#not only have I never written a big fic like this + written DRAFTS of a story before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 8 months

Text

a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3

Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.

Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.

Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.

It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.

Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.

It was worth it though, Eddie thought.

Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.

Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.

He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.

Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.

In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.

It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.

There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.

Eddie explores them all.

It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.

He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.

Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.

Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.

Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.

Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.

Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.

It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.

Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.

Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.

When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.

He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.

Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.

It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.

He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.

It isn’t until— “Eddie?”

Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.

“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.

“I see you found the bath.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.

“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.

He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”

He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.

It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.

Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”

Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.

“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.

“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”

Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—

“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.

When—

“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”

Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”

Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.

It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.

They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.

He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.

Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.

But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.

Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.

Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.

He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.

Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.

#gay ppl in my phone…. today i let u down #by leaving you hanging #it’s a fill in the blank story ! u can choose how it ends !#mwah mwah mwah #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #uhhhhh i think that’s all #enjoy?

301 notes · View notes

lxkeee · 6 months

Text

➸CUPID༊*·˚!

PROLOGUE

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X CUPID! MALE! READER

FANDOM: HAZBIN HOTEL

GENRE: ANGST WITH NO COMFORT, SHORT FIC

STATUS: TO BE WRITTEN

NOTES: I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG THAT I DECIDED TO PUBLISH IT NOW INSTEAD OF COLLECTING DUST PFTT.

CHAPTER ONE | NAVIGATION

Cupid, isn't an angel who looks like a tiny baby with wings and is holding a bow and arrow. Cupid isn't a child who shoots people for fun.

Cupid is an angel who takes his job seriously, and what is his job?

Cupid's job is to make sure that living beings find their match, their soulmate.

That is the work of [Y/n], he goes by many names but he is mostly known as cupid, the angel carrying a bow and arrow to shoot arrows at two souls to match them.

He is one of the oldest angels to ever exist, and one of the few who does their job alone.

He believes that no one beside him can perfectly match souls with one another.

He was born with a gift, a gift to see a red string connecting souls to each other.

Which made his work a lot easier.

That's what he thought.

He started off connecting animal souls, helping an animal find its mate.

He never allowed himself to go in between the romantic lives of angels, angels are higher beings and doesn't need assistance in finding their other half.

Animals however... They need a little bit of a push.

You might be wondering, does he have a soulmate? Yes, he does.

He wasn't born with it but it appeared when his other half was born.

Lucifer Morningstar, heaven's most beautiful angel.

[Y/n] believes that love works in mysterious ways, despite being an angel of love.

Even without effort, Lucifer and him somehow always manage to cross ways.

Leading to a friendship.

It wasn't difficult to hide the truth from Lucifer, the truth that he was destined to be his.

[Y/n] just kept his mouth shut, allowing the universe to work it's magic. If they are truly fated together then they would end up together.

Then God created humans.

There are some instances where a soul would be born to be fated to multiple different people, three choices—the soul would choose one between the two souls he was fated or the three of them could work out.

[Y/n] has never seen a soul or those souls agree to a one big relationship.

If only he knew the look of dread on his face when he saw the second string manifested on Lucifer's finger.

Dread fills his stomach, as his eyes remain glued to Lucifer's pinky finger, the said male not noticing the string manifesting to his body as he continues to talk about his day to his dearest friend, [Y/n].

Fate is indeed cruel.

#lucifer morningstar x male reader #lucifer morningstar x reader angst #lucifer morningstar x you #Lucifer morningstar x male reader angst #Lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x male reader #hazbin hotel #“CUPID༊*·˚!”#lxkeee writes

299 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 1 year

Text

never grow up

satoru gojo x f!reader

tsumiki’s first date doesn’t go so well.

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: megumi + tsumiki kiddos, mentions of heartbreak, reader says she wants to murder a child at one point, reader and gojo are soulmates, written for my girlies who are still waiting for love (I am the target audience)

an: my other gojo fic is personally victimizing me. like physically giving me pain in my soul its making me very mad. anyways here is a consolation prize (very old draft) while I try to revive that dumpster fire and not rip my hair out in the process. apologies to the gojo girlies im sorry :(((

You press down the ends of Tsumiki’s hair, setting her hair against the hairband that she had picked out. You feel her reach up, squeezing your hands as you give her hair one last spray lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

She turns around, pressing herself against your legs as Satoru and Megumi walk in, leaning against the doorframe. They’re both irritated - not big fans of the whole ordeal.

Tsumiki’s going on a date.

Satoru was very adamant about it at first. Tsumiki can’t go on a date. She’s only thirteen and she has no business looking at boys, let alone going out with one.

But she was just so excited, her tiny little eyes looking up into yours as she pleaded with you to convince him. So you did - his favorite dessert, a few kisses, and batting your pretty eyelashes until he gave in. And he always does.

Megumi wasn’t one to exactly stop it per say, but he had made his opinions clear. He’s not a nice guy. Dates are stupid. Love isn’t real. You chalk it up to the fact that he’s a morbid nine year old.

The three of you clump by the door as you watch her walk out the door, shooting you one last toothy smile before locking her fingers with the boy, Hiro she said his name was, and skipping down the walkway to where his parents were waiting.

Megumi trails off immediately, running up to his room as you and Satoru watch the car drive away. He reaches over, locking his fingers with yours, as he cranes his neck out the doorway to watch the car disappear down the street.

“She’s too young to go on a date, Y/N. What if he’s an idiot?”

You wrap your arms around him, squeezing his arms as he deflates against you.

“They’re thirteen, Toru. I bet they’re just going to awkwardly hold hands during the movie and freak out about it. It’ll be fine.”

“And what if something else happens and she comes home crying, love?”

“She’s growing up. Stuff like that will happen. We just have to be here to catch her, that’s all.”

You and Satoru are standing outside the movie theater, the rain pouring against the shade, as you wait for Tsumiki to leave the theater. She had texted you - two hours earlier than she was supposed to, much to Satoru’s dismay - and had said that she wanted to come home.

And when she comes out, you know you made the wrong choice by letting her go. Because there she is, crying puddles like Satoru said she would. Her eyes are swollen, her cheeks tinted pink, and the look on her face is just about to make you cry. She looks heartbroken.

She holds her hand out to Satoru, the two of them walking off to the car as you trail behind the time.

You feel horrible. You pushed her too hard, too early - letting your own past get caught up in what you were doing with Tsumiki. You remember it vividly. Pining in your room, saying no to dates because you knew your parents would never let you go. Getting stuck wondering about what could have been, how much love you lost out on just because someone stopped you.

You didn’t want to do that to Tsumiki. Let her lose out on feeling special, having someone hand her flowers, and making her smile just because she was only thirteen.

This is somehow worse. She’s only thirteen and she knows. The soul crushing feeling of someone not returning your feelings, thinking you’re weird, having love to hold onto that no one wants to return.

The three of you return home, not having uttered a single word the entire ride home. Megumi was still over at Yuji’s, having ran over to his house across the street the second the two of you went to pick up Tsumiki.

“Want me to go get him, Toru?”

“Not yet, love. We have to talk to Miki first.”

You press your hands against your sides, awkwardly ambling into the kitchen where she was sitting at the table. She had unwrapped the plate you had made her - that she was supposed to eat when she told you about how great her date was. Instead she looks deflated, pushing her fork across the sides as she picks out the smallest bites of food.

You sit next to her and watch Satoru zip around the kitchen, placing items in front of you. Three spoons, strawberries, and the industrial tub of chocolate ice cream that Satoru bought against your protests.

He leans forward, taking the plate in front of Tsumiki onto the side and pushing the ice cream in front of her. He hands the two of you spoons, taking the third, and opens the lid.

“Alright Miki. Let’s talk, yeah?”

“No.”

She lowers her head, digging her spoon into the ice cream as you and Satoru stand at her sides. He leans over, slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gestures to you to do the same. You both lean your heads against hers, the three of you still digging into the ice cream.

You’re not sure when she started, but when you look over, Tsumiki’s crying, her hold on both of your hands so tight you can feel the blood stopping. The three of you wordlessly eat the ice cream, until Satoru breaks the silence - nearly an hour later.

“Want to talk about it now?’

“I just got sad. When we got there, he asked me if one of my friends liked anyone because he liked her. Not me.”

You can feel the bitterness sticking in your throat - a heavy mix of guilt and anger. You never really understood child violence, but you think you’re starting to get it. Because why would he take her all the way there just to say that? Hold her hand on the pavement just to ask about her friend? You’re going to throttle him.

“I just wanted someone to like me like you guys like each other.”

You and Satoru look at each other over the top of her head, your heart squeezing in your chest at her words.

“Someone will, Tsumiki. I promise, okay?”

She crushes her hand in yours, nodding as she leans closer into you. You can see the gears in Satoru’s head moving as he looks over, shaking his head at you.

“Can I tell you something, Tsumiki?’

She looks up at him, the two of you looking into his bright, blue eyes.

“No one liked Y/N when she was younger.”

You glare at him, rolling your eyes. He can’t be serious.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She went months, years on end waiting for someone to like her back, you know?”

“Thank you for the reminder, Satoru.”

He ruffles the top of your hair as Tsumiki laughs, shaking his head at the two of you.

“What I mean is, Y/N and I had to wait for each other. We didn’t get it right on the first try or even the third, fourth, or fifth try. Y/N dated guys who were mean to her, I dated girls who didn’t even really like me, and we both were really, really sad about it.”

Now you get it.

“I waited for Y/N. She didn’t just come around super easy, okay? You’ll have to wait for your Y/N too.”

“Waiting for Satoru made it all the sweeter when I got to him, you know?”

She looks up, a questioning look in her eyes as she angles her neck upwards.

“The thing you’re waiting for is worth it. And you don’t have to worry about it not coming, because it will. And when it comes, you won’t even remember that you had ever waited, that you ever felt this way.”

You and Satoru both watch her wipe her tears with the back of her hand, nodding as she gives the two of you one last hug and pads off to her room. You and Satoru stay in the kitchen, your hands locked together as you eat the tub of ice cream Satoru left out.

You lean over, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as you groan. He places his free hand in your hair, soothing through the tangles at the ends of your hair.

“What are you groaning, love?”

“I should have just listened to you. She’s all sad now because I let her go.”

“That’s not your fault. It was right to let her go now because it was bound to happen one day.”

“I know that, Toru. I just…I don’t want her to grow up. I don’t think I really realized it before but people can hurt her. The bad way. And we can’t really protect her from that.”

He lets go of the spoon, circling his hands around your face as he lifts your head up. He’s looking down at you, stupid blue eyes glimmering, as he gives you a soft smile.

“She’s growing up. Stuff like that will happen. And she won’t be alone, because we’ll be there to catch her.”

“Don’t quote me back to me dumbass. I hate you.”

He laughs in response, leaning down to press soft kisses to your face - your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose. You shrug him off, pressing yourself against his shoulder again, his hand rubbing small circles into your side.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Toru.” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

“You’re so dramatic.”

He leans down, pressing kisses all over your face till you’re smiling so big you have to push him off. He always does this - tickles, kisses, squishes you to death until you smile at him again. He stops, pulling you close again as you both swing your legs against the chair.

“Thanks for waiting for me too, love.”

You and Satoru drag Tsumiki and Megumi to the bookstore the next day, much to Megumi’s dismay. You tell Tsumiki that she can pick anything she wants out and that the two of you will buy it for her.

She joins the two of you at the front, holding a laminated purple calendar in her hands. You crouch down, turning it over in your hands, as she looks at you. It’s a fifteen year calendar - which you didn’t even know they made.

“You picked…a calendar?”

“I want to count down the days. Till I find my you.”

She skips off, entering the line as you and Satoru follow, your hands locked together. He squeezes your hands three times, giving you a soft smile, as you return his three squeezes.

One squeeze for each word. I love you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

646 notes · View notes

filipinoizukuu · 8 months

Text

what comes next though? (MHA ch. 413)

// major spoilers for mha ch. 413 since its leaks, so please stop reading if you arent quite caught up. i havent written one of these in a LONGGG while lmao.

ANYWAY, with all that being said.... this week's leaks huh?

We saw it coming a long time ago, we speculated it to hell and back, we made aus and fics, and now it's finally here. The conclusion we've reached and the one that's been hinted at since the release of Heroes Rising in 2019:

bnha is going to end with deku giving up one for all and becoming quirkless.

(LOTS of words under the cut -- youve been warned.)

For those who are a little lost; the basic premise of the ending we are hurtling towards is that Kudou (the 2nd user of ofa) has a plan to take down Shigaraki. With AfO dead and gone + Shigaraki becoming so powerful he is essentially invincible -- theres no other choice for the heroes other than destroying him inside out; the plan being the equivalent of charging a battery so much it explodes.

the way they're going to go about this is by essentially, feeding Shigaraki bits of One for All until he's given all of it -- then allowing the vestiges of the previous wielders to create a massive revolt similar to what SnS did until they can successfully tear him apart from inside the "quirk realm" and shut him out. Kudou volunteers to go next since danger sense has already been taken, and if Shigaraki uses gearshift again after Deku already used it twice, Tomura's body will likely shutdown and receive twice the backlash Deku does when he uses kudou's quirk.

(sidenote: funny as fuck that deku only understood once kudou equated the strategy to bkg throwing papers at him. bro stupid af.)

its a sensible(ish) idea. one that seems plausible given the context of the last hundred or so chapters with heroes like Hawks and SnS having their quirks revolt against both AfO and Shigaraki in a way that makes it clear that its not uniquely OfA that animates the souls of peoples quirks. Its inherent. Quote, Nana Shimura, "romantic" even.

(let it be known though that i think hori absolutely did not plan on delving into this plot point as much as he is now. ill explain in a bit, but heroes rising was 100% a major factor of why he moved in this direction.)

That being said, the conclusion of the plan (and subsequently, the major plot of bnha) is as follows: Deku gives up One for All to Shigaraki. One for All unites with All for One within Shigaraki and destroys it in one final clash between Yoichi and his brother. The break in the barrier of Shigaraki's hatred will part, letting him find the consciousness of Shimura Tenko behind it after years.

Shigaraki dies, taking OfA and AfO down with him,

and then Deku is quirkless once more.

Sad conclusion aside for now, I firmly believe that no matter what way you look at it; Deku was always meant to end the story without a quirk. Given some of the original drafts of bnha where Deku was never supposed to be given a quirk in the first place, this is clearly unsurprising. What's more is my favorite piece of information relative to katsuki and deku's character development:

the fact that heroes rising was (one of the) ideas for the original ending of bnha.

a refresher for some of you: heroes rising is about class 1a going to the isolated village of nabu island and defending it against an upcoming big bad villain named "nine" with a quirk that is essentially a scaled down version of all for one. katsuki and deku eventually resolve the conflict together via brute force by deku giving katsuki ofa, them rushing in while the quirk is transferring and both of them have it, and then ultimately defeating nine at the end. the movie then of course circles back on deku losing one for all, undoing that consequence by saying the transfer never completed bc ofa chose him over katsuki and they all move on to the endeavor agency arc with katsuki remembering absolutely nothing of the final battle.

many fans often misunderstand one of horikoshi's quotes about the movie in that it was, without a doubt, the original ending of bnha. for the sake of accuracy, that is not what horikoshi really said; what he ACTUALLY said was something closer and to the tune of of how it was "one OF the endings" he planned on using for bnha, but his original idea for how the story ends "has not changed one bit."

obviously disregarding the cop out where ofa sticks back to izuku in order for the series to continue as normal; this can only confirm that bnha was going to end with midoriya izuku quirkless whether katsuki was involved or not.

so what's different this time?

its hard to figure out how far horikoshi had planned the ending of bnha with heroes rising's prototype conclusion in mind. if heroes rising never pulled through and horikoshi had planned on bnha ending with the shared ofa transfer and katsuki continuing deku's legacy -- then that means katsuki wouldve died an early death because of all might's confirmation that only quirkless people can hold on to one for all without dying young, meaning he either intended on katsuki dying soon after the story ends or only planned that plot point after heroes rising was released.

the plot as well of heroes rising's conclusion cannot have been thought of all that early on because of ANOTHER tidbit of information that changes perspective of the entire series: in that,

bakugou katsuki was never supposed to be a major character to begin with. (keep an eye on this link; i reference this interview a LOT)

he was not supposed to have an arc. he was not supposed to become a major focal point of the series. he was not meant to be the hero he is in the story today. bakugou katsuki was not written with the intention of being a major narrative this late into the story -- instead originally only existing as a character that deku would surpass within the first few arcs.

but then katsuki cried, and deku apologized, and then opened his big fat mouth, and then told him a secret he didnt even tell his own mother -- and suddenly bakugou katsuki was not just another footnote in deku's story, but a legitimate character that grew and created one of the most loved (and hated) character turnarounds in shonen history. he started of as a literal EXTRA before snowballing into the very same character horikoshi decided would defeat all for one, the original scariest antagonist of the entire series. someone not even ALL MIGHT could defeat.

but circling back, yeah. heroes rising was definitely not the ending horikoshi thought of first, nor was it the ending he thought of last. ultimately, it was simply another route he couldve taken into wrapping up deku's fate into what it was (probably) always meant to be:

deku was gonna lose one for all no matter what.

it's kind of fitting, honestly -- for this to be the ultimate conclusion to the series. it makes the most sense, since what sent deku down this path so many years ago was his mother apologizing to deku for being quirkless; as if being quirkless meant he was born inferior to those who had quirks. people, after all according to deku's famous beginning monologue, are not born equal.

Even still, i thought to note: deku never stopped wanting to be a hero. we all know this, obviously. this was his driving force -- but then when you REALLY think about the implications, you have to ask. what the heck was deku even planning to do?!

he had ideas. he had hope. he wrote notebooks for the future and thought of his costume for being a hero -- but not once do i remember him writing about his hero experience as if he was suddenly going to develop a quirk. he was planning on saving people quirkless -- an extremely interesting motivation especially when he couldve so easily chosen to walk the path of being a doctor or engineer instead if he wanted to save people so badly. its a story about conviction, about doing the things you wanna do in the way you wanna do it no matter what ANYONE else says and hey wait a minute that sounds familiar

it doesnt quite read that way at first, especially because of how izuku almost listened to all might about "being realistic" when the first met and nearly gave up on becoming a hero entirely, but izuku is a lot similar to katsuki in the sense that no matter what gets in his way -- he is determined to achieve his dreams in the way HE CHOOSES, and not the way that is more "convenient".

even when you look at just his name, "deku" in the way that uraraka had interpreted it (dekiru -- "you can do it!") and the way deku reexplains it to katsuki in deku vs kacchan 1 ("the deku that doesn't give up!") you can so easily tell that deku from the very beginning has only ever needed the slightest push to pursue being a hero, quirk-or-not-be-damned. hell, we even see a glimpse of this possibility in the sports festival race when deku absolutely DECIMATES not just bakugou but also TODOROKI (as well as every single other damn student participating in the festival) with nothing but robot scraps and his balls of steel. it just so happens that until the promise of one for all, no such encouragement or push was ever given to deku in his pursuit of heroicism, most especially in comparison to katsuki who had been receiving praise and validation for his goals his whole life.

i'd argue that deku's conviction is even stronger than katsuki in a way no other person seems to recognize (except maybe katsuki himself). katsuki had received only positive feedback and zero competition for his goals growing up while deku received nothing but discouragement. both of them kept the conviction of being a hero for TEN YEARS; neither wavering til the day of the sludge incident.

that aside; what comes next?

we know the story after that. deku gets his quirk, he goes to school, he fights, he drops out, he fights some more, and now he's standing before shigaraki tomura with every quirk of one for all unlocked and over twice the power that all might had in his prime -- fully knowing he's about to lose EVERYTHING in order to defeat shigaraki.

this is deku we're talking about. he doesn't care. he knows the implications and what that will mean for his dream -- but his goal right now is in front of him. his goal is shigaraki, consumed by hatred, threatening to take down the world izuku loves most into a pit of misery and decay because society failed people like them. does he care? probably. will he refuse to give up his power if it means not saving the world and fulfilling one for all's purpose? absolutely not.

deku has made all might's quirk his own, but one for all does not belong to him. it belongs to yoichi. and kudou. and bruce and nana and all of the other users who built that quirk for generations in hopes that one day, someday, someone would be able to yield it all and bring down the monstrosity that created it in the first place. deku will not hesitate, but also deku knows what he will lose.

i have... a few things i dislike about this.

Admittedly, i do think that this is a better resolution than the simple brute strength approach of Heroes Rising. For one, while i do love heroes rising with my entire heart and soul, i firmly believe it would not have been a satisfying conclusion to the core lessons and teachings bnha tries to impart throughout the story. simply outnumbering and outpowering afo/shigaraki would not be enough to close yoichi's story and one for all -- much less the story of shigaraki himself as tenko, the boy consumed by hatred.

Still, this new ending that horikoshi has laid out leaves me with more questions; as well as large expectations for how izuku's character will close out. its complicated, because deku's evolution and development is subtle and intricate in a way i havent seen from other shonen protagonists and i worry about doing it justice.

but most of my problems have to do with bakugou katsuki.

(aint that the truth)

i know i mentioned that bakugou was never intended to be a major character, but i want it to be known that that was only in the beginning. season 1, maybe even season 2 -- but horikoshi had said it best himself in that bakugou katsuki, against his permission, had gained a life of his own and inserted himself into the very grain of mha's story. you cannot deny this.

he is the series deuteroganist inarguably. one of the most beloved characters and one of the most attentively-written development arcs in the whole series. katsuki in and of himself embodies major themes in bnha that make it so that ditching his development and impact last minute after defeating all for one would reflect poorly upon the conclusion of the story itself. he and deku are intertwined in arcs -- even if they do have separate paths at the end of the day. katsuki is the one izuku told about the quirk. the one who followed izuku during the paranormal liberation arc. the one who understands one for all and is determined to learn about it more than anyone else barring all might and deku himself. the one who is closer to izuku than anyone else.

it can't be over for their arc, no matter what way you see it. friends? rivals? hero partners? what comes next, when the smoke clears? what comes next when izuku gives shigaraki hell, like katsuki told him to?

katsuki's atoned. we accept that, have known it since chapter 285 and have continued to know it until the iconic apology in the rain. that's not where katsuki stops however, because we know that its not all about begging for izuku's forgiveness nor atoning for himself. its about catching up to izuku -- the last words he uttered before shigaraki crushed his heard say it all.

"can i still catch up to you, izuku?"

since the moment katsuki died, we've been given a metric ton of material to read through what he and izuku have become in the story. firstly, the point of katsuki being the person closest to izuku. what does this mean? what does that say about katsuki? is he supposedly the person izuku loves the most? the person izuku believes in the most? i'd argue these two criterion would easily fit his mother or all might a lot better -- not his childhood friend turned bully turned rival turned barely-friend. katsuki sure as hell didn't believe he was the person closest to izuku before shigaraki brought it up as evidenced by the fact that he let IIDA bring deku back to UA -- and neither does izuku as far as i bet. what was shigaraki's intention?

katsuki heard that statement. he hasnt said anything, but he definitely heard it. its an open end that is left entirely unanswered PRECISELY because katsuki fought afo on his own and izuku is about to tackle shigaraki without katsuki by his side. if it was heroes rising's ending wherein they would both fight shigaraki and take him down together -- then that statement would easily be answered by how their strength and bond is the one thing that gave them an upper hand in the final battle. other than that... i'm not entirely sure how they're going to have katsuki and izuku acknowledge katsuki's brief "death" and Tomura's reasons thereof.

But fine, lets ignore that for the time being and move on to what happened when Katsuki came back.

katsuki answered izuku's cry for help. he came back to life in the last moment to save all might when izuku was too busy fighting tooth and nail to win. they are the penultimate example of two sides of a hero; the win and save. not one without the other. every single parallel thus far between izuku and katsuki have always been to draw attention over and over to each of their stubborn convictions to win and save under all might's tutelage.

katsuki has chosen to prioritize winning and fighting over saving and rescuing over. and over. and over. and over again. at every single opportunity from the very beginning of the series. in usj, in sports festival, in the final exam, every choice he's made up until --

chapter 285 - bakugou katsuki: rising.

he chooses to save izuku in this instant. as he says, his body moved on its own -- or in other words, he felt like how izuku has always did since the sludge villain incident. this is bakugou katsuki catching up to midoriya izuku. its katsuki realizing that he needs to save so deku can win, and actually being okay with that for once. it's a major turning point in his character that clearly tells even horikoshi that there's absolutely no way katsuki can go back to being a side character within the plot of bnha after a development like this.

and then, after this instance, we notice it happen again and again. katsuki choosing to save to win instead of winning to save. katsuki protecting best jeanist against the nomu. katsuki coming to chase after izuku when he runs away from UA. katsuki (in a way) saving aoyama when its revealed he's the traitor. hell, katsuki saving ALL MIGHT as soon as izuku -- the savior -- begs someone to save his idol when he can't because he's too focused on trying to win.

so what changed?

what changed since the moment of chapter 285 was katsuki accepting his fears and anxieties. katsuki letting go of his aversity to working with deku. the reason katsuki started accepting the path of saving to win was because he TRUSTED deku to win where he couldnt.

this is katsuki accepting that him and izuku already surpassed all might together.

but katsuki said it himself. it's not over. he accepts that him and izuku are finally on equal footing -- hell, he admits he's the one who needs to play catch up. it's not about katsuki conceding to weakness, but katsuki being able to trust in izuku to finish the job. the point is that they both will break and break until they win the way they choose to, and the other will be there to win while they save and save while they win. moreso, katsuki still wants to be number 1. he still wants to catch up and surpass deku. he wants to fight by deku's side. but ... as we've established:

deku will be quirkless soon.

my problem (or, i guess, curiosity?) with the path horikoshi seems to be going down for the end of this story is what happens to this end? what happens to the wonder duo? i believe in a quirkless deku plot as much as the next person -- but any reader would find it easy to see that once deku loses one for all, he will not be nearly as efficient nor quick nor capable of a hero as he once was. especially not against a developed katsuki with mastery over cluster explosions.

he will lose one for all and he won't ever be the pro-hero he was going to be before the final war arc. katsuki will get number 1 surely, but will he be happy about this resolution? i don't think so. All Might himself had said it when Katsuki spoke to him about his relationship to Izuku; that the twin stars reminded All Might very much of his own rivalry with Endeavor and the bitter feelings it created.

endeavor expressed regret and a bitter end to their rivalry; the acknowledgement of the bitter truth that the only reason he was the number one hero is because all might lost his own quirk. he knew he didn't deserve the mantle all might had held for a long time before him. he knew that he was still only just playing catch up with the wisdom and understanding of heroicism that all might had in his heart from the beginning. endeavor will likely retire from being a pro-hero unsatisfied with this truth and his own victory at becoming the no.1 at the very end -- never feeling like he truly surpassed all might of his own accord. both enji and toshinori -- victims of their destiny.

is this the fate that will befall katsuki once izuku is quirkless for good?

There are many questions I have in wake of the recent chapter. The end of the series is here, and that's a whole can of worms i haven't touched in and of itself. We all saw this coming; some of us know that this was always going to be Izuku's fate since the beginning of the series. But now that it's more than just izuku's character involved in his dreams of being a hero -- i dont know how this series is going to conclude and if it will be satisfying to any means. there's a lot of questions i still have; bakugous arc feeling incomplete ever since he came back to life, the conclusion of all might and one for all's dreams now that they will disappear altogether. where does deku go after this? where does bakugou go? where do any of them?

i guess i gotta wait and see lol

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha #bakugou katsuki #toshinori yagi #all might #midoriya izuku #deku #kacchan #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha meta #bnha meta #this was a long one ouf #anyway this is ship free technically; its just mostly me going BUT KACCHAN?

117 notes · View notes

brooooswriting · 1 year

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a Jenna Ortega x Reader fic. In which they were best friends as kids with the same dream of being an actor. Then by becoming an actress Jenna moved away from R because of her busy schedule. After several years without speaking to each other, they find themselves both engaged to play in Wednesday. PS: I love your work. Also sorry for the mistakes I don't speak English.

Long time ago

Jenna Ortega x reader

A/n: I still had this in my drafts and decided to post it, I don’t like the way it ends but I couldn’t think of something better. So enjoy :)

“Since when did you want to become an actress?” The interviewer asked the brunette in front of him, Jenna Ortega. “Oh, since I was a child. My best friend back then and I always had this dream of becoming actors and you know, take over Hollywood, I guess in some way it did come true” she answered, a smile gracing over her features.

It was you, you were the ‘best friend’ she was talking about you. It was your biggest dream to become and actress and by now you finally had some roles but you weren’t as big as Jenna. The girl who kind of ghosted you a couple of years ago, well 2 years and 4 months to be exact, but whose counting right? Well, you were as you were still hurt. It broke the both of you when she moved away from home for her new jobs but you never imagined her to stop answering at all, she texted less and less for 1 year’s until she suddenly didn’t reply at all.

“Mom? I have the role, I did it!! This could be my break through” you screamed into the phone. Your first big role, you were actually hired for the new ‘Wednesday’ series and you couldn’t wait. Sure, you had to move to Romania but it was definitely worth it. So, that day you packed your bag, happy to meet new people and finally show your talent.

Two weeks later you arrived in Romania, beforehand you had built up some contact with Emma Myers and Naomi over instagram. You had decided to meet up at the airport as you were all arriving around the same time, you could share a ride to the apartments and get to know each other more. It still wasn’t out who was going to play Wednesday herself and you couldn’t wait to find out.

About an hour later met both of the girls and made your way towards the apartments where you’d meet the rest of the cast. The mood between you three was pretty chill, it was noticeable that all off you were a bit nervous to meet the rest but nonetheless you were happy. “I heard that Cathrine Zeta-Jones is going to play Mortica” Emma told the two of you as you shared all the tea you’ve heard about the series.

After storing your luggage you went to meet up with the rest where Tim burton would finally reveal the actress that would play Wednesday. “Emma, Y/n, since you are the people that will be the closest to her you should meet her first” Tim said before he led you into a room where a certain person said. You would recognize that face everywhere, you froze, your breath slowed while your heartbeat quickened, while your face felt hot your arms where feeling so cold. The girl in front of you froze for a millisecond before recovering and greeting the third party in the room, Emma, who immediately noticed your weird behavior. “You alright?” She mumbled out in your direction, only earning a light shaking of your head as an answer. “Im sorry, I don’t feel good” you directed toward the director of the series, “oh, then you should probably go lay down, we can do this somewhen else. Get better” he told you before you speed walked out of the room, walking through your other crew members who were pretty confused. Emma and Tom looked after you with concern written all over their features, while Tim certainly was something special, he somehow felt connected to you and your behavior was more than weird to him. Jenna on the other hand couldn’t quite decide what/ how she felt, the only thing she knew was that she’d have to look for you after this.

“We’ll be friends forever right? No matter what, we’ll stay together?” Jenna asked you as you sat on a swing, your mothers sitting on a bench not far away talking about who knows what. “Friends forever, no matter what” you answered as she held out her pinky, intervening it with your. Both of you whispering out a “pinky promise”

The memory flooded in your head as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what to do now. The whole thing made your head and your heart hurt, so you plugged in your headphones, hoping that they’d make you stop thinking.

“I think we’d make great actresses, we’d be very believable” you told the brunette as you were coloring at the table in the living room. “Of course, we could always play the best friends” she grinned as she looked at the picture you drew, “yeah, after all we are best friends forever, right?” You said holding out your pinky, hers wrapping around yours, “pinky promise”

Memories clouded in your head that night when you fell asleep, exhausted from the tears and the overthinking. The next morning you were the first person awake, as you also were the first person asleep. You made your way into the kitchen to make yourself a coffee and sat down on the small balcony with your script as you watched the sunrise. A small ‘good morning’ came from behind you shortly before the sun was completely up causing you to turn around, in front of you Jenna.

The girl sighed when you immediately stood up and went upstairs again. She understood that you were mad at her but you would have to talk to her when you worked together. At the moment you didn’t seem to show any signs of budging.

You went upstairs into your room again where you sat on the end of your bed resting your upper body against the headrest. The script in your hand was slightly shaking as your eyes watered. You didn’t know how you should be able to work with her when you could barely talk to her.

The next time you exited your room the car to drive you to set arrived. You squeezed in the back next to Emma and Noami keeping up slight smalltalk so it wouldn’t get too awkward. It was rather obvious that there was something wrong between you two but nobody wanted to make things worse so they kept quiet.

It went like this for over two weeks, you talked to the others and tried to keep your distance from the brunette but as the filming went further it was harder and harder and it was obvious that it took a toll on you. That night there was a knock on your door and you already dreaded who was gonna come inside but invited them in nonetheless.

“Hello hun” it was Cathrine. You smiled as you greeted her back while she wandered around your room until she sat down on your bed next to you. “How can I help you?” Your voice was polite as it always was when you talked to her, she was like a mother figure to you. It was weird, honestly, she hugged you when you first met and since then there was just a connection. “I wanna talk to you about something that seemed like an obvious problem to all of us, we’ve seen how it takes a toll and you and we want it to become better” you sighed already knowing what this is about. You pulled your blanket up higher until half of your face was covered. “I don’t wanna talk about it” you mumbled into the blanket as a hand stroked your arm. “What happened between you two hun?” Another sigh followed before you decided that there was no going back.

“We used to best friends, a long time you know. We’ve always wanted to be actors, together but she made it wayyyy before I did and that has never been a problem to me. I was proud, the only thing I wanted was to stay in contact and we did for a small but until she suddenly ghosted me. No text, no call, not even an answer on my texts. She left me like I was nothing, while she was my best friend, maybe even more than that. But I was nothing to her” you had to hold back your tears, you didn’t want to cry and kept telling yourself that Jenna wasn’t worth it, but oh how she was. “That sound terrible and there are barely any excuses that could make what she did okay but it’s also hurting her. Maybe you should talk to her, listen to what she has to say for herself. You can either be friends again or you’ll at least get closure” you laid your head on her shoulder as you nodded slightly.

“Now let’s get down, we are having drinks” she pulled you downstairs without any regards to your unwillingness. “Look who I found upstairs” she called out causing the others to applaud and you to blush, the blush got even worse when your eyes met Jenna’s. “Come on, Gwendoline is making drinks” Emma said and pet the spot next to her.

It didn’t take long for everybody to be a bit tipsy while you were a bit more than tipsy, you were babbling and rambling while everybody was laughing. When your face suddenly changed the only person who noticed was your old best friend. She knew that look, and wasn’t surprised when you suddenly stood up and walked away, nobody else seemed to notice in their intoxicated mindset.

So she was quick to stand up and follow you upstairs where she found you, unsurprisingly, howling over the toilet. “Did you already throw up?” She asked as she kneeled behind you, the answer was a slight shaking of your head. “Then let’s wait a bit longer, shall we?” She said as she rubbed your back. It was unknown to the actress if you were to drunk to realize who she was or if you just needed the comfort, but she took what she could get.

About 20 minutes later you didn’t feel like throwing up anymore, so she helped you up and took you to bed, hers not yours. She wanted to make sure that you were fine and it was closer. “Why did you ghost me? I loved you so much and you just disappear. Why? Do you know how much that broke me?” You slurred when she sat you on the bed. “I’m sorry, I was overwhelmed and I was in love with you and I was scared that people here weren’t going to accept me and that you weren’t going to accept me when I told you, so I thought that if I break any contact that I’ll forget about you. But I never did, I still love you like the day I left. Every damn day I thought about that stupid smile you had when I FaceTimed you or how your eyes sparkled when we saw a dog outside, the way my heart fluttered when you texted me and when you held my hand. It was like everything was you” she guessed that you’d forget about all this in the morning. “You could have just told me. We could have been a power couple” you grinned before falling back on the bed and falling asleep.

The next morning you woke up in Jenna’s arms which made your heartbeat quicken at least until you noticed the unbearable headache and groaned. The sound caused Jenna to wake up, “headache?” She asked as she untangled herself from you to reach over you. You grabbed the water and the pills from her hand and mumbled a small thank you. “Do you remember what I said yesterday?” She asked with hope in her eyes, the way it felt to have you in her arms was just right. It was like it was made to be, like you were a puzzle that was finally done. “I do, most of it I believe at least” you mumbled as you drowned the rest of the water. “Maybe we should-“ before she could finish someone knocked on the door. “Guys you are late! We will be picked up in 10 minutes” that made you two jump from the bed and run to get ready.

The day on set was awkward, there was a lot that you two had to talk about but you couldn’t be alone for even 5 minutes. And to make it worse, today was the filming of the first kissing scene.

You laid on the ground in the middle of the woods, you had big cuts all over your body and fake blood was everywhere. Jenna was kneeling down next to you, her hands on your wounds. “You will be alright” she said in her Wednesday voice, but you shook your head. “I won’t. There is no way anyone will come in time but at least I get to spend the last minutes of my life with you” you chuckled weakly. “You are not going to die!” She said but you both were sure you would. Your eyes started to drop slightly, “stay with me” she said before her eyes roamed your face.

She suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to yours in a slow but passionate kiss. When she pulled away your eyes opened again as you smiled at her before they dropped shut and sirens could be heard.

After the director called cut Jenna helped you up from the ground. “That was great guys, go get cleaned up before we film the next scene” you nodded and went away to the makeup trailers but you pulled her away before you arrived. “Can we please talk about this? I can’t concentrate” you pleaded with a hand on her waist. “I don’t think there is a lot to talk about” your heart broke before she continued “I like you, you like me. So let’s do on a date. I wanna make right what I fucked up before” you smiled as you nodded before leaning in kissing her with your hands around her waist.

“Yes!” And “finally” could be heard around you causing you to break apart. The crew stood around you which made both of you blush and Jenna try to hide her head in her chest while they laughed.

This was the beginning of something great

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n

397 notes · View notes

namazunomegami · 6 months

Text

Atonement

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: How can you cleanse yourself from the sin that has been tainting you since your attempt to escape? The answer is easy: walk on barefoot for him, suffer some misery, risk your health for him, open yourself up for him and you can earn his forgiveness.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, toxic and complicated dynamics, religious symbolism, porn with feelings, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising, gaslighting, m!receiving oral, fingering, non-consensual edging, good old unprotected sex + creampie

WC: 5.3k

Credits: my lovely @notveryrussian who worked so hard to get this fic proofreaded. Ngl they deserve all the praise and respect because we lost literal pages from the already edited draft because windows is crap and they had to start over again. Take one big break darl, you deserve it 💕

Song rec: mythical creature by pregnant whale pain was my main inspiration during writing but i think tumblr dot com is not ready yet to listen to an unknown hungarian avantgarde metal band while reading porn lmao. Maybe i'll drop the acoustic version later.

A/N: Here is part 1 in case if you missed it. I think you need to know what happened to completely understand the buildup and have a general idea about their relationship. This fic is probably my fave I’ve written so far, a special lil brainchild of mine. These two are living in my mind rent free with all their lore and they'll never let me go.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

Minors don't interact unless you want me to stand outside your house at 3 am with a pitchfork

It was very hard to explain to your family what happened to you. The worry which they approached you with, especially Mimiko and Nanako just stirred a weird sense of guilt in your chest. The twins even offered to help you out with chores, eagerly telling you to rest, let your body heal. Your heart shattered to pieces in that moment, weeping endlessly with fat, salty tears. Your precious darling girls, so considerate of you, so caring, their hearts filled with everlasting gratitude. And you wanted to leave them. You felt like a piece of shit of a parental figure, obviously.

Days passed as if nothing had ever happened. Even in your private moments with Geto, the issue was never brought up. He took care of your wounds, of course, but your escape attempt wasn’t a topic of conversation at all. You swept it under the rug.

Which means it was only a question of time until he was going to wield it against you.

“Leave the scabs alone.” he reprimands you softly, dragging your wrist away from them. The hot water softened your scars, making them itchy, easy to pick away at them. But Geto is so thoughtful for looking after you like some kind of crazy mother hen, right? Even sitting in the tub behind you.

He takes hold of the edge, stepping out of the tub swiftly. The water suddenly drops around you, goosebumps dot your skin from the sudden touch of the moistened air as he hides that broad, sun-kissed form of his beneath a bathrobe. You ache for a bit of peace, a bit of me-time, but since the so-called “accident”, he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on you constantly.

Your hand dances along the surface of the water, bunching the bubbles together into various shapes, like they’re islands. Like you’re a young god, decorating the plane you’ve created. But his outstretched palm appearing in your vision disturbs your creative process.

“Come, I’ll take the stitches out.”

Compared to when your wound was sutured, cutting out the thread is a relatively quick process. Especially with his competency. The tweezer lifts and holds the knot, as he severs the thread with a pair of scissors and pulls it from your flesh before he moving on to the next. It’s uncomfortable, not in a way that it hurts, but it makes your skin crawl and your bones bend. An overall disgusting feeling. But when it’s over, it does feel better. And knowing him, you wonder if it’s purposeful or not.

“Must you make it painful?” you complain, thumb pressing down on the closed, marred skin. For the wrong reasons though, but you can freely complain.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” his voice is soft like silk, but not without a sharp edge in it, slowly unfurling, like the jaws of a venus flytrap. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

You glare at him, your eyes piercing him like a dagger.

“Me? I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

This… was a bit too far, you must admit.

You storm out of the bathroom, like you could get away from the conversation.

“Go on, speak.” his words echo through the walls of the bedroom, making your movements halt immediately. You glance up at the window, faced with his reflection as he leans against the doorframe. “What should I learn from you? That you’re not afraid to run? To put your life in unnecessary danger?”

A long sigh leaves through your nostrils.

“If it comforts you, then yes, I realized that I had made a dumb decision.”

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind you. Looming over you, shrouding you like an evil trickster spirit.

“I must admit I enjoyed your little attempt…” his palms are heavy on your shoulders, just like his words echoing close to shell of your ear. “Catching you, watching your resolves crumble, the raw terror plastered on your face…” the way his voice caresses you is just like the way he would hold a blade right against your throat, pressing down on the pulsing veins that could be cut open so easily. Like needles slowly being inserted into your ear canals. Eventually it softens, getting more serious and chiding. “But you did scare me. Have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if I didn’t go after you?”

You’d die, you would definitely die. Bleeding out amidst the leaves and grass, letting the frosty night bite you tense and weak. All alone in the dark.

Hold on…

You wouldn’t be injured if he hadn’t frightened you in the first place.

Did he just… no, it can’t be.

He slowly walks away from you, and you hear the bed creak under his weight. The choking feeling finally lifts from your throat. You turn towards one of the incense burners, already filled, it merely needs to be lit. But you do it slowly, just for the sake of appearing busy, to not feel obligated to carry on with the conversation.

But you should make peace with him before he does. He’ll make you face all of your mistakes and their consequences, if not outright making you suffer because of them. Rub all of them into your face until you have no choice but to plead for forgiveness.

It’s not easy, but you open your mouth. The scent of sandalwood lowers your guards, helping you be honest and brings forth the thoughts you’ve been trying to hide for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. And I wonder even more about that if we’ll fail before reaching our goal. Fail spectacularly. Because we want to do the impossible.”

“What is exactly the right thing? Being selfless? Forgetting all about our grudges and letting the world trample all over us? Or being selfish and crushing anyone under our feet to keep each other safe?”

Like an elastic band being strained for far too long, you snap. Luckily, the bronze lid of the incense burner holds out under your grasp.

“It’s too fucking late for moral arguments! Can’t you speak to me more directly for once? Instead of hiding behind your… carefully crafted scenarios that only prove your point.”

You should have avoided looking at him. At your serpent, who made you sin, who was cursed alongside you, your serpent who devoured your beloved Adam. You yearned for the remains, sitting in the bottomless pit of his stomach.

But you swore those remains spoke to you, through layers of flesh, scales, and deception. Soft and calm like a light summer breeze.

“Do you have doubts about me, darling? Are you giving up on me?”

The question breaks you, evaporating all of your anger and resentment in a flash. Devoid of any playful tone or hidden meanings, so raw that it takes hold of your heart and squeezes it so tight that it couldn’t possibly beat anymore.

You know how he twists the truth, striking right into the softest parts of you. He feeds you poison – yet you swallow it right down every single time.

“Faith has no zenith, my dear.” you answer, low and sweet, like you wanted to comfort him. The lid on the incense burner closes, giving you enough time to build up the courage to approach him. You weave your words carefully, in such fashion that it can be interpreted in multiple ways. If he switched just one little word, he’d immediately gain more insight into what’s really been weighing on your heart. “There’s no such peak we can reach on which we can stagnate forever. Faith sometimes wavers, sometimes we question our beliefs. Sometimes we’re unsure if our prayers are heard.” you get down on your knees before him, taking his hand into yours, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But I do want to have faith in you.”

His features visibly soften. Heavy lids close in relief, and you feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

This is your chance! Go on, there’s no time more perfect than this to try to convince him.

“We should really get away from the temple.” you start with an almost resigned sigh, but your excitement soon starts to show. “Just for a few days. Manami will handle the followers while we leave for the countryside, or an island. We can bring the girls even.”

A faint glimmer in his eyes tells you his answer is going to disappoint you.

“They don’t know about the girls, but they certainly know about you.” he reminds you sternly. “The higher ups want us dead and the last time I offered to protect someone, they ended up getting killed.”

His voice is faint, almost shaky. He rarely talks about the death of Riko. And if he ever brings her up in a conversation, you know he means it.

The heavy lid above his eyes drops, violet irises hiding behind his lashes, averted from you. The words coming out of him are barely above a whisper, like his lips are made from lead, like forming the words is a tiring task because they’re so heavy, and filled with something violently torturing him.

“This is a risk I’m not willing to take again. Not even for you. Especially for you.”

You feel something pooling on your waterline. Translucent pearls of tears appear so involuntarily when you see him like this. Sometimes you do want to hurt him, but when you see him in pain, it torments you even worse.

“I’m not asking you to take risks for me. I never did. But you should take some for you. You could use some respite.” you lace your fingers with his. It brings you a strange kind of comfort how your hand just loses itself in his, but it’s yours that looks more lively and powerful. Like it’s you what keeps him together. As if without you he would shatter into pieces. “You take on an awful lot of responsibilities, I think sometimes more than you’re capable of handling.”

Affection sweeps through his features as he caresses your head, from the roots of your strands to the thick bone of your jaw. A lonely thumb brushing along from your cheekbone to the lobe of your ear. And there’s nothing you can do, only stare at him, wide-eyed with reverence, like he’s an ethereal being.

“This is not your cross to bear.”

He wanted to ease your concerns, but you’re much more stubborn than that. You won’t stand there, at a safe distance, watching him drag himself to his Calvary, whipped and crowned with thorns. You’ll push through the crowd, smash them to bits just to reach him and offer your veil to wipe his face. A thousand times, as many times as he needs.

“Of course it is, what do you expect from me? Unlike…” No, don’t say names, do not compare yourself to certain figures in your past and the way they treated him. “I’m worried about you, for no other reason than I genuinely care about you. That’s why I want you to put our plans to aside - let’s unwind a little, recharge. Before all of this drives us insane.”

He deliberately avoids answering, your concern grows and grows like vicious vine. Is this too much to ask for? A small moment of normalcy can’t be granted to you? What are the two of you really? Idols of worship, if not gods at this point because your sheep do regard you as such. But can’t gods long for a visit amongst mortals? Can’t they shed their divine status? You could, but maybe, before he’d let you leave, he’ll feed you pomegranate seeds.

Would you eat them again? Of course you would. Even if you fight and snarl a little beforehand. Because love is the death of duty, and of a peaceful mind, of comprehensive decisions. Love is so mystified, shrouded in the illusion of an immortalized existence, just like death. Love is, indeed, death.

Your palms cup his face, his skin radiates warmth through you. The warmth of the evening sun that makes the sky bleed with the prettiest colors you can imagine. Your touch slowly encourages him to look into your eyes, finding a strange kind of determination and care mixed with your obvious worry. A Magdalene dwells within your gaze, who already washed her prophet’s feet with tears and dried them with her hair before he starts his last journey to Golgotha.

“I told you a million times, if you fall too deep into your misery, when you feel like you can’t come back to the surface on your own, let me know, so I can pull you out. Or let me know so I can go after you. And we’ll drown together.”

All those little pacts and vows you made during the years echo through you. Even the first one, the most ancient of them all, when it was still easy to hide your concerns behind your techniques.

I’ll keep an eye on you.

It’ll keep an eye on you.

You lean closer, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching. Eyes closing in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Promise me, Suguru. Promise me again.”

You wait and wait, until his warm breath brushes your skin like fine silk, like a feather.

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief. It hurts, it hurts so much. There’s so much place in your heart for him to dwell in. He owns it and he won’t give it back. Ever.

You only wanted a chaste kiss, but a special type of hunger wakes deep below your navel. You taste his words, you swallow them down, nipping them from his lips. You look for the rest of them, his thoughts that hadn’t been formed into words yet, the rest of the sentence, you search for it with your tongue inside his mouth.

You grab onto the sheets, trying to push yourself up. Like you could overpower him, like you could battle against him. To have him laid out on the mattress, defeated. But he stops your advances with a palm resting on your shoulder, gently pushing you away.

“You’re not healed yet.” he whispers, truly concerned.

“Then I’ll be on top, I don’t care.” you oppose breathily, your fingers trying to pry his robe open.

“The cut on your hand could re-open if we’re not careful.”

Oh, how you adore him when he’s so tender with you, but now, this is the last thing you want. You want to bare your teeth and go right for the throat.

“Then you’ll stitch me up again.” There’s a playful edge in your voice, and you kiss him again with the same curve of a smile while he lets you crawl on top of him.

And he smiles against you too, delighted by your eagerness. You, trying to eat him up, digest him - he’s just enjoying you and the feast you’re having. Taking everything from you. He only wants to capture you, to cage you in his hold. He’s kneading your flesh leisurely and humming into your mouth contently, almost lazily.

In the crooks of his body, you find your religion.

The sharp line of his jaw, the tendons of his neck, the hollow caverns around his collarbone. But your mouth carefully avoids the scars slashing through his chest, after all those years, it still pains him when the lightly coloured, textured skin gets touched. As if these lips of yours and your aimlessly trailing fingers were the same blades, penetrating the flesh again and again.

There’s not a morsel of him that you weren’t intimately familiar with. In a way that rivals how much you know about yourself. And what you know even better is that how can you venerate them, dote on them, adore, and idolize with such devotion you could anger all deities created by man and make them scream blasphemy on you.

You take his cock in your hand, teasingly working your palms around him. Pumping it, stroking your thumb along the underside to make his breath hitch. His dick grows beneath your hands, getting harder and heavier. The first beads of precum get smeared along the length by your skillful fingers.

“You know you don’t have to- “but you cut him off while settling between his legs.

“Just relax and let me do all the work.” your response comes out a bit more deadpan than planned. “You deserve it once in a while.”

And with that, you wrap your lips around him, enveloping him in warmth and wetness, your tongue slowly swirling around the head. His thighs twitch, more precum oozes into your waiting mouth as the muscle between your teeth works eagerly. You give him a few, gentle sucks, slurping up the mixture of your own saliva and his arousal. Between ragged breaths, he reminds you to breathe through your nose as you take more and more of his length. You relax your jaw, your fingers tense around the base of his cock and you’re trying as hard as you can to defeat the urge to gag. When you fit all of him inside your mouth, you empty your lungs and give him a harder suck, hard enough to make you cheeks hollow and his chest heave. As your free hand is occupied with kneading his balls between your fingers and knuckles, a moan bursts out of him.

The sound boosts your confidence, filling you with a wicked kind of playfulness. The kind of wicked that makes you pull back your tongue a little, as to not keep your teeth hidden. You drag them along his sensitive, pulsing underside, balancing the pressure between pleasure and pain. Like you could prove to him that you’re ready to bite back, that this is the only moment when he can’t control you, that he shouldn’t underestimate you.

And just as if he could read your thoughts, his hand goes for your head, fingers getting lost between your strands. But he’s not as cruel as to push you down on him, instead he guides you, increases the rhythm that you’re working with. Steady and firm, but not too fast. You earn yourself his praises, soft curses pitched higher than his normal voice.

This is what real worship looks like.

When you feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensing up, you stop. You emerge from the space between his legs, wiping your lips clean and admiring your work. All that flushed skin blooming in pink on his chest and face. You move, trying to get into a new position, settling your calves right next to hips. You start aligning yourself with his cock to finally start grinding on him.

He sits up and traps you with an arm coiling around your waist.

“Since when were you so reckless?”

His hand creeps around the apex of your thighs. A finger barely brushes along your slit. By adding another digit, he spreads your folds, finding hot, smooth, slippery flesh.

“I would’ve prepped myself.” that’s all you can say in your defense.

Fingertips circle your hole, applying a bit of pressure, checking how much you’ve loosened up. He invades you slowly as your lungs empty, the hardened skin on his fingers stroking and massaging your sweet spots before he starts working you open.

You wrap your arms around him, slowly undoing his bun to have something to grab onto as you jolt, as your bones melt, as your brows furrow in bliss. The moans coming from you are breathy and tender, and you hide them in his strands. He twists his fingers inside you, stretching your warm muscles further, making your back arch and you press your hardened nipples to his chest. Your essence engulfs his knuckles, clear and sticky like honey.

The heel of his palm settles right against your clit and you shamelessly grind on it. Your mewls pass over his ears as he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin of a faint scar. But you resist giving in, you stop him, telling him that’s enough, but in reality you just want your control back. Take back the lead and revel in it.

And somehow he obeys, laying back into the sheets.

You slip out of your robe, showing yourself fully. The bruises on your skin can finally bathe in the dim lamplight, painting the complexion of your sides, shoulders, and upper arm in different shades of blue and purple, like paint on bare canvas. Like the night sky carrying storm clouds, like you’re rotting, decomposing. You find a twisted, perverted joy in the fact that he must be seeing them for the whole time.

“Slowly, slowly.” he murmurs softly as you’re pushing the head of his cock inside you. “There’s no need to rush.” Trimmed nails trail up and down from the flesh of your thighs to your bruised sides. Tender and slow like a ghost, goosebumps pepper your skin from the tickling feeling. “I’m already yours.” He purrs and your heart flutters.

And there’s so, so much pride in you that only you can render him to this state. Too powerful for the world to bear him, capable to burn this plane to ruins, defying the barriers between a mortal and a god - or something way worse than that. Maybe you should receive twice the respect from your herd, for being the only person who can enslave him in this way, that only you can have this sort of power over him. Only you can overthrow him. Because you’re just too dear to him, too close to his burning heart.

Maybe it’s your time to warn him. Tame him like the monster he is.

You move with your own rhythm. His hand caged between your fingers and pressed down against the sheets. You give him no other choice but to venerate you back and he does, with pleased, low rumbles coming from his throat. Only a singular hand is allowed to roam your form freely. On your back tracing the shallow line where your spine lies beneath skin and flesh, wandering towards the inner part of your thighs, then to your stomach and chest. And you reward him with a prayer of your own, encapsulated in deep, long sighs.

But you’re too trusting of him. You let your guard down too easily.

You’re holding onto his kneecaps, leaning towards them a little, allowing every inch of you to be seen. You want to give him a show, but your knees are too worn and tired.

He takes hold of your hips, helping you guide yourself along his length. His pelvis moves along with you in synced rhythm. Your teeth are pressing down on the soft skin of your lips, but you can’t keep your whimpers in. You’re getting close, your muscles and nerves are st tight and pulsing, your walls are pressing down on his length. His name mindlessly slips out of your mouth.

Maybe you can say you love him before you shatter.

But his fingers clench around you, strong and firm, stopping your movements. Lifting your hips up so high that his cock is barely inside, robbing you from your incoming orgasm.

You’re shocked, eyes staring into the nothingness, open wide. Your stomach drops, stirring up all kinds of feelings dwelling in you. A chill races down your vertebrae as you glance down at him.

“Suguru..?” Your voice is weak, shaky.

Fear courses through your being, primordial and all-consuming.

And when he speaks to you it’s all dark, shrouded in malevolence.

“You forgot one thing, darling. After I brought you back from the forest.”

No, no, no, he can’t do this to you! He can’t hold your orgasm hostage for the sake of toying with you! You should puncture his flesh your nails, scratch him, tear him up, but you can only grit your teeth. Your features twist from bliss to rage.

“You…” boiling anger swims through your voice. It’s like it’s not even your voice - more like a hiss, a growl.

There’s an undecipherable mixture of pity and amusement in his eyes. He twitches inside you but you’re too upset to notice.

“Apologize.” he sneers - almost commands.

His words cause anger to bubble up in you.

“Oh, you piece of shit…!” you seethe, but sob and moan when he slams you back on his cock, stretching you around his length again. Wanting to quench your rage with the sensation you crave the most right now.

“I hope, for your sake, I don’t have to repeat myself.”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squirm, fuss and wriggle, he forces you still. His behaviour frustrates you to no end when you’re so desperate for a bit of friction, the horribly hollow and burning feeling of your lost peak torturing you seemingly endlessly. To the point where you’re too tired to put up a fight, when you’re teetering on the edge of breaking. You know you must swallow your pride, you have let him have it his way.

“I… I’m sorry.” you apologize meekly, teary-eyed, your voice a pathetic mewl. He finally starts lifting you up and easing you down, building you up slowly. But it’s not enough. You need more but he won’t give it to you just yet.

“You do?” he asks you in a way that it cuts deep into your marrow. It’s not even close to a loving tease – no, he’s outright mocking you.

Vicious bastard. You should grab his throat and squeeze the air out of him.

“Yes, I do!” you cry out without thinking. “I’m sorry for running away from you.” you push the words out through your whimpers. He increases the pace, making you yelp and shake, you end up closing your eyes reflexively. He robbed you from the sensation for so long that you became sensitive, it’s easier to make a mess out of you. Your face is red with shame, so much so you can’t look him in the eyes. The humiliation is like an invisible rope tightening around your neck.

“Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

He pushes your hips further along his length this time, shifting you a bit towards his thighs. Creating a perfect angle, he uncovers a sweet spot inside you that makes you almost incapable of forming coherent words. And he eats the sight right up.

“…I promise… I promise...” you manage to get your answer out in the form of a choked hiccup. Your vision blurs. Everything is too intense for you to handle. You swear that the very shape of you could dissolve at any given moment.

Faith is desperate. Gods are hungry for despair. So they deliberately make you suffer and only then reveal themselves to you.

His fingers dig into your waist so hard it burns. You feel the world shift with you and then you collide with the sheets. Your bruised back ripples with pain. You’re unsure if he did it out of spite or not. You don’t know if he’ll completely shatter your dignity, or if he’s fine with just enforcing the feeling that you can never be above him, that you can never defeat him.

His weight on top of you is overwhelming. The midnight dark locks of his hair spread around you like spilled ink. And through the thick fog of your mind, too far gone in twisted, masochistic pleasure, you lock your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to go away. You might as well cease to exist if he does.

“And what do we say when we apologize?”

The soft plea coming from you is more instinctual rather than deliberate.

“Forgive me.”

You ache for him to move, you’re starved for the incoming high. Like a ravenous beast, all devouring. When he finally gives it to you, his thrusts make you feel possessed, make your back arch, your head falls back into the pillow as if you were offering your neck to him (maybe one day he won’t be able to resist the urge and will bite down on the jugular, through your trachea, putting you out of your misery) - you don’t dare to beg for anything else.

Maybe just for a little blood. A mark he can wear, just like you wear your bruises. Your nails somehow acquire a will of their own, your scratches have him excited and pleased.

His fingers meander around your jaw, gently coaxing you into letting him guide your gazes to meet again.

He’s imitating you, admiring his work like you did with him. And what he sees is a being stripped from any likeness of a dignified human being. With eyes so blown he can see the bottommost pits of Hell in them.

And he’s satisfied, rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

“I forgive you.”

Your release crashes over you like a tide, submerging you, burning you to cinders on the inside. Tearing you apart. And when he collapses on top you after filling you to the brim, you feel like a festering wound.

He’s a disease, miasma, a flesh-eating parasite crawling inside you.

“You’re…” you huff. “You’re awful.”

“I know. But you love me all the same.”

You wonder what you should have done to earn a different outcome, but you give up soon. Looks like he already had plans for your atonement in mind. After all, gods are impatient creatures. They’re dependent on your reverence and servitude. And you’ve waited for too long to make things right.

Why, why, why - it echoes inside your head.

But if you think about it… he’s your serpent. The vilest, most horrendous creature created by God. The one who charmed you, tempted you with sin and has now sunken his fangs into you. Of course he did, and instead of trying to heal from his venomous bite, you want to catch him - to find out his reasons, to prove to him that you didn’t deserve that.

And yet you could never, ever prove him wrong. Your serpent will always think it was right to bite. It’s in his nature afterall.

“Is your hand alright?”

He makes it up to you with spoiling you again. He cleans your wounds so sweetly, so thoughtfully, looks after you in a way that nobody could, which confuses you even further.

He cherishes you, destroys himself for the sake of keeping you safe - not like it’s a choice, but a must - just like a mother would. He scolds you, reminds you not to make the same mistake again, collars you, keeps you on a tight leash, only loosening it (just a little) when he succeeded at making you play by his rules, just like a father would.

And somehow, he excels at both. Way better than those two ever did when it came to you.

You wish your glare could pierce right through his skull when you hand the empty glass back to him. You don’t have it in you to play nice. You don’t even attempt hide that you’re sulking, he probably finds it funny - adorable even.

“Go to hell.” you spit and lay back into the sheets, your bruised back facing him.

“Oh, darling…” he coos, but the surface level sweetness of his tone hides a sharp edge of condescendence. He crawls into bed, right behind you, caging you in his embrace, forcing you to feel the warmth of his body. The warmth that you’re so used to, the one you can’t sleep without it. Nobody has ever made you feel this safe, and the fact makes your heart ache and your stomach twist.

“If there’s a Hell, I’ll see you there.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #meesa writes #DAAARLING GUESS WHOS COME BACK FROM JAIIIIL #Idk what kind of deep psychological issue of mine is in that fic but now its your job to decipher #just please dont bring Freud into the picture I hate that man

68 notes · View notes

cellythefloshie · 1 year

Text

;; Sister of the Groom

Summary: Your big brother Jordan is finally getting married, and as his wedding planner you have been more than involved with his big day. From planning to being a member of the bridal party you're ready to let loose and have your team take over for the night. Being the planner also helped keep you from being blindsided when your ex-hookup, Vince Dunn, arrived to support his ex-teammate. Worst of all, even after 4 years apart, the attraction is still there. Kinks, Tropes & TW: Sister of the groom, Binnington!reader, player's sister!reader, wedding planner!reader, bridesmaid!reader, situationship, "exes" to lovers, secret relationship, unprotected sex, car sex, implied jealousy, implied caught feelings. Word Count: 4358 Note: I used a different editing software to edit this fic. So please if anyone could reach out and let me know if there was like any improvement in it, that would be great.

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl @wingedwheelprxncess @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xcicix - I swear I'm going to get better at remembering to do this.

While Earth had four seasons, your life had two: hockey season and wedding season.

It was a peaceful harmony. A perfect balance between work and play, as a wedding planner - but this season was different because your big brother was finally getting married. You had written off your entire wedding season for it. You turned many offers to plan the weddings for hockey superstars like Tyler Seguin and Brady Tkachuk. Jordan and Cristine were your utmost priority. It left you wearing many hats. From being the wedding planner to the sister of the groom to the bridesmaid, you didn’t know a moment of calm. That was until the morning of the wedding, when Cristine put the first drink in your hand.

You sipped mimosas at breakfast.

You had done a shot of Crown Royal with Jordan and your sisters, Sydney and Callie, moments before he walked down the aisle.

Going into the evening, you remained in the state of a pleasant buzz that you would not let yourself push past into intoxication. It would be too much of a risk if something went wrong. It was a far too dangerous thing for the sake of the wedding, especially when your ex was there. Well, he wasn’t your ex, not really.

You and Vince Dunn had never been official.

The two of you never went on any dates, but you and Vince had been hooking up since he and Jordan played on the Chicago Wolves roster together. But it never got more serious than that. It was the occasional fuck when you both were back home in Ontario for the summer. Or when you had been down to visit in whatever city your brother called home. It all ended with the expansion draft. It was the moment he uprooted his life that had mere glimmers of you in it and moved to Seattle.

Vince quickly faded into a memory of your young adulthood, becoming nothing more than someone who once knew your body better than anyone. Someone that you only thought about when the weather was just right or when his name came up in conversation. It always left you with a faint smile, fond of the unspeakable memories that the two of you shared. When you saw his name on the guest list, you wore that same smile. Then again, when you saw he sent back his RSVP without a plus one.

You should have known better to go into the night thinking you could control yourself with him around. Especially once you caught sight of him in the beige suit that almost looked pink as you helped the photographer with the pictures at sunset. You couldn’t help but stare. Your eyes flashed over how his button-down shirt would grow tight over his chest as he threw his arms around his former teammates. And they fixed on his smile as it tugged at his cheeks so playfully. Not once did you look away from him. Vince and how his curls hung down into his forehead or from how his suit fit him just right. Nor could you ignore how his laugh consumed him so fully.

That was until his eyes fixated on you in return.

A heavy breath coursed through you, your eyes falling to the grass before you fell into a full retreat towards the reception hall. You lost yourself in the crowd, the toasts, and the occasional comfort that came from sipping champagne when you felt the buzz beginning to fade. But not even drinking could rid your mind of his green eyes and how you could feel him staring at you. They were on you as you sat at the head table with the rest of the bridal party for dinner. And they followed you again as you took to the dance floor to kick off the evening with a dance.

You let your eyes find him again in the crowd as you danced with the groomsman who had also walked you down the aisle during the ceremony. His hand was low on your back, his fingers wrinkling the blush satin fabric as you danced. But your mind was all too distracted to enjoy the moment. Your eyes found Vince at the edge of the dance floor. His head cocked to the side as his eyes dragged up and down your figure. And when he noticed you staring back, he smirked.

He instantly knew that, even after four years, he still had his hold on you.

Biting your lip, you glanced towards the bathroom. The song was slowly fading into the next and joined the voice of the DJ as he welcomed the rest of the guests to the dancefloor. It was the perfect opportunity. Your eyes found Vince again, glancing one more time towards the bathroom before you were slipping from the groomsmen’s hold. His hands travelled down the length of your arms, desperate to hold on to you - to keep dancing with you.

“I’m sorry, I just need to use the washroom,” you said, offering him your soft excuses.

It wasn’t a complete lie. You fully intended to slip away into the bathroom, but you would not use it as it was meant to be used. You would clear each stall, then desecrate every virtuous value weddings uphold in one of its stalls. Or maybe you’d let him fuck you on the countertop or against the door if you were feeling so bold.

Your heart jumped into your throat, the beat of it synonymous with the bass of the music as your every step carried you towards the bathroom door. Eyes fixated on it, and you took steady breaths to keep yourself calm.

The music that played and the glow of the surrounding lights left you feeling as if you were in a dream. That at any moment, you would wake up in a cold sweat in your hotel room bed alone. But the touch of a large hand against the small of your back confirmed that this was all very much reality.

“Hello, Princess,” Vince said. You could barely hear him over the music, but you felt his hot words against the shell of your ear and in your hair that was slowly losing its style. It would be nothing more than a mess of curls by the time he was done with you.

“Vince,” was all you could manage, his voice a mere breath on your lips as your eyes felt the bathroom door and fell on his features.

He hadn’t changed all that much since you last saw him. He was still as pretty as ever. Your lips parted to tease him, only to be reduced to silence as the careful pressure of his hand guided you away from the bathroom door and towards the foyer.

Your head cocked to the side, a brow raising. Where was he taking you?

Your steps didn’t falter, the music and lights fading behind you and into the calm of night on the patio. Minutes ago, before the first dance, the patio was full of guests smoking cigars and enjoying the night air, but with the first dances of the night captivating, there were only a few stragglers to catch you and Vince sneaking away. None of them knew you both enough to say a word as he led you to the fence that divided the patio from the path to the parking lot. He left you void of his touch for a moment as he hopped over the fence before extending his hand to you to help you over.

One hand found his hand while the other hiked up your dress, giving him a good look at the length of your legs as you hopped the fence yourself. It wasn’t the most graceful attempt you could have made, but his hands were quick to find your waist. His hold kept you steady on your feet before he lead you off to the parking lot.

At first, you were going to question it, but it made the most sense. No one would leave the venue for hours, and the only interruption you’d get would be from the valet. Whereas in the bathroom, there would be a constant cycle of women needing to pee, photo ops, and the occasional guest who would need to vomit after drinking far too much. The bathroom came with too great of a risk of being caught by your mother, your sisters, or the wives and girlfriends of one of his teammates. But in the parking lot, there would be no one to catch you there.

He weaved you through the lot, in between cars until he led you to one that was clearly a rental and leaned up against the hood. Vince propped his leg up so that his bright white, never-been-worn-before sneaker rested up against the car’s fender. Then he patted the hood casually. The impact was a simple invitation to join him, one that left you leaning up against the car at his side.

The cool night air sent a shiver down your spine and you crossed your arms over your chest to keep the goosebumps from rising. But Vince was already doing you one better. He had reached back and pulled off his blazer and draped it over your shoulders as he spoke.

“It’s been a long time, Princess. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you said slowly, simply. Nervous, you swallowed back anything more complicated than you could have said to him. You hadn’t gone out there for a conversation, you wanted him to touch you.

“Things are good,” you repeated, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as they raised from tracing over your silhouette again, “How’s Seattle?”

His smile grew, and your heart fluttered. His smile always made you weak for him.

“It’s great,” Vince answered, “we actually made the playoff this year-”

You cut him off with a laugh, your hand coming up to rest over your lips before you could stop yourself. “I know. I didn’t stop watching hockey just because you don’t play with my brother anymore.”

At that moment, you already knew you had said too much, and Vince wasn’t going to let it go.

“You watch my games?”

Every single one.

“When I can,” you lied, “the team had an incredible season.”

And so did you.

He had reached career highs in every category. Goals. Assists. Points. He hit milestones for them all as he helped take the team to the second round. A round you still believed they deserved to win over the Dallas Stars - but fate had other plans for them. Maybe he could help take them all the way next year, but first, he would need to sign a contract extension.

You knew it would be the last thing he wanted to talk about. So, it became the last thing on your mind as you watched him reach up to push his fingers through his thick curls. They raked through each strand, breaking up his curls before letting them fall back into place. It left you to breathe out a long exhale, fighting back the fuck that craved to be cursed on the end of your tongue. Vince knew exactly what he was doing by enticing you with his curls. You had once loved to stroke your fingers through them - to use them as your anchor as he fucked you - and now it was all you were thinking about as he hummed.

“We’ll be better next year.”

“Oh?” you raised a brow at him as you turned in place to face him fully. You had to fight the urge to hitch up your skirt and climb onto his lap. Instead, you lingered at the front of the car, standing between his knees. “Am I getting the inside scoop from Vince Dunn himself?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, a slight laugh in his words, “Nothing yet, but I want to stay there. They drafted me. They wanted me on their team,” he said, smiling. “It’s like home, but it’s complicated. You know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, “I know.”

Your brother was in the NHL. You knew how complicated the lifestyle could be. Their worlds revolved around the game and the team. More often than not, the rest of their lives had to be put on hold. Some players would go without relationships and families. Others left the home and the children under the control of their wives and any support they would need to raise them. Hockey season was the very reason you and Cristine had done all the wedding planning without Jordan. But Dunn, he never had that. He didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend or kids. Instead, Vince had hockey season and an off-season, which was dedicated to training for the next season. He just had hockey. And well, you.

“So you, ah,” Vince hesitated, “You bring a date to this thing?”

Your cheeks flushed, your hand coming down to rest on each of his thighs as you stood between them. “No, I came alone.”

Vince straightened up, sliding down the hood of the car so his feet rested firmly on the ground. It was there his hands found your waist and held you near as he quirked up his brow. “And the groomsmen you were dancing with?”

“Was a formality,” you assured him.

“He was handsy,” Vince said, his words a complaint. It left you smiling.

“He was,” you confirmed, leaning in oh so slightly. “Are you jealous?”

Vince looked away, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought about just what to say. Was jealousy even in his vocabulary?

Was it in yours?

For years, you had been on-again-off-again hooking up between his temporary flings and your attempts at a stable relationship. And not once had either of you tried to interfere. There were no strings that tied you to one another, and yet you always found your way back to his bed after what seemed to be an inevitable breakup. Even now, four years later, you were still single, and from what you could tell, so was he, and you were both so quick to want to fall back into your old habits.

“If I was?” Vince answered after a moment, his words more of a challenge than a clue to how he felt about seeing you dancing with someone else.

Smiling, you leaned in so that you spoke softly into his ear, “I think I could think of a few ways to put you at ease.” As you spoke, your hand that was resting on his thigh travelled up. Up over the strength of his muscle and between his legs to stroke his cock through his trousers.

“Fuck,” he cursed out, his bright eyes falling shut as you felt him grow stiff beneath your touch. “I left the doors unlocked. Get in the backseat. Panties off, Princess.”

Easing back, you cast a glance over the parking lot that was consumed by the amber glow of dusk. You looked for any sign of anyone who could catch the two of you in the back seat, and when you found no one, you moved to the backdoor of the car and crawled inside.

It wasn’t the most spacious of cars, the back seat narrow and the roof low as you laid out on the seat and hitched your dress up high on your hips. The slinky fabric threatened to slip with your every movement as you hooked your thumbs around your seamless panties and guided them down your legs before they slipped down your calves. When they reached your ankles, you kicked them down to the tips of your toes and let them slide to the floor.

While it hadn’t been the most elegant way of undressing, nor the most comfortable with the seat belt buckle digging into your back, it captured Vince’s attention all the same. Vince made his way to the back door you had left open, one arm propping himself up against the car while the other fell to his too-white belt around his waist. Lazily tugging at his belt, his pants became loose around his hips. Then, he worked the button and the zipper, free with a single hand, his eyes not once leaving you as you lay propped up on the narrow seat. You could feel his stare drag down your face and over the angles of your body before his eyes fixated between your legs.

Vince ran his tongue over his lower lip hungrily, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you suddenly remembered the last time you had Vince between your thighs. It was the night of the Stanley Cup Parade. His intoxication was so severe he staggered into his apartment, and you were no better. No amount of foreplay could keep his cock hard, and so he lay with you in bed for what seemed like hours, his head between your thighs. His tongue and fingers had brought you to your climax once and then again and again. Vince hadn’t stopped until your clit grew too sensitive to touch and he sobered up enough to keep his cock hard.

His tongue and fingers alone brought you some of the most intense organisms you ever felt - that was once you showed him where exactly your clit was. And the sex that followed only left your legs trembling and your body reeling with pleasure.

You wouldn’t have the same luxuries of foreplay now as you lay there, waiting, in the back seat of his car.

With his pants falling, pooling around his knees, Vince hopped into the car and shut the door firmly behind him. Then came the awkwardness of you both trying to get into just the right spot. His large body was between your legs as you propped a foot up on the back seat. Then the center console. Finally, your foot settled on the back of the driver’s seat headrest. He was stroking his eager cock as he contorted his body just right. You were sure his back was aching with the arch he needed to maintain as he guided you up the seat awkwardly until you ‌lined up with the tip of his cock just right. And before one of you could slip, he thrust his cock inside you in one swift motion.

There was a sting of resistance in your core. Your body was not quite ready for him, and it left you cursing as he pressed his hips flush with yours. Vince braced himself against the backseat, remaining still inside you as your walls broadened to accommodate him. The lack of foreplay and the unfamiliar sting only indulge your pleasure. It left your core aching for the thrust of his cock and the rocking of your hips. Feeling him fill you up with every inch of his cock so fully. It made you wet.

“That’s my girl,” Vince said, his words a satisfied hum as a smile spread across his features. Then, let his hips take their first teasing roll. “Always get so good and wet for me.”

Your teeth came down on your lower lip at his praise. You threw your head back into the seat, biting down harder. But there was no stopping the sweet “‌fuck” that slipped from your lips as you felt him draw out halfway and plunge his inches back into your desperate core.

Vince let his hips roll over and over. A smile of satisfaction grew on your face as your expression softened with pleasure. His hand left the back seat and dropped to your cheek carefully. His thumb dragged over your cheek, and settled on your lips - his focus on the swell you had coaxed to your bottom lip as he said: “So ‌beautiful-”

You couldn’t take hearing his words, his praise, so you silenced him. You stole the space between you, your lips finding him as effortlessly as you had many times before. It was so easy to fall back into old habits with him. To kiss him and to have Vince kiss you in return while he buried his cock in your tight cunt‌. To bite his lip, just to coax a moan from his lips against your own just so you could slide your tongue into his mouth. You knew his every weakness. Every move or trick to bring him closer and closer to his release - and he knew the same for you.

With your tongue stroking along his in his mouth, you could taste the familiar flavour of champagne that was served at every table. It left you completely intoxicated by him, your body on high alert as it recognized his every touch, kiss, and thrust. The pleasure left your head spinning, your lips parting in a moan that you didn’t even attempt to hold back. And you only became louder as he tugged your hair aside just enough for his lips to kiss down the angle of your neck. Desperate, you reached out to grasp at anything for support. Your hand fisted his shirt when they couldn’t carefully surround the seat beneath you. From there, you were a goner. Your moans left your throat raw and your words left your lips before you could stop yourself from saying them.

“Fuck,” you cursed out, your words lacing with your desperate moan, “I missed this. I missed you-”

You almost choked on your words. Your eyes burned as they threatened to water at the realization of what you just said. You silently cursed yourself, suddenly unable to meet his eye. If Vince asked, it would be hard for you to take back what you said - to deny that he crossed your mind almost daily for the last four years.

Yet, he didn’t question a thing. He only smiled against the delicate skin of your neck and let out those soft groans he couldn’t stop himself from holding back when he was close.

Your lips pulled back into a smirk as you dropped your heel from the back of the headrest and pressed it into the small of his back with zero hesitation. The simple action coaxed a deeper groan from his lips.

“Are you sure?” Vince asked. His words were breathy against your neck before he dragged a messy kiss along the sweet angle of your neck.

It left you gasping as you lifted your head from the cushion of his seat just to get a good look at his cock slipping in and out of your cunt. The sight alone left you speaking through grit teeth - you were so close, “If you don’t, you’re going to ruin my dress-”

And his rental car and you didn’t want to have to worry about cleaning up either.

Nodding slowly, Vince buried his face into your hair. You could feel his every heavy breath wash over you. The heat of his breath blossomed over your neck and became a sweet melody with his moans. Moans softened and broke with every thrust and became strangled by his climax.

You nearly let your eyes roll back in your own pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as your own orgasm coursed through you when you felt it. His every thick web of cum flooded your cunt after his last thrust left him buried balls deep in your core.

With your legs wrapped around your middle, you both remained there in his back seat until the desperate panting of your lungs subsided. It was then you let your heels slip off his hips and let Vince ease from his place between your legs. You winced at the void feeling that was left there. The only thing remaining was his cum that threatened to spill from your cunt.

Sighing, you reached for your panties on the floor, your fingers untangling the flimsy fabric quickly. Then, with your hips tilted up to keep his cum from slipping from you before you worked the panties up your trembling legs. The highs of your orgasm still lingered as Vince offered you his hand. You took it carefully, using it to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out beneath you when your feet hit the pavement.

You offered him a half smile, and you let his hand fall. You needed to return to the reception. This was where your night with him ended. With the help of the reflection of his car window, you straightened out your dress and fixed your hair just right. Then you began your walk back inside without a thought as to if Vince was following you back inside or not.

You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in him any further tonight.

Not at your own brother’s wedding.

Dim lights greeted you in the reception hall. A song that could have only been a request from a guest because it was not on the playlist you and Cristine put together accompanied their amber glow. Hearing it had you gravitating towards the DJ to direct him back to the curated list when you felt a hand engulf your wrist. You held your breath and your head snapped around to find Vince. He still wore that same confident smirk he had on while he was fucking you, but his eyes were playful now. With a careful tug, he was guiding you out to the dance floor.

“Vince,” you said his name alone. A caution to him as your eyes searched the dancefloor for your brother.

With his eyes glazed over from his intoxication, Jordan was standing mere feet away. If he saw you, he may not even remember it come morning. Yet, Vince kept the dance playful and unthreatening to your honour. That was until the song changed and slowed. It was then he pulled you in, your body flush with him as the two of you swayed to the melody. There, he buried his nose into your hair so you could feel his hot breath wash over the shell of your ear as he said those oh-so-complicated words, “I missed you, too.”

#vince dunn #vince dunn fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey rpf #hockey smut #nhl smut #hockey imagines

346 notes · View notes

redhoodinternaldialectical · 2 months

Note

For the writing ask: 10, and maybe 17?

(I love your writing by the way!)

:D Thank you muchly anon, both for the ask and the compliment!

Hmmm, since I already answered these elsewhere I shall link to those other answers and give you snippets related to the questions instead :3

10: Top three favourite fic tropes.

Since I mentioned my half written ABO fic, I shall give you a snippet from that rough draft!

Jason attempts to initiate an omegan "give me food as a sign I'm family" ritual with Tim one day, not realizing that no one other than Jason knows that Jason isn't an alpha. Tim interprets it as an alphetic "fuck you bitch I should be higher in the pecking order than you" move.

But then Jason's reaction to Tim baring fangs and snarling at him feels... really weird. Like, if he didn't know better that looked less like a challenger alpha backing off and more like an omega feeling hurt and rejected.

...But he does know better, is the thing. He's seen Jason's DNA, and his chromosomes are very clearly alpha, no ambiguity about it.

...He is weirdly big for an alpha though? Like, fucking huge, honestly, the kind of huge that really only loner omegas, stressed ones at that, can manage - or devoted venom users like Bane and Jason really isn't the type to go for doping. That's no guarentee, after all Dick is nearly just as big and he's as Alpha as they come, but then again, there is a reason that genotype and phenotype are different words come to think of it and...

Well shit. Maybe he doesn't know better.

The next time they meet, Tim offers him an apple out of his lunch. If Jason's actually just a big alpha, it'll be a confusing as fuck submissive respect towards a higher pack alpha move considering their earlier scuffle, possibly an insulting implication about his height or weight, and just generally very weird. But if he's an omega, it's the first step to actually repairing this.

Jason is hesitant, but accepts it, takes one bite, and then hands it back, a symbolic acceptance that proves he ate just as a bond. Very, very clear omegan behavior.

The time after that he brings enough to share, bagged such that it's easy to dole out portions. Jason is cautious, but receptive and after the confusion is explained he tucks into the food offered to him heartily.

"So, seriously, whole group of the best detectives on earth, and not a single fucking one of them put together that the extremely obvious omega who wasn't even trying to hide this shit, was an omega? Not one?"

"As far as I can tell, I'm the first to figure it out."

"Is that why Bruce keeps trying herd me all the time?!"

Tim laughs, "Yuuup! He thinks you're shoving off his overprotective routine!"

"I hate this so fucking much, it's so goddamn stupid and it explains WAY too many things!"

"I'm so sorry for solving a good third of all your social problems."

"Oh like it didn't take you this many fucking years to figure it out!"

"In my defense, I've literally never met you with your scent blockers off."

Jason mulls that over inbetween bites of lo mein. It's not a pleasant thought that he's been so removed from their lives that this might be a feasible thing to miss, "...You want to change that?"

Tim perks up, surprised, but happy, maybe even trying to rein in his own excitment, "Yeah! That- I mean whatever you're comfortable with, that'd be nice."

They go to one of Tim's apartments, since honestly Jason doesn't have a scented one. Tim greets him at the door, mouth open delicately sniffing at him. After a second of hesitation Jason leans down so they're cheek to cheek, overtly figuring out each others scents.

He smells sweat, testosterone, and a thousand other animal scents that combine to make something that is uniquely Tim. it's wonderful and Jason wants it on him, wants it all over himself.

There are human ways to ask for these things, usually involving words, and the polite exchanging of sweaters, but he doesn't know the right words, has never really had this, has never be able to try to ask, and so he doesn't. He trills, like he's feral. He honestly feels feral, so out of his depth that he's stripped down to animal need and instinct.

Tim shifts in surprise ever so subtly, then cautiously but firmly sets his cheekbone against Jason's offering what he wants wordlessly. Jason takes it, rubbing his cheek against Tim roughly all the way down from his face to where his neck connects with his shoulder.

Tim laughs breathlessly and returns the scenting affection with just as much vigor.

They rub their cheeks and necks together long enough that he gets tired of having to bend down, so Jason just picks Tim up to make it more comfortable, a low rumbling purr from him slowly getting louder, joined by Tim's encouraging alpha chirps.

They finish once they're so thoroughly drenched in each other's scent that no one but a bloodhound could tell them apart. Jason gently sets him down, backing up as much as the door behind him would allow and then they just... carry on as though it's all chill and normal, discussing cases, then some other light talk, and then sharing takeout tacos.

"How long do you think it'll take them to notice?"

"With you actually treating me like an omega? Give it maybe one visit. They can't seriously be <em>that</em> stupid."

He said, right before they immediately prove that they are, in fact, that stupid.

17: Past or present tense? Why?

For this one I'll give you the spot where I'm playing around with tense changes as a thematic device in the next chapter of Chained: To Wield the Blade we Have Forged. its under the read more cause Spoilers (also I may tweak some more stuff before it actually gets published, we'll see!)

A young girl stood on a chair cutting her hair off into messy chunks over the bathroom sink. Her face was fixed in a scowl of determination, lit only by the pale nightlight she'd taken into the bathroom.

She hadn't been willing to take the risk of turning on the proper lights. She was afraid one of her parents would walk past and see the glow through the cracks around the door and demand to know what she was doing up this late.

They'd notice her hair in the morning, obviously, but something told her that begging forgiveness in the morning was far safer than being caught in the act at night.

The scissors bent and creaked in protest as she forced them to saw through the entirety of her pony tail all at once. She muttered curses at them - Hadn't she just gotten in trouble a few days ago for playing with them because they were dangerous? Weren't these stupid things supposed to be sharp?!

Unfortunately, without the light on, and without a lock to keep anyone out, her father didn't bother to knock before he opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.

There is a moment of frozen panic as the world slides and slips into two overlapping images. In one translucent view Dad was yelling about what on earth she thought she was doing to her hair and about waking Mom up to try and salvage it. That sequence slips like oil off of the concrete surface of this other moment.

Dad stands still and quiet. There is a sorrow on his face so profound it's frightening.

"I think I regret this argument more than any other. Maybe it's- you know human memory is a mess but... it felt later like this must've been where it all went wrong."

She didn't understand; this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"What?"

"After I found out about Robin and the puberty blockers and Bruce, I thought about this moment a lot. Couldn't help but look back and try and sort it all out in my head. And maybe I didn't ask for your perspective on it enough, or maybe I asked about it too much or - cripes I don't know, but it felt like this was where the first brick in the wall between us got laid."

Tim suddenly remembers that he hasn't been the little girl in this bathroom for thirteen years. He's left adrift, standing there in his pajamas, scissors still in hand.

"I- I don't know. I don't really think about this much anymore. It's been years since I thought about anything that happened when I was this young."

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #damian's tomfoolery #chained: to wield the blade we have forged #chained fanfic

27 notes · View notes

roomwithanopenfire · 4 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone!! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog and @artsyunderstudy!!

This week I’ve done the big three: writing, editing, and ignoring my wips, with perhaps a bit more of the last one than I’d like. Most of my writing this week has been for an exchange fic for a different fandom, which I finally finished the rough draft of. Cue the celebration. However, even if I wanted to share anything from that, I can’t, it must remain hush-hush, but I am getting pretty excited to share it (and way more excited about receiving my own exchange fic back, this whole thing is very fun).

I’ve written less than 300 words on my COBB this week, and none of them are good, but I have gotten some editing done of Proof of Life. I can’t share any more snippets of the next chapter though because I’ve shared too much already. So instead, I figured I’d do a bit of a process post this time around, because I always love reading those. Check that out under the cut! (and i'm sorry this is long, i still have not learned brevity)

So my editing process isn’t too crazy, and is brought to you almost entirely by google docs comments. I also use the word ‘editing’ very loosely to encompass rewriting, revising, and proofreading. Sometimes editing means completely rewriting a scene/section, sometimes it just means switching around a couple of words or cleaning up a sentence.

Mostly, I try not to take everything so seriously, because I know that I could edit something forever and ever and never post it if I let myself get too carried away. So I try to keep everything pretty chill. So here’s my steps I go through for each chapter that I edit.

Step One: Reread the whole chapter. While I do this, I’ll leave comments on big picture things. “Maybe move this scene into the next chapter” or “The dialogue in this scene feels stilted” but I don’t add a lot of comments at this point. Once I’m done with this I’ll copy over any comments I had on the first draft or the beta reader copy over into the ‘draft two’ document.

Step Two: COMMENTS. Again, my fics are brought to you by google doc comments. I like to go through from the bottom up, reading scene by scene and leaving comments on pretty much every single sentence.

A lot of the time (read: most of the time) these are really vague like:

And sometimes these are more detailed like:

And occasionally these are compliments

Step Three: Once the whole chapter is filled with comments, I go through scene by scene (in whatever order speaks to me), and rewrite, edit, or fix sections. This part I find really fun, because I’m taking parts that aren’t good yet and I’m making them better. I love fixing things and getting rid of all the comments. It typically ends up being a lot of rewriting, but I always finish a scene feeling better about it then when I started.

For example, here’s the draft one vs. draft two version of a snippet from the first chapter of Proof of Life. This is one of the scenes I pretty much rewrote. Others look a lot more similar to their original versions.

Original:

Edited:

Step Four: Then before I post a chapter, I’ll read through the whole thing and sometimes find smaller bits to fix. Then I’ll run it through a grammar checker and ignore half of their suggestions in the name of ✨style ✨.

Overall, I feel like I have a pretty basic editing strategy and I’m really pleased with it. Even though sometimes I feel like more robust edits would make everything way better, it’s a good mix of fixing things but not spending too much time on it. I remember I spent like a month on editing the very first fic I posted at that was only 6k words. If I kept doing that for everything, I'd never post anything at all. With fanfiction, I know that y'all will be nice to me even though it's never perfect <333

Tags and Hellos!! (I'm unsure if we still need the spaces, but i've been burned too many times lol)

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @m1ndwinder @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee

@onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16

@thewholelemon @monbons @shrekgogurt @brendughh @hertragedyconnoisseur

@beastmonstertitan @valeffelees @horsesarenotdeer @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs

@fiend-for-culture @rimeswithpurple @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife

@arthurkko @rbkzz @skeedelvee @bookish-bogwitch @brilla-brilla-estrellita

#one day i will make a short wipsday post #today is not the day #listen to all my ramblings everyone #look at my screenshots #i just love the sound of my voice #proof of life #my writing #editing #six sentence sunday #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz

35 notes · View notes

riddledeep · 24 days

Text

FOP Sideblog Update - Sept. 2024

Hi! This lovely ol' sideblog's been tidied up in light of A New Wish! I have a new AU for New Wish works. Let's talk about it!

Main blog - @fountainpenguin

My FFN - My AO3

Sideblog masterpost

Housekeeping Updates

- New avatar - @zachbrightside and I updated our FOP sonas. Tossed the headcanon'd honorary pixie hat on mine! :) Shout-out to that one kid in "School of Crock" who wore this hat with no explanation. And squared my gal's wings! Experimented with pink and purple hair options, but I like the brown too much to change.

- Fixed all broken masterpost links - Checked 3 or 4 times, so let me know if you find something wrong.

- Added things to the masterpost that weren't there (Ex: Art section)

- Combed through every post and changed the bullet point system so they're easier to read, following format update from several years ago that condensed the spacing between bulleted items.

-> As part of this, I've used indents and dashes in place of bullets in many posts. I've also added periods on otherwise blank lines to force blank space, as the blank space is another thing we lost during that format update.

-> This is so posts will look better on the dashboard. The dots may seem odd when viewed directly on the blog, but it definitely makes it easier to not lose my place while editing long posts. Also, they should be more readable now than they would be if they're reblogged to others' dashboards without this change.

- I combed through the short bios and long profiles and divided paragraphs more. There were many bulky paragraphs that have now been divided in a way that should make posts - especially these big profiles - easier to read.

-> Cleaned the "Appearances" sections of the long profiles. They used to list each 'fic that character is in, but now they have a labeled AO3 link to works written by me that include that character. Sleek, clean, and automatically updates!

- Shout-out to me having Dale Dimmadome already down as one of H.P. and Sanderson's past godkids 5+ years ago. I knew that was my headcanon, but I did not remember that was on his profile and I'm glad it was, haha... oh no. I don't know what my plan is for that in light of New Wish, but I'll figure it out.

- Changed posts that called my canon Riddleverse Classic to say Cloudlands AU, since that's the new name for my series. Left the name Riddleverse for posts that encompass multiple AUs.

-> Updated my Icebreaker post with this and other new info

- Deleted any posts tagged as "Delete later"

- I have a lot of long profiles and other posts saved to my drafts from years ago. Once Tumblr shifted to the new format (including with the queue), it became so distressing and ever-changing that I struggled a lot to find my footing.

Ex: They took away line dividers, which I thought was frustrating since I used those on my long posts and found them helpful. I was holding out hope they'd return. - Some posts (like my wing refs and the giant 20k-word class overviews) kept getting flagged if I edited them, and I was worried I'd lose my stuff or have the account deleted - Back then, the queue would only tell me which day of the week something was posting, not which month or day. It was just overwhelming to create a schedule or keep track of my stuff, so I took a break from Tumblr in general.

These days, I'm much more comfortable with the editor and my queue is now more specific about deadlines. I look forward to posting here again!

I won't be on a schedule, and the big character profiles do take a lot out of me, but my plan back in the day was to release one a month. Might be able to get to there! If not, maybe the short bios.

Future of this FOP Sideblog

- More worldbuilding posts! I let this blog sit a long time because I felt like I'd said all my worldbuilding and the only thing to do now was profiles and bios (which I was reluctant to prioritize when I felt "behind" in my 'fics).

However, I found some things I'd never moved to this blog, such as my notes on aging. I'd like to post that and others I found.

- No longer hesitant about sharing stuff for "weird" characters or OCs. I had a post about celebrity kids (Poof's age and younger) that I never posted because I didn't think anyone would care about my headcanons for Simon Sparklefield (who only appears in one obscure episode I don't count as fully canon anyway) or Billy Crystal Ball (also obscure) but... Hey, that's why you're here, isn't it? So let's talk celebrities!

In other words, I'd like to bring this blog back as the unapologetic place to share my FOP things. We have references to canon characters and talk of OCs (like Hadley, Emery, Whistle, Soren, China, Anti-Saffron, Kalysta, Iris, Idona... List goes on.)

- This blog will have more polished fanart than the doodles from my main blog

- Polished 'fic cover images will be reblogged here. By this, I mean the posts I do on my main blog that outline what to expect from a 'fic. I won't reblog my general chapter announcements; I don't want to flood this blog with those.

- 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash's cover will be reblogged, but the posts for individual trains won't be. - Existing cover images will get new, polished posts for their 'fics before I reblog them here.

- I went through the blog and added the tag "Cloudlands AU" to many posts, apart from a few I'm still hesitant to edit (or where it didn't seem worth noting). Cloudlands AU refers to my lore for the 11 seasons of the main series (i.e. including the "Oh Yeah!" shorts), and this is what my sideblog was meant for.

- The reason for this new tag is to separate it from City Lights AU: my new AO3 series for works about New Wish. These works are not compliant with Cloudlands AU, which was designed years ago.

Ex: Peri and Irep will get a short bio on this blogged tagged as City Lights AU to explain what we're setting up for their characters over there, distinct from the existing short bio for Poof and Foop in Cloudlands AU (who are very well established in their arcs). In other words, I'm not rewriting Cloudlands AU canon to fit with A New Wish, but I still want to write works for New Wish. Expect bios and art for Hazel and Dev here someday (and others).

The next thing I post will be Hadley's full character profile (now with updates that are compliant with A New Wish).

After that, I'll reblog my Cloudlands AU and City Lights AU guides to this blog so they'll be under their tags and on the masterlist.

When that's all done, I'd like to knock out full character profiles for Dale, Dev, and Hazel when I can (in addition to finishing my drafts for Cosmo, Wanda, Poof, and Foop). Long, slow process, but it would be cool to have those things done by the end of 2024 or early 2025.

Feeling decent about my idea for Hazel's birthdate. I have nice options for Dev, but no commitment until Zach and I nail down where "Operation: Birthday Takeback" goes in our New Wish timeline. Enjoying the process so far! -> Dev's b-day is QUITE the toss-up between options like "National Day of Unplugging," "Plant a Lemon Tree Day," and the absolutely golden combo of "Pizza Party & Virtual Assistants Day." And perhaps others we've not investigated!

I think that's everything! Hopefully, this is the last "blog news" announcement we have for a while, and the blog can return to being a landing spot for fanart and story meta.

As always, the sideblog's Asks are closed as I want to maintain a consistent feel for this blog. You can reach out to my main blog (Askbox here) if you want to ask a worldbuilding question.

Additionally, I'm interested in following other people's worldbuilding / AUs so I can engage more with the community, especially those passionate about FOP worldbuilding. -> I'm open to self-advertisement if you want to shoot me an Ask on my main blog telling me where I can find your work! -> I'd prefer to follow a blog that is primarily for FOP worldbuilding / art / 'fics (or subscribe to an AO3 series for FOP works), but I'm open to consideration if your blog is multi-fandom! My preference: Thoughtful takes on characters and world that dig deeper than just ship art / ship 'fics- Nothing against shipping, but I'm more interested in character analyses and worldbuilding. Bonus points for a focus on miserable children, Dale lemonade trauma, Pixies, or Timmy growing up to lose his memories and live an average human life. If you don't fit this, you can still recommend your AU and I'll check it out, but that's my wishlist :) Also, if there's anyone who makes Timmy/Molly content, you are my hero and should totally link me your work.

It's such an honor to see so many followers of this sideblog despite its long absence! To those of you interested in staying with me as we enter this next phase, thank you very much - it means a lot to me - and I hope you enjoy browsing!

And to anyone who's lost interest, thank you for spending time while you were here <3

One last note - My goal has always been to reblog others' fanart for my 'fics here, but most of them are still sitting in my drafts, unreblogged. I'll queue those up. I'm always delighted to receive gift art! Feel free to tag @riddledeep and I'll reblog it here! Same goes for gift 'fics, so don't hesitate to share!

#Fairly OddParents #FOP #A New Wish #FOP: A New Wish #FOP:ANW #Cloudlands AU #City Lights AU #RD general

22 notes · View notes

blakbonnet · 2 months

Text

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: @saltpepperbeard

The second featured author of this week is the lovely, loquacious, and truly the best bestie anyone could have: Jodi ♥️ I don't know how she does it but Jodi's fics are fast becoming my most comfortable corner of ao3 to be in because she just has such a way with words, and I do think we should all let her write s3 😌 I also annoyed her into answering some questions for me and sharing her writing process:

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

So I *used* to write sequentially, ie from beginning to end, but the process has gotten more and more chaotic over the years—unhinged, one might say lol! Now, I typically start things off by drafting sections of a story, which ends up being a lot of dialogue more often than not. Like, there are *definitely* some wips in my drafts right now that are almost 100% Stede and Ed talking and nothing else lol (which I mean...staying true to their characters there if you ask me)! Then, if a bit of good description comes to me, I'll pencil that somewhere into the draft, too. And only *then* lol, if things are feeling right and the motivation is feeling high, will I actually attempt to write in sequential order—essentially just playing "fill in the blanks" and writing towards things I've drafted to mix everything all together!

...But sometimes my brain does still fast-forward and write future sections if the good ol' "shower/going to bed daydreams" strike. So it really just depends lol!

My 2014 writing brain, in Ed's voice: You are improving though! Kinda.

Favourite trope or headcanon you like to explore while writing?

...Squints at my tags on AO3 lol. If you see that almost *all* of my stories are hurt/comfort, no you don't <3. I just absolutely adore taking all the hurt Ed and Stede have gone through and soothing it with cuddles, kisses, and soft reassurances. Because man, *man,* have they both been through a lot. It's like Pandora's Box lol; once you start digging into the true depths of their hurt, you just end up with more and more and MORE. There's just so much that they both need and *deserve* to talk through as a crew—or talk through as a "two," as some have said lol, so I adore exploring that. I adore allowing them to have that space and that safety. *Particularly* with Ed getting to unpack things he faced in the earlier parts of Season 2, and with Stede getting to unpack...*anything.*

Also, because I write entirely in-universe, I'm a big fan of implementing some of the common, lovely headcanons. Ie, the crew coming to visit, the two of them maintaining a garden, the British never finding them, etc etc. I know not all of my published works reflect those, but a lot of my drafts do, promise lol!

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

I *still* feel like I'm trying to nail down that ✨ kiwi cadence,✨ not going to lie lol! But, in sitting with this question and sort of going back and forth on it for a while, I think I'm ultimately going to have to land on Stede in most instances. Maybe because I'm one of the ✨ Stede-coded Girlies (gn)✨ , or maybe because I adore Ed so much and subsequently find it easier to gush over him narratively lol! But yeah.

Strangely enough though, I will say I find it easier to write Ed's voice when he's dealing with hurt, vs writing Stede's voice when he's dealing with hurt. I think that's because Ed is more open with his pain, and deals with it in more candid ways, whereas Stede likes to bottle things up and hide. So, it's subsequently harder to crack him open and let out everything that has backed up.

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

-Ed voice- Oooowaaaagggh.

Is coming to the table with two stories cheating? Because, I have two lol! I'm very proud of Scrumptious, and also Lovers of Beauty. The former because it was an idea that had been sitting in my head *forever* and I'm so happy it finally got realized, and the latter because it was my first go at writing other characters as well as an exploration of a very particular vein of Ed's hurt. Can't go wrong with Horny Stede and Ed in a dress either, I'd say lol!

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

Lmao: INTERTWINED. I feel like it's shown up in almost every single story I've written post-season 2, if not *every* single story. I'm just a big fan of throwing their canon quotes in my narration, with the "breathing the same air" and "love letter" speeches getting the most mileage. OH and also Stede's mermaid speech, too; "I'm here. I'm here. You're safe" assuredly gets thrown into the mix as well lol.

Also uhhhh, on a sillier note, I'd definitely say that the good' ol "fuck" gets a lot of usage lol! Ed and I 🤝 enhancing many a sentence with it.

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

I do not! We die like the Badmintons.

I instead rely on myself for the long and tedious part of my process I call "combing." Ie, going over my last draft with a fine tooth comb to catch typos or any other silliness to the best of my ability.

Would I benefit from a beta reader? Probably, yes. Would I spook from having a beta reader? Probably, yes PFFF. So, combing it is!

Why OFMD 🥹

God, this show. GOD, this show. I just take such a deep and personal comfort in it for so many reasons. I think the two things that snagged me initially were: getting to see queer people just *being,* and getting to see *older* people finding love. The way that this show portrays us in such a natural, lovely light is so, so refreshing. It's like how Taika has often talked about it; there's no triumphant "coming out" type moment, there's no sensationalizing anything, and there's no spotlight on the queerness. It just...*is.* Everyone just loves whoever the hell they want, and there's no questioning or even discussing the implications of that. And I adore that. I adore the *freedom* of that. It just makes the show feel all the more personable and cozier, too.

Also, man, to see older queer people finding love...I'm going to be vulnerable on main here; I don't have a lot of relationship experience, and I'm nearing my 30's. Western Society/Culture puts this *huge* pressure on people to find the love of their life and have it all figured out by their low/mid 20's, so not fitting that norm has been quite the gut stab for me. And yes yes, I know, it's all entirely fabricated and no one has the same timeline, but it still aches to see, particularly when a lot of media portrays love within that age group, if not *younger.*

So, to see these two men nearing *50* finally finding each other after a life of emptiness and pain? To see them finally finding the person who understands them better than anyone else? And to subsequently get the comfort that somewhere, sometime, you'll cross paths with someone who just *gets* you? Ooooagh.

I think that plays into another part of the show that I adore, too. Ie, the theme that "things are going to be okay." That, no matter how dark and dreary things may seem in the moment, you could still have your mermaid moment, and subsequently end up in a cozy little inn with the love of your life. That there's so much kindness and hope and *love* awaiting you.

It's just so comforting on so many levels and I adore it with all my heart. It's a shame that CERTAIN execs and people equivalent will never be able to understand the depth and the importance; they're entirely, truly missing out.

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters (who also made the header) and send your love to all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

#aotw #author of the week #artist of the week #ofmd #our flag means death #writing

35 notes · View notes

steddieunderdogfics · 9 months

Text

This week's writer's spotlight feature is: @rindecision! With forty-two works on Ao3 in the Stranger Things fandom, they've written thirty-one (!) works with the Steddie ship tag!

Nominated by @skjachukson, they recommend the following works by rindecision:

You Know Where to Find Me — Live Aid

Nectar

Give Me Fuel, Give me Fire

From Hell and Back

Rindecision has been a great friend throughout the Steddie holiday exchange, and their writing is just so fantastic. - @skjachukson

Below the cut, @rindecision answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

It started when my partner asked me to. I’ve always loved writing, but I never got into fanfics until they asked me to write a specific type of story that led to the creation of The Devil of Hawkins. From there it was a slippery slope!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Due to ADHD and the corresponding comprehension issues, I rarely read. Not just fics, but anything really. Although, I do personally enjoy whatever the sneaking around trope is. The characters being intimate in places or situations where they shouldn’t be.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

So far I’ve found that I enjoy FWB to Lovers with Steddie. Most of my fics tend to revolve around that.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m currently enjoying ‘I Think I Could Have Been Someone’ by @madaboutmunson

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m new to fandoms so honestly I don’t really know a lot of tropes by name, but I have a long list of fics I want to write at some point. I have a ‘Through The Ages’ Steddie series in mind that I hope to do at some point.

What is your writing process like?

Harrowing. It’s honestly pretty complex as I’m using writing fanfics as a means to improve as a writer in general so I can be more confident when I get around to my originals. But the short version is: Rough Draft -> Proof Read 1 -> Beta Proof -> Proof Read 2 -> Grammar Edit -> Text-To-Speech Edit -> Final Beta Proof.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Probably, lol. I try to keep my writing concise and leave little up to the imagination. The partner that requested I write fanfics has aphantasia (lack of imagination) and they read everything I write, so I want them to be able to enjoy it just as much as anyone else.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’m kind of chaotic on this one. It depends on the fic to be honest. So far, I’ve found I prefer posting ongoing fics without a schedule that I just post a chapter on as soon as I’m done editing it, whenever that happens to be. Other than the ‘You Know Where to Find Me’ series, the only fics I’ve posted on a schedule have been event fics and it’s been a bit more stressful than I expected it to be.

Which fic are you most proud of?

That would have to be my ‘You Know Where to Find Me’ series. Particularly the first one: ‘Valentines ‘85’

How did you get the idea for You Know Where to Find Me — Live Aid?

I needed something powerful between ‘Independence Day’ and ‘First Day of School’ but couldn’t think of anything that would work. @stardust-walker helped me work out the details. That entry genuinely wouldn’t exist without their help.

When writing Nectar, what was something you didn’t expect?

Managing to stay under the 20k word limit. 😅

What inspired Give Me Fuel, Give me Fire?

A Twitter post about mechanic Steve in cut-off shorts.

What was your favorite part to write from From Hell and Back?

That’s a hard one. I don’t think I have a singular part that I liked the most, but I really enjoyed being able to explore the logistics and lore around Eddie being a shapeshifting demon. In and out of Steve’s bedroom.

How do/did you feel writing Give Me Fuel, Give me Fire?

I was surprised by the reception it got, and I can’t wait to get back to writing it as soon as I’m done with the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang

What was the most difficult part of writing You Know Where to Find Me — Live Aid?

The time limit. I had 2 weeks to write and edit nearly 30k words. It made me hit burnout HARD, but I got it back pretty quickly.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think that would have to be the first kiss in The Devil of Hawkins. It was also the first Steddie kiss I ever wrote. 🤍

“You aren’t stopping me, Harrington.” Eddie’s lips barely grazed over Steve’s as he spoke. “I know,” Steve squeaked. The feeling of Steve’s lips plucking his like a guitar pick was more than he could handle. He leaned forward, finalizing the kiss. They both let out a small groan. Eddie placed his other hand on the back of Steve’s neck, holding his head carefully, yet firmly. Eddie pulled away for a moment and looked at Steve; there was a look of longing on his face. An expression that Eddie was hoping for. He faintly smiled before pushing Steve’s lips to his own, plunging his tongue between them. He could feel Steve tense below him before relaxing into it.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

‘You Know Where to Find Me’ will be coming to a close in March, but there will be at least 5 more entries to it. I will also be posting my entry for the STRBB in March. I hope after those are done I can jump back into my ongoings.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I just want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone that’s read my work, and a platonic hug and kiss for those who have gone out of their way to leave comments or reblog them. It means the world to me 🤍🖤

Thank you to our author, @rindecision and our nominator, @skjachukson! See more of @rindecision's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steddie writers #writer's spotlight #rindecision #steddieunderdogfics #steve x eddie #steddie fics #steve harrington #eddie munson

61 notes · View notes

captainsophiestark · 28 days

Text

No Way To Know For Sure Part 2

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Part 1 - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Also written for @ghostofskywalker as a part 2 to the fic you let me adopt a while ago! I've had this in my drafts since all that AI stuff and I'm happy to have rediscovered and finished it 😄 Hope you like it!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Now that you've decided to move to LA with Daniel, there's a few loose ends left to tie up in New York.

Word Count: 2,174

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed dramatically as I sared straight ahead out the window, watching all the people bustling around the streets and the familiar, giant buildings hovering over them. I'd been gone for some time now, but New York hadn't changed.

Jarvis, currently in the driver's seat of the car, was positively buzzing, and I could tell he was struggling not to say anything. Even the great city of New York couldn't keep me distracted from all the ridiculous energy he was projecting.

"Alright, Mr. Jarvis, spit it out," I said, at last turning from the window to look at my friend. He glanced at me, lips pursed tight to try and hold back a smile before he had to turn his gaze back to the road.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I must admit, I'm rather excited. Since Mr. Stark has been spending more time in Los Angeles, I've missed seeing all of you here in New York. Having you regularly in Los Angeles as well as Rose and Chief Sousa... well, it will be a delight."

A smile made its way onto my face despite my best effots. I'd wanted Daniel to drive me in to the office this morning to put in my transfer request for the LA office, but he had a meeting with an informant he couldn't move. I hadn't really wanted to resort to Jarvis, only because I knew he wouldn't be able to stay calm about my decision, but now I had to admit I was happy to be here with him.

"It'll be wonderful to get to see more of you too, Mr. Jarvis," I said with a smile. "You, me, Ana, and Daniel should set up a regular double date."

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Jarvis turned to give me a big smile as we at last pulled up in front of the New York SSR. He hopped out and ran around to open my door for me, beating me to the punch of opening it myself, something we'd turned into a bit of a competition. "Ana will be delighted at the idea too, I'm sure."

"Maybe we can even invite Howard," I said, my voice serious even though I was cackling in my head. I got out of the car and stood, smirking at Jarvis' less than enthusiastic expression as I continued. "He can bring along whoever he's brought home with him on any given week."

"That may be the single most horrifying suggestion I've heard in my entire life."

I cackled, clapping Jarvis on the shoulder as I walked past him and towards the entrance to the "telephone company".

"Thanks for the ride! I promise I won't let Howard crash any of our couples' nights, unless he finally gets a girlfriend who sticks around for more than a few weeks."

"At this point in Mr. Stark's life, a few days would be impressive," he called after me. I laughed, then turned back at the door to give Jarvis a smile.

"I'll see you back in LA!"

"I'm looking forward to it!"

I smiled and waved before finally heading through the door and back into the familiar hallways of the New York SSR. Daniel would be picking me up later, after I got everything sorted out for my move, and then who knew when I'd next be back in this place and this city. We had plenty of friends here and the other half of the SSR, so it's not like I'd never see the city again, but for the first time since I'd started working here I had no idea when I'd next be back. I tried not to let it get to me, but stepping into the currently-empty bullpen of the place I'd spent so much time in the last few years drove the knife in a little harder.

I'd intentionally arrived before most of the other agents got here, hoping to avoid a lot of hubub about my transfer request. No matter how nostalgic I felt being here, my decision had been made. I loved Daniel and the life I'd started building with Daniel in LA enough that nothing could make me want to leave it. Not even my favorite pizza place on the way between here and my former apartment.

"Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Of course, I couldn't get away with avoiding Chief Jack Thompson, especially not when I had to turn my transfer request papers in to him. He came striding out of his office, a massive grin on his face as he crossed the bullpen towards me.

"Long time no see, Agent."

"I saw you two weeks ago, Jack."

"Yeah, but in LA. You've been on-loan for a while. I haven't seen you as my agent, in New York, in a long time."

I just rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, enjoy the next half hour then, because as soon as these papers are finalized, I'm officially Daniel's agent."

"Now hold on a minute, I have some serious concerns about you leaving that we need to address before I finalize anything. I mean, is it really appropriate for a chief to be dating one of his own agents? Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me."

"Jack. You are the one who sent me there, you meddling mother hen, with the exact hope that this would happen. I will literally fight you in the middle of the bullpen if you want to use that against me now."

Jack held up his hands. "Alright, relax. Your transfer's basically already finalized, I just need your signature next to mine. Then you can go run off into the sunset with Sousa and leave the greatest city in the world behind like it's nothing."

"Alright, you went to Ithica for college. At least I'm leaving for another interesting city, even if it's not as good."

"At least we can agree on that last part."

I snorted, but I couldn't totally keep a smile off my face either. Jack and I had actually kind of become friends in the past few months, especially in the wake of Daniel leaving, and I was surprised to find a little ping of sadness in my chest at the thought of leaving him behind with the rest of this city. If you'd told me a few years ago I'd be missing Jack Thompson, I would've laughed in your face.

Jack pulled the transfer papers out of a file on the nearest desk where they'd apparently been waiting for me all morning, setting them down in front of me. In turn, I handed him the papers I'd filled out since I last saw him, then glanced at what was in front of me. True to his word, they only needed my signature to be finalized.

"We're gonna miss you around here," he said, his voice unusually serious. I glanced up to find him holding out a pen to me, a small smile on his face. "Seriously."

"...I'm gonna miss you too, Jack."

We held each other's gaze for a few moments, maybe the first time we'd had a sincere exchange in my entire time working here. Finally, he cleared his throat, looking away as I finally took the pen from his hand.

"Alright, that's enough of that sappy crap. You bring a box to clean out your desk? I don't want to have to waste agency time clearing out whatever garbage you left in there before you went to LA."

"Don't worry, I've got a plan for all my leftover trash and scribbled notes I don't need anymore."

"I don't like the way you said that. What do you-"

"Oh, thank goodness!"

I straightened from signing the documents after finishing the last one to find Peggy coming through the doors into the bullpen, looking slightly more frazzled than usual. She shook her head at me as she approached, dropping her stuff at the base of the desk and putting her hands on her hips.

"I thought I'd missed you. I can't believe you were planning to just duck in and duck out this morning. What were you planning to do if Thompson hadn't called me to tell me when you were coming in? Just leave for Los Angeles without a goodbye?"

"Actually, Daniel and I were planning to invite the two of you to dinner tonight for a real goodbye. I'm just trying to avoid causing a scene in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of the SSR's workday."

Peggy and Jack both scoffed, the sounds eerily similar. I raised an eyebrow, but Jack leaned in and snatched the papers off my desk before I could comment.

"Alright, I'm gonna go process these since you don't want to hang around here. By the time you're done with your desk, I'll be done with these."

I nodded, watching Jack's back as he headed back into his office. As soon as he disappeared through the doorway, I turned back to Peggy.

"I need you to get him out of his office for, like, five minutes between when I finish cleaning out my desk and when I head out of here. I'm gonna put all the papers and stuff I don't need in his desk."

Peggy grinned. "I'll make sure you have the window of opportunity you need."

"I knew I could count on you."

We snuck a high-five before Jack could notice, then I headed over my desk to start the packing process in earnest. There really wasn't much I needed to get, since I'd brought most of the things I needed with me to LA the first time, but a handful of the things I'd collected found a temporary home in my bag. Even better, the stack of trash I was planning to stick in Jack's office was substantial, and just like Peggy'd promised, she dragged Jack away from his desk long enough to give me just the opening I needed.

I stepped out of his office and back into the bullpen after finishing my mission, and a moment later, Peggy and Jack came around the corner to join me. I smiled at the both of them.

"Desk's been cleared. Papers are done. I think... I'm officially all finished up here."

"You sure I'm not going to find some trash you forgot about when I try to put somebody else at your desk?" Jack asked, hands on his hips. I rolled my eyes and sighed, responding without missing a beat.

"Of course not, Jack. You're not going to find any forgotten trash in my desk. Come on."

All true, technically. Peggy grinned at me, but I managed to keep a straight face as Jack put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"...I guess this is it, then, huh?"

"I guess it is."

I sighed, looking around at the empty bullpen one last time. I hadn't been working out of this office for a while now, and it's not like I'd never be back. But something about having my desk packed, ready to head out the door with the last of my roots pulled up still hit me a bit.

"I'm... gonna miss you guys," I said, shaking my head as I turned back to my two friends. Jack rolled his eyes, since we'd already exhausted his reserve of sincerity for the day, but Peggy gave me a soft smile.

"We'll miss you too. And you can expect regular visits from us in the winter, when we're sick of the snow and need to use our friends for access to the sunshine in Los Angeles."

I grinned. "As long as you promise to bring real pizza with you whenever you visit."

"Deal."

We shared a smile, and thankfully, before any of us could get any sappier, Daniel walked through the door, his meeting with his contact apparently over with.

"Hey," he said, giviing me a smile as he walked over to join us. He leaned in to give me a quick kiss, then pulled back with a smile. "You ready to go? Our favorite breakfast place is waiting for us."

I smiled, then gave Daniel a nod. We were technically on vacation, so we'd planned to spend the rest of our day on a tour of all of our favorite places in New York city.

"We'll see you guys for dinner tonight, right?" Daniel asked as he took my hand, the two of us taking a few steps towards the door.

"As long as you're buying," called Jack, and Peggy nodded. Daniel shot him a thumbs up as I rolled my eyes, and just like that, Daniel and I were standing on the threshold of the New York SSR.

"You ready?" Daniel asked, leaning in to whisper to me. I took a deep breath, sparing one last moment of reminiscing for the place I'd spent so much of my life in over the last few years, then turned to Daniel with a smile.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

He smiled back at me, giving my hand a quick squeeze before we turned our backs on the office, officially and completely moving forward together. It still stung a little to be leaving, but not nearly as badly as it could've, since I knew and loved where I was heading.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

18 notes · View notes