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greenglowinspooks · 11 months

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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

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Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

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It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

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#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc fic #liminal scarecrow #scaredad scaredad scaredad #not pictured: scarecrow frantically googling to see what he can feed Danny without killing him #and also going through everything in his kitchen to find something that isn’t spoiled #he lives like a 20 year old bachelor in terms of food. just takeout and moldy bread in there #maybe a can of soup if he’s feeling adventurous #scarecrow: ah yes I am feeding him soft foods to keep my lead on the GiW alive. No sentimental reason whatsoever #danny who is about to start bawling his eyes out:#the boy had to battle resurrected food for years. he is NOT used to being fed actual edible things #danny: scarecrow could kill me at any moment. that’s why he’s feeding me and worrying about my health and safety #btw HUGE shoutout to the riddler for cramming an entire gaming pc into a 2007 microsoft computer #or some shit like that #and just giving it to scarecrow. for free. just bestie things

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creative-crybaby · 9 months

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Knots

PAIRING: masseur!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

GENRE: no curses!au | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), brief masturbation (m), size kink, praise kink, cum eating, light mentions of/brief marking

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: With so much stress piling up on you, Geto was kind enough to offer you a massage. Unfortunately, no amount of relaxation can distract you from the sexual tension between you and your friend.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAPPA can't draw jjk characters like that and expect me not to write smut about em 🙄also: HAPPY NEW YEARS, LOVELIES <3333

“Are you sure this is okay?” It’s too late to ask him that, but you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

Your face burns as silence follows; you can only thank whatever gods above for him not being able to see your expression.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he chuckles, and you copy the sound nervously, unsure if he is serious. After a pregnant pause, he adds, “I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.” Your peripheral vision catches him moving around you to get to the cabinet. “Consider it a favour from a friend.”

You hear the cabinet door open and shut, and you shift from your spot face down on the table.

“At least let me pay you back somehow,” you press, pouting.

“That defeats the point of a favour, doesn’t it?” Geto’s footsteps get louder until you catch sight of his shoes from the corner of your eye. There’s another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Are you comfortable with me unclapsing your bra?” Before you can answer, he quickly continues, “It can stay on like you wanted, I just need the straps out of the way.”

If you aren’t hyping yourself up to take every opportunity to get closer to the masseur, you’re second-guessing your decision to take his offer. Should he follow through with the action, it would only be the beginning of something far more intimate. And you know this. You knew this. Even when Geto first suggested the idea after you opened up about your piling stress and even when you foolishly thought asking Gojo for advice on the offer was a good idea.

But you’re here now, aren’t you?

“Go for it,” you try to mask whatever uneasiness you can. Gentle fingers tug at the clips at the end of your bra, disconnecting them and allowing the straps to drop. Even with your chest still covered, you feel bare, the cool air tickling the newly exposed area. You have to force yourself from shivering.

“You still like the scent of lavender?” Geto's question catches you off-guard, raising your head from the cushion, not realizing that he recalled such a minor detail. Your silence makes the ravenette turn to you again, offering his easy-going smile. “Or have your tastes changed?”

You nod mindlessly, blinking up at him. “Lavender’s good.”

Geto hums before searching through his cabinet, taking several seconds to find the bottle he was looking for. You rest your head back on the cushion before he can catch you staring.

“I’ll be starting now.” The sound of a bottle cap opening follows your friend’s words. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Otherwise, just lay back and relax.”

Despite his gentle voice, following his order becomes easier said than done once his large hands come in contact with your back, the oil adding to his skin’s warmth. You bit your lip, the serene scent of lavender reaching your olfactory as the masseur works his magic on your stress.

You don’t realize how exhausted your body has felt until Geto applies pressure for the first time, and you cringe.

“Easy, easy,” he soothes, pausing his ministrations once you try to relax your body. “Wow, you are stressed.”

You allow your body to sink further into the table’s mattress when his soft laughter reaches your ears, and you give him the go-ahead to continue. Fingerpads return to your skin, rubbing heavy yet sturdy circles onto your back, untying any and every knot trapping your muscles. You can feel your body fall limp, drowning heavily while at the same time floating into the heavens as every evidence of exhaustion disappears from you.

Still, even as you try to keep your mind blank and enjoy the moment, you can’t help but notice how much space Geto’s hand takes up on your back. It doesn’t help that they creep up to your neck, more than ready to push the problems away from that area.

“So,” you trail off, feeling the need to fill the silence rather than embrace it, “You give these massages to Ieiri or Satoru?”

The ravenette chuckles. “If you’d call the occasional shoulder rub a proper massage, then sure.”

A memory of the four of you at a local diner pops into your head, Shoko telling Geto a shoulder massage was the least she deserved after all the all-nighters she’s suffered through. You giggled, watching the medical student melt under the masseur’s magic touch, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that prodded your mind.

You quip. “Not even a full-body one? Ieiri’s the one who deserves it the most out of us.”

“Guess she just never has the time for one,” he hums.

“And Satoru?”

Geto snickers, pausing his actions. You join in on the laughter, a small swell of pride blooming in your chest.

Your joy is cut short when he resumes the massage, adding pressure to a specific area below the nape of your neck that forces a whimper out of you. You freeze, hoping the masseur didn’t hear it. But with how his hold on you paused, even for just a moment, you couldn’t deceive yourself into believing you were in the clear.

“Sorry,” you squeak, the warmth from your face expanding to the rest of your body. Could he feel it?

You can hear the smile in his voice. “So tense, aren’t you?”

You don’t miss the octave drop in his voice, biting your tongue. Geto returns to work, his fingers digging into your skin and untying whatever knots your muscles carried for who knows how long. You allow yourself to sigh at the sensation, your brows knitting together from the pressure without the discomfort.

His hands travel lower, returning to previous areas with added strength until he reaches the small of your back. You try not to tense upon feeling his fingers graze the towel covering your bottom, but you can’t prevent the shaky moan from escaping your lips once his hold shifts to your hips.

Another pause from him: another apology from you.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Your friend assures you, though you barely miss the light strain in his tone. “I’ll be working on your legs next, okay?”

You hum lightly, shifting from your spot as he passes what the towel covers. Your thoughts wander before you can put them on a leash, the pang of disappointment from the neglect of that area allowing your imagination to drift.

Would a massage there even feel good? Geto would undoubtedly find a way, his large hands practically blanketing each cheek. And his fingers—God, they were the stars of the show, finding the spots that needed the most attention and pushing every bit of tension out of your worn-out body. You’re confident his digits would be just as adventurous in other places.

You feel yourself clench around nothing and fear the handsome man above you possibly noticing. Shaking your head, you hope those thoughts fly out like fleas.

Geto stops. “Too much?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

The masseur’s hands glide up to your upper thighs, and you freeze, his hold remaining in place as he leans closer to your head.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice calm. “I can return the favour some other way.”

Your body moves before your brain can command it to. Or rather, stop it from doing so. Hastily, you raise your head from the cushion, your upper torso following suit as it twists to face your friend.

“I can take it.”

Silence. Too much of it for your liking. It has your stomach churning and your heart ramming against your ribs. Maybe it’s the heaviness in your body that follows you getting up too quickly, or your word choice. It could also be how Geto stares at you with parted lips, his eyes on you but not meeting your gaze.

Instead of further embarrassing yourself by speaking, you follow his focus, only to wish you hadn’t.

Your bra, long forgotten by you, barely hangs onto your body by its straps by your elbows, exposing your back as well as most of your chest. The lavender scent is no longer soothing, the heat on your face is dizzying, and you’d want nothing more than to run out the door if only your legs weren’t practically limp from your friend’s treatment. It doesn’t help that his hold on the back of your upper thighs hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s tightened, his grip making your clit jump.

You suppose you spoke too soon once the warmth of Geto’s touch disappeared from your legs, the masseur having moved to reach for your bra straps to pull them back up to your shoulders before you could process his actions. You blink, eyes trailing up to his face now adorning a rosy hue and soft lips pressed into a thin line. He’s so much closer, his breath barely fanning the top of your head. And if you aren’t forcing your gaze to meet his, you’re impulsively glancing back at his mouth.

With so much focus on the beautiful man, you don’t catch him slowly but surely leaning in.

The last discernable thing you catch is Geto’s lidded eyes darkening before he presses his lips against yours.

You don’t breathe. You forget to, just like how you leave your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide open.

The ravenette pulls away quicker than he’d leaned in, and the corners of your lips twitch downwards. His brows furrow as he looks at you with a brighter flush on his handsome face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

No. You won’t let him regret his actions, not for your sake.

The sudden shift in perspective is alarming when, only moments ago, you feared ruining your relationship with your friend. Now, you’re shifting to sit on the massage table, grabbing Geto by his shirt collar, tugging him forward and slamming his lips onto yours. You groan at the impact, relaxing only a second later once he returns the kiss with just as much hunger.

But he’s still not close enough. His hold remains on your bra straps, making it harder for you to wrap your arms around his neck. It’s the only reason you pull back, locking eyes with him as you place your hands on his.

“Suguru,” you pant, chest heaving for air as your lids droop. Your following words stay trapped in your throat, the masseur having slid his hold higher up your shoulders to bring you back to the kiss. You squeak, the fervour behind his actions far more evident as his tongue teases your lower lip. He groans into your mouth, his thumbs caressing your skin as you invite him in, eager to have him even closer.

Your hands are still on top of Geto’s, you remember, and you slide his down your arms while he’s distracted by the kiss. (With how he’s swirling his tongue around yours, you aren’t sure you can call it a “kiss” anymore.)

You pull back hastily, not missing the string of saliva connecting your bottom lips before motioning for him to look down. His sharp eyes do so, blinking out of his haze as he sees how the cups of your bra no longer cover your breasts. You don’t recall when you stopped caring about your face burning like it was on fire, the pride in your chest and lust in your lower belly now the dominant sensations as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet.

“Please,” he gulps, an unmissable strain in his voice. “Let me taste you.”

Even after the lewd makeout session, his words left your mouth cotton-dry. You can only kiss him again, guiding his hands to cup your breasts, your bra sliding off your arms.

When Geto pulls back, his lips reattach to your skin, trailing down your neck to the valley of your mounds. He lightly pushes you to lie down on the table, making yourself comfortable before plopping one of your nipples into his mouth, the other one between his fingers. Your own hands loosen his hair from its bun, the strands falling gracefully onto his broad back. They’re as soft as they look, your fingers streaming through the midnight locks like water past the pebbles in the river.

The masseur switches his treatment, the other nipple now teased by the grazing of his teeth while his large hand keeps the second breast from neglect. Your body feels hot, and the warmth of his mouth does little to soothe the issue. But with how much you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, you’d hardly consider this a problem now.

Your hands remain in his hair as Geto continues kissing down your body, stopping just at the apex of your thigh to peer at you with those dark pools for irises. One of his hands removes the towel from your lap, revealing your thin shorts underneath. He tugs at the waistband, silently asking for your permission. Your response consists of your hips rising from the table, and he’s quick to shimmy your remaining clothes off your body, stealing another passionate kiss from you in the process.

“I want nothing more than to hear every sound I get out of you,” your friend (can you still call him that?) pants, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and his face flushed as he watches your reaction through hooded lids. You lean in, chasing his lips for another kiss. He stops you with a finger, and you hold back the whine squeaking from your throat. He chuckles. “But I’m going to need you to keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

You almost forgot that you’re in a public setting, even with the privacy of a closed door. Geto warmly smiles when you nod, and he lowers himself to face your crotch, helping you shift to let your legs dangle off the table. You find his eyes widening upon catching sight of your bare cunt already drooling your essence. The ravenette exhales shakily before planting a kiss on your clit, making you twitch. Your reaction makes him chuckle, and he licks long strips against your slit, moaning through his languid movements.

“What was that about being quiet?” You giggle breathily, leaning your weight on your hands. Geto pauses.

“Sorry, beautiful,” he whispers with a smile, tightening his hold on your thighs. “You taste like a dream.”

You throw your head back as your eyes flutter shut, his words and continued ministrations between your legs setting your body ablaze and your mind blank. It doesn’t help that he’s practically encouraging you to cage him tightly between your thighs, squeezing his head in place as he makes out with your cunt. Your hips grind into his touch, moving in tandem with his soft lips and warm tongue.

Even with his sensual movements, you can tell he’s holding back, if his tight hold on the fat of your thighs is any indication. Your hips grind into his touch, allowing him permission to feast on you how he’d like, gripping a fistful of his locks for further encouragement. And the masseur seems to have gotten the message, his tongue digging inside you while his nose nudges at your pearl.

Holding back your sounds of pleasure is already a challenge—warning the handsome male beneath you of your oncoming release doesn’t even seem possible, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the sensation in your lower belly grows stronger.

And maybe Geto doesn’t need you to tell him. Or maybe, he’s just so lost in the taste of your essence that he’s decided to wrap his soft lips around your puffy clit and suck, the tip of his tongue flicking at the nub at the same time. Whatever the case, his actions do the trick, your hold on his head tightening as your legs shake while your jaw falls slack. The ravenette doesn’t falter, pushing himself closer to your cunt, his mouth working its magic and creating sounds that would embarrass you if it weren’t for the ringing in your ears.

Coming down from the high, plus the massage, has you losing your hold on yourself. Luckily for you, Geto quickly rises from his spot, catching you by the waist and pulling you into another kiss with a soft groan. Your taste on your tongue and the need for air make you dizzy, but you bring him closer regardless.

“‘M sorry,” he pants after ending the kiss, his chin shining with your slick. “Just had to show you how good you taste.”

You can only whimper in response, feathering kisses on his lips as you play with his hair. Geto happily lets you, his large hands mapping your torso and thighs as if burning every curve into his memory.

“Didn’t know this came with the free massage,” you mumble against his mouth, holding back a smile.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he purrs, moving you back down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. You hear the rustling of clothing, and before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a weight hovering over your figure. Familiar, large hands splay open on either side of your head while muscular thighs cage your legs in place. “Do you trust me?”

Something pokes your lower back, and you almost forget to answer with the masseur’s hot breath against your ear. You lift your hips to grind against his crotch with a whimper, hoping that’ll be more than enough for him.

Your actions make Geto laugh, and he teasingly nibbles at your earlobe. “Use your words, darling.”

It doesn’t help that he’s taken his tip to glide across your slit, collecting your juices as a lubricant. You twist your head to face him, one of your hands gripping on the cushion above you as a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting a lot longer for this moment than you know,” you confess meekly, watching as the ravenette’s eyes widen and lips part from your words. “And I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”

You worry you’ve revealed too much too soon when you’re met with silence. But when that familiar smile and soft gaze grace Geto’s features, the nerves fluttering in your stomach evaporate.

The handsome male presses a kiss against your temple. “That makes two of us, then.”

With only a few seconds to register his confession, your heart does a doubletake before you feel Geto lead his cock into your heat, his hand gripping yours as reassurance. The subtly painful stretch that follows suit makes you grateful for the gesture, your insides splitting in half as he just keeps going in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every vein graze against you.

The masseur notices, it seems, and he whispers encouraging words in your ear, giving you the occasional kiss on your shoulder.

“There you go,” he drawls quietly, his crotch meeting your ass. “Nice and full, aren’t you?”

You exhale shakily, feeling his strong chest pressed against your back. On rare occasions, when Geto wears tight-fitting shirts, you’re blessed with the sight of his chiselled physique, especially his back, since he can’t catch you ogling. The chance to leave your mark there, like an artist’s signature on a painted canvas, is one you’ve longed for. However, with the knot in your belly ready to snap without having him even move makes you grateful for the current position. Maybe next time you’ll get to see all of him.

Next time.

“Can I move, darling?” Geto's breath tickles your skin. “I’m afraid I won’t last too long with how you’re squeezing me.”

The almost boyish giggle he breathes out has your heart rocketing in your ribs. Your affirmation comes out weak, but the masseur hears it loud and clear. He reels his hips back, but it’s when he buries his shaft back into you that you feel your eyes roll back once more. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping out as he sets a languid yet deep pace.

“We need to keep quiet, remember?” Geto shushes, his face buried in your neck. “My massages are good, but even outsiders might grow suspicious if you’re too loud.”

His soft laughter mixes with your pleading whine. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

The ravenette halts his movements, much to your dismay. Even with you wiggling your hips, he doesn't budge, and you’re about to ask him about the holdup before he beats you to it.

“You think it’s easy for me?” The soothing lilt of his voice is long gone, replaced with a low timbre that has you clenching around his girth. “I’ve got you milking me for all I’m worth, and we barely started. What do you think that does to me?”

You feel his teeth graze your skin, making you shiver as you try to regain friction between your legs. Geto's stronger than you, much stronger, and your movements don’t make him budge.

With a quivering sigh, you prop yourself on your forearms, and he retracts from his hiding spot in your neck. You face him, lids hanging low on your eyes and face warmer than it should be.

“Show me.”

With a smirk, Geto pulls himself out until only his tip remains before slamming back into you. You choke on a gasp, his pace and strength relentless as his hips slap against your ass, the sounds bouncing off the walls. You can’t even call him out on his hypocrisy as you bury your face into the table, hoping it’ll help mask your cries.

It doesn’t, of course. But Geto Suguru, ever the gentleman, carefully lifts your head by your neck and, while hovering over you, slams his lips against yours. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t find yourself complaining as he rams into you, filling you up and moulding your insides into the shape of his cock.

Your eyes don’t know what to do, from squeezing shut to crossing. At one point, you catch the door in your peripheral vision, and the thought of potentially getting caught has you clenching, your hand reaching for the masseur’s bicep and digging your nails into his pale skin.

Geto grunts. “You trying to make me cum, beautiful?”

His playful tone makes you whine, his pace never faltering as he sneaks one of his hands under you to grope one of your breasts. The toying of your nipple, along with the male’s relentless thrusts, fuels the coil in your belly, and what does the trick is him leaving his mark on your neck.

With a drawn-out gasp, your body stills, toes curling and tongue lolling out as your pussy convulses. You hardly notice Geto’s strokes growing sloppy, his whispered cursing going in one ear and out the other. Having him lead you to heaven is plenty for you.

Once you calm down, though, you feel like he’s pulled out too soon. You groan, your ears catching the light sounds of him shuffling from his spot above you, followed by a rapid squelching noise that has you peeking over your shoulder.

There, in all his naked glory, is Geto stroking his cock, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on your figure.

“Shit, shit—” he cuts himself off with a gasp, ropes of cum shooting from his slit and landing on the back of your thighs. The sight alone has you clenching, the need for him inside you arising once more. “Oh, fuck—”

Anyone would grow angry at a mess thrown at them. You’re no different, just worse (the one time Gojo accidentally made you ruin your eyeliner is more than enough proof—the poor fool).

And yet, having painted your thighs white by Geto, his seed clinging to your oily (and now sweaty) skin, you somehow find yourself falling for him more.

“Suguru,” you slur, your eyelids fluttering as you allow your body to slump back onto the table. You feel his weight disappear before hearing footsteps grow louder. Through tired eyes, you’re face-to-face with his crotch, causing you to squeak as your upper body jolts up again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the masseur chuckles, crouching to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere returns to the comforting one his work ought to bring, though a part of you finds yourself fidgety. The ravenette wipes away the evidence with a wet towel, and it’s enough to keep you in place and relaxed as he continues to take care of you.

Once done, he helps you sit up, keeping you steady as your legs dangle off the table.

“I think you fucked the bones out of me,” you croak, and Geto pauses midway from sliding your underwear back up your legs. He laughs a soft, boyish laugh, the melody bringing a smile to your lips and a warmth of embarrassment to your cheeks. “Is this what you had in mind by doing me a favour?”

He pecks your nose before resuming dressing you. “No, but I’m not complaining with the results.”

You hum, and the silence returns as he aids you with the rest of your clothes.

It isn’t until he’s slipping his boxers back on that you speak again. “You don’t give this kind of special treatment to the others?”

A witless, little joke on your part, though your tone didn’t match. Maybe it was the exhaustion that took charge or a sliver of self-consciousness that needed assurance that you had him all to yourself. Still, you press your lips into a thin line, awaiting his answer.

“To our friends or my clients?” he inquires, putting on the remainder of his clothes. “Either way, the answer’s no.” When you don’t say anything else, he approaches you, nudging his nose against yours. “Did you want me to?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze. “No!”

Geto's joking smile eases into a sincere one, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and embracing you.

“Perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your temple. “Guess that means you’re the only one who gets my special treatment.” A pause, followed by a sheepish giggle. “As long as we do it outside of my job. I’d like to keep it, you know.”

From your position, you peer over his shoulder to where the door stands a few meters away, shut and locked but keeping you in suspense. With heat bubbling in your face, you hide in the crook of his neck.

“You technically never finished my massage,” you mumble against his skin, your hands tracing any muscle it can reach on his back. Geto pulls back from the hug, jutting his bottom lip as if pondering.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums before another smile breaks onto his features. “Shall we continue back at my place, then?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #smut

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haikyuuhoo · 11 months

Text

painfully obvious

pairing: gojo x reader

wc: 1k

warnings: none, just some mutual pining between two blind high school love birds

a/n: I will always be soft for this man. He deserves the whole world.

“Hey, buddy!”

Satoru pauses in his descent to his seat, holding his food inches above the table where you all eat lunch together. Normally, Satoru would relish the sound of your voice, would bask in that tone that sounds so excited to see him, but not today. No, today he can’t think about any of that because he’s hung up on that word, that nickname that sounds so absurd that he can’t help but let out an incredulous “Huh?” before he’s even finished sitting down.

Suguru chuckles at his best friend, and now it’s your turn to pause, finally noticing the way Satoru’s staring at you, eyes wide behind his sunglasses and eyebrows raised up so high they nearly disappear into his hairline.

“What?” you ask, eyes darting around the table at your friends. Shoko’s smirking beside you, looking at where Satoru’s finally sitting down and shaking her head.

Satoru presses his lips together, picking up his chopsticks and waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing, it’s whatever,” he huffs, beginning to eat his lunch with a dramatic pout on his face.

You turn in your seat to face Shoko, registering the way she tilts her head so her hair falls in a way to hide that she’s laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You can hear the grin in her tone as she stands up. “I’m gonna go for a smoke. Wanna join?” She gestures the pack toward Suguru and he wordlessly stands up, but you can still see the corners of his lips curving upward. “Be back in a few!” Shoko calls over her shoulder, and the two of them begin to walk away, leaving you and Satoru alone at the table.

You frown, turning your attention back to Satoru and his pout that has somehow gotten even more pronounced. “Did I do something wrong?”

He looks up at you, face a mask of seriousness before he loudly blurts, “You called me buddy!”

You reel back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “Okay, and? You’re my friend, did you want me to say ‘hey, asshole’ instead?”

Satoru groans, tipping his head back. “No, but I’ve been spending weeks hanging out with you and listening to the music you like and watching every show you mention and just fucking trying to show you that I like you and you just called me buddy! And that just proves that you don't like me, because you would never call someone you like buddy!”

You blink at him, frozen in shock and cheeks tingling with heat. “You like me?” The words barely come out as a whisper.

Satoru looks down at you over the tops of his glasses with another pout, this one much smaller and—honestly—much cuter than the one he was wearing earlier. “I thought it was pretty obvious,” he admits, and the low tone of his voice makes your stomach flip.

You play with your fingers nervously under the table. “I, uh— I guess I’ve just been so stressed out lately, you know, since we're going on missions practically every other day…” you trail off, waving your hand above your head. “I haven’t been sleeping well and I can barely focus anymore and… I guess I just didn’t notice,” you murmur.

He looks away. “It’s fine, I just— yeah. It’s not a big deal.” Satoru props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his hand, doing his best to school his features into a mask of nonchalance. “I’ll get over it. Ya know, the whole being in the friendzone thing. Because that’s what we are—we’re friends! And it doesn’t need to be weird now, because we are friends, and we've always been friends, and I’ll just… yeah.” Silence falls between you two, and Satoru clears his throat self-consciously to cut through it.

And you push past your nerves, reaching across the table to gently tug on the edge of his sleeve so you can put your hand on top of his. “You don’t have to.”

His gaze cuts back toward you, letting you pull his hand down to rest on the table. “Huh?”

You close your eyes, and before the anxiety can overwhelm you, you say, “You don’t have to… ‘just yeah.’ We, um… We can be more than friends. I… I would really like that, actually. I just know you’re really friendly with everybody and I didn’t want to get my hopes up about anything so I didn’t say anything because I really like spending time with you and I didn’t wanna make it weird and make you want to stop hanging out with me because I miss you when we aren't on missions together and because I…” You swallow past the lump in your throat, doing your best to get the rest of the words out before your voice fails you. “Because I like you. I really, really like you.”

Satoru’s eyes are wide by the time you’re done rambling, and he lifts his hand out from under yours so he can cup your face. “Can I…?”

And you open your eyes, shocked by how close he is to you, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you nod, and when you feel Satoru press his lips gently against yours, warmth floods your body. He’s gone nearly as quickly as he came, but now there’s a lovesick smile on his face as he looks at you, and the two of you barely notice your friends sitting back down, not until Suguru slaps his hand on Satoru’s back with a “Hey, buddy!” that makes you two pull apart.

Satoru scowls at him, shoving Suguru's shoulder so hard as he sits down that he nearly falls out of his seat, but Suguru's just laughing loudly at the way Satoru immediately begins whisper-shouting at him, things like "don't call me that!" and "nearly gave me a heart attack, you dick!"

Shoko knocks her shoulder against yours as she retakes her seat, a knowing smile on her face. “You know, both of you were so painfully obvious.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen

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livesworthlivingau · 4 months

Text

Behind the Vale Chapters 2-4

Decided to combine these 3 chapters because they'd be especially short from Loop's perspective, and I REALLY wanna get to some stuff shortly after this. Be sure to read the other 3 chapters first! (or maybe bounce between them if you want?) Spoilers for ISAT below! CW: Spiraling mental state

"You had me worried there Sif, but I guess it makes sense you'd be in such a rush. Glad to see you again Loop!" "Yes! We never got to tell you thanks for helping us out yesterday!" [Pity... It's all just pity... You failed them, the original them... The real them.] [All you can do now is put on your silly little mask and continue your performance, the show must go on after all.] "... Well then splendid~! If you're all so eager to have me along, how could I refuse~?" ---------------------------------------------------------- [It was so easy, so blinding easy to fit in, to fill the little gaps of Stardust's perfect little family, to follow along with this whole mockery of your life, this spin off, this cheap imitation... You've gotten so good at pretending you hardly know how to do anything else at this point. That damned Fighter though... So kind, so sweet. he almost feels real, unlike the rest of them. So much so you stop feeling the need to pretend around him... until Stardust finally notices.] (Oh... OH!... Oooooooooooooh.....) -------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you get it now Stardust?! Do you see why this was a bad idea?!"[You've gotten too close now. Stardust just had to invite you into his little life to make himself feel better. He just couldn't take the thought of you feeling sad all by yourself. You're just a sad, kicked puppy to them, too weak and pathetic to be left alone... He'd even give up his own love just so won't have to stomach that endless pity!] ----------------------------------------------------------------- "Where's Loop? They shouldn't miss dinner!... Wait... Can Loop actually eat food?" [You just watch through your little connection with Stardust. You couldn't control yourself around them at the moment, not after your discussion. You need some time away to recover your role, sitting up in a large tree. It was an off comfort, a small bit of familiarity in this whole changing play. You shake off the vision for a moment, keeping your eyes closed and gripping your knife, shearing it across a piece of wood to whittle away at it. You mumble that familiar little mantra under your breath as you do. Your mind races with memories now, so faint and distant, lost to countless loops, but they try to return none the less. Visions of your Fighter, Researcher, Housemaiden, Fighter, Kid, Figh-... Isabeau... He wanted to tell you something... that's the last thing you can remember about him, the real him. You never got to hear it, and now you never will... You hear a snap, opening your eyes and looking at the figure in your hands... It's the Fighter... The head having snapped off from the pressure you exerted, laying in the grass below.] ------------------------------------------------------------------- "So how many has it been?" [You watch Stardust and Odile playing their little drinking game. You don't know why you're listening in, you don't want to know what his life was like before getting stuck back with you... So why do you keep watching?] "-You know you haven't told me about the original loops yet." [You perk up, finally the topic changing to something else, something... oddly nostalgic. You listen more intently, as if curious on how Stardust would regale the events of it all... of what he'd say about you.] ------------------------------------------------------------- [... Why is he speaking so fondly of you?... Does he know you're watching? Can he feel it somehow? No, he knows you can check in on him. He must act like that all the time just in case you're watching...]

"... So what IS Loop anyhow? You HAVE to know more about them, right?" [Your heart suddenly stops... He promised you. He told you he wouldn't tell anyone. He knows you might be watching! He wouldn't if that were the ca-] "Okay, I'll tell you..."

#isat au #isat spoilers #lives worth living au #lwlau #isat #isat fanfic #two hat spoilers #behind the vale #btvau

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acourtofthought · 5 months

Note

Regarding Lucien’s scars. I think it’s basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrr… the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball “in Lucien’s honor” - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didn’t accept to sleep with Amarantha. So here’s Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have been… but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azriel’s hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesn’t reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucien’s character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t have a home or even a court, he’s basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far don’t have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucien’s healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt

I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.

#lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #elucien

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

Photo

Title: Cut

Pairing: Soft Dark! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Kink Prompt: Cut [Knife play]

Word Count: 1,944

Summary: You haven’t been having the best luck on dating apps, but you’re willing to try again.

Warnings: AU: Dark, Noncon, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive Behavior, Knife play, Marking, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: i’m super excited to share this one with you all, i had a lot of fun fulfilling the brief. hoping you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! divider by @firefly-graphics

Your date’s eyes flick up over your right shoulder for the umpteenth time that night, a spark of nervousness growing in them.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, a small but reassuring smile on your lips. You turn around, but there isn’t anything out of place at the restaurant. The tables surrounding you are all full of people laughing and chatting amicably, not one of them paying attention to either of you. “See someone you know?” You joke, but Phil’s responding laughter is hollow and anxious sounding.

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I just thought—you know what? Never mind.” Phil dives back into the conversation full force, asking you about your likes and dislikes, your family and friends, your dating history. “No boyfriends I should know about?” He leans forward, and you get the impression that this light-hearted joke somehow isn’t light-hearted at all.

“No.” You say with a short laugh. “Why would I be on Tingle looking for a boyfriend if I had a boyfriend?” You take a sip of your wine as Phil chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

“No, totally, of course. I’ve just, you know. Heard some real horror stories on 6Space.”

“Hah, yeah,” you say, thinking of your latest string of failed dates. “Horror stories.”

“You have some of your own, I take it?”

You heave a sigh, downing another generous sip of your wine. You shift a little in your seat, thinking uncomfortably of the last date you’d been on. James—Bucky, he wanted you to call him Bucky—was nice, but… intense. His charm and passion had been underscored unpleasantly by a deep, aching need, one you didn’t—and still don’t—think you’re qualified to fill.

“I guess you could say that.” Going back to Bucky’s place with him had been a mistake. One that left you weak and sore for days afterward, and you’d swiftly blocked his number before re-installing the dating app last week.

You’re just perfect, doll, you know that? Fucking sweet and tight and all mine, isn’t that right?

The entrees come without issue, and you eat half of your falafel before you’re tapping out. “I love this place, but the portion sizes,” you complain lightheartedly, and Phil laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Let me get it,” he says, grabbing for the bill. You watch Phil pat his pockets, his expression turning worried as he searches. “What the f—Okay, I totally had my wallet before I went to the bathroom.” He rises from the table and flags down a waiter. “Has anyone found a wallet? I can’t seem to find mine.”

“I’ll check with the host.”

He sits back down, cheeks red with embarassment. “This never happens,” he says, laughing nervously. “Can I, um. I can Cash-mo you, if that’s okay.”

You place your own card in the book, nodding. “Of course.” The waiter swings back by to grab it, and shakes his head apologetically at Phil. He swipes your card through the reader while Phil mutters that maybe he left it in the taxi, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You tuck your copy of the receipt into your purse and stand.

“So um. I was thinking, maybe we could get a drink at my place?” Phil asks, a distinctly unattractive pleading note in his voice. “No pressure for anything else, of course, and—”

“You know what, Phil? I think I’m going to call it a night.” You offer him a tired smile, one you hope masks your dissatisfaction with the date. “But maybe we can hang out again?” The offer is a false one, made to round off the hard edge of your rejection. Phil deflates.

“Y-yeah. Of course,” he replies defeatedly, irritation setting itself in the displeased curl of his lip. “Another time.”

The walk back to your apartment is dreary, made all the worse by the cold drizzle and your own bad mood. Your fat orange tabby greets you at the door, yowling hungrily as he winds his way around your legs. You kick off your damp heels by the door, rocking gratefully on the balls of your feet. You reach down to pick up the cat, and he twists in your arms to butt his head against your face.

“I don’t know, Oliver,” you sigh, picking your way over the pile of your shoes by the front door. “Maybe this dating thing isn’t for me.” He chirrups in your arms, kneading you through your clothes as you head for the kitchen, intent on feeding him.

“Probably not. You strike me as a one-man kinda gal.”

“Fuck!” You shriek, dropping a yowling Oliver as you turn to stare fearfully into your darkened living room. You squint, feeling around in your purse for the little canister of mace you keep there. The outline of a figure—tall, broad shouldered—folds his arms across his chest, and steps a little closer to the light. Your mouth drops open with shock.

“Bucky?” You glance at the door and then back at him. “W-what are you doing here?” He cards a hand through his dark hair, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip as he contemplates his answer. His slate blue eyes catch the light as they fall on your face.

“I wanted to see you.” His mouth twists. “But you weren’t here.” You swallow, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You don’t know how he got in without breaking your lock or a window—and furthermore, you don’t remember ever giving him your address.

“I-I think you should leave.” He doesn’t respond, watching you silently with an expression you can’t accurately read. “M-Maybe we can hang out—”

“Another time?” He says dryly, raising an eyebrow at you. “You use that line a lot, doll.”

“You’ve been watching me,” you say accusatorially, but Bucky only shrugs.

“A guy’s got to keep an eye on his best girl.” You hear the snikt of a knife sliding open, and you heart leaps into your throat as the blade gleams in the darkness. “I made you feel good, didn’t I, doll?” He asks, flipping the knife and catching it by the handle with his metal hand. When you don’t answer, he scowls. “Please, sweetheart, I’m talking to you.”

“Y-yes.” You croak, flinching as he steps closer. You’re pressed against the wall with fear, unable to look away from the cruelly curved blade in his hand. You try to inch along the wall, matching him step for step—but his hand crashes against the wall beside your head, trapping you. He turns the knife in his other hand, a look of consideration on his face. You can’t look away from it, your eyes jumping between his distracted gaze and the blade.

“You know,” he says, spinning it around one finger before catching it by the hilt, “it really hurt my feelings when you didn’t call, Sweetheart.” The breath in your throat escapes in a shrill little squeal as he slides the flat of it against your bare arm. His eyes flick up to yours. “I really liked you.”

“B-Bucky I—”

“You blocked me.”

“You scared me,” you whimper. He drags the blunt side of the knife down your arm and goosebumps spring up in its wake. “W-we’d been on one date, a-and you were talking rings and marriage, it-it was—”

“So knowing what I want’s a bad thing, now?” There’s a subtle note of accusation in his voice that you don’t miss. “You know, years I had other people in my head.” The knife reaches your wrist, and he turns it, pressing the edge against your pulse point before dragging it back up. “Telling me what I wanted. What to do.” You flinch as he presses the tip against your chest, just above the collar of your dress. He drags it down, and it slices through the chiffon of your dress like butter, parting the layers in a straight line until it falls off of you.

“I don’t understand,” he says softly. He cups your chin with one hand, all while he draws shapes on your belly with the tip of the knife. “Didn’t I make you feel good?” You feel each pass with crystal clarity, shivering as your nipples tighten from the cool air. Bucky sees it, licking his lips as he flicks his thumb across the tip of one, following it with the blade.

“Yes.” You’re afraid to move, to breathe. He draws the tip over the curve of your breast, tracing it down your side and hooking it beneath the elastic of your panties. It snaps against your skin, and you wince. He sighs, tracing it over your hip. The knife is so sharp that it doesn’t even hurt as your skin splits when he applies the tiniest bit more pressure, your blood welling up on the blade.

“I want you to understand, doll.” His voice is eerily calm. He swipes his thumb up the flat of the knife, collecting the thin line of crimson on his finger before popping it into his mouth. “You’re it for me.” The tip of the knife presses dangerously into the fleshy curve of your thigh, but Bucky pulls it away before it can break the skin. You gasp as he cups you with his flesh hand, parting the cleft lips of your cunt with thick, practiced fingers. He chuckles pulling his fingers from between your thighs to show you the wetness at their tips. Your stomach curdles with shame as he flashes his teeth in a triumphant grin.

“Knew you liked me, doll.” The knife-tip leaves your skin tingling and oversensitive as you strain to feel where next it’ll touch down. You stare up at him with glassy, disbelieving eyes as he reaches back down to thumb at your clit, his other hand drawing oblong shapes with the knife. Down, over the curve of your belly, over your hip, tracing the side of your face—he doesn’t stop. There’s nowhere for you to go, pressed against the wall with Bucky’s body blocking you in, nowhere to hide from the sensation of his fingers twisting in your core and the sharp silver blade leaving trails on your flesh.

“G-God, Bucky s-stop—” The rest of your plea dissolves on your tongue as your body jackknifes, hot currents of electricity washing away conscious thought. His voice is dark in your ear, egging you on as you convulse in his arms.

“Good girl, doll, so good,” he coos, the stubble on his cheek rasping against your own as he nuzzles you. “So pretty when you cum, baby. Could watch it all goddamn day.” He pulls his drenched fingers from your core with an embarrassingly slick noise. Your knees are trembling, barely holding you up, so it’s no task for Bucky to sweep them out from under you, cradling you to his chest as he walks toward the bedroom.

He lays you across the bed with surprising gentleness, and then kneels on the floor by the foot of it. Your legs are dangling over the edge, but not for long before Bucky rests them on his shoulders. His breath puffs against your slick, sensitive folds. You whimper as the tip of the knife presses into your hip again, and even with it’s wicked sharpness, you feel the blade bite into your flesh. You writhe, whimpering, and Bucky hushes you gently. He leans forward to lave a wet, sloppy kiss against your cunt.

“Stay still, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel him bear down on the knife again, drawing a straight line, and then a curve. “Don’t wanna mess up my initials.”

fin

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library for updates and new work, thank you!

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#sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #au: dark #darkfic #dark!fic #boxofbonesfic

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ohbo-ohno · 11 months

Note

Ghoap: Cabin + Something isn’t right about (setting). Something is off.

1k game here - no more please!

so sorry, i have no idea if you meant ghost x soap or ghoap x reader lmao but i did ghost x soap cause it's the first thing i had an idea for!

3.8k of a little red riding hood au featuring hunter ghost turning the tables on werewolf soap. noncon physical punishment and smut below the cut! also i put this one on ao3

Something's gone wrong with Price's cabin.

Ghost can tell something isn't quite right as he steps past the little wooden gate, the air still and silent around him. Not a bird or a buck in sight - the forest is unnaturally mute.

Ghost doesn't walk up the path yet. He stands as still as the forest, watching for any hint of movement beneath his red mask.

There's nothing.

He moves slowly towards Price's cabin, footsteps silent even against gravel. Still, nothing moves.

The door is cracked open. Not enough for him to see inside, but enough for him to know that something must be truly wrong. Price has long since spelled his property so that it can only be found by those who want to find it. It should be impossible for anyone unwanted to stumble by.

Unless they're somehow immune to magic.

Ghost draws his gun, quickly checking to make sure his silver bullets are loaded. He pushes the door open, grateful for the oiled joints as it's silent.

The cabin is trashed. Price seems to be unharmed - he's resting on his bed, a large bruise painting one side of his face but his chest rising and falling steadily. All of his furniture is destroyed, though, and his carpet is shredded.

The wolf is in the kitchen.

It's a big fella, dark brown fur and a few scars decorating it's sides and haunches. It's snuffling through a cupboard, probably looking for food that doesn't exist. Price hasn't kept up the facade of eating in decades, so it's not going to find anything.

Sure enough, the wolf ducks out of the cabinet a moment later, empty-handed. It sneezes, makes an unhappy noise in his throat, then spots Ghost.

It's younger than Ghost originally assumed. Not a pup, by any means, but it's limbs are a bit lanky, it's fur is far thicker around the neck than he'd thought, and the teeth it bares in a snarl are pearly white, not stained from years of eating raw carcasses without a way to brush.

It's growl is loud, but surprisingly unintimidating. It doesn't even make to lunge for Ghost, just settles back on it's haunches and lets it's fur stick up, making it look bigger than it really is.

It almost seems like it's not worth it to kill the beast.

But still, Ghost has been hunting the supernatural under Price's command for a long time. If he was a betting man, he'd say this wolf is the one who's been causing disturbances in Price's wards for the last few months.

"You feral?" He asks, leveling his gun at the dog's head. Not much you can do with a feral wolf but put them down, but if the thing still has it's sanity than Ghost can try and talk some sense into it. Put it in it's place a bit.

The wolf's growl tapers off, and a moment later there's a naked man standing in front of him.

He's definitely young, like Ghost expected, but still grown. His shoulders are broad and he stands tall, his muscular frame filling up the kitchen. His scars carry over between forms, scattered across his body. His hair - a fucking mohawk - matches the pair of ears on either side of his head, dark brown.

He's a pretty thing, for a wolf. Big blue eyes framed by dark lashes, plump pink lips, a nose with a little bump in the middle to give it some personality. He'd be cute if he didn't look so scruffy.

"You know where you are, kid?" Ghost grunts, keeping his gun pointed between the wolf's eyes.

He doesn't look too happy, but he answers. "Yeah, 'course. Figured a witch might have some half decent food." He kicks the cabinet with a little pout. "Guessed wrong."

Ghost almost snorts at that, letting his gun fall and holstering it. Idiot kid.

He takes another moment to scan his body. He's quite attractive, with tanned skin and toned muscle. His cock hangs soft between his thighs, thick but not all that long with a dark trail of hair leading down to it. He's got thick thighs and a light dusting of hair across his entire body. There's an extra limb in his shadow that Ghost can tell is a tail, but it's drooping low. Not quite tucked, but close.

A bit of interest sparks in the back of Ghost's mind. It's been a while since he's played with a wolf, .

"Do you know who's house you've just trashed?" He asks, adopting an authoritative tone.

The kid tenses a bit, but doesn't break eye contact with Ghost when he shakes his head.

Ghost gestures over his shoulder to Price's prone form. "That witch you knocked out? That's John Price."

That gets his breath hitching a bit, eyes flickering from Ghost to Price and back again. Ghost can smell the hint of fear in the air, relishes in the slightly widened eyes.

He gets himself under control quickly, stands up a little straighter and plays and being unbothered.

"That make you The Ghost?"

His tone is steady, unwavering. Good for him. The stench of fear doesn't waver, though.

Ghost nods once, lets a bit of his own power shine in his eyes through the mask.

The pup mimics his nod, then rolls his shoulders back, like he's come to a decision. "I don't want any trouble."

"That so?" Ghost asks softly, menace creeping into his tone.

"Yeah. Didn't mean any harm, comin' here. Just wanted something to eat."

"Hmm," Ghost hums, taking a few steps forward. "And knocking out Price, trashing the room, all of that was necessary?"

The wolf scowls, shifting back on his feet. "He's a rude bastard."

Ghost almost snorts at that. "So am I. You gonna pull the same shit with me, pup?"

The man snarls a little, finally taking a little step back and planting his feet again. "Don't call me that. I'm not a pup."

"No?" Ghost coos a bit, stepping so that he's only a few feet away, blocking the only way out of the cabin. "You don't seem to know how to solve your problems like a man. You wolves are good hunters, couldn't kill even one doe to keep yourself fed, puppy?"

It's never good to imply a wolf is weak or unable to take care of themselves, but Ghost knows this man couldn't hurt him, and it's fun to see him riled up. His shoulders rise up like he's trying to make himself seem bigger now that their height difference is more noticeable, and his teeth are fully bared.

"Fuck you," he snarls. "Your boss is the one chasing all the animals away! Some of us have got to fucking eat, it's only right Price goes hungry for once."

He's a bit of an ornery thing, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at Ghost like he's being victimized. His ears lay flat on his head.

"Not how this works, puppy," Ghost shakes his head, stepping around the counter. He purposefully leaves a space open beside him, hoping the wolf will try and make a run for it. "These are Price's woods. If he wants to kill every fucking animal in them, he can. You don't like it, leave."

He snarls, head whipping side to side a bit like he'd like to lash out. He takes a step forward, glaring up at Ghost. "Oh yeah? Think it's that easy, jackass? I can't just find another fucking pack to join!"

Ghost tilts his head. "Let me guess, they don't want a pup who can't even carry his own weight?"

The scent of fear has disappeared, leaving just anger and stress in its wake. The boy's cheeks flush a lovely red, and his ears shift to stick straight in the air, pointing forward.

He's so close to snapping. Ghost licks his lips in anticipation, eager to see if fight or flight will win out.

The poor pup is stressed out of his mind, that much is clear. Even with his muscle he’s clearly been going hungry, and he can’t seem to decide what the right course of action is with Ghost antagonizing him like this.

Honestly, Ghost would usually let someone like him go without much fuss. Times are tough, and Price is has been weirdly stingy with the wildlife in the last decade or so. He should probably talk to him about it, but Kyle's always been better at getting what he wants out of the old grouch.

If this werewolf weren't such an amusement, he'd already be on his way. It's his own fault Ghost isn't going to let him go that easily.

"You fuckin' bastard! All you witchy-types are the same, you don't get how fuckin' miserable you make everyone else in the woods!"

Ghost pauses at that, a little shocked the pup assumes he's a witch. He's not, but he's also not offended. He's not going to dissuade him of the notion, either.

"An adult would learn to deal with it," Ghost taunts, leaning his torso closer. The wolf inches to the side, eyes darting to the front door. "But you're just a dumb pup, aren't you? Can't even figure out how to take care of yourself. Should I call your mum? See if she can sort you out?"

For some reason, that dig seems to be a step too far. The wolf's growl is loud as he lunges towards Ghost, feinting away at the last second and darting towards the door. He's on four legs before he hits the porch.

A smile stretches over Ghost's lips, and he cracks his neck as he strolls to the door. From his bag, he pulls out a collar and leash - Price's never-ending enchantment comes in handy once again. The wolf is slower than he'd expected and he seems to be favoring his back right paw. He'll be an easier prey to catch than Ghost had hoped.

Oh, well. There's always next time.

It takes very little effort to pin the pup to the ground. In only a few blinks, Ghost's on top of him, using his weight and momentum to send them both to the dirt and rolling until he's pinning the dog to the ground.

He gets one hand around the wolf's neck, forcing his head down while he gets the collar hooked around his neck. He spits and yowls like he's being tortured, but can't do much to fight with Ghost's entire body-weight over him.

It's easy to shift his hand to the tender spot between neck and shoulder, fingers searching, searching, searching.... there. With a cruel press, and a magical pop, there's a writhing boy beneath him instead of a wolf.

A forced change is never easy on a shifter, the wolf's face reflects that. His eyes are pinched shut, lips pushed out in a pout as his body squirms against the pain, small whines eeking from his lips.

"Quiet," Ghost rumbles, ruffling an ear. "It's gonna get a lot worse for you, puppy."

The collar fits him nicely in his human form - not so tight to choke him, not so loose it feels like a necklace. Ghost tugs the leash up to keep his head in the air as he forces the wolf to his feet, dragging him over to Price's fence while he's still reeling from the pain.

He forces the boy to bend over the fence, tying the rope around one of the fence posts with a knot complicated enough that no wiggly puppy fingers will be getting it undone anytime soon.

He's just pushing himself up as Ghost steps back, snarling as he tries to turn around. Ghost whistles sharply, making him freeze mid-turn.

"Stay." He commands, voice stern.

That sets the pup off more, and he tugs at the collar and leash as he turns and presses his back to the wood. "I'm not a fucking dog! Untie me you fuckin' asshole, this is bullshit-"

"Turn around," Ghost raises his voice to be heard over all the bitching. "Or I'll whip your front. That how you want this to play out?" He undoes his belt as he speaks, making it clear what's going to happen next.

The boy's face flames, and his struggles become more desperate. He doesn't shift - he won't be able to for at least another hour, but he doesn't even seem to be trying to.

"You think I'm just gonna stand here and let you whip me, you goddamn bastard? Fuck you! You're not gonna do shit to me, you bawbag, I'll-"

He's cut off, again, when Ghost whips his front. One long strike across his middle, horizontal. He yelps loudly, skittering back as much as he can. Ghost raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Odds are, a whipping to your front will injure you. Then we'll have to split this into two parts. That what you want? You turn around now, we get this over with in one session."

The boy's chest is heaving, and the stench of fear returns.

"You can't- why are you even doing this?"

Ghost tilts his head and adopts a condescending tone. "You're clearly not mature enough to handle an adult conversation. I think the only thing that'll get through your head is pain, puppy. Now turn around."

The real reason is that Ghost wants to paint the man black and blue then fuck him while he's screaming. A face that pretty is meant to be dripping in tears, and Ghost can't wait to make it happen.

The wolf takes a stabilizing breath, then turns. Wolves are a physical species, it's not unlikely he's been punished with pain at some point before. His alpha probably gave him a few of the scars decorating his back.

Ghost doesn't waste any time. He steps far enough away to cause real pain with each strike, but not so far that he can't appreciate the way the man's muscular back lights up red.

He doesn't make the wolf count, as much as he'd like to hear him struggle. Something tells him that might be the wolf's last straw, and Ghost doesn't particularly feel like dealing with a wolf gone half-feral from rage right now. He'd rather break the man down to tears of pain, not anger.

They're both silent throughout the punishment. The wolf manages to keep a shocking amount of composure considering how heavy handed Ghost is, but he's clearly struggling. His breaths are audible even from several feet away, and sweat drips down his back to make the strikes gleam in the sunlight.

He lasts about ten minutes under Ghost's belt before he whimpers for the first time.

"There ya go," Ghost hums when he hears it, snapping the belt across an already forming welt to hear the noise again. "Starting to sink in now, pup?"

He doesn't get a response, but that's alright. Ghost knows he's almost got the boy at his breaking point.

It comes about five minutes later, when a strike to his ass wraps low enough to glance off his balls. The wolf falls forward with a loud cry, limp and shaking against the fence.

Ghost finds himself nearly purring as he drops his belt to the ground, quickly moving to ease the man into the dirt. He's shivering in Ghost's arms, face pinched in pain.

"Took your punishment well, pup," Ghost praises, stroking a hand over the man's ribs. "Good boy."

"Jo-" the man grunts, pushing up to his elbows and knees. "Johnny, not pup."

"Johnny?" Ghost hums, leaning back to kneel behind the man. "Hm. Fits you. I think I like pup better, though."

It's a testament to how far gone he is that Johnny only whines instead of arguing.

"Hush. Your punishment's almost done. Just gotta take your fucking, and then we can all move on."

Johnny's head jerks up at that, looking over his shoulder as best he can. "Wait, what-?"

Ghost doesn't stretch him much. He keeps one hand beneath Johnny's body to keep his head tugged back down by the leash, and uses his others to stuff a few fingers into his hole.

He only gives him a bit of spit - he doubts Johnny is clean enough for him to lick. He lets it dribble from his lips and into the little hole, then begins stretching him.

It must sting something terrible, with the way that Johnny squirms. He's forced to keep his head against the ground, left pinned by just a leash.

"No, no, you can't-"

"Clearly I can," Ghost says meanly, shoving in a third finger just because he can. Johnny's a werewolf, he'll be perfectly fine in an hour or two. The pain is the point of the lesson.

"I don't want- stop, please dont... please, you can't..."

"You're not supposed to want it," Ghost says, letting his voice dip into a more comforting tone. "Punishment isn't meant to feel good for naughty pups. You just lay there and take it."

He spits into his palm when he pulls his fingers out, slicking up his cock as much as he can. It'll be a pain in his ass if Johnny tears, so he lubes himself up just enough to avoid that.

Johnny's squirming gets more vigorous when he feels Ghost line his cock up at his entrance, and he nearly manages to pull away.

Ghost growls at that, yanking the leash down far enough to grab and squeeze Johnny's heavy balls. "You keep up your wigglin' and I tie you leash to these. That what you want?"

He whines, shaking his head no. "No, sorry, I won't... I'll stop moving but please, please, you can't fuck me."

Ghost rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore that, instead sliding into the pup's warmth.

He feels good. Tight and hot and squeezing around the intrusion. He nearly wails beneath Ghost, body going limp at the pain. Ghost uses his free hand to turn Johnny's face to the side, so he can see the inevitable tears.

Sure enough, the waterworks start as Ghost finally bottoms out. He moans in sync with Johnny - one from pleasure and one from pain. The way the boy tightens beneath him is delicious, he's not sure he'll ever find a hole as good as this one.

He praises Johnny as he pulls out and fucks back into him.

"Good boy," he says on a moan. "Feel so fuckin' tight around me. Just wanna keep my cock deep in your guts, huh pup?"

"Nooo," Johnny hiccups, shoulders hitching.

"It's alright, you don't have to lie, Johnny. Your tight little hole's tellin' me all I need to know. Were you a virgin?" He grunts as he bottoms out again, quickly tugging out and snapping his hips back in. "Musta been, way you're grippin' me. Did I take your virginity, sweetheart?"

The hitched cries and tiny nod are enough answer for Ghost. Johnny just barely manages to tuck his hands beneath his face as Ghost starts to really work him over, free hand planted on the ground as he bullies his cock deep into Johnny.

"Might just have to keep you," he pants. "'S only right, huh? Mold you right to my cock, nothin'll ever feel like this again for you. Can't send you out into the world, hungry for somethin' you'll never find. That's what got you into this mess, isn't it?"

Johnny's not quite capable of speech anymore, just breathy little whines and moans. Ghost gives his cock a few strokes, grinning at the way Johnny's head jerks in time with the movements.

"Feel good yet, puppy? It will, don't worry. I'll teach you how good a fucking can feel, make sure you never forget. Make a space for myself right-" thrust "-here, huh puppy?"

The first time Ghost nails his prostate, it's like Johnny wakes back up. He rockets back up to his hands, back arching as he throws his head back despite the leash. He cries out loudly with his face thrown to the sky.

"Aw," Ghost breathlessly chuckles, angles himself to hit that spot on every thrust, raising his voice to be heard over Johnny's noise. "You howlin' for me, pup? Want everyone to know how good you're bein' fucked, huh?"

Johnny huffs, shakes his head like he hadn't realized what he was doing.

"No, no," Ghost rumbles, using the hand with the leash to tug Johnny's head back by resting his fist in the small of his back. Johnny is left with a beautiful arch to his neck, blinking up at the sky. "Keep goin', I wanna hear you, Johnny."

Seemingly against his own will, he does. His howls don't stop as Ghost fucks him - not when he comes from all the prostate stimulation, and not when Ghost himself paints his insides.

He lets the boy ease down to his chest again as they both pant through the aftershocks. He traces Johnny's rim with one finger, just barely slipping the tip in.

Johnny doesn't like that, whining high in his throat as he tries to jerk his hips away.

"Hush," Ghost soothes, petting the rim and forcing a second finger in, watching the rim of his hole go bloodless. "Thought you wolves liked a knot?"

That gets a sob, and finally, beautifully, Johnny shatters beneath him.

Ghost lets him cry himself out on his cock. occasionally cooing to him when his sobs get a little dramatic. He really must've been pent up with how long it takes him to come down.

He calms himself eventually, though, sobs petering off into pathetic little sniffles. That's when Ghost pulls both of his fingers and his limp dick out, rumbling low in his chest when Johnny cries out at the abscence.

"You're alright, calm down," he mutters, pushing himself back to rest on his ankles and then up to his feet, looking down at the pup.

Johnny looks good like this - naked in the dirt, sweat-slick and covered in welts, hole loose and dribbling come. He makes no effort to move and Ghost sighs loudly, nudging him with a boot.

"C'mon, pup. Your pity party's over. Time to go clean up your mess."

Johnny blinks blearily up at him, a little furrow between his brows. Ghost sighs again and ducks down, gripping him by the elbows and forcing him to his feet. He holds the man steady until he's sure he won't crumble, then grabs the leash and takes a few steps away.

"Let's go. Unless you want Price to wake up before you finish cleaning, I suggest you get a move on."

Johnny blinks dumbly at him, big wet eyes shining. Ghost's heart skips a beat.

"Come," he command, tugging until Johnny is forced to stumble forward. "Good boy. Now, heel."

Johnny - amazingly - listens without a fight, staying to the right of Ghost and one step behind.

Once there in the cabin, he's still fucked out enough to not complain. Ghost settles against the counter, sips on a cup of tea, and watches as Johnny cleans with shaky hands.

He looks good with a collar around his neck, and it's been a long few decades without any companionship.

Maybe, Ghost thinks to himself with a small smirk. It's time to get a dog.

#bo writes #1k celebration #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost x soap #ghostsoap fanfic #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish #simon riley x john mactavish #simon riley x johnny mactavish #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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writingseaslugs · 2 years

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Pomefiore Romantic Headcanons

So originally, Rook was like that weird attractive character to me. As I was writing this, though, I had heart eyes, so…guess I’ve managed to write my way into simping over Rook now. Ah, the joys of falling for even more characters!

Disclaimer: All characters in this series is aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post. Beta read by Grammarly and it’s trying its best.

Romantic Headcanons

Vil Schoenheit

How did Vil Schoenheit, the Vil Schoenheit, fall for a potato? No, this is a serious question he has to ask himself several times the moment he realizes he has a sweet spot for you. Especially if you’re more of a goblin type of person. Most people are like goblins with how they act, but you? Those weird moments with how you act, how you eat. All of it’s wrong in his eyes, but he, for some reason, finds it charming when you’re the one doing it.

He will be making an effort to make you look a little bit better, though. He thinks you’re glowing naturally, even if you just rolled out of bed in the morning and don’t know how to tie your bow around your neck properly. He’s going to be dragging you to the dorm and showing you how to use all the proper skin care products, how to deal with your hair, iron your clothes, and apply subtle but effective makeup. If he’s to be seen in public with you, you need to at least care a little bit about how you look. Please, at least attempt to put in a little effort. He thinks you’re beautiful either way, but he’s also seeing you through rose-tinted lenses and knows this.

When he thinks you’re finally ready and he’s spent enough time trying to court you, he’ll be inviting you to a fancy restaurant. Probably owned by a family friend, so the staff is completely on it with making sure you’re not interrupted, and nobody takes notice of you two. He wanted it to be private, so there was no pressure, but going incognito for a celebrity is a little bit hard. Somehow, he’ll make it work, and after dinner, will as if you’d like to begin seeing one another romantically.

Due to his status, it’s going to be kept a secret. This is mainly going to be for your sake. People can be downright vicious, and even if Vil would love to flaunt you off as his lover, he knows there would be jealous fans. It’s not so hard in public outings when you’re two out and about, but on campus, it can be a bit tricky. It’s obvious he gives you special treatment and spends time with you more often than not. Try to refrain from romantic gestures and pet names, and people might assume Vil is simply trying to teach you how to be a proper dorm leader (and some might even pity you for it).

He enjoys spending spare time with you, but he’s busy. Some compromise is whenever he does his personal spa day to make sure he’s always radiant and glowing, you’re going to be with him. He’s going to teach you about his favorite face masks, make sure your nails are done, and maybe even do your makeup for you. The entire time he’s peppering your face with kisses (as long as it doesn’t ruin the makeup he just put on).

As someone who’s going to eventually be publicly known as Vil’s lover, he’s going to hold you to the same standards he holds himself to. He wants you to be healthy and active, so he’s going to help you with meal prep and invite you for morning jogs with him. You’re free to decline, but the disappointing glint in his eyes is more than enough to change most people’s minds. He’s also going to be teaching you proper etiquette and table manners. You’re going to be in the same boat as Epel, maybe even receiving lessons at the same time. The things we do for love.

Thankfully it’s not all about appearances. You can influence Vil a lot as well, especially with letting go and having fun. He won’t want to do it in public where others can see the less-than-elegant version of him, but with you, it’s fine. Goofing off while studying, making jokes, it’s all fair game. As long as it doesn’t affect his looks (don’t you DARE put a marker on his face while he’s asleep. The horror of getting acne from it is an instant relationship ruiner), then it’s considered fun. He’ll even let you get away with corny nicknames for him and make fun of certain things you have to do (like folding a napkin a certain way on your lap while eating).

Vil is eventually going to approach you and ask if you want to make your relationship publicly known. At this point, he’s already lectured you on what to expect and the backlash. If you’re fine with it, then you’re going to be dragged to a studio for a couple photo shoots. Fancy clothes and perfect make-up, and one of the best photographers Vil knows. If he’s making an announcement on social media, he refuses to use a photo of you squishing your cheek with his and taking a selfie (which he totally doesn't use as his home screen on his phone). It’s going to look like a photo out of a magazine and when it’s posted, expect an influx of followers (even if you never post). You’ll want to turn off DMs unless you’re friends, though. You’re going to be getting hate.

Once it’s out there with your relationship, he’s far more affectionate at school. Always offering his arm for you to hold onto while walking to classes, having you sit with him for meals, and even participated in his film club. If you’re willing, he wants to have you be the main love interest in romantic films, but if not, then that’s fine. When going out to town, he will not leave your side for a moment. You need to be holding onto him the entire time, so you don’t get lost in the swarm of fans. If anyone so much as touches you or glares, Vil will shoot them a sickeningly sweet smile as a warning to back off. He won’t lash out in public, but he has a very versatile Vice Warden capable of dealing with those things.

Vil refuses to step foot into Ramshackle. He loves you, he truly does, but your home isn’t made for someone like him. He gets dust on his heels, and he’s done for the day. He's been there and done that, so he refuses to repeat it. So you’ll be mainly in his dorm. Normally after spa nights, he’ll insist you stay with him for the night. It’s too dangerous to go home at this hour, not to mention the dust bunnies from your bed might make you break out after the exfoliation you two did. Besides, he has silk pillowcases that are amazing for your hair. Now lay down next to him so he can scoop you into his arms and whisper into your ear about how much he loves you as you fall asleep.

Rook Hunt

Rook’s initial interest in you stems from how defenseless you are. A magic-less prefect who now runs an abandoned dorm? Now that’s something worth looking into. He originally isn’t going to stalk you, though. You’re not some prey for him; it would be too easy. That is until he sees how you begin turning heads at the school. How the wardens of other dorms begin being protective over you. Even Leona and the Leech Twins will hover around you and snap at anyone stupid enough to try to harm you. Now…this is something Rook wants to know more about.

He will begin stalking you all the time. When Leona or the Leech twins are around, he’ll back off. They’re too observant and will notice Rook and give you a warning, and he simply can’t have his prey knowing about him too soon. He does begin to learn about your relationships with other students, your daily activities, study habits, favorite foods, and classes. He makes notes of all these things, even what time you normally wake up and what kind of drink you have to wake you up.

Once he has all this information, he’ll begin popping up around you. Sometimes snatching things so you’ll have to find them, and he can come up and hand them to you, claiming you dropped them earlier. Meeting you on your walk to school and offering to escort you. Being at your normal lunch table a little bit before you with at least one of your favorite foods on his plate that he happily offers up to you if you couldn’t grab it yourself. He is playing the perfect part of being convenient, and he begins noticing how you warm up to him. How your smile is just a bit brighter, your touch lingers a little longer than needed when he hands you something, and how your voice changes a little in pitch when you thank him or even laugh at something he says.

It’s around this time that he realizes he’s enamored by you. Normally he loves to see beautiful things but never really touches them. You’re a different story; he falls for every little thing you begin doing. He also becomes an expert in your body language, knowing when you’re annoyed with someone and whisking you away, when you’re being sarcastic and teasing, when you’re in a chipper mood than usual, and more likely to say yes to things. He becomes an expert and begins complimenting how you express yourself. You’ll find out things you do that you never realize either. His favorite is to cup your chin and lift your head to look at him and comment that your reaction just now was very alluring. It will leave you flustered, without a doubt.

When Rook deems it time to confess, he plays the long con. He’ll be leaving handwritten poems on your pillowcase (a little creepy when you wake up and see a wax-sealed envelope by your head, but at least you know there’s only one person who could pull that off). You’ll find them in your textbook on the exact page you need to open up to in class, and once you found one tucked in Grim’s bow on the back of his head, rolled up like a little scroll. The poor cat didn’t even notice until you took it off. When you finally bring it up to Rook, he’s going to smile and laugh, telling you it’s just him expressing his love to you, and is a bit saddened you haven’t tried breaking into his own dorm to leave a love letter. At this point, there’s no denying what he wants, and if you accept, be prepared for more letters in the future.

Rook doesn’t permanently stalk you, but he has a good hunter’s intuition. When he feels the need, he’ll seek you out during the day. Normally it’s when you’re needing him most, and he’s always there in a heartbeat. Some Savanaclaw students manage to corner you after class because you accidentally stepped on someone’s tail? Well, their tail is now tucked between their legs because Rook is standing right behind you with that calm smile and a hand on your shoulder. It’s a clear threat when he does this, and they’ll back off. Rook does have a reputation as a competent weirdo, and they want nothing to do with it.

Sometimes Rook will steal you away from your activities. You’ll be hanging out with Jack and Epel when Rook pops up and scoops you up bridal style. He’ll apologize to his underclassman and explain he needs to borrow the prefect for an undisclosed amount of time before leaving. He’ll take you somewhere nice and tell you poetry or even ask about your day and hang off your every word as he plays with your hand. He just needed to be with you at that exact moment, and he was going to cherish his time.

He’ll begin teaching you a bit about hunting with simple things, like bird watching and being able to tell if something is going on elsewhere by how they move. He’d love it if you wanted to try archery. Don’t worry; he’d never force you to hunt living things if that’s now what you’re about. He will find it fun to get little props of fake monsters and see if you can shoot them. Complementing you even if you miss your target dramatically. He will also invite you to his own outings as he stalks students and teaches lessons on being more observant. You probably won’t get to his level, he knows when you're irritated by how your breathing changes, for goodness' sake, but you might be able to pick up some handy skills.

Rook does enjoy partaking in PDA to an extent. He doesn’t want to vex his house warden by pulling down the dorm's reputation, but things like entwining your fingers with his own are common. Even kisses on the back of your hand or cheek in the hallway are a favorite of his. If you have hair that falls into your face, he’s often pushing the strands back so he can look into your eyes and tell you how they swim with curiosity and how lovely they look on you.

He is your protector, so if there’s ever a time when you’re most vulnerable, he’ll be with you. Nap time is never taken without him. You’re just so exposed, and it’s easy to take advantage of you, so he stays with you. He’ll always claim he’s joining in napping with you, even curling up and cradling you in his arms. He’ll never fall asleep, though; he’ll just look at you as you sleep and smile at himself. If you snore or sleep talk, he is mentioning it and how endearing it is. “Mon Trésor, you sound beautiful even at rest.”

Epel Felmier

Epel doesn’t know much about romance. He knows how the older couples in his hometown act around one another, but all of them have been together for so long he’s never seen love when it starts to bloom. He’s going to be confused about how his heart skips a beat when he’s around you or how he finds you more breathtaking than even Vil. He might even consult romance novels to help him figure things out (as much as he loathes the idea). He’s going to be doing it in private, though; the last thing he needs is someone (Rook) discovering his newfound genre interest.

Epel enjoys private time spent with you at Ramshackle. Even if Grim is there being a butt, he’s in a place with no expectations. He can be himself, speak in his own dialect, and joke around. It’s probably why he came to like you so much; you accepted this with stride. You never commented about how he says things or his short temper. Just roll with it and let it happen. As long as you’re not telling him how cute his quirks are, he’s more than happy to express himself like this around you.

Sadly for Epel, nothing gets past his Vice House Warden. Rook has probably seen him checking out those romance novels at the library and seeing how he’s always sneaking off to see you. Rook can’t help but tell Vil how adorable it is to see such young love blossoming with their very own cherry apple. The moment Vil gets wind, he’s calling for Epel and cornering him. So begins lessons of romance with Vil and Rook, as well as how to properly treat your significant other. Just what Epel always wanted…more lessons. At least he learns a thing or two from these ones and better ways to impress you (hopefully).

It’s easy to see the slight change in Epel’s demeanor. He’s now opening doors for you, offering to carry things for you, asking if you’d like to go places he’ll be paying for (even if he really doesn’t have the money for it). He’ll even begin giving you presents, mainly carved apples though, since it’s something he can do for free and he knows it’ll always impress you. Compliment him for being such a gentleman. Sure he wants to be rough and tough, but being a gentleman can also be manly. Not to mention he loves compliments from you and soaks them up.

No matter what, don’t confess to Epel first. He wants to be the one to do it. He doesn’t know much about romance, but he knows the man is normally the one to ask out people for dates and even propose first. Don’t take the moment from him. When he finds the time is right, probably at Ramshackle over dinner, he’ll ask you. It’s going to stutter over words and become as red as the apples his family grows, but he’ll manage to get through it. Saying yes might make him malfunction slightly, but he’s happy and will be proud to be called “Your Man.”

Epel likes you take you out places for dates. He’d rather they not be near his dorm or Vil or Rook. He wants to be himself and not worry about mannerisms. He’ll still remember his little lessons and try to act the part of a suave gentleman, though, while also trying to show off a bit. Suggest some activities to do with him that require physical effort, and he’s down. At some point, he might even think it’s a good idea to pick you up. He doesn’t have the most muscle, though, so assure him he doesn’t need to before he drops you and is ashamed for the next year.

The best dinner dates are at Ramshackle. You get takeout food, or even if you know how to BBQ (or you order some), then it’s game on. Hopefully, you have a TV or laptop to curl onto the couch and watch some movies with him as well. The night will devolve into making jokes. Watch a cheesy romance, and you two will be pointing out every stupid thing in it. Epel will find a new love for Rom-Coms with you as well if you suggest them. Just probably don’t watch horror movies that are gory?

If you’re down, then during one of the holiday breaks, he’s going to drag you to his grandparent’s farm. He wants to introduce you and show you off to them, as well as show you around the farm. Hope you like apple pie because it’s a featured dish his grandma will be making, and she will probably make an extra one at the end of the break for you to take back to your dorm.

Epel is going to be showing you how to climb the many trees in the orchard, and for good reason. Near sunset, at the top of an apple tree…there’s something magical about it. You see extraordinary things on a daily basis, but there’s something about how the sun hits Epel’s face as he looks into the sunset that is just breathtaking. If you haven’t already, be expecting your first kiss with him to happen here. He certainly did learn a thing or two from those romance books and movies. It would seem as if the setting is just perfect. His face will have a dusting of red afterward, but he might pull you into another kiss, so you don’t see it.

PDA is strictly prohibited due to Vil. Well…most PDA. Nothing is going to stop Epel from wrapping an arm around you as you make it to your next class. He wants the entire school to understand that you’re taken, and it’s by him. You’re probably secretly popular due to how unique you are, so seeing some jealous stares at Epel gives him a confidence boost. Like, “Hey, look, they chose me. The manliest of guys at this school. The coolest kid.” If he can get away with it, he’ll leave you with a small kiss at the door of your class before heading to his own. If Vil finds out, he’s dead meat, but it’s worth it to see you placing a hand over your lips with a blush.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader #Epel x Reader

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artisplatters · 3 months

Text

GENLOSS ANALYSIS TIME

Spoilers ahead, go watch the vid if you havent already

Also I'm writing this as I'm watching it so don't mind any inconsistancies too badly

youtube

Episode 1: Spirit of the Cabin

So right off the bat we have confirmation that the ingredients Ran was being made to cook (and Charlie being made to eat) are actually various organs and flesh bits.

Actually, maybe this was already confirmed but I don't remember there being flash-backs in the original, but then again i only learned how to move frame-by-frame recently (like... today)

And then that explains Charlie's hesitance in eating the dish! He's still under mind control but its some crazy cool resistance that he was able to put it off as long as he did.

And when Ran's mask is flashing we now can hear soundbits from later on in the experiments, from whenever he's not under control, an audio testament that they've been through this multiple times like a loop. Which yeah, we already were told that when the mask lights its because he's receiving memories again, but we (or at least, I) didn't know the memories were of the exact events shown in the episodes.

My only question at the moment in regard to that is that, everyone killed was definitely, irl, actually for-real killed (in universe), so how are they brought back to do it again? Clones? Future resuscitation tech?Are they just conscious corpses being puppeted around like some sorta sick marionette show?

And Sneeg, oh Sneeg, the way he was made to stand so rigidly while Ran was asleep, couldn't even move or sit, just looking around frantically. I wonder if he was made to feel like it had actually been 8 hours. I wouldn't put it past Showfall Media.

Episode 2: The Mastermind of the Warehouse

So, it seems like they cut out the Mastermind's little bit of a freakout when he gave Ran "a little bit of juice" that almost killed them, they also made it look like Ran's recovery from it was much quicker. Makes me curious, but I guess they don't want any of the audience thinking the "villain" is just as scared and unwilling as the heroes yet.

Though with how blunt they are with the other murderous torturous stuff, I'm surprised thats one of the things they chose to cover up.

Speaking of which, the surgery section.

God, the surgery section.

Also sped through a bit, understandably, but that cut away to the security camera where he's just screaming in agony.

It hits way harder like that oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

Charlie is an absolutely insane actor.

Onto the Carousel! Which, by the way, the animation blips have been so fun and they are so well done, amazing work on the animation team's part.

OHHH WHEN SNEEG GETS HIS HAT BACK HE GETS FLASHBACKS TO THE CABIN

You see him freak out at remembering but him trying to keep his composure, UGH such good acting. And him saying he needed to go to the bathroom so he can try to escape, still can't believe that almost worked.

But when they catch him with the mask? So much fucking creepier somehow. Everything went dead silent and froze, and even though his body is compliant you can see the anger and fear in his mind. Also felt like that lasted longer than before.

And then how everyone just snaps back and gets into "acting" again, also super fucking creepy. Insanely well executed.

now, skipping forward to after Nikki's death, when Ran goes through the door after the Mastermind... FACTORY RESET? It says factory reset? How far back does that take Ran? They seem to still remember what they had been through so what exactly is it resetting?

I dont remember the slimetowel segment at all, I feel like it was added. Though that would be the nature of generation loss, not being able to tell what was added and taken away.

Episode 3: The Choice

Oh boy here we are again

The transition being in the style of one of those "classified document" videos is a great touch, cuz it does go "off-script" here supposedly, though we all know thats not the actual case.

Ran trying to talk to the camera people still breaks my heart, they're not in control all they can do is film.

Also, can't believe I ever thought Hetch was a good guy after hearing "You aren't supposed to leave yet" and then the blatant lie that everyone is still alive. Like I never trusted him to begin with but he seemed about as trustworthy as everyone else thats under control.

The way Hetch talks about the company makes it sound like its some sort of eldritch entity, rather than a business conglomerate. And who's to say it isn't, with how it's "repurposed" and "recycled" literal human beings, turning them into brainless automatons. Also the cut to Charlie's stream startled me lol.

Aw man, the music/heartbeat/ringing drowning out Charlie's voice after they find Hetch and get the map. Incredible way of showing Ran's mental shock.

Ȩ̵̏p̵̬͊ị̶̼̋s̷̺͝ö̶̪́̒d̷̹͉̓̑ȇ̶͚͓̀ ̷̤͛͝3̶̨̥̾:̶̥̌ ̵̱̫̔Ṭ̶̺́h̴͔͑̈́ḙ̸̻̅ ̵̱̉̂H̸̞̄e̶̬̠̎͐ṟ̸̜́̾o̶̳͊͝

Ough

Still hurts

The change I've noticed here is that we start zoomed in on Ran's face, whereas I think before we could see the whole scene from the start, Hetch, all of it.

And WOAH, the flashes of the photos before the announcement? Are those all photos of them when they were kids? thats such an amazingly disturbing detail.

Another disturbing detail, the zoom-in and silence following the box closing, showing all the blood pouring out. Horrifying. Not even any music or anything while the credits roll. Really lets the audience sit in what just happened.

The Therapy Sequence

I'm calling it the Therapy Sequence based on how the dialogue sounds, though it very much could be psychology or something else.

This Ms. Roads Character is new, I believe

She's been having "vivid, scary dreams" and says to call her Zero, which ha ha pun but also kinda sad. Zero Roads is a kind of hopeless sounding name.

And then, in the unlisted vid, its the Founder giving us the tape of the social experiments.

"Its your experiments now"

I hope people who are able to afford to buy the tapes will share it's contents with the rest of the community. "Communication is Key" and yada yada.

I have no doubts that there's more secrets to be found within.

Final Notes

I'm so fucking proud of Ranboo, oh my god

This story that they're weaving continues to amaze and inspire me, its so incredible that he's gotten to create this.

I'm so excited for what happens next.

#arti posts #analysis #ranboolive #ranboo #ranboo generation loss #generation loss #genloss #the founders cut #founders cut #ms roads #miss roads #zero roads #generation loss spoilers #Youtube

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homestuckreplay · 4 months

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john egbert is dead, long live john egbert????

(p.248)

So, I guess this is Act 2, and already everything is different. First of all, we're in the future. It is no longer John's 13th birthday :( We get no hints about how many years have passed, as all we can see is the sand, the sky, a vague city skyline in the distance, and a solitary figure.

First off, I love the aesthetics of these new panels. We've seen this lineless, block color art style before in outdoor scenes, like on p.195, p.237 and p.246. I really like this style and how it's used to add texture to objects - the meteor in the animation on p.246 looks so three dimensional, and the sand piles here are the same, plus the sky looks like swirled ice cream. Homestuck panels do a lot of cool things, but these are the first ones where 'nice to look at' feels like a primary goal. I'd put these on my wall.

I'm wondering if this creature is John, somehow? He looks like he could be wearing some sort of mask or helmet, like the air isn't safe to breath anymore - very likely after a meteor strike, and the sky is a different color compared to act 1. If he survived the blast by eating the apple at the moment of impact but his neighborhood was destroyed, he could be just now waking up in its ruins. The city in the distance is untouched, but all its surrounding suburbs have been destroyed, because that's what the game is targeting for some reason.

waywardVagabond also fits the pattern of a chumhandle. It's hard to imagine there being a good wifi signal out in that desert, but it's the future and who knows what kind of technology has been invented.

I'm also curious why the six 'records a stuttering step' panels were linked from p.248 instead of being a few sequential pages. It makes this figure seem harder to control than John or Rose have been so far - the vagabond isn't receiving commands from the player, and their actions are more separated from the main narrative. In fact, this strip is placed on the same level as the Homestuck Beta and the 'put the bunny back in the box' clip from Con Air, which are linked in the narrative text from p.22 and p.20 respectively. I don't know what this means, but that little guy sure is making good progress through the desert.

#(looking at arm) hwat the FUKC is this guy doin tattooed on my body #homestuck #reaction #chrono

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lonelychicago · 1 month

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BESTIEEE SO MANY GOOD WIPS!! how can I choose 😭 but here you go 🛸🛸🛸🕸️🕸️🕸️

JEHEJEJ hiii bestie!!!

🛸 alien buck au

Believe it or not, there's a protocol set in place for every imaginable and unimaginable thing you could ever think of. When Eddie first became president and was told about this, he was pretty impressed, if not slightly bemused by the whole ordeal.

He remembers snorting and huffing as he read the protocols for when alien life is found in any territory of the United States, thinking it must have been some kind of joke.

“Did this ever even happen?” He recalls asking Bobby, the head of the secret service and Eddie's lifeline, pretty much.

“No, but we are ready if it ever does.” He answered, although his eyes mirrored the same skeptical, amused glint from Eddie's.

Now, though, he guesses it's good someone had the oversight.

🕸 spiderman!buck au

Somehow, his crappy night ends up with him on a stranger's couch, eating microwaved pizza with his Spiderman mask halfway on his face and watching a Spanish soap opera with some dude occasionally translating to him what's going on, but mainly just laughing at him.

He's sure they make a weird picture but honestly? It's the most fun he's had in a while. He leaves Eddie's apartment after taking a selfie for Christopher and he is reluctant as he steps through the window once again, the fresh night air of Los Angeles a startling contrast to Eddie's warmth and cozy living room.

“Thanks again, man. I really appreciate it,” Buck says, a touch of sadness in his voice at the imminent goodbye.

“Uh, have a good night— or what's left of it anyway.” “Thanks, Spidey.”

Buck snorts and shakes his head, shooting a web and flying off that fire escape with a heavy feeling weighting on his heart.

He really didn't wanna leave.

#my wips #wip ask game #ems tag 🤠#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 wip #april gets mail 💌

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sunnysidestories · 2 years

Text

Introductions Pt 1

Pt 2

Pt 3

Summary: Reader is a vigilante on young justice who goes to the same school as Walls. Only Wally doesn't know the readers identity, but she knows his. SLOW BURN

Wally West x Fem!Reader

Transferring classes is always a chore whenever someone decides a class isn't best fit for them, no matter the reason today I decided I would never do this again, even if the teacher sucked. The bundle of nervousness was tearing me from the inside. Thoughts swirling in my head.

Who would be in my class, I have to make friends... well more like people i'll talk to when I need a pencil, then I'll avoid attention so I dont get called on.

Before the transfer on the following Monday, I met my new teacher after school. Explaining what I needed to do for his class. "Listen y/n, you need to catch up on some things we have already learned, but im sure that won't be too hard, and if you ever have any questions, you can always ask. Everything you need I've already given to you." I nod thanking him before I make a haste exit, I have more important things to do as of now. My work can come later when im there, and I'm late.

Pulling out my mask for my costume, I walk through the Zeta tube, covering my face and identity. No more y/n. "Reconised B18 h/n." Mt. justice was as normal as normal could get with meta humans, feeling more as a second home. I could smell something cooking, along followed by laughter and conversation down the hall. I pull my hoodie over my hair, playing with the strings, a bad habit I use to calm down. Slowly walking down the hall before reaching the living room to a passed out Robin. He took up the whole main sofa.

The TV was still on. He must have been watching the news. Who does that? No, I take that back. Robin does that. I grabbed the blanket that sat over the couch draping over his body right as he began to snore. It's crazy that his glasses haven't fallen off his face by now. I feel bad for him he must be overworked. In a werid way, I wish that he could somehow get hurt so he gets some time off. I could substitute for him like im doing now, but knowing batman, he would most likely still be here anyway unless it was very serious. I shut off the TV.

The debrief would be in around 30 minutes after that training, more like a warmup, and then finally a short mission, it feels almost as if purposefully im always doing the easy jobs, totally doesn't help my self esstem. I just fill in anyways, why do I care so much?

Rob can get the sleep he needs it. I begin to walk off. He probably has an alarm. I wonder what they are cooking in the kitchen? Before I can think of possible options, im on the floor with a large *SMACK* eyes, meeting blue ones filled with worry.

The large stature accompanied by a uneasy glance was only one person Conner, I ran into the mini man of steel and now I think about it, it kinda hurt when I slamed into him"You walked right into me" "Are you okay babe?" Standing slightly behind Kid Flash stood with an arm outstretched, I grabbed it, pulling myself up."Im fine, I've been so stressed, I guess, lost in thought. It's been a week. What did you say?" His freckles dance across his face as he smiles, speeding away to the kitchen. Conner just looks at me following in his direction.

We reach the kitchen, and KF sits on the counter beside Megan, eating a bag of chips. Megan was stirring something inside of a bowl, I couldn't see. Her back was towards me only for a moment. "Hey guys."

Chicken salad, I can smell it and see now. Her face changes shades when Conner walks past her towards the fridge. Its sooooo painfully obvious it physically hurts me when they are in the same room. I take off my backpack and begin to study my science work. It's not as hard as I thought more of just things and facts to remember, but no really new complicated subjects.

"Wally! Stop! I need those -" I look up to Megan's shouts, Wally was doe-eyed caught eating the cherry tomatoes as if they were candy. "-YOU KNOW I HAVE A SUPER FAST METABOLISM! I CAN DIE. " He got defensive as his face began to match the fruit. "Your name is Wally?" I change the subject to help his embarrassment. Everyone's eyes go wide they all meet mine. "I've never told you my name? You've been on the team for how long??" Wally throws his arms in the air."Almost a year." I immediately replied. Now was my turn to be embarrassed. Should I know his name?

"How have you not heard it? y'know. It's fine, it doesn't matter. Let's try this again." Wally gets off the counter setting down the container, he walks up to me leaning on the table then shifting his weight a few times, almost as if he's hesitant or thinking of his next words.

The tone of his voice goes serious. "Im Wally West, it's nice to meet you." Then his grin returns as his eyes squint along with it. "Hey, I'm h/n." I let out a small laugh, looking back down at my work. It's crazy how easily Wally gave up his name. Maybe because im rarely here for long, I've never heard his name. It seems like everyone else knows. Its kinda my own fault, but now I feel bad.

I will eventually tell them my name its not like im important and need to hide it, I trust them. I trust them? Who am I kidding? If I don't even know Kid Flashes' name when he wears it on his chest, then how do I know them. Is it even really them, or am I making friends with who they want me to see. I seriously need to stop overthinking this. it's not that serious. It's just a name.

Robin would eventually walk into the kitchen 15 minutes later after we all ate telling us it was time for the debrief, you could still hear the slight tone of drowsiness from just waking up though he tried to play it off.Our mission seemed easy at first Batman explained we were to take down a meet up spot for some very illegal technology drop offs. Most likely, stolen information.

I sat to the left of Kaldur on the bioship close to the window. We were now all in full gear, flying over central city. "We will be there in around 4" Megan called out. "Everyone go into camouflage mode, Connect us to the mind link." Kal orders.

I try not to think about myself as they can all hear my thoughts, as can I theirs, I don't think I'll ever get used to this. It feels invasive. I look down at my hands, realizing im picking at my nails and zoning out.

Hey h/n let's go. Conner speaks to me, sorry... I replied, walking over to Robin and Kid Flash. Three and three, I hate splitting up. -its alright, we do this all the time, plus you can just talk through the link so we are really all here. Rob states that everyone agrees as we begin to walk in different directions.

Stake out time, yes! Wally says as we sit down onto the ledge, the building we chose overlooked two smaller apartment buildings backside. There were two ways to enter, and Team A. sat at the only other. This is really boring. I can't hear anything. KF sighed "Its been two minutes, we're not superboy use your eyes-" "-better yet use your heat vision from your goggles, see how many there are." Robin interrups my whispers. There are 30 people, uhhhhmmmm, 3 women and woah, that guy is huge. Aqualad cuts into the conversion. The criminals have another drop-off zone. We are going to pressure them, stay here, take out these guys, and don't let anything get out.

A large black truck with boxes passes us and goes through the opposite exit, I see Superboy only for a second as he closes the lid. That's one way to hide. Then, mind link breaks. So much for sticking together.

"I'll go ahead and try to sabotage their systems. You two begin to take out the ones outside. Try not to blow your cover." His glare meets Wallys. This must happen a lot.

"How did we fail this bad. I'm so sorry." I say, looking up over my shoulder towards Wally. Now, here we were tied up on a chair, no weapons in a room, no light, just us. "This is my fault if I wouldn't of tripped over the stupid gun then you wouldn't of gotten distracted" there's a momment of silence as we both ponder the failed attempt of taking out the enemy.

I hang my head low. It sucks. There are no lights at all, my other senses are going crazy, and I'm flooded with the sounds around me. Wallys slightly panicked breathing under the cool exterior, strangling tightness of the ropes around my chest. I could even hear our heart beats. weirdly, his was slow but picked up at the sound of my voice as if I scared him. "I'm not very whelmed right now." He let's out a small sigh.

"Are you ever?" "What?"You are always on edge like someone's about to jump you in a dark alley. Is this because you're just a fill-in and not full-time?". He tries to turn to as much as he can bound. He must feel my worry. "It is. H/n I really get how that could upset you, but you have to understand." He begins to shake in the chair. "Even if you're not officially fully on the team, you are to us. Everyone gets excited to see you, including me. Why does it matter if you're not on every mission.. I'm glad I get to work with you when I can. We all feel overshadowed ourselves sometimes. Heck, I mean, we are all sidekicks."

Finally, he breaks free of the rope with a SNAP, standing up carefully, using his hands to find me and set me free. "You've made your place in the team and our friendship. You just need to take the risk and open up."... "Wally... I trust you," he grabs and shows me to the wall where we find the locked door knob "jump on my back"

Monday at school was painful. Every limb hurt, and I couldn't sleep staying up thinking about what Wally said. I was looking forward to lunch, I made some of my favorites since I needed a treat. It was more like a break, but first, I had to go to science my new transfer class.

Without looking at anyone, I walk right up to the teacher. "Where do I sit?" He immediately awnsers."Yes, right. Go sit in the back beside the red-haired boy. It's the only empty seat." I follow his gaze to the seat. My table partner didn't seem to take notice of me when I sat down as he read the textbook. Maybe this won't be too bad he seems to actually care about the subject, at least.

He turns and looks at me, his green eyes are friendly and welcoming, as he smiles his freckles scatter along his cheeks. He leans on the table, placing his face in his hand he seems nervous.

"Hi, im Wally West. It's nice to meet you."

#wally west x reader #wally west #young justice x reader #young justice #young justice imagines

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gardensprincess · 5 months

Text

I wrote a synopsis of the beginning of age of sigmar for a fren

I’m forcing you to read it now

In the beginning the world exploded

And magic brought back 8 entire flat earths each based on each kind of magic

Hysh: The realm (flat earth) of light

Ulgu: the realm of shadow

Chamon: the realm of metal

Ghur: the realm of beasts

Ghyran: the realm of life

Shyish: the realm of death

Aqshy: the realm of fire

Azyr: The realm of heaven

As well as the aetheric void and a bunch of other sub realms we can talk about later

After the world exploded a few funny friends were still kickin around somehow

One of which was Sigmar Heldenhammer, who for all intents and purposes is British Zeus. He hit his head on a rock and died kinda but woke up in azyr and thought “huh, I guess I should build a city” and so azyrheim was built, from here humans kinda appeared and started populating the other realms slowly through grueling pilgrimages called dawnbringer crusades, where they literally DRAG A FUCKING CITY ALONG A LEY LINE

In between Ulgu and Hysh, a few other gods were still hoppin about

Tyrion and Teclis, the twin gods of light

Malerion(formerly malekith), the god of shadows

And the only gods to canonically fuck: kurnoth and allarielle, the god of the hunt and the goddes of life

They were huddled around the sorta dead sorta captured body of the chaos god of excess, slaanesh, who ate all the elven souls from the world that exploded. Slaanesh didn’t do that tho that was Archaon, we’ll talk about him later. Anyway slaanesh ate all the elven souls cuz they were hungy and the elven gods didn’t like that, so they cut slaanesh open to retrieve the souls

But just before the do, malerions mortal mom, morathi, pops out of slaanesh and is immediately mad she’s not a god.

But they use her survival to help take out elven souls from the tummy of slaanesh

The first souls sucked and telcis hated them and was gonna kill them all but they fled to the depths of the seas and became the idoneth, the sea elves

After that malerion and morathi were like “you suck” and took a bunch of souls out and they become umbraneth, the dark elves

Morathi also took the opportunity to start slowly eating a bunch of souls herself to become a god, which we’ll get to in a few millennia

The other gods thought that was very rude and kept salvaging souls

Next came the kurnothi and sylvaneth, wild and wood elves (wood elves are mostly trees) which kurnoth and allarielle decided to take care of

Finally teclis and tyrion took out the last of what they could and made the lumineth, the high elves.

Back in not space there are a bunch of frogs and lizards in ships, they aren’t important yet

Meanwhile the dwarven gods get no lore except a few sentences, grungi is helping sigmar with a special project, and grimnyr fuxking exploded

During this time a bunch of cool stuff happens in the age of myth

But the good times can’t last and the gods of chaos figure out “oh hey, people are still alive???” So they break reality and start subjugating the mortal realms

Khorne, the blood god

Nurgle, the plague god

Tzeentch, the magic squid man

Slaanesh is still being help via her cock ring in ulgysh (I’m not kidding)

After a few billion years of this (not really) sigmar and grungi finish their special project and make the stormcast eternals to kill chaos, this is using souls stolen from nagash, the god of death and he’s all bad

Nagash and his most not loyal followers start fuckin with both chaos daemons and the other “good” guys and invent skeletons, ghosts, ghouls, and vampires

Meanwhile orks appear out of nowhere and there are goblins piloting majoras mask moons, there’s also rat men

Congratulations that’s the base knowledge. I’m so sorry I went too hard

#trans #transgender #trans woman #please help #wlw yearning #age of sigmar #warhammercommunity #warhammer #tabletop #lore

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hanasnx · 2 years

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Imma jus keep flooding your ask box bec that's just how I am🏃🏾‍♀️ but this tiktok has me thinking.... imagine an au where anakin is a mandalorian...??? Like hear me out on that😮‍💨😩

Love the og mando but it can always be better with my fave Skywalker </3

link

hello vana! can you pls tell me your secret as to how your asks live rent free in my head???? you are welcome to flood my inbox anytime

im not joking. this one and the last one ive thought of periodically since i read them

i found this post a bit ago of mando!anakin <3 thought youd like it: mandalorian fanart link

☥ i have a huge suit and mask kink if you cant tell already im a mess over dudes in full head to toe gear bonus points if theyre stoic and only speak when absolutely necessary. fucking delicious i eat it up everytime.

☥ anakin’s canon personality kinda fits with that of mando from the show. gravely serious, quiet and calculative in strategic situations, no patience for nonsense, acquires a child and- after fighting the decision- grows attached to it, fierce loyalty to his family.

☥ mando’s armor is so fucking hot oh my fucking god i want him to do me with the helmet on and then imagining anakin underneath it all>???? i feel faint.

☥ imagine him being a bounty hunter eeeeeee

☥ like you two come across each other like you were sitting at the bar and he comes up to talk to the bartender if she’s seen a certain face around. you love the sound of his voice omffmggm, you can tell theres a slight mod to it and it just adds to the rasp. the bartender asks him to wait a second while she goes to the back. so you turn on the charm,

“bounty hunter?”

he pivots his head, marginally. and gives a single slow nod. you smile at him, down your drink.

“big fan of bounty hunters, one time a hunter saved my sister. would love to buy you a drink.”

“can’t. working.”

“afterwards? we both know you’re gonna catch that sleazebag you’re tracking. you look like the type that doesn’t stop til he gets what he wants, right?”

oh, how right you were.

he doesn’t say anything, so you assume it’s not a no. “mandalorian armor… would love to know what you look like under it all.” generously, you eyes travel him from boots to helmet.

“how do you know i’m not one of those guys that’s vowed to keep the helmet on?”

finally, a sentence. you must’ve caught his attention. “i wouldn’t mind that.” your ambiguous flirt left room to his imagination. having implied that it didn’t matter if he kept the helmet on, just as long as you got to see his cock pistoning into you. that was a little too forward for this kind of interaction.

he bows his head, and you envision the way he must be looking at you through his brows. either intrigued or appalled. the guessing game thrills you to say the least.

you point out his mark to him, behind the two of you, sucking on the neck of a twi’lek. “you owe me, hunter.” it was a harmless joke.

the twinkling of a couple credits sounds against the bar counter.

“for your next drink.” he answers your questioning glance.

☥ maybe by making your attraction to him apparent enough, he says fuck it, and after catching and collecting his bounty that very night, he comes back to the bar to see if you’re still there.

☥ maybe you somehow convince him to do you in the dark alley behind the disreputable bar. to your delight, he let you take off his helmet so he could fuck your mouth with his tongue while he slipped his cock out of the confines of his armor and fuck you for real. it’s not like his line of work allows for any time for himself, and the warmth of a willing woman is few and far in between. of course he melts into you once you say the right things. falls for how desperate and noisy your pussy is, slurping him up. sinking into your wet heat and panting into each others mouths.

☥ appearances didn’t matter to you much, and you were buzzed enough to not care. however, imagine your pleasant surprise to see someone so fucking pretty hiding underneath the mask.

☥ imagine yall start a fun little fwb relationship after this so he can fuck all his frustrations out using you <3

#kentovana #thanks for the msg!!#indy shoots the shit #anakin skywalker imagine #mando!anakin #anakin #anakin skywalker smut #reader insert #anakin skywalker x reader #x f!reader #au!anakin skywalker #x y/n

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justanotherfanwriter · 2 years

Text

And they were ROOMmates, cht 2

cht list: (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n: thank you to everyone who left such encouraging messages on the first part of this. Ah ha, so like I said, I lost the rest of the outline for this story, and can’t remember where I was supposed to be going with it, but people said they would be interested in more, so here’s more! I’ve got a general idea of where I want to take this, but im writing without much of a plan! sort of how soul eater was fking written anyway Hopefully, it’s still enjoyable!

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Above Soul, there was a fluorescent light that needed replacing. The light flickered off-beat with the high-pitched buzz of the dying bulb, and at odd intervals, the room would dim before filling with an irritatingly bright, white light. He stared absently ahead, slouching in his seat. For the most part, the white walls, white light, and now, what he accepted as a white noise stood in the peripheral of his attention.

His eyes flickered to the clock nailed to the wall above the door before leaning over the hospital bed to rest a hand right below Maka's chest. He had been conscious of her breathing since the fight, checking it on the hour almost every hour. He sat completely still, holding his breath, afraid he'd somehow steal the oxygen away from her, as he felt her diaphragm rise and fall. He counted three slow inhales and three slow exhales before he allowed himself to suck in a greedy breath of his own.

He had no reason to be doing so. Logically, Maka was quite alive and hooked up to a monitor here, at one of DWMA's clinics, but there was this little needling voice in the back of his mind that would whisper differently, the tone of which was almost as high-pitched as the buzzing lights above him.

"You're touching my boob."

"Can't touch something that isn't there." He shot back without startling, "How are you feeling?"

Maka groaned, her eyes fluttering open, "Just kill me."

He didn't bother hiding how he smiled as he shook his head, "Drama much?"

"You'd think with everything we've been through, they'd, you know," She waved a bandaged hand in the air, "go easy on the bed rest stuff. I'm fine."

"You'd think after everything we've been through, you'd go easy on the almost dying stuff."

"Okay," She let her head fall back onto the pillow, "noted. I'll admit this hasn't been my…best moment, but death do me in, I was dealing with Oxford!"

He also didn't bother to hide the way he rolled his eyes, "Yeah, he's a brat, Maka, but he's not worth two ribs, a leg, and, well, I guess there was never any helping that face of yours, was there?"

"Har. Har." She sighed, then said, "Noise isn't so bad anymore, but I could do without all the light."

"They won't let me turn this shit off," He grunted, glaring at the door where the nurses popped their heads in from time to time, "but I'll bring your eye mask with me tomorrow. On your nightstand, right?"

"Hanging on one of my bed posts," She corrected, covering her eyes with the crook of her arm. "Sorry, I can't remember which one."

"Don't worry about it." He stood up, placing their duffle bag on the bed, "I've got your book still. Do you want that, or…?"

She shook her head, "It'll just give me a headache."

"Right," He nodded, toeing the ground. "Do you want me to go to the café, get you something not-disgusting to eat?"

"If you did, I'd probably love you forever."

"Pfft, is that all it takes?"

She smirked, lifting her arm off her face, "What can I say? I'm a woman of simple tastes."

After a three-beat pause, he fixed her with a look and asked, "Can I get that in writing?"

"Hey!" She huffed, chucking a pillow at him.

He dodged it easily, "Good luck picking that up by yourself."

"Soul!" Maka called out after him as he walked out of the room, snickering. He was halfway out the door when she spoke again, "Uh, hey, wait, Soul?"

He poked his head back into the room, and his smile faded when he saw the way she had crowded in on herself, "Yeah? What's up?"

She fiddled with the blankets in her lap, "Well, are you alright?"

"I'm not the one in a hospital."

She snorted and looked up. She had that look on her face, still kind but closed-off, staring at him like he was a puzzle she couldn't quite figure out, "I know that, but I mean, in general? You've been a little in your head lately." She pressed her lips together as her eyebrows furrowed, "Wanna…wanna talk about it?"

His heart dropped.

"I'm good, Maka. I'm okay."

"It's just with Harvar—"

"—he just pissed me off, that's all. He's an ass, and 'sides," he shrugged, "I was worried and stuff about you." Her face softened, and he glanced away, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, "Sheesh, don't give me that look. Are you seriously surprised?"

He didn't stick around for her response. Instead, he shoved his fists into his pockets and stalked down the hallway. Guilt did a number on his gut. Lying to Maka, even the innocent 'no-we're-not-throwing-a-surprise-party-for-you' kinda shit always messed him up, but he didn't know what else to say or do.

A short elevator ride later, he stepped into the clinic's café line, gnawing on the inside of his cheeks in thought. This was all Harvar's fault, or not so much Harvar, but the shit he had said was all Soul could think about. And usually, he did such a good job of not thinking about it that all the thinking about it was—

"Hey, aren't you that kid?" The guy behind the counter asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Soul blinked. The line had moved quicker than he had expected.

"Hm?" He looked at the large guy looming before him, "Sorry, what?"

"That kid! You're that kid, right? The new Death Scythe? I've seen you on the news with the Death Lord and the pigtails girl, you know, the one who was involved in all that moon stuff. Nasty business, that moon stuff. I was committed for a few years after all that, got some of the moon crazy." The man's eye twitched as his smile spread just a little further than humanly possible up his face, "I'm good now, of course."

Soul eyed the guy carefully, "And you're working at a clinic?"

"Applied for that program, you know, the Death Lord initiative helpin' with all the moon—" the man circled a finger next to his head, "—got this job with it!"

"Well, I can't see how that'll backfire on us," He drawled, mostly to himself, before uttering a small "congrats."

The man preened, "Real nice seein' a Death Scythe, never got to thank anyone, you know, none of my letters ever made it past censor for some reason. Say what you doin' here?"

"The ambiance, I guess," He pointed to the menu, noticing how he was holding up the line, "listen, can I just get a—"

If possible, the man's smile grew wider, "I like it too. Good energy. Death and sickness. That girl, she's here, right now, isn't she, pigtails? That's—" He laughed, "—that's probably why you're actually here. I heard the gossip this morning! Nasty business dealing with that monster! If it wasn't for pigtails, I'd just be another version of that guy! I'll have to stop by her room, huh? This morning when I heard what all the buzz was about, I asked, I said, hey! What room's she in, and they all said, that's inappropriate, but I just want to say thanks, you know, for what she's done! That's not so bad, is it?"

Soul narrowed his eyes but chose not to respond. He knew this guy's type. Madness was hard to recover from, and most people couldn't do it. Many people were like this guy, half there, half not, living a convincingly everyday life until something pushed them over the edge. Anything could do it, but from Soul's observations (and experience), it was always some sort of invocation of fear.

Thanks, of course, to Asura for that. A real cool guy, that one.

A lot of times, these people didn't know they were still under the heavy effects of madness until they were standing smack dab in the middle of their living room, surrounded by the bodies of their dead loved ones. To say the least, it wasn't a good time for anyone involved, and for the past few years, it had been his and Maka's line of work, given that she thought Crona, and therefore the Moon, was her doing and responsibility.

"I mean, she fixed everything! Can't say anything was ever broken," The guy behind the counter laughed harder, pounding his fist onto the prep counter off-beat with his belly laugh, "but hey, you know, I ain't no shrink! But seriously, it's got me all frazzled," The man leaned completely over the plastic display window so his face was close enough to Soul's that he could no longer politely ignore his breath, "cause she's here, but no one's fucking telling me where she's at. Guy can't live like that, you know, me and her, we've got something special, and I can't even see her!? What the fuck is that all about?"

Soul pushed the man's nose away with the tip of his finger, "Back up—" He peered at the nametag on his left breast pocket, "—Marc, you're starting to really piss me off."

Marc slid back to the other side of the counter, and the faux-jovial expression fell off his face. Soul studied his eyes closely, watching his pupils dilate at odd intervals. A violent twitch shook his whole body, and then, the face-splitting smile reappeared as if nothing had happened.

"Oof," Marc shook his head, "ha! That got a little intense, didn't it? My bad. We're all good here, aren't we?"

"Are we?"

"Course we are! Say, you know pigtails, and I, obviously, would like to know pigtails. Maybe put in a good word for me, yeah? I mean, she was your meister, right, and no need to lie, you know, 'cause I already know. Maybe she could make me a Death Scythe, too? I'd like that a bunch! You're through with her, right?"

"You got a manager or something I could talk to?"

"It's not like you need her anymore," Marc kept going, "you're already a Death Scythe, and I think it's only fair I get a shot, right? I mean, that little bitch ruined my fucking life. I think she owes me one." He said this like he was making a casual remark about the weather, "So, just tell me her room number."

"Yeah, I want to talk to that manager now." He reiterated, "And your counselor. They're not gonna like this."

Marc threw back his head with a short laugh, which ended rather abruptly, and he continued looking at the ceiling as he talked, "I just don't get it. Why won't you just give me her room number? I mean, just give it to me, you know? What—" His head snapped down, and he gave Soul a look that would have made him flinch if he weren't so used to it, "—you fuckin' her or something?"

He picked some lint off his shirt and, watching it float to the ground, asked, "Why are you freaks always asking shit like that?"

"Give me her room number."

He mulled over an answer before returning to Marc, "No."

An ear-piercing scream seemed to erupt right from Marc's gut as he lunged over the counter. Soul stepped back, transforming his arm into a scythe as the man jabbed his own spear-like arm in his direction. It was always interesting, in Soul's opinion, at least, when a demon weapon was under the control of madness. Soul knew what it felt like firsthand to be under the effects of madness and how fucking hard it was to shake the feeling, so seeing another weapon's reaction to its' influence made him feel less othered in some twisted way like he wasn't the only one.

On the other hand, it was harder for him to sympathize with these people. If he could overcome it, why couldn't they?

He blocked Marc's attack, pushing the older man back against the counter he had just hopped over. Then, with a spin kick, he moved the scythe of his arm to his leg, slashing at Marc's center. He made contact, could literally feel the way Marc's skin split in two for him, but he didn't dare go any deeper than a surface-level cut.

He pulled away quickly, putting some distance between them as he prepared for the counterattack, but was surprised to see Marc slump to the ground with a grunt, falling to his knees.

The fact that someone his size—and a weapon at that—was already on his knees because of a little graze was odd. Sure, most weapons didn't choose to work as a weapon as he had, so Marc's lack of stamina wasn't totally unexpected, but regardless, it was surprising.

Unless of course—

Soul tilted Marc's head up, so he could see his eyes. They continued to dilate at impossible speeds, like his sanity and insanity were playing tug-o-war with his consciousness.

—he was internally fighting himself. People who made it this far in the Program didn't make it this far without trying.

"Bad idea, coming for a Death Scythe. I guess I freaked you out, huh?" Soul spoke to the groaning, mumbling man, "Don't worry. I won't take you out. The people in this room have enough problems as it is."

Soul looked around at the frantic individuals and families cowering over each other, still likely scarred from all those years ago when this sort of happenstance played out on a near-daily basis. People from Death City weren't usually the "cowering" type as in some way, shape, or form they had walked the halls of DWMA, but visitors, like the family wearing the matching sports jerseys from some team in Georgia, weren't probably as used to this, especially in a hospital setting.

He gave them a weak smile and muttered, "Fuck, what a drag."

"Hey! What's going on out here!" A man in the same uniform as Marc scrambled around the corner, coming from the direction of a supply closet.

Soul flashed his badge, and the other man—Clay, he assumed from the nametag, at least—came to a halt.

"Shit, you're a Death Scythe!"

"Is that what that badge says?" He sniffed and then jerked his head at Marc, "You got his counselor's name and number?"

"Uh, I'm—did he attack you? They said—my supervisor said this one wouldn't do that!"

'This one,' Soul felt offended on Marc's behalf. How demeaning was that shit, 'this one.' It wasn't like any of this was Marc's fault.

"Well, he pulled it, sorry. That number, though? Kind of time-sensitive. I think he's trying to—" Soul paused. Explaining exactly what this guy was going through would just take up more time, "—stop himself, let's go with that."

"Can't you do something!" Clay exclaimed, "Aren't you, like, supposed to be doing more? Is he gonna go ballistic? I thought this guy was messed up! I told them!"

"Did my badge say Program Counselor, or did it say Death Scythe?" He snapped, "Get the number!"

Clay's eyes widened a fraction as he scrambled around in the front pocket of his apron, "My supervisor told me I had to keep it on me at all times. He said it was just some dumb rule and that we had to follow it or the cafeteria company—it's not the hospital, it's like some third party—they wouldn't get some grant or something, but he said it was just a precaution, nothing bad was supposed to happen. Is his arm a knife! Is he a weapon! They never said anything about him being a—"

Shock did a lot of things to people. Evidently, it turned Clay into a talker. Fan—fucking—tastic.

"—Looks more like a spear to me. Now, Clay, dude, the number," He demanded, making a grabby hand at him.

"Right!" Clay squeaked, passing it over with a shaky hand, making Soul lousy.

He took the number and pulled out his phone. As he dialed, he looked back at Clay, "Hey, you're not from around here, are you?"

Clay's large eyes bounced away from Marc. If Soul could guess, he'd say Clay was maybe five-ish years older than him. He had the Death City aesthetic down, but anyone could wear a pair of gauges and combat boots and have the Death City aesthetic down, and his reaction to a weapon was telling. Obviously, weapons lived worldwide, but unless they turned into a weapon, non-weapons tended to forget they existed, which had its perks from time to time. Other times, it did not.

"Uh, well, I'm from Las Vegas, but they pay better down here."

"Heard that." Soul nodded as a woman on the other end of the phone picked up, "It's gonna be okay, though, alright? We'll get this—"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Dropping his phone, he pulled Clay into his chest and turned, shielding him with his body as Marc sprang up from his spot, his spear arms stabbing into the tile floor where Clay had just been standing.

Soul cursed, ignoring Clay's cry of surprise as he pushed him toward the family from Georgia. He hoped they'd all get the fucking picture and book it out of here, but fear made people do stupid things. He was a living testament to that.

He didn't have much time to react as Marc freed his arms from the ground and made another lunge at him. He'd be able to dodge one of those spears, but no matter what, thanks to his own stupidity and timing, the other was going to land its target. He braced himself for the inevitable. It wasn't like he hadn't been stabbed before, but this was really the cherry on top of an already shitty week.

At the same time he dodged one of Marc's arms, a gunshot echoed throughout the cafeteria. Marc's eyes went wide, staring into his own as a bullet hit the shoulder of the arm Soul wouldn't have been able to dodge.

Marc fell with a cry, the blast of the shot sending pulse waves through his body until he collapsed. The convulsions were semi-unsettling to watch. Kid's wavelength manipulation reminded Soul of a cartoon character getting hit with a taser, but Marc didn't immediately bounce back like a cartoon. Instead, a moment of clarity flickered through his eyes, and Soul wished he could look away. Genuine, non-madness-induced fear was there, and it was like Soul could read his every thought.

I've been shot.

Then, I'll be recommitted.

It turned Soul's stomach. That could have been him. He could have been Marc.

"I said!" Black*Star screamed, and Soul jumped in surprise, looking up at the ceiling where Black*Star hung from a light fixture, "I had it!"

"You were taking too long," Kid rolled his eyes, brushing invisible dust off his jacket while Liz transformed back into her human form.

"Too long! Too long!" Star continued to scream, dropping from the ceiling with a thud right in front of Clay and the terrified family from Georgia. He regarded them as he pointed at Kid, "This guy says I took too long. Can you believe it!? He took my—" He turned back to Kid, "—it isn't just about the shot! It's about the suspense! Dammit. Where was the flair?"

"Upsey-daisy!" Patty appeared in front of Soul with a giggle, forcing him to look away from the argument brewing between Star and Kid.

"Oh!" He blinked in surprise, staring at her outstretched hands, "I fell?'

"Like a sack, man," Liz appeared, "what's up with that?"

He took Patty's hands and was yanked up at such an incredible speed Tsubaki had to reach out to steady him.

"Are you okay, Soul?" She hummed, tilting her head in concern, "You—" she frowned, "—well—"

"—You froze!" Patty finished with a laugh, mocking what he assumed his face must have looked like, "Like a deer!"

He rubbed his head, "I—it's…this week has been absolute shit."

Liz looked around the room, first at Marc, then the cowering bystanders, and nodded, "Nothing ever good happens in a hospital for us, that's for sure." Then, she spoke up, yelling in the direction of her—their—meister, "If only there had been someway to prevent this!"

Kid got the hint, loud and clear, and froze mid-argument with Black*Star.

"B-but…they weren't...even…," He whimpered, ducking his head.

"Even…did he just say—" Soul muttered to himself, Kid's words relighting the fire under his feet as he put two and two together, "—you piece of shit! I was right!" He took off after Kid, "I'll show you even!"

#soul eater #soul x maka #maka x soul #fic #my writing #canon compliant with the manga #FYI I take what I need from N.O.T. but I wont be tricked into reading that dumpster fire more than I have to #Think of this cht an intro to the c-plot // im not very good at action and wanted to practice!#In the next cht I introduce the nonsensical b-plot :))))

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