#I don’t get why people are so against gun control the only reason why they’d be against it is if they have some shit to hide and if they do

[cheemscakecat]

Dream thing Emesis Blue

So you know how you have dreams, and someone that isn’t your mom or dad is called that and you go along with it? Because you aren’t awake? There’s situations where dream logic sounds right to your sleeping brain, and when you wake up you realize it doesn’t make sense.

The hand that drops Ma’s head could be a gloveless Medic.

The fingertips we see look grey like when Scout and Medic were in the ambulance. Except there’s one thing wrong with that theory.

Ma’s face is noticeably warmer toned than the fingers, next to the same unseen light.

But you know whose gloves have grey fingertips?

Still, that doesn’t explain why Scout is afraid of Medic/ seeing him as a monster when he’s rescued at the slaughterhouse.

So there’s one of two ways that could happen if Emesis Blue is a dream:

Scout cut away to being locked in the coffin and “knew” it was Medic’s fault. The way dreams suddenly take you into a new scene or change the plot, but you don’t notice since you’re asleep. The problem is we can’t discount this theory since we have a big gap in Scout’s perspective.

Maybe it was an Engineer holding Ma’s head, but he saw “Medic” hunched over her body, like Ludwig did in his time loop.

But if it’s option two, there’s a secondary possibility. Look at how RED this scene is. Red enough that if this is the enemy Medic, you wouldn’t be able to tell. And what happened on BLU team that would warrant RED Medic showing up?

In addition to that, RED Medic joined Team Classic, which was hunting down the Admin’s mercenaries.

If BLU team’s been in hiding for 6 months, and Scout’s the youngest on the team trying to protect his Ma, his fear of getting found would still linger after the comic 7 resolution.

It was never actually BLU Medic that cut off Ma’s head; it was nightmare RED Medic. BLU is hallucinating his future car crash self like he hallucinated the plague doctor and being locked in a coffin. Scout didn’t realize he was accusing the wrong guy, since he was dreaming.

Decapitating someone unarmed and pulling out Scout’s teeth are both actions you’d expect from RED Medic if you were an enemy teammate hearing rumors about his crazy experiments.

Here’s the painful part:

If my shared nightmare theory is right, Scout’s going to wake up, check on Ma, calm down, and realize that he had the wrong Medic. And probably have a nasty gut feeling that he shouldn’t have accused the doctor, even if it was in a dream.

But Dr. Ludwig? The guy having a nightmare about his mental illness forcing him to hurt people out of spite? He’s going to think one of his personalities killed BLU Ma and kidnapped Scout. And that’s going to aggravate his already fearful and distrustful attitude towards them.

Electric Eye Medic immediately went to take the sentry gun to defend Ludwig and Scout when he got control of the body. And when he saw that he was too late to save Scout, he went into a revengeful rage and killed both Engineers. Maybe Scout doesn’t know it, but he’s met this personality before, and he sees the kid as a friend too.

That’s why I’m convinced he switched to being in control, stabbed Hoovy in the eye, and was the one crying in the elevator. Maybe he was already grieving internally, but had to take control again and Soldier/Demo saw the butt end of him crying, just when he decided to get more revenge.

The laugh/face of a man who’d burn that stupid briefcase in front of the whole cult if he could.

Funeral Medic’s hand was shaking from rage after he shot Spy. He probably witnessed Electric Eye crying and trying to explain how he failed to save Scout. Maybe it was the reason he waited for Spy to finish his speech; he was gonna shoot him anyway, but wanted that bozo to think he was safe and had gotten away with his lies.

That being said, I doubt that Medic’s other personalities are going to hold it against him if he accuses them of stuff they didn’t do. Definitely going to be upset, but at the same time they’d know he’s only saying it because he doesn’t know their intentions, and he’s equally disturbed and angry over what happened.

#tf2 #emesis blue #character analysis #Weird freakin nightmare theory #Not a psychologist.

[heartxshaped-bruises]

@writingxthexsilence​ CONT’D FROM X

She'd only pulled over long enough to finishing sending her text to her brother. They were supposed to meet up for dinner and she was running late. Fucking alarm never went off for her nap and she'd overslept, now rushing to makeup for lost time and warn him of her delayed arrival.

Her entire plan had been upended and destroyed when her car door was wretched open and she felt the hard, cold metal of s gun barrel against the back of her head. Fear spiked in her veins and her fingers momentarily became useless, dropping her phone to the floor.  Instinctively her hands went onto her steering wheel - her father's reminder to comply with danger until an opportunity for escape presented itself.  Being trained to cope with extraordinary and vile circumstances did nothing to help the flareup of the emotions associated with them.  It was the only part Emily had never been able to master.

She shook her head slightly and pulled out of the parking spot, unsure of where he intended for her to take him.  But she wasn't going to waste time with inaction. The sooner he got to his destination and away from her, the better.

Her facade of calm hid the raging terror swirling within. Her eyes risked a glance in her rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of her captor, his face featureless and hidden beneath a mask. They searched his reflection for any other distinguishing marks when she saw red spreading across his shirt, soaking it through and sticking it to him with every movement.

The momentary image of patching him up flashed through her mind - her constant desire to save everyone smoldering within her depths. She snuffed out the thought without hesitation and continued on through traffic.

"No stupid ideas and I'll drive you where you say," she cautiously repeated, bringing her eyes back to the road. "But I don't want to be stuck remembering this little encounter. So try not to bleed all over my seat," she continued without looking his way.

I want to forget all about this and about you as soon as you get to where you're going.

"Where to?" she asked directly, finding any further conversation between them pointless.

        Joe waited a moment. Seeing what the other would do, how she’d react to his sudden presence. Many people, he knew that, wouldn’t be very delighted or even calm. But she seemed to take it better than he thought. At last, something working in his favor. This mission he got hired for had been nothing but a nuisance from the very beginning and tonight, had reached it’s peak of foreseeable errors. JOE DIDN’T LIKE TO BRAG. Just a little bit. But despite his mixed reputation he was content that for once, he wasn’t the one who caused the problems. He had to make some visits after this rather painful complication, though. If the others made it out there, that was. He’d test if they’d make it out of a room with him in it again.

        ❛❛ I will do my best. But as you can see... I fear I do not control the blood loss❜❜, Joe replied, leaning back with a quiet sigh. The weapon, however, remained to her head with his arm stretched out.

        Breathing felt a bit like a chore right now. It stung. At every slight move he could sense at least TWO OR THREE BULLETS that had made their way into his shoulder and chest. One stuck to a rib that was the sole reason why it didn’t rupture his lungs. This could have ended badly.

        ❛❛Be a doll and take the next right turn, yes?❜❜, he told her with a slight strain in his voice and adjusted his posture. Sitting like a shrimp wouldn’t help to ease the pain, would it? No. ❛❛... under normal cricumstances I do have better manners -- I swear. Nothing personal. At. All.❜❜

#★ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴊᴏᴇ && ᴇᴍɪʟʏ (01) #writingxthexsilence #[ made a separate post so the notifications won't get mixed up =) ]

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

#tteokdoroki #mha #bnha #bakugou #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfic #bnha fluff #mha x reader #mha x you #mha imagines #mha fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bakugou fanfic #bakugou imagines #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #bakugou headcanons #bakugou scenarios #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnhacity #[ 🎞 ] — anihaven

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Patience - 1

Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1611

Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)

Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.

When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE

Chapter 1

Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.

“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.

“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”

She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.

“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.

“Patience,” you said simply.

“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”

You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”

Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”

Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.

“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”

“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.

Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”

You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”

“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.

“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.

Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.

Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.

“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.

Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.

“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.

“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”

“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”

“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”

Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.

“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”

“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”

“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.

Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”

“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”

“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.

“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”

Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”

Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”

“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”

“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”

Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”

“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.

“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”

“And…?”  Bucky pressed.

“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.

Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.

“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”

“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”

“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.

“I think so,” Natasha said.

“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”

Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”

“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #patience

[coffeecakefanfics]

A moments glance | B.B x Fem!Reader

Requests are open!!!!!

Summary: Bucky misses the feeling of human connection, both emotional and physical, so does Y/N. After a particularly brutal mission the two can deny their want any longer 

Warnings:  Language, angst? SMUT! (probably badly written but oh well)  This fic is a lot longer than I wanted but it’s worth it I promise.

Missions are normally pretty easy.  Luckily it was the dream team that got stuck on this mission together.  Sam, Bucky, and Y/n stood around a base layout, making a plan as to how to get this mission to sail smoothly. It was a simple job, repo a plane that had been stolen and return it to the owners, aka the fucking US Military. 

“So Y/n has pilot knowledge so if we can get through the fence and to it she can fly it back here to base, easy,” Sam explained the plan to the soldiers. 

“Sam and Bucky will go with me as my second hands and eyes, be my body guards,” Y/n nodded and looked up. “This is an easy job so it shouldn’t take long, maybe a couple hours, but stay on standby in case force is needed,” the woman stood straight and tapped her fingers on the table.  The crew split into the groups, taking their places.  Sam sat in the drivers seat of the car while Y/n sat in the front and Bucky was stuck in the back. 

“We’re here, everyone ready?” Sam asked and threw the car in park.

“Are we ever ready?” Bucky snarked and stepped out.  The three were greeted by a fence with barbed wire across the top. 

“Can we break it down?” Bucky looked between the two.

“That my dear would be destruction of property, a charge none of us can afford right now,” She huffed and opened the backseat, pulling the floor mat out. 

“What the hell are you doing with that?” Sam looked at the girl as if she was crazy.

“Throwing the mat over the wire?” she furrowed her brow and tossed the mat over the fence and scaled it. 

“Coming? or am I leaving you two dummies for the birds?” she smirked. 

“Ha ha very funny,” Sam snarked back. 

“This guy,” she smiled playfully at Bucky, who in return smiled back, a small one, but a smile. 

“There she is, look at this beauty,” Y/n motioned to the plane.  The three climbed in, starting the engine. 

“Bucky once we’re in the air I want you to contact the air force and tell them their plane is on it’s way,” she spoke calmly as she started down the runway. She was setting up controls when Bucky’s voice broke their silence. 

“Uh guys? I think we got company,” a black SUV sped down the runway, stopping before two guys stepped out wielding guns. 

“Pull up!” Sam yelled the girl.

“I’m trying,” she yelled back, the plane getting closer before finally taking off. The firing followed them up into the air. 

“Looks like we’re clear,” Y/n took a breath.

“There’s probably a reason they didn’t want us taking the plane,” Bucky commented.

“If I had to guess, drugs, I mean the air force tests flights so much that nobody bats an eye, especially at fort carson,” the woman nodded. “Sam can you check all of the compartments?” she looked back at him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he tipped his head and began opening the compartments lining the walls, bags of cocaine spilled out of an overhead bin.

“Oh shit, that’s thousands of dollars worth of hard drugs right there,” she peered back at the mess.

“yeah no shit, what do we do?” 

“Get on the comms and alert them of what’s happening”

“on it” 

The blaring sound took over their voices. 

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked

“We’re losing altitude, buckle in for a crash landing”

“I’m sorry what?!”

“Do it!” she barked “Sam jump and get to the base, let them know what happened, go now!” she was barking orders at them.  

“I’ll hurry back” Sam called and jumped, catching wind just in time.

“So what are we just going to die?”

“No, not if I can help it. But we are going to have to drop into the mountains, so hold on to something,” she gave him a sympathetic look.  The plane crashed down into the mountain, losing the wings in the process.  The two climbed out, seemingly unharmed. 

“So what are we just going to sit here and wait?” Bucky looked at the girl.

“I’m afraid so, we can’t risk moving, they won’t find us,” she huffed and slumped against an aspen tree.

“Great,” Bucky huffed and sat across from her, against a fallen pine log.  The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the ringing in their ears taking over. 

“Have you ever been this far west?” Y/n asked. Bucky peeked up at her. Sighing he tossed a rock to his left. 

“No, at least, not that I can recall,” he looked back at the dirt. 

“It’s pretty, Pikes peak is worth the view, if you ever get to go,” she cleared her throat, awkwardness settling in. 

“You been?”

“Yeah, I uh, I grew up here, in springs, that’s why I knew about the fort carson stuff.  They always test fly and they take kids for rides sometimes.  also teach kids how to pilot when they reach a certain age,” she trailed off. 

“Military brat?” 

“Yeah” 

“I never knew that,” he looked at her, really looked at her.  He noticed how she sat with her knees up, but her shoulders slumped.  Her she chewed on the inside of her lip.

“I never really told anyone,” she shrugged,”You know we have worked on the same team for I don’t know how many years and yet I feel like I hardly know you,” she remarked. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I don’t really open up to people, it’s not something I do,” it was his turn to chew on his lip.

“I get it, you up walls, try and protect yourself. . .”she trailed off, a soft rustling in the brush caught her attention. She held her finger to her lips and slowly stood, Bucky following her move.  The two crouched and ducked behind some bush.

“They couldn’t have gotten far, move,” a mans voice barked. Y/n looked at Bucky with wide eyes.  Bucky scanned the are before nodding to a path, they crept their way over, carful not to make too much noise. One they had gotten far enough away they stood straight and starting sprinting.  

“The guys that hijacked the plane?” She asked.

“That’s my guess,” he shrugged. 

“Bucky I need to stop,” she panted, trying to catch her breath.

“We’re probably far enough away,” he slowed to a stop.  

“I’m sorry,” she took a ragged breath

“It’s fine, not all of us are, what do you like to say? built different,” he cracked a smile.  Y/n smiled back at him before they broke off into laughter.

“You remembered that dumb saying?”

“I try to remember them all, I’m trying to make my place in this world, and if that means learning the lingo then I guess I have to”

“Must be hard,” she stood next to him, “trying to get used to this”

“you have no ide-” a gunshot and a scream of pain cut him off. His eyes shot in the direction of the shot before landing on the girl, crumpled on the forest floor. 

“Shit” he scooped her up and started sprinting west. 

“Shit shit shit, hey doll, if you can hear me keep  your eyes open you hear,” he peeked down at her. She was clutching her stomach.

“Tell me something, tell me about, tell me about your house of a kid,” he scrambled to find anything to talk about.  

“yellow,” she breathed,” it was yellow” He caught sight of a cave and ducked into it. 

“keep going”

“It had, two floors and an attic, the uh, the upstairs had a balcony,” she took deep breaths.  Bucky pulled out a knife and cut the bottom of his shirt, putting pressure on his wound. 

“Bucky?” she looked at him as close as she could

“yeah?”

“What was your favorite part about the forties?”

He laughed. “The stupid dive bars, going dancing,” he thought for a second.

“Were you any good?” Y/n teased.

“Oh please, look at me, I was the best,” he said, jokingly cocky. The silence took over.  The only sound was a ragged breath every now and then.  Y/n Held her phone up. 

“Nothing,” she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Bucky?” She got his attention.

“yeah Y/n? what’s up?”

“If i’m going to die today, can I at least get to know you before I go?” she asked

“Listen to me, and you listen to me good, you ain’t dying today got it?” he spoke sharply, but with concern laced and weaved in his voice. 

“In my jacket is a pack of matched, I saw some twigs and pinecones at the opening of the cave, grab them, make a fire, please, i’m freezing,” she pleaded.  Bucky didn’t say anything as he obliged.  The small fire illuminated the walls, but was small enough that they wouldn’t be spotted.  Bucky sat across from Y/n, he watched as she scanned the walls. 

“Mica,” she spoke plainly. 

“Yeah, ton of the shit too,” he kind of huffed, looking around.

“They used to make windows out of it, for cars and shit, also dry wall, but most importantly it used for stuff like spark plugs,and electronic components like compasses during world war 2 ” she stated, half heartedly. Bucky looked at the girl shocked.

“Yeah, thats- how’d you know that?”

“Grandpa fought in the war, told me all kinds of stories before he passed, also taught me about minerals and stuff before he passed too, he and dad used to take me camping, they’d teach me how to hunt, farm, fish, find and purify water, which berries and shrooms are good to eat, case I ever got lost,” she laughed and winced at the pain.  “I miss them,” she sighed.

“Those are good skills to have,” Bucky smiled at her. He went silent.  It had been a few hours, no sign of anyone.  He looked at Y/n, she didn’t look great, she was pale, she was growing tired. He didn’t want her to be miserable, or to die not knowing him. 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was born March 10th 1917, I have a younger sister named Rebecca, we called her Becca,” He spoke up.  Y/n looked at him with a smile and nodded him on to continue, “I’ve always wanted a cat, and if I could have kids i’d want a daughter, I’d name her Scarlett,” he stammers on. The young woman listens attentively.  Her breathing became slower, more strained. 

“no no no, don’t fucking die on me,” he jumped over to her, clutching her wound. “Please, I barley know you, I want to know more,” he pleaded.  She smiled at him and held her blood soaked hand to his cheek. 

“thank you,” she husked before her eyes rolled back. 

“No!” he yelled.

“Bucky?!” Sam, it was Sam, and the air force.  Bucky was pulled away as they loaded Y/n onto the chopper and raced her back to base.  Hot tears slipped down his face as the world seemed to slow down.  His connection, the one person he started to open up to was ripped from his arms, just as the walls came tumbling down. 

He sat pacing the hospital room, her body laid limp in the bed, unmoving, just as it had for the past two days.  The nurses tried to get him to go home, but after the third shift change and his protests to stay after visiting hours they gave up.  He stared out the window, looking to the mountains, they were still capped with snow.  He remembers her saying she was freezing, he recognizes that feeling now.  Cold, unmoving, dead.

“Hey champ,” a hoarse voice spoke in the room. He spun on his heels, Her eyes were opened, still droopy from the pain killer, but opened. 

“Thank god you’re okay,” he yanked a chair beside her and clutched her hand.

“I should’ve believed you,” she cracked a smile, Bucky felt his eyes well. Why? He still barely knew her. 

“My name is Y/n L/n I was born (your birthday), I have no siblings, I have always wanted a dog and if I had a kid i’d want a little boy named Matthew,” she squeezed his hand slightly.

“Good morning,” another womans voice broke the room with a knock. “I’m your nurse for this morning, my name is Sarah Good, yes like the book the crucible and i’ll take care of you till 7 tonight,” she smiled at the two brightly. “Todays agenda, always will be on the board, we want to get you to be able to be in a sitting position, and we want to start PT, or physicsl therapy if we can, We’re going to try and get you a real lunch today, and if we’re lucky you can get off those iv’s by tomorrow”

The last week was rough, But Bucky sat beside her through it all, they talked about life, about death, the world, every little thing they could think of.  When she was released it was Bucky who escorted her back across the country to home.  Sam met them at her apartment for diner and a toast to a job not so smooth for the dream team, now stronger that all three had a bond.  Sam had left about an hour ago, Bucky insisted on staying to help clean up. 

“Bucky, really this is too much to ask, it’s fine,”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s the least I can do”

“It’s late, do you want to stay? I mean I can take the couch and you can take my bed it-”

“I’m not taking your bed doll, I’ll take the couch if you really want me to stay but it’s not a problem for me to go home,” he smiled at her and set the last plate in the dish washer. 

“I kind of got used to you staying around,” she blushed. “We can watch a movie?” she offered.

“Sounds great”

They weren’t paying attention to the movie, well at least they pretended to,  Each watched the other out of the corner of their eyes. It was Y/n who made the first move, leaning her head on his shoulder, Bucky tucked his arm around the woman, inching her closer.  She felt her face get hot, she peered up at him to find him looking back, they ripped their eyes apart and both went flush. 

“Bucky-

Y/n I-” they spoke at the same time, letting out a laugh. 

“Go first,” he insisted. 

“No, it’s fine,” she stammered. 

“Y/n I- I really like you, I’m glad I let down my walls for you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat.  She felt her breath hitch. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” she spoke, barely above a whisper.  It hadn’t occurred to the couple just how close they were to each other.  Y/n felt Bucky’s breath dance across her face. 

“Can I. . . can I kiss you?” he breathed out.  She sim-ply nodded and met his lips, soft and delicate at first before he set his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in.  Her  lips were intoxicating, he could get drunk on her. She let a moan slip as he pulled her into his lap gently. He felt his eyes roll at the sound. She ground into his lap, letting the feeling of his growing bulge tease her. She laced her fingers in his short hair, gently tugging where she could, causing a groan and for him to buck his hip to meet hers.  Y/n pulled back panting, trying to catch her breath before moving her lips to meet his neck.

“Y/n doll, I uh- it’s been a while,” he panted and fought the moans that threatened to leave his throat.

“It’s okay, let me take care of you?” she caught his eyes.  Her face was pure, innocent, but her words were laced with lust. He nodded and let his hands grip her hips.  She tugged his shirt off of his body, decorating his chest with kisses, working and inching her way to his hips.  She looked up at him, he was a mess, head laid back, breathing ragged.  She carefully undid his pants and slid them down his legs.  catching the skin above his hip bones she left a small purple mark on either side, claiming him as hers.  He had looked down at her now, catching her eyes.  She licked her lips before taking him into her mouth, The moan he let rip from vocal cords was ungodly. 

“Fuck, doll I -” he let his eyes meet hers, still laced with innocence, before groaning and throwing his head back.  He let his air out in puffs as she worked him over.  Her touch was delicate and sweet, he forgot how nice it felt, to be taken care of, to be treated with kindness. She let her fingers slip to cup his balls, gently playing with them as she let her pretty mouth suck his cock. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, 

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pleaded, grabbing her hair with his flesh hand, clutching the couch with the metal one.  The small breaths he let out only encouraged him further, she picked up her pace, daring him to cum down her throat.  A string of fucks and his hips tensing, and slowly relaxing followed soon after.  She caught his eyes, swallowing what he gave her and grinning at him.

“Holy-”

“Yeah,” she smiled. 

“Let me return the favor baby,” he pulled her back into his lap.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reade

[siswritesyanderes]

Hi! I’m curious: if you had to be the obsession of one yandere from each of your favorite fandoms, who would you choose and why?

Oh, that’s such a good question! I hope I don’t forget any fandoms. (Every time a question like this comes up, I forget all of my interests, lol.) I’m going to go ahead and include a lot of fandoms in this post, regardless of how much I like the thing itself. (I’m clarifying this because you said “favorite fandoms” and these aren’t necessarily my favorites, lol.) Boy, here’s hoping I don’t learn anything about myself, answering this question. Okay, in no particular order:

Harry Potter:

Okay, I’m thinking Newt or Tom Riddle. Newt is really good at caretaking, he’s soft-spoken, and I know from Les Mis that Eddie Redmayne is able to sing (which, in my mind, means Newt can and he’d sing lullabies). Meanwhile, Tom is powerful and, pre-Horcruxes, not too bad-tempered. He’s got followers, which is good for many reasons; he’s not sadistic like Bellatrix; on the whole, he’s a fairly balanced yandere with a surprising number of benefits.

Or Fred and George; they’re prodigies at what they do (They’re pretty much inventors); they’d be self-aware and fun as yanderes; and also they’re canonically kind of ruthless. Yeah, I think I’m settling on Fred and George for this one.

Twilight: 

By the metric of appearance, Seth or Caius. But if I’m taking everything into consideration, maybe Demetri? His power has great yandere potential that would only backfire on me if I’d already escaped, which I probably wouldn’t manage anyway, since I’m a human. He’s high enough in the Volturi that I’d be safe from most everything, but not one of the main three, which is good because I think being Caius or Marcus’s mate would invite a lot of scrutiny from Aro (and he killed Didyme), and being Aro’s might invite sassiness from Caius; just generally, I wouldn’t want to get in on whatever bond they have unless it was a poly thing where they all cared about me. Also, I’d rather avoid Aro’s power if possible, though I suppose having him be yandere for me would be like empirical evidence that even my entire history of thoughts is attractive, which would boost my ego to an absurd degree. You know what, maybe Aro. 

Then there’s also Benjamin, who has a chill personality, awesome power (especially since fire is the thing that kills vampires; being able to control it is like extra immortality on top of the existing immortality), and the innate freedom of not being a part of the Volturi. Yet, if he were to be recruited by the Volturi, you know he’d be as high-ranking as Demetri, if not higher. Again, safety. Demetri, Benjamin, or Aro, on the vampire side. (No Cullens, since they’ve actively provoked the Volturi and I don’t trust their ability to keep me safe. If Cullens were on the table, though, Jasper and Alice.)

Wolf-wise, I feel like Leah would be a really considerate and protective yandere, and since she’s the fastest of the wolves, I think she could get me out of most danger. Maybe Jared, since the only things I know about him are that he has a sense of humor and he can be SUPER manipulative (Like, that “Lee-lee” thing from Breaking Dawn was ruthless.), and that’s a valuable skill in a yandere’s tool belt. But ultimately I guess I would have to choose Jacob, since any of them would be physically unable to disobey him, even under yandere circumstances, so there’s no guarantee they would protect me no matter how much they wanted to. (Also I wouldn’t have to go through the turning process, if I’m with a wolf instead of a vampire.)

Final answer, Aro, Benjamin, or Jacob.

The Hunger Games:

Boy, I would say Snow, because I know he would pull strings for me and give gifts and stuff, but I also feel like he’d be kind of a selfish yandere. Like, he’d be kind when it’s convenient, but he’d ultimately be looking out for his own happiness. I love Finnick, but I feel like yandere traits for him would manifest too selflessly; like, I’d be worried about Finnick, as a yandere. Johanna “There’s no one left I love” Mason would be fiercely protective, but not worryingly selfless. She’d be clingy and spirited and probably beat some people up over me.

Divergent: 

Definitely Peter! He stabbed a guy in the eye in canon! He’s got an intersection of creepy and pragmatic going on, kind of like a human version of Jasper from Twilight, but without the racial baggage. I get that a lot of people thirst after Eric, and Eric definitely has more power than Peter, but his personality doesn’t interest me.

Percy Jackson:

Percy or Leo. Powers and personalities are perfect for yandere. Nico and Will, if they’re bi; I’m not caught up on Trials of Apollo, so I’m not sure.

WAIT, maybe Reyna?? The confidence, the metal dogs...Yeah, Reyna is awesome, too.

Descendants: 

Harry, Uma, and Gil as a unit. Just all three of them at once. They’re pirates, they’re already so steamy and intense about their relationships in canon (or Harry and Uma are, at least), and they’re all very attractive. If I had to choose one, I think Uma. Or Ben, since he’s a really nice guy with a strong moral compass, at least in the first movie (meaning a yandere interpretation of him would most likely become extreme in his morals, rather than corrupt), and he’s the king.

Detroit Become Human:

(I’m literally only making this a category because I find it unbelievable that any yandere Markus is characterized as, like, a rough and dominant yandere.) Markus was a caretaking android for an old man; he would be very loving, understanding, and supportive. His revolutionary energy is not turned against his loved ones. Nothing in canon suggests he would ever be rough with someone he loves. (Connor, meanwhile, is an android cop who is rough with his friends in canon, but lots of fan works characterize him as soft. Puzzling. Maybe uncomfortable, from a racial standpoint, since Markus is a man of color.) 

Also, Ralph is the absolute perfect mix of well-meaning and delusional and intense. Ralph is perfect as a yandere. Why isn’t there more yandere Ralph?? I love Ralph.

And also Jerry, because he’s cheerful and there’s a lot of him. Just a thousand of this one guy, all in love with one person? Yandere gold.

Undertale:

Sans. Or Asgore. Let’s move on. 😅

Legacy of Orïsha:

Roën. Easy. Another pirate, with emotional intelligence and a sense of humor! Self-aware but with a loose moral compass. I love him.

Avatar: The Last Airbender:

Having thought it through, either Jet or Mai; Jet is a charming yet hot-headed rebel, and we’ve already seen what it’s like when he’s like when he takes his ideals to an extreme. He would absolutely flood a town for his loved one, which, now that I’m saying it, shouldn’t be phrased like a desired outcome, but we’re talking yandere here, so it’s fine. 

Mai, meanwhile, would seem dry and casual while also doing the most. She would be satisfied with just sitting in silence, which is chill. And given her wealth, she might ‘gilded cage’ me. Then again, she’s not very forthcoming with praise or positivity in general.

Actually, yeah, just Jet.

MCU:

Listen, I really dislike Wanda in canon, but Wanda and Vision would be the best yanderes. Their powers, Wanda’s tendency to not take responsibility for her actions, there’s a lot there. And, like, she’s generally nice to people she cares about (and Vision is a Mjolnir-lifting sweetheart); she’s pretty much exactly right to be a yandere.

Maybe Nebula, since I want to give Nebula a hug and let her win at tic tac toe or something. She would fire the very biggest guns at anyone who made themself a threat to me, but one-on-one she’s so soft and frank and I love her.

(I want to say M’Baku because Winston Duke seems so lovely, but M’Baku the character seems too strict; we’ve never seen him with a loved one.)

Dandelion: Wishes Brought to You:

Jieun, in his good end, or Jisoo, in his bad end. Look, my friend got me into this game in high school; don’t look at me. Jieun is smart, psychic, very chill, and a king. Jisoo is practically the opposite. Both work very well as yanderes.

#male yandere #female yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere dbh #yandere atla #yandere mcu #yandere hp #yandere pjo #yandere hoo #cheritz #danelion wishes brought to you #legacy of orisha #jisoo bad end #jieun good end

[newbornnebulae]

Truth is a loaded gun

The truth of the matter is, Dorian has grown to care for his friends. It's the only reason he makes the choice that he does.

A character study of Dorian in episode 5, because Robbie made some WILD decisions. Also on AO3

Dorian’s thinking of Dariax as he speaks to the disembodied voice that had visited his dear friend the previous evening already. As he bargains with it, his mouth moves faster than he can keep up. He’s bluffing, he thinks, when he says yes, yes he would trade the crown, an undeniable danger to the world in Poska’s hands, for his friend’s safety.

Maybe he doesn’t know himself as well as he should because when he searches inside for the lie that should be there, there’s only truth. He’s always considered himself a good man, reasonable, logical, moral… but he can feel the ring of honesty in his words; he would truly rather the whole of Emon burn down (again) than allow something to happen to his friend -friends, he corrects himself. 

It’s just that he can’t get the image of Dariax’s eyes gone jet black out of his head. The colour of his eyes are too lovely to be hidden in such an unsettling manner. The handsome dwarf doesn’t have enough self-preservation, or any for that matter. It’s all too easy for Dorian to imagine him falling prey to the crown and to the Spider Queen. Every time Dariax makes to reach for the crown with his bare hands, Dorian can feel his own chest constrict.

If Dariax were to turn into a darker form of himself, Dorian doesn’t believe he’ll have the strength to deal with it in the same way they’d dispatched of Alternate-Fearne. With the crown gone, there would be nothing of that nature to worry about. Dariax could continue to be his stupidly charming and pure self.

It’s beyond frustrating to Dorian that Orym had used Gilmore’s enchanted box just to send away a damned note. More than that, he’s upset with himself for insisting they hold onto the cursed crown in the first place.

Almost from a far away perch, he could see and hear himself snap at Orym unreasonably, time and time again. What makes it doubly worse is that Orym hardly ever responds in kind, doesn’t point fingers or place blame. It never makes Dorian feel better, only guiltier.

He knows it’s his own fault they are in this mess; the only reason Dariax is forced to continue carrying the crown is because Dorian had insisted they keep it. Dorian knows and the whole group must think it too. But all Orym does is quietly observe his outbursts. It’s annoying that Orym can remain so calm even as he confronts Dorian, while Dorian keeps having these hot flashes of anger he can hardly control.

Dorian finds himself to be more irritable as they traverse through the jungle, the heat and humidity of the place getting under his skin. Aside from his frustration with Orym, he eyes Fy’ra Rai with distrust, bristles at Opal’s prodding, and can’t help but grow annoyed at Fearne’s flute playing. It’s irritating when she plays poorly, the sound grating against his patience. It’s bothersome in it’s own way when she plays well, an uncomfortable jealousy prickling his skin.

The only person who hardly gets on his nerves is Dariax. 

Partly it’s from a sense of guilt. At Gilmore’s, Dariax had looked at him so earnestly. 

“If you want to keep it, we’ll keep it,” he’d said, unquestioningly supportive even when Dorian couldn’t give the group a good reason why. He’d seen how frightened Dariax had been after his dream with the Spider Queen. The dwarf had made an admirable attempt to act as though everything were fine, but it is plain to see that everything is not fine. 

There’s something so remarkably straightforward about Dariax, some would say simple-minded. As someone who doesn’t know the first thing about being straightforward, Dorian appreciates that about him.

Where Dariax is earnest and charming, Dorian is reserved most of the time and politely posh at his best. Dariax goes along with anything, easygoing and generous with his warmth. The only thing Dorian is generous about is imagining a generous amount of terrible scenarios that could happen. He can, at any given point in time, come up with more than twenty reasons why something is a bad idea. He’s rational in the worst of ways. 

As far as adventuring goes, Dariax has significantly more experience than him. The dwarf is never afraid to wander into the unknown. Dorian prefers to know where he’s going, how long it will take to get there, what dangers there might be, so on and so forth. It’s an effort for him to relax, something he’s had to learn how to do.

It was all learned, Dorian’s charm. Growing up, he hadn’t possessed an ounce of charisma. But he’d practiced until he could murmur polite platitudes in his sleep. He studied others, trying to figure out how people worked. He stood in front of his reflection, training himself to stand confidently, move naturally. Sheltered child that he had been, it had been important to have a certain image.

Slipping into Dorian Storm, a charming bard, was all the easier for it later on.

Unfortunately for him, the awkwardness still comes out sometimes. Dorian is still kicking himself for his display at Gilmore’s. Attractive men made it difficult for him to retain his composure or think straight. He’d gotten flustered again at the pageant, seeing Dariax in the clothes he himself wore everyday. 

He should consider himself lucky that he’d managed to remain cool in front of the group for so long. Next to Orym, he’s supposed to be the other reasonable one. Well, the group still likes him just fine and Dariax still looks at him with respect and admiration at the very least. 

While Dorian does his best not to read too much into the other man’s words -Dariax is the type to say things without thinking them through- he can’t help but think he’s Dariax’s favourite out of the whole group. Dariax looks to him for leadership, wakes him up after having a nightmare, sleeps back to back with Dorian out of everybody else.

It’s flattering, it’s nice, and it could be why Dariax is Dorian’s favourite.

It’s not the whole picture though. Dorian thinks on how he’d said to Poska all those weeks ago, “If Dariax doesn’t like you then I don’t like you.” Even back then Dariax had had his trust, as much as he’s able to give at least. Perhaps it has to do with the week of memories they’d collectively lost. Dorian doesn’t know how else he could have so much respect for a dwarf that he’s seen with shit in his beard. 

As much as Dariax seems to seek him out, Dorian gravitates toward Dariax in turn. It’s impossible for Dorian to be totally truthful about himself, but with Dariax, some foolish part of him wants to be. While the circus Dariax believes in does not exist, Dorian had not been completely dishonest about his situation. It’s the most he’s ever shared with someone. 

The thing is, Dorian has never had a best friend before, but if he had to guess, Dariax is the closest thing he has to one. Emon be damned, Dorian’s not ready to give that up anytime soon. 

#critical role #exandria unlimited #exu #cr spoilers #exu spoilers #dorian storm #dariax #doriax #spider queen #fanfic #after i finished this #i started writing a dark dorian story #so there's that #well idk how dark it will get but #there will be a lot of conversations between dorian and the spider queen #that would be a good band name #dorian storm and the spider queen #my fanfic

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Four

I would say this is where the plot really kicks up. Especially next chapter.

\\ Warnings: blood, violence, guns //

Home was quiet under the overcast winter sky. A blanket of snow covered everything in sight. Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered away the chill creeping down his back. It was beginning to snow more heavily as the evening set in on the server.

Winter never faired well with him, it made his hands and knees weak, and stuck him with a near constant headache. Most ailments rendered him bedridden if it was cold enough outside. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick.

Jimmy had hurried them into Scott’s home quickly after entering the walls. It wasn’t really Scott’s anymore as both of them had been sharing the space for quite a while. There was evidence of each of them strewn about.

It could do with some cleaning but the clutter made it feel more natural.

Safer, perhaps.

Scott took his shoes and jacket off. He left them near the door so no muck would get tracked into the house. It was cold inside from a week of being neglected, not a lamp had been left on after he went to see the Sand People.

One glance at his bed proved to be the nail in the coffin. He climbed into the loft and lay down, his head hit the pillow and he was out.

*****

Water trickled across the ceiling. It dropped down and landed on Scott’s cheek. Plunk Plunk Plunk.

Scott blinked into awareness and looked for the source of his awakening, only to find that it was completely dark. Panic surged through him and he sat up quickly only to hit his head on a hard surface. His hands flew out in surprise and hit two stone walls.

“What,” he breathed.

The floor beneath him was damp from perpetual rain seeping into the cell.

“No,” he whispered repeatedly.

The darkness was suffocating this time, he couldn’t calm down, he knew he’d run out of air eventually. Maybe the lack of oxygen was finally making him go crazy, imagining the walls were getting closer and closer. Scott pushed himself up against the corner and hugged his knees to his chest.

The water that woke him up seemed to flow more like a waterfall now. It hit the jagged floor and slowly approached the corner Scott had decided to glue himself to, but it didn’t stop. The water only grew deeper and deeper. He was too tired to even care. Death seemed like a more peaceful option then trying to escape.

He would drown in his tomb alone, and they would get away with it.

*****

Scott’s eyes flew open. This time not to a completely dark stone tomb, but a softly moonlit bedroom. His bedroom.

A weight from behind him made itself known.

Jimmy must have gotten into bed with him earlier that night. The covers were pulled over both of them.

Scott turned around and leaned into his sleeping husband’s arms, taking a few moments to assure himself of his surroundings; and that he was safe at home.

Sensing that his night of sleep had been cut short, Scott meticulously unwrapped himself from Jimmy’s arms and replaced himself with a pillow.

His socks masked most of the noise he made as he exited the room and partially closed the door behind him. It was deathly silent when he unhooked his coat (the one he didn’t ruin) from its place on the wall, equipped his boots, and slipped outside.

The contrast of warmth from inside to outside made Scott’s eyes water. His hands were safe inside his mittens when he brushed some snow off his front steps and sat down.

It was a bit windy outside, breeze funneled through the valley and into the Hobbit town. It bounced off the hills and dissipated into the air. Scott wished he’d brought his telescope so he could admire the sky, which was clear at the moment. A lonely band of the Milky Way sliced across the cosmos to the west.

Stargazing always filled him with a feeling of yearning. He couldn’t remember why, or even when it had started, but ever since he found himself on this server with borders and rules he felt out of place. Not just in the way he looked, but being grounded for so long. Scott had trouble understanding the ways of this world. It was obvious that he didn’t quite fit.

The snow had died down since they arrived hours earlier, nobody had cleared it for a while so it was near shin deep. Every inch of the landscape was buried, including the entrance to their enchanting room, and all the flowers that would typically adorn the forest floor.

Something was wrong.

Scott couldn’t put his finger on it. Coming to alertness, he scanned the scenery like a hawk until he saw it.

Footprints.

Fresh. Footprints.

Directly in front of his home, they came right up to the first step and no further. There was multiple sets fanning out across the lawn area. He could see all three sets from his perch.

Scott froze with fear. Someone had paid a visit in the middle of the night while they were asleep. He wondered why, but he knew.

He was about to get up and lock himself inside when he felt something step on the creaking stairs right behind him. Scott’s eyes flicked to the side for a split second before he instinctively stood up and attempted to flee down the remaining steps, but he didn’t make it.

A hand instantly wrapped around his forearm and wrenched him backwards, he fell into an armored torso. A gloved hand clapped over his mouth, and an arm snaked under his own to render them paralyzed.

“It would be in your best interest not to scream Major,” a terrible Scottish accent made itself known. Scott nearly rolled his eyes.

Of course, this dramatic fool had to come and ruin his night. One thing was for certain, he was not getting kidnapped again.

A sharp object poked at his ribs.

“Just a precaution,” someone said in a falsely apologetic tone. No doubt it was Skizzle.

That meant that he was being immobilized by Martyn. He should have known really, that man followed the Red King anywhere. Upon the ladder’s orders, he escorted Scott down the steps and across the snow stricken grounds, just next to Jimmy’s “house” that they’d mainly been using as storage for the odds and ends that didn’t fit in Scott’s place.

The hand was removed from his jaw and he jolted his head away with a mirthful expression. He fixed his eyes directly where he assumed Ren’s were beneath his sunglasses; which he was wearing in the dead of night. Asshole.

Skizzle stood next to Ren with an imposing posture, as Martyn had a free hand to hold his own weapon with. The weapon being an enchanted diamond axe which he held with a sort of pride.

“You know,” Ren began, “I must give it to you Major, that escape you pulled off was impressive,” he spoke in an unbothered manner and ground his foot upon a rock somewhere under the snow.

“Why are you doing this, Ren?” Scott cut to the chase. He was uninterested in games.

“You aren’t even a red lifer. You can’t kill me,” he added.

Ren scoffed. He adjusted his glasses, “and who exactly is policing that rule?” he said with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow.

“Grian?”a beat passed, “you?!” he began to laugh to himself. Skizzle and Martyn joined in momentarily.

“More green lifers have killed people than red at this stage, so don’t get on me about that,” he said.

“These are my walls,” Scott pointed out.

“That’s funny, you didn’t seem to have much respect for our walls earlier did you,” Martyn said close to Scott’s ear. He pulled away.

“Can I at least be let in on why you’re picking on me of all people?” Scott asked with no enthusiasm.

“Don’t tell me you went on and forgot that Timmy dearest is responsible for the deaths of myself and Skizzle,” Ren shot back, leaning into the other’s personal space.

Everyone looked between each other, “among other things,” Ren added.

Skiz nodded in agreement and sent a meaningful glare towards Scott’s house, where a dim light was on in the bedroom.

Scott’s mouth hung open in rueful shock, “that’s what all this is about? It was an accident,” he shouted. Which earned him a light punch in the side.

“Be quiet,” Martyn warned.

“You know he didn’t mean it! He was sorry and you know it. The only reason you’re even here right now is because it was an accident. Don’t do this to him,” Scott half pleaded but he was more angry.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You’re buddy buddy with the people who want to kill us too. Hmm, maybe you are familiar with the term ‘covering our bases’?” Ren added.

“This isn’t all about your perfect little life Major,” Ren dropped the accent and took Scott by the front of his jacket.

“Things are going to change around here for all of us, and it starts with your Timmy paying his dues,” he said.

Scott’s face pulled into a scowl. He thrust his head forward vigorously, the plastic CRACK of Ren’s sunglasses on impact split through his ears as he saw the “Red” King stagger backwards.

Before his goons could decide their next moves Scott lifted his foot up behind him quickly, glad he’d decided to wear his heavier boots on a whim as they collided with an unfortunate set of unmentionables.

The owner of the unmentionables keeled over. He all but threw the axe out of his hands, which Scott graciously took for himself. He tore himself free and swung around, bringing the back of the axe down on Martyn’s bowed head. Purposefully omitting the sharpened blade from the equation.

Skull met stick with a loud THWACK; and Martyn’s body went limp. The Hand fell on his side into the snow with a muffled thump.

Scott admired his work for a moment and considered it even for the lingering purple bruise still on the side of his own face.

There was no time to waste though, he turned back to the remaining members of Dogwarts with a new feeling of control.

Ren’s face was still buried in his hands. No doubt sporting a wicked nosebleed from being head-butted. His glasses were nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the deep snow.

Scott’s attention turned to Skiz now. Who was in battle position.

It was not a fair fight by any means. The Red Army was decked out in their signature crimson dyed armor (not great for sneaking around but they weren’t much into that) and their iconic shields which Scott thought were a bit ugly.

Nobody was immune to quick thinking though. Even with all that armor, a man can’t be immune to a kick in the nuts.

Skizzle made the first move. He pushed off his heel and swung his sword vertically in Scott’s direction. The ladder, shieldless, jumped out of the way. Skizzle regained his composure and ran after him like a blood sniffing shark. Scott ran away from him in as dead a sprint that can be achieved in knee deep snow, letting his pursuer gain some momentum before he sharply turned around and plunged his axe blade into the thick wood of Skiz’s shield.

The aforementioned momentum caused Skiz to keep moving while his Sheild was ripped from his arm attached to the sharp blade of Scott’s (new) shiny axe. Both of them fell over in the snow.

Wanting to get the jump, Scott staggered to his feet and sat on top of Skizzle to keep him on the ground. They pushed back and forth with their respective blades until Scott was thrown off the other, who immediately slashed his sword at him but missed by a hair.

Scott rolled away clumsily with the shield on his arm and used the handle of his axe to stand up just in time for another barrage of slashes that audibly cut through the air. Scott blocked them with his shield and with the hilt of his axe, managing to repel his opponent for enough time to get his share of hits.

“You’re using the wrong side of the axe, man!” Skizzle pointed out after being beat a few times with the non-lethal side of Scott’s weapon, which he was using his armored forearms to fend off.

“Would you rather me use the other?” Scott replied.

They went back and forth in a struggle to gain control of their respective fights, of which had seen them travel to the corner of the Hobbits’ walls where two hills flattened out and created an amphitheater with a perfect stage in the center.

The metallic clashing of weapons filled the area, Skizzle managed to wrap Scott in a chokehold, the shield had been thrown to the sidelines amongst the struggle, with a blade growing ever nearer to his throat. Scott held off the oncoming sword by brute strength alone, his hand braced against his opponent’s forearm and shook with the effort.

“This is it for you,” Skizzle strained, “no more games,” he said.

Scott answered with a war cry. He knocked the other’s chest with his elbow and threw both of them forwards a bit, just enough to wriggle free and get away from the blade. While Skiz wasn’t guarding his midsection, Scott jabbed the handle of his weapon into the space between Skiz’s chest plate and armored leggings.

A breathless cough was all that came from the man behind him, followed by a drawn out whine, then a satisfying thud and the clunking of armor as it fell into the snow.

There was no place to celebrate his victory however, when a very angry, bloody nosed king strode up to the crime scene. Ren’s expression told Scott that he wasn’t a fun target to play with anymore. Tougher than he looked, perhaps.

The leader of Dogwarts trudged menacingly up to Scott, who made to raise his weapon but instead was greeted by a fist in his face. The force threw him to the ground, where Ren’s heavy red boot descended upon his chest. A blade sliced into the hard ground next to Scott’s ear. His axe was yanked from his hands and thrown somewhere behind them by Ren.

“Alright Major. Perhaps I underestimated your capabilities,” Ren practically spat, “It’s a shame really. You would have been such an attractive addition to the Red Army,” he said with a mocking sadness.

“That was supposed to be your sales pitch?” Scott strained.

Scott could feel rivulets of blood flowing down his face from his nostrils, it seeped into his mouth and tasted like he’d eaten iron shavings. His hands were clasped around Ren’s ankle and foot, trying to alleviate the stress that was on his rib cage. He liked being able to breathe after all.

“You’ve clearly proven too much for my army to handle,” Ren jerked Scott by the front of his shirt, as if he was the one to blame for his army’s failure.

“But I digress. I guess I’ll kill you now,” the Red King smiled down at him with a devious grin, and shoved him harshly to the ground.

Scott could see that his eyes were a striking yellow, set back in his head a bit so that they were perpetually shadowed by his eye sockets. Strands of white and brown hair fell around his face, and his right ear twitched upon his head.

His vision was swimming dangerously close to blacking out as Ren hoisted his weapon, a glimmering diamond axe with a gold accented handle, above his head. Scott shut his eyes and prepared for the cold hard inevitable when a loud POP ricocheted off the amphitheater walls. Followed by a dull plunk.

The axe fell from Ren’s hands like it was knocked away. He jumped like he’d been startled. His eyes were blown wide, and Scott thought he might look scared.

Ren raised a shaky hand to his right shoulder, turning it a bit so he could see, he gently touched the surface of his arm. His fingertips came back covered in a layer of blood.

He began to slowly turn around, Scott sat up on his elbow to follow his line of sight.

Standing in the entrance to the amphitheater, in the snow that had been disturbed by the previous altercation, was a furious looking Jimmy.

His hunting rifle was still raised and aimed at the Red King, smoke poured from the barrel and floated into the frigid air.

Ren stood up and faced Jimmy, an out of place smile gracing his countenance.

“Well! Looks like we have a full party now, I was wondering when the special guest was going to show up,” he teased.

“Your little friend here put up quite the fight,” Ren took Scott by the back of his hood and lifted him out of the obfuscating layer of snow.

“You just don’t stop talking do you,” Jimmy said sternly. He didn’t move an inch, and his finger was poised on the trigger of his father’s old gun.

Ren had stopped talking. He resorted to staring down his nose at the other man.

“Get out of my walls, Ren,” Jimmy demanded.

“Now hold on dude, we’re not finished here,” Ren prefaced.

“No, I think we are done here!” Jimmy raised his voice.

“You’re going put him down right now,” he ordered, “take your men, and leave my home,” Jimmy yelled.

“Or what?” Ren asked, although it was more of a last ditch effort than a promise of more to come.

“Or I aim for your head next time,” Jimmy deadpanned.

Ren chewed his bottom lip pensively, seeming to consider his options before rendering himself rightfully defeated. He nodded curtly, and tossed the battered Scott at Jimmy’s feet. He strode over to Skizzle and kicked him encouragingly in the side, gathering him up and then going to retrieve Martyn, whom he had Skizzle sling over his shoulder.

The Red Musketeers vacated the Hobbit’s walls, going through the door they broke down on the way in. Jimmy kept his rifle trained on them until he was sure they weren’t coming back. Then he turned back to Scott, shakily flipping the safety of the rifle back on.

“Scott,” Jimmy called out, “hey, can you hear me?” it was too familiar.

“I’m fine,” Scott assured; but his husband wasn’t having it. He took the other’s face in his hands gently and assessed the damage.

“I think you have a concussion,” Jimmy observed.

“I think I could have used your help a bit earlier,” Scott joked, but Jimmy didn’t smile, “I mean I knew you were a heavy sleeper but this is ridiculous”, he added.

Jimmy helped him up and he wobbled a bit before taking in the scene he’d made. A clear path of action stretched from the front door of Jimmy’s house to the Western Wall where the amphitheater was. Some of the snow was red with blood.

Jimmy took Scott’s arm and pulled him into a half embrace, “let’s go back inside. You’re freezing,” he whispered.

“Wait,” Scott said.

He started sifting through the snow, eventually pulling out the axe he’d stolen from Martyn. Ren had retrieved his and Skiz’s weapons before leaving. He held it up and flipped it over in his hands a few times gleefully. Then, he trudged over to Jimmy’s front door and found Ren’s discarded shades under some red stained snow. The right lens was cracked down the middle, hairline fractures branched off of it.

He held the sunglasses up for Jimmy to see with a proud grin, waving them around in the air.

“How’d you manage that?” Jimmy asked, dumbfounded.

“I went like BAP!” Scott articulated as he pretended to head butt Jimmy to demonstrate, “and they must have come right off! Look at that, a perfect trophy,” he bragged.

“You know, I didn’t question why he wasn’t wearing them because I didn’t think that even he was enough of a dick to wear sunglasses in the dead of night,” Jimmy said.

“Now, inside,” he pointed to the door.

#kingslayer au #half the server is in this one boys #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #rendog #inthelittlewood #skizzleman #cas types

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

#x-men abridged #abridged x-men #x-men #storm #professor x #kitty pryde #uncanny x-men #emma frost #cyclops #nightcrawler #stevie hunter #colossus #sebastian shaw

[chika-the-terrible]

Guardian

“Leon?” Ada turned her head. In the dark, it was hard to tell who pinned her down, but she would know that voice anywhere.

“...Ada?” The pressure eased off her wrist, but Leon didn’t get up.

“Are you gonna let me up, Secret Agent Man?” she asked.

“If you don’t shoot me.”

“I won’t.” She nodded, and she wouldn’t. Seeing Leon again, no matter what may have happened to him, was a relief. Slowly Leon let her go, moving away to allow her to get on her feet. She put her gun away, switching it out for a flashlight, yet she didn’t turn it on. She didn’t know if Leon wanted to be seen by her at the moment.

“That skittering sound, was that you?” Ada asked.

“Sort of.” Leon said.

“So I guess the plaga never left.”

“No.”

“Is it okay if I look?” There was silence. Ada was at home in the dark most of the time but she couldn’t help feeling nervous. Leon had already tried to kill her under the plaga’s influence once before. Even with Saddler dead, would it happen again?

“...Yeah. Go ahead.” She didn’t turn the flashlight on right away. She shined it at his feet first, making her way up his body so that it didn’t blind and spook him right away. Even without being able to see him, Ada could tell Leon was nervous. She spotted tears on his clothes, including the knife wound she’d made, but he appeared to be mostly fine so far. Then she reached his torso.

“You have-?” She gestured to her back. Leon crossed his arms.

“It’s the parasite.” Two silvery, crab-like legs were sticking out of his shoulders. They contrasted starkly with the black shirt he still wore. The two scythes twitched in the light but made no advance on her. He also turned slightly, showing that two other ones were brought up against the small of his back. They were significantly longer than the top ones but appeared to have one less joint in compensation. Did Leon use them like legs to get around? It would explain the skitter sound. Finally, Ada raised the light to his face, if briefly. Leon still looked like Leon, except for the eyes. They were bright red instead of the icy blue he usually had. Ada tried not to take a step back. She lowered the flashlight and turned it off, plunging them back into darkness.

“How are you still alive?”

“Shouldn’t I ask you the same question after what happened in Raccoon City?” he asked. He took a few steps to the right, “I managed to go underground. The plaga helped keep me alive after the explosion.”

“That’s good. So then why did you stay behind?”

“Lots of reasons. You really think I could go back looking like this?” He likely gestured to himself, “I wouldn’t be treated. This is too severe to fix. They’d just lock me away.” There was a small thunk as Leon apparently kicked one of the boxes in anger.

“You didn’t have those...arms when I handed you the keys.”

“I know. They aren’t why I decided to stay behind.” Ada frowned.

“You’re talking in circles, Crab Legs.”

“And you don’t?” he said.

“You’re usually more blunt that this.” She rested her free hand on her knife again. She had no idea if he could see her in the dark but she didn’t like where this was going.

“Let me ask you something, Ada: What would’ve happened to me if I’d gone with Ashley? I still had the plaga and these arms began to come in when I told her to save herself. Would anyone have helped me?” She couldn’t answer that. In his line of work, Leon was expendable. He would’ve been killed instead of treated. And with the plaga making its appearance so plainly, it was probably impossible to remove it at that point without harming Leon.

“You stayed behind for your own sake, then? Or just so you could die?”

“You’re not wrong.” She could hear the shrug in his voice, “I wanted to die. I didn’t want this to spread because I couldn’t be helped. But then, after I got out of that mess alive, I realized something. I could use the parasite to help people. I’m not saying I wanna be a superhero but I can do things now that weren’t possible before. I can reach new heights with these arms, slice enemies to ribbons. And that means I can help more people.”

“Leon...” Ada remembered what Luis had told her about Las Plagas. Not only did they control their hosts, if they were of a less dominant strain, but they also influenced the consciousness of the beings they inhabited. This was probably happening now, to Leon. He had wanted to protect Ashley and he was a bit of a bleeding heart anyway. It was a perfect mix for disaster.

“I was hoping to run into you anyway.” he went on, “I know you have connections, you learn things that other people don’t know. Will you help me? You don’t have to fight, just tell me where the bioterror is supposed to start before it begins and I’ll do the rest.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Leon. Are you sure about this? The parasite, it influences others, makes their desires stronger. It could be doing the same to you.”

“I’ve thought about that.” Leon admitted. He shuffled back over to the left, almost as if he was pacing, “And it’s probably true. But it makes a good point. Why should I have these new powers and not use them for good?” There was silence. Leon moved again, in place this time, and gave a sigh. He said, “Ada, it’s your choice to help me or not. But with your help, we could make the world an infinitely better place. If you change your mind, meet me at the Air Force Memorial tomorrow night.” There was a skittering sound again. Ada turned on her flashlight, only to find herself alone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

I will admit, while trying to come up with Leon’s infected design, I found @erinmccomics’ Knife Arms Leon and that had a bit of influence on his design. However, Leon is going to keep changing over this AU. I just wanted to note the influence because that AU, among other Infected Leon AUs, is so amazing!

Previous Drabble

Next Drabble

First Drabble

#prince plagas au #resident evil #ada wong #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #writing #au #my post #infected au #post RE4 #I headcanon that Ada likes to nickname people #especially Leon #not posted

[marvelous-space-nerd]

My dearest Bee

Hi dear tumblr people! I wrote a thing and I quite like it,,

Summary: Time travel, is, well something. Who would've thought that you would get stuck in the 1800's?? Well here you are, part of the Van der Linde gang, ready to face the past.

First chapter can be read as a stand alone chapter. It takes place a few years after Isaac died. The relationship between the reader and Arthur is platonic. Enjoy!!

ao3

My dearest Bee,

So I hope these letters- I can’t call them letters if they’re in a book right?- Anyways, I hope these will find you, I hope you’re home, safe. I hope you saw your dog again, I miss her. I have a horse now though! Maybe I’ll name her after you, or just wasp. If I remember correctly you weren’t the biggest fan of wasps. But really, I’m not sure if we timetraveld or were transported to another universe where everything just started like 100 years later, the latter case making it a whole lot harder for you to find this. I just really hope you’ll find this against all odds, because I said I’d write to you if I made it. And I did! I guess. After the whole thing blew up some cowboys found me, I think they call themselves the Van der Linde gang? But yeah, they feed me and gave me a bed for the small price of doing some chores. I’d like to do more though, did you know that the 1800’s are really boring even though you can die at any second? It’s spicy but in the wrong way. I’d like you to know though that it’s not all bad here. People are lovely when they’re not trying to shoot you. You should see a campfire evening- hell any evening- here.

Yours always,

(Y/N)

“(Y/N) get off your lazy ass and do the chores we asked you to do!”

“Mister Morgan! No need to yell, I got it perfectly under control. I was just, taking a break, that's all. Everyone who works all day has the right to take a break.”

“Boy as much as we want it workers are exploited ‘till they fall to the ground face first. You however are not so-” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes before speaking agian. Softer this time than the louder tone he was using first. “get to work, please.”

“Fine fine, but-”

“There better leave something good out of that big mouth of yours.”

“Hey that's just rude! But I want one of you lot to teach me anything. I can’t even ride a horse for Christ's sake.”

“I still don’t get how you can’t kiddo.”

“I told you I lost my memory at the explosion, maybe I lost my skills too.” You said avoiding his piercing gaze. Nothing is better at covering up lies than staring at rocks being sad over the skills you’ve lost.

“And we all know about that blatant lie.” Fuck, maybe rocks aren’t good at covering up.

“It isn’t-”

“Boy I don’t give a damn, you could work on your handwriting though, you’re almost worse than John. But fine, when you’re done with your chores I'll teach you to ride.” He said, finally giving in.

“Yay!” You said while doing little hand clapping motion. “I won’t disappoint, I promise. I’m a fast learner!” You said with smiling eyes

“And how’d you find out you were a fast learner boy?” He spoke out as he raised his eyebrows, just enough for you to feel them piercing right through you, poking at all the holes in your lie. You thought you’d last at least a few months, well here you are, exactly one month deep in this shithole being caught red handed.

“Fuck” Is all you managed to cram out while your eyes lost all their focus. You being back in your own mind instead of the wild world.

It made the silence hard. The only sound that of the other gang members and the birds and the bees to give you something to focus on. It’s so hard out here, no amount of scouts will ever prepare one for the real wild.vIt’s much scarier out here. The real wild is the place where you die if you trip over the wrong rock. The scouts will make sure the rock isn’t even there. Every bird will just put down another rock and god I want the silence broken, just as broken as my lie is.

“I know there’s probably a reason you’re not telling us anything.” Athur said, as he moved closer, his eyes smaller. Like they could see right in his head “You can’t hide forever, not who you are.”

“...”

“Use your words boy”

“I’m sorry, Mister Morgan, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You’ll figure it out, but first geT your ass back to woRK.” His voice became louder this time, I mean this was the third time he asked. He put his hand on your shoulder, shoving you away from your shared tent towards the hay bales you were supposed to move. A bit harder than anyone in the twenty-first century would’ve done, but for Arthur it was just a friendly push.

“I will, I will mister Morgan!” You said trying to act cheerful. Arthur made a “tsk” sound and waved you off, absolutely done, it seemed. You moved to the hay bales that were still in the wagon, ready to be fed to the horses.

The hay bales were heavy, yet they seemed lighter than they were a month ago. Your hands weren’t soft no more and being covered in dirt and dust wasn’t rare anymore. The luxuries that the modern world gave you disappeared the moment you decided that Bee was the one who should go home. One to run to the portal the moment it opens, one to pull the lever and jump through afterwards. Both of you knew that people don’t want you touching their stuff, let alone interdimensional portals or time machines. You knew someone would be quick to show up the moment you turned it on. It was surprising to see the portal become unstable, blinking in and out, in and out of existence. It left you with 2 choices. Option a: jump in it praying it would still transport you back home, back to all you knew not leaving you in the empty pocket of a closed portal. Or option b: run away for the inevitable explosion.

Gods you hated thinking about it. It played and twisted your mind. You couldn’t even talk about it, no accessible therapists in the wild west. And you’d prefer not to tell anyone you’re a helpless time traveler. Stuck in 1895 traveling with a gang of outlaws. A surely unique situation only you could get yourself in. You don’t even remember what you chose. You just remembered waking up surrounded by a bunch of cowboys.

“And how is our newest member doing?” The man's smooth and easy voice was easily recognizable. Dutch Van der Linde. Isn’t it ironic that he has a dutch surname and that his parents called him, well, Dutch. It’s a question that always on your mind, why his parents did that and if it’s iconic or just stupid. Dutch was one of the first people who introduced himself, right after Arthur- who was very inclined on being called Mister Morgan- and Hosea. The trio who showed you the wild west wasn’t all bad.

“Dutch! It is absolutely lovely to see you.” You said while putting the last hay bale down. A little bit of healthy sweat decorating your face. “I am doing absolutely great. Arthur- Mister Morgan is actually going to teach me how to ride a horse when I’m done.” You said while eyeing Arthur. Clearly not being amused with the situation. “Eh, he said yes, it’s his problem now.”

“I’m surprised you got through that thick skull of his!” He said with a smile, each word a little louder than the last. He clapped his hand on your shoulder as he let out a little chuckle.

“I think he likes me even though he won’t admit it actually.” You lied, confidence was half of the battle, as they say.

“I think I don’t you annoying little bastard.” Arthur said, joining the conversation. Dutch clearly talks loud enough to make sure any gossip subject will show up to the gossip. Definitely not the fact that you made eye contact with him “Now get to your horse before I change my mind.”

“Arthur! Oh shit- Mister Morgan! I’ll be there before they can even give me a speeding ticket” You said, maybe it was a bit too modern this time, but isn’t the wild west about living on the edge?

“You speak a strange version of english boy.” Arthur said. “You know how to saddle up a horse right?”

“Hosea taught me so I could help around with chores. And Wasp already had a saddle when we found her so I’m all good to go Mister Morgan!”

“Great, now go get her saddled up so we can go.” He said, motioning towards the horses.

“See you in a flash.” You said while snapping your fingers, forming finger guns to point back to Arthur. You dismissed the look of confusion on their faces, clearly not used to the finger gun motion. You walked off to Wasp and gave her a little pet and a snack. As you were putting her saddle on you overheard the rest of the conversation between Arthur and Dutch.

“We can both see you have a soft spot for the boy, Arthur.” Dutch said with a chuckle.

“And we both know youngins have great hearing and that he’s spying on our little conversation.” Arthur said in response, eyeing you. You kept saddling Wasp up as if you heard nothing. Let the deaf chicken inside of you arise and all. Hoping they’d say more.

“I know Arthur, I know.” Dutch said with a chuckle. About to walk away. “Oh before you go, he’s a kid Arthur, don’t be too hard on him and be carefull.” You didn’t think you were a kid, maybe not a full grown adult, but at least you were half an adult, no kid. But you weren’t going to say anything, you were eavesdropping after all. “He’s all yours, (Y/N)!” He yelled at you, before leaving for real. You turned around and gave him a smile and a quick wave. Arthur walked

“Take her by the reins, we're walking to an open spot first.”

“Shoar '' You said, absolutely trying to mimic the western accent you hear all around here. Apparently it was just bad enough to make Arthur chuckle.

“We’ll make a cowboy outta ya yet.”

Traveling in the wild was absolutely amazing for the most part. Abandoned camps are in fact disgusting. They leave their trash! And it’s not like they cleaned their cans so it smells. But besides that the mostly untouched nature was beautiful and the air was so clean. It all felt much more, how to put it, real. No factories everywhere, no house on every corner of the street, just, the world how mother nature intended it. It was peaceful. There was an open field about ten minutes walking from camp, and that’s where you arrived. Reins in hand.

“You ready to go (Y/N)?” Arthur asked. You put your hand on your hips looking at your horse with abosute pride and stupidity because how to fuck were you going to do this?

“Absolutely.” You said. “Remind me how do I get on again?”

The words were taken by the wind as they made room for silence. Arthur’s expression could be described as a mix between surprise, disbelief and the OhMyGodAreYouStupid emotion. Yet it all quickly made room for a smile, or a laugh. He could definitely be laughing at you.

“I didn’t expect to need to teach an 18 year old how to get on a damn horse.”

There was no fire behind the words, but as they say, fight (fake) fire with (fake) fire.

“And I didn’t expect to end up here for the life of so I did not think horse riding would be a viable skill to know. So get your pretty ass in the saddle so I can.. mimic you or something.” You said making a hand gesture at Arthur’s horse.

He gave you one more smile as he turned to his horse, getting on slower than usual. He got on on the right side of his horse so he put his right foot in the styrup. He lifted his body up effortlessly and as elegant as a western outlaw could get. And there he was, in the saddle, in full western glory.

“Looks easy enough.” You said, an absolute lie as it turned out. The stirrups were way higher than expected, and the getting on could be called anything but elegant or the cool western movies you saw. Turns out your own body is heavy and there’s quite a lot on a horse to get stuck behind. But you ended up in the saddle, full western glory.

The rest of the riding lesson went about the same. Arthur did something really cool looking and whenever you did it it felt like you were some old slime blob.

“Squeeze your lower legs to get her to move, (Y/N)!”

“I am this horse is just broken- OHMYGOD SHe’s moving!”

“Never blame the horse for the rider's lack of skill, boy. Now steering.”

He explained it all to you. How to properly hold the reins and how to use them, how to do it with one hand and how to do it with two. Western and English style he called it. He taught you how to move your horse around and what not to do. The one and most important thing being to have no doubts and no fear. The horse will sense it.

It felt odd at first, to have control over another living being. It wasn’t easy no, Arthur had to tell you how to correct your posture every 5 minutes. But after a while of correcting everything you started to get confident. It started getting easier to steer. Every muscle of yours was getting tired but it was so worth it. Maybe one day you’ll look like an actual movie star.

Once you got the basics down you could go a bit harder. From a walk to a trot, a canter and even a little gallop. And as the wind brushed over your face blowing your hair away, it felt like something the 21st century didn’t have a lot of. Galloping through the grass hearing every step as more and more grass was thrown into the air. Arthur still giving you instructions on what to watch out for, riding by your side in case of emergency. And the horse, Wasp, god she deserved a cooler name. Her big strong muscles moving beneath you, her breath as she was running, the heat radiating from her skin, gods it felt so great. No modern bike or car could ever top this feeling of freedom.

Cars and bikes could however top the feeling of falling off. You lost control quite a few times, losing balance, a rearing horse throwing you right where you belong. But nothing modern could beat that feeling of getting on again. Of it working when you tried it for a second time. Hell, maybe the third time. Arthur was there to make sure you were okay, and you could have another go. And another. And just one more for good measure. Lying on the ground trying to see if this time you did break something wasn’t a strange thing after today. Hell it happened at least every hour. But determining it as fine and getting on again, it felt like a lot.

You didn’t even realize it was getting late until the sky started turning orange. The normally so bright sun started becoming more yellow and stopped burning at your eyes. Instead it just seemed pretty. The clouds became yellow just like the sun, and the sky turned a bit darker with every passing minute. Yellow and orange were happy colours, maybe this was an good omen, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t think you’d die somewhere in a ditch. Bee would be proud to see you haven’t given up. You knew that for once.

“Time isn’t a real thing Mister Morgan, I swear.” You said looking at the sunset.

“Call me Arthur.” Said Arthur Morgan, though guy in the west in dire need of respect. Arthur “You call me mister Morgan boy” Morgan.

“Wait, did someone hide weed somewhere because this must be a hallucination! Can I really call you Arthur?”

“Wouldn't have said it otherwise boy.” He hissed, the mister Morgan just wouldn't leave Arthur.

“Well, Arthur, thank you. I’m happy I only have to say half the syllables now.”

“Shoar thing. Now let’s go back to camp before they send out a search party to see if you haven’t broken anything today.” He said jokingly

“I would never! I am obviously the best horse rider in the entire United states!” You said sarcastically, if you fake confidence long enough, it might become real.

Arthur laughed at that. “Well see about that boy. Now let’s go, we should be there soon considering you can ride now.”

“Of course, good plan. I can show off my skills now!”

“Shoar, go ahead boy. Don’t make your entrance too dramatic.”

“I will, I absolutely will. Oh and Arthur?”

“Hm?” He said, quite relaxed actually.

“Thank you, for everything today. I’m happy you let me bother you today.” You said with a proud smile.

“You’re welcome boy. Bother me all you want, we ain’t getting rid of you just yet.” He said as he ruffled your hair a bit. “Now let’s go home, I’m realll hungry.”

You absolutely couldn’t hide the smile on your face. “Hell yeah, I’m starving.” You said as you kicked the stirrups making Wasp move, you rode to camp in the beautiful orange sky. Maybe he did actually care about you, just a little.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #BUT LIKE PLATONIC #Idk how else to tag it #sorry hehe #Van der linde gang #pre canon #fluff #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part three

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 6.6 k

genre: forbidden love. this part is very angsty oh boy, suggestive.

warnings: blood and blood drinking (because they’re vampires lmao), character death, themes of guilt surrounding said character death, themes of lying and betrayal, murder, sex is discussed but not described, alcohol.

rating: 16+

taglist (open!) : @katya-moro​ @leximb1997​

a/n: hi everybody! here’s a new part of indulgence for you! definitely a bit of a darker tone to this part, as we take a bit of a turn in the storyline (but frankly, i’m very excited about it). if you enjoy this, please let me know (only if you want, of course)! i’m a sucker for feedback. and once again, thanks for reading! i appreciate it. <3

previous chapter.

...

..

.

“No, Felix Lee will be the one to pay this price. Kill him, and the damage you’ve caused will be forgiven.”

The words echo in your mind as you leave the councilroom, your ears ringing. This couldn’t be happening. You expected something terrible of course, but you at least figured it would happen to you.

Then again, wasn’t this punishment worse? To suffer with the fact that this was all your fault, that Felix Lee would die by your hand, while you lived on. No, this was no form of mercy. The Council was cruel, and this was no exception.

As you enter the main hallway, you feel a hand rest on your shoulder. “Y/N,” a familiar voice speaks softly, but it does anything but soothe you.

You whirl on Chan, smacking his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit, staring daggers into him. While you expect him to be smug, or even amused, his eyes seem empty. Sad. He feels guilty.

Of course he does, because that’s who Chan is. He isn’t a monster, no matter how badly you try to make him out to be. No matter how much easier it would be to hate him. You know Chan, and he would never be giddy about something like this.

“I’m sorry,” he pleads as you turn away from him and stride down the hall. “I didn’t think that this would happen. I didn’t think that they would kill him.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” You mock, refusing to slow down or look him in the eye. “Well, I guess it’s fine then.”

He chases after you. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Y/N. That’s not what I’m asking for. I want to help you.”

At this you turn around to face him, pulling him into a separate, less busy hallway that leads to the library. “What? You want to hand me the blade? Cock the gun?”

Chan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His eyes are wide, shocked by the venom of your words.

“No-no? That’s not what I mean-”

“Or do you just want to be in the room while I drink him dry? Try to lend some moral support, because God knows I’ll need it.”

“Y/N, if you’ll just let me talk-” he pleads, once again placing a hand on your shoulder. It’s all too familiar, and only makes your anger spark further.

“No!” You cut him off, your voice dangerously loud. “You sold me out, Chan. You fucked me over. And I don’t care why, I don’t care how you try to justify or fix it now. I don’t care. It’s over. I have to kill someone I care about, someone… someone I could have loved one day because of you. Because of your-”

“Hey, uh, are you guys okay?” A voice asks from over your shoulder. You turn your head to see Jeongin, eyes imploring the both of you with a nervous curiosity.

Chan plasters on a reassuring smile. “Yeah, we’re good, man. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asks carefully. “Because I heard yelling-”

“We’re okay,” you say, putting on your own fake smile. “We’ll meet you down at the front in a second, we just need a minute.”

“Ah, alright, if you say so,” he says, not sounding so sure. Slowly, he turns around, disappearing down the hall.

Once you hear the sound of his footsteps fade, Chan turns back to you, his voice low. “Turn him,” he states.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“Look,” he sighs. “I messed up, I’m sorry. I thought they’d make you stop seeing him, not have you kill the guy. It was petty and stupid, and in some messed up way I thought that I would be protecting you. Clearly, I’ve managed to do the exact opposite. I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to fire back, to tell him his apology is not accepted, but as his eyes meet yours, you can’t bring yourself to. His eyes are glassy, on the brink of tears. He swallows deeply, stabilizing himself before continuing.

“And I know if they kill him, you’ll never forgive me. Hell, you shouldn’t forgive me. But that’s the last thing I want, for us to be like this.”

He stops for a second, a breath of silence passing between the two of you. Your eyes begin to sting, overwhelmed by the emotion of it all. It could be your current situation. It could be that familiar look of painful affection swimming in Chan’s eyes. It could be a lot of things. Perhaps it is all of them.

“What do I do, Chan?” You whisper, your voice coming out hoarse. “Fuck, what do I do?”

He hesitates for a moment, before pulling you into a hug. That’s the final push that breaks you, tears fall from your eyes, sprinkling your cheeks. You would be embarrassed, if it weren’t only Chan there to see you. Despite all that has happened, there is still that comfortable acceptance that hangs in the air around the two of you. That involuntary form of care that doesn’t flare out, even after the love has dissipated.

“You turn him into one of us,” Chan says. “It’s the only option, maybe then The Council will cut him a break.”

“I can’t do that to him,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I can’t make him suffer like this.”

“Maybe,” Chan says, setting his chin on top of your head. “But is this really a fate worse than death?”

~~~~

That is the question you contemplate on the lonely walk back to your apartment. Chan had offered to walk you back, but you declined. Despite the moment of reconciling the two of you had shared, you still aren’t ready to be around him. He still hasn’t earned your forgiveness.

As you arrive home, your apartment feels haunted. Not by Chan’s ghost, as it once had been, but Felix’s. You can see him lying on the couch, television playing some history documentary you were both only half paying attention to. You can smell his cooking wafting in from the kitchen, a familiar sweet that had long since been devoured.

You can feel his touch against your skin, the phantom of his fingertips dancing along your back. Your neck. Your thighs.

You can’t kill him, that much you know. However, if you don’t, someone else will. No, you have to fix this, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Chan is right. The only way Felix has a chance of survival is to turn him, but could you really do that? After knowing just how terrible this life really was?

If you had been given the option in being turned, there was no way in hell you would have accepted. You remember that dreadful night, roughly three years ago. You’d been new to Hampden, and eager to meet new people. You stumbled into him at a party. He was a little older, a little classy. You’d been interested in him right away, not yet having a clue about what he or The Society was. Vampires were nothing but a myth, a fairy-tale, a form of media-culture.

This would change later that month. For good.

The two of you began to see one another casually. It was fun, thrilling. You kept each other a secret, for reasons you didn’t understand the full extent of at the time. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, for both better and for worse. With his charisma and passion, came a strange, devious obsessiveness. A terrifying need for control. You’d go as far as to say, a lack of humanity.

Then came the night you decided to end things. The last night of your life as you knew it. You told him you wanted to stop seeing each other, he refused to leave. He yelled. He broke things. In the end, he turned you.

When you awoke, your new and rejuvenated self, he was already gone. This wasn’t a desperate attempt at staying together, at making you need him. No, it was revenge. You would pay the price for rejecting him, for the rest of your life.

Which was to say, forever.

You stare at the telephone sitting on your coffee table. Could you really do that to Felix? Could you really take away his life as he knew it? Make him say goodbye to his roommates, his freedom? Everything would become controlled by The Society.

The answer is no. No, you can’t make him do that. But as always, this is not a matter of what you do and don’t want. It never has been. It never can be.

You keep this in mind as you dial Felix’s cell, your fingers pressing the familiar keys deeply lodged in your memory. You don’t have to think, you’ve dialed this number so many times before.

The phone rings three times before he picks up. “Y/N?” His voice echoes through the speaker. He sounds worried. Perhaps he should be. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice full of concern. “This is a lot earlier than you said you’d call. Did you talk to Chan?”

Felix doesn’t know you had a meeting with The Council today, you hadn’t mentioned it to him prior. He knows nothing. Nothing of his death sentence. Nothing of the weight of what you have done.

“Yeah, I talked to him.” You say quietly, before a moment of silence passes by, as Felix waits for you to continue. “Listen, could you come over?”

“Right now?” He asks. “It’s the middle of the day, are you sure?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you think. “There isn’t anything to hide from anymore.”

“I’m sure,” you say, controlling the waver in your voice. What are you going to say when he gets here? How do you tell someone that they’re on death row? How do you offer them immortality? How do you explain the price?

“Okay,” he replies, in that sweet, deep voice of his. “I’ll see you soon.”

~~~~

You don’t know what to expect will happen when you open the door for Felix. How will he react when you tell him? Will he scream? Cry in silence? Or will he just leave, not being able to stand looking at you any longer?

Your stomach knots. You don’t know how he will react, but you know at the very least, he won’t be thrilled.

The doorbell rings, rattling through your apartment, shaking you from your worried daze. You approach the door slowly, hand shakily finding itself clenched around the door knob. With only a breath to settle yourself, you twist the handle.

When Felix see’s you, he can already tell that something is wrong. Perhaps it’s the way your eyes are staring at him as if he’s going to disappear. Or maybe it’s how your hands are shaking, arms wrapped around you, as if you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

All he knows is that something didn’t go according to plan.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks, pulling you into a hug. The gesture is warm, comforting. You could so easily slip away, immerse yourself in the feeling. Forget about The Council. Forget about it all, for just a moment. For just a night.

But oh, how selfish that would be.

“No,” you whisper into his chest, unable to look up and meet his gaze. “No, everything isn’t okay.”

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, gently breaking away from you. He takes your hand, slowly leading you over to the couch. “Did they do something? Did they hurt you?” He asks, beckoning for you to take a seat.

You laugh, although it sounds far more like a sob. Of course, before all else, he’s worried about you. It is just so utterly Felix, to have all his concerns focused on you, and not an inkling of worry towards himself.

Maybe you should have been more like him. Maybe if you had focused on what danger your little arrangement could have put Felix in, rather than trying to save your own hide, you could have prevented this.

So many maybe’s. So many possibilities you’d never know the answer too.

“No, Felix. They didn’t hurt me.” You sigh, looking up to meet his eyes, which are wide and swimming with concern. He’s panicking, that much is obvious.

“Then what happened? Was it Chan? Did he say something?”

You sigh. Time to get this over with. Rip off the bandaid.

“No, Lix. It wasn’t Chan. It’s about you,” you say. He freezes, slowly pulling his hand away from its place on your thigh.

“About me?” He asks slowly, the look in his eyes shifting from a worried concern, to fear. “What about me?”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of how to break the news. In the end, you decide to just be outright.

“They want me to kill you,” you state. You expect him to jump away from you. To run, or yell. Something, at least. Instead, he blinks.

“Are you going to?” Felix asks, his tone emotionless. As if he were asking what you were doing that day, rather than whether or not you planned to murder him.

“What do you think?” You look at him, trying to read the expression on his face, but draw blank. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He sighs. “Alright. So what are we going to do, then?” He’s awfully calm considering the circumstances. Almost too calm. An eerie chill passes through you.

“Well, that’s the tricky part,” you start, inching away from him slightly. Why is he so relaxed? Did he expect this to happen? How, if you certainly didn’t? “I talked to Chan, and we both agree there’s only one way to solve this.”

“Wait,” Felix looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Chan? As in the same Chan who probably turned us into The Society in the first place? That Chan?”

“Yeah, that Chan,” you mumble, almost embarrassed. When he puts it like that, listening to Chan’s advice sounds foolish, but you know it’s more complicated than that. Chan had fucked up, there was no denying that, but you and Felix didn’t have many allies in this. It’s important to accept help where you can find it.

“Okay, and what did he recommend?” Felix asks, and you can hear the resentment in his tone.

“That I turn you,” you say. Frankly, you’d expected Felix to keep up this strange, cold exterior. Instead his jaw drops and he jumps to his feet.

“You-you want to what?” He stammers, taking a few steps back. His eyes are wide, full of nothing but pure terror.

“Woah, calm down! It’s okay,” you say, rising to your own feet, extending your hand out towards him. It reminds you of that first night you met, when he told you he knew what you were. About how his childhood neighbors were just like you. It is strange, looking back on how much has changed, yet also remained the same.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he states, refusing to take your hand. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself, shrinking backwards. He’s utterly terrified. “You want to make me into a monster?”

At that you frown. You know he’s frightened, that much is blatantly obvious, but a monster? That stung.

“A monster? Is that what you see me as?” You say, your tone sharp.

“Y/N, you know that’s not what I meant,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Your anger spikes sharply.

“Really? Because that seems to be exactly what you meant.”

“You’re a vampire, Y/N. I think that’s quite literally an example of a monster. You? No, you aren’t one. But Chan? The Society? They are.”

“You don’t seem to find it so monstrous when I drink from you, do you? No, you actually like it. So don’t act like you know what you’re talking about, Felix. Because you don’t.”

“But, I do know!” He shouts back, closing the space between the two of you. You stare up at him, and suddenly you see it. The flicker of something behind his eyes. The flicker of something more.

“How?” You whisper, your breath hot against his lips. “How do you know?”

“Because,” he says, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. You hear it, pounding, the blood rushing through his veins.

“I’m a hunter.”

~~~~

7 weeks prior…

Felix hadn’t originally expected to like you. From what Changbin had told him, vampires were the embodiment of evil. Blood-thirsty murderers, who revelled in the pain and anguish of their victims. Frankly, there really didn’t seem to be anything to be fond of.

No, he had expected to despise you. Fear you. Take the greatest risk he’d ever gambled walking into the library that night. He wasn’t even sure if he’d walk out alive.

Especially after what happened to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was one of Felix’s roommates. He, Changbin and Han lived together for over a year before Changbin invited Felix to move in a few months ago.

Felix had really liked Hyunjin from the start. The guy was funny, always ready to share a good story, or listen to one of Felix’s own. He was greatly accepting, treating Felix as if he had always lived there, right from the day he’d moved in. He was sweet, creative. A Dance major. Everything about the guy screamed likeable, and Felix couldn’t help but admire him.

Right up until the day he was murdered.

Hyunjin had started seeing someone. Although he wouldn’t admit it to any of his three roommates, the signs were undeniable. He’d disappear late into night, and always come home early in the morning. He’d cancel plans because he “had to study,” and when they came home he was nowhere to be found.

Changbin had confronted him about this, but Hyunjin had denied it. In that care-free, sweet nature of his that made Felix want to believe he was telling the truth.

But he couldn’t, because Felix had seen all the signs too.

Felix remembered one morning, when he woke up to find Hyunjin in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. The man hadn’t noticed him walking in, and Felix went to grab him by the shoulders. Just to make him jump a little, nothing too menacing.

But that’s when he saw them, peeking out from Hyunjin’s collared shirt. Two bites marks, clear as day.

When Hyunjin noticed him, he jumped back, quickly pulling the collar of his shirt higher. “Oh! Hey, Felix! You’re up early,” he’d said, laughing. However, Felix could see the falseness of his smile, the intense look in his eyes.

Hyunjin was hiding something, and whatever those bite marks were held the answer.

Now, Felix had never heard anything about vampires before. Therefore, when he saw the marks, he just assumed Hyunjin was into something… a little less than vanilla, to put it lightly. He shook it off. Tried to distance that day in the kitchen from his thoughts.

Yet, the marks stuck with him. They just looked so… real. They were not a human bite, nor any animal Felix could think of. They looked like something straight out of a horror film. The way the skin bruised around them, swollen. The holes themselves were dark. A hollow red.  

Felix should have been concerned. Worried. Instead, he was intrigued. He wanted to talk to Hyunjin about them, but it felt too personal. He’d only known the guy a few months, and the marks seemed to be something Hyunjin wished to hide. He couldn’t just come outright and ask him.

So Felix kept it to himself. A mistake. A huge mistake.

As roughly 3 weeks later, Felix would walk into their apartment to find Changbin curled on the floor, trembling. His cheeks were stained with tears, eyes unfocused as Han sat behind him, patting his back to grant the smallest inkling of comfort.

“What happened?” Felix asked, panicking as he rushed to his friend's side. He may have only moved in a few months ago, but he’d known Changbin almost all his life. They’d gone to the same elementary school, parents being childhood friends themselves. They were close, unbelievably close. And in all that time, Felix had never seen Changbin so upset. So disheveled. Broken.

When Changbin didn’t respond, Felix turned to Han, who was already staring at him with somber, empty eyes.

“Hyunjin’s dead,” Han said, so quietly Felix wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly.

“Dead?” Felix choked, eyes subconsciously trailing to Hyunjin’s bedroom door. “What do you mean? He- he can’t be dead?” There was no way. Hyunjin had to be in there, dancing to his favourite mixes or reading a webcomic, gushing about his favourite dramas. He couldn’t be dead.

“He is,” Changbin spoke suddenly, still not deterring his eyes from their place on the wall. “I saw it happen.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Felix wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how to form words. Shock enveloped him in a fuzzy, mind-clouding fog.

The three of them sat there for what felt like hours, until eventually, Changbin spoke.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” He asked.

“Okay,” Felix whispered. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. If he could handle it. Yet, his curiosity got the better of him.

“I was asleep in my room, woke up to the sound of banging on the door,” Changbin spoke quietly. “Heard Hyunjin get up to grab it, assuming it was fine. When he opened the door, he sounded shocked. Afraid. He spoke like he knew why they were here. Like he was in danger.”

“I heard them come inside. Hyunjin started shouting, “get away from me!”, “don’t touch me!” I got up, rushing towards the living room. However, as I was coming, I heard Hyunjin suddenly get cut off. Confused, I carefully peeked around the corner. Can you guess what I saw?”

When Felix didn’t answer, Changbin turned to face him, his eyes finally meeting Felix’s own. Felix swallowed, his heart rising into his throat. Changbin’s eyes were dead, holding a darkness that made Felix shiver.

“They were drinking his blood, Felix. Like a fucking vampire. The guy had Hyunjin pinned to a wall, and didn’t let go of him until Hyunjin was gone. Until he drank every last drop in his body. Then they dragged him out of here. Left as if nothing had happened.”

“That… that’s impossible,” Felix shook his head. The story had to have been fake, Changbin’s way of dealing with the trauma. It couldn’t have been true.

“Is it?” Changbin asked. “Is it really? Because I think we’ve all seen those sickening, fucking bite marks Hyunjin has been carrying around these last couple months.”

Felix froze. That was true, but still, that couldn’t have meant vampires were real. No, that was ridiculous. They weren’t any more real than mermaids, or werewolves. It was simply impossible.

But… was it?

Suddenly, Changbin leaped to his feet, storming across the living room and whipping open the door to Hyunjin’s bedroom.

Han, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, chased after him. “Changbin, no! It’s too soon. Don’t do this to yourself. Not right now.”

“No!” Changbin yelled back, not looking back at Han. He began digging through Hyunjin’s drawers, throwing everything inside out onto the bed. “It’s my fault he’s dead, and you know that. I should have tried to stop it, something at least. But I froze! I didn’t do shit! And now Hyunjin is dead, Han.”

Changbin rushed over to Hyunjin’s nightstand, ripping out the bottom drawer. “The least I can do now is try to prove what happened to him. Try to show that it wasn’t just my bloody imagination, like Felix over here clearly thinks it is.”

Felix, unsure of what to say, remained quiet.

“He doesn’t think you imagined it, Changbin,” Han reassured, carefully putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. “But trashing Hyunjin’s room? That’s not going to solve anything.

Changbin shrugged off Han’s hand, scowling. “You don’t know what will help,” he spat, half-mindedly flipping through one of Hyunjin’s old notebooks. “There’s got to be something in here. Something that will prove that-” he began, but quickly stopped.

Changbin stood silently for a moment, staring at the words on the pages with an intensity that made Felix nervous.

“This is it,” Changbin said quietly, not looking up at them.

“It’s what?” Han said, quickly placing himself beside him, beginning to read whatever was on the pages. He quickly went quiet, his eyes growing wide as he scanned the paper.

Changbin looked up at Felix, an unreadable expression on his face.

“It’s our proof.”

         ~~~~

Hours passed and Felix finally found himself sitting at his desk, the dim light of his lamp cascading over what turned out to be Hyunjin’s journal.

Changbin had finally given it to him, spending hours obsessing over every word and detail. God knows where he was now, having left the apartment around midnight. A couple hours had passed, and he still hadn’t returned.

Han had gone to sleep a while ago, leaving Felix alone with nothing but the ghost of Hyunjin’s words that he left behind. A chill passed through him. This was all he had left of him, these entries discussing what would later become the reason for his death.

Felix paused on a certain entry, one dating back roughly a month ago, regarding the bite marks.

October 23rd.

She fed from me today. Finally. It hurt seeing her so starved, so weak and frail compared to when we first met. Everytime I’d look in her eyes, I’d see how glazed over they were, how blown out from hunger. It physically hurt, knowing how she was putting herself through this pain when I could help her, if she’d only let me.

I had to beg her to do it. She’s so worried about them. So paranoid they’re going to find out. I’m scared too, I guess, but I’m willing to risk it. For her.

As for the feeding itself, it’s difficult to explain. It hurt, undoubtedly, but at the same time it was wonderful. It felt wrong, wild. Raw. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so connected with someone. It’s not the same as sex, somehow it felt more intimate? Like I said, it’s difficult to explain. Strange.

It’s weird, looking in the mirror now, seeing those marks. Yet, they make me smile. They remind me of her, as if I’m branded with the fact she trusted me enough to do this.

I think I’m starting to love her. Even if worse comes to worst, I don’t think I’d ever regret this. She’s shown me so much, I only hope our time doesn’t run out.

I’m seeing her again, tomorrow. I think Changbin is starting to get suspicious, he made a comment about me leaving late at night. I denied it, but I know he thinks something is up. Maybe Han and Felix do too, but they haven’t said anything.

I want to tell them, I really do. But I know I can’t. I promised her. Besides, roping them into this might make matters worse.

I hope I’m making the right choice.

~Hyunjin.

Felix felt like he was going to be sick. So Hyunjin knew. He knew what was coming, even a month ago. Yet he didn’t stop seeing this girl. Why? Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, sure. But even so, this seemed ridiculous. Why would he keep doing this, knowing the consequences?

Felix’s mind wandered back to the marks on his neck. The deep gashes of where she’d drank from him. The feeding, as Hyunjin had called it. Was that what made him stay? This strange, monstrous intimacy?

Felix didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how this feeding could possibly be a good thing. And yet, to his own shame, he was curious. Curious of how it felt, how it led Hyunjin down this road to his death.

God, if Changbin could hear what he was thinking now.

  ~~~~

The following weeks passed by in a blur of grief and obsession. Changbin was rarely home. Sometimes he was at the library, doing as much research as he possibly could. Others, he was searching for more hunters, anything to find out more about what exactly Hyunjin had gotten himself into.

Today, the three roommates were sitting on the living room couch, discussing a rather important next step in Changbin’s mission of avenging Hyunjin.

“I found one,” Changbin stated, taking a sip of his gin and tonic.

Han frowned. “What do you mean you found one?”

“I mean one of those bloodsuckers is at the library every night the same time I am,” Changbin stated. Felix shifted nervously. He didn’t like the look on Changbin’s face.

“Okay,” Han continued, his frown deepening. “What do you want us to do about that? You’re not planning on shoving a stake through their heart or anything, are you?”

“No,” Changbin replied, although he didn’t seem to be as appalled by the idea as Han. “I plan on using them.”

“What do you mean?” Felix asked, an unsettling feeling passing through him.

“I mean, one of us has to get close to her. Close enough to figure out who this “they” Hyunjin keeps referencing is.”

“Then what?” Han asked, his arms crossed.

Changbin shrugged. “Then we make them pay for what they did to him. The only question now, is which one of us is it going to be?”

Now, Felix didn’t like vampires. Not at all. Not after what they’d done to Hyunjin. However, he couldn’t seem to find this deep-seeded hatred that Changbin had developed.

No, in fact he felt a level of sympathy for the girl who lived on Hyunjin’s pages. For the sweet and generous girl who would almost rather die than subject him to any danger. She wasn’t a monster, that much was obvious. No, the vampires that murdered Hyunjin, the vampires that she was so terrified of, they were the monsters.

But Changbin didn’t seem to see that. Felix didn’t blame him, he was blinded by both grief, as well as the overwhelming guilt that Hyunjin’s death was his fault. It wasn’t, of course.  Felix was sure that if Changbin had stepped in, they simply would have killed him too. But that wasn’t what Changbin wanted to hear.

So, before he could properly comprehend what he was doing, he spoke. “I’ll do it,” he said, causing the two men to raise their eyebrows.

“Really?” Han asked nervously, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Felix, you don’t have to. You could get yourself killed.”

Felix knew this. Hell, he knew this well. He also knew it was the right thing to do. This girl at the library… If Changbin attempted getting close to her in the state he was now, he’d end up getting one of them killed. Han, bless his soul, was far too paranoid to pull it off. Even now, he tried to distance himself from the entire topic of vampires. Maybe it was fear, maybe he didn’t like the spite in Changbin’s voice when he discussed them, but in any case, Felix knew he wouldn’t be able to do this.

Besides, he could handle it. You deserved to be given a chance. Perhaps you were an exception, like the girl in Hyunjin’s notebook.

“I’m sure,” Felix said. And so your mutual destruction began.

~~~~

Felix had met you in the library under Changbin’s instruction. Made some small talk, a little bit flirty but nothing too wild. He was surprised to find that you were rather pretty, a clean academic look and mysterious eyes. He was also surprised to find that you were witty, as well. Charming.

Based on the way Changbin had described you, well, you were supposed to be nothing short of a demon sent from hell.

You were both sitting in silence, Felix watching as you translated passages from The Iliad into Greek. Which he had to admit, was undoubtedly impressive.

It was then he noticed how glazed over your eyes were, pupils blown out in hunger, just as Hyunjin had described in his journal. Which meant he also knew that you were struggling, refraining from eating.

That’s when he felt it, that slightest pinch of sympathy. You weren’t eating, which meant you also weren’t sucking people dry in their apartments for their roommates to see. No, you were refraining yourself, and that wasn’t a monstrous thing to do.

The pieces fell like dominos after that. He kissed you. You invited him back to your apartment. You both went inside. You kissed some more.

Then he proceeded to scare the ever living hell out of you.

The look on your face when he told you he knew still haunts him. The sheer terror in your eyes, the unchained panic and fear. It was the kind’ve look someone had right before death. As if he were going to murder you.

He hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t realized that him knowing you were a vampire would be so catastrophic to you. It wasn’t like you told him, he already knew, but that didn’t seem to matter.

He quickly made up a story about his old neighbors being vampires, anything to calm you down. Then, to his own surprise, he offered to let you drink from him.

This wasn’t a part of the plan. If Changbin saw what he was doing now, he’d ring his neck for sure. Yet, Felix was curious, even more so then he was before. This intimacy, this incredible feeling that Hyunjin talked about, was it really true? He wanted to know.

There was also the fact of the matter that he genuinely wanted to help you. You were so scared, so petrified, and he was to blame. You were not a monster. You weren’t. You were just a scared girl who had clearly been starving herself, and if he could help with that, he should, shouldn’t he?

You were hesitant at first, but you agreed. Climbing on top of him, your breath hot against his neck. He braced himself for your fangs. Yet even so, nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of breaking through his skin.

It was painful, a throbbing ache erupting from his neck and flowing throughout the rest of his body. Felix could feel the blood pumping through his veins, escaping through his newly punctured wounds. He grabbed your arm for support, his mouth opening in a cry from the pain. Although, he doubted you could hear him, based on the way you lapped so lavishly at the blood, leaning into him.

Yet, with the pain came an undeniable sense of pleasure, pulsing through his body in waves. A dizzying, overwhelming sense of ecstasy, clouding his mind in a hazy fog of desire. It was overwhelming, how the feeling casted over him, draining him of anything but eachother. Here it was just you and him. There was nothing else. Nothing but the two of you.

He didn’t want anything else. Your name rang through his skull, shattering all other thoughts that existed outside this moment. His vision blurred, all his senses drifting from him. Yet, he didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. All he needed was you. You. You. He felt himself fall back, sinking into the floor, his limbs growing limp.

Then it stopped. You pulled away from him. He blinked, attempting to regain a proper sense of consciousness. He saw your face, your beautiful face, and smiled.

At that moment he understood. He understood it all. How Hyunjin followed down that path, how in the end he didn’t regret it.

He knew he’d come to make all the same mistakes.

~~~~

So your little arrangement continued, and slowly it began to develop into more. While enjoyable, it wasn’t just about the feeding. Not at all.

Felix thought you were incredible, to put it lightly. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Clever, kind, selfless. You held an unbelievable sense of passion in everything you did.

His favourite days were the ones spent at your place. The comfort of your bed became his safe place. Your kitchen became his creative outlet. His home whenever he was wrapped in your arms.

No, nothing made Felix more happy than the time he spent with you.

That’s what he thinks of now, walking back home from your apartment, after having told you everything. You were angry of course, feeling lied to, betrayed. He doesn’t blame you. He blames himself.

He blames himself for everything that has happened. He knew what would happen from the beginning, what his sentence would be, he’d seen it all before. Yet, he chose to ignore it. Some little voice inside of him said that he was different, that it was merely unlucky what happened to Hyunjin. That you two would beat the odds.

Felix knows that he had been lying to himself. He knows Hyunjin had been careful, just as much as the two of you had been. He brought this upon himself.

Why? Because he loves you. He can admit it to himself now, after everything that has happened. He isn’t sure if you feel the same, especially after the last couple hours. He doesn’t blame you, if you don’t.

He should have just told you the truth from the beginning, but he didn’t want to lose you by scaring you again. His roommates wouldn’t tell anyone, he’d made sure of it when he talked to Changbin and Han a couple days ago. Now that was a horrible conversation, Changbin still hasn’t spoken to him since. 

Felix had told both of them that things hadn’t worked out after the first night he spent with you. That way, he wouldn’t feel pressured in divulging anything you’d told him of The Society. As much as he hated them, so truly hated them, he’d promised you secrecy. He’d honoured that promise as much as he could, even if it ultimately put him in danger.

Yet, that’s not what he’s worried about right now. No, he is thinking of your face that first night you spent together, that look of pure terror. It was something he had never wanted to see again.

That hope was futile, however. As when he told you, he did have to see it again. Watch as your eyes widened, your mouth gaping open and eyebrows furrowed as he told you how his roommates knew. How he came to the library that night looking for you. The details of Hyunjin’s murder.

How a part of Felix knew that his fate could be the same.

You had walked into your kitchen, trying to get yourself away from him. Saying that you needed time to think this all through, and that he should do the same. After all, immortality and eternal bloodlust were two difficult things to be offered.

You told him to leave. He did. He’d said that he would call you within the next couple days, when he came to his decision. Then you’d turn him, if that’s what he decided, and that would be it. He didn’t know what this meant for the two of you afterwards, but there’d be time to figure that out later.

Oh, there would be so much time.

Because Felix already knows what his decision will be.

He hates Vampires. He hates The Society. The way they torment your life, just as they did to the girl in Hyunjin’s notebook. The way they killed Hyunjin. How Chan, someone you once trusted, turned the two of you in without a second thought.

But it doesn’t matter if he hates them. Not anymore.

As in this moment, Felix Lee has decided that he will become one himself.

~~

next chapter.

#skz fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz felix #skz felix x reader #felix x reader #stray kids felix x reader #felix x vampire reader #vampire skz #vampire stray kids #vampire felix #skz x vampire reader #stray kids x vampire reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids felix #stray kids #skz #felix fan fic #felix fan fiction

[heliads]

Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (Part Five)

When Kaz Brekker announces that they’ll be working with a certain Tidemaker to help with the latest heist, Jesper knows it’s not going to end well. He and Y/N L/N have a fierce rivalry, although feelings may change over a night.

previous / series masterlist

a/n: it’s finally over 😭thanks once again to @underc0vercryptid​ for being my muse for all of this

It’s hard for Jesper to convince himself to leave the alley, to let his hands leave Y/N and return to their places by his sides. Inej and Kaz will be looking for them, that much is true. But there’s still a sound like a sigh trapped and rattling in his lungs when he leaves, a regret that he can’t quite excuse away with knowledge of what Kaz’s vengeance would mean if he found a single Dreg disobeying one of his most enforced rules.

Y/N understands, that much is true. She’s become more involved with the Dregs as time goes on. She knows Kaz Brekker in the way that they all do- the Bastard of the Barrel isn’t one that you cross unless you wish to lose your tongue and your life. It still seems wrong to give this up, though, to let Dirtyhands keep walking all over him for the one thing that matters. In the end, they would have had to leave the alley anyways. This is just the first excuse that passes Jesper’s lips.

He manages to turn off his mind for a little while, convincing himself that it doesn’t feel harder and harder to leave, that he can be emotionless and cold. Jesper’s tone is clinical when he tells Kaz and Inej of the successful mission, his hands for once unshaking and firm when he hands over the list of names to Kaz. However, even his attempts at being fine and calm draw suspicion- Kaz hadn’t seen them rejoin the rest of the party when the guests relocated from the main hall, and he wanted to know why.

Jesper has spent enough time running with the canal rats for lies to spring easily to his tongue. There was a difficulty finding the safe, he says, they had to dodge some guards and they didn’t quite get there in time. It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? They got in, they got out, and they weren’t the reason the alarms were sounded. Kaz raises an eyebrow at this, but he doesn’t press it. Jesper might be well and truly hallucinating, but he swears he sees a tinge of unrest in Kaz’s eyes, like the boy is haunting himself over the fact that he may have made an error, one that could have gotten his gang caught like a too-clever fox in a trap.

Maybe this shift in Kaz’s usual ruthless demeanor is enough to unsettle him, or maybe it’s the gnawing knowledge that Jesper keeps walking away from the girl he might love that drives him to leave the Slat once more. It’s early morning now, dawn with its rosy-fingered hues, but a lack of sleep has hardly bothered Jesper before, and it certainly won’t now. He thinks as he walks, stretching his legs as he paces mindless circles around the city.

Jesper can’t shake the feeling that he’s been running for too long. He’s used to it, but for some reason, it feels different now. He doesn’t like this constant leaving, this weight on his shoulders like he’s holding true to a lie that will one day spiral out of control. Jesper is used to living life on the run, to being flamboyantly proud of everything that makes him, well, him. The skulking around back corners, stealing kisses only after he’s checked and double-checked that no one is watching? It feels like a noose is tightening around his neck.

In the end, Jesper finds himself climbing up a rickety fire escape and stretching his legs out over the edge of a roof, watching the golden dawn start to turn the waters surrounding Ketterdam bronze with light. It is not long before he is joined by someone else, someone with answering steps and a reassuring smile tossed his way. Maybe she could tell from how they’d left that he was still lost in thought. Regardless, Jesper is happy to not be alone.

Y/N sits next to him, carefully swinging her feet over the edge. Her heels kick up against the brick. “I like this view. I like being able to see the water. It feels like I’m more connected to it.” Jesper turns his head towards her, watching the way the early morning air toys with her eyelashes, her face. “Is it easy to be a Tidemaker here? I mean, you’re powerful enough that people don’t try to trap you with indentures. Does it ever get easy in Ketterdam?”

Y/N laughs quietly. “Not at all. I still remember when I first showed up and stepped off of the boats. My parents wanted to send me away from the disaster that was the Ravkan civil war. They guessed it would happen long before it did, and assumed Kerch would be safer. They sent me over first, saying that they’d follow soon after.” Jesper can hear the inflections in her voice, the way she casts her eyes towards the water with renewed vigor. He knows this means that they never showed up again.

She clears her throat, voice stubbornly loud as if ridding herself of doubts. “I was terrified when I first got here. Nothing made sense. In Ravka, Grisha were feared, yes, and there were always traders or mercenaries or even drüskelle out for blood, but we had a home there. If you had a home, people rarely came hunting for you. I had no such harbor here.”

Y/N looks out over the streets as if she’s never walked them before, as if she’s once more a stranger to the coal-choked airways always drenched with a spattering of rain and misfortune. “I had a friend. A girl who came with me. She was an Inferni, made the mistake of trying to summon up a small spark to keep her warm. I watched them take her right before my eyes, and I didn’t do anything at all. I vowed from that moment on that I would never be weak again, never hide in the shadows like I did on that night.”

Jesper’s heard bits and pieces of the story from here. He’d learned the most about her before he even liked her at all, actually, back when they still considered themselves to be rivals. Jesper had told himself that he was just collecting information on an enemy to best take her down the next time they crossed paths, but there was more to that, wasn’t there? Maybe that was a sign that even then, when Jesper had convinced himself that the only thing they could ever have was animosity, he still wanted something more. That was a gambler’s luck, after all- always reaching for a better deal, a shinier prospect. She was his best capture.

Y/N glances over at him like she can sense his thoughts. “That’s when you entered the picture, actually. I stopped being scared to hide my powers and started using them in bloodlust. I took up jobs, found this one really annoying sharpshooter who kept getting in my way.” Jesper presses a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “I think you can do better than just ‘really annoying’. Dashingly infuriating, maybe. Devastatingly attractive. A charming enemy who-”

Y/N cuts him off, laughing. “You’re awful. Utterly awful.” Jesper goes to protest, but she leans in, pressing a kiss to his lips that makes his heart swoop in his chest. Y/N raises an eyebrow at Jesper’s sudden silence. “Am I that good of a kisser? I don’t think I’ve seen you that awestruck in a while.” Jesper scoffs. “I can do better than that.”

He lets his hands find hers, lets the rising sun light the way his lips meet hers. They don’t leave the rooftop until the sun has fully ascended to its place in the sky, until the clatter of feet on cobblestones is the only reason for an exit. Not a gang, not its fearsome leader. Just the two of them, drowning out the whole world until there’s nothing left at all.

He is eventually found out, of course. All stories repeat themselves, all beginnings follow suit. When Kaz calls Jesper up to his office, he finds that he isn’t worried at all. Before, he might have felt his shoulders tense, hesitating at the door. When Jesper faces the oddly terrifying wooden paneling, however, all he can think about is the sun shining through Y/N’s eyes, the smile on her lips as his fingers laced around hers. If loving her is wrong, well, Jesper’s already been a criminal for quite some time. Why not add one more misdeed to the list?

Kaz waits for him in the office. He stands up, black gloved hands tapping on the familiar crow’s head cane. It’s all meant for a threatening display- Jesper’s seen this very posture used successfully on many a nervous trainwreck of a failed business partner or lackluster goon. However, Jesper’s still filled with the giddy rush of seeing his girl and he can’t quite force himself to care.

Kaz clears his throat, the metal hull of a ship scraping against jagged rocks. “Y/N L/N.” He doesn’t have to say anything else, just the name. Jesper nods. “Yes.” Kaz raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to deny it?” Jesper shrugs. “We both know your information is good. Yes, I’m seeing her.” Kaz’s fingers still on the head of the cane. “You know how I feel about that. It’s a weakness.”

Jesper should take it as a possible sign of insanity that he’s considering the path before him at all. He knows what Kaz expects of him- an apology, maybe, a promise that he won’t stray from the rules again, or at least not so long as they interfere with Kaz’s master plan for the Dregs. He’ll see Y/N out, do his best not to cross paths with her again. He might return to the gambling halls once more just to stave off some unsightly emptiness inside of him, and then he’ll be as good as gold.

Jesper, however, does not intend to do any of this at all. What good are the odds if he doesn’t have his girl? He’s stepped inside the Crow Club over the past couple of days. The rattle of Makker’s Wheel doesn’t have that same fervor, the excitement doesn’t spread over him in the same delicious rush. Simply put, it isn’t worth it. It isn’t a gamble worth his time, and Jesper’s lost mightier fortunes over lesser odds.

So Jesper shakes his head. “Not her. Not like this.” Kaz tilts his head just slightly, eyes calculating, looking for loopholes to exploit. “So you’d willingly break the rules?” Jesper leans forward. “We’re Dregs, Kaz. It’s what we do.” Kaz returns his level gaze. “Not like this. Tell me, what is it that makes Y/N L/N worth this much to you? You were enemies before, were you not? Is it the power? The chance that she may be like you?”

Jesper lifts a shoulder. “It’s not always about finding the best possible advantage, Kaz. We work well together. It was only a matter of time before it was more.” Kaz Brekker might understand. Dirtyhands does not. “Your goal was not to find some pretty girlfriend in the Barrel, Jesper, it was to complete the mission and move on. I knew from the second you held her bleeding body in your arms that this wouldn’t be worth my time or my energy.”

Jesper doesn’t realize he’s standing until he is. “Then say it. I’ve spent my time playing your games, Kaz, and Saints know I’ll keep on turning your tables, but not on this. We all break the wheel at some point. I’m willing to do it for her.” Kaz is silent for a time, a time that seems to stretch on into such an eternity that Jesper finds himself tapping his revolvers again, feeling that same itch for a fight. It’s well and good to go into a battle of the bullets and feel the adrenaline kick in, he could handle that. This, however? Waiting for Kaz to do something, anything? You can’t fight that, only wait for it to end. And Jesper’s never been particularly good at waiting.

At last, Kaz speaks. “Then stay with her.” Jesper almost thinks that he’s started hallucinating. “What?” Kaz inclines his head. “She’s good for you. You’ve been more focused.” Jesper stares for a second, then shakes his head, fighting back the impossible urge to break into manic laughter. “Honestly, if it takes you considering the potential business opportunities to approve of us, I’m not about to challenge that.”

Something almost like a smile appears on Kaz’s face. Jesper is most certainly going insane. “I’m not completely heartless, Jesper. You’re a useful sharpshooter.” Jesper’s eyes widen. “That’s practically a compliment. Do you need me for a heist later? I can’t think of anything else to cause this.” Kaz tilts his head in acknowledgement of this surreal situation, pausing for a second as if listening to a voice that no one else can hear.

Then he gestures towards the door, allowing Jesper to leave. As Jesper walks towards the door, though, Kaz says something else. “Inej just left the roof.” Jesper nods in understanding. “Look at you. Dishing out the compliments for your Wraith to hear.” Kaz’s brow furrows, and Jesper decides to leave the office now before Kaz decides to take back his approval of Jesper and Y/N and hit him with his cane or something else overtly Kaz-like.

Despite his best efforts, Jesper is still teeming with anxious energy after the meeting, so he goes on a quick stroll around the crooked alleyways of the Barrel to calm the restless ticking of his hands and legs. When he comes back to the Slat, however, he notices that his door is slightly ajar. Jesper enters his room slowly, relaxing at the sound of voices.

The window is open, showing the faint drizzle of the streets outside. Y/N sits on the floor next to Inej as both girls consider a makeshift target of a few rags at the far end of the room. Inej tosses a knife up and down in her hand, then flings it towards the target. She hits it in the center, to no one’s surprise. Y/N’s eyes follow the path of the blade, and then she extends her hand towards the window, letting drops of rain fly towards her palm. She curls her fingers around the water, shaping it into a perfect replica of the knife Inej had just thrown, then directs it towards the target to slosh around Inej’s blade, another direct hit to the center.

Inej makes a scoffing sound. “That doesn’t count. You got to control the knife instead of just throwing it.” Y/N shrugs absentmindedly. “You got to pick a knife, I had to make mine myself. I think it evens out.” Inej glances up towards Jesper, smiling slightly. Somehow, it comes to no surprise that she’d known he was there all along. “Jesper, come tell your girlfriend that she’s cheating at target practice.”

Jesper shrugs. “As long as you hit the target I don’t think you can cheat. Also, I thought I locked this door.” Y/N grins up at him. “That’s the unbiased support I love to hear. And your door was locked, we just wanted to go in so we did.” Jesper nods. “That clears up everything.” Y/N laughs. “Good to know.” Inej stands up, stretching, and goes to retrieve her knife. She goes to climb through the window once more then pauses, turning to face them.

“I’m glad Kaz let you two stay together. I certainly did my arguing for you.” Jesper frowns. “How long have you known?” Inej sighs exasperatedly. “Practically since the start. You two are terrible at being secretive, you know that?” She doesn’t give them time to protest, just slips out the window and disappears into the roofline before you could even blink.

Y/N walks over to Jesper, a half smile on her face. “I suppose she’s right. We haven’t exactly been the most discreet, have we?” Jesper shrugs. “Maybe not. But we don’t have to hide anymore. We don’t have to leave.” Y/N smiles at him now, a true smile. “I like the sound of that.” Jesper hums thoughtfully, leaning down to kiss her. “So do I.”

guns blazing, tides rising masterlist: @kaqua​, @amortensie​

#jesper fahey #jesper fahey imagines #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey oneshot #jesper fahey series #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #grishaverse series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone series #sab #soc #sab imagines #sab oneshot #sab series #soc imagines #soc oneshot #soc series #jesper #jesper imagines #jesper x reader #jesper oneshot #jesper series #six of crows #six of crows imagines #six of crows oneshot

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part One)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, 150% angst, character death (technically not major character but they’ve been mentioned a lot)

Word count: 3,461

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

a/n: things in bold are in english

You were nervous all night for two reasons.

The first and biggest reason was that your pack was out facing guards, hunters, and townsfolk. The odds that anybody could die were very great, and that shot fear into your very core. Your brother was your blood, and you cherished him with everything. Without your brother, you didn’t know what you would do. He protected you, kept you under control, and always got you out of trouble. Your pack made you feel like you could take care of something, and you would do anything to make them feel safe and cared for. You may not have been good with your emotions, but you always made sure to show the pack you loved them.

The second reason, albeit not a big reason, was that Jiung had teased you about your mate possibly being in Seungcheol’s pack. All he told you was that his name was Hansol, and he was two years younger than you. Of course, him and Rin had a field day with teasing you about it, but you chose to try to ignore it despite your cheeks heating up like they would catch on fire, too. But even so, you were nervous about possibly meeting your mate tonight. But then again, if he was in that pack, he would be in that fight. You might not meet your mate ever.

Death was big probability tonight, and that terrified you. But all you could do was try to focus on the wolves and mates that had shown up at your door, and take care of them to the best of your abilities. Only when Jiung finally came home would you feel calm again.

-

Eunjin let out a blood curdling scream as soon as the three alphas had arrived from town, the rest of Jiung’s pack plus Minghao behind them. Wolves and humans alike stopped what they were doing, dropping to the ground to cover their ears in an attempt to block out the shriek.

Nobody knew exactly what caused her scream, but they assumed death must be dangerously near. It could be anybody, though, which was scary. Nobody knew who to watch out for or who to save. Nobody knew if they’d have the opportunity to cheat death. They just knew somebody was about to die.

But not unless somebody could help it.

Seungcheol lifted his head, realizing this was their out. If Eunjin’s screams distracted the humans, they could get away safely. He pulled himself off of the ground, trying to endure the screams as he made his way to each member of the pack, tapping them on the shoulder and nodding them in the direction of the clearing. The first few managed to collect the mates before leaving, making sure they were safe first.

Hansol felt the tap on his shoulder blade, lifting his head as he whined loudly. Seungcheol had one hand pressed to his ear while the other ear was laying against his shoulder. The alpha pointed toward the clearing, telling him to go, so he got up and went to run. He was one of the last ones to go, and then they’d be safe. They’d win against death.

Almost there. Just a little more until the treeline, and he was sure he could lose the hunters. But the screaming stopped when he was about 80 yards from the trees, and the humans were starting to come back to their senses.

He suddenly felt a weight on him that not only brought him to the ground, but it started to burn him. He realized it was a net that was beginning to sizzle into his exposed skin, and started to hurt even through his clothes. He whined before letting out a howl, hoping anybody could help him.

But then he realized, he didn’t want anybody in the pack to sacrifice themselves for him. He was just one person, and if somebody came back, they’d both end up being killed. It was better for this to just happen to him rather than to somebody else or multiple people.

He had a feeling when Eunjin screamed directly at him that he was the one who would die. He was the one doomed with the ‘curse of the banshee’. As he heard the cock of a gun, he knew it was it. So, he closed his eyes as he laid on the ground, waiting to be killed.

He heard the gunshot and flinched, but felt nothing new. Not more pain, not numb, and he didn’t even see a bright light like everybody said you’d see when you died. There was nothing new. He even opened his eyes and could still see everything perfectly.

Including Jiung, who was on the ground beside him, coughing up blood.

The alpha was bleeding from his stomach, having been shot in the back with the bullet going right through him, but he used whatever strength he had left to lift the silver net off of the younger wolf to free him. He didn’t even care that the silver burned his hands – he would die anyway, what did it matter?

“Hansol,” Jiung’s voice was strained, and blood spat onto the grass as he spoke. He spoke in English, which Hansol remembered was the alpha’s native tongue, “please take care of _____ for me. Don’t let her do anything stupid. Please love her with everything you have, no matter how much she lashes out. She really is the most caring girl in the world.”

Hansol had no idea what the older boy was talking about, but he refused to let him die here after saving him, “Jiung, I–”

One of Jiung’s pack – Hanbin, the fast one – had sensed his alpha was in danger and was suddenly standing in front of them after speeding back from the forest.

“Jiung–”

“Take Hansol and go,” Jiung stated, weakly shoving Hansol toward the wolf. “That’s an order, Hanbin.”

Hanbin stared down at his alpha, a loud whine emitting from him. Despite how much he wanted to help Jiung, he could only carry one of the wolves, and he couldn’t ignore Jiung’s order. His pack was ordered to protect Seungcheol’s at all costs, anyway.

Before Hansol could say anything else, Hanbin had grabbed him and run off into the woods, leaving Jiung behind.

But Jiung wasn’t sad about his death. Yes, he was upset that he would miss his sister and his pack. His heart ached knowing he’d never see his family – blood or pack – again. But he had helped another pack from feeling the same heartache his had felt when they lost brothers and sisters. He accomplished the mission he set out to achieve, and that made him smile even as tears fell from his eyes and the hunters surrounded him.

His last thought was you. You were always so strong, and he knew you’d find a way to be okay without him. If you had Hansol by your side, he was sure you could be kept under control -- the two of you were made for each other. You always did act before thinking, so he wanted to be sure you would be kept safe. After getting to know Hansol – even if it was only a little – he was positive you’d be taken care of. And that made him laugh weakly from happiness, even as his view of the stars in the sky was clouded by the masked hunters towering over him.

The last thing he heard was another scream in the woods.

-

You paced by the front door, blocking out whatever small talk was going on in the living room. You didn’t stop pacing until you suddenly felt something wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. 

You felt it at the same time that you very, very faintly heard a scream way off in the distance that sounded just like the banshee.

You’d never felt this instinct before, but you knew exactly what it was somehow. It was just the connection you had with the alpha. If anything ever happened to the alpha, the entire pack would know, and you knew Rin had the same feeling as soon as she tensed and stared back at you, her eyes wide as tears filled them.

The mates noticed your expressions and how your bodies were visibly shaking. Chanseong stood up, going over to you and putting his hands on your shoulders, “What is it? What happened?”

But you couldn’t even form words. You just stared back at him but not really at him. Your eyes were on him but your brain was somewhere else.

The alpha was dead. You could feel it.

Jiung was killed. Your twin brother. Your blood.

“_____…” Rin whispered, her bottom lip quivering as the other mates looked between you and her for answers.

The mates knew well enough about werewolf instincts. A pack was only tied to their alpha and they could sense when something was wrong with their alpha. They could put two and two together after a little bit of thinking, and Chanseong’s face fell as he realized.

Even the few wolves of Seungcheol’s pack understood. They weren’t sure if you sensed that your alpha was dead or just injured, but they knew there was trouble. But they wouldn’t ask for any clarifications. That would just be insensitive. They’d wait to be told.

“_____…?” Chanseong asked, hoping you could tell him he was wrong.

“No,” you murmured, “no, no, no, no, no…”

You suddenly whipped around and ran for the door, Chanseong’s hands falling from your shoulders. You were going to find the pack and see for yourself. And then you were going to go straight to wherever Jiung was to rip apart every single hunter and guard there limb from limb.

Despite the indescribable emotional pain she felt, Rin knew better than to just let you go off like this. She knew how you could get, and she knew you’d only get yourself into danger.

Using one of the only useful phrases she knew in Korean – thanks to your pack having to say it on many occasions – she pointed at you as you disappeared out the door, “Grab her!”

Chan immediately obliged, knowing you were going to go find the pack. He was much faster than you, and threw his weight on you, sending you both to the ground before rolling a few feet. That bought enough time for Rin to get outside and held hold you back as you tried to shove Chan off of you. You managed to get to your feet, but you now had Chan with his arms around your waist, Rin’s arms under yours and her nails digging into the front of your shoulders, and two of the mates holding onto your hands.

“_____,” Rin’s voice was harsh, and you knew she was trying to mimic the voice your brother used to make you listen, “do not start this.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you shook your head and felt cold streaks on your cheeks, “Fuck you, let me go!”

“_____–”

“Corinne, let me go!” you growled, feeling your emotions bubble up inside you until flames burst from your skin.

You felt all arms and hands suddenly release you to avoid getting burned, and you immediately took off into the woods. You heard the gasps of those who didn’t know how powerful your power was, but you didn’t have the space in your body to feel any sort of pride from their shock. All you felt was a pain in your heart you couldn’t get rid of, and a rage toward whoever let this happen. Even rage toward your brother for being dumb enough to get himself killed.

Chan caught up with you again, throwing himself at you now that the flames were out. You tumbled and rolled through the leaves and twigs of the forest floor before turning to find the pup, your eyes red with every emotion you felt. As you went to run at him, something else threw themselves at you. You felt large paws pinning your shoulders down before you looked up at the silvery wolf form of Rin. She growled at you, but you weren’t going to let her stop you on your mission – though with your mind running at a million miles a second, that mission wasn’t even that clear to you anymore.

You used all your pent-up emotion to shove Rin off of you, throwing her into Chan after he got up. You quickly got to your feet before you started running again, your legs going faster than you’d ever gone as you let your emotions push you to go faster and faster until you finally ran into the pack. But as you got closer, you noticed that there was indeed someone missing.

“_____?” Jaesang asked before you came to a stop, your feet sliding across the forest floor.

You felt Chan’s presence behind you, but you ignored him.

“Where’s Jiung?” you asked Jaesang who was leading the way.

Hanbin pushed his way through to the front. He figured if he was the one to leave your brother behind, he should be the one to tell you. Though, everybody already knew, and you could tell from the way people dropped their heads and averted their eyes that the feeling was correct. But still, you needed to hear it from somebody who was there.

“_____, I…” Hanbin trailed off, not knowing how to tell you this. There were no right words in this situation. “Jiung protected Hansol from getting shot by hunters. He told me to leave him behind, and it was save him or save Hansol. You know I can’t disobey alpha’s orders even though I wanted to…”

Everything stopped. Time, your breathing, your heart – all of it. The world seemed to be spinning, though, like you were falling to the side and tumbling down a hill. Hanbin’s words sunk into your brain, processing even though you couldn’t believe it.

Jiung was dead. He sacrificed himself to save Hansol.

Hansol.

Your supposed mate, Hansol.

You knew it wasn’t Hanbin’s fault. You knew ignoring alpha orders was basically impossible, so you couldn’t blame him for leaving him behind. But if Hansol had been more careful, Jiung wouldn’t have had to save him. You needed someone to blame, and that’s the logic your brain came up with. You needed someone to blame because Jiung wasn’t here for you to blame him. You couldn’t smack him in the back of the head and yell at him for being careless. You couldn’t tell him how fucking stupid he was for letting himself die like that. You couldn’t do anything because he was never coming back.

Your eyes scanned the group of people in front of you before they stopped on a face that was windowed between two men you didn’t recognize. As soon as you saw him, you knew it was him. Your heart fluttered, your gaze zeroed in on only him, and there seemed to be nothing else in the world except for him. Hansol.

But you also felt rage. You felt every emotion building up inside you. You wanted to pounce on him to kiss him, but also to tear him limb from limb. You wanted to hug him, but also punch him in the face. You wanted him to comfort you, but you also wanted to take away something from him like he took away something from you.

You were shaking, and everybody noticed. Your hands balled at your sides as your eyes turned red, only seeing the boy named Hansol. You felt so many things, but the biggest thing was anger. He was the reason Jiung was dead. He was the reason your brother would never come back. He was the reason the only real family you had left was taken from you forever.

Your body burst into flames that shot several feet in the air before dying back down, remaining only around your fists, “I’ll kill you!”

You lunged toward him, watching as his golden eyes went wide, and he took a step back. Hanbin caught you as you tried to toss yourself over his shoulder, an arm holding you at your waist before he set you on your feet. Jaesang rushed over to help, grabbing one arm while Hanbin grabbed the other. The mates around Hansol were moved away from you by other wolves, leaving him exposed.

You needed to get to him. You had to. You had to hurt him in some way because it wasn’t fair that he was perfectly fine, yet your brother was murdered. None of this was fair.

“_____, we are in danger,” Jaesang reminded you. “It’s perfectly fine if you want to strangle your mate, but you can do it when we get home. You’re better than this.”

Flames licked up your arms, burning the hands of your pack mates. They hissed, retracting their hold, and you immediately sprinted toward Hansol as you screamed and cried threats and profanities at him. You pulled one arm back, ready to punch him in the cheek and burn his skin.

Just as you threw your fist forward, Hansol grabbed your fist with his bare hand without even a second thought. But your flame went out with a sizzle instead of blistering his palm and making him cry in pain. You stood still for a moment, staring at your fist connected with his palm as your chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing. You hated how you loved his skin against yours. You hated how you wanted more contact.

But you especially hated how, until now, the only other person able to counter your fire was Jiung.

Hansol’s pack had no idea how he did that. As far as they were concerned, Hansol was just a normal werewolf. He never had any powers, and he never showed any signs like Seokmin had when his power was developing. But if a werewolf was meant to have a power, it would sometimes come to them randomly, or when they needed it most. Wonwoo’s power came to him when his mate and brother were all in danger, so it made sense that Hansol’s power would come to him when he had to take care of his mate.

“_____!” Hanbin barked.

With another yell, you pulled back your other hand and threw a punch. Hansol caught that too, but you could see frost faintly covering his palm before it wrapped around your knuckles and put out your flame.

A growl built up in your chest, your brows pulling down as you pulled your fist away from Hansol and reignited the fire surrounding it. In your white hot rage, you reverted back to your native tongue, but Hansol understood everything, “You killed him!”

You threw a punch. He caught it. It went out. 

Your pack mates just let you throw your weak and useless punches, knowing you’d get nowhere with it.

Still, you repeated the process with your other fist, “You’re the reason he’s gone!”

You threw a punch again. He caught it again. It went out again.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

You threw a punch. He caught it. It went out. 

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

It didn’t ignite. Your fist hit his chest with only half your strength.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

You fell to your knees.

You punched him, your fire gone out, and your strength leaving your body as sadness took over.

“I hate you.”

Hansol fell with you, letting you hit him weakly.

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I hate you…”

Your body shook with sobs, and you just stared down at your lap.

The crowd around you watched with saddened eyes. Even if some of them hardly knew you or Jiung, it hurt to see you in so much pain now – pain that some of them could only imagine. You lost the most important person in your life, and they recognized that. Some of them even silently cried for you, including Jaesang and Hanbin.

You recognized Jaesang’s whine, but he wouldn’t howl like wolves usually did to signal the death of a fallen pack mate. You were all still in danger. They couldn’t afford to mourn, but they let you have this moment because Jiung was your twin brother and the only person you felt could really understand you.

You felt warmth as Hansol wrapped his arms around you, and you just sobbed into his shoulder because the pain of losing your brother was too much for you. You hated how his warmth made you feel somewhat comforted. 

“I hate you…” you cried.

Finally, he responded to you, “I know. That’s okay.”

#seventeen #hansol #vernon #seventeen au #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen oneshot #seventeen fanfic #werewolf!seventeen #hansol au #hansol imagine #hansol scenario #hansol oneshot #hansol fanfic #werewolf!hansol #vernon au #vernon imagine #vernon scenario #vernon oneshot #vernon fanfic #werewolf!vernon

[salmonthestoryteller]

Just Gonna Nope on Wyatt Long’s Arc in RNM S3

Alright. Well, you knew it wasn’t going to all be squeeing and plot spec from me, so…  I’m going to talk about Wyatt Long’s arc, and why I’m against it, one more time.  With tags this time since I don’t think it’s that controversial an opinion.  But still tagging for discourse just in case.  And, hopefully, I can explain what I have against this plot - especially as it is currently being written - well enough.

And where I’m going to start is with the words of our own Max Evans, “Context Matters.”

There is a reason Max begins the story of what happened to Rosa in season one not with the night she died, but the night Isobel was attacked by the Drifter.  With the murder he committed and the trauma it inflicted on the Pod Squad.  With the fact that, his belief at the time, was that his sister had an undiagnosed psychological condition that had lead to the murders. Because Isobel’s crime, even if she had committed it, was not a premeditated act as far as the evidence showed. It was something she’d done while “checked out”.  When she wasn’t truly in control of her actions.

I have posted before that I believe Noah when he says he didn’t used to be who they knew him as.  Why?  Because Noah endured 60+ years of solitary confinement and sensory deprivation.  Look those terms up if you are unfamiliar with them. Extended periods of either can have severe negative effects in much shorter time than 60 years.  So if you tell me Noah was a nice guy before he got stuck in that pod?  Yeah, that I’ll believe.

Wyatt is a far different story.

Wyatt is not someone who is simply angry, or hateful - both of which - yes - is possible for a person to become over time due to experiences.

Wyatt’s acts of violence do not occur during moments of desperation, recent trauma, or even in retaliation for another person’s attack. Wyatt took a gun, drove to the Crashdown Cafe, and carried through with shooting up the building.  Wyatt then bragged about this act afterwards.

Yes, he was encouraged and assisted in grabbing and beating up Arturo. But when those with him grew squeamish it was Wyatt who insisted on continuing. It was Wyatt who was clearly shown enjoying hurting Arturo.  And clearly had no regrets when fighting with Max in the alley afterwards.

Due to things both Jenna Cameron and Max Evans say, we can only assume Liz and Arturo were not Wyatt’s only victims:

Jenna (01x02):  I’d recognize those naked cowgirl flaps anywhere.  Wyatt Long.  Hate him. Jenna (01x02): Which Long probably knew.  He’ll spend the night in jail and his daddy will pay the fine. Max (01x11):  But you are a racist sack of stupid with years of your daddy bailing you out of violent crimes.

In the most recent episodes, Wyatt again took a gun, drove to the Crashdown Cafe, and attacked Rosa.

In short, Wyatt is someone who is capable of premeditated acts of violence against multiple victims, who finds enjoyment in hurting others, and shows no signs of regretting these actions.

The type of person a statement like that can be applied to is not “a sweet kid who turned out this way because he lost his sister.”  Wyatt would most likely have already been showing signs of this sort of behavior in his late teens if not sooner.

If they had erased all of Wyatt’s memories then we could possibly talk about nature vs. nurture and how a different set of influences might change who he turned out to be. They didn’t. They only erased ten years.  His major influence in this regard would be the family that had already been a part of his life for 17(?) years prior to the ten years missing.   The same family Forrest specifically mentioned being the black sheep of. The same family that raised Kate - who wrote racist messages on Rosa’s car.  The same family who is stated to have bailed Wyatt out of jail for violent crimes multiple times.  You can’t nature vs nurture when Wyatt’s nurture would have been the same in both instances.

Even if you are retconning Wyatt’s previous on screen behavior, the way they are writing Wyatt is still wrong.  Wyatt would still have the mind of a teenage boy not only raised by a racist family, but living heavily under their thumb still.  Even if he was attempting to “break out” of his family’s mindset, he would not be acting or responding as written.

To Kyle’s comment about his friend’s, it should have been “You mean my father’s friends.” or something similar.  Because he would still know the type of people Kyle is talking about whether he liked it or not.

And if he has the mind of his 17 year old self, do you honestly think he would have publicly gotten in the face of Jordan to get him to back down from a fight when his family is heavily connected to the man in question?

It’s too nice.  It’s too “perfect.”

And honestly, even if they’d bothered to write either of those two scenarios instead, I would still be against it.  Wasting screen time on a magical reform for Wyatt Long that could be applied to multiple other characters?  No thanks.

tl;dr:

Whether Wyatt is responsible for the crimes he committed despite not remembering them isn’t truly relevant.

The fact that Wyatt is not just capable of premeditated acts of violence but enjoying them without regret is. Ten years wouldn’t change that.

There are plenty of characters this screen time could have been given to instead of wasting it on a magical reform for a racist antagonist.

#roswell new mexico #season 3 #meta #discourse #anti wyatt long #spoilers

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine

It’s here! The Sweater Weather/Coast to Coast Spy AU has officially begun! Thanks to everyone who’s asked questions/thought of ideas/showed excitement for this!! As always, characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove! And thank you, @donttouchmycarrots​ for proofreading this!

Here’s the Clandestine Masterlist

Chapter One

.

Remus Lupin was being followed.

He hadn’t been out in the field for years now, but some habits would always stick with him. Surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder as he walked down the street towards his flat, listening for falling footsteps or sudden noises, and – most importantly – trusting his gut.

He could feel eyes on the back of his head and knew from experience that he wasn’t just being paranoid.

He took a few seconds to think about it, then grabbed his phone, pretending to be oblivious, and called Potter before slipping his phone back into his pocket and keeping his steps even and casual. Sure enough, his follower tried to take advantage of his supposed slip in focus and grabbed his arm. But Remus knew it was coming and caught the assailant by the forearm, using their forward momentum to pin him to a nearby wall.

“Why are you following me?” Remus demanded, breath clouding in the cool night air before he recognized his attacker. Dark curls, dove-gray eyes, high cheekbones.

Sirius Black, a prominent member of the Snakes, the Slytherin mafia. Sirius Black, who was actively being hunted down by the intelligence agency Remus worked for.

Sirius Black, who wasn’t even trying to fight back or break free. For some unknown reason, he was in Gryffindor - where an entire intelligence agency was trying to take him and the organization he was a part of down - and yet he seemed completely calm. Nonchalant, even. As if this were just a walk in the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Remus narrowed his eyes at Black. “What’s going on?”

Black reached into Remus’ pocket, pulled out his phone, and ended the call to Potter. “Not here. Do you have somewhere quiet we can talk?”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “Yes, but I’ll need to call that guy back. If I don’t he’ll panic and he won’t hesitate to shoot on sight if he thinks I’m in trouble.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, but Black didn’t need to know that.

After quickly calling Potter back and explaining what was going on, he hung up and led the way back to his flat. He knew that was a better option that going back to Gryffindor Intelligence. If he felt like this put him in danger, he could move pretty easily. It’s not like he had many belongings to begin with. Uprooting the agency would be next to impossible.

“If people end up breaking into my house after this, I will hunt you down.”

“Yeah,” Black scoffed, kicking a rock farther down the sidewalk, then kicking it again when he caught up with it. “You’ve done a great job of that so far.”

“And yet you’re here for some reason. That can only mean two possible things.”

Black had to abandon the rock as they took the stairs up to Remus’ flat. “Oh? Do tell.”

“One, this is a crazy scheme to slowly kill off Gryffindor Intelligence one by one and, for whatever reason, you decided to start with me.” Remus fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his door. “Or two, which is more likely, you need our help. The only question I have left is why the great Sirius Black is stooping to ask us for help.”

He closed the door behind them and watched as Black took in his surroundings. It wasn’t much: a ratty old couch, a coffee table, warm brown-toned walls, and too many dying potted plants. 

He really needed to remember to water those.

“I ran away from the Snakes and I can help you take them down once and for all.”

Remus blinked at the suddenness of that statement. This… this could change everything. They might actually be able to take the Snakes down, after years of trying and failing. He had so many questions. What changed to make him want to leave? Why now? But none of those seemed to matter at that moment. There was only one question Remus needed to know the answer to immediately.

“What’s in it for you?”

Black shifted on his feet. “My brother…” He sighed, refusing to look at Remus. “He’s still there. And he’s innocent in all this – as innocent as he can be, in a situation like that. I need you to ensure that you can get him out safely before we take them down.”

“I’m sure something can be arranged.” Remus agreed. He knew of Regulus, of course. It was his job, after all. And he didn’t seem as innocent as his older brother was trying to paint him out to be. At the end of the day, though, it didn’t really matter. Letting Regulus go free, guilty or not, would be a small price to pay for taking down one of the biggest mafias in the country. “What’s your plan?”

For the first time Remus had ever seen, Black smiled. “It’s all in the flash drives.”

Remus called Pots and Moody over; this was too much for him to deal with on his own. James he trusted with everything - it didn’t even cross his mind not to call his friend. He was probably dying of curiosity after that phone call, anyways. Remus wouldn’t have been surprised if he was already on his way to Remus’ flat before he got the call. And Moody could sniff out a liar like no one Remus had ever seen. If Black was lying - about any of this - Moody would know.

James opened the door then, making a beeline for Remus and dragging him into the kitchen to talk to him in private. “Alright, Loops?”

“I’m fine.”

Pots relaxed, but only slightly. “So he just... showed up?”

“Tried to grab my arm on the way home.”

“So you brought him back to your flat? I mean, I know you voted for him as the most attractive in Criminal Choice Awards, but come on, Loops.” He said, referencing the game they’d played with the rest of Gryffindor Intelligence over New Year’s while outrageously drunk.

“First of all, we don’t talk about that game. That was a fiasco and should be considered top secret intel. Second of all, what else was I supposed to do? He said he could help us take down the Snakes. I couldn’t just let an opportunity like that pass us by.”

“Ok, fine.” James agreed reluctantly. “We’ll hear him out, but I can’t promise we’ll do anything else.” He then turned to walk back into the living room and glared at the stranger in the room. “Black.”

“Potter.” Black said with a taunting smile. “How’s the kid?”

“Don’t you dare – ”

Moody walked into his flat with his gun already drawn and aimed at Black. Remus sighed. “Is that really necessary?”

“You can never be too vigilant.” He mumbled, not taking his eyes off Black, who just grinned and sent Moody a sarcastic wave.

“If we’re going to get this done,” Remus interrupted, still clutching James’ arm in a firm grip to hold him back. “We need to work together. So stop antagonizing each other and let’s get to work. Black, you mentioned flash drives?”

Black nodded. “Riddle keeps all the information about the Snakes on seven separate flash drives. I could tell you some of the information, but there’s too many groups and people that I don’t have memorized. If you want to catch all the members and informants and organizations under the Snakes’ control, you need those flash drives. As soon as you try to take the Snakes down, they’ll all scatter and you’ll never find them again if you don’t already know who you’re looking for. Do you have coffee? It’s quite late and this is bound to be a long conversation.”

“I don’t drink coffee.” Remus lied, although he could tell Black saw right through him. “Keep talking.”

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch to get more comfortable and staring up at the ceiling as he continued in a bored tone, “He keeps the drives in different locations. One he keeps with him at all times. One’s in a safe in his office, and two are with his most-trusted men – Bellatrix and my brother.”

“And yet your brother is innocent?” Remus asked skeptically.

Black glared at him, all sense of nonchalance gone. When he spoke, his voice was deadly. “He’s done more in terms of taking the Snakes down than you have. We’ve been trying to destroy them from the inside for years, but there’s only so much two people can do.”

Remus understood now why people were so afraid of him. That piercing gray gaze was chilling.

“Ok, fine. Where are the rest of the drives?”

Like a flip had been switched, Black reverted back to casual as if nothing had happened. “There’s three in separate safes across the city – one’s in the police station, and two are in safety deposit boxes in different banks. That’s seven.”

James met Remus’ gaze. “Winter? He’s the best at cracking safes.”

Black grimaced. “And there’s our biggest roadblock. The Snakes know who you are.”

“What?”

“All of your active agents, the ones who have tried to take the Snakes down previously, they have files on.”

Moody looked like he was about to have a stroke. Black shrugged. “Their informants are no joke.”

“So what do you expect us to do, if we’ll be recognized as soon as we step foot into the city?” Remus demanded, running a list of their agents through his head and eliminating nearly all of them one by one. 

“Surely you have some agents who haven’t gone up against the Snakes yet.”

Remus blinked. “You’re joking. This is your grand plan? That eliminates about ninety-five percent of our candidates. And those five percent left? Maybe two percent are trained and ready to go out into the field. This is a huge op - we can’t just send anyone.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Hang on,” James said, and Remus groaned. He could see that glint in his eyes. The glint that meant he had an idea brewing.

Nothing good ever came from that glint. 

“We can send O’Hara.”

“See? We already have a candidate!” Black cheered, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Remus bristled. “Who’s O’Hara?”

“We recruited him right after he graduated from Harvard last year. He’s got a near perfect memory, and he’s really good with people. He normally does stake outs or reconnaissance and the occasional honeypot.”

“He’d be good for this,” Moody gruffly added. “He can charm the pants off of just about anybody. Makes it easy to get what you want.”

“I think Tremblay would be a good fit, too.” Remus chimed in, thinking it through. They’d work well together. Finn might drive Logan insane, but they’d get the job done. Hopefully. “Bring in some extra muscle just in case things get dicey, which they always do with the Snakes.”

“He hasn’t worked a Snakes mission before?” James asked.

Remus shook his head. “He’s been back and forth between here and Beauxbatons, remember? Since he’s fluent in French.”

“Can he crack open safes?” Black asked impatiently.

“No,” James said, but he was still smiling. “But we know someone who can.”

Remus thought about it for a second, then turned to gape at James when he figured it out. “James, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? He’s a perfect fit! And the only other person besides Winter who can consistently crack a safe.”

“He’s a kid.”

“He’s not that much younger than O’Hara or Tremblay, and you’re fine with sending them.”

“He’s never even been out in the field before!”

“Winter says he’s almost as good as himself.”

“He’s inexperienced, and he’s going to get himself or one of the others killed.”

“Ok, so then what do you suggest?” James demanded, throwing up his arms in frustration. “Do you know anyone else who could do it?”

Remus stared at him at a loss, much to his chagrin. They’d never had to worry about this before - Winter did all their missions when they needed to break into something. They’d never needed anyone else before.

Now it seemed like their biggest operation to date would be in the hands of a rookie.

After a beat of silence, Moody spoke up. “I agree with Potter. He’s our only option, if the rest of our agents are compromised. We can talk to Winter in the morning, see if he’s ready for this.”

Remus sighed, but didn’t argue.

“I’m sorry,” Black said. “But who are we talking about?”

James grinned. “Nut.”

“That’s his name?”

“Oh my god.” Remus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

***

Leo Knut (it’s pronounced newt, thank you very much) sat at his work station with twelve different locks in front of him, along with his pick, rake, and tension wrench. He took a deep, steadying breath and started his timer before instantly getting his hands on his first lock.

Insert tension wrench. Use the pick to find the binding pin and set it. Set the rest of the pins. Turn the tension wrench and…

The lock clicked open.

Leo quickly set it down and picked the next one up, repeating the same steps and singing along quietly to the song playing on his phone.

“All I want, all I want is you, your violet disposition, my unsound intuit – aaah!” He shouted when someone suddenly sat down on the bench next to him. “Fuck, Winter.”

Kasey raised an eyebrow. “You need to pay more attention to your surroundings when you’re on the job. Also, you’re tone deaf.”

“Thanks.” Leo muttered, reaching over to stop his timer and turn his music off. “Why are you here so early? Aren’t you usually asleep right now?”

“Yeah, but I got a call from Loops.”

Leo, always one to keep his hands busy, began messing with another lock. “You got another job?”

“No,” Kasey said, drawing out the vowel. “But you might.”

Leo laughed. “You’re kidding.” After a few seconds of silence, he looked back up again. Kasey’s face was dead serious. Leo set his lock and tools down. “You’re not kidding. What the hell? What’s the job?”

“You’d be going after the Snakes.”

Normally, Leo appreciated being direct and straightforward. 

This was not one of those times.

“As in the mafia? Those Snakes?”

“Yup.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yup.”

Leo knew of the Snakes, of course. And he knew that Gryffindor had been after them for years, which meant it was a big deal. So why were they putting him on the job and not Winter? He had experience in pickpocketing tourists in the streets of New Orleans and opening locks. He’d only started cracking safes under Winter’s instructions eight months ago. Why him?

“Is Loops insane? This would be my first job!”

“It was technically Pots’ idea.”

“Oh. Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Nut – ”

“That’s not my name – ”

“This is big for a first job.”

Leo fiddled with another lock, listening to the soothingly repetitive sound of pins setting. It was familiar, solid ground.

This, though, would be uncharted territory.

“I know.” He said anyways, trying to settle his nerves. 

“You think you’re ready for it?”

Leo looked down, collecting his thoughts before speaking. “I’ve got to prove myself somehow, right? What better way to do that than by taking down one of the biggest gangs in the country?”

Kasey laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m from Louisiana – it’s in our blood.”

“Okay, you crazy Cajun. You’ve got your first debriefing at 10:30. Please don’t be late your first day on the job.”

“Who am I working with?” Leo asked, tilting his head. “I mean, I’ve got to have partners, right?”

Kasey just smiled. “Trust me, Nut. You’re going to love them.”

***

Logan and Loops were the only ones in the briefing room so far.

And it was awkward. 

Obviously Logan knew who he was – everyone knew his story – but they weren’t talking. The briefing room with the almost-hilariously large table was completely silent besides the occasional rustling of paper or the sound of the air conditioning turning on again. Logan couldn’t remember ever talking to the handler before. Maybe briefly, at that disastrous New Year’s party.

God, that party.

Logan steadfastly refused to think of the New Year’s party.

That is, until a familiar face walked through the door.

The redhead looked up, doe-eyes widening as he recognized Logan. “It’s you!”

Fuck, he was even more attractive now that Logan was sober.

Logan forcefully pushed aside hazy memories of laughing too loud at a story the redhead was telling, cuddled up on the couch with red solo cups in their hands and an almost-kiss as the clock struck midnight that Logan had wanted more than anything. He smiled faintly instead. “It’s you!”

The agent sat down excitedly next to Logan, eager eyes peering out at him from behind tortoiseshell glasses. “How’ve you been? Guess we’re partners now, huh?”

“Guess so.” He said faintly, the word fuck rattling around in his brain on an endless loop.

“I don’t think I caught your name at the party.”

“Oh. Logan. Logan Tremblay.”

“Finn O’Hara.” He replied, holding a hand out for Logan to shake. He then looked over to Loops. “We’ve still got a few more coming, right?”

He nodded reluctantly. “Unless one of you knows how to crack a safe, by any chance.”

Logan snorted, then shook his head. He wasn’t good at small, delicate things like that. Bashing heads in and upper cuts, though... “Nope.” He said simply, leaving it at that.

“Absolutely not.” Finn agreed.

Loops sighed. “That’s what I – ”

The door slowly opened to reveal a tall, blond boy with messy hair and cornflower blue eyes. He looked at the three of them, seeming a little nervous. “Uh, hey. I’m Leo – is this the right room?” He asked in a softly-accented voice.

“Yeah, come on in.” Loops said, which made Leo smile and –

Dimples.

Logan quickly shifted his focus back to Loops as he began to talk again. “Knut, meet O’Hara and Tremblay. They’re your partners for this mission. We have one more person coming before we can get started,” He glanced down at his watch. “But apparently he’s running late.”

“Oh, Lupin, you almost sound concerned.”

Logan’s head shot up at the voice. Sirius Black strode through the door, giving Loops a flirty wink before looking at the three of them. He grinned. “So which one if you is unfortunate enough to have the last name Nut?”

Leo sighed, while the other two fought to keep their laughter at bay. “It’s pronounced newt.”

“Not anymore. You can’t expect people to pass up a nickname like that, kid.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What? Nut or kid?”

“Both.”

Black just grinned again. “Not a chance.”

“Are you done harassing our operatives, Black?”

“Why? Are you feeling left out?”

Loops glared at him, but his cheeks turned slightly pink. “Why don’t you start debriefing them instead.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Buzzkill.” He muttered, but threw himself into one of the chairs. “You might want to write this down – I’m only saying it once and I don’t have any of it in files or anything.”

Logan couldn’t decide whether he should be impressed or repulsed by the lack of professionalism. He looked over at Nut, who was already waiting with a pen and notepad, clicking his pen repeatedly. Logan gritted his teeth and tried to tune out the noise. O’Hara was just sitting back in his chair, content to listen apparently. Logan settled for somewhere in the middle and grabbed one piece of paper and a pencil.

“Alright, here’s the deal. I’m sure you know who I am: Sirius Black, ex-member of the Snakes, blah blah blah. You get it. Well, I’m here to help you take the Snakes down. All the evidence we need of importing drugs, trafficking, laundering, bribery, blackmail – Christ, this list is long. You get the picture. Everything illegal they’ve done, the evidence is on seven flash drives. We need you to get all seven and get my brother out safely before we can officially take them down. Easy enough, right?”

“This is going to be a long op,” Loops cut in, making meaningful eye contact with the three of them. “I’m talking weeks to months here. We’ve got a lot of intel we still need, a lot of planning to do. And it’s not going to be easy. If you don’t feel like you’re up for the task, speak up now.”

Logan sent a surreptitious glance at his new partners. O’Hara looked excited at the prospect of a mission like this. Nut still looked nervous, but his eyes were determined, focused.

They all stayed silent.

“Perfect. Then let’s get started.”

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine