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apomaro-mellow · 4 months

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 7

Part 6

The idea of sharing space on a tour bus was a little daunting, even though Steve had met the rest of the band. He was glad to see how big it was, and especially glad when Eddie led him to the back of the bus where the bedroom was. It had a bed big enough for two, but that was about it. It was more than enough for him.

"The boys will be bunking on the pull-outs out there", Eddie jabbed his thumb back to the rest of the bus.

They were setting out for the first destination on their tour, New York, which would take them about half a day to get to.

"Can't believe I get to go on tour with you. I feel like an actual groupie."

Eddie hopped onto the bed and laid on his side. "You gonna toss your underwear to me?", he grinned.

"Why would I? I already got on the band's bus", Steve smirked, hands on his hips. He glanced out the bedroom door to where the rest of the band was pretending not to be interested in their conversation.

“And they’re really okay with giving us the only actual bedroom on the bus?”

“Sweet thing, they insisted”, Eddie said, laying back to spread out on the sheets. “I think they’re enamored with you.”

Steve beamed as he sat on the edge of the bed, lasting only a few seconds before Eddie grabbed at him. Joy bubbled forth from Steve and he didn’t even mind if Jeff and the others heard Eddie macking on him right now.

“I’ve never been on a tour bus before.”

"Well allow me to give you the official welcome", Eddie said before rolling Steve onto his back and kissing at his neck. "We got hours to ourselves, baby."

"Oh, whatever will we do?", Steve sighed.

Eddie rose up on his hands and knees to look down at the gorgeous man under him. And just in time for the bus to lurch forward and make him fall over the side of the bed with a yelp. Grant came to the door.

"You guys, uh, want this closed?", he asked, ignoring Eddie crumpled on the floor.

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

For about the first hour, Steve watched the scenery go by the window and Eddie went over the basics of their itinerary. Starting from New York, they'd be cruising down the east coast.

"It's probably not as grand as the worldly traveling you've done before but I intend to show you a good time", Eddie promised, tracing the lines in Steve's palm.

"Actually, I haven't traveled all that much", Steve admitted. "When you're raising up a proper omega, you can't just let them loose unsupervised. I've been to California and Washington a couple of times with my parents but besides that..."

"Then I'm really gonna show you a good time."

"You can start right now. Bus isn't stopping for a few hours, right?" Steve pushed Eddie onto his back and rolled on top of him. In preparation for this trip both of them had been tested and been given a clean bill of health. Steve's cunt was already clenching at the thought of finally getting Eddie's bare knot. Of feeling his cum coating his insides.

There was something primal about it this time, as Eddie was fucking Steve. Not in any way that was ferocious or intense but in the setting and situation. Grant, Jeff, and Gareth had only great things to say about Steve, seemingly already accepting him as a pack omega. Being given the only private space on the bus, this room was like his own personal den, admittance to him and his omega only.

With his best friends just outside the door, surely knowing what they were getting up to even though there was plenty of noise to cover it, it was like they were sentinels guarding. How could his hindbrain think of this as anything less than a breeding session?

Steve was on his hands and knees, arching his back as Eddie thrust into him. He had started out trying to be quiet, but was sobbing now, begging Eddie not to stop.

Delirious with desire, Eddie started biting at the moles on Steve's back, leaving marks of his own. When he got to his neck, he put his teeth away but nudged at Steve's mating gland. A move so bold and unexpected, it had Steve crying out as he milked his cock. Eddie's teeth itched to sink down and make it official but he bit into Steve's shoulder instead, almost but not drawing blood.

He was still thinking about it hours later, when they arrived in New York and started preparing for the show. Tonight was just rehearsal and sound check for the real thing tomorrow night. Steve wanted to go and even pouted to get his way, but Eddie was certain he'd be bored and not so subtly told him about the hotel's spa.

After a massage, he went into the sauna and saw that there was another omega already inside.

"Did your alpha miss?", she asked the moment he sat down.

"Hm?"

She tapped the bite mark on his shoulder. "Did he miss?"

It wasn't proper to ask about bite marks in any capacity, only for the own of such marks to offer if they felt the information relevant.

"I don't have an alpha", Steve said, though it felt wrong to say.

"So just someone who's keeping you for now?", she asked.

Steve thought about it. Between the gifts and traveling and shopping, he was being wonderfully kept. "I suppose so."

"You must be new at this. I'm Heather. Can I offer you a bit of advice?"

"Steve and um, sure I guess."

"You can't let your generous sponsor bite you like that. The next one that comes won't like it. Might even give you something more permanent just to compete."

"You've had a lot of... 'sponsors'?", Steve asked.

"Mostly CEOs, an actor once. You?"

"He's a musician."

"Really? Anyone I know?", she looked intrigued.

Steve thought about how he'd known zilch about Corroded Coffin or Eddie before meeting him, but then remembered how his attention on the latest music trends was also next to nothing.

"You might. I'm not actually sure how popular they are." He hadn't seen the venue to know how many concert attendees to expect.

"Oh, well, you know what they say. If they haven't got a million than a half will do."

"Right", Steve gave a half-hearted laugh. It had him thinking for the first time if he'd be into Eddie at all were it not for the money. If all he had to offer was that one drink the night they met...

Steve thought about how they'd spent a decent part of the trip discussing chocolate chips versus chocolate chunks and how they'd gotten the rest of the band involved to the point where they had to make the bus stop at the nearest grocery store. It felt safe to say that even without the money lining his pockets, Eddie would have charmed him some kind of way.

That night, they got in bed early but were awakened by the sounds of the others coming into their hotel suite to make breakfast.

"And how did you know we weren't in the middle of coitus?", Eddie flicked a grape at Gareth.

"That was a chance we were willing to take", Jeff said.

Eddie was shirtless, walking around in Garfield patterned pajama pants. Steve had the decency to put one of the hotel's bathrobes.

"This is a CC tradition", Grant said. "Breakfast before the inaugural show of a tour. Then dinner after the last one."

"Everyone shows up, no exceptions", Gareth said.

"None?", Steve asked, accepting a mug of coffee that Eddie had made.

"One time Jeff got into a brawl right after the show. We had our dinner at the hospital", Eddie said.

"Well I'm honored to be a part of such a hallowed tradition", Steve smiled at the implication.

Day turned to night and they arrived at the venue. Steve looked out into the vast sea of empty seats and imagined them filled with screaming people. Eddie gave him a quick tour of backstage and even let him come up on the actual stage itself.

"Can't believe you actually perform like this, I could never."

"Oh I was born to entertain", Eddie grinned. And tonight, he planned on showing out. It would be Steve's first time, seeing and hearing them live. His blood pulsed as the hour got closer.

Show him my talents. Show him I'm worthy. Worthy to be his alpha.

Steve was all set up in the green room but of course had a pass that allowed him to roam backstage if he pleased. The boys also used the space to get ready for the show and he saw that they all had a pin with a horned red demonic head.

"What's this?", Steve asked, fiddling with the pin on Eddie's vest.

"Something from our old high school club. Keeps us from forgetting our roots."

"That's...really sweet." They'd known each other for so long. Steve was realizing how incredible it was that he'd been allowed into the fold like this.

The show finally started and at first, Steve watched a feed from the green room. He'd listened to a few songs but it was still a surprise to hear the way Jeff growled into the mic. It was hard for him to take his eyes off Eddie though. And soon, watching from a TV, no matter how clear the image was, wasn't enough. He put in the earplugs Eddie had given him and he left the green room.

Like a magnet, he went to the wings of the stage, still mostly hidden, but he could see everyone in the band from where he was standing. The crowd was a sea of energy and Eddie looked like there was no place he'd rather be. That is until he caught sight of Steve. His feet were frozen in place now but his hands kept moving against the guitar.

Steve bit his lip, thinking about how those same fingers moved on his body and made him sing in much the same way. Tonight he was going to give this man the ride of his life. His thighs rubbed together just thinking about it and Eddie's eyes caught the movement. Then his gaze met Steve and Steve just winked coyly.

The song ended and both of them were brought back to the present moment. Taking a breath, Steve took a step back and returned to the green room. It was a lot, being right there. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to actually be on stage. The concert went on and after thanking their fans for a stellar time, Corroded Coffin bid them good night. Eddie was the first one through the door which was good because Steve had been standing right behind it.

"Well?", he asked, wrapping his arms around the omega.

"You guys were great! Incredible!"

"Aw shucks, you're just sayin' that", Gareth smiled.

Steve was saying something in response, but Eddie only caught part of it. He was always keyed up after a good performance and needed something to help him burn off the extra energy. Usually in the form of an after-party or sex. He nuzzled at Steve's neck, holding him close. He did good. Steve thought he'd done good. No, he said great. Incredible. Steve had even come to see him with his own eyes. And he'd gotten turned on watching him play, Eddie knew it. He'd responded to his call.

"Are you, are you scenting me?", Steve asked quietly.

Eddie paused. They always carried each other's scent for a little while after sex, but this had been more purposeful. Eddie finally recognized the familiar itch under his skin and pushed Steve away, nearly throwing him at Grant.

"I gotta go", he said, leaving the room quick as lightning.

"What was that all about?", Steve asked, looking to the others. But they were just as confused as him.

Chrissy came in just about a minute after, her face like stone as she closed the door behind her. "The schedule's going to need some adjusting", she said. "Eddie just went into rut."

Part 8

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @marklee-blackmore @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #soon it'll be my turn to write crying sobbing whimpering eddie

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fuctacles · 10 months

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Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]

me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]

They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.

This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door.

"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."

"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.

"Yeah, like helping you graduate."

"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"

"At the DnD table, duh."

"Touché."

So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.

An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.

"I think you're like Lucas."

It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.

"Huh?"

"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.

Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.

"How?"

Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.

"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"

Eddie clicked his tongue.

"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."

The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.

"For his benefit. And now for yours!"

Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time.

"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.

"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."

Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.

"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.

"Dustin?"

"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.

"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.

"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."

Eddie snorted.

“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”

“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.

“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.

“Hey!”

“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.

He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:

“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.

Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.

“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”

“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.

“Yep, he’s staying.”

“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.

He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.

“Soo, is Steve…?”

Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.

“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.

Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.

He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.

“Gay?” he asked quietly.

“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”

Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.

“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.

Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.

Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.

Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.

Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.

For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself.

He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.

“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.

“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.

“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.

“.... ABBA?”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.

He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?

Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.

“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”

Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.

“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.

“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”

What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.

“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”

“Dustin please, take him away from me.”

Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.

“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.

He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.

He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.

“What are we making?”

“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”

Eddie gasped.

“I am providing entertainment!”

“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”

“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”

“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.

“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.

Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.

“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.

“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“You made this?”

“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.

Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.

Holy shit.

“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 [Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#mine #steddie #ff #eddie munson #st #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #fanfic #Steve henderson #steve is a henderson #eddie is an idiot #older brother steve #the hendersons #The Hendersons

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envysparkler · 26 days

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Of all the people Bruce expects to see on his doorstep on a Sunday morning, Talia al Ghul is very, very low on the list. Frankly, he’s surprised she bothered to knock.

“Oh,” Talia says, lips pursing in disappointment as he looms in the doorway, “it’s you.” She rocks on her heels, like she’s attempting to peer around him.

“This is my house,” Bruce says, half-offended and half-bewildered. She’s not alone, there’s a child scowling up at him—they’re making League assassins smaller and smaller these days—but Bruce ignores him and focuses on the greater threat. “I’ve already told Ra’s al Ghul that Gotham is off-limits—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t about him,” Talia waves him off and saunters forward, stepping over the threshold and into the house like it belongs to her. The child follows her, only pausing to sneer at Bruce, and Bruce is left standing on his porch, thoroughly dismissed.

Talia always did have a way of getting what she wanted, and damn anything in her way. It takes a moment for Bruce to shake the old, lingering fondness and remember that a deadly assassin is inside his house.

Alfred is going to kill him.

“Wait! Talia!” He catches up to her near the kitchen, where she is surveying the cereal boxes on the counter with palpable distaste. The child looks like he’s trying to test them for poison, or possibly poison them himself, but Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about that, because she’s found—

“Uh, Bruce?” Tim’s voice cracks high, out of his chair and holding both his cereal bowl and his spoon ready to throw. “Did you forget to tell me you had company?”

“Timothy Drake,” Talia says, cold enough to create icicles. She studies him for a long moment, skipping from his Superboy pajamas to his bleary face to the overfull mug of coffee on the table. “You are one of Lady Shiva’s.”

The child’s scowl deepens.

“Yes?” Tim looks at Bruce desperately, like it’s a test and he’s looking for the answer. Bruce shrugs.

“She mentioned you were passable,” Talia sniffs. “For a boy.”

Tim looks a mixture of outraged and pleased, but Bruce is more concerned with why Talia is here, standing in his home years after she gave back his mother’s ring. Talia only reveals whatever she wants to reveal, and while she does only ever tells the truth, she lets him draw incorrect conclusions from those truths all on his own. It means Ra’s isn’t involved in whatever brought her here, but that could mean anything from the old schemer being dead to Talia being on the run, and Bruce is not nearly awake for an imminent League invasion.

“Where’s Alfred?” Talia finally finishes her survey of the kitchen and rests her cool gaze on him.

That would be the reason Bruce is barely awake. He only managed to drag himself from bed with the reminder that there was an unsupervised teenager in his house. Unfortunately, he’d got there too late to save the coffeemaker.

“What do you want with Alfred?” Tim asks, on the verge of hostile. The child draws himself up like a hissing, spitting snake, and only stays still by virtue of Talia’s hand on his shoulder. Talia, for her part, merely looks inconvenienced.

“Well, this would’ve been several times simpler had he been here,” she sighs. “I could’ve dropped off Damian for a spot of tea and gotten on with my business.”

“And what is your business?” Bruce presses.

Talia heaves another sigh—this time dramatic and put upon. It’s an act, Bruce can tell, but that doesn’t help him, not when Talia turns to him and widens her eyes, looking up through her lashes. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills, and I’ve finally managed to track him down here, so I really must get going before he infiltrates that sorry excuse of a prison and finishes decapitating that clown you keep alive for some unfathomable reason.”

There’s a lot packed into that statement, and Bruce is still untangling ‘your son takes after you in terms of vanishing skills’ with the knowledge that Nightwing is supposed to be safely inside Bludhaven and the growing horror that Dick might’ve accidentally started a war with the League of Assassins, so it’s Tim that inhales first, staring at the child in sharp shock and then up at Talia, before finally turning towards Bruce.

“You have a kid with Talia al Ghul?!”

~#~

Talia, of course, does not bother to explain anything. She merely instructs the child—Damian—to behave before vanishing back out the front door, and Bruce’s attempt to follow her is met with a katana and a high-pitched demand for a duel. It becomes apparent that Talia’s version of behaving doesn’t match Bruce’s, because it takes several minutes and one shallowly bleeding slice before Bruce can extricate himself.

The child—his child—Damian leaves him alone then, looking disappointed in his swordsmanship skills, and turns instead to badgering Tim, who despite favoring a bo staff—“a clearly inferior weapon unsuited to anything but sloppy pulverization,” comes out crisp and clear-edged, much like Bruce himself when he was younger and his only point of reference was Alfred—is judged a suitable opponent on the basis of Lady Shiva’s reference.

Bruce is maybe a little sulky that a child—his child—has dismissed him in favor of a teenager with a pillow crease on his cheek, but he suppresses the emotion to dart to the Batcomputer so he can ask Nightwing what the hell he’s been up to.

Unfortunately, Dick’s response is both confused and irritated, which means Bruce has to waste time explaining the situation lest his eldest give him the silent treatment again, and Dick signs off with a promise to drop by, clearly excited at the prospect of a new sibling.

Bruce doesn’t warn him that this one is more apt to stab him than hug him. Dick can figure that out for himself.

But with that distraction out of the way, he’s left to ruminate on Talia’s words. She wasn’t talking about Dick, and clearly not about Tim, and not Damian, and Bruce has no other sons. The thought drives a pang through him, a loss he will always carry, and he finds himself in front of the case with Jason’s uniform, as though it can help him solve the puzzle.

Is there another child out there he doesn’t know about? He’d swear that he doesn’t have another with Talia, but he has no idea when or how Damian was conceived, so it’s the most likely explanation.

#my snippets #bruce is so confused #all part of talia's plan #meanwhile jason is off having fun! with! explosives!#(and clowns)

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brnesblogposts · 3 months

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movie night with the avengers

pairing avengers x reader

warnings: none!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

" UH.. THE MICROWAVE IS ON FIRE"

I turn around and to my surprise Peter has set the microwave on fire. Steve quickly grabs the extinguisher and puts it out.

"Peter, you know you're not supposed to use kitchen appliances unsupervised" I say jokingly and he gives me the finger in response.

"STEVE DID YOU SEE THAT?! SPIDERBOY JUST SWORE AT ME." Steve just gives me a stern look that screams annoyance and walks out with his salad

"how are you an avenger, you can't even make popcorn without burning the compound down" O I tease peter.

"July 27th last sum-"

"LA LA LA LA LA" I cover my ears with my hands. a horrible day that was. the guys haven't stopped talking about it since. "truce?" I say to Peter with pleading eyes and he nods

"truce, if you agree to tell Mr. Stark that this was pietro's fault.." I put my hand out and we shook on it.

As Peter and I go into the movie room with a fresh bowl of unburnt popcorn that we made using an old popcorn maker I found, everyone looks up

"What took you guys so long?!" Clint snickers as he takes a handful of popcorn

"Oh you know us, always losing track of time by talking, Y/n is such a blabber mouth" I hold my hand over my heart as if deeply hurt.

"Totally off topic but we need a new microwave." I say to tony

"What did you guys do." He spat out, rolling his eyes

"WE.." I say using my hands to gesture between Peter and I "..didn't do anything!" and Peter adds on, "Pietro set the microwave on fire, he sped away before I could confront him."

Peter is a horrible liar.

"I know you're lying parker, your voice goes all high and squeaky when you lie. luckily for you i'm a billionaire, I can buy a new microwave. it's coming out of your allowance though."

"Mr Stark I don't have an allowance-" Peter looks perplexed

"Exactly." Tony says back.

We both placed the popcorn bowls on the table and took our places in our seats, "what're we watching tonight?" Kate asks with a mouthful of popcorn

"13 going on 30!" Bucky says and everyone looks at him with a raised eyebrow

"REALLY?!" Sam says, "Buck if I have to watch one more romcom with you.." Bucky just shrugs.

"I like that movie, Matt is kinda cute" Natasha says

"..He looks so much like Bruce it's uncanny" I say while raising an eyebrow at her.

"He’s a handsome fella" Bruce shrugs and everyone laughs at his quip

"I think we should watch The Truman Show" Loki voices and everyone comes to an agreement.

“I've always felt like him you know, like i'm in some sort of movie" I didn't mean to say that out loud but I did and everyone looked at me all weird..

"You're funny" Scott laughed a little. I brushed it off and settled into my seat as the movie started

"If I ever had a movie made after me i'd want that RDJ guy to play me" Tony said as everyone was looking at the movie, we all burst out laughing, "you're all so mean to me." Tony said with a frown.

we all watched the movie and had a good time.

#avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #peter parker x platonic reader #peter parker x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #reader x avengers #writerblr #avengers fanfiction #avengers family #the avengers

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haet-sal · 1 year

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The bad boy: yan!juyeon ft sunwoo

🔞sex with other people in the room, yandere!badboy!Juyeon, dumb!you, squirting, FILMING, people watching you get fucked and cheering, VERY VERY VERY MEAN fuck

WARNING: REALLY ROUGH DO NOT READ IF YOU NEED GENTLENESS AND LOVE

🌃your brother, Younghoon, always advised you to stay away from that kind of guy...

🌃the kind that hangs around in the darkened corners of the convenience store after dark, definitely steals liquor, already chainsmokes and makes people buy him cigarettes

🌃but younghoon's not a good big brother, really. He’s always away with his best friends and leaves you alone, unsupervised, makes sure you know you aren't wanted

🌃and you don’t really have that many friends... to be honest you were kind of a loser, you wished you could go to karaoke nights and barbecue picnics like everyone else

🌃senior year is literally over, and you still haven't made any friends... or lost your virginity.

🌃younghoon's home late again, and your mom's not home, so you went for a walk.

🌃you just got ice cream from the convenience store, and was about to just walk home, when you see the burning orange bud of a cigarette in the shadows.

🌃 and the tall, cat-eyed man behind it... it takes you by surprise, almost scaring you into being frozen. He looked so dangerous in this light, you thought you were in trouble if you catch his eye.

🌃you are unfortunately very right...

🌃He holds the cigarette between two fingers like a pen and comes over to you, an amused smirk on his face. "Y/n? Younghoon's sister?" He laughed, "ah I thought I knew you from somewhere - your brother and I are so close."

🌃you nodded. "Ah... juyeon oppa?"

🌃"that's right." His smile grew even wider. "Mmm, does our good little girl smoke?" He thrusts the cigarette at your face, stopping between your lips.

🌃he knows you don’t smoke. As if that prissy Younghoon would let his little sister smoke.

🌃"... n-no, I don’t..." "but you want to try, don’t you? Go ahead."

🌃juyeon watches you take the cigarette in between your little pink lips... already aroused by the way you’re taking his spit in without arguing, makes him wonder what else of his you'll take in.

🌃plus you’re so obedient. He’s always wanted an obedient little pet that does everything he says without resistance. The women he met are too seasoned, but you’re so innocent... Younghoon made sure you grew up pure.

🌃 now Juyeon didn't exactly like Younghoon. To be honest they were rivals...

🌃but really there's nothing Younghoon can do to Juyeon anymore—Juyeon's a dropout, and has the protection of his gang behind him. As far as he’s concerned, Younghoon loses to him.

🌃which is why juyeon had the brilliant idea to corrupt his little sister. Kim Younghoon, who reported him to the principal and got him into trouble so many times... oh, he was going to ruin the one thing Younghoon loves the most.

🌃you cough up the smoke. "Ah... it’s... not for me." Juyeon's voice turns slithering sly: "you shouldn't give up on something until you tried it three or four times." He smiles.

🌃"uh, so, oppa, are you in college?" "I dropped out since high school." "Oh! Um, I’m going in a few months..." "ah, so you’re all grown up now? Can I ask you something?" You nod so innocently, like you didn't even notice the way he had backed you into the wall, shadowing over you completely

🌃“have you ever been kissed, Y/n?” Your eyes widen. "Oh, no... um..." "ah, and you’re not even a bad girl to lie about it. You know, you’re so... sweet..." His fingers started to crawl up your skin now "...I could pop you between my teeth like a cherry."

🌃you step back now. "Um, I might have to get home now..."

🌃"y/n, do you want to learn how to kiss, and make your boyfriend happy? I mean, you'll need it when you go to college, right?" You nod gingerly, he was right you supposed.

🌃"what if I taught you? I could be your little friend for the summer." He winked, so innocently you felt close and akin to him, like he wasn't dangerous at all.

🌃"sure!" "Great. I'll meet you here tomorrow, okay?" You thought he was going to lean in and kiss you, but instead he just got close and bit down on your earlobe until it tickled.

🌃"I better get home now..." the streets are dark and cold and abandoned.

🌃juyeon tsks. "Ah... is your brother an idiot? Doesn’t he know what could happen to pretty girls that walk around at this time?"

🌃he grabs you by the waist in a way that makes you think he's the danger he's talking about. He pulls you close to him, and the smell of cigarettes is all over his shirt and those broad shoulders.

🌃you just gawk up at him, and he smiles so sympathetically

🌃“I'll walk you home. I'll do what your brother won’t.”

🌃the next day, you meet him there, and he introduces you to one of his gang members, Sunwoo. Sunwoo looks tough and you don’t see yourself getting close to him, but juyeon's the one entertaining you

🌃juyeon will buy you food or go shopping with you, and all of a sudden press you against a wall and shove his tongue in your mouth

🌃"a good girlfriend is ready, and opens your mouth for her boyfriend. Now stick your tongue out." He commands this just to put his fingers down your throat.

🌃"hmm, wonder what you'll be like if you were taking [inaudible]"

🌃everything juyeon does makes you shudder so covertly... he’s the first real boyfriend you’ve had!!!!

🌃one day when you get home, younghoon is there and he is livid. "Tell me you aren't hanging out with Lee juyeon! QUICK!"

🌃"hoon you’re scaring me..." "tell me! Is it true?" You nod, scared. "Listen, you will never, ever go out with him again, do you hear me?"

🌃but you were gonna be bratty: "I'm not a kid, and you’re always leaving me to go on dates and hang out with your friends, I should be allowed to do what I want! I don’t care! Juyeon is my friend now!"

🌃younghoon tries telling you he's not a good guy, but you aren't listening.

🌃juyeon hears about the argument and laughs his own head off. "Ha! So I’m getting on Kim Younghoon’s nerves!"

🌃one day, juyeon asks: "do you wanna go to karaoke with us?" You’ve always wanted to go to karaoke! Younghoon's always going with his friends! "YES!" you squeal. "Great, I'll pick you up."

🌃juyeon drives you to the bad part of town, not that you notice. Everywhere it’s just rundown buildings and sketchy looking men on the street

🌃the karaoke doesn’t have cameras in it, and just smells more like alcohol than anything. When you arrive, sunwoo's already inside, his tongue down the throat of some stranger girl. There are 3 other girls in the room.

🌃juyeon sits you down and makes you sing, almost forcing you, but when you do sing, he just slaps the mic away from you to start kissing you.

🌃"I can’t... ah, help it, ah... your voice makes you sound so delicious." He licks up your throat. You don’t even know if that's a thing that turns him on...

🌃sunwoo's picked a song and is rapping now, while you just sit gingerly wondering if juyeon will kiss you again

🌃"don't sit like that," juyeon whispers into your ear, leaning over your body. "H-huh...?" He comes over and opens your closed legs, hiking your skirt up so your little panties were visible and in the air.

🌃juyeon rubs you over your panties. "Are you wet for me, y/n?" You just swallow and don’t speak...

🌃he sits back, your skirt still hiked up distractingly that even sunwoo is side-eyeing you. Then, juyeon's fingers slide under those panties.

🌃"shh, oppa's gonna make you feel so good." His hand is under your skirt! You knew this was what bad boys did to girls, but you didn't think it would be like this!!

🌃you don’t know if anyone is watching... you look over at Sunwoo and his girls, and they side-glance you over and over but none of them say anything.

🌃Juyeon knows how to rub a girl off while sitting down, although he gets so frustrated by the distance you’re sitting away from him.

🌃he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into his lap, sneering meanly: "Come here" like he’s angry at you. It scares you, and you clench around his fingers.

🌃ah, so you tighten when ur scared? He smirks, gonna use that to his advantage! Now that you're in his lap he’s got better leverage, one hand steadying himself by wrapping his giant hand around your torso and the other in your pussy

🌃he puts one finger in your belly button like he’s finger it until you feel all tickly in your belly

🌃you want to moan so bad... but there's the other guys and girls around! Juyeon can tell you’re about to cum, so he just rapidly rubs your clit with Two fingers are up in your cunt. In a few seconds, you were squirting.

🌃the orgasm leaves you in a haze, you just grind back on his pants already aching, you need something full to fill you up and you don't even know what.

🌃the girls sitting there laugh among each other. "Look at that, Juyeon's giving it to her so bad, ha..."

🌃"get up, lean over the sofa with your ass up." You stuttered... looking around. The others pretend they don’t care, not looking back at you. "But..." "just do it, if you really want to learn how to please me."

🌃so you do as he says, your pussy still feeling so empty as you lay there on your stomach with your ass up. Slowly, you feel Juyeon’s large calloused hand on your ass, he’s rubbing the skin, your skirt pushed up so your ass was exposed. You shudder in the cold air.

🌃you hear his zipper release, and he's touching himself, all thick and hard in his palm. He doesn’t even take your panties off, just simply sliding them to the side like you’re just a quick fuck he won't even take the time to enjoy.

🌃"sunwoo-yah." "Yes, hyung?" "Film this, I’m making her my little whore." Before you can protest, Sunwoo's got his phone trained at your body, going to the view of how juyeon's fucking you and then back at your face

🌃you cover your face with hands and hair, too afraid. "Doesn't matter," Juyeon sighed with a grunt, his cock being so tightened in your warm little hole. "When I start pounding her, she'll scream so hard. They'll recognize her by the voice?"

🌃and he does make you scream. When he’s so deep in your cunt and you

🌃"you like that, baby? You like my cock deep in your cunny?" "Aa...ah!" "Say you want it deeper, or I'll just leave you wet here." "Please! I want it!"

🌃"waa, hyung, she's such a slut," sunwoo laughs as he keeps filming. Juyeon's thrusts over the sofa arm are hard and fast, he uses your hips as leverage and thrusts into you like you’re just meat. He doesn’t even seen to hear your screams.

🌃you're sweating and tearing up from how good it is, and the girls in the room are all laughing at you, their laughter shrill. "Juyeon, that's it, punish that tiny virgin pussy!"

🌃one girl puts her fingers in your mouth and makes you suck on it as you get pounded. You just give up trying to hold yourself up, slack against the sofa and moaning, mouth open.

🌃juyeon acts like he doesn’t even care as he paints your walls white, and drop you like a burlap sack. Then he positions you on your knees, slapping you gently. "Open up."

🌃you open your mouth, and he sprays the last of his seed inside your mouth, making you hold it, tongue out - not swallowing, not spitting it out.

🌃you wondered if you did good as the girls and Sunwoo take photos of you.

🌃juyeon laughs as he looks back at the video and photos, a hand slapping sunwoo in the back. "Send that to Younghoon," he orders cooly. "Let's see how he is when his precious little thing gets taken advantage of."

#yandere juyeon #yandere tbz #yandere the boyz #dark kpop smut #the boyz dark hours #the boyz hard hours #the boyz smut #tbz smut #tbz smut imagines #juyeon smut #juyeon hard hours #tbz smut scenarios #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #juyeon x reader #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines

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nexility-sims · 22 days

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟕 ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | AUGUST 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Trish Fitzpatrick wore many hats, but her favorite was “freelance journalist.” Her area of expertise grew directly out of myriad side gigs: what she called portrait pieces of interesting people. Outlets clamored for them—or, they had since she’d buttered up famous, neurotic opera singer-turned-starlet Prudence Boone into revealing she had a glass eye, a secret runaway daughter, and a hair-eating habit. Of course, Prudence was basically a stranger. They had once had a fifteen minute conversation on the deck of a yacht, bonding over the fact that neither actually knew to whom the vessel belonged. Prudence thought Trish’s outlandish suggestions were funny enough to remember her when she called to pitch the piece. It had gone the same way with Renzo. Of course, they had met while fighting over a scarf in a vintage clothing store. Trish considered letting him win to be a debt, one for which she would demand recompense at the ideal time. Opportunities passed, and then August 1991 proved to be the time.

❧ i got the irresistible urge to do renzo backstory, which was meant to be an outtake, but then i was like, "uh, no, this totally works as story proper if i put leonor in it," so here we are ! context and such. given the amount of work, this might be my magnum opus until further notice ... it was also just fun to do :^) checked off the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll boxes ?? where's my prize. in conclusion, i love my white boy of the week or whatever

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

I grew up in a tiny town—Petunia. Petunia? You say it differently. It’s the country coming out, I guess. Not “pee-tyoon-ee-ah,” it’s “puh-toon-yuh.” Petunia. That’s it. So, how was it? Fond memories? In retrospect, maybe. I wanted to get the hell out of there from day one. What I remember is being very unhappy—dispositionally sullen, not just a pouty kid, but fully down and out. Born that way, probably. And your parents? My parents … Life had the upper hand, man. They were good at losing. I didn’t want that life.

My dad professed to be a traveling salesman—What, he wasn’t? I mean, he didn’t know jack shit about vacuums or whatever the fuck. I don’t know. But, he wasn’t around a lot, it sounds like? Gone for weeks at a time. Just me and my mom. How was she? Not really there either. When I got home from school, she’d pop her pills and be gone until morning. She wasn’t avoiding me; she was avoiding life. She did what she had to do in the mornings—you know, I had what I needed, the bare essentials—but she was checked out. You had a lot of unsupervised time, then. Oh, did I. Too much. I mean, I had books to read, and I got into music early—From her? No. My dad’d blow into town and bring pity gifts. Not kid-appropriate shit, now that I think about it. Heavy, gritty stories. A guitar I was too little to use. Flip lighter. But, you know, I was a kid. I wanted to run and play with everyone else, too. Of course.

Here’s the thing: it was hard to be a scrawny kid named Lorencio in Petunia. Shit, I can imagine. What was that like? … Hard, like I said. Well—Details? I got the shit kicked out of me. Regularly. What do they call it—um—“school of hard knocks”? Yeah. I remember, one time, I limped home on a Saturday. Mom was out of it, but she leapt up when she saw all the blood. Cleaned me up. It’s like I’m there now—in that bathroom with the dirty tile, her burning me with peroxide … She didn’t really talk, you know, not in a serious way? But she did then? She said, in Uspanian, “‘Don’t roll over for anyone.’” Interesting. So, that’s the lesson? Part of it. I realized that summer it didn’t matter if you were scrawny, if you talked funny, if you were poor. What mattered was not being a pussy. [Laughs] Oh, yeah? If you want credibility, if you want respect, sometimes you gotta be able to take a beating. Don’t roll over. That’s right.

I think it also helped when the growth spurt hit. You must’ve still been scrawny. [Laughs] String bean. So it goes. Adolescence . Now, you grew up fast, is what I’ve heard. You could say that. My life changed when Marty got out of lock-up—Sorry, what?—for “teen offenders”; he set his grandparents’ car on fire—oh, I see, regular kid shit—Uh huh. We hit it off. He introduced me to other guys, including Jesse. They’d huff gas together. Oh my God. Not whippits? Sure, but less convenient. That’s—No good, yeah. Fun though. Have you—? I’ve tried everything, Patricia.

Jesus! So, Marty and Jesse…? We got on like a house fire. [Groans] They were into petty crime for the thrill of it—Now, Renzo, is arson petty? He did it one fucking time. Everyone overreacted. They got into trouble for fun, and for you it was—? Money. Not a lot. I was too dumb to consider the risks. But, you did other things for money, too? Don’t say it like that. I wasn’t hooking. [Snorts] I worked a lot. I was cutting school to work, getting paid under the table, all of that. Maybe—hear me out—some of it was thrilling for you, too? I won’t tell anyone. [Chuckles] What can I say? Credibility.

I feel like I’m mischaracterizing … I love Marty and Jesse, to this day. Jesse’s daughter is your godchild, right? Yeah. Marty went back to Petunia in … ‘88? Jesse and I had better luck, or maybe we were just more desperate. Either way, my point is that delinquents get a bad rap—With good reason! Sure, okay. Both of them were deeper and more complicated than that. You’re not an outlier. No. We’re a dime a dozen. No one gives them the chances you got. Uh huh. So, we bonded over that—feeling down and out, like I said, but also the fact that we loved music. Marty’s family had money, so they’d bought him a nice bass guitar. But, Jesse’s mind … He’s so fucking creative. He wasn’t a reader, but I could tell him about something I’d been chewing on, and he’d have a song inspired by it within the hour. He has an incredible voice, too. He does.

I guess it’s not surprising that you guys did what you did. There was nothing for us at home, you know? Packing up and heading out west didn’t feel like a risk. And your mom understood that? Better than anyone. I know people judged her—shit, I judge her, too—but I always knew she was trying. That’s sweet. Is it? I mean, I think so … She met my dad at a bus stop three weeks after she arrived in the country and made the mistake of getting off at his stop. That’s it. That was her crime. Well, I’m sure she’s doing better now, huh? She lives in a nicer house in a nicer city, but that doesn’t cure depression, now does it? I suppose not. There was this woman whose lawn I’d cut all the time … A real bitch, but she was extra nice because she felt bad for me. Hated my mother. I think she was just jealous because my dad was her high school sweetheart. Isn’t that just how it goes? Damn foreigner stealing a real catch from her. [Scoffs] Sticky fingers when she invited me inside for lemonade—cigs and quarters from her purse, Valium from the cabinet, that kind of thing. [Laughs] Casual. It was pretty brazen, honestly. Fucking dumb kid.

Alright, so, you come out here with Marty and Jesse to make music, and now you’re a serious actor with a name and a big career ahead of you. How’d that happen? It was completely accidental. While we waited for a record deal, I did odd jobs, like auto work—you know, in a body shop. It was decent. Had you worked on cars before that? So, I got familiar, uh … [Chuckles] We’ve established I was a rascal. We could get under the hood of a parked car and make a few dollars off parts. I can get you in so much trouble, Renzo! [Laughs]

Don’t tell anyone, come on! I was a kid. Have a heart. I guess it paid off. But, alright, body work? What’s the connection? It’s kind of convoluted. When business was slow, the guy I worked for loaned his employees out to another mechanic. This guy, long story short, brought me along to assist him on a movie set. I guess he was a known quantity? Everyone knows the right guy! That’s everyone’s explanation for where they end up. Me, too. Uh huh. I don’t know why they let me do it, but—Somehow it worked out. Yeah, it did. Right place, right time.

You’re in the spot. How did you get into it, though? This is embarrassing as hell but, fuck it, I’ll be honest. Please. Don’t stop now. [Chuckles] I got a shot because I’d been chatting up this girl who, as it turns out, was the director’s kid—or, in fact, she approached me. I had no idea who she was or why she was there. Of course she did! That’s not surprising, is it? I think I was the most disinterested person there. I don’t know. Anyway, we talked a couple times, then—out of the blue—someone asked me if I wanted to hop into a scene, say a line, ten seconds flat. She did that for you? I don’t know what she did. No one mentioned her. Maybe she thought you looked like a movie star. [Snorts] Fuck. I hope not. Did you want to do it? I wanted to make music. I wanted to finish reading my book. I wanted … I mean, I said yeah. Can’t decline that. Makes a good story, right? What happened with her—? Oh, hell. Sorry! Moving on, for now. [Groans]

I got a call several weeks later about an audition. How did that feel? Bizarre. We’d done a demo for a producer once, but this was different. Were you excited? I was terrified. But, I went. Didn’t get that part, although everyone was perfectly nice to me. How disappointing. You always remember your first … But, hey, you have to look at it this way: I didn’t want to be an actor. I thought it was cool, but it felt like … ? Go ahead, give me a good metaphor. Like when you’ve been craving your favorite food, but then someone offers you a helping of something different, new, appetizing. How’s that? Passable. C-plus. [Laughs] Fuck you, Pat.

Okay, so the road didn’t end there. No, it didn’t. I got another call, and that one went well. This was for … Sugar Sweet? That’s the one. Cornball, but I love that movie. Never seen it. What! How is that possible? You were in it. You went to the premiere screening. There are pictures. Saw my first scene, excused myself to go piss, didn’t come back until the applause had started. Wow. Everyone has opinions about that movie these days—very contentious, whether or not Alicia was in the wrong when she left me and stole my lifelong dream. What do you think? Me, Renzo? Good for her. I thought it was kind of bitchy. It’s peculiar how many women say that. I wonder why … ! Billy’s so dreamy. Please, ask me about something else, Pat. So, this romantic comedy is your launching pad. It leads to the television show. The television show blows up immediately. Walk me through what that felt like?

Also terrifying. I really cannot emphasize enough that I didn’t want attention. I wanted money and time to support my music, and acting seemed like a good way to do that. Just didn’t account for the side effects. Like fame? Uh huh. I was a nobody in Sugar Sweet, and the pay was shit, but it felt like a miraculously good deal at the time. What it did is put me in the running for more serious work. I think, even then, sometimes the casting folks were hesitant to take a risk on someone with no experience whatsoever, even if they had—A spark? Talent? Sure. It was unsettling, the idea that I was some kind of “natural,” and I compensated by working really hard. Well, you’ve established yourself as a hard worker. Sure. I guess they saw that—the improvement, in addition to the fact that I had a resume to speak of by then. Or, eh, they saw that you were pretty. Right, of course, you don’t need talent if you have Teen Mag’s favorite cheekbones. [Snickers] I joined a cast with other people who had very little experience, and we bonded over that. I just didn’t expect to be … What, the center of attention? That, yeah.

You know what’s fucking weird? Huh? Signing your name on a picture of your own face that belongs to someone else. That they’re going to take it home and pin it to their fucking wall or frame it on their bedside table. Someone’s kid treating you like their school crush, blushing and shit while they’re asking for you to do it. That does seem like a strange experience. Over and over again. Teenyboppers, goddamn. You were in the magazines for them. I read a couple interviews. No the fuck I was not. I did not do those. No? What they do is take quotes from actual, consented conversations and stitch them together for their own use. It’s legal. That’s fascinating. Maybe I should try that. Less work. [Laughs] Yeah, alright, flush your “exclusive access” privilege right down the toilet.

But, look, I’m not disparaging the fans wholesale. That’d be unfair. And, ouch, ungrateful? Yeah. The initial couple years were fucking insane, but I was with people I liked, and a lot of the fans we actually met were … Normal? Uh huh. Not a hysterical, handsy, screaming blob. You got grabbed? Groped, Pat. Oh boy. We don’t like grabass, I guess. Well, hold on now, just not like that—You keep sidetracking me. What kind of interviewer are you? I’m having fun with my buddy! Sue me. [Chuckles] You got it, baby. What was I saying? The fans? Yeah. The ones we met one-on-one were cool, usually. They had deep thoughts about the show, you know? Ideas about the characters, the plots—filled in holes in the shitty writing. No offense to Jack and Reuben, I hope! Don’t print that, Pat.

If I’m being honest, having to answer their questions made me think deeply about the role. That’s stayed with me. I don’t like being walked up on in public, but sometimes it’d go fine. The first time someone came up to me in the wild, her mother looked so fucking apologetic that I decided, “Cool it, don’t be a jackass.” She wanted to talk about the book I was buying. Same thing would happen to Frank, Perry, Vicky. How about the show itself? That was a three year commitment.

It was alright. In retrospect, I understand that television isn’t for respectable actors, which made the transition hard. Harder to have been on a show for teenagers. But, you made that switch in Uspana. So, did that play into the calculus at all? I lucked out, in the sense that the show was co-produced, and I got to do the dubbing for the Uspanian version. I wasn’t a total unknown, even if they thought my Uspanian was shitty. Is it? Losing an accent is hard, in my defense.

When my contract ended, I hit the road. You didn’t think about staying on? I thought about it with horror, yes. [Laughs] You’d keep shit-talking the whole production if I let you. Maybe. So, in Uspana? It was like exhaling for the first time in a while. I did nothing for a couple months. All that hard work, being a beloved TV star … Throw me a bone, Pat. But, anyway, I didn’t even see my mom’s family again for a few weeks—You knew them, though? Yeah, we’d met, during the press trips. Beach life by yourself. Luxury.

You know, I needed to reconnect with myself. That’s how I felt. I felt like I had been an imposter, then I felt like I had to be someone I wasn’t, and now … You could go a different way. A fork in the road, for your career. Your life, really. Right, yeah. I went to Canarís like any good tourist. I had more money than I’d ever had in my life. I had no plans. Sounds like a dream. It was.

Crucially, I was out of my mind most of the time. Kite high. So fucking high. I swear I almost drowned twice, at which point it was politely suggested that I stop using the pool. Did you politely agree? Fuck no. [Laughs] Troublemaking aside, I ended up taking phone calls, making plans with people—Industry people? Yeah. There were people I knew already, but meeting the ones I really wanted to work with happened kind of organically—parties, premieres for other films, cafes. At the Morningstar Cafe in Canarís? Right, exactly. Same way I ended up finding The Den. Someone at the cafe had worked with Karolina Teague, and she took me there one evening after we all got tossed out of some poor son of a bitch’s house. Sounds rowdy. Can’t blame him. It was after midnight. And? Well, it was a lunch that’d started at eleven in the morning, so. [Chuckles]

So, I have a question. You’re pretty consistent—in terms of behavior. “Behavior?” [Snorts] Yeah, okay, I understand. What was that like, with cameras on you? The photographers in Uspana definitely aren’t less aggressive. That’s part of it. I don’t know if I’d call it an epiphany, but I left Canarís for Nakawe with the understanding that I was going to just do what I wanted to do. Oh boy. Within reason, fuck. Reason. Sure, yes. You didn’t feel like a dumb kid anymore. I mean, I guess I have more fun with the camera guys here. They can get away with more, ergo, so can we.

I distinctly recall you got arrested for—I barely touched that guy or his fucking camera. Did him a favor, if I did. Dogshit quality device. [Chuckles] Not sure he saw it that way, but the charges were dropped. I mean, don’t get me wrong, shouldn’t have reacted that way. I kept thinking about my mom seeing those pictures … The one time I got picked up, she backhanded me in the middle of the station, right in front of the cops. Jesus. In the car, she goes, “If you get caught again, I’m going to rip your ears off.” Empty threat, I guess.

The Den—I want to talk about that. Please, let’s. Your first time there? It was with Karolina, like I said, and there was a local band playing that night. They’d wrapped up their set by the time we arrived and were just … jamming on the stage, taking feedback and requests from the people who were still there. Some kind of funky jazz mash-up. I liked it. How did it come to you? It opened in ‘57 as a bar and, at some point, it turned into more of a music venue open to a certain segment of Nakawe. The guy who owned it gave exposure to a lot of people who went on to really do something with their art, and that’s why it ended up being a somewhat exclusive spot. Celebrities already knew it and brought their friends. Uh huh. I could stroll up, and the cameras weren’t with me because they were already there. He got tired of that, I think—He was an older fella, right? Yeah. But, really, he managed other properties, and The Den wasn’t his passion project the way it’s become for me. So, you had the money and took it off his hands.

What goes on in there? [Laughs] Pat, you’ve been inside. Well, not for me! If I’m going to describe it to people who’ll never go inside, what would I say? I mean, it’s a hangout spot. It’s a performance venue. We had, uh, mimes last month. Truly gifted, those people. [Laughs] Really? I don’t come up with all of the ideas myself, but I only agree to the shit I’m interested in. It’s kind of selfish, but I guess I’m lucky to know a lot of people who’ll toss in five dollars to enjoy it. It’s something. Compelling. I mean it. Thanks. That’s not all, though. I mean, you describe it as a “haven.” It’s very private. Some of your regulars are troubled individuals. Damn, Patricia, just say it. I feel like a cop! “Do you condone drug use in your establishment?” nonsense. But, well … I’m not explaining it. Either you—they, whoever the hell—get it or don’t. Come for the music, come to unwind however you like, doesn’t fucking matter to me as long as you’re coming with an invitation. I like to go in the back room, close the door, let the music and noise seep through. Muffled. You don’t really strike me as a partier, frankly. You never have. I wouldn’t argue with that. I like parties, but I don’t need to be at the center. Some do. That’s fine. This place is for us all.

Maybe it works out because of that, that you’re curating this space but not necessarily always in it? What do you mean? Well, you reopened it and then, if memory serves, immediately went off to do a film. The party kept going. You just like to know it’s happening. Alright, sure. That’s true. Knowing it’s there … Yeah. I like it. I was in that back room, thinking about the script, when I decided to do it, actually. Life felt like it was falling into place. It was a good time to take a leap. “’You are going to be a cowboy?’” “’No, I’m going to be a farmer.’” I had that conversation a thousand times. Reporters, man. Hey! Everyone was so surprised. I think they thought the premise was … I don’t know, that it just wasn’t something I would want to do? Or, worse, that the filmmakers wouldn’t want to work with someone like me? Unflattering assumptions, sounds like. Can’t blame them. I had a lot to prove. Still do.

How was six weeks in Texict? Fucking heaven. I loved it. My mother’s from the northwest so, even when I visited family, it wasn’t anywhere close. No reason to visit until we dropped in to do the film. Every day, I woke up happy to be alive. Happy to be doing this job. Gorgeous. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it wasn’t just the location, was it?

No, you’re right. I felt like I was really acting—for the first time, seriously. Maybe the cast helped? I’d worked with established actors before. The leads in Sugar Sweet were—well, you know who they were. I learned a ton from them. But, yeah, I guess Sasha was the first person I’d worked alongside who had me sweating. Oh? I wanted to impress her so fucking badly. I wanted to keep up, you know? So talented. So raw. She rips every line out of her chest with her bare hands. Bloodbath of emotion. The premise was new, too. Not a lighthearted romance this time. No. We were young parents of a ill child—stressed as fuck, trying to make life work, struggling separately to be together. Can’t lie, I ate that shit up. So did the critics. Hell yeah.

Every nomination felt surreal. The recognition was incredible. Validating. Sasha and some of the others swept up. I was just honored to be up there with them, honestly. Okay, well, let’s talk about Sasha. Do we have to? Yes. Indulge me! [Grumbling] I mean, all I can really say at this point is that I was obsessed, and it wasn’t until it was over that I had the clarity of mind to really wonder, hm, “Was I in love with Sasha, my coworker, or was I in love with Sasha playing Lucy, my wife?” That seems like an occupational hazard. I wouldn’t describe it that way. You take sensitive, delusional, beautiful people, pay them to get vulnerable and intimate with each other … It’s special, even if it’s … Not genuine? No, it is that. It’s not real, but it is genuine. How else can you say, “Well, our schedules don’t line up anymore, but I’ll have this scar of our initials forever?” You do not! No, I don’t. The letter S is really hard to cut without fucking up. Not a sober man’s idea. No.

Since I have you on the topic—hey, no, absolutely not—I’m obligated to ask if there’s anyone in your life right now. How’s that? Women’s magazines can snap this up and stitch it together for themselves. This is a public service. Patricia … Yes, Lorencio?

Look, I know you do your research. I do. I’m very good at it, too. What’s that like, princess pus—Pat. Pat, I’m begging you—Are you obsessed? The letter L is easier, I bet. It is. Would you go with another L or an R?

I’m not talking about this—not for you to print, anyway. Well, talk to me as a friend, then? I’m not just professionally nosy. We’re friends? Who else calls me Pat and gets away with it? You haven’t been Trish in a long time, it’s true … [Sighs] Fuck. Someone can be precious, right? Lovable. You can hold them in your hands and think, “This person matters to me. They’re special. I like to be around them; I like to listen to them; I want their affection.” You can really, genuinely cherish someone.

But? Maybe you find their life to be completely fucking repellent. Unbearable. … Damn.

There’s parallels, though, right? I mean, fame is fame, there’s got to be value in relatability, and—There’s an open mic going on downstairs in the hotel bar right this minute. Let’s take a break, Pat, what do you say? Let’s just go watch some of it. I’ll let you print dick measurements and my deepest, darkest secrets if you say yes. [Laughs] Well, if that’s on the table—

#just gonna toss in a cw #cw drugs #long post #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

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howi99 · 2 months

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Team RWBY + "Marie" camping for the night

???: *sigh*

Ruby: Hey, are you ok?

???: Uh? Oh yeah... Say, how's the world out there? Remnant, i believe?

Ruby: *sitting next to her* I'm not the best to explain but i got pictures if you want.

???: That would be nice.

*as Ruby showed "Marie" the numerous places she took pictures in remnant, "Marie" seems to be interested by a particular couple.

???: I see that you have a lot of pictures of those two, who are they?

Ruby: They are my best friends, Jaune and Penny. We traveled a lot with his team. *Worried* I really hope they are ok. With what Weiss said, they were being attacked by Cinder before she fell... *Shacking her head* I'm sure they are alright, i'm sure Jaune had a plan, he always does!

???: *looking at the ground, speaking quietly* i hope he does....

Ruby: What?

???: *sigh* Nothing. But anyway, what are they like?

Ruby: Oh! Well, Jaune and Penny are- *began to explain all the adventures they had together, leaving Marie completely bewildered by all the new information*

???: Woah, they seem to be a real close duo. Though the fun facts were uh...

Ruby: Oh, they are! Completely inseparable! And yeah... They are not the best knowledge to be stuck in your brain... You know, you seem a lot less secretive compared to this morning.

???: *a bit embarrassed* It's more of an act than anything really. Sorry if i called you little Red. Someone i know called me that recently and it stuck.

Ruby: Someone else, eh? What's their name?

???: He appeared recently. Though i don't remember his name, i really liked his hat! He also had a friend with him but she didn't talk much. They were already near the city so they should already be there.

Ruby: ......... Was one tall with orange hair and the other pink and brown?

???: yeah! They fell with you?

Ruby: Oh boy. They are... Friendnemy? Allies of circumstances? Anyway, they are not good news unsupervised, so we really need to find them when we arrive, ok?

???: *shrugs* if you say so.

Yes, Roman didn't die in that AU. It's part of the rework i'm doing on it.

#jaune arc #rwby #rwby au #jaune is a genius au #ruby rose #oc

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heliads · 2 years

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hey babes!!! Ive been LOOVING your minho fics a lot since im back in my tmr phase 😘 if you still write for maze runner, could you do a minho x f!reader where theyre both runners and they have this kind of unspoken rivalry between each other and one day they arrive late to the maze’s gates, and theyre about to close when the reader manages to push minho to the gates so that he escapes but the reader doesnt?? and like the next day he sees the reader run to the gates when they open and he like finally admits his feelings for them? im so sorry if this was too specific!! 😘😘😘😘

anon i love this. anything for minho

masterlist

Minho is causing problems. Again.

It’s not even that bad this time. He’s bored, that’s what this really boils down to, he’s bored as hell and there’s nothing left to do in this place until sunrise tomorrow. He likes being a Runner, he’s not sure what he could possibly do that would feel half as right as this, but once he comes out of the Maze for the afternoon, he’s left with nothing to do at all.

Technically, that isn’t true. He could definitely go help one of his friends with their daily chores, but let’s be real, that was never an option. When you chip in one too many times, people start expecting that you’ll be there every time, and Minho doesn’t want to have another reason to let the Gladers down, so he stays by himself.

Right now, he’s by himself in the Map Room, the product of finishing the day’s run early yet again. Minho has already recorded all the twists and turns of today’s venture through the Maze, and his partner, Ben, is long gone.

The guy probably found an empty corner of the Glade and disappeared for a nap, where he can emerge hours later, shaking his head like he’s forgotten where he is. Minho is deeply envious of his friend’s ability to sleep so easily. There are few things he wouldn’t do for a good night’s rest for once.

Ben’s absence also means that Minho is completely unsupervised, which should be a red flag to anyone else. Luckily, no one has noticed yet, which means that Minho has time to set up the perfect prank. It’s fantastic, and no one will have any idea it was him.

A voice from behind Minho makes him startle. Looks like he isn’t the criminal mastermind he thought he was.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Minho turns around slowly to face Newt, another one of his good friends. The blond second in command has his arms folded across his chest, the picture of weary disappointment.

Minho grins as innocently as he can. “What? Nothing. Just another day in the Map Room, you know. As a Runner, I can do whatever I want in here, and–”

Newt cuts him off irritably. “You mean that you’re not trying to hide all the writing supplies so Y/N can’t find them?”

Minho glances conspicuously at the door to the Map Room supply closet, which refuses to close. That might be because he’s stuffed every box he can find in there, but who knows, really?

“Oh, this? That’s just, uh, some spring cleaning. It gets really dusty in here, have you ever noticed that?”

Newt rolls his eyes. “Can I ask what Y/N’s done to deserve this, at least?”

Minho chuckles. “Nothing in particular, but you know that. Listen, this is going to be fantastic. The second she opens the door tomorrow afternoon, every box on this side of the Glade is going to come sliding out like a supply avalanche. It’ll be hilarious.”

Newt groans. “You do realize that being Keeper of the Runners means that you’re actually supposed to be responsible, right? Not doing whatever this is?”

Newt gestures vaguely at the pile of stuff behind Minho. He’s not wrong, obviously, Minho knows that he’s just being a slinthead, but at least doing ‘whatever this is’ keeps him distracted.

Already, though, the thrill of doing something wrong is wearing away, leaving him twitchy and prickly with guilt. His stomach feels hot, like he’s some kid who’s gotten caught trying to skip school. If he knew what school was like, that is. Regardless, it’s probably better than here.

Minho sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “You can skip the lecture, I already know it’s dumb. Just need to do something, I guess. At least this’ll make someone laugh.”

Newt arches a brow, although he’s starting to smile. “Yeah, you and me. Not Y/N so much, though. Really, why is it that you two are at each other’s throats all the time? I would have thought that you’d get along.”

Minho steps away from the supply closet at last, leaning up against a nearby wall. “We do most of the time, it’s just more fun to squabble. We try to see who finishes their daily run faster, who’s more accurate, that sort of thing. Fills the time, I guess.”

Newt shrugs. “Whatever keeps you two on track. Just make sure that your cascade of boxes doesn’t mess up any of the maps, or you’ll have to do some spring cleaning there, too.”

Minho shudders. “Trust me, I didn’t touch the maps. I’m not completely out of my mind.”

Newt smirks. “Only a little bit, then?”

Minho chuckles at last. “Only a little bit.”

He leaves the Map Room soon after that, Newt having done his job of convincing Minho not to start anything else. The rest of the day passes in a blur, as it always does; the Gladers stick with their respective jobs, the sun is hot, the night is cool. The Doors slide shut and everyone pretends it isn’t completely terrifying to be stuck in here week after week. The last Greenie day was far enough away that the newest arrival has stopped crying at last. It’s frustratingly repetitive, but at least they aren’t dead. That’s all Minho has going for him at the moment.

Minho rises at dawn like usual, but this time Newt does too. Minho shoots his friend a questioning glance, especially when the second in command gestures for Y/N and Minho to follow him a few paces away.

Newt speaks at first, voice low to make sure he doesn’t wake up the rest of the Gladers. “I need you two to run together today. The next section we need keeps getting switched up by other Runners, and you two are the best we’ve got. Alby figures that if both of you run together, you’re less likely to mess up.”

Minho shoots a suspicious glance at Y/N, but she seems fine with it, so he nods. “Sounds good to me.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder. “We’ll see you this afternoon. If we get everything right, can we get a day off?”

Newt laughs. “Not a chance. Get running, you useless shanks.”

Minho grins and heads towards the Doors, Y/N at his side. She looks at him just before they enter the Maze, expression somewhat bemused.

“I don’t think I’ve actually run with you in forever. Scared you won’t be able to keep up?” She says, grinning so brightly Minho thinks she might be able to outshine the sun.

If Minho had any misgivings about why today’s section is so difficult to run that he’d need to go with Y/N, they’re banished by the sound of his own surprised laugh.

“Not a chance. I’d be worried about you, though. I’m rumored to be the fastest guy around.”

Y/N laughs too, and they take off into the twisting stone corridors. As they pass tangles of ivy and progress further into the Maze, Minho finds himself secretly grateful that he’s here with Y/N. At least now he can deflect his own paranoia by making jokes, although he’d never admit that to her face.

Truth be told, the longer the day wears on, the more thankful he is for Y/N’s presence. Their ever present rivalry lets him hide behind a familiar shield of sharp tongues and false criticisms, their painted veneers thick as ever. He’s never said a word that wasn’t a lie. He’s never been more true in his life, but man, who even knows that when you’ve been forced to forget all but the last year?

Even beyond his favored coping mechanism, Minho still feels himself getting nervous when they reach their halfway point far past noon. They should have had their lunch break here about an hour earlier, they should have turned back by now. It’s not that the road is difficult, it’s that it’s impossible. The creators of this godless Maze have a new hitter with this section, it’s somehow different from every other segment Minho has run.

He’s used to thinking that he owns the place like he runs it, that he could find his way inside and out, blindfolded, in the dead of night. Today is making Minho doubt himself like he never has before. When at last they reach the turning back point, Y/N and Minho lock eyes and decide not to eat their lunch. There’s no time for a break, not when they’re so late already. He pushes aside the dull ache in his stomach and keeps going.

It’s harder and harder to keep his spirits up. Even though he’s already been down most of the section this morning, it’s no easier to find his way back. His already existing stress just builds and builds until Minho second guesses himself at every turn. Y/N’s no better, he can tell that, but at least the two of them are halfway decent at doing this together. They can keep each other in check long enough to make it out, Minho is certain of it. Or, he’d like to be certain of it. He’s not sure what he believes in anymore, nothing really matters in this face of the Maze.

Truth be told, he’s getting really worried. The sky is darkening at a far too rapid rate, and although Minho would like nothing more than to thrust his hands up and beg the time to stop long enough for them to just get out, it’s far too late in the afternoon. They should have been out of the Maze for at least half an hour by now, yet they’re still running. It’s not good, to say the least.

At last, they make the final turn and spot the Doors up ahead. Minho glances towards Y/N, sparing enough time to flash her a quick grin before picking up his pace even despite his screaming lungs and legs. They’ve barely turned the corner, though, when the ground starts shaking beneath his feet.

It takes Minho a couple of moments to realize what’s going on, why it sounds like thunder even without a drop of rain. He should know this sound from hearing it twice per day, yet for some reason being on this side of the Maze when the Doors start to close makes it completely, utterly foreign.

That’s what’s happening, after all, the Doors are closing and Minho is about to be locked out. His breath surges in his chest, absolutely terrified. He can’t be dying now, not after everything. He sprints with everything he has, Y/N right beside him. They have to get out, but they can’t. They’re too far away.

Still, he tries. They both do. The gap is already shrinking, just out of reach. Minho’s steps start to slow for just a second as he realizes that this is impossible, that there’s no way he can actually make it in time. Just before the Doors shut fully, though, something slams into him from behind and he’s pushed through.

A half second later, Minho is standing on the other side of the Doors. He doesn’t know how it happened until he turns back and sees Y/N still in the Maze, and then he knows. She must have shoved him through just in time, but she won’t make it now. Minho has just enough time to lock eyes with her before the Doors slam together, and then she’s gone, gone forever.

Minho stalks towards the Doors as if expecting them to open again, but there’s nothing, no movement from the solid stone. He raises a hand to them tentatively, then slams his fist into the Doors, again and again until it comes back bloody. There’s a hand on his arm, Newt maybe, trying to guide him away, but Minho shakes him loose as if the boy were a fly.

Minho shouts until his voice is hoarse, begging for any sign that Y/N is somewhere on the other side, but his screams go unanswered. At last, he’s exhausted, and barely manages to drag himself to the Map Room. He has to get this down so Y/N’s sacrifice won’t be in vain.

He walks into the Map Room and stares at the model in the middle of the room, scarcely able to concentrate long enough to register that he’s in the right place. Minho reaches for the door to the supply closet to grab a pencil and paper, and stares uncomprehendingly as stacks of boxes slide out at him, puddling around his feet like a cardboard sea.

It hits him then, that this was his doing, his supposed prank on Y/N from yesterday. It feels like he set it up centuries ago, and the weight of everything he’s just lost comes crashing back down on his shoulders. Minho slumps to the ground, sitting in the mess he’s made. He can’t believe that Y/N would do that, save him when it meant damning herself.

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he would have made the same choice as easily as her. When it comes down to it, would Minho have saved Y/N, or would he have been content that at least he wouldn’t have died alone? Would he have even realized that was a possibility in the first place? He’d like to say that he would have done it every time, but he won’t know for sure until he’s in a position like that again.

Everyone is treading carefully around Minho, he can see that. The second he sits down at a table to pretend to eat his dinner, everyone either flashes him brief sympathetic glances or just looks away completely, as if by not meeting his gaze they won’t have to deal with what just happened.

Minho kind of wants to do something to force them to think about it, like clamber up onto a table and start shouting about how they’re all being useless shanks by sitting around and pretending nothing ever happened. It’s not like any of them could possibly do anything, not really, but at least he’d feel better than this constant guiltiness.

He can’t sleep at all that night, too caught up in the fact that Y/N is out there somewhere, absolutely terrified, if she hasn’t already died. That, too, is almost unmentionable. What will he do if he’s out running the next day and finds her, broken and bloody, no longer able to laugh with him or even draw a single breath? It might kill him too.

The sky brightens eventually, although Minho has yet to be convinced that the day has actually begun. Maybe it’s just one endless night forever, again and again until there is no end to any of this. Minho sees a couple of Gladers starting to get up and stares at them, confused, until he realizes that they’re Runners, which means that he has to get up too.

That’s the worst part about all of this, how he’s expected to go about his day and head into the Maze once more as if he didn’t just lose Y/N. He doesn’t know if he can do this. Frypan asks if he wants to sit the day out, but Minho’s already up, so he just shrugs and says that he has nothing else to do. It’s true, but not a good excuse, and both boys know it.

Minho finds himself standing outside the Doors with a small crowd of Gladers. Most of the others are still asleep, having assumed that today will play out the way every other day does, in which those who stay in the Maze overnight will be dead. That’s the way it’s always been, but Minho still finds himself silently praying that Y/N might be the exception.

Newt walks over to Minho just before the time comes. “You going to be alright?”

Minho lifts a shoulder, voice dull. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

A rumbling sound emanates throughout the Glade, and Minho turns his fragmented attention back towards the Doors. Despite the odds, he still feels his spirits fall when he notices that nobody is there waiting for him. He didn’t realize how much hope he was still holding out that Y/N would survive until he’s faced with this empty corridor.

Minho stands there a moment longer, just staring and watching his very soul bleed away from him, and then he sees it. A flicker of movement, just at the end of the hallway stretching out before him. Minho doesn’t know for certain until he’s already moving, and then he’s running as fast as he can towards Y/N.

Y/N, who is by some miracle still alive, who’s limping towards him around the corner. Minho runs faster than he ever has before until he’s before her. He wraps his arms around her before he knows what he’s doing, pulling her so close that they might become one and the same. His eyes flicker shut, at last dropping off the last bit of his stress.

“You’re alright,” he says, barely able to manage the syllables.

“Mostly,” Y/N mumbles against his shoulder. He holds her closer anyway.

At last, Minho reluctantly lets her go, immediately starting to scan her for injuries. Her ankle looks bad, maybe twisted, but other than a few scrapes and gashes on her arms, she’s mostly unharmed. It’s a miracle.

Y/N arches a brow as if she can tell what he’s thinking. “Surprised to see me?”

Minho laughs quietly. “Something like that. Mainly relieved that you made it out.”

She smirks. “Of course I made it out. Did you really think I’d ever let you stay the fastest Runner forever?”

“Not a chance,” Minho breathes, “I need you more than anyone else here.”

Her smile widens into something genuine. She’s not gone, he’s alright. Nothing could ever be better.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @hiya-its-amber, @thatfangirl42, @gods-fools-heroes

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wheels-of-despair · 5 months

Text

The Family Holiday Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: It's December of 1985, and Evil Woman is ready to spend her first real Christmas with Eddie… why is he being weird about it? Contains: Christmas stuff, insecurity, love, a meaningful gesture, tears, being hopelessly devoted to Eddie Munson, a happy ending. Words: 1.6k

"We're putting the tree up and decorating tonight. Probably end up drinking some hot chocolate and watching something Christmas-y. You in?"

You and Eddie had finally been sprung from detention, and thinking about tonight's festivities was the only thing that had kept you awake. The rest of the boys had escaped your cruel fate and gone home when they were supposed to, so it was just the two of you in the van now.

"You need help?"

"What, like 'oh please, big strong man, won't you come help us feeble women-folk put up this heavy plastic tree'?" you tease. "Don't NEED help, but we'd love for you to come hang out."

"Actually…" he licks his lips and concentrates on the road. "I think I might just go home tonight."

"What?" Eddie Munson, passing up Family Fun Time? And hot chocolate?!

"I'm, uh… I'm just really tired. Think I might be coming down with something."

You reach over to feel his cheek, which does look flushed and feel a little warm.

"Are you okay?" He hadn't said anything. Not that he'd been allowed to make a peep during the last hour, but he'd seemed fine at lunch.

"M'fine, just wanna sleep."

You watch him suspiciously as he turns onto your road. You know something's brewing in that twisted little mind of his, but you don't know what.

"Okay," you agree, deciding not to pry. Maybe he just needs a little time to think about whatever he's got going on, and he'll get over it on his own. He pulls into your driveway.

"You want us to wait and do it tomorrow?" It would probably require a little groveling, but you'd do it. You'd do anything for him.

"Nah, don't change your plans on my account."

"Okay," you say again, a little hurt. "If you change your mind, you know where we'll be."

"Don't wanna get you sick too."

"Eddie, you had your tongue down my throat just a few hours ago. That ship has sailed." You tilt your head and wait for a smile. He forces one that doesn't reach his eyes. Maybe he really is getting sick.

"Call me if you need anything?"

He nods. You lean across the van and kiss him on the cheek, then hop out and walk to the door. He doesn't start backing out of the driveway until you've got it open. But this is the first time in forever he hasn't come in with you. It feels strange. You don't care for it.

He didn't come that night, and he didn't call.

Your mother had asked about him, and you'd said he wasn't feeling well. Which, as far as you knew, was true. You thought of him the whole night, from the time you helped wind the lights around the tree, to hanging the stockings, to watching the marshmallows melt in your mediocre cocoa while some claymation special played in the background. Everything was better when Eddie was around.

He arrived the next morning to pick you up for school as usual, but still felt a little distant in the seat next to you. You let the boys ramble about the current campaign while you watched him out of the corner of your eye.

You made an effort to act normally throughout the day. Like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn't unexpectedly bailed on something he was supposed to be a part of. Like he wasn't being weirder than usual.

Despite your efforts to act normal, Eddie remained quiet. He nodded and let out a half-hearted laugh or two at your attempts to break him out of his funk on the ride home. When he pulled into your driveway, he didn't even turn off the van. The rest of the boys had gone to Jeff's to play video games. No one was home. Eddie should be jumping at the opportunity to spend some time alone with you. Unsupervised. Instead, he glances at you like he's waiting for you to get out.

You turn in your seat to face him.

"Alright. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. Tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing."

"Edward."

He sighs.

You cross your arms. "I'm not getting out of this van until you tell me, so you better either start talking, or get fucking comfortable."

He turns off the ignition, then sits quietly for a moment.

"Don't you ever get sick of me hanging around all the time?"

"Nope. Try again."

"Doesn't your mom?"

"You are aware that she refers to you as her favorite child, correct?"

He huffs out an exasperated breath, and it fogs up the windshield in front of him.

"Look. I appreciate you including me. I really do. But Christmas is a family holiday. Like, THE family holiday."

"You ARE family, dummy."

"I'm not."

"You are. You're more family than most of the people I'm related to."

"That's not how it works."

"That is absolutely how it works. I chose you. WE chose you. Those other people are just assholes we happen to share DNA with."

"Look, just…" He grips the steering wheel. "I appreciate you trying to include me, but eventually you're all gonna get sick of me. I don't want to wear out my welcome."

Your heart sinks. Your annoyance fades. How has he not realized that he's your entire world?

"Eddie, you're always welcome, wherever I am," you tell him gently. "You're my favorite person in the world. I fucking love you. I want you with me all the time. Whether it's Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or a random Wednesday, or the day we get married."

He stares at his lap.

"What's it gonna take for you to realize how much you mean to me?"

He shrugs.

And then, you get an idea.

"Come with me."

You get out of the van, but he doesn't. You walk to his side and open the door.

"C'mon, I want to show you something."

He slides down and follows you with his feet dragging, like a big insecure baby. You kick off your boots and drop your jackets, and you take his hand and lead him to the living room. You come to a stop by the fireplace.

"Look."

He lifts his head and takes in the garland and the holiday-scented candles and the nutcracker and the four stockings…

You can see him re-count.

He looks to you with tears welling up in his eyes.

"Told you so."

Your mom has made him a stocking. It matches the ones you and your brother have had since you were babies. She's even stitched Eddie's name onto it. His stocking fits right in, just like he does.

He bursts into tears. He hides his face in his hands and sobs, and you wrap yourself around him the best you can.

You want to tell him that THIS is why you wanted him to come over last night. That you wanted your mom to see his face when he saw his stocking for the first time. That you wanted him hang it himself. But the lump in your throat won't allow it. So you hold him and let him cry and hope that he finally gets it: He's family. The best kind of family; the kind you all chose, because you all love him.

His eyes are red and puffy when he pulls away from you. You brush his hair away from his face, before the tears can dry and glue it to his skin. You don't know what to say. Apparently neither does he.

You take his hand and tilt your head toward the tree. You lead him to it and flip on the power strip. The tree comes to life. You cross the room and switch off the overhead light, letting the tree's colored bulbs fill the room with a warm glow.

You return to the tree and sit down in front of it, lie back, and maneuver your head underneath the branches.

"C'mere," you finally get out. Eddie sits on the floor beside you and copies your movements, his head coming to rest beside yours on the white blanket your mom has wrapped around the base. You reach for his hand and hold it tightly as you stare up at the inside of the tree.

"When I was a kid," you begin, finding your voice again in the familiar calm of the tree's glow, "I used to spend half the holiday season under the tree. Dad always insisted on a real one, but Mom fought him and switched to a fake one after an unfortunate incident involving sap in my hair. THAT was fun."

Eddie chuckles. You're so happy to hear that sound again. You lie there and hold his hand and stare up at the twinkling lights in a peaceful silence.

"I haven't had a stocking since my mom died."

"Really?" you ask, turning your head toward him.

"Mhm," he hums, still staring upward.

"Wayne wasn't a Santa Man?"

"No chimney in a trailer," he says matter-of-factly, like he's heard it a few times before. "Wayne said that's why Santa sometimes forgot to bring me stuff at Mom and Dad's house. Because they didn't have a chimney either, and Santa couldn't remember how to get in."

Wayne's solution brings a smile to your face.

"Did Santa figure out how to get in at Wayne's?"

"He left the presents on the porch," Eddie grins. "Me and Wayne would put out a can of beer and a bag of Fritos for him. He said Santa would want something salty after all those cookies."

You laugh. "Good thinkin', Wayne."

Eddie finally turns his head toward you.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Eddie."

This is the fic that I fought for 2 days, posted, trashed... and then took another run at and gave it a better ending, inspired by this thought from @munson-memories. 🥰

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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nerdpoe · 1 year

Text

Of Kindness and Empathy Part 7

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, AO3

The angry English guy hadn’t stopped ranting at Danny for, like, an hour.

And he was still going strong .

The man had never once stopped scolding him for allowing some sort of royalty or something to wander around the Mortal Plane unsupervised.

Which Danny hadn’t known was his job at all, thanks, what a way to find that out.

All the while, with the prickly English accented voice droning on and on and on , the man kept feeding Ectoplasm into Danny, healing him and stabilizing him.

“ Ancients I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Danny finally exploded, slapping his hands over his ears.

Hands larger than his pried his hands away from his ears, and Danny’s field of vision was filled with an angry face attached to blond hair and ice blue eyes.

“What,” the man hissed, squeezing Danny’s hands, “The absolute bloody fuck did you just say?”

“I don’t know the royal prince or whoever I was supposed to protect, okay? No one told me!”

Danny’s hands were dropped and the English man stalked away, yanking out a cigarette and lighting it.

Danny didn’t dare make any noise, and was honestly grateful for the silence.

And incredibly impressed by how quickly that man was sucking down that cig.

He didn’t know where he was, but he could only assume that Batman had come through and saved him somehow.

“ You , you wanker. You’re the Ghost King, not the prince.”

Danny blinked.

“No,” he automatically denied, waving the notion off, “I can’t…I mean, I’m not. I’m. Pfffft. I’m clearly not King material here, and I think I would know-”

“Yeah, well, clearly you did not.” The man sighed, grinding the cigarette stub on the wall.

“No, see the Ghost King is Pariah Dark, and he��s asleep-”

“And who made him sleep, I wonder. Was it single combat? Did he formally accept the challenge? Were there knights and other ancients to observe his defeat? Because that sounds a lot like the Traditional Method of Trial by Combat, which is the legitimate method to inherit that title in the Infinite Realms.”

Danny could feel the color draining from his face with every qualification.

Oh no.

Oh no .

Then the man held up a mirror, slightly angled, and uh. Yeah. Yeah that was definitely a crown, floating three inches above his head.

“ Oh no ,” Danny hissed, grabbing the mirror and moving around his head to get a better look.

“Oh, yes . Congratulations, it’s an entire bloody realm . Now we need to find out how you’re going to stop your subjects from avenging you-”

“No,” Danny whispered, putting down the mirror and staring into a set of confused eyes, “You don’t understand. I think I lied to Batman.”

The other man sucked in air through his teeth.

“Oh shite , mate.”

~~~~~~

Paulina knew how to get answers.

Paulina knew how to make people realize the very important fact that she deserved answers.

Which was why, with Samantha Manson and Red Huntress at her back, she was staring down Fright Knight, perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly on her arm.

“Repeat that,” she ordered, back ramrod straight, “But without the disrespect.”

She heard Red Huntress unholster one of her guns, felt Manson’s glare as it burned hot over her shoulder.

Fright Knight let out a deep, echoing snarl in return, his hand grasping the pommel of his sword.

Paulina knew what that sword could do.

Paulina was past caring.

“No, you do not get to take that tone with me,” she snarled right back, stalking towards him at a brisk pace, high heels clicking in the eerily silent street, “My family did not go through hell to get where they are today for me to just allow that level of Disrespect. Do it again, and I release my girls.”

Said girls were right behind her, allowing her to lead.

Normally they weren’t her scene, but she’d needed backup and they had weapons training. So as long as she was doing this, they were Hers .

Dash and Kwan were leading the resistance against the GIW doing something stupid .

Foley was working with the other nerds to get a signal out of the Ghost Zone. So he said.

So she had decided to get answers directly from the source.

She had a theory.

He’d stood around looking scary, but he hadn’t really done anything.

“Why are we here, and where is Phantom?”

“You insolent mortal, you dare to challenge Me?” Fright Knight’s voice was gravelly and melodic, and tugged at her spine just as surely as it deafened her ears.

A deep, primal fear began to crawl its way up her throat.

She shoved it down.

She was done.

She was done with the stupid afterlife border patrol ruining her town, she was done with the ghosts who greeted each other with fists, she was done hiding in a shelter wondering if she was going to join the ghosts that plagued the town, and she was done being afraid .

“Kneecaps,” Paulina kept her voice brisk and to the point, and two shots rang out at the same time.

Fright Knight blocked them, of course he did, but he did not block the shots from behind.

The ghosts she’d convinced to help, Kitty and Ember or whatever, flickered out of invisibility. They looked nervous, but that was fine.

Paulina was the face of the operation, not them. They could be as scared as they wanted to, just so long as they did their jobs.

She strode up to Fright Knight, on his knees and attempting to turn to presumably attack Her people, and snapped her fingers in his face with one hand while another slapped a specter collar around his neck.

If he wanted to behave like a rabid dog, he got to get treated like one.

“You aren’t attacking us, why?”

Fright Knight glared at her, but at least he was looking at her now, instead of down on her.

He said nothing.

“So you can learn,” Paulina crooned, reaching into her purse and pulling out some lipstick, “What a good boy you are.”

He growled.

Paulina, wholly unimpressed, flipped the safety off the lipstick and released a small, accurate laser beam.

One that could, had, and would hurt ghosts.

The Fentons wouldn’t mind some missing tech.

The growling stopped.

“So earlier I thought you said this was Phantom’s haunt,” she started, staring directly into the ghost’s eyes, “What, exactly, does that have to do with dragging the whole town into this place?”

She moved the lipstick so that it was resting light next to his helmeted head, the laser creating a small pillar of smoke as it began to cut through the armor.

Fright Knight held very, very still.

“I’m not a hero like Phantom, though, so you should hurry up and explain.”

~~~~~~

Kon stared at the weird little girl that was arguing with his little brother/nephew/son sort of probably.

She was floating a full three feet above her chair, face stuffed with pie, and trying to prove to Jon that chocolate cake was disgusting and strawberry was the best kind.

Kon looked away from her and towards Clark.

Kon raised an eyebrow and jerked his head slightly towards her.

Clark immediately looked away and started insisting he help Ma Kent.

Kon snorted and took out his phone instead.

Kon:

Tim ur dad’s adoption virus

is contagious

Tim:

What

Kon:

Clark just brought home

some super girl without

a pulse

Kon:

I think he’s gonna keep

her

Tim:

Wait Kon if ur dad brought

home a corpse that’s

a whole different problem

Tim:

Do we need to get BC?

Kon:

Nah, she’s alive just a

little bit dead

Kon:

Schrodingers kid or

whatever

Tim:

Schrodinger’s*

Kon didn’t even deign that with a response, opting to instead shove the phone back in his pocket.

Jon was now floating at the girl’s same level, animatedly defending the qualities of a good chocolate cake.

Clark was still deliberately ignoring the knowing looks Kon and Kon’s grandparents (parents? His family tree was so fucked up) kept sending him.

“Hey kid,” Kon drawled, looking out the window at the Kansas sky.

Thunder Clouds were gathering, and a green tint fogged over the rain he could see in the distance. It wasn’t near any towns, it was heading away from the farm, and it looked like a smaller one, but hey. Family bonding.

The girl had her full attention on him, one hand halfway to her mouth with another delivery of pie for her belly.

“You ever go flying in a tornado before?”

She grinned maniacally.

“Do you wanna?”

~~~~~~

Bruce slammed open the door to the operating room that Daniel and Constantine still hadn’t left , the need to ensure the teen was okay overriding common sense, and paused.

There was a floating person who had an eyeball for a head in the center of the room, gesturing animatedly as Daniel argued with it.

His eyes slid over to Constantine, who had his pack of cigarettes upside down and looked absolutely desolate that it was empty.

“Look, if it’s decided by combat then Dash should be King!”

“My Liege, if that person is a Living Being then they are not eligible-”

“He’ll die someday! Probably!”

“And if he defeats you upon his death then yes, he will be King-”

“But he’s ecto-contaminated!”

The eyeball stopped speaking, it’s… head tilting slightly to the side.

“...How contaminated?”

Constantine threw his cigarette pack at the Eyeball Being and rounded on Daniel, ignoring the Eyeball’s outraged spluttering.

“No, you bloody are not going to make your bleeding wanker of a school bully the High King of the Infinite Realms !”

“But I don’t want to be King!”

“My Liege, I understand your concerns-”

“No you don’t! No you don’t ! I lied to Batman, do you have any idea how much trouble I’m going to be in?!”

“He may not,” Bruce rumbled, Batman finally coming to the front, and all participants in the room froze , “But I may have a pretty good idea.”

Constantine held up his hands and backed away slowly.

Daniel appeared to attempt to shrink on himself.

The Eyeball, however, turned to face him completely, haughtiness etched in their posture.

Good.

Batman felt like taking his frustration out of something.

Better this strange Being than the scared kid behind them.

~~~~~~

Tucker was having a Time.

It was not a good Time, it was not a bad Time.

It was somewhere firmly between those two differentiations.

On one side, he was in the Infinite Realms and every computer he’d managed to commandeer from the computer lab was downloading everybit of data he could grab from other dimensions.

Sustained Space travel? Check. Artificial Gravity? Check. Technology not yet invented in their own dimension? Double Check. Multiple Patents for said designs running in tandem with downloading said tech blueprints and instructions?

Hell. Yes.

Tucker was not going to walk out of this weird doomsday thing without being richer than Sam.

He’d offer to share the wealth with Danny, but he was pretty sure with his other Best Friend being King of the Infinite Realms, Danny was probably way richer than Sam already.

He wasn’t sure Danny knew that yet, but like, he could just tell him later.

As it stood, he and the other techies that were feverishly working the computers (with others set to their side projects, he wasn’t the only one with the idea of patenting stuff) had finally, finally broken into the security feed for the GIW headquarters.

The uh…single camera that was left.

His Techies behind him fell silent as they took in the black and blue GIW agents strewn throughout the room, their tech obliterated and scorch marks on the walls.

Tucker wordlessly moved to take screenshots before rewinding the footage to watch The Superman beat the tar out of said agents.

An uncontrolled laugh started up somewhere behind him.

It spread.

Tucker couldn’t even stop himself from joining in.

The video got recorded and Tucker’s worries about his friend were eased.

If Superman had gotten involved, Danny would be fine.

@spooky-fm@markus209@osnii@samgirl98@skulld3mort-1fan@gabrielandjackthenephilim @suppengott@glow-worms-are-believers@zeldomnyo@everest-nightshade@learning-to-fly-on-my-own@spoopyspoony @deatlive@hnymp @latheevening226@roseinbloom02@tsukihimeyfan@arsonpotato@wanderingrutabaga @nanepet@bjurnberg@mentalcarebear@amuseofminds@fire-glass@thewondersoflebanon@ascetic-orange@botwadtict@notforyoucloudheads@idfk-man10@leftmiraclechaos@midnightenigma

@dannyisababyking@oliocelottafanfics@redafi@distractedducky@aconitewolfsbane@onyxlightdragon@blankliferain@theywontletmeusetheoneiwant@thedragonqueen1998@bitchydragonninja@u-a-wizard-jamie@dodekakophonie@ashenfairytale@reach-for-the-horizon@quirky-gardener@thegatorsgoose@sknerd101@stargirl1331@andreaissy @leap-ing@plotwholls

I'm sorry, there's too many of you to tag without the post breaking. Or my brain. This was the only real list I could find, and it's old. I'm gonna have to insist on y'all checking AO3 for updates.

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viburnt · 4 months

Note

Saw your Leopard Dabi Headcanons and... OH BOY!

👁👄👁

You left me speechless...

Hear me out though - this one is a kicker I tell you: Shiggy as a HYENA.

Listen, LISTEN *flips table* My head could only think of sub Shigaraki. Bear with me.

CONTENT WARNING: NSFW, mentions of pegging, overstimulation, domming, uh- yeah. Dead dove, do not eat.

Hyena! Shigaraki

• Listen, Hyenas are matriarchal. They use hierarchies like any other species, but the particular thing with them is that (no matter what) females will always be on top. Are you starting to catch my idea? The male hyena is submissive and will comply with what their female partners decide. Hyena! Shigaraki shares those traits in particular! Yes, he may be the leader of his team, but when it comes to you, he bends. He tries to please you because he instinctively seeks the leadership you have within. There's also a bit of fear in the way he looks at you because female hyenas can be aggressive with males. Sometimes he expects you to snap and berate him (and he thinks it's something he'd like).

• In the privacy of his room, he encourages you (in a rather bratty way) to put him in his place. Make him know he is yours, mark him down, slap him if you want. Hyena! Tenko acts like he is challenging the hierarchy (even if you're not a hyena hybrid like him). Did I mention female hyenas have pseudo-penises? It's a bit of a fun fact, but this just means (in my heart) that Hyena! Shigaraki wouldn't mind pegging at all. It doesn't mean he'll always bend and break for you, after all, he does have the need to breed you. But, if you are a dominant person or simply enjoy BDSM, Hyena! Tomura will be your best companion.

• Hyenas also have quite the reputation for their odd laughs and looks, and Shigaraki has the whole "freak show" aesthetic going on (let's face it, he is a bit of a freak, but we love him). In addition, he tends to laugh in the most inappropriate moments too. Ah, by the way, sometimes males behave badly with younger cubs of higher ranking when the mother is absent; him bullying a kid over something petty when the parents are gone is canon. "You suck at this fucking game!" "I-I-m 7-" "GET LOST" Hyena! Shigaraki is such a gremlin, do not leave him with kids unsupervised- 100% sure that he'll laugh if a kid starts crying.

• It's also cute to notice how Shigaraki always has bad posture, lowering his head when he talks to you or is gaming. Hyenas do that too! You tease him a lot, running your fingers through his back to make him jolt and straighten his posture. He is embarrassed and low-key hates when you do that, but your touch feels so good he just squirms.

• Hyena! Shigaraki enjoys it when he can have control over you though. When you allow him to get away with his antics and the subtle touches he sometimes dares to try, the hyena starts building a confidence that often culminates in fuckaery. The kind where he has your legs up to the sides of your head and he is trying to pound a baby into you. It's like a drug for him, such a power trip for a submissive hybrid. His brain can't decide if he should say "Thank you" for letting him fuck you or degrade you like a whore while you whine.

"Fuck, you like that?" You pant, grinding your heat against his poor overstimulated dick. You'd been straddling Shigaraki for a while, the hyena hissing and pleading for a chance of pushing his cock inside you. He looks at you with vexation eyes, the pink hue of his cheeks betraying him. "You can cum if you want, I won't get mad."

You lean over his face, kissing his lips almost mockingly. "You should take the opportunity, because once I'm done I won't be letting you cum later."

Shigaraki winces in both pain and pleasure, feeling his body unbearably hot and heavy.

"Cum. Now."

He had to clean the mess by himself once you were finished.

Tags: @shonen-brainrot @imaginationmess @trickster-kat @i-literally-cant-with-this @doumadono

#my hero academia #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #Hyena! Shigaraki #MHA Hybrid! AU

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onceuponapuffin · 16 days

Text

Fanatic Intervention Part 11!!

Okay so I had Life being Life, then a bit of Writer's Block (sort of), then a bit of a hangover, BUT I GOT IT DONE. So here we go.

Beginning || Previous || Next

************

When you wake up the next morning, you once again find Anathema sitting at the large dining table surrounded by her books and tools. This time, though, Aziraphale and Crowley are with her. Aziraphale has his tiny glasses on and is flipping through a book, a cup of tea next to him, no doubt cold. Crowley is on his phone, and you can hear the sound effects of Candy Crush from here. He has a mug in front of him too, but it’s steaming and smells of coffee.

“Good morning,” Anathema says to you.

“Morning!” You respond, heading into the kitchen. Here, you can see that someone has bought a box of bagels, and you help yourself to one and make a coffee before returning to the dining room and having a seat across from Anathema.

“So,” You say, taking a bite out of your bagel (dear Reader, I personally am imagining just eating it like a donut because I can), “How are the readings coming?”

“Well,” Anathema starts, “I got some vague vibrations yesterday and I have a theory.”

“Oh?”

“The vibrations were very faint, mind you, but I think they were coming from the southwest. So I’m going to try going to that edge of the city today and try again. With any luck I’ll have a better idea of where we’re traveling to by tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” You reply

“Thanks! Aziraphale is going to go with me.”

“And I am not,” Crowley says definitively. You smirk behind your coffee mug.

“Still sulking over yesterday, are we?” You ask him, trying your best to imitate his eyebrow.

“No. It just sounds boring.”

“Well we could hang out today,” You suggest brightly. Crowley makes a noise that is non-committal and mono-syllabic. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Aziraphale offers in place of Crowley, “Perhaps you can find us a car to rent. I have a feeling that we will be leaving the city soon, and we won’t want to be walking will we?” He chuckles to himself, and you nod in agreement.

“Perfect,” You say with a smile as you finish off your breakfast.

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

“So!” You start casually as the pair of you wander down the street, “What mischief are we going to get up to? Are we gluing coins to the sidewalk? Are we going to find someplace busy and just walk REALLY slowly? Take up both sides of the escalator? Oh! We could ride the bus and request every stop without ever getting off!”

Crowley stops walking and looks at you. His eyebrow has practically merged with his hairline.

“Is that what you lot think I do?”

“Well, uh...basically yes,” You reply uncertainly. Just as you’re starting to wonder if you should be re-evaluating everything you know about how Crowley operates, he smirks with a satisfied hum.

“Good. Glad to know my finer talents are appreciated somewhere.”

Oh he has no idea. You decide not to inflate his ego too far. Yet.

“So what do you want to do?”

Crowley produces a bag of frozen peas from nowhere. A light bulb goes off in your brain.

“Oh! Ducks!”

“Ducks.”

And so you head for Central Park.

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

Finding the ducks doesn’t take too long. Neither does emptying the bag of frozen peas. In the end, you both find a bench and have a seat. It feels strangely like you’re filling in for Aziraphale.

“So what happened yesterday with Anathema?” You ask after a while.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he replies, shifting around on the bench. Alright, enough of this. You turn to stare at him.

“What do I mean, okay. I mean that you spent two days running around like an unsupervised kid, spend one afternoon with Anathema, and suddenly when I literally give you permission to be a mischievous shit, all you want to do is feed the ducks.”

It almost looks like he’s chewing on something. Words maybe, you figure. Maybe he feels that if he chews them enough, they’ll come out easier. He must realize it doesn’t work like that because after a few seconds he answers your question.

“She may have mentioned that my having too much fun might bring the Metatron back around. Back to Aziraphale. Especially since he didn’t seem to have much trouble finding you in Heathrow. He probably knows where we are.”

Oh. That’s actually a fair point. You take a minute and think about it.

“Yeah, he probably does, but I don’t think he’s going to try anything just yet. I mean, his tactics are straight out of the Fairytale Villain Playbook. So he’s probably going to hold back for a bit to see if I start to crack and then go back to him.”

“Book Girl still has a point, though. Don’t wanna bring him out before we have to.”

“Okay,” You pause for a minute, considering the obvious compromise that Crowley doesn’t seem to have touched on yet. But then again, sometimes you just need someone to give you permission – even if it’s something you already know. “So how about we don’t have too much fun, but we have just a little bit of fun. Like we go souvenir shopping and buy a t shirt with small change. Keep stuff in moderation, yeah?”

“Hm,” Crowley leans back farther if that’s even possible, considering your proposition. “I do somewhat fancy one of those I Heart NY shirts.”

“Same actually. Did you create those by any chance? Just curious.”

His smile is toothy and smug. Instead of answering, he lifts himself off the bench.

“Come on then, Reader,” he says, “Let’s buy some souvenirs.”

“Reader?” You answer, getting up and following him.

“Well what else am I gonna call you? You keep talking about how much you read and I already have Book Girl. Need to keep all you straight somehow don’t I?”

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

Not very long afterwards, you find yourself wandering around the city again, this time sporting I Heart NY merch and cheap star-shaped sunglasses. Crowley has swapped out his normal shades for a pair of shutter shades. A couple of times now you’ve had to grab his arm to keep him from walking into poles. And once, he nearly sauntered his way down a flight of stairs that he was certain had come out of nowhere. He still hasn’t switched back to his normal sunglasses.

“Okay what about Monopoly?” You ask him.

“Nope. That was an American who made that I think. No idea who it even was.”

“Mario Kart?”

Crowley snorts. “No.”

“What about fake pockets?”

“If anyone asks, yes. But otherwise, actually, no.”

“What about...multi-level marketing schemes?”

“I…what? No. But I definitely told Hell that I did.”

“Okay well then what did you actually invent?”

Crowley stops and looks at you through those ridiculous shutter shades. He smirks like the Cheshire Cat as he answers.

“As little as physically possible.”

“So you did basically nothing, and just took credit for everything?”

“YuP.” He pops the plosive at the end with a self-satisfied head-waggle.

“Brilliant.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” You turn and give him a hug. Sometimes, you just need to hug your demon.

“Ngk. What’s this?” He’s clearly uncomfortable, so you let go. He doesn’t say anything else about the hug, but he buys you an ice cream.

And he pays with pennies.

----------

The hotel room is quiet when you both return. After a quick search, you find that Aziraphale and Anathema aren’t back yet. That’s not...a great sign. But you’re determined not to panic.

“I’ll order some room service. You want anything?”

“Nah, I’ll wait.”

So he’s worried too. Alright. You place your order and turn on the tv. You try to care about the Big Bang Theory reruns, but you can’t relax just yet. Both of you sit in quiet tension until the door finally opens to Anathema and Aziraphale. Their moods are joyful, and you feel the dark cloud just lift away.

“Hey guys,” You say, “I just ordered some room service. I wasn’t sure when you two were coming back.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale practically sings, “I’ll get the menus. I’m certain they won’t mind adding on to the order.” He leaves the room. Anathema’s face is bright.

“I found out where we need to go. Did you find us a car?”

Oh. Whoops.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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arent-i-the-fairest · 2 years

Text

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

some staff members taking care of a sick reader. (platonic)

characters : dire crowley, divus crewel, sam

dire crowley

“headmaster, are you sure you’re fit for this? because this place has plenty of nurses that are.”

your comment made crowley gasp and stop what he was doing. before he had the chance to start running around bawling, you had to backtrack.

“i mean— i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to call you incompetent or anything! it’s just that i, uh… don’t wanna inconvenience you? yeah! y’know, since you’re so busy all the time..” you sputtered, offering him an awkward grin.

crowley held a hand up to his heart, tearing up. “oh! how kind of you, child! it seems my benevolence has rubbed off on you! but not to worry! why, i have plenty of time to finish my work later!” he sniffled.

you immediately relaxed. thank god he bought it! but man, are you gonna make it out alive in his care? is it too late to call someone a bit more reliable?

“i will nurse you back to perfect health! ohoho, how incredibly kind of me~!” he laughs as he skipped away to god knows where.

he’s outraged at the assumption that he doesn’t know how to care for sick people! taking care of you can’t be that hard! he can cook you a hearty meal, and… and read you a bed time story! that’ll make you better! hell, maybe he can even sing you a lullaby! he’s pretty sure he’s got a bandaid or two too if you need them!

—yeah, no, he’s not the most ideal person for the job. the most helpful things he could do is fetch you your medicine and refill your glass of water when it’s empty. and cheer you up, you suppose. he’s very entertaining despite not meaning to be.

you flinch as the door suddenly slams open. standing there in the doorway is crowley with a bowl in hand with a goofy smile on his face.

“please excuse the wait! now here, i’ve made you some soup! i taste tested it, and it’s delicious, if i do say so myself!” he smiles proudly, not at all hiding his haughtiness.

looking at the meal, it actually did look quite good. smelled really good too! you frowned, feeling a bit guilty. maybe you were a bit too harsh, thinking he was totally incapable…

“now, enough of my chatter! open wide, here comes the airplane!” crowley cooed as he started waving a spoonful of the soup towards your mouth.

“i’m not a child, headmaster!” you complained, yet still opened your mouth as the spoon came closer. you drank the soup— and immediately recoiled at the taste. “it’s repulsive!”

divus crewel

“good grief.. i told you not to go out in the rain with those other pups!” crewel hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “look where you are now!”

though the scolding was a bit harsh, he was right. you were sitting in bed with a runny nose, itchy red eyes, and a high fever. while running around and playing in the rain with your friends was fun, it was definitely not worth this.

“honestly, just what am i going to do with you?” crewel looked at you with a softer expression. you sit in silence as he sighs, unboxing the medicine he brought for you.

he’s strict, even while you’re sick. he watches you like a hawk for most of the day, cooks you only the healthiest of meals, doesn’t let you leave your bed unless you absolutely need to, and keeps track of how much time is left until you need to take your medicine down to the second. he’s aware he’s being a bit overbearing, but he just wants to see you better as soon as possible.

“hey, now that i think about it, classes are still in session right now. are alchemy classes cancelled today since you aren’t there?”

crewel scoffs. “of course not. i wouldn’t just give everyone a free day off. but i also don’t trust a single pup using chemicals unsupervised, so i have the headmaster substituting for me.” he said. you quirked an eyebrow and he returned the look.

“you seriously trust the headmaster enough to let him look after a class full of rambunctious, clumsy— and sorry for saying this, but sometimes downright dumb students? who are all handling dangerous chemicals?”

you could see concern growing on crewel’s face as he considered the chaos that could be happening right now in his classroom.

“... perhaps i should check up on them.”

sam

“knock knock, little imp! i heard from my friends from the other side that you’re sick. is that true?” sam asked as he entered your room.

you weakly turned over to look at him and nodded. “it sure is.”

“no worries, i’m here to help ‘ya! just tell me whatcha need and you got it! i’m only here for half an hour though. i’m sorry, kid.” he frowned. “i gotta get back to my shop, but you can always call me!”

sam, while he hates to leave you alone sick, still has to manage his shop. he’s not too concerned though, he knows you’re plenty capable of caring for yourself! but every few hours, he’ll come back to check up on you. each time does, he brings you food/snacks and sometimes a weird (but ultimately cool) knick-knack to come with it. just a little something to brighten your mood!

you perk up at the sound of knocking.

“hey hey~! guess who’s back?” sam whistled. “i brought you some dinner. and your favorite drink! and this little clay statue. ain’t he neat?”

you nodded, thanking him as he put the stuff down beside you. the statue caught your eye, so you picked it up and played around with it. it looked oddly familiar.

“hey wait! i swear i’ve seen this thing sitting on your desk for the past few months..” you flip it around in your hands, analyzing it.

“yeah, it’s been a favorite of mine. there’s actually a funny story behind it if you’re interested in hearin’ it.” sam said, leaning against your bed’s headboard. you looked up at him with interest clear in your eyes.

“ooh, tell me!”

“heh, alright!” sam laughed, ruffling your hair. “so a couple years ago…”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #dire crowley x reader #divus crewel x reader #twst sam x reader #gn reader

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