#I was so excited to see where that would lead but they YANKED the steering wheel and now we've crashed into a cactus

[kobbers]

(criticism for the Mass Effect and Horizon series below the cut; slightly rambly)

.

I sometimes like to indulge in media analysis video essays while working on art, because it can help corral my brain when I need to focus for lengthy chunks of time.

An interesting one I watched a couple months ago proposed that many of the problems people complain about in ME3 actually started in ME2, and I found myself nodding along with most of it. The discussed problems weren’t even ones I’d never recognized before in ME2; it was just a little eye-opening to have someone focus on them and tie it all together into a “compare with ME3, contrast with ME1″ kinda way.

What I didn’t expect, however, was my brain continually pinging on how Forbidden West exhibits many of these very same flaws, the primary one being a willingness to sacrifice consistency with pre-established rules and tone in order to solve short-term problems or engineer a dramatic moment. I wonder how much of this (in both cases) can be attributed to Corporate Daddy rolling up to the new successful IP and worrying too hard about drawing in and wowing new customers.

This comparison flared up again during another video I watched just this week, where the author argues Legion and the geth were done dirty in ME3 - pointing out where the stated character motivations and logic quietly did a 180 under the hood. and where some slight retconning robbed the geth-quarian conflict of some complexity. It was like the writers that handled the character in 3 didn’t properly understand what had been established, and couldn’t commit to the alien thinking... yet we know it’s not a simple case of Writer Bad because there are beloved characters that these same folks did do well! It ended with a little side helping of Higher-Ups Mandating Nonsensical Things Because They Are Awesome).

And I just... man. Too familiar.

I hope Horizon 3 can get itself back together on this front, but so much damage has been done already. =_=

#words #kobb tl;drs all over the place #still sulking a bit over ME3 and HFW #and letting headcanon bend them into the right shapes in my mind #because I love what was initially built! a lot!! #I was so excited to see where that would lead but they YANKED the steering wheel and now we've crashed into a cactus #the cactus has pretty flowers and there are a few cool lizards on it but one was killed in the crash and now the tires are flat #gorrammit

[asingleietsist]

"A Green Queen" AU

Daisies

The yoshi leapt and bounded as it tried its best to keep up with the floating ship.

"C'mon, we're almost there!", She exclaimed. "Just a little bit ahead"

The yoshi huffed only to skid to the side and run to the left. "Wait, no! The ship is that way!"

She tried to steer its reins to the right, but it yanked its head back again and sped towards the open desert.

It looked up and leapt once more before an array of crimson blocks appeared, leading up to the sky.

"Oh..", she noted. The yoshi looked back at her unamused. "Hehe sorry.."

It nodded then crouched down and jumped up onto the blocks. The two came onto the final block, the ship passing it quickly, and as the yoshi bounced towards it Daisy held in her excitement.

As the foot of her ride hit the edge, the two got knocked back by a huge boulder-like figure, falling into the sand below.

"No!", She yelled as she watched the ship leave. Daisy stood up, widened her stance, and faced the stagnant rock ready to fight it.

Several Ganchans broke off from their fused boulder form and rolled past her feet towards a figure behind her. The yoshi looked over to it and hid beside Daisy once it saw him.

"Leaving without a present-" the voice coughed.

Daisy's eyes widened as she turned towards it. "Ugh, not you again!"

Prince Khufo grinned, his fur pulsed with electricity causing him to twitch and jitter uncontrollably. "Y-You know, if I didn't know any better. I'd let you go, like my poor old father did."

"Out of mercy.."

"Hah! He did it out of pity, but I know better.", He clapped his paws together and out of the ground, several Ganchans stuck to her and the yoshi, imprisoning them in stone all the way up to their necks.

"You little shi-"

"Ah! Mind your tongue there, I'm not afraid to cut it off~", he snorted. "Besides, I have a proposition. As you know, running an empire is quite boring and I'm in the mood for something... entertaining. Without the King of Koopas to play with and most of my parties being put on hold, due to the damage done to my castle. I'd like to strike a deal."

Daisy blinked then started to laugh, leaving the Prince bewildered by her reaction.

"H-Hey! Im serious!"

Daisy sniffled, "Sorry, sorry. I can't help it. All I see is a little immature kitten getting into something over his head. You don't even realize the severity of this, do you?"

Khufo's chest puffed, "Y-Yes, I do! I'm well aware of the Koopa Troopa and Bowser's army, b-but they have no king so they're weakened.", He hissed "Besides, you haven't even heard what I wanted yet. If you're so adamant about NOT listening, there's always the forcing you."

She moved her head away as his light purple claw grazed her cheek, "What do you want?"

"Simple, I want you to spy on the Queen for me."

"Queen?!"

"Yes, Bowser's husband."

"Husband?!"

"How long are you going to do that?"

"That?!", She exclaimed. He squinted his eyes as she held in her laughter.

"....By the stars, my father should've-"

"I'll.. do it. But I want to know why."

Khufo sighed, "It hasn't clicked yet? Geez, you're both stupid and ugly."

"Ugly?!"

"SHUT UP!", he yelled. His fur stood on end as he did. "Look, I know you're after the little red human. However you won't be able to catch up to them without assistance, so I'll help you get to him and you can help me find out more information on the Queen."

She looked down at the yoshi. It would take at least a few weeks and possibly a month to not only figure out where the ship was heading but also to catch up to it on time.

"Sure, what the hell.."

"Excellent! While we're here anyways, any questions?"

"You said there was a Queen? I did hear a koopa yell his name, but I didn't know Bowser took on a partner."

"It was rumored amongst his allies, but I saw it with my own eyes and they seemed...fine."

"What does he look like?"

"..... Tall, fair skin, pretty hefty, blue eyes, facial hair."

"Could you be a bit more descriptive?", She groaned.

"You'll know him when you see him", Khufo smiled. He flicked his wing, to which the Ganchans released themselves from the two captives. "Now, I'll get you a small balloon. I'll cloak it for a few hours, but after that you're on your own. Get on it before getting caught."

Daisy checked the small cuts on the Yoshi and nodded. "And medical supplies."

Khufo blinked, "what for?"

"You injured this yos-"

"He'll live. It's a few cuts, get over it."

She stood up and aimed a punch at the Prince only for a shock of electricity and magic to shock her off of him.

"Ugh..."

"Like I said. Get over it."

She glared at him as he and the Ganchans headed back towards the castle.

"C'mon, you'll need to get on before sundown."

Daisy stood up slowly, the yoshi slightly nudged her to get on but she shook her head, "I'll be fine. You on the other hand..."

She ripped a few strips of clothes from her cloak and tied them around as many cuts and gashes as she could.

The yoshi beamed at the bandages then turned to her wagging its tail. She nodded and it gave her a quick lick to the face, causing her to laugh.

"You're welcome! Now, let's get going..", she sighed. Her eyes looked over to the Prince who was waiting for them to follow.

Both exchanged a glare, but she simply walked towards him, gripping the reins tightly. Her hands shook violently, upset she couldn't do anything further.

#bowuigi #a green queen bowuigi fanfic #a green queen au #super mario #super mario land #super mario sarasaland #daisy sarasaland #yellow yoshi #super mario bros #smbs

[fictionalgainer]

Jackson's secret part III

Before the quartet could make their fast-food escape, the simple act of dressing up posed an unexpected, humorous challenge.

William, ever so conscious of his changed figure, had strategically chosen snug jeans that helped tuck in and conceal some of his added weight. Now, post-revelation and after some running around, these jeans felt like they'd shrunk two sizes. Grunting with effort, he muttered, “This was easier this morning!”

Seeing him struggle, Harry, always up for some mischief, quipped, "Need a crane, big guy?" But despite the tease, he stepped forward, offering genuine assistance. "Alright, on the count of three." Grasping the waistband, they yanked in unison, finally securing the rebellious jeans.

Jackson, having observed the spectacle and dreading his turn, sighed in mock despair. "Gentlemen, brace yourselves." He held up his shirt, the once-loose fabric now seemingly ready to betray him. Given his expanded midriff, it was clear that getting it on without looking like a stuffed sausage would be an endeavor.

Richard, whose own transformation had been quite the surprise, said, “Come on, let’s do this together. Team effort, right?” He grabbed one side of the shirt while Harry took the other, and together they attempted to get it over Jackson's broader frame. After some tugging and adjusting, the shirt was on, albeit hugging Jackson's contours a tad more than he'd have liked.

But the most eye-catching change of all was Richard's. Earlier in the day, his prowess at disguise had everyone fooled. Now, with his defenses down, the full extent of his transformation was laid bare. Richard weighed in at 95kg, and while his height distributed the weight somewhat, there was no denying the pronounced belly that now protruded. It was soft, round, and had an undeniable presence. The shirt, which once hung loosely on him, now clung to every curve and crevice of his belly, with the lower hem threatening a game of peekaboo with every shift.

William, seizing the chance to deflect attention from his own ordeal, teased, “Rich, I think your abs went into hiding!”

Harry joined in, jesting, “More like they're under a protective layer. Winter's coming, after all.”

Richard, laughing and patting his belly, retorted, "It's just my built-in cushion. Perfect for lounging."

Jackson's car wasn't exactly roomy, and with four grown men — three of whom were battling clothing woes — it was quite the sight. The vehicle sagged slightly under their combined weight. As they piled in, a series of comedic adjustments ensued. Both William and Richard, thanks to their tighter pants, struggled to comfortably seat themselves without inadvertently putting on a show. Each time they shifted or settled into their seats, their pants threatened to betray them. Jackson, having faced this problem before, had perfected the art of the discreet hitch-up. He shot them an amused glance, sharing a knowing look with Harry, the only one not struggling with his attire.

Richard, growling stomach leading his thoughts, declared, "I'm famished! That crash diet was a terrible idea."

Harry chuckled, "Starving yourself to appear thin for one day? Brilliant strategy."

Jackson, steering the car onto the main road, teased, “Yeah, and look where that got you — in a car, racing to the nearest McD's with your belly practically leading the way!”

William, mockingly contemplative, added, “Y'know, it's kind of poetic. We avoid food at the family gathering, fearing judgment, only to dive headfirst into a mountain of fast food.”

As they pulled into the McDonald's drive-thru, the bright lights illuminating their excited faces, Richard practically pressed his nose to the window, scanning the menu with a fervor that only profound hunger can induce.

Harry, playing the role of the group's food coordinator, started, "Okay, gentlemen. Place your orders, and no skimping! We've earned this feast."

Jackson ordered a double cheeseburger meal with an extra side of fries, while William, throwing caution to the wind, opted for the large Big Mac meal. Harry chose a mix of chicken nuggets and a spicy McChicken, whereas Richard, in his ravenous state, went all out with two Quarter Pounders and a large fries, finishing off with a McFlurry.

As they collected their overflowing tray of fast-food goodness and settled into a corner, the atmosphere was electric. Their conversations meandered from hilarious memories of childhood mischief to light-hearted jabs about their current state of "roundness."

Richard, with a mouthful of burger, mused, “Y'know, today was a revelation. Here we were, each trying to hide our flaws, only to discover we’re all in the same sinking ship.”

William added, “And that ship is powered by fries and burgers.”

The remainer of the story will be posted on my Patreon

#weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainerfic

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 28 // What's in the BOX! Part 2 // Day 21

Contents (Warnings): Soft safe vore, slight teasing, unwilling prey, willing pred, and a little more character information (I will be making character sheets/ putting down the monster information files sooner or later, especially after the big lore dump during chapter 22 and 23).

Wordcount: 2950 (I don't know why I couldn't write it properly, so if the quality is bad, I apologize. I think my excitement for the coming chapters/erasures made it sloppy).

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

(Oct. 6th Thursday)

Lynette

Is it bad that I’m getting used to Lev’s flirting with customers? I asked myself as I could see him acting as spry as usual.

Along with the normal questions today, we also had a lot of customers asking about our next days off. Lev helped me explain it and I realized something as we went to lunch.

“Hold on, you were telling customers we were going to be gone for two days right?”

“Yeah?~” 

I smiled lightly, "you made it sound like we weren’t going home Friday night and then meeting back here in the morning, Saturday."

Lev laughed, “we're not, why do you think Edgar mentioned packing your bags?”

OH NO, I already told Wicks it would take place Thursday and Friday! How is he going to react when I add Saturday? I tried to think how I should tell him. He’s busy this weekend anyway, right? 

“Are you worried?” Lev questioned, he leaned near me holding devious intent, “if you want I can keep you safe our whole trip~” He licked his lips.

I pushed away from him. “Quit it, it’s never going to happen!”

“Don’t say never~”

I hate working with him! I thought to myself as we got to break room four. I haven’t really seen Claudia much today. She did say hi to me briefly while running out with pizza bags.

I stopped myself after Lev disappeared. Where did he go? The break room looked the same as all the others.

I slowly put my hand forward and once it got past the threshold, it vanished. 

I wanted to pull it back out of fear, but someone yanked me forward.

I yelped and arrived somewhere else. It was huge with floating silver cubes of various sizes in an all pink sky. And some of those cubes were ingrained into the ground, leading our path ahead.

I narrowed my gaze on Lev when he let go of my wrist.

“Come on,” He said. “This is what you wanted us to play today.” 

I walked near him as we made it to the open space where the others waited. And as we got to the center there was an abundance of paths in every direction. Each divided by the cubes stuck in the ground. 

Alexander looked unhappy with his arms crossed, Drake rested back on one of the smaller cubes next to where entrance was, meanwhile Claudia sat above on one of the smaller cubes.

“WELCOME!” Claudia said with a grand smile and kick of her feet.

Lev tapped on the small cube floating aimlessly near him, “this is a lot for a simple game.”

“I hate it.” Alexander said.

"You all are going to help me get some training in." Claudia said, then she held back a snicker, “once I start it we're all going to be competing to find an animal.” She then tapped her wrist, “and we’ll have forty minutes to claim it.”

“What is it?” I asked. 

Her laugh sounded full of assurance, "This earth animal is known to be very friendly, trusting and sweet.”

A dog? I thought to myself. 

Claudia put a finger to her lips. “and that’s all I’m giving!”

“That’s not even a good description," Alexander grumbled as he squinted, "and what do you mean by claim it?”

Claudia tilted forward, “eat it.” She pointed to me, “Lynette for you, it counts if you hug it tight.”

I sighed with relief.

“I’m not eating an animal!”

“It sounds like you’re gonna lose then, Alexander~” Claudia said in a sweet sing-song tone.

Alexander looked around for something to throw at her. 

“And since you all look ready, let’s-" She paused, "oh, and if we all can’t find the animal, Lynette wins by default.”

So I hug it, or I make sure the dogs steered away from everyone else. I turned around as the others did, eager to set out, but as I took my first step toward the many paths behind us, there was a flash of orange.

Around me was a litter of the cubes, still of different sizes. Though now there was a white mist that made it hard to see that far ahead. I looked back at the giant silver cube, where the empty circle once was.

What happened? I asked myself. Have we been split up? I moved my hands up to call out, but lowered them as there was no point. It’s lunch, and this is a competition. 

I stepped ahead. The floor felt wet and soft. I glanced down seeing there was a small bit of water over the swampy brown dirt. 

The more I walked, the more I started to see unfolded cubes on the ground. They gave off an orange glow at their outer edges. I avoided stepping on them as I needed the light.

I heard a few squawks from the mist, did she put birds in here too? Or is the animal she was talking about a bird?

My eyes locked onto further movement in the mist, it was low to the ground. I cautiously approached and noticed the tail wagging some of the mist away. It was a golden retriever. THE DOG! I went to it and it bolted as soon as I got close.

I chased it, narrowly avoiding some of the grounded cubes. The air ones I bumped shoulders with but kept going. 

I could feel my side twitching with pain due to my quick sprint. I'm not that out of shape! I denied. I went rock climbing once a week but that was it. I think I get more activity here than I've had over the last few years.

As soon as I’d stop, the retriever, barely noticeable in the distance, would look back at me and do the same. I’m getting mocked by a dog. I huffed in my head before I saw another figure move in the mist, they picked up the dog as it was distracted by me. The orange light of an unfolded cube glowed near their body so I could see them.

“Sorry, they’re mine, shortie.”

Alexander! I jogged to him, “You’re not eating my dog! I found them first!” 

“Didn’t get them first.” Alexander said, though he clearly didn't want to eat the dog.

I tried to lean over to try and hug it while he held it. “You’re not winning today!”

He turned himself away and I continued my assault to touch the pooch.

"Back off or I'll eat you with it!” He threatened as he was losing his grip. 

I still reached over, too stubborn to lose. “We’re in the middle of a game, weirdo!” 

He growled out and dropped it.

He flicked to me. “I’ll use my-” there was a loud buzz that caught our attention. A bright orange light blinded me and the floor moved under us. It caused me to fall into the cold water.

As my eyes readjusted, and I heard Alexander’s annoyed grunt. I slowly got up, feeling icky with my wet uniform. I soon realized we were surrounded by blackness, and our only light was the orange trim of the box.

Alexander stood on his own two feet, “CLAUDIA!”

I put my hand on the wall to help my ascent, and cringed at the sponginess. “What happened?”

Alexander growled, “I think we stepped on a trap.” His eyes traced me, then he looked around the box.

“What?”

His head tilted to the side and expelled a heavy groan, “this box is way too small."

I looked around it, the box was about eight feet tall and the same wide. “It has a good amount of room.”

He huffed, “no-shut it.”

His eyes started to glow as he pushed at the wall. Orange writing appeared around us over every side. Though, I couldn't read any of it. 

He muttered under his breath.

I didn’t want to interrupt him out of worry, so I stayed quiet. There he goes again, annoyed.

I sighed. I tried to read the writing on my side. What language is this? I started to remember what Drake told me about another world. Is this one of their languages?

I eventually gave up, feeling useless yet again. My eyes drifted toward the water. It looks higher...

“Uh, Xander-”

“It’s already hard to concentrate with you here, so unless you’re offering yourself to me, shhh.” Alexander said, still reading.

I felt it getting rise to my knees. I pressed the spongy interior and then saw it rise faster. I pulled my hand back. He pressed the wall as he read.

He has to be feeling this! I exclaimed in my head as I wadded to him.

I lifted up my hand, cautiously. He might attack me…it’s lunch, so he can. Plus the hours… I took a deep breath. But if I don't say anything it might get full of water and I'm shorter than him!

“The water rises when you push on the walls!" It was up to my thighs when I yelled. 

His head tilted down and removed his hand. Upon pushing back he almost bumped into me. The glowing stopped along with the water.

Alexander

Can’t hurt us with experiments my ass, Drake. He snapped back to Lynette. She was obnoxiously close to him and the look in her eyes made him all the hungrier. I really want to win this stupid contest and eat you for the rest of today and tomorrow.

“S-sorry to make you stop.”

Alexander pushed himself to look away. “It won’t help anyway. I don’t have nearly enough energy to break it. I’ve been lacking as of late.”

If I eat you that won’t be a problem though. He wanted to say it, but he had a feeling if he opened his mouth, he’d put her in it. 

“Take my energy from touch then and not the other thing.” Lynette said.

Why did I ever tell her I could do that? He shook his head, “I already told you before it’d be way too slow as I’m not a full magus.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“It’d be better to eat you.” Alexander muttered. He unconsciously stepped closer to her, so she went back. She pressed against the wall, letting in more water. He grabbed her and hugged her close. “Stop it!”

He felt the tenseness of her body and his hands trembled. Why out of everyone did I have to get stuck with her? 

She wiggled and whimpered, “you can let go I won’t back into it again!” He figured she tried hard to get away because his stomach was growling. His arms refused to release her.

“If I let you go…” Alexander felt the sharpness in his mouth more with his tongue. “I’ll-” He yelled out, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME HAVE THE DOG.” 

Lynette tried to keep her head away from his chest, “we can’t figure this out if you keep us both held here, Xander.” It slightly helped that she tried to steer him away and didn't sass as normal. At least, Alexander wanted to think it was.

He kept himself from drooling on her and swallowed back. “We shouldn't move around much anyway,” he had to swallow again.

She shivered in his forced hug, “why are you swallowing so much, it’s freaky.”

“I WONDER WHY.”

Lynette whined, clearly scared, “it's not my fault!”

“IT IS YOUR FAULT!"

“Your own disgusting body is not MY fault.”

Alexander gripped tighter, “you know what-fuck it.” He lifted Lynette up to meet his height, she felt so light to him, “I’m going to eat you and drown us BOTH.”

“WHAT!” She struggled as he held her arms down to her waist, “You can’t do that! It isn’t part of the game AND on top of that as YOU SAID you’ll kill us!” 

He started to grow bigger. “I don’t care.”

“I DO!” Lynette kicked at his abdomen, he flinched but it didn’t hurt. Though as his head was pressing at the ceiling, it filled faster. So much so that the walls started to bend at the bottom. It made their prison suddenly break.

The surprise made him let go of her and glad he wasn't forced to inhale her appetizing scent anymore, not that he wanted to eat her any less now.

…

Lynette

I plopped onto the soggy ground, glad to see the pink sky and floating cubes again instead of being trapped with him. He seriously wanted to kill us both just to eat me! He’s INSANE.

I created distance between us and felt another pair of hands touch me. Their big, yet delicate fingers draped over my shoulders. I turned back to face them. My eyes had to go up as they normally did with these monsters. 

They had the same hair style as Claudia, except wilder. Their expression and overall face was slightly different, more mask-like, white, and with splits at their cheek bones to their mouth. Over their shoulders two large cream colored hands appeared, raised high in the air as her hunched body dropped her normal hands from me. 

Before I could fully react one beefy hand went around my face and neck so I couldn't scream, the other went around my body like rope.

“Hey, so, as I win, I want my prize to be able to make a game a month, okay?” Their voice had the sweetness of Claudia’s but amplified, from the tiny slit at their mouth they had opened. It didn't even move, it left them like a breeze.

Why are you holding me like this if that’s what you want!! I said in my head as her mitt muffled my voice too much to talk properly. And why are you…Claudia please! DON’T JOIN THESE TERRIBLE PEOPLE! I thought as she brought me closer to her face. 

Her mouth split open on the top, somewhat like a spider, showing me her oozing gray saliva along the soft pinkness insides. I tried to open my mouth and bite at her fingers, but her deeper shade of black tongue met the top of my head.

I panicked and kicked, but soon the outside fled my gaze as her beefy hand let me go and she got my head in her mouth. She at least wasn't teasing me. I was so disoriented and helpless to the quickness that I didn’t do much. The soft fluorescent glow of her insides distracted me. 

My body slipped through her slug slimy throat and into her stomach. I quickly got myself oriented while the blinking light showed me the pinkness and gray ooze. Her walls were unnaturally smooth too without a single wrinkle. And outside, as my back pushed at her front side, I swore I heard muffled voices outside. I never have before.

I wanted to fight, but my surroundings tightened. I couldn't move and felt my body being pressed up at the opening above. What’s, ahh, it’s tight!

I had to go through the same process again, the muffled voices got louder as I rose. 

After a few minutes I slid out of her mouth and onto the colder, solid ground. I cried out.

“Ah…WHY!” I sat up and Claudia’s form started to reduce back down to her normal cheerful one. I also noticed we weren’t in that weird space anymore and I was in the breakroom again. “WHAT WAS THE POINT, CLAUDIA!” I simply yelled to make myself feel better. As I was heavily embarrassed, especially as I saw the others still nearby.

“You were the animal she was talking about,” Lev had an amused grin.

“Huh?”

Alexander shouted out, pissed. “It would have ended it if I ate her! Claudia I am going to-” he went at her. She pranced around avoiding his grabs.

I was the animal? I- I lowered my head. She’s a jerk. 

Drake sighed, “she did all this for a day a month.”

I exhaled, stumbling up, “I can’t believe she arranged all that and ate me for...” I shook off the slime, "can I be cleaned off, please."

I looked at Drake and Lev. 

“I’m not great at reversal variation,” Drake said. 

“Reversal?”

“That’s how healing, cleaning, or the likes works. That’s why it’s so important to get it done right away, as the longer it takes the harder it is.” 

“You’re reversing time?”

“Somewhat, I know no one can exactly reverse a whole event as it would require way too much training and energy, or death.”

I wanted to ask more questions but felt sick with the weighted fruity smell over me. “Can you clean me off, Lev.”

He looked away, “oh, sorry, I’m not great at it either.” 

I could hear the mocking lie in his voice. “You can, you eat people all the time outside of work, don’t you!”

He shrugged, “gonna have to ask someone else, Lynette.”

I jumped at the loud bang and saw Claudia hanging over one of the tables, limply, trying to comprehend what just happened.

Alexander stood over her. I imagined he choked slammed her onto it.

He then turned to me, a serious expression, “I’m using my hours now.”

“W-wait! Xander, you’re not serious!”

He grew bigger the closer, “I am not playing anymore games!”

I gripped my badge on the uniform and ran toward the door. Not that it helped. 

...

Thank you for reading! :D Have a gouda day! (Nonnegotiable, if you're lactose intolerant, you're about to be in a lot of pain, sorry. Lol).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

#safe vore story #vore story #soft vore #vore writing #unwilling vore #safe vore #v.0re #v.ore #v/ore #v/0re #widfali

[marvelmusing]

Disastrous Dalmatians

Pairing: Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: A 101 Dalmatians inspired meet cute. When your dog Pongo falls for a random Dalmatian in Regent’s Park you become acquainted with her owner, Billy Russo.

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: this is 100% inspired by the Anita and Roger meeting in 101 Dalmatians (the 1996 version) I used to watch that film all the time as a kid and thought their meeting was the peak of romance - so this just sort of happened?

My Masterlist

A crisp breeze stings the skin of your face as you make your way through Regent’s Park. Usually you’d enjoy the sight of autumn creeping slowly over the trees, staining the leaves a vibrant orange. Unfortunately, your day has not been going to plan. Meaning that instead of enjoying your Sunday morning walk with your Dalmatian, Pongo, you’re typing away hurriedly on your phone.

All your focus is on the little device in your hands. So, when you encounter some resistance from Pongo’s lead, you don’t look away from your screen. You give a small tug and a distracted,

“Come on Pongo.” It seems to work, and the two of you continue down the path. Though Pongo is trailing behind you, and occasionally tugs back - which is quite unlike him.

You press send on your email, intending to see to whatever is bothering Pongo so much, when you notice the pdf you’ve attached has changed the orientation. Your entire proposal has been ruined, the quality of your images has dropped, and your text overlaps to the point where even you can’t read it.

“Oh for God’s sake- Pongo!”

Unfortunately, Pongo decides to advance your impending crisis by taking advantage of your distraction. His lead is yanked from your hand and he sets off running. In your surprise, you drop your phone.

You bend down, grasping it quickly and rushing in the direction of your dog. You breathe a sigh of relief when you spot him. But he’s not alone. There’s another Dalmatian, one with honey brown spots, sitting next to him, and the two seem interested in one another. There’s also a dark haired man, presumably the owner of the other Dalmatian.

“Hey there little man.” He says quietly as he pats Pongo’s side. He grins, looking at the other Dalmatian. “She’s a beaut isn’t she?”

“You are in big trouble mister.” You hiss at Pongo, grasping a hold of his lead. Then the stranger seizes your wrist.

“Can I help you?” He says sharply. His accent is American, a smooth drawl despite the harshness in his eyes. You huff,

“This is my dog.” He looks up at you, then back to Pongo.

“You know this crazy lady?” He asks Pongo with a raised brow. You would usually find such an interaction endearing. Pongo tilts his head at you in response. You sigh,

“His name’s Pongo. You’ll see my name and number on his tag.” The man doesn’t let go off your wrist as he turns over Pongo’s tag to reveal your name.

“And your name is?” You give him your name, and recount your number just to rub it in. He releases his hold on you, and stands up. Once you’ve secured Pongo’s lead around your wrist you look back at the man. He flashes you a smile, holding out his hand.

“Billy Russo. And this is Perdy.” You hum, unimpressed,

“Pleasure.” He raises a brow, before waving his hand away in surrender. “Well, thanks I guess.” You say with a shrug before moving away.

“You know, you should keep a tighter hold on your dog.” He calls out after you.

“Thanks for the advice.”

»»---------------------►

Throughout the week, you begin to see Billy everywhere. He must live close to you, because you always see signs of him as you’re going about your day.

You pass by a corner shop and spot Perdy tied up outside, much to Pongo’s excitement. You have to steer him away quickly before there’s a repeat incident of Sunday.

You sometimes see Billy on his bike, during your evening walk. Only in the distance, but you recognise him and the honey brown and white dog trotting beside him.

Then you begin to see his bike parked almost everywhere you go. At the beginning of the week, you were annoyed by his near constant presence. Though as your week improves, you begin to feel bad about your interaction with him. He was only looking out for Pongo, and you hadn’t been the nicest to him.

»»---------------------►

Soon it’s Sunday again. You haven’t seen Billy yet, though you’re certain that you both take the same walk every Sunday. You’re not sure how you know, but you do.

You’re sitting on a bench, looking out over the lake with Pongo’s head resting against your knee. He perks up before you do, and you frown down at him. Then you hear a shout of,

“Look out!”

You stand up quickly, moving out of the way as someone on a bike crashes heavily into the bench. There’s a jarring clang of metal against metal, and you look over hurriedly at the cyclist.

It’s Billy.

He’s lying on his back, against the dewy morning grass, his eyes screwed shut. He groans when he attempts to move, and you crouch down beside him. There’s a line of crimson blooming over the side of his head. You open your bag, pulling out some tissues.

“You’ve hit your head.” You tell him.

“Yeah, no kiddin.” He winces when you press the tissue against his wound. You shush him gently,

“I’m sorry. It’s okay.” You say softly, cleaning up the blood, and applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Billy’s dark eyes watch you as you tend to him.

“If I’d known gettin injured was what it took for you to go sweet on me, I mighta done it sooner.” You roll your eyes at him with a small smile.

“I’m sorry about last Sunday, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was… having a rough day.” You explain with a sigh. He shrugs lightly,

“It happens.” His smile widens as he gestures to his wounded forehead, “Evidently.” The two of you laugh softly, until Billy winces again.

“You should see a doctor.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” You ask, holding up four.

“Four.” You change it. “Two.” And again. “Three.” He chuckles and you smile at him.

“I don’t think it’s too bad. But please don’t take my word for it.” He nods, reaching towards the hand that’s holding the tissue against his head.

“May I?” You nod, moving away slightly. Billy sits up properly, laughing. You frown at him, and he nods to the side of you.

Pongo and Perdy are nuzzling their faces together, occasionally lifting a paw towards the other.

“Well I’m glad someone’s havin a good day.” Billy remarks. He pulls himself up, and you stop yourself from trying to help him. He said he’s fine, there’s no need to fuss over him. You collect Pongo and Perdy, before heading back to Billy. He’s looking over his bike.

“What’s the damage?”

“I think I came off worse than the bike.” He jokes, with a smile. He thanks you softly when you hand him Perdy’s lead.

“Don’t cycle home. Not with a head injury.”

“You worried about me, darlin?”

“No. You’ll wreak havoc on the traffic if you collapse in the middle of the road.” He laughs, and you find yourself admiring the sound of it.

“Well, I’ll see you round.” You nod, feeling much lighter than the last time the two of you spoke.

“Bye Billy.”

»»---------------------►

Over the next week, you smile every time you see signs of Billy’s presence. Sometimes the two of you will pass in the street, and he’ll smile in acknowledgment, bringing a flush to your cheeks.

If you see him in the distance during one of your walks, you give him a small wave which he returns along with a wide smile.

Pongo always perks up at the sight of Perdy, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You hope Billy is too distracted by your dog’s eagerness to see him, rather than your own.

»»---------------------►

Before you know it, it’s Sunday. You have a few errands to run, so you pull out your bike, tying Pongo to the handles and set off. You’re a little disappointed that you might not see Billy today.

You pass through Regent’s Park much later than you usually would so you’re not expecting to see him. Then you spot a familiar figure standing at the edge of the lake. Your heart warms at the sight of him.

You’re clearly not the only one who notices the man and the dog. Pongo turns sharply towards them, tugging your bike towards a hill.

“Pongo!” You cry out, pressing on the brakes frantically. But you’re picking up the speed gained by the hill, and the brakes aren’t working.

Your wheels spin faster than ever as Pongo races away, his lead coming undone. Just as your bike reaches the lake.

“No, no, no!” The front of your bike hits a rock and you’re sent sprawling into the water with a splash.

Billy wastes no time at all. He kicks his shoes off, and tosses his coat to the ground before wading in after you.

You cough and splutter as you flounder in the dirty lake water. Your ankle is stuck under your bike, as it weighs itself down. The water isn’t too deep in this area, but your upper body bobs as you attempt to free yourself.

Then a pair of arms are around your waist, and your foot is being guided free. You gasp out his name as Billy holds you steady above the water.

“It’s okay darlin. I’ve got you.” As the two of you begin to head back to shore, a collection of pondweed tangles itself around your feet and you stumble in Billy’s arms. He tightens his hold, before reaching to untangle you. Once you’re free he scoops you up bridal style, and carries you out to safety.

He sets you down on a nearby bench, before saying,

“I’ll be right back.” You nod, and he disappears back into the lake. No doubt to retrieve your bike. Winter is on the way, and you can certainly feel it. Though that might be because you’re soaked to the skin with cold lake water. You look over at Pongo and Perdy, who are lying down next to each other.

“I hope you two are very happy together.” You glower at them as your body begins to shake uncontrollably.

Billy returns with your bike, which looks remarkably undamaged. Though the brakes clearly need fixing. You stand up taking your bike from him.

“Thank you.” You say softly, meeting his eyes with a small smile. He nods, then steps away to pull his shoes back on.

You try to hide your shaking, but Billy notices immediately. A small whimper escapes your throat as his coat is placed over your shoulders.

“You’ll catch your death out here.” He says softly when you go to protest. His hands smooth over your arms and your shaking stops for a moment to your relief.

“You’re just as soaked as I am.” You reason and he shrugs.

“I’ve had worse.” He takes a hold of Pongo and Perdy’s leads, before saying, “My flat isn’t too far. If you’d like to warm up there?” You nod hurriedly.

“Please.”

»»---------------------►

“I think our dogs are in love with each other.” You say softly, your head buried against Billy’s chest. He’d apologised about how slow his heating was, and the two of you had decided to cuddle together to warm yourselves up in the meantime. Billy sighs as he looks over at Pongo and Perdy. They’re in quite a similar position to you and Billy, huddled up together in Perdy’s bed.

“Yeah, I think they are.”

“Must be nice. To find your person.”

You’re dressed in one of Billy’s sweaters and shorts, after discarding your wet clothes. Billy’s wearing a cotton t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. He’d thrown a blanket over the two of you, and you’re quite cosy lying on top of him. He hums in response as he traces his thumb over your bare thigh underneath the blanket.

“Yeah. Must be.”

Billy rubs his hand over your thigh gently, as if to warm you up, even though the chill of the lake had left you fully several minutes ago. You tilt your head back to look up at his face, your eyes flickering to his lips.

“They’re going to be broken hearted when you leave.” He says, keeping his gaze on the two dogs sitting by the fire, not looking down at you.

“I don’t think I want to live with a broken hearted Dalmatian.” You say softly.

“Well then there’s only one solution.” He says with a shrug.

“What’s that?” He finally looks down at you, taking in your gentle eyes and soft lips in the firelight. His voice is a whisper as his lips near yours,

“Don’t leave.”

Then you kiss.

»»---------------------►

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @restingbitchsblog @tiredbeebo @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @hummelmi @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fluff #billy russo the punisher #marvel au #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #billy russo imagine #billy russo drabble #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader

[doctorstethoscope]

Yes, Mr. President || Out of Options

art by @multiverse-mxdness

i loooove this chapter so excited for you all to read!

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: steamy content, discussion of adultery

wordcount: 2.6k

For the first time in your life, your mind is completely blank. There’s no strategy, no plan, no perfectly crafted answer. There’s no fixing this. You’re the President’s Mistress. And you’re stuck. Reporters are shouting at you, and you don’t speak, you don’t move– even if they would allow you the space, you don’t know if you still know how to move your legs. The choice is made for you when a sharp tug is made to your arm.

“Get off of me!” You yell, suddenly coming back to life as you yank your arm back.

“Hey— hey! It’s me!” Derek shouts over the cacophony of reporters, tucking you into his chest and wrapping an arm around you to obscure their pictures. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, leading you back towards his car. Reporters continue to swarm, but he manages to navigate into the street and drive away.

“I jumped into the car as soon as I turned on the news,” he explains to you as he white-knuckles his way through traffic. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” you assure him. “This is my mess.” 

“Uh-uh. We aren’t playing that game, not anymore. This time, you are the client, and we will fix it for you,” he lays down the law. A canned ringing noise plays through the car speakers and distracts you both— it’s JJ calling. Derek flicks his thumb over a button on the steering wheel to connect the car. “Yeah, JJ, I’ve got her,” he says by way of hello. 

“Okay, well you’re going to have to find somewhere else to take her. Press is here,” she responds.

“At the office?” You ask. 

“Yeah, here.” JJ reiterates. “Are you okay?” She asks sympathetically. 

“I’m fine,” you assure her. “Really, business as usual.”

“Not for nothing, but couldn’t we make this go away with a flat denial and a little elbow grease? I mean, it’s not true,” JJ asks. 

A thick silence falls over the car. You think you might throw up. 

“Okay, I don’t get it. I know Derek is better at this stuff, but I didn’t think I was that bad– why is the flat denial such a bad idea?  I mean, how often do we get to work with the real, actual truth? We should be able to knock this one out of the park,” JJ rambles. 

“Jayje—” Morgan starts.

“No,” you interrupt him. “I should do it.” 

“What is it? What am I not getting?” JJ asks desperately from the other end of the line.

“JJ, we can’t issue a flat denial because it wouldn’t be the truth,” you tell her. 

It’s her turn for silence now, and you silently wish that you’d let the paparazzi chew you up and spit you back out— JJ had been your friend since law school. You told each other everything— everything except this.

“JJ, I’m—” You start, but she cuts you off. 

“Nope. Later. We don’t have time,” she brushes you off, but you can hear the hurt in her tone. 

“Derek, rent me a car,” you shift gears back into work mode. You wanted JJ to forgive you, but she made it clear she wasn’t ready for that yet— and you’re too pressed for time to worry about crises that can’t be fixed. 

“You have a car,” he says, confused. 

“And I’m sure there are paparazzi waiting at her car, too,” JJ points out. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m not sure yet. Not far, but I can’t be seen in DC for the next few days. I just need to get out of the city.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Derek says. “We can take my car.” 

“No, Derek, you need to stay here. I’ll be okay.” 

“She’s right,” JJ agrees. “But be safe, okay?” 

You hide in Derek’s car as he secures the rental, then sneak into the new car in the dark corner of the garage. As soon as you reach the freeway, you call Rossi.

“Where are you?” He asks as the line clicks. 

“I’m on I-95,” you tell him. 

“Where are you going, belissima?” He asks, with a touch of gentleness that nearly sends you over the edge.

“Nowhere. It doesn’t matter. Away, for… a while,” you shroud your confession, but Rossi sees through it. 

“That’s not an option,” Rossi tells you, and suddenly you’re back in the front row of undergrad getting rebuked for playing devil’s advocate with your peers.

“It is. It’s the only option,” you argue, willing your voice not to break. “It’s simple. I’m just going to disappear for a little while— it’s best for everyone.” 

“Get off the freeway, kiddo. Don’t run,” he begs.

“Just tell him I said goodbye, David,” you ask in turn. The tears start to fall, but you credit yourself for keeping your voice even. As if it even matters. 

“Get off the freeway!” Dave yells desperately. “Get out of the car. You can’t do this.”

 “I have to, Rossi! What choice do I have?” you yell back.

“You can’t disappear— he’ll think you’re gone for good,” Rossi tells you.  “He will never trust me again, he barely trusts me now. I won’t be able to help him out of this, and I won’t be able to save him. You can’t leave.” 

“Rossi,” you sigh. 

“You can’t go, kiddo. I will fix this. I will put this all to rest. I just need a little time, and I just need you not to run.”

Rossi hangs up the phone without giving you a chance to say no and sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before stepping into the oval where Vice President Strauss, her Chief of Staff, and the President are waiting.

“You want the Vice President to handle all of the President’s public appearances? In the midst of all of this?” Rossi’s counterpart exclaims.

“Just until I can find the source of this fire and put it out,” Rossi says, attempting to placate her. 

“She’s going to get bombarded with questions, David.”

“And she’ll dodge them, and she’ll do it well. She is a politician, isn’t she?”

“I won’t do it,” Strauss interjects. “My answer is no. I will not be aiding and abetting this President’s breaking of his marital vows for a second time.” 

“To be fair, Erin, the first time may not have happened if your former staffer hadn’t sent in Amanda Tanner to destroy the President!” He points out harshly.

“Enough!” Aaron booms, cloaking the room in silence with one word. “The Vice President and I would like the room, please.” 

Rossi and Aaron share a meaningful glance, but Dave leaves, taking Strauss’s chief of staff with her.

“Do you drink scotch, Erin?” Aaron asks with a sigh, rising from his desk chair and moving towards his decanter.  

“No, Mr. President, but thank you,” she politely declines as Aaron pours himself a finger. 

“I fell in love with a woman who isn’t my wife,” he confesses, and she looks at him strangely— Erin may have suspected that the rumors were true, but he never thought he’d confirm them, least of all to her. “I had an affair. I take responsibility, and I’m sorry for the hurt I caused my family and my loved ones, and I’m sorry for the distraction it’s created from the good work that we do running this country. I failed you,” he continues. 

“Me, Mr. President?” She asks. 

“You,” he affirms. “As your President, as your team member, as your fellow citizen. I did not live up to the promise I made to be the best man that I could be. I lied– I lived a lie, and I am sorry about that. I’m going to do the right thing now— I’m going to be the leader I should have been all along. I’m just asking you to buy me a little time to get the people in my life ready for the consequences they’re about to suffer because of my actions— they didn’t ask for this, and they don’t deserve it. Can you do that for me?” 

Erin nods in understanding. “Yes, Mr. President, I can.”

++++++

You call Garcia as soon as you turn the car around— she’s distraught, understandably, but you’re all business. You don’t have time to be anything else. She plants pictures of you at a hotel in West Virginia– they’re old pictures, from the campaign, but she makes a paper trail that convinces the press that they’re recent and gets enough of them off of your track that you can make it into the office. Of course, the few that remain spill the beans, and now you’re trapped inside.

Emily speaks up first when you enter the office, and you’re grateful— you know JJ wants to give you an earful, and you’ve earned it, but you’re not ready yet. 

“What do we do? What’s our first move?” Prentiss asks. 

“We don’t do anything. It’s being handled. Business as usual,” you say. 

“Business as usual?” JJ scoffs. “How is that even possible?”

“You do whatever it was that you were doing yesterday, JJ. This will all blow over,” you say, your tone clipped, which isn’t fair. If anyone deserves to be angry, it’s her. The three of them share glances, and it makes your blood boil despite yourself. “What?” you ask. 

“Are we really not going to talk about the danger you’re in right now?” Derek asks. 

“It’s being handled!” You repeat, shooing them all out of your office. 

Derek looks at Emily and JJ once the doors are shut. “She’s our client now,” he says with a resolute nod. “We handle it, even if she won’t. Let’s get to work.”

+++++++

Derek goes out to check the street that night before driving you home, leaving you alone with JJ. The air is heavy, and you know you should broach the subject before she does, but you’re exhausted. You don’t have it in you to give her the answers she deserves. She makes the choice for you, though, taking a deep breath and speaking up, softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks, and she’s not angry, she’s just hurt, which only makes it harder to answer her. 

“I couldn’t tell anyone, Jajye. You know that,” you say, looking up at her and practically begging her to believe you. 

“You told Derek,” she points out, a little bitterly. You deserved that one, though. 

“Aar— The President had just been shot. I was raw, emotionally. I shouldn’t have told him. But he was there, so I did. I’m sorry about that.” 

“I mean, god… I’m dating a member of his security detail… I asked you about his wife. And what about Joey? I thought you loved Joey?” She asks. 

“I really, really wanted to,” you confess, your voice catching. “It all would have been so much easier if I loved Joey. But I couldn’t. Not after what I knew I had with the President.” 

“You knew he was married,” JJ points out. 

“I did,” you agree. 

“And you don’t feel badly about that?” 

“Honestly? No,” you say with a melancholy little laugh.

She’s not pleased with the answer, you can see that she isn’t, but you’re saved from your discomfort when your phone rings– you head into your office and pull a surprised face when you see the name on your screen. 

“You shouldn’t be calling me,” you tell Joey.

“Why, because I work for the guy who may be asked to investigate the President’s affair with you? I accepted that risk when I called,” he says, and you can practically hear his affable grin. 

“Joey,” you sigh.

“Don’t say anything,” he cautions you. “I called as your friend, and the less you say, the less I’ll know when somebody pulls me into a room and asks me all their questions about you.” 

You grimace. “I’m sorry that that’s going to happen to you.” 

“Have you made up your mind?” He asks in return. 

“About what?”

“About which road you’re going to take— the hard one where you stay true to the values I loved in you, where you admit everything upfront, or the harder one, the one that could destroy you, where you try to lie and obfuscate and fix. The one I don’t want to see you anywhere near,” he warns.

“You’re making a lot of assumptions, Joey,” you whisper gravely.

“Maybe I am. But if there’s proof out there, somebody’s going to find it. I know that you know that. It’s what you would do, if you were on the other side of this coin. You’re running out of options.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Joey. I’m never out of options,” you hiss out, hanging up the phone in an instant. You toss it into a drawer, not wanting to think a moment longer. When you peer out into the office, JJ has left— Morgan isn’t back yet, but he must be close. You need to be quick. 

You open up the safe in your office closet, tearing the seal of the black folder you’d once handed Derek. They’d told you about this folder when you were at the White House, but you never thought you’d have to use it. This was big. Nuclear. But as Joey pointed out, you didn’t have many options left. 

You dial the number, read the codes from the page, and wait. It happens fast, faster than you could have imagined– six secret service agents burst through the doors, Hal leading the charge. 

“You were expecting us?” He confirms. 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

“A motorcade is waiting outside.” 

“Let’s go.”

+++++ 

The bunker is cold. You should have expected that, you knew that you’d be underground. But it’s cold, and you don’t have a sweater, and all you can think about is how cold you are and how much trouble you’re about to be in.

The mechanical door whirs open, and you whip your head towards it— Aaron appears in the doorway, flanked by two agents. 

“Are you okay?” He asks urgently, taking the small staircase two at a time to get to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and running them down your arms as he looks you over. 

“I’m fine,” you assure him as he takes off his jacket and places it around your shoulders. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Aaron experiences a moment of relief, but it’s quickly eclipsed by a white-hot frustration. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” He asks you. 

“Yes,” you tell him.

“You pulled the fire alarm. The nuclear fire alarm!” He laments.

“I did,” you admit. 

“That was a one-time thing, you know that. For extreme emergencies,” he booms. 

“I know,” you say. 

“You can’t ever use it again, the codes are already being rewritten,” he rants. 

“I know, Mr. President.” 

“You don’t work for the White House anymore! I can’t get you a new code, especially not now,” he carries on, your interjections barely registering to him.

“I understand,” you tell him. 

“Angel, if there’s an emergency— a terrorist attack, a world war— I cannot get to you. You’re on the outside. I can’t get you in the bunker, I cannot save you, because you pulled the fire alarm!” He rants feverishly, and somewhere along the way he’s gone from looking angry to deathly afraid. 

“Aaron, look around!” You yell. “We’re already under attack, and I am already on the outside. My name is out there! We need to talk about  how to fix this. We need a plan.” You beg, and your words finally seem to get through to him. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Okay. Okay. Let’s make a plan. We can do that.” 

“When all of us are here,” you tell him. 

“All of us?” He asks. “You called for Rossi, too?”

“Not Rossi, no,” you tell him, biting the inside of your cheek. 

The door opens again at that moment, and you both turn your heads.

“Well… fancy meeting you two here,” Haley says with an exhausted sigh.

tagging: @call-me-mrsreid @dadbodhotch11 @arsonhotchner @shyhotch @the-modernmary @ssamorganhotchner @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @g-l-pierce @wheelsupkels @chelseagirl77 @ashhotchner @infinite-tides

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch fic #hotch x reader fic #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #scandal #scandal au #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 12 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

 <- Previous Chapter  Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 1961

It was truly the last thing that you had expected. While Paul and Marko flirted with you often, Dwayne had barely given you a compliment since your first night. It wasn’t that he ignored you, you just thought that he was neutral towards you. He was quiet and kept mostly to himself, though you had seen him come out of his shell a few times when you were at the cave. But a kiss?

Your hands threaded into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours. It was soft at first, as if he was waiting for you to push him away. When you didn’t, he scooted closer and tilted his head. He molded his lips over yours, guiding your lips and taking a gentle lead. You melted at the soft slide of his against yours, and you hadn’t even realized he was guiding your mouth open until you felt the experimental flick of his tongue against yours. You couldn’t help the small sound that escaped your mouth, and the smile against your lips was unmistakable. He did it again, holding your face in his hands as he pushed the kiss slowly further. One of his hands left your face, instead moving to your knee. Time seemed to melt away, and the only thing you could hear was your heartbeat hammering away in your ears. 

It seemed the same for Dwayne, as neither of you paid attention to the oncoming footsteps until the sheet to your room was being ripped to the side. The kiss had been slow and soft, but the ending was abrupt in comparison. Not only did his lips leave yours, but he was quick to snatch away his hand as the two of your heads snapped to the sound of, 

“Is everything- OH-” And you saw that the two blondes had draped themselves in the doorway, replacing where the sheet had been. Marko was quick to laugh, the snicker loud as he reacted to the unexpected find. Paul stared for a moment, having been the one who spoke and stopped himself. It seemed, as his mouth hung loosely open, that he was speechless from the sight. He blinked and shook his head, finally saying, “Dwayne, you dick. You dog- You-” But the shorter of the two blondes was yanking him out of the room, a wide smile still plastered on his face as he shouted, 

“Go back to what you were doing! Pretend we were never here.” He said, as Paul protested next to him. But, just as quickly as they’d come, the blondes left. The two of you could hear Pauls protesting and Markos laughter fade down the hall, and you assumed Dwayne could hear it for far longer than you could. When you looked over at him, he looked just as embarrassed as you were. He ran a hand through his hair, looking away as he mumbled something under his breath. You tried to calm your flushed cheeks, and your even quicker heart. The embarrassment almost overshadowed your excitement from the previous action, and you busied yourself by clearing your throat and becoming suddenly very interested in your nails. You tried to think of something to say, but the only thing your brain could come up with was a lame, 

“Well, that was interesting.” And you cringed just from the absolute awkwardness from the sentence. But, the brunette besides you let out a small laugh. You looked over at him, and seeing the smile on his face made your heart melt. It lit up his face, chasing away any traces of anything that could make him intimidating. 

“Interesting?” He echoed, as if he’d never heard that one before. But, before you could defend your choice of words, he was swooping back in and placing a sweet, and shorter, kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, whatever argument you had quickly died in your throat. Instead, your cheeks flushed and you gave him a small push when he began to chuckle at, what you assumed, was the look on your face. Before he could tease you, you pulled him back in and found that, surprisingly, you seemed to have a similar effect on him.

Dwayne and you were stuck like glue after his confession, trading kisses that got sleepier and sleepier as the sun approached. Dwayne didn’t leave until you could hardly keep your eyes open, and, while you considered asking him to stay, he opted to head back towards his room with the boys. The next night, he was the first to check on you in your room, and you were asking him to take you to the boardwalk before the others were even ready. He accepted, as he seemed to want to get some alone time with you, and you later found out why. 

You and Dwayne had gone to a few stores, similar to how you had every night since you’d landed in their world. Like always, Dwayne was subtle. He continued to offer you gifts, but you couldn’t help but smile every time he did now that you knew what they meant. You mirrored his actions, offering him some gifts of your own. You offered him a bracelet, one that you made sure to buy instead of steal, and a cassette. He was quick to accept them, and even quicker to hide the smile that they made cross his face. You liked to think he’d be blushing as you tied the bracelet to his wrist, though the cassette was simply pocketed. As you wandered through the shops, you found that any touches he gave you seemed to linger. Finally, as he steered you towards the steps to the beach, you reached out and took his hand. His larger one wrapped tightly around yours, and it seemed the two of you were going to end your sudden date on the beach until you heard a yell of both of your names. You turned, and Dwayne sighed as you watched Paul jog to catch up with the pair of you. He seemed to have wanted to ignore the blonde and head towards the beach anyways, and Paul landed a punch on his arm once he was within reach.

“Asshole, I know you heard me. Hey, sugar.” He said, nodding towards you and giving you a smile. When he turned back towards the brunette, Paul said, “You can’t just hog the babe. Plus, I called dibs and-”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted. After spending a few weeks with the boys, you found that their system of keeping the peace outside of David’s direct commands was an ongoing calling of dibs. It solved issues of all kinds, and this was the first you had heard of it being ignored. Paul enthusiastically said, seemingly not connecting who your annoyance was directed at.

“Yeah! I was supposed to take you on a date tonight, until this asshole-” He said, putting extra emphasis on the word. “Decided to wake up before all of us and steal you. Not cool, by the way.” He added, and Dwayne rolled his eyes. You heard him mutter,

“It’s not my fault it takes you an hour to do your hair.” He said, and Paul was ready to fire back before Dwayne continued. “Plus, I didn’t think y/n would appreciate getting called dibs on. Or having to wait for you to get ready.” Dwayne said, and you almost had to hand it to him. It was a pretty good comeback, even if you knew he was just trying to worm himself out of this one. Paul seemed to realize he was trying to do the same, and pointed at him as he said, 

“Hey! Well, whatever, man. It’s my turn with the babe. David said-” And this made you pause. You gave the blonde a look, quickly interrupting his rant with, 

“David said? Oh, what? He controls who I go on dates with now too?” You snapped, and you watched the blonde quickly cringe and try to rephrase his words. He put his hands up, his attention now completely turned to you as he said, 

“No, I- Just since- To avoid any fights, David said that we should take turns-” But he stopped himself. From the look on your face, he seemed to realize that he was only digging himself into a hole every time he mentioned the bleached blondes name. Neither of you had said anything about the night before, let alone apologized to each other. And, while you hadn’t been upset at him the night before, you were now. Especially if he was deciding that his control stemmed over you. First, when you were leaving and now who you were allowed to go on dates with? The first issue you could understand. His own length of life was involved. But the second? You had no idea what made him think he had any say in that. He seemed to totally have an issue with power, and you were starting to become more and more pissed at the bleach haired tyrant. Finally, the blonde sighed and said, “You’re not gonna come on that date with me, are you?” And, while you didn’t want to punish Paul for your anger towards David, you still said, 

“Yeah, not a chance. Tell David that he doesn’t get to say shit about who I go on dates with.” You said, and you grabbed Dwayne’s hand, pulling the boy towards the steps. "Or anything I do, for that matter." You were too heated and annoyed to notice the smug smile he was sending Paul, or the bird that Paul responded with. When the two of you found a spot on the beach, and Dwayne finished building you a bonfire, the two of you sat in the sand. It didn’t take long for him to make a move. He started by brushing your hair away from your face, and then cupping your cheek. Before he could even lean in, you were bridging the gap. It was different from your previous kisses. They had been slow and sleepy, with Dwayne taking the lead. You couldn’t help but blame the change on your current mood. While you tried not to let that interaction ruin your mood, you couldn’t help but let your anger bleed into it. Your anger led the kiss, and even led you into the boys lap. Dwayne followed along, his thumbs brushing your cheeks and trying to make your annoyance melt away. When it wouldn’t, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours with a sigh. You held one of the hands on your face, and he quietly asked,

“Are you okay?” As he leaned away to get a good look at you. All it had taken was a single prod, and you let your frustration fall from your lips.

“It’s just- Paul didn’t even ask me out! Or make a move! And take turns? What the hell does that mean? He just assumed that because David said so that I would accept. It’s- It’s bullshit.” You said, and you tried not to think about how you sounded just a little like Marko. After a moment, Dwayne said, 

“I think he thought he was making it pretty obvious. I mean-” He gave you a suggestive nod, letting it fill up the gap. You sighed. You supposed he did, but he’d never made an actual move. You had thought that he was just like that. You sighed again, before moving to rest your forehead on the boys shoulder. He let you, and reached around to rub your side. After a quiet moment, you finally mumbled into his shoulder, 

“What, next you’re gonna tell me that Marko and David like me.” Your voice was laced with sarcasm, but Dwayne said a soft, 

“Well…”

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys david #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #paul the lost boys #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #marko the lost boys

[shuadotcom]

Crystal Snow | JJK

❅ Summary: When you join Jungkook and the rest of the guys for some fun in the snow, he can’t help but feel jealous. ❅ Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader ❅ Genre: Fluff, slice of life, idolverse ❅ Rating: G ❅ Warnings: None! ❅ Word Count: 1.6k ❅ A/N: So this is an old drabble I re-wrote and was going to finish in time for holiday bingo, but that didn’t happen oops. I figured I’d finally finish it in honor of the snow in Korea this week!

Snow is everywhere, covering buildings and bus stops and cars. It blankets the streets of Seoul so heavily that everything around the city is silent. There’s barely anyone out and about with the snow so heavy and the sun setting, which makes it the perfect time for BTS to be out in public.

The seven over-excitable men hurry to the park nearest to their dorm, plastic sleds in tow.

"Took you guys long enough! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting here?!" You whine. You’re bundled up in a white coat with a matching scarf coiled around your neck. A bright blue beanie sits on your head with flecks of snow still sitting unmelted on the fabric. The seven men all break into identical grins as they wave at you.

Jungkook sprints ahead of the group, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you into a hug. A few giggles slip out when your feet leave the ground as you cling to his neck.

"Koo put me down! I’m too heavy!" Jungkook obliges, but not before stealing a kiss from your lips.

“No way. You’re perfect.” He murmurs and nuzzles your cold noses together.

"Ew, you guys are gross," Seokjin complains, nudging Jungkook out of the way to get a hug of his own. "You act like we all don't know she's your girlfriend, Jungkookie. No one's going to steal her from you."

"Yeah, and besides, it won't be stealing if she comes to me willingly," Jimin smirks at you and sends you a wink before pulling you in for a hug. You laugh and roll your eyes at him, while Jungkook stares daggers at the back of his hyung’s head.

Yoongi comes up next to him and nudges him in the side. "He's kidding, Jungkook. None of us are going to take Y/n from you, okay?" Jungkook puffs out his cheeks and nods at the older man. Of course, he knows that. That doesn’t mean he likes when they joke around like that with you.

"Okay, before Jungkook kills us all and buries our bodies in the snow, what say we go sledding first?" Hoseok speaks up, noticing the youngest’s grip on your coat sleeve. "The last one to the tree over there has to sled with Namjoon!" With a yell of 'hey!' from the leader in question, everyone takes off towards the biggest tree in the middle of the park.

It's not that Namjoon is bad at sledding per se. He just isn’t good at steering. Seokjin had been his willing partner the year prior, and both men ended up stuck in a snowbank when Seokjin told Namjoon to go left, and he had gone right.

The eight of you all but collide with one another to get to the tree, and in the end, Jungkook trips over his own two feet and is the last to make it.

"Oops, sorry, Jungkookie! It looks like you get to ride with Namjoon." Taehyung shrugs and sends Jungkook a smile that says he most certainly is not sorry for his loss.

The next few minutes are spent with the rest of the group dividing into pairs as Yoongi hands out everyone’s sled. Jungkook walks next to Namjoon as you all trek up the highest hill in the park. It’s a few feet up, which allows enough speed to make turns while racing down it instead of just being a straight, boring drop.

Upon reaching the top, everyone gathers with their partner and gets themselves ready. Jungkook scans the group and finds you being helped onto the sled by Seokjin, who you’d be riding with. He pouts as he watches him adjust your scarf, feeling jealousy fill him. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks it isn’t fair that he’s unable to sled with his own girlfriend.

"Jungkook, did you hear me?!" He jolts when he hears the booming voice next to him. He turns and is met with Namjoon's intense stare.

"What?"

"I said, do you want to steer the back or the front?"

"Front," he answers immediately, recalling that last year's incident was caused by Namjoon operating the front end of the sled.

"Ready?!" Jimin calls out once everyone is seated. "One...two...three, go!" As soon as the word leaves his mouth, he and Taehyung take off first down the hill in their sled. There are a few shouts from the other two pairs as one by one, they both follow behind the duo currently in the lead. Jungkook watches as you and Seokjin zip away, and he feels a jab through his layers of clothes.

“Let’s go, Jungkook!”

Oh yeah. He’s supposed to be racing too.

He helps Namjoon push their sled forward, the frigid air starting to whip in his face as they move. He momentarily forgets why he had been sulking as he leans left and right to control the piece of plastic under him.

He and Namjoon started last, but they pass Yoongi and Hoseok in the blink of an eye. Jungkook quickly catches sight of your familiar blue beanie and sees you and Seokjin only a couple of inches in front of him. His eyes are locked on you as you tilt forward to increase the speed of your sled, and Jungkook does the same, determined to catch up.

If he had been paying attention, he probably would've heard Namjoon calling his name. He also would've seen the snowbank in front of them before they ended up smacking into it face first.

Jungkook could vaguely hear the laughter of his friends around him as he lies there, letting the snow soak into his clothes and hair. It isn’t until he feels a pair of hands tugging on the back of his coat that he attempts to move. The first thing he’s met with is his favorite pair of eyes staring at him with worry.

"Jungkook, are you okay?" Your mouth is turned downward in a frown as you look him over to make sure he isn’t injured.

"I'm fine." You help him to his feet and begin brushing off the snow from his shoulders and hair, mumbling about how he needs to be more careful and pay better attention. He barely listens to you, though, as he’s more interested in how unbearably cute you look when you fret over him.

"Well, it looks like you're the new sledding jinx," Hoseok says, approaching the two of you. He leans over and punches Jungkook in the arm, the younger frowning in response.

"Yeah, and Jimin and Taehyung are the self-proclaimed 'sledding kings.’" Yoongi rolls his eyes.

"Which means they're never going to shut up about it." Seokjin jerks his head in the direction of the two in question, who are packing mounds of snow together in the distance. "Hey, what the hell are you two doing over there?!"

Jimin scoffs and turns to look over his shoulder. "I will insist you all address me as 'Your Majesty' from now on. Tae and I are no longer peasants like the rest of you." He brushes his gloved hands together to rid them of excess snow before he turns and sits on his snow throne. Taehyung copies his actions, and they both look at the rest of the group.

"Now," Taehyung starts, "Since we are the sledding kings, we have a few requests. Our first is that Jin hyung prepares us a dinner of our choice when we go home later." He waves his hand in the older man’s direction, who, in turn, begins yelling about not being their personal chef.

"Secondly,” Jimin begins, talking over a still complaining Seokjin. “We cannot rule over the frozen kingdom on our own. We need a queen to rule with us." He jumps up and quickly grabs your hand.

"I don't think so!" Jungkook yanks your other hand and tugs you back towards him, making you fall into his arms with Jimin nearly tripping in response.

The two men have a momentary stare down before Jimin relents and releases you. "Fine. " He recovers swiftly, immediately launching into something about appointing Hoseok as a court jester.

Jungkook turns and beelines for the park exit, tugging you behind him before you can hear anymore.

"Jungkook, where are we going?"

"Back to the dorm. I'm cold and hungry, and there's snow in my pants." You let out a laugh and hold on tighter to Jungkook's hand.

"Whatever you wanna do is fine with me as long as I get to spend time with you."

Jungkook stops abruptly, making you run into the back of him.

"Jungkook, wha-" He turns and grabs your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss. Even though it’s cold outside and both of your cheeks are freezing, the two of you feel nothing but warmth running through you as your lips move against one another. The kiss is lazy and sweet, and Jungkook would stay here like this all night if a sudden gust of icy wind hadn't chosen this moment to hit him right in the face. You shiver in his arms, and he pulls away to tighten your coat around your body and lay his arm over your shoulders.

"Come on. The quicker we get home, the quicker we can get warm." You nod and rest your head against him as you walk. You had both been excited to go out with the guys and play in the first snow of the year, but the idea of just the two of you curling up in bed under a blanket with hot chocolate sounds even better.

#btsnoonanet #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsguild #bangtanuniversity #magicshopnet #thebtsficarchive #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #bangtanhq #bangtanstation #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jeongguk fic #jeongguk fluff

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 11

The big one! This literally took weeks to complete. I wanted it to be done.

We are inching ever closer to the end of this arc. Two more chapters I think.

This one is much longer than the recent ones, but don’t worry. That theme most likely won’t continue.

Warnings: // non-explicit blood, violence, and injury, Major Character Death(s) \\

Scar called upon all of his allies on an exceptionally cold evening, a wicked blizzard was blowing through the server as Scott walked hand in hand with Jimmy through the white-out. Even the desert wasn’t spared from the stirring storm.

A broken line of lights were ascending up Monopoly Mountain, all headed to the same meeting.

When everyone had arrived, warm drinks were passed around. Cleo, Bdubs, Tango, Scott, Jimmy, Grian, and the resident Enderman were huddled in the living area.

Scott was biting his nails, so to speak. He was pretty sure he knew what they were there for; and he was not excited. He sat next to Jimmy and begged that the Red Desert wasn’t going to start a war with Dogwarts. It was going to happen sooner or later, everyone knew that, but Scott felt an ounce of selfishness.

Things were going so well.

He was starting to feel like he was on the wrong side of history. Sitting in that room, Scott had been to Dogwarts after Grain and Scar had tried to burn Skiz’s banner. He was in the room when they started talking about war; and here he was again. In a room talking about war.

He was there for quiet conversations about nonstop threats from Scar and Grian, how they were going to protect themselves, and questioning why it had to be them.

Pizza was dead. The air was unstable, everyone could feel it.

Scar began talking about a plan to trap the Sand Castle. Grian was confident that their new bunker would protect them well enough and had even started moving their things out. Dogwarts was to be baited into the castle where Scar would be waiting for them, to pull the trigger and blow the entire building to smithereens with the Red Army inside.

The thought of it made Scott’s insides turn. He’d already jeopardized his entire mission by falling for Dogwarts, becoming their friend when he was supposed to hate them, he kicked up the dirt when he suggested that Etho’s house was flammable, another slip up and the house of cards he’d built could be pulled down around him.

The whole meeting Scott just sat on the couch feeling sick. Too cowardly to say it was wrong. When he knew it was wrong. Like always, he let someone else steer his life for him. Scott watched as everyone agreed and started leaving. A feeling of distance fell upon him as he walked back home, Jimmy in the lead this time.

Tomorrow. He only had until tomorrow to decide whose side he was on. Scott stared at the ceiling in bed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing a second of sleep when his pager started beeping. Already knowing who it was, Scott quietly left the house once more.

Dogwarts was eerily silent on top, but a quiet conversation emitted from the living quarters. Every member was sat around the room conversing with each other about their plan of attack. Tango shot him a glance when he entered the room, his eyes went wide and he excused himself from his conversation with Joel.

“Scott?” He whispered scoldingly when he was close enough, shoving the other to the most empty side of the room.

“I can’t do this Tango, I’m telling them,” Scott whispered.

“What? No, no, no, you can’t back out now! My god- Scott how could you even come here?” Tango hissed through his teeth.

“This is wrong! You know it’s wrong! I can’t just stand by anymore, I can’t do this to them,” Scott tried to keep his composure. He pleaded.

“And what about the others? What about you? Us?” Tango asked, his face was pale.

Scott closed his eyes, he’d done everything in his power to give as little information as he could about the Red Desert Alliance to Dogwarts. He wanted to protect people, of course, but he knew there was no escaping the war. Even if he didn’t say anything tonight. Something would happen tomorrow.

His friends were wrong, he’d grown enough to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drowning out the lump in his throat and turning away from Tango, who yanked his sleeve in a last ditch effort. It was too late.

Scott strode over to Ren, tapping him on the shoulder. The Red King looked down, dismissing Etho and addressing Scott.

“Hey dude,” he greeted.

Scott’s hands shook as he formulated his admission, “The Red Desert is going to war with you tomorrow,” he said. Plain and simple.

The horrific shock on Tango and Impulse’s faces could easily be read as concern for the Red Army.

Scott felt like he shrunk to the size of an atom as everyone took turns looking at each other. Ren brought a steady hand to his chin, resting it on his knuckles in thought. The lights glared pure white off his glasses.

He walked to the table in the middle of the room and gazed upon the map, leaning over it to ponder. Scott fell back against the wall, his heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t even paying attention when Ren started firing off about their plan of action.

He wasn’t listening when Tango yelled at him on the way home. All he could think about was what the hell he was going to do now.

The jig was certainly going to be up tomorrow. Someone was going to be accused of spying, and when one of them went down, so would the rest.

What would Jimmy think of him? Should he just come clean? Admit to joining the Red Army on accident and let him figure out how he felt about it?

It didn’t matter. Scott had three hours to rest his eyes, and spend possibly the last peaceful night he would ever have with his husband.

The morning was spent mostly in silence. Scott gathered his weapons and stocked his arsenal with potions. He stared at the wall and went over the situation in his head. Preparing goodbyes, apology speeches, everything he could think of that might go wrong.

“Hey,” Jimmy came up behind him, taking a fire resistant potion out of his hand, “I was scared you were gonna drop it if you floated away any further,” he sat down on the workbench.

“Are you scared?” he asked, taking Scott’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

Scott closed his eyes, leaning his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He nodded his head, not in the mood to lie.

“So am I,” Jimmy confessed, “just promise me something?” he tucked Scott’s stray hairs behind his ears.

“No goodbyes,” he said. As if he was swearing it into existence.

Scott nodded, doing his best to smile optimistically. He held out his pinkie finger in a gesture of promise. Jimmy hooked his own pinkie around it and shook it a bit, leaning forwards to touch foreheads with the other before leaving to get his armor.

They left at dawn and shivered all the way to the Red Desert. It was exceptionally cold that morning. Like the weather was also fighting in their war. A small group of people was gathered at the bottom of Monopoly Mountain. Most of them were sat sharpening their weapons and counting their arrows. Scott spotted Tango and shot him the most apologetic look he could manage before excusing himself to talk to him.

“Tango,” Scott started.

“You know they’re going to be here any second,” Tango said, “so why don’t you tell us about the plan like you did for them?”

Scott was making his mind up about what he should say when an arrow shot into the sand near his feet. He looked up, scanning the tree line.

It was too late.

Everyone gathered on the sand snapped to attention, drawing their weapons and forming a group opposite to the Red Army. Scar was shaking his head, asking himself how this could happen. Scott walked wearily to the frontlines, his free hand was taken by Jimmy.

Everyone in the Red Desert looked at each other, then Scar raised his bow, and that was it.

Scott was jumped by Impulse. Better him than anyone else, even if his blows were a bit harder due to bitterness. They went back and forth stealing glances at the rest of the battle where a few mounds had been constructed to hide behind.

Impulse kicked Scott onto his back and kneeled on his stomach, taking his air. He leaned in, sparing nervous glances to their surroundings.

“I hope you got your fill of righteousness,” he hissed.

Scott gasped for air, “this was going to happen whether I had a part in it or not,” he said.

“How could you?!” Impulse shouted, but whatever else he was going to say was stolen when Bdubs rushed him from the side, throwing both of them off of Scott and into their own cloud of dust.

Scott breathed in a lung full of dust and rolled over, stumbling to his feet and spinning around to gauge the battle. It was a blur. His mind flew to looking for Jimmy. Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a shield, where a stray arrow plunged into the wood.

“Where is Grian?” Tango shook Scott’s arm, sweat was rolling down his face through a coat of brown dust.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since..” Scott froze.

Tango seemed to read the pallid expression on his face and nodded encouragingly.

Scott didn’t finish his sentence. He threw himself to his feet and sprinted across the battlefield, towards the border of the desert. A series of blueprints he’d seen all those weeks ago flashed through his head as he ran. Dodging arrows and slamming into his fellow server mates.

Finally, he rounded a barricade and saw what he was hoping not to see. A few hundred yards away, Scar was taking Ren and Martyn in battle. Inching ever closer to a disarmingly empty plot of land. Scott knew that if you weren’t aware, you’d barely be able to see the tiny windows sticking out of the sand.

“Scar!” he called out.

Nobody heard him.

Even if they did, there was no time.

The ground under his feet rumbled, causing him to drop his weapon before a flash of pure light pierced the air. He heard screams for a moment, but they were quickly drowned out by a wall of fire ejecting itself from the ground. Scott was knocked off his feet and launched through the air.

He hit the ground with a painful thud, but he didn’t come to a stop until he’d bounced head over heels a few feet further.

Scott’s nose was pressed into the ground as he rolled around in pain. He pushed himself to his knees with shaking arms.

In front of him was a gigantic, jagged crater carved into the ground. Smoke and fire billowed from its crude maw. Scott coughed and tried to wave away the suffocating ash to no avail. It permeated his eyes and throat.

Scott realized he had been rendered deaf for the moment, and partially blind for that matter. He struggled to his feet and outstretched his arms for balance, falling over twice before his purchase returned to him.

Someone grabbed his arms from behind and spun him around, touching his face and holding him up steadily.

“I can’t hear!” Scott shouted, pointing to his ears in case whoever it was didn’t understand him.

“Can’t see you,” he pointed at his eyes and then at where he assumed the person was.

The person took his hand and formed it into a fist, then interlocked their pinkie with his own.

“Jimmy?” Scott asked, he rubbed his eyes but his hands were taken away. Jimmy positioned his face gently and he felt water in his eyes, washing away the charred debris.

His vision returned to him as the stinging in his eyes subsided. Not so much the same for his hearing, but that was okay. Jimmy hugged him close and looked him over one more time, before tracing the word “stay” on Scott’s palm.

Scott nodded, watching the other go off into the smoke. Probably to help people.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Through the black smoke came a figure. Scott recognized it as Scar. He was climbing out of the crater. His movements looked painful, he was dragging something behind him.

It became apparent when he hoisted the object over the edge of the crater that Scar was dragging a limp Grian behind him. He laid the other out on the sand, hovering over him with concern etched on his face.

Scott crawled over, shouting to see if Scar could hear him. He pointed at his ears and shook his head. Scott wished he knew human sign language.

Scar turned his attention back to attempting to wake Grian, who wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Sensing that Scar was beginning to get very upset, Scott told him to sit back.

First he tried patting Grian on the chest, tapping his forehead, then observing him for any sign of breathing. His lips weren’t blue yet, he was still alive. Scott took his fist and pressed it deeply into Grian’s sternum, then firmly rubbed up and down.

Grian didn’t move at first, then his eyes flew open under his cracked glasses. His arms shot up to cover his chest and he cursed profusely at how he’d been woken up. He’d probably have a bruise for a while.

Scott motioned for him to calm down and breathe. Count to ten and back, and so on. Grian followed his instructions, wiping the dirt from his face and off his probably useless glasses.

Once he was sure Grian and Scar were fine, he quietly excused himself. The dust has started to clear now and the silhouettes of Dogwarts and the Red Desert alike were milling around, nobody seemed to be fighting anymore. Presumably lost without their respective captains. Scott’s ears has started ringing, and behind the din he could hear the ghosts of people shouting.

Scott idly counted the people around him. Some were huddled over a hastily constructed furnace attempting to brew last minute healing potions. As he counted, he kept coming up short. He counted again, and again. Every time there were two people missing.

He turned back to the crater. Whose smoke had started dissipating into the sky. He knew who was missing, and as he stared into the gaping wound of the earth, a hand reached up to the sky. Then came down on the jagged cliff, pulling the rest of the body to the surface.

Ren fell in a heap at the edge of the hole. Breathing hard from his journey to the top. Scott didn’t know whether or not to offer him help. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found, probably crunched beneath the debris of the bunker and the rest of the desert, and he was covered in a layer of collateral grime. It painted his clothes black and made his yellow eyes stand out.

He pushed himself to his knees with a lot of trouble, scanning the destroyed battle field with a mirthful expression until his gaze fell on Scott. The way in which they locked eyes made Scott flinch, he was in big trouble.

His mind told him he needed to diffuse the situation, but he was still without most of his hearing. It would be even harder if Ren had also been deafened. A familiar “why me” rang through his head. The urge to just leave and call everything quits nagged at him.

Ren stood on shaking legs and made his way, as quick as he could manage, into Scott’s personal space, who backed away; but he yanked his arm.

He stared talking very fast. Scott saw his mouth move but barely any noise actually processed in his mind. Scott shouted as clearly as he could that he couldn’t hear. Throwing in a few sorry’s as he went.

Ren dragged his hands from the tips of his ears down his face in frustration, his fingertips left smudges on his cheeks and over his eyes. He began doing sign language, but Scott shook his head.

By now a small congregation of people had started observing the argument from a distance. All of them more privy to what Ren was mad about than Scott was. Heat rose to his face in embarrassment as he tried to talk over Ren, trying to explain himself. Ren had started yelling as if it would help, and the argument was getting visibly heated when Jimmy stepped in.

He pushed Ren back with force so that he stumbled. This seemed to cause a chain reaction. Ren shoved Jimmy back, and they went back and forth until Jimmy threw a punch.

Scott attempt to make them stop, he came between them and ordered them to calm down, but tensions were far too high for any de-escalating. His emotions were verging on a serious breakdown, frantically begging the fight to stop. To let him explain.

Nobody heard him. If they did, they didn’t care.

Ren had taken out his damaged axe and started swinging.

Jimmy kicked Ren in the stomach, the ladder fell on his back and Jimmy kicked him again.

“Jimmy stop it!” Scott shouted, and he could almost hear himself.

Jimmy looked up at him, still standing over the Red King. His eyes were furious.

Something passed quickly in Scott’s periphery, so he turned around.

Behind him, one foot still propping himself out of the crater, was Martyn. A freshly shot bow still aimed in front of him. His eyes were dark and angry as he stared right past Scott.

Scott turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were fixed and frozen on Martyn. He staggered back, looking down at his chest where a poisoned arrow had pierced his battle-worn chest plate. His hand wrapped around the projectile, and as if he weren’t even thinking, he wrenched it from his flesh.

Jimmy’s expression read as shock. Right before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell like a load of bricks onto his knees, then his back. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around the arrow. Covered in a mixture of blood and sickly green poison.

He fell, and he stayed.

Scott didn’t have a second to process. Not even the thought to scream, reach out, or run came to him. A blanket of nauseating numbness draped itself around him. His mind left him as he stared helplessly. He watched as Jimmy’s lifeless body grew tendrils of thorny vines until it was consumed indefinitely. Only an arrow wrapped in rose vines remained. Light green flowers bloomed and waved in the wind.

And as if he were watching himself on a screen, Scott did something that he didn’t know he could do. That he had forgotten he could do.

A flash of light illuminated the livid grey sky.

Just as fast, Scott had approached Martyn, who didn’t have time to run. He didn’t have time to put his arms in front of his face as Scott’s hand curled into a fist.

He brought his knuckles down on the center of Martyn’s face, an audible crunch sounded out as he was knocked off his feet. A horrified expression painted itself on his face as he held his bleeding nose.

Scott raised his fist again, and as he did a string of dry lighting spread across the sky. He aimed again, and when his fist met Martyn’s face, a bolt of light shot down from the sky. It turned the world into a pure white canvas with an ear piercing roar.

In its wake was a blackened patch of burning sand. Scott and Martyn sat just as they had been before, but Martyn would not get up.

His body lay bruised and burnt, eyes closed tightly in pain. The rose vines claimed his remains quickly, wrapping around a pair of bloodied hands instead of an arrow this time.

Scott stayed bent over where his friend had been. Tears streamed down his face as the static disappeared from his ears. He ripped his arms out of the thorns which tore at his bandages. Blood permeated the wrappings, but he didn’t know how much was his.

He pushed himself away, kneeling in the grave he’d created.

“Major,” someone said, cold and angry.

A hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, spinning him around forcefully. Scott had only a second to see that it was Ren, before he was hoisted up by the front of his shirt and thrown across creation. Landing hard on his ass for the second time that day. His shoulder made a nauseating POP, hanging limply and awkwardly at his side when he pushed himself up.

Ren placed his foot on his chest to keep him down.

Behind Ren, the greater alliance of Dogwarts had gathered. Confusion and betrayal was etched on their faces.

“Not a word, Major,” Ren said. Low and forced, his eyes were blown wide with something like fear.

Then he raised the handle of his broken axe over his head, the hilt made contact with Scott’s skull.

Lights out.

#me writing this was like no shawty don’t do that 😫 #it’s almost midnight as i’m typing these tags pardon my unhingedness #kingslayer au #mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #on god I really have to do all these characters tags #goodtimeswithscar #grian #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #impulsesv #tangotek #bdubbleo100 #zombie cleo

[ushidoux]

Someone Else’s - Sakusa x Reader x Ennoshita

Summary: Ennoshita hasn’t completely moved on, but the love of his life has. NSFW. (~3148 words +/- due to editing)

A/N: I’m so sorry to Ennoshita stans. Also special thanks to @bokutosmommy for helping me bounce off ideas.

---

“Thank you so much, Ennoshita-san!”

Ennoshita smiled warmly as he helped the elderly woman he was treating off the examination table. She wobbled ever so slightly as she got onto her feet, and gripped tensely onto his arm but Ennoshita held her steady, reassuring her that she had him. 

“Oh, you truly are such a kind young man. And my, it is truly a shame that you haven’t yet been snatched up!”

He let out a small pacifying laugh - this topic was frequent during their sessions, and as sweet as she was, the old lady had offered up everyone from her grandchildren to her nieces around his age, and he truly wasn’t in the mood to politely look at another stranger’s picture off her flip phone on this particular afternoon. 

Especially not when the first thing that had come to mind when awakening this morning was the woman who had broken his heart, someone he had actually planned to propose to just days before she broke up with him before disappearing without a trace.

“I’m too busy working hard in order to take care of patients like you to think about dating!” He joked as he helped lead her out to the exit. As he walked her down, he snuck a glance at the clock in the hallway, noting that he was a couple minutes late for his next patient. 

He let out a sigh internally. The young man to be seen next on his list was particularly impatient and wouldn’t be happy to wait even for a second. He hoped that by the time he made it back to the room, the technicians had at least turned the room over and taken his vitals.

By the time Ennoshita made it back to the room, he could see that the professional volleyball player he had been working with for the past month had already arrived, and was sitting in the corner of the room with legs crossed and fingertips pressed together.

“Good afternoon, Sakusa-san,” Ennoshita greeted formally.

Sakusa Kiyoomi did not answer immediately, peering up at him with dark eyes over a white surgical mask. He then gave a brief nod and stood up, pulling off his jacket and draping it neatly over the back of the chair, before sitting on the examination table.

He now looked at Ennoshita expectantly. Ennoshita kept his face kind as usual - even though Sakusa did grate on his nerves just a little, doing his best to sympathize with his cold behavior. Patellar tendon injuries were common in volleyball players but they were also incredibly frustrating, and Ennoshita, having played volleyball himself back in high school, knew something or another about frustration. Plus Sakusa was known for being more than a little abrasive at baseline, at least based on what his old high school teammates had told him.

“Did you do the exercises?”

“Mm.” At least Sakusa was willing to follow instructions. 

The session went smoothly as usual, and because Sakusa made little effort to engage in conversation, Ennoshita found his mind wandering briefly intermittently.

It’s hard to believe that you were once part of the team that beat Shiratorizawa that year, Sakusa had told him flippantly the first day they’d met. Of course, he thought that; aside from the old ladies he worked with, Ennoshita wasn’t particularly outstanding and he was painfully aware of that fact. 

Even she had told him this right before he and his last girlfriend had broken up. She had been so harsh then, but even he recognized it was true. He was a safe choice, someone you don’t hesitate to present to mom and dad but don’t also brag about to your friends, someone who was dependable but you could never be desperate to be with. He had worked on that over the past year, attempting to be more outgoing, picking up a few hobbies that would make him “interesting” like mixed martial arts and salsa dancing. 

Maybe he’d impress her if they ever met again.

But for now, his life was pretty routine, unlike guys like even Sakusa before him who commanded attention (whether unwillingly or not) whenever they entered a room and were still entrenched in the fast-pace and exciting world of volleyball. 

“We’re done here, right?” Sakusa said, abruptly. 

Ennoshita looked at the time, and noted that the thirty minutes were almost up. “Yeah, let me go get the sheet for your next set of exercises,” he said, turning around to go through a set of folders on a shelf. 

While he rummaged, behind him, there was a brief knock on the door right before the door swung open and soft, light footsteps ran in.

“Omi, we’re going to be late!”

“I told you to wait outside, stop being so clingy,” he snapped back.

And Ennoshita turned around so fast he almost got whiplash - he could recognize that voice, your voice anywhere - and stared right at you, your arms affectionately wrapped around Sakusa’s shoulders while he was trying to shake you off with irritation.

You froze, the smile on your face fading, replaced with your mouth opening just slightly in shock. Ennoshita froze, the packet of exercises he was prepared to hand Sakusa slipping out of his fingers as he stood still, falling to the ground in a loud flutter.

“Chi-kun,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes wide and your heart thumping in your chest.

“___...”

You inhaled sharply, and reflexively your arms withdrew from where they rested around Sakusa’s neck, and while Sakusa had made a big deal of resisting your affection, the fact that you stopped so quickly at the sight of another man awakened a different type of discontentment in him.

“Why…” Ennoshita started, but the rest of his sentence died in his throat. Why were you here? Why were you with him? Why did you leave?

Why now?

“I… um… fuck,” you started, then stopped, shame now washing over you as you remembered how cruel you were before and how cruel you were being this very moment. You had no explanation for the fact that you had refused to answer his calls or texts, and barely offered him any type of closure aside from You’re frankly kind of boring, and I’m not sure I want to be with you anymore. 

And to see each other again, right in front of your boyfriend who was quite... particular? This wouldn’t end well. 

You found yourself rushing to leave the room, but suddenly Sakusa’s hand clamped around your wrist as you turned and he pulled hard, almost yanking you back to his side.

“Where are you going, babe?” He asked with a smirk, not looking at you but instead directly at Ennoshita who had in mere moments turned from unwitting ally to absolute enemy. He seemed to shake like paper, and Sakusa could almost read the unwritten history between you all written all over his face, and it made him angry. Maybe even furious.

Had his precious little girl also fucked this guy? Really?

Clearly so, because you never resisted his touch usually, in fact you craved it, and now you were all but worming your way out of his grasp which he kept like iron, obvious panic in your eyes as you pleaded for him to let you leave the room.

“L-let me talk to you in the car,” you half-whispered, half-begged.

“About what?” Sakusa replied coolly, his voice much louder than needed to be. 

The way you looked now to Ennoshita was like a trapped mouse and he could no longer bear it. Why couldn’t Sakusa be gentle with you? Didn’t he know you liked to be treated softly and with care? He had always treated you like you were gold, after all. 

Were you the girlfriend Sakusa complained about every so often? The one who was very sweet but overbearing? The only reason why he showed up to this place session after session after all instead of bearing the discomfort and heading back to the courts as soon as possible?

“P-please let go of her,” Ennoshita eked out in a small voice, keeping his gaze down. “It’s just that s-she and I knew each other from before and… it must be very awkward-”

Sakusa suddenly cut in with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask.”

Ennoshita looked up with shock mirroring your own as you both watched him in surprise. Sakusa let go of your wrist, and you subconsciously rubbed the sting out of the tender skin. He walked across the room, stopping right before Ennoshita who again tensed reflexively, and bent down to pick up the dropped packet.

“This was mine, right?” He confirmed as he rose to his full height, his smile again dark as he looked down towards Ennoshita. Ennoshita nodded slowly, and you could almost hear him swallow hard.

“I’ll just take what’s mine and leave then,” he said, now moving past Ennoshita to grab his jacket. Reaching into his pocket, he replaced his face mask then walking towards you, pulled out a second one to hand to you before gripping your hand firmly again.

“Thanks for all of your help!” His voice stunk of mock cheer. For you, he unwrapped the individually wrapped face mask and dangled it before you by the tips of his fingers.

“I told you to wear these, at least when you’re in the hospital. These people are disgusting.”

And with that, Sakusa walked out hand in hand with you, the love of Ennoshita’s life.

---

“Why did you do that, Kiyoomi?”

You had spent most of the ride back to Kiyoomi’s apartment in silence, but you knew by how tightly Sakusa was gripping the steering wheel and the furrow in his eyebrow that he was probably scowling underneath his face mask the entire time. Any other time you would have reached for his free hand, and maybe he would have scowled about the unnecessary physical contact and asked you if you had sanitized your hands first before begrudgingly accepting your touch, but you would have smiled anyway and gently stroked the palm of your weird, grumpy Omi.

Any other time. But right this very moment, he deserved the opposite of compassion.

Sakusa gave you a very brief, aggravated look, then turned back to the road before him. He scoffed, noticing your pursed lips and the crossed arms over your chest. You were practically as angry as he was, stewing quietly in the passenger seat.

How dare you.

“Oh, did I hurt your ex’s feelings? Is that why you’re upset?”

“Omi…,” you said in a small, yet stern voice.

“Don’t ‘Omi~’ me. He looked at you like you fell out of the sky. Like you were an angel from above. Not like the dirty slut you are-”

“Kiyoomi!” 

He scoffed, gripping the steering wheel even tighter with both hands now.

“Don’t act like you don’t beg me to call you that when you’re bent over and I’m balls deep inside your guts. What’s the difference right now? Aren’t you always my dirty slut? Do you want me to respect you now? Is that what he did? Give you respect? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

The blood was starting to rush to your face and you wanted to scream at him for being an asshole as usual, but you could tell he was only getting more riled up by the second. You bit your lip and held your tongue, ready to unleash the moment he parked. 

But before you could say a single word the second he turned off the ignition, now that you were in the quiet, covered lot outside of his apartment complex, he reached across to your side of the car, all but ripping off the mask on your face (and his). Jerking your chin to his with the tips of his fingers, he smashed your lips to his in a kiss that was so intense, you were sure it contained most if not all the violence he had held back just minutes earlier.

Minutes that felt like seconds passed as his tongue forced itself down your throat and teeth grazed against lips and you lost the ability to breathe and to think and you were mad on whose behalf? 

All that mattered was that you got more from Omi, you wanted more from your Omi, and now you had traversed the car’s console to straddle your Omi in the driver’s seat and you were now grinding against him, and he was now pulling away -

Oh, why was he pulling away?

Breathy pants now parted your swollen, red, wanting lips and your half-lidded eyes took in the lustful eyes staring at your lips and the half-smirk now on his visage, the one that made it obvious that he knew he had already won you over and you were absolutely powerless to him, that you were his.

You paused, your arms draped around his neck, waiting, knowing that if you didn’t stop now to start up again, once you were inside, you’d fuck in the car in this dim garage and who knows who would see you?

“Since I didn’t get to beat his ass, I’m beating your pussy up instead.”

---

You had really moved on.

Now that Ennoshita had seen you in the flesh for the first time in nearly a year, he realized how much he had been holding on to the possibility of ever seeing you again, in a future where he was something other than the boring and safe choice, someone you tolerated but your heart didn’t tremble for.

And to see you with one of Japan’s top aces... Someone who had been better than him for you before you even knew of his existence. It was unbearable to think about.

He continued to stare at the ceiling dejectedly. He’d been crying literally the entire way home from work, and now on top of being sad for the love that never was, he was doubly upset for how freely his tears flowed tonight. The fact that he couldn’t even stand his ground when threatened, that he had even flinched when Sakusa got close (Was he this much of a bitch? Did you see him? No wonder you dropped him.).

He let out a cough as phlegm stuck in his throat and rubbed his eyelids. He had been laying sprawled on his back ever since he came back from work, staring at the ceiling and he was pretty sure his eyes were puffy and red.

Pitiful.

He reached for his phone and considered making a profile on Tinder, his finger hovering over the program in the app store. That would have been the right move. Move on like you had.

Instead he pulled up his photo folders, and settled on his favorite picture of you. One where you were alone and smiling for him, your face tilted just so towards the camera, and happiness crinkling your eyes. He always loved your eyes.

Reaching over his end table for the lone bottle of lotion, he pulled down his underwear with the other hand, freeing his semi-hard cock. Maybe… just maybe if he could think of you as you were when you were his, like in this picture; if he could ignore the fresh memory of you looking at him with regret in your eyes, he could feel you again with him.

---

“O-Omi… Omi! Oh my… fuck, Omi!!”

You reflexively pushed at his face as you squirmed, then trembled then flailed wildly as Sakusa slurped the absolute life out of you, tongue circling and swishing and flicking everywhere from your clit to your vestibule to inside your vagina… In fact, at some point, you were sure he’d bit ever so slightly at your labia and you let out a yelp, only for him to stuff you quiet with two of his fingers, already sopping wet with the juices dripping out of your soaking cunt.

“Suck if you can’t keep your filthy mouth shut,” he scoffed.

You moaned through the taste of his fingers, the taste of yourself. Sakusa had a way of being even meaner in bed that lit a fire inside you; the abrasiveness only seemed to get worse the more horny he got. And yet, you knew right now he was so aggressive because of the mere fact that he loved you and his pride had been shaken just thinking that someone else had once claimed you as theirs. The very fact that, germaphobe as he was, he was so deep in your thighs that parts of his skin shone with your slick was already proof of that.

“You’re moving too much,” he said sternly, his grip tightening around your thighs. You muffled an apology through a full mouth, only to be attacked with a long stroke of the tongue on your core which sent a shockwave through you and had you at a loss for words.

“Is this how you moaned for him?” Sakusa stopped suddenly, his breathy words sending a shiver of cold through your spine as they landed on your moist cunt.

You shook your head frantically.

“Good,” he said as though it were business as usual, rising to drop his pants and let his cock spring free. Even his cock looked angry, tumescent, dusky at the head and at attention, and you could feel your core ache in anticipation already. 

He flipped you like a pancake on the bed, hooking one arm around your midsection (you were already too fucked out just from his fingers and mouth to move yourself unfortunately), and positioned you into a tripod position before lining himself behind your already semi-abused entrance.

“Stay still. I’m going to fuck you like every man you’ve ever had is slamming you all at once, you dirty, dirty girl.”

---

In the dim light of Ennoshita’s bedroom, all that could be heard were soft sobs and the sound of flesh stroking flesh, and soon there were cries of your name and the sobs grew louder and more pained until release which came out as a deep, guttural, desperate groan. He was aching for someone who no longer existed. A you from the past that no longer existed.

The you of the present moaned, sobbed, and convulsed, screaming Kiyoomis, Omis, Oh mys, Oh Gods, I love yous, Don’t stops, Never stops to Sakusa who pounded you relentlessly, slapping every inch of skin on your buttcheek, marking every part of your body with kisses, bites, pulling your hair, closing his fingers around your throat - doing anything and everything that Ennoshita could no longer do. He touched you in ways your ex never could, rough, then eventually soft the moment he finally, eventually, and to your relief, came inside you, coating your clenching walls with hot cum coming out in so many spurts. He unseated himself, and you could feel some volume of him spilling out of you immediately - he had come so much, probably more than he ever had before, and you expected him to immediately disappear to shower, but maybe there was something about his jealousy that made him both harsh and gentle for you today. 

He whispered your name as he lay beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He pulled you closer, and your pleasantly exhausted, sweaty, sticky face found its way into the crook of his neck. Your breathing evened, the room was now quiet, but the very air was loaded with the transient echoes of your sinful dance just moments ago.

“I love you.”

Your heart sped up. It was so hard for Sakusa to say something so frank, so honest and so vulnerable, but before you could say you loved him too - oh you knew, you were sure you did - he kept going, and with this he held you tighter:

“I don’t ever want to look at you like I lost everything. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, promise you’ll always love me, and you’ll always be my side. I will do my best to be good to you.”

And that’s when you realized that Sakusa’s greatest fear was Ennoshita’s reality.

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #ennoshita chikara x reader #ennoshita x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #ennoshita chikara #chikara ennoshita #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #mae.writing

[ashleyswrittenwords]

Ballad of Bounty Hunters & Outlaws

Wild West LOZ AU

I’m slowing down one of my AUs and apparently moving onto another one already. Will I make a bunch of disjointed oneshots and inevitably put them on ao3? Yeah, probably.

I stole this AU from @kajuelle :)

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

There was a moment where Zelda had thought of herself as smart.

A bright mind that was intelligent enough to memorize his routine from hearing alone. Within a week, she had fine-tuned the man’s schedule down to the minute. She supposed it was odd that he waited a half hour before dawn to relieve himself, even stranger that it sometimes came down to the minute until she heard the sound of scraping boots against wood as he brought himself to a stand outside her inn room’s door. A slight grunt when he stretched and then clicking spurs down the hall.

But she wasn’t about to complain. That morning was the perfect opportunity.

The outhouse was the opposite direction from the stables and her execution was flawless.

Now that confidence was a well running dry very quickly. Zelda’s fervent kicks to her horse’s ribs did little to recover the distance her pursuers were stealing. Panic led her to do things that blue-eyed hick will kill her over; among those reasons was the clear indecision in her steering, causing her fright to bleed over to the horse. That only led to Zelda frantically glancing over her shoulder to see a barrel pointing right at her.

She opened her mouth to scream but it stuck in her throat as her body went airborne.

The ground met her quickly and she rolled several times before coming to a stop. Coming to her knees was an athletic feat, the Earth refused to stay still and by the time she achieved it a short nudge of a boot toppled her back to the dirt.

“Well, ain’t that a cryin’ shame,” a monotone voice talked down to her. She knew who it was from the saloon the night before. Link had directed her away rather quickly under the pretense that they hadn’t been seen, but evidently he was wrong. The eye-patched man didn’t look remotely as forlorn as his words were. “Was sorta hopin’ you’d give us a better chase there, missy.”

That woman with him was suddenly flanking her with a constantly swiveling head as if she has a crick in her neck.

“Come on, Lead. Let’s just-let’s just get it over with real quick like.”

Then Zelda realized she was loading her sawed-off shotgun when it clicked loudly into place.

“He wants her kickin’. That’s the whole reason I came with you because I knew you’d conveniently forget.”

“You shoulda sent Scout, then!” the woman glowered, raising and dropping her hands with an irate speed.

Lead shot her a glare. “Scout woulda fucked it up someway somehow,” he motioned towards Zelda with an empty hand, already walking away to gather the horses. “’sides he should be at the station right now. Load ‘er up and let’s get out of here before we lose daylight.”

Zelda tried kicking the bandit’s hands off her, but her grip on her ankle was like steel.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

“Oh my, little miss princess has got a mouth on her,” she drawled with a lazy grin until it steeply dropped, “She better shut that shit real quick before I lose my patience.”

Zelda shouted obscenities at the woman when her foot alone flipped her over and pressed sharply down on her spine as she untangled some rope. The binds dug brutally into the thin skin of Zelda’s wrists no matter how she thrashed.

Regret bit heavily, especially when the reality of her fall was found in dull aches that were only worsening as the adrenaline ebbed away. Neither of the bounty hunteres were answering her screaming questions until eventually a bandana was forcefully stuffed into her mouth.

She fucked up. Royally.

The woman cackled with something wedged between her teeth.

“Your daddy’s bout to be a sorry sonovabitch.”

The man named Lead busied himself with a lighter, attempts digging himself further into frustration before the clean cut of gunfire sent his hat to his feet. It fluttered to the ground, just at Zelda’s eyelevel.

“Shit,” he hissed, ducking to the dilapidated fence that had stopped Zelda’s horse minutes earlier. “Shit, shit, shit – Turette get down!”

Turette paused mid-tie to pop her head above the horse’s flank. Another shot rang out, promptly spooking it. Once the animal had dashed off, Turette man-handled Zelda into a stand only to push her behind the barrier Lead was at. Green eyes widened as the world turned side-ways once more with the slight glimpse of a galloping horse closing in on them.

Her captors were already positioned with their backs to the rotting wood. The wild look in Turette’s eyes was a stark contrast to Lead’s darkened expression – she seemed almost excited while he bit down on his back molars and twisted around to steady his rifle’s sight. The man barely reeled back from the recoil, flinching quickly when the reaction was splintering wood just above Zelda’s head.

Suddenly, Lead shouted, “Did you tip him off?!”

Turette balked, “Why’re you asking me that? Ask her!”

Both pairs of eyes met Zelda with a ferocity. There was nothing she could say because it was impossible that whoever was on the other end of the gunfight was an ally of hers. Zelda had very few and the ones she trusted had no knowledge of her whereabouts. Perhaps if she hadn’t gone out of her way to abandon the man her father hired to protect her, she wouldn’t be in this position. But he was miles from here and with Zelda’s careful escape there was nothing to go off in finding her.

Zelda aggressively shrugged her shoulders and tried her best to mirror their anger. She didn’t owe them a damn thing.

The distant sounds of a horse weren’t so far off now. Its galloping had slowed to an abrupt stop. Lead and Turette shared a glance as the rider dismounted, noisily making a show of patting his panting horse.

“I knew you two were a cowardly lot, but couldn’t we have done this a little closer to town?”

The lazy arrogance made Zelda jolt. Turette locked eyes with her quickly and the click of a decision was made. If not for the gag, she would have gasped at how roughly the woman brought her to a stand. The cold double barrel of a shotgun pressed painfully underneath Zelda’s chin, forcing her head to tilt back.

Another gun was trained on them only a few feet away, except now Link let his aim droop. A red bandana was tied just above his nose to keep the dust at bay. The eyes just under the brim of his hat narrowed.

“I wouldn’t be so liberal with that gun there if I were you, sharp-shooter,” Turette spat, increasing her grip on Zelda for emphasis. “Unless the missus doesn’t need ‘er neck.”

Slowly, he let the revolver fall to his side and a quick yank to the bandana revealed an easy smile.

“Let’s not be too hasty, now,” he spoke gently. “We’re sensible folk. Seems to me that you’ve got something I want and I’ve got something you want.”

With his rifle at his side, Lead positioned himself beside them.

“Mister Lincoln, you know the only thing I want is your body in a bag.”

Link nodded as if that were gospel truth.

“Yeah, well, ya have to understand why I can’t make follow through with that. I was thinkin’ along the lines of what you don’t want,” he gestured at Zelda, “That’s Bosphoramus’s girl. His only little girl. I highly doubt that your attempts at getting to me is worth that old man’s anger.”

Turette cackled and in a sing song voice cut in, “Oh, Link! You really don’t think we know that? It don’t matter who her daddy is, what matters is the pretty penny on her head.”

A piercing glare from Lead cut her laughter short. Link traded his sights on them, the smile wiped completely.

“Who’s got a contract out for her?”

Neither of them resigned to answer, at least not immediately.

He repeated himself more pointedly, “Lead, who called in a contract for Zelda Bosphoramus?”

“It’s a private contract and I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, outlaw.”

Lead gripped Zelda’s forearm and ripped her away from Turette.

“Make a move and she gets it,” he demanded, already pushing Zelda towards the remaining horse. She yelped against the gag, almost tripping on air. Lead motioned to Turette. “Disarm him and take his horse. The train leaves in less than an hour.”

Zelda resisted but he was stronger than Turette, basically lifting her from the ground. She let out a muffled scream and desperately writhed against his grip on her. Over his shoulder, she watched as Turette reached for his pistol only for Link to twist the weapon around and thwack it across her crown.

She let out a strangled noise, hands scrambling to console the pain bursting from her bleeding head. Link pushed her aside.

Lead hadn’t turned around by the time Link pressed the gun to his temple. The movements were so swift that she hadn’t seen his forearm wrap around the bounty hunter’s neck to drag him down to Link’s height.

“Come on, you know what to do,” Link murmured.

Anger boiled red in Lead’s face, but he did as was told and dropped his arms. Zelda’s feet met the ground, off kilter and stumbling. Turette was still crying out behind them with her shotgun buried in the dirt.

“Now,” Link sneered, spinning Lead around to talk to both bounty hunters. “I’m gonna give y’all the opportunity to get the fuck out of here on two conditions: take that ‘private contact’ off the board and tell whoever put it up that he answers to me.”

The rifle skidded across the dirt. Turette was manically nodding and stumbled to Lead’s horse with bloody hands. The other simply glowered when Link pushed him away, persuaded only by the barrel trained on him.

“You’re scum.”

“Goes both ways, Guardian.”

They left without much fanfare. Link kept his eyes on them until the distance was to his satisfaction. Zelda had taken a seat staring at the ground, hands to bound tightly when he turned to her. She’d seen him angry before, but nothing was schooled in his expression now. He breathed in loudly and took his hat from his head to rake a hand through his hair.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Every word was emphasized as if it were a question that had been on his mind for hours.

Zelda winced as he cut the rope and unthreaded it from her wrists.

“You’re damn lucky I busted that door down,” he exasperated with a shaking head. “You better thank your lucky stars and Hylia Herself that I even thought to check in on you! I knew it was strange that you were so tired all week. I knew something was up, but I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. You might hate me plenty but those people don’t give a damn about your well-being. Why, I’m surprised you aren’t in a ditch by now.”

He rounded her and crouched to remove to gag, but Zelda had beaten him. She couldn’t pinpoint when her eyes betrayed her. Her vision went watery, but it was too late to hide it. Link had stilled, his mouth open to berate her further yet nothing came out.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted, her voice fragmented. Her brow knitted, both from his provocation and the shock of almost dying. A gun had been to her neck. Zelda had seen the insanity in that woman’s eyes, the excitement to see violence from a loaded gun. She had felt that.

She repeated the apology and curled up into herself. Link was obviously hesitant to do anything. Neither of them could recall a moment where she apologized to him for anything. There was no amount of guilt that could have made her regret her attempts to drive him away. Zelda’s cruelty had simply been a means to an end until now.

Despite her ugly sniffling, he didn’t walk away. Link sat beside her, occasionally placing his hand on her back or brushing strands of escaped hair from her face. Even after she collected what was left of herself, he said very little and deigned only to guide her onto Epona’s saddle. The rest of the ride consisted of collecting her spooked mount and traveling back to the inn.

Much of their silence consisted of an amalgamation of thoughts about how Zelda Bosphoramus might actually need that blue-eyed hick.

#this is an excuse to write link with an accent #judge me idc #there's a lot of swearing in this i'm sorry #wild west au #loz #loz au #zelink #? #inevitable prolly #zelda #link #yeehaw #ashleyswrittenwords

[cozyenigma]

For You

Not sure how I feel about this one, it took me a While to finish

Pairing- Illinois/ Reader

Word Count- 2,426

Request?- Yes!

Summary- Illinois was lackadaisical with his own safety at the best of times. You knew this. You didn’t know how much worse he got when he had a plan in mind...

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite​

Dangerous to Illinois was more like a suggestion. He'd read the warnings, sure, but then go on his merry way all the same. Adventuring came as easily as breathing. You were torn between being impressed and concerned at the disregard for his own safety.

"Some century old sticks and stones aren't enough to keep me down, darlin'" he'd said once. "Sweet of you to worry though."

Illinois was impossible.

Sometimes he'd even ham it up a bit, just to be a bastard. He'd duck at the last possible second to avoid a spear sailing over his head. He'd pinwheel his arms and act like he was about to fall off a shaky bridge. One memorable time he'd even let go while climbing a craggy rock wall. You remembered crying out. A broken leg would've been a good outcome if he fell from that height. Then Illinois shot you that same smirk and kept on climbing like it was nothing.

You'd have throttled him ages ago if you hadn't already gone and caught feelings.

"C'mon, it's fine."

No, at this rate you were still gonna throttle him. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"No, this is way too dangerous, even for you. We're lucky to have made it out the first time. I don't know why you're so insistent on this."

Illinois put his hands on his hips. "When did a little bit of danger ever stop you, hmm? It'll be easy. I'll just walk in, walk out. Done and done. I get the treasure and you get to watch the professional at work."

The cavalier tone only made you grit your teeth. "We almost died Illinois! Not in the usual whoo that was exhilarating way either! You can't avoid a cave-in like you can a trap!"

The cavern you two had been exploring wasn't too far off the beaten path. Rumors had been floating around that it was home to a forgotten pirate treasure hoard. Illinois had gotten excited almost immediately. He'd been regaling you with old tales of pirates who'd been in the area when you heard it. A deep, ominous rumbling. It had been all around you; you had felt the vibrations through your feet.

The next instant Illinois was shoving you. Your back was already sore from hitting the ground, Illinois using his body to try and shield yours. Illinois' luck seemed to win out though. The floor had collapsed in a deafening roar, the entire passageway caving in just barely ahead of you. You didn't relax until you were out again.

"But I did," Illinois argued now. "Look, I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing darlin'."

"That's not what I'm worried about." You glanced back towards the cave entrance. The sun barely touched the dark inside. "All it takes is one time."

For a moment, Illinois looked you over, searching your expression. Then he heaved a sigh.

"Okay, alright, fine. We'll... think of something else."

Despite his obvious disappointment you practically slumped over in relief. Traps you could deal with. The thought of an entire cave system collapsing on top of you?

"C'mon," Illinois grabbed his pack, tossing you your own.

Your relief was short lived though. The ride back into town was awkward and quiet. Radio was spotty at best out here so you drove in silence. You kept stealing glances at Illinois. The whole day he was talking up this adventure, wondering aloud what you would find down there. You couldn't remember the time he drove without saying anything at all.

"Sorry," you broke the silence. Illinois glanced over, confused. "About the cave, I mean."

Illinois huffed, shaking his head as he turned to follow the dirt road. "Not your fault."

"Well, I know you were excited about it."

Another glance. "Eh," he shrugged a shoulder. "There's always another adventure. You can't expect everything to work out all the time."

You hummed, watching his fingers tap against the steering wheel. The area had more to offer than just treasure. Maybe you could find something the two of you could do instead with the time you still had left. By the time you got back to the hotel though, you hadn't thought of much. Most of what you passed in the city amounted to tourist traps.

"Why don't you rest up, I'm gonna go grab some things," Illinois said, not even stepping into the room.

"Right now?" You turned, bag still in hand. "I can come along if you want-"

"Just gonna get some supplies," his fingers were drumming against the door frame. "Clear my head a bit."

Alone, he meant. You gave him a tired smile, trying not to think into it too much.

"Don't get into trouble."

The trademark smirk almost compared to his usual ones. "Trouble's part of the package deal, darlin'. I'll be back before you know it."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the hotel room. You sighed. Two or three days left in this city. Not enough time to plan much else or try to find a safer route to the pirate trove. Illinois wasn't much of a tourist but you could find something.

You went through the motions. Ditched your bag and jacket, cleaned up a bit, tended to your scrapes and cuts. By the time you could actually rest over an hour had passed. It wasn't that unusual for Illinois but something in your gut churned.

The sun had started to set already. When you peaked out the window you could see the parking lot cast in oranges and pinks. The truck was gone.

Okay. You figured he probably took a drive. Maybe. The anxious pit in your stomach only deepened as you took out your phone. Illinois' number was at the top. It rang once, twice, three times. You hung up in the middle of his cheesy voicemail message.

You cursed, calling again. He better not have. He wouldn't have, right? That damn cave was a death trap!

Even though you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, time continued to crawl by. One hour turned to two, bordering on three. Your bag was already packed and you were on the phone again. Hopefully you could manage to get another car. It'd take you way too long to try and hoof it. If only he'd pick up the phone! You were sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes as you waited for the call to go through when the door opened.

Illinois looked like hell.

His hat was gone, hair covered in dust and grime. A cut on his forehead had dribbled a red trail down his face. What your eyes landed on though was his arm. Half the sleeve was gone, wrapped up in a makeshift bandage. He held it close to himself as he opened the door with the other.

"Oh my god," you muttered, phone forgotten as you surged forward.

Illinois barely had time to get a word out before you were pulling him inside. Just grabbing him left a thin layer of dust on your hands. He let you lead him to the bed, sitting down.

"What the hell happened?" You hesitated, stopping just short of touching his arm. "Illinois-"

Despite doing his best to hide it, you could still see the obvious pain he was in. The grin on his face was strained. "Told you that trouble came along with me, didn't I?"

"You went looking for it, you idiot, did you go back to the cave? Did you drive back here like this?" Gently you reached for his hand only for Illinois to stop you with the other.

"Yes and yes," he answered, casual still despite the situation. "Cave-ins run in pairs, apparently."

"You- you-!" You pulled back, taking a breath. When that didn't work you started to pace, Illinois tracking your movements. "You could've been killed! Illinois I thought you agreed not to go back in there? I didn't even know where you were, what if you had gotten trapped in there?"

"I didn't."

"That's not the point!" You stopped in front of him, breathing hard. "You're lucky you just broke your arm. Do you think you're invincible, is that it?"

Illinois sighed, trying to get more comfortable and wincing. "No. Look, I know you're upset-"

"Upset doesn't even begin to cover it."

"I know you're upset," Illinois repeated, good hand up, placating, "but I don't get into situations I don't think I can handle. I made it back. Can't get rid of me that easily."

The teasing did not help. You didn't bother responding. Illinois watched as you shoved your phone into your pocket and grabbed your bag. He blinked up at you as you walked back over to him, hand outstretched.

"Give me the keys," your voice was flat, leaving no room for argument.

"Worried I'm gonna run off again?"

"No, you ass, I'm going to drive you to a hospital because your arm is broken. Keys. Now."

Instead of that, Illinois reached up and grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. "Hey, c'mon. This is what I do, sweetheart. I get hurt all the time. It's not a big deal."

You yanked your hand out of his. "I don't know how to get this through your thick skull, Illinois, but I care if you get hurt. This is a big deal to me! Why did you do this?"

For a tense moment, Illinois didn't answer. He wasn't even looking at you, eyes set squarely on the floor. Maybe it was the injuries or just the absence of his hat but he looked so far removed from the adventurer you knew then.

"Would you believe me if I said it was for you?"

Oh, that was it.

Your scoff got his attention. "You are such a bastard about these things. You want to get a reaction out of me? Okay, fine! I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?! You scared the hell out of me because I thought you weren't coming back!"

Ignoring the stinging in your eyes, ignoring how your hands were so tightly clenched your knuckles burned, you glared poison down at Illinois. The adventurer had frozen. Opened his mouth only to close it again.

"You love me?"

The breathless words didn't do much to quell your anger. You rubbed at your eyes, looking away.

"Yeah, guess I fell for you like everyone else does, huh?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch movement. Illinois had reached behind him and was fumbling around with his bag. From the grimace on his face you guessed it wasn't a comfortable position.

"Illinois-"

"Hang on," he interrupted, finally pulling something out. It caught the light as Illinois held it out to you. In his hand was a thin square of gold and it took you a moment to even recognize that it was a compass. A very old one at that.

"You were right," Illinois said, "not really worth it. Most of the time the treasure pirates took were trade goods. Cloth, cotton, sugar, that kind of thing. Nothing that'd survive the whole buried treasure treatment. Found lots but most of it was just rotten. I'm guessing whoever put it all there planned to come back at some point and never made it."

Carefully, you took the compass out of his hand. It fit neatly in your palm. The compass was mounted into a small gold square, the glass cloudy from time. What you could see through it was dark and yellowed. The needle didn't move. Around the compass were hints of a design. What was surely once intricate work was practically worn completely off by now. When you looked up again, Illinois was studying your face.

"That was the only thing that survived." He leaned back on the mattress, looking as exhausted as he probably felt for the first time. "Guess even your favorite adventurer gets a dud every now and then, huh?"

You ran your fingers across the back of the compass. Swallowed and said, "So when you said it was for me…?"

"I was going to save it for your birthday. Or a better occasion than this anyways. Wanted to make it special." Illinois waved a careless hand. "Of course I thought it would be a bit more impressive than what I found. You deserve more than a tarnished old compass."

The whole reason he went back in there was to get you something. You weren't sure how to feel about that. The anger was still there, of course, but now you just shook your head and pocketed the compass.

"I'm keeping it."

"What?" Illinois lets you help him to his feet, luckily standing steady.

"You're going to get that arm set and I'm keeping the compass," you reached into his back pocket, snagging the keys despite his protests. "Then I'm going to yell at you some more because you're an idiot."

Illinois let out a short, surprised laugh. "You can't bully me, I'm injured!"

"That's exactly why I'm going to bully you."

Carefully, mindful not to jostle his arm, you wrap him up in a side hug. Illinois stiffened. Good arm pinned, he had no other option than to stare down at you. He said your name uncertainly. A question. You took a breath.

"We're going to talk about this later but," you held him a little tighter, "next time you don't have to make it special."

"Next time?"

You nodded. "It'll be perfect no matter what you do. Well, maybe without the broken bones."

When you pulled away, the usual smirk you'd come to expect wasn't there. Instead Illinois was giving you a soft smile. A little tight at the edges with pain but there all the same.

"Well, guess I could take that under advisement."

"Advisement," you rolled your eyes, taking him by the hand and leading him to the door. "Sure."

The new few hours were spent in the hospital. Illinois ended up with a cast, a few stitches, and a new story to tell. He didn't seem that put out by the experience, especially since he caught sight of you messing with the compass in the waiting room. You got payback by drawing on his cast.

In the end that "special moment" wasn't all that special. Illinois didn't even wait for the cast to come off, though he did complain about it plenty. Turned out kissing him in the middle of a rant was very effective.

#Illinois x Reader #Illinois the adventurer #Illinois ahwm #writersofmark #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #My writing

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 1/?)

Because nothing says ‘independence day’ like writing the participants in a French rebellion as members of the British upper class...

The Bridgerton AU that no one asked for. Will be at least 4 chapters, probably, to be published on a schedule only God herself can predict. Developing E/R, hijinks and shenanigans. All of the shenanigans.

One might recall when, not too long ago, the author of this paper hung up her pen and retired from reporting on the drama that each new season of fresh-faced debutantes and their endlessly anxious mothers brings. But alas, dear Reader, the excitement of this season has proven too much for this Author to suffer without company – which is why the pen has been passed to a new scribe.

But the fortuitous timing of the season has not been met with equally thrilling events for sharing here, as indeed, the most recent ball, hosted annually at the start of the season by the ever-insufferable Thénardiers, was positively under-attended. Not by the eager mothers that are the backbone of any season or their equally eager daughters, but by the young, eligible men who usually at least deign to make an appearance, dance a few dances, and exchange niceties as is expected for men of their station.

Instead, the only poor sap who wandered into the Thénardiers’ den of matchmaking was the Baron of Pontmercy, who was positively beset by hopeful ingénues, the most brazen of which was undoubtedly the Thénardiers’ eldest daughter, Éponine. While this Author notes that Miss Thénardier has had a patchy history with suitors and thus cannot be fully blamed for attempting to sink her claws into one as eligible as the baron, this Author must also sympathize with Baron Pontmercy, who seemed only to find himself with one moment to himself. 

Then again, rumor has it that his single moment was interrupted by an unknown young lady with an equally unknown chaperone who whisked her away posthaste. Her identity is one mystery both this Author and Baron Pontmercy are equally eager to discover, but the more pressing question is where the others of Baron Pontmercy’s gender were when they should have been equally beset by potential brides.

Never fear: Whatever answers I find, dear Reader, I shall certainly share with other enquiring minds. For a nominal fee, of course. While there are rumors of young men meeting in the backroom of a certain gentlemen’s club to discuss the overthrow of society, capitalism, and the King himself, this Author, being of the gentler sex, finds herself unable to obtain an invite, and as such, alas, cannot bring herself to comply with their lofty goals. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 20 MARCH 1831

The air in the backroom at the Musain Gentlemen’s Club was hazy with smoke and thick with plentiful conversation as its guests, all young men dressed in their dinner best, traded stories and jokes in between sips of their drinks.

At least one among them was not drinking, though – Enjolras, who sat in an overlarge armchair towards the back of the room, his back to one of the large windows that spanned almost the entire height of the wall. He alone was also not joining his friends in their merriment, his brow instead creased as he read over something.

When he had finished, he glanced up. “Combeferre,” he called, barely raising his voice despite the cacophony of the room. 

Not that he needed to: the moment he spoke, the room fell quiet as all eyes glanced at him as if waiting for him to continue. In return, he just arched an eyebrow at them. “Well, don’t let me put an end to your fun.”

A dark haired man sitting at a table in the far corner playing cards with two others raised his glass in a mocking toast. “Worry not,” he called in return. “You won’t.”

Laughter broke out yet again at that, and most of their number returned to their previous conversations as Combeferre pulled up a chair next to Enjolras’s. Enjolras pursed his lips, looking unamused. “Why is Grantaire even here?” he asked Combeferre, who, quite to the contrary, looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I imagine because you have not yet told him that you wish for him to leave and never return,” Combeferre said evenly before giving Enjolras a rather assessing look. “Assuming, of course, that is what you wish.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “That’s not the point—”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “No, the point is that you had a comment, I assume, about the pamphlet I gave you to review.”

Enjolras still looked disgruntled, but seemed more than willing to allow the change in subject. “The pamphlet is fine, but I imagine you already knew that.” He handed the pamphlet draft back to Combeferre before asking, “What do you imagine the distribution schedule to look like? With Parliament sitting this week—”

He was interrupted by a thin, rather-nervous looking man appearing at his elbow, the doorman to the establishment who was paid a decent sum by each man inside the room to not interrupt them and to report nothing of their comings and going to any who might enquire. When Enjolras had made that arrangement, he had been thinking of the police; when his friends had followed his lead, most were thinking of their mothers.

“M’Lord Enjolras, I do beg your pardon—” he started, sounding almost as nervous as he looked.

Enjolras’s brow furrowed again. “It’s fine, what is it?” he asked, a touch impatiently.

The doorman bobbed his head and cleared his throat. “There is a, ah, a woman seeking entry.”

Bahorel, seated nearby, let out a wolf whistle. “The young ladies of the season are getting restless!” he crowed, to much laughter. 

“Restless, and bold, if they are coming into the city to seek their groom, and without a chaperone to boot,” Bossuet said with a grin.

“Leave to Enjolras to be the one to cause all tradition to break,” Jehan sniggered.

Enjolras could feel his ears burning red but he studiously ignored the jeers and catcalls from his friends, instead frowning at the doorman. “May I ask why are you telling me this?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. “Last I checked, it was your policy to restrict admittance to men, despite my protestations to the contrary.”

“Of course, M’Lord, it’s just…” The doorman quailed slightly at the look Enjolras gave him. “The woman in question claims to be your mother.”

Immediately, all jokes ceased as identical, horror-stricken looks crossed the faces of each of his friends. Enjolras blanched, all the blood draining from his face. “Did you confirm that I was inside?” he asked, a little desperately.

The doorman shook his head, his eyes widening. “No, of course not, m’lord’s discretion being of utmost importance to this establishment.” He hesitated. “That said, she did not appear to believe our denial, and is threatening to come inside and verify for yourself that you are not here.”

Enjolras groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course she is,” he sighed. He glanced at Combeferre as if considering asking for his assistance, but seemed to think better of it, instead standing and drawing himself up to his full height. “Right,” he said. “Well, I think you’ve got everything handled here, so I suppose I’ll just go, er, handle this situation.”

Combeferre again looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Of course,” he said. “And, if you do not return, I shall call upon you later this week, shall I?”

“Yes, but the question will be more whether you should call upon me at my house or at the hospital,” Enjolras muttered, and it was to Combeferre’s credit that he still somehow managed not to laugh.

The same could not be said for Grantaire, who started humming what Enjolras recognized vaguely as a funeral dirge as soon as he headed towards the door, and Enjolras gave him the nastiest glare he could muster. Of course, Grantaire was unaffected – if anything, it only caused his grin to widen, and he raised his cup in yet another mocking toast as Enjolras swept out of the room to go deal with his mother.

It was anyone’s guess whether his mother or Grantaire irritated him more.

He started to ask the doorman where his mother was, but found that he did not need to ask – her voice was echoing all the way from the entrance hall. “I am the Dowager Marchioness of Enjolras,” she was practically shrieking, and Enjolras winced, mentally calculating how much money it would take to smooth this particular incident over. Certainly less than when Courfeyrac almost burned the place down, but almost certainly more than when Bahorel and Grantaire had gotten into a fistfight and broken two statues and a chandelier.

He really needed better friends.

And a different mother.

“I demand to speak with my son!” his mother continued, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. “And do not give me this nonsense that he is not here, I know quite well where my son is!”

“M’lady, I apologize, but as I have said, we cannot confirm that your son—”

“I shall confirm it for myself,” Enjolras interrupted, saving the poor proprietor, who had never looked more relieved to see him. “Mother, kindly stop screeching at these gentlemen for doing their jobs.” His mother spluttered incoherently  but Enjolras knew better than to allow her the chance to regroup.

Instead, he grabbed her by the elbow and steered her to the door, glancing over his shoulder to nod his thanks at the proprietor. As soon as they were outside the building, Enjolras dropped any pretense at propriety. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, not releasing his mother from his grip. “Coming all the way into the city to find me? Pray tell what could possibly have been so important to cause such a scene!”

His mother yanked her arm from his grasp and glared up at him. “A scene?” she repeated, her voice deathly quiet. “My dear son, if you consider that a scene, you are ill-prepared for what is soon to follow.”

Enjolras sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “There is no need for theatrics—”

Without warning, his mother slapped him across the face. “Theatrics?” she hissed. “When I have spent every waking moment these past several years trying to ensure your future and the future of our house!”

She made as if to hit him again but Enjolras caught her wrist, staying her hand. “Madam, you may be the Dowager Marchioness but I am the Marquess of Enjolras, and I will not permit you to assault me in the streets, my mother or not.” He released her arm before adding sardonically, “Besides, think of the gossip.”

Again his mother gave him no warning to gird himself, but this time, she burst into tears, sobbing into his shirt. “Oh, for the love of—” Enjolras took her again by the elbow, gentler this time, and led her to where her carriage waited. “Get a hold of yourself,” he snapped. “You have already made enough of a scene this evening.”

“Perhaps a scene is what it will take!” she half-shouted in return. “For you to finally listen to me, to hear what I have been telling you!” Enjolras rolled his eyes, holding out his hand to help her into her carriage, but she stubbornly refused to move. “Since you clearly don’t listen to me when I make arrangements solely for your benefit.”

“I assure you, you have never once done anything solely for my benefit,” Enjolras said tiredly. “But if it will stop your screaming then please, tell me the latest way in which I have ruined your plans for my future.”

“The Thénardier ball!” his mother wailed, crying again. “All those eligible young ladies, and you could not even deign to show your face! How am I to get you married at this rate?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes so hard he half-feared he would pull a muscle. “Hang the bloody Thénardier ball,” he ground out, hesitating for only a moment before picking his mother up and placing her inside the carriage, swinging up after her before she could protest. 

“What are you doing?” she cried as the carriage moved off at double speed, and Enjolras thanked whatever higher power there was that his mother’s driver also clearly did not wish to linger.

Enjolras sighed. “You wanted me attention,” he said tiredly. “So you have it, albeit not in public where you clearly wanted it.”

For one long moment, his mother just glared at him, tears shining on her cheeks. Then she sighed and sat upright, her pose turning almost prim as she drew a linen handkerchief from her sleeve and delicately dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “Very well,” she said calmly, all traces of earlier hysteria gone in an instant, and Enjolras realized immediately that he had been duped, that he had played directly into her hands.

She had anticipated that making a scene would be the easiest way to get him to leave with her.

And now she had him as a captive audience for however long it took for her driver to reach her house. And while he was not a betting man, he would wager all his money and lands that she had directed her driver to take the long way.

His mother was smiling at him, a cold, unpleasant smile, and Enjolras groaned, tipping his head back against the pillowed cushions. “Please don’t tell me that you really pulled all of that because you wished to discuss the Thénardier ball.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she said before tapping his knee. “And sit upright, you will cause your clothes to wrinkle.” Enjolras groaned and reluctantly sat upright, glaring balefully at her as he waited for her to continue. “No, I merely wished to discuss something and this seemed the easiest way.”

“Then by all means, please tell me: what do you want to discuss?”

“Why, what else?” she asked, a small smirk lifting the corners of her mouth. “Your marriage.”

----------

There were few things that Enjolras loathed more than being hoodwinked by his own mother into a conversation he’d been spending the past several years avoiding, but as he stood staring up at the rather imposing façade of a house he had been to only perhaps a handful of times, he thought this just might rank.

Still, his options were decidedly limited, and he hesitated only a moment more before climbing the stairs to the front door, knocking briskly. In telling of a house less used to visits during the season, it took a moment for the butler to answer the door, and Enjolras shifted uncomfortably on the stoop as he waited. 

“May I help you?” the butler asked as he opened the door. 

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “I’m here to see Grantaire.”

The butler eyed him warily. “And who should I tell Mr. Grantaire is here to see him?”

It took everything in Enjolras not to roll his eyes. “Tell him that the Marquess of Enjolras requests his presence,” he said dryly, hating the way the butler’s eyes widened when he realized just who was standing in the doorway.

“Of– of course, m’lord,” the butler said, immediately opening the door wider to usher Enjolras indoors. “Beg your pardon, m’lord. I’ll just, ah, go fetch Mr, Grantaire.”

He retreated up the stairs and Enjolras finally did roll his eyes, sighing heavily as he wandered a little further indoors. He had spent half his life, it seemed, going from one grand house to another, so very little surprised him, but he was intrigued by what he might find in Grantaire’s house. While his own park-adjoining manor had been in his family for generations, and was decorated accordingly, Grantaire came from new money, and this house had belonged to a different family entirely not even a decade before. 

He paused to examine a small portrait of two young children, a boy and a girl, when he heard footsteps clattering on the stairs and he turned to look up as Grantaire joined him, a jacket rather hastily thrown on and buttoned incorrectly.

“My Lord.”

Grantaire’s voice was pitched just slightly higher than usual, in a way that indicated genuine surprise at finding Enjolras standing in his foyer, but somehow still retained the telltale lilt that Enjolras had long since realized meant Grantaire was making fun of him. 

He scowled automatically. “Enjolras,” he corrected with an exasperated half-sigh.

Grantaire inclined his head, a smirk twisting his lips. “My lord Enjolras,” he said, and Enjolras’s scowl deepened.

“Just Enjolras,” he said flatly, not waiting for Grantaire to escort him into the house, instead crossing the foyer to peer into the front sitting room. 

“By all means, make yourself at home,” Grantaire said, following him.

Enjolras twisted his head to give Grantaire a smirk of his own. “As you seem so keen to remind me, I outrank you,” he said. “And believe me when I say this is one time I will feel no guilt using the trappings of the nobility to my advantage.”

Grantaire just snorted, brushing past him into the sitting room, ignoring the tea that had been set on the table and instead making his way over to the drink cart against the far wall. “Forgive me, but I can think of many instances where you undoubtedly used your title and your family to your advantage without any guilt,” he said dryly, pouring himself half a glass full of amber liquid before pausing, considering it, and adding another finger. “But let’s save that particular fight for a different time.” He turned back to Enjolras and raised his glass in a mock toast. “For now, before I forget my manners any further, let me say welcome to my home, and please, allow me to pour you a cup of tea.”

“I am capable of pouring my own tea, thanks,” Enjolras said, a little stiffly, and he sat down on one armchair before leaning forward to rather stubbornly do just that.

Grantaire did not join him, as if he thought keeping physical distance between them might keep things civil. “Only you would think that hospitality was an insult.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “The way you said it, it was.”

“You underestimate my capacity for being genuinely polite,” Grantaire said dryly, taking a large sip of his whiskey.

“Do I?”

“Tell me, my Lord—” Enjolras gritted his teeth but chose not to interrupt him. “—if not to insult me to my face in my own home, what brings you here, and at tea time no less?”

His voice was calm, pleasant even, but Enjolras felt himself flush in realization that he had done exactly that. And no matter how frequently he might wish to throttle Grantaire with his own hands, that was offensive even for him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down at his tea as he stirred it. “I have been rude.

Grantaire looked briefly surprised, as if he had not expected an apology. But then his smirk was back in full force. “All is forgiven...my lord.” Enjolras really might shatter his teacup at this rate. “But you still didn’t answer my question as to why you are here.”

Enjolras set his teacup down and straightened, looking Grantaire in the eye. “I came to ask for your help.”

Grantaire laughed. “So you come to my home, uninvited, you insult me to my face, and you still have the audacity to ask for my help?” He drained half of his whiskey in one long gulp. “You are lucky you have been granted the face of a Greek god, Apollo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Enjolras sighed, though he knew it was a losing battle. Grantaire had called him that on the first day they met, when Grantaire was finishing college and Enjolras just beginning, and he had continued to call him that for all the years since. “Look, I am sorry, and not just because I need your help. I am ill suited to polite society and the longer the season drags on, the more foul my temper becomes.”

Grantaire made a small noise of agreement. “You and I both,” he murmured, draining his glass and pouring himself another before finally joining Enjolras, settling into the armchair across from him. “Very well. You have my attention.”

Enjolras leaned forward, sudden urgency in every line of his body. “Word has it that you were instrumental in helping Lord Joly and Mr. Lesgle avoid scandal last season when both were in love with Lady Musichetta.”

“Well, we avoided a big scandal at least,” Grantaire said, eyeing Enjolras carefully. “There must always be a little bit of a scandal or none would believe it.”

Enjolras waved a dismissive hand. “Either way, all three are happy, and living at Lord Joly’s estate, and not a word about them has been wasted in Lady Whistledown’s papers this season.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “I am astonished to learn you have read any of the newly-revived Lady Whistledown’s papers, let alone with enough frequency to speak with such authority on the subject.:

Enjolras flushed a mottled red and looked away. “It’s an easy conversation topic,” he muttered, “when I am forced to speak to those with whom I have nothing in common.”

“Such as the twittering nitwits your mother foists upon you at every turn?” Grantaire asked lightly.

Enjolras met his eyes evenly. “Exactly. And exactly why I am here.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “You’re here to better learn how to talk with women?” he asked, almost certainly purposefully obtuse. “I admit, I am an expert on the subject, but—”

“Of course not,” Enjolras snapped. “Not to mention if I did need help in that arena, you would be the last person I would turn to.”

Grantaire laughed. “Your loss, he said cheerfully. After all, to have bedded as many women as I with a face like mine requires quite the expert hand at wooing.” Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire smirked before taking another sip of whiskey. “Very well. If you are not here for my help in speaking to young ladies to finally secure a marriage match, then why are you here?”

“Because I do need to marry someone,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “But I need it not to be real.” Again he met Grantaire’s eyes. “And you are the only person I can think of who can help me pull that off.”

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras's mother #les amis #les miserables #fanfiction #bridgerton au #lady whistledown #developing relationship #hijinks and shenanigans #and eventually #fake marriage #canon era sorta

[tapping-away]

My take on a potential Santa Clarita Diet season 4, in the form of episode synopses because I’m terrible at committing to writing long things, but I also really wanted to explore how a fourth and final season could have gone. Let me know what you think of it.

Santa Clarita Diet S4

1. Joel is now a zombie; things are pretty good, he’s a bit looser, a bit more carefree, slight undertones of being a bit more dangerous than anticipated. Sheila and Abby decide to keep a close eye on him (sorry I didn’t go into a lot of detail here, wasn’t sure how to start it all off)

2. Sheila and Abby think maybe things will be fine; it takes some getting used to, but they end up having a lot of fun and think that’s just how it’ll go; Joel gets his motorcycle back out and starts using it; he and Rick talk motorcycles, and Joel is revealed as bisexual as he flirts with Rick. He goes for a ride and comes back at night, when no ones awake, covered in blood under his helmet and jacket; there’s a report on the news the next day of a brutal crime scene and a missing person, Joel turns the tv off before anyone else sees it

3. Abby begins questioning her relationship with Eric and struggles to figure out how she feels for him; learning her father is bi has made her start to consider other options she hadn’t had time to consider before then; Sheila learns about the murder that happened in the next city and is starting to worry; she goes to their storage unit to get more food and is shocked to find there’s another body in there; Joel reassures her that it was a bad person and that it wasn’t planned, but it worked out; Sheila can’t argue when she knows she’s done the same; She keeps it from Abby

4. Abby is flirted with by Winter who then asks her out and is uncertain how to respond. She tells Winter she’ll let her know; Eric notices acting odd when he comes by and Abby tries to steer the conversation away, to Eric’s confusion; Sheila tries to talk to Joel about where he was two nights ago and he says he’d just been out riding until he ran into a supposed drug dealer who he killed; Sheila asks Anne and Rick about the bloody crime scene that happened and what they know about the missing person, she learns it was someone from Joel’s high school and gets further suspicious of her husband; Joel says he had nothing to do with it and gets angry that Sheila suspects him, and Abby overhears while on her way to talk to her parents about things; Joel storms out when Abby starts questioning him as well. That night Joel pulls up outside an apartment building, he takes off his helmet and grins

5. Joel doesn’t come home the next day and Sheila and Abby are getting very concerned, they talk to Eric and try to get back in contact with Dr Wolf. Learning that they found the reason for the metamorphosis, the clams, Dr Wolf decides to look into them and attempt to figure out a true cure. Sheila goes looking for Joel with Abby and Eric, and is concerned when she’s a tv displaying news of another reported bloody scene with no body in sight. Joel is revealed to be at Ron’s place

6. While at Ron’s, Joel starts questioning him, revealing that he thinks Ron or someone Ron turned is behind the murders happening in town. Ron tries to deny it but Joel terrifies him into revealing that he turned Chris and Christa, he doesn’t know their connection to the Hammonds but did tell them everything about being undead. Joel remembers what Sheila said about the first person who got killed being from their high school and realizes Chris and Christa are responsible. He threatens Ron with death if someone else dies because of what he did or if Sheila or Abby end up hurt. Ron is left terrified and makes a phone call.

7. Dr Wolf calls Sheila and tells her she managed to locate some of the clams and is running tests. She posits the theory that the undead could possibly be able to consume the clams instead of humans, after seeing a clam ingest a finger of an undead person. Sheila is excited at this prospect but still hopes to find a cure. Abby and Eric talk about what’s been going on after Eric sees Abby staring at Winters name in her phone. Abby admits she isn’t sure about who she is anymore or how she feels about him, and Eric- while clearly disappointed- tells her that she should take the time to figure things out and that he’ll always at least be her friend. They hug but before Abby can do anything with the number, Joel finally returns. She runs up to her dad to confront him, and follows him into the house with Eric. Sheila thinks it’s only Abby and starts talking about Dr Wolfs findings before she sees Joel. The episode ends with them all looking at each other

8. Sheila tries to make up an excuse to keep Joel from realizing she is looking for a cure, uncertain of how the new him would react, and is shocked when he seems almost hopeful about the idea of not having to murder people anymore. Abby demands that Joel say where he’s been and if he had anything to do with the murders, to which Joel is still angry they suspect him but tells them that he went to Ron’s to ask if he had anything to do with it. He reveals that Ron turned Chris and Christa and told them everything, and that he thinks they’re behind the recent murders happening. Sheila wants to tell Anne or Rick but Joel is worried about what would happen if they did, as weapons won’t work and it could result in zombies being discovered by the police. Eric reminds them that that might happen anyway if there are any clues found that lead to the true culprits. Joel and Sheila decide they’ll have to kill Chris and Christa, but Abby doesn’t want to leave Christian an orphan even if she hates him. The family are unsure what to do.

9. It’s two days later and the Hammonds are still undecided on what to do; meanwhile there have been two more murders that have occurred- making four total- of someone from their high school. Anne is getting suspicious of the fact the Hammonds went to school with the missing victims, but her faith in Sheila has her believing that it’s a devil of sorts trying to go after Sheila. Abby meanwhile decides to call Winter after deciding she wants a break from all the weird shit happening. She sets up a date for that same afternoon and ends up kissing her. Abby finally gets a chance to talk to her dad about the fact he’s bi and discuss her own uncertainty of where she’s at. The two reconnect over the conversation as Joel shows he’s still her dad even if he’s different, just like Sheila is still her mom. Cut to Dr Wolf in her lab as she manages to synthesize a cure that completely reversed the undead state

10. Sheila talks with Joel about Abby and about what they should do. He says they’ll figure something out and that Abby will be fine. Eric comes in at the same time Abby appears and it’s a bit awkward , but Eric reveals that Dr Wolf is on her way there with a synthesized potential cure and with some of the clams in a farm to see if they can eat them instead of people. The Hammonds are overjoyed at the idea of getting anywhere closer to normal, but before they can get too excited there’s a knock at the door. Joel goes to answer it and is promptly stabbed in the chest and shoved out of the way to reveal Chris and Christa, who close the door behind them. They reveal to the Hammonds and Eric they are the ones behind the murders and that Ron called them after Joel left to warn them that he was on to them. Joel, after yanking the knife out, asks them what exactly they plan to do. Chris says that they are going to frame the Hammonds as the murderers, kill them, and set the house on fire to make it look like they went on the run after disposing of evidence. Abby tries to get them to see sense, tells them to think of their son, but the two seem indifferent to what may happen to Christian. This makes Joel and Sheila furious, and Joel tries to stab Christa- who’s closer- with the knife, but Chris manages to pull a gun on Eric before Joel can do more than cut Christa’s face. Abby is terrified and Eric tries to tell her it’s okay, but Chris hits him with the gun to make him be quiet. As this is all happening, Dr Wolf arrives outside but hears the commotion and tries to figure out what to do. She notices Rick in a police car next door. Inside a stalemate is happening as the Hammonds try to get Chris to release Eric. A knock at the door interrupts them all.

11. Chris and Christa tell them to answer the door, as the fact their cars are outside would make it suspicious if they don’t answer. Joel goes to the door and finds Dr Wolf on the other side. She hurries to pretend to be someone from the neighborhood and makes conversation while subtly asking Joel what’s happening through her phone text. Joel mouths the word ‘zombies’ at her and gestures to the newspaper sitting at their door with the murders on the front page. Dr Wolf seems to understand and opens her briefcase. She hands Joel a syringe and mimes poking it in the neck. Joel realizes she wants him to use it on Chris or Christa to because Dr Wolf said that previous tests resulted in death of the clams and that working tests still resulted in pain during the transformation back. She also gestures at Rick next door and Joel nods at her, telling her ‘You’d be better off asking my neighbor Rick for help about that kind of thing.’ Agreeing to her getting Rick to help. Joel closes the door and hide the syringe in his back pocket, before walking back. Outside Dr Wolf makes her way quickly to Ricks house and knocks on the door, proceeding to tell him that she thinks someone dangerous is in the Hammonds house. Back inside Joel returns and says it was someone new to the neighborhood asking for directions, and that he sent her away, tacking on that she introduced herself as a doctor or something so the others know who it actually was. Joel moves towards Sheila and Abby and shows them the syringe, while Chris and Christa talk about what to do next. Joel catches their attention telling them to let Eric go and take him hostage instead, saying that a bullet to the brain is just as effective on him as it would be on Eric. Christa doesn’t think it necessary but Chris overrides her in an urge to have his old rival in such a vulnerable position. Joel walks forward and suddenly yanks Eric out of the way before jamming the needle in Chris’ neck. Chris’ gun goes off as he collapses in pain. Joel turns to go after Christa next but she’s coming at him with the knife, right before she can stab him another shot goes off and Joel turns to see Sheila holding the gun Chris had. As Christa falls dead, Rick comes in with Dr Wolf and takes control of the situation. He asks what’s happening and the Hammonds tell the truth, for once, that the murderers aren’t them and that they were about to be framed. Rick calls in backup after cuffing Chris, telling the Hammonds that he’s glad none of them were hurt. They all hug, including Eric, the screen fades to black. Two months later shows things back to normal again, as Abby comes down in the morning to tell her parents she’s going out with Winter on a date and has plans with Eric later as well and so won’t be home till night. They tell her to have fun, and not to do anything they wouldn’t do. The scene ends with Joel and Sheila shown either eating normal food or eating the red clams, implying the cure didn’t work or that they didn’t take it.

#Santa Clarita Diet #joel hammond #sheila Hammond #the Hammonds #Eric bemis #Abby Hammond #I didn’t include a lot of characters cause I couldn’t really remember much about them #I wanted to focus on the family bringing things to an end themselves #also I made Joel bi cause I could #Abby is also Not Straight

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 2 - A Friend

[Thank you to everyone that has read my story so far. I really hope that you enjoy it. My apologies for the slow burn, but all good things come to those that wait… <3]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: Awoken by the clang of metal another strange dream haunts you as you make your journey towards the ominous ‘village’, searching for your life-long friend, Leon.

Trigger Warnings: Supernatural violence.

Song Suggestion: ‘Keep Me Alive’ by All We Are.

[Photos are my own] The next 24 hours were a blur; bagel, taxi, airport, flight, layover in airport, Frankfurter infused pretzel, flight to worryingly small airport, ride in the back of a 1980s Toyota pick-up truck (with cages full of chickens and feathers flying about), which took you to the smallest train station you’d ever seen (one platform), two steam trains later, a weakened moment of purchasing unidentified brand of cigarettes with picture of a goat on the front from a man that smells profusely like garlic, and then a moment of mildly suppressed panic at being in a completely unknown to you part of the world with not a word of Romanian to your repertoire.

Standing at what kind of looked like maybe the side of a road-ish, you pulled out the badly printed map, co-ordinates and a compass. You looked up at the sky, despite it being overcast the clouds were still thin enough to be able to see roughly where the sun was sat. It was 2pm, your phone no longer had a hope in hell of working out here signal wise, but at least for now, it could tell you the time, after that it would just be you and the sun.

You couldn’t deny as the treck took you further away from the already very small towns and villages, and further into the countryside and wilderness, that the landscape was incredibly beautiful. Snow-capped mountains, like you’d never seen anywhere but the movies graced the horizon, leafless tree branches began to out-number their more lustrous looking sisters, and yet, dotted amongst the white, a spattering of green, forests and woodlands a-like, untouched by the torrents of snow, as if by some magic. The fresh air in your lungs made you feel powerful somehow, like you were on a path leading to destiny, something inside you was being fulfilled. Even during the time sat alone on the steam train, staring at the hillsides and woodlands as they flew past, catching your own reflection in the glass here and there, you’d felt as if you were heading towards something exciting yet familiar.

The day seemed to go much faster than you’d imagined, but then it was late into the year, the days much shorter. Grateful for the fact that you’d chosen to wear a zip up hoodie under your usual work jacket, you still had to give the tops of your arms a rub with your gloved hands. You’d also prepared with thin leggings under your black combat trousers and worn hiking socks under your military boots. There was still more than enough light to see, but the Village was still not yet in sight. The hike had been challenging, your knee was now starting to protest, both with an ache and with a sharpness too it. Just a little further, you thought, wincing against it.

You stopped dead in your tracks. There was a noise nearby but not anything that you were used to. What was that? A train? There were no train tracks running through this part of the wilderness as far as you knew, you’d hoped not at least, else you’d be kicking yourself in the ass if you could have saved yourself from the pain that you were in after all this time. A rumbling, chundering, rickety sound, drawing closer and closer. A light in the distance, a lantern, two of them, swinging wildly now on the front of a carriage and a man’s face, crazed with panic, and what a man, at least two times the size in both height and girth of anyone that you’d ever met before.

“Run my darling adventurer, run, for it is not safe for you here!” He yelled towards you. But you couldn’t, you were frozen solid, seeing now what he was trying to escape; and you’d thought this man was larger than life. What approached behind him… was unearthly. The wind was thrown out of you as you were yanked by the collar and swung onto the back of the carriage. The man had tossed you up to at least temporary safety, although how stable this thing was you did not know. You stared back towards the rear of the carriage, eyes narrowing on what you now identified as your target. In short, you could see some kind of humanoid being, roughly 8 foot tall, muscles rippling, pale, sallow skin, with patches of thick hair covering various parts of its body, a loin cloth, beady, mean cold gold eyes, pointed ears and a mouth full of needle sharp teeth. Hurtling along in front of it, in its grasp were two humungous beasts, covered in shaggy hair, almost like two huge dogs or bears, but with some of the most nightmarish faces that you’d ever seen. All you could see was that fact that they wanted nothing more than to tear you limb from limb.

You didn’t mess around for shit and your pistol was in your hand before you could say ‘boulder punching bastard’. You fired one, two, three times, each shot tearing through the shoulders of the front two beasts.

“You really think that thing is going to take them down?” Yelled the driver, craning his head around to take a quick glance at you. You grimaced, thrown down to the roof by a sudden jolt, and quickly tore your glance back at your enemies. They were closing the gap.

“Make a quick turn, here, around that rock!” You yelled, pointing ahead. The man began his manoeuvre as you’d instructed, and without question, for which you were grateful, you only had a couple of seconds to act and one shot at this. You pulled the aerosol from your pocket. This wasn’t just any can, this was something that you’d created yourself. Looked like a normal deodorant or spray can for sure except for two minor differences; it was re-fillable, and it had a range of up to 15 feet. You swiped the lighter back from your cap and took aim, lighter in your left hand in front, aerosol in your right hand, the U-turn took your right back past the trio as they came tearing down the slope. The noise wasn’t quite deafening, but it was loud enough, and you’d succeeded. The two hairy beasts were covered in flames and yelping, running frantically and tore off into the forest. HAHA! You laughed, another bump and you were back on the roof, stealing a glance at the man steering who had a grin on his face too. “Trick shot!” You called back.

The wolven giant roared in fury, for he was scorched, but his rage burned savagely more so than any flame that you could create.

“Very good little moth, but we need something bigger for that one. In the carriage, the room below you there is something that will help, you will know it when you see it, retrieve it now.” You nodded, not noticing for a moment what he’d called you, but you didn’t have time to think and ask. You slid down through the small hatch in the roof, just wide enough for your body, some kind of sky light you guessed and fell to the floor. The dwindling sun light now blazing red over the horizon and through the silhouettes of the trees lit the inner carriage just enough for you to take in what was around you; a lot of meat for one thing. You were never any good at hiding your thoughts on your face, but no one was here to see that right now. There were a couple of larger crates, a globe, typewriter, trinket boxes. Parts rolled and rattled, but you knew what you were here for, right in front of you on the bed. You pulled yourself back up through the hatch.

“This it?” You called to him, holding up a hefty and yet ornate bow. It seemed to be built in the way that somewhat resembled a modern-day compound bow but had a more traditional look to its materials and smaller details. “That’s the one’” he called back. “Here, take these.” He went to pass a bundle of arrows without quiver, but as he did so the beast threw itself at the back of the carriage. You yelled, the impact threw you into the arrows, your blood now over a few of the heads, and all at once you were thrown into darkness, your back slamming against the floor of the inside of the carriage. Shaking your head, you realised what had happened, scrambling on the floor and grabbing as many of the spilled arrows up as you could. Blood began to soak the garments covering your right hip. It was just a flesh wound, but deep enough to sting, reminding you of a time in your childhood when you’d crawled through brambles and the thorns had left 12 longs scars down your torso.

Back on your feet, you booted the doors open, throwing them into the beast’s face, both his clawed hands firmly sunk into the wood either side of the carriage, half running, half being dragged along. He reared his head and roared at you, and you roared back, raising the first arrow and taking aim. “FUCK YOU!” You cried out, the arrow sliced through his cheek but this only made him angrier, throwing one arm into the carriage now, half in, the other arm pulled him further, you realised quickly with terror that you were very quickly being pinned against the bed at the back. It grabbed you around your waist, yanking you down onto the floor, roaring madly once again, into your face, the foulest smelling breath hot and slick with spittle. Something crashed off the shelf above you and onto its head, almost like it shot out of place of its own accord, against the natural trajectory of the way of which the carriage was now turning. It threw the beast back out of the carriage and you only had a moment to grab onto a fixture on the wall which held tools in place before you felt the carriage begin to topple and hurtle.

You lost count of how many rolls it took, but when it stopped it was deathly silent, like a veil had been pulled over this part of the woods. Rain began to fall on the deathly branches above in the would-be canopy. You pulled yourself out, scathed and bleeding, but you weren’t done. Good job you’d thought to throw on your light armour mid hike. You looked around at the driver, he didn’t say anything, but he was breathing. “Are you ok, friend?” You asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He brought his head up and looked up at you. “Yes.” He replied, placing one of his hands over yours. You nodded and started walking to the hulking heap of hair, blood and muscle only meters away. With each step you took you felt the presence of something growing behind you, like a shadow. The sound of metal scraping. “He’s here.” You heard your companion breathe. You had no idea who or what he meant, but right now you had one thing on your mind and that was your kill.

Still closing the gap without a falter, you took three arrows that you had clipped to your bag only moments ago, set their heads ablaze with the fluid and lighter. You set them against the nock, the flames burning bright now in your eyes, and a shower of metal, knives, bullets, scraps came flying down from around you and into the flesh of the beast. They didn’t just stop upon impact, they kept going, embedding themselves further and further into its flesh. It bellowed and swung its arms in pain, standing tall above you, arching it’s back, but still you stood your ground, unblinking, until it fell back down to the ground, writhing now. You leapt up onto its twisting shoulder, taking aim with the bow and let the trio of burning arrows do their work, shattering through the skull, two ending it all at once, and one at an angle coming back halfway out of its blood shot eye.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity. Staring and waiting. No thoughts going through your mind, the darkness in you waning back to the parts of your mind where it usually hid, flowing away like black smoke or the tide going out.

Something was calling. Not out loud, but in your head, your heart, something was calling just for you, but without any sound. You looked up towards the carriage, which strangely was now upright again, though in a bit of a mess, your friend there besides it, a little worse for wear, and a glint of light, the reflection of the flames that had begun to grow around you in the darkness just beyond, the crunch of the undergrowth, and whatever it was, was gone.

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenberg fluff #leon kennedy #mother miranda #resident evil 2 #resident evil 8 #resident evil fanfic #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #heisendaddy #daddy heisenberg

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 17

AO3 :: Previously

“You must stay close, Fraser.” John Grey’s tone is stern, clipped and anxious.

“I didna intend to let her out of my sight.” Jamie breaks away from the phone for a moment to shove his head through a shirt neckline, and checks his mobile for the hundredth time.

It has been a tense two weeks, while the SCD gets their paperwork and warrants in order. There cannot be any mistakes, or the MacKenzies and their company will get away scot-free, no pun intended. Jamie had returned to the office with little fanfare, but was well aware that he was being watched again. His decision to send Claire away had been a good one.

There had been certain buzz about the upcoming event, but Jamie hadn’t received an invitation himself—for obvious reasons, he thought. He had appraised Murtagh of the fundraiser so he could contact Grey, but no one knew anything; purposefully orchestrated, but no specific details beyond that. Wheedling Louise to add his name to the list to no avail, he’d had to come up with an alternative plan to be close to Claire and protect her as he’d promised.

Grey prattles on in Jamie’s ear, and he looks at the screen once more. No new messages from Claire; the last had been an hour ago, a racy selfie of Claire in her barely-there underwear as she dressed for the fundraiser. Suddenly, a certain word brings him crashing back to Earth.

“What? Ye can’t!”

“Of course I can’t, Fraser,” Grey says irritably. “I only said I wished I could arm you. But you’re a civilian, so that’s a no-go. I’ll have a detail there to help out.”

“I wouldna ken what to do with a gun even if ye did.” Jamie swallows hard, fear in his throat. “Ye dinna think it will come to that?”

“I’m hoping it won’t be. Keep your eyes open and stay alert, Fraser. If you see anything untoward, anything suspicious, call Murtagh.” It would be a very public takedown, and Jamie is equally excited and apprehensive. The videos SCD had discovered apparently show Bonnet’s face clearly, exculpating Jamie from Alexander McGregor’s death.

With a final warning to be careful, Grey ends the call. Almost immediately after, Jamie’s phone beeps with a new text. It’s Claire, in a beautiful yellow gown, blowing a kiss to the camera. Jamie’s confidence is renewed and his spirits lift, to see his Sassenach so beautiful, so brave, so irrevocably his.

X-x-X

The venue is sumptuously decorated, as befits Glasgow’s Gallery of Modern Art. Claire grips her coat as she hands her invitation to the guard at the door and is admitted. Geillis walks beside her, already looking for the servers with drink trays.

“Here ye go, get ye properly soused.” G hands her a flute of champagne. Claire sips slowly, looking around for a tall head of red hair. It’s not noticeable, and she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that her Viking Scot is well-concealed; she desperately wishes Jamie could be at her side. Claire watches as her co-workers mingle and laugh, eating and drinking. She chats with a few of her colleagues, and while talking to Joe Abernathy, she spots a bright mop of curls skulking behind a set of cubicles acting as the servers’ station. Excusing herself to the loos, she sidles close to the station and faces the room, grabbing another glass flute as she senses Jamie at her back.

“Mo nighean donn, ye look beautiful,” he breathes on her neck, leaning in as close as he dares. He has spent his time hiding out behind the flimsy cubicle walls. Blending in with the servers, he’d made his way through the back-entrance gangway, pretending to be working with them tonight. No one had batted an eye or asked him anything. Donning a white jacket a bit too tight across the shoulders and at least three inches too small at the wrists, he pretended to sort through the champagne glasses and handed full trays out for servers to parade around the museum.

A sudden commotion near the entrance has her craning her neck to see Colum MacKenzie arrive maneuvering in an electric wheelchair, followed closely by Dougal. Claire sees Tom Christie, the hospital director, rush over to greet and flatter them. She can feel Jamie tense behind her.

“Claire, the MacKenzie…”

“I see them, Jamie. Don’t worry.” His hand slips into hers for a moment, warm and strong. She doesn’t dare turn to look at him. His mere presence at her back bolsters her courage, as she downs the rest of the champagne and prepares to walk back into the fray, with Jamie’s parting words in her ears and heart:

Ye need not be scairt, so long as I’m wi’ ye.

They resonate in her mind, steadying her. Claire finds Geillis and they nurse another glass of champagne. Geillis senses her nerves and Claire steers her far away from the gaggle of chiefs and important hospital administrators fawning over the fundraiser sponsors.

“Hey, there you are, ladies!” Joe saunters up to them, clinking glasses together. “What do you think of all this? Pretty swanky, huh?”

“Only the best for Queen Elizabeth’s,” Claire smiles, smoothing a hand down her dress. Her heels are starting to pinch her feet, and she fidgets, wishing she could be in her pajamas cuddled up to her big red Scot. She folds her coat and lays it on the table along with her gold clutch; no chairs have been provided, apparently to force people to stand around and mingle.

“Gowan wanted to see you, Geillis. He wants the donors from Nexus—you know, the hospital beds—to meet you. Can I steal her away from you a bit, Beauchamp?” Joe smiles easily and guides G with a hand at the small of her back. She looks back helplessly at Claire as she’s swallowed up by the crowd.

Claire is trying to find a glimpse of Jamie again at the servers’ station when she feels a strong, callused hand grasp her arm at the elbow. She tenses, fear skittering up her spine—this hand is unfamiliar, rough, and definitely not Jamie’s. She whirls to find Dougal’s grizzled face leering at her, teeth bared into a grin that resembles a snarl.

“Miss Beauchamp—we meet at last.”

Claire tries to wrench free, but that only makes Dougal tighten his grip. She wants to scream, but her throat is dry and she finds they are surrounded by two burly men who block the rest of the attendees from seeing what is going on.

“Let me go.” Her voice aims for strength but there is a tremor of fear.

“I dinna think so, sassenach.” The word takes on its intended meaning, an insult, a slur of sorts. Dougal begins walking her away from the table. “Jamie will heed us, one way or another.”

“Jamie is a good man,” Claire hisses, “not that you know anything about that.” She tries to cast about for Jamie, but they’re heading in the opposite direction from the servers’ station; Dougal yanks her arm again to make her keep up, causing her to stumble. Too late, she realizes she left her clutch—and her mobile—on the table.

“He overplayed his hand. Do ye think we dinna ken about his relationship wi’ ye, what he’s been tryin’ to do these past few months? He broke faith wi’ us, and his wife. Our contract, we willna honor it either.”

“Honor? What do you know about the word?” Claire spits out with as much venom as she can muster

“Honor or no, I ken I always win, lass.” With that, Dougal releases her, but Claire feels another hand descend, this time on her shoulder, gripping, and a small but insistent push at her back. She’s never felt anything like it, but immediately realizes what it is: a gun. Quietly, she is steered away from the crowd, into the exhibits. After hours, there is only emergency lighting barely bright enough to see.

The last thing she hears from Dougal before being swallowed up by the dark is, “I’ll wait in the car.”

X-x-X

Jamie can’t find Claire. He’d spotted her bright gold purse laying on the table where he last saw Claire, and he rips it open; her mobile is in it, and his wame sinks. He has no way of contacting her now, and he fears the worst.

He spots Geillis flirting with an older man, tipping her head back and shaking out her long red hair.

He hurries to her and with a curt, “Excuse us,” takes Geillis’s arm and leads her off to a corner away from the noise.

“What is it, Jamie?”

“Have ye seen Claire? I left for a minute to go to the loo and now she’s gone.”

“I saw her the last time ye did. Do ye think she might have left?”

Jamie’s heart pounds double-time. “Not on her own. I specifically told her not to, not tonight.” He holds up the purse. “She wouldna have left this behind.”

Geillis pales. “I can head home, see if she’s there anyway, or wait for her.”

“Yes, please, do that.” Jamie pulls out his phone, and dials Murtagh. “Uncle?”

“Lad, ye ken ‘tis not safe for ye to—”

“Claire’s gone. They’ve taken Claire.” He knows this with a certainty that shocks him. A series of expletives on the other end before he continues. “Call Grey, tell him to move in now.  We canna afford to wait.” Jamie ends the call; he’s on the move now, headed towards the main entrance so he can call a car.

Briefly, he glimpses a broad muscular man in the distance. There is a large black sedan blocking one of the nearby side streets. There is a sense of déjà-vu when he hears a muffled yell, and then he’s racing towards the sound, racing towards his life.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm17 #stuff's going down #i'm back at work tomorrow and in total denial #may the odds be ever in my favor :/