#we did it fellas. we finally wrote the first chapter.
Text
Immortal Beloved - Chapter One.
Oh guys, when I tell you I was touched beyond words at how this was received by you all. I have been sitting here squeaking with joy at your lovely reviews! If I have missed anybody out in my thank you notes, please take my humble apology and know that I appreciate you so much for taking the time to both read and offer feedback.
Okay, so on with the first chapter, then. You'll notice here that my imagination weaves with canon to make some slight changes, such as giving the boy's (and Ada's) mother a name, also I wrote John only to have one child with his late wife. It made sense to me, not having to pull focus from the plot too much by having to characterise four little ones on top of everything else.
So yes, here we are, then. I think I'm going to choose Thursday as our update day and keep it to once a week posting. Those who know me of old know that I often like to throw in a little surprise update sometimes, though! Once again, thank you so much for the feedback, and I truly hope you continue to enjoy it :)
Previous chapters - Prologue
Tag list - In the comments
Words - 4,057
Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!
“John?”
He was still in a daze as he entered the back room, seeing Polly lift her gaze from the paper she read in front of the crackling hearth, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re bloody white as a sheet. If you’re about to be sick, go back outside. I’ve neither the desire nor patience for mopping up the contents of your stomach.”
“Nah, I’m... I’m alright, Pol,” he began, his voice just as vacant as the expression upon his face, the toothpick between his lips practically dangling.
She wasn’t convinced by his statement, placing the paper upon the arm of the chair and rising to her feet. “John, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you...” She sniffed his breath, her mouth down turning as she scoffed, “and you stink like a brewery floor. What did Tommy say, eh, about getting in this state. Look at you!”
Her admonishment barely even landed; John still in a state of shock at what he’d witnessed, his eyes flitting to the table. Whiskey. Yes.
Polly’s gaze followed. “No. There’ll be no more of that. You’ve had enough.”
Finally, he moved, side stepping his aunt as he reached for the bottle, uncorking it rapidly and drinking from it directly. “Believe me, Pol. After what I just saw, all the fucking whiskey in Ireland ain’t enough.”
She folded her arms, watching as he crashed down in the chair opposite the one she’d been comfortably sitting in. “Well, you don’t look hurt. Whatever it was, it can’t have been that bad.”
“Not for me, but...” he began, taking another swig of the golden liquid within his grasp, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as his eyes found hers, “for the fella outside missing his head, I can’t say the same.”
“You bloody what, John Shelby?” Her voice rose like a siren, Polly’s authoritative boom filling the space. “A Rasmussen, I take it? And since when have you been in the habit of lopping off heads and leaving the evidence all over the bloody street? Holy shit, you boys will be the death of me!”
She then studied him a little closer. No blood. He'd have been covered in more than just a fine misting of crimson, should he have removed somebody of their head. It also wasn’t John’s style, as far as despatching of an enemy went. He was a gangster, not a barbarian. She wouldn’t have even pegged his elder brothers for such acts, and their bloodlust far exceeded John’s. Her statement was about to be recanted when her nephew offered his reply.
“No, not me. I didn’t do fuck all!” he corrected, gulping back more whiskey, the shock starting to soften as his muscles began to unclench, one by one. “It weren’t me, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I’ve just seen out there.”
“Is that so?” she charged, moving swiftly to stand beside his chair. “Try me.”
He pointed his index finger towards the door, his eyes rounding once more as he relived it in his mind. “A woman, a fucking woman in a white dress, covered in blood, moving faster than I could see. She fucking... grabbed this fella, right, like he was a kiddie’s doll, bit into his neck, and then ripped his fucking head off. I ain’t lying to ya. I swear on my soul, that’s what I saw. She had these teeth, teeth like a fucking wolf.”
Polly lifted her chin, a wave of cold dread sloshing through her insides. She knew exactly what John had seen, but could scarcely believe it. They were back. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
His eyes narrowed, leaning forward in his seat. Her answer, it had been a little too swiftly delivered. “You believe me, don’t you? You know what she was.”
“I said go to bed.”
“I ain’t going nowhere until you tell me what the fuck that thing outside was.” Yes, Polly could be firm, but so could her nephew. It was a trait that ran strongly through the Shelby blood. She sighed, her shoulders dropping, striding to the cabinet and fetching two glasses.
“Pour.” John met her instruction wordlessly, tipping the whiskey into the glasses she held, taking the other from her. Polly sank into her seat, sipping her whiskey and pulling a cigarette from the case beside her, lighting up. “Your great-grandmother used to call them the shadow walkers, but it’s only since that Bram Stoker fellow wrote his novel that there’s been a commonly known name for them. That woman you saw, John, she wasn’t human. She was a vampire.”
John was baffled, and his face showed it. “But they ain’t real. I’ve heard of that book you’re on about, Dracula, isn’t it? They... they’re fiction.”
A light snort sounded from Polly’s nose, her cigarette glowing as she took a fierce drag upon it. “Most people think that they are. They think of them as nothing more than monsters of make-believe, dreamed into existence by the imagination of a brilliant novelist.” Pausing, she smirked darkly, sighing through her nose. “I wish to god above I was one of those people. They keep themselves very well hidden, the vampires. And who would believe it, that these blood sucking creatures of the night truly exist, eh? Seeing is believing, though, and by god, John. I wish you hadn’t seen her. Those things, they’re evil incarnate.”
“She saved me life,” he admitted, eyebrows rising a fraction. “That man, and apparently three mates of his, they were all waiting for me. The one missing his head was Samuel Rasmussen. She knew him by name.”
Polly cocked her head slightly. “What did she say to you?”
“Not much,” he sniffed, sipping his drink. “Said what I’ve just told you, then said my blood smelled like earth and fire, other things an’ all but I forget what. Oh, and that I was the most beautiful creature she’d seen in a long time.”
She smiled, nodding slightly. “Well, she got that part right. You take after your mother in that respect.” It never ceased to amaze her, just how much John resembled Thora, her late sister-in-law. His blue eyes, lily skin and auburn hair came straight from her. “I’m warning you now, though. What she did for you won’t have been out of sheer magnanimity, oh no. There’ll be a reason behind it, and whatever that reason is, I am telling you, John, you’ll want for no part in it.”
He smirked, feeling a little more himself. “What if the reason is that she just wants to fuck me?”
Immediately, he found his ear clipped. “Fucking hell, Pol!”
“Take something seriously for once in your fucking life!”
He rubbed the side of his head, chewing aggressively on his toothpick. “I bloody am.”
Her snort dripped in sarcasm “Like fuck, you are. You’d want throwing right into the loony bin if you even contemplated that, you bloody daft boy!” She remained forward in her seat, her dark eyes fixing him in an unbreakable stare. “Don’t trust her, not even for a second, or it’ll be your head ripped off your shoulders and left out for the coppers to find next. You hear me?”
“You make it sound like I’m going to see her again,” he mused, swirling the whiskey around within the glass tumbler before sinking it.
“You will,” she assured, her tone bitter. “You will see her again, because like I said, they don’t do anything without good reason to, those creatures. But you’ll be prepared. Carry a silver knife and get up to the church sharpish, fill a little bottle with holy water from the font. When weaponised, silver will kill her and the water will burn. And whatever you do, John, never, ever invite her into this house. She can’t get in unless she’s invited.”
He had to wonder how, exactly, Polly had such a wealth of knowledge over them. “Have you ever met one before? You talk like you know them of old.”
“No, thank god, but your great-grandmother Boswell, she had. Those campfire stories she told us as babes, we knew they weren’t fibs. We heeded her warnings. They’re drawn to gypsy blood, you see, something about it being palatable.”
“She didn’t bite me, though,” John reasoned, Polly scoffing lightly.
“If she’d just taken out four other fellas, she probably wasn’t hungry. That’s what they need to survive, the blood of the living. Trust me, she’ll be back, but you’ll be prepared. Stab her in her cold, dead heart and forget you ever met her. Don’t even think twice about it. We’ve got enough to be reckoning with, what with these fucking Rasmussen’s and the pile of shit they’re throwing our way. I don’t need the worry that you’re being stalked by the bloody undead on top of that.”
“Why didn’t you mention any of this to us before?”
Sinking her drink, she cleared her throat, reaching for the bottle. “And have you think I’d gone loopy?” Her snorted words brought a smile to John, Polly continuing. “We just don’t speak of them any longer. They’re rare, not an everyday threat. I’ve never heard hide nor hair of them since hearing nana’s stories, since I was just a young girl.”
As the lie fell from her lips, Polly felt conflicted. She had to protect him, though. Keep the details scant. Besides, he was too drunk to take on anything else. Indeed, there was more she could have explained. She decided against it, clamping her lips between her teeth for a moment.
“Hang on,” he spoke, frowning a little. “What did you mean, when you said undead?”
“They aren’t alive anymore, John.” She paused, picking a little fleck of tobacco from her lip. “They walk and talk, but they’re not really living. Something about how they’re made, I don’t know the details, but yes. Undead. An enchanted corpse, basically.”
“I dunno about enchanted, but she was enchanting,” he began, the corner of his mouth upturning. “She was bloody beautiful.” His face further softened as he remembered that feeling of magic lingering in the air between he and her, the pull to her, her essence shining like the brightest star within a pitch-black sky.
“John, no. Absolutely fucking not.” Her pointed finger only momentarily wiped the growing smirk from his handsome features. “I mean it, do not even consider a fucking dalliance with a bloody vampire!”
He shrugged slightly. “I’ve took worse to bed.”
“John!” Her acerbic bite of his name had him in soft fits, the whiskey seeming to do the trick in placating the fear he’d felt at the time, now he was no longer in peril. “Your fucking face when you walked in here not ten minutes ago, looking like you’d seen a ghost. I was surprised your trousers were still dry, you looked that afraid!”
“Bloody hell, Pol. I was only pulling your leg,” he laughed, rising from his seat. “Don’t worry, I ain’t stupid. I’m going to bed. Maybe all of this is just a drunken dream, I dunno.” Suddenly, her foot shot out, kicking him in the shin. “Ow, what the fuck?”
“Did that feel like a dream to you?”
“No, it feels like it’s gonna be a whacking great bruise on me leg!”
She smirked, entertained at herself. “Good, might have knocked a bit of sense into you. Goodnight, love.”
“Yeah, night, Pol.”
He departed for the stairs, ambling up quietly so as not to wake Finn, entering his room and shivering upon the removal of his coat. His stripping of clothes into long johns and a vest was done at speed, diving under the bed covers and burrowing beneath the many woollen blankets. He hated that his room was the farthest from the chimney breast, meaning the heat didn’t ever reach the room where he could see his breath clouding through the darkness, it was so bitterly chilly.
The knocking through of the three houses that allowed for their once illegal bookmaking endeavours to be run from the Watery Lane properties meant one large communal home, Tommy and Arthur’s abodes flanking the three, John remaining within the house he’d been born in twenty-eight years previously. It was the home he and his late wife had lived in, before he’d sadly lost her four years previously.
Closing his eyes, he felt the pull of sleep tug at him, drifting off into dreamless slumber, awoken the following morning by the sound of the milkman’s cart doing the morning deliveries. Oh, his head. He needed tea and jam slathered toast, and quickly. Heading downstairs, he warmed enough water to have a wash and shave, combing his hair and returning to pull on a suit, opening the front door to take the milk in off the front step.
“Morning, Mr Shelby.”
“Morning, Jack,” he called back to the milkman, his cart paused, John turning to see a throng of people gathered a little further down the lane. “What’s all that about?”
“Some kids found a headless body down by number six, so I’ve been told. The bobbies are on their way. Shocking business for a Wednesday morning, I can tell you!”
John’s heart skipped on a beat as the night before rushed back over his neurons. He truly hadn’t been dreaming. “Blimey,” he began, feigning something as close to shock as he could, craning his neck a little further, able to make out the figures of his elder brother’s there surveying the scene, the local constabulary appearing right at the bottom of the lane. “Wonder how he ended up headless?”
Jack lit a cigarette, his chest tightening as he coughed. “Might be best not to know, eh?” He paused, John seeing it, the unspoken statement there upon the milkman’s face. Grim discoveries close to a Shelby dwelling. Of course, he suspected it had something to do with him or his brothers, but Jack was much too cautious to speak it. Their reputation preceded them, after all.
“I’ll be moving along now, Mr Shelby.” He flicked the reins, clicking his tongue. “C’mon, Beamish. Walk on.” The giant, bay shire horse snorted before continuing to the next house, Jack’s lad jumping off the back of the cart to lay the required bottles next to each door, both getting a good look at the grizzly scene as they passed it by, Tommy and Arthur having a brief chat with Sergeant Moss before walking back to meet John on the doorstep.
The former cocked his head back in the direction of the small crowd. “Know anything about that, John? How one of our adversaries came to be missing his head almost right outside our front doors?” He’d recognised Samuel’s face as it lay wide-eyed upon the cobbles ten feet from his body, remembering him from the race meet.
Tommy watched as his younger brother stepped back into the house, his mouth thinning. “I think we need a family meeting.” With the elders of the Shelby family assembled, cups of tea poured and cigarettes lit, John recounted the events of the night before to his brother’s, Polly interjecting with details that backed up his story. Tommy listened passively, but Arthur, well...
His gruff laughter sounded through the air, sweeping a hand through his hair. His laughter was not mocking, though. It carried with it all the hollowness of fear. “A bloody what?”
“Arthur, you know he’s telling the truth,” Polly stated defiantly, her eldest nephew still laughing, laughing to stop himself beginning to shake with fright.
“What a pile of old shit! A bloody vampire, eh? Fucking hell, you two have lost your faculties if you’re expecting us to believe that!” Turning to his brother, Arthur was surprised to see Tommy completely unmoved by the story, his face unflinching, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Come on, Arthur,” he spoke evenly, sipping his tea. “Nobody is having you on, and you know it.” Turning to John, he placed his tea down. “This woman, John. Long, dark hair with a tattooed throat and chest?”
He nodded a little dumbly. “Yeah, that’s her.”
Tommy sat back again, flicking ash into the nearby ashtray with a sniff. “She’s been watching the house for a couple of weeks now.”
“And you didn’t feel the need to mention that to anyone?” Polly charged him with, a deep frown settling between her eyebrows.
“Speak not of the shadow walkers, lest ye bring them into the light. That’s what our dad used to say,” he revealed, Arthur scoffing immediately as he threw himself to his feet.
“I ain’t listening to this load of old cobblers! Fucking mad, the lot of ya!”
“Arthur, you know it’s true. You saw what I did on that night,” he reasoned softly, Arthur’s agitation winding tighter by the second as he paced the flagstones. “It’s time to face up to what happened.”
“What night?” John demanded lightly, looking between them. Silence followed. “One of you better give me a fucking answer.”
Tommy paused, bringing his cigarette to his lips once more. “I’ve thought about that night here and there over the years, but never mentioned it. Dad told us not to breathe a word to anyone,” he began, Arthur making a start for the door, almost throwing it off its hinges and slamming it behind him.
Jerking his head in his wake he raised his eyebrows a fraction. “Terrified the life out of Arthur, so much so that he pissed himself. He’s never come to terms with that he witnessed, refuses to acknowledge it ever happened at all. He can’t comprehend what he saw, what we saw on that night, when dad took us up to the Black Patch when we were nippers to visit family. Now, I don’t know how much Polly revealed to you, but they aren’t spoken about, the shadow walkers as our gypsy kin always referred to them as, but for centuries, they had a pact.
“Gypsy blood to a vampire is what a fine wine or whiskey is to us, so for hundreds of years, vampires would guard the camps in exchange for feeding upon that blood. That was, at least, until the pact was broken. I don’t know why, and neither did our dad, but one night they returned, to hand out the punishment they felt befitting of that broken pact.
“Our dad did perhaps the only honourable thing he ever has as a father, and got on a horse, riding us out of there to the nearest church where he hid us away until the dawn. Vampires cannot walk upon hallowed ground, nor can they stand in the daylight, lest they burn to ashes. The rest of the camp weren’t so lucky. People were attacked, only very few surviving, but in a state of dread that one day, they’d be back. I suppose that day was last night, for I highly doubt she’s acting alone.”
John immediately stared at Polly. “Did you know all of this?”
She nodded in confirmation. “I did.”
“So why the fuck didn’t you tell me last night?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.
“Because you were drunk as a lord, John. What I said was enough explanation without going into the finer details, of which I wasn’t sure you’d be able to absorb. I’m fucking surprised you comprehended even half of what I told you, to be frank.”
John’s puzzlement was clear as it ghosted across his face, sighing as he rubbed his brow. “But it don’t make no sense. If she was here because she wanted us dead, some kind of further punishment for our kin breaking the pact, then why am I still alive? She could have had me head off, just the same as she did to Samuel fucking Rasmussen, but she didn’t.” He felt his heart flutter as he remembered how fondly she’d gazed upon him. God, she was such a beauty.
Tommy shrugged lightly. “At a guess, I’d say she wants to rekindle the blood pact. Why she’d choose us and not one of the other families out there, well, I can’t answer that.”
“Which means she probably wants something else from us, something greater,” a frowning Polly mused, the dread in her voice quite clear. It was a distinct change to her usual confident, self-assured tone.
“And we’re not about to give her the chance to even broach it.” Tommy then turned to John, his eyes wide. “You’ll carry a silver knife upon your person from now on, as we all will. Her kind are not to be trusted. Killing that man, I suspect was to lure you into a false sense of security. Vampires are immortal; they have all the fucking time in the world to exact a plan. She’s biding her time.”
“She didn’t only kill him,” John snorted, jerking his head to the right. “Coppers will find another three bodies somewhere out there soon enough.”
Tommy rose to his feet, keen to move to his office and begin the day. “All the more reason not to trust her when she returns. Mark my words, John boy. She’ll be back. She’ll be back, I tell you, and it won’t lead to anything good.”
All talk of vampires, blood pacts and a family history unknown to John meant that he could forget his pounding head for a short time. After his refuelling with toast and tea, he walked through to the offices, grasping the ledger and beginning to write, the space soon filling, the usual loud chaos abounding.
Hangovers and mysterious, vampiric women aside, John’s day ended certainly more favourably than the previous. The favourite at Epson, Shamrock Pride pulled up lame in the fifth race, just as he was intended to. This netted a very tidy profit for them, John finishing his day with a spring in his step because of it.
The Garrison for a whiskey or three? Whyever not.
“Daddy?”
The soft grasp of a tiny hand curled his little finger, John pausing from pulling on his overcoat to look down into the big, green eyes of his daughter, Katie carrying a book within her grasp.
“You should be in bed, pige.” Pige. Short for pigeon, the fond pet name for his only child from his short marriage to Martha, his wife taken from him by the cruel clutches of consumption when Katie was mere baby in arms.
Poking out her bottom lip, she proffered the book forth. The Velveteen Rabbit. It had to have been their fourth read through at that point, the book only published six months before. “Please?”
He sighed softly through his nose. “Go on,” he spoke to his brother, “I’ll catch up with you.”
Arthur nodded, leaving John to place his coat over the back of the fireside armchair there in the front room, adjusting his trousers as he sat, Katie scrambling onto his lap. “Right, where were we?”
Opening the book, the cloth binding soft and velvety against his fingers, John laid the well-worn leather bookmark across Katie’s legs, stroking her strawberry blonde curls as he began to read. Ten minutes, give or take, and she would nod off with her little rosy cheeked face nestled against his chest.
Eleven and a half minutes later, and the soft little piglet snorts of a babe in slumber filled the space, John smiling down at her. “Let’s get you up them stairs, eh, pige?” Once he’d placed her into her bed and covered her in blankets, he laid a kiss to her forehead, whispering his love before creeping out, overcoat thrown on and a cigarette lit before stepping out into the frigid night.
Snowflakes fluttered down over the streets of Small Heath, John feeling winter tingle as his cheeks, the flames of the blast furnaces offering a roar of warmth as he passed them by, the lights of The Garrison twinkling through the inky gloom.
“John.”
The whisper of his name echoed through his ears, John turning, his eyes scanning for the source. Nobody. On he walked.
“John.”
It was louder than before this time as once again he halted, turning, looking for the female to whom the voice belonged. He almost dived out of his skin when upon his turn back, there she was.
The vampire looked even more breathtaking to him than she had the night before.
#john shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfiction#john shelby smut#peaky blinders smut#john shelby x ofc#john shelby fanfic#john shelby fic#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fic
80 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dealer's Choice
Eddie Munson x black fem reader
summary: An AU in which Chrissy doesn't die, Eddie isn't wanted for murder and he finally gets to smoke and eat nachos with his favorite druid (smut) Minors DNI
content warning: some angst, cussing, mutual pining, recreational drug use, underage drinking (both Eddie and reader are 20), D&D references, making out, smut, fingering, p in v, dirty talking? (I’m so bad at writing it lmaoo), virgin reader, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tab it fellas), choking, dacryphilia, soft dom Eddie, horny adolescents in love
a/n: was totally listening to Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino when I wrote this😌 also this is set directly after the first chapter of my Eddie fic here . This is my first smut ever so please be gentle 🥺
The soft buzzing of the television was beginning to lull Shea into a peaceful sleep when a knock at her trailer door roused her. Getting up to answer it, she stretched her arms over her head, with her blanket pooled in her lap the chill of the late-night air brought goosebumps to her skin. Grabbing the closest thing she could find, a red flannel hanging over the back of the raggedy yellow couch, she quickly put it on over the crop top she usually wore for sleep and went to open the door, as she did so she was greeted with the ever-smiling face of Eddie Munson with a cigarette dangling from his pink lips.
“Sorry I’m late sweetheart.”
“Hey Eddie.”
His eyes quickly scanned up and down her form, taking in her sleepy form, before he stomped out his smoke and walked into the cozy home, this wasn’t the first time he had been to her trailer, though the last time he did have to sneak in through her window so her dad didn’t know, he sure hopes this wouldn’t be the last.
“Is that my flannel?” he asked
“This? Oh yeah, you left it here like a few months ago, sorry I've been meaning to bring it back to you. You want it right now?” she asked as she was getting ready to take it off right then and there, she didn’t want to say it but she had remembered she had it she just loved wearing it too much, to return it right way.
“Nah it uh it looks good on you.” Eddie grinned as he set down his stuff by the coffee table and draped himself over the couch as he watched her lock up and lean against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest unintentionally making it more noticeable. His eyes very briefly flickered down to it before reaching her eyes again, a smile ever-present on his face. He wondered if she noticed but if she did she didn’t say anything.
“Anyways, you ready for the night of your life?”
“The night of my life?” she chuckled. “You sure have some high expectations, Munson.”
“Expectations? Nah it's definitely gonna be a reality. Have some faith in me, m’lady!” he said dramatically as he held his hand over his heart and leaned back, almost tipping over the whole couch.
“All right all right whatcha bring with you this time Eddie?” she asked, gesturing over to his stuff that he had set down.
“I’m so glad you asked because I happen to have with me some of my best ganja, as promised, aaaaand…” he said, drawing it out as he opened up his backpack and began rummaging around.
“And?” Shea asked leaning over the back of the sofa to see what he was pulling out, before she knew it Eddie held up handfuls of hand-drawn maps, character sheets, and a hardcover player manual to her face, his smile growing even wider if that were possible.
“Since you were oh so interested in Hellfire today I thought we could play a little D&D y’know update the old character sheet and what not.”
“Oh, cuz I was so interested in the car earlier today right?” she asked an eyebrow raised into her hairline, she bit her lip trying to contain her smile as she teased him but it was contagious.
“Right! You didn’t even have to say anything. I basically read your mind earlier babe.`` The nickname slipped out as Eddie quickly looked down at her plush lips then back up to her eyes, before he continued again, this time in a high pitch voice that was supposed to be hers.
“Oh please Great Dungeon Master Eddie, please play with me! You’re so cool and funny, you make D&D sound so awesome!”
“Yeaaaah I’m not calling you master but you go ahead and get it all set up I'll warm up the food and get the drinks.” she couldn’t contain the full-on laugh that left her chest this time as she stood and turned back to the kitchen getting ready to pull out the rest of the snacks for the night. Just as she returned, arms full of cold drinks and hot food, Eddie had opened up his trusty metal lunchbox and started showcasing his product.
“Alright my friend, before we get started what kinda giggle grass tickles your pickle for the night?”
“Oh, gross please don’t ever say that again.” Shea chuckled plopping down right next to him on the couch, just a tad closer to him than what was necessary “Whatcha got?” she asked as she watched him flip through the baggies of weed, holding up each one as he talked.
“Let’s see we got some good ol’ fashion Gorilla Glue, some Afghan Kush, Colombian Gold, Maui Wowie, my personal favorite, by the way, a little Skywalker OG, and the pièce de résistance Purple Haze.”
“Dealer’s choice.”
“Skywalker OG it is.” he smiled, turning to lean into her more as he started to roll a few joints. The subtlety of the name wasn’t lost on either of them, Return of the Jedi was one of her favorite films, (she had the biggest crush on Luke Skywalker when she was still in high school) and the thought of him still remembering that fact made her chest warm with little butterflies fluttering around in her tummy.
“How much do I owe ya?”
“For you fair maiden it’s free, just because you made me food and your food is like the best,” he said, putting one in his mouth and lighting it up. He took a huge drag before passing it to her and watching her do the same as he exhaled. “Plus I’m smoking it too so I’m not gonna charge you for me using up your shit.”
“I didn’t know the key to your heart was through your stomach, I’m gonna have to cook more often.”
“You do that and I may never leave.” he hummed as she passed the joint back to him and started making plates for them, after piling Eddie’s high with cheap cheesy nacho goodness the way he liked them and cracking open a few cold beers for them she turned her attention back to Eddie who was setting up the game for them, joint dangling between his lips. She took it from his mouth, fingers brushing against his soft bottom lip, and took another hit before she continued.
“Seriously though, I can’t let you do that Eddie.” he stared at her mouth his own slightly agape, gaze transfixed before his brain registered that she was talking to him and he needed to respond.
“You're not letting me do anything Hops, I wanted to, besides I invited myself over remember? It’s a date. This is the least gentlemanly thing I could do for ya.”
She didn’t know why but Eddie insisting that it was a date again had her biting back a huge smile to stop herself from grinning like a complete idiot. She looked down at her lap then back up, peeking over at him through her eyelashes.
“Thanks Eddie…I really needed this.”
“No problem Hops, what are friends for?”
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three hours into the night and 2 and a half joints later the food was long gone, Eddie having devoured most of it, and the pair found themselves sat on the floor, surrounded by empty beer cans scattered papers and dices as Eddie tried but failed to get her to set up her character sheet correctly, both a giggling high mess, slumped over each other, yelling as if they were practically on top of each other.
“So wait, why can’t I change my intelligence score then?!”
“You already rolled for it, it’s set!”
“You said and I quote ‘Dungeons & Dragon is a fantastic fantasy tabletop game where anything is possible!’ You said I could be anything I want Eddie! I don't want my character to be a dumbass!”
“There are ruuuuules!”
“You said anything!”
“I already let you be a weird mutant ninja turtle hybrid druid healer. I can’t keep doing this with you!”
“Don’t forget they’re banging Kas too!”
“They’ve never even met Kas!”
“Anything Eddie!”
“Jesus fucking christ.” he laughed out loud as he threw his head back, one ringed hand on his chest over his heart, the other gripping one holding his forehead before he dropped it down, gripping one of her thick thighs as her legs lay draped over his lap.
Coming down from her giggle fit she became hyper aware of his heavy hand resting dangerously close to her lap. Quick flashes of hard freckle lined blue eyes and black oozing blood filled her brain as her scar tingled again. To no fault of Eddie’s she started to feel uncomfortable being touched and with the close proximity she just now realized they shared and stiffened, tempted to tuck her legs back under herself.
Feeling her stiffness he immediately pulled back, and began fidgeting with his rings as he watched her pull her knees to her chest.
“Shit I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything.”
“N-no it’s ok Eddie.”
An awkward almost sobering silence filled the air as the pair separated before anyone spoke up again.
“I shouldn’t have-“
“I’m sorry-“
Both began at the same time, the pair chuckled as Eddie nodded to her, letting her go first.
She sighed heavily trying to think of how she could explain everything to him without really explaining everything to him? She knew she couldn’t really go into detail about what actually went down during the summer of 85, with her dad and with…Billy… but after what just happened she felt like she owed him something, even if it was just part of the truth.
“I’m sorry Eddie, this is totally my fault.”
“No it’s-“
“No, I just- shit.“ she sighed, rubbing her forehead as she felt a headache coming on.
“Hey,” Eddie said, reaching out, he hesitated before putting his hand over hers on her lap, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles gently comforting her “it’s ok.”
“I’ve never told anyone about this but back last summer,” she said, her doe eyes meeting his equally large ones.
“It got really complicated with Billy, like really complicated.” she didn’t want to go into full details about the upside down, her sister El or about the whole thing with the mind flayer but she needed him to know, needed to stress to him how serious what went down really was.
“You and…Hargrove?” He sounded almost…upset, she noted “Seriously? That guy’s a grade A-“
“Shitbag I know.” She chuckled “Well long story short, he really fucked me over last year.” She picked up the rest of their last joint, lighting it and taking a hit before passing it to Eddie.
“I shouldn’t have trusted him but…I did and I got burned for it…literally.” She lifted her top up just below her bra, it was faint but it was there, a twisted scar that would never fade no matter how much she scrubbed at it.
“Jesus did he-“ Eddie’s eyes were fixated on it, his hands twitched to reach out and soothe over it with his fingers. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not on purpose but yeah… he did…really bad.”
“Hops…”
“I don’t even know why I liked the guy honestly! He wasn’t even really my type!” She laughed bitterly, tears were starting to well up in her eyes but she did her best to hold them back.
“You gotta type?” Eddie joked softly trying to lighten the mood some, but he couldn’t lie to himself, the thought of Billy being in any proximity to her still left a bitter taste in his mouth. If anyone he’d had thought she and Steve might’ve had…something given how close they were but that didn’t sit right with him either.
“Oh yeah.”
“Well what is it?”
“Nerdy metal heads that like d&d and smoke weed.”
Eddie almost choked as he felt a blush creep up his neck and settle on his cheeks.
“Well shit where’ve you been all my life.” He chuckled
“Here just…hiding I guess.”
“You know if you would’ve asked me out in high school I would’ve said yes.” Eddie said as he searched her face.
“Thanks for trying to be nice and all but you don’t wanna deal with my shit Eddie.” She said briefly looking up into his face before looking away again.
“Who says?”
“I’m not your type.”
“Well shit since you know me so well princess what exactly is my type?” He said leaning back on the couch as he crossed his arms over his chest with a playful pout that got a chuckle out of her.
“Not little fucked up black girls with trust issues and cops for parents.”
“You know I don’t give a shit about any of that shit right?”
“And for the record I always thought you were like a total babe.” He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he admitted this,“had the biggest fucking crush on you in high school. I was just too chicken shit to do anything about it.”
“Really?” She leaned in even closer to him if that were possible.
“Oh yeah.”
“Can I tell you something Eddie?”
“Anything you want Hops.”
She looked down, biting at her thumbnail nervously before looking back at him again. She wasn’t sure at first about telling him but when she looked back into his warm dark brown eyes she instantly felt the tension in her muscles melt away, she knew without a doubt she could trust him.
“Don't laugh at me alright?”
“Wouldn't even dream of it.” Once again he placed his hand over his heart, as he smiled down at her, causing her cheeks to burn with a blush.
“I-uh god this is stupid” she sighed rubbing at her forehead as she laughed at herself. “I’ve uh never actually y’know- done it or anything really before.”
“Anything? Like at all? Not even touching y-”
“Not really.”
“I mean you’re not like saving yourself or anything like that are you?” he chuckled nervously, he didn’t know if it was the weed or the topic of the conversations but the room was steadily becoming stifling to him.
“Nah just- not the right time or person I guess?”
“It’s not like I don't want to or like I’m waiting for this magical fairytale moment or anything I just-I don’t know I just haven’t.” The room was become
One equally as hot to her as she let the flannel slip off of one shoulder to cool her down some, she didn’t miss how Eddie’s gazed lingered on the skin of her shoulder. “Maybe I’m just like broken or something.”
“Nah there's nothing wrong with you Hops, you’re perfect.” Eddie snapped back quickly a little too enthusiastically.
“I could help you y’know.”
“What?”
“If you really wanted to, no pressure or anything!” He shot back quickly not wanting her to think that’s all he wanted from her, the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was some kind of…well freak, at least so early in the night, “but I-uh I could help you with that if you really wanted me to.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah anything you want just say the word and I’m yours.”
Inching closer she tested the waters by kissing at his cheeks, which she noticed upon closer inspection were lightly freckled, before she crashed her lips onto his, instantly silencing any negative thoughts he was starting to have about what they were doing.
When she pulled away, Eddie’s eyes briefly flickered down to her lips, slightly swollen from the kiss, before meeting her dark eyes again pupils blown wide. He reached up to brush her cheeks with his fingers, thumb tracing over her bottom lip before Eddie smashed his lips back to hers, heavy and needy, the force almost knocking her onto her back on the floor had she not caught herself first.
His heavily ringed hands reached out to her neck, his large hand almost entirely encircling it as he palmed at her. Giving it a gentle squeeze his hand slid downward palming at her chest through her shirt drawing out a low moan as his other hand gripped at her thighs and hips practically dragging her into his lap as their mouths molded into one another.
“Eddie, I'm too heavy.” She pulled away from his kiss, moving to get off of him.
“Nah baby you’re perfect. Just the right size for me.” He said, dragging his hands up and down her ass to grind her down onto him so she could feel him.
“Thick thighs save lives or some shit like that right?”
“Please stop talking.” She laughed lightly through a moan, grinding herself on his lap to get some type of friction as they continue to make out against the couch
“God Eddie,you’re so pretty.” She said, pulling away and smiling warmly down at him, peppering small kisses all around his face.
“I think that’s supposed to be my line princess.” Eddie smiles as he licks and nips at her lips and neck, continuing to draw out cute little noises from her as he dragged his nose along her pulse, cherry almond and cocoa butter filling his nostrils.
God he loved how she smelled.
As he resumed distracting her with her neck, no doubt leaving marks for everyone to see tomorrow, his hands returned to their assault on her chest, one pulling the red flannel off of her shoulders before burying itself under her shirt, rubbing at her hard nipples under her bra.
He slowly trails his other hand down her chest and stomach, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin, until he finally dips his other hand into her pants softly rubbing at her clothes mound before finally slipping it underneath her underwear, cupping her pussy for a moment before he curls two fingers running them between her folds, getting them slick and wet before pushing in just his middle finger. She shivers at the new sensation moaning into his mouth as she kisses him again.
“Easy baby.” he smiled as he pulled away, his lips red and puffy, “I got you.” he groaned deeply as he started moving his hand, his finger gently dragging itself in and out of her tight little hole.
“Tell me if it’s too much.” He slowly picks up his rhythm, pumping and curling his fingers into her.
“Oh, fuuuuuck.”
“That’s it.” He hums as he moves his thumb to circle her clit. He continued his actions, completely coating his finger before adding a second one,coaxing her open for him. She whimpers and squirms in his arms incoherently as her first orgasm washes over her making her arch into him, burying her face into his warm neck and inhaling his scent.
“You’re doing so good for me baby.” He said not letting up on his ministrations, determined to draw another one out of her, while she was still reeling from the first.
She was done for, gasping and jerking her hips uncontrollably as she rocked into him, she grabbed at his wrist to stop him from moving. Her little cunt feeling overly sensitive from being worked over by Eddie’s eager fingers.
“You good?” He asked, placing a kiss to the crown of her head, then resting his forehead to hers silently searching her face for any sign of wanting to stop.
She hummed a “Mm-hm,” with her eyes closed, a blissed out smile resting on her pretty round cheeks as he pecked her lips again. “So good.”
“Still with me?”
“Still with you baby.” He smiled at the nickname pulling his hand out from her pants.
“Good.”
Pulling his vest and leather coat off, Eddie was quick to tear his hellfire shirt from his body, his companion doing the same with her own shirt and her pants as he took a hair tie from his wrist and pulled his hair back in a low bun. Just as he was about to ask her if she was ok to keep going he felt a pair of warm hands brushing along his happy trail as they fumbled his belt.
“What are you doing?” He asked as he grabbed her hands and held them to his chest as he kissed her again, he almost didn’t want to pull away from her ever again.
“Returning the favor,” she said her voice trembling nervously “I mean unless you’re not into doing that and kissing which I totally get-“ she rambled on as he grinned at her nervousness and pulled her even closer, her arms draping over his shoulder playing with his loose curls as she spoke
“Believe me babe there’s absolutely nothing I want more than that but I just might explode here if you do so rain check?” he asked, running his hands up and down her sides as he ground his pelvis into hers, hard, pulling a moan from her.
“R-rain check,” she agreed breathlessly.
Before she could get another word in he scooped her up in his arms, maneuvering down the hall like he lived there, before kicking open her bedroom door. Dropping her down on the mattress he tumbled down with her, both giggling still high from the weed, as his lips immediately reconnected with her without missing a beat.
His hands almost immediately found her hips as they began to grind into each other again as they made out. As his skill fingers dragged down her stomach to her core he could feel her shivering at his touch.
“You’re definitely sure you wanna do this?” He asked one one time as he stopped himself from pulling off her underwear, he had to be sure before he did anything else he’d hate for her to regret any of this.
Before he could ask again she sat up taking her bra and underwear off herself, leaving herself on full display for Eddie’s hungry eyes.
“Holy shit.”
“I don’t think I'd be comfortable doing this with anybody else, Eddie.” She said, peeking up at him through his lashes again. If he wasn’t hard enough before he was damn near rock solid now.
Wasting no time he tore the rest of his clothes off at damn near neck break spread before climbing back on top of her before attaching himself to her neck again. Licking his way down he sucked at her nipples and licked at her scar and stomach before stopping at her pussy. Eddie looked up at her one last time as if asking for permission before he attached his mouth to her clit licking and sucking gently with his eyes closed savoring the sounds she was making as he ate her.
She threw her head back as he started rubbing at her folds, but not yet entering her. She was so soft and wet under his skilled hands, and was letting out the prettiest noises he’s ever heard, he couldn’t believe it was all for him. She was a complete mess under him, as he pushed his fingers inside again, fucking her with them, almost making her cum right as his mouth continued its assault on her swollen clit.
Feeling her walls starting to spasm as her legs began to tremble, he knew she was close, and he be damned if he didn’t get her there one more time before they actually fucked. Curling and pumping his fingers in and out Eddie devoured her like he was a starved man and she was his last meal.
He lapped at her a few more times, flicking her sensitive bundle of nerves one last time as she gushed around his fingers, coating her thighs and his face in her as she wailed, tears falling from the corners of her eyes making his dick twitch.
If it were possible Eddie would be content to live out the rest of his days smothering himself between her thighs making her shake and scream till she saw stars but the lack of friction was starting to get to him. Grabbing his dick he pumped it a few times with his soaked hand, the tip already sticky and bright red from the lack of attention.
“Eddie please – please,” she sobbed, “need more—” fat tears were still falling and it took everything in him not to lick them away.
“Fuck! I need more!”
“Look at you” he chuckled, turning her head to look at him as he leaned over her his hair starting to come loose from his low bun. “All worked up and cryin’ for me” he smiled as he kissed her deeply, biting at her bottom lip and neck hard.
“God you’re so pretty,” he moaned, grabbing himself in his hand. He wrapped his other hand around her throat again, it was taking every ounce of self control left in him not to squeeze and start to choke her out as he fucked her, that’d have to wait until the next time, this time it was completely about her.
“If you need me to stop, you tell me ok?” she nodded as she sniffled, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him back to her, pressing her chest to his as she nipped at his and kissed at his nose and lips.
He kisses her as he lines himself up and pushes just the tip in, gently thrusting it in and out a few times, coaxing her open before pushing himself in further and further until he’s completely stretching her open on his cock. The stretch burned but felt oh so good at the same time it practically drew another sob from her chest.
“Oh shit,” he chokes out, putting his face back down to her neck as he squeezed his eyes shut, one arm propping himself up on his elbow the other wrapping around her throat tenderly before he dragged it down to grip her hip. His vision damn near blurred as her cunt squeezed him so incredibly tight like a vice, if he focused on it too much he felt like he was going to burst, she felt so much better than anything he could’ve imagined.
“You ok?” He panted as he looked into her eyes, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort as he let her adjust to him, his grip tightening on her hip as he ground into her, causing a whole new wave of arousal to gush out of her spamming cunt. A hard gasp flowed from her parted lips as she looked down at where they were joined together then back up to his face through her wet lashes, her pupils blown just as wide as his.
“Feels so good Eddie.” She praised running her hands down his back to grab at his ass before biting his bottom lip. He groaned and kissed her hard, their teeth almost hitting each other’s.
“You’re gonna be the death of me baby.”
Hiking her legs up higher on his waist Eddie wasted no time getting right to the fucking point.
First he started out gently, testing the waters to see if she was ready to handle more, after a few pleas to go harder or faster Eddie
“Please don’t stop” she gasped, screwing her eyes shut, barely able to form her words into a sentence at this point.
“Anything you want, pretty girl.” He pants shifting his weight so he can hit at a different angle, his hand leaving its spot on her hip and grabbing ahold of her neck and squeezing, the cold of his rings biting into her overheated skin.
“Christ!" She gasped again, gripping at his back, leaving angry red lines in their wake, his hand squeezing even tighter at her throat making her sound hoarse. He was hitting right where she needed him to. He was hitting a spot so deliciously deep and so good that she was practically babbling not knowing whether it was pain or pleasure she was feeling or even both.
"You can take it." he grunts, picking up his pace, by now the bed was squeaking on its box spring, the headboard leaving small dents on the wall behind it. “I know you can baby, You feel so fucking good” sweat now visible on his chest and dripping down his back from exertion.
“Such a good girl for me,” He whined “So fucking sweet.”
“Almost baby,”
“Eddie!”
“I know baby,” he panted, as she continued to chant his name like it was a prayer and he was some sort of deity. He was starting to lose his stride as he kept pounding into her while his thumb rubbed tight quick circles on her clit. The angle, and brutal pace was almost crippling; she really couldn’t hold back the tears now.
“Shit!” she screamed, that was the only warning Eddie got as her pussy clenched and spasmed around him, milking him so hard that she sent him over the edge right there with her. He groaned deep and loud into her neck as he dropped down on her, the sound echoing in her ears and through her chest, nearly making her cum again before her previous orgasm even ended.
It took a good few minutes for the pair to steady their breathing and even longer for Eddie to finally roll from off of her to his back on the bed, pulling out as he did so causing her to whine weakly.
“Holy shit.” She panted as she snuggled up into his chest, her arm trailing up his stomach before tracing over his tattoos on his chest playing with the little hairs that were around it. Eddie leaned down to kiss the crown of her head before wrapping his arm around her, covering them both with her discarded sheets with the other as the room cooled.
“I think it’s badass by the way” he finally said after a long silence, his fingers dancing up and down her side.
“What?” She asked hoarsely, her voice still gone from being choked.
“Your scar…it makes you look badass, like some cool Druid warrior princess.”
“Yeah?” She chuckled, resting her chin on his chest with a smile as she looked up at him.
“Yeah man, my girlfriend is totally badass.” He smiled down at her, lowering his head to capture her lips in a sweet soft kiss.
“Girlfriend huh?” She grinned as they separated, liking the sound of that.
“I know we did this kinda ass backwards but yeah I wanna take you out. Go to a concert, maybe get some burgers and shakes after then go make out at skull rock.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her pulling a laugh from her chest.
“I’m game. What kinda concert did you have in mind, Casanova?”
“Anything you want, baby.”
“How bout this really cool band I’ve been hearing about, Corroded Coffin, they play at this place called the Hideout on Tuesdays, I hear the lead guitarist is super hot.” Eddie couldn’t help the huge ass grin that spread across his face at her words.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, how bout it? We could go out for burgers after and maybe if you're lucky we might end up back here again.”
“You got yourself a date, Hops.”
“It’s a date.” She said leaning up to kiss his soft pink lips one more time.
a/n: yeah I’m a whore for the vampire Kas/Eddie theory even if it ends up not being true 9/10 I’m probably gonna run with it in all my stuff for him. Also thank you sm @huffle-pissed and @honeybee-reverie for helping me with this! 🥺
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x black reader#eddie munson x black!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson smut#stranger things smut#black reader fan fiction
167 notes
·
View notes
Note
Smut, you say 👀
You're this cute, kinda innocent woman that gets the help of this handsome gigolo to not be as... innocent.
💕 The Professional: Chapter 1 💕
Chapter Two
Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter only)
Pairing: Danma Takeru (Hatter)/Reader (she/her
Tags: flirting, suggestive conversation, alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing
“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”
“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”
“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”
Notes: This is a kind-of sort-of AU—in the show, Hatter references his involvement with the host club business, and mentions that he “would do anything” to be the best. Although host clubs do not usually involve sex work (as far as I know), I believe that he would definitely offer that “off the books” in order to win over his clientele.
You’re nervous. Nervous and jittery and—oh, dear, there’s a lot of feelings going on in here, and all of them seem to fall under the umbrella of ‘mild to moderate discomfort.’ Not that feeling uncomfortable is anything new; in fact, there are very few times where you happen to feel truly comfortable outside of, say, the warmth of your bed or the soothing calm of a late-night bath. Places where you feel safe. Places where you can let yourself breathe and be, unhindered by expectation.
The place where you currently find yourself—this strange little pocket of a room in the buzz and bustle of a Friday-night Kabukicho—is full-to-bursting with expectation. From the polished wood floors to the glittering gold chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling, there is an inescapable sense of opulent whimsy that is tinged pink with a blush of sensuality. There are even fresh flowers on the table in front of you—a vase of ranunculus, blooming bright and orange like a green-stalked bunch of tiny setting suns.
Something like an itch tickles your sweat-damp palms, making you ball your hands into tight fists around the fabric of your skirt. Oh, you should have worn something different! Something sexier, maybe, with a deeper neckline and a shorter hem, that hugged the shape of your body as opposed to ghosting over it in fluttering chiffon. Not that you actually, you know, owned anything like that, but—
The pop! of a champagne cork makes you jump. Hell, you feel like you’re about to pop, too, from the nervous energy boiling and swelling in your chest. It’s so very difficult not to fidget, to keep your toes from tapping out a frantic little rhythm on the rug.
Looking back, you realize that the paperwork had been the ‘easy’ part. Not that it had been particularly easy—who knew there would be an application process for this kind of thing?—but it was less stressful to fill out a (surprisingly comprehensive) questionnaire in the privacy of your own home as opposed to this agonizing waiting.
And what, exactly, are you waiting for?
Why, you’re waiting for him.
His name is Takeru—or, at least, that’s what he’s asked you to call him. Whether or not it’s a stage name is difficult to tell; but what you do know is that it sounded so very nice in the deep clear of his voice. The only thing that sounded better was your name, which he said in a gently-sultry half-whisper that made you feel…many thing, and not all of them innocent.
In a devastatingly well-tailored suit of lipstick red—a vibrant pop of a color you would so often consider buying at the makeup counter but always put back—it’s nearly impossible to look at anything but him. A small collection of rings glisten from his fingers, most of them delicate little things that wink a tiny gleam when the light hits them just right. The dizzying black-white-gold pattern of his shirt is unbuttoned just a smidge too low, offering you a tantalizing view of his chest.
And although his back is toward you, concocting some kind of magic at the bar cart along the far wall, you can all but feel the warm-dark of his eyes on you. Oh, he has beautiful eyes, dark and warm with the glitter of laughter—or perhaps mischief, if the situation calls for it. A slim nose leads down to a shapely mouth, handsomely framed by a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.
Also, his hair—oh, that man has a great head of hair.
Aesthetics aside—he has been undeniably lovely. Slipping the coat from your shoulders when you walked into the room, fingertips skimming the slope of your shoulders with only the barest of touches. Offering you a glass of champagne (“Yes, thank you”) as he leads you to sit on the green velvet settee, hand hovering above but never touching the small of your back. A serene smile on his lips as he talks, as he tells you that your dress is lovely (“Blue is definitely your color, darling”) and letting out an airy chuckle when you mention that this was as good occasion as any to dig it out of the back of your closet.
It is impossible to ignore the way he is so very provocative—subtly so, in a way that makes you second-guess whether his flirtations had happened at all. Did his eyes really linger over the shape of your legs, or was he simply taking a moment to admire your (new, very cute) shoes? Did his fingertips slip over the curve of your shoulder as he removed your coat, or were you just imagining it?
His gaze tiptoes over your shape as he sits down beside you, two flutes of pink-tinged something in hands.
“I’ve taken the liberty of making something a little special,” he says, “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as he hands you one of the glasses, “it…it looks nice.”
“Know what it is?”
“Uh,” you say after a moment of silent deliberation, “Maybe alcohol?”
He huffs a short laugh at your half-joke—a rather polite response, and it manages to soothe the bubble of regret that had risen up your throat the moment you’d said it.
“You’re not wrong. More specifically, though, it’s a Kir Royale—or, my take on one, at the very least,” he watches the bubbles fizzle to the top of the glass, “I find myself more or less incapable of keeping with convention, even when it comes to alcohol.”
“Well, uh,” you say, “it’s pretty. I like the color.”
You taste the drink, bubbles like tiny fireworks tickling over the surface of your tongue. There is a dry bitterness, no doubt from the champagne, but it’s softened by a fruity sweetness. Something familiar, something that reminds you of summer and shaved ice and walks along the river and—
“Cherry,” you say, half-lost in the hazy-warm memory of days gone by—until you remember where you are and snap back to reality, “it’s, uh, it tastes like cherries.”
“Very good. Usually, the drink calls for creme de cassis, but I used Kijafa instead. It’s a dessert wine from Denmark, made from cherries,” his brow raises just a smidge, “I thought it appropriate, given the situation.”
And it takes you a minute to understand what he’s talking about. Cherries. You. Ah. A rather crass comparison, but accurate all the same.
“Oh,” you say, picking a very uninteresting spot on the rug to look at in an attempt to avoid meeting his eyes, “I, uh…”
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, “In fact, virginity isn’t even a real thing. Completely made up. Means nothing, really.”
There is a kind of lag—he’s speaking, you know he’s speaking, but it takes your brain a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s actually saying. It’s strange, hearing someone talk to you so openly about sex. Not unwelcome, by any means, but you need a moment (or two, or ten) to adjust.
“That being said,” he continues, as if he’s discussing the weather, “just because it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of life doesn’t mean it’s nothing to you.”
He’s fishing. He’s fishing, and you kind of want to take the bait, but…well, you’re finding it difficult to get your thoughts in order. He’s the very picture of calm, all while you’re floundering over a simple conversation.
“Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “I thought you might prefer to talk it over a bit. ”
“No, uh, you’re fine,” you answer quickly, “I’m just…I thought the paperwork kind of covered all that.”
“More or less,” he answers, “however, I’ve found that the person who fills out the forms and the person who ends up sitting across from me are not always of the same mind.”
He reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette case. Although he is not gentleman enough to ask your permission to smoke, he is gentleman enough to offer you a cigarette before taking one of his own. You decline. He shrugs and quickly snaps the case shut before laying it on the table.
“In fact, it’s not uncommon for my clients to have a complete change of heart the second they walk through the door,” he continues, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Or, sometimes later on, for that matter. Depends on the person.”
Cigarette held between his teeth, he retrieves a lighter from his right trouser pocket. With a sharp little snick, he ignites it, pulling the little orange flame towards his face and hiding it behind his hand to let it catch.
“Really?”
You watch him intently, the way his eyelids flutter closed at the first inhale. The way his lips pucker around the filter and release, the red-pink sticking slightly as they pull away and let smoky white flow out and fade into the air.
“Really,” he confirms, “once, I had a client step inside, take one look at me, and promptly walk right back out. Never saw them again, which is fine. I’ll never fault someone for doing what’s right for themselves.”
“Are you, uh, trying to talk me out of it?”
“Not at all. Just making you aware of your options,” he says, “Doing anything for the first time is scary. Driving a car, swimming in the ocean, traveling abroad—sex is no different.”
“Yeah, well,” you respond, “you also get to do most of those things with your clothes on, so…”
“Depends on who you’re with.”
You can’t help but laugh a little.
“Well I still want to…you know,” you answer, “uh, do it. The…the sex part.”
“I’m happy to hear it.”
“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to say that.”
“It’s the truth,” he insists, “I can’t imagine anyone being upset at the thought of having a pretty thing like you in their bed.”
“I’m not—“
“Don’t,” he interrupts, taking on a tone that brokers no arguments, “I will suffer many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You are an attractive woman and I refuse to be told otherwise.”
“Sorry, I,” you say sheepishly, “I guess I just…wasn’t expecting you to…like me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his cigarette and takes another long, slow drag, “You’re very sweet. A bit shy, maybe, but I happen to like the shy ones.”
And there is something about the way he says it, the way his voice wraps around the words—oh, there are implications to those words, and you find yourself growing warm at the thought of what exactly those implications could entail.
You sip your drink. He smokes. The quiet between you is almost comfortable. Maybe it’s the alcohol working it’s bubbly magic, but you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease in this strange little place.
Moreover, you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease with him. The thought of kissing him crosses your mind, then doubles-back and crosses it again. Oh, that sounds nice. He would be good at it, too; starting gently, mouth pressed soft and sure against your own, and then just the tiniest tease of his tongue—
“And there you go, biting your lip again,” he says, snapping you out of your impromptu fantasy, “You have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”
He is sporting a devilish grin—not only is he aware that you had been daydreaming about him, but he’s relishing the fact that he was able to catch you so off-guard.
“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you admit with a shrug. But you can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being considered ‘sexy’—you never really let yourself feel that way, but now that it’s happening…oh, it’s nice.
“It’s absolutely delicious, darling. Makes me wonder what else you do when you’re turned on…”
And he’s got you—like a knife held under your chin, his sharp gaze pins you in place. He is impossible to avoid. Not that you particularly want to avoid him—there’s something irresistible about this man, something that you can’t quite name but definitely want more of.
It’s scary.
It’s exciting.
“I’m,” you say with a nervous chuckle, “not really sure, myself. Guess we’ll have to, uh, figure it out together.”
His gaze darkens. He takes one last lungful of nicotine before stubbing out his cigarette.
“I suppose we shall.”
And he’s moving now, sliding himself down so that he’s closer to you. He stops when there is barely an inch of space between the outside of his thigh and your own. His right arm has draped itself over the back of the sofa, the fingertips of his hand now skimming the skin of your shoulder in loose, mindless sweeps.
“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”
“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”
“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”
He plucks the champagne flute from your grasp and sets it on the table in front of you.
“I, uh—“
The fingertips on your shoulder continue to make their idle little circles, almost hypnotic in their swirling pattern. His left hand catches your right wrist, his thumb pressing above where your pulse thrums beneath sensitive skin.
“Bit fast,” he observes, pulling your arm closer as if inspecting it, “Could be nerves, but I think it’s more from excitement, don’t you?”
You have no choice but to lean into him as he brings your hand closer. Your shoulder presses against his arm, and you feel the solid shape of him through the smooth of his suit. He’s strong underneath all of those layers—warm, too, judging from the heat that radiates from his person.
“I’m—“
The thumb that had been testing your pulse inches higher, stopping when it’s pressing into the center of your palm. His eyes lock with yours, a heartbeat of a moment, and brings your wrist closer and closer until his lips are ghosting over your flesh. When he finally decides to make contact, you gasp—it’s a delicate sensation, but sends your heart skipping in a shaking staccato.
And, then.
Then he sucks.
The sound you make is halfway between an oh of surprise and a desperate little moan—oh, wow, that’s really weirdly unexpectedly hot—and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by your own reaction. He’s not even doing much, not really; just a little bit of pressure, lips parted just enough to let his tongue slip out and have a taste of you.
But, oh, it feels…it feels filthy, it feels decadent, it feels like something you should not be doing but very much want to keep doing for the rest of your life. Takeru’s eyes have since fluttered shut, and he hums the tiniest sound of pleasure as he maintains his seductive tease.
“Please,” you manage to sigh, sounding as breathless as you feel, “please, I, I want you to kiss me.”
His lips release from your wrist with a pucker-pop noise—which was no doubt intentional on his part, and does nothing to quell the thrill of desire in your belly.
“Hm. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, shifting a bit to the left so that he can turn to face you better, “I’ll kiss you for the rest of the night, but right now…you kiss me.”
And what a deal that is—you don’t even have to think about it, head bobbing in an affirmative nod as you wet your lips in anticipation. The hand that had so lovingly held yours is now guiding you to rest your palm just above his knee. You reflexively reach your other hand out to steady yourself, and it lands against his chest before you can stop it.
He’s so close now. There’s barely any space between your faces, barely room to breathe—
“Go on, darling,” he whispers, “if you want me, have me.”
And you do.
You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The anxiety that has plagued you since the moment you entered the room hasn’t completely dissipated—it would be foolish to think it’d be that easy to banish those feelings completely—but all that is now secondary to the feeling of his mouth on yours.
Kissing Takeru is warm. It’s soft and it’s sure and it’s…comfortable, in a way. Safe, even. He does not press, doesn’t do much of anything except mirror the way your lips slide against his own. A gentle rhythm, a push and pull between the two of you that feels as natural as the moon guiding the tides to shore—yes, kissing him is good and right and something you want to do many times over.
Unfortunately, you have to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t let you go far, though, one hand cupped behind the nape of your neck and the other pressing into the small of your back.
“Oh, you are sweet,” he purrs, his gaze dropping to your freshly-kissed lips, “and, seeing that I’m a man of my word…”
As it turns out, being kissed by Takeru might be better than kissing him, yourself. He is still so very careful when he presses his lips to yours, but this time…this time, there’s fire. He tastes like the best part of a cigarette, like warmth and alcohol and cherries, and it only intensifies as he tests the seam of your lips with his tongue.
Little by little, you begin to test him, too. Hands cradle the curve of his jaw, feeling the way his face shifts as he moves against you. Fingertips run through the soft dark of his hair—oh, he likes that, if the half-sigh that slips from his throat is to be believed. And when you nip at his lower lip with your teeth (he had, after all, very much enjoyed the way you bit your lip earlier), he genuinely moans and pulls you even closer to himself.
It’s when he begins to wander lower, with his mouth skimming the sensitivity of your neck and his hand splayed across your lower back in a way that flirts with the idea of indecency, that you begin to want more. Fear—and maybe that’s not exactly the right word for what you’re feeling, but it’s the only one that comes to mind—begins to creep up the column of your spine.
The “what-if’s” start filling your brain; what if you mess something up? What if you do something he doesn’t like? What if you freeze up later and—
“Alright, darling?”
His voice is a low soothe against your ear; he’s retreated, just a bit, and his hand has wandered to a chaste and respectable area of your mid-back.
“I—“
You want him to take you to bed. You want him to take off your dress and kiss you in all the places you thought weren’t worth kissing, to let his hands trace sparks along the curves of your shape and let him be close to you in a way that no one else has. You want him, despite the uncertain ache that burns between your ribs and bids you to hide yourself away and leave behind the pleasure of his touch.
…But all you can manage is a nervous glance to the bed behind you (the one you had been avoiding thinking about up until this point) and a stammered “Can we, uh…?”
“Ask me,” he says, his index and middle fingers idly skimming the notch in your collarbone, “I’ll give you anything you want, as long as you ask me.”
It’s difficult to make eye contact with him—every time you try, you feel embarrassment swell up beneath your tongue.
But Takeru is, as you have come to learn over the last hour or so, decidedly patient. He shows no sign of relenting, appearing to be perfectly content with giving you an expectant grin and continuing his little touches as you try not to squirm in your seat.
“I,” you gulp, “I want…“
You bite your lip—oh, wait, he likes that too, and he’s staring at you with those sharp and sultry eyes, and it makes something behind your heart squeeze and unsqueeze itself and punches the air from your lungs and—
“Take me to bed,” you manage to spit out, and it all sounds like one word with how quickly you pushed the words into the air. The “uh, please” you tack on at the end is an afterthought, but perhaps it’s polite enough to pass muster.
“Was that so hard,” Takeru asks with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you asked so nicely…”
He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss—and even that, after everything, still has you feeling a flutter of something giddy in your stomach.
“Darling,” he says, “it would be my pleasure.”
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
…and now, you’ll have to wait until chapter two to get to the “good stuff!”
It’s been a challenge writing this—I’m trying to make the scenario believable while still keeping it vague enough to allow for people to make up their own little details. It’s also been unexpectedly difficult to write him, since he’s kind of being himself while also playing a character who’s trying to mold themself into their client’s fantasy…it’s a lot of layers, but it’s been fun trying to figure things out!
#alice in borderland#hatter#danma takeru#writings and such#spicy boy#alice in borderland netflix#takeru danma#we did it fellas. we finally wrote the first chapter.#I’ve been working on this for WEEKS#now to write the actual spicy stuff lol oh geez
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Travelin’ Soldier 2
Summary: Rosie receives her first letter from James and sets out to find a certain someone to keep an eye on for him.
Pairing(s): Bucky x OFC, Steve x OFC (platonic)
TW: a little talk of war, angst, fluff(ish)
Word Count: 1738
A/N: Soooo I’m enjoying writing this tremendously and this all kinda just spilled out of me at like midnight but I like it so I’m giving it to you peoples. Hopefully you lot enjoy it! I can already tell that I’m gonna cry while writing chapter 3 lol.
It had been almost a month since Rosie met James and he went overseas. She hadn’t heard from him after that first day and she was starting to think maybe she never would. She was just a stranger after all, a nobody.
When she woke for work early this morning, she went about her normal routine. Taking a quick shower, before doing her hair, putting on a touch of makeup, and slipping into her uniform dress and apron. She checked her mailbox as she left the apartment like she had been since that day. But unlike everyday before, there was a letter waiting for her, with messily scribbled words scrawled across the front she could make out her address and that of an army camp from England.
Rosie audibly gasped at the sight. She had lost hope last week of ever getting a letter from James, assuming he had just forgotten about her, but here it was.
She quickly tore open the seal and pulled the worn piece of paper from the envelope.
Dear Rosie,
I’m sorry I didn’t write to you sooner but training was real hard. They taught us how to shoot a gun and worked us so hard my muscles have been aching. Last week they told us when we’d be heading out into the field. I got two weeks till they actually put my unit out there.
I’m scared. Terrified actually. But when it gets kinda rough over here, I think of that day sitting down by the pier and I close my eyes, and see your pretty smile.
I have a favour to ask you. Would you mind checking in on my friend for me? His name is Steve Rogers, he’s a scrawny little fella and always manages to get himself into trouble. Normally I’d be there to help him out but obviously that’s not the case anymore. Thank you so much.
Hopefully this stupid war is over soon and I can come back home and take you out on a proper date. Maybe we can go dancing? I bet you’d look gorgeous all dolled up for a night on the town.
Anyways, I gotta get back to training. I can’t wait to hear back from you. I’ll write again as soon as I can.
Yours Truly,
James Barnes
Rosie held the letter to her chest, right atop her heart and looked up with tears in her eyes. This man is the sweetest, most kind person she had ever met and he was so clearly alone and in pain.
Tucking the letter into the pocket of her apron, Rosie set off to work. Determined to finish up her shift as quick as possible so she could go find this friend that James spoke of.
~~~~~~~
It was around 4:00pm when Rosie finally finished up at the cafe. After gathering her things she set out on her mission to find one Steve Rogers.
She had asked the other girls at the cafe if they knew anything about him or where she could find him. They all said they’d heard of him getting beat on by some of the bigger guys in Brooklyn but had never met him themselves.
As Rosie was walking down the street on her way to the local park she made sure to check down every alley. Maybe Steve had managed to pick another fight with some bully.
While looking down one of the alleys, Rosie bumped into someone and stumbled back a few steps.
“I’m so sorry miss!” Spoke the voice of the man she had bumped into. “No no, it was my fault. I’m sorry.” Rosie said as she straightened out the skirt of her dress. Looking up she studied the man in front of her, realizing he was much shorter than she expected. After staring for a moment too long to be considered polite she voiced her thoughts. “You don’t happen to be Steve Rogers, do you?”
“Um, yeah that’s me. Why do you ask.” Steve questioned, confused as to why this beautiful damn would know his name.
Rosie’s eyes lit up at the revelation. “Oh! I’m Rosie. James wrote me and asked me to check on you. I wasn’t sure how I’d find you but here you are!”
“James?..... Wait, you mean Bucky? How is he? I haven’t heard from him since he left.” Steve responded enthusiastically.
“He’s doing alright. Says it’s scary over there, wishes he could be home. May I ask why you call him Bucky?” Rosie replied.
“It’s a nickname. Comes from his middle name, Buchanan.” Explained Steve.
“Oh well that makes sense I guess. Bit of a funny nickname though.” Rosie giggled. “Well anyways, why don’t we meet up sometime so we can chat and get to know each other. That way I can write back to James and tell him I’m keeping my eye on you.”
Steve ducked his head as he felt a blush rise to his cheeks. No dame had ever been so sweet to him. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”
“Okay, well I work at the cafe on fourth avenue. Maybe you could meet me there sometime tomorrow?” Rosie questioned.
“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow then I guess.” Steve replied, a tad uncertain. “See you tomorrow.” Rosie spoke as she continued on her way. “Don’t get into any trouble before then Steve!” She called over her shoulder, letting out a quiet giggle.
~~~~~~~
The next day was like every other. Rosie got up, got ready, checked the mail, and went to work. The only difference about today was that she was expecting Steve to come by at some point.
Every time the bell above the door rang, Rosie’s head shot up and she hoped to see Steve walking in.
It was nearing the end of her shift and Steve still hadn’t showed up. Rosie was beginning to believe that Steve had chickened out and wasn’t coming. Just before she was about to gather up her things and head out that bell rang again and in walked Steve Rogers.
Rosie smiled from ear to ear and ran over to greet Steve. “Hiya Steve! I almost thought you weren’t gonna show up. How’re you doing?”
Steve blushed and looked at his shoes. “I’m doing pretty good. How are you, Rosie?”
“I’m quite well thank you.” Rosie spoke sweetly. “I’m just finishing up my shift so how about you go take a seat and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay” Steve was nervous as ever. He had never said more than two words to women as pretty as Rosie!
As Rosie walked away to collect her things, Steve took a few deep breaths and told himself everything would be fine.
When Rosie returned she slid into the booth across from Steve and struck up a conversation almost immediately.
“So Steve, how do you and James know each other?” She questioned politely.
“Well, we met when we were real young. I was the sick little kid who no one wanted to play with and Bucky didn’t really get along with the other kids. Sometimes the bigger kids would pick on me and push me around and one day Bucky saw ‘em doing that and stepped in. He told ‘em to ‘pick on someone their own size’ and sent ‘em on their way with a bloody nose. He’s kinda been my best friend and protector ever since. I seem to get myself into trouble quite often and he’s always the one to get me out.” Steve explained with an almost melancholic look on his face. “How about you? How did you meet Bucky?”
Rosie smiled softly at Steve’s explanation. She could tell from the way Steve spoke about James that they really did mean a lot to each other. “James and I actually met here. It was the day he got his orders. I had seen him in here a few times before then but he never sat at any of my tables. That day he did and he asked me if I’d be up for a chat. So I took him down to this place by the pier. Nice and quiet so we could talk and get to know each other. That’s all really. The next time I heard from him was just yesterday when I got his first letter.”
Steve was a little shocked at the fact that Bucky and Rosie barely even knew each other but he could see that Rosie was such a kind sweet person. How could Bucky have resisted? “I’m glad he met you Rosie.”
“I am too.” Rosie smiled down at her lap. Her hands fidgeting with the letter tucked away in the pocket of her apron.
The two spent another hour at the cafe, chatting and getting to know each other. By the time they were ready to part ways it was almost supper time and Rosie needed to get home. Steve asked to walk her home and Rosie let him.
“It was really nice getting to know you Steve!” “You too Rosie.” They smiled at each other before Rosie turned around to head up the stairs to her apartment.
Once she was inside Rosie got changed out of her uniform and into something a bit more comfy, before sitting down at her dining room table with a piece of paper and a pen.
Dear James,
I am so happy to hear from you! I won’t lie, I thought you might have forgotten about me. Anyways, I’m sorry it’s so scary over there. I wish you could just be back here with me.
I found that friend of yours, Steve. He’s quite a sweet young man. I had him come chat with me at the cafe so we could get to know each other and boy did I learn a lot. So Bucky, huh? It’s okay, I think I’m gonna keep calling you James.
Work has been keeping me quite busy lately. Every few days, when I finish up my shift I’ll head down to the pier and just sit and think about you and us and all the things we could be doing if you were here.
I’d absolutely love to go dancing with you. I will warn you now though, I’m not very good at it.
I hope all goes well and you can come home as soon as possible.
Love always,
Rosie Parker
Ps. Please stay safe. I need you back in one piece.
________________________________________________________________
tags: @imanuglywombat @simplyemm @believeitseeitdoit
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blinded by Love (Dimitri x F!Reader) Ch. 1
(a/n) hi i'm like practically dead at this point LMAO i've got like 3 finals this week and i want to cRY
i'm sorry for my absence. i honestly didn't realize how much time has passed until it suddenly hit me that i hadn't visited tumblr in a *hot minute.*
instead of posting this colossal fic as one whole entry, i wanted to split it up into smaller chapters (~1000 words each?) so you can take the story in smaller bites and not have a whole ass meal every time you sit down and read my stuff. plus, this might help with my posting schedule-- i think working on and posting smaller chapters would be a much better method compared to writing one big fic.
doesthatmakesenseiamsotiredpLEASE
anyways, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter of Blinded by Love! as always, no spoilers :)
also, it’s been a hot minute since i wrote anything remotely creative please bare with me as i get back into it ok that’s it thanks bye
~*~
"Is everyone ready?" Byleth stared deeply into the exuberant eyes of her Lions; their bright, starving hues were hungry, aching for the exhilarating taste of battle. Dimitri, barely managing to contain his excitement, nodded resolutely.
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good," Byleth spread the torn map on a desk and motioned for everyone to gather around, "we are being dispatched to a village not far from the monastery. Some bandits have grown unruly as of late and have begun tormenting the villagers. The Church is sending us to get rid of them."
They pointed to a particular spot on the map and proceeded to explain the roads you all would take to get to the relatively out-of-the-way village. As they were doing that, Byleth quickly and succinctly explained the strategies the Lions would be deploying, as well as last-minute shopping lists.
"Before we leave, we should resupply on vulneraries and whatnot." Byleth gazed around the room; seafoam greens met (E/C) hues. "(F/N), can you and Dimitri take care of this please?"
Snickers bounced around the room as you and Dimitri adopted the same flustered expression. You reached out and silently took the scraggly piece of paper in your hand as you felt the prince's antsy presence accompany you from behind.
"Any questions?" Byleth looked at their bushy-tailed Lions again. "Be smart out there. Safety should come naturally."
Byleth, with a wave of their hand, dismissed their students.
"We'll be leaving in about an hour, so be sure you're fully prepared by then."
"Yes, Professor!" Everyone scurried out of the classroom (not without a few jabs prodded into Dimitri's side and a couple of knowing, teasing glances cast your way). Dimitri, after making sure enough rosiness dissipated from his cheeks, cleared his throat and slowly tapped you on your shoulder. The royal watched as your entire body seemingly glitched into the fifth dimension before turning around to meet his wavering gaze.
"I-- uh," the blonde stiffly cleared his throat, dedicating way too much brainpower to simply hold your gaze. "We should... um... t-the supplies--."
"Y-Yes." You squeaked, crumpling the shopping list closer to your racing heart. You and Dimitri's eyes scurried to the scuff marks on the stone floor, absolutely immobilized. Byleth, with a loud 'ahem,' subdued the sparks fluttering between you and the prince; you both spun around to your instructor and bowed hastily.
"Our deepest apologies, Professor!"
"We'll be heading out now!"
As Byleth watched the backs of their students scurry out of their classroom, they chuckled.
"How cute."
♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠
"Hm... I think this should be enough vulneraries. What do you think, Your Highness?"
"(F/N), please. I've told you plenty of times to just call me Dimitri." The prince smiled warmly at you before glancing at the somewhat copious amount of vulneraries messily amassed in your arms. "I think this should be enough. It is just a routine bandit culling, after all."
"That's true... And, I feel like I'm being-- I don't know-- disrespectful? If I call you by your name. I feel it's only proper for me to address you by your title." You countered as Dimitri took a majority of the vulneraries in his strong arms.
"Nonsense. I want you to address me by my name," he coughed and looked away, "o-only if you are comfortable though. If you truly desire to address me by my title only, then that is fine as well."
"Oh, no! I just-- I thought-- are you... really sure it's okay for me to call you by your name?"
"Of course!"
"O-Okay... Dimitri." You smiled, color dabbling your cheeks. Dimitri almost dropped all the vulneraries watching your delicate fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I have to admit, it feels kind of... strange saying your name."
"...oh." Dimitri's lips, still cast upward, did not match the downtrodden expression the rest of his features bore. Realizing your egregious choice of words, you let out a cry of surprise.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" You bowed. "It felt strange because I wasn't used to it! But... I like it. I like saying your name, Dimitri."
The extinguished look in his eyes instantly flared up with life and excitement.
"R-Really?!"
A lighthearted laugh escaped you; Dimitri's grin grew wider at the natural melody in your voice.
"Yes! Dimitriii.~ Dimitriii.~"
The prince's sides had begun to ache from all the laughing; he buried his burning face in the pile of vulneraries.
"I love hearing you say my name..." He muttered, his voice muffled by the sacks of medicinal herbs.
"Sorry, what was that?"
"N-Nothing important. Let's head back, shall we?"
"Mmkay!" As you cheerily skipped through the marketplace with the prince at your side, a glimmer from one of the stalls caught your eye. Your feet froze mid-air and your boots made a loud clonk as you fell back down to earth. Dimitri, surprised at the sudden shift in mood, looked up at you worriedly.
"(F/N)? Is everything all right?"
When he looked over, you and all the vulneraries you were carrying had essentially disappeared from existence. Dimitri, his heart throbbing a quickening pulse in his temples, spun to and fro in the middle of the street, growing more and more panicked at your continued absence.
"Excuse me, how much is this?"
Dimitri's head had never whipped around so fast.
"Ah, you got a good eye, lass! Bought this from a fella off the coasts of Brigid. 'Posed to bring you good luck, he said." The merchant's gnarly voice had a distinct ring that overpowered the rest of the bustling marketplace.
"It's so pretty..." Breathed a response.
After a crowd of people on his right dissolved, Dimitri found your vulnerary-laden form stooped over a table flooded with jewelry and glittery accessories. He breathed out, thanking the Goddess as he felt years subtracted from his life slowly be added back on. He hurriedly made his way to your side and glanced around the vast treasures laid out for sale. The merchant threw his head back and roared in glee.
"Indeed, indeed! One of my best finds, I tell ya. A true beauty."
Your (E/C) eyes shimmered brighter than any jewel Dimitri had ever seen as they excitedly landed on his placid blues.
"Dimitri, look! Isn't it gorgeous?"
"Er... Which one? They're all quite lovely." Dimitri politely smiled and nodded his head at the merchant, who puffed his chest out with pride.
"That one!" You motioned with your chin, pointing your lips at a particular brooch. Upon closer inspection, the mound of metal quickly took on the shape of a lion. The simple sheen of silver contrasted nicely with the array of crystalline colors surrounding it. The artisan's mastery over fine metalwork translated beautifully into the gorgeous detailing in the mane and face of the feline; a permanent roar was etched onto the refined ore, its eyes ablaze with ferocity and vivacity. It stood majestically on its hind legs, seemingly ready to jump into the fray of a battle that will never come. A jewel the shade of bright blue skies was incrested in its paws; the radiant glitter of the gem sailed across its surface like clouds on a cool spring day.
"It... is quite breathtaking." Hummed the prince. "How much is it?"
"10,000 Gold!" The merchant smiled widely, more holes than teeth in his mouth.
"T-Ten--?!" You stumbled backward, the spell that the brooch had put you under snapping like a strained thread.
"Yup yup! But for a fine lass like ya, I'll cut it down to... hm... Let's say 7,500. Deal?"
"That's... still a lot..." You looked despondently at the brooch, the luminous blue darkening as a storm approached. The merchant frowned.
"Sorry, lass. Can't go lower than that. I'd be sellin' at a loss past that price."
"T-That's okay... Um, I think I'll stop by another time. Let's go, Dimitri..."
Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heels and sulked away, your shoulders hunched forward and your head hung low. Dimitri's heart splintered into pieces as he watched your form slowly homogenize with the crowd. With a small nod (and a few moments reserved for the neat pile of vulneraries he built at his feet), Dimitri whipped out a pouch that clanged a tune that would make any merchant's heart sing.
"Can I still make good on that previous offer?"
#fire emblem#dimitri fire emblem#fire emblem x reader#dimitri x reader#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#fe3h dimitri#fe3h#fire emblem three houses fanfiction#Fire Emblem Three Houses#it is almost 5 AM#i literally have a final that opens in like 4 hours#why am i doing this
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dark Cybertron Chapter 7: Simon Furman and His Lack of a Relationship with the Singular They
The Lost Light is still being attacked by Ammonites, like it has been for the last few issues. Hound’s taken over as acting field commander and is calling all the shots. Chromedome uses his stupid beefy arms to punch things. Trailcutter is screaming. Swerve’s got his My First Blaster™ strapped to the top of his alt, and saves Crosscut.
Crosscut is our toy tie-in character for this issue. He’s a senator, and drafts play scripts. Arguably one of the more interesting tie-in guys, at least in theory. In practice, all he’s doing is forgetting Swerve’s name, which isn’t going to help the guy with his through-the-floor self esteem.
Crosscut points out that Swerve’s communicator is flashing, and while he’s checking his voicemail, all the Ammonites seemingly vanish… at least, until the gang realizes that they’re instead heading for Metroplex.
Inside, it would appear that the Rod Pod Squad aren’t actually dead, though their ride is probably toast. Before everything went to hell, a wall slammed down from the ceiling, protecting everyone from being utterly destroyed. Skids has figured out what all the arrow graffiti is about, earning himself a BOMP from Getaway. Looks like the internal structure of Metroplex has been shifting, and that’s why they got the runaround last issue. Also, Whirl’s gone missing, but we don’t have time to worry about that, because Swerve just called back with some bad news: the admium flakes they saw earlier mean that Metroplex has an alchemical virus.
Don’t you look at me like that, I’m getting to the explanation.
Alchemical viruses turn the metal of the body into admium, a rare, incredibly soft metal that will break down very easily and also kill you. It’s pretty bad to have. Also, contagious. Fellas better get outta there, posthaste.
The Ammonites are also storming Metroplex, so that’s an additional issue. God, it just never stops, does it?
Over in the Dead Universe-
Is
Is that a fortress of evil in the shape of Nova Prime’s head?
Is that a goddamned fortress-
Anyway, the center of Nova Prime’s universe is Kup, who was the guy who got oh-so-dramatically revealed at the end of the last issue. Unfortunately, Orion Pax also considers Kup to be very near and dear to his heart, and the whole “being turned into a space bridge” thing is going to be an issue.
This is the weirdest love triangle I’ve ever seen.
How the hell did Kup even get here? Well, in order to know that, you’ve have to had read Infestation, the bullshit zombie crossover comic miniseries that ran in 2011.
But I’m not going to do that.
Because I don’t want to.
After a bit of showboating, Nova Prime orders Nightbeat to take Team -Imus to their cell.
Over on Cybertron, Shockwave is getting real sick of Galvatron’s shit, but Galvatron is too busy posing dramatically to notice. Waspinator, Metalhawk, and Dreadwing float in the air. I’m not sure what they’re up to, but I’m sure it’s important. Jhiaxus shows up with a gaggle of goons, one of which seems to have forgotten his face in the jar by the door.
Galvatron gets shamed for tearing Megatron in half, since that sort of broke the space bridge in his torso, but he’s too busy being classist to care. Waspinator floats in the background. What are you doing back there, pal?
Shockwave orders Waspinator to carry Megatron to his quarters, but Galvatron’s decided that he’s going to be an asshole about everything today, even when he’s being helpful.
…Okay, Boomer.
Waspinator still ends up hauling Megatron’s ass away, and Shockwave and Jhiaxus have a little chat.
Back in the dead universe, Team -Imus are in their cell, as Nightbeat double-checks the locks or some shit, I dunno. They’re gonna get their sparks ripped out later in the day, so that the space bridge Kup’s got running in his torso finally has enough juice to actually friggin’ work.
Then Rodimus flashes his mystery hand at Nightbeat and makes him fall down.
In order for the whole brainwashing thing to work, Nightbeat’s true nature had to be suppressed; however, whenever Rodimus shows off his mystery hand, it makes his brain kickstart back on, messing up the brainwashing.
Well, you know what, Cyclonus? That’s not my fucking fault. Blame Roberts and Barber. I certainly do.
ORION PLEASE.
We finally get a look at what Rodimus’ hand mystery is, and if you read Eugenesis, you might know where this is going. It would seem Nightbeat has not- which is for the best, really, given what happens to him in it- but he’s still a pretty smart cookie and can suss it out through the power of deductive reasoning. Here’s what he’s working with:
After a moment’s deliberation, he asks Rodimus, who he knows to be the captain of a ship, how many folks are riding around in the space yacht. Rodimus tells him 190, and shows off that he’s got his lipgloss on, and it would seem that Nightbeat’s a free man again. He lets everyone out of the cell, and they gear up to go pick up Kup. Orion Pax is confused as to what the hell just happened here, and Rodimus promises to explain why he’s carved a division problem into his palm once they aren’t in immediate danger.
Back on Cybertron, Galvatron and Waspinator are dragging Megatron’s halves towards Shockwave’s quarters, when Bumblebee pops out of nowhere with a gun and a mouth full of swears. He’s here for Megatron, and he’s not taking “no” for an answer. Galvatron thinks that this is super fucking funny, and tosses Megatron like an empty soda can into the wall so he can squash a bug.
It looks pretty grim for ol’ Bumblebee, but suddenly Galvatron realizes he left the oven on that Megatron’s gone missing.
Oh, there he is!
Megatron blasts Galvatron in the torso, then- in a surprisingly polite manner, at least for him- tells Bumblebee to grab his legs so they can get out of here.
As the two of them traverse the burned-out husk that is Cybertron, Megatron decides to be a complete bastard, as he smiles at the idea of Starscream suffering. Like, dude, I know he kept you in weird hamster ball jail and spouted soliloquies in your general direction every single day you were there, but folks are dying right now.
Speaking of Starscream, he’s having a moment, as he sits on his knees and stares at the sky in abject horror while the world burns around him. Scoop comes by to yell at him for being a harbinger of death, and generally being a less than stellar leader, and Starscream halfway calls himself a dumpster fire.
Back inside Metroplex, the Rod Pod Squad are fortifying their defenses against the Ammonites, even though they really need to be getting the hell out of there before they get turned into talcum powder through the power of alchemy. Whirl shows back up, the Ammonite hanger-on in his grasp, and we get the skinny on why the hell the Ammonites are involved with this whole debacle anyway.
The answer is Shockwave.
The answer is always Shockwave.
Then the little dude explodes. It’s fine, they do that sometimes.
Before he went kablooey, little dude uttered the phrase, “if the dead are not enough.” We’ll get to what all that’s about later. Right now there are far more important things going on.
LIKE MOTHERFUCKING LADY ROBOTS.
But why is this such a big deal? Why is it that non-male coded robots who aren’t Arcee haven’t been seen up until this point? What’s up with that, huh?
Well, in order to understand IDW’s complicated relationship with gender, we’re going to have to do some digging into the history of Transformers as a franchise.
We’re going to have to talk about Simon Furman.
We're going to have to talk about Prime's Rib.
And we’re going to have to talk about Spotlight: Arcee.
Simon Furman wrote a lot of Transformers. You cannot get away from Simon Furman, because the man is so ingrained in the franchise. He was there for Marvel UK, he was there for the back half of Marvel US, he wrote for several other publication runs of Transformers, he worked on the Earth Wars mobile game-
-and, of course, IDW publishing.
Because Furman is so very well established and known in the industry, he gets the benefit of not being questioned on a lot of the calls he makes.
Which is a problem, because the man is a massive misogynist.
In 1989, Marvel UK #234 came out, containing the story entitled “Prime’s Rib!” in which the Autobots built Arcee in order to appease a group of strawmen feminists. Of course, one female Transformer isn’t enough for them, and they yell at poor Optimus Prime for trying his best. This is the point where Hot Rod is used as a writer avatar to try to smooth things over with the reader, because you see, the Transformers don’t even know what sexual dimorphism and gender identity even is, so of course they wouldn’t have female members of their race! Jazz is used for a breast joke. Arcee acts like a massive, stereotypical bitch the whole time, despite not having been written like that at all in the other issues. It’s a bad comic with hideous ideology leaking out of it, and I'm halfway sorry I read it, so I’ll just give you the essence of this nightmare.
Oh, those big, mean, scary feminists are bullying the robots for living their lives, huh Furman? Life is just so goddamned unfair when a woman exists in your fucking line of sight.
Furman has gone on record saying that he doesn’t see the point in including the concept of gender in a race of non-sexually reproducing robots. He sees them as “genderless.” Which, if that statement existed in a vacuum, I could perhaps see where he’s coming from.
But Simon Furman does not exist in a vacuum. He exists in a world where sexism exists, something that he’s willingly participated in.
Let me back up that little tidbit with a bit of a disclaimer: I’m not in any way an expert on gender. I didn’t study it in school, I’ve not read an obscene amount of pieces on the topic. I’m not even sure about it on a personal level.
Maybe some of y’all have noticed the whole other set of pronouns I slapped into the bio in the last month or so. It doesn’t really matter, 90% of people don’t read the FAQ/About, I know that, and then 95% of those people only read it once, and this has been a relatively new self-revelation.
BUT ANYWAY.
Let’s be… fair about this. 1989 was a while ago, a lot of research on the concept of gender has taken place, maybe he’s ch-
Oh, what’s that?
Misogyny?
Transphobia?
Transmisogyny?
Treating women as an aberration being forced on Transformers as a whole?
And the writing is clunky and overstuffed?
Well, that’s just fucking fantastic, Furman, thanks so much.
This was in 2008. Because Furman established that female Transformers weren’t something natural, but rather made, and forcibly at that, and nobody fucking smacked his little hands away from this terrible idea, AND nobody tried to fix it for years, there was a lack of gender diversity within IDW until 2014, with the release of Dark Cybertron Chapter 7. Because we waited six years to fix this nightmare, things couldn’t be done quite the way that Roberts had been hoping, in that he intended for our female robots to not have the whole… fembot build happening. IDW wanted them immediately clockable, because this was very clearly a problem that needed rectifying.
So, in short: because of boys’ club mentality and a lack of understanding of what gender means or why it’s important for roughly 50% of the world’s population to have representation in media, Nautica and Chromia are here now.
And despite the convoluted road they had to take, I love them very much.
#transformers#jro#dark cybertron#issue 7#rid#exrid#issue 25#maccadam#Hannzreads#overthinking about robots#incoming analysis#text post#long post#comic script writing
61 notes
·
View notes
Link
Hey guys... so i just re-wrote the very first chapter to my fic.
I did it bc of many factors, but mainly it was bc I didn’t like it anymore and I noticed how much my writing had improved. It just didn’t seem fair that the ending was much better written than the beginning, bc i feel like no one would get past the first chapters bc of my writing. I mean yeah, it has much more attention that i could hope for, but i’m pretty self-critical about my work, so i just had to re-write it.
Anyway, I’ll just post the chapter here because I want you to give it another chance, maybe it spikes your interest now. I’m putting a whole lot of effort in the ending, it’s got just a couple of chapters left, so it will be a finished fic soon.
Here it is:
(bill cipher x dipper pines. pirate au. pirate!bill. siren!dipper.)
- - - - - - - - - -
The gigantic ship swayed calmly over the ocean. The night was clear, the fresh salty scent of the sea lingered on the deck of the Golden Giant. The only sound besides the water below the ship, crashing small waves on the wooden walls of the ship, was the croaking sound of the captain's footsteps on the wood.
The crew had already released the plank, readying the ship for what they had been planning to do for months. And so, they stood, expectant and eager for what was to come, waiting for orders on deck.
The blond captain walked out of his cabin with a grin on his face. See, their crew had been waiting to catch this creature for months, but he had been waiting years. Oh, captain Bill Cipher knows about sirens. He knows how those beasts slaughter his kind. But he is not afraid of them, not a single ounce! The pirate also know how difficult it can be to catch one, he has heard countless stories and legends, none of them have succeeded. However, there has never been a legendary pirate that has tried to capture a siren.
Indeed. Bill Cipher is a legend. He has been living in the sea for as long as he can remember, and it has slowly become his life as a whole. Since he was a little boy, he was not only charming and ambitious but also highly curious. The supernatural and mystic myths spiked his interest from a very early age, so his drive for adventure and the unknown has never ceased.
Bill Cipher had always been so invested on mysteries, that he became a mystery himself.
The captain seeks creatures — all around the seven seas, and of any kind or species — studies them, and then sells them. The highest bidding of gold takes the price! Cipher doesn't need the creature anymore, what else could he do with them? Set them free? Now that would be insane. Setting them free means letting them go for free. If they won't pay, Cipher won't deliver. Besides, it's none of the blond's concern what the bidders do with the creatures after they buy them. Will they study them as he does? Will they slaughter them? Will they cook them, even if they're still alive, just to know what they taste like and brag about eating a mythic creature? Meh, Cipher doesn't care. He never has.
The blond went down the stairs and on to the deck to meet his crew. Such familiar faces that have grown into a family. See, Bill Cipher didn't always have his own ship and crew. Of course, he did acquire his ship — through a most epic fight he will never forget — when he was eleven years old, but still, not belonging to a family for his entire childhood until he was almost a teenager was not easy.
Belonging. Ha! Bill Cipher knows he doesn't belong. He actually takes pride in it! Because you know what? He figured that belonging to made you somebody else's possession, so he swore to himself he would be the only one who ever got to own himself and/or others.
Nonetheless, his current crew is better than what he could ask for. They are invested in the supernatural almost as much as he is, all of them have unique abilities that benefit him either on battle, on investigation, navigation, or plans, and most importantly, they are loyal. That's the quality Cipher values the most.
The captain was finally greeted by his crew. They were standing in line, looking at their pirate in anticipation, eager. All of them were loaded with their weapons of choice, let it be guns, knives, swords, or even knuckles.
The crew cheered at their captain, smiling widely at him. As the moonlight and oil lanterns were the only light that lit their faces, the shadows looked menacing and eerie.
The blonde returned the sly grin and humorously vowed to his crew's cheers. He was wearing a tail-coat made of leathery-fabric, a white button-down shirt that wasn't all that white anymore, black pants, and a slightly loose golden and weaponized belt around the hips. He was carrying his favorite gun and sword, plus other minor weapons that he hid not only around his belt but also around his whole body. And of course, he wore leather boots that reached almost up to his knees and his fancy black pirate hat, which had a single golden feather and some jewels adorning it.
"Tonight's the night, fellas," he spoke, his crew finally shutting up. "As we speak, fierce beasts are swimming below us, ready to devour another pack of men. Creatures that have forever lured uncountable men to their deaths by using their celestial voices and bodies."
His crew nodded. They knew all of this already, but something about hearing it right was those beasts live made it a whole lot more difficult to bear. Now they weren't only listening to a story, they were about to experience one. And maybe, they wouldn't even get to live to tell it.
"We will be the first known pirates to ever defeat them; conquer them!" The captain continued to speak. The crew's nerves turning into excitement, "Tonight, we catch a siren!"
Everyone cheered and punched their fists in the air. Noise returning to its natural state.
“Kitty,” Cipher continued, nodding to the toughest-looking man on the crew, “you will be in charge of the ship while I go on the rowboat.”
The man nodded in return, so the captain kept speaking, “Bigfoot, Cain, Red, Onyx, and Tiny, you will be staying here too.”
The biggest man in the crew, a man with a scar across his face, a red-haired young adult male, a woman with almost charcoal-black skin, and a small boy nodded in response.
“Guard my baby while I'm out," Cipher joked and winked. They all knew how much he loved his ship. “And that leaves Hellhound, Dawn, Dagger, and Cheat with me."
A muscular young man, a tough but very beautiful looking woman, another woman highly equipped with at least half a dozen daggers and swords, and a teenage boy agreed.
“Get settled, then.”
And with that, they all retreated to stuff their ears with cloth or wax to muffle de sound of the sirens' voices. They had been preparing for this, they knew exactly what to do. They also knew perfectly well to stand their ground, no matter how tempting a siren could look. And most importantly, they knew that their goal was to catch a siren, not kill one. If for some reason they started to get aggressive, which they figured would be bound to happen, they would result in violence.
A few minutes later, the rowboat with Cipher's chosen crew was lowered down to the ocean. They paddled slightly further away from the ship, and then stopped when they started to notice the shadows under them. They were currently surrounded by huge boulders, covered in algae and coral, where they also spotted movement. A wave of adrenaline washed over everyone's veins, making the captain smile even more widely.
Cipher's team had their ears shut by different types of material, except for the captain himself. He was wearing an enchanted necklace of black pearls, which made him completely immune to the sirens' singing.
Soon enough, a ginger-haired siren came out of the water, and the pirates were immediately amazed by her beauty. However, none of them moved, as they waited for their captain's orders.
The siren swam closer to the boat, her eyes fixed on Cheat, the youngest one on the boat. The ginger held a powerful gaze, making the boy shiver, which was either because of her captivating beauty or because he realized he had been chosen as her meal.
The captain shot Cheat a confident look, making the teenager feel just a tiny bit better.
When the siren was practically touching the ship, another one came up to them. This one had curly, black hair and was staring straight at Dagger. Then a few seconds later, another creature appeared, she had darker skin and powerful blue eyes, swimming closer to Hellhound. The captain felt slightly overwhelmed by the sudden arrivals, but he never lost his calm.
Suddenly they realized that the ginger siren had gotten so close to the boat, she could easily snatch Cheat and drown him. Then, she saw the spears and fishnets, freezing on the spot.
"They're hunters!" She yelled, making all of the other sirens gasp and submerge back underwater. Cipher thought they were going to attack, but apparently, this pack of sirens had had other experiences with pirates and did not wish to repeat them.
Sure enough, however, the ginger siren was not going to leave her favorite meal alive, so she launched, grabbing Cheat with her sharp nails, and pulling him underwater with her. Hellhound threw himself forward and grabbed onto Cheat's legs.
The siren's strength was immense, causing Hellhound to begin to sink. Dawn and Dagger grabbed his torso and began to pull him to the boat. At this point, Cheat was completely submerged. In the meantime, Cipher loaded a crossbow and aimed to the spot where the siren was holding Cheat.
"No!" Dawn exclaimed although she could barely hear her own words because of the wax in her ears, "You might shoot Cheat!"
"Don't worry, sweetie" Cipher said calmly, fully aware that Dawn knew him enough to be able to read his lips perfectly, then shot the arrow. The movement below the water stopped. Hellhound pulled Cheat back to the surface. The boy was unconscious. Dawn began trying to remove the water from the teen's lungs.
Cheat suddenly coughed a great amount of water and took in shaky breaths, shivering. Dawn just looked at the captain and slowly shook her head.
"I never miss," Cipher said, obvious pride in his voice, Dawn could see it by the look of his face. She turned away.
The blond nodded at the coughing boy, and the teen managed a smile. Then the captain took off his coat and handed it to him, as the boy obviously needed it more than him at the moment. Cheat muttered a thank you.
Cipher sat down with a sigh and looked around. He signaled his crew to hide the weapons and the fishnets, he should've known better. He might have blown their chance for the night, maybe their only chance! How could he have not foreseen that?
Time passed, and as he feared, no one else showed up. The pirates waited in silence. Cheat was almost completely dry now.
The captain fixed his eyes on the boulder closest to them, lost in thought, when he spotted another pair of eyes staring back. Immediately after those eyes noticed the pirate was looking at them, they hid behind the huge rock. Cipher stood up with a jolt, making the others around him jump in surprise. Then, nodded towards the rock and signaled his crew to remain silent.
"Hello?" Cipher said loudly, with the kindest voice he could manage, "We don't want to hurt you."
After waiting a few minutes for a sign of life, and not seeing the eyes again, he sat back down and sighed. He looked at the boat's wooden floor, sighing in defeat. Maybe he had imagined it.
Then, his crew gasped.
Cipher looked up and saw the siren far away, right beside the boulder. The light from their boat did not reach that far, so he could only see a dark figure the clear brown eyes looking back at him.
The captain stood up again, this time more slowly. He smiled gently at the creature, and spoke, just loud enough for the siren to hear, "We're just curious about your species, we don't mean any harm."
"I saw you shoot one of us," the siren said, still in the dark. His voice cracked but tried to remain steady. This only intrigued Cipher even more, because he had found himself a male siren.
The crew looked at each other with wide eyes, they didn't understand what the captain and the siren were saying, but they sure as hell knew they were having a conversation.
Cipher remained calm, answering to the siren, "She was trying to drown one of us."
"You're hunters," the siren said gravely, much more as a statement than a question.
"We're pirates," the blond responded, as if it were pretty obvious, "we have weapons to defend ourselves, it's in our nature. Just as much as it is in your nature to lure us to death. Fair game, don't you think?"
The siren thought in silence, analyzing the words. But Cipher was not about to wait anymore, so he offered, "If you don't harm us, we don't harm you. Deal?"
Something about the way the pirate spoke made the siren want to trust him. Even if he knew the stories of pirates, how reckless and dangerous they were"¦ curiosity had always won him over. And something in his gut made him think that this pirate was not lying.
The words lingered. Cipher was afraid the siren might be smarter than him and swim away for good. But he was proven wrong when the siren slowly came into view, swimming closer to the boat.
When the siren was just a few feet away from the rowboat, the lantern's light finally glowed on his skin. Instantly, the pirates were captivated by his beauty. They had never seen a merman, much less a male siren.
"You can come closer," the captain said, leaning closer to the water, "See? I have nothing on my hands," he said as he lifted his hands up innocently.
The siren moved closer, feeling just slightly safer and a whole lot more curious. He was intrigued by the sailors, he had never seen so many up close, and they were all staring back at him. The feeling was overwhelming.
Cipher smiled at the siren, then turned to Hellhound and winked, which roughly meant wait for my signal.
The siren's light blue tail was almost touching the rowboat's wood from below. He looked about Cheat's age.
The blond placed both of his hands behind his back. The siren and he just stared at each other in awe, each of them amazed by the other. Cipher noticed there were splashes of tiny blue scales on his shoulders, he had chocolate brown hair, and the most entrancing deep brown eyes the captain had ever seen. His gaze was purely innocent and curious.
"You're magnificent," the captain whispered to the siren, completely lost in the siren's eyes, almost forgetting what he was there for. Almost. Behind his back, he closed his hand into a fist. And so, the crew launched the fishnet at the siren and fastened it as fat and swiftly as possible, apprehending the siren.
The brunet screamed an unholy scream, Cipher was suddenly jealous of his crewmates with wax on their ears. The siren tried to escape the nets, almost knocking the boat over, but the crew acted faster. They lifted him, and with a loud thump, the siren was on the boat.
The captain had a large grin on his face and got closer to the siren. The siren had never felt so much fright in his entire life. He felt as if his heart had run up to his throat and was about to be regurgitated. He was about to scream louder, and try to knock the boat over once again, but with one swift move, one of the men that was holding him down injected a syringe into his skin. The last thing he saw was the grin on the blond pirate that had just betrayed him, until all faded to black.
#billdip#fanfic#fanfic billdip#fanfiction#bill cipher#dipper pines#dipper x bill#bill x dipper#pirate au#golden giant#siren dipper pines#pirate bill cipher#fantasy
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
We’ll All Float On
An It: Chapter 2 epilogue
Warning: Language; mentions of trauma and therapy; coming out of the closet; angst; fluff. You know what? Everything. It’s got everything.
A/N: I wrote this ages ago immediately after seeing the movie, but I’m just getting around to typing it up and posting it. The remaining members of the Losers Club deserve all the happinesses life can dish out. And in this house we ship Reddie!
Derry, Maine, 2017
Maybe coming back there wasn’t the best idea. After all, the last time they’d all gathered at that particular restaurant it had been a disaster, a God damned nightmare, and Mike had sworn to himself that he’d never eat Chinese food again. But as he gazed into the bubbling waters of the aquarium (this time tranquil and free of severed heads), his worries began to subside. And when the second of the Losers finally arrived his fears vanished completely.
“Jesus, isn’t there anywhere else to eat in this town?” Mike turned to see Bill Denbrough sling his jacket over the back of a chair and offering him a wide grin.
“Man, you grew up here, too, Bill. You should know that the answer to that question is a resounding ‘no’.”
The two men embraced with a hearty laugh, things already felt so much different than before.
***
Beverly gazed up at the glowing neon of the Jade of the Orient as Ben wrapped an arm tenderly around her waist.
“How does it feel to be back, Mr. Hanscom?” Bev asked, leaning into him.
“A lot better now that I’m not saddled with this overwhelming sense of dread weighing on my chest.”
Beverly circled both of her arms around Ben’s muscular torso which 28 years ago had not been so muscular. “Well, now the only thing resting on your chest is me.”
She hoisted herself up on her toes to lock her lips with his and Ben smiled into the kiss. “Easy now, Mrs. Hanscom,” he murmured. “Time and place. Time and place.”
“Get a room you two, before I lose my appetite.”
The lovebirds extricated themselves from each other’s arms to gape at the bespectacled man who’d approached them.
“Seriously, how the fuck is it that the two of you look even better than you did last year? And what the fuck am I doing wrong?”
“Beep beep, Richie!!!” Ben and Beverly cheered in unison as the pulled good ol’ Trashmouth Tozier into a bear hug.
“All right you two, lay off,” Richie laughed as he shrugged his way out of their embrace. “Don’t touch me, you don’t know where I’ve been.”
The three linked arms and strode to the front door of the restaurant like Dorothy, Scarecrow and the Tin Man sauntering down the yellow brick road.
“Alrighty, fellas,” Bev said, never afraid to take the lead. “Let’s do this thing.”
***
“Hello and welcome! How many in your…oh.”
The hostess trailed off as she took in the trip before her. Oh, she remembered these three, and the rest of their strange little gang as well. The last time the six of them had dined there they’d nearly destroyed their finest dining room. She didn’t need to open up a fortune cookie to know she’d be cleaning up more shattered dishes and splintered furniture that night.
“Right this way,” she said, clearing her throat. “The rest of your party is expecting you.”
Volleying quips and sharing in quiet giggles, Bev, Ben, and Richie followed the hostess as she procured their utensils and menus and led them to their seats.
“Where is your sick friend? The small man who is allergic to everything? I don’t believe he’s arrived yet.”
The trio immediately fell silent. She’d been referring, of course, to Eddie Kaspbrak. Bev would had to have been blind not to notice Richie’s face fall and his body sag with an unspoken sadness at the mere mention of their late friend. Reaching behind her without looking, she grasped Richie’s hand tightly in her own and her stiff shoulders relaxed when she felt him squeeze back in thanks.
“He’s, um,” Ben paused as a he searched for the right words. “He’s one of the reasons we’re here tonight.”
***
Mike and Bill were already engaged in an animated discussion about something or other and hadn’t even noticed the others approach. Ben gazed wistfully at the joyful pair, admiring their exuberance and allowing it to overtake him as well before removing the padded mallet from its place and offering it to Richie. “Care to do the honors?”
Bill and Mike’s conversation was abruptly silenced by the thunderous echo of a gong and Richie’s announcement.
“This meeting of the Losers Club has officially begun.”
And just like that all of the pieces fell into place. The little family was whole, as it would ever be, once more.
***
“Shit, Mike, you actually went to Florida?” Richie guffawed before taking a pull from his beer.
“Mm-hm,” he responded through a mouthful of lo mein.
“Fuck, why?”
“It’s like I told you when we were kids. It’s just a place I’d always wanted to see. Now I’ve seen it.
“And?”
The other five eyed Mike in anticipation of an exciting story, but he merely shrugged. “It’s about as magical as you’d expect.”
“Yeah, I told you you’d hate it,” Richie snickered.
“It wasn’t all bad. I did meet a nice gal in Jacksonville.” This was met with a chorus of juvenile “oohs” and a salacious whistle from Bill.
“What was she, like, 70?”
“Don’t be such a smart ass, Rich,” Mike chided, waiting until Richie once again had his lips poised at the edge of his glass of booze before finishing his sentence. “She was 80.”
The gang hooted as Trashmouth Tozier choked on his beverage. Bill clapped his coughing friend firmly on his back before lifting his own glass.
“If Richie here can keep it down, I’d like to propose a toast.” The others followed suit and hoisted their drinks in the air. “To those we lost. To Stan and Eddie.”
They smiled they’d all been wearing throughout the evening finally began to falter as silence engulfed the room. After a moment of quiet hesitation, Bev tapped her glass against Bill’s.
“To Stan,” she said with a grin that took all of her strength to muster.
“To Stan,” they all repeated before clinking glasses and taking a swig.
“To Eddie,” Ben cheered, and the others parroted with a little more pep. All but one.
“Rich? You okay, man?” Bill turned to his left to see the usually boisterous comedian staring stoically into his half poised glass, his brow furrowed in concentration as if he was searching the bottom of his beer for something he’d never be able to find.
“To Eddie,” he whispered at last, clinking his glass against all the others.
***
Though Florida had been a bit of a dud, Mike did find happiness traversing other states, even other countries. Thanks to a little help from Bev’s keen eye, Ben had just designed, and would be supervising construction for, a swanky new chain of hotels. Richie’s third Netflix special would be available to stream by the end of the week. Bill’s latest book had just been nominated for an award and talks had already begun regarding a big screen adaptation. And all that good news coincided with the birth of his first child, a son named Georgie.
It certainly seemed that none of them could be considered losers anymore.
***
Another blanket of uncomfortable silence settled upon them as the waitress plopped the plate of fortune cookies in the center of the table.
“Enjoy,” she chirped before adding in a whisper, “and my boss has insisted that I ask you lot to please refrain from destroying any furniture this time.” To that end she left them to partake in their potentially hazardous desert, and the group eyed the plate of novelty snacks with trepidation.
“Okay, who wants to be the first to crack one of these suckers open?” Richie asked. “By the way, not it.”
After another moment or two of hesitation, Mike finally reached for the plate. “I got you all into this mess last time, so I might as well start making up for it. Since Eddie can’t be with us, I’ll be this evening’s designated risk analyst.”
He cracked a cookie in two and, popping one half inside his mouth and discarding the other on the table, withdrew the small slip of paper.
No blood, no milky eyeballs, no critters from another hellscape of a world. The only thing inside these cookies were fortunes. Mike read his without a sound, and he could feel the others watching him intently.
“If that fucking thing says ‘guess’ or ‘Stanley’ or ‘could’ or ‘not’ or ‘cut’ or ‘it’, I swear to God I’m fucking gone.” Richie laughed but failed to hide his growing unease.
Mike grinned as he read the fortune again, this time out loud. “‘The world is big, but time is short.’”
“Well that’s much less terrifying,” Bill sighed. “I’ll take that as a cue to dig in.”
Bill devoured the cookie and then vocalized his fortune. “‘The ending is the most integral part of the journey’.”
“Would you look at that,” Richie guffawed, clapping Bill on the shoulder. “Even a shitty cookie has offer it’s two cents about your lousy endings.”
“Fuck you, Trashmouth. My last two novels have ended quite nicely, thank you very much. Just ask my Booker Prize nomination.”
“I’d rather ask the award itself when you win it.”
Bill rolled the slip of paper into a minuscule ball and flicked it aside. “If I win it.”
Richie shook his head. “When.”
Bill patted Richie’s hand as a sign of thanks. “You know, I’ve actually been thinking about taking a step back from all the doom and gloom thriller stuff to take a swing at writing children’s books.”
“You’re kidding!” Bev exclaimed with a bark of laughter.
“I’m serious. I kind of thought it would be a good way for Georgie and I to bond. I write a story, then we read it together. You know?”
Ben leaned back in his chair and snapped his cookie in half. “Bill that’s…wow. That’s quite a change. Good for you, man.”
“What does yours say, honey? Bev asked, eyeing the slip of paper between her husband’s fingers.
“Yeah, honey. What’s it say?” Richie leaned toward the two of them, batting his eyelashes dramatically and resting his chin in his hands as the pair flipped him off at the same time.
“It says ‘he who builds the dreams of others should not neglect his own’.”
“Well, that’s oddly specific,” Richie said matter-of-factly. “You know, because you’re an architect? You build things….yeah, I’ll shut up now.”
“First time for everything,” Ben grinned.
“I want to read mine next,” Bev chimed in, holding the small piece of paper primly between her fingers. “It says ‘the smallest changes make the biggest difference’.”
Mike rubbed his chin in thought, nodding his approval at the depth of Bev’s fortune. “Anyone want to wager a guess as to what it means?”
Richie snapped his fingers as his eyes lit up. “Well, by jove, I think I’ve got it, gents,” he exclaimed in an overblown, piss poor excuse for a British accent they hadn’t heard him use since they were kids. “I do believe it means that if our dear friend William here could slightly alter his crummy endings, some of his books might actually make for a halfway decent read.”
Bill glared at his wisecracking friend. “Tozier, if you make fun of my writing one more time, I swear to God-“
“Don’t blame me, man. It’s the cookies that have it out for you!”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with Bill’s books, Rich,” Ben smiled just as Bill smacked Richie in the back of his head.
“I think it means that something small can have a huge impact on your life,” Bev clarified. She scanned the faces of her companions to see if any were catching her drift.
“What, like, a new haircut?”
“Or a baby, Richie.” Ben’s eyes twinkled when he grinned.
“Right. Or like-wait, what?”
“Bev that’s….are you really….?” Mike stammered happily.
“Three weeks along,” she confirmed proudly. “You guys didn’t think it was a little weird that I’ve been drinking water this entire evening?”
Bill leapt from his chair and threw his arms around the expectant couple. “Ben! Bev! This is amazing news! Congratulations!”
“Yeah, congrats you two crazy kids,” Richie added before Mike inquired if they’d been considering names yet.
Bev leaned into her husband affectionately. “Well, of it’s a girl, Ben has graciously agreed to name her after my mother, Elfrida. We’d call her Frida for short.”
“Beautiful choice, Bev,” Mike praised, taising his glass and taking a celebratory sip. “And if it’s a boy?”
The Hanscom’s looked silently, almost nervously at each other before answering, some sort of unspoken agreement passing between the two of them as the rest of the Losers looked on.
“If it’s a boy,” Ben finally said, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d even been holding, “we’d like to name him Eddie. Edward Stanley Hanscom.”
Richie instantly felt a lump form in his throat, and he had to cast his eyes downward to ensure that no one could see the pain that burned behind them. He chewed his lip quietly as he struggled to reel his unraveling emotions back in. When he looked back up his eyes immediately found Beverly’s. She searched his face silently. Hopefully.
“He would have loved that,” Richie finally croaked. “They both would have.”
Mike and Bill were too choked up to speak, so they just adamantly nodded their agreement.
“Alright, I think I’ve had about as much sentimentality as I can take for one evening.” Ben turned to Richie and tossed him a fortune cookie. “Come on, funny man, make me laugh. What does yours say?”
Richie made a big manly show of crushing the cookie in his hand before extricating the fortune from the rubble of the snack, and as he read it to himself his face blanched.
“Oh, this should be good,” Mike snickered, noticing Richie’s sudden discomfort. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Rich.”
He felt a wave of nausea overtake him as he read and re-read the small segment of paper. The clown was dead, he knew that, but this fortune felt like another of his cruel tricks. Richie felt as if he were being mocked all over again.
Love doesn’t come only once.
“Rich?” Beverly asked softly, her gentle voice cutting through the harsh buzz of white noise in his ears. Nuh-uh. No way in hell was he reading this shit out loud. He didn’t have the stomach to explain it to them. Not yet. Not like this.
“I, uh, I guess my new special’s gonna bomb,” he coughed. “It says ‘a career change can set you on your true path’.”
The others eyed him skeptically and he feared they’d seen through his fib when Ben at last said, “it’s probably for the best, Rich. You’re not that funny anyway.”
Richie mouthed a silent “fuck you” and the tension dissolved into laughter.
***
The first to arrive, the leave. Mike stood and slipped his jacket from the back of the chair, shrugging into it as he said, “I don’t know about you folks, but jet lag and alcohol do not seem to be mixing well for me. Any of you care to continue the conversation back at the townhouse?”
“You read my mind,” Bill said, polishing off the dregs of his third beer before following Mike’s lead.
“Me, Ben, and the Lima bean here,” Bev said with a Pat of her stomach, “would be more than happy to take you up on that offer.”
“I’ll handle the check,” Bill said, already removing his wallet from his back pocket.
“Slow your roll there, Stephen King,” Ben said, reaching for his own wallet. “I’ve got this one. Really.”
“Let’s at least split it. I don’t feel right about you taking the whole thing.”
“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Bev interjected. “I’ll pay it myself if it keeps this from turning into an all night debate.”
Bill turned to Richie, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Well, maybe mr. big shot comedian here would like to contribute.”
Richie still made not a move to stand. He simply sat and stared at the collection of dirty dishes littering the table, gazing so intently that he could potentially shatter one of the plates with a single thought.
“Yo, earth to Trashmouth. You okay, man?”
Richie licked his lips nervously; his mouth had gone inexplicably dry and he struggled to dislodge his voice from his throat.
“I’m not ready to, uh….guys we can’t leave yet.”
The tone had shifted once again and a far sense of dread took hold of each of the Losers. Bill tried to laugh through the unease. “You planning on spending the night here, Richie?”
“You guys, I came here tonight to say something and, God dammit, I’m gonna say it! I just need…just give me a sec.”
Richie Tozier spent so much of his time joking around that the rest of the gang often forget that he was even capable of being serious. He felt sadness and fear just like the rest of them, and it was clear at that moment that he was scared to death.
He was gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles paled. Beverly slid into the chair next to him and took one of his hands in her own. He was shaking terribly.
“Richie, what’s wrong?”
For what was probably the first time in his life, Richie couldn’t bring himself to start talking. Tell them, Tozier, he commanded himself. Just tell them. They’re your friends, man. They deserve the truth. You owe it to them, and to yourself. To Stan. To…Eddie.
“Sweetie, you’re scaring us,” Bev whispered. “Talk to us, Richie.”
“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” he finally blurted, the words tumbling out with the gust of a breath.
The others glanced from one another, unsure of how to respond, until Mike placed a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Rich. Shit, after everything we went through last year…” He trailed off as Richie shook his head fiercely, eyes screwed shut.
“I’m…um, I’m….gay.”
And just like that it was out. His “dirty little secret”. His painful truth laid bared before him for his friends, for the world to see.
“I’ve been having a really hard time accepting myself and….and processing all of these feelings. Especially after….after Eddie….” The rest of the words died on his tongue. He couldn’t bare to finish the sentence. It had been a year since he’d lost the only man he’d ever loved, but with each passing day the wound reopened. The pain was always fresh.
“Oh, Rich,” Bev cooed. She stroked his hair and pulled him close, already a loving mother in the making. “We know, honey.”
“You….what?”
“Richie, we know,” Bill confirmed. “We’ve always known, man.”
Richie could hardly believe his ears. Was it even possible for someone to be in so much pain but still find it possible to smile?
“Why the fuck didn’t any of you ever say anything?”
Ben slipped an arm around Bev’s shoulders and placed one of his strong but gentle hands over Richie’s. “Because we didn’t care, Rich. Who you loved didn’t matter to us. Because we loved you.”
“We still do. We’re your friends, Trashmouth,” Mike added. “We figured that, someday, you’d tell us when you were good and ready.”
Richie snatched his glasses from his face to rub his eyes as his vision went blurry. “I would have told you all a lot sooner, I think. But then we all left and….and we forgot. I forgot.”
Beverly laid her head against Richie’s shoulder. His trembling had only grown worse.
“Do you think….do you think that Eddie knew?”
“Eddie’s death hit us all pretty hard, Richie, but we could see how deeply it hurt you. Much more than any of us. We understand why now,” Bev soothed. “We all know how much you loved him, and we’re just so sorry that you’ve had to deal with all these feelings by yourself.”
He didn’t want to cry in front of them. Not again. But Richie had never been a good fighter, so the tears eventually won. Just like that day in the quarry one year ago, his friends held him as his body convulsed with harsh wracking sobs.
***
After his good healthy cry, Richie excused himself and snuck off the pay the check before either Bill or Ben had the chance to protest.
“So, I think Richie is definitely going to need another drink. How about I go grab a couple six packs and then meet you all back at the townhouse?” Bill offered.
The gang nodded their agreement as they all began filing out of the dining room and toward the front door. Suddenly, Richie came barreling past them back to the table.
“OhShitOhShitOhShitOhShit,” he chorused as he frantically snatched up as many napkins as he could that hadn’t already been soiled.
“What happened?” Ben inquired, quirking one perfect brow.
“I bumped into a guy at the register.”
“A guy?” asked Bev. “Someone you know?”
“Nope,” Richie responded, clutching two fistfuls of napkins. “And I literally bumped into him. Now he’s wearing his takeout as a suit.”
Richie rushed past them all again in a mad rush to clean up the mess he’d made.
Mike rolled his eyes. “Looks like Trashmouth has got quite a way with the fellas, doesn’t he?”
***
Cozy in the townhouse, they laughed some more, drank some more, and reminisced some more. They listened intently as Bill read aloud some of the rough passages he’d scribbled out for Georgie’s book. They helped Mike chart a course for his next adventure: a traditional backpacking trip across Europe. Richie offered to tag along if they could make a pit stop in Amsterdam for some weed.
As for Richie, the happily married Losers offered him some helpful advice for his next encounter with Don, whose number he’d been rewarded with after mopping up his spilled sweet and sour chicken. The very Don he’d promised himself to call when he returned home and felt good and ready to make a move. And Richie was starting to feel that “ready” may actually come sooner rather than later.
And as the week long visit neared it’s end, as their time together came to a close, the five collectively came to the realization that they were far from the losers that Derry had shaped them to be. But then again they never did feel like losers when they were all together.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dream Submission: The time I dreamed I was the Ink Demon’s loyal servant and boy toy
Here’s the story inspired by a Real Good Dream I had about Ink Bendy .. he doesn’t do a lot with his ink in it, but I can work with that 👀 it’s fairly canon-divergent because confident, kinda thicc (at least relative to the canon) Ink Bendy is a Good Concept and I was blessed (?? does that work for a devil) with it in the dream. I had this dream/wrote the first draft of this around when chapter 3 was released, because I’ve been thirsty for a long time. It starts kinda slow, but it was between 3-4 pages in google docs so hopefully it balances out. I hope this is both sufficiently sexy and fun to read!
—
When I decided to check out the old abandoned animation studio, I never expected it to turn out the way it did. Angels, Demons, and ink everywhere I turned. I knew I should leave, but a force in the studio brought me in. Brought me deeper.
I came to a crossroads. Two doorways opened in front of me, leading to two separate halls that ultimately funneled me to the same room. A sign divided the path further. The arrow pointing right beckoned “ANGEL,” and the arrow pointing left warned “DEVIL.” I took my steps, and let the left sign pull me in.
I waded through a hall flooded with ink, and when I made it to the main room, it went dark. It wasn’t regular darkness; shadows danced across the walls, coating them like a film. I heard breathing coming closer, and a steady heartbeat. It calmed me, yet it also filled me with an excitement I couldn’t initially recognize. I turned to meet the source.
In the doorway stood a tall, almost regal figure of ink. He had two cloven hooves at the end of each of his strong legs. A gloved hand rested at his side, and he used a free, clawed hand to straighten the crooked bow tie on his chest. His horns were tall and uneven, and ink dripped down most of his face. I saw his wide smile tilt into a smirk.
“Hiyaa,” he called, waving with his bare hand. He tried to sound chipper, the way he did in his cartoons, but his tone was lower, and an echo distorted his voice further. He continued, “I haven’t seen you here before.”
I stared at him as he stepped closer to me. His heartbeat wrapped itself around me, holding me down. It was a welcomed feeling. I blinked slowly, and my eyes fell as I watched him walk. Staring at his hips, I realized the feeling I felt was not fear.
“You know that I’m the devil.” He purred, lifting my chin up with a pointy fingertip. I looked into the ink of his face embarrassed, knowing he noticed my staring. “I’d like to know you.”
I told him my name.
“Fitting for a fella as handsome as you.” He grinned, leaning down and moving his face closer to mine. I stood still, feeling my body temperature rise. “There’s no need to be nervous,” he cooed.
“I have some things I need done.” He whispered like a command into my ear. “Would you come help me out?”
I nodded, ready to drop to my knees.
“Great! Thank you!” He beamed, taking my hand in his. He was careful to not nick me with his nails. He held his gloved hand to the wall, and a portal appeared before us. He walked me through.
The room we arrived in was small, and held only his throne. It was a shifting, angular monument of ink. He let go of my hand and threw himself upon it, kicking his legs up and reclining on its shoulders.
“A few odd jobs need to be done around the studio before we can discuss anything else,” he grinned, leaning on his elbow.
I listened, and did as he needed.
First, he wanted me to take some gears out of some compartments. He also gave me a few items to hide.
Then, he wanted me to reset the levels of these inky meters. He also wanted me to bring him back a battery he called a “power core.” He wanted it still warm. The phallic shape of it made my face grow warm once more when I thought about him.
For his final task, he gave me thumbtacks to lay out in front of his cardboard cutouts. So “that damn angel will get what’s coming to her when she tries to break them again.”
Whenever I finished a job for him, he came to me and brought me back to his throne room. The first time, he held me by the shoulder. The second, his hand wrapped around my waist. The third, it rested on my hip.
“That was about everything I needed done in the studio,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He shook his head slightly, then pointed to the wall. Where he pointed, another inky portal appeared. “If you want to leave, that’ll lead you back to the outside world.”
“...Or,” he continued, sitting up straight in his throne. I saw his legs open slightly. “You can stay, if you want to pleasure me.”
I cast a quick, dismissive glance at the portal, then walked to his throne. I fell to my knees at his hooves and kissed his legs up to his thighs. He chuckled his approval, and ran his clawed fingers gently through my hair.
I put my hands on his knees, and looked up at him for further approval. He smiled and nodded, edging closer to me. I opened his legs, and saw that the ink between them looked melted from the anticipation.
Rubbing his thighs gently, I put my tongue to his ink. He tasted savory. He squirmed against my tongue, and breathed out a quiet moan. I licked gently at first, teasing him. His breathing got heavier, and I heard him whine whenever I pushed against him.
I pushed my tongue into him and dragged it vertically, and he let out a deep moan. He leaned back, opening his legs so that each ankle rested on the shoulders of his throne. I moved my hands under him and squeezed him gently from behind, continuing to lick his front up and down. He held his hand against the back of my head, and I felt his hips gently swaying and thrusting.
“Geez,” he called out in between his pants, trying to catch his breath. I began to move my tongue back, then pushed it into him again. He yelped, throwing his head back. I did it again and again. As he gasped out in “ahhhs,” I felt a burst of ink against my mouth.
“Please don’t stop, keep going, please,” he begged, letting go of my head. I took a minute and swallowed his ink. It felt thicker, and tasted stronger, than the rest of his body. I rubbed my tongue against him again, ready to make him cum as many times as he wanted.
We went 3 more times. When we were done, he fell back in his throne, purring. I looked up at him, ink dripping from my mouth and breathing heavy. He held his hand out to me, and pulled me up into his throne with him when I took it. He held me close, and I wrapped my arms around him tight.
“That was amazing.” He sighed, leaving a kiss on my head. He had yet to catch his breath fully.
“I’m glad you liked it.” I smiled. “I love you.” I rested my head against his shoulder. Usually I would’ve told someone before.
“I love you too.” He whispered into my ear as my eyes closed.
——————————————————————————————————————————
hOO BOY that was some good stuff. Thank you for submitting this!
- Mod Naga
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Red Dead Rising | Chapter 1
Fanfic summary: 12 YEARS BEFORE RDR2 - Greed, money, and larceny. These are the only things Arthur has ever known; the only things he’s ever been taught. But when Dutch decides to hit a town called Harlow, what started out as nothing more than a plan to rob the local bank ends up igniting the events that lead to RDR2, and a 24 year-old Arthur is forced to confront his morality while the gang faces a terrifying enemy of their own making.
Point of view: third-person
This story is also on AO3 and Wattpad
Next chapter
Author’s note: Well! It’s been a couple months since I last sat down and wrote anything, but it feels good to be writing fanfic again. Please let me know what you think of this first chapter, and I hope you enjoy :) I missed doing this.
SOMEWHERE IN OREGON
APRIL, 1887
“GET BACK HERE, SHAW!” Farley roared over the thunder as he chased the deputy through the pouring rain. “We ain’t done until one of us drops dead!”
The other man frantically hurdled his way over a series of boulders and continued to climb the small mountain, his feet clumsily slipping on the wet rock as he desperately tried to escape his pursuer.
“I-It’s already done, Farley!” The deputy yelled back. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do that’ll change what’s happened!”
“Maybe not!” Ronan conceded. “But that don’t matter. Not anymore. All that matters now is killing you. So get back here and finish what you started, you goddamn snake!”
Storming his way up the steep hill, the ex-sheriff hoisted himself onto a ledge and let out a strained grunt, his fingers practically digging into the solid stone as cold rain streamed down his bloodied face.
Ronan was already drained of all energy just from hunting this man down, and the more he scaled this godforsaken mountain, the more he found himself wanting to give up and simply collapse.
But regardless of how exhausted he grew, or how much his body threatened to break underneath him, Farley absolutely refused to drop. He had already been through so much, and lost everything he ever cared for. His closest friend was dead, his wife was nowhere to be found, and now, the only life he ever knew was crumbling around him all because of one man.
It may have been futile, but nothing was going to stop Ronan from doing what he intended.
Nothing was going to stop him from killing Benjamin Shaw.
Whipping out his pistol, Farley quickly shot the deputy’s abdomen just as he began hugging a corner, causing the man to leave a trail of blood in his wake as he continued to flee.
“…Dammit!” Ronan muttered once he realized he missed. But he wasn’t giving up just yet.
Forcing himself up the ledge, the sheriff carried on with his pursuit and chased after Shaw as he limped towards the mountain’s peak, groaning in agony with every step he took.
By now, the monstrous clouds above them had parted slightly so that they were blanketing the entire region, allowing nothing more than a sliver of sunlight to bleed through as the rest of the land was shrouded in a miserable darkness.
From up here, it was impossible to see any sign of civilization hiding in the vast wilderness beneath them. For just a moment, Ronan felt as if he and Benjamin were the last remaining men on Earth.
There was nothing out here except the two of them. Nothing except two, insignificant killers fighting to the death… all for something that had already been destroyed beyond repair.
It was meaningless, and the world would carry on without them even when they were dead, but killing Benjamin was one of the only two things Ronan gave a damn about anymore -- and by God was he going to do it.
Finally reaching the top of the mountain, Ronan found Deputy Shaw sitting against a lone tree just by the cliff’s edge as he clutched his waist, groaning and cursing to himself while blood continued to stain the grass below.
It seemed unlikely that Benjamin would survive his injuries, but when the conniving man finally noticed Farley’s presence, he did nothing except let out a weak chuckle, his voice slowly faltering in pain.
Shaw smiled at the former sheriff from a distance and laughed, revealing the red-stained teeth he had uttered so many lies through.
“…A-Alright, Farley…” Benjamin panted out, casually raising his hands in defeat. “…You… you got me. Well done, I guess.”
Slowly prowling towards the injured deputy, Ronan kept his gun aimed directly at Shaw’s head and glowered at him with a wounded gaze, trying to conceal the broken man hiding inside.
“Shaw.” The sheriff replied in what was almost a whisper.
He had about a thousand thoughts rushing through his head right now, but none of them reached his mouth. He knew neither what he wanted to say, nor what was worth saying.
And so, Benjamin spoke in his place.
“I-I suppose… you want an explanation…?” The deputy asked. “Is that it?”
Ronan clenched his jaw at the response. “You could say that.”
The sheriff continued, barely speaking in an audible tone. “I treated you fair, Ben. Always did. So why’d you do it? What do you gain from all of this?”
Shaw hung his head low, not even bothering trying to talk his way out of this one.
“Awww… it weren’t nothing personal, Farley. Just business. We have our jobs, after all, and I was just doin’ mine. Trust me. It’s what’s best for my people.”
Ronan picked up on the last statement.
“Your people…?” The sheriff questioned. “And what about Andrew? That poor boy had barely grown into a man before you murdered him. You think this is what’s best for him?”
Benjamin appeared unfazed by that. “Better him than my folks.”
Angered at the reply, Ronan suddenly lurched forward and forcefully grabbed Shaw’s collar, hauling the man’s face closer to his.
“You sick son-of-a-bitch…” Farley nearly growled. “I’d kill you right now if it wasn’t for my wife.” He violently shook Benjamin in his grip. “Where is she, you bastard? What have you done with Annabelle?!”
Shaw choked on the blood gathering in his mouth and let out a series of coughs, eventually spitting the red liquid on the ground.
“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout her…” he mumbled out. “She’s in safe hands.”
Ronan yanked him closer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Benjamin looked the sheriff in the eye, repeating his answer. “I said, don’t worry about her, Farley. She’s with my people now. She’s safe.”
Farley remained unconvinced. “And I’m supposed to just believe you?”
The deputy smirked, but in an oddly sincere fashion. “I done told… a lotta lies recently, but that… I promise you. My friends… they’ll take good care of her. It’s what they do. What they’ve always done.”
The sheriff sighed in frustration. “But where is she? Who are ‘your people?”
Benjamin shook his head and gave Ronan an apologetic gaze, keeping his lips tight.
“Oh… now, you know I can’t tell you that, old friend. S’much as I’d like to. It’s… it’s confidential. I’m sure you understand.”
Farley persisted. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
Shaw only grinned at that and patted the sheriff’s fist in a friendly manner as he slipped away, hacking up even more blood.
“…Well, you will. Someday. You’re a smart fella, after all. I mean… you found me, didn’t you?”
Ronan’s tone softened and he gazed at the ground, his expression plastered with regret.
“…So I did. After it was too late.”
Benjamin nodded in understanding, his brow furrowing due to the pain. “Yeah…that’s usually how it goes.”
Realizing that there was nothing he could say or do that would convince Shaw to help him, Ronan finally released the man from his grip and steadily rose from the ground, his coat wildly flapping in the adamant breeze as he reluctantly prepared his pistol.
As much as he hated to admit it, it did pain the sheriff to kill Benjamin. Despite everything he had done in these past couple of weeks, Ronan still hadn’t forgotten the deputy he once called friend, and it certainly didn’t help to lose another familiar face right after saying goodbye to young Andrew.
Farley may’ve despised Shaw with all his heart and hated him for his crimes, but he also didn’t want to destroy the one remaining piece of his past left. There was a warped sense of camaraderie between them, and in a twisted way, it almost made Ronan want to spare him.
…But he knew he couldn’t.
Reloading the gun with one last bullet, Ronan pulled the hammer down and stared helplessly at his old partner, wondering how in the hell he got here.
It wasn’t too long ago that Farley was a respected sheriff in his town, but now… he was no more than an outcast. Just another lost man who had given in to vengeance and betrothed himself to a lifetime of pointless redemption, only to discover that no one gave a damn anyways.
Ronan Farley was already dead, as far as civilization was concerned. He was nothing but a tarnished face whose only legacy would be hushed whispers and cautionary tales.
He had become the very man he once hanged for a living, and the world had forsaken him because of it.
He was alone.
Taking a deep breath, Ronan inched his finger over the trigger and aimed the pistol directly at Benjamin’s head, trying to hide how much his hand was truly trembling.
The only thing that Farley could hear aside from his own heartbeat was the low cracking of the distant thunder and the wretched howling of the wind, both of which filled his head like a wailing phantom.
He was finally ready to carry out what he had come here for, and to live with whatever consequences arrived. He was ready to put all remorse aside.
“Goodbye, Ben,” Ronan said flatly as the day came to an end. “I wish I could say I was sorry.”
Shaw smiled loosely at that and closed his eyes, resting his head against the tree.
“…You really shouldn’t be.” The deputy let out one final, jagged breath. “I just wish it didn’t have to end like this.”
Ronan shook his head and gazed vehemently at the man, softening his tone as the sky began to lighten around them.
“Don’t we all.”
~~~~~~~~~~
EARLIER THAT YEAR
FEBRUARY
HARLAN LAKE, DAWN
Filling the silence of the dying night, a few birds started to sing joyously into the emptiness just as the sun began peeking above the jagged horizon, its vibrant light painting the nearby mountains with a striking salmon color that stood out prominently from the deep, purple atmosphere.
It was rather peaceful at this time of day. Aside from the birds, there wasn’t much activity among the local wildlife at the moment, and the humans inhabiting the area had yet to rouse from their slumber either.
All of their tents were still shut, and the only noises coming from their camp were the distant sounds of content snoring accompanied by the soft crackling of a flickering campfire.
Meanwhile, their horses slept unperturbed under the numerous trees surrounding the vast lake as their leaves rustled in the crisp morning breeze, softly swaying in a way that almost made it look like the forest was breathing.
As for the unseen fish in the lake, a few of them had just started periodically poking their heads above the rippling surface, eager to feed on the insects buzzing around in the air.
But for the moment, everything was calm. Not single thing disturbed the overall peace in the region, and the only person to be ambling about was a distinctive man who was currently making himself comfortable on a stump.
He paid no mind to the nature slowly waking up around him nor to his fellow gang members who still lingered in their dreams, and instead, focused entirely on the peculiar item in his hand.
It was a letter.
And not only that, but a letter from someone he didn’t expect to hear from again. The two of them parted ways a while ago, after all, and he didn’t anticipate the other to contact him so soon.
They seemed quite determined in their plan to meander down a different path in life the last time he saw them, so it was both a pleasant and worrying surprise to see that they were trying to reach out.
Whether it was to ask for help or to officially say goodbye, he didn’t know. He just hoped that everything was alright. There was little to no safety in their line of work, and if anything had happened to his dear friend, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
The man supposed there was no point in delaying the inevitable and hastily unfolded the piece of paper, curious to see the message waiting on the inside:
“Hello, old friend,” the letter began. “It’s Hosea. I know it’s been nearly an entire year since I last contacted you -- and I regret that -- but I’m afraid I’ve hit a wall, Dutch.”
“My life with Bessie -- it’s been going well. We’ve settled down for a bit and tried to squeeze ourselves back into civilization... but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the times I spent with you. And with Arthur.”
“I love Bessie with all my heart, of course. There’s no denying that. In fact, she’s the reason I decided to put the gang behind. I wanted to start a new life with her -- a life away from crime. But after all this time of being separated from you degenerates, I’ve learned that there’s no use in hiding the man I truly am.”
“I was never meant to be a man of civilization. You know that. Being bound by the law feels like wearing a leash around my neck, and frankly, this old boy’s grown tired of it. Needless to say, Bessie ain’t too happy about my choices, but I’ve got something good for you, Dutch. Something you might be interested in. And I’m willing to bet it could help the gang too.”
“Come meet me in New Aubertin at the end of this week. It’s a city to the northwest, accessible by any train station. I’ll send a contact in my stead to greet you just in case the law gets wind of our ideas. Look for a man by the name of Thomas Moreau. I’ve instructed him to wait for you by the pond. He’ll lead you to me. Oh, and one more thing: bring Arthur with you. The boy doesn’t need to be there necessarily, but I miss him dearly. It would be good to see you both again.”
The man flipped the letter to the other side, reading its final sentence.
“...Stay safe, Dutch. We’ve got big plans ahead of us.”
#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption#rdr2#arthur morgan#Dutch Van Der Linde#hosea matthews#male ocs#female ocs#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 story#rdr2 prequel
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
forever mine
chapter 1: the one where you meet the soldier
everyone has a soulmate, once you turn 18 you stop aging until you find your soulmate.
you meet a gorgeous man with beautiful blue eyes whose about to go serve on the front lines. and turn your life upside down.
word count: 1,764
authors note: this is my first fan fic so please be kind!! any constructive criticism is welcome. please let me know where you would like to see this story go. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!
“I did say a few years, didn’t I? Howard Stark said, motioning to his hover car which had hovered for about 10 seconds before malfunctioning and crashing back onto the stage.
I rolled my eyes and laughed with the crowd. The Stark Expo, so far, had turned out to be Howard Stark’s “almost working” inventions. I had promised my friend Angie that I would come with her but I didn’t see how she could enjoy it. I think she just liked watching Howard Stark on stage.
“Hey, where are you going? You’re gonna miss it.” Angie whined as I turned to leave.
“I’ll be write back. I just need some air.”
She shrugged and turned her attention back to the playboy on stage. After looking around for a few moments, I decided to head into the nearby recruitment center and wander around because there weren’t too many people in there. I started weaving my way past the cuddling couples huddled around the outskirts of the crowd, when suddenly I collided with someone. I would have fallen to the ground but the man had quick reflexes and quickly wrapped their arms around my waist, catching me.
“Oops. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” The man chuckled.
“It’s alrig-” I lost the ability to speak as I looked up at the man. My heart skipped a beat and then nearly beat out of my chest. His hair was a gorgeous chocolate brown, his jawline chiseled, his body, I could feel, was strong and muscular. But that wasn’t what took my breath away, it was his eyes. The man’s eyes were a beautiful grey-blue. I’d never seen anything like them. He looked right back into my eyes and I swear there was an audible click. I didn’t know this man at all, yet being in his arms felt so right. I wondered if he felt it, too.
If he did, he didn’t show it. His lips curved into a smile. “You alright, doll?” He asked, his arms still tight around my waist.
“Um, yeah. Thanks for catching me.” I put my hands on his chest and stepped away.
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I ran into you in the first place. I was looking for my friend.”
“It’s quite alright. Soldier.” I added noticing the uniform he wore. He smiled, obviously quite proud.
“Sorry again. Have a good day.”
“You too. I hope you find your friend.” He flashed me a charming smile before turning and walking away. I decided that was quite enough air for me and began making my way back to Angie. Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw that it was the blue-eyed soldier.
“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked.
“It’s y/n.”
“James.”
“Well, it was wonderful meeting you, James.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind bumping into you again.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his horrible joke.
“Y/N!” I could hear Angie calling for me.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go. That’s my friend calling me.” I smiled at him apologetically and started to turn to find Angie.
“I don’t suppose you write letters?” James asked abruptly.
“Um, I don’t usually, but I can.” I turned back to him slowly, confused by his question.
“Would you mind being my pen-pal, doll? I’m leaving tomorrow morning for the war but I’d love to get to know you.” He flashed me a smile so charming that I’m sure he was used to girls positively melting when they saw it. It took all my self-control not to.
I studied James for a moment. It didn’t make sense that a handsome soldier like him would ask a girl he just met to write him for probably a year or more. Unless, he felt the click too. Was it possible that his heart was racing just as fast as mine? He seemed like the type of man I usually steered clear of. The heart breaker type.
“Why would you want me to? A handsome soldier like you probably has fifty other girls just dying to write you letters.”
“There’s something special about you.” I was about to retort with something sarcastic when suddenly his face lit up like it was Christmas morning. “You think I’m handsome?”
“What? I never said that!” I cursed myself. My best friend Peggy always said that I should learn to think before I speak. I have a bad habit of blurting out whatever is in my head rather than thinking it through first.
“Sure, you did. You said ‘a handsome soldier like you.’” He leaned down and whispered into my ear, “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re a beaut, doll.”
“Y/N! I finally found you! Oh, and who’s this?” She asked, noticing James. “I’m Angie.” She said giving him a flirtatious smile.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He said with a warm smile. “My friend ran off and I’ve yet to find him. I was distracted by y/n.” He explained to Angie. He then leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek and give me a piece of paper. “I’ll be waiting for your letters.” His breath tickled my ear as he whispered it, too low for Angie to hear. Then he stood straight again. “Bye, y/n.” He winked before turning to start to walk away.
“Goodbye.” I watched him walk away. The second he was out of earshot Angie turned and started questioning me.
“So, who was that?”
“His name is James.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! Although, I can see why you wanted to keep him to yourself.”
“What?” I choked. “No! Jeez, Ang.”
“Okay, then how long have you been friends with him?”
“About five minutes longer than you.” She looked at me, confused. “I just met him, Ang.” Then I told her how we accidentally bumped into each other and everything that happened after. “And then he gave me this piece of paper with all the information I need to write to him on it.” I concluded.
“So, you’re telling me you just met that handsome fella, talked to him for barely five minutes, and he wants you to write to him while he’s away fighting for us in the war?” She asked incredulously.
“You know I would happily go fight the war if they allowed women to fight.”
“I know, I know. You and Peg both.” She rolled her eyes. “I say we leave the fighting to the men. Did he tell you why he wanted you to write to him?” She asked, continuing her questioning.
“I don’t know. He just said there was ‘something special’ about me and he would love to get to know me.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet. You’re lucky, y/n. Do you think he’s your soulmate?”
“I don’t know, Angie. I just met him. I know absolutely nothing about him! But…” I trailed off.
“But?”
“When we looked at each other it was like we clicked…Just forget it. It’s stupid.”
“If you say so. Come on then, let’s go back to the Expo! I don’t want to miss anymore! Angie disappeared into the crowd. I sighed and smiled at her retreating back. I knew Angie had only dropped the subject for the time being. As soon as she could she would be questioning me again. Realizing I had lost her I quickly searched the thick crowd for a sign of her reddish-brown hair. I found her quickly after, already enchanted once again by the charms of Howard Stark.
I tried really hard to pay attention to Stark and his not working inventions but my mind kept wandering back to James. Just thinking of him made my heart flutter.
“Y/N?” The sound of Angie’s voice brought me back to reality. “It’s getting kinda late. Can we go now?” I looked around and realized that quite a bit of time had passed. Most of the crowd was gone and the sky was dark.
“Sure, Ang. Let’s go.” We walked home because the Griffith, where Angie lived, was only a few blocks away and I lived only three blocks past her. The whole walk home I kept my eyes peeled for James, sadly not spotting him. When I finally got home, I pulled out the slip of paper he had given me. I couldn’t help but smile as I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote my first letter to him:
Dear James,
I still don’t understand why you asked me, a girl you don’t know, to write to you but I’m going to give it my best shot. The thing is, we just met, only a few hours ago, so I don’t know what to write about. You said you wanted to get to know me, so I guess I’ll just tell you a little about myself.
I used to be a nurse. I’m not anymore, I don’t know what I am right now. I became a nurse because I wanted to help people. I know there are a lot of bad people in the world but I believe everybody has good in them. No matter how bad they are. Even Hitler has to have some good in him. He must love someone or something. It is impossible for a human being to never grow attached. Nobody is just plain old good or bad. It’s never been that simple. I can almost guarantee that the Nazis you are fighting think you are the bad guys and they the good. Everything depends on the perspective. Isn’t that silly?
Another important thing to know about me is this: I want to fight in the war. It’s so silly that only men can fight. Women are just as fierce. I’m going to try as hard as I can to get over seas. Maybe, we’ll see each other again then.
I don’t know what else to say, except it was completely wonderful meeting you today. I hope you found your friend. And I hope this letter is waiting for you when you get to your base. Write back soon. Stay safe, James.
I’ll be waiting for your letter.
Your new friend,
Y/N Y/L/N
I sighed and feeling slightly silly for writing to someone I barely knew, filled out the envelope. I stepped out into the brisk New York air and walked the little ways to the mailbox that was on the corner. Then went home and got ready for bed. That night my dreams were full of a charming dark haired soldier with beautiful blue eyes.
NEXT CHAPTER
#bucky barns x reader#reader insert#marvel#steve rogers#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#peggy carter#steggy#captain america#captain america: the first avenger#ca: tfa
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Seen Much Better Days - Chapter 7
The seventh and final chapter! Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and of course to @sunshine-hime whose request got me to write this big ol’ fella in the first place.
(Previous Chapter)
Word Count: 1,834 (Total Word Count: 14,861)
Read on AO3
Story Summary:
Allura rescuing Keith from the hands of a slave trader was the first step, but the paladins still have a way to go to feel like they’ve truly brought Keith home.
(Sequel to Torn and Frayed)
Fic content warnings for past slavery and rape.
Things did not automatically become better for Keith after he had laid out to his team the details of what had happened to him. Of course, no one had expected them to. A heartfelt talk and a group hug wouldn’t undo trauma, didn’t give him back what had been taken from him.
But he seemed to be more open to the idea that things could get better, more responsive to what help his team could offer, and that was enough to relieve some of the tension that had been looming in the castle’s air since the day they had gotten that call from Kolivan.
The other paladins still kept some caution up, minding their words around him so nothing that wasn’t a demand would come out sounding like one. If one of them were going to touch him, to pat his back or squeeze his hand or nudge him with their elbow, they made sure to announce it was coming and give him the chance to refuse. Sometimes he did; sometimes he didn’t.
It seemed the rest of the team was picking up on the little signs of progress too, and it always improved their moods. Allura could see the relief in Hunk’s posture every time Keith finished full servings of whatever had been cooked for him (and Hunk seemed to be taking the job of cheering Keith up with food very seriously, as the crisp fried foods and tender meats that Keith preferred had started dominating his menus), and Lance had been unable to stop beaming with pride the day Keith snorted at one of his jokes, the closest thing to a laugh any of them had heard from him in so, so long.
Allura even came across Shiro tiptoeing out of Keith’s room one night, grinning from ear to ear and with dew in his eyes, and at Allura’s questioning look, he made a shushing gesture and whispered, “He fell asleep. Right on my shoulder.” And once Shiro had entered his own room and shut the door, Allura could even make out the sound of him whistling to himself.
Sure, Keith still wasn’t in perfect shape. He still was quiet and wary, the nightmares still came, he still got an anxious and faraway look in his eyes when he zoned out of conversations. But the paladins were opting to focus on the positives of late.
So the question that Keith broached at the table in the middle of dinner one evening was one that had been pushed far out of their minds:
“When am I going back to the Blade?”
He had addressed the question to Allura, but the rest of the table fell quiet too when he asked it. The eyes of her teammates were suddenly all drawn toward herself and Keith, and the latter either didn’t notice or chose not to acknowledge it. He just waited for an answer.
Allura shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pursing her lips. It was true that the very same question had crossed her mind since Keith’s return. As much as things had changed during Keith’s absence from the team and his time in captivity, some things were still the same. They still had their duties with Voltron, some of which had admittedly fallen by the wayside while they had been focused on rescuing Keith and then helping him afterward. They still had every pilot’s seat in Voltron occupied. The Blade of Marmora still had their own ongoing work and investigations, and Keith was still a member of their organization.
It was natural, then, to assume that things were soon to go back to the way they were before all of this mess.
But honestly? She didn’t want things to go back to the way they were before. Before, there had been a gap in Team Voltron, a hole that they all refused to acknowledge because after all, wasn’t this sensible, wasn’t this the best option? Before, Keith had been off with the Blade, his interactions with the people who were supposed to be practically family to him limited to perfunctory greetings at Kolivan’s side before talking coalition business. Before, he had been essentially alone, had been out on missions that were ‘more important than the individual’ and couldn’t count on anyone to save him if he needed it, and holy quiznak did he end up needing it.
Before, they had failed him as teammates. And if Keith went back to the Blade, if they sent him away again after they had fought so hard to get him back, they will have failed him again.
Shiro was the one who answered him, after clearing his throat and glancing toward Allura, the uncertainty clear in his eyes. “Well, um,” he said. “I suppose that’s your own decision to make, Keith. Do you - is that what you want? To go back to the Blade?”
Keith shrugged, dropping his gaze down to the food on his fork. “I dunno,” he said. “I guess.”
“Wait, what?!” With a clatter Pidge threw her cutlery down onto the table and rose from her seat, leaning toward Keith, brows shooting up practically toward her hairline. “Are you serious?! You want to leave?!”
“Um,” Keith said. “I mean, my injuries have finished healing up, and I’ve been taken a long enough break from my Blade duties as it is…”
“A break?” Lance echoed. “Dude, you weren’t on a fucking break, you were basically being tortured and then convalescing.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter. I’m back on my feet now, so I should be getting back to missions and stuff, right?”
“Perhaps,” Allura said slowly. “Although, are you sure you should be getting back to Blade missions, specifically? You don’t want to overexert yourself so soon, do you?” Not that Voltron missions were particularly relaxing, but after all, Keith had been on a Blade mission, in a Blade uniform and with Blade operatives, when he’d been captured and everything had gone downhill for him. She was no expert on trauma, but from what she’d seen with Shiro, putting oneself back into such similar circumstances as when one had been hurt before, especially so soon after the fact, probably couldn’t end well. It was because she was no expert, though, that she didn’t voice that last thought.
Keith let out a little sigh. “I just think I should get back to where I’m needed, you know? Kolivan would want - ”
“Oh, fuck Kolivan!” Pidge snapped.
Keith turned to her, surprised. “Pidge?”
“Now, now, Pidge,” Coran spoke up. “Kolivan and the Blade are our allies, you must be respectful to - ”
“No, you know what? Fuck ‘em,” Pidge said. “Fuck Kolivan and fuck the Blade of Marmora. Yeah, they’re our allies and whatever, but that doesn’t mean I gotta be happy with them. Keith was there helping the Blade when they needed it, but where the hell were they when Keith got taken down on a mission they sent him on, and which went south because they had insufficient intel? I notice that the Blade didn’t make any effort to rescue him! Kolivan basically wrote him off for dead while we were the ones who were scouting out slave traders in every known galaxy to try and find him! Because that’s what a team is supposed to do!
“And so what happens next time something goes wrong, huh?! Are we seriously going to trust the fucking Blade to do what’s best for Keith? They’d just let him rot, consider him an acceptable loss, and - and you’re not an acceptable loss, Keith! You’re - you’re family. We’re a team, and I - ” Her voice crackled and she sniffed before finishing. “I don’t wanna lose you again.”
“Me neither, man,” Hunk piped up, and naturally his eyes were watery too. “How are we supposed to keep you safe if you go away again?”
Keith fidgeted on his seat. “It’s - it’s not your job to keep me safe…”
“Like hell it ain’t,” Lance said. “That’s what families are supposed to do: all walk through hell together so we can be sure we all make it to the other side.”
“But the Lions,” Keith said. “You have five paladins now. Five paladins, five lions.”
“Two of which you have successfully piloted before,” Allura pointed out. “As well as one more with whom you’ve established a communication link. If any pilot could be relied on to step in in case of someone being incapacitated, it’s you.”
“And even if not, that’s not stopping you from fighting,” Pidge added. “You were plenty useful to the Blade without a Lion; why wouldn’t the same apply here?”
“Most importantly, Keith,” said Shiro. “You still haven’t answered my first question.”
Keith frowned. “Um… what was that again?”
Shiro leaned toward him. “Keith, do you want to go back to the Blade? Because that’s what’s most important here. Not where you think you’ll be most useful, not what Kolivan or anyone else wants you to do. I trust you to know what’s best for yourself right now, okay? You get to be the one to choose: do you want to go back to the Blade?”
Keith swallowed and looked around at the assembled team, at Shiro’s sincere and solemn face, at Pidge’s fiery gaze, at Hunk who was looking like he would just dissolve completely into a waterfall of tears at any moment.
Allura tried to keep her own face neutral, not to push him toward anything he didn’t want, but it was likely some of her own imploring thoughts made themselves known. Stay, she pled silently. Stay with us. Let us keep you safe. Let us be the ones to make sure you’re never hurt again.
And ever so slowly, Keith shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay.”
Relieved sighs sounded all around the table, and not a fraction of a tick later Hunk was already wrapping Keith in a tearful bear hug.
After a few exclamations of cheer at Keith’s decision to stay, Allura finally tapped Hunk on the back. “All right, Hunk. Let him breathe.”
Hunk reluctantly released Keith and returned to his own seat. Keith, with a nod to the others, took up his spork again and returned to his meal, which the others had all but forgotten amidst their discussion. Within moments, the others resumed their own food, and soon the team’s usual cheerful mealtime chatter had filled the silence again.
“Keith?” Allura said to him once the others’ attention was on each other instead of him. “I assure you I would have supported you with whatever choice you made, but… I’m glad you made this one.”
Keith cast her a ghost of a smile. “Thanks, Allura.”
She hesitated a moment, then reached out to take Keith’s hand, pausing to give him a chance to pull away if he wanted. When he didn’t, she gave it a squeeze. “It’s good to have you home, Keith.”
“It’s good to be home.” He squeezed back.
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
BnHA Smash!! 01 and 02: Smash!!Might is a Fucking Menace
okay, so. I have about a million other things I should be doing instead, including (1) responding to asks and/or finishing in-progress metas, (2) reading Vigilantes, and last but not least, (3) actually making a dent in the ever-increasing backlog of Actual Work That I Really Should Be Doing Instead.
so naturally I’m procrastinating by taking my first stab at reading BnHA’s cute 4-panel omake spinoff series, BnHA Smash!! IT JUST MAKES SENSE. look, I have exactly one thing I felt like actually doing and not procrastinating today, so I might as well do the thing. basically it’s my attention span’s world and I’m just living in it.
anyway! so apparently this series was scanlated by good ol’ Fallen Angels. that’s right; prepare yourselves for some very creative cursing, fellas. other background info for anyone who, like me, is unfamiliar with this spin-off: this series debuted on November 9, 2015, a little over a year after the original series. said original series was currently at chapter 66, meaning the Final Exam arc was just wrapping up.
so now that we’re all properly oriented, let me go over a few disclaimers real quick and then we’ll get started!
all comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.
I’m aware that not everyone may be familiar with Smash!! even if they’ve read/watched the original series, so I’ve tried to make this recap comprehensible even if you haven’t read the spin-off. that being said, it’s probably more enjoyable if you have, so you can either purchase the first volume from Viz here, or read the chapter online (I don’t want to link directly, but the spin-off is available on most of the usual sites. literally just google “read mha” and you’ll find some good options).
this readthrough contains a handful of sorta-kinda spoilers for the BnHA manga, although there are no direct spoilers. just an indirect reference to a joke in chapter 242, as well as a reference to a theory which as of now is in no way canon. but just to be on the safe side I’m posting a heads-up.
and I think that’s it! so here we go.
so we’re opening with a brief summary of the series. people have superpowers and shit’s nuts. you know the drill
there’s also a brief description of the way that the superhero economy works, complete with Mt. Lady’s employees unionizing and demanding better pay
...what
guys I keep staring at this and thinking that surely, SURELY it doesn’t say what I think it says. sidekick... what... manager??
you know what? Viz unfortunately doesn’t include this series as part of their subscription package (WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR, VIZ), but it does at least include a free preview of Smash, and I bet you that this, the first fucking page of the series, is a part of that preview. so... let’s see...
okay, see, this actually makes sense! so did the FA scanlating team collectively all have a fucking stroke?! just, what??
this is one of the reasons why I had difficulty reading Vigilantes too, tbh. those early chapter scans were, uh. but at least Vigilantes has a Viz scanlation too. I don’t want to spend 10 bucks just to read one volume of this, but we’ll see. anyways
so now there’s a strip about baby!Izuku watching his favorite clip of All Might saving one hundred people from a bus accident or whatever
lol Inko you should not have left your shrewdly calculating four-year-old son unattended omg
TWELVE MONTHS’ WORTH OF TEXTBOOKS HOW CAN THIS EAGER YOUNG MIND RESIST
and this is why you don’t leave your credit card info saved on the computer when you have kids. life lessons learned today
this is the first indicator we have ever had that baby!Izuku wasn’t perfect and was, in fact, capable of being a little shit and giving his mom plenty of gray hairs in his own special way. ngl, I fucking love it
also 12,800 yen is about $118 USD, which is honestly a really good deal for a year’s worth of textbooks. he got three boxes of books! I just googled the average cost of college textbooks, and the google article said the average student spends about $1200 a year. so this is a fucking steal tbh
OH MY GOD INKO HOW MANY TIMES MUST HISTORY REPEAT ITSELF BEFORE YOU LEARN
at least install a fucking adblocker ffs. you’re lucky quirk supplement ads are the worst of the ads he’s getting! PARENTAL CONTROLS
now we are cutting to a comic about baby!Izuku defending another boy from my problematic fave, as seen in page one of the original series!
lmaooo
I’m not clear on how much of this spin-off can actually be considered canon. my understanding is that it is Horikoshi-reviewed and approved, even though he doesn’t actually write it. but it’s obviously a humor series, so a lot of it is just going to be jokes. that being said, I think my approach is going to be “if it’s not completely ridiculous and doesn’t contradict the actual manga, go ahead and consider it canon”
(ETA: I might change this up after reading the first two chapters. most of these strips would have terrifying implications if they were actually canon sob.)
anyhoo, this actually does contradict the manga in that we saw this encounter play out very differently. but I kind of wish it was canon regardless because looool. these cocky preschoolers and their fucking Battle Tears
the next comic is Mt. Lady accidentally stepping on a guy’s face and the guy being way too fucking happy about it (read: having a fucking nosebleed and taking an upskirt shot). we’re just going to skip this entirely. this is another problem I was having with Vigilantes too. you know, for all my complaints about Mineta and such, BnHA as a whole is so much tamer than it could be, and I need to give Horikoshi credit for that. he mostly knows where to draw the line, and to his credit he’s also much, much better about this kind of thing than he was when he first started. maybe Mineta’s standings in the character poll results are helping to clue him in
anyway, I’ll mostly just skip past the iffy stuff because I don’t have patience for it and there’s still plenty of other stuff to cover. so on to the next strip
which features a bunch of reporters fawning over Mt. Lady’s flashy quirk while Kamui Woods laments in the shadows
and yet we know this kid will have a prominent rise within the next six months. it’s so strange to revisit the start of the series and see how much things have changed in such a short time
oh my god
no one who dresses up as a giant mushroom could possibly have good intentions. I. just
and look at the fucking disappointment in Deku’s eyes. KAMUI WOODS HE BELIEVED IN YOU!
now some strange man is coming up to Deku and is all HEY YOU, YOU’RE A HERO OTAKU, TELL ME WHAT TO BUY MY SEVEN-YEAR-OLD SON FOR HIS BIRTHDAY. better not ask him unless you’re prepared to shell out $120 bucks for some fucking textbooks
hey, what!!
WE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO SEE WHAT HE BOUGHT HIM? unless it’s the action figure the kid appears to be holding? but I’m just going to go ahead and assume Izuku recommended the number one best gift that any seven-year-old child would love, i.e. a giant sword
now it’s a sludge monster omake!
so Izuku is trudging home all depressed after CERTAIN INCIDENTS, and Sludgey is glooping his way out of a sewer towards him
oh no All Might
my biggest takeaway from this is the fact that the entire second half of chapter one takes place after All Might has emerged from a fucking sewer. I forgot all about that somehow. or maybe it never fully processed until just now. but omg. this entire chapter must have smelled so fucking bad. these poor kids
wow All Might
sure called that one wrong. ah well nobody’s perfect
looooool
lmao, Smash!!All Might appears to be quite a bit more vain than the original. wow dude
btw, friendly reminder (and I think this is something that was actually pointed out to me after one of the recaps; that’s one of my favorite things about doing these) that All Might, after saving Deku, actually read his notebook before signing it. super-fast, I guess, because he’s the best. but yeah, so he knew exactly how smart and observant Deku was, and how much he wanted to be a hero. his decision to pick him as his successor didn’t just come out of the blue; even before the “my body moved on its own” thing, there was a lot Deku had going in his favor. this is one of those little details of which BnHA has so many, and which I love
lmao what the fuck
ngl this version of the series would have been amazing in its own way. but yeah. so this is why we clearly can’t assume everything in Smash!! is canon lol. but I can already tell I am going to enjoy the shit out of this series
now we’re cutting to Deku running at Sludgey in order to save Kacchan, oh shit. the most dramatic part of chapter one. clearly no moment is sacred
sob what
I don’t understand this strip at all. is this supposed to be a serious moment inserted unexpectedly among this multitude of joke strips? or did I miss the punchline? heeeeelp
(ETA: okay so. my best guess is that All Might wrote all over Deku’s life-saving advice, and so the joke is that Deku no longer knows what to do when assaulting sludge men because HIS NOTES ARE RUINED. idk. what does 25 P mean??)
now All Might has Done The Thing and saved my boys, and now Mt. Lady is helping with the cleanup. scooping up all the bits of sludge and putting it in trash bags
oh my god
nope nevermind. nope. nope
-- shit. okay, you know what? this first chapter has been a real in-your-face reminder of the fact that the sludge monster was not made of cute sparkly 2018-trending-fad slime, but was in fact composed of RAW FUCKING SEWAGE. (ETA: to be clear, I’m pretty sure the joke in this strip is that she accidentally picked up dog-doo during her clean-up. but still, the fact that it was indistinguishable from the rest of the gunk speaks for itself.) I think I forced myself to gloss over this fact originally due to the nope factor. but just. Izuku and Katsuki were both choking to death on this shit?? and just, how the fuck did they make it out of this not traumatized
and also, like. All Might was straight up going to leave Izuku alone afterwards, just, “well enjoy your autograph, fine citizen” and blasting off out of there. and everyone fucking saw Katsuki almost suffocate to death later on, and after giving him a pat on the back they fucking let him go off on his own too? and you can’t even make the argument that this was Just Another Day In Quirk Society either, because more than a year later, Katsuki is still a bona fide fucking celebrity from the media coverage of his attack. it clearly was not something that happens every day. in conclusion, these kids are resilient as fuck, and thank god for that because people apparently just do not give a shit, holy christ
anyway. at least Mt. Lady had gloves
OH MY GOD
I FUCKING KNEW IT OH MY GOD. THE ROIDS. MUSCLES LIKE THAT DON’T JUST GROW ON TREES, I DON’T CARE HOW MANY LBS OF GARBAGE THIS KID HAULED OFF THE BEACH. THIS BOY BEEN HITTIN THE JUICE
Smash!!Might is so fucking shady omfg. probably sells cheap counterfeit electronics on Amazon
oh shit and that’s the end of the fucking chapter lol. that’s it?? that was only eight pages. fuck it, let’s read another. but first here’s Horikoshi’s note on the spin-off
so he really feels that Neda gets the spirit of the series and understands him. that’s very encouraging. the best spoofs and parodies are done out of love. I really think I’m going to enjoy this series
so! onward to chapter two
so here’s All Might dressed as Mr. 2 Bon Clay from One Piece, I guess??
“you know what’s funny? dressing a man in girl’s clothes LOL.” guys can we grow the fuck up. and also acknowledge that All Might can look good in anything, so this questionable gag wouldn’t have even landed anyway. you work that tutu All Might
lmao check out the past users of OFA here
All for One for All theory fucking confirmed lol. just look. that’s him in the back of the conga line. clearly
so Deku is all “hell yes why would I possibly say no??” but then
HIS LIMBS. lmao. sign here
in all seriousness, given the shit this kid has been through since the part of the series, All Might probably should have gotten him to sign a liability waiver of some sort. not that it would have stood, since Deku is underage! anyways Deku you totally have grounds to sue the shit out of the Symbol of Peace should you ever choose to do so. and the trend of Smash!!Might being shady af continues yes please give me more I love it
so now All Might is giving Deku his fitness plan which has a really elaborate name
given that this is Smash!!Might, I can’t help but wonder if this plan is in actuality some sort of MLM scheme. All Might are you trying to get Deku to do Herbalife
lol what in the fuck
the original series skipped right over a hell of a lot, it would seem. like the time Deku traveled to Arizona and fought coyotes in a poncho
I’m starting to suspect that Neda-sensei might be on some sort of substance. “let’s see what jokes can I make about chapter 2 of BnHA. I know, I’ll send the protagonist to a fictionalized version of the American Southwest in a sombrero, and then turn him into a 65-year-old oil tycoon.” naturally
lmao that’s really it, that’s the strip. moving right along. okay??
now Izuku is staring at the intimidating piles of Beach Trash and is all “I HAVE TO PICK ALL THIS SHIT UP?”
omg Deku no
somebody call Marie Kondo. Deku none of this is salvageable. not even to reuse in a color page photoshoot spread four years from now
OH SHIT
PROVED ME WRONG OH SNAP. SHOWED ME RIGHT WHERE I COULD PUT THOSE SASSY TAKES. MY BAD DEKU I’M SORRY
anyways I don’t know what Smash!!Might is so upset about. he probably wove some kind of clause into the contract Deku signed that allows him a percentage of the profits. unless Deku already spent it all on textbooks
what the fuck is this fucking series lmao
time for a round of “what is All Might casually crushing in this panel?” is it (a) a cardboard box, or (b) like, a mini-fridge or some fucking shit. IT COULD BE EITHER. IT MAKES EQUALLY AS MUCH SENSE EITHER WAY. “HEROES THESE DAYS ARE [FLEEEEEEX] OBSESSED WITH BEING FLASHY”
holy shit no wonder he ran away to the Sierra Nevada. it’s only a matter of time before this freak fucking kills someone
NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO KAMUI WOODS DRESSED LIKE A DAFFODIL, IN THE SAME FUCKING COMIC STRIP, BECAUSE REASONS
my jokes about the mangaka being high as a fucking kite when he wrote this are gradually becoming less jokes and more serious inquiries??
lol so he coincidentally just stumbled across All Might and Deku at this exact moment
AND IT WAS A FUCKING REFRIGERATOR OH MY FUCKING GOD
do you guys remember during the final exam when All Might beat the everloving shit out of Deku and Kacchan, and everyone was all “JESUS CHRIST WOULD YOU LEARN TO FUCKING HOLD BACK A LITTLE THEY ARE CHILDREN YOU MANIAC.” but now we can see plain as day that he was, in fact, holding back. anyways Smash!!Might is terrifying as shit and if this had been the main series I would have already pegged him as the final villain by this point
here he is now wearing an old-timey bathing suit but looking more like an escaped convict than anything else
this panel is actually canon. I’ve decided. this 100% definitely happened at some point. especially the swimsuit
now two bikini babes are walking up and they’re all “IS THAT ALL MIGHT??” with excited sparkly eyes because they don’t know that he’s actually a deranged con artist who crushes refrigerators like empty soda cans. this spin-off has truly opened my eyes
LOOK AT THIS SKEEVY FUCK. JUST LOOK
AND NOW HE’S RUNNING OFF AND LEAVING DEKU TO DROWN IN EXHAUSTION, SON OF A
“SUDDEN BUSINESS” KSJLDKF SMASH!!MIGHT IS A FUCKING MENACE TO SOCIETY AND ALSO DOES NOT GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK. NOT ONE!! HE’S OUT THERE FUCKLESS, AND NO ONE IS SAFE
now Deku is approaching his mom all serious and says he wants to change up his diet
and she’s looking at the menu he prepared all impressed and thinking that she might join him. as long as it’s for your health, Inko. if this manga starts making jokes about your weight, I will beat it over the head with Deku’s textbooks
OMFG
THIS WENT IN THE EXACT OPPOSITE DIRECTION I WAS EXPECTING, AND THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING I’VE EVER READ WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. the whole fucking family is on the juice. and the fucking mangaka is on some special juice of his own oh my stars
now we’re cutting to Mt. Lady stomping on a car
thank fuck no one was actually in there. also does she not wear shoes
and also, it only just occurred to me that she must be another person with a special quirk costume, because her suit shrinks and expands along with her. Hagakure and Momo are really getting shafted by the costume design team here. they need to fire some people
anyway so Mt. Lady slipped on this carelessly placed vehicle and fell down and crushed an entire building whoops
bruh, you think you’re “ow.” let’s hope that building was empty too
and now she’s toppling another building just fucking because, I guess. and saying she can’t do urban areas
lmao and now the sidekick [CENSORED] manager from chapter one is back to guilt-trip her omg
I need this man to show up in every freaking chapter. please. respect my wishes
and now Izuku is standing on top of his collected pile of garbage screaming in victory
I only just realized that there’s still a big old Pile O’ Trash on this beach, though. someone needs to haul all of this junk away. or else get All Might and Mt. Lady to crush it all with a combined effort
oh shit here it comes y’all, the famous “eat my hair” scene. potential comedy gold right here omg
lol what the fuck
this man is a fucking billionaire and he’s out here clipping coupons and deleting pictures of his son in order to make room for them smdh
okay now we’re doing the hair scene
oh. oh no. I know where this is going sob please keep this comic rated PG for the children Neda
motherfucker they really --
Smash!!Might is a straight-up felon. this man has no fucking scruples. that’s okay Midoriya-shounen, if you don’t want to eat my hair we could just try some REDACTED, jesus christ I am going to need some bleach for my eyes after this
OR LET’S JUST STRAIGHT UP GO THERE WHY NOT
lmao sob. well, two chapters in and we’ve established that no territory is off-limits here. it’s a brave new world. wow
so that’s it! our introduction to BnHA Smash!! I enjoyed it a lot and I will definitely be reading more! I’m not sure what kind of schedule I’ll keep, but this is a really good procrastination manga thus far, so knowing me I might actually work my way through this relatively quickly. especially since the Manga At Large is on break this week. anyways my deepest apologies to the many people who have been requesting for me to start Vigilantes instead. I just need something lighter right now, and this is a good fit. one of these days I’ll get my shit together with the other two spinoffs as well.
#bnha smash!!#boku no hero academia#midoriya izuku#all might#midoriya inko#mt. lady#kamui woods#bnha smash!! 01#bnha smash!! 02#makeste reads bnha#the pile o' trash is a legit plothole though you guys#are we just supposed to pretend it magically vanished#they really drew deku standing shirtless on top of a heap of garbage#and in the very next panel declared that the beach was spotless??#so what is the truth#someone#answer me
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Zenith: Chapter 37-40
Chapter 37
So this chapter is very rapey and if you’re not comfy reading it I can safely say that it’s not crucial to the “plot” of the rest of the book at all and you can skip it if you wish.
We’re back with Klaren, who’s being strangled by General Cortas because he’s mad that he’s constantly horny for her. She mind-controls him into letting her go and we find out that she’s been here for two years, where they forced her to send videos to the King of Xen Ptera to get him to surrender but she’s a rebel so she told him to keep fighting.
During that time, she’s also been brainwashing General Cortas into “loving” her. And now that his mind has been completely fucked, it’s time for Klaren to also get fucked.
No, really. This was apparently the “sacrifice” she was supposed to make.
She was born to do this. Born to sacrifice herself. Her heart, to the king of Xen Ptera. Her daughter, unplanned, had been sacrificed, too.
Now, she would willingly give up her body to the cause.
[...]
They spent the rest of the night together, tangled in the sheets.
Tangled in her lies.
Now, let me explain how this squicks me out, beyond the obvious.
Are we supposed to feel ... bad? Feel sad that she’s doing this? Feel bad for her? Because so far, General Cortas/Cyprian has been painted and portrayed as a crusty antagonist who’s out to get out dear Andi and Dex, while every Klaren chapter has been all about how she’s sad and she has to sacrifice herself and how it’s her destiny and how she regrets she can’t stay with her family and all that jazz. We even get an emphasis on how she’s in love with her king and loves her daughter as well.
Like, I know in the end Cyprian dies (spoilers, but I talked about this in my review so) and Klaren only exists in flashbacks, so it’s not like we’re getting redemption arcs for either of them.
But like, if this is supposed to make me uncomfortable and to be very muddled then I’m honestly impressed. But I doubt it? And I’m very unsettled by the fact that we spend so many chapters moping around with Klaren to sympathize with her and her plight, and I don’t understand why they chose to spend so much time on the backstories of two characters that are either dead or will die in the main timeline in the first place.
Nexus better answer these questions or else it will just prove Shinsay wrote this because ... No, I don’t think Nexus can justify this, actually. I don’t get why this subplot exists.
SHINSAY WHY DID YOU WRITE THIS
Chapter 38
We’re back with Andi post-argument and she’s in the med bay with Gilly and Lira, and we get an actually pretty nice, quiet moment where the girls try to both care for Andi and give her space. If y’all had focused on this instead of the mind-rape and the mind-control (oh boy I bet these two will have shit to do with each other huh) and the reality TV drama and space wars you defo can’t write it would’ve been a much better and more fun book.
Anyway, the other girls leave to eat and Andi chooses to remain with Valen and watch over him. Lira drops this on us:
“There’s a fissure in you. I can sense it even from here.” Lira loosed a gentle sigh before explaining her words. But when she did, they sunk like a rock into Andi’s gut. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose between forgiveness or hate. And you and I both know which one is harder to live with.”
I know this is in reference to Dex, considering how Andi’s been all quiet and weird after their argument, but honestly? Andi’s looking at Valen’s fucked body and my headcanon is that Lira is actually referring to Andi herself. Think about it. Lira knows what happened. Lira knows Andi still feels like it’s her fault Kalee died.
And instead of it being another tired “forgiving is better for ur soul than hatred uwu” sentiment, when applied to Andi’s self-hatred, this would be a hard-hitting and genuinely insightful statement from Lira.
Because self-hatred is harder to live with than self-forgiveness.
But this is Shinsay and I’d be surprised if they thought that far.
Anyway, Andi has yet another flashback to the crash and Kalee’s death and it’s all blood and metal and bla bla bla, we’ve seen this a billion times already. Then it turns out that Valen’s tests come back positive for “abnormalities,” and then he wakes up and is all like “kill meeeeeeeeee” and the chapter ends.
Riveting.
Chapter 39
We skip to some time later, I guess? Dex is shirtless and getting his nails painted by Gilly, which is fun. They discuss whether Valen is or isn’t a mutant, and we get this:
“Valen is no different than us,” Andi said to Dex, “and he’s not a mutant. And put on a damned shirt. This is a spaceship, not a pleasure palace.”
“It used to be both.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, then winced as Andi ripped off one of his boots and launched it at his face.
Y’all really gonna talk about how much sex you used to have when there’s a literal 13-year-old right there in the room with you who’s listening and is a part of this conversation?
Interesting choice there, Shinsay. Not even a little uncomfortable at all. Just these two adults talking about how they used to fuck while one of them is shirtless.
Andi thinks about how the Marauder used to be a man cave, and yes, that’s what the text says, and how it’s actually beautiful and modern and well-furnished now because they have genuine Adhiran cowhide couches. Then there’s more descriptions of the interior of the ship and I’m extremely bored and wondering why we needed to know the layout of the kitchen or what Alfie was wearing while in said kitchen (it’s a Kiss the Cook apron, btw).
There’s a little argument about whether Valen is or isn’t a mutant due to his weird blood. It’s completely pointless.
“Ah-hah!” Alfie’ s head emerged from the cooling unit, frost covering the tip
of his oval chin. “I have discovered the source of the smell.” He held up a
dripping hunk of green meat, then proceeded to march over to the small ejection site and blast it out into space.
... Right.
So why do you people have a dedicated trash compartment again?
All this waffling about brings nothing, as Alfie just cryptically says that Valen’s DNA seems to have changed and that they’ll have to do further tests once Valen’s back home.
Andi thinks about how Gilly does have a soul after all, because Gilly seems excited about having a mutant on board. This book has too many characters considering whether they or someone else they know has a soul or not. I think it’s Shinsay’s way of trying to be deep.
Andi thinks about how cool her team is and how they got out of Lunamere without issue and how it’s gonna be nice to take a break. Then the ship starts crashing, I guess?
We gotta throw more forced plot into the narrative because clearly these characters don’t actually have any goals of their own.
Chapter 40
We’re back with Nor, who’s moping about her backstory and Zahn and Darai again. We find out through math that she’s 26?
Anyway, remember the prison guard they were gonna test Zenith on? Yeah, she’s dead. Which does indeed confirm that they hadn’t tested it before then. Alrighty. I also don’t get why they test it on their own loyal citizens instead of, you know, the prisoners they have in Lunamere. It just makes so much sense to try to brainwash someone who already loves you into loving you more and risk them dying from this foreign chemical instead of trying to brainwash someone who hates your guts and who wouldn’t be a loss if they died anyway.
IT JUST MAKES SO MUCH SENSE YOU GUYS.
This time, they are testing it on prisoners, so maybe their “head scientist” (more like two-head scientist amirite fellas) learned their fiking lesson. Ok but then Aclisia says these prisoners are the “first participants in the study” which ... Yeah it doesn’t make sense and I’m pretty sure they’re not participants nor is this a study.
Then Aclisia says this will be the “final batch.” So ... the Lunamere guard is not classified as a test subject nor a “participant,” and these guys are “participants” but will hopefully be the “first” but also “final” test subjects?
You’d think having two heads would make for a better scientist.
You’d think having two heads would make for a better writer ...
One of the prisoners calls Nor a “scnav,” which does sound nastier than all the other dumbass curse words they scrapped, and Nor says that they’ll begin testing on that one.
Aclisia says that “the weapon” is effective on any body part, as long as it comes in contact with the skin and can enter the blood stream. So ... Which one of those? Cuz having both makes no sense. The former sort of makes the other irrelevant. Also, what if an alien creature doesn’t have skin or blood? I guess it’s just universal. Even though they’ve only tested it on one alien species before ... and she died from it.
Flawless worldbuilding, lads.
We find out that Zenith has the ability to “to enthrall a person or terrify them, depending on how strong their will was” which is ... dumb as hell even before combined with the fact that 1) they haven’t tested it on live subjects until now and 2) it apparently transcends species. And now you’re telling me it will also work differently on different individuals based on their “will?” How is that even quantifiable? And if it is, how did they define it? How did they define something so nebulous so closely, without ANY test subjects, to the point of making this silver goop able to tell apart who has a strong will and who doesn’t?
Whatever. Zenith seems to work and the prisoner now obeys Nor’s every whim.
He lowered his head in an attempt to bow, even with his hands tied.
You don’t need your hands to bow but go off.
The other prisoners get Zenith’d as well.
[Nor] turned to Darai and Zahn with a grin as solid as steel. “My soldiers, it’s time to darken the stars.”
And we got Zenith’d too, my lads.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
iKonic Fairy Tales: Aladdin - Part 4, Final Chapter
A modern fairy tale series in collaboration with @cramelot - stay tuned next week for the next story featuring a new member! ✨
Genre: Office!AU
Pairing: Hanbin x You
By Admin B
🧞 Part 1, 2, 3, 4
It had been exactly two weeks and four days since you’d spoken to Hanbin.
Not that you were keeping track, of course...
(But, yes. Two weeks and four days exactly. You had closed your door at 6:05pm two Saturdays ago, and it was now 6:05pm on Wednesday.)
You let out a sigh as you logged out of your computer, ready to call it a day and go home.
You’d been on edge for two and a half weeks (hmm, wonder why?), and your father had been bothering you about that ‘nice fella’ you’d been seeing since the party. You wanted to avoid him as much as possible since you were tired of explaining it just hadn’t worked out; he was sure to be gone by now, and you were dying for a hot bath.
Just as you were about to turn off the lights in your office, a figure appeared in your doorway.
You jumped, letting out a little startled gasp.
“Oh, god, Jeff,” you breathed as you clutched at your now racing heart. “You scared the wits out of me.”
“My apologies,” Jeff grinned. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“What’s up?”
Jeff was your father’s secretary - had been for as long as you could remember. You’d honestly never liked him, but he’d done nothing to actually legitimize your feelings.
“There are some transactions I need you to take a look at,” he told you with a slightly furrowed brow.
“...Can it wait until tomorrow? I was just about to leave.”
“Well... I mean, I guess it could.” But the way he said it made it clear it really couldn’t.
You let out a very soft sigh before nodding. “All right, let me take a look.”
You journeyed back to your desk, logged back into your computer, and navigated to the software your company used to manage transactions. Jeff came to stand behind you, resting a hand on the desk and leaning slightly over you. Maybe... a little too close.
You scooched your chair up a little, but he took a step forward.
Okay, whatever. Just ignore it.
“Which ones?”
He pointed a few out, and you honestly didn’t see anything wrong with them... As you were studying them, resting your chin in your palm... you felt Jeff’s other hand come to rest on your shoulder.
You froze momentarily before trying to shrug it off.
“Sorry,” Jeff murmured. “I just thought...”
You furrowed your brow, glancing over your shoulder at him. “You thought what?”
“Well, I can tell something happened between you and that... whoever he was. I thought you might want some comfort.”
Uh... ew?
“I’m okay, thanks,” you murmured. “I don’t see anything wrong with these transactions. What exactly am I looking for?”
“Hmm.” Jeff hummed. “I guess I misunderstood. Sorry for keeping you.”
“No, it’s fine.” I mean, it kind of wasn’t but whatever. You stood, squeezing past Jeff and heading back to your office door.
“Let me walk you out,” Jeff offered, following quickly behind you. “I mean -- I’m leaving anyway, so we might as well walk out together.”
You didn’t answer verbally, so Jeff took that as acceptance. He walked down the hallway with you, stood awkwardly in the elevator with you, and followed you out to the parking lot.
“Have a good night,” you said with a fake grin, ready to make a dash to the nearby bus stop.
“You still take the bus?” Jeff asked with a laugh. “Come on, let me take you home. I’ll drive you.”
“No, thanks, I’m good.”
“Y/N, come on,” he repeated. “Don’t be stubborn. Just let me take you home.”
You felt his hand take hold of your wrist, and you froze. Your heart started beating quickly.
“Jeff, I said ‘no,’” you told him firmly. “Please let go of me.”
“A girl like you shouldn’t be taking the bus.”
“A girl like me shouldn’t be helping the environment by using less gas?”
“You don’t know what kind of creeps ride the bus.”
Actually, I don’t know what kind of creeps are working for my own company. I mean, you did know, actually.
“I’ve ridden the bus for almost ten years. Nothing has happened. I’m fine. Let. Go. Of my arm.”
Instead of letting go, he pulled you closer to him. And before you could try to wriggle free, he smashed his lips to yours. You let out a muffled shriek, doing your best to push him away from you.
“Stop, what are you doing?!” you cried when you managed to free your lips. But he captured them in a rough kiss yet again.
His grip on you was too strong, his lips were too fierce. You were honestly beginning to get scared of what he was going to do to you.
Just as you felt one of his hands begin to slip underneath the hem of your shirt, you heard footsteps bounding up toward the two of you. You felt an unknown person pry Jeff away from you. You saw whoever it was punch Jeff in the face and throw him to the pavement.
And when the mystery defender turned toward you, you were more relieved than you thought you would be to see it was Hanbin.
“Are you okay?” he asked, gasping for breath.
“I’m fine,” you breathed. “...What are you doing here?”
“I was... I’ve been wanting to come and apologize for days now, but every time I come by, I chicken out.”
You realized you were shaking, and Jeff was starting to push himself up off the ground, groaning loudly in pain.
“Can we not be here right now?” you asked, the fear oozing through your voice.
“Yeah, come on.” Hanbin reached out to touch you but thought better of it, apparently, because he put his hands in his pockets instead.
He led you over to his car, opening the rusted passenger door for you before heading back over to the driver’s side.
“So,” you said once he joined you inside. “This is your real car.”
“Yep... this is her.”
“And...” You eyed his outfit, a plaid button-down shirt with ripped jeans. “Those are your real clothes.”
“This is me. The real me, yes.”
“You know, I didn’t like you because you were a CEO. You know that, right?”
He furrowed his brow slightly, showing he hadn’t really known that. “...You didn’t?”
“Of course, not. I liked you for who you were. Not what you looked like. I mean, I liked your face, but that’s always been yours.”
“Okay, listen,” he sighed, turning more toward you in his seat. “I’m so, so, so sorry for not telling you the truth. I thought if I went to that party as myself, I wouldn’t stand a chance with you because... I mean, you’re you. And I’m me. So my friend, One, let me go as him, and then all that happened at the party, and... I don’t know. I just let my pride take over my integrity.”
“Yeah, that much is obvious,” you pointed out with raised brows.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough to properly convey how much I really mean it. I could tell you ‘I’m sorry’ every day for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t be enough. You have no idea how awful I feel for lying to you. I... I don’t expect you to give me another chance, but... I still like you. I still have feelings for you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I just had to tell you.”
You studied him for a moment, saw the genuine sincerity in his face. Saw the hurt in his eyes. And you suddenly heard yourself saying the words you’d been thinking in the back of your head for two weeks and four days (and about half an hour).
“I still like you, too, Hanbin.”
His eyes widened. “Y-you -- you do?”
“I do. Even though I’m still furious you lied to me... I can’t stop thinking about you, either. Everything I felt when we were together, that was real.”
“So... you’ll... think about giving me another chance?” he asked hesitantly.
You let out a sigh, shifting your gaze to look out his car window.
Did he deserve another chance?
Did you think he would lie to you again? I mean, you were certain he was being his true self right now, so he wouldn’t lie about anything like that again...
But then you thought about what he’d said before you’d closed the door on him. About money. It didn’t matter to you because you had it. To someone like him who barely got by... it did matter. You’d never thought of it like that before, and you knew he was right.
You turned back to look at him, his eyes shining with anticipation.
“I’ll think about it,” you answered.
And the smile which appeared on his lips warmed your heart. It made you forget about Jeff. It made you almost forget why you were mad at Hanbin in the first place.
And, so, the two of you lived Happily Ever After.
...Well, eventually.
It took you a while to trust him again, and it took him a while to accept a job at your company with better pay. (He made sure One had a replacement for him first, don’t worry). It took you guys a while to maneuver the differences in your lifestyle, but... you got there. And it was worth it.
iKONic Fairy Tale Series: Aladdin | The Little Mermaid | Sleeping Beauty | Cinderella | Snow White | Rapunzel | Beauty & the Beast
Tagging @sun-shinee-world @leilaammartin @daelicious-jongbulge @sweg-imsorrywhatwasthat @baekinmylife @xiusmybeautifulnightmare @lost-girl-inc @brie02 @peach-sm @jong-yixing @haveanotherkpopblog @sundropsoo @constellxtion @akutagawahakuryuunosuke @lazypostfandomer @cupcakemintylash @smut-wars@mistressoflight22 @veryhotkpop @chanyeolol @shawoltzen@garlandcrowns @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @nicht-so-schnell @jinhuwuan @dark-changbin @lafilleestmorte @tokyoseo for updates! Readers, let me know if you would like to be added to this list!
-Admin B
Psst! I kind of wrote an NSFW thing set after this series, so... here it is if you want to read it.
Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins
#ikon#ikon scenarios#ikon imagines#ikon au#ikon fluff#b.i#hanbin#kim hanbin#b.i scenarios#b.i imagines#b.i au#b.i fluff#hanbin scenarios#hanbin imagines#hanbin au#hanbin fluff#kpop#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop au#kpop fluff#admin b#collaboration series
217 notes
·
View notes
Text
College AU, Ch. 18
i know i just posted the last chapter yesterday, but i couldn’t resist giving you guys the next update. things just can’t seem to run smoothly for poor old felix. maybe i’ll give him a break eventually, but today is not that day. enjoy!
It’s time for me to come clean about my feelings. I tried to deny it when I told you I love you because I was afraid. You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel this way, and I didn’t want to scare you away. But the truth is, I’m in love with you.
“What are you concentrating so hard on?” Tamora asked, coming up behind Felix.
“N-Nothing!” he blurted out, hurriedly closing his binder and resting his arm on top of it to prevent it being pulled open. “Just brainstorming for an essay I have to write tonight.”
“Is everything alright?” she asked, noting his somewhat panicked response to her presence.
“Yes, everything is fine,” he said, breathing deeply to calm himself down. “I just didn’t hear you come in is all.”
“I’ll try to make more noise next time,” she smirked, sitting in the chair next to his.
They were seated at his kitchen table, where, up until moments ago, Felix had been attempting to write out his feelings in a letter to Tamora. He had tried a handful of times now to tell her how he felt, but each time, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Something about saying the words out loud made him feel tongue-tied and flustered, and he feared he would make a fool of himself trying to open up to her. He thought maybe a letter would be easier, because it would give him the time to choose his words more carefully before sharing them with her. However, the letter-writing was more difficult than he had envisioned; how could he possibly sum up his feelings for her in a few words?
“So how’d it go with Turner yesterday?” Tamora asked, rousing him from his thoughts. “What does he want?”
“He, um... He’s just upset over a disagreement we had back when we were still friends,” Felix said, scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t reveal Turner’s true intentions. “I’m going to try and make it up to him this week and see if that helps things.”
“And how are you doing?” she asked, her tone soft. “I can tell this has been hard on you.”
“I’m alright, really,” he said with a sad smile as he reached for her hand.
“Felix, you know you can talk to me about this,” she said. “I want to be there for you like you’ve been there for me.”
“Thank you, Tammy,” he said. “I’ll be okay. It’s just tough, losin’ a friend over a silly fight. We used to be really close, and now I hardly recognize him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Is there any way I can help?”
“No, you already help more than you know,” he smiled softly. “Havin’ you in my life is more than enough to remind me that my friendship with Turner wasn’t nearly as perfect as I sometimes think it was. It’s easy to forget about the bad once you’ve distanced yourself from someone, but you and Ralph remind me what it’s supposed to feel like to be close to people.”
Tamora leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Even so, it still can’t be easy to have someone you used to consider a friend treat you like this,” she said. “I’ll always be here if you want to talk about it.”
“Thanks, that really means a lot,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. “I’m one lucky fella.”
She kissed him again, and for a wonderful, brief moment she was all he could focus on, all thoughts of Turner and his current predicament far from his mind.
The following day, Felix sat across from Ralph in the dining hall, absently picking at the french fries on his plate.
“I just really think that going to Dr. Persi is my best option here,” he said.
“And I think that’s a sure-fire way to make sure that neither of you graduates on time,” Ralph replied. “There has to be another way.”
“Well, if you have any ideas, I’d be happy to hear them,” Felix snapped. His jaw dropped as he realized the tone he had just used, and he quickly stammered an apology. “I-I’m sorry, brother, I didn’t mean that.”
“Is everything okay?” Ralph asked. “I mean, besides the whole Turner thing. It seems like something else is bothering you.”
“I’m okay, I just... I still haven’t told her how I feel and it’s really starting to get to me,” Felix said, his forehead in his hands. “Every time she smiles at me, or holds my hand, or kisses me, there’s this voice in my head that won’t stop repeating it: ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.’ Over and over again, Ralph. Anything I do to try and quiet it down only seems to make it louder.”
“I think it’s time you finally just came out and told her,” Ralph said sympathetically. “Clearly your brain is struggling to keep it in.”
“I wrote her a letter,” Felix said, pulling the note from his binder and placing it on the table. “But I can’t decide how or when to give it to her. Should I be there when she reads it? Should I leave it for her to read later? Is the note even a good idea, or should I just come right out and say it?”
“Felix, I think you’re putting a little too much thought into this,” Ralph said. “You’re not asking her to marry you, you’re just telling her how you feel. Three words, that’s it.”
“I know, but it is kind of a big deal. I mean, after what she’s been through, it’s going to be pretty meaningful for me to say that to her. And for me, too,” he said. “I’ve said it before, but I’ve never meant it. Not like this.”
“I know,” Ralph said. “But look, you guys obviously care a lot about each other, it’s not like she’s going to leave you if everything’s not perfect in the moment. Just give her the note, or tell her, but either way, do it soon. Don’t let it keep you up at night.”
“You’re right, brother,” Felix sighed. “I just get so into my head about these things sometimes. This all feels new to me since I’ve never really been in love like this before.”
“I’m sure everything is going to be fine,” Ralph replied. “Try not to think so much about it, just go with your gut.”
“I think I will,” Felix said with a smile. “Thanks, Ralph. Now, I’ve got to get to my office hours. And you need to go to class.”
“Oh, right. I almost forgot about that,” Ralph chuckled.
The pair stood from the table, gathering their things. As Felix picked up their trash, he didn’t even notice his note to Tamora as it fluttered off the table and onto the ground, nor did he notice the pale hand that grabbed it off the floor as he headed for the trash can. As Felix left the dining hall, he didn’t see the pair of yellow eyes that lit up with devilish glee as they scanned the contents of the letter.
“How very interesting...”
#hero's cuties#wreck it ralph#wir fanfiction#sgt calhoun#fix it felix#my fic#how about some DRAMATIC IRONY
9 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hithere-aloha
Untitled
studpenguin1968
StudPenguin's Place
frangled
frangled
yourcaricatures-blog
Your Carictures...