#firebug-fucks

[silly-transage-bean]

Hello hello hallo hiiiiiiii :3

I'm a Pyro TF2 fictionkin, so you can call me Pyro! ^3^ Doubles are welcome, tell me about your differences (or not) from canon!!

He/it/fluff pronouns pls :3

I'm pro-para, radqueer, pro-transid, profic, and a darkshipper. Anyone can interact, and I welcome questions, but hate will be blocked, ignored, and/or removed.

I love asks and pet names, don't be afraid to become an anon! I am in a committed relationship, sexual asks will be ignored. Flirty/parasocial asks are allowed on a case-by-case basis, try your luck and see what I respond to!

I'm transseven, you can treat me as my transage if you want but you don't have to. Please do not deny I am my transage, though. That would be kinda stinky of you. ^_^

TransIDs: transgender, transmasc, transage, transchronoage, transshapeshifter, transhorns, transcommunicationcards (transitioned), trans4channer, transhikikomori

TrisIDs: trisBPD, trisDPD, trisautistic, trisMAP, trisAAM

PermaIDs: permaregressor, permablush, permalisteningtomusic

Paras: fictophile, plushophile

Misc.: therian, otherkin, fictionkin, verotransage, evil autism, veilic attraction, lambbite, alterhumanjest, polymultiappearance, hate-capable-to-hate-incapable

Not included: other gender terms, other sexuality terms

MY TAGS!!!!

#firebug-yaps - text post/text reblog

#firebug-agrees - reblogs

#firebug-coins - coining

#firebug-fans - asks

#firebug-fucks - hornyposting (just in case lol) (any horny posts will also be tagged with proper nsft tags)

[thesnailtail]

;; something something despite everything, it's still you.

[oasisofgalaxies]

Starting a collection

[xclowniex]

A jew was attacked on a Jewish holiday because palestine

Like be so fucking for real you cannot get any more blatent than that and people are still denying that there is an antisemitism problem within the pro Palestine movement.

[deutsche-bahn]

[alientee]

Shimmer Head

Ekko x reader

6k+ words

Fem reeader

Hazbin hotel Easter egg included. Addicted song describes reader.

Warning: suicidal thoughts and actions, drug use not by choice though.

Im sorry it took so long yall I’ve been crocheting blankets for Christmas and life has been lifting with work

You were an anomaly, or at least that’s what Silco called you. Apparently he saved you at birth; one calm walk through Zaun's lanes, and your mom was an overdosing shimmer head who was getting her last fix before she pushed you out. You survived. This was something Silco never thought possible; even when you looked like a shivering, whining skeleton, you were strong, a survivor, and from that day on, you were his daughter.

As life went on, you got stronger, faster, and a little more insane; your eyes changed, looking like a wild mix of two different colors. You changed so much it confused you every day to see yourself. How the voices in your head would go from telling you to slaughter everyone to offing yourself.

Silco had you microdosed with shimmer ever since you were a newborn till now, and you handled it each and every time. You were his creation, his wild card. Even as a child, he had you by his side with torture, robbing, and meetings. You’ve done it all. There were days the voices really did get to you; sometimes it was better to hurt yourself rather than to crash. You can remember the times Silco had to stop you from hurting him and yourself. The scars on your arms, the bloodstains left on your clothes, the burn scars from throwing bone down without any care, ready to give it all up. Either you survived, or Silco was just in time.

So when you first met Jinx, your first thoughts were, This poor kid, she’s just a dreamer.

But she followed you around everywhere, calling you sis, saying she’d never leave your side, she’d never leave you no matter what. Not like her sister did. You didn’t believe her; how could you? No one but Silco ever saw you; he’s the only one that loved you.

Until she followed you to a club one night.

You spin around in the chair, listening to the grungy punk music, drunk, horny prowlers, angry wannabes, and goofy dancers mixing into the crowd. You sit in your chair in the corner of the club, drink in one hand, revolver in the other. One bullet, one drink—it was all a game to you. The gun clicked three times, and you took three shots before it was snatched from your hand. And lo and behold, it was your new shadow coming to ruin the fun.

“Hey, what gives, Blue Jay!”

“How are you going to be the big shot legacy Silco says if you're dead, dumbass!”

“It’s none of your business!”

“We’re family now, so yeah, you are!”

“You going to love me even if I try to kill Silco in his sleep?”

“I’d still love you even if you killed me with him.”

Family, huh?

“Fine.”

For the first time you didn’t take your game too far, or get fucked up and pass out behind the bar; you didn’t even have a mental breakdown.

At least the voices got quiet for a while.

After a while you started to think of Jinx as a sister. Someone you could confide in, someone who gets you. Was Silco the best dad? Nah, but he was all you had. Now you know he had Jinx too. You thought everything was ok; you could be happy with your found family; even if you were broken, you still had people to fix you up, so everything was fine.

At least you genuinely believed everything was alright.

Until Jinx’s actual sister showed up, calling her Powder, the hugging, the crying, the family reunion was cute. You haven’t seen Jinx this vulnerable in a while. Everything was calm until some Piltie came out, and then the moment was gone. Jinx threatens the redhead with the gun, and boom, the Firelights had you all surrounded.

“Jinx, if you want your sister back, you gotta be smart about this.” The silence you got back let her know she was thinking up something stupid.

Smoke and ash covered the air, bullets flying and fighting at every turn. The firebugs just didn’t know when to quit, always trying to get into business that isn’t theirs. It was fun knocking them off their boards every once in a while. You’ve faced them before with Jinx killed a couple of times; you didn’t kill any of them, though. Never had the guts to really kill innocent people; you didn’t want to know what the voices would say if you did. You didn’t want to lose yourself all the way.

As always, Jinx is shooting bullets every which way in the sky, which wasn’t bad, but using bombs to blow up the platform is very bad. Your body hurt, your ears were ringing, and you could barely breathe. You tried calling out for Jinx but got no answer. You finally dragged yourself up; you can see some fire bugs down, but you couldn’t see Jinx. Couldn’t see her sister. Didn’t even see the body lying dead somewhere.

Huh, you were all alone.

Then it dawned on you: Jinx did it on purpose. She really was a genius, truly. She blew up the platform, making a distraction; a lot of people were down and out. Nobody could see what was happening; some too injured to chase.

Looks like she could only carry her sister to safety, though.

You’ll never leave me no matter what, huh?

Hehehehehe, yeah right!

You could finally breathe again and got the strength to stand up. It was all just so funny, really.

Bunch of bullshit hahahahaha

You didn’t notice anything going on around you, the shuffling of people standing; you didn’t feel all the cautious eyes on you. Not that you cared; all you cared about were the voices screaming at you so loud you could swear your ears were bleeding.

Walking towards the edge of the platform is easy. Turning around and giving a mock salute to the firelights with a smile on your face was easy. But dropping to your death knowing the last thing playing in your headphones was your and Jinx's song, it fucking burned every lyric you tried to sing just turned to ash in your mouth.

But at least now the voices would stop forever. The air rushed through your ears and then nothing.

Out like a light

You woke up in an eerily dark room; honestly, it was predictable. Down to the moldy smell, the silence, and the creepy guy in the corner with a mask. And you honestly should’ve been more mad at yourself for getting saved; you couldn’t even die in peace!

“Why am I alive, dammit!”

The silence was so annoying; there’s no need to try and be intimidating. You’ve seen worse. You hate people who try those tactics; you can’t torture someone who’s already tortured every day. Geez, just kill them if they don’t tell you what you want.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you shit, so just kill me already!”

And then the mask comes off. You don’t know him, but you knew him, apparently jinx’s past. The boy savior, she calls him; he looks just like she said he would. You also remember what she told you about him. “Better watch out; the boy savior likes to think he can save everybody.”

Ok, you can deal with a wannabe hero.

“Your on shimmer. You are an addict; Slico has you do his dirty work, and he gives you your next fix. Am I right?”

You’re really fucking wrong. Scratch that; you didn’t want to deal with the wannabe hero.

“So how about you tell me what I need to know, and you get to lay low somewhere secret and get off that shit before you try and die again while Silco just replaces you?”

The voices started to get louder, your throat tight and blood dripping from your palms for how tight you started to squeeze them. His words were like acid on your skin. Just who did this asshole think he was?

“First of all, dipshit, I’m his daughter! Ok, not some random street rat shimmer head he feeds. Second of all, shimmer makes people stronger. I should know; came right out of my druggie mom, still living and breathing, full of shimmer! I’ve been injected with it since Silco adopted me! He says I’m perfect; he says I'm his legacy. I don’t do his dirty work; I help him make Zaun better! So you're dead fucking wrong, wannabe!”

Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy…. And you're used to that.

“This is better? Our people are dying all around us. Kids are abandoned! People are sick and starving. How is this better?”

“Blame Piltover! Duh!”

“It’s Piltover. And Silco, are you crazy??!!”

That word. It always did something to you. You didn’t care when people looked at you like you were... but calling you crazy? Different story. Something that made all the voices laugh, an itch in your brain that told you to break, hurt, destroy, kill, and show them your insane.

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! Hahahahahahahahaha. All of Piltover and Zaun is going to burn you, and your fucking bugs are going to be ash! I’m not crazy. I’m perfect. I’m perfect he said”—

Your music!?! Where were your headphones?!!?

You were so numb, in a really dark place, you never fully remembered how your episodes went. When that singed guy injected you with your first microdose of shimmer, all you remembered was the screaming and Silco whispering how proud he was. But Ekko would remember it all even in his dreams. How you banged your head against the pole you were tied against over and over again. Crying tears of shimmer while laughing hysterically until blood dripped on the side of your head. Only to end up sobbing.

The voices screamed and screamed and screamed. Until they stopped, they never just stopped without music or silco. And you never had this heavy feeling over your ears without your headphones.

Oh, it’s this Ekko guy. What is he doing? Why is he holding his hands over your face? Why is he looking at you like that?

“I’m sorry. You’re not crazy. I promise, okay? Breath for me nice and slow.”

This was nice: everything quiet, everything nice and warm. This is new, huh?

“Hey!? Wai”—

Out like a light again

“She’s a danger to the base!”

“We can help her. She’s not like Jinx! She’s the product of a bad situation. She’s not with Silco because she wants to be; it’s because it’s all she knows.”

“She’s a mess; keeping her here is like bringing bullshit to our door!”

“He’s been injecting her with shimmer since she was an infant! We can’t kick her out!”

“Can y'all shut up sleeping here?”

Bat Guy and Ekko just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t care what you do to me; can I just have my damn headphones? The voices, ya know, they’re telling me to escape and kill everyone here. Soooooo, my earphones, pretty please.”

The boy wonder hands them over and puts them over your ears. And even with no music playing, everything feels peaceful. The whole time, he and Bat Boy are still going back and forth; this time you couldn’t hear it, though. Finally you get silence, if only for a moment. You almost bit Ekko when he moved one of them back off.

“Look, let’s compromise: you get a little freedom, supervised. And we get one shimmer shipment location… not the factory, just the shipment.”

“No bullshit babysitters; it’s you or nothing.”

“...fine.”

You could’ve told him to fuck off and die. Make him eat his sappy little words. But after the way he held your ears, he looked like a kicked puppy for making you freak out. How softly he said sorry. It was different; it was new. You didn’t do soft, not that much.Silco always told you to play your enemies, so maybe giving a little bait wouldn’t be too bad.

“Fine, boy wonder, I’ll give you a shipment that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

There he goes, looking at you like that again.

Like some kind of puppy. What a sucker.

Ekko took you outside, but you didn’t want to socialize, so he kept you both at a good distance from the others. While taking you out of the base, you didn’t want to look at anyone. If you saw any leering faces and judging eyes, you knew you’d lash out.

Oddly enough, you didn’t want to smack the fuck out of Ekko's face. Maybe a little bit, not a lot. You didn’t know what it was, but Ekko was calming; his presence was like a warmth in the dark murk of Zaun. You didn’t understand how he could be so... normal with all of this around him.

Maybe it was the fact that he actually took you out of the hideout and onto a roof to look over Piltover. You could’ve knocked him out, taken his board, and run. Why is he so stupidly trusting? “How do you do it?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” You raise one back “Be so happy-go-lucky when we live in a place like Zaun.” That made him stop his steps, and he looks serious; you haven’t seen him unless he’s talking about shipments.

“I have to make a change for the people who can’t help themselves; I want to give people something to live for; the firelight is my way of doing that.”

And there he goes again, making your mind feel funny again. It sounds like he means it; everything Ekko says always sounds genuine, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to believe him.

“Alright then, help me by teaching me how to ride one of those hoverboard things.” Ekko’s eyes get wide, and his mouth even opens a little. “You want to learn? I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a week. What changed?” You didn’t want to let him know the real reason, so you decided to play it off.

“Just thought I could kick your butt at something, boy wonder,” he scoffed. You knew he hated the nickname; it was too fun teasing him to stop, though.

“Alright, alright. If you’re so confident, then I’ll teach you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you end up falling off a few times.”

“I’ll be a pro; just you wait and see.”

You were in fact not a pro. Your knees were scuffed, and the dirt on your clothes was a testament to just how many times you hit the dirt. “Sorry this is taking so long; I feel fucking stupid.” Ekko grabs your hands and pulls you up, grabbing the board. “Don’t; it takes everyone a minute to learn this is no different. How do you think I feel? I made it; I had to test it and fall a lot.” You give him a nod, deciding to take the board back with a little more confidence this time. “What a boy genius you are,” you got a snort in return.

“Now, remember, hoverboards are pretty sensitive. You have to find your balance and keep it steady. And be careful not to lean too far to one side or the other, or you’ll tip over.” Ekko watches you carefully as you mount the hoverboard, his arms crossed over his chest. The hoverboard begins to move forward as you lean, slowly at first, but steadily gaining speed.

You could hear Ekko yelling behind you, “There you go, you’re doing great! Just keep your balance and focus on the path ahead.”

“What about turns!? What if I fall??”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You got the hang of it after a while; you both went back to the base riding your hoverboard and even racing some of the kids. It was a good time, no responsibilities, no expectations. It still hurt you; there was no Silco, but at least you had distractions.

Ekko seemed to show up when he wasn’t asked; it’s like he knew when to butt into people's business.

He was there during your worst moments of loneliness. When the darkness was too much, when the voices kept repeating the insults louder and crueler. Telling you to kill yourself, that you're nothing, worthless, not good enough, burn the firelight base to the ground, and watch everyone around you die. You’ll only end up alone anyway. The smell of ash and blood, you could remember it by heart. Tears pouring out of your eyes continuously, you didn’t even sob. You had nothing to be sad about in the moment. You just naturally cried, and all you could do was scream, hoping I’d stop. Sitting in the dark waiting for it all to end. Thinking, hoping that just maybe one day you’d be blessed enough not to wake up.

It wasn’t until you felt Ekko's heavy gloves on your shoulder. Asking if you were ok, if you needed anything, if you needed him. Looking at you like you're the only thing that mattered in the moment. Moving to sit next to you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. “You don’t have to talk; just know I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” Those days were hard, but it always felt nice to have Ekko lying on the floor next to you, no words, just his company.

He even let you into his little workshop. His words: “You don’t have to knock. If you need me, just come in” You’d hand him his tools and use all the knowledge you had on tech to help. You used to make a lot of trinkets that helped your day-to-day life. You didn’t like to make weapons like Jinx, but you could make a mean bomb. You’ve even fallen asleep to his tinkering and his little nerd-out moments. “You're such a dork.” He wouldn’t even take his eyes off his invention.

“Shush if you're not going to help.”

“Touchy touchy. Here, let me look, boy genius.” When you actually put in effort to help him, he’d look at you from the side of his eye, and you’d pretend like you didn’t notice the small smile creeping up on his face. Sitting by his side until late at night, making new things to help out in the base. Both your giggles and the metal clanking were the only things heard at 3 am.

And that’s how it was for a month. Ekko is coming in, trying to coax you into giving up Silco; you give him a little info, and he folds and gives you what you want for the day. You had a good thing going. So why’d he want to ruin it now? You were fine seeing the kids; you made small talk with one of the firelight girls, but that’s it. Everyone else you dealt with in passing. So why was Ekko so set on you interacting with more people?

“How about we hang out with the group for a bit?”

“I’m fine; I hate people.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—“

“I don’t need help! I don't need friends! I—I need my dad; I need…. I need to feel in control. It still feels like I’m a fucking prisoner even if you say I’m not.

Ekko doesn’t talk for a minute; you can tell he’s trying to choose his words wisely, his white locs covering his face. “I don’t know what you see in Silco, even if he took you in…. You can’t tell me you truly see the good in what he’s doing.

You didn’t answer him. Afraid you’ll say something you’ll regret by lashing out. He didn’t get it; he didn’t get you! Silco was your dad; Silco helped you ignore the voices; he loved you even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“He’s not the best dad in the world, but he’s my dad. He helped me when I had no one. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ekko didn’t answer you; it’s like he wanted to argue, but he knew you needed this.

“Just... just give it a chance; you may find your people.”

If he heard your scoff, he didn’t react to it.

I don’t have people; all I have is my dad and myself, even when I don’t love myself.

Ekko’s soft words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You have me too.”

“Until how long, hmmm, till I run out of information?”

“That’s no—“

“Hey, Ekko, tell me how I survived the day I jumped.”

Ekko went back silent; he was giving you that look again, and you hated it. It’s like he saw everything within you, and it made you feel naked, like you couldn’t hide.

“Oh that… flew down to save you.”

“Why?”

“When you smiled at us before you fell, I thought you were asking for help.”

You giggled at that; only Ekko would think of saving his enemy who tried to off themselves in front of him. “Your something else, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower!? What kind of flower is that? We don’t have those in Zaun.”

“Alright, take me out or whatever it is you want.”

“D-don’t say it like that. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the kids.”

You never knew Zaun could look like this, or even have a tree, and now the name firelights makes sense: nothing but a lush green tree with the fireflies all around it. It’s peaceful, plush; it’s nice. You got a few looks here and there, but it’s fine; ekkos here, and you weren’t forced to hang out with who you didn’t want to.

And that’s how you spent your day bonding with Ekko and even the kids; they weren’t as judgy, and you appreciated it. Even when they had questions, it didn’t feel pointed. “Why do you always wear those things on your head?” your headphones; you never took them off, never could bring yourself to part from the one thing that helps stop the voices, no matter how battered and dingy they are. “They’re headphones. They help me when I’m scared or upset.” “Oooooh, I get it; my mask helps me! Makes me feel stronger!” “Good, use your strength to become the best firelight you can be.”

That’s how the day started and ended: you playing with the kids, running around, playing tag and hide and seek until the night came. The kids gathered around, using common objects around them to make a little band; music brings a lot of the firelights together, and somebody brings an actual scrap-made speaker playing louder music. Some even start to dance. And in this moment you couldn’t help but think maybe Ekko was right; maybe these people were ok.

You grab the overworking leader by the arm and pull him with you. “What is it?”

“Come on, Ekko, let’s dance!”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, you scared boy wonder?“

“Not at all, but um… why?”

“Who doesn’t like dancing!”

That’s when the music hits and nothing else matters. Ekko moves effortlessly, his body flowing in perfect harmony with yours. He keeps you close, his chest pressed against yours as he twirls you around. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. Your body’s moving in rhythm as the music gets Ekko pulls you closer, one hand resting on your waist while the other takes hold of your hand, spinning you. He begins to sway gently, guiding you in a slow dance. Holding each other’s sides, swaying back and forth. Every minute you got to look in Ekkos's eyes, seeing him smile at you like that did something to you; he really was something else.

You couldn’t let those eyes shake you, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell; no one really gives a damn about you, no one except Silco. But maybe if you were a better daughter, he would’ve found you by now.

Ekko could only look at you in confusion when you walked away from him, away from the gathering. He thought it was a good moment that he was finally getting through to you. But he wasn’t one to push, not when he knew what you’d been through, but he followed you up the stairs to the treehouse.

And when he found you, the silence was heavy but comfortable. That’s how it was with you too, and you’d never say it out loud, but he made you feel safe.

“Do you want to stay here?”

You timidly glanced into his eyes before you took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” you looked away, closing your eyes, trying to stop yourself from getting out of hand. Ekko hummed, leaving more silence in between you both, and then he asked another, “Even if you know Silco loves you, it isn’t healthy.”

You opened your eyes as a bitter taste remained in your mouth. Your face contorted into different expressions as you debated with yourself on whether or not you would share.

“My mother was a shimmer addict; she had me right as she overdosed. And Silco found me; I was different; I survived even with a small, premature body full of shimmer. He said I was unique, that I could change all of Zaun. I believe him. I’ve done a lot of great things… at least I think so. Even if you don’t agree with him, he saved me.

“But you're not okay—

“Don’t tell me what I am! I’m perfect as I am; he said so! I may not be normal, but I am living instead of surviving, Ekko! Can’t you see that?”

“I do. But you know what else I see? I see how happy you are riding your board; I see how sweet you are with the kids, especially when you steal yarn from the top side and crochet stuff for them; I see how you care for Raven when you think she’s not looking by finding her favorite things to surprise her without letting her know it was you; I see how you truly care for the people you're loyal to. You touch people's lives and leave light in your wake. I see how beautiful you are inside and out. You’re your own person, not what Silcos made you! You can do better than what he has you doing.”

“Is that what you’ve come up with in your mind? That I’m just this lost, misguided girl who was groomed to be fucked up? News flash! Boy Wonder, I’m in Zaun. I was going to be fucked up regardless of Silco! Who do you think I am, huh? Don’t act like you know me, 'cause you don’t! Stop trying to change me into something I’m not! I’m not some knockoff version of Jinx you can fix just because I decided to be nice a few times. What?! I’m your little powder passion project. Couldn’t save her, so you’re trying to save me because we both have family, daddy, and abandonment issues?!”

You knew it was a low blow, but even though she left you, you couldn’t help but think about Jinx’s words, taking them to heart, and everything she told you. “He likes to think he can save everyone.”

He narrowed his eyes at your response; you could see him clenching his fist and clenching his teeth. His eyes no longer looking at you with acceptance or worry like you were used to, only irritation

“I wasn’t trying to change her; I thought she was in danger. I didn’t know she went with that piece of shit willingly…. I thought I could save her; I needed to because she was my friend.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s right, you’re the boy savior!”

His eyes went from a glare to cold and lifeless.

“Fuck you. You know nothing; you only know Jinx's pain but not mine. You’re right about one thing, though: you and Jinx are similar. So I don’t know why I was stupid enough to try and help you; just like her, you don’t deserve it.” That just pissed you off more.

“I didn’t ask you to help me! I didn’t ask for you to save me from offing myself! I didn’t ask for you to try and fucking fix me or my life!”

“I’m not trying to change you; I’m trying to give you something better! A chance! Silco didn’t give you a chance; he used you! Your work, a tool! If you survived on shimmer this long since birth, you're proof that his product can lead to something greater than he thought. But it’s at the expense of you and your health.” His voice lowers, his breathing heavy. “Please… tell me you see it. You have to know that keeping you on shimmer as long as he has wasn’t to help you. Only him.”

In the back of your mind you knew; you always knew. And yet the faith he put in you gave your heart love you’ve never felt before. How he always stated he was proud of you, said you were the best thing to happen in his life, that you're his legacy, his daughter. But what was the cost for your heart, suicidal thoughts, breakdowns, nightmares, and dissociation? A mother that never wanted you, a father that loved you but not enough to see your pain, only your potential. “Hey Ekko, thank you. For saving me and making me realize. I don’t want people to end up like me... because I’m not ok.”

“Then let me he“—”. He didn’t get to finish before you pushed back, making him crash into the tree behind him. You jumped from the stairs on the tree; you didn’t care about the fall because it’s the freest you ever felt. You could hear the other fireflies yelling, but the adrenaline and the wind in your ears helped you ignore them. As soon as you fell, you pushed forward, not caring about the pain in your legs and ankles. Grabbing a hoverboard before speeding off and out of the hideout.

When Ekko got up, he didn’t chase you, nor did he call out for you; all he could do was watch. Scar rushed up to him, looking at him expectingly. “She’s going to go back to Silco!? We have to catch her before she rats us out!?” Ekko didn’t react to his words, only looking forward to where you had run. “Ekko!” And when Ekko finally looked at Scar, he just shrugged. “She’ll be back when she’s ready.” “She’s not coming back." Ekko, she’s been waiting for an opportunity to escape, and we let her!”

Ekko just shook his head, picking up something off the ground. “She’ll be back.” “How do you know!?” Ekko moved his hand in front of Scar, showing him what he picked up. “She left her headphones.” Scar just scoffed. “That doesn't mean anything.” Ekko just shook his head. “Trust me, if you knew her like I do, you’d know it meant everything.”

You wandered around one of Silco's biggest shimmer factories, where most of his shipments go. You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth. “I’m addicted to the madness~” You turned on your headphones, singing along, tuning out the noise below, scummy workers and henchmen everywhere. “Let me leave my soul a-burning; I’ll be breathing it in.” Sneaking down through the crawl spaces, you laid out bombs everywhere you could stick them. You set up trap after trap after trap after trap. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was easy to get in and get out.

“I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling~” This place had meaning to you… this was the first place Silco took you when he felt like you were ready to work for him. The first place where he showed you the ropes was the same place he had you start your injections. The same place you had your first breakdown. This felt like a goodbye to the past, the pain, everything that made you feel inadequate. You don’t know what you’d be without Silco; you knew the voices would never fully leave, but at least with this you could let your dad know you were ok and that you were going your own way.

“Just concede and give in to your inner demons again~” You hit the button, and it all blew up—the building, the workers.

And you too. Hopefully, Silco can forgive you for not saying goodbye.

It’s been 3 months; Ekko waited for you to return. But after a while he could only assume you’d either gone your own way or something terrible happened. Missions still happened with no sign of you with Silco's goons, and there’s talk about the huge explosion that happened, so he couldn’t pinpoint what had happened to you; all he had to give him comfort about your departure was your headphones. He never touched them, only keeping them by his bedside with your memory lingering with him whenever there in his sight. But today at 12 am, he finally had the courage to tinker with them, hopefully fixing them up.

He was concentrating so hard he didn’t hear the door open; it was Scar. “Your stray is back,” and as soon as he came, he left.

“Hey sunflower,” he jumped and turned around so quickly you thought he’d fall out of the chair. He did slip a little as he rushed to hug you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Missed me?” He squeezed your torso, chuckling a little. “Missed your humor, not your bullshit.” You poked at his side, making him jump. “Lies, you missed that too. Everyone else is boring.

He pulls you over to his patched-up couch, both of you plopping down. You lean into his touch, laying on his shoulder. Neither of you said anything; you didn’t need to. You don’t know what you expected when it came to his reaction. But you’re glad Ekko didn’t pressure you to talk about anything or question what you’d been doing. You’d tell him one of these days. The withdraws, breakdowns, you almost ending it all. But right now you just wanted to enjoy his company; being alone for months took its toll, so it’s good to be back in a warming presence.

It took everything in you to not go back to Silco, to everything that was easier. But you pulled it off, and you hope Ekko could see that you really are trying. “Was it you?” He spoke so softly you thought you just imagined it, but Ekkos looking into your eyes let you know it was real. And you knew what he meant; your explosion was nothing but destruction, but you wanted to leave that behind you. So you said the only thing that was closest to the truth. “I’m following my own path now, Ekko.” When you looked back at him, it almost took your breath away. Those stupid, big, brown eyes looking at you with so much warmth you could’ve melted right then and there. It made you sick.

“I’m happy for you... So you’re just visiting?”

“Geez, trying to kick me out already, huh?” He shook his head. “Of course not. I just…. I want you to be happy and go your own way, even if it’s not here with me.” You looked away, biting your cheek. “So what if I wanted to be happy here?”.

“Then I’d make a space for you right now; you’re always welcome.”

“Even in your room~”

“Yeah, you can stay with me if you want.”

You felt all your thoughts falter and come to a stop once the words were out of his mouth. You paused and looked at him, face red. “Easy there; we don’t want everyone jealous that the big boss in charge is playing favorites.” He pulls you so close, too close. His nose and forehead touching your own. You don’t know this Ekko, Ekko who always was too shy to flirt back, who was always the gentleman, who only gave fleeting touches like he was afraid to break you. “You are my favorite; you’ll always be someone special to me.” You couldn’t help pushing his buttons, not wanting him to see your face reddening.

“Leaders shouldn’t show favoritism, ya know. I’m going to need something for me to keep quiet; wouldn’t want to hurt the kiddies feelings, would you? out of all the things you expected Ekko to say, you didn’t expect what he’d do.

Ekko leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and tender; the brush of his lips is so soft. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, pouring all of his love and affection into the kiss. He leaned back and smiled warmly as he continued to gently caress your cheek. He looked at you with a soft, affectionate expression, his gaze filled with adoration thatyou’d noticed before. You just never had the guts to call him out on it.

“Is that enough to keep you quiet?”

“It's a start.”

[evil8keta]

can i please fucking beat up spy for not bathing like jesus christ (ok to be srs i'd love to see stupid crack stuff w/ spy; if that's available LOLL)

i started saying that he stinks as a joke but yeah, what if this mf smells

spy x reader: chasing your bf around the base like he's a cat that doesn't want to take a bath

- no spy it doesnt matter how expensive your cologne is if you don't wash your mask every few days ur mask is gonna STINK

- mf is GONE. disappeared. so you go around the base asking the other mercenaries whether they have seen the stínky man. "pyro! have you seen spy anywhere?" the firebug shakes their head, and you frown. like damn where tf is he!!!

- you continue looking and asking around until you reach scout's room, you knock and peak your head inside, smiling when you notice that the bostonian is there, reading a book about philosophy.

"hey scout, do you know where spy is?"

"nah, haven't seen him anywhere."

- scout says without even looking at you. "oh" you say with a pout. well, better keep looking. you're about to close the door and say goodbye to scout and leave him to read Albert Camus-- wait, scout? reading? HE CAN'T READ! you have never done a double take so fast.

"I FOUND YOU SPY! YOU THINK I'M THAT DUMB?"

- if you suggest taking a bath with him he MIGHT actually do it. take ur mind out of the gutter btw, its quite a wholesome experience

- remember kids hygiene is important. perfume/cologne does NOT do the job!

[seancekitsch]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a John allerdyce x reader where they were friends back at Xavier's school and they meet again in the void. They have one night stand because of how lonely they feel there and then John confesses that he was in love with her at school

hehehehe hi i loved this one

I still don't know who you are, I only know that I'm still lonely

warnings: smut with feelings, smoking, reader in her feels thinking about the implications of the multiverse, ambiguous but fluffy ending

The void is cold at night, but sitting out on the roof of your trailer, you barely feel it. You stare up, stars dotting the sky, something you hadn’t seen in years before being sent here. It still tripped you out, the silence of the void most nights, compared to living in New York after graduating Xaviers. You can hear some kind of revelry going on from deep within the giant skull, but you don’t move to join them. What would be the point? These were all people you’d fought at one time, many of them also trying to kill you at one point. You don’t want to drink with them, as much as you miss that kind of camaraderie. Too much blood had been spilled for your liking, too much of it your own. 

“Green thumb!” That voice calls, and you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“What do you want, firebug?” you respond, leaning over the edge of the roof to look at John. You already know what he wants though, one hand already pawing through your bag.  There was a strategic reason Cassandra didn’t feed you to that creepy fucking thing in the sky. You can grow plants out of even a drop of water, and now you’re the cash crop in exchange for safety. Food, tobacco, alcohol. Funny how that works. Do any of them know you could poison them all? Does Cassandra know you’ve considered it?

John swings himself up the ladder to join you, plopping himself down as you finally fish out the baggie of freshly rolled cigarettes.

“You better light me up too,” you mumble, putting a second one to your lips. 

“Why don’t you ever hang with us?” he asks, ignoring your plea until you tug his wrist so the flame is close enough to put your face against. You take a long drag, biting the edge of it as you let the smoke drift upwards from your lips, french inhaling.

“Okay, then I guess,” he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, “Why don’t you ever hang with me?”

You sigh, leaning back on your arms, plucking the cigarette from your lips.

“It’s weird. The last three times I saw you,” you sigh again, “It’s like, one day we were playing seven minutes in heaven at Bobby’s birthday party, and then the next you left us for Magneto, and then… years passed the sentinels were after you and I could do nothing. Or at least, my John was. But now apparently there are infinite versions of us and maybe you didn’t even do any of that, does it matter?”

You shrug, almost despairingly. The John you remember is not unlike this one. The John you knew was a friend, an almost something, until he wasn’t. One day the mansion was raided, and then all the sudden he was the enemy, and then Rogue and Bishop held you back as sentinels closed in on him. You hadn’t watched him die, you couldn’t. It’s for the same reason you forgave him for his part on Alcatraz instantly, even if that had caused a rift in your friendship with Bobby and Rogue. 

“Hey I get it,” he says, fingers twitching as if he were to reach out to you, “but it gets lonely out there. Maybe I want a friend.”

“A friend?” you scoff, “You’ve got a bunch of them down there.” 

You motion down towards the faint noise with your cigarette, biting your lip. A friend; what a weird concept for the void. 

“Yeah, none of them will play seven minutes in heaven with me,” he scrunches up his face in mock disgust. And maybe another timeline where you’d waken up after Bobby’s birthday party you would have told him you had a crush on him, and then maybe he wouldn’t have left. Maybe there were even several timelines where that happened. You look to the stars, foreign in pattern. No constellations you can make out. 

“Is that your attempt at flirting?” you ask, not wanting to actually dignify it with an answer. You pull smoke through your lips again, the cigarette now half done. And it’s the spent ash falling from the tip of it that signals to you how long you’ve been talking to the man next to you. A physical timer to signify the longest conversation you’ve had since Cassandra let you into this little club of hers. 

“I dunno,” he leans in close, warmth radiating through the cold desert air between you, “is it working?”

You scoff at him again, not giving him an answer, but you lean closer. Your shoulders now touch, and the chill of the air leaves you. Heat glides across your skin, melting into your pores, gentle warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Without thinking, you lean into the touch, pressing your arm against his to chase the heat. John says nothing, for once having the foresight to know words aren’t needed or wanted, and instead envelops you in an awkward side hug. God, how long has it fucking been since you’ve been hugged? You wrap your arms around his shoulders, a gesture he also chases, grip on you tightening as he rests his cheek against the curve of your bicep. You rest your own against his head, savoring the feeling of a simple embrace. His hands start to trace circles on your back, fingers drawing patterns on your hip. You hum in appreciation, his touch a salve on a wound you don’t recognize. You move in closer, your cigarette now abandoned to grasp and map out the expanse of John’s shoulders, straining against the awkward side hold to get even closer to him. One of your hands moves up to the base of his skull, fingers tangling in his hair. 

John groans. 

“Thats a dangerous move,” he warns you, but then you feel his lips brush against your arm through your tee shirt. Returning the motion, not even thinking about it, your lips find the crown of his head. Your bodies move involuntarily, seeking the closeness, affection between you. He groans again, and clumsily pulls you onto his lap to straddle him. Before either of you can think too hard about it, you come together in a kiss, a searing, messy thing. He holds you tight, pressing your chest to his, molding your bodies together. A strange noise leaves his mouth, a half moan half whimper reverberates against your lips as your hips make contact with his.  

Curious, you grind your hips down, firm against his lap. Another whimper-moan escapes him, this time, desperate and hungry. His lips move against yours harshly, as if this is a last passionate kiss before an execution. You gasp as teeth graze your lip, stubble burns your chin, intoxicating as your bodies move. 

“Fuck,” he pants, breaking the kiss only to still speak against your face, “I need you.” 

You’re both breathless, moving in tandem rubbing against one another. 

“Where?” you tease him, and then drag your hand down between you to land on his crotch, “Here?”

He hisses as he nods. He’s hard and hot against your palm, already straining against his pants. A bold surge of confidence has you moving your hand against him, almost studying how he reacts. You feel his cheek heat up against you, certain an adorable blush creeps over him. Fuck, you want more. 

“Never took you for a fuckin’ tease.”

There’s laughter in his voice, and he squeezes your hips hard trying to urge you to keep touching him. 

So he’s thought about this before. 

“What’d you take me for, then?” Your voice sounds foreign to you, strained and thick from emotions you won’t dare let out. 

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he asks, then presses a kiss to your jawline, “I thought you’d be meaner.”

He continues to kiss up your jaw, stopping only to nibble on your earlobe. You giggle as you try to push him away, girly and vulnerable. 

“We should go inside,” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and that’s that.

Your trailer is simple, enough room for a table, a hot plate, a cot, and a jug of water. Last time John had been in your space, it was a teen girl’s dorm filled with stuffed animals (some of which he had won for you), trinkets galore, plush blankets, cd collections, and polaroid collages documenting all of your friends and their antics. Though even in its scarcity, you’ve managed to make it your own. You’ve made paints from berries and flowers you’ve grown to paint murals, to write on the walls. It had become a hobby since photography was out of the question. You look at John almost nervously, wondering what he must think of all of this. His hands move at your waist, pulling up your shirt to explore bare skin. 

“Get your pretty ass on that bed,” John commands you, hand snaking its way down to grab a handful of asscheek. You yelp at the harsh contact, but oblige him, turning to plop yourself down on the bed. Weak old springs creak under you, and you kick off your loosely laced boots to bring your feet up onto the bed. You scoot back onto the bed, beckoning him as bent knees fall open. 

John wastes no time joining you, undoing his own boots to climb on top of you. His hair tickles your face as it dangles in anticipation of a kiss, his hips slotted between your thighs.

“Point of no return,” you warn him. Impulsive, selfish John; Protective, lonely John. There’s no conflict in his lust blown eyes, no questioning or hesitancy. He cups your cheek gently, and presses a languid kiss onto your lips. 

You follow that one with a much more aggressive kiss, all but yanking him down onto you as your tongue moves against his bottom lip. His hand moves from your cheek to the base of your neck, thumb pressing just ever so lightly on your throat, and you whine at his touch. Heat floods to your core, every nerve in your body begging for more of him. 

John understands, and moves accordingly, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hands travel further south. One of his hands finds purchase again on your hip, while the other drags between your thighs. 

“Am I your friend yet?” he asks against your lips, and you nod desperately. You’re sure you’d agree to anything right now as long as he keeps touching you. 

He pulls away from you, his eyes studying you as his fingers make contact with your clothed core. You sharply inhale as your hips buck at the contact, John’s hand steadying you at your hip. He presses harder against you, smiling as he’s given another buck of your hips. 

“How ‘bout you let your friend John make you feel good then?”

“Please, fuck,” you gasp, your hands reaching up to try to pull him back down, “John, I need you to-“

He shushes you, and pulls further away, hands trailing down your form as he sits back on his heels. John unbuttons your pants before leaning back over you.

His hands work quickly unbuttoning your shirt, pushing it hastily out of the way to reveal you to him. You cringe slightly when you remember that the flimsy bra you’re wearing is stained; old blood discolors the top of each cup, a reminder of a scuffle you’d gotten yourself into. If he notices, John makes no mention, instead just groaning appreciatively as he replaces the cups with his own big hands. His lips move from your neck to your collarbone, mapping out your skin like new territory. You arch your back into his motions, unable to stop the whining keen from your mouth as he sucks a possessive hickey right where your collarbone meets the front of your throat.

He runs his fingers down your stomach, feather light touches that tickle you and leave trails of goosebumps in their wake. 

His rough hands feel like home against your skin, hands that hold memory and shared history, maybe even multitudes of them. In all the other timelines, does John undress you as hastily as this? In other timelines, are you with John? It’s a stream of questioning that blurs and muddles like the ripple of a wave, disrupted by your pants being pulled from your legs, your underwear following shortly after. 

He’s extremely ungraceful removing his own clothes, clamoring off the bed to shimmy out of his pants and boxers, practically whipping his shirt off over his head. You’re certain you hear a button pop somewhere. This eagerness is easily the sexiest thing about John, just an absolute need to do this to you. If his kiss was a spark, this move right here is a wildfire. You start to sit up, legs still open and inviting as you raise a finger to beckon him back over. Only, He practically tackles you back onto the bed. You’re thrown into your pillows, plush cotton and down cradling your skull as he eclipses the little light that exists. 

“John!” you giggle as his frame covers yours again, his hair falling down and brushing your cheeks. 

Your hands meet each others, then dance past, traveling across bare shoulders, traversing bare chests. Panting, moaning mixing with the air between you. He presses his hips into yours, his hardness against you. 

“John,” you gasp, your hips jerking against his, instant friction blazing. It’s intoxicating, the John of it all surrounding you, his body against yours. 

“Do that again,” he begs, and your hips comply, this time much more intentional. You drag yourself against him, his shaft getting caught in and splitting your lips. You gasp sharply, stopping in your tracks as he makes contact with your clit. Fuckfuckfuck. Your vision goes white for a moment, heaven behind your eyelids. John groans, dipping his head low to nip at your jaw. His hands find your chest, kneading and groping you, encouraging you to keep moving. The friction of the drag becomes less and less as your hips move, and if this were another time and place, you might be embarrassed at how obvious your want was growing; but here, here you feel emboldened by it, encouraged by John’s hips trying to meet your motions, moving himself through that want just as needy and desperate. He gasps and groans against your ear, and you swear, you’ll finish just like this. 

“On top,” John pants, “Need you…”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. You nod, kissing him again as you grab onto his shoulders, a silent urging for him to flip your position. His arms wrap around you, hugging you close as he turns himself. It’s like a muscle memory, the way the two of you work together seamlessly in this way. Suddenly, the idea that this John is your John isn’t such an insane thought. Your John was intuitive like this. 

You tilt your hips into hip, his cock now resting against his stomach, a much easier angle to grind yourself down onto him. You test the waters with the first stroke, a loud appreciative groan responds. The second one is shallow, technically several mini grinds, stroking yourself up and sown his shaft, clit catching along the head and making your shudder. Johns fingers dig into your thighs, his teeth gritted and brow furrowed in concentration. 

“You’re a lot more patient than I thought you’d be,” you mention, though your voice shakes and clearly youre hurtling towards losing your resolve yourself. 

“Please,” he begs, “Please, baby.”

And at that you’re a goner.  You nod, lips falling open as you maneuver yourself over him, his hands immediately helping, grasping the base of his shaft in one hand and rubbing gentle strokes on your waist with the other. 

Two gasps fill the air as his tip meets your entrance, and as if shocked, Johns hands move back to your knees, holding them tightly as if bracing himself for impact.

You ease yourself onto him, an involuntary hiss between gritted teeth as you adjust to the size of him. Fuck, he hadn’t felt this big when you were groping him earlier. The stretch is divine, though, your lashes fluttering closed as your hips meet his. Both of you sigh, a seal of heat and need bonding the two of you together. His hands move from your knees, trialing up your thighs to find your hips again. His thumbs dig into your skin, and for a moment it feels like pain, breaking through to something else. 

As if compelled, you find yourself moving, not caring about getting comfortable and adjusting. Shallow thrusts; ripples in the tide. You grind down as you hips kiss his again, slow and deliberate. Teasing.

John practically whimpers below you, his grip on you tightening and loosening as he flexes his hands against you, clearly attempting restraint. How out of character for your John, you think, not even bothering to remind yourself this probably isn’t yours. 

“You don’t have to hold back,” you tell him, your voice watery and wavering, “Y’won’t break me.”

His eyes leave your chest to meet yours, asking permission through a bitten lip. 

“Fuck me,” you say, resolve returning to your voice. You grab one of his hands, and move it to your ass, pushing his palm into the meat of one cheek until his fingers dig themselves in. At this rate, trails of his fingers with stay bruised on you for a week. Good, you think.

John breathes out, a half sigh half chuckle, and then nods as if you’ve challenged him; and maybe you have, with the way that he looks at you the way he looked at battle twenty years ago. 

His grasp on you never moves, but his hips buck up into yours, his heels dig into your mattress. You bounce up, thrown from stability at the movement, a yelp turns into a laugh, and you plant your hands on his chest. 

“Hang on,” he jokes, and then thrusts again. 

John sets an agonizing pace. He is neither slow nor gentle; forceful movements, energy buzzing in every muscle. He fucks fast, and hard, but his face is one of pure delight in the starlight. He smiles up at you like you made the stars yourself. You find yourself struggling to catch your breath under the heat rising in your cheeks, little keens and moans leaving a smile that rivals his. 

He breaks his pattern by rolling his hips, a loud moan ripping itself from your throat as your body jolts, a clear warning you won’t last too much longer.

“I’m- I-“ you try to warn him, and he nods knowingly. 

“I got you,” he assures you, his own voice sounding as out of control as yours. He tilts your hips in his hands, the next thrust now coming pelvis to pelvis, your clit bumping against where hair meets the base of his shaft. Your fingers curl and dig into his chest, begging to leave bruises of their own, to mark him the way he marks you. Something, if even temporary, to show that the desolation was staved off for at least one night. Something that, every time John looks in a mirror, he can trace the patterns of you in his skin. Each thrust earns a moan from you now, any semblance of control or shame gone now as everything becomes John in your world. 

He speeds up, his own moaning mingling with yours, chasing his own end, a mutual high. His thrusts begin to lose their rhythm, speed and that delicious bump of his pelvis against your clit becoming his goal more than consistency, chasing the way you jolt and whine in his grasp. 

“Gonna let me have it?” he asks, hand flexing, but never leaving your ass. You nod, head bobbing wildly with desperation. John lifts his hips fully off the bed, his thrusts wild and harsh; the need to have you come undone on his eclipsing anything else. 

He babbles praise, half sentences of sweet nothings and encouraging, begging for you to come on his cock one moment and then telling you how pretty you look the next. He moans, cutting his own sentences off, switches up his stroking, interrupts himself in the desperation to please you. 

You hold on for dear life, pleasure spiking with each of John’s thrust. Your peak meets you quickly, John’s body a lightning rod for your ecstasy. 

“Fuck!” you come with a cry, shoulders crumpling as you begin to shake. Your hand planted on his chest curls, your nails digging into the smattering of hair between his pectorals. John’s lips are parted, eyes concentrating on you, taking in every second of this; the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way your body responds to his thrusting below you. You ride it out, John’s hold on your hips and his thrusts upward both becoming more gentle, your body contorting and contracting around him.

He pulls you back down, strong arms holding you to his chest. John presses sloppy kisses to your face, no real rhythm or pattern; just holds you as you come down from release, the aftershocks of pleasure. Your end triggers his, lazy shallow thrusts meet a shuddering groan, and heat spills against the inside of your thigh. Your hands find his hair, smoothing and combing through it, a grounding gesture as you lay folded above him. 

You stay like that for what feels like an eternity, until he mumbles something about your knees and moves you off of him. However the cold air of the night has no time to sink into your bones before he engulfs you in an embrace, snuggling closely into wordless comfort. 

When you wake up, your shades are drawn, only lines of dawn’s light shining through and replacing last night’s starlight. The first thing you notice is the streaks illuminating your little den. 

The next thing you notice is the quiet snoring of the body next to you. But, as if on cue, he wakes at the slightest shift of your body, still wrapped in his arms. Instead of letting you go, or moving, he just pulls you closer, snuggling in under the thin sheet, his skin warm on yours. 

“Quit moving, babe,” he mumbles, pressing a placating kiss to your forehead.

“You’re still here,” you say, sleepiness not hiding the surprise in your voice. 

He chuckles, and presses another kiss to your face, closer to your brow.

“Mhm, ‘course I am,” his lips drag across your face as he repositions, leaning over your frame. His hand moves, and replaces itself to rest on your chest, a teasing squeeze as he kisses your nose. 

“I’m glad,” you tell him, pushing him until there’s a bit of space for you to breathe, “I missed you.”

John searches your face, noting every crease and smile line, eyes darting from one feature to the next, soaking you in. You feel studied, like a bug pinned and flat; every bump and flaw and scar from a lifetime of fighting and running laid bare for him. 

Before you can retreat inward, John opens his mouth. 

“You know I loved you, right?” 

Your breath hitches, a ghost of a gasp. A distant memory of fumbled kisses in a closet; of putting a cold spoon against a hickey, a chorus of teasing from friends. 

You want to remind him he’s probably not even the one from your timeline, that your John was probably dead. But in infinite timelines, how many ways could that not happen? How many timelines have John staying, have John finding you again?

Your hand finds his cheek, calloused fingers dancing over his stubble. He’s handsome in a way you never imagined when you were doodling hearts next to little flames in your notebooks in class. Rugged, desert worn, masculine. Fuck it.

Is this not John finding you again, timelines be damned? 

“I had a feeling.”

You smile as you pull him back down for a kiss.

[tavolgisvist]

Norwegian Wood

(Allan Williams, The Man Who Gave the Beatles Away, 1976)

I once had a girl Or should I say, she once had me? She showed me her room "Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?" She asked me to stay And she told me to sit anywhere So I looked around And I noticed there wasn't a chair And when I awoke I was alone, this bird had flown So I lit a fire Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

(Norwegian Wood, 1965)

NORWEGIAN WOOD: Me but Paul helped me on the lyric.

(John Lennon, interview for Hit Parader, 1972)

Q: What about on Rubber Soul, “Norwegian Wood”? A: I was trying to write about an affair without letting me wife know I was writing about an affair, so it was very gobbledegook. I was sort of writing from my experiences, girls’ flats, things like that. <…> I think on “Norwegian Wood” and “In My Life” Paul helped with the middle eight, to give credit where it’s due.

(John Lennon, interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone, 1970)

PLAYBOY: “Norwegian Wood.” LENNON: “Norwegian Wood” is my song completely. It was about an affair I was having. I was very careful and paranoid because I didn’t want my wife, Cyn, to know that there really was something going on outside of the household. I’d always had some kind of affairs going, so I was trying to be sophisticated in writing about an affair. But in such a smoke-screen way that you couldn’t tell. But I can’t remember any specific woman it had to do with. PLAYBOY: What about the title itself? LENNON: I don’t know how the hell I got to “Norwegian Wood.”

(John Lennon (interview, 1980), All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

John had begun it [Norwegian Wood] in February 1965 while on a skiing holiday with Cynthia and George Martin and his wife Judy in St. Moritz in Switzerland. When he returned, Paul came over for a writing session in John's music room in the attic at Kenwood. This is another example of a song more or less writing itself, beginning with a classic Beatles play on words: "having" a girl and being "had". PAUL: I came in and he had this first stanza, which was brilliant: "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me." That was all he had, no title, no nothing. I said, "Oh yes, well, ha, we're there." And it wrote itself. Once you've got the great idea, they do tend to write themselves, providing you know how to write songs. So I picked it up at the second verse, it's a story. It's him trying to pull a bird, it was about an affair. John told Playboy that he hadn't the faintest idea where the title came from but I do. Peter Asher had his room done out in wood, a lot of people were decorating their places in wood. Norwegian wood. It was pine really, cheap pine. But it's not as good a title, "Cheap Pine", baby. So it was a little parody really on those kind of girls who when you'd go to their flat there would be a lot of Norwegian wood. It was completely imaginary from my point of view but in John's it was based on an affair he had. This wasn't the decor of someone's house, we made that up. So she makes him sleep in the bath and then finally in the last verse I had this idea to set the Norwegian wood on fire as revenge, so we did it very tongue in cheek. She led him on, then said, "You'd better sleep in the bath." In our world the guy had to have some sort of revenge. It could have meant I lit a fire to keep myself warm, and wasn't the decor of her house wonderful? But it didn't, it meant I burned the fucking place down as an act of revenge, and then we left it there and went into the instrumental.

(Paul McCartney in Many Years from Now by Barry Miles, 1998)

+ fire and wood at Gambia Terrace

+ the Macs-firebugs

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hiyaaa how are you doing? i hope clarisse resumes normal & proper functioning soon! as a small, semi-related funfact, i named my laptop scully (yes, like the x files)

could i request dealer's choice between mafia front and arson neil for this week's wipw? idk how but i totally missed last week's mafia front parts until today and i'm so here for both of themmmm

i hope you have a lovely week :D 🫶💖

WIP Wednesday (6/25) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 317)

"You never told me what had you riled up this afternoon," Andrew says towards the end of the meal. Abram stills, his knife halfway through a piece of meat. He sets it down and leans back in his booth.

"Something... bad happened on a few January 19s ago"

"How bad?"

"There was a bloody birthday message and dead animals involved. And, uh, this," Abram's eyes get a bit distant as he puts his fingers to the mottled, circular scars on his cheek. Andrew is so taken aback by that confession, the first bit of the sentence nearly escapes his notice.

"It's your birthday." He says, receiving a little nod.

"Sort of."

"Someone did that to you on your birthday."

"Yeah. Told you my father was a fucked up individual, he kept several of them on his payroll." Abram's fingers are still resting against his cheek.

"They're all dead now. Right?"

A terrible smile stretches Abram's lips. "Yeah."

"Good." Andrew says sincerely. He adds January 19th to his list of facts about Abram. It's a short one, and every new entry is like a piece to a puzzle he'll never solve. He'll collect them anyway.

NEIL

When their empty plates— sans the hideous shrimp Neil wishes he hadn't ordered by accident since he hates wasting food— are whisked away, Andrew asks the waiter for a dessert menu and orders an obscenely large slice of strawberry cake. When it arrives though, he pushes it in front of Neil.

"Wha-"

"Gimme a match," Andrew commands. Neil straightens a bit.

"I don't have..."

"Save it and give me one." Andrew tells him, holding out a couple fingers. Neil slips his hand into his jeans and fishes out his matchbook, relinquishing it to Andrew. The fireman turns his head to make sure no one is watching, then strikes a match and sticks it into the cake, flame side up. The image of Andrew holding a lit match burns into Neil's memory and Andrew gestures at the cake.

"What?"

"It's your birthday, Abram. Make a wish and blow it out." Andrew says. Neil stares at him for a second, then at the flame eating it way down towards their dessert. "C'mon now, before this turns into work for me."

Neil closes his eyes and makes an impossible wish, then blows enough air to smother the tiny fire Andrew lit for him. It doesn't put out the one behind his ribs though. It burns ever brighter as they split the massive slab of cake, turns out seeing Andrew with whipped cream on his mouth does something funny to Neil's insides that he hopes they'll revisit sometime.

When they leave the restaurant, it's no warmer than when they arrived. In fact it's worse than it was, a terrible shame. Neil waits for Andrew to tell him what they're doing next, but the fireman just puts an arm around Neil's waist and pulls him along towards Neil's car. Once they get there Andrew spins him around so his back's against the door.

"It'll be cold in the barn." He says, finger hooked in Neil's belt loop.

"Yeah."

"So?" It's dark, except for the streetlights. Somehow they illuminate Andrew's eyes perfectly. Neil can't look away.

"Can we go?" He asks breathlessly. Andrew blinks, hazel disappearing for a split second. 

"We can," he says near Neil's ear. A shiver rocks Neil's spine when Andrew's lips brush his jaw. "Meet me there. And don't get arrested for speeding, firebug."

[official-flashfire]

HC:

Scout struggles with remembering faces, so when Pyro takes their mask off, they let Scout draw them, just a quick sketch cuz there's no way in hell they're gonna take it off again.

But then Scout shows them the sketch

They hadn't known just how much beauty Scout could fined in their burnt face.

A few weeks later, Pyro corners Scout and despite looking menacing af, they akwardly ask Scout if he can draw them again.

Scout is happy he can get another peek at their face. When he's done drawing, it looks like a whole nother face.

Pyro is confused untill Scout bashfully explains that he focused on different parts of their face than the last time.

Despite the difrence being night abd day, Scout drew them beautifully.

This goes on for a while, every few weeks Pyro will ask Scout to draw them, to see what Scout sees.

Sometime during this, Pyro realized they were down bad for Scout. How they liked to show their face to him! But what if Scout doesn't like them back? Sure he draws them beautifully, but that could just be because of his skill, right?

One day, Pyro is out to find Scout for another drawing when they enter his room. They're shocked to see Scout on the floor, dozens of drawings surrounding him with faces that look similar. When they silently aproach the unaware runner, they notice that the closer the drawings were, the more consistent they get.

They realize, Scout remembers their face...

It freaks them out, and when Scout finally notices them, they're already running out of the door.

Scout looks at the nest of art he had created, knowing he had probably fucked up by constantly attempting to remember Pyro's face. He had known for a while that he had feelings for them. He wouldn't just draw anyone, especially not as much as Pyro.

He grabs his most recent drawing and heads out to find Pyro. He looks everywhere, from the ground to the roof. It's only when the next battle that he finds pyro.

He spends the entire battle trying to catch the firebug so he can apologize, only to be met with enemy fire. After the battle, he finally corners Pyro.

"look, man, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made so many drawings, trying to remember your face when the only reason i got to see it was because i couldn't remember it." He hands Pyro the drawing and tries run off, only to be stopped by Pyro.

"No, Scout. I'm sorry i freaked out, i- i do like it... When you draw me a-and when you try to remember my face... I- i like how you draw me, i look really cute in them..." Pyro blushes as they stammer. Scout blushes too "well, you are very pretty- I MEAN CUTE- I MEAN PRETTY- I- I MEAN-" Scout, like the tsundere he is, tries to pretend he didn't just say what he had sayd.

"you think I'm cute?" Pyro asks, tilting their head as they take off their mask. Scout nods, looking anywhere but at Pyro. Pyro smiles, and when Scout accidentally gets a glance of it, he cannot take this slowburn anymore and kisses pyro, who happily returns tge kiss!

And they killed happily ever after!!!!!!!

OHHHHH MY GOD??????? THIS IS BEAUTIFUL??? TEARS IN MY STUPID EYES??????

PYRO BEING HIS MUSEE AUGHHHH I'M SICKKK I'M SICK TO MY STOMACHHHHHH EIUUUGHDHHD

This is so SO wonderfully written to, just so true to their characters!! !!! !!! IT'S SO SWEET TOO BROOOOOOO I sat and giggled as I read this. Btw. I'm gushing and giggling.

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!!! I AM YELLING AND SCREAMING!!!!111!!

[thesnailtail]

;; something's off about my haruka

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Multi-May: Unexpected, But Not Unwelcomed

Finally finished this one for @bisexual-horror-fan 's Multi-May. Had this idea, and just couldn't leave it out!

Bo takes his little missus (my OC) out for the night, and ends up having some unexpected fun >;)

(also readable on AO3)

Bo smirked to himself as he watched the steamy sight before him.

His beloved, willingly "captive" wifey was nibbling and squeezing the lovely pert ass cheeks of the crazy hot thing they'd met in the bar just a few hours ago.

Not really how he'd expected this night to go, after finally letting Bonnie talk him to taking her out of Ambrose for the night.

What he had expected was just grabbing something to eat, showing her a few nighttime sights she hadn't seen before, hitting the bar for a bit, then going back home to their secluded little community. Short, sweet, supervised, and giving her no opportunity to run (not that she would, as she'd grown to see him and his family and Ambrose as her true home).

He hadn't expected a wild-looking (and sexy) blonde chick to make bedroom eyes at his girl from across the dim, crowded room. And he definitely hadn't expected her to strike up a conversation with them both. Nor did he expect her to shamelessly hit on Bonnie right in front of him, causing her to blush and trip over her words. And he hadn't expected that this would lead to them all leaving the bar together, watching his girl make out hot-and-heavy with this chick, and then taking it to the bed of his truck, for what little room and privacy it offered.

No, he hadn't expected any of this at all (except for Bonnie's flustered mutual attraction. That was no surprise to him at all), but how could he complain?

Especially once Bonnie peeled the chick's thong down her thighs and began eating her out, like a woman starved.

He rubbed at himself through his jeans, and let out a breath. Fuck, he'd almost forgotten how sexy she looked getting it on with another woman. But seeing them making out just minutes ago, and seeing them now, in the bed of his truck, had quickly kickstarted his memory; reminded him why he did this every once in a blue moon. For Bonnie, sure, but also for himself. Though usually by way of capturing a new toy, not by picking one up mutually in a bar.

The woman—Baby, was it? Baby Firebug or something? He couldn't remember her name and didn't hardly care to in this moment—turned to look at him over her shoulder, wild, blonde, deep waves curtaining her face yet not hiding the gratified expression on it.

"Your girl's pretty good at this," she breathed, flashing him a wicked smile.

Bonnie pulled her face back for a moment to utter a quick "Thanks!", then went right back to licking and sucking at Baby's dripping cunt, earning her a groan.

Bo laughed. "Taught her everything she knows."

He admired the view for another minute or so, them climbed into the truck bed to join them. He tugged Bonnie's shorts and panties down, then undid his belt and fly, pulled his jeans down and rubbed the tip of his hard cock against Bonnie's damp and swollen lips. He enjoyed teasing her for a bit, relishing in her eager whines, then slid himself inside her, burying himself to the hilt. After a few thrusts, he set a rough pace, one that had his hips smacking against Bonnie's beautiful ass while she moaned into Baby's cunt before pulling away for some air; she moaned even louder when he grabbed her pretty brown-blonde hair and pushed her back to do her job, earning a loud moan and gasp from Baby this time.

Watching was fun, but participating was even better. Nothing made him throb like fucking his sexy little thing of a wife while she fucked another chick.

He really needed to do this more often, and do it this way. Picking up hot chicks in bars with his wife was easier and better than the usual way, and yielded much more satisfying results.

And by the way she was now sliding her eager fingers into Baby, he knew that Bonne would agree.

[revived--c]

Don't Leave Me In The Dirt

This is a continuation of my last post, I had some inspiration hit me finally.

Desc: Dew being angsty, Aether's there this time, slight argument? + Old ghouls mentioned (Alpha and Ifrit)

Aether almost gets bulldozed over by a very angry fire ghoul.

His fire ghoul to be exact.

“Dew? Babe what's wrong?” Aether has to speed walk to catch up with him. Following close behind with a worried look on his face and his tail swishing from side to side anxiously.

“Not now, Aeth” Dew growls, smoke rolling off his shoulders. Leaving a trail behind him and slightly hitting Aether in the face. Causing the taller ghoul to stifle a cough.

“You're smoking”

“Not the time to be flirting”

“No,” Aether grabs Dew shoulder firmly and makes him stop, pointing at the smoke “literally smoking”

Dew's eyes trail up as he follows the smoke emanating off of him. It only makes him more pissed, he doesn't want to show vulnerability right now. Doesn't want to make Aether worried. He can't take the 20 questions he's assuming Aether has on why he's about to explode.

He looks away from Aether's gaze, those purple eyes piercing him.

“Dew, what happened?” Aether squeezes his shoulder softly.

“Nothing”

“Nothing? Doesn't seem like nothing”

“Satanas! Just–” Dew shoves Aether's hand off of his shoulder, barring his fangs at him “Leave me alone Aether! You wouldn't fucking care anyways!” His eyes give off a quick flash, like fire being douced with gasoline.

Aether shrinks back a step, his tail going in-between his legs like a kicked dog, “I'm sorry.. I'm just worried about you. Something clearly happened”

Dew can't look Aether in the eye, he looks to the floor, the wall and then back to his boots before speaking again

“It's Copia- it's his new position”

“Ah” Aether says, knowingly

“I don't want shit to change again, I don't–” Dew bites his tongue, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“What? Firebug..” Aether steps forward again “Talk to me. What do you not want?”

“I don't want to be replaced. I don't want Copia to be replaced..”

Aether's heart shatters in his chest, knowing now all to well what Dew is feeling. It's just like back then, when Ifrit was sent back to the Pit. When Sister had suddenly thrusted upon Mountain, Aether and Dew the fact their Papa was gone.

Knowing the fact that also, when Alpha had gotten “too old” to perform anymore on stage, they had sent him back as well.

“Oh.. oh love..” Aether reaches for Dew again

And Dew flinches back like a dog waiting to be hit.

“I gotta go..”

“But–”

Dew turns away abruptly and speed walks down the hall, leaving Aether there stunned.

[mega-taiga]

listen C418 is great and all and has made some very iconic music but im of the impression that the music introduced in the nether update and caves and cliffs update by lena raine and kumi tanioka is some of the best music in the game period. i mean firebugs? infinite amethyst? stand tall? labyrinthine? ancestry?? chrysopoeia?? rubedo??? fucking pigstep and otherside????? COME ONNN

[quinloki]

How long do you think it takes the WBP to realize you're gone? Obviously their priority is teach, and because you're the one who saved Thatch, they assume your position with them is secure and that you're probably hiding somewhere on board (like you do when everything becomes too much, when you need to get away) with the fruit tucked away safely. And after Teach is apprehended, they go looking for you and... You're long gone. Panic ensues. If this is the version where some of them are starting to regret things, this complicates matters. Marco is proud of you, but horrified. Where the hell are you? He's still obsessed, still needs to know you're alive, gors out flying just to get some hint that you're alive. I don't see the reader escaping to Crocodile and immediately going "okay fuck it mass murder is fine with me now operation utopia let's goooo" so he probably keeps that little bit away from you. Begrudgingly accepts that you're kind of a goody two shoes, even if that's comically at odds with your ability. But there is something to be said about the parallels between calling out to save Thatch and then going on to kill Crocodile's would-be assassin yourself.

ooooooooh yeah, character growth in the "this isn't really how you're suppose to cope, but this is what happened."

After being forced to bond with pirates you want nothing to do with - or want nothing to do with enough that you ran away at the very least, and coming into things with Crocodile - who seems COMPLETELY DISINTERESTED in you beyond offering you the shelter you've requested. Who then goes on to teach you how to deal with what you now posses.

The difference in that would be jarring too. No one's fawning over you, no one's watching you sleep, or drugging your food, or making you participate in anything. You don't have to get permission for stuff, and while you're staying low to avoid detection, there's nothing forcing you into a room or space.

The vibes when the others learn about you too. Relief that you're alive, jealously that you're with HIM, anger that you ran away, maybe some humility in there because of Marco that you ran away because they drove you to it.

Which, yeah, okay, but they're better than Crocodile, they'll prove it.

But doing that means stealing you back, far as they're concerned.

Alabasta is effectively two wars in one as Crocodile moves to take over the country while the WBP move to capture you. In the end Crocodile ends up in Impel Down, along with Ace. You barely get away, and the Moby takes enough damages it has to stay on the island for repairs.

Teach gets free in the chaos and ends up with a different devil fruit - he's the one that still turns Ace into the Marines, a feat he only manages cause the little firebug was exhausted between looking for you, dealing with the war, and doing what he could to keep Luffy alive.

Maybe you even end up traveling with the Straw hats for a while. Robin knows who you are, but she also knows that without Crocodile you're docile, and you're pragmatic - Crocodile lost because he underestimated Luffy. Luffy's not an assassin, and Crocodile's alive. You're not really a revenge type of person.

Maybe you become Luffy's shadow. There's no darkness around him, but he's safe to hide around. You keep so quiet and transformed into shadow for so long that it's easy to forget you're there. You don't show your hand until it's Impel Down and you're protecting Crocodile from some attack or another.

Nice reunion, he's happy to see you for a lot of reasons, glad to have his shadow back. Maybe you're why Ace survives Marineford, and Ace knows it too.

Thatch owes you his life, now so does Ace. In exchange you just want to be left alone. That's a pretty good setup. ^_^