#I had a lot of internal debate with Wind's
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Caught K-I-S-S-I-N-G Part 3
Masterlist
Part 1 Part 2
Part three will include Time, Sky and Wind.
Content under the cut!
Time
Time and you were walking side by side at the point of the group, leading the way for the boys to follow.
Since you were already walking side by side, you took the liberty to reach your hand out and put it on top of his. He makes no noticeable reactions but his hands curls over your gently, holding it without missing a beat.
You smile a little easier and step closer to match his pace and his stride. You have to hold yourself back from swinging your hands back and forth in the meantime.
Behind you, you hear a scoff and playful groan. “Gross.”
You both turn around and Warrior stands there with a smirk, if exasperated expression. “Really you two? Before marriage? In broad daylight?”
Sky snorts and elbows the other lightly to get him to back off but there’s no real venom anywhere here.
You bite your lip and smile back but self consciousness eats away at you. You try to pull away from Time but his grip on your hand tightens. Warrior notices and his smirk grows. “I thought I taught you better, Sprout.”
Time raises an eyebrow at the Captain, not impressed what so ever. “You’re absolutely right, Captain. Forgive me, I’ve seemed to forgotten my manners.”
You’re confused. You initiated this. You know that Warrior is joking but Time seems to be 100% serious. “Uh... listen, honey-”
Time pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Sorry, My Love. But I owe you an apology as well. I should have made myself a little more clear earlier.”
“Time-”
He kisses you deeply, cutting you off before you could begin to ask to be on the same page as he was. It takes your breath away and your eyes flutter close as you kiss him back.
“Oh, come on man.” Warrior says defeatedly.
Sky only dissolves into laughter.
Time pulls back with a smirk of his own. He’s too devilishly handsome for his own good. You don’t remotely think to scold him for that. You’re too preoccupied with how the light bounces off of his hair and how his gaze makes you weak in the knees to mind this.
Time pecks you once more before turning to Warrior with a nod. “I don’t need your permission to love them. Excuse us.”
Your jaw drops.
Warrior’s jaw drops.
Sky is still laughing to himself.
Time takes your hand again and begins to walk once more, swinging it back and forth to your hearts content.
You can’t seem to be bothered by that one bit. In fact, you wouldn’t mind it if he did that more often.
Sky
Sky had taken you away from the group to have some lunch just so that it could be the two of you alone for a little while.
It was a sweet enough gesture to simply having lunch with him but he wanted it to be a little more special.
He brought a blanket and some desserts to have with you, feeding you every once and a while as you both looked at the view he’d chosen for you impromptu picnic. The lake in front of you was a beautiful blue, reflecting the sky with crystal clear clarity. You had both sat underneath a tree with enough shade to cool you from the sun’s warm rays.
You sighed blissfully and leaned back against the tree, taking a moment to lean over and put your head on his shoulder. “This was perfect, thank you.”
Sky chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He holds you closer, tighter, resting his head on top of yours. “I had hoped you’d like it. You seemed a little stressed lately. I figured a nice break away from the chaos would do you some good. If only for a little while.”
“It was exactly what I needed.”
“Good, I’m glad.” Sky rubs your shoulder. He turns a little bit and kisses the top of your head.
“Oh. Whoops. Am I interrupting?” Legend puts his hands up in mock surrender.
You snort. “No.”
“Yes.” Sky glances down at you with a disapproving frown. You ignore him.
“I wasn’t aware that I was walking into the middle of something.” Legend smiles. He puts his hands down, pointing to Sky instead. “I came to get you though. You have a minute.”
Sky hugs you protectively. “What do you think?”
You swat his arm with an amused glint in your eye. “Be nice. If you have to go, then go. I can wait here for you?”
“No.” Sky mumbles into your hair. “Don’t wanna.”
You send Legend an apologetic smile. The Veteran doesn’t seem to mind. It looks like he had a suspicion that this would more or less be the outcome. He gets a large grin on his face and put his hands back up in surrender.
“I’ll tell them to not bother you two for a while.”
“Thank you, Legend.” You sigh.
Sky doesn’t respond, choosing to hide away in your hair instead. He nuzzles into you and tightens his grip somewhat. It feels nice.
“I can’t guarantee that they won’t send someone else though.” Legend admit as he walks away. “But I’ll leave you to it.”
Sky huffs. “Can’t even have five minutes.”
“We’ve had more than five minutes.” You remind him with a small laugh. “It’s been over an hour now.”
“Well it should be more.”
You laugh a little louder and hug him back. “Honestly... I can agree with that.”
Wind (Same age)
You and Wind had escaped from the group for a little while just talking silently amongst yourselves.
Your hands were laced together as you both down under a tree for the shade.
“I think I like this place.” You say quietly, slowly rubbing your thumb over his hand. “It’s a shame we can’t stay for long.”
“I didn’t think there could be so many trees in one place.” Wind admits, looking at your hands softly. “I’m so used to the color blue... there’s so much green.”
You grin with a small giggle. “Maybe we should trade. You show me what the ocean is like and I’ll take you to my village, where you’ll find a lot of grey instead. It’ll be new too!”
“Grey?”
“We live in the mountains. Lots of rocks.” You explain with a grin.
“Mountains...” Wind leans back, squeezing your hand gently. “It sounds almost like a fantasy. Do you think we’ll ever get to your village any time soon?”
“I don’t know.” You admit, wiggling your feet a little bit. “I’d like to at some point though. Just to see if everyone is ok. I’d like everyone to meet you too!”
Wind smiles bashfully, bringing his free hand up to scratch behind his ears. “Do you think they’ll like me?”
“Like you? They’ll love you, just like I do!” You laugh and lean over, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Wind gets a big smile on his face and leans over to kiss your cheek as well.
“Well isn’t that cute~”
You both jump. Wind instantly getting into a defensive position with his arm to cover you if need be. He snaps his head from left to right only to land on Four a little ways away.
Wind glares, biting down the curse that threatens to slip off of his tongue. “Smithy, you almost gave us a heart attack!”
“Oh please, you’re both fine.” The other boy laughs. “I was just looking for you. We’re about to head out. I suggest getting cleaned up a bit and heading back before the others actually start wondering where you both went off to and begin searching.”
Wind groans dramatically, getting to his feet. He holds out his hand for you as he dusts off his tunic from any stray dirt that might have gotten on top him. “Fine. But only because I don’t think I can handle the annoyed look Wolfie get son his face every time he has to come out and find someone.”
You take Wind hand and try to keep the smile off of your face. “It’s fine. No harm done.”
You’re quick to lace your hands together again and shoot Four a thankful smile. “Thank you for coming to get us, Smithy. We’ll join the others in a minute.”
Four nods with a soft smile of his own and gives a mock salute. he turns and leaves with very little fanfare. “Make sure of it.”
Wind sticks his tongue out at him.
Feeling brave, you kiss his cheek one more time, knocking the look right off of his face. You giggle. “Behave.”
“He started it.”
“Well I’m ending it. Come on. Let’s go back.”
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe x reader#lu x reader#I had a lot of internal debate with Wind's#whether i should include him here or not#but i think i found a balance#but he's usually last for people who's rather skip him anyway
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Another Update
Hello Friends,
I have a rather long (but optimistic!) update to share with you all today. As many of you are probably tired of reading these kind of posts, I have a TL;DR here, but I did want to share what has been on my mind in that past half-year that I haven't been here.
It has been rough, and busy as always, but I think I'm finally facing myself and my project for the first time in a very long time.
TL;DR (it's actually long, I have a lot to say (*_ _)人)
I soul-searched and decided to stop compromising on my own feelings with regards to this project. I gave in to everything I wanted to do.
Plot changes, which means some character changes, which means some of the demo is outdated.
GotRM will be switching over to Twine.
----
OH MAN DID I SUFFER THE LAST FEW MONTHS
After my previous update, I hunkered down and really analyzed how I wanted to proceed with GotRM as a project. Because even prior to that post, I had already been going through long periods of hiatuses (which you are all aware of), and while I didn't lie about school taking up my time, I was also harboring a growing dissatisfaction with my own writing that really killed my progress for a long time.
So after everything had settled, I sat down and forced myself to peel apart my work. I know I said I would answer asks, but I uninstalled all of my social media and put aside this blog to focus. I made a note of all the things I liked and didn't like, and I made a list of things I wanted to change or improve on. The biggest point was that I also looked at my efficiency during actual writing sessions: how much of my time was spent writing vs. fighting with code? How could I change that?
And after a lot of deliberation, I figured there were a few things I had to change from the ground up, summed up in four points:
My working style was super incompatible with grad school. I can't spend 20-30 minutes scrolling up and down CSIDE checking code or looking for narratives while also jumping between chapters to make sure events line up. As this story grows, the more difficult it becomes to keep track of all the branches, so I needed an alternative working method, which I am adhering to now, and it prioritizes efficiency.
I hated the way I was tracking and coding stats in-game. I have griped so much about coding stats, and I have adhered to such a rigid style that I really felt trapped whenever I was confronted with balancing them out. So I'm throwing that to the wind and redoing how I utilize and convey them. Player-side, this decision doesn't change much since I never fully utilized stats in the demo anyway, and the stats page with indicators will still exist, but I'm getting rid of stat bars and how I treat stat checks.
The story I want to write now is different from the one I started out with. I've known for a while that GotRM was becoming far more than the tiny, wishful novella that I wrote as a teenager. I held onto that old story for a long time, but there's just so much I want to change that I realized I'd been clinging to a story I no longer enjoyed writing. So I spent the majority of the last few months rewriting GotRM from scratch. I redid some worldbuilding, I changed a lot of plot points, and I fixed a lot of characters' backstories accordingly. This meant scrapping stuff from even the demo, but that turned out to not be the biggest issue because:
I wanted to branch away from ChoiceScript. Honestly, I never really cared about getting officially published, but the camaraderie in the forums and on Tumblr were why I committed to CS and CoG. However, ultimately, I really want the functionality that other tools can offer GotRM, and so after a long internal debate, I will be switching over to Twine. Fortunately, since I was rewriting everything anyways, this has been relatively painless, and passage mapping has made everything so much neater. I am trying my best to make it up to chapter 2 before I release the new demo, so please look forwards to that!
And so yes, I am still here, chugging along.
I love this game and this story: it's been my creative escape for as long as I could remember, and you can imagine how frustrated I was when I realized I was starting to dread working on it.
I am forever learning more about myself and my writing style, and this is simply more of that journey. Thank you everyone for sticking around, for joining the discord, and for checking up on me--that I have all of you has truly been a dream.
Hopefully more updates to come soon! I understand that there may be questions about these new changes, so please ask away! I will (try) to release some asks that I've been working on in the drafts too, but I will wait until at least tomorrow to release them so that this post doesn't get drowned out immediately.
And as always, with a lot of love,
FriendlyBowlofSoup (Mei)
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Ryouhei x reader
A/N - loved windbreaker but I couldn't find many fics related to it so I decided to write one on my own . It is terribly written with a bunch of spelling mistakes and a basic plot. Read at your own risk ❌️❌️
Warning- mention of blood , violence , a bit of angst , sexual themes ( ig that's it )
You were working as an intern in the xyz hospital ( choose any name u like ) for your winter break . U loved working there , the staff was sweet and u received a good pay . But there were a lot of things which dint particularly suit your liking ,first and foremost it was situated in a rather shady area , the patients who came there during ur night shift were let's just say interesting .
Night shifts were something that u did not enjoy even hated to a certain level . They were tiring, boring and deprived you off of sleep . Yet what was important had to be done
4:30 am
A cold gush of winds welcomed u as u exited the hospital . The walk home was rather quite until u heard grunting from a nearby alley . Normally u would have ignored it but today u were feeling rather curious
U peeked into the alley way only to find a man surrounded by blood , lying on the cold floor . U stood there Debating whether to help the man or not and atlast ur heart won over ur mind .
U made your way to him cursing yourself for even stopping in the first place . Kneeling down next to him u observed his features . He was handsome no he was hot as fuck , the scar running down his face Made it 100 times better maybe it wasn't that bad of a decision to stop
While u were in your little dream land the man in question had regained his consciousness, his instinct led his hand to your wrist breaking u away from your thoughts .
The panic started to set in 'fuck he's awake man I hate my self for this ' , " who are you " said the stranger in question not letting go of your wrist which was starting to hurt " you're hurting me let go , please " ur plee fell on deff ears " I'm a doctor ur bleeding profusely if we don't sto-" ur words were cut short by the man pulling u closer "I asked who the fuck are you " he asked once again ignoring ur words . His deep voice sent shivers down ur body , ur face was just inches away frm his " si-sir I'm y/n , I can help you , your wounds look deep we have to stop the bleeding "
"I'm fine " he said letting go of your wrist " don't need help frm a complete stranger " "sir pls these wounds look serious I promise I mean no harm " as much as u hated the man's attitude u were still a doctor by profession it was your duty to help those in need
"My house is just 5 minutes away from here I can help stop ur bleeding and then we can both go our separate ways forgetting this ever happened deal " before he could argue his body gave up and he fell right into your arms
'Fuck he's heavy ' u somehow managed to drag him to your apartment . U laid his body down on your bed and started collecting all the medical supplys needed for the treatment .
Ryouhei's pov - 'man does my head hurt ' regaing back his consciousness he started to realize that he was not in an alley fighting people but rather he was lying on a bed one that was not his , his vision was still quite blurry from the hit he had taken , realizing he could not do much in his state he layed there accepting his faith
"Oh, ur awake I was just collecting the medical supplies needed for your treatment " "where am i" he said once again ignoring u " ur at my house, I promised I won't harm u so rest assured" u said walking closer to him " I dint quite catch ur name " " ryouhei " he said In an uninterested tone " well ryouhei-san you'll need to take of your um... clothes for me to help you..." u said as blood creeped up to your cheeks
He adhered to your request without any further question . He had a well toned body with a few cuts and scratches here and there . U caught urself staring a little more then needed, face as red as a tomato "take a pic it'll last longer " were the words that broke ur train of thoughts u felt an ache between ur legs ' this is so unprofessional, but man he's so hot ' "so-sorry, ehh anyways I'll start your treatment it's gonna sting a little so try not to move that much k?"
Sitting next to him on your bed u started your treatment , u felt him shiver under your touch "why are u doing this " he asked " I'm a doctor, it's my duty to help those in need " ur words sounded sincere to him " I'm a bad guy ukw that right " " I'm just here for the intern ship , i dont know the dirty business that goes around here " u said eyes still on his wounds , somehow u dint feel scared by his declaration , his hands went to your waist pulling ur body even more closer to his , stopping ur movements " everyone here knows who I am , many are scared to even approach I could do anything to you and ppl won't even bat an eye "
"U could have harmed me the moment you woke up yet here we are , so ik u won't do anything to me , atleast that's what I'd like to believe " " tch, ur way too confident " u decided not to reply , the time after that passed by silently
After about 15 or 20 minutes u were done putting bandages on his chest, arms and shoulders there were still a few cuts and scratches on his back so u asked him to turn around . He was now laying on his back
The spots were hard to treat because of the position u both were In , the only best possible way for u to reach them was to sit on his back "ryouhei-san ...the wounds on your back are kind of hard to reach so I'll need to change my position to treat them " " do whatever u want"
So u did what u had to , your theigs were now on either side of his body ( u were wearing shorts) touching his bare back.
Ryouheis pov
He was going crazy , the feeling of your theigs deff caused him to get a hard on not only that ,since the moment he met u . He was doomed. U were so pretty ,ur skin shining in the moon light, ur sweet voice, ur scent everything about u was intoxicating he couldn't take it much longer
He turned around causing u to yelp and hold on to his shoulders for support u were now basically straddling him " ur driving me nuts " "what did I d-" before u could finish , u felt smth poking ur inner thigh "oh" " yea feel that , that's what u did , you gotta help me now babe "
The end
( this is sooo poorly written 👎 but I had to to justice to my man ryouhei , there are barely any fics about him 😭😭 lemme know if yall want a pt2 )
( ps- this is the first fic iv ever written so please go easy on me and I hope yall enjoyed it)
#windbreaker#jay jo x reader#ryohei windbreaker#kazuma crew#windbreaker webtoon#windbreaker headcanon#windbreaker x reader#jay jo
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So, I'm falling back into the FFXV kick, and I have decided that I disapprove of how little complex character development Square Enix has given the guys?? Like where is the emotional depth beyond surface-level cutscene angst?? So I took matters into my own hands and have compiled a handy little list of headcanons / expanded canons that I think make sense.
Noctis: Has clinical insomnia and frequent lucid dreams (sorta a given, but bear w me bear w me)
Feels the weight of having to take so much on from such a young age much, much more than he lets on
Loves to argue
Would've been happier if he and Luna stayed as childhood best-buds rather than betrothed fiancés (controversial, ik, but it just didn't seem like he cared that much for her romantically to me?? Like he obviously cared about her, but it seemed like a really strong penpal vibe rather than a "We're-gonna-get-married-and-be-the-next-hotshot-couple" vibe. If you disagree, coolio, I'm not gonna debate w you on this one)
Has a natural sadness to his eyes regardless of what he's feeling
Went through an anime phase (possibly still in his anime phase, idk)
Social anxiety for the win
Severe RBF
Prefers tea over coffee (black tea is best---particularly lavender earl grey)
Can play the cello (practicing tho?? Don't know her)
Writes the most beautiful poetry when The Motivation™ strikes him (usually when he's home sick and half-delirious)
Prompto: Has ADHD and clinical anxiety, but is undiagnosed and doesn't take any meds for either of them.
Is legit like SO SMART, but can never focus, so not many people take any notice
Wears contact lenses (he had glasses as a child and I refuse to believe he had some high-tech corrective surgery to eliminate the need for them when lenses are cheaper and less risky)
Doesn't drink caffeine because it makes him jittery
Doesn't drive the Regalia when the guys are around because having other people in the car distracts him from the road. Also he tends to drive like a speed demon, which worries Ignis to no end.
Sunburns insanely easily
Could legit become a hitman if he wanted to with the amount of gun-knowledge he has. It doesn't matter what firearm you put in this boy's hand---pistol, SMG, sniper, rocket launcher, you name it. He can and will hit the target every single time.
Addicted to adrenaline
Pansexual
Has a lot of self-loathing (we see a bit of this in Ep. Prompto) and talks with an online therapist about it via text whenever his lows hit him. He's making great progress in learning how to heal and how to accept himself for who he is beyond the mask he wears for others
Ignis: More than a little bit of a control freak, and works very hard not to be too overbearing or critical about his friends' misgivings
Hypochondriac
Wants to protect everyone all the time and mentally kicks himself when he doesn't get there fast enough
Is SO PROUD of Noctis's journey and felt a stronger hatred towards Ardyn than anyone else in the group for what he forced Noct to go through (he stayed up at night sick to his stomach with hollow rage and baked nonstop to take his mind off of it)
Can verbally obliterate a man, but only rarely chooses to do so bc he's classy like that
After losing his eyes, he notices so much more beauty in the world than he used to (the sound of rain on the Regalia's roof, the specific gait of each of his friends, the smell of salt on the wind in Galdin Quay, the flawless feel of one specific silk tie he has in his repertoire, etc)
His internal compass is never wrong
Regularly takes antacids for his stomach
Has the straightest teeth you've ever seen
Demiromantic
Gladio: Hates being wrong: it's his way or the highway
Actually so much smarter than the musclehead jock front he puts up
A little vain and easily jealous (this man has a Jealous Face like no other)
Thunderstorms are his favorite; his ideal place to be is at a campsite, during a storm, with a well-worn book and a mug of Irish coffee in hand
Would throw himself in front of a bus for any one of his friends
Would beat up kids for the folks he cared about in middle school and spent the time he wasn't training to be a Crownsguard sitting in detention with the most unrepentant, smug, and-I'd-do-it-again look scrawled across his face
Can make a better smoothie than anyone (except maybe Iggy)
Spotify junkie
Had a dinosaur phase as a kid and can still name random facts about them whenever the opportunity presents itself
Avid technology-hater and only has a phone to make calls and join the others in playing King's Knight since they begged him so profoundly (he's sure the thing's going to be his downfall)
Gets most of Prompto's pop culture references
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-scooches back in-
I had another thought, this one involves the "and there was only one bed" trope.
Okay, so, Mountain and Water!Dew don't get along, like, at all.
Like, even though Dew's element compliments Mountain's, his personality also kind of grates on him and vice versa, and it's to the point that Dew thinks Mountain just outright hates him, so he keeps giving him space, and Mountain thinks Dew hates him because he never wants to be around him.
Well, Terzo decides he wants to sleep in a "real bed" one night during tour and does a lottery of sorts to divvy out the rooms for everyone else, and Mountain and Dew wind up having to bunk together.
Something, something, Dew gets kind of worked up in the middle of the night and has an internal debate about staying in bed and trying to stay quiet while he whacks it or going to the bathroom, but he's worried getting up from the bed will wake Mountain up and-
Point of the matter is Mountain DOES wake up, but it's to the sound of Dew trying to cum in complete silence and fucking failing, so all Mountain hears is a sort "UH-hhhhuuuhhh~!"
And, well, Dew being a water ghoul is... he cums a lot more than he expected to, so Mountain is just... stiff as a board in two ways laying in bed while Dew pants and frantically tries to clean himself up and, oh.
Oh no.
Oh no, he can smell him.
And his hand just kind of...
Mountain swears up and down he was just trying to roll over, but his hand brushes right up against Dew's side...
Anyway, they end up breaking something and Dew can't jump around as much at the next show, and Mountain struggling to sit still the whole time he's sitting down.
-does a combat roll out of the ask box-
LAMP GET OUT OF MY HEAD. I routinely have thoughts about Dew curled up on his side, trying to jerk off quietly. Trying not to disturb whoever he's laying next to. Too lazy or tired or pissed off to get up and go to the bathroom. Convinced (incorrectly) that he can do this without them knowing.
But he always gasps. Always makes a little noise, or goes a little too fast. Soaks the sheets. Makes it obvious.
And in this scenario? So much worse. Dew knows he should get up. Knows it's a bad idea to do this next to someone who doesn't even like him. But Mountain's asleep, and Dew is exhausted but still too amped up from the show to get there. He doesn't want to drag his tired body to the bathroom. Doesn't want to stand, hunched over the toilet while he pulls at himself.
He just buries his face in in the pillow and goes for it. Grinding the foam of it between his teeth as he leaks all over his hand and onto the bed. And he can't keep quiet. He tries, he can't.
And he knows the second Mountain wakes up, a little jolt on the other side of him, but it's too late. He's already cumming, too much, too hard. And he can't think about how he's supposed to explain this, or how Mountain is probably going to actually kill him now.
But, none of that happens. Mountain doesn't say a word. He brushes up against Dew, accidentally or not. Reaches over, drags Dew's sticky hand away from his cock and to his own lips, sucking those messy fingers into his mouth while Dew looks back at him in shock and his cock twitches valiantly against his thigh and he's not tired at all anymore--not even a little bit.
They get a lot of side-eyes the next day. They still aren't exactly talking. But Mountain's got some deep bruises on his neck, and when Dew puts his hands over his head to stretch and his shirt rides up everyone sees matching ones on his waist.
Swiss has to pay Aether five bucks for losing the bet on whether they'd fuck or fight.
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Bad Choices
Michael Meyers x Fem!reader
TW- This is a lot okay. Big NSFW themes. Michael saves you from SA/ lots of rough handling in the best way, overstimulation, stalking vibes. written from 1st person pov no name but use of y/n briefly. Brief descriptions of readers body/features, Fem reader
A/NI have no excuses its porn with little to no plot. Wrote this last year around halloween for a friend and completely forgot about it. Hope y'all enjoy 7.1K
please don't interact unless your over 18 nsfw under the cut
October in Haddonfield Illinois has a different sort of vibe. Everyone is on edge, especially me. The last few weeks it’s felt as if someone’s been watching me, following me around. It feels like every time I turn a corner someone will be on the other side. Watching. Waiting. For what, I didn’t know.
The air was brisk as I walked down the streets of Haddonfield, a rainbow of orange and brown leaves crunching under my feet. I had just come from a girls night at a local boozy coffee joint with some work friends. I’m not much of a drinker so I only stayed for one drink to be polite. It’s not that I wanted to be a loner, it just seemed to happen that way. So, when I moved here, I decided I wanted to change that. I wanted to make some friends and have a semi normal life. Maybe meet a nice guy and settle down but it’s not always that easy though.
Ahead of me I can see a group of men hanging out in front of the main bar in town. I knew it was stupid, but I decided my best bet was to avoid those men, so I cut down an alley to get to the woods behind the town. If I’m quick I can cut through and be home in 15 minutes. ‘Yeah, this is fine, I’m fine.’ I thought as I pushed through some bushes in my path but after a few minutes of walking I heard a branch snap to my left. I instinctively froze, my eyes wide and searching for whatever made that noise. The sun was low almost completely gone, so I didn’t have much light left to search for the source of the noise. After a moment of silence, I shrugged it off thinking it was an animal and continued on my way.
I walked a few feet down the path when a man in one of those cheap Halloween masks stepped out in front of me. I gasped and stopped walking panic rushing in my veins.
"C'mere girly, don’t ya wanna have a good time?” The man slurred at me.
I didn’t have time to answer as the man lunged at me and I sprang into action dodging him and running past. He kicked out a leg catching my ankle and I tripped, losing my balance and fell flat on my face, knocking the wind out of me. I didn’t let that stop me from fighting with everything in me. The man straddled my legs from behind, beginning to grope at my ass as I let out an ear piercing scream. He was trying to remove my skirt when suddenly his hands were gone.
I stopped struggling to sit up and look around and there he was. A mountain of a man in a dark pair of coveralls and another dirtier version of the Halloween mask. He had my attacker by the throat held up in midair, when a long sharp wicked looking knife appeared in his hand, and he began stabbing the man violently. The man’s blood was everywhere, splattering my savior and pooling at his feet. I was frozen in fear. If I moved, he would notice me but if I stayed, he would notice me for sure. I continue having this internal debate of what the fuck am I supposed to do when the man finally stopped stabbing my attacker, dropping the man’s limp body to the ground with a wet sounding thud.
Times up it’s now or never. I got up as he turned to look at me, the eyes of his mask were shadowed and my god he was massive. At least 6'7 with a wide chest and powerful arms, he stood there staring at me. ‘Th-thank you’ I stuttered out. He said nothing but cocked his head to the side in contemplation.
‘I uh… I’m gonna go now… Thank you … for saving me…’ I said as I took a step back and to my dismay, he took a step forward. I froze as he took another and another step toward me until he was directly in front of me. The sharp copper scent of the blood soaking his coveralls was strong this close, but I could smell something else too, something alluring and uniquely him.
I should move, I should run, but something in me told me not to. That if I run it will all be over. He would catch me and likely kill me, so I stay still waiting to see what he would do. I hadn’t realized I was instinctively backing away from him as he continued to step toward me until my back hit a tree, halting my progress.
‘Shit. This was it, I was going to die here, weren’t I?’ I thought as he raised his hand thinking he would strangle me with his oh so large hands. Jesus Christ he could palm a basketball with ease, his hands were massive just like the rest of him.
His hand landed on my cheek as his thumb wiped away a stray tear. He lifted his hand inspecting the tear before he lowered his head to my neck inhaling deeply. We stay that way for a moment. Me frozen in fear and wait am I aroused!?! What the fuck. I should not be enjoying this at all. As he inhaled deeply as he drug the nose of his mask up the column of my throat and I realized that yes, I am absolutely turned on.
He had one hand in my hair holding my head immobile while his other hand snuck around my waist keeping me pinned to his chest as he continued to explore. ‘Please….please let me go’ I beg, but it falls on deaf ears as he ignores me and continues his exploration of my body. He pulled at my shirt, ripping the fabric across my chest like it was paper, while his other hand snuck down my back to grab my ass. He lifted me way too easily with one arm bracing me between his body and the tree.
My skirt rode up and as I squirmed trying to get out of his hold, I felt him. Between my legs I could feel his hard cock practically throbbing against me. The only barrier between us my thin lace panties as my skirt had rucked up to my hips. I tried to resist pushing against him trying to get free of his hold when his grip tightened painfully on my hip. I inhaled deep to draw out a scream when his hand came up and wrapped around my throat. Effectively cutting off any chance of a scream escaping my lips. He ground his hips into me, and he groaned. He still hadn’t spoken but fuck his voice had to be deep if his groan was anything to go by.
His grip on my throat loosened and I choked out, ‘Michael? That’s your name, right? Please let me go.’ I choked on a sob as he reached down to rip the thin lace of my panties. He didn’t acknowledge me when I spoke, just continued on as if he had no real control over his own actions. As if he was compelled to strip me bare right here in the woods with my former attackers body not 6 feet away from us. His fingers explored my pussy, first rubbing my clit then further down pressing them inside of me roughly. I cried out and his hand squeezed my throat again, but he did ease up, fucking me slowly with his fingers as if he’s preparing me for him. Judging by the size of him I’m going to need it.
I tried resisting but fuck he was hitting all the spots inside me making me see stars as I convulse around his fingers. As I came down, he dropped my legs to the ground, and I fell in a heap at his feet. He said nothing but the sound of his zipper made me look up at him. Freeing his cock, I gasped he was huge pale and thick with a few veins on the underside of his cock. My body was a traitor, I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but the site of his hard pale cock made my mouth water and my pussy throb with need. He grabbed me by a fistful of hair bringing my face close to his cock. I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t about to deny him.
He pressed his cock against the seam of my lips forcing it inside. The salty sweet tang of him hit my tongue making me moan. After a few moments of guidance, I took over. Bouncing my head on his cock I swirled my tongue around the tip as I reached up and fondled his balls. He let out a low growl tightening his grip in my hair he started to fuck my mouth in earnest. I couldn’t breathe all I could do was sit there allowing him to fuck my face as hard and fast as he wanted. My throat burned from the force of his thrusts, but I was undeniably wet. If my parties weren’t torn, they would be soaked right now. I opened my eyes looking up at him. To my surprise he was looking right back into my eyes. The light from the moon illuminating the masks eye holes just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his deep chocolate brown eyes.
His thrusts were getting sloppy, and my lungs burned from lack of oxygen when he suddenly pulled my head back and off his cock. He grabbed me under my arms and hoisted me up. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips, so I wouldn’t fall, as he roughly thrust his rock hard cock inside of me. I let out a horse scream, it was more of a screech really. He filled me to the brim his wide cock splitting me open as he held me against him. His arms were under my legs holding me up while his hands gripped my ass as he fucked me, kneading the flesh in his large palms. I moaned wrapping my hands around his neck bringing him closer to me. The only thing I could do was cling to him as he fucked me mercilessly in the woods against a tree.
Thrust after thrust he brought me higher and higher until I shattered, climaxing around his cock, my pussy convulsed, milking him as he let out a roar and came inside of me. He rocked his cock in and out as he came, his seed spilling out of me with the force of his thrusts, it ran down my thighs and ass.
He stayed that way for a few moments breathing labored hands flexing over my ass as he came down. I looked up at him as he looked back through the holes in his mask. I’m not sure why I did but I lifted my face and placed a kiss at the corner of the mouth of his mask. His body went ridged against mine and he pulled out letting my legs fall to the ground. I felt like my legs were wet noodles and I collapsed to the ground in a puddle at his feet.
I wondered if he would kill me now that he had his way with me, but I was so blissed out it didn’t really matter. It’s not like I could stop him. He was huge and so fast there would be no point in fighting back. I had heard the stories of Michael Meyers.
You don’t grow up in Haddonfield IL without hearing them whispered between adults and children. Michael Meyers was this towns own personal boogie man, and here I lay in the damp forest floor, his seed still leaking out of me as he looked down at me. Was he contemplating killing me? Probably.
In the end he tucks his softening cock back into his coveralls, buttoning them back up. He looked around before grabbing his knife tucking it into a pocket somewhere in his bloodstained coveralls. When he turned back to me, I was still in a heap on the ground, completely resigned to my fate when he reached down picking me up bridal style and began to walk. After a few minutes of carrying me through the woods my eyes started to droop. I snuggled into him and as I drifted off, I heard him say the one and only thing so far.
‘Mine.’
***
I woke up the next morning in my bed thinking it was all a dream. When I moved to get up, I realized it wasn’t. My body was bruised and battered, clothing dirty and torn with blood spatter across the skirt. ‘So, I did happen. It wasn’t a dream.’ I whisper to myself. How did he know where I lived, and how did he get me home without being spotted for that matter? Questions swirled in my head as I stripped, throwing my clothes in the trash as they were ruined, I wondered if I should burn them since my would be attackers blood was on them.
I started the shower stepping under the warm spray, wincing as my bruised body slowly softened. I contemplate if I will ever see him again. A part of me knows I should hope I never do, he attacked me, assaulted me. I should have reported it first thing. Deep down though I hope he comes back. I hope he finds me again.
Little did I know Michael had been watching me for months waiting for an opportunity to take me. I belonged to him now and deep down I knew it. There was no escape even if I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me go so easily. A part of me thought he was a myth. That the big bad Michael Meyers wasn’t real. After last night I knew he was real, the green and purple fingerprints he left on my throat and hips are proof he was real and that it did in fact happen.
I stepped out of the shower grabbing my towel to dry off. Today was my day off and thank God for that. Inspecting myself in the mirror there is a massive handprint shaped bruise wrapping completely around my throat.
‘Fuck it’s a good thing I’m off today. How the fuck am I going to hide this at work?!?’ I thought, panicking for a moment.
There’s no way I can explain this away, I have to figure out what I can do to heal it or hide it. The thought of the bruises fading makes me a bit sad though, feeling like the bruises are a part of him. That he marked me as his and while I realize it's fundamentally fucked up, a part of me doesn’t want them to fade.
Shaking my head at myself I walked out of the bathroom down the hall to my bedroom. My home was small, but it was mine. It was the first real thing I did for myself, buying this home and making it my own. My room was small much like the rest of my home, but it had a window seat that overlooked the fields and woods beyond. My gaze caught there, where the woods met the fields. Was he out there now watching and waiting? My face warmed at the thought.
As I’m getting dressed my phone pings letting me know a text came through. I open it seeing it’s the work group chat asking for volunteers to work Halloween night for the trunk or treat. The nursing home I worked for was usually short staffed for events like this and since I have no kids or commitments, I messaged back saying I would work it. I walked to the calendar on the wall marking down the date 2 weeks from now. I could have said no but I could use the hours and well I didn’t have much of a life so why not it’s not like I have plans with a masked man again. Sighing, I sank down onto the window seat, grabbing my latest romance novel I settled in for the day, determined to get Michael Meyers off my brain.
***
Six days had passed since my encounter with the famed killer. I wasn’t able to completely hide the bruises on my throat, so I used the excuse of a car accident over my weekend off. I could tell a few of my coworkers didn’t completely believe me but since I wore an athletic style turtleneck under my uniform of scrubs, they couldn’t see the extent of the bruising. I was sore, so very sore all over even now almost a week later. I didn’t mind though, thinking it would never happen again, I cherish the soreness. It reminds me that it was real. That actually happened.
Rounding the corner of the nurses station I plopped down in a chair, sighing heavily. Marcy, my work bestie turns to me, ‘You good?’ She asks. ‘Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long week.’ I reply.
She frowns at me, ‘You should have taken some time off after your accident.’ Her tone scolding.
‘You know I can’t afford to take time off like that. Bills to pay and whatnot.’ I wave my hand dismissively as I turn to the computer to fill out my end of shift reports.
A few of our residents were scattered throughout the main sitting area near the nurses station, chatting amongst themselves or watching the tv in the corner. I looked up at the clock on the wall, thinking I had 30 minutes till the end of my shift, just enough time to finish my reports and head home when one of the residents cried out.
Marcy and I shot up out of our chairs and ran over to her to see what was wrong. ‘What’s wrong Edna?’ Marcy asked, concern laced in her voice as she tried to calm the elderly woman. ‘A mask! There was a man in a mask! He was right there in the window!’ She cried out.
A man in a mask? No… it couldn’t be... I thought.
He wouldn’t come for me again. He had his way and would forget all about me. Marcy and I finally calmed Edna, telling her it was a trick of the lighting or maybe a teenager playing a prank, that there was nothing to worry about. Eventually she calms down and Marcy wheels her back to her room while I go to finish my reports
My mind was racing with thoughts of him so it took longer than it should have to finish up. Once I finally finished, I grabbed up my stuff and clocked out, leaving through the employee entrance on the side of the building. It was late in the evening and the crisp autumn air blew past bringing the nostalgic smell of fallen leaves and bonfires. I wrap my jacket tighter around my body as I begin to walk home. I lived close enough I didn’t need to drive to work and honestly driving freaks me the fuck out. So, I never got my license. There was no need, between public transit and my bicycle I got around just fine!
Walking through the town was always an adventure this time of year. Many teenagers liked to pull pranks this time of year, but the town square was my favorite. The council always made sure to decorate and be as festive as they can during the holidays. I rounded the corner of the square and set off down the path to my home. I lived on the outskirts of town bordering the woods and crop fields. I liked living just on the edge of town, it was close enough to get around but not in the middle of everything. I valued my solitude too much to want to deal with the exhausting mother hens and matchmakers in town.
As I continued walking my thoughts drifted to Michael. I doubted I would ever see him again, he had his fun and seemed to be done with me. As I walked, I got the sense that something or someone was watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I looked around the street. Glancing to my left across the street between two buildings I caught a glimpse of a white mask. Giving it a double take I froze. It was him, Michael, he was watching me. It was as if my subconscious summoned him just by thinking of him. Suddenly it all made sense, the feeling of someone watching me over the last few weeks. It had to be him, there was no other explanation other than a general feeling of paranoia.
He stood across the street in the shadow of the street light between two houses. As I stood there frozen in place, he continued to stare at me. What was he thinking? I thought. Would he come for me? Right here in the middle of town? I wasn’t sure what to do so I stayed still. After a moment he took a step back out of the shadow of the streetlight and into the surrounding darkness. I stood there for a few moments longer, unsure of what to do. It almost felt like an out of body experience, standing there, staring where Michael had previously been across the street.
Shaking my head, I snapped out of it and began walking, albeit a bit faster than I previously had. I was almost home, if I could just make it there, I’d be safe. Or as safe as I could be against a brutal murderer. I knew if he came for me there would be no stopping him, just as it had been the first time, I encountered him. Finally reaching my front steps I pulled out my keys as I walked up the steps to my front door. I didn’t have much as far as decorations went, money was tight most of the time so when I did make a splurge purchase, I tried to make it count. The jelly window clings hanging on my front windows had been one of those impulse purchases, but they gave me a sense of nostalgic joy.
I was off work the next two days, so I decided I’d make myself something to eat, then go take a nice hot bath. I set my bag down, stripping off my jacket, I lit some incense and got out the ingredients for a simple soup and salad. It felt as if ages had passed since I was last home, even though realistically it had only been a few hours since I had left for work. As I worked on my dinner, I had that feeling again, of being watched. Looking up from the knife in my hand I took in my surroundings.
My home was small but cozy, crystals were set on every surface I could spare. Homemade crochet throws on my couch, smoke from the incense curled up into the air giving the room a slightly hazy look with the low lighting.
A feeling came over me, something was telling me to look out the window above the sink. I ignored it. Sure, if this was a horror movie, I’d be screaming at the girl to run but I never said I was smart. The way this feeling was twisting my insides I decided I’d rather die ignorant if that was my fate. Finishing up chopping the veggies I added them to the pot on the stove to simmer while I went to run a bath.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached the landing turning the corner to the bathroom. I flicked on the light, which unsurprisingly let out a loud buzz as the old light warmed up. My body ached after the long hours on my feet at work, so each night after work I completed my ritual of bath time, dinner then bed. With the schedule I had, mostly working nights it was hard to keep with a normal schedule. So, I tried to keep up with my after work routine as much as I could, to give myself a sense of normalcy. I finished cleaning out the tub and while letting the water fill, I dropped some of my homemade rose and chamomile bath salts.
Stripping my clothes, I put my hair up in a messy updo and stepped into the steaming rose scented tub. Oh yes, this right here was heaven, and should the great makers decide to take me now, well I’d die a happy woman.
Sighing, I slipped deeper into the water, allowing it to come up to my chin, completely engulfing my shoulders under the bubbles. I let my mind wander as my body relaxed in the hot water.
What was he doing? He just stood there looking at me as if he had been waiting for me and wanted me to know he was there. It’s not like he’s looking after me now… Right?
My body flushed at the thought.
He wouldn’t be looking after me. There’s no way.
Thoughts of him swirled around my head, reminding me of that night. The night he saved and ruined me. I had tried not thinking about it, but I was alone now. No coworkers or residents to distract me from these unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. I had been with other men before and always found their advances to be lackluster. My body never “Came alive” as the romance novels say, I had always felt like I was on autopilot. That night however it felt like my body was on fire when he touched me, and it made me crave more of him, more of that intoxicating feeling.
Sighing softly, I slid my hand down my body to the apex of my thighs. I knew this was a bad idea, it would only further this irrational infatuation for the LITERAL SERIAL KILLER. As the pads of my fingers brushed my clit, I gasped. Fuck this didn’t feel anywhere near as good as it did when he touched me. I continued circling my clit, driving myself higher and higher, when my phone rang, startling me out of my impending climax.
Fuck what now?!
Pulling the drain on the tub I figured it was for the best. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.
It was one time, get over yourself.
I stepped out of the tub and reached for my cell phone answering it without looking at the caller ID.
‘Hello?’ I spoke, my voice coming out a bit course, ‘Y/N dear! I was hoping I’d catch you before you went to bed.’ My mother’s shrill voice spoke through the receiver. I groaned internally, wishing I had checked the caller ID and allowed it to go to voicemail… again.
‘Mom, hi what’s up?’ I said hoping this would be quick but knowing it likely won’t be. ‘Oh your step father and I were wanting to discuss the upcoming holidays. When were you thinking you would fly in?’ She said.
‘Uh well mom actually I don’t think I’ll be able to make it up this year…’ I said slowly, being careful to choose my words wisely, knowing my father in law was likely listening on the other end of the phone.
There was a long pause. ‘What do you mean you won’t be able to make it?’ she said in a small flat voice. ‘Well with work and the virus I offered to work the holidays to give some of my coworkers with families at home a chance to enjoy the holiday.’ I replied, my voice firm. I knew this wouldn’t go over well but was hoping to delay this conversation as long as possible.
My stepfather Roy came on the phone then. ‘Y/N this isn’t negotiable. You will come to Christmas dinner with your family.’ He stated.
It wasn’t a question of whether I wanted to spend the holidays with my family. Of course, I did, it was Roy I didn’t want to be around. My mom married him when I was 10, he was always a bit too handsy for any decent step father to be with his stepdaughter. Mom had tried leaving once before when I was a teenager, but Roy was a police officer with lots of connections, so it wasn’t as simple as a divorce.
I take a deep, calming breath.
He’s a thousand miles away so he cannot hurt you through the phone. I remind myself before replying. ‘Well Roy, I am an adult now so I get to make my own decisions on how I spend my time.’ I replied and held my breath knowing this was going to royally piss him off. He was big on appearances, coming from a long line of police officers he had a large family and liked to keep his ‘family man image’ intact.
‘Y/N, this isn’t up for discussion. You will obey your parents. I’ll expect you for Christmas dinner. No exceptions.’ I heard the phone beep as he hung up on me. Hopefully he doesn’t take things out on mom, but I have to put my foot down sometime and now that I live on the other side of the country from where my parents lived, now was the best time to start.
The smell of my soup drifted up the stairs and made my stomach grumble. I had almost forgot about the soup on the stove. Rushing down the stairs, hoping it hadn’t boiled over. I reached it just in time, flicking the stove burner off I moved the soup to a trivet on the counter and dished myself out a bowl. It smelled heavenly, rich with flavor and spices this was sure to calm my nerves after speaking with Roy and mom.
I ate in silence at my breakfast nook. Staring out into the yard, my thoughts once again drifted to Michael. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing tonight. A part of me thought he would cross the street and end me right there where I stood, but he didn’t. He just watched me cocking his head with that unreadable stare.
I finished my soup, rinsing the bowl and putting the lid on the pot to let it cool overnight on the counter. Reaching up I grabbed a bottle of wine down from the top of the refrigerator, popping it open I poured myself a glass. I downed it in one go, after refilling my glass I gathered my things, turning the lights off and headed upstairs to my room.
I flicked the light on, walking into my room I set my wine down and put my phone on the charger. I all but threw myself into my bed, collapsing into the soft down comforter. After leaving my parents house with nothing, I worked and saved as much as I could to afford this house, and everything in it. I wanted to take care of myself the way I had never really been cared for, this included way over priced linens and silky nighties like the one I was currently wearing.
Try as I might, I couldn’t get comfortable. It felt like I had ants under my skin, I couldn’t relax. Michael came to mind again, the thoughts from earlier creeping back in. I sighed rolling over to open my nightstand, I withdrew old faithful, my vibrator. I hated that I felt this way about a literal psychopath, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t enjoy my time with him that night.
I slid my hands to my panties, slipping them off and rucking up my satin nighty, my hands began exploring my body. Flicking and rubbing my clit, I turned on the vibrator. As I was beginning to slip it inside myself, I heard a creek from the hallway. My mind was already hazy with pleasure, so it didn’t fully register. That is until a large, scorching hot hand came down on my inner thigh.
My eyes flew open, a small scream caught in my throat when Michael wrapped one of his massive paws around my throat, a warning to keep silent and still. He must have been watching me from the darkness of the hallway. How the fuck did he get in and how didn’t I hear him?! I wondered as I froze when his other hand slid up my inner thigh to the toy I had just begun to enjoy. He slid it out of me bringing the vibrating toy up to his face to inspect. He sniffed at it, looking at the toy all over, likely looking for the off button. He didn’t find it and instead threw it against the wall, shattering it into about a billion pieces across my bedroom floor.
God he was massive. Just looking at him between my legs on the bed, he towered over me. I was always a bit on the curvy side so the fact that he could make me feel so small, lit something inside of me that I don’t think I’m entirely ready to address. His hand was wrapped around my throat still, while his other hand came back down on my inner thigh, spreading me wider for his gaze. He sat there for a moment, gazing at my slick pussy. His thumb slid over my mound to find my clit, and he began rubbing it, watching my reactions to his touch.
It was rough at first, almost too much pressure, but after a few moments he lightened his touch, experimenting to see what I liked. Oooh he’s learning what I like? Why would he care if I enjoyed it? Most men I had been with didn’t particularly care if I orgasmed or not, but it seemed Michael wasn’t like other guys.
My body came alive under his touch, it felt as though I was strung taught like a bow about to snap, when it hit me. The most intense orgasm I had ever ripped through me. I tried to scream but Michael's hand still gripped my throat, keeping me quiet but not fully restricting my airflow. My body shook with spasms as I came down from my high. He just stayed there staring at my pussy, now soaked with my orgasm and arousal.
His hand released my throat, and he shifted lower onto the bed. He was so large he was basically hanging off my bed already, so he shifted a bit more until he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Suddenly his hands gripped my hips and dragged me closer to the edge, until my ass was at the edge. The lights were already off so I couldn’t see much but I thought I saw a flash of white before I felt his breath fan out across my dripping pussy.
OH FUUUCK... His tongue darted out to lick me from asshole to clit. He paused, inhaling deeply he let loose a low growl, making me shiver, before he gripped me tighter dragging my pussy up to his face. He devoured my pussy like a starving man, licking and nipping at my folds. On and on he went licking my pussy until I reached higher and higher to my peak. I gripped his hands over my hips as I writhed under his ministrations.
The overstimulation was almost too much, I tried to wiggle away but that seemed to spur him on. He gripped me tighter dragging my ass up his body as he sat up to get a better a better hold on me. He continued abusing my clit until I came undone again on his mouth. Panting, I moaned, ‘Michael…please I can’t s'too sensitive.’ Finally, he relented, releasing my body and laying me back down on the bed.
I lay there staring up at him in the dark, my body felt like an overcooked noodle from my orgasms. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but I saw that same flash of white as he went to put his mask back on. I wondered why he felt he had to wear it all the time. Then I wondered what made him want to take it off with me.
‘Wait.’ I said, ‘Leave it off… please’ I said in a small voice, unsure of his reaction.
He paused his movements, lowering the mask once again he stood there thinking, before dropping the mask to the floor. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He leaned down over me, his nose brushing just above my mound. He trailed his nose up my body, sniffing me along the way. Once he reached my throat, I turned my head giving him more access.
This shouldn’t feel this good, I shouldn’t feel like his touch is setting my skin on fire, but I do, and I can’t find it in me to regret any of this. Sure, he was a brutal serial killer, but he had saved me from that man, he watched over me as I walked home at night. He likely had been doing it for a while and hadn’t shown himself until tonight.
His warm, wet tongue darted out to lick a strip up from the center of my chest, up the column of my throat. My breathing quickened, unsure of what his intentions were. He rose up, his heat leaving me feeling cold and empty. As he stared down at me, I had this overwhelming feeling of loss. Like by him withdrawing I was losing something. I looked down partially in shame for what I was feeling, but also in submission. What I didn’t count on was seeing the outline of his raging hard on. Suddenly I didn’t want him to leave, I wanted to take care of him the way he took care of me.
I sat up on the bed, slowly reaching out to the front of his blood stained coveralls, watching for any sign that I should stop. He gave none, so I grasped the zipper, sliding it down his body slowly as if not to spook him. Once opened I dragged the sides down enough so I could reach in and grasp his cock, pulling it out of his coveralls. I hadn’t gotten a very good look at him a few weeks ago at our first encounter, but God damn if he isn’t perfect everywhere. He was huge, long and as thick as a coke can.
How the fuck did he fit?! I thought.
Rationally I knew he was large, and I knew he would fit as he had before but seeing it right there in front of me was another thing. I reached out to grasp his cock, firmly stroking it from base to tip, when I saw a drop of pre-cum beading at the tip of his enormous cock. My tongue darted out to lick the salty sweet drop up. Michael threw his head back and groaned loudly.
It was the most sound I had ever heard from him, he was always so quiet, like a ghost. I supposed when you’re a gigantic serial killer it pays to be quiet. One of his massive hands slipped into the hair at the back of my neck, pulling my mouth closer to his erect cock.
I looked up at him and he paused, cocking his head to the side as if to say, ‘You good?’. I nodded and sunk my mouth down on his cock. A strained groan escaped his chest as I began sucking his cock in earnest.
I wanted so desperately to please him, to make him feel the same way I felt earlier. I continued sucking his cock, while his hand stayed at the back of my neck. As he drew closer, he began thrusting in and out of my mouth, eventually his hand on the back of my neck stilled my movements until I was sitting there on the bed, while he fucked my face. In and out, he became rougher and rougher. With each thrust he hit the back of my throat until he was almost there. I could feel the way his balls were tightening, the thrust of his hips more and more erratic until I swallowed around him, drawing his cock into my throat, sealing off all airflow as he came down my throat. I began to choke, and he pulled back removing his softening cock from my mouth, as I licked up all his seed from my hands.
He watched me clean myself up as he tucked himself back in his coveralls. He then turned, leaving the room, returning a few moments later with a wet towel. I moved to take the towel, but he gripped it tighter, gesturing for me to lay back, so I did. Propping myself against the pillows at the head of my bed he leaned down over my body and began to wipe up the mess between my legs. I’d never had a man do this before, I’m not sure what surprises me more, the fact that this man, this serial killer has more tenderness in him than the average man, or the fact that I am enjoying it so damn much.
Michael turns and leaves the room again, returning a few moments later. I was still in the same position as I was before, not having the energy to move after our activities and the long day I’d had. I shivered involuntarily, as he stood there staring at me. He pulls the covers down gesturing for me to get under, and I comply, slipping between the sheets I let out a sign of contentment. The only thing that could make this better is if he crawled into bed with me and cuddled all night. I bet he would keep me warm through the cold nights. I thought sleepily.
Just as I drifted off, I felt a whisper of something across my forehead. A kiss I realize belatedly, he kissed me goodnight. My eyes were too heavy to open as I felt him step away from the bed and leave the room, as quietly as he had entered. I smile dreamily, tomorrow I will have to deal with the consequences of my actions but for tonight, I’ll bask in the warm feelings running through my veins.
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shigaraki x kidnapped reader
tw// unhealthy relationships, possessive tomura, mentions of abuse
He doesn't like when you cry, but he doesn't like it when you get too confident either. If you're confident, you're stupid. Stupidity will wind you up in a "bad situation," most likely with your body tied up on the floor and him standing over you, scolding you for trying to run or attack him.
Of course, after a month of you here with him he's gotten a lot more lenient and patient with you through your efforts of pushing you away. He still wouldn't be too opposed to killing you if you did something unforgiveable, but he feels like it was be such a waste of what you two of brewed here together already. He's never felt so close to somebody, and the thrill of having your life in his hands thrills him. Keeps him occupied while the new members of the League of Villains drive him absolutely crazy.
"Stop," Tomura seethes as you reach for the doorknob. Admittedly, sometimes your outbursts of defiance are completely his fault. When he gets too bored or annoyed with the others, he says and/or does mean things to you for his own enjoyment, to remind himself he's still got complete control over somebody. That isn't fair to you so he understands your hate for him at times like this. "If you walk out that door you'll be in trouble. Just come sit down."
Your hand shakes around the knob, internally debating whether you should listen to him and retreat or do what your mind is always screaming for you to do; run. Just run. Squeeze past the others and through the bar door, into the open streets, and run through traffic to escape this crazy boy. Worst case, you get hit by a car and die. What would be the damage? Every day you live in this house with him brings you a day closer to death anyway, seeing as he can get pretty dodgy when he's angry.
And maybe there are times when you enjoy his company and feel grateful that this kidnapping experience hasn't left you fully traumatized or injured. When you're mixing drinks for him behind the bar and he's talking to you about his favourite video game, and you're silent. But you're listening.
None of it is worth it if this is how you have to live out your relationship. If he were captured, maybe things would be different. Or if you were both heroes, fighting crime together. Returning home to your suburban house afterward and drinking together. Laughing and whatnot. But that's not Tomura. Tomura is a villain who doesn't know how to love, nothing more. You're his pitiful victim with Stockholm syndrome.
In the time you spent thinking, Tomura had walked over to you and placed his palms on your shoulders coaxingly. You want to punch him.
"Don't touch me Tomura. I want to go home."
"This is your home. We made this deal," he slurred, narrowing his eyes and glaring at the side of your head. To see your face head on would be to sabotage himself. If he can see your tears he is that much more likely to give you what you want. If he releases you, you'll never return here. He'll never see you again.
The problem of your escape has never been what you might tell people about him. In the case that you do run and find your way back to your people, tell them all about how horrible he was to you, he will only make a bigger name for himself. If it did anything at all, it would only benefit him. He probably should let you go just for that, seeing as the League hasn't been getting too much attention since the debut and downfall of the Hero Killer.
But that would mean he wouldn't have you anymore. Nobody else will do.
"I want to call the deal off," you reply sharply, "I can't. I can't stand you. You're not what I.. You're not who I want. I'm a hero, not a villain."
"You told me you liked me."
"Before you kidnapped me! Every night I sleep on the floor next to your bed with my wrists bound by a belt! You are constantly teasing me, I'm not allowed to talk to Dabi anymore because you're so fucking insecure. Frankly, I don't want Dabi! I don't want any of you! I want my house and my cat, and my best friends. Being stuck here with you is the worst thing that's ever happened to me."
Your words have him still, but his fingers grip into your shoulders like claw clamps. The nails of his index fingers bare into the flesh of your neck just slightly. You've never been so rude to him before. He's utterly taken aback, and he's not happy about that. You called him insecure, jabbing into his skull stronger than a blade could. How dare you call him insecure!
Before he can make any more movements to throw you to the ground, you swiftly open the door and rip from his grasp to make a bee line for the door. Tomura calls for Kurogiri to stop you, but he's too slow to grab so he vanishes to locate you as fog instead. Dabi sits on the couch watching it all happen with a smug look on his face.
"About time she did something."
"I'm going to tear you apart if you say anything right now Dabi."
But he knows Kurogiri will get you and bring you back. He will. Right?
#tomura x you#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki x reader#angst#unhealthy relationships#bnha#league of villains#dabi#possessive shigaraki#feeling moody#Spotify
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Why Azriel Suddenly Seems More Like Lucien
HOFAS SPOILERS
Also, DO NOT MAKE THIS ABOUT THE SHIPS/ START UP SHIP ARGUMENTS. I JUST WANNA TALK ABOUT MY BOY.
I've been seeing a lot of people talk about how Azriel’s behavior seems out of character/mimicking Lucien. And I don't really blame anyone for having these takes, truly! Azriel is very understated, and if you're not actively looking for it (as I suspect most people aren't, I didn't even notice these seeds until I started analyzing him to write him properly. Genuinely no shade to anyone who didn't notice what I did.) it's very easy to miss.
First, let's look at how similar Lucien and Azriel actually are, even before HOFAS:
Lucien grew up in an abusive household where his father held some type of power within the community. His mother was abused, and his half-siblings treated him poorly.
Lucien was able to escape his family, having to kill one of his brothers in the process, and found family ties to a friend in a position of power. Lucien actively plays a part in his Court. His position requires him to gather intel and was noted to have spy-like responsibilities.
Lucien seems to not have a true “home”, especially after ACOFAS. He doesn't seem to “fit” or belong anywhere other than with the Band of Exiles. He's often “othered” or seen as an outcast.
Azriel grew up in an abusive household where his father held some type of power within the community. His mother was abused, and his half-siblings and stepmother tortured him.
Azriel was able to escape his family and was noted by Rhys to have done something to his brothers for revenge. He found family ties to a friend in a position of power. Azriel actively plays a part in his Court. His position requires him to gather intel, as he is the spymaster and also a torturer.
Azriel doesn't seem to “fit” or belong anywhere per his admission to Feyre in ACOMAF.
“I don’t really know where I fit in anymore,” I admitted, perhaps only because the wind was screeching around us and Rhys had already winnowed ahead to where Cassian’s dark form flew— beyond the wall. “I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I’m not sure of that, either,” Azriel said.
So while these are general character beats, they are also major ones. All of these aspects play a huge role in how both characters are being/will be developed.
Now, the moment in ACOMAF when Azriel confesses to Feyre that he doesn’t know where he fits in, subtle as it is, is a huge character moment in my opinion. This is a pretty big admission from someone normally reserved/who doesn't let his feelings show. Rhys even mentions in his POV in ACOFAS that he and Cassian could spend hours trying to get Az to crack and tell them what he's thinking/feeling, and he doesn't.
Why is this situation different?
Because Azriel is good at recognizing people's needs due to his empathy.
He's willing to open up to people when he can see they need encouragement. He can lower those guards to help other people.
This is exactly what happened in the Truth-Teller scene with Elain, he parted with something he normally doesn't/something he finds comfort in having because she needed something that made her feel safe. (And if anyone understands how necessary it is to feel safe through not having that comfort, it’s Azriel.)
“It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade.
“Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”
Additionally, this is the second instance in which Cassian volunteered to help Elain in some way, and either he was shot down or refused, and thus Azriel stepped in.
In the first instance, Azriel had been internally debating when he said "I'm getting her back", per Feyre's observation of how his voice sounded. He knew it was risky, but it was also apparent that if Azriel didn't act or step in, then who would?
This aspect of his character was already hinted at earlier in ACOMAF by Feyre.
Azriel just shook his head. “I’ll go. The Prison sentries know me—what I am.”
I wondered if the shadowsinger was usually the first to throw himself into danger.
This is then cemented by his decision to go into Hybern’s camp and rescue Elain. Cassian was shot down by Nesta. Rhys is a High Lord, he can't risk an infiltration mission like that. If Hybern captured him, they'd all be fucked without his power on the battlefield. Azriel is a shadowsinger, his skill set perfectly compliments stealthy rescue missions.
Saving people is a major part of Azriel’s character psychology.
Why is that?
Well, who saved Azriel from his father's cell in the basement? Who got him out?
No one.
Azriel was never rescued, he was released. Those are very different things, especially when his next living place was the brutal environment of an Illyrian war camp.
With his trauma and empathy, regardless of where you stand on ships, it makes sense he would risk his life to rescue someone. Especially someone vulnerable or in an environment they cannot escape on their own like he was as a child.
Furthermore, Azriel went with Mor to rescue the priestess’ at Sangravah. Azriel murdered every male that had touched Gwyn, and then covered her with his cloak after her brutal assault. He also knew not to touch her since she had just been violated by males, so Mor carried her out.
Azriel saved Mor from dying when she was left at the Autumn Court border.
It’s not a coincidence that all of Azriel’s love interests, confirmed or highly suspected, are people he had a hand in rescuing.
It’s also not a coincidence that the two females he’s confirmed to have an attraction to are both unwillingly tied to Beron’s sons.
It wouldn’t surprise me at all if it’s later revealed that part of Azriel’s draw to Elain is founded on him trying to “redeem” his “failure to save Mor” from Eris. Lucien being Eris’ brother is enough for Azriel to unfairly believe them to be similar enough to warrant his disdain. He could very well unconsciously be trying to “save” Elain from Lucien as he incorrectly expects something similar to happen.
I hope that at some point, Azriel does have a moment where he realizes that he is unfair to Lucien and that they are actually quite similar and could get along very well. Because if there’s anyone who should know that just because you share blood with your half-brothers, it doesn’t mean you’re like them, it’s Azriel.
And I hope that happens because, despite his disdain and unfair view of Lucien, Azriel is also generally shown to be thoughtful as well as empathetic.
A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers whiteknuckled on that fork, but he kept silent…Elain cast pleading eyes on Rhys, then Azriel, such mortal fear coating her features, her scent. “We are raised this way. We hear stories of your kind crossing the wall to hurt us. Our own neighbor, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered …”...Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.” “I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit. I wondered if Rhys’s spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadows.”
“I was still sore enough the next day that I had to send word to Cassian I wasn’t training with him. Or Azriel. A mistake, perhaps, given that both of them showed up at the door to the town house within minutes, the former demanding what the hell was wrong with me, the latter bearing a tin of salve to help with the aches in my back.
I thanked Azriel for the salve and told Cassian to mind his own business.”
But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”
Rhys was frowning, Cassian and Mor were both grimacing, and Azriel … It was pity on his beautiful face. Pity and sorrow as he watched my sister.
Azriel plucked up the small folded silver wand within and unfurled it. One end held a clip, the other a small glass sphere. “You can attach this to whatever book you’re reading, and the little ball of faelight will shine. So you don’t have to squint when you’re reading at night.”
Nesta touched the glass ball, no bigger than her thumbnail, and faelight flickered within, casting a bright, easy glow upon her lap. She tapped it again and it turned off. And then she jumped to her feet and flung her arms around Azriel.
The room went silent for a beat.
But Azriel chuckled and squeezed her gently. Cassian smiled to see it— to see them. “Thank you,” Nesta said, quickly pulling away to marvel at the device. “It’s brilliant.” Azriel blushed and stepped back, shadows swirling.
He also has his sharp-tongued, witty moments as well.
“…when Azriel clarified, “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand … good luck.”
“No word on Bryaxis, I take it.” I peered toward the marble beneath my boots, as if I could see all the way to the library beneath this mountain and the now-empty lower levels that had once been occupied.
Az studied the floor as well. “Not a whisper. Or a scream, for that matter.”
I chuckled. My brother had a sly, wicked sense of humor.
Azriel straightened a sagging section of garland over the windowsill. “It’s almost like you two tried to make it as ugly as possible.”
“Pick on someone your own size,” Cassian said to Amren, shoveling roast chicken into his mouth. “I’d feel bad for the mice,” Azriel muttered.
And he proves his worth to himself and others by what he can do for them.
When Rhys was done, his spymaster said, “I’ll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where the half of the Book of Breathings is hidden. I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they’re keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it.”
“No need,” Rhys said. “And I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren.”
“They can be trusted,” Azriel said with quiet steel, his scarred hands clenching at his leather-cladsides.
“We’re not taking risks where this is concerned,” Rhys merely said. He held Azriel’s stare, and I could almost hear the silent words Rhys added, It is no judgment or reflection on you, Az. Not at all. But Azriel yielded no tinge of emotion as he nodded, his hands unfurling.
So, for me, as someone who writes Azriel's POV and studied all these scenes before doing so, the things Azriel did/said in HOFAS seem in the realm of possibility/believability for his character to me.
However, I don’t think that means that we had a smooth transition into this version of Azriel though. I’ll compare the scene with Nesta and the Mask and my own writing in the hopes of illustrating what I mean (and yes of course I’m going to take an opportunity to plug my fic lol)
Don’t worry, it’s a platonic interaction.
HOFAS:
“Cassian’s waiting for you, Nesta,” Azriel said—tone gentling. “Take off the Mask.” Nesta stayed silent, Ataraxia ready in her hand. One swipe, and Azriel would be dead. “He’s waiting for you at the House of Wind,” Azriel went on. “At home.”
Another blink from Nesta. The silver fire banked a little. Like whoever Cassian was, and whatever the House of Wind was … they might be the only things capable of fighting the siren song of the Mask. “Gwyn and Emerie are waiting,” Azriel pushed. “And Feyre and Elain.”
The silver flame flared at that. Then Azriel said, “Nyx is waiting, too.” The silver flame went out entirely. The Mask fell from Nesta’s face, clattering on the stone. Nesta swayed, but Azriel was there, catching her, bringing her to his chest, scarred hands stroking her hair. “Thank the Mother,” he breathed. “Thank the Mother.”
My fic: (ACOSAR)
Azriel hummed, taking it all in. His shadows flickered in response to the animated wave of Solara’s hands, appearing to listen intently. "She sounds remarkable," he said, his tone sincere.
"She is," Solara confirmed, a soft smile touching her lips. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Well, properly, at least. I wrote to her, letting her know I was leaving.”
“She'll understand," Azriel reassured her quietly. "If she's anything like you say, I'm sure she won't hold it against you."
"I know she'll understand," Solara agreed, deflating slightly. "But it's not really about that." Her normal vibrance flickered like a candle in a breeze, eyes turning downcast as she folded her arms across her chest…
…Azriel took a step closer to her, his wings stretching slightly. The closest to Solara curled around her, bathing in the light; the veins visible through the membranous flesh. "Then what is it really about?" he pressed gently, coaxingly. His eyes bore into hers, pleading with her to let him help.
…Solara could not return to Exandria.
"We'll find a way for you to see her again," Azriel said. As if of its own volition, his hand found her bicep. The light touch of his hand seemed to banish the tension from her almost instantly. She never shied from his touch despite the vile, warped skin of his hands…"...I promise."...
…"I think... I think I'll be okay here." Solara said quietly, her gaze meeting his again...
..."I think you will thrive here," Azriel agreed. “Prythian may not be as wondrous as Exandria, but it is a place full of beauty. And I know one thing for certain; we will never leave you. We all have hundreds, if not thousands, of years ahead of us. You will never be forced to outlive those you care about ever again.”
With another reassuring squeeze of her arm, Azriel gently guided her forward as he strode towards the entrance to the manor.
I wanted to point this out mainly because in my writing, that’s after ten chapters of seeing their relationship develop. His reactions to Nesta and my OC are similar. And I wrote that in May of 2023, well before I read HOFAS.
I'm not putting it there as an example to say my writing is as good as SJM's (obviously), but more so saying it is a fair assessment of his character's potential growth and behavior further down the line. If I picked up on it from what she wrote thus far, before HOFAS, I think it's probably where she plans for him to go.
With Az and Nesta, while we know they get along and likely could become closer, we don’t see the build-up to this level of closeness in HOFAS.
Unfortunately, it likely happened in those six months between ACOSF and HOFAS, and I don’t know if SJM plans to expand on that at all.
So, to sum everything up, essentially:
Do I think Azriel’s treatment of Nesta is in-character? Yes.
But do I think the execution is there for it to make sense that he's developed to this point? No.
I don't believe SJM is making him "mimic" Lucien because they're already similar in key aspects. Azriel does have tendencies to be caring yet smart-mouthed. I think SJM skipped a bunch of steps with Az’s development. Which makes me very sad, and I hope we do get to see it.
Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk!
#azriel#azriel acotar#pro azriel#ship neutral#azriel x oc#sjm critical#azriel analysis#long post#long post warning
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ℂℍ. 𝕀 — 𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕥
𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄
[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽]
AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST
summary 🗡
⤏ cade yeager’s older sister never knows what she’ll find in their barn upon returning from her routine antiquing trips—the submission box at the driveway is often littered with junk of all kinds that they try to fix for a living.
⤏ you just never would have expected for him to take on the task of repairing a cybertronian.
pairing 🗡 bayverse!optimus prime/yeager!reader
word count 🗡 8.7k
a/n 🗡
⤏ i've been cleaning out my docs drafts debating on whether to upload certain unfinished works, seeing as some of them are partially complete (like this one). this was going to be a longfic that followed the events of aoe and would go on to tlk, but i lost steam for it pretty early on. there are a few more snippets that wouldn't stand well enough on their own to be posted, but i thought these three chapters would express the vibes i was attempting to convey.
⤏ this is an aoe ua where lucas didn't call the government about optimus right away, cemetery wind didn't find him immediately, and cade has an older sister by one year. the reader is ex-military and protective by nature, and not one to be trifled with - especially in regards to her family, as she would gladly sacrifice her life for theirs. she suffers from a psychosomatic limp in her right leg after sustaining a gunshot to her left shoulder while serving in afghanistan years prior. still suffering from ptsd, she's turned to exercise and bodybuilding as an outlet. she spends her time and makes money restoring antiques and furniture and occasionally collaborating with cade on his robotics.
⤏ this is kind of silly looking back on it (also not as well written, seeing as i created it back in 2017 [oh my god that was six years ago]), but i've promised myself i would try to work against my internal criticism and not cringe at something i spent a lot of time and love to make. i saw a few posts on tumblr floating around about posting old drafts and i thought i might do that with this, among others, so keep your eyes peeled for those.
⤏ let me know if you see any glaring grammatical mistakes/spelling errors i missed, but more importantly, please enjoy this gem of my past! :)
🗡 MASTERPOST 🗡
🗡 ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER 🗡
Tessa woke dreamily, a pleasantly warm haze dampening her thoughts as she blinked the sleep from her eyes. Shimmering sunlight streamed in through the window, lighting up her room and causing motes of dust floating in the air to gleam like tiny flecks of gold. She stretched slowly, enjoying the feeling of tension releasing in her muscles. She smiled when she remembered that finals were over. She was free. (Until she went to college, that is. If she went to college.)
Though with the bliss of waking up to a quiet morning, she realized that it was actually quite out of place. It was suspiciously quiet. There wasn't any shouting from the landlord trying to sell the house again, or explosions coming from the barn. It was awfully peaceful, and Tessa really didn't know how to feel about it. It was only when she closed her eyes in contemplation of dozing off again that she remembered.
They had a transformer in the barn.
"Dad," she groaned, rubbing at her face and sitting up slowly.
A week had passed since Cade Yeager had unknowingly brought home a wanted, illegal alien (a literal alien, funnily enough) in an attempt to dismantle it for salable parts. But of course - of course it had to have been her dad. It couldn't have been anyone else's, because that's just what her life was: hectic and chock-full of crazy shit. So why not add housing an Autobot to the list?
She still couldn't believe her dad had managed to talk both her and Lucas down from making a call to the government about their accidental find. She didn't know how he did it - but he'd kept haggling and nagging and pushing until they'd acquiesced, and now they had a half-destroyed thirty-foot robot living in their barn.
Tessa couldn't say that she disliked Optimus, however - on the contrary, she was rather intrigued by him. He was very benevolent and soft-spoken (only did this show after their initial scare - Lucas wouldn't step close to the 'Bot for a solid two days afterward), and his voice never failed to soothe her with its otherworldly rumble. He was quiet, though, and didn't talk much - at least around her. Her dad said that he spoke with him very frequently, usually while he was repairing or constructing a makeshift part for the injured Autobot, and that entailed them being alone.
Cade had told her, the first night after he’d convinced her and Lucas not to call in the government, that he intended to let Optimus stay there for as long as he needed - until Cade could get him back into fighting shape, at the very least. It was wrong, what the government was doing to the Autobots - hunting them down like animals - and Cade sympathized greatly. Tessa admitted that she did, too, now that she knew the government wasn't actually targeting just Decepticons, but she was scared of the repercussions that it could potentially have on her family. Her father had assured her that nothing was going to happen to them, and that helping Optimus was the best thing that they could do right then. And he was already getting better info on robotics, just by looking at the 'Bot's inner mechanisms - not to mention that the Cybertronian made the continuous effort to answer any sort of question that Cade asked him. It was benefiting them already, he'd said. Tessa had sighed softly, pushing the tray of already lukewarm dinner into her father's hands before returning to the safety of their room.
Needless to say, Tessa made sure to give them both ample space. She would rather not have another missile ricochet through the house.
Tessa yawned, stood, and trudged into her bathroom, already resigning herself to cooking breakfast (again). She figured that the typical eggs and bacon would suffice - she just sincerely hoped that her dad hadn't pulled another all-nighter. Optimus had urged the stubborn human male to rest accordingly before, so maybe he'd done the same the previous night. She'd noticed that her dad was starting to get dark circles under his eyes.
After taking a soothingly hot shower and dressing for the day, she wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. It was methodical, routine, how she went about cooking the eggs and frying the bacon to her dad’s taste. Soon the savory smells were wafting from the stove, and when she heard the dull thumps of heavy, uneven footsteps descending the staircase she breathed out a sigh of relief. Cade shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and tugging the hem of his shirt down over his stomach. His hair was mussed, his movements stiff, and Tessa lamented her lack of foresight in not setting up the coffee pot beforehand.
"Morning, Dad," she said, flipping the bacon as it sizzled and hissed up at her. He mumbled something that could have potentially been English, trudging over to the fridge to pop the door open and draw a glass bottle of soda from its depths. He twisted the cap off, tossing it haphazardly towards the trashcan tucked into the corner of the kitchen (and effectively missing it by a long shot) before sinking into the chair already pulled out from beneath the table. His head fell into his hand, his shoulders slumping as he mumbled under his breath.
He was tired.
"How late did you stay up last night?" she asked him, transferring the now crisp bacon over onto the plate already loaded with heavily salted and peppered eggs. She moved over to him, setting it down in front of him before shuffling back to grab him a fork from the drawer.
Cade, obviously still submerged in a half-catatonic state, made the mistake of plucking up a strip of bacon. He jolted up, hissing and cussing as he swiped his fingertips against his pajama pants. Tessa gave him a scolding look, handing him a fork.
Cade sighed, taking it. "Eleven...?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, cocking her hip and planting a fist above it.
He averted his gaze guiltily, looking entirely like the man-child he was. "...Maybe closer to two. Or three. Or was it three thirty...?"
"Dad," she groaned, tugging at her hair in frustration. "Nothing good is going to come out of this if you work yourself into the ground! Optimus doesn't need to be repaired in the span of four nights-"
"Tessa - honey, you don't understand!" he interjected, squinting against the sunlight streaming in from the window. "I've already been able to make three of my inventions work because of him! He's helping me build these things, and the sooner I can sell them, the sooner we can get some money rolling in."
The young blonde opened her mouth to argue further, but the genuine look in her father's eyes made her stop short. She hesitated, and he took the opportunity to stand and grasp her arms gently, drawing her into a tight, reassuring hug. She resisted but for a few seconds before sighing and giving in, wrapping her arms around him and breathing in the familiar scent of mechanical grease and sweat. Memories lingered in the back of her consciousness. This was her father, what embodied him. Comfort and grease.
How lovely.
"Tess, baby," he murmured into her hair, brushing his fingers through it slowly, "I promise this will turn out okay. Just give me a little time. Optimus is genuinely grateful for what we're doing for him, and he's trying to repay us in any way that he can." He squeezed her affectionately. "We'll get out of this soon. Everything will go back to normal."
"I sincerely doubt that," she mumbled into his shirt, though secretly she was soothed by his words. He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before they both drew away from each other. Cade returned to his seat, digging into his cooling breakfast while Tessa moved over to the coffee pot to get a fresh brew going. She knew he was going to need it, if he was going to function at all that day.
"Did Lucas get those parts you need?" Tessa asked, popping the top off of the coffee maker before grimacing. She hadn't made coffee in a week, how old were these grounds? Yuck.
"Yeah. Most of them," Cade said through a mouthful of eggs. Tessa sighed, but did not scold him. "I'll have to order some. If I can fix up that old tape recorder, I've got a buyer on Ebay. Fifty bucks."
"Hmm." Tessa tossed the old filter out, disposing the forgotten bottle cap while she was at it. She opened up the cabinet, straining on her tiptoes to reach the filters and grounds. Curse her short genes.
"Optimus says that a lot of his self-regenerating systems have kicked in now that he's out of emergency stasis-lock. Whatever that means." Cade swallowed before shoving a wad of bacon into his mouth. "But he's still looking pretty rough. I think he needs a good wash."
"But won't that make him more obvious?" she asked, filling the pot up in the sink and pouring it into the tank. "Won't the government be looking for his old paintjob? Maybe we should paint him a different color or something."
"He mentioned that he changed his vehicle mode while on the run from that ambush," he said. "Combine that with all the rust he's got, I don't think he'll be easily identifiable for a while. But, still..." He polished off the soda before sighing. "I feel bad for him. He seems to be in a lot of discomfort, and I'm pretty sure he's still in pain. He's cooped up in that barn, having to crouch or sit all the time. The guy can't even step outside for fear of satellites seeing him..."
"Maybe he can go out at night," she suggested, sympathizing greatly. Texas heat sucked sometimes, and some days in the summer you couldn't even step outside for fear of suffocating on contact. "He can stretch his legs a bit without so much fear of being seen."
Cade visibly brightened. "Good idea. I didn't think of that."
Probably because you're just running on fumes, Tessa thought wryly as she flicked on the coffee pot.
"In any case," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. She jabbed a finger at him, giving him a firm (and faintly pleading) look. "I want you in bed before midnight tonight."
Cade grinned around his fork, his eyes glittering with faint amusement. "I'll try," he said, swallowing, "but I can't make any promises."
"I'll make Optimus lock you out of the barn," she warned, knowing full well that the thirty-foot mech would most definitely agree to it. They both knew it. "Just...try, okay? Or I'll spike your dinner with melatonin, too."
Cade shuddered, cringing. "Okay, okay, chill," he said, picking up the last strip of bacon before standing with his plate and wandering over to the sink. "I'll go to sleep at midnight."
"Before midnight," she pressed.
"Before midnight," he acquiesced.
Cade washed off the plate, chewing studiously on the bacon like a tobacco addict while Tessa stepped over to the fridge and unraveled the loaf of bread. She dropped two slices into the toaster when Cade's cell phone began to ring.
He growled softly, flicking the faucet off before fumbling with his pajama pants. "It had better not be that damn..." He drew out the phone from his pocket, squinting at the name before the blood drained from his face.
Tessa's face creased in immediate concern. "What? Who is it?"
Cade's trembling thumb slid across the screen before he lifted it to his ear. "Heeyyy, sis..."
Tessa felt her blood run cold, a thrum of nervousness welling up in her stomach. Cade cast her an anxious glance before rubbing at the back of his head. "I'm fine. Tessa's fine...wait, you found a what? That's awesome!"
His enthusiasm was short-lived, as it died just as quickly as it had come when Tessa gave him a sour, pointed look. "Uh, yeah...Tessa finished up her finals. Yeah. No, I haven't finished that...you found a part for it? Nice." He fidgeted where he stood, leaning against the counter and rubbing at his mouth. "Listen, we've, uh...I made a big buy here a few days ago...no, it wasn't...okay. I, uh..." He grimaced, his teeth bared as he ran his fingers through his hair. "How long's it going to be 'til you get here?" He paused, listening intently, before the barest iota of relief relaxed the muscles in his shoulders. "Okay. This evening? Later? All right...yeah, see you then. Love you, too. Bye."
The second he lowered the phone from his ear and ended the call, he let out a prolonged, hissing curse through his teeth. Tessa worried her lower lip between her teeth, waiting for the ball to drop. Cade sank back against the cabinetry, his head hitting the upper section with a dull thunk. "We're screwed. I completely forgot about..." He shook his head slowly. "She's coming back tonight, maybe around seven. We've got to hide Optimus somehow."
Tessa stared at him incredulously. "How? He's a thirty-foot robot!" she hissed at him. "She practically lives in the barn, and that's the only place he can hide! She'll sniff him out in minutes!"
"I know that," Cade pressed, shoving the phone back into his pocket so he could scrape his hands down his face. "But she'll kill me when she finds out-"
"What, that you accidentally bought a literal illegal alien and now you’re trying to fix him?!" she cried exasperatedly. "Of course she's going to kill you!"
"We can't tell her," he insisted. "She's ex-military. Who knows how she'll react when she finds out we've got a Cybertronian in the barn."
"We can't keep it from her," she protested. "Even if we do manage to hide him at first, she'll find him eventually. She spends as much time in there as you do, if not more - which is stupid," she muttered. "And you'll have to continue repairs on him eventually."
Cade sighed resignedly, dropping his face into his hands. "At least make spaghetti for her," he mumbled, voice muffled. "The most we can do is butter her up before we tell her. I...I need at least tonight, so I can think about how I'm going to tell her."
Tessa stared at him for a long moment, but the tense silence that threatened to fall was broken by the toaster popping. At least that was one device in the house that Cade hadn't tampered with.
"Don't worry about it," Tessa told him, trying to offer some relief to his nervousness. "I'm sure once you explain everything to her, she'll understand. Like you said, he's helping out a lot with your robotics, so it's not a completely fruitless endeavor. And, once he's fixed up and leaves, we can call the government and point them in the opposite direction. That way we'll get the money but we'll throw them off his trail."
Cade looked up at her, a slow smile tugging the corners of his mouth apart. "I love you," he cooed. "You're smart like your mother."
Tessa flushed, turning to she could both pluck her toast out of the toaster and hide the smile that split her face in two.
Read the rest of the chapter here! :)
#fisara's codices#fanfiction#transformers#bayverse#aoe#transformers: age of extinction#optimus prime#reader insert#optimus prime/reader#mine
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Bleeding Red
Chapter 1. A deal with the devil
K.Bakugo x Vigilante reader
warning. vigilante!reader, angst, violence, prohero!Bakugo, aged up (early 20's)
W/C. 3k +
A/N. Ahh, I'm actually so nervous to post this first chapter, I swear first chapters are always the hardest to write, trying to set up the entire storyline. There are a lot of details left out on purpose, but I promise the next chapters will start to clear a bunch of stuff up! Again I love criticism and I truly do want honest opinions, it always helps. I included the introduction chapter, if you haven't read that yet I recommend you read it first! Happy reading and let me know what you think. :)
Introduction Chapter
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December 15th
The city of Musutafu was silent, the howling sound of the storm easing my tension, and the cool breeze hitting my cheeks. As snow descended onto parked vehicles, casing trees in white powder, the ice began to cover my tracks.
Then the ringing from my earpiece going off, disrupting my solitude, “Nova, do we have an eye on the target.”
Fixing my footing on top of the slick building, I overlooked my surroundings. Tonight, every billboard and digital screen lit up the streets with the face of a fallen pro hero, Solidity. A face that ushered hope into civilian’s hearts. The city was quiet, in mourning.
Reaching for my earpiece, “Negative, no movement from up here.” The ringing sound, again making me roll my eyes, “Nova, this must be done before midnight. Get your head in the game, or- “. Tearing the earpiece out, I walk away, feeling it crush beneath my foot, “Prick”.
Lingering on top of the structure, I took a deep breath. The cold air filling my lungs, sending a shock to my system. The wind began to pick up, bringing a vibration through the building.
Ultimately deciding to make my way to the stair well before the building came down with me on top, I began my decline. The stairway was tight, not helping my increasing buildup of anxiety. I was beginning to feel closter phobic, every move I have made, every decision has felt consequently wrong tonight.
The hall lights began to flicker from the storm, not helping the eerie feeling in my stomach. A loud crash knocked me out of my internal panic, looking up I realized I had reached the fourth floor. The floor number I was given earlier to take out my target.
As I open the door to the stair well, another crash came towards the end of the hall. Treading towards the noise, the lights began to go out one by one, eventually going out completely. At this point I was debating on turning around and just giving up. I know I’m an adult, but I’ve feared the dark since I was a child.
“Don’t be a pussy Y/N.”
Following the noise, I walked along the wall guiding myself towards the sound. Using my hands to feel, I found myself Infront of a wooden door. Inside, a man could be heard screaming, and the faintest noise of what sounded like a sob. I found my rage began to grow quicker than I could stop it. My gloved hands grabbed the handle, fortunately finding it unlocked.
Opening the door, there was little light coming from the room, a candle flickering near the stove. Gazing the small space, I found a little girl hiding near the side of the sofa. Her glazed over eyes noticed me. Before she could make a fuss, I put my index finger up towards my mouth.
“Shhh.” I try to Inform her to stay quiet, I’m not moving until she understands. Eventually I could make out the smallest form of a nod.
Registering that the clatter was coming from the bedroom, where no words could be heard only sounds of distress, I make me way around the corner. The bedroom door was open, in direct view of the young girl’s sight. Taking silent steps, I grabbed the blade resting on my thigh. Reaching the door I looked back at the young girl while slowly closing off her view.
Obtaining my thoughts, finally in the closed room, I turn around watching as coincidentally my target was choking out, what looked to be his wife.
The woman, beginning to slip out of consciousness noticed me before the man could. He watched as her eyes travelled to the left. Sooner than he could turn his head, my blade ran deep across his throat, killing him instantly. His body falling to the floor, and her’s sliding down the wall.
Taking in the sight in front of her, she began to hyperventilate “Oh, oh god.” She was in shock; most people are when they watch someone get killed. Leaning down towards her level, I tried to calm her. “You guys are safe now.” Grabbing a rag from my side, I handed it to her. “Wipe the blood off your face, then you and your daughter get out of here.” Her shaky hand reached for the rag as her other hand reached for mine, helping her up, she looked at me with tears in her eyes. A few seconds later and not a word spoken, she ran out the bedroom door.
Looking down at the man’s body, his eyes were looking back at me. The man I had just killed was the leader of a Mafia group, a money laundering, apparent wife beater piece of shit. I know I should feel bad, but I knew what I was getting into when I first started this, and I know I look like a villain, most people look at me like I am, but I don’t just kill anyone. I only kill those who hurt others.
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Making my way out of the building, I double checked the sidewalks before stepping out of the entrance door. Glancing to my left, a black SUV sat under a dimmed light post, illuminating the snow on top of it. Taking a deep breath, I made my way towards the vehicle while ripping the tight gloves off my hands.
As my sight was distracted, looking at the footprints left in the snow, the click of the locks could be heard as I approached the vehicle. Reaching the passenger side door, I slid in looking towards the man in the driver seat. “It’s done.”
Pulling the mask off my head, I had expected him to respond, or at least make a comment on the earpiece.
Setting the mask in my lap, I once again brought my attention to him. Observing the driver, he looked frightened, both his hands where gripped to the steering wheel, his expression was wide eyed, and I swear if you looked close enough, he was sweating.
“Yuji, drive the car.” No vocal response, but at least he granted me with some movement. I watched as he gripped the rearview mirror, positioning it in a way I couldn’t see. For some reason his behavior gave me the chills, I could feel the goosebumps raise under the sleeves of my suit.
As we pulled out onto the main road, I never took my eyes of Yuji, I could see he was shaking; his left leg was bouncing against the car floor with anxiety. “What’s wrong?”
Not expecting a response, I turned my head towards the passenger side window. Looking up towards the sky, the build boards once again caught my attention. Pro hero Solidity’s face staring back at me. The way his eyes looked so stone cold, like he had known what I just had done.
Solidity was killed last night, the city didn’t see it coming, and neither had I. Solidity, also known as Ren Kiyoshi, was a face I haven’t seen in seven years.
Ren Kiyoshi, my father was a good man. Sort of. He is good when I compare him to myself. My father and I are more alike than I’d care to admit. However when I feel pure rage, I know I am my fathers daughter.
Looking out the window my view of the streets began to move faster, Yuji was speeding up. The car began to slide due to the icy roads. Grabbing onto the handle, I prepared myself for an upcoming impact. Was he trying to kill us? “Slow down, the streets are ice right now.” Listening to my command, he slammed on the breaks, unfortunately sending us into a skid, almost hitting a cement wall. “Holy fuck jackass, are you trying to get us killed?”
Looking at him, he finally made eye contact with me, and after a few breathes, he spoke “I’m sorry Nova.”
“Sorr- “. The realization hit me, and my face turned sour. His earlier movements made sense now, the moving of the rear view mirror. Turning my head towards the back seat, a man sat with his arms crossed, staring back at me.
Before I had the chance to react, the sound of a car franticly honking hindered my thoughts.
Fuck we were still in the middle of the road.
Bracing for the impact, the car was sent rolling. I watched as Yuji was sent flying through the windshield. I luckily had my seatbelt on, only getting hit straight in the face with the airbag.
The car eventually came to a stop. My vision was blurry, more than likely concussed. The SUV had flipped upside down, and fortunately breaking the glass from my window.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I tried to climb out of the window, crawling on shards of glass “Fuck.” Making it half way out, the ringing in my ears began to increase. I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness.
Laying my body onto the floor, I flipped myself onto my back, watching as the snow fell, small snowflakes landing in my hair. The last thing my brain could process before my vision went dark was flashing headlights and teal blue eyes.
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The static from a T.V. could be heard in the background and I could barely make out the shape of a flowerpot to my left, but I’d remember that water colored design from anywhere. I was in my apartment. Not being able to open my right eye, I touched my face. Looking down at my hand, crimson covering the fingertips.
A deep voice spoke across the room, “Nice to see you again Y/N.” Looking at the man, I felt rage run through my body. Laughing at the man standing in front of me, I could taste the iron running down into my mouth. “Go to hell Endeavor.” Trying to move I quickly realized my hands were tied to the back of my kitchen chair. “Holding me hostage in my own apartment, did your quirk finally fry your brain?”
Sighing, the man pulled up a chair and sat in front of me, “You know, it’s not safe to leave the car door’s unlocked.” Glaring at him I didn’t speak, only let him continue. “My condolences about your father- “
Cutting him off I was quick to reply, “Don’t speak about my father, we both know you hated him.”
Apparently, he was quicker, “Yet you’re the one who got him killed?”.
“Fuck you.” Spitting at him, I could tell he was getting pissed off. Looking behind me he spoke to someone across the living room. “Make sure she doesn’t try anything funny.” Tilting my head up, a man with cold eyes looked down on me. Bringing my head back down, I smirked, “Needed him to get to me, couldn’t do it yourself?”
Endeavor glared at me. Keeping eye contact with him, I wasn’t going to look away first. “Why are you here Endeavor?”
Continuing the staring contest, he kept silent, “I’m over your games, you’ve had eyes on me like a hawk for months. You finally got me where you want, so say something.”
I was furious. For the past several months Endeavor has been trying to track me down. It all started when a fight broke out Infront of the Endeavor agency. The League of Villains had planned an attack on Endeavor that day and luckily for me, I had happened to be in the area at the time and had some unfinished business with Dabi. Wanting to finally get my revenge, I found myself in the middle of the fight, apparently fighting with the heroes. Just as Endeavor was about to land the final blow, I may have purposely jumped in and took care of it myself. The media went wild with this story, titled something along the lines of “Masked Vigilante Nova, Stealing Endeavors spotlight?” While I found it very amusing, some others found it humiliating and degrading. Others being Endeavor.
“You’re just mad a woman beat you at your own game, is that what it is?” Scoffing he grabbed the bottom of my chair and pulled it closer, “Don’t compare yourself to a woman, you are nothing more than a floozy.”
Smiling at the man, “Ouch, did it take you awhile to come up with that.”
Endeavor has known my real identity since the Dabi incident, unknowingly to me, he spent weeks doing his own research. Not sure how he found out completely yet, I knew for sure when I found him across the streets of a grocery store, I had dropped one of my bags and he ran over to help. He didn’t say a word but the look he gave me was enough to tell that he knew.
Finally fed up with the back and forth, he backed away and pushed up his glasses. Reaching behind him on the floor, he picked up a vanilla file folder that read “Confidential”
His behavior completely taking a 360, “Let’s get started, shall we?” Opening the folder, I was met with a photo of myself and a stack of paper that could only be a mile long. “Name: Y/N Kiyoshi, quirk: Immortal and Stealth. It says here you were pronounced dead seven years ago, yet you’re sitting in front of me?", his expression was nothing but serious.
Glaring at him he continued, “You know, you can always hide, but your past, it doesn’t go away Y/N. You were eventually going to be found, whether it was me or the poor bastard who dug his career into the ground looking for someone whose moral code is to kill and punish.”
“I don’t kill for shits and giggles; I kill people who hurt others. You guys lock them up and think justice has been served. You can think whatever you want about me, but I don’t ever regret becoming who I am, the hero society is a flaw. All you guys’ care about are fame and fortune, not the victims or their families. When I ran away seven years ago, I wanted everyone to think I was dead, I didn’t ask anyone to continue looking for me, not you or my father.” The more frustrated I got, the more iron I began to taste.
“Careful now, you don’t want to make that broken nose of yours worse.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a Handkerchief, pulling it up to my face he smeared the blood across my cheek. “You know, my original plan was to lock you up. Get rid of Nova, once and for all. However, I did some thinking and I believe I have a proposition for you. Listen to me before you decide to intervene.” Pulling his arm away, he threw the handkerchief onto the ground.
Leaning my head back and sighing, “Please, let’s hear it?”
With all serious, he continued “I need someone dead.”
Fuck
“I told you, I don’t just kill anyone. I’m done listening.” Pulling at my restraints he grabbed my face.
“And I told you to listen.” Snarling, he let go of my face throwing it back. Turning his head, he tried to calm himself, “As I was saying, I need you to help me get rid of someone. A hero to be precise.”
Looking at him, I froze. Out of everyone in the world why would he chose me to kill a hero. “Are you an idiot. A hero? I went to school with all the fucking heroes in the area. This must be the dumbest thing you’ve said since you’ve got here.”
“Mhm, that’s why your perfect for the job. You know what it’s like to train as a hero, to be a hero. You’ll fit right in.” His smile was evil.
“They’ll know me.” I’m not sure if it was still the shock in my system from the accident or the fact I was met with an invitation to reunite with my old classmates, but I was starting to feel dizzy. When I ran away it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I would never hurt them, I still love them deep down.
Getting out of his chair, he walked towards me, “It’s been seven years, they’ve probably forgotten you by now, besides nothing a little makeover can’t fix.” Trying to run his hand through a piece of my hair, I growled “I’m not doing this; I’d never draw a drop of blood from their hands. I’m not a monster.”
Smiling at me he continued, ignoring my remark, “You remember my son, Shoto Todoroki? I plan on giving him the agency if he wants it. He’s high in the rankings, could possibly be number one. Only issue, there’s a hero in the way, I need him gone. So that’s where you come in. I’m hoping you agree to this, I wouldn’t want us to have an issue.”
Tilting my head, I stared at him. When I was younger Shoto and I where close, I knew everything about the Todoroki family, things most people don’t. I knew Endeavor was corrupt, but I didn’t know just how sinister he could be. “You are a wicked human; I don’t ever regret leaving U.A. when I was sixteen, I don’t regret killing the people I did. But you, you are so disgusting, you want to take someone’s life for your sons’ success. You are the fucking reason the hero society is so corrupt.”
Sitting back into his chair, he made a forward hand motion to the guy behind me, “I really wish you would’ve just agreed Y/N.” The creak from my bedroom door could be heard as two other men strolled out. Both seamlessly dressed exactly the same head to toe.
“Where did you find these minions, I knew you were a pussy, but I didn’t- “, before I could finish, the restraints were yanked off my wrists and I was thrown off my chair rolling into the kitchen. Getting up, I knew this was my chance to leave.
All three men, positioned in a fighting stance, blocked my exit. “Alright big boys, let’s see what you got.”
Running towards the first man, I slid under him, taking my arm, and wrapping it around his knee. I took him to the ground first, his head hitting the side of my countertop.
Meanwhile Endeavor began talking, “If you don’t agree to this, I will personally make your life a living hell...”
“Fuck off.”
Turning my head to the side, I grabbed my restraints. Just in time, one of the men ran by me, missing me by an inch. Grabbing the back of his collar, I pulled him close, jumping up onto his back. I then wrap my legs around his waist, while I wrap the restraint around his neck. “You were saying Endeavor.”
“I will reveal you to the entire world, your identity, your past, who you have become. Everyone will be after you. You will be tracked down for the rest of your life... Behind you.”
Fuck I forgot about the third one
Catching me off guard, for the second time tonight. I was yanked off the guys back and went into a tumble on top of the other. Throwing a punch, I rolled forward, locking my legs around his neck. “I’ll never agree to this Endeavor, give up.”
Looking into the kitchen the first guy was still knocked out, the second barely conscious but still breathing. Distracted, I felt a sharp pain in my right thigh. Looking down a knife stook out of it, initialed “E.T.”
Endeavor Todoroki
“So, that’s how where playing?” Reaching to the nearest object, I grabbed the flower vase on my counter and smashed it over his head. Instead of him knocking out cold, he grabbed the back of my head, smashing his into mine.
Dropping to the floor, blood seeped into the cracks of the tile. Before I had time to react, I was getting yanked up by my hair. Breathing heavy I looked at Endeavor, blood oozing into my mouth, “Kill me bitch.”
Trudging over, he kneeled in front of me “I thought about it, but what good would that bring any of us, plus it’s unfortunately impossible” Pulling something out of his pocket he unraveled a photo, “Maybe this will help you agree?”
Staring at the photo, my heart dropped into my stomach. A photo of my mother and little sister, “If you touch them Endeavor, I swear on my grave. I will kill you.”
Grinning from ear to ear, he responds. “All you have to do is agree.”
Looking at the cracks in the tile I felt mortified, closing my eyes, and taking a breath, I was out of options. “Fine.”
Tossing me to the side, the man let me go. I couldn’t focus on anything, I used to think I made peace with myself and everything I’ve done. Now as I sit here in front of the Number 1 hero, I wonder just how bad I messed everything up. I’ve been trying to go home my entire life, even when I was home. There was never a spot for me in this world, and now I’ve been hit with one of the hardest things I may ever have to do. I just pray it’s not someone I know.
“I’m glad you have finally come to your senses Y/N.” Looking at the displeasing sight in front of me I flinched hearing his next words.
“Tell me, how well do you know Katsuki Bakugo?”
#bakugou x reader#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#bakugo katsuki#bakugou imagines#bakugou scenarios#bnha#bakugo#bakugo x you#bakugo fic#bnha bakugou#bakugo x y/n
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Conflict Resolution Chapter 4 — 30 minutes || Surgeon!S.S. × Asian!Reader.
Warnings: Coarse Language, Sexual Elements, Medical elements, Arguing, Bickering
Pairings: Stephen Strange x Asian!Reader (OC)
Summary: You and Stephen go to dinner as per the homework Dr. Sofen assigned to the both of you.
A/N: I have no ownership of this story, all credits go to Kate Canterbary for her book, The Worst Guy.
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Stephen
"What else?" Stephen asked Essex. He paced the sidewalk across the street from Pastoral in the Manhattan neighbourhood while his neuro fellow murmured a few lines from an old Snoop Dogg song through his earbuds. It was fucking freezing out here but he was a minute early, and he'd take all manner of damp, bone-chilling wind if it saved him from dealing with Park. At least for one more minute.
"I think that's the last update I have for you," he said. Stephen could hear him flipping through his notebook and the ambient noise of the hospital around him. "For now, that is. I will come up with something soon enough."
"Please don't complain to me about the general surgery fellow grabbing another case out from underneath you again," he said, giving the restaurant a resentful glance.
"Did you hear me complain? Because I didn't. You extrapolated a complaint about that case-thieving sneak from my overall report. The last time I complained out loud was when I was an intern and had so many pagers, my scrubs kept falling down."
That was fully inaccurate but Stephen wasn't interested in debating that with him now.
"And how many pagers does it take to drop your pants, Essex?"
"Yeah, this sounds like a fully appropriate question," he snarked. "And for your information, it was nine. Nine pagers. Urology, trauma, ENT, cardio, surgical oncology, colorectal, vascular, limb salvage, plastics. What a fucking nightmare."
Stephen stifled a groan at the mention of plastics and frowned at his watch. He was going to have to go in there and get this over with soon. He wouldn't put it past you to break a chair over his head if he rolled in ten minutes late. He shoved his hands into his pockets as another gust of cold, raw air blew in off the water. He hated the way summer bumped and stumbled into autumn here, starting and stopping like there was some serious question over whether seasons were supposed to keep on changing. And then, after cold snaps and heat waves and hurricanes, there was always one day in October, just like today, when it all collapsed and the debate was over. Summer was finished, autumn was here to stay, and he fucking hated it.
Stephen hated wintry weather and all the nonsense that went with it. Snow, ice, everything. Goddamn, it was awful.
"Anyway, that was a night I wouldn't wish on anyone," Essex said.
"What?"
"Did you dip out on me there? You do that a lot, Strange. I have to check the paperwork but I think you're supposed to pay attention to me. You're also supposed to be teaching me, not flaking out in the middle of my twenty-car pileup story, but that's a neglect I've come to accept from you."
It had taken me a bit to get his arms around it but he now understood this was Essex's personality. He was obnoxious in a jaded, cynical way, though he never pretended he was in this business for any altruistic purpose. He thrived on ego and half-baked contempt for everyone.
Stephen understood it too, even if he didn't function the same way Essex did. But the guy had a dry, silly side too and it often came out in stories about his intern years in Minnesota, his assertion that Stephen didn't teach him enough, or riding the line between delinquent and savant.
Essex was a brilliant surgeon but not a single day went by without Stephen wishing he'd known all these quirks of Essex before selecting him for a two-year fellowship.
"What would you like me to teach you while you're recapping the greatest hits of your intern year?"
"You could start by explaining how you organise your shit. I bent down to tie my shoes and it took me twenty-five minutes to clean up the mess from my pockets projectile vomiting all over the place. It was a fucking yard sale, man."
"Sounds like a personal problem." Stephen glanced at the restaurant again. He was notably late now. "Could you…uh, do me a favor? Could you give me a call in forty-five minutes?"
"Is that when you slip into a bath? Glass of pinot, chocolates, fizzy bath bomb? Get your me time?"
"What? No. I might need a reason to—" Stephen stopped, neither wanting to nor knowing how to explain this. "Forty-five minutes. I might teach you something interesting tomorrow if you can save me tonight."
"Sold. Setting a timer now." With that, Essex ended the call.
Stephen popped his earbuds back into their case and accepted the fact he had to go inside, sit down with you for significantly longer than he could bear, and talk to you without rolling his eyes out loud. He was going to fail his ass off. It was warm inside the restaurant and he spotted you immediately.
You were frowning at your phone while typing, pausing, deleting, and typing again.
"Excuse me, sir? Are you meeting someone?" Stephen glanced around to find the hostess with a stack of menus cradled in her arm.
"Uh. Yeah, but—"
"Would you happen to be the most insufferable, arrogant surgeon in the entire city? If so, I can show you to your party." Stephen shifted to face the hostess fully.
"How much did she pay you for that?" Stephen reached for his wallet. "Whatever it was, I'll double it if you—"
She held up a hand and shook her head with a grin. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm on her side."
Stephen shoved his wallet back in hid pocket. "How righteous of you." Stephen jerked his chin in your direction. "My insufferable arrogant ass will lead the way. Thanks."
He reached the table in a few long strides, yanked back the empty chair, forcing a rough squeal of wood scraping over the stone floor. You startled, your phone dropping to the table and a little gasp slipping past your lips.
"Arrogant, huh?" Stephen asked, dropping into the chair. "Insufferable too? How long did it take you to come up with that scheme? Did it take all week? Or did lightning strike while you were waiting?"
You leaned back, folded your arms across your torso. That move had the unfortunate effect of reminding him that you were a pointlessly beautiful woman who could wear the shit out of a turtleneck sweater. But he didn't care. Really, he did not.
You could wear all the sweaters you wanted and have all that long, black hair and be annoyingly, disturbingly beautiful and he didn't have to care. Not his problem.
"You're late," you snapped.
"You were late on Thursday." Stephen reached for the menu waiting at his place setting and gave it a quick glance. "Seemed only appropriate to return the favor."
With a glare that could dilate blood vessels, you collected your phone and tapped the screen. You set it in the centre of the table with a pointed nod. After holding your glare through several blinks, Stephen glanced at the screen. "What's that supposed to be?"
"It would help if you could make an attempt at critical thinking," you replied. "It's a timer. There's no reason this should exceed thirty minutes."
Still staring at you, Stephen raised his hand into the air. Soon, a server appeared at his side. "Hey there, folks. Can I interest you in—"
"A beer, please," Stephen interrupted. "A wheat, nothing pumpkin." Stephen blinked at you. "The margherita pizza."
You arched a brow up as you said, "The bucatini, please. No arugula."
"Anything to drink?" the server asked.
"Water is fine, thanks," you replied.
"And what about nibbles for the table? Calamari, eggplant frites, burrata—"
"No," you and Stephen said in unison.
"Okay, then," the server murmured. "I'll get that right in for you."
Once you're alone, you slid an index card across the table. "Five things about me. There you go."
Stephen peered at the card. "Did you buy a package of index cards just for this purpose? Or do you have index cards lying around? Like you're an intern presenting at rounds for the first time? Do you still make notes for rounds? Please tell me you're past the index card phase, Park. I couldn't stand it if I knew you were walking around with little color-coded notes every day."
You regarded him with a smug grin that made it pretty clear you'd rip his face off if he took his eyes from you for a second. "You're the kind of teacher who abuses interns and residents, then? Do you throw things too or is it just shaming and torment?"
"You are the one with the track record with projectiles." Stephen plucked the beer from the server's tray and drained half of it before continuing. "And I'll have you know I'm a great teacher—"
"I'm sure you think so," you interrupted. "And that's fantastic for you. Really, it is. But I don't have a single fuck to give about any of that because I'm walking out of here in twenty-three minutes. Fork over your five things, Strange."
A snarl sounded in his throat as he studied you. He couldn't stop staring at you. It was mostly self-preservation but a shred of confusion lingered there too. He had so many questions right now but the first and most essential among them was: Who the hell was this woman and why did she kill for sport?
He set the beer down, folded his arms on the table, and leaned in close. "I don't think this is what Karla had in mind when she said we were supposed to get to know each other," Stephen whisper-growled. "If you could just be nice—"
"You want me to be nice?" You whisper-screeched right back. "Nice? That's what you want?"
"It wouldn't kill you."
"But clearly it will kill you," you said. "Seeing as I've made a point of being nice to you since moving into the building and you've—hmm." You tapped a finger to your chin.
"Right, yes, you ignored my pleasantries. And now you'd like me to be all sugar plums and lemon drops because it suits your purposes?" You shook her head, that maniacal grin still pulling up your pale pink lips. "I don't think so. No, I don't think so."
Stephen took his time responding to that attack and finished off his beer. He was drinking too fast and practically inviting a migraine into his day tomorrow but he could barely think about anything other than the dark haired ball of fury seated across from him.
"What the hell are you talking about?" He set the empty glass on the table and ignored a sudden, perverse interest in what you were wearing with that turtleneck.
You'd been seated when he arrived and you hadn't yet leapt up to bludgeon him with a saltshaker so he was clueless as to whether you wore jeans or a skirt or—fuck, he didn't even know. And he didn't care. Not at all. Which was why he ignored that thought entirely.
"I am talking about saying hello to you in the hallway," you replied.
"Right. Let me see if I understand this." Stephen reached for your glass of water and drained it while you gaped at him. "I didn't give enough attention to your chirpy little greetings so you went all tiny tornado on an exam room, and you're going to hold it against me until you can find a way to be rid of me, even if that involves strangling the life out of me with your precious plastic surgeon hands. Do I have that right?"
Okay, so he knew he was an asshole. He knew this. And now you did too. You gave your empty glass a mortified stare before meeting his gaze.
"We both know the exam room was an accident and fully unrelated to our prior interactions outside the hospital. I am not going to revise history with you. I am not going to be nice simply because it makes you comfortable."
"I don't remember the last time I was anything close to comfortable. Okay? Whether you screech at me or not won't change that." Drumming his finger on the table, he continued, "I'm just saying we have to get through this thing. We shouldn't kill each other in the process."
The server arrived with the meals and another round of drinks, which was a huge fucking relief because Stephen urgently needed something to do with both his hands and his mouth. But he made the fatal error of glancing across the table as the server set your dish down—a dish topped with a whole damn field of arugula. Not only did they not hold the greens, they seemed to treat you to an extra helping because there was no way that was the standard quantity.
Stephen watched you purse your lips together and he figured he was in for another explosion now. You'd send that dish back so hard, the chef would set fields of arugula on fire. But you said nothing when the server asked if there was anything else we needed. And you blinked down at the heap of curly greens, fork in hand, like it was a project you'd inherited and didn't have the heart to abandon.
Stephen sat there, his fingers curled around the fresh glass of beer, and stared while you excavated a strand of pasta from beneath the arugula.
What the fuck was I watching? Where was the tiny tornado? Or the screech owl? Or even the hunter who'd happily mount my head on her wall? And who the hell was this?
You and Stephen ate in silence for several minutes. It wasn't until the server arrived at the table to top off your water that you and him shared a momentary glance at the woman's veiny hands. Those were legend-status veins.
Once alone again, Stephen said, "I could get a gray cannula in on the first shot and she wouldn't even feel it."
You gave a dry laugh. "When was the last time you started an IV?"
"Not recently," he admitted. "I usually practise on my residents at the start of their neuro rotation. Gets us off on a good, abusive foot and it helps me rank them by vascularity. Least being best, of course, since they'd never get pulled off the floor to donate blood. It comes back to haunt them when they're inevitably enrolled in a clinical trial."
"You're such an asshole," you said, but there was no heat behind it. You almost sounded amused.
"And what about you? When was the last time you started a line?"
You set your fork down and busied yourself with the napkin on your lap. "You have no idea what I do, do you?"
Stephen dropped a piece of crust to his plate. "Plastics. You make people look pretty after I put them back together."
You dabbed your lips—they were so pale, barely even pink—and set the napkin beside your mostly untouched pasta. You'd moved it around plenty but you hardly made a dent. And then you held up your phone to him as the timer counted down the final five seconds you'd set for the both of you.
After swiping away the alarm, you slipped the index card off the table. "I didn't get yours, so you're not getting mine."
You pushed away from the table and he had no choice but to watch you cross the restaurant. You didn't bother with backward glances, not when you were busy walking like the floor owed you money.
Steohen returned to his beer and pizza, and attempted to figure out what the ever-loving fuck happened here tonight. He was halfway through the last slice of pizza when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He assumed it was you texting him a thesis on his arrogance though he was wrong.
When he saw Essex was calling, he tucked the phone against his shoulder, saying, "What's up?"
The blaring roar of the emergency room came through the line before he said, "I'm early but I gotta deal with an issue. Consider this your fake crisis call so you can get the hell out of whatever you've gotten yourself into now."
"I don't get myself into things," Stephen said, dropping the last of the crust to his plate. "I actively avoid getting into things. I hate things."
"Yeah, yeah. I don't have time to unpack any of that tonight but maybe tomorrow if you buy me lunch."
"I'm not buying you lunch."
"That's cool. I'll get Druid to pick up the tab. He'll want to hear about this. He pays for updates on your misery." A siren wailed nearby and Essex groaned. "Really gotta go now. Be good." He hung up as the server came to gather the plates.
Stephen pointed at your pasta. "She said no arugula. What does this look like to you?"
The server frowned at the dish. "Why didn't she say anything?"
He motioned to the empty seat. "And you think I have any idea?"
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Tags: @winsteria @classicrebound @gwephen @patbrdac @goldencherriess @elizabethdarcy29 @strangeobsessed @strangelockd @lady-harvey @mirikusashes @rbymoon @k1mikoz @allie131313 @strangesthirdeye @nicoletk @sleutherclaw @dragonqueen89 @bloodyxsaint @3443652 @pinkthick @iamdedsthingz @casualimaginesfluffwagon @im-akira @faltinestrange @ilikedarkrai @alicia-c37 @phatm00d @xunquish-blog @keistange @omgstarks @jotaros-bara-tiddies @gaitwae @sherlux
#stephen strange#benedict cumberbatch imagine#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange x you#marvel x you#benedict cumberbatch x reader#benedict cumberbatch#benedict cumberbatch x you#doctor strange imagine#doctor strange x you#doctor strange#doctor strange x reader#dr strange x reader#dr strange x you#doctor strange fanfiction#mcu fanfiction
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I know With Your Hand in My Hand was based on a zelinkweek 2023 prompt, but how did you decide what your one-shot would be about?
Thank you so much for the ask!! This fic is one of my babies and had a little more of a process than some of my others, so I'm glad you picked it :D
With Your Hand in My Hand came about due to a song, actually (to no one's surprise, based on my current daily challenge, lol). Even though I am in my early/mid 20s, I love swinging on swingsets, and I always listen to music when I go down and swing at my local park. One of the songs that often came up was "Go", by Cody Fry.
"Go" is a fun, high energy folk-pop sort of song where the singer is talking about their desire to go on adventures with their partner, while holding hands. As early as March of this year, I had the idea of a fic where multiple zelinks would be live out pieces of the lyrics together. Some plot points came to me easily (like that TP would be the opening lines "drive all night with you right next to me / feel the pounding of your heartbeat"; SkSw would be "Fly like the wind in high places"; telink would be "Rushin' like water on my face"; BotW would be "Make pictures look like postcards"; and there would be a portion at the end that just had lightning-fast short lines to add a sort of 'rushing' feeling), but I never actually acted on the fic, because by the time I had laptop access, I was away from my swing and I'd lost the inspiration!
However, when zelink week 2023 came around, the prompt "Hand in Hand" really inspired me to just get this idea that had been running around in my head out on paper. I decided that OoT would be Sheik/Link, and would cover the lyrics "I wanna dance into the mornin' / Kiss ya like ya never been kissed before me" (which is a prominent part of the chorus and had to fit in somewhere even though I hadn't had an idea for it yet); and after a fierce internal debate, I decided to make the lines "Take the train and watch you sleep right in my arms" go for ST zelink rather than a modern incarnation.
A lot of decisions were made on the fly, though! I knew SkSw zelink would be flying on their loftwings for their piece, but I didn't know they would be racing or that it would be prior to the events of the game until I actually began that section. I didn't know that WW/PH Link would be homesick and Tetra would be comforting him, either--for the longest time when planning the fic from my swing, I'd actually thought she'd be teasing him while he was doing swabbie chores! I'm really happy with how that turned out, though, and how it showed a less typical area of their relationship and personalities. And while I knew I wanted a modern AU portion, the exact shape that ended up taking was a surprise to me too.
At the end of it all, I think I really succeeded in bringing that original vibes-based, music-fueled series of images in my head to life, and I'm so proud of it :') So thank you for asking!
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The Outlaw and the Desert Flower
Part 1
Pairing: Lucien x Elain
Word Count: 6.6k
Warnings: hella violence (these are bad bad men), a teaspoon of teasing smut
Summary: Wild West Lucien and prairie girl Elain.
The vanserra gang is ruthless—Beron raised them that way—but Lucien always struggled to stomach the violence the others seemed to crave. When Lucien finds himself separated from the gang, bleeding out on his horse, it’s pure luck that brings him to a familiar cabin and a familiar face he can’t stop thinking of.
Tagging: @rarephloxes, @the-lonelybarricade, @separatist-apologist (because I know all of you were very invested in this concept, I hope you don’t mind)
And thank you so much to @velidewrites for the gorgeous moodboard!
* * * * *
The wind doubled back, making Lucien cough on a mouthful of dust. He wiped his eyes roughly, squinting at the valley below. The rest of the boys were riding towards the town, kicking up a cloud of dirt behind them. He’d begged off, claiming a hangover, and Beron hadn’t questioned it. Instead, he sent Lucien to scout the hills, keeping an eye out for any other trouble. After all, the Vanserra gang was trouble enough.
Lucien tightened his knees, guiding his horse up the trail. He was aiming for the bluff, figuring it gave him a good view of the town and the surrounding land. Lucien ignored the faint pops of gunfire echoing across the rocky basin. He didn’t look back again.
The trail leveled out, and Lucien scanned the hills outside of town. Nothing. The one good thing about this land was the inability to remain unnoticed. Any large group kicked up dust. The Vanserras didn’t care if people saw them coming. Fear was a good motivator.
He rounded a copse of trees, slowing the horse to a walk. There was a small cabin. Reaching behind him, Lucien checked the placement of his rifle, the pistols at his waist. No need to draw, not yet. He pasted on a more pleasant expression, changing from scarred outlaw to weary traveler. There was no telling if the cabin was occupied, and until he knew better, it was best to remain unthreatening. Never go in alone with guns blazing, he reminded himself.
The cabin had seen better days, the roof sagging a bit at one corner. It looked like a few sandstorms had chewed on it, too. Shutters hung crooked on the small windows, and the door was pocked with birdshot. But the garden surrounding the small house was pristine. Lucien frowned. Obviously someone was better in the dirt than with a hammer and nails.
The sound of a rifle being cocked made him freeze, his horse stopping in the center of the trail. “I don’t give warnings,” a cold voice said. “Turn around and maybe I won’t blow a hole in you.”
Lucien dutifully raised his hands high. “I don’t mean any harm,” he called, eyes scanning the shadows. “Just got a bit turned around.”
A woman stepped out from around the side of the cabin, long rifle aimed for his chest. Her eyes were hard steel. “The quickest way out is to turn right around again,” she said.
After a quick internal debate, Lucien figured he could circle back down to the town. Better than seeing if this woman would follow through on her threat. From the look on her face, he didn’t doubt she’d sent her fair share of men running off, with or without injuries.
He’d just shifted his legs to turn the horse when he saw the figure crouched in the garden. She was frozen, kneeling in a patch of vegetables. Bronze hair tumbled over her shoulders, the same shade as the riflewoman. Sisters, perhaps. Only this one had eyes the shade of tilled earth, wide and unblinking. Shock paled her cheeks, dusted with a smattering of freckles. Lucien tried to feel guilty for the fear in her expression, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d seen a lot of women—slept with them, too—but in that moment, he forgot every face but hers.
The other sister noticed the direction of his gaze, her glare intensifying. “Leave,” she hissed. “Before I decide I’d prefer your brains on the ground.” But she still didn’t fire a shot, aware that the sound would draw attention. Perhaps she’d seen the gang roll into town. Smart woman.
A sudden gust of wind had Lucien grabbing his hat, lest he lose it. The woman in the garden didn’t react in time. Her straw hat blew towards him, lightweight enough to soar higher.
Thinking fast, Lucien reached up to snatch it, using his momentum to slide out of the saddle. His boots thumped the dirt, making the steely woman snarl. She spat curses as he moved closer, one slow step at a time. “Easy,” he murmured, but even Lucien was unsure which woman he was speaking to. Both, perhaps. The viper ceased her hissing when Lucien stopped just before the garden, hat extended. The beautiful woman just looked at him, her face catching the sun like a flower. “I believe this is yours, ma’am,” he said, voice quiet in case she spooked.
The woman reached out to take it with trembling fingers. As soon as it left Lucien’s grasp, the end of a rifle kissed the back of his neck. He blinked, not even realizing the other woman had approached. Stupid of him, letting her sneak up like that. He’d been distracted.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”
Lucien kept his face blank, watching the brown-eyed one scramble back to cower against the wall of the cabin, clutching the hat to her chest. His own chest twisted in response. “Because if I wanted to, you’d both be dead by now,” he said. It was true. He knew the viper could sense it, too. “But I don’t. So you’ll let me go, and no one else will bother you today.”
The rifle dug deeper for a heartbeat, then two. And then it disappeared, the woman backing away quickly. “If I ever see you again,” she threatened, keeping the muzzle aimed at his chest, even now.
“You won’t,” Lucien assured, walking briskly back to his horse. He swung into the saddle in an easy movement, eyeing the two women and their ramshackle home. “I have no reason to come back here.”
But the words stayed in his throat, burning as he trotted the horse back down the trail. They felt like a lie.
* * * * *
Two years later
It was supposed to be quick. Beron sent Eris to scout the town a few days before. The saloon owner was loaded, with some kind of backing from a bank in the East. The bank had seen better days, but money was money. And with a greenhorn sheriff, in his post less than a year, it was easy pickings.
Lucien felt like they’d come through before, but couldn’t be certain. The women at the whorehouse weren’t familiar, but then, they never were.
After the men had enjoyed themselves, Beron gave the signal. Everything dissolved into chaos after that. The saloon owner pissed himself, opening the safe without a fuss. At the bank, they ran into the sheriff, but a few shots to the head solved that problem. Eris ran down a few do-gooders, the act itself serving as a warning to the rest of them: squeal and you’re next.
Lucien did his best to look busy. His father had been watching him like a hawk of late, sensing something was off. He wasn’t wrong. Lucien had never quite grown accustomed to this life, not the way Eris and the others had. It soured something in his stomach. He coasted along on appearances, firing shots into bodies that were already growing cold, rather than ending screams. He’d lost his taste for bloodletting, if he ever had it.
He’d certainly never had a taste for inflicting pain, no matter how often Beron tied him down to teach him.
Everything was going well, the whiskey and money and blood flowing freely, until suddenly it wasn’t. Shots fired, a storm of them. Lucien looked up, frantically searching for the source. The resistance had ended thirty minutes ago, so who was causing a fuss? A cloud of dust rose, billowing into town behind three men, badges on their chests. Lucien cursed, overturning a table and dropping the bottle in his hand. He ran for his horse, fingers fumbling for a weapon, any weapon. He’d only just managed to scramble into the saddle when his shoulder erupted, burning fiercely. Blood spurted between his fingers, staining his horse’s flank.
He kicked weakly, urging the beast forward, away, anywhere else but there. He pressed down on the wound, pain shooting stars across his vision, as he rode hard for the outskirts of town. Hooves thundered around him, the others having the same idea. The gang scattered, racing down different streets and into the hills. They’d find each other again, they always did. But in the heat of the moment, it was every man for himself. That’s what they’d been taught.
Lucien held onto the saddle, reins wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t care where the horse was taking him, could barely keep his eyes open. Fuck. He’d have to stop the blood loss, provided he hadn’t lost too much already. He gripped tighter, praying he stayed in the saddle long enough to get to safety, then he could worry about staying alive.
He blinked, and his surroundings changed. Blinked, starlight flickering overhead, surrounded by barren hills. Blinked, finding himself in a stand of trees. Blinked, and there was a tiny cabin.
Lucien’s head spun, and he listed to the left, falling to the dirt with a groan. His horse nickered, nudging him before nibbling on some grass nearby. Everything hurt, but the night sky caught and held his attention. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to die, he thought. At least he’d seen something beautiful before it happened.
Then a face appeared in his vision, and his breath caught. Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear a thing. Beautiful, Lucien sighed, grateful again. He could die a happy man. His eyes closed, pleased with the angel who’d come to collect his wretched soul. Beautiful.
* * * * *
“Hold him down. Dammit, Elain, sit on him if you have to.”
Lucien struggled through darkness as thick as molasses, fighting to regain consciousness. Where was he—
Pain struck him like lightning, sending him shooting back to himself. He bucked, the world flashing white-hot. “Stay still,” a voice hissed in his ear. The agony returned, digging into his shoulder without mercy.
Another voice came, tentative. “But he’s—”
“I don’t care. If I don’t do this, he’ll die, and you can bury him,” the first woman snapped. “I’d have been happier leaving him in the dirt outside.”
“Blood is bad for the tomatoes.” Despite the burning in his chest, Lucien nearly smiled at that. Blood was bad for tomatoes, he marveled. He never knew that. Perhaps it wasn’t, perhaps it was.
“I bet he’d be good fertilizer.” Lucien knew that voice, he realized. His memory was foggy, but it was definitely familiar. “Almost done.” She did something, tugging hard, and Lucien’s vision spotted. He gasped, tumbling back into darkness.
* * * * *
“Do you think…he’s alright?”
A snort. “He’s breathing, isn’t he?”
Lucien groaned, shoulder throbbing dully. He blinked open his eyes, which seemed glued shut. Light streamed overhead, touching on rough-hewn wooden beams. He was in a bed, miraculously. Rough blankets scratched his bare skin. Looking down, he lifted the bedding, relieved to find his pants still on. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up here, but an overnight stay at any brothel was bound to cost a pretty penny. And what had happened to his shoulder?
“You’re awake,” a soft voice came from the side of the bed.
Turning his head, Lucien came face-to-face with pink cheeks and tumbled curls. He pulled the blankets back up his chest, almost embarrassed for her. This one was too innocent for the likes of him. Before he could ask any questions, he caught a glimpse over her shoulder.
A table and chairs, a small fireplace, and a worn couch. Threadbare rugs, copper kettle on the counter. A milk jar filled with flowers. He frowned. This wasn’t a saloon or a whorehouse or even an inn.
Then another woman approached, steely gray eyes narrowed down at him. He swallowed, memory supplying him with the image of her armed with a long rifle. Lucien knew her, knew both of these women and the cabin he was currently in. “Fuck.”
“Fuck is right,” the viper snapped, wrapping her arm protectively around the other woman. The look on her face said she expected him to kill them at the first opportunity. He wouldn’t, but they didn’t know that.
“What happened?” Lucien struggled to sit up, but found himself too weak to do more than lift his head.
“You showed up at our door in the middle of the night,” the brown-eyed one said gently.
“Bleeding like a stuck pig,” the viper hissed. “She wouldn’t let me leave you there. Besides, it would be too much effort to bury you.”
Lucien snorted. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” he began.
“We don’t want your empty apologies, we want you to leave.” The icy woman narrowed her gaze on him. “So as soon as you can get on your horse, you’ll be gone. And this time, you’ll stay gone.”
He nodded meekly, knowing when it was best not to argue. It wouldn’t help to point out that he hadn’t forced them to keep him, and he hadn’t planned on coming back.
The quiet one spoke up again, those eyes sparkling. “What’s your name?”
Lucien found himself blinking at her, unable to raise his defenses. “Lucien,” he said. He nearly smacked himself. He should have lied. Foolish of him.
The viper sneered, spinning on one heel and barrelling out the door. But the other one stayed at his side, expression soft. “I’m Elain. And that’s my sister, Nesta,” she said, waving to the door. “She doesn’t trust outsiders.”
“Good. She shouldn’t,” he found himself saying. “Neither should you.”
But Elain just smiled at him, and any other words vanished from his tongue. “I know your name now,” she said. “You’re only an outsider if you want to be.”
* * * * *
Unsurprisingly, the distrustful sister—Nesta—wanted nothing to do with him. So Elain was the one at his bedside, cleaning his wound and offering food or water. She held the glass to his lips, careful not to spill. She spooned gray porridge for him, apologizing for the lack of taste. And she told him stories when he grew restless from the pain. Despite knowing better, Lucien found that he liked her company.
He hated himself for it.
Lucien knew better than to get attached. Beron had taught him the dangers of doing so. Sooner or later, Lucien would leave and Elain would stay. One day, he’d die, probably in a shootout in a lonely town. Or she’d face a horrible end, if someone other than him stumbled across this cabin with two beautiful sisters. However it happened, Lucien knew he’d only hurt worse if he let her inside his defenses.
But how was he supposed to stop it? Something stilled his tongue every time he tried to form an insult, every time he reached for a harsh word to discourage her. It wasn’t the suspicious sister stopping him from hurting Elain. He simply couldn’t bear to do it.
So when Nesta finally warmed up to him enough to ask for his help, he gratefully accepted, fleeing the cabin and the woman inside it. The woman who was too kind to a man like him. He hoped she never realized how stained his hands truly were.
Lucien followed Nesta out of the cabin, steps weaker than they’d been before the injury, but he kept up well enough. He followed her to the rear corner of the building, seeing a collection of tools on the ground, alongside a ladder. “The roof leaks in the rain,” Nesta bit out, arms folded across her chest. “Are you any good with a hammer?”
He just nodded, helping her prop the ladder against the cabin and climbing up. She followed him with new roofing material. They spent a good hour or so, Lucien doing his best to rip up rotten wood with one hand, showing Nesta how to affix the replacement boards. She learned quickly, listening to every word, eyes attuned to his movements.
Lucien nearly jumped when Elain called up to them, one hand shading her eyes, “Come on down for lunch, you can finish the roof later.”
Nesta followed him down. “Thank you,” she muttered. Though her face was pinched with uncertainty, Lucien caught the sincerity weighing down the words.
He let himself smile at her, holding the door open. “I owe you.”
She snorted, and Elain looked over at them, wiping her hands on an apron. “We saved your life, of course you owe us,” Nesta said.
Lucien bowed his head, unable to argue with that.
* * * * *
A few days passed, Lucien offering to help the sisters around the house. As his shoulder regained strength, he managed to do more and more. He rehung the shutters, finished the roof with Nesta, and helped haul away garden debris for Elain. The tasks kept his mind from wandering to the others, no doubt looking for him by now. Or perhaps they assumed he was dead. He couldn’t decide which was worse. Or better. Lucien decided it was best to avoid thinking at all.
One day, Elain asked to borrow his horse. “I’d like to bring some vegetables to trade in town,” she said, ducking her head. “It’s always a pain to go on foot, so we don’t go often.”
“Of course,” he couldn’t refuse her. But Lucien found himself speaking again before his brain caught up. “I’ll go with you.”
“What,” Nesta barked, poking her head inside the cabin to stare at him.
“That would be wonderful,” Elain beamed, ignoring her sister. “You can scare away the old parishioners who like to cheat me.”
Lucien’s brows dropped. “They cheat you?” Nesta echoed him.
Elain simply laughed at them, “I guess I’m just too easy, I fall for the same sob stories every time. But Richmond’s mother died last month and he still tried telling me she was ill and craved potatoes.”
Lucien barked a laugh, and Nesta snorted, returning to whichever project held her attention that morning. “Should I bring the rifle or something else,” he tried to joke. Inwardly, he decided on bringing both pistols. Nesta would keep the rifle, as always.
“Just your charming personality,” Elain grinned.
“Just that,” Lucien trailed off, watching her humming over her baskets. She packed the vegetables tenderly, fingers tucking them away one by one. He wondered how much of it she would manage to trade. He wondered how they’d managed to eke out a living up here, with so little. He wondered how they even ended up in a place like this. Elain, he felt certain, was meant for greener places. Nesta would be vicious anywhere, but she didn’t fit in this barren place any more than her sister. Lucien bit his tongue before it could get him in trouble. He knew better than to ask, to grow any more attached. The less he knew, the better.
Lucien strapped the baskets to the saddle, Elain working in tandem on the other side. They’d walk into town, the journey taking half an hour if they hurried. And the same to come back. He eyed Elain warily, and found that she was already watching him with those curious brown eyes.
Her cheeks pinkened, but she still smiled at him. “We have a long way to walk, Lucien,” she said. He ignored the way his skin prickled when she said his name. Trouble, trouble, he reminded himself. “What should we talk about?”
Rather than letting her ask questions about him and his past, Lucien blurted out a question of his own. “How did you and Nesta end up here?”
Elain clicked her tongue, encouraging his horse to follow her down the trail. Lucien trailed behind her as well, equally obedient. He mentally kicked himself. “Well,” Elain began, thinking about it. “I suppose it all started with my younger sister, Feyre.”
“You have another sister?”
“She fell in love first, of the three of us,” Elain said. Her smile was different, bittersweet. “A whirlwind romance, he whisked her away from Boston, told her of riches that lay to the West.”
“A fool, then,” Lucien muttered.
Elain cast him a chiding look. “This is my story, remember,” she teased. “He truly was rich, and grew richer still after he returned with Feyre. She sent us letters, begging us to come as well. She told us of the beautiful scenery, the freedom there.” Elain sighed, head dropping a bit. “Nesta was doubtful. She said there was nothing for us there, that we needed to settle down and find stable husbands. She said we couldn’t all be lucky like Feyre. I didn’t want to believe her.” The look in her eyes told Lucien exactly what Elain had hoped she’d find in the West. And that she hadn’t found it.
“What happened?” Lucien prompted her gently, not wanting to poke around where he wasn’t wanted.
“We ran out of money,” she said simply. “Everything that could go wrong, did. The horses went lame, our guides stole and left in the night, and we ended up here with hardly anything left. So we made do.”
Nesta, that vicious viper, had gone with Elain to indulge her dreams, and had stuck by her side to ensure her sister didn’t pay for their mistakes too harshly. Lucien found himself relating to the barbed older sister, understanding the need that drove her. It was beginning to dig its claws into him, as well. “What about Feyre,” he managed to ask. “Did you write to her for help?”
Elain was notably quiet. He looked over the horse, finding her crying silently. “She didn’t come.”
* * * * *
They reached the town in silence. Lucien had tried to comfort Elain, but the woman had shut down entirely, refusing any touch or words from him. So he walked with her, cursing himself and the world and everyone who’d ever hurt the woman hiding behind his horse.
She perked up when they entered the town, pasting on a smile he knew to be fake. Her eyes told the truth, still mourning the dreams she had lost.
Lucien tied the horse to a post outside the general store. Elain motioned for him to wait there, then ducked inside. He counted the seconds, trying to hide his discomfort. These people didn’t know him, he’d never raided the town. But his family had. The scars lingered, bullet holes punched through doors and siding, anything that hadn’t yet been replaced. This store was no exception.
Elain popped back outside, waving wildly. “Bring the large basket,” she called, disappearing again.
He snorted, but did as she asked, a dutiful servant. Lucien didn’t know when he’d become so domestic, but found he didn’t mind the feeling. He carried the basket inside, setting it down on the counter in front of Elain with a heavy thump.
An elderly man inspected the contents, rheumy eyes fixed on his potential wares. Meanwhile, Elain chattered, selecting a few items from the shelves. “I’ll trade the whole basket for flour, sugar, salt, and some of these spices,” she declared.
Lucien cleared his throat, eyeing the amounts she’d laid out. Her eyes widened, but seemed to get his message. She put an additional sack of flour on the counter, and he smiled a bit.
“Hardly a fair trade,” the old man grumbled.
“I don’t see anyone else offering fresh vegetables here, do you,” he asked Elain, conversational.
The man straightened up, ready to retort, but Elain played along. “No, I suppose not. That makes my wares awfully valuable, doesn’t it,” she mused, tapping a finger on her chin. Lucien’s grin widened.
“Fine, fine, I’ll take them,” the man bit out, pushing the flour at them.
Elain smiled widely, helping him remove the vegetables from the basket. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said. Together, Lucien and Elain repacked the basket with her new goods, and he carried it back to the horse.
He finished tying it down. “Any other stops to make?”
“Let’s stop by the church,” she said, mouth twisted in thought. “And perhaps the inn. The owner offers food to guests, might like fresh produce.”
Lucien nodded, eyeing the street. “Inn first.”
Elain’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re an awfully good salesman,” she said, lips curling up in a sweet smile.
It was effort to keep his eyes on hers. “You’re a fast learner,” Lucien managed, ignoring her soft mouth. He tore his gaze away, sucking in a breath. “Which basket?”
Elain hefted it herself. “This one,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Come on, Lucien.” He was helpless to resist her.
It wasn’t really an inn, he realized the second they walked through the doors. Half-brothel, half bar, with the option of beds and food if you had the money to pay. Lucien was pretty sure she only called in an inn to avoid the real words.
The owner was a tough man to please. “I’ve no need for expensive tomatoes,” he barked, wiping out a glass. “I make cheap soup and stew, nothing more.”
“But a good stew needs carrots and potatoes,” Elain wheedled. “Surely you can spare a few bottles of something in exchange.”
Lucien blinked, just realizing why they’d stopped. He hadn’t had a drop of liquor in…two weeks now? He hadn’t seen any around the cabin, though. Now he wondered what Elain planned to do with “a few bottles of something”.
The man curled his lip, a sour expression. “Very well. One bottle. Carrots and potatoes, ten each.”
Elain narrowed her gaze, predatory. “Five each.”
The man opened his mouth to argue, but Lucien leaned an arm on the bar, getting too close for comfort. The owner backed away a bit, but it was enough to encourage him. “Very well,” he ground out, handing Elain a bottle of whiskey. “They best be good potatoes.”
“Only the best,” she said sweetly.
Lucien was fairly sure he was in love with her.
* * * * *
Elain and Lucien left the church grinning like demons, having successfully exchanged the last of her wares for fabric and a soft blanket.
“You’d make a fine thief,” Lucien told her, folding the bundle into a saddlebag.
She laughed at that, running her fingers over the fabric. “I don’t know about that, but life here has taught me to play smarter.” Elain looked over at him, biting her lip. “I hoped to make you a new shirt,” she said. “Since your current one is a bit ruined.”
Lucien blinked, remembering the state of it. She wasn’t wrong. With a gaping bullet hole and rusty stains from his blood, it looked a bit horrific. He was only presentable in public because they’d managed to cover the worst of it with a well-placed scarf. While it looked a bit odd to wear in the warm weather, Lucien avoided the terrified looks he’d have gotten without it.
Elain went on, tightening straps to secure the load. “Fortunately, I’ve learned a thing or two about mending and sewing since coming here,” she said.
“Thank you, Elain. I’d love that.” At this rate, he wasn’t sure how he was ever going to leave.
Distant hoofbeats caught his attention, but the cloud of dust was what held it. Lucien blinked, disbelieving. As if out of a dream, or a nightmare, he heard the sound of gunshots. No.
Scrambling backwards, he wrapped one hand around the reins and the other around Elain. “Move,” he growled, tugging them around the side of the church. Away, they had to get away. The hills would hide them, he knew. They only had to find their way out of town and they’d be safe. But the sound of horses only grew louder, closing in. Furious with himself, Lucien shoved Elain ahead of him. “Go,” he barked the command, lifting his shirt to reveal the pistols holstered at his sides. “I’ll catch up. Take the horse and run for the hills. Get as far as you possibly can from town.”
Elain gasped, panic revealing the whites of her eyes. “No, Lucien,” she begged.
“Go,” he snarled again, before turning on his heel to face the threat. Whatever it was, he could handle it. He had to. He couldn’t bear to watch her fall, not now that he’d grown attached. Because he had.
Helluva time to realize how much he cared, Lucien thought wryly, skirting around the church. He pressed himself against the wall, peering into the dust-clouded street. Screams rang out, figures running through the haze, some of them falling.
When Lucien caught a glimpse of red hair beneath a wide-brimmed hat, his stomach turned to lead. No.
It didn’t really sink in until something sharp dug into his throat. Lucien dropped his pistol in the dirt. Rough fingers found and discarded the second one. “Hello, my boy,” a voice shivered over his ear. “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”
* * * * *
Beron hauled him to the saloon, hand wrapped around his collar. Eris met his gaze, amber eyes narrowed in suspicion. It seemed that no one knew what to believe. Lucien’s father certainly didn’t. If he’d been sure that Lucien ran away, he’d have killed him behind the church.
The fact that Lucien was still breathing was a miracle in itself. Beron had never trusted easily.
“Well, boy?”
“I was injured,” Lucien said hoarsely. In response, Eris slammed a glass down before him. Whiskey. Lucien tossed it back quickly, wetting his dry throat. “Passed out in the hills, almost bled out. Took me days before I could even sit up.” All truth.
“You couldn’t get to the meeting point?”
Lucien shook his head, maneuvering carefully now. “Today’s the first time I even managed to reach the town for supplies. Needed to before I could head anywhere.”
Beron watched him, eyes sharp. “Well, then. That answers that.” Lucien nearly slumped with relief. “We’ll sleep here tonight, leave in the morning. The boys got a little excited this time, half the town’s dead. No one to bother us now.”
The words twisted his stomach. Lucien wondered how many of the people he’d spoken to were gone. Perhaps Elain could come back for her vegetables later.
Eris walked outside, whistling to call the rest of them in. His boots thumped down the steps, fading away. Once he was sure they were alone, Beron turned to Lucien with a sharp smile. “I think it’s time for us to talk. A bit of truth, boy.”
Lucien just barely managed to stay in his seat, resisting the urge to run. He knew, he had to know. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the way you’re soft now,” Beron hissed. He pulled out a knife. “Should we see how soft?”
The gleam in his eyes, just like lamplight off the knife, was familiar. Lucien felt his pulse jump and tried not to squirm. “I’ve just been healing, that’s all,” he tried.
“I mean before this. You’ve been pathetic for a while. Hardly believe you’re my son,” Beron sneered. “You thought I didn’t notice how you always had a hangover? Always killed the ones who were dead or dying already? How you only pay for your whores?”
There it was. Lucien clenched his fists, back straightening. “I guess I’ve never fit in with the rest of you,” he said, voice level. “If you let me leave, I’ll never come back.”
“Let you leave,” Beron laughed. “You know better.” That knife neared his skin, cold against Lucien’s throat. History repeating itself. “If I don’t cut out the rot, it lingers, boy.”
Lucien had just opened his mouth, hoping to find some final words to stay his father’s hand, when a crack of lightning sounded. He blinked at Beron, then both of them looked down, ears ringing, to see the bloody bullseye spreading across Beron’s chest.
His father turned to face the door, and that’s when Lucien saw her. Elain, one of his pistols in her hands, legs spread wide as she fired another shot at Beron. Her aim was true, sending Lucien’s father stumbling into the bar, fingers slipping over the polished wood. He gurgled a bit, but Lucien ignored him.
Lucien scrambled to his feet, pulling Elain into the saloon. His eyes snagged on the shadows outside. The others would be there soon, called by the gunshots. “Elain,” he said desperately. “Elain, we have to go.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” she said, tears in her eyes. “But those things he said?”
“I know, I know,” Lucien said, fingers trembling. He cupped her face, taking the pistol from her. She was shaking more than he was. “I promise to tell you everything. But later. We need to go now, before they get here.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Eris drawled, leaning against the entrance. He twirled a gun in his hands, holstering it at his side in a slick movement. “Hello, little brother. Hello, little brother’s friend.”
“You’ll leave her out of this. Let her go, Eris,” Lucien demanded, shoving Elain behind him.
Eris laughed, waving a hand. “That was the plan. I came along to thank you, though I am a bit resentful. I always thought I’d kill him first.”
Lucien just blinked. “What?”
“Unlike father, I don’t hate your guts,” Eris said, brow raised. “If you want to stay, stay. I’ll take the boys and leave, probably won’t come back.”
Gritting his teeth, Lucien eyed his brother warily. It sounded like a trick, but Eris’ body language read true. “Why?”
Eris snorted. “Because father was a monster, and he was running us all to the ground anyway. It’s time for a bit of new leadership, don't you think? I’m taking the boys farther north, I’m sick of the heat. And maybe we could find some towns that haven’t been picked over a dozen times,” he said, sneering at Beron’s body.
Elain clutched at his back, fingers wrapping in his shirt. Lucien nodded slowly, lowering the muzzle of the pistol to the floor at last. “Fine. I don’t want to see you here again,” he warned. “I’m out, and I mean it.”
“Believe me,” Eris drawled, eyes on Lucien. His gaze slid to Elain then back again. “The feeling is mutual.”
* * * * *
While Lucien would have loved to press relieved kisses to every part of Elain’s body, he knew she was likely in shock. Not to mention the shock of having him kiss her for the first time while they were surrounded by bloody bodies.
He urged Elain up on Beron’s horse—he wouldn’t need it anymore, Lucien reasoned. Finding a gutted storefront, Lucien stole another horse for himself, seeing as the owners were no longer among the living. Together, he and Elain trekked back to the cabin with far more than they planned on.
Sometime before they reached the bluff, Elain snapped out of her quiet shock. “Who were they?”
Lucien swallowed, bracing himself. “My father and brothers.”
“You’ve lived your whole life with them?”
He thought back to the early days. No, he hadn’t. His mother had tried to hide him, tucking him away in an orphanage, but Beron had found out. He’d come along a few years later, shoving Lucien into a saddle and letting him watch the orphanage burn. “Yes,” he said instead. Elain didn’t need to know all the scars, not yet. Not unless she truly wanted the answers. Not unless she asked him to stay.
“He raised you to kill,” she said, horrified.
It sounded like a question, so he answered. “He tried. It seems I never took to it well enough. He was always disappointed in me, so I did my best to pretend.” Lucien sighed, thinking back on all the times he’d tried to lessen the burden of their actions, tried to escape any way he could. “The first time I met you, I was trying to hide from them. I didn’t want to help, so I volunteered to search the hills around the town. That’s why I stumbled across your cabin. Because I couldn’t stomach what they were doing below.”
Elain was quiet for a long, long time. “You were only a boy,” she said softly. “How could you have done anything different?”
Lucien looked away. “I didn’t know what else to do. But I wish I’d tried something, anything, sooner.” He watched his hands, seeing bloodstains that weren’t there. “Maybe he’d have killed me long ago, if I’d fought back.”
Elain maneuvered her horse beside his. She reached over, fingers hovering over his forearm. “But then I wouldn’t have met you,” she said.
He almost laughed. “Then you wouldn’t have had to kill my father for me,” he rasped.
Her face hardened with determination. “I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I could free you.” Lucien hated himself all over again. If he’d never come into her life, she wouldn’t have had to kill anyone at all. She seemed to read all of that and more, because her fingers latched onto his arm tightly. “If I hadn’t met you, I’d have likely died in town today. Perhaps at your hand, or at another’s. I’m grateful, so you can be, too.”
Lucien huffed a laugh, reaching up to pat her fingers. Elain twisted her hand, holding onto him with an iron grip. “Alright,” he tried. “Thank you.”
Elain sent him a smile he didn’t deserve. “You’re welcome.” He didn’t think he’d ever deserve her smiles again. Didn’t think he ever had deserved them. “Let’s go home.”
And those words managed to make him lose all control. Elain stopped their horses, dismounting entirely so she could move to his side. She gripped his hand fiercely, eyes locking with his. And he slid down, off the horse and into her arms. Home. Locked in her surprisingly strong embrace, he realized that Elain knew him better than anyone else ever had. Only a few weeks in her presence, and she’d figured out what he needed, deep down. And somehow, by some miracle he’d never tried to earn, she’d made the choice to accept him into her life.
Home. She’d offered him a home. For the first time in his life, he wanted it, needed it. Everything in his body burned for that word, the meaning of it. Everything in him burned for her. It always had, even from the very beginning, when he’d been too busy kicking himself to acknowledge it.
When his tears finally slowed, Lucien leaned back, hands framing her face. Elain just looked up at him with those warm eyes of hers, sparkling at him with countless emotions. I understand you, those eyes said. I accept you. I want you to stay. But the words that came out of her mouth were different, wholly unexpected. “I love you,” she whispered. “Stay with me, Lucien.”
Their first kiss was salty. Tears wouldn’t stop flowing down his cheeks, running onto hers. She laughed when his kissed across her face, worsening the mess. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated into her skin, over and over again. “I don’t deserve you, but by God do I love you, Elain.”
“You don’t have to deserve anything,” she said, arms wrapping tight around him. “Or if you do, maybe it’s time to believe you deserve good with the bad.”
He silenced her with a deep and furious kiss, his heart raging. She tasted like honey and sunshine, his miracle. And her moan was utterly sinful, when he licked into her mouth like the heathen he was. The sound flickered through his body, setting him alight. Elain only grinned, nipping at his jaw, pressing butterfly kisses to his racing pulse. Lucien groaned, letting her sink into his body. “Elain, stop,” he begged.
“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of criminal,” she pouted at him. “Why are you suddenly trying to be good?”
Lucien laughed freely, the feeling loosening his shoulders for the first time in years. “Because when I ravish you, Elain,” he purred, fingers digging into her hips to pull her tighter. She rubbed against him, teasing him to attention. In response, he bucked his hips, letting her melt into his arms at the implication. “I intend to do so in a bed.”
#elucien#elain x lucien#elucien fanfiction#elucien fic#elucienweek2022#technically just in time for the final day celebrations!#wild west lucien
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psychoanalyzing Aziraphale and Crowley through the ages instead of doing my research project that's due next week. pt. 7: The Bastille
[Okay, before I get started, I just want to acknowledge that recent post about how the Bastille actually fell in 1789 and therefore 1793 makes no sense as a year for this scene and therefore Aziraphale was so Extra with his contrived rescue scenario that he miracled the Bastille back into being, because I have been internally howling with laughter about that since I read it.]
So, this is just about 200 years after the Globe meeting. They're in very similar place in their relationship, but the anxiety is creeping back in. They are comfortable with each other, they know each other well by this point, and they have layers of unspoken understanding.
The scene starts with the first time Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel." (I don't count the "You're an angel" in Eden, because that was, in my mind, about his title, not a term of endearment, and in the book and the script book, it's meant to be sarcastic but Aziraphale misses it.) And then we get treated to another one of Michael Sheen's signature Incandescent Aziraphale Faces. But by the time he's turned around, he's reeled it in. Even if he physically can't restrain himself from giving Crowley a thrice-over, he doesn't unleash the Smile again this scene.
Because now, Aziraphale has gotten a letter from Gabriel. Heaven is taking note of the "frivolous" way he's been living on Earth, and he has to cover his tracks a bit. I know people like the idea that there was no reprimand, and Aziraphale made it all up just to get Crowley to go out on a date with him. I tend to take the story more at face value. I know Aziraphale's a bastard, but he's also a high-anxiety people-pleaser and I feel like a ruse that elaborate would end him at this point in his character development.
Aziraphale isn't the only one more on edge this time. When Az says, "I suppose I should say thank you," Crowley leaps to his feet, which kind of ruins the effect of the casual sprawl he had going on milliseconds prior. "Don't say that. If my people hear I rescued an angel, I'll be the one in trouble, and my lot do not send rude notes." This is the first time we see Crowley worried about consequences of his dalliances on Earth.
We're also back to debating what it is demons and angels do and don't do. Crowley says he got a commendation and we get the first, "So all this is your demonic work!?" from Aziraphale, to be repeated in the 1940s, "These people are working for you!"
It's a little tragic, really. We go from Aziraphale's hopeful flirtation and delight in getting Crowley to do little kindnesses for him, to these accusations of atrocities. Defense mechanisms. If Crowley is truly cruel to the humans, maybe Aziraphale can convince himself to put these feelings to rest. Or convince himself that it's okay that he keeps Crowley at arm's length while continuing to benefit from his acts of service.
On Crowley's side, he is still of course ready to leap to Aziraphale's aid at a moment's notice. But maybe we are starting to see that element that David Tennant talks about in a couple of interviews -- "Crowley loves Aziraphale and he hates that he loves Aziraphale, it's really annoying for him." He's tense and frustrated here.
And then, there's the whole casual second-hand murder of the French executioner. I can't quite wrap my noggin around it. At the old hospital in Tadfield, we have that moment of discomfort when Crowley turns the paintball guns into real guns, and then the relief of realizing they're all having miraculous escapes. But there's no moment of relief here. It's feasible that somebody recognizes him before he gets to the guillotine and he winds up fine. But that's not what's implied by the end of the scene.
So, part of me wonders if this is another one of Aziraphale's chaotic backpedals. If he really did manipulate the situation to get a date with Crowley, maybe he feels like he needs to balance that out somehow by doing something that's "really" bad to somehow justify his own "bad behavior" to himself? "I'm a bad angel, so it's okay for me to do bad things like go on romantic dates with demons in Paris"?
Or is it some kind of roundabout display for Crowley, to say, look, I can be demonic too, I'm not just a soft foodie.
Or maybe he's just being petty and getting revenge on Jean-Claude for locking him up and trying to touch his clothes.
I'm not totally satisfied by any of these explanations. Either way, there's a lot of angst at play under the surface in this one, and it lays the backdrop for the first breakup a hundred years later.
#good omens#good omens meta#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable husbands#gomens#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable spouses#through the ages#hard times#good omens 1x3#meta#long post#bastard angel#bastille
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Thoughts of you
A/N: so I've been listening to glimpse of us by Joji on repeat, clearly I was doing too much cause all of that birthed this. Also, this is my first time actually posting on here so please don't be too harsh 😗
Warning: Depending on what angle you look at this from it could be a little angsty
Cherry blossoms dotted multiple trees, frequently fluttered to the ground with every gust of wind that blew. Katakuri stared at the delicate flowers unable to decide if he found their presence comforting or annoying, on one hand many of his happy memories with you had involved cherry blossoms and he was finding that recalling them was keeping him grounded through the day. On the other hand the flowers he'd associated with joy, romance and serenity being involved in a situation that couldn't be further from those things felt like a constant massive middle finger. Katakuri was debating this thought when the feeling of a hand on his arm pulled him back to reality and made him turn his attention to the part of his arm where the contact had been and was still being made. His eyes fell on the small hands of the woman beside him who was currently looking up at him with soft eyes that reflected her worry, apparently, she'd been attempting to get his attention for about a minute or two but he'd been too occupied in his own thoughts to realise this. The sweet commander offered the woman an apology along with the excuse that he was just worn out from all the work he'd been forced to cram and finish in a short time. He barely heard her say something about better time management and preventing overwork but all Katakuri took note of was her expression and the way it relaxed indicating that the excuse had worked, satisfied with that he was about to return to his internal debate when he noticed the pink petal in her hair, for most it wouldn't mean much but for him, it did. Sitting there, staring at her and that stray cherry blossom in her hair he couldn't help but begin to think of you, he remembered your first date, how the cherry blossoms had been in full bloom, the single stray cherry blossom that had landed in your hair and how he'd taken it out. Most importantly he remembered how you had laughed, oh your laugh, he missed that sweet melodic laugh more than words could possibly explain. He was somewhat ashamed to admit it but she reminded him of you, perhaps it was less her reminding him of you and more him wishing you were by him instead of her but regardless of the reason behind his memories and feelings one thing that was certain was the fact that he rarely ever saw her for her, whenever he looked at her he could only see her as the woman who'd taken your spot or the woman his mother had forced by his side and this was when he wasn't recalling memories of you both.
Forced relationships for the betterment of the crew were not a strange or new concept to the Charlotte children so a lot of them had resigned themselves to thoughts of political marriages bound by nothing but necessity and loyalty to their mother. Until he'd met you Katakuri himself had fallen into this category, he'd believed that true love and acceptance weren't things he'd find but you had shown him that even he could be loved wholly and truly without having to put on a perfection act and despite the traits he'd thought were flaws. On the day he'd realised what unconditional love was like it had felt like so much was happening at once, you had come to the castle to drop off some pastries for a tea party; you were one of the very few pâtissiers outside the castle whose talents were recognised and as such you were therefore required to aid the kitchen when big mum had her hunger pangs or when orders for the kitchen had piled high. In fact, the very first time he'd seen you was during his mother's hunger pangs, you'd been run past him multiple times covered in flour and cradling supplies in your arms, but that's just a side note. On this specific day you had been handing in some pastries and had decided to drop by Katakuri's office. You had a very questionable habit of barging into people's spaces when you'd reached a certain comfort level with them and as far as you were concerned that comfort level had long since been reached with Katakuri. You threw the door to his office open to reveal the other party snacking on a plate of doughnuts. For Katakuri his mind was thrown into a frenzy as he tried to comprehend what had happened and how he should deal with it, he was going to tell you anyway so was this alright? But was he ready for the possible rejection? Could he perhaps give a compelling enough speech to make you stay? But as he mind raced you just smiled up at him and told him you had wanted to check up on him.
"But it's weird though, you said you never ate in here." You furrowed your brows and tilted your head to the side, nothing but curiosity clouding your face.
Katakuri looked at the doughnut he'd been holding then turned to you and then back to the doughnut. "I was stress eating." His response was slower and more unsure than one would expect from him
"That's not good, you should probably take a break at some point. If you need help you can always call me up, I'll help handle the minor stuff."
"No, it's alright."
"The offer still stands though." You leaned against the door still smiling up at him. "I guess I should end my welfare check here but make sure to come down to my café when you've got a minute to yourself."
"Yeah."
You blew him a kiss before leaving, Katakuri sat there for a long time with his doughnut still held to his mouth as he tried to process the information. You hadn't reacted? But was that because you were afraid to anger him? Were you just faking? What if he did go see you and there was nothing there but disgust on your end? So he stayed away from you for a couple of weeks until eventually he dragged himself down to your café where the both of you had an actual chat about his mouth and your feelings towards him. You had been shocked he'd thought you would leave him because of a factor he had no control over then you'd sat by his side and assured him that you found every part of him gorgeous. That was when he'd begun to fall in love, eventually your relationship had reached a point where he'd complain about his stress to you and even lay on his back when he was positive it was just the two of you. He wasn't quite sure when he'd begun to imagine a future and family with you but he had and yet despite his wishes there he was with some other woman. He'd tried to love the woman his mother had thrust into his life, they'd spent months together and for the most part he'd acted and responded to her like he would have to you but despite him attempting to forcefully drop his walls not only could he not bring himself to be the true him around her he also continued to feel nothing for her; he was certain she was in love and he was certain she believed him to be in love, at least to a certain degree, but he wasn't.
"Big brother!" Pudding basically shouting for him had disrupted his train of thought, he turned to see his sister with her arms crossed over her chest as she pouted up at him.
"Are you okay Pudding?"
"I've been calling for you for ages now"
"Oh, I apologize for not being attentive."
Pudding immediately lightened up at his apology. It's alright, you've had a busy day. I was just going to ask if you and Crystal were ready for your dance."
Katakuri turned to the woman beside him who was fiddling with the skirt of her simple white dress as a light pink hie dusted her cheeks .
"Only if she wants to." Honestly speaking he didn't want to dance but to avoid causing a fuss he'd left the option to her.
She stopped fiddling with her skirt and looked up at him with nervous but happy grey eyes . "I'd love to."
"Perfect! I'll go tell Perospero to announce it."
Minutes later Katakuri and crystal were at the centre of attention as they danced alone, his arm on her waist and hers round his neck. She beamed up at him and he stared down at her as he led her effortlessly in the dance. He wondered if you and him would have had a dance, he doubted it, he was ten feet taller than you meaning he'd have probably had to carry you to make things go smoother but he knew you would have hated all those people watching you while he did that so he'd have ended up scrapping the dance all together despite you arguing about how you didn't mind the discomfort since it would be temporary.
"Today is our day, we only get married once and I'd prefer it if all your memories were of you having a great time." He'd have said
"But it's just one dance." You would have argued.
"And it's precisely cause it's just a dance that we can skip it."
You would have sighed, maybe pouted a little but then your lips would slowly turn up giving way to a barely there smile. He imagined you would have been an image of pure and perfect beauty, he knew you'd have picked a somewhat extravagant and glittery wedding dress, he also knew you'd have selected heels you couldn't walk in. He could see you wearing them for the first five minutes before changing into slippers, sandals or just completely ditching shoes altogether. Had it been you two getting married the mood would have been lighter, it wouldn't have been worn down by the political undertones that this one was being weighed down by; he wondered how a day like that would have felt. After the dance with his real bride came to an end he gently took her hand and led her back to their seat, she wasn't his bride of choice but such was the faith of a Charlotte, he'd try to know her, he'd try to fall for her but with how he kept thinking about the you, the girl he truly loved, he doubted Crystal would ever be able to have his heart.
#katakuri x reader#one piece reader insert#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece x y/n#charlotte katakuri#katakuri x you#katakuri x y/n
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WTNV Quick Rundown - 33 - Cassettes
Oh boy oh jeez this episode I hope you're ready to go through the lore dropped in this one! I'd consider it a fairly important episode, but that's just where it stands in my mind~ The next rundown with be of 'The Debate' live show in more or less conjunction with it's performance date.
Perhaps you noticed something strange yesterday, and perhaps you have forgotten it. Welcome to Night Vale.
The cassette mentioned is labelled 'Cecil Radio Test: Age 15'. He does not remember making the tape. It seems that Cecil has always wanted to be in radio but also the stone tablets at city hall say that he will be a radio host, so it must be so.
The cassette introduces us to the previous radio host before Cecil - Leonard Burton. He had a high-pitched grating voice, apparently. His sign on was 'Greetings from Night Vale' and his sign off was 'See ya, Night Vale, see ya'.
Young Cecil sees a flickering in the corner of his eye when he records himself and it gets worse and causes the tape to warp and static to buzz when he sings.
He also tells us there used to be a 'Sammy's Ultimate Slice-a-ria' which he preferred over Big Rico's, but the place mysteriously burnt down.
This Cecil also mentions having a brother, whilst ours says he does not have a brother. It's here we get a small inclination that this young Cecil, and the Cecil we know, are not the younger and older versions of the same Cecil but instead two distinctive Cecil's whose worlds have overlapped via the cassette and that is why our Cecil does not remember the cassette or its contents.
This brother is not very kind to this young Cecil (also he has hollow eyes and howls), as he says that his brother is not proud of him when he gets an intern job at the radio station. He says his mother simply say 'beware, be warned, be wary' but she says that to everything. Our Cecil (the adult Cecil) does not remember ever even having interned for the station. The flickering has been following this young Cecil and even is able to touch him, whatever it is.
This may be why his mother hid from him for three days (the longest ever, he says) and why she started to cover all the mirrors. Even if they are not the exact same Cecil, we see their lives have a lot of same or similar events/aspects. There is also a gauzy curtain in the living room they never look behind, so there's...that. 'But once I was in the radio station, I knew I had found home. A messy home full of hallways winding away into a labyrinth of audio equipment and tape stacks. Just like home! '
Young!Cecil tells us that the other radio booths in the station are empty and have been for decades, but still broadcast every night (things like insect sounds etc).
As this Cecil confronts the flickering figure, which is causing tape distortion again, he tells us his middle name is Gershwin. He then says his brother is gone, the mirrors are uncovered, the station is like a dark planet lit by no sun, he feels like he's changing as he looks at himself (becoming more grown perhaps) and then something attacks him, causing him to gasp and gurgle followed by the sound of a body heavily hitting the floor. It is at this time that our Cecil in the present time decides to start destroying the tape and checking that the mirrors in the bathroom are covered.
Weather: "Big Houses" by Squalloscope, squalloscope.com
Cecil for some reason had bloody rags and a gem the size of a fist which shows you visions of yourself as an old man staring back at the younger self which is you now, casually sitting in the back of his closet.
Intern Jesús is mentioned. He never returned from investigating the bottomless pit in the intern breakroom.
Strexcorp encourages us to think deeply about meadows, meadows are important.
May we all be human: beautiful, stupid, temporal, endless. And as the sun sets, I place my hand upon my heart, feel that it is still beating, and remind myself: “Past performance is not a predictor of future results.” - some often quoted things from this episode.
Stay tuned now for whatever happens next in your life. Goodnight, Night Vale. Good night.
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