulus is definitely not thinking about tracing with his tongue. He’s being professional, damn it.

“Like that?” James checks, voice low.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” Regulus’ words come out breathier than before, and he catches himself staring downward with a jolt and a fluttered blink. He clears his throat and takes a much needed step back. “Now stare off to the right, look moody if you have to.”

“Thought that was your job.”

“Do less comedy.”

James snorts but stays in the posed position, turning his head as requested. Regulus takes another few steps back for the full shot and lifts the camera from his chest. As if knowing he’s already having a hell of a time doing this job, it’s like the universe itself is against Regulus the way that the sun shines perfectly, haloing James beautifully where he stands —a god damn wet dream being immortalized.

Maybe Regulus takes a couple extra shots. For… purely artistic purposes. Obviously.

Once again, before he gives himself the thought to stop from speaking his thoughts aloud, Regulus asks, “Can you wear this at home?”

He looks up from the tiny square screen on the camera toward James. It’s obvious that James is trying to refrain from laughing, having not been dismissed from his current pose, but he does turn his head to look at Regulus delightedly.

“Oh, so that’s what you’d rather be doing, huh? Wouldn’t have guessed.” James taunts, his playful arrogance never-ending. “Need to work out a bit of a fantasy for yourself, is that it?”

Regulus blushes again, but he meets the teasing evenly this time. “Why do you think I started dating you?”

This time James does laugh, unhelpable. Regulus sneaks a picture of that, too, just for himself.

#jegulus #firefighter james agenda persists #and regulus and i are dying about it #also this got away from me very fast lmao #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing #fic: you got the antidote #<- the origins

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humanityinahandbag · 1 year

Text

Steddie Accidental Marriage

AKA: Eddie and Steve have been together for twenty plus years and married for one.

No one told Eddie.

A brief one shot about Eddie being in love and also an idiot.

Eddie quickly becomes an expert at nodding.

More specifically, he becomes an expert at nodding to whatever Steve Harrington is saying, and as long as Steve Harrington's eyes stay fixed on his, he knows he'll probably keep nodding until his head tips off his neck and rolls away.

See, 1986 hadn't gone the way anyone could have predicted. The monsters, the portals, the child who could probably summon a giant marshmallow man if she tried hard enough. But the most startling development (besides coming out on the other side, scarred and shaken and very much alive) was Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington, who was kind, sweet, and all too thoughtful. Who protected people with everything he had and pressed his heart into other people's hands without asking for it back.

And that sucks, honestly. Because he could still remember being invited to parties for drug deals and sneered at in the hallways, shoved into lockers by the group of hair-sprayed goons while Steve had watched like some all-seeing vassal.

It didn't help that Eddie had been in love with the guy since before popularity graced him with its unwelcome presence.

And now that he's kind, sweet, generous, thoughtful?

Well. He was doomed when he held that bottle to Steve's throat.

So yeah. Eddie is deliriously in love. He's not sure when it will end, but he knows it will end eventually. He'll slip up and Steve will realize he's gay and punch his lights out, or he'll find better, less frustrating friends and leave Eddie and the rest of them in the dust. But until then? He needs to take every moment he has.

And so he nods.

He nods when Steve Harrington asks if he'd like to attend pool parties with the kids. He nods when Steve Harrington asks if he wants to hang out alone and see a movie. He nods when Steve Harrington picks him up from physical therapy.

He even nods when Steve Harrington leans over and asks I'm not imagining things, right? You're, like... into me?

Steve beams. "Awesome," he says, and leans forward to press warm, full lips against his.

It will end soon, Eddie tells himself as Steve's hand presses into his hair and lips leave little dappling pocks along his jaw. So he'll take what he can.

A year passes, and Eddie is still waiting for everything to quietly shatter.

Which makes it all the more frustrating when it doesn't.

Steve is over at their new (government hush-moneyed) apartment almost every day. It's not unusual to see him puttering about, folding blankets or hovering above the stove. Their little home smells less and less like microwaved meals and more like whatever Steve has tried to cook up that day.

Wayne is delighted. "Finally got someone to talk about important stuff with," he crows one night after dinner, sitting in the recliner with a beer while Steve takes the couch besides Eddie. Their fingers link, bodies pressed tight alongside the other. If Wayne notices, he doesn't say anything.

"My stuff's important," Eddie mutters.

Steve just laughs, stealing the beer from his hand to take a swig before pressing a fond kiss to his cheek. "Sports trump everything, Eds," he says, and then goes back to discussing the game playing on the little TV with Wayne.

His thumb rubs back and forth against Eddie's hand the whole time.

Eddie holds tight.

Steve Harrington's phase to figure out himself lasts longer than Eddie would have expected. Long enough for Steve to drag him into bed, confident and shy all at once before taking Eddie apart slowly before putting him back together one little piece at a time.

When Eddie lets the I love you slip out, he waits for everything to crash around him.

Instead, Steve whispers something that sounds suspiciously like I love you into the seam of his shoulder.

Eddie holds even tighter and wills the moment to last forever.

Another year passes. Steve applies for community college and celebrates with Eddie and Wayne and Robin when he's accepted to the social work track. There's talk about moving closer to Indiana so the commute isn't as long. Robin already has an apartment with Nancy there while they work out plans for Boston that Steve has become more and more invested in.

Housing becomes more difficult to come by as prices rocket upwards. Which is absolutely, definitely, positively, one-thousand-percent why Steve turns to Eddie and says, "We'll find something that works for the both of us," and then proceeds to show up at Eddie's work in the little garage on Maple Street with a clipped advertisement for an apartment.

"I visited it today," he says, giddily drumming on the wheel as they drive through the main slot of road and past Loch Nora. "Just wait. It's got great lighting. And the landlord says that she'll let us get a pet if we want one!"

"That's... that's great," says Eddie.

It is a great apartment. Large windows. High ceilings.

"Which bedroom would you want?" he asks Steve, who's busy opening and closing every door to see how it latches.

"Whichever one you choose," says Steve, like that sentence alone hasn't rocked Eddie to his very core and shaken his heart loose.

Eddie nods mutely which seems to at least get a positive reaction out of Steve. "Oh! And I had this great idea. We could totally turn the other bedroom into a studio for you. How cool would that be!" He went on to describe the pullout couch they could put in the center of the living room. How they could host the kids, his Uncle, Robin, whoever else wanted to drop by.

Eddie could only nod along.

And he'd keep nodding as the furniture was moved in, and Jonathan and Wayne and Steve argued over the little bolts and screws while they put together the bed frame in the master bedroom. He'd keep nodding as the walls in that room were painted a lovely, dusted blue and two bedside tables were added to either end.

They didn't argue over sides. They didn't have to. Eddie naturally fell to the right, Steve to the left. Shared books filled the shelves along with sports trophies and twenty sided dice.

He didn't stop nodding when it was their first night there and Steve climbed into bed alongside him, exhausted and clingy, and pressed himself to Eddie's back whispering fantasies about how their life would play out.

And play out their life does.

They move to Boston. Eddie finds a new band. Steve begins working for Boston General Hospital in their pediatric wing where he holds kids hands and talks them through what scares them before surgeries. Sometimes, he brings Eddie along. The kids always shriek and laugh and ask to touch his guitar, and Steve watches Eddie with a kind of Love that could spin the world off its course when he plucks the first notes of a favorite Tears for Fears song.

Robin and Nancy live just next door, because Steve and Robin have separation anxiety and Nancy declared herself and Eddie to be best friends that couldn't live without the other.

There are great moments. And terrible ones. Sometimes there are fights and slammed doors and Eddie always waits for the other shoe to come crashing down, and yet it never does. He and Steve always find one another again.

Which is... odd.

Mostly because he's never heard of any other friends-with-benefits case working quite like theirs.

He brings it up once with Gareth on a weekly phone call.

"I don't get it," he says. "I mean... you'd think the guy could find himself someone to spend his life with. He's just... he's so great. He's just perfect."

There was silence on the other end. And then;

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an idiot."

Eddie spluttered and hung up. He didn't bring it up again after their next call.

The 1990's come and go. The year 2000 is celebrated with a kind of raucous glee followed by '01, '02, '03. Steve becomes head of the social work department. Eddie has stopped touring and is instead teaching music in an elementary school, where he plays music to children who hang off his knees and scream about wheels on school busses. They're happy in ways he couldn't have dreamed they'd ever be.

2004 arrives with the purchase of their first house, an occasion marked with Steve dragging Eddie from room to room, christening each one with an attention that borders on religious.

Eddie blames it on homeowner stamina and has to wonder why buying a house with your "booty call" (as the teens are now calling it) is something worth celebrating.

Though he supposes it makes said booty call more accessible, and makes it a little easier to struggle through the intense love and adoration that fill his chest at all times.

He's never believed in a God, but if he did, he'd probably ask what he did in a former life to deserve this. Even if he can't have Steve, he can still have him in any way that Steve is willing to give.

Which is why, ten years later and still somehow living out his dream, Eddie is left so completely and totally confused when all of his friends and family plan to swarm Boston to celebrate... something.

He's not really sure what they're celebrating.

But they're definitely celebrating something.

It's when he finds paperwork during an attic cleanout that he finally realizes it.

They bought their house ten years ago.

That must have been it!

Ten years of being homeowners come and gone.

This is made even clearer when Steve looks over his shoulder, curses, and says, "I forgot all about that."

"Me too."

"We should probably think of remortgaging soon." Steve tousled his hair with a sigh. "Not like it'll be any fun, but..."

"Look at you," says Eddie, hating how sour Steve's pretty face had become. He leaned over and pressed a kiss by Steve's ear, pleased to see him perk up. "Being an adult and everything."

"I can say the same for you."

"Don't you dare," says Eddie with a laugh.

And yeah, sure, maybe that didn't seem like much of an achievement, but Eddie was happy to give what he could. And so when Wayne arrived at the airport and practically broke down in tears, tugging Eddie into a hug to let him know how proud and happy he was for his boy, Eddie could only just smile and nod.

If his Uncle wanted to cry about Eddie repainting some plaster and tending to a garden and making consistent mortgage payments, who was he to stop him?

"Can you even believe it?" his Uncle asked in the car ride back to their home.

Eddie laughed. "I mean, I don't think it's that big of a deal."

"You just can't see it for what it is cause you've been doin' it for so long."

Which was a fair point. He had been a homeowner for a while now.

"I guess," he agreed, and Wayne smiled and pat his shoulder and asked him all about his job. He tells Wayne all about a group of six year olds who've all learned about becoming tea pots (short and stout).

Two days later (much to Eddie's consistent shock and confusion), Steve dresses in his best suit and helps Eddie knot a tie covered in tiny skulls and drags them both to town hall. They wait in a line on the third floor, Eddie looking around a little dazed and unsure, until they're finally let into an office and Steve (through tears) signs his name on a line before turning to Eddie and clasping their hands tight together.

"Eds," Steve says. "You gotta sign it too."

And Eddie, who has been nodding since 1986, can only nod again and reach for the pen.

He's not entirely sure why everyone arrived to celebrate them renewing their mortgage. He didn't even know City Hall made a huge fuss over the financial gains of two middle aged men in middle America. But his friends and family are waiting in the lobby. They're all crying, even though he's not really sure why, but that just triggers him into crying. Even more when the kids (though they're not so much kids any more) clump around them with hugs and tears and shouts about how excited and proud they are.

"It's about time," Dustin sobs.

"I mean, I guess," says Eddie, wondering why Steve hasn't let go of his hand yet.

But he's not going to let go.

He doesn't find out until one year later when Steve surprises him with a trip to Hawkins. They meet Uncle Wayne first thing before going off to explore their old haunts, flipping their middle fingers out the window at the high school, stopping off at one of their favorite old diners that still served what Steve considered to be the most okay chocolate milkshakes in the entire world.

Their waitress was a lovely older woman named Dotty who looked moments away from pinching Steve's cheeks when she collected their menus.

"What are you folks here for?" she asked. "Haven't seen you around here!"

"We used to live here," said Eddie. "We moved away."

"And we're celebrating," countered Steve.

Eddie blinked, considering the date before he remembered. "Yeah," he agreed with a nod.

"Oh, how lovely!" Dotty clasped her hands around the sticky diner menus. "What's the occasion."

And before Steve could get in a word, Eddie apparently decided to leap headfirst off idiocy mountain and say, "we refinanced our mortgage."

There was silence.

"Oh..." said Dotty, finally. "Well. That's... nice?"

Across the table, Steve stared at him.

Eddie couldn't shake the feeling that he'd said something wrong. "Um." He reached for a napkin, tearing and twisting it between his hands. "Yeah. Totally. It was a, uh. A big deal."

"Was it...?"

"Mmmhm," he squeaked, trying hard not to look at the way Steve was gaping at him. "We've, uh... we've been roommates for a while, so."

Steve looked moments away from sliding off the booth and into the earth's core.

It wasn't until Dotty left (a little confused and befuddled) that Steve sprung up, grabbing Eddie by the arm, marching them both into the parking lot.

"Refinancing our mortgage!" Steve stomped little circles around the concrete. A family walking by crossed to the other side of the street. "We're refinancing our mortgage!"

"Steve, you're uh. You're scaring people..."

"You're scaring me!" Steve tossed his hands into the air.

"Right. Uh... I got that? But... why? Am I scaring you?"

"Because you said we're roommates!"

"But. We are roommates?"

"We-!" Steve froze, mid panic.

Eddie, taking a chance, snuck forward and gave him a little poke. "Uh. Steve? You rebooting?"

Steve blinked. He reached up and scrubbed his face. He looked back up at Eddie before squeezing his eyes shut and counting back from ten. When he opened them again, Eddie was amazed to find there wasn't a blue screen behind Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve said. "You honestly think I took you to city call to refinance our mortgage?"

"They're important documents," Eddie said.

"And that we've been roommates for over twenty years?"

"We're very good roommates," said Eddie, weakly.

Steve's eye twitched. "Roommates don't have sex, Eddie! They don't tell each other they love each other! They don't get married!"

"I never said we were traditional roommates! I just said-" And then Eddie stopped, Steve's words finally striking ground. "Wait..."

"Yeah."

"Wait."

"Mmmhm."

"Wait!"

Steve waved his hands. "Now he gets i- mph!"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by Eddie dragging him quick into a kiss.

Dottie arrived back at their table just as Steve and Eddie slipped back into the booth, looking a little mussed and tossed about, lips red and eyes shining.

"Still celebrating that mortgage?"

"Actually," said Eddie, "it turns out, we're married!"

"Isn't that nice."

"It is," agreed Eddie, accepting his hamburger and shake. "Did you know I've been in love with him since high school?"

"How sweet! And how long have you been married?"

"A year!" Eddie preened.

Steve accepted his own burger. "He just found out," he said.

Dotty wasn't sure what that meant, but the two of them looked happy enough. Who was she to question a good marriage?

Published, edited, and slightly longer story found here!

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steddie oneshot

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