#because he too was tired of being a pawn

[webanglikethat]

pjo series discourse this pjo series discourse

how about amidst all this talk, we pause for a moment to acknowledge: Luke was the OG morally grey character.

argue with the wall!!!!

[befooremoonrisee]

to me one of grrm's biggest screw-ups is not letting gaemon and jaehaera grow into adulthood, because the dynamics those two could have with aegon lend themselves to so much.

you're aegon iii and you're forced to marry the daughter of the man who killed your mother and your brothers. her only friend is her dragon and you hate dragons because one killed your mother in front of you and two others killed your brothers. she hates you and would kill you if that didn't mean her own demise. your best friend is also a son of aegon ii, but he hates him too, as he is responsible for the death of his mothers, he was a pretender, he is a nice kid who wants to help people just like you. he's the only one that understands you.

you're jaehaera, your father won the war, but you're forced to become the wife of the son of the man who killed your twin, the woman who put a bounty on your other brother's head and who drove your mother to suicide. your grandmother, the only family you have left, is crazy with grief, she wants you to kill aegon. you're just a child. your dragon is a wretched delicate thing, just like you, your husband hates it. he is afraid of it, it makes you happy. your only brother (if he is your brother) doesn't like you, he spends all his time with aegon, you try to bond with him, but he is not jaehaerys. he will never be.

you're gaemon, son of a whore, bastard of a king. you were the hope of the smallfolk, a path for liberation, but the royals came and they killed your moms. now you're their pet, their tool to avoid being poisoned. you love aegon, he shares the same wounds as you, but you resent him, he is using your body, your life, that's what you smallfolk are for the royals, just pawns in their little games. maybe you're tired of it. then viserys comes back and you're discarded, not longer a friend, but just a tool. jaehaera claims she's your sister, but she isn't, aegon is nothing to you, she creeps you out, she understands what being a hostage is.

[chungledown-bimothy]

bingo really was the next and perfect level of fucking with brennan. if it was just trapp playing him, that's one thing. he can and was starting to be Righteously Angry about it

but then trapp was also a pawn in sam's fucked up little game. so can brennan really be that mad at trapp, because he was also a victim of the same bullshit?

trapp did everything exactly right, as far as he knew. he played brennan like a fiddle but still lost, because that wasn't the actual game.

so brennan lost his game of bingo and, despite being the method by which trapp "should" have won, the episode was still ultimately a complete L for him.

plus borgle.

there's something there about class solidarity, too, but i'm too tired to put words to that

[upsidedownwithsteve]

CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed. 

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it. 

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see. 

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago. 

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease. 

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike. 

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen. 

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there. 

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries. 

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else. 

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses. 

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you. 

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day. 

It was all worth it. 

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar. 

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon. 

Eddie was home soon. 

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner. 

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were  pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played. 

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home. 

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips. 

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs. 

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say. 

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat. 

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride. 

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick. 

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef. 

It was another level of surreal. 

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner. 

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant. 

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side. 

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud. 

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from. 

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer. 

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at. 

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company. 

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip. 

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore. 

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that. 

[fandom-junkie2020]

Stop Fussing

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After a long day, Aemond needs to relax. Y/N finds something entertaining to do.

20. "Stop fussing, I'm just braiding your hair"

Warnings: N/A

Date Uploaded: 7.24.24

Word count: 793

Unedited

Masterlist

Requests are open!

Here are some prompt ideas and a character list!

Aemond Targaryen never received a lot of attention as a child. With his father running the realm and his mother running after Aegon, no one ever had the time to invest in Aemond. A sad reality faced far too often by the noble children in King’s Landing. Because of the unfortunate family dynamics of the Targaryens, Aemond was, in some form, neglected. Of course, unlike many children across the realm, Aemond had privileges: food, clothes, hobbies. The one thing he lacked was motherly and fatherly affection, resulting in him being neglected emotionally. It’s interesting how someone could have everything, yet feel like they have nothing–perhaps it’s a lack of perspective paired with the longing for affection. 

Regardless, Aemond had trouble with affection in his adulthood due to his lack of such as a child. Sure, now Alicent wished to give her children the world, but she could never quite make up for the years she’d spent wandering court, continuing to be a pawn in her fathers games. One person, however, that was able to fulfill Aemond’s overall need for attention was his wife. Although an arranged engagement, the two clicked, making them an amazing couple. Perhaps at times their relationship was unhealthy–this is Aemond Targaryen to which we are referring to. But, in comparison to his other relationships, that of him and his wife was far healthier than any relationship Aemond had seen throughout his life. Y/N was one of the kinder souls that he’d met during his time at the Red Keep. 

Ever since the beginning of the war, however, they didn’t often get the time to spend together. With Aemond’s recent increase in responsibility, it had been very difficult for the two of them to spend time together. Unlike many couples in the Red Keep, the two of them shared a bed, meaning they got to see each other at the beginning and end of the day. Personally, nights were always Y/N’s favorite while the mornings were Aemonds. Y/N enjoyed the nights because of how, despite a hard day, Aemond was relaxed. After his day, even though a bit tense, he was ready to lay in his bed with his wife. Y/N loved this because of the stark contrast between the stiff shield he put up in public versus the tired mumbling and hugs. 

One night in particular, Aemond arrived in their room more tired than usual. He walked through their door, took off the many layers of leather, then walked towards his bed where his wife lay sitting upright against the headboard, book in hand. 

“Hello, love,” she says looking up slightly. 

Instead of replying, Aemond lets out a heavy sigh and lays across the bed, allowing his head to fall into his wife’s lap. 

“Excuse me, hey! I’m reading,” she laughs. 

Aemond looks up at her, removes the book from her hand, as well as takes the bookmark from beside her, and throws the book on the ground next to the bed. 

“Hey!”

He continues on, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s torso and pushing his head as far into her stomach as he could without hurting her. 

Y/N smiles and relaxes, accepting the fate of her book and her schedule for the rest of the evening. “Long day?” she asks. 

He hums in response and lets out a deep breath. 

Y/N runs her hand through his hair. Typically, half of it is tied back and also confined by his eye patch, but now, as they get ready for sleep, his hair is loose, crazily lying about his head. Arguably, this is the main reason she loved nights, having access to his hair with his arms wrapped around her is a blessing. 

As they are wrapped around each other, she begins to twist the pieces of his hair together, imitating many a hairstyle that her handmaidens helped her create on her own head. While the minutes passed on Aemond went into a kind of slumber, the kind where you can talk to someone and they will wake up not remembering a thing. 

Y/N continues until there are multiple braids throughout Aemond’s hair. Eventually, because of all the tugging, he awakens slightly and looks up at her. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

“Relaxing,” she replies. 

He then realizes that she seems to be playing with his hair. He starts to sit up a bit, making her lose her grip on some of the braids. “Stop fussing,” she replies, her voice soft yet strong, “I’m just braiding your hair.”

Aemond only grumbled before returning to his relaxing position. 

The two would then remain in their positions until eventually, Y/N would grow tired, shimmy down so that she too could go to bed. 

[sweetlywriting]

Dungeon Meshi x Princess reader hcs!

Includes- Laios, Kabru

A/N- sfw as always + let me know if y’all want other characters! I just choose Laios and Kabru cause I’m a sucker for the knight x princess trope lol

Laios-

He thought you were a normal person at first 😭

Finds out and ask for your autograph

Calls you by your long formal title, even when you say it’s okay to call you by name

He’s not the most well funded, and sometimes he worries you miss the lavish royal life that he can’t provide

So he tries to compensate with what he has, making dresses from monster skin, accessories from feathers, and heart shaped pendants carved from bone

They feel very special, and more made with love and effort than anything else you had received

He definitely picks flowers in the forest and turns them into bouquets for you

He spends all day carefully analyzing which ones suit you best but sometimes he takes too long and you end up with a wilted bouquet :(

He always makes sure you get enough rest, food, and water

If you’re ever tired he offers to carry you

Follows you around like a sweet puppy, but to others with his tall stature and knight armor he looks more like your bodyguard

But it’s nice not being bothered so he always accompanies you

Picnics are 100% y’all’s thing

Kabru-

He probably asks you to join the party because he wants your influence and connections, so he’s fabricated and friendly at first

He’s quite fascinated with you though, he wanted to become a leader so he tries to observe the qualities that you have as someone who has had to be around them their entire lives haves

I feel like at first he’s a bit in awe-maybe not of you but the authority given to you solely due to your family name

He doesn’t like to admit it but at first he definitely just wanted you as another pawn in his power fantasy

Of course through slowly getting to know you, all of that changes

He slowly starts to enjoy your company and can’t quite chalk it up to solely using you anymore

He tries hard to be like your knight in shining armor-he’s always making sure you walk on the side farthest to the road, keeps an umbrella for you of it rains, carries your bags, and holds your hand in crowded areas

He likes to do exaggerated romantic things like candle lit dinners and spontaneous ballroom dancing, he says it’s because he loves the little bashful look on your face though you suspect he may be compensating cmon it’s hard not to get a littlee insecure when dating a princess

He tries to keep you away from the dungeon because the thought of you getting hurt even if you can be revived terrifies him, so when he’s away he makes sure to send letters <3

[jasmines-library]

Hii! Sorry idk if your okay with this, if your not, feel free to ignore! <3

So I was wondering if you could do youngest batsib reader, who’s not really part of the family yet? Okay so, they’re a criminal like catwoman, they only steal from people who deserve it and just kind of a troublemaker around Gotham. They have electricity powers. They’re parents died at a young age and they ran away from the orphanage because they didn’t want to get adopted. They’re actually really smart, and know a lot of martial arts to help them get by. Anywaysss, I was wondering if during a place they were trying to rob, blow up for some reason. And it lead to them being knocked out and injured. Someone from the batfamily came across them and instead of turning them into the police, they take them to the batcave and patch em ip before putting them in a cell. They wake up and the batfam interrogates them, they find out they’re a kid and knows their secret identity (because he’s really smart) and after a bit, Bruce offers to take them in, and train them to be a vigilante. Reader is reluctant and doesn’t really trust them but they’re getting really tired of sleeping on the streets so they reluctantly says yes.

My Way Home Is Through You

Note: This was fun to write, thanks for the request anon!

Warnings: Minor undescribed injury, theft, none really, fluffy found family fic.

Word count: 1.7k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

You slunk along the sidewalks, clinging tightly to the walls as though a small child might do to their mother in a crowd of people. Hiding away in the shadows was nothing new to you, you had been a nobody for years. Constantly running, never settling in one place for too long before you were slinking off again and finding a new corner of Gotham to call your home for a few miserable days before the cycle started again. At first you had tried to cling onto the last shreds of your parents that you had left. You hung onto your name but soon that began to get you into trouble when the orphanages kept trying to pursue you and ‘bring you to a new and loving family’, so it was back to being just another face in the crowd. Just another ordinary kid trying to navigate their way through a big city.

Except…you were more than that. In your time alone you had discovered you had quite a knack for stealth. It started off when the nights became too cold and the growling in your stomach was so overbearing that it drowned out all other senses. You were still small, which you used strongly to your advantage, weaving in and out of the sea of faces before slipping small pieces of food under the hem of your raggedy sleeve that was far too long for you and dangled below your fingers. After that it soon became easy enough to steal other things. Just enough to get by. A ring here, a gold watch there. Small items from the cruel and the unworthy that you could pawn off for a little extra cash. 

There was something else about you though that helped out just a little bit. It was one of the reasons that you had spent so long trying to hide away. See, when you were young you discovered that there was something different about you. When you focused hard enough, you could feel the electricity channelling through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips. You learnt to manipulate it, to bend it to your will and it quickly became very useful when picking locks. You used it to fry them seamlessly before sneaking in and if worse came to worse, you could stun the police when they came thundering after you shouting profanities and threats and they ran, never to catch you with your nimbleness. They had tried to set the vigilantes on you more than once and you knew very well that their eyes were always on you, following your every move just waiting for the perfect moment to strike because you had seen them. Sometimes in the uniform. Sometimes not. As much as they tried to be they were much less subtle than they thought. 

When you reached the complex it was dark. All of the lamp posts nearby had flickered sporadically before burning out completely, so you hopped up the steps blindly before crouching down in front of the locks. You then outstretched your hand and took a deep breath, letting your body relax to feel the current dance in your veins and settle on your fingertips. You then directed the current towards the lock watching as it fried before swinging open. You darted in pushing it shut behind you and then set to work around the house. It was small and shabby with mould growing in some of the corners by the windows. It crawled up the walls, a darkened stain that emitted a putrid smell when you got a little too close. The floorboards cracked and groaned as you moved around the plot, weaving in and out of the furniture that had been strewn across the room. It was clear that someone had left in a hurry. You were shuffling around the unmade bed, reaching for the safe when you heard it. 

Tick. Tick. Ticktick. tickticktick.  

The sound was daunting, getting faster and faster as you scrambled to find the source, overturning chairs and throwing them to the floor as though they were nothing then tearing up floorboards. It was too late when you found it ticking away impendingly. The timer blinked by quickly as it neared zero and you were neft with no choice but to try and get as much distance between you and the weapon. The meagre metres you had out between yourself and the bomb hardly made any difference at all as it ignited flinging you across the room. Wood splintered around you as the concrete cracked and crumbled in heaps which you skidded to a halt on. You felt like you were going to hurl as your head thudded against the debris with a sickening crack that made your vision swam before all of the colours merged into one and you knew nothing more but a dark and heavy silence. 

~~~

“Move it! Go!” 

Nightwing shoved his little brother rather harshly in the shoulder to urge him forwards. Word had just reached them that a small house on the outskirts of the city had suddenly exploded and the number of casualties was currently unknown. Dick always seemed to get a sudden adrenaline rush whenever an emergency came in and not matter how fast he moved he always felt as though he could never get there fast enough even if he was hurtling through the city at an alarming speed. 

He had to swallow back his alarm when they skidded to a halt at the scene. There was nothing really left of the building besides a few odd shaped pillars of concrete and pipes that were strong enough to survive the blast. The rest of the building was a dismal load of ash and dust that rose in ribbons as the wind lifted up the pieces that were small enough and carried them away into a cloud of sky.

Nightwing pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and ducked under the police tape despite their protests. His heart nearly stopped when he inched his way around what used to be a bed but was now a cluster of broken timber buried under a pile of rubble because he spotted your figure sprawled out across the floor. He skidded to the ground and began to pull the pieces of clutter away from you, grimacing at the sight of the blood that came away on his fingers.

Red Hood dropped down beside him just as Dick Grayson brushed some of the dust from your face and sudden recognition washed over him.

“Hood.” He said over his shoulder. “I think you better call B.”

~~~

Your head felt like it was going to explode when you woke up and there was a stabbing pain in your side but when you moved your hand to slide the hem of your stop up you were cut short by a metal handcuff securing you to the wall next to the bed you had been placed in. Shuffling around awkwardly you managed to push yourself up into a sitting position to gauge your surroundings better. The cell you were in although small was rather well lit and surprisingly homely. Too bad you had no intention in staying. You had planned to use your powers to fry the handcuff, but when you tried to summon the electricity you were left high and dry when nothing happened. 

“That’s not going to work.” A figure you hadn’t noticed in the corner of the room told you when you began to try again. 

Frowning at him, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “Power suppressing cuffs.”

Rolling your eyes you slumped defeatedly. You should have figured as much. 

“What were you doing in there?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you from behind his infamous cowl. 

“That’s none of your business.”

“I think it is, kid.”

You turned your gaze away from him and picked at the skin around your thumb. “It’s not that I wanted to be in there. It’s what I had to do.”

The vigilante stepped forwards and took a seat next to you. “Go on.”

“I needed the money. I can’t go to anyone so I have no choice but to find my own way around problems. I was gonna pawn the jewellery off. And besides it’s not like the guy owned it in the first place. He was the one that stole it from the jewellers last week.”

“How’d you know that?” Batman frowned. That information had only been revealed recently.

“I get around a lot.”

He pursed his lips. “What else do you know?”

You could have grinned like the cheshire cat right there and then as you began to list things you had learnt. 

“I know that you still haven’t caught that guy who escaped from Arkham last month. I know that you’ve all been watching me. Oh and I know that you are Bruce Wayne.”

The man faltered. “What? How?”

“You’re less subtle than you think.”

“Or maybe you’re smarter than you think. What d’you say your name is kid?”

“I didn’t.”

He sighed, watching you in silence until you eventually gave him your name. 

“You’re something, Kid. I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you…?”

“How would you like to stay? We would train you to become a vigilante like us.” The question was so sudden that it made your head spin.

“I can’t ask that of you.” You told him. It was more of an excuse really. You weren’t sure if you could trust him or not.”

“You’re not. I’m offering. A warm place to stay, a family to care for you.”

A smile twinged at the corner of your lips. That was something you had longed for for so long but had never seen that it had slipped to the back of your mind forgotten. 

“So, what do you say, Y/N?”

“I think I would like that.”

[cultofdixon]

Stress is a silent killer

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Don’t get me wrong, mothers are strong motherfuckers. But that doesn’t mean you can abuse an expecting mother’s abilities. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Pre-Term Labor Anxieties / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

Daryl silently returns his home he shares with Y/N who was currently seated in the living room wide awake. She was decked out to go outside the walls and search for him after the news but thankfully he came back in time before she risked herself at the hour it was.

“I’m sorry”

Y/N didn’t say anything, all she did was let the tears that build up roll off her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I walked away when yea first told me” His voice broke as he brought himself to kneel in front of her resting his hands on her thighs watching her tearful expression meet his gaze.

“I’m scared, Dar…”

“I know, me too. Cuz I want this. I want this with yea and I’m afraid of losing you…like Lori…or like…the others. I can’t lose yea to anythin’ or anyone.”

“You can’t…you can’t walk out like the way you did” She choked out through her sobbing as Daryl brought his hands onto her cheeks wiping away them while they fell. “Please…if you do that again, I’m only going to think the worse possible things”

“I’m stayin’ right here, sunshine. I’m never leaving again.” Daryl pushed himself forward and wrapping his arms around her as she did the same gripping onto his vest. “I’m never leaving you and this baby, I promise”

~

7 1/2 months later…

Another cold spring morning comes through causing the somewhat irritable not-a-morning person Y/N to bring herself to sit up the best she could given her “natural” circumference was different compared to the first and second trimester.

“Did you leave the window open?” She tiredly asks her husband who had sat up when she did, given the closer they get to 9 months the more he’ll be up and at it for anything.

“It was stuffy last night, yea asked me too” Daryl yawns stretching out his back hearing his partner hiss when she heard the occasional stretch out crack. “I’m good”

“Working on the wall repair does you no good…and I think I just forgot I asked you to open it” Y/N frowns bringing herself to the edge of the bed causing Daryl to get up in his shirtless glory about to close the window. “What are you doing?”

“I told yea you don’t have to get up and close it”

“I gotta get up and pee cuz a certain someone is stepping on my bladder.”

“So is that a no on me closing it for yea, love?”

“Can you please close it and help me stand up?” Y/N gave him a tired smile as he did exactly what was asked and while Daryl helped her up she couldn’t help but grab his face to bring him to her level to kiss him before separating to do what she needed.

“Are you sure you don’t need me or want me this morning? Rick completely understands why I can stay here” Daryl started to remind Y/N about the run he was asked to go on that involved stopping at the Hilltop to drop off supplies and go pick up more from the Kingdom.

“You pawned it off to somebody for the past two weeks. I’m not going to go into labor the second you leave. I’m not 8 months yet”

“Pre-term shit. You were put on bedrest during the second tri—whatever it’s called because your stress wasn’t helpin’” Daryl states slipping off his sweats to put jeans on when Y/N stepped out of the bathroom. “It’s easy for yea to stress out and back in the prison you passed out once cuz of it. Now you’re pregnant and Siddiq said it could cause more harm than good”

“Are you trying to stress me out now?”

“No, I’m just telling—-“

“It’s only for half the day. Both Maggie and Ezekiel know who you have to come back home to, they won’t hold you up and we also know Carol will shut Ezekiel up if he does start another endless conversation with you. You’ll be back before nightfall and I’ll be here waiting for my husband to come back”

The archer only gave her a worried expression because of how calm she was being, since a month ago she’d scream at him for just leaving the house. He brought himself over kissing her lovingly and holding her for as long as she let him, which could be hours and he’ll not be able to go anymore. But Y/N knew this trick.

“You seriously walking me out to make sure I actually go?” Daryl smiles walking his bike with his pregnant wife on the other side of such still wearing her sweats and one of his shirts.

“Did you forget about the morning and evening walks we do?”

“Nah I did not. Which reminds me to tell yea to wait for me for the night one. Take it easy walking back home and stay away from the new infusions”

Y/N whistled for Daryl to stop given she can’t maneuver fast enough to grab his arm. “Stay away from the new infusions?”

“Rick let in more ex-saviors to help around here. They are staying in the apartment looking houses” Daryl parked his bike a moment bringing himself to rest his hands on her belly. “Two of them are annoying shit stains of humanity. I don’t know the other one’s name but one of’em is Bryan and they’d much rather pawn their work off to somebody else”

“Daryl. I doubt they’d make a pregnant woman do shit”

“Well. I told Aaron to check on yea if he sees you doing anything sketchy”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Rick is at Oceanside, Michonne is watching a sick Judith, and the others are working on the bridge repair. You won’t let me stay to make sure you don’t over exert yourself. Somebody’s gotta check on yea and since he’s takin’ care of a baby girl at the moment? He’s more than happy to check up on you when Gracie is napping”

“You really have everything planned. Even have a radio?” Y/N smiles crossing her arms as he took out said device to show her resulting in a playful eye roll. “I’ll do my best, my love. But I’ve never seen those individuals before…you can’t blame me if something happened”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell can kill a man if he harms my wife and baby” Daryl states, sneaking in a kiss before getting his bike back up and heading toward the gates.

“I promise nothing will happen, Dar”

What was meant to be an easy day, turned into a weird one.

When the gates closed, Y/N held her belly for a moment feeling the shifting baby inside her make it a bit difficult to go immediately back to her home. She decided to take a longer walk around Alexandria, stopping occasionally to talk to her friends and see what they were up to improve their community. Then on her way back there were two Alexandrians carrying a few boxes to the pantry and infirmary. Both looked at her with curious expressions…

“Yo!”

Y/N ignored it at first until she flinched to the sound of the box dropping beside her.

“You’re Y/N right? The other Dixon in this place”

“Yes…? And you are?” She frowns, not liking the feeling the atmosphere gave when the individual didn’t share his name right away.

“I’m new here. Do you mind helping us with something?”

“Uhm I’m not exactly supposed to be…lifting anything heavy” Y/N gestures a bit on the obvious side about her pregnant belly as they both still gave stone cold stares.

“We’ll carry it to the pantry and infirmary. Just could use somebody to put it away while we bring the rest”

“Is Siddiq not her—-“

“Seriously, Dixon. You’re just pregnant not incompetent” one of them stated only for Y/N’s expression to go south as she supported her belly telling them that she’ll meet them in the pantry first to unload the boxes.

Once she stepped far enough, one of them couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

“Cant believe that worked”

“Can it Bryan. We still gotta bring the boxes over then we can go fuck off for the rest of the day” The other scoffs picking up and the box carrying it to where it needed to be.

It had been a couple hours of putting supplies away in their perspective areas, thankfully Y/N has worked with Siddiq before so she knows where he likes everything to be. The doctor just didn’t expect to come back from checking on the little ones of Alexandria after lunch time to find Y/N standing on a stool putting away spare gauze in a tub that Siddiq put them in.

“Are you crazy?” Siddiq frowns watching Y/N stumble a bit unexpected as he quickly drop his medical bag to help his friend off the stool. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you in here?”

“Because I have to be useful!”

“Y/N what the hell do you mean?!” Siddiq frowns watching the discomfort grow on her face along with the tears forming. “Okay, come on. Sit down and tell me what happened” he made her sit on the gurney sitting with her.

“My husband—-“

“Did Daryl get hurt?!”

“No! He warned me about some slackers and I just. I didn’t think I was this stupid enough to fall for their shit” Y/N frowns wiping away her tears before wincing and holding her belly instantly. Siddiq pulled away to get the portable machine helping her lay down onto the gurney adjusting it for her to sit up. “It was just one damn conversation and I felt like I was being useless. We won that stupid fucking war. Lost a lot of people. Then this happened and it’s the best thing but all my hormones are all over the place—-“

“And that’s normal! It’s normal for hormones to take over control with all your other emotions.” Siddiq carefully rolled her shirt up to apply a bit of the gel and gently place the wand to check on the heartbeat. “Can you tell me your pain level? And I’m talking from the moment you’ve felt uncomfortable”

“A six…”

“Are you lying?” Siddiq stated watching the tears build up more. “Y/N how long have you been working today?”

“About an hour after Daryl left”

The look on Siddiq’s face only grew even more worried for his friend as he cleaned her up and before she even tried to get up, he carefully helped her back down grabbing a blanket to cover her.

“Siddiq—-“

“You’re having contractions and I don’t want you to force this baby out from your stress because it’s too early and while I think we can…handle that intense situation…I don’t want you to lose this baby if it goes south.” Siddiq frowns covering her more in the blanket and putting the gurney in the trendelenburg position to have gravity help slow the contractions. Before he pulled away to grab a few things that will help, Y/N grabbed his arm. “You stay here and I’ll get someone to radio Daryl to come back a bit early”

“You think he’ll…uh…y-you think he’ll be mad at me?” Her voice broke as Siddiq took her hand into both of his shaking his head.

“No. But when he finds out about who made you overwork, they aren’t going to see the next day”

By the time Siddiq got Daryl on the line, he was already making his way back to Alexandria and when he heard about his wife he was speeding even faster. Daryl parked in front of the infirmary, dropping his bike without another thought as he enters the building bringing himself to her side resting his hand on her belly.

“How are yea feeling?”

“I’m sorry—-“

“Love, please—-“

“I’m really sorry” Y/N broke down in a sob making her husband out of instinct gently wipe away her tears. “I’m really sorry I didn’t take it easy—“

“Y/N. I’m serious when I say this. You don’t have to apologize.” Daryl frowns rubbing circles on her belly watching her bring her hand over his. “Did Siddiq tell yea how long you’d have to be—-“

“She can go back down.” Siddiq interrupts the two coming down from his flat above the infirmary with a filled canteen for Y/N. “You can take her back to your home to be more comfortable in her bed but again, bed rest—-“

“Fuck” Y/N sobbed hating it already and she’s not in her own bed.

“Just for a week until your stress levels and blood pressure go down. Thankfully trendelenburg worked with the contractions but don’t want you, again, to overwork yourself” Siddiq set the canteen down to help Daryl get Y/N on her feet before giving her the filled bottle. “Don’t let her leave the house, then maybe nobody would abuse your hormones” he stated letting them be to finish what Y/N started before he made her rest.

After getting Y/N back home and in their bed, Daryl stuck by her side thinking of the words Siddiq had said before they left. But he wasn’t going to address it when she was still experiencing a bit of discomfort.

“You want another pillow?”

“Then what are you going to sleep on?”

“A mattress? I don’t need a pillow, just need my woman comfortable while she’s a human incubator” He jokes getting a short lived laugh out of her as he moves the extra blankets and his pillows to support her back and belly. When she first started getting uncomfortable, he tried looking for one of those pregnancy pillows that Carol had told him about but it was a lot of work and he didn’t want to leave her at all. Like he promised and is semi-regretting given he left to take care of business and some assholes were pushing her limits with emotional abuse.

“Daryl…?” Y/N tiredly calls out for him as he returns with her canteen filled for a fourth time since being home as he brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed setting her bottle on the nightstand.

“Yes, sunshine?”

“You still love me right…?” Y/N pouted only for Daryl to scoff at such a ridiculous question, leaning over to shower her in kisses making her bring her arms around his neck to keep him close for the moment. “Dar…”

“I’ll always love you. Even when yea risk yourself. But, imma stick by yea for the rest of this.” Daryl states. “No more tellin’ me I gotta go cuz I promised somebody. Someone else will get the work done, doesn’t have to be me and definitely doesn’t have to be you”

“Can you hold me tonight?”

“As long as you don’t kick me out of the bed when it got too hot” he laughs softly, bringing his lips to hers for a few short soft kisses before pulling away to get into comfortable clothing to sleep in and hold her.

The second Y/N fell asleep and was in deep enough sleep for the archer to slip away to check on a familiar hiding spot in Alexandria. Said hiding spot would have those who didn’t want others to notice they were smoking. Knowing damn well he’ll find the right men that have been bothering his partner.

“Ayo the other Dixon has retur—-“ Bryan immediately shut up when Daryl grabbed him by the collar forcing him against the walls of the community.

“You talk to my wife today? Mess with her and had your buddy over here help?”

“Dude I have no idea—-“

“Don’t lie. Don’t even try, or I will fucking end you right here and now” Daryl hissed shoving him harshly against the wall letting go of his shirt. He quickly turned to his buddy who put out his cigarette before holding his hands up defensively. “If I see you and or this son of a bitch near my wife or even hear about it, I’ll feed you both to the walkers after I’ve knocked the living shit out of you both. And don’t yea worry…I’ve got friends to let me know if yea fuck with the love of my life and soon to be mother of my child” and with that he took his leave letting the two regret their decisions and contemplate being moved to a different community to avoid the harsher Dixon. But even then, he’d tear them apart anywhere.

Y/N shifted slightly when the bed moved behind her, she relaxed instantly feeling her husband bring his arm around her pulling her into him.

“Where’d you go?”

“Got yea more water, and heard somethin’ outside”

“Another possum?”

“A pest that’s for sure”

“Mmm…” Y/N snuggles into his embrace getting comfortable as Daryl kissed her temple. “Nothing you can’t handle right?”

Right.

[ariseur]

a lil drabble about megumi and how it would living w him? (maybe reader and megumi are married or they are still dating)

💌

“watching people crumble so desperately is like hell.” megumi tipped his head back, the back of his hair flattening against the plush cushions of your shared bed. you looked up from your pillow, gazing at the tv mounted neatly on the wall of your room before looking over at megumi, your brows instantly knitting together.

he huffed, “i mean, it’s pathetic, really,” yet even with those words, his attention was brought back to the screen.

“megumi, baby, it’s pawn stars.”

his eyes rolled over to you, squinting. “exactly, they’re on television and they’re acting this way,” you gently laughed at his antics, sleepily scooting over towards him no matter how much he stiffened. truth be told, moving in with megumi wasn’t such a bad idea. it wasn’t that much different considering your past at jujutsu high ( where you’d ultimately visit his dorm every other day ) — so having you around wasn’t an abrupt change of pace. and, you had managed to reel him in with these trash television shows just like how these companies do as well, even if he complained about the lack of substantial consumption of these tv shows were absolutely appalling; you catch him on his way to throw out the trash, pausing at the front door as his head remained peeked through the crevice — trying to watch the new season that you had put on as background noise.

your fingers danced along his rest, which he awkwardly looked around while you did so. if you asked, he’d tell you that you’re weird and that’s why he was so tense but in actuality, he just can’t handle affection. it almost seemed surreal to him at times, like he couldn’t believe you were real. he’d come home after a tiring day, kick off his shoes and make his way over to the kitchen to soothe his famishing appetite, and then he’d see you. you’d be washing dishes or exercising or perhaps just walking right past that again on the floor you always say you’ll clean ( and never do ), and he’ll just observe. it’s only when it’s at night when you’re falling asleep that he would murmur small praises to you, telling you that he can’t believe you’re actually hear.

megumi would mutter them low enough that he knows you won’t be able to hear them, only focusing on his low voice and being able to flutter your eyelashes as they became heavy lidded with sleep, feeling him fiddle with the ends of your hair as the tickling sensation shot straight up to your scalp — pulling you further into a balanced serenity. then in the morning, he’d wake up before you, and before he started any mundane activities that had to be done that day, he admired you. sometimes you woke up with a teasing smile, asking him what he had been doing watching you, and other times you’d try to pretend to sleep even though he knew the difference anyway. megumi had spent too long in bed, just gazing at your face, to not know your body language enough to where he wouldn’t know if you were awake or not.

“do you wanna go somewhere today?” he asked, only getting an eyeful of bed head as he looked down to see you clutching his arm. he quirked a brow, dropping the remote from his now free hand to bring it up to your head — before flicking your temple. you groaned. megumi huffed, “oi, do you wanna go or not?”

“why can’t we jus’ stay in bed?” you whined, dragging out the ‘e’ likely more than you needed to. his hand came down to softly rest on your head, thumb rubbing your temple to somewhat try and soothe his recent assault.

“because later at noon, you’re gonna get mad at me because i let you spend the whole day lazing in bed.”

“. . no.”

megumi sighed as he threw his head back again. he shook your shoulder once more only to be met with a groan, the proximity of your mouth and the small space in between where you had smushed your head and the pillow creating a louder bleat than it sounded, almost drowning the low volume background noise that was ‘pawn stars’.

at that point, he had almost considered giving up — that is, until his brain thought back to the one thing that could get you to do anything. his head tipped back down, a sharp sigh escaping his nostrils once more.

“we can go get you some of that mochi you like right now.”

your head tilted up at the comment, one eye peeking out through the warm blanket and upwards at megumi. he carried a blank expression, clearly using his last resort. he watched as your pupil flickered to the left, downwards, and then back up at him before you muttered, “you will?”

his lips pressed together before he gave you a curt nod. before he could react properly or add anything else, megumi retracted his arm from your body ( or it was more ejected from your space ) as you scrambled out of bed, hurrying to put on jeans and find your tennis shoes. he barked at you to be careful as you sailed away into the hallway, only for his calls to fall on deaf ears. sliding out of the covers, he was met with the cool air as the foreign temperature abraded his skin, resulting in a deep shudder. he looked back at the hallway whilst he rested on the edge of the bed.

shaking his head, megumi huffed out a small, “dork,” before getting up to follow after you.

𐙚 taglist ; @chxlexauriana @seternic @kalulakunundrum @silly-norman @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz

𐙚 requests are open — june twenty fourth, 2024

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you please write something angsty about dally helping out darry after discovering how stressed he is or maybe finding him crying

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, but here it is. Gonna tag @chained-sweater and @johnnyburntcake because they both asked to be tagged when it was finished after reading my out of context snippet. As with most of my stuff this is unbetaed so sorry for any mistakes or typos

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

Dallas Winston needs a lot of things. His boots are held together with duct tape and about fourteen different layers of mud, his jeans are worn, torn, patched, and torn again, and his number of material possessions is probably something less than twenty- he never had much in the first place and he pawned just about everything he had when he ran from New York five years ago. But despite all the things he is lacking, all the things he’s never had and the things he could use, what he wants most right now is a fucking break.

Dammit but he didn’t think moving out to rodeo country would involve caring so much. His gang back in New York had been a proper gang- more organized and even crueler than Shepards outfit, a group of tough as nails dealers and muscle, who’d just as soon shoot a kid as they would give them a chance. Hell, he’d been scared of them back in the day, for all he’d been smarter than most of them, because that kind of casual violence only came from the joy of hurting something, not from necessity. Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared of those sorts of people. Here though, in sleepy little Tulsa Oklahoma his gang is…a drunk, a dropout, two high schoolers, one recent high school graduate, and tagalong middle school kid- and yet, Dally finds himself far more loyal and goddamn committed to the ragtag group of big hearted losers than he ever was to old Alfie and his ring of coke dealing miscreants. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful. It’s horrible. It’s tiring is what it is, and Dally needs a goddamn break. Who wouldn’t after the night he’d just had, which involved practically dragging a nearly hypothermic Johnny Cade out of the cold and trying to warm the kid up? And as if that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d then had the dubious honour of driving Ponyboy to school this morning. Something about the kid’s zombielike stare and hunched shoulders had left him thinking of how bright those eyes used to be, just three months ago, which led to him thinking of Mrs. Curtis’ stern demeanour but kind face, and it was all just too much. Dallas needs a break. He wasn’t meant for this sappy caring shit. He’s done his mourning- he doesn’t need to be knocked all off kilter because of two kids who think of themselves as gangsters but in reality are nothing more than battered kids, bruised in different ways. This is the problem, Dally has found, with gangs that are more family than function- they’re made of people instead of parts of a machine. You can’t care about someone who is replaceable- but no one in the Curtis gang is replaceable, not by a long shot. That wasn’t the case back in New York.

Whatever. He’s done thinking about this now. He’s going to go back to the Curtis house and watch shit tv and maybe steal some food if the kitchen doesn’t look too skint this week. He is not going to think about kids who aren’t his problem (and yet completely are because he’d joined this stupid excuse of a gang and made them his problem in the first place), and he is going to stop being so fucking soft. Geez. If Tim could hear his thoughts right about now he’d lose just about all his street cred. 

Of course, because he’s Dallas Winston, and life has never thrown him a fucking bone in all seventeen years of his life on earth, his hopes for a peaceful afternoon are dashed the second he steps through the door. 

Darrel Curtis- six foot two, two hundred pounds of pure muscle, cool headed Darrel Curtis- is parked at the worn kitchen table, head in his hands, a water bill and something Dally is reasonably sure is property tax forms sitting in front of him.

 And he’s crying.

Darry Curtis doesn’t cry. In all the time Dally has known him, he’s never seen the guy so much as sniffle- not even at the funeral three months ago when Darry buried both parents in one horrible day. Soda had broken down immediately, and Pony had stared wide eyed, rivers of silent tears pouring down his cheeks- but Darry hadn’t. He’s crying now though, and not just a little bit either, huge gut wrenching sobs tearing from his mouth and shit Dallas doesn’t really know what to do. What he wants to do is pretend he never saw this, pretend it never happened and leave, let Darry have his well earned breakdown in the solitude he clearly believed he had. Of course, he would have had to have the foresight not to slam open the screen door for that to even be a possibility.

Darry jumps at the noise, shoulders squaring immediately, letting out one last sob that he could easily explain away as a gasp of surprise as he regains his barings. 

“Oh,” He clears his throat, valiantly trying to pretend like his eyes are bloodshot and his stubble covered cheeks covered in tear trcks, “hey Dal. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

In that second he sounds so much like his mother that it punches Dally in the chest a little bit. Something about the ocean of feelings quickly locked behind a kind word and a carefully controlled expression is so reminiscent of Mrs. Curtis that Dally almost finds himself nodding a yes and escaping into the kitchen. He can’t though, because as much as Darry acts like her, he will never be his godlike mother. Instead, he is his kind hearted self, a twenty year old with the custody of two kid brothers he couldn’t bear to be separated from, and all the pressures of adult life most people don’t even start having to worry about until they’ve had time to really live. Mrs.Curtis had taken care of all of them, even Dally when everyone else only ever looked at him as a lost cause. Darry can’t do that though, can barely look out for Soda and Pony. Anyone with eyes can see how he’s been struggling since the funeral, nevermind the way Soda’s endless energy has turned anxious and resentful, grades slipping, while Pony gets quieter and moodier, a thirteen year old ticking time bomb. 

“You stay outta trouble for me Dallas,” Mrs. Curtis said to him once, “I know you ain’t a good boy but you’re a loyal one and sometimes that’s more important. So don’t go gettin’ yourself locked up for a bit, savvy? My boys need you more than they know.” 

She hadn’t just been talking about Darry, Soda, and Pony. The whole gang was Mrs.Curtis’ boys and everyone knew it, but Dally had held those words close to his heart more times than he could count, a balm on his perpetually blackened soul. Mrs.Curtis had known the score, known that goodness wasn’t the same thing as love, and she’d loved him anyhow- unconditionally and more than his own sorry excuse of a mom ever had. She’d trusted him too, never babied him or tried to fix him the way every other adult was always trying to, just patched him up when he got into trouble, and scolded him for not being smarter. You wouldn’t have survived this long if you were stupid Dallas, so don’t go pullin’ a stunt like this again. C’mon and git some dinner now, there's casserole in the fridge.

It would break her heart to see Darry like this now, so small and defeated, two things her eldest son was never meant to be. But she isn’t here right now, never will be again.

But Dally is.

My boys need you more than they know.

Damn Mrs.Curtis and her all knowing ways, because she knew what she was doing when she took him in because now he’s stuck with this stupid gang in this stupid town forever because she made him love her and love them all too.

“What’s goin’ on Darry?”

“Nothing,” Darry lies, fingers twitching a bit to pull the papers closer to him.

“I ain’t Soda, you don’t gotta lie to me like that.”

Shame twists his handsome features and he looks down, fidgeting with his high school ring.

“I don’t got enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Money Dallas,” he snaps, “I don’t get my first paycheck from that new job until next week, and both these are due on Friday. I bought groceries yesterday, and paid the hydro on Monday, no matter what I’m short.”

There’s such fear in his eyes. Dally remembers what the social workers said when Darry got custody, how militant they’re going to be checking up on him. One missed bill could have Soda and Ponyboy taken away before any of them could cry ‘unfair’.

My boys need you more than they know.

Dally can’t let that happen. It would kill Darry, Soda might go full crazy and Ponyboy…the kid was already sensitive. He’d never make it in a boy’s home. 

“How much?”

“What?” Darry blinks at him and Dally rolls his eyes. Darry Curtis has never been stupid, so he doesn’t know why he’s acting stupid now. 

“How much money do you need?”

“Four fifty.”

Dally winced. That was more than he had on him right now, more than he could get from Two-bit and Steve if he asked on the down low. None of them ever had that kind of scratch just lying around- unless Steve’s dad had recently paid him to come back home, but the old man had booted Steve out two days ago and chucked a bottle at him yesterday when he went back to grab spare clothes so they probably weren’t back to playing happy family yet, and likely wouldn’t be for  while.

Still. There’s other ways to get money.

My boys need you more than you know.

“Leave it to me.” Dally promises.

“No.” Darry shoots him down immediately,  “It ain’t your responsibility Dallas-”

“It ain’t all yours either.”

“That’s exactly what it is!”

“Are we a gang or not?” Dally glares, “I know you Curtis boys are wicked at acceptin’ help but like it or not you need it right now! I ain’t watchin’ the state take Soda an’ Pony away because of your fucking pride Darry!”

Darry stares at him a moment, eyes hard before he sighs, shoulders drooping, suddenly looking the same type of bone deep exhausted that is becoming an all too familiar look on him. 

“Just…don’t do anything illegal, ok? The boys can’t handle you bein’ locked up right now.”

For some reason the words sting. It’s true the gang’s all been a wreck since the Curtis parents died, but Dally is under no illusions as to his place in their ragtag little group. They survived well enough before him, and they’ve survived every time he’s been in the cooler since knowing them, and it won’t be any different if he gets locked up now.

He must have scoffed or something because Darry glares at him. “I mean it.”

Whether he’s talking about the gang needing him or about him not doing anything that could get him into trouble with the cops, Dally doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. Instead, he turns on his heel, a plan already forming in his mind.

Buck Merril is just about the most pigheaded cowboy Dally’s ever met in his life, but he’s always running about half a dozen money making scams at any point in time, and he jumps anytime Dally offers to help because he gets stuff done and keeps his trap shut good. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, working for a guy he hardly likes and doesn’t respect, but money is money and Darry needs money desperately right now so he swallows his pride and asks Buck what needs doing.

He ends up two towns over, at a rickety trailer park off the main road, two kilos of smack stashed under the seat of Buck’s car. He makes the drop, bullies the buyer who wasn’t willing to cough up Buck’s agreed upon price, and ignores the way his stomach twists at the way he just gave someone else the very thing that destroyed his sister’s life, a million years ago back in New York. 

Buck claps him on the shoulder when he gets back. Dally shoves him off, takes his cut of dirty money, and leaves before he can punch someone. 

Warm light spills out the window of the Curtis house when he gets there. Ponyboy is leaning against Johnny on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky, Johnny murmuring something to him that the kid doesn’t seem to be really hearing. It’s frightfully domestic and frightfully sad, the bruise on Johnny’s cheekbone almost black in the dim evening light, Ponyboy looking so skinny and tired Dally has the urge to tell him to go to bed. He doesn’t of course- it’s not his place, and Pony isn’t his brother. Instead, he ruffles both kids' hair as he passes them, tells them to get inside so they’ll have enough folks for a round of poker, and goes to find Darry.

Darry’s in the kitchen, scrubbing purple mac’n’cheese off a saucepan when Dally finds him. He watches for a minute, sees the tension in Darry’s broad shoulders, the viciousness in the way he’s scrubbing the pan. Desperation, Dally knows Is all consuming, bleeding into every thought, every action, every facet of life. For all he’s a different kind of desperate, Darry Curtis is as desperate now as Dally himself is.

He spares a quick glance over his shoulder. Johnny and Pony have trooped inside, the latter robotically shuffling a deck of cards, while Soda and Johnny chat quietly. Steve is flipping through channels on the radio, and Two is nowhere to be found. None of them so much as glance at the kitchen. Good.

“Dar.” 

Darry jumps, turns. 

“Glory Dal, scare a man to death, why dontcha!”

He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. Here.” He holds out an envelope, and Darry’s eyes light first in understanding, then in hope.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offerin’ if I wasn’t.”

“Dal…”

“Take it,” He shakes the envelope, “before the others see.”

Hesitantly Darry reaches out, but as soon as his hands close around the paper he all but snatches it from Dally’s hand.

“Dal…I…thank you. I can’t tell you-”

“Whatever man,” Dally can feel the discomfort that comes anytime he is thanked or treated half decently raring in his chest, “I told you I’d take care of it and I meant it.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“It ain’t a loan, it’s just helpin’ out.”

“That’s not what I- nevermind,” Darry shakes his head, mouth twisting in a rueful half smile, “There’s dinner in the fridge, I made sure Soda saved you some.”

Dally fixes himself a plate, glaring down at pasta that was never meant to be purple, and he and Darry join everyone else in the living room. Johnny grins when he sees him, scooting closer to Ponyboy to make room on the sofa, and Steve steals the cards out of Pony’s hands to start dealing, having finally found a station playing half decent music. 

Dally eats his dinner and plays poker, pretending he doesn’t care half as much as he does when he loses. He wins half of Soda’s cigarettes and quickly loses them all to Johnny, pretending the feeling in his chest isn’t softer than anything he usually lets himself feel.

These boys don’t know it but they need him more than they know, and he’ll keep them safe. For Mrs, Curtis, but for himself too. 

After all, he’s always been a selfish bastard. 

[setsugekka]

❥six-thirty (m)

↳ sunwoo is just a friend. A friend with a fire-hot possessive streak.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader — friends with benefits, explicit sexual content [2,5k wc] cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), possessiveness, rough sex, a lot of dirty talking, praise, a drop of humiliation.

“Just tell him to fuck off already!”

You pretend to be taken aback by the words in spite of you doing everything in your power to bring the man to this point of contention — a friends with benefits situation going on for far longer than any of the other ones have lasted, but hey, what can you say?

Sunwoo happens to be a bit more fun than the rest.

His voice whiny and exasperated as he dramatically tosses, turns and kicks his feet in your bed like a toddler; under typical circumstances a far from enticing display, but from him, you know what it means for you to get him upset like this.

And shortly after tiring from his fit, Sunwoo makes quick work of snuggling up from behind you — chest pressed against your back and chin comfortably nestled between your shoulder and your neck as he showers the exposed skin with delicate kisses. Phone still in hand, you dim the screen as you feel him creep up — partially, because there’s nothing to be seen there, anyway, but mostly because you know doing so will make him feel crazy.

It’s a point of contention, sure, his jealous-streak, but more than that, it makes the sex fucking spectacular.

“Why are you even talking to him right now when you’re with me?” He finally asks, opting out of the previous demand and instead slinking back into his usual role — a pointed knee pressing between your legs in an effort to part them just slightly as his hand begins its anticipated journey down the side of you and between your legs from over your hip.

“Oh, but he’s just a friend.”

A playful quip back to him as you turn your head just slight enough that he can see your attempt at making eye contact. The scoff escaping from his plump lips telling enough that you’re triumphant in precisely what it is that you’re aiming for.

“I’m just a friend, too.”

“So, why are you so possessive then?”

“Because! It makes me crazy thinking about you being with other men! Why do you even need other men—” pausing then as his middle finger finally meets it’s mark against your clit, and hesitantly drawing slow, dull circles into you as you press your behind back and against his barely clothed form.

What’s wrong with a little jealousy-fueled round two, after all? With both merely in undergarments as is, may as well make the most of the time.

“—who makes you cum like I do? You get me like this so I’ll fuck you sideways, I’m nothing but a pawn to you, huh?”

At face value, the words seem more pointed than they are; hot breath fanning over the exposed skin of your arm as he continues trailing his lips across any skin that he can sink his teeth into and still more than focused on the busy work of his hand — surely, if he were really upset, he simply wouldn’t be partaking in any such games.

But suppose the being a pawn works in both of your favors.

“Maybe so, what are you gonna do about it, then?”

A cunning retort, you know it’ll drive him mad.

“I know you want me to say that I’ll fuck you dumb and just have to make it so you never crave another man ever again,” he bemoans against your ear, voice low and heady and simultaneously feeling the way the pressure of his finger against you picks up just that much more as he says the words. Arching your back even more to press yourself against his now ever present erection, the both of you silently opt out of further conversation on the matter in the immediately present tense and instead — Sunwoo with his other hand, gently shimmying his underwear down and out of the way enough to pull his length from the confines of the fabric and press the tip against precisely where you want him to be, it’s only then, than he finally decides you worthy of a continuation of the thought.

“So, I won’t say it. I’ll just have to do it.”

With the hand between your legs, pulling your hips back and towards him as he effectively uses the leverage to push you down and onto his cock all over again — the sinful sigh that eventually transforms into a groan against your ear as he feels you envelop him — you meet him there, having received exactly what it was that you had set out to achieve; a pitiful whimper dropping from your lips at the feeling of him filling so you completely as his hips meet flush against your ass with an excruciating slow drive.

Stilling inside of you, Sunwoo drags his hand up the front of you — lingering slightly on your breast to gently pinch and run circles into the nub as he kisses and nips at the flesh of your neck and jaw so hungrily it’s as if he has intent to devour you entirely — shortly thereafter, the continued journey upwards as his hand settles on the underside of your chin, pulling your face up to grant him better, easier access to previously untouched skin there.

Sucking and biting marks into you, he finally pulls his hips back slowly only to press forward just as leisurely as he had previously. Torturous, and of course it is — just as intended.

It’s sort of what makes sex with him so good.

A languid, slow rhythm against you, offering such little friction that you feel as though your mind may numb from the want and need of more of him — faster, harder, more, more, more.

Shifting the placement of his hand ever so slightly, from your dazed, needy state you feel the tapping of his middle finger against your lips and almost instinctively you part them for entry — Sunwoo quickly sheathing two of them against your tongue and groaning at the sensation of you tightly closing your mouth around them as if so painfully hungry for his cock in any way that even just having this will have to do, for now.

“You’re so mean to me,” he finally says with words that are half air. “Tease me, get me all upset with you just so I’ll fuck you — you know, you can just ask nicely.”

With a face stuffed full of him, you only moan in response. Well aware of your inability to answer him, he carries on the discussion as if speaking only to himself.

“If you were nice, I’d fuck you nicer, too—”

Pressing his hand further towards the back of your throat, you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes beginning to water before he grants you quick reprieve.

“—but you don’t want that, do you?”

It’s such a small shift in speed that you might not notice it if not painstakingly hungry for the release that you know will eventually be granted to you — now hyper aware of every movement he makes from behind you in any effort to get more friction from the cock buried inside of you — another whimper spilling from between his fingers at it, to which, Sunwoo can only laugh.

“When did you get so needy? But, I suppose—”

Drawing from you nearly entirely only to fully sheath himself inside of you again with a fast snap of his hips — impact so hard it has you jutting forward against the mattress as he does so — Sunwoo finally frees his other arm from the awkwardness of the position to bring it up and fold a hand into your hair. Not especially hard, and not with intent to hurt all that much, but rather, a familiar sting that lets you know that he’s there.

And then suddenly, the removal of his fingers from between your lips, hand back to its firm position at the place where your chin and throat meet.

Hot breath against your ear again, then another hard, quick drive of himself into you. You can’t help but cry out in response to it.

A man not known to be a domineering, or violent lover — but rather, a man who likes to stake his claim on what he sees as his.

“How d'you want me?”

A question coming a bit out of left field: The inquiry in and of itself relatively innocuous between lovers, but when pulled apart to be viewed in layers — ‘how do you want to receive me?’ — the understanding that he be the one giving himself to you, rather that alternatively, or even beyond that — perhaps it be both simultaneously.

You don’t answer quick enough for his liking, however, now well into playing his role. Fingers just ever so faintly digging harder into your hair to entice you to respond — your lust-filled mind instead honed in on the perfect drag of his cock and the way that his breath catches in his throat with every glide into you. Pulling it together enough to give it what it is that he’s searching for — you do what you can, but it’s not much.

“F-fuck me from behind.”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, already halfway through pulling himself from between your legs as if he anticipated the answer all along. Which he had. “Thought so.”

Quick with his work as he pushes you forward and brings himself to his knees just behind you, hands dipping down to your hips and pulling them up to meet his own — leaning forward to pull each arm back and clasped within a hand like makeshift handcuffs as he uses the other to carefully position himself for reentry.

The whole thing happening in a span of what you can only fathom to be ten seconds or less.

Balancing yourself on your chest and shoulders with no hands for leverage otherwise as your head is forced to be turned back for what little of him you can visualize, once again the slow, smooth slip of him entering you from behind, but with the new angle feeling fuller, longer — more of him entirely as he’s painfully slow with bottoming out inside of you.

“Feel good?”

You hate that he’s asking, largely due to the fact that the ability to speak is not one that comes easily to you now, but you also know that to be highly in part why it is that he’s doing so.

Intent to wreck you. Destroy you. Not with aggression, or violence, but rather with attention to detail, pleasure, and hopefully, the insatiable need to have no one but him inside of you ever again.

“Already can’t talk?” He teases, quickly settling into a steady pace against you as he holds you firmly in place with your hands pressed into the small of your back and whimpering with every drive of his cock into you. “You’re so pretty like this, God, you take me so well. Come on, baby, tell me how good I feel.”

It’s far more mental for Sunwoo than it is physical.

“You feel so good, so good.” You finally manage out, for his sake — gathering enough mental fortitude to string a sentence together for the man since you know he needs it so badly.

He likes the praise just as much as you do.

Groaning at the words and the confirmation even more so with an especially hard few snaps of his hips into you — you kind of hate how easy it is for him to make you cum, but also, it’s sort of why you’ve kept him around this long, after all. Tightening in your abdomen, you whimper out his name just enough for him to catch onto — he knows the signal, free hand darting down to between your legs to rub against your clit with the flat of his fingers.

The feeling nearly has your knees buckling then and there, but not with his hold onto you.

“Gonna cum, baby?”

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop—” you say, coming out as a bit more like a demand than intended, but knowing it probably gets him going all the same, who cares, really?

“This what you wanted? So needy and pathetic to have me fuck you into the mattress like this? Now you’re making demands?”

Oops.

“Can’t wait to make a mess of you,” he says, first slowing the intensity of his thrusts to allow a small, trailing of saliva to drip from his mouth to the precise place in which his cock disappears inside of you before slowly at first carrying on again. “Messy, nasty, baby, but all for me.”

Mentally, it does a bit of a number on you. More than anticipated, and you know that he can feel the way your muscles clench down around his length as he settles back into his hard and fast drive into you. Moaning at the feeling, Sunwoo can’t help but comment on it — “Oh? You like that, huh? You want me to ruin you, don’t you?”

The 'yes’ falls from your lips before you even have a shot at pulling it back for reconsideration.

Grip on your wrists tightening that much more, Sunwoo pulls you firmer back and against his hips, fingers digging harder circles against your clit to finally push you into your orgasm. It’s certainly working as he fucks you harder than before, fuller thrusts as he pulls nearly entirely from your drenched cunt to deliver back the complete glide of his cock to you.

“Cum on my cock. I’ll give you what you want.”

Not sure if it’s the physicality of everything, the sinful throatiness to his voice, the words themselves, or everything combined that has the simple demand pulling exactly that from you — thighs quivering and teeth gritted as you whine and shout through the intensity of your high — Sunwoo all the while fucking you through its totality. Over the peak and tailing towards the come down is when he cums with a loud groan and a few extra hard and rough snaps of his hips. Whispered chants of “gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck—” before burying himself so deep into you it nearly brings discomfort as he empties his load.

Heavy breaths resounding through the room as the both of you slowly come back down from your euphoric releases, Sunwoo gently pulling his softening length from you with a wince of overstimulation — only to watch in awe as his cum messily spills from you as you lazily remain in your assumed position.

“You better tell me if you let another guy cum inside of you,” he begins, and at first, the words set off a particular set of alarm bells in your head. Alarms that say 'this isn’t part of the game,’ and 'this is getting a bit too serious,’ before you feel long, adept fingers fucking his work right back into from where it had left.

“Because I’ll fuck my load into your already cum-filled cunt, too.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask  (⌒‿⌒) —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[mikwaa]

I'll always miss you, you will shine like gold in my memory.

Zhongli x Reader

Wc: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, hurt no comfort, reader dies. Toxic relationship, Morax is an idiot brute, this is set in the Archon war, reader is a warrior.

A/n: I had this draft written here a while ago, decided to post it because it's one I really like. As the old Morax is described as a more rough and ruthless person, I imagine that for him to change there had to be a major event. And so I ended up writing this, maybe I'll do another ending because I genuinely don't like sad endings, but it went together so well I decided to leave it like this.

"Morax, please listen to me." And there you were, in one of those endless fights with your husband.

The reason this time was that you had found a group of people, begging for a place to stay, since they were wandering around. This group had been exiled from Sumeru, the reasons were not yet clear, nor did they know why. There were children, elders, even young pregnant women, you couldn't just ignore them and let them die.

And you had offered them a home in the Guili Plains, the place where the Liyue population was housed. But Morax did not accept, nor did he seem to want to change his mind.

"I've said what I think, and I'm not going to change it." And he didn't even look at you, on the contrary, he walked even faster to distance more from you.

"Can you stop being so irreverent?" You quicken your steps and stand in front of him, stopping him from moving forward.

He narrowed his eyes in your direction, his face turning into an angry frown, "I told you, don't make me repeat myself. If you choose to save those people, you can forget about coming back. I don't want you around." His words were sharp as blades, wounding as such.

And seeing his face without a drop of expression, without a single regret. How could he say such impactful things as if they were nothing?

"How can you talk like that? I'm your spouse, I'm just trying to help." You could already feel tears forming in your eyes, he always acted like a brute, but there were times you couldn't even handle it.

"You can help me by protecting my people, not by harboring strangers." The coldness with which he spoke to you was abysmal, it didn't even seem like you had any kind of relationship.

"They are people too, they have feelings too. They are afraid to die, they are simply out in the open."

"I care what's mine, we're in a war, we can't save everyone. And I chose to take care of what is mine, my territory together with my people". He states, with that usual stoic face. With that arrogance and selfishness that would drive anyone crazy with rage.

"So that's still a no?" Breathing heavily you ask him one last time, the hope you had of him giving in had simply vanished.

"It was always a no. If you're going to keep talking about it, you can save both your time and mine." Snide and sharp, he never seemed to change.

"Then you won't want me here anymore, I suppose." To his surprise, you wouldn't give up. You would keep your word no matter what.

"Go ahead." Nothing more, not a sentimentality, nothing. Just treating you like you were just another one of his pawns, like you were just another one in the crowd.

A hot tear ran down your face, your heart burning as if it had been recently scalded.

"Are you really going to treat me like this? Like I'm nothing to you, and this ring means nothing?" You removed the ring, holding it with trembling hands.

The engagement ring, which he had made for you himself, was so beautiful. With jade detailing all over the ring, and even more precious was the message it had, 'It will always be you'. According to him, it was to show how much you meant to him.

And now? Were those beautiful words just thrown to the wind?

He huffed, looking incredibly upset and tired of this situation, but he didn't show you anything, he wasn't sad, sorry, guilty, nothing. As if none of this mattered.

"Have it your way." Completely indifferent he mumbles.

"Okay." You threw the ring away, without even looking at where it went," If it meant nothing to you, it meant nothing to me."

Now he seemed to take some notice of you, but was clearly displeased.

But there was no time for him to talk or complain to you, you ran out of there. He wanted to go after you, but the pride he carried in his chest was stronger.

A feeling of guilt invaded his heart, but he still wouldn't let his feelings get the better of him, because he believed that you would go back on your decision.

You wouldn't exchange him for a group of people you barely know, but that was exactly the point he didn't understand. It wasn't that he wouldn't help you, it was the way he dealt with certain issues. He was so focused and objective, that should be good, but it wasn't the case with him.

He always complained that you think too much about others, just as you complain that his behavior is often harsh and hostile. He believed that you would come back, but he was wrong, very wrong.

it had been three weeks since you had even dared to look at each other. He couldn't swallow his pride, and neither could you. That arrogance and selfishness he possessed could get on anyone's nerves, and you were not immune to it.

No matter how many times you tried to make him understand that things were not practical as he claimed they were, he would never understand, he was a real brute.

And that was the last straw for you, people were not objects that he could control as and when he wanted, and he didn't seem to want to understand that.

You had left the village, and had no desire to return. You had tucked yourself away in a simpler hut and in a place you suspected Morax wouldn't go near. Even though you loved him so much, you doubted if he would ever change.

It was so many doubts mixed with the anger you felt about the things he said, you took it out on the monsters you met in front of you, without letting a single one escape.

With quick and precise blows, you used your blade with an unmistakable dexterity. But even this was not enough for what would happen next. A monster that you didn't even know what it was hit you, and ended up hurting you.

You didn't even know where it came from, you didn't even have time to react. Your body heaved and you fell to the grass abruptly, as you felt a sharp pain run through your entire body.

And when you managed to stabilize yourself and look at the monster, it was no longer there. It had already turned to dust.

"You with this stubbornness. You can't even take care of yourself." From the familiarity in his voice, it wasn't hard to guess that it was your husband.

"Shut up." You mustered the strength to speak, it seemed as if your strength was draining away second by second.

Even in such a state, the weakness and frailty you were in didn't seem to make any commotion in Morax.

"If you knew you wouldn't be like this." So cold, so distant. Every word of his hurt so much.

How could he be so indifferent? So cruel.

"You won't even see your spouse? You won't even try to take care of me?" Even though you tried to sound strong and imposing, all that came out was a shaky, tired voice.

"I'm no specialist in this. Go find help somewhere else, I told you I don't want you around." It wasn't just anger, it was a feeling of someone who had been defied, you hadn't followed his orders, and he was hating you for it.

You had traded him, that's what he had in mind, but you didn't leave because of that. You loved him like crazy, and you had helped him in many ways. But he still needed to think more about others, trust humans more.

To learn to understand that people were not just pawns that he moved when and how he wanted, it was far from that. And now he was experiencing the fact that someone might not follow his orders, and that someone was you.

He went to look over his shoulder one last time, as he began to notice a pool of blood starting to form around you, he hurried his steps over to you.

"I have to take you, the healers will help." Bending down close to you he whispers. The sudden change in behavior that soon showed his desperation.

"You know they won't, there's nothing else to do." You couldn't control the tear that welled up in your eye.

It had been a very deep wound, you didn't need any healer to tell you that you were hopeless, the village was far away, there would be no time to get there. Several other warriors had died like this, and it would be no different with you.

His stoic expression turned to one of terror, his pride gone in a matter of minutes.

"Don't talk foolishness." He nestles you in his arms, carrying you so gingerly that it seemed he was afraid of hurting you with the slightest touch.

"Leave me here," he opened his mouth to protest, and you continued, "Please."

He propped you up on his chest, wrapping you in the clothes of his own body, so that you were properly protected.

"Why are you so stubborn? I can't understand you." For the first time you heard him speak in a broken voice, he was trying not to cry.

"I just want to save time, you know you don't have much to do." You gently caress his face.

He wanted to tell you so much, but he couldn't put it into words, ever.

"I shouldn't have acted like that." Finally, he admitted it. But now it was too late for any regrets.

You intertwined your fingers with his, smiling faintly. He could feel your strength fading little by little, and he could do nothing.

You were too fragile, just like all humans. And he could do nothing.

Nothing.

He couldn't believe it, how could a being as powerful as him be so powerless like that? That shouldn't be right, but it was.

"Please stay." He pleads, but how could you fulfill that request? His voice was so shaken it sounded almost unrecognizable.

For the first time he was losing one of his partners, he had always protected them all as best he could, and none of them had gone so far. But the first was you, his first big loss was you. How would he be able to handle it? No, he couldn't.

"I will never forget your eyes, they are so beautiful." You say softly, almost inaudible.

And he let a tear escape, all the armor he had made in his heart had broken, and he couldn't control it. It was the love of his life leaving, all he could do was watch, how could he be so useless at a time like this?

"Stay, keep your eyes open, I'll get help, I'll…" Not even he himself believed his own words, much less believed that you could save yourself.

He felt so much guilt, how could he have been so negligent? He had never been very sentimental, but now he felt it all at once.

He could hardly describe his exact feeling, because he had no exact feeling. Now he understood all the human emotions you spoke of, a pity he could only understand now, on your deathbed.

The birds were singing, it was a beautiful day, the sun had the most beautiful glow. And yet Morax was there, on the grass with you in his arms, crying in despair like never before. The blood that stained the green of the vegetation, and the pain that remained impregnated in Morax's soul.

And then, like one of those tricks played by fate, everything fell silent. Morax sobbed softly, and made one last plea, "Don't leave me, I really care for you. I love you, stay here." He held your hand tightly, seeing how small it was compared to his.

It was the first time he had been that clear, he had never really opened his heart to you, a shame that the first time he said 'I love you', you were no longer there to hear it.

And as soon as he realized it, a faint cry was all that came out of Morax's mouth, followed by an audible sob. He realized that you died there, nestled in his arms, holding his hand, so angelic.

His beloved had left him, eternally.

Millennia had passed since your death, 3.800 years to be exact. Yet this hurt Morax so much that he was never able to forget you.

Even though he left the Archon life aside, now going by another name, Zhongli, and leading a more modest life as a simple Liyue citizen, the memories he had with you were vivid, shining like gold in his memory.

He martyred himself every day, he blamed himself, a guilt that he would never be able to eliminate from his chest, he would give everything, even his life for you to come back.

And today this feeling was stronger than ever, because it was the day of your death, the day you left him alone in this world. Another year had passed, and even so it seemed like yesterday when you died, at least that's how Morax felt.

And as he did every year, he bought your favorite flowers, picked them carefully to make sure that you would like them. Plus he provided the wine of his choice, it was the only thing that made his mind clear on a day like this, even if he wasn't very used to all that drinking.

When he was ready, he went to your tomb, which was made in the Guili Plains, the place where everything began, and also where everything ended. He always kept your grave clean, after all he visited you every day, no matter how hectic his routine could be, he would always come to your grave daily.

"I missed you, my dear." He says these words to the wind, anyone passing by would think he was crazy, but he didn't care.

He always spent hours talking to you, talking about everything that had changed, and how he had changed. He always thought that no matter where you were, you could always hear him.

Gently he put the flowers on the grave, and sat down on the floor, while pouring himself some wine. "I just wanted to remind you that I love you, more than anything else."

On a day like today, he wouldn't even try to hold back the tears, or the pain in his chest. He caught himself thinking how proud you would be to see the progress Liyue had made, how beautiful the city looked now.

He wanted to show you that he understood what you said in the last minutes of your life, he wanted to show you that you had become a better person. This was due to a great influence of yours, who now was not here to accompany him on this journey.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything I did, my beloved. You would think it magnificent the way everything has progressed, how humans could achieve so much." His voice choked, his face red as the tears came down without stopping.

'His beloved' , was so sweet when it came out of his lips, but so melancholy by the look in his eyes, those gentle golden eyes that expressed so much sorrow.

A love ended in such a way could hurt so much, and Morax knew it. He had experienced it so harshly, but he stood firm to keep the nation you two had fought so hard for standing, and he would keep fighting because he thought it was the way to repay you for all you had done for him.

Every time he remembered you crumbling in his arms, his heart squeezed in such a way. Your face paled along with your frail body, looking as if it would break at any moment. And with that he remembered how much he missed you in his arms, your laughter, the warmth of your body, your beautiful face.

He missed it all, and remembered these moments bitterly, but also joyfully, because he remembered when you were still with him.

He would protect the people at all costs, and keep everything safe as long as he was alive, he would watch over everything you believed in. He would gladly do this for the rest of his days.

Now all he could do was wait, wait for him to take his last breath. And then finally, finally he could meet you, and tell you everything that happened during those years.

[blueberryarchive]

The Evergreen Game

The white pawn moves to E4.

"Pawn. E4." Jungkook swallows, sweat pooling on his temples and Cupid's bow.

"Pawn to E5." You murmur in a hiss, your legs trying to move, but Jungkook leans forward to move your chess piece. Your nails grab the hair at the back of his neck as you reposition yourself in his lap.

Jeon grabs your waist with his forearm so you won't fall, although he also feels that his body is going to betray him at any moment.

"Knight F3." Jungkook played after taking a breath, his cock feeling hot and completely covered in the viscous, milky liquid. He hadn't taken his cock out in an hour, and his dress pants, boots, and the floor were covered in his cum. Nasty, cold, and drying with the fall breeze. The scene was indecent.

"Knight to C6." You responded, holding your boyfriend's sweaty head so you could stand up.

"No, I'm not done yet. I have to win."

"It hurts, Kook. I can't anymore." As you moved further the liquid fell thickly onto the floor, making an obscene sound as you moaned. Your puffy lips were swollen from fucking too much, your insides reddened. But every time you moved ever-so-lightly it felt like scratching an itch, painful pleasure. "Let's play again later-"

"Bishop to C4." He interrupted, lifting your listless and tired body. You put your feet on tiptoe and moved on top of him again, the hair on his thighs sweating under your ass and your nipples gnawing at Jungkook's cashmere sweater.

You thought about your next move while he used you as a simple glove or toy.

"Hurry up or I'll go harder."

"You don't need to win."

"I do. Hurry up or I'll go harder." He repeated firmly.

Jungkook's mind wanted to focus on this round, he had an important game tomorrow; he could earn good money to pay for the apartment. But you offered him some gummies to which he just opened his mouth to chew them without thinking much.

Bad decision. In the first fifteen minutes, he felt his body warm up. Fifteen minutes later, you appeared completely naked in front of him.

An hour and a half and you no longer know how to count the times he has filled you until you were dripping wet and overflowing.

Half an hour ago, you asked for mercy, like a hypocrite. The fact that you thought it was going to end without your pussy being abused was just foolish.

"Bishop to C4?"

Jungkook left his painted hand on your right asscheek. You purred, biting your lips with delight, and curling your toes. 

"Think, pet. I need you to concentrate."

"C5, I- C5" You begged, moving with a little more energy, the cum lubricating your pain, pure bliss.

"Mhm. Keep moving like that. I'll let you go after this round.." Liar, you said to yourself while you hugged his neck. He held you tighter while he moved your black bishop.

"Pawn B4."

This game sounded familiar.

"Bishop to B4." You said, lifting your body even higher. The white pawn out.

"Pawn C3."

Jungkook didn't resist and kissed your neck for the umpteenth time that autumn afternoon. Your sweaty back under his hand moved, trembled, rose, and fell in short moans.

"Bishop A5."

"Bishop D4."

"Pawn to D4." Jungkook's index finger pushes the pawn to its new position, with that, you begin to groan as you shake the pieces with your hand on the table.

"Are we playing the Evergreen game?" You laughed breathlessly when you noticed how fast the game was going.

"Looks like we are." He smiled, revealing his dark eyes beneath the wet strands of his forehead. "You know what that means."

"You win at the end."

Jungkook growled before lifting you up and completely destroying the board until he placed your body on the table. Your breasts bounced with every hit and crash of him inside you.

"Koo, please, slow down. It hurts."

But he just couldn't. God, he wished he could because it hurt him too. But those pretty little cries that came out of your drooled and swollen lips didn't want him to stop filling you up.

"One more time."

"It'll burst out."

"I don't care, love. My floor and boots are already a fucking mess because of you."

You laughed through your tears. You loved seeing him so desperate.

Jungkook grabbed the queen and bishop between his fists before feeling how he filled you to abounding again.

And yet, after feeling himself almost faint and his legs spasming, he felt like he could win another round.

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so I just read the blurb about cannibal and reader going north to avoid family drama and that got me thinking !!

what if reader went to dorne and arrived at sunspear during the name day celebration of qoren martell eldest daughter (who is also the heir to dorne) and reader is invited to dine with the martell as a special guest.

the martell's have a lot of questions for her. here are a quotes I came up with from the dinner conversations:

a martel prince - "so which colour do you bare in this brewing war. black or green?"

reader - "neither, my loyality is to myself and my dragon. the highborns can do as they please, but I will not allow myself and my dragon to be turned into pawns so incestious maniacs can war over an ugly-looking metal chair and matching hat"

qoren martell - "there must be somthing special about your blood, as it is not everyday that someone who is not a targaryen claims a dragon."

reader - "there is not much special prince qoren, if you were to cut me now and smear my blood next to another hundred common borns I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

and then the eldest daughter (who is clearly into reader) asks to ride cannibal and begs her parents to let her (they reluctantly agree) but reader needs a bit more convincing.

heir princess of dorne - "I am not scared"

reader - "it is not a question of being scared or not. it is the question of if cannibal will eat you or not."

okay now stay with me on this what is reader rubs her sent (like an item of her clothing) on the princess to decrease the chances of cannibal eating her. and the two go for a flight and end up kissing which cannibal isn't to happy with. and the two girls def end up becoming a lot more than just friends. heheh hope you like this idea feel free to ignore it if it's shit <3

I hope this was alright for you, sweetheart. Sorry if it seems a little clunky in some places.

I love the idea that people have heard news of reader being a non-Valyrian who claimed the wildest of all dragons, and are just naturally curious as to what makes them unique for Cannibal to finally yield and take up a rider.

It’s a mystery that no one will ever know, not even reader cuz they’re probably just as confused about that. However it isn’t something that you want to delve in deeper because you were well aware that many houses, both big and small, had their eyes on you and were anxious.

Houses such as Bracken, Blackwood, Celtigar, Tully, lannisters, Baratheon’s, Starks, Greyjoy, Aryn etc. The realm holds its breath whenever you pass by on Cannibal, halting all forms of conflict as you soared above them unbothered. You just wanted to be left alone and you could feel that Cannibal felt similar.

You knew from stories that to doubt your bond with a dragon was dangerous but your bond with cannibal was forged out of your common desire, to be able to be free to live how you felt fit, free of the personal agendas of the highborn.

So when you arrived at Dorne, you were easily spotted by the royal family and were greeted in kind as a guest on the behest of the princess of Dorne herself, who was quick to cling onto your arm and smile as you spoke while Cannibal watched on, tired of yet another person filling to hide their seemingly immediate infatuation with you. He only hopes that you were asked for your hand…again.

So once you arrived to dinner, the questions were quick to spill and you answered them in quick succession.

‘The throne is rather ugly, I see no reason to fight over it when I’d rather have it burned.’ You told them as you sipped from your goblet, trying to not be affected by the way that the Dornish princess was rubbing the back of your hand softly, sweetly. ‘Besides people have already forgotten the cause of this war and are too fickle to remember as they’re too eager in spilling blood.’ You add.

Qoren Martel, with wise eyes, leaned forward. ‘You are a nomad? You fly no flag for either cause?’

‘No.’ You tell her.

‘Why? Were their offers not sufficient for you? Did gold and glory not arise any temptation within you?’ Qorne pressed as a silence befell the table as you felt the eyes of the princess and prince on you, but you were far too use to the questions being asked as they were the same you’ve heard from the likes of Alicent, Otto, Rhaenyra and Daemon.

You were the wild card they didn’t see nor expect and now we’re trying to quell you and Cannibal before the war reached a point where Dragons were brought into it. You were Cannibal’s counterpart in human skin as he was yours in dragon scales, you two were a force to be reckoned with and you had yet to engage in combat.

‘The thoughts of riches and glory and power is enough to tempt even the strongest man in Westeros, I however value things that go beyond such.’ You told her.

‘And what is that?’ Qorne inquired, raising her brow, curiosity taking over her as it did Dornish prince beside her as he too leant in close to her your words.

‘To find peace, to be left alone and out of the minds of every person in the realm. There was a reason cannibal never left his cave and yet, he came out for me and now he will not know rest because of me, and I want him to find rest be it with or without me.’ You tell her as you thought about how tired Cannibal had become during your journey, you could feel the ache of his bones as though it were you who were tired, you loved Cannibal and respected him immensely but you didn’t wish to have him suffer for the greed of others.

From a distance Cannibal lets out a groan, as though feeling your emotions through your bond to let you know that he made his choice in his rider, and that he did not liked his choice to be one of contention if his rider is feeling strongly about his wellbeing. For he was a dragon of old Valyria and could handle more than what was given to him now.

Stubborn old fool. You thought to yourself.

I heard you little one. You then heard cannibal speak in your mind, his voice a low timbre that could be felt within your chest, through your bones and more. You weren’t certain if Aemond, Aegon, daemon or the others could heard the voices of their dragons within their one head, or if you were the only one who had achieved such a thing; Either way it was just another thing that made you feel even more alone.

‘You put the realm at risk for the sake of your dragon?’ The Dornish prince asked as though the thought befuddled him.

‘It is not I who will torch Westeros.’ You reminded him, ‘it’s the Targaryen’s that are currently infighting right now who will, in merely a commoner who just so happened to be favoured by a god.’

‘A god? You consider your dragon on equal footing with the gods?’ The princess next to you asked eagerly as she gripped your hand.

‘Shouldn’t we all?’ You rhetorically replied before carrying on. ‘The Targaryens have fooled themselves into thinking their superior due to their control over them, a fallacy I call it, but if you take away their control. So who’s to say that they can’t be cut down like any other man regardless of social status.’ You looked into Qoren Martel’s eyes when you say this as a look of understanding passes over her face.

‘Can I ride with you on Cannibal?’ The princess asked suddenly and you almost chocked on your drink as Qorne was quick to voice her displeasure at her daughter’s brashness.

‘Of course you cannot.’ She barked, ‘that beast will seat no other than his rider.’ She then looks over to you, ‘am I correct in that assumption?’

‘Of course!’ You replied quickly as you aided in her attempts to prevent the princess from doing anything reckless. ‘Cannibal will not permit anyone other than me to ride upon his back, he’s…’ you paused as you looked behind yourself to see Cannibal reach up and feast upon a flock of birds passing by, ‘…well he’s as the legend of old speak of.’

The princess didn’t seem pleased with your answer as she stared you down. ‘I can handle it.’

You and Qorne Martel shared a look across the table that spoke of exhaustion that felt as though lasted for hours on end until it was broken by a sigh. ‘Fine you may fly with our guest on Cannibal but on one condition.’

‘Anything mother.’ The princess said, back straightened.

‘Come right back.’ Qorne said with finality as the princess was quick to grab you by the arm and drag you towards cannibal but before she was about to mount him, you pull her back and she looked at you with furrowed brows. ‘Why did you stop me?’

You didn’t speak a word but rip a piece of your clothing from your person and began rubbing it on the princess wrists, neck, cheeks and arms. ‘Protecting you.’ You said afterwards, letting go of her arm as she quickly mounted cannibal who gave you a look before you mounted him.

‘Hold on tight princess.’ You whispered in the beautiful woman’s ear as you reached past her and patted Cannibal twice before gripping the princess by her waist, pulling her close to your front as you took off to the skies above.

Cannibal wasn’t at the least impressed, and was even made more so when he looked behind to see that the princess had your face held between her hands as she leant in for a kiss. You didn’t make any moves to stop her as you indulged yourself in her sweet lips, heavenly and intoxicating as she was as you closed your eyes. Who’d knew kissing in the sky would be as romantic as you initially thought?

Cannibal only huffed as he continued to fly onward, he’ll let you have this one moment, you’ve been more then deserving of it for what the realm has put you both through.

[little-pondhead]

Wanted to hop in on the supervillain Danny au questions! Do we think Valerie would have any interest to get in on this? Between being a pawn for Vlad as Red Huntress and her "friends" ditching her as soon as she stopped being rich, I like the idea that evil billionare mastermind is her general vibe. Heck, maybe she and Tucker flip roles and she becomes the guy in the chair, not being a front line powerhouse and actually coming up with elaborate plans.

And on that note, do we think that if Vlad somehow found his way into this mess, he'd see the whole thing as a fun little game of "opposite world" and try his hand at being a hero? Because I for one think that would be hilarious, I actually don't have ideas for that because I can't imagine a heroic Vlad.

Amyway, that's all I got for now. Love your work!

You're one of the vertebrae creatures who keep hoarding all the brain wrinkles, aren't you??

---

[Okay, so I lost your ask, wrote this shit, then found it again so it's not exact but I'm trying here.]

Let's start with Valerie, or keeping up with the trend, Gray in the DC universe.

Valerie is so tired. It's a different kind of tiredness that has a grip on the others. Danny is tired of being a hero, Sam is tired of her parent's expectations, and Tucker is tired of being unable to protect his friends. Jazz is tired of being the bigger person, and Dani is tired of not having someone to rely on. The DC universe is their escape, and honestly, it's doing wonders for their mental health. Valerie notices. She has a shaky truce with Phantom and his crew, but she can't just let him get a leg up on her, can she? So Valerie follows them, through town, through the portal, through the new world they popped up in.

There, she stops. Phantom is now Fenton, and doesn't that make sense? Many things click into place and Valerie starts to understand as she watches the others from the shadows. She's surprised they haven't noticed her, but a little green sticky note on her visor says she had a little hand in her reconnaissance. So when she's done, she returns to her dimension. Back to Amity Park and back to her bed. Valerie lays there for a while, staring at the ceiling and fingering the sticky note, committing every detail to memory.

And you know what? Valerie gets pissed. How come Danny and his friends lovers? and family get to just visit other dimensions whenever they want a break and have no repercussions whatsoever? Just because hero work is hard?? She's a hero too, dammit!

Obviously, someone out there apparently agreed with her because, in a quick, dizzying moment, Valerie finds herself suddenly in the Ghost Zone, plopped down on a ratty blue couch with a very old ghost sitting across from her. He introduces himself as Clockwork, the ghost of time, the regent of the king, and Danny's guardian. Mentor? She wasn't sure; ghost speech always gave her a headache. Either way, Valerie found herself exceptionally calm and somehow struck a deal with the Ancient. To her chagrin, Clockwork informed her that Valerie was well and truly Liminal now, despite her best efforts. (What did she expect? Her suit was practically drenched in ectoplasm.) As part of the deal, Clockwork extended the same courtesy to her that he had to the others. Anytime she wanted, Valerie could have free reign and access to the DC universe and could do anything she liked with no bad consequences. And because of her liminality, he was able to grant her just enough power for her to create her own portals directly to the other realm.

[What did Clockwork get out of this deal? Well, that's up to someone else who's not me.]

So Valerie goes to this new universe. She switches her name to Gray, as if to mock Fenton, who had no idea she was there. She does not try to become a supervillain. And what's this? Outfit analysis time!!

In the show, I've always liked Valerie as a character, and whether it was intentional or not, her design seems to fit her attitude and actions. They were in high school in the early 2000s before her dad lost her job; Valerie was very popular, from what I remember. Her family had money. Other kids expected her to keep up with social norms, so her outfit looked more stylish than practical. She wears yellow, which is most commonly seen as a happy color. Her hair is slicked back so people can see her whole face. She has nothing to hide. She's confident and youthful, ready to lead, and overall enjoying her lot in life. Then ghosts start appearing, and we all know her backstory as Red Huntress. Her suit is tight to her skin, bright red, and overall she's armed to the teeth. Everything about that screams DANGER! Valerie is a threat now.

Her civilian outfit also never changes, which is understandable because this is a cartoon from 2004. But it's secretly genius because yellow is often considered a cautious color. It turns from being a happy color to a warning. Yellow is also associated with anxiety, betrayal, and even egotism, which is something both she and Danny experience during their interactions. She's uptight and constantly on edge. She feels like she has to provide for her family and is quick to anger.

Now for the opposite of that? Valerie is tired of being angry all the time. Rather than go apeshit on a bunch of poor heroes and villains-been there, done that-she treats this whole thing like an actual vacation. Gray wears a soft long sleeve, sweats, and fuzzy slippers. Her hair is relaxed and in a bun, with her bangs hiding half of her face. It takes some pressure off of constantly keeping her expressions in check. People also can't see how she's silently judging them. She lets the stress melt from her shoulders and lets herself curse like a sailor whenever she feels like it. Her clothes are dimmer colors, which don’t stand out or demand attention. She lets herself be not perfect.

Although, just because this is a vacation for her doesn't mean Gray can't just lounge around doing nothing. She has no money! So Gray, after shuffling through a couple decades of this world's history and discovering that Craigslist is universal, applies for the first work ad she sees. In short, Gray joins the Goonion. She ends up making a deal with the guy who hired her. And her new boss. And her new neighbor. And-

Gray very quickly becomes the John Constantine of the criminal underworld. She brushes up on her people skills and learns to talk rings around other people, getting people to owe her favors as much as she dishes them out. Balance is the key here, as she’s learned from Danny. Gray is never tied down by too many IOUs at a time, and her tight grip on her companions and team quickly earn her a questionable but reliable reputation. She presents a morally-gray character, if you will.

Gray’s quick climb to power-that was definitely sped along by Clockwork-earns her a powerful position in the Goonion. If she plays her cards right, Gray doesn’t have to do any work at all. She just leans back and enjoys being paid for wearing pajamas all day and occasionally signing some paperwork. She siphons away bits of her own paycheck to a dimensional bank account she threatened asked Technus to set up, and Gray is finally able to slip more than a few tens into her father’s wallet when it’s time for him to pay his rent. It’s a good life.

Now, Vlad? Oh, he's fucked. This can work for whatever redemption au you want. He can be exactly like he is in the show or working towards bettering himself as a person. I imagine him being halfway to a redemption plot, and in an effort to gain the Fenton's trust, he starts hanging around with the family more. Jack loves this. The others do not, but what can they do? Everyone is just trying to be civil to each other in an effort to make Jack happy. Since old habits die hard, Vlad very quickly notices Danny's improved state of mind and is attuned to the Zone enough to feel when Clockwork stops time on their end. He starts to purposefully rile up Danny and realizes that the time stops happen right after Danny leaves the room in a fit of anger. Then the boy comes back all smiles and sometimes doesn't even remember what Vlad had said to him in the first place.

So he puts his ear to the ground. Whispers are floating around about a new portal that's been opened near Phantom's Keep. A natural one. A permanent one. No one can investigate due to its location, but the young king and members of his fraid have been seen frequenting it more often than late. Not suspicious in the slightest, Danny would have protested. Vlad goes poking around. Entering the Keep uninvited felt like millions of bugs tugging at his skin, but turning human helped ease the sensation. It was laughably easy to slip between the cold stone walls of the Keep, avoiding Fright Knight's walking path and sticking to the shadows. The portal was in the courtyard, under the watchful gaze of two stone gargoyles leftover from Pariah's reign. Right before Vlad can investigate further stick his head in and see what happens the world warps, and suddenly the older halfa is sitting on his ass in front of a very old ghost.

Looks like Vlad fucked around and found out.

Basically, Clockwork yoinked Vlad to his side of existence right before he entered the portal. Even if all he wanted to do was relate to Danny in an effort to mend their relationship, The Master of Time wasn't okay with Vlad going off into the DC universe all willy-nilly. Oh no. Letting Vlad loose in this world would lead to bad things regardless of his intentions. Even if Vlad promised to play by all the rules and pretended to be human, he was bound to slip up and cause trouble.

So there were two courses of action Clockwork could take here. One, he could pull in a few favors and wipe Vlad's memory, sending him back to his own universe until he inevitably went sniffing around again, and this whole song and dance continued. Or second, he could equip Vlad with similar ghost artifacts Manson and Foley possessed and temporarily seal away Vlad's powers while he was gallivanting around the DC universe. He'd be on Clockwork's payroll, so to speak, and could only act on the older ghost's instructions. Clockwork presented these two choices to Vlad. The older halfa chose the second option after weighing the pros and cons. He didn't want to be controlled by Clockwork, but he also didn't want to lose his memories (over and over again, from how he worded it.)

This is how Vlad's hero persona is born. I'm unsure if he should stick with his last name, Masters, or take on something different to distance himself from Fenton and his family. Let's stick with Masters for now.

Clockwork has this drowning little rat man on a rehab program and uses some fancy ghost jewelry to inhibit his halfa abilities. He doesn't make Masters do much, just drops him in here and there when the DC timestream needs a little nudge. It's not like Clockwork will have Danny deal with it; the kid already helps out with every other timestream when asked. Masters can help out here. And since his halfa abilities are blocked, he gets to do everything as a human, which brings its own set of challenges. The idea is that by throwing Masters face-first into a new world filled with people who could end his existence and be forced to win every fight or else, he'll come to appreciate what Danny goes through on a daily basis.

The JL Dark becomes very familiar with the mysterious Masters, who doesn't seem to have any powers but still fights like he does. The man can be extraordinarily clumsy and short-tempered but still graceful and light on his feet when it matters the most. More than once has someone caught Masters muttering under his breath, cursing out gravity and a 'purple-cloak wearing bitch.' Masters always shows up out of the blue at the most random times. He is literally just there, and sometimes even Masters himself looks shocked about his sudden scene change. But he's always suited up and ready to go, so not many heroes question it. They usually need the help anyway.

In the DC universe, Masters is wearing four magic bands, each engraved with the words Dominion of Time on them. Several bands made from tungsten were buried deep with Clockwork's Tower in an old wooden box made from aspen and diamonds. Each band was a blank slate, glowing slightly from magic long past. Clockwork had simply selected the four he needed, engraved the spells needed in ghost speech, and handed them over. Vlad grumbled and tried to find a loophole in the artifacts, but ultimately accepted his fate and wore them whenever Masters was needed.

Vlad's new outfit for this outfit is similar to Valerie's; it's loose and uncomplicated. (Actually, there are a lot of parallels between these two.) In the show, Vlad always wears a tailored suit and dress shoes. He's well-groomed and his hair is slicked back. He always tries to show off his wealth and power by having full control over his appearance. In layman's terms, he's the walking cliché trope of a rich billionaire villain in every superhero media to ever exist. After all, in a kid's show with a teenage protagonist, what's more intimidating than an adult nemesis who has their life together?

As Masters, Vlad is forced to throw all that out the window.

The hero outfit he wears was literally picked up off the street. If glowing metal bands were not adorning his arms, some would assume that Masters was a homeless man. The top was dug out from a dumpster behind a costume store, and the sandals were given to him by a woman who couldn't wear them anymore. His arm sleeves were sewn together from some blackout curtains he found at an old housing demolition site, and the pants were just some sweatpants that were a tad too short. The mask was bought from the corner store, his belt salvaged from a junkyard, and his scarf was actually a gift from Jack-not that he'd wear it around the oaf. The only 'expensive' things Masters wore were the four magic bands, a handful of large glass beads hanging from his belt, and the sharp metal claws he wore on top of each finger. The claws were bought on a whim years ago when Vlad was building his fortune, and boy, was he glad for them now. They were the only real weapons Clockwork allowed him to carry for some reason.

In other words, Masters is exposed. With his loose hair and flowing clothes, Masters is forced to trust the others around him to have his back. He's humbled every time someone covers an obvious blind spot of his that he's not used to compensating for. He gets dirty and messy, fighting to survive against enemies he knows nothing about. His outfit symbolizes his efforts to change. Masters is re-learning what it's like to be truly vulnerable in a world you don't understand with no help whatsoever. Clockwork has no issue pitting him against demons and ghouls even John Constantine would hesitate at, and his narrow victories quickly earn him an invitation to the Watchtower.

The Justice League is puzzled by this walking lump of wet spaghetti. He disappears so easily into the background and doesn't stand out at all. Every once in a while his eyes scrunch up like he's confused about something, but he won't admit that he's lost the conversation. Masters will offhandedly say weird things and turn as if expecting someone to be there, then suddenly stop himself with a soft flinch. He refuses any form of payment. He can stare down Batman. His appearances are random and the man carries no form of contact. Masters often has an aura of resignation and regret around him, as if he didn't want to be there in the first place. He's awkward around kids but fiercely protective of a few teen heroes. (Mostly Conner.)

It finally starts to come together in the JL's mind when Masters becomes more widely known in the world of supers. One of the higher-ups in the Goonion hates him. Dani held a gun to his head. Manson screeched bloody murder when she saw him. Nightingale declared herself his official nemesis. The final piece was when, after a long and exhausting fight, Masters temporarily removed his mask to wipe away some blood around his mouth.

The Flash, who was sitting next to him, nearly let out a squeak.

Masters' blood was bright green.

Masters' teeth were shaped like a shark's.

Masters was another fucking Fenton, wasn't he?

[holylulusworld]

Aahp (5) - Payback is a bitch

Summary: You end up being a pawn.

Pairing: Mobster!Andy Barber x fem!Reader, Mobster!Nick Fowler x fem!Reader, Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of character’s death, mafia business

A/N: It's been quite a while...huh....

Angel and her protectors masterlist

Part 4

“What are we going to do now?” 

The question hangs like a sword of Damocles over their heads. Ready to destroy everything they built over the years.

Fury will have their backs. But will their power and influence be enough to beat Ransom Drysdale, Alexander Pierce, and their lapdogs? You never know in their line of business.

“What not?” Bucky repeats his question. “If Pierce wants another war, we are fucked. We’re not prepared for a war.”

“You are not prepared,” Andy tuts. 

Bucky snarls at Andy. “What do you mean?” 

“While you and your brother were out there, playing hide the salami with as many girls you could find, Steve and I made sure our empire would remain.”

“Hide the…” Bucky snorts. “You know, for a man your age you sound like a gramps sometimes. Stop with your uptight crap. Man, we like to fuck. That’s not a crime.”

“It is, if you ignore your duties,” Andy is ready for a fight. He’s done being the responsible one all the time. “I’m not your dad, you know. I won’t do shit for you all the damn time.”

“You sure sound like my dad,” you yawn while walking inside the living room. While you rub your tired eyes and stretch your body, all eyes are suddenly on you. The shirt Nick gave you rid up, exposing more skin than intended. “He loves to talk about responsibilities and stuff too.”

Andy looks offended at your words. He furrows his brows and puts his hands on his hips. “I’m not that old! Even if I sound like your dad, I’m not like him.”

“I know,” you hastily say, not wanting to anger one of the men keeping you safe…or hostage. You still don’t know if you can trust them. “My dad doesn’t wear a beard nor a gun.”

“That's not a gun. Andy's just happy to see you,” Nick throws in, making all of you laugh. “Andy’s just too shy to admit that he likes a pretty girl like you.”

“Fowler,” Andy grits his teeth. “This is not the time for bad jokes and childish behavior. We are close to a war with not only Drysdale but Piece too. Get a hold of yourself and stop flirting with that girl!”

“What if you'd just let me go?” You murmur, afraid to cause more trouble. “If Ransom is made because you keep me here, we can solve the problem that way. Right?”

“He’s not mad because you are here, Pookie,” Nick gently cups your face. “He’s an asshole first grade. Your ex-fiancé killed his grandfather and took over his business. Now he’s mad with power.”

“Oh—” you hum. “I forgot for a moment that I mean nothing to Ransom.” You give Nick a cracked smile. “What do you want to do with me now?”

“My sweet pookie will stay with me,” Nick declares before anyone else in the room can answer. “I won’t let that bastard hurt you, Y/N.” He whispers your name. 

Andy rolls his eyes. Of course, Nick had to take the chance to hit on you again. “Nick, can you just not? We have urgent things to discuss. You can get your dick wet later.”

“ANDY!” Steve, Bucky, and Nick hiss in unison. “Can you just not ruin any chance we have with Y/N?”

You feel a little lightheaded when the three of them look at you. Uh-oh. They meant what they said. “I-I kind of feel flattered, really…but…uh…I don’t think I can handle four guys. One was already too much to handle.”

Bucky smirks at his brother. “Did you hear, she wants all of us? I knew she was a wildcat and a dirty girl.”

“That’s not what I said,” you sigh. It feels like they don’t even listen to you. Bucky and Steve smirk while Nick possessively wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

Andy on the other hand tries to ignore the pull toward you and to on the upcoming war he tries to prevent from happening. “We should focus on Piece and Drysdale. What are we going to do about their bond?”

“Distrust,” you throw in to get their attention. All eyes are back on you. “You said they want to form a bond and work together. If they do not trust each other, you can use that to your advantage.”

Steve nods thoughtfully. “That’s not the worst idea. Distrust is the poison ruining any relationship. We should try to break their partnership before it can bloom.”

“Can I go then? If Ransom is not interested in me any longer, you have no reason to keep me here. Please just let me go.”

“Pookie,” Nick presses a soft kiss to your temple, “Ransom believes you are with us now. He’ll hurt you only to get to us. We cannot let go. It’s for your own safety to stay with us.”

“Yes or no. Can you fake the footage for us, Jensen,” Andy grunts. “We need to trick these bastards. If Pierce believes Ransom tries to fuck him over, he will end up dead.”

“Let me work my magic. After I’m done with the footage you gave me, Alexander Piece will believe that Ransom tried to conspire against him.”

“Call our problem solver,” Andy raises his hand to stop Steve from talking back. “I know, I know. You don’t like Hansen but he’s reliable. I want him to fake an assassination attempt on Pierce.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Steve shrugs. “We reached the end of the rope. If we don’t want to fight on two frontiers, we must outsmart Drysdale and Pierce.”

Andy smirks. For once his brother gave in without a fight. “Jensen, I want you to open an offshore bank account and transfer money onto Hansen’s fake account. Make it obvious that Ransom transferred the money to pay the killer.”

“If we get rid of them, can I focus on winning my Pookie over?” Nick grins. “I know she wants me to take care of her. She’s too sweet to face this cold and cruel world on her own. I need to protect her.”

“We,” Andy corrects. “We all agreed on taking care of Y/N. She will stay with us. For now, we need to focus on taking Pierce and Drysdale down. 

“Payback is a bitch,” Bucky smirks. “I can hardly wait to watch Drysdale fall. He deserves to end up in the gutter…”

Part 6

More tags in reblog.

Angel and her protectors

@missvelvetsstuff, @openup-yourmind

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