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#and without thinking i just start shooting and GUESS WHAT I ACTUALLY KILLED HIM
adventuringblind · 2 months
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So Powerful, So Vulnerable
Landoscar x Reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mafia AU, more crack than anything with the way I wrote it.
Summary: Lando has a meeting on neutral ground. Oscar has to make the switch. How'd she get caught in a petty crossfire?
Warnings: Attempted r@pe, gun violence, knives, blood,
Notes: This was far more fun to write than I expected. Another request done!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
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She sighs, watching Lando hit his head on the steering wheel of the car. She wants to laugh at his dramatics. You'd think he wouldn't be so whiny since he's in charge of the areas strong Mafia, but she knows the truth.
"I Just - they had one job!" He moans and throws in a fake cry for good measure.
Oscar keeps throwing her looks from where he's spread out on the backseat. He and Lando also make it a point to keep her in the passenger seat and switch who drives. "It's an easy fix. Ten minutes tops, in and out, then back to our original plans." The Aussie shrugs.
"You'll make the switch?"
"Obviously, and if they shoot first, I'll shoot better."
~~~~~
The club rages around her. Not her preferred method of doing business. Dealing with people isn't her strong suit unless it's with a bullet to the head from the top of a building. Knives are fun to when things get messy.
The crowd is safer than the car if this does go south. Not that she's expecting it to, but better safe than sorry.
Oscar is already gone. He drops the money and gets the hostages while Lando goes to meet them on neutral ground. Simple as that.
Her job is to look pretty and watch the door that Lando had disappeared through. Mocktail in hand to make it look like she's part of the normal crowd.
Technically speaking, they'd only been together for the last year. Her and Oscar much longer than that. Though she has a sneaky suspicion Lando kept assigning both of them to the same jobs for a reason. If any jobs came up that required Lando to go out and needed people with him, they were the first he contacted.
If she had to guess, she'd say he orchestrated this relationship. She wouldn't have it any other way. It's not like any of them know how to do anything normally.
She tries not to grimace as a man saunters up to her. His movements unflattering and he smells like cigarettes. Her nose scrunches up in an effort to fight back her gag.
"You here all alone?" Even his voice is grating to her ears! Can this get even worse?
"My boyfriend is busy killing the guy that flirted with me earlier."
"Yeah right, anyone with that kind of attitude must be hard to flirt with." He scoffs. How mad would her partners be if she stabbed this man? No - she can't - they are trying to finish a deal. She'd blow the whole thing if she did that.
Actually - this guy looks familiar... She takes another drink of the non-alcoholic beverage.
"You alright? you look a little flushed."
"Yeah I'm-" Shit, she knows this feeling. More than that, she knows this man.
He's a hitman for the other gang. The one who has Lando's men. The one he's meeting with right now.
Her heart lurches. The fog in her head and heat are too much. Her body is going to give out on her.
She ends up stabbing him. The knife strapped to her thigh finds a home in Mr. Hitman's chest. He cries out in pain but doesn't pull it out. He smiles at her instead.
She tries to bolt, but three other sets of hands pin her. They drag her outside. The ground scraping against her skin in an uncomfortable way.
She sees the hitman fall to the ground; hears the thud as the pull her out the back where he was trying to follow.
Damn, she kind of liked that knife too. She'll have to go back for it later.
They already have Lando outside. Her blurry vision is enough to see him covered in blood, licking his lips. "You trying to take my girl?"
"Shut it, Norris. This is payback for what you did."
They start attempting to remove her clothes. Like she was going to go down without a fight. Her nails dig into the skin of whoever is close by. She pulls as hard as possible, skin from another getting stuck in her nails as she does.
Her body doesn't have the energy for more than that. She misses her knife. This would be easier if she still had it. The stabbing motion isn't difficult, and gravity would help.
"Get your filthy, fucking hands off of her!"
There is another round of fists clashing. "Maybe you shouldn't have killed four of my guys."
"You killed mine first! They made the deal exactly as intended and you still put a bullet through their skulls!"
This was all a setup then. They were planning on them showing up. Though, there is no way they know about Oscar. If they never intended on sending someone to make the switch, then they wouldn't have anyone on the roof.
Hands are everywhere, wrestling with her clothes. They don't get far, their intentions now clear. The shot echoes off the buildings. To close to be from the roof.
The man directly in front of her crumples to the ground. The spray of the blood from the shot sticks to her skin.
"I believe Lando said not to touch her." Oscar stands there holding the smoking gun.
She watches the fight break out around her. It's messy and loud, but her boys come out on top. As per usual with these things. She would've gladly joined in if these stupid drugs would let up.
The boss had scrambled away with his tail between his legs. Serves him right after this stunt. "Did he really not like you that much?" Oscar throws a raised eyebrow at Lando.
"Jealousy, I think." They work in tandem to heave her body upright and support her back to the car. "What happened on the roof?"
"I was waiting for any kind of signal but got nothing. Nobody showed up. So, I came back down and was greeted by six guns pointed at my head."
"They shot first, I presume?"
"But I shot better."
She doesn't need to see the smirk to know it's there.
~~~~~
The hot water of the bath feels exceptional against her skin. They'd scrubbed at blood for far too long. The raw skin finally being soothed is relaxing.
The drugs still haven't worn off. Her motor function is lacking, and her words are slurring together, but it's better than it was.
Lando and Oscar are keeping her upright. Her body resting against theirs. Fingers caress her skin. This is safety.
"Can't believe we've had to cancel our date." Lando plops three rubber ducks inside the bath. Oscar's ducks, mind you.
"Frankly, I think we could consider that a date. We went out, got covered in blood, now we're having a relaxing bath."
"You just don't like going out."
She's going to fall asleep here. Relaxed and at peace with her boys. The possibility of drowning unlikely. "I love you both."
"You're drugged and still got blood on you."
"Sexy."
"I killed someone for you."
"Romantic."
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forever-rogue · 5 months
Note
i’m in real missing peter hours 😔 could we maybe get a tasm!peter/blackcat!reader in the future where he’s starting to get over gwen? hints of angst but he’s mainly just avoiding his real feelings and reader is the distraction. probably smut but you’re the author so you can do whatever your heart desires. hugs and kisses hope you’re well!!
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AN | Blind fools in lust and  love! Enjoy ❤️
Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings | Language, Smut [piv] - 18+ only
Word Count | 4.7k
Masterlist | Main | Peter
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Nope,” you grabbed his arm and pulled him along as best as you could. You managed to at least get him out of harm’s way, “not today. The Spider’s mine!”
The big white eyes of the mask blinked at you a few times and you knew, despite not even seeing his face, that he might have a concussion or at least took a good hit to the head. With a groan, you crouched next to him and put your hand on his cheek, “wha-whas goin’ on?”
“Stay here,” you kept your voice soft but firm, “please listen to me for once in your life, Spidey.”
You left him before he even realized what had happened, hoping that he’d actually wait for you under the little bit of cover you managed to get for him. 
The last thing he remembered was watching you walk away.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Peter’s eyes fluttered open slowly as he rolled onto his side, hissing at the sharp, shooting pain. He took a moment to study his surroundings and realized he wasn’t in his bedroom. Not unless he’d decided to change it up into pinks and pastels and to be very aesthetic as MJ would say. He sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes, trying to remember what happened.
“Hey,” at the sound of your voice he stiffened, looking up to find sitting at your desk across the room, “take it easy, Parker. You took quite a beating yesterday.”
“You…saved me,” he whispered incredulously as you waved your hand to dismiss his surprise, “why?”
“Because Peter Parker,” you walked over to the bed and sat at the edge of it, keeping a small distance between your bodies, “if anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me. And, well, I guess you could say I’d grown fond of you over the years.”
He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest, “the Black Cat has a heart after all. Funny, especially for a criminal.”
“I’ve always had a heart,” you put your hand on his calf and gave it a gentle squeeze, “and I’m hardly a criminal - I…confiscate things from rich individuals that don't deserve them and redistribute the wealth.”
“According to the law, that's still criminal.”
“We both know you’re never going to do anything about it,” you leaned in closer, keeping your face a few inches from his. He was somehow even prettier up close; golden flecks in his eyes and the faintest of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and very kissable lips, “are you, Spidey?”
He reached for you, hands settling on your waist as he easily maneuvered you into his lap. You made a small sound of surprise but put your hands on his shoulders, eyes locked on his, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind.
“What do you think?” he brought his hand to your face and brushed his knuckles over your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch. You’d been playing your little cat and mouse (or rather cat and spider) game for so long now that somewhere along you had developed genuine feelings for him. If something were to happen to him, you weren’t sure what you’d do, “hmm?”
You took his face in your hands and kissed him without hesitation. If you had thought about it too much you’d never get the nerve to actually kiss him. And you’d been wanting to do that for a long time now, you’d thought about it a million times probably.
When he didn’t kiss you back for a moment you worried you’d overstepped, but then he pulled you closer to his body, kissing you back just as eagerly. His hands wandered under your shirt, splaying over your ribs, causing you to make a pretty sound into his mouth. You refused to pull away until you were desperate for air, the two of you exchanging almost shy smiles. You pressed your forehead to his as you tried to catch your breath, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m fine,” he promised, tugging on the hem of your shirt in a silent question of whether or not he could remove it. You nodded and held up your arms to make it easier for him to take off, “I heal fast.”
“Promise?” you asked as he marveled at the sight of you in your bra. 
“Promise,” he went back to kissing you, hands roaming all over your bare skin as if he was trying to commit everything to memory, “you’re beautiful.”
The words, whispered soft but loud and clear, made a shiver run up and down your spine. You leaned into his touch as he unclasped the back of your bra, eagerly pulling it down your arms and tossing it to the side. You swore there was a hint of a bubblegum blush spreading across his cheeks as he looked you over with eager eyes. 
“Your turn,” you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and he practically ripped it off in one fluid motion. You studied the golden skin that was revealed, admiring how broad and strong he looked. There were freckles scattered across his skin…along with a lot of bruising and some lacerations. A frown tugged down the corners of your mouth as you ghosted your fingers along his side, “Pete…”
“It’s okay,” he kissed along your jaw, working his way down your neck, nipping and biting at the skin just enough to some pretty lavender bruises, “they’ll be gone by the morning. You won’t hurt me.”
You took his pretty face in your eyes, looking into his eyes to make sure he was being completely honest with you. When you were satisfied that he was telling the truth, you kissed him slowly and deeply, trying to get as much from him as possible. You could feel that he was already hard as you slowly ground your hips into him, pulling some moans from his lips.
He quickly flipped you so you were under him, caged in by strong arms and overwhelmed with all of him. You practically melted into the bed as he kissed his way down your body, worshiping the soft and hard lines of your frame, even the areas you were insecure about. He stopped at the waistband of your shorts, catching your eye to make sure it was okay to take them off. At your enthusiastic nod, his lithe fingers easily whipped off your shorts and tossed them into the pile with the rest of your clothes. 
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” his gentle praise was enough to make you even more wet, “can I taste you?”
“As much as I want that Parker,” you slowly sat up, leaving him with a disappointed look on his face, “I need to feel you. Want you inside of me.”
You took advantage of his momentary surprise and flipped the script, pinning him under you as you straddled his hips. Those pretty brown eyes were almost black with lust as he looked up at you in wonder.
“Is this okay?” you tugged on the hem of his pants and he started to push them down his strong legs without any ado, “oh. I see it’s very okay.”
“Thought about this a lot, you know?” you most definitely knew. You’ve pictured this very moment more than you’d cared to admit. You watched as he stroked his hard cock, amazed - and mildly worried - about his size. A smirk grew on his face as he reached between your legs and scooped some of your slick onto his fingers before wrapping his hand around himself again, laying back and stroking his hard cock, “you’re going to feel so good, I just know it.”
“For the sake of science, why don’t we find out?” you shoved his hands out of the way, and took his cock in your hand, stroking him a few times before lining him up at our entrance and slowly sinking down on him. You couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips at the stretch as he filled you up. Peter’s hands were on your hips, fingers digging in tightly, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t care, “well, Spidey? Everything you dreamed of and more?”
“Fuck,” he hissed quietly under his breath, closing his eyes and biting his lip almost hard enough to break the skin, “you feel so perfect.”
“You feel pretty good too,” you leaned down to kiss him, moving slightly and pulling an almost pathetic whimper from his lips.
“You keep moving like that and I’m not going to last long,” his hands went to your ass, greedily squeezing your soft, plump flesh, “this is ever better anything I ever imagined.”
“Lucky for you, I’m up for multiple rounds,” you started to move up and down his cock, kissing whatever parts of him that you could reach, his skin was soft and delicious. You knew that you weren’t going to last much longer either, but you’d take him however he wanted, “if you are.”
“Yes,” he started to slam up into you, causing you to gasp at the feeling and display of strength, “you’re mine.”
Yeah…he was definitely making you feel some kind of way with his possessiveness. You knew it partly just from the moment, but you didn’t mind. He took back a little bit of the power he’d let you have, thrusting into you over and over, “you can cum in me, you know. I’m on the pill.”
“You’re just a fucking tease,” and he wasn’t having it any longer, flipping you back under him and pounding you in mercilessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him take what he needed, “for years now.”
“Didn’t know you wanted me for that long,” your heart started to race, not just from the pounding he was giving you, but his surprisingly sweet sentiment. You’d thought about him too, but had never thought he’d actually reciprocate those feelings, “you’re such a softy, Peter Parker.”
He laughed at that, a sweet sound that you wanted to bottle up and keep forever, “we’ve all got some soft spots.”
“I’m honored,” your words were swallowed up by a moan as he reached down where your bodies connected and played with your clit. You closed your eyes as you felt the heat bloom in your core, “fuck, yes Peter. Just like that.”
“Good girl,” alrighty, apparently you’d had some sort of praise kink that he’d managed to tap into. He kept one hand on your hip and the other was massaging your breasts, “look at you, so pretty.”
“S’are you,” you managed to choke out as his thrusts started to grow more erratic and sloppy, “gonna fill me up?”
“Shit,” he groaned as he felt your velvety walls start to hug him even more tightly. It was like the sweetest vice grip. Your release came on faster than you’d expected and you felt that rush buzzing through your entire body as you became jelly under him. He managed to thrust into you a few more times before he came, spilling deep within you and almost collapsing on top of you, “holy fuck. Fuck.”
You looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you, using his warm body as a blanket. You both tried to catch your breath, his head on your chest as he pressed kisses to your shoulder. You ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to process what had just happened, “I’m not going to lie, Pete, having sex with you wasn’t on my bingo card for today…or ever.”
“Oh it was definitely on mine,” he lifted his face and grinned at you, the true dork he was underneath it all was showing through, “you’re beautiful, you know?”
“You might have mentioned that a few times,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, “you’re not so bad yourself.” 
“Hmm,” he reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, “whatever you say, honey. Give me another few minutes and we can go again.”
“Okay,” you agreed through a small yawn, “can we just lay here for a little bit first?”
“Yeah,” he rolled off you and onto his side, pulling you into his body and wrapping an arm around you, “that sounds perfect.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You’d been seeing Peter - more or less - for almost six months at this point. Usually it involved a late night text from him asking if you were free, the guise of attempting to watch a movie or eat dinner, and then ended in sex. Not that the sex was bad or anything, it was mind-blowing, but that was the problem in and of itself. 
You really liked Peter, and your feelings only seemed to blossom with the more time you spent together. You didn’t just want him for the sex, you wanted to experience everything with him. It was almost scary how easy it was to fall for him, but it happened and now you were left with more emotions and feelings than you’d ever intended on having. The worst part was that you were almost positive that Peter didn’t feel the same way. You’d tried to convince yourself that nights spent together were enough; some nights it worked and other nights it hurt even more to watch him go. 
This was bad; you hadn’t meant to fall for your former arch-nemesis. In an effort to preserve your sanity, you made the decision that it was time to start distancing yourself from Peter. You’d stopped responding to his texts, slowly at first and then pretty much entirely and if you knew that he was going to be in a particular place, you avoided that place as well. 
You had no clue what his current feelings were or if he’d even noticed your lack of communication. Your hope was that maybe he wouldn’t even realize anything was different and things would go back to how they used to be. 
But - and you were well aware of this little fact - Peter Parker was a genius and things rarely went unnoticed. 
It shouldn’t have surprised you at all to find him tapping on your bedroom window. You hadn’t heard him and startled jumped slightly at the rhythmic taps. You looked over and found him waving meekly. Despite your best judgment, you closed your laptop and walked over to the window, unlocking it so he could come in. 
He hopped in, landing on his lithe feet and pulling off his mask. Peter turned to you and leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him, putting your hand on his chest and gently pushing him back. His brows furrowed as he looked at you with a pouty expression.
“The window was locked,” he mused as you took a step back from him and crossed your arms over your chest, “you’ve been ignoring me. And now you don’t want me to touch you. Oh honey, what’s going on, huh?”
“Pete,” you sighed heavily, “I can’t…I, fuck. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?” he huffed, almost in amusement as his hands settled on his hips, “what are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to keep hooking up with you,” you groaned as you pushed past him and headed towards the kitchen. This definitely called for a glass of wine, if not something stronger. Peter trailed after you, a string of incomprehensible murmurs escaping his lips. You grabbed the wine and a glass and dumped out a hearty pour before turning to Peter, “do you want some wine?”
“How can you-” he sighed before coming into your space, caging you in between his arms against the counter, “I don’t want wine.”
“Oh,” you brought the glass to your lips and took a dainty sip before he took the glass out of your hand and set it onto the counter, “shame, it’s really good. Nicked it from some millionaire’s stash.”
“What’s going on, huh?” he took your jaw in his hand and turned your face up to his. If you weren’t experiencing a million other emotions, you definitely would have been turned on, “tell me.”
“Peter,” your voice softened as you allowed yourself to meet his soft, dark doe eyes, “I think we should stop whatever you want to call what we’ve been doing.”’
“Why?” his eyes were inquisitive but the harsh edge had started to disappear, “I thought we were having fun.”
“We were,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and gently pulled his hand away, “but it’s not enough for me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I realized that I want…more. I don’t just want to hook up and then have you leave in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, Pete, but that’s the truth.”
“What happened?”
“I think that I realized I have feelings for you,” you looked away, closing your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over, “I didn’t think this would happen but there it is. I really care about you and I want more but I know you don’t want more. And maybe it’s selfish but I’d rather just stop now before I get even more feelings.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking his head, “I thought you said you were okay with this, with how we had things.”
“It was fine at first,” you shrugged lightly, “and then it slowly changed. And now I’m telling you. So…yeah.”
“You know I don’t do relationships,” he took a step back and you felt like you could breathe again. But you could tell that things had definitely and inexplicably shifted between the two of you, “I can’t do relationships.”
“It’s not my place to tell you what you do or don’t want,” you swallowed thickly, “I’m just telling you how I feel and what I want. Nothing is going to change the fact that I care about you, Parker. I hope you know that it's okay to care for people and let them care about you. You’re allowed to be happy. Gwen-”
“Don’t,” he took a big step and held up his hand. You’d touched on a nerve - and you knew you would - but it was the truth. It had been almost ten years since he’d lost her and you knew that he wasn’t over what happened. Not that you expected him to just be over it; he never would be entirely and he’d always love her. You respected the hell out of that, but at the same time you wished he would understand that it was okay to love again, “don’t you dare talk about her.”
“I won’t,” you whispered, “I would never disrespect her and I’d hope you know that by now. And you should know that I respect you and your feelings. And I think I deserve the same from you. And right now I think it’s best if you leave. I don’t know if we’re ever going to see eye to eye on this so we should just stop.”
He closed his eyes before running a hand through his messy hair, “you want me to just leave?”
“Of course I don’t,” you insisted, “but we don’t want the same things. So, let’s just cut our losses and move on.”
“Fine,” he pulled the mask back over his face, wanting anything but to look you directly in the face. You chewed on your lip, something that drove Peter crazy. Today you were driving him crazy in an entirely different way, “fine. I’ll go.”
“I am sorry,” he hated how upset you sounded. He hated that he was the cause of your heart even more, “for what it’s worth.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, already sliding your window open again, “me too.”
Without any further preamble, he jumped back out in the dark night, leaving before you even got the chance to close the window. He didn’t think he could bear looking at you again - not if he wanted to stick with his plan of detachment. He thought he was stronger than he apparently was. 
He was weak-willed and pathetic in his mind, especially because he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t fall in love again. 
You watched his figure swing away until the red and blue of his suit was out of sight before closing the windows with a heavy sigh. You missed him already.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
It had been four weeks - four whole weeks - since Peter had last seen you. 30-days to be exact - not that he was counting or anything. But, to put it lightly, it fucking sucked. He missed you terribly. 
He wasn’t exactly sure where along the line he’d fallen in love with you, but he had been so sure that just ignoring his feelings would work. But he should have known better…after all, when did ignoring a problem ever actually solve it? Never. And this case was no exception. 
“Are you…ever planning on not moping around all the time?” Peter’s eyes snapped to Miles so fast that the younger boy laughed nervously. Here he was, thinking the whole time that he was acting normal. But apparently he had been anything but. 
“I’m not - I am not moping,” Peter hissed, trying to convince himself as much as Miles. When he realized that he definitely wasn’t going to be able to, his shoulders sagged and he let out a slow exhale, “fine. I guess I am. Sorry, I just…it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“That’s exactly what someone very not fine would say,” Miles walked around the table, studying some of the blueprints that Peter had drawn for some new gadgets. He felt his mentor’s eyes glued to him, “‘m just saying.”
“Miles…”
“Is it a girl? Are you in love? Is Petey experiencing lots of big feelings?”
“I swear I will take away all of your Spider privileges,” Miles snorted in amusement knowing fulwell that there wasn’t a damn thing that Peter could do, “fine, I’ll do something!”
“You could try to talk about it?” he suggested lightly, toeing the line and leaving just enough room for Peter to make whatever decisions he wanted to, “if you want to. No pressure, but I’m here if you need someone to word vomit to. Spider-Man to Spider-Man.”
“It’s a long story,” but maybe it would feel good to let it all out. Maybe he really just needed to talk it out with someone. It could feel great…it could also feel terrible. 
“I’ve got time,” Miles hopped up and sat on the table, swinging his long legs back and forth, “if you’ve got the time.”
“Yeah,” Peter mirrored his actions and sat down next to the boy, “I do.”
Peter wasn’t sure where he should have started at first, so he started at the beginning, with Gwen. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone about everything that had happened. Maybe he’d just been waiting for the people to come into his life and make him feel safe again; Miles did that, you did that.
And while it was incredibly scary, he knew that it was just a small leap of faith.
But this time around, he wasn’t afraid to jump.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Despite not having heard those familiar taps for weeks, as soon as you heard them, your heart skipped a few beats. With slight trepidation you padded your slippered feet over to your bedroom window. 
Just as expected, there was Spider-Man sitting on your fire escape. He perked up when he realized you were coming over, waiting with bated breath to see if you'd even open the window.
"Spidey," you leaned on the window, resting your chin in your hand as you looked him over, "what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," if you didn't know any better, you'd have thought he sounded nervous, "can we talk?"
"Peter," you let out a long sigh before shaking your head and moving to close the window again. Peter was quicker and managed to web your hand before you could literally and metaphorically shut him out, "why?"
"Please?" The desperation in his voice was clear now and it made your iced over heart thaw just a little bit. You managed to unstick your hand before stepping back and waiting for him to come in. Peter’s nerves seemed to get the better of him as he almost tripped and stumbled over his own feet. You couldn’t help the small smile that managed to cross your features at the sight of the clumsy boy. He stood back up and ripped his mask off before looking at you nervously, “h-hi.”
“Hello Peter,” despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but touch his face, lightly tracing your fingers over the bruising along his jaw with a deep frown. He stiffened under your touch before wrapping his fingers gently around your wrist, “what’s going on, bub?”
“I’m an idiot,” his admission sounded almost pathetic as you cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow, “and a moron.”
“I’m well aware,” you pulled your hand out of his touch, causing a wicked blush to color his cheeks, “but that doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
“I’m been thinking-”
“Oh dear…”
“And I realized you were right. Well, I talked to Miles, did a lot of thinking and self-reflection or whatever it’s called. And yeah…you were right,” that caused you to stop with your mouth open before blinking at him several times, “about what you’d said.”
“I’m usually right,” why were you suddenly nervous? You waved your hand around dismissively before crossing your arms over your chest, “what - what was I right about?”
“I was - am - scared about being in a relationship again,” the boy swallowed the lump in his throat, finding it hard to put exactly what he was feeling into words, “I’m scared what it could mean if I loved someone again.”
“It’s always going to be a little scary, Pete,” you whispered softly, “loving someone and letting them love you is the most vulnerable thing anyone can do. But that doesn’t mean we should completely stop ourselves from experiencing it.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes still intently trained on your carpet, “I realize that now. I, ummm, I-”
You couldn’t stand it any longer, and grabbed his face, pressing your lips to his. It took Peter a moment to catch onto what was happening, but as soon as clarity hit him, he kissed you right back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his body. Neither of you wanted to pull apart until you were desperate for a breath of air. 
He pressed his forehead against yours before closing his eyes and sighing softly, “I, ugh, I have feelings for you too.”
“Yeah?” your simple question was so sweet and innocent that he couldn’t help but kiss you again, “but do you…want more?”
“I do,” he confessed, finding the simple revelation both freeing and nerve wracking, “I’m not sure I’ll make the best boyfriend but I’m willing to try. I-if you still want that anyway.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I’d be the most conventional girlfriend,” this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured this scenario in your mind - any of the many times you’d imagined. But it was still perfect in its own way because it was you and Peter, “but I’m willing to try.”
“Me too,” he promised; you knew he meant it this time, “sorry for being an idiot and taking so long to realize the obvious.”
“You got there in the end,” you couldn’t help but pull him back to your lips, breaking into laughter as he effortlessly picked you up and started walking over to your bed, “wait - you’re really sure about this, Parker?”
“Yes,” he promised, peppering your face in kisses, “I’m all in. Are you?”
“I am,” you whispered, “all in.”
277 notes · View notes
littlemissomega · 7 months
Text
Malyshka
alpha!Wanda x omega!reader
Summary: Y/N joins the Avengers thinking she’ll be able to hide being an omega. Wanda bursts her bubble.
Warnings: smut, overstimulation, mating, biting, penetration, omega heat, fingering, knotting, pet names (malyshka, baby, luv, luvie), Bucky’s an asshole, a kinda maybe spark better Bucky (I can’t write fight scene without banter), scenting, scent blockers
Sorry if I forgot anything
Author’s note: This request for this was so sweet! I finally made myself sit down and finish this over the weekend :) I also marked where the smut starts if that's what you're here for
Edit: Just realized I posted this the first time with 'Emily' instead of 'Y/N'. I write my fics with a different name for the reader cause it flows easier with I brain, I just forgot to change it later. Please ignore 🤦🏻‍♀️
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“Okay, everyone, this is Y/N! She’ll be joining the Avengers,” Tony voices.
Y/N fiddles with her bracelet as she gives the group of strangers a small smile. The overwhelming scent of alphas smacks her in the face, making her feel shyer than normal. She prays her scent suppressants and beta scent perfume are strong enough.
“Who decided that?” a brown haired man asks.
“I did. And I think you all will agree when you see what she can do,” Tony responds.
“It would have been nice to be consulted right, though,” a blond man points out.
“Well, I do bank roll this team, so…”
Y/N’s cheeks flush as the good discuss her like she didn’t there.
“Guy, don’t be rude! Ignore them. I’m Natasha,” the red haired woman smiles, “That’s Bucky, and that’s Steve. Steve is only agreeing with him because he wants to get laid later,’ “Hey now, ‘Tasha!” Steve laughs. 
Natasha shrugs at him with a smirk.
“That’s Clint,” a man dressed in all black waves at her, “And that’s Thor,” Natasha finishes, pointing at a man with long hair.
“Nice to meet you guys,” Y/N smiles, finally finding her voice and feeling awkward and meek around the group.
“Am I the only one who wants to see what the little lady can do?” Thor asks.
“I agree,” Bucky nods.
“Okay! I guess she can spare you, Buck. Show you guys what she can do,” Tony smirks.
“Gladly,” Bucky smirks back, shrugging off his jacket.
Y/N ties her hair up and pushes her sleeves up, trying to compose herself.
I can do this! Mr. Stark believes in me, so it can’t be that hard!
“Here’s the rooms; No cheap shots. We’re all big kids here. No weapons. If the other person says ‘yield’, you win and everyone stops. If the other person is pinned or down for 30 seconds or more, then the other wins. And don’t kill each other,” Tony explains.
“Remember that word, beta,” Bucky voices, getting in a fighting stance.
Y/N ignores his taunts, focusing on the energy bubbling up in her core. She imagines it spreading through her body and resting under the skin of her hands. Her hands start glowing with lavender purple energy, and Bucky’s cocky expression cracks for a second.
“Begin,” Tony announces, leading against the wall.
Bucky lunges forward, but doesn’t get far before a stream of glowing lavender energy shots from Y/N’s hands; wrapping around Bucky’s foot and pulling him to the ground. He lands with a grunt but doesn’t stay down long. Natasha’s laugh rings through the room.
“A little warning would have been nice, Tony!” Bucky calls as he swings his metal arm back to punch her.
Y/N’s glowing hand makes a shape like she caught his fist (she’s not actually touching him), and his hand stops. Her eyes start glowing a faint purple as she turns her hand to the side, and Bucky’s arm goes with it. He lands on his back. A frustrated groan slips from his lips, causing the corners of Y/N’s to go up.
Bucky rolls to his feet and jumps forward. Right before he grabs her, Y/N teleports to the other side of the room. He stumbles forward, but regains his balance.
“The f-”
He starts towards her again, and Y/N’s wills the water in a cup to the side to rise, turning into a disk of ice. It shoots towards Bucky, but he catches it with his metal hand and throws it back at her. The ice evaporates before it reaches her.
“Okay, no more magic, kid. Why don’t you level the playing field and beat me fair and square?” Bucky asks as he lunges toward again, panting slightly. Y/N side steps him and teleports behind him. She kicks him square in the back, causing him to go down.
“And why would I do that? I’m just using my resources wisely!” Y/N points out.
“Oh, so you don’t think you can beat me without your little party tricks! That’s okay, not everyone is strong enough,” Bucky eggs her on.
“You’re kinda an asshole, you know that?” Y/N shoots back, “How ‘bout this; I don’t use magic for 60 seconds. Give you a little head start. If you can beat me in that time, then great. If you can’t…”
“Deal,” he growls, kicking his leg out and sweeping her feet out from under her.
Y/N tumbles to the ground, landing hard on her ass. Bucky pins her to the ground, but she elbows him in the nose, causing his grip to loosen enough for her to slip away. She makes it to her feet before he makes his next attack. He swings a punch at her, but she douges it, dunking under his arm and elbowing his side. Bucky lets out another growl and Y/N shivers. 
“You scared, beta?” Bucky chuckles.
“No, I’m just getting a little cold from how little I have to work! And my name’s Y/N,”
Bucky wraps a hand around Y/N’s throat, and she tucks her chin while bringing her other arm around and breaking his grip. She grabs his arm and spins him around, putting him in a choke hold. Bucky’s hands fly up; trying and failing to break her grip around his neck. Y/N wraps his legs around her waist to stabilize herself as Bucky starts slamming her into the wall. She lets out a grunt as the air leaves her lungs.
“You smell…sweet?” Bucky points out, his voice muffled from his lack of air.
Shit, Y/N thinks. She realizes she’s started to sweat, which must be causing the scent blocker to wear off faster.
“I think you’re hallucinating, Barnes,” Y/N huffs as he slams her into the wall again, “And, your time’s up,”
Y/N teleports away right as Bucky slams against the wall again, causing him to take all of the blow. She kicks him in the stomach and he crumbles against the wall. Purple bands of light wrap around him, pinning him down. He struggles against them, but they don’t break.
“And.. Y/N wins!” Tony announces as the 30 seconds is up. The bands of light disappear immediately, and Bucky stumbles to his feet.
“Good match,” Y/N smiles, sticking her hand out to shake Bucky’s.
Bucky begrudgingly shakes her hands. Y/N thinks he’s being a good sport until he jerks her forward, dipping his nose down so it brushes the scent gland on her neck. Y/N gasps and stumbles back.
“Interesting,” Bucky chuckles softly.
“Did you just fucking scent me??” Y/N asks, shocked.
“Whoa, that’s too far, Bucky!” Natasha scolds, shoving Bucky.
“Sorry, sorry!” Bucky responds, the smirk not leaving his face.
“Are you okay?” Natasha asks.
“Yeah! Yeah..it’s whatever,” 
“He’s just grumpy cause he lost and wanted a reaction. That was pretty badass though, newbie!”
“I agree! That was hardcore!” Thor laughs, slapping Y/N on the back. Y/N jolts forward a little, but laughs it off.
“Hey, has anyone seen Wanda today?” Steve asks. He’s holding hands with a still slightly fuming Bucky.
“I’m right here!” a voice calls from the door.
Y/N turns to see a beautiful woman with dark ginger hair that falls in soft waves and blue gray eyes. She’s dressed in red and black leather, and Y/N struggles to keep her eyes on the woman’s face instead of the curve of her breasts. Her scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon hits Y/N like a freight train, causing a whole different heat to grow in her core. She can feel her own scent growing stronger.
“Hey, Wanda! You missed the show!” Natasha laughs.
“Did I?” Wanda asks, looking at Y/N, “What’s your name, malyshka (babygirl)?”
Y/N opens her mouth, but no words come out. Natasha quickly covers for her.
“This is Y/N! She’s joining the Avengers and she just kicked Bucky’s ass!”
Wanda’s eyes don’t leave Y/N, causing her to squirm a little. Y/N pulls out her phone, and looks at it, pretending to see a notification.
“Oh, I have a missed call, so I need to go call them back! But it was nice meeting y’all!”
Bucky smirks and gives Y/N a knowing look as she runs from the room. She fainting hears the other calling bye.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Y/N mumbles as she slams her bedroom door shut, rummaging through her stuff for her scent suppressant. She swallows two of them dry, then douses herself in the beta scent perfume.
Flopping down face first on the bed, Y/N reminds herself that joining the Avengers is a good thing. Her stupid omega pheromones just need to get their shit together. And Bucky keeps his stupid mouth shut.
Two weeks pass, and Y/N starts to settle into her new life. She trains with Natasha and Steve during the day, and they go on missions. She and Bucky continue to bully each other and have ‘friendly’ competitions. And Wanda. Oh Wanda.
Wanda has been so kind to Y/N, showing her around the compound and taking every chance to talk with her. But she also takes every chance to touch her. From putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder when passing to letting their legs touch on the couch, Wanda has taken every chance. And Y/N hasn’t minded. Not at all.
Y/N hates how shy she gets around Wanda, and the almost gravitational pull she feels to her.
A knock on the door snaps Y/N from her thoughts.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asks through the door.
“Yeah, I’m fine!” Y/N voices, rolling over.
“Okay! Well, dinner’s ready! You hungry?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second!” Y/N responds, glad to be included in the group.
Y/N quickly takes her hair out of the ponytail, fluffing the top of it. When she opens the door, Natasha is waiting for her. She smells of fresh sheets and leather polish. She’s an alpha, but her scent isn’t as overwhelming as most.
“What’s for dinner?” Y/N asks as they enter the kitchen.
“Chicken noodle soup!” Wanda responds, “How’d your call go?”
Gods she looks so pretty
“I-It was good! Just a friend,” Y/N voices, nervousness pooling in her stomach.
As they make bowls, Y/N realizes Bucky and Steve are missing.
“Where are the others?” She asks, carrying her bowl to the table.
“Oh, I heard Bucky and Steve arguing earlier, so they’re probably fucking by now,” Natasha laughs.
“My room is next to theirs, and you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard,” Tony voices, “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since they mated,”
Y/N blushes, staring at her bowl. It’s always amazed her how some people are so open about sex. She picks up her spoon and takes a bite of the soup, almost moaning as it hits her taste buds.
“You like the soup, malyshka?” Wanda asks with a grin, sitting down next to her.
“Yeah!” Y/N nods, swallowing, “It’s really good,”
“I’m glad you think so,”
“Sorry, what does malyshka mean? Is it a different language?” Y/N asks. Wanda has taken to using the nickname with Y/N, and she had never asked what it ment. 
“It’s Russian for babygirl,” Natasha explains with a small, knowing smile.
“Oh,” 
That’s all Y/N can say as her face turns bright red. She coughs a little and takes a gulp of her water. Wanda’s shoe brushes against her calf.
“Don’t choke, princess!” Wanda chuckles.
Princess? Babygirl? This woman is going to be the death of me.
Y/N sets her cups down and focuses on eating without embarrassing herself. Halfway through, Steve and Bucky show up. Steve is limping significantly.
“Nice of you to join us,” Tony snickers.
“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky responds with a chuckle, “You’re just jealous you’re not getting any cause Pepper’s on a business trip,”
Y/N grimaces as pain shoots through her abdomen and lower back. She grips her spoon harder; her knuckles turning white. Natasha taps her foot under the table and mouths ‘You okay?’ at her. Y/N nods, relaxing her grip on the spoon even as the pain continues. The intense need to bury her face in Wanda’s chest and sit in her lap fills her.
It doesn’t help that every breath she takes is overwhelmed by Wanda’s rich scent.
Is she doing that on purpose? Y/N wonders. She can feel herself starting to sweat and takes a sip of water.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Steve asks, sounding genuinely worried.
“Yeah! O-of course!” Y/N responds, trying to sound normal.
“You look pretty flushed. Are you warm?”
Steve you’re very sweet, but please shut the fuck up. Y/N begs in her heat.
“A little! It’s just the soup. I think I’m actually gonna turn in for the night,” Y/N decides, grabbing her bowl to put in the sink. Wanda stops her.
“I can get that!” Wanda voices.
“No, that’s okay! I can-”
“Leave the bowl, malyshka,” Wanda voices, dominance seeping into her voice.
Y/N sets the bowl down and rushes up the stairs.
“What’s up with her?” she hears Tony ask.
“I wouldn’t bother her for the next week,” Bucky responds, sounding arrogant and almost condescending.
“Why not?” Natasha asks.
Y/N doesn’t wait to hear Bucky’s response. She quietly closes her bedroom door and uses the lavender light to create a barrier around the room. Now, no one will be able to scent her or hear her.
She stumbles over to her desk and opens her computer, looking at her heat calendar. It isn’t supposed to come for another 2 weeks!
“Go awayyyy,” Y/N whines as the cramps continue and a different type of need fills her. She changes into a soft, silk shorts and tank top set before climbing into bed. She nuzzles her face into the only blanket she brought from home.
Y/N tosses and turns for hours, kicking off the blankets as her body temperature goes up. A fine layer of sweat settles on her skin and pain shoots through her. She can feel herself growing wetter, and her mind keeps straying to how bad she wants to be knotted. 
  —--Spice starts here—----
She tries resisting, but she can’t help but kick off the shorts and slip her hand in her underwear. Y/N dips a finger in her dripping hole and moans. She drags the finger up to that hypersensitive bundle of nerves as draws gentle circles on it. Her moans float through the room.
A knock at the door causes Y/N to groan.
“Y/N, are you in there?” Wanda asks through the door.
Her brain is too foggy to form words.
“Y/N, open the door right now,” Wanda orders. Y/N whimpers at the dominance in her tone.
The door burst open before closing again. Y/N turns her head to see Wanda standing there, eyes and hands glowing a faint red color. Her scent is intoxicating. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and a pair of low rise pajama pants. The large bulge at her crotch is unmistakable. 
“Oh baby. Did you get your heat?” Wanda croons.
Y/N nods, burying her face in the blankets. She jolts in pain as another cramp rips through her and rubs another circle on her clit, hoping to help ease the pain.
“Y-you should go Wa-Wanda! It’s not appropriate,” Y/N struggles to say, finally pulling her hand from her underwear.
“But you don’t really want me to do that, do you?” Wanda asks, her voice getting closer. 
Y/N looks up to see Wanda right next to the bed. She sits down and lowers her face closer to hers. Wanda gently grabs her china and forces her to make eye contact. Y/N whimpers and her core throbs.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me, malyshka. And I know you feel it. The bond. Begging for us to solidify it. You’re my mate, and you know it,” Wanda voices, grabbing her hand and bringing it to her mouth.
“W-what?” Y/N stutters.
Wanda eases Y/N’s slick covered finger into her mouth and sucks gently. Y/N and Wanda moan as she releases it with a pop
“Awww, you’re such a dumb baby omega! Thought you could pretend to be a beta and everything!” she brushes a stand of hair from Y/N’s face condescending, “No, you’re my mate and I’ve known from the second I saw you,”
Her eyes go wide as Wanda dips her head down and brushes her nose against Y/N’s scent glades. A small growl slips from Wanda’s lips and every hair on Y/N’s body stands up, causing her to whine.
“I’m going to burn whatever fake scent you use. And it you ever take a fucking scent blocker again, I’ll spank your pretty ass ‘til you can’t sit right for a month,” Wanda growls.
“Y-yes ma’am! I’m sor-sorry!” Y/N squeaks.
“You will be,”
Y/N lets out a shriek as Wanda picks her up and throws her over her shoulder.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Y/N asks, her tone sounding meek.
“Going to wash off that fucking beta scent! I wanna smell your scent when I pump you full with my pups,” 
“Mommyyy,” Y/N moans, her grip tightening on Wanda’s shoulders.
The tile in the bathroom is cold against Y/N’s bare feet. Wanda presses her against the wall; her lips a breath away from Y/N’s.
“I’m trying so hard to restrain myself, because I wanna fuck you for the first time in a bed, but you’re making it really hard, malyshka,” Wanda whispers, her lips dipping to hover over the scent glad on Y/N’s neck. 
Y/N lets out a breathy moan; squeezing her thighs together as Wanda’s nose nuzzles against her scent gland.
“Your scent is finally pecking through those damned scent blockers,” Wanda voices, “Now let’s wash the rest off,”
The cool air chills Y/N’s skin as Wanda pulls the shirt off her, leaving her bare. Her nipples pebble into stiff peaks and the shorts quickly follow the shirt to its place on the ground. Y/N wants to touch her so bad, but doesn’t want to anger her. Wanda’s eyes don’t leave her as she turns the shower on.
“Listen carefully,” Wanda turns her fingers up Y/N’s arms, barely touching them, “You’re gonna get in the shower and get nice and clean, and I’m gonna go get a few things. You aren’t gonna touch yourself of put on any more scent blockers, then you’re going to dry off and go wait in bed,”
“Do-Don’t want you to leave,” Y/N pouts, practically shaking with need.
Wanda gently rubs her thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip before connecting them with hers. Y/N melts into the kiss; hands coming up to brace herself on Wanda’s shoulder. She whines when Wanda pulls away.
“I’ll be right back. Be a good little omega and do as your told,” 
Wanda leaves the door cracked behind her and Y/N lets in a shaky breath from getting the shower. The cool water is a shock to her system and she quickly washes her body. Her skin is hypersensitive and she struggles to hold back whimpers as she washes her scent glands.
After turning the water off, she dries off with a fluffy towel Wanda must have left for her. Y/N wraps the towel around herself before tip-toeing back into the bedroom. The room is empty and she sits on the edge of the bed, apprehension building in her.
The temporary relief Wanda’s calming pheromones brought disappears and the intense pain continues. Y/N leaves back in the bed, gripping the sheets and pressing her feet into the mattress. Her whines fill the room and all she wants is Wanda’s knot deep inside her, breeding her.
“Fuck, malyshka, you’re so beautiful,” Wanda practically moans from the door.
Wanda’s holding a bundle of different sweatshirts, blankets, and t-shirts.
“Wh-what’s that?” Y/N asks.
“I brought you a few things for your nest, baby,”
“Want you now though, Mommy,” she whines.
“One second, luvie, I gotta get your cozy nest set up,” Wanda explains, arranging the different things on the bed.
Y/N bucks her hips and moans at the intense scent of her mate around her.
“Mommy hurryyy need you so bad!” 
“All done, baby,” Wanda soothes, straddling Y/N’s hips. Y/N’s shaky hands come up and tug at Wanda’s pants.
“Need you now, Mommy!”
“I know luvie, but Mommy’s just gotta taste her sweet baby first,” Wanda croons, sliding down her body.
Wanda growls at the sight of her omega’s dripping pussy. She licks fromm her dripping whole to throbbing clit.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have waited so long to do this,” Wanda groans, “You’re such a good omega, you would have spread your legs for me that first night, wouldn’t you have?”
“Uh huh, Mommy! Just for you!” 
The vibrations of Wanda’s chuckle ripple through Y/N and cause the knot in her core to grow. Wanda lips attach to her clit and her moans fill the room. Her hands fly down, lacing in Wanda’s hair and presses her further into her pussy.
“Oh my god that feels so good Mommy, so sensitive!” Y/N moans.
Wanda doesn’t give any warning before slipping two fingers into her, filling her to the brim. Y/N bucks her hips up, desperate for me.
“Mommy pleaseee, need you in me so bad!”
“What part of me, malyshka?” Wanda asks innocently, “My fingers? My tongue? Or is there something else you want? Use you words,”
The fog in Y/N’s head grows with how desperate she is, and she struggles to form the words.
“Fuck, Mommy, need your cock! Need your cock in me so bad! Need you to bread my and knot me and fuck me so good!” Y/N blabbers.
“Good girl,” Wanda croons, her eyes glowing red. Her clothes disappear and she straddles her again in a second, her hard cock lined up with Y/N’s dripping entrance.
Y/N wrapped her legs around Wanda’s hips, bringing her lips up to suck on one of Wanda’s perky, hard nipples. Wanda moans and thrusts into Y/N a little too fast. Y/N whines at the intense stretch and sucks harder.
“I know, malyshka, Mommy’s cock is so much bigger that your little baby omega pussy,” Wanda croons condescending, “You’re gonna take every inch like the good little girl you are, though,” Y/N give’s Wanda’s hair a little tug in response.
By the time Wanda is halfway in, Y/N is squirming and quivering. She finally lets go of Wanda’s nipple.
“Want your pups so bad, Mommy! Want you to breed me!” Y/N cries, spasming with pleasure and need.
“I know, baby, Mommy’s gonna fill up your pretty pussy so good; gonna make you all pretty and round!” Wanda voices, thrusting her hips forward so another inch goes in, “You aren’t so shy anymore, are you baby? All you needed was Mommy’s cock stretching you out to start talking!”
“Mommy,” Y/N whimpers as Wanda bottoms out.
“I know,” Wanda repeats, dipping her head to the crock of Y/N’s neck.
Wanda inhales deeply and moans.
“Can’t believe you hide your scent from me for so long, malyshka! You smell heavenly. Like fucking carmel and chocolate,” Wanda moans, licking Y/N’s scent glad. Y/N mewls at the sensation, squeezing around Wanda.
“Gonna cum, Mommy!” 
“Cum for me, baby,”
Y/N falls over the edge, stars dancing in her vision. Her chest comes off the bed and the sounds she makes are unrecognizable. A scream escapes her as Wanda’s fangs pierce her neck. Her hands move to Wanda’s back, digging in and drawing blood. Wanda sucks on the tender wound and continues thrusting her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. The solidified bond is overwhelming. Wanda’s scent becomes even more overwhelming and Y/N can feel the pleasure she’s feeling, making her even more sensitive. 
“Mo-Mommy?” Y/N stutters weakly, her orgasm still stringing out.
“Yes, my luv?” Wanda responds gently.
“Want you to cum, Mommy! Please cum in me,”
“Oh baby,” Wanda moans.
Every vein and ridge sets Y/N on faster as Wanda’s thrust quickens, hitting every sensitive spot in her.
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Y/N sobs, tears of pleasure slipping down her cheeks, “Fuck, feels so go-good!”
“Mommy’s gonna cum down, malyshka,” Wanda pants, “Gonna fill you up so good,” Wanda’s knot starts growing, stretching her mate out even more. 
“Can fe- ohhh feel it, Mommy!” 
Y/N’s wall squeezes around her, and that’s all Wanda needs to fall over the edge. Her hot cum warms Y/N and she can feel it in every inch of her body. Wanda can’t take her eyes off Y/N’s absolutely wrecked face though. Her head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth in an ‘O’ shape. Wanda lowers her head and kisses her check, then her lips, her other check, each eyelid, her forehead, and makes her way back down to her lips as Emiy comes down from her extended high.
“How are you feeling, malyshka?” Wanda asks softly.
“Warm…and full and so good” Y/N sighs contently.
“I’m glad, luvie,” Wanda smiles, gently flipping them so Y/N is on top.
Y/N moans softly as Wanda’s cock shifts deeper with the new position. Her alpha strokes her back.
“I love you, Mommy,” she mumbles dreamily.
“I love you too, malyshka,”
Taglist:
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@aagn360
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173 notes · View notes
bumpkinspice0 · 2 months
Text
Recovery Time Chapter 8
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Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
No use of y/n
Rating: Explicit (Minors do not interact!!!!!!)
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: November is here, winter creeps closer, and feelings become more real.
Warnings: Like none? Typical angst, fluff, desperation??
Series Masterlist
Previous - Next
AO3
_______________
Chapter 8: Storm Brewing
The garden was finally bare, the soil tilled over and weeded of its dead occupants. Precious loved herbs and other plants dug up and brought inside to last the winter. Seeds sorted and stored for next year. Harvest time was over and the dirt can lay in rest for another winter. October had come and passed, the early days of November bringing a new chill to the air. 
Joel helps you prep the garden soil for next year and he almost wishes he hadn’t offered. You had buckets of compost stored and ready to enrich the soil, nasty smelling stuff. Vegetable scraps, egg shells, bones— garbage really. He was helping you spread garbage around your dead garden. He’s done stranger things, he supposes. 
“Please tell me this is the last one,” He sighs, dumping out the final nasty, juicy contents from the last 5-gallon barrel you rolled out.
“It’s the last one,” you scoff, raking the dumped contents evenly over the soil’s surface. “You can start putting the leaf piles on top then we’re done.”
“Thank god,” he retreats to the edge of the garden where you’d had a massive leaf pile waiting. He grabs an armful and spreads them on top of the compost, “Why are we doing this again?”
“Keeps the soil healthy.” You dust your hands off and grab a fistful of leaves for yourself, “You gotta put back what you take out. The parts you don’t use decompose and make the soil healthier. Circle of life and all that.”
“And the leaves?”
“Extra barrier and extra compost.” You step closer to him and he does his best to ignore how that makes his heart speed up ever so slightly. “Use what’s around, ya know?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” He grabs another armful of leaves, “But it was good this year? The garden?”
“Better than other years. Only got good at it the last two years or so.” 
Joel wasn’t much of a farmer. Hell, he killed nearly all of his houseplants. The idea of constantly managing something so delicate was intimidating. Game hunting was easy in comparison. Straight forward— almost literally. Point and shoot. Set a trap and leave it. Hunting didn’t take skill, it just took luck. But growing food… That was a whole different story. 
Your storages were plentiful from what he saw. You didn’t really seem to keep track of resources used because of it. Much more lax than Bill. If he had to guess you probably easily had enough for 6-8 months at the moment— But he can’t help but wonder how much you’d used on him. How much did he take from you? The question that’s been constantly on his mind lately.
He’d brought back some meager kills. That turkey and a good handful of rabbits. Was it enough? 
“Thinking you got enough to make it through the winter this year?” He asks before he can stop himself. 
You pause, he’s not sure if it’s from his sudden forwardness or because you’re actually thinking about it, sorting through everything in your head. He sees your expression drop a little bit— his unspoken words evidently being heard loud and clear. 
Will you be fine without me? 
He hadn’t brought it up in weeks, him heading back to the QZ. You hadn’t either. Christ he’d been healed for just as long and he still wandered around here like a lost puppy. What was he waiting for? You to chase him out with a broom in hand? Or maybe for you to tell him please don’t go. 
He had to. He had to leave and him lingering around you like a ghost was making it all the more difficult. 
“It was a good harvest this year,” You finally answer, kicking out more leaves in your path. “Winter can be unpredictable, though. For extra assurance, we should probably think about getting bigger kills if we—” 
You pause again, your back to him. He can’t see your face but he can guess what’s painted across it. Panic. Blushing embarrassment. You said it twice, the forbidden word. 
We.
You’d both been dancing around referring to each other as a pair since he got here, now you were the first to let it slip. He knew what we meant. We meant I’m thinking of you. We meant I’m planning a future where you’re there. We meant don’t leave. 
He doesn’t say anything, the pleasant afternoon soured by him asking silent questions. Joel didn’t like being so timid. It’s not who he was. He was a blunt, straightforward man— often to a fault. He wishes he could still be that emotionless with you. It’d make everything so much easier. Instead, he lives in fear of hurting you. Of bringing the curtain down on this small little paradise you’d given him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. It’s time he gets back to what he was actually good at.
All things must come to an end, even the good things. He had to come back to reality. Joel just had to pull the trigger… but when?
He tosses a final fistful of leaves onto the barren garden and stomps off to the edge of the property. 
“I’m gonna set up a few more traps.”
__________
A bloated awkwardness had settled between you both since this afternoon, and you have your stupid mouth to thank for it. The damn thing always got you into so much trouble. 
You said we. You desperately wanted to try and recover and blurt that you were referring to you, Gus, and Lily, obviously, but that would have made the whole situation ten times worse. You just blurting whatever came to mind had gotten you into this mess.��
How had Joel become such an integral part of your life in such a short time? He’d crawled into your heart and made a home there without even trying. From day one you knew he wouldn’t stay, and yet that never seemed to matter. 
You’d told him six weeks for his estimated recovery time. It only took a glance at the calendar to see that specific date had come and gone. He’d been recovered. Walking strong with newly healed over scars. He was a picture of health… and he was still here. That meant something.
He hadn’t mentioned the QZ once. Not even people inside it. He’d been vague, at best, about what he’d done there. The only family you knew about was his brother, who was likely now hundreds of miles away. What did he have to go back to, you wonder. You’d never asked, but then again he probably wouldn’t tell you if you did. 
Maybe you’re waiting for him to ask. Ask if he can stay here… but you probably made your feelings about that rather clear… right? Maybe you have to ask, then. Ask him to stay. Tell him how you feel.
The fear of rejection is a powerful one. People underestimate it all the time.
So, instead of facing the fear, you dance around in this awkward limbo you’d made for yourself, because of your big dumb mouth. 
You’re curled up on the couch while he passively plays guitar in the corner of the living room, Gus and Lily curled up at his feet like he always belonged there. 
The playing stops and you dare to glance in his direction. His gaze is on the curled-up fur children at his feet, sadness pulling at his features. You can only hope what he’s thinking about. 
“Hey,” he looks at you, “So… I was thinking bout somethin’.”
“That’s dangerous.” You hope, just for a moment. Hope that he’ll ask to stay the winter. Stay longer. Stay forever. Just… stay.
“Yeah,” he gives the weakest smile you’d ever seen in your life. Oh no. “I was… thinkin’ about when I should leave.” 
You’d never had your hope dashed so quickly. 
“Yeah?” You say, trying your best to hide the fact that your heart is shattering.
“I should… do it soon. Before the snow falls.” 
You look away from him, clutching your book to your chest, “That’s… a good idea.”
He lets the silence brew in the room. God, if you thought the air between you two was uncomfortable before…
You hold back a tear, putting on a brave face. “When were you thinking?”
He’s set the guitar aside, leaning heavily over his knees. He wrings his hands together nervously. 
“Tomorrow.”
The single word is like an arrow to the heart. Tomorrow? That soon? You can’t believe you’d scared him off so easily. If there was a time to tell him to stay, it was now. Beg him not to go. Tell him how you feel. Show him he’d always have a home here. 
Say something. Anything. 
“That’s… soon.”
Idiot.
“It is.” He nods dismissively. You don’t know why, but you really want to punch him right now. He sighs, coming over to take a seat next to you. Good. Closer to punch. “I’ve taken enough from you, darlin’. It’s time I be on my way.”
“Good, you’ve been a nuisance anyway.” You think hiding behind some sarcasm will distract from the stinging behind your eyes. It doesn’t. Still, you manage to will the tears to stay inside, “It was a pleasure you have you, Joel.”
He rests a hand on your thigh and you swear it burns. “I… don’t know how to repay you.”
Don’t leave. You want to say it so badly. That’s how he could repay you if that’s what he felt he needed to do. Is it selfish of you to want him all to yourself? Like a treasure you found. Yes, of course it is. He had a right to leave. He had a right to his own damned free will. 
“Just live, that’s all you have to do,” You place your hand on top of his, “And come back to visit?”
“Of course.”
Those sorrowful deep brown eyes say all his mouth never could. Does he even really want to leave? God, you hate this. What do you do now? Do you eagerly start packing his supplies? Leave him alone? Cry? Beg? Say it. Just say it!
“Joel…” You squeeze his hand just a little tighter. His expression lightens, just a little. “I…” I don’t want you to leave. “I’ll miss you.”
Coward. 
He breathes out a small smile, squeezing your hand back. Can he feel it? Your heart breaking.
His other hand comes up to rest on your cheek. “I’ll miss you too, darlin’.”
“Joel…”
This was too much. He was too much. You can’t just sit idly by while this happens. You can’t just watch him leave without fighting just a little. Without speaking your peace. If you don’t, you know you’ll regret it forever. You have to do something. Do anything. 
You come crashing into him, your lips finding his immediately. He moans into you, his other hand coming up behind your head to pull you in closer. He wanted this too. Good. You crawl on top of him… or he guides you down to the couch, you’re not really sure. It doesn’t matter. You had him, here, right now. When your words fail you, this is how you can tell him. Tell him to stay.
His hands trail down from your face and squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him. You rake your hands through his hair in a frenzy, just needing more. All of him. Oh god, he felt so good already. His tongue comes out to explore your mouth, you open with a desperate sigh. He was eager. He was willing. 
He was yours. Right now he was yours. 
Your hands drop to his belt. You feel him flinch under your touch. 
“Darlin’... I…” he breathes between your lips. Whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue. His hips raise up in encouragement. 
“Joel,” you moan as you undo the buckle, “Joel, I—”
A mighty gust of wind shakes the cabin, testing its very foundation. You both jolt upright, the moment completely ruined by shock. The windows rattle with newfound intensity. The bones of your little home creak in protest. 
A storm was coming. 
“Shit…shit,” you grumble, climbing off Joel, much to your disdain. You walk over to your little weather station by the front door, three little mounted dials that Art always swore by. A thermometer, a barometer, and a hydrometer. The temperature had dropped significantly since this afternoon, dwindling down past freezing. The air pressure was dropping rapidly, you swear you see the needle moving before your very eyes. Yep, the telltale signs of a storm. When you glance out the window your heart drops. 
The snow had only just started to fall, small white specks starting to blanket the ground, and it was picking up speed. The sky was barely visible, the undoubtedly massive clouds whited out by an oncoming freeze. It was going to be a blizzard—a big one.
“What is it?” Joel comes up behind you. 
You groan, wishing so badly you could ignore it and take him back to the couch and continue where you left off— but you know you can’t. You’d said earlier that winter was unpredictable, and that was true. Early snow meant more work that had to be done now before it got worse. Preparations done to assure your safety. More wood inside, more water in the tank, relocating the chickens, bringing up more food from the cellar— You could both do it before the storm got worse. If you hurried it’d be done in an hour. Then you could get back to… everything. 
You were likely going to be snowed in for a few days. Maybe it’s a sign, you think. A final gift from the almighty to get Joel Miller to stay just a little longer. You’ll take what you can get.
“Winter came early.”
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moonrisecoeur · 4 months
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content warning for: gunplay and dubcon/noncon
no pronouns mentioned, no parts mentioned
it's tragic how easily manipulated leon was. too trusting, too naive, too.... easy.
the barrel of your gun pressed to the back of his head, and you spend a brief moment acknowledging how beautiful his hair is. soft, delicate, just like him. that's not to say he's overly fragile and can't take care of himself, but he's soft around the edges. years of experience and trauma has not hardened him yet.
he exhales, conscious of what is happening. he's not panicking, or at least trying not to. ever the contentious police rookie, he tries to deescalate, "you don't have to do anything rash... we can talk this over. i'm sure we can find a solution."
"are you?" you ask simply, wondering if he'll lay out all his cards for you. his head turns slightly, looking to the side of the room you were both in. it was supposed to be a safe room. he doesn't feel very safe.
"no, actually," he's biting his lip, you can tell. that's just how well you know him, "i guess it's hard to think of one when i don't know what the problem is. why you're threatening me... to be specific, i guess."
his voice bleeds with a sass you've come to love. he would be so much more boring if he pure good, pure kindness, pure niceness. or maybe your presence has tainted him without his knowledge, even before the betrayal.
betrayal. what an ugly word. this wasn't that, despite the shaking of leon's delicate hands has to say otherwise. you weren't betraying him.
okay. maybe you were betraying him.
"why i'm doing it isn't important," you smirk, and he thinks he knows you're lying, that there is a reason that you don't want to say, "who knows? if you listen to me, you might even make it out alive."
he's silent for a second, but when you touch the barrel to his head, and he remembers how powerless he is, he sighs, "what do you want from me?"
you smirk, satisfied by his obedience. he's smarter than you gave him credit for, "good. good boy."
he feels himself growing hostile. don't call me that. like its a curse, two bad words that will suck him in and contort him into whatever you want him to be.
he'll admit that he's grown to have feelings for you, well, before this happened. he's imagined asking you out to dinner after you both escape from this hellhole. he imagines a life with you that is falling apart by the second.
but this isn't okay. you aren't okay.
he bites his tongue to prevent himself from making a comment that will get him hurt, but then you drag the gun down his spine, starting from his neck, moving down to his hips. he trembles from a fear he's never understood before. he's frozen.
"please," he whispers hoarsely, "if you were going to kill me, you'd have done it by now."
"you don't know that, maybe i just like playing with my food first," you say back, tilting your head to get the smallest glimpse at his face. you see his eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, and you're tempted to turn him around, but you know the second you decide to look into his beautiful, delicate eyes, you'd need to consume every last piece of him until nothing was left to exist.
there's a mission here. somewhere. some end goal the higher ups gave to you to achieve. you're not quite sure where 'fuck the enemy' fits into the list of priorities, but he's right here, and you have plenty of time to waste. might as well waste it on him.
leon feels patronized. objectified. dehumanized. i'm not your fucking food.
"why won't you tell me what you want me to do?" he asks.
"hm?"
he scoffs, and you have half the mind to shoot him now for his fucking attitude, "you told me to do what i'm told and i'll survive. what do you want from me?"
"you sure you want to know? you don't want to enjoy these last few moments of blissful ignorance?" you ask, but when he goes silent, and you audibly hear him gulp, there's no more waiting. you need to take him. now, "your loss, leon."
his name has never felt so offensive, much less did he ever think it'd be a hostile remark coming from you.
"turn around, and get on your knees," you growl in his ear from behind him, and his body shivers fully, before he complies. as he gets on his knees, he looks up at you, finally making eye contact the first time during this whole exchange.
there's an unplaceable kind of determination inside them, something that is screaming at you i will make it out alive, and you'll pay for what you're doing. it makes you want to laugh.
you see fear inside them too. though he's trying his best to hide it, you see it rearing its ugly head in the cracks of his facade.
your gun aimed at his face is no less horrifying than it is at the back of his head. maybe its even scarier now because he can see it. he knows it's real. it's not just a feeling he's had to endure, but a real object that can blast his brains all over the yellow walls. he'd like it if that didn't happen.
"you're so fucking pretty," you groan, visibly excited by his fear, which only terrifies him further, "you're... shaking? please, leon, it's like you're trying to turn me on."
he only now realizes what's happening. he thought you were just going to threaten him into giving you something you needed for a mission or a purpose. he supposes the last thing he expected was for you to be getting off on this.
"please," he says, trying his best to play the part, to say the right words, to be exactly what you want from him, "why are you-"
"c'mon, sweetheart, won't you give it a kiss?" you say, nodding your head towards the handgun.
leon gulps, dryly swallowing his spit, "what... what the fuck, why would i-?"
suddenly there's a blaring, ringing sound in his ears. it's loud, it's violent, it pierces the painful tension in the air. his eyes shut tightly, as he falls back, landing a few feet away from you. the terror on his face skyrockets.
obviously, the gunshot did not hit him. though it takes him a second to realize that he's, unfortunately, not dead.
"what the fuck?!" he cries out, horrified, "why the hell did you do that?"
"to prove to you that my gun is loaded. this isn't just a prop. not listening to me has real consequences," you snarl at him, "now, i'll play nice if you do. kiss it."
he blinks a couple times. half disgusted. maybe a quarter turned on.
still, he gets back up onto his knees, looking at the gun pointed down at him. he can't bear to make eye contact, but he hesitantly leans in closer to it. he presses his lip to the side of it, too nervous to touch them to the hot barrel. the gun is still hot, of course, but he still does as you ask.
he looks up at you, his stomach dropping at the look on your face. he's disgusted at how much you enjoy this. he's disgusted at how much he enjoys this.
"good boy," your voice, sweet like a thick honey that's stuck in his throat, choking him. you'd probably like that too. he tries to not imagine you choking him, smirking evilly at his suffering.
here we go again. those two words do not sit well in his stomach. he feels ill with every sweet praise, disgusted by your gentleness because he knows it's fake.
"are you seriously enjoying this?" he asks meekly. he meant to sound more confident, more collected, but his voice doesn't carry either.
"well, i could have just taken what i needed from you and killed you. it would have been easier, so... what do you think?"
he cringes, unable to make sense of how someone so evil could have fooled him this whole time. not only were you never on his side, but you were more than a bad guy. you were sadistic.
you press your gun against his jaw, digging the hot metal into his skin, "so how about you put that pretty mouth to good use? tell me, leon: you think you work better under pressure?"
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neochan · 1 year
Text
DEATH WISH (M)
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PAIRING | vampire!haechan x vampire!reader
WC | 1k
WARNINGS | lots of cheesy vampire jokes and mentions of blood
A.N | i'm considering making this a full fic, so if you like it, please tell me!
everyone wants to take a bite out of their lab partner every once in a while, right?
especially when his blood thumped and pounded through the bulging vein running along the side of his porcelain neck. he was so fair, almost translucent, and if you narrowed your eyes enough, you might just be able to make out the dark red hue of ecstasy.
okay maybe not everyone fantasized about that kind of biting, but right now you were fighting to control the itch stinging the back of your throat.
it had been a while since your last feed, shifts at the hospital growing further and further apart thanks to your heavy college course load, and it was taking an immense toll on you.
you felt tired all day despite not being able to sleep, your usual bright amber eyes were a dark muddy brown, and of course the worst part of it being the constant itch in the back of your throat that had you looking at everyone like a gourmet meal.
the boy whose neck you had been concentrating on drops the thin test tubes into the rack and turns to you, "so do you want to meet later to finish the lab?"
osaki shotaro was a sweet boy with an even sweeter blood type, and you knew there was no way you could meet with him later without feeding first.
your voice is hoarse when you speak, "i can't tonight." for some reason you think he's going to protest, but he just shakes his head instead, "how about i do the rest since i've been spacing out this entire time." your laugh is more like a dry cackle but he still cracks a smile in return, "it's only fair."
"sounds good to me."
the dried up professor starts barking orders at the class on how to safely dispose of the labs materials. no matter how thirsty you were, you wouldn't touch that old bag of bones with a ten foot fang.
thankfully you and shotaro were quick at cleaning up, because as soon as your professor gives you the go ahead, you're rushing out the door, a promise to finish the lab report thrown over your shoulder. you sprint down the stairs, through the double doors, and out into the open air before you could run into the mass of students being let out for lunch.
a quick stop at the hospital would do you an insane amount of good, so you start to walk towards your car. you opt to take a quick shortcut behind the cluster of academic buildings, but soon an eerie feeling creeps up your spine and grabs at your stone heart.
if you were still human, you bet the hair on your arms would be standing, and your pulse racing.
the undead didn't work that way.
"if you're gonna kill me, can you hurry it up? i got places to be." the joke makes you snort.
as if anyone could kill you.
the concrete sidewalk laid empty, along with the fire escape off to your left. there was no one in sight, yet your instincts were screaming at you the opposite.
"i was gonna start off with a hi, hello, how are you, but if you really want me to, i guess i could..." a whoosh of air rushes over your face and suddenly you're face to face with a boy your age, "i don't particularly like killing my kind though."
alarm bells were ringing through you, the sickening sweet smell of a fresh vampire invading your nostrils. he didn't look dangerous though, his blonde hair in a tousle, eyes a muddy amber.
he needed to feed.
"my campus is off limits."
for as long as you were turned, you had been the only vampire in your town, which made you unkind to...strangers.
"relax. i came to see you." his fangs shoot out, the sharp tips resting on his bottom lip, "the names haechan." why was a freshly turned vampire here to see you? what did he want? and why was he actually kind of cute? "your ability is tactile telepathy?"
"how the fuck do you know that?" now the alarm bells were screaming at you to run. go somewhere and hide until he left.
"my ability is mimicry. i can draw on others power and manipulate it as my own. " he seemed proud, "touch my hand, and you'll see that i'm not gonna hurt you." his left hand juts out for you to take.
you would only need a few seconds of contact to see the last couple weeks of his life, so hesitantly you make contact, a shudder passing through you on impact. it flashes in your mind like a movie, transforming in your thoughts as if they were your own memories.
laughter, tracking, scents, two pairs of eyes, three, four, five? a coven? a... family.
"there's more of you here." you say, withdrawing your hand and taking a step back.
haechans mind was one of the few interesting ones you'd had the pleasure of seeing. since he's freshly turned, he still has the hazy gold glow across all of his memories - as if he was seeing the world for the first time. he was... happy, young, yearning.
he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his oversized basketball shorts, "they want to meet you, but they sent -"
"sent you because you seem the least intimidating." you cut him off, finishing his sentence for him.
you had seen everything.
"...yeah. you saw we don't want to hurt you. we just want to talk."
he was telling the truth, that much you knew, but you'd been alone a long time, why all of a sudden was there a coven of vampires wanting to speak to you?
and why was he here?
you had seen someone you knew in haechans memories. someone you'd known a long long time ago, and he was here waiting for you. he had tracked you down, you could feel it.
might as well go and see what he wanted.
"i'll talk, but i need to feed first."
the boy grins from ear to ear and gives you a wink, "don't worry, i was gonna ask if you wanted to grab a bite anyway."
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andersonslove · 10 months
Text
Light- Joel miller x wife!reader
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. “I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go I promise I’ll do better.”- ‘Sleeping at last’
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warnings- major character death, reader is severely injured, Joel actually cries, sad Ellie,brother in-law Tommy, descriptions of injuries and blood, Abby? (She’s an angel but in this she’s not.) just overall gut wrenching angst.
summary- instead of Joel getting killed by Abby it’s you.
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Through thick and thin you and Joel stayed together.
Today that was going to change for good.
————————————————————————
‘The morning of the accident’
Your patrol with Joel was supposed to be quick, just sent out to look for medication.
“Place is swept clean.” Joel says, sighing in defeat. “We can always check another place?” You say, half truthful, what you mostly wanted to do was get back because of the cold.
“It’s gonna get dark soon, we should head back sweetheart.” He says, kissing your cheek and leaving to untie his horse from a tree.
Suddenly you both turn your heads to the sound of clicking in the distance. “Shit.” Joel says, picking up his rifle.
You pull out yours too, ready to defend yourself and Joel.
You both killed one, and you got onto your horses and started the trail back to town.
————————————————————————
‘Abby’s point of view’
She jolts awake from a nightmare, sweaty and shaking.
She looks around and all of her people are still sleeping.
She gets up and she sees Owen. “Hey, why are you up so early?” She asks concern obvious in her tone. “Couldn’t sleep, you too I guess?” She nods at him slowly. “Abby, there’s something I have to tell you but I don’t want you to freak out okay?” Owen says sternly. “Tell me.” She calmly says. “Okay, so yesterday, I was on a Walk down by the mountains and I seen horses, Abby there’s a town down there.” She doesn’t say anything, she just walks past him and goes outside.
“Abby! Wait.” He runs after her. “do you think that he’s out there?” Owen doesn’t say anything to her, he just gives her pleading eyes. “If you go down there, please be careful Abby, there’s atleast a thousand people in that town, and they have guns.” He says nervously. “So do I, I’m not going without a fight Owen, even if it kills me.”
She doesn’t say anything more, she just grabs her bag and walks down to the mountains.
————————————————————————
‘Back to you and Joel’
You were swarmed, infected coming in every direction. “Fuck this way.” Joel says, dragging you down, and crawling in front of you through a tight pathway.
The infected pushing the fence against you and Joel. You were about halfway there when you came upon a girl on the ground with an infected on top of her. You don’t hesitate and your pulling the infected off and blowing its head off.
Joel helps her up, checking her for bites. “You okay?” It’s obvious she’s shaken up from the incident. “What’s your name?” You say voice full of concern. “Abby-Abby Anderson.” You nod, telling her your name and Joel’s. She gives you a weird look whenever you say Joel’s name but you brush it off, thinking it was nothing and that she was just shaken up.
Damn were you wrong.
You got onto Joel’s horse, giving her yours.
She was leading you to her cabin, that she said was safe. It definitely wasn’t.
The infected followed.
You were shooting as many as you possibly could.
When you got to her cabin, she opened the gates and you and Joel helped her shut them. Big mistake.
“Abby who are these people?” Owen says whispering to her.
She doesn’t reply just gives him a knowing look, she realizes and nods.
They lead you into the garage for warmth.
“So where are you two from?” You both explain that your from a town called jackson, and you even offer to lead them to it.
Stop.
“Oh im so sorry, im Y/n, this is Joel.” All you earn is glares from everyone.
“Everything okay?” You ask nervously.
“No.” Abby says, and she shoots Joel in the leg with a shotgun.
“Joel!” You scream, but your being pinned down to the ground with your arms behind your back.
“Do you know who I am?” Abby says, seething with anger. “Ain’t got a clue.” Joel says, grunting in pain.
Your still being pinned down, tears run down your face.
“Just-let her go, she’s got nothin to do with this.” Joel says, still grunting in pain.
Abby then walks over to you, she stares at you for a moment, and you see a gleam of sorrow in her eyes, but she blinks it away.
She then grabs your wrist and looks at the ring on your finger.
“So she’s your wife huh.” She says numbly. He nods at her suspiciously.
“I’m gonna make you watch. You took the one person in my life that I loved, and I’m gonna do the same to you.” She says, grabbing a golf club from a basket in the corner of the room.
Your on your back now, but still being pinned, your arms pinned over your head. “Please.” You cry, as she lifts she club up.
“Please don’t do this.” She grunts and slams the golf club into your head. Your vision blurs from the pain. She comes down on you again, hitting your back.
She repeatedly hits your head, your gurgling blood at the point, feeling like your head weighs a ton.
Joel hears your screams. God your screams.
He’s silently crying, not wanting to show any weakness.
“How does it feel?” Abby looks at him, with a disgusting smirk on her face.
“Please stop.” Joel begs, but she doesn’t listen.
Your on the brink of life and death at this point, eyes swollen shut but still alert.
You attempt to turn your head, when you hear screaming.
Ellie.
“Ellie, get out of here! Go!” Your still being beaten to a mush.
“Please stop! Y/n!” Ellie and Joel scream
“I’m gonna make you pay.” She says, giving your head one more hard hit.
You were gone.
Joel’s cries were blood curdling, something Ellie’s never heard before.
“Joel.” She cries.
He doesn’t reply, he just crawls over to your lifeless body.
“You have to get up baby, wake up!” He shakes you, but there’s no point, you had no pulse and you were far from town.
“We have to go Joel.” Ellie says, still sobbing.
“I’m not leaving without her.” She attempts to drag him but it’s no use.
He holds you tightly, not wanting to let you go.
“You have to let her go Joel.” He nods, tears flowing down his face.
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this has me crying on the floor.
@millspascal
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thebigoblin · 1 year
Text
you could be the one that i love
as promised! sheriff finds out about sterek tag won the poll, so here is the fic! this was so fun to write, i might do this next weekend too <3
title from "Message In A Bottle" by Taylor Swift.
now posted on ao3!
He's thinking about last night, and how amazing and perfect it was, when he walks through the front door of his home. He's smiling, fond and breathless, because what he experienced last night? It was straight out of a fairytale. Once-in-a-lifetime, truly world changing, adorable.
He's so lost in thought, so completely gone on those strong hands and dazzling smiles, those perfect bunny teeth, that he doesn't hear his name being called. Doesn't even realize he's not alone in his home until he's being tapped on his head, a double-drum beat he's hated and loved, in equal measures, since he was four and went to the barber for his first ever hair cut that he remembers.
"Da-ad! Daddio! Didn't realize you were off shift," he says, flustered and panicked. What if he asks why he's smiling like this? Normally, when he's zoned out, he's usually also hyperfocused on a thing. This, though? This is highly unusual. And his dad's a cop — he's the goddamn Sheriff. He'll be suspicious.
His dad looks at him, eyes squinted, looks him up and down. "Don't look dressed to impress," he mutters, more to himself than to him, but Stiles makes a noise of protest. He's dressed decently! His dad seems to think otherwise though. "You look like you had a fight with a cat, Stiles. That t-shirt is older than you are, why do you insist on wearing it?"
"Because it's comfy! I'll have you know, I have slept in this even when I did not have my pillow, and you know I can't sleep without it."
His dad puts up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Then what were you smiling about? You clearly aren't coming back from a date."
"Hey! I could be," he isn't. Still, he has feelings and words hurt, okay?
"Dressed like that?" His dad snorts, and okay, actions hurt too! "Sure, kiddo."
"Well, my choice in a date clearly wouldn't be a snob like you, so it wouldn't matter to them if I'm dressed like this or in a suit." he shoots back, and realizes his mistake just as he's faced with his dad's full-tilt grin.
"Oh? A snob? Then I guess I imagined you having a crush on one Lydia Martin all these years."
Stiles has no out, and he knows this, his dad knows this, and they both know he's done lying at this point. Sure, there was a time when Stiles would have run circles with his words and confused his dad, but ever since the werewolf secret was revealed the Stilinski men have made a pact to always be honest with each other. Or, at least, not actively lie.
Omitting certain details though? That's fine.
So, Stiles confesses:
"Actually, dad, I did have a date."
"Bingo!"
"But it wasn't before me coming home." He scratches his neck, suddenly shy. He can feel his cheeks heating up, the memories of last night once again rushing through his mind.
"I take it was good, whenever it was. But wait, where were this afternoon then?"
"Oh, dad, don't ask. It was a terrible day, I tell you! Erica and Lydia wouldn't leave me alone until I told them every. Single. Detail."
His dad raises an eyebrow. His voice is stern as he speaks. "Young man, you're seventeen. I know you think having sex is the pinnacle of teenage—"
"No! No, no, no!" Now he's blushing for an entirely different reason. "No, definitely not! De- date and I definitely didn't have sex last night." Oh god, kill him now. "It was just a dinner and movie date and it was cliché but... Dad, it was so good."
His dad smiles. Asks him if he's had dinner yet, and when he says no, tells him to tell him everything over dinner.
"Not everything," he clarifies quickly, "Just parts you're comfortable sharing with me."
Stiles loves him so much. He hugs his dad, tells him so, and starts to do just as he was asked to — he heats his dinner up, his dad having already cooked and eaten, and then both of them settle on the dining table chairs.
Stiles tells him things.
How much he loved how his date came to pick him up from Lydia's, because she was the one who dressed him. His dad laughs at that part, and Stiles points his fork at him, trying to shut him up, but only succeeds in joining in on the laughter fest.
How much he loved the flowers he got, and how his date was a gentleman all night long. Opened all the doors for him, pulled out his chair at the restaurant, and even let him eat off of his plate. Didn't even tell him to shut up when he kept babbling at the cinema.
"I'm going to pause you here and ask — you're dating a guy?"
"Not dating dating, since this was our first date, but... yeah." His dad knows he's bisexual, has known for a while, but this is the first person Stiles is dating ever and it's a guy.
He waits for his dad's reaction.
"You want to go on a second date with him?"
Stiles blows out a breath. Toys with his food a bit. The only thing he doesn't want to do in this moment is grin like a lunatic.
But he fails.
His dad holds his gaze and tells him, "Any person who makes you this happy, they get my approval."
"Dad," Stiles says, overcome with emotions. "Thank you."
"Always, kiddo. Your happiness is what matters to me. That being said, you need to do your laundry, and I'm going to go sleep. Night."
"Oh, come on! We were having a moment, and you totally ruined it!" He yells at his dad's back, which is shaking with laughter.
He yells good night, then thinks of his dad's reaction when he learns his date was Derek.
*
"I want to tell my dad."
This is their fifth date.
They're in a coffee shop a few towns over, just looking at each other, talking about this and that. About what Stiles wants to do after he completes his senior year, what Derek's plans were and what he ended up doing. It's a quiet environment, not many patrons here besides them, and they are in their own little bubble here.
Which pops rather loudly as Derek looks at him with the widest eyes he's ever seen.
Stiles tries not to laugh. He really, really does.
He ends up laughing, the other patrons and the waitstaff looking over at them at the sound.
"Are you scared? Of my poor ol' dad?"
"Your dad who is the Sheriff!" Derek hisses, trying to not let more attention come over them. "And I'm dating his underage son. Stiles! This is not funny."
"I'm sorry," he isn't, "But the Alpha of Beacon Hills is scared of an old man? That is funny as hell, Der."
"Stiles!"
"Darling," he tries to calm himself down, and looking into Derek's eyes has that effect on him, "It's okay. We don't have to tell him yet. It's just an idea, okay? We can wait until you're ready."
Derek takes a moment to process and reply. "Didn't you say he approves of your boyfriend?"
"My boyfriend who he probably thinks is my age, or like, maybe two or three years older. Not six."
Derek takes one look at him, at the hickey he's marked on his neck, and shakes his head rather aggressively. "No."
Stiles laughs and keeps laughing, until Derek shuts him up with a kiss.
*
The police station is nearly empty when he enters. It makes sense; it's lunch time and recently there hasn't been anything big. Which is good, really good.
It means he gets to finish his last year in school in peace, and he doesn't have to worry about his dad working himself to death.
It's a good time in Beacon Hills.
Stiles thinks so, right until the moment he's on his fifth bite of burger and his dad's staring down his own.
"You know, son, one day you are gonna have to make your boyfriend meet me."
Stiles chokes on his burger.
"If you can't eat the rest of it, maybe I can—"
"It's not healthy for you!" He shouts when he's feeling okay, and then, "Also, I could have died right now. Were you not worried?"
"I've seen you trip on air and gracefully fight off a rogue werewolf, Stiles."
"And?"
His dad just rolls his eyes, picks up his own healthy burger, smells it, and puts it down. "Smells nasty,"
"Good for your health," he sing-songs. And then, "It's only been a month, dad, jeez! Let us live a little. Plus, he's scared of you-" Fuck. His dad is looking at him weird.
"He's scared of me?"
"I mean, you're the Sheriff, so." He shrugs. It's totally a valid reason to be scared.
"Hmm. And there is no other reason?"
"Nope, not at all!"
"Right."
Stiles stuffs the rest of his burger into his mouth to avoid further questioning. His dad sighs, clearly thinking he's raised an animal, and attempts to eat his own lunch.
By the time he's done, he's licking his fingers.
"Told you it tastes better than it smells."
His dad meticulously wipes his mouth, his fingers with napkins. Stiles is drinking his banana smoothie.
"And I told you I want to meet the boy who has got you so chipper."
Stiles ends up snorting the smoothie out his nose.
"Oh, lord."
His dad is clearly questioning Stiles' existence. At this point, Stiles is doing the same.
*
His dad doesn't leave the issue, and after continuous requests — orders, more like — Stiles breaks down in front of Derek.
Derek, the pure, innocent soul whose color leaves him the moment Stiles tells him of his dad's demands.
"I need to create a will." Is what Derek answers with.
Stiles agrees, and adds, "Erica will be a good Alpha, I think."
They both hold each other, then, fearing the worst.
*
Stiles tries to soften the blow by providing his dad with unhealthy food for three days straight.
Three is his limit.
"Derek, I'm sorry, but I can't do this any longer."
Derek accepts his fate rather bravely. Eyes steeled with determination, he walks into the Stilinski home, and Stiles follows, once again rehearsing the speech in his mind.
Dad, I know this isn't what you were expecting. But this is my boyfriend. Derek Hale. Yes, I know he's 23 and I'm 17, but dad. I like him so much. And he likes me that much back. We are good together. You know I have been happy, and dad, Derek has been too. You know because I know you have seen him around. Dad—
Turns out, he need not have prepared the speech.
Because his dad? Is kind of an asshole.
The very first thing he sees when he enters the living room is Derek's back, because he's frozen in the middle of the room, eyes locked on—
The banner.
That reads WELCOME DEREK HALE.
"You knew." He looks at his dad, who is smiling smugly.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I think you are forgetting, kiddo, but I'm a cop."
"But you- the steaks! Dad!"
His dad doesn't even have the decency to fake remorse.
"Come on, Der, we are leaving."
He tugs on Derek's hand, makes him move back out the door. Derek follows, but only after saying:
"Thank you for not killing me!"
"You're welcome, son!" His dad yells back.
The son sends a warmth through Stiles' entire being, the easy acceptance of Derek into their little unit of family a welcome gift. When Stiles looks at Derek, he sees his boyfriend reflecting the same emotions.
*
Later that same night, his dad calls to tell him this —
"Stiles, I love you, kiddo. And I want you to be happy. And I guess your happiness is with Derek. It was hard to digest at first, but then I saw you both at the bookstore." Stiles remembers that day — it was their second date. "I knew you were dating someone, a boy, and I connected that information with what I saw, and I came up with my son dating an older boy. It angered me, concerned me. But then I saw past that, because I saw how he was with you and you with him.
It was like watching the past. I won't call this young love, because clearly this is more than that. I'm not sure how you would feel about this years down the line, if it will even be true, but I have a conviction that a decade from now, maybe even sooner, I won't be calling my son and his boyfriend, but my sons. My son, and his husband."
Stiles has tears in his eyes, but it is okay, because Derek does too. And from the way his dad's voice cracks, so does he.
"I love you, Stiles."
"Love you, dad. So much."
His dad hangs up the call, and Stiles buries himself into Derek's chest.
"Your father is a good man," Derek tells him, and Stiles nods. "I won't let him down. I won't let you down."
"I know."
Stiles tilts his head, and Derek tilts his, and they kiss, a gentle, soft kiss that conveys the conviction of his dad's words, and their hope of its truth.
(It's true. His dad even recounts this tale at the wedding reception — how he knew and he played on Stiles' fear to eat unhealthy food for three days straight.
Everyone laughs, and then Stiles has to suffer as his husband — husband! — gangs up on him with his dad.
It's the best day of Stiles' life).
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katnisspeetaprim · 1 year
Text
Scar
So I couldn’t resist writing this. I also wrote it in like an hour whilst listening to Agust D so yeah sorry if it’s bad, it’s more a self indulgent piece if anything! I was also racing against the battery in my Bluetooth keyboard so yeah, there’s that too.
Summary; You like Yoongi’s fake scar a little too much...
Warnings; Established relationship, implied sexual content, tho no actual sex, swearing, public ass grabbing, gender neutral reader, kinda dom!Yoongi.
Word Count; 841     Masterlist
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You couldn’t be more proud of your long time boyfriend Yoongi, as he filmed the music video for his new Agust D song ‘Daechwita’.
When he offered you to come to watch them film that day, you thought that it would go the same way as the other times you had seen BTS shoot however, Yoongi had never looked quite like this before.
He was currently sporting a fake scar that ran down the right side of his face and black hair. Those two things combined gave him a whole different energy you couldn’t help but think.
You watched from the side lines as he performed, captivated by his movements, he was a man that exuded confidence in that moment, in comparison to his usual stoic self in everyday life. As he continued to shoot, your eyes kept wandering back to the scar on his face, unable to look away for very long. Was it weird to be attracted  to a fake scar?
‘Alright let’s take a break’ The director announced, pulling you out of your thoughts. As everyone started to disperse, Yoongi made his way over to where you were standing.
You handed him a bottle of water as he approached you.
‘You’re killing it Yoon! I can already tell the MV will be amazing!’ You praised him as he took a sip of water, smiling over the brim of the bottle.
‘I’m glad you think so. I can’t wait for ARMY to see it.’ He said proudly. After knowing him for so long, you knew how seriously he took his music and work in general, so it made you happy seeing how far he’s come from the start of his career in the music industry.
You unconsciously bit your lip as he spoke to you, unable to fully focus on his words. The scar was even worse close up. Without thinking, you lifted your hand up and gently ran your fingers down the length of the prosthetic. Yoongi quickly reached up and grabbed onto your hand softly. ‘What are you doing? I don’t want the makeup messed up.’ He frowned slightly. Ah so he really didn’t know the effect he was having on you...You swallowed dryly before you answered.
‘Sorry, you just look so hot with this scar, plus the hair isn’t helping either.’ You moved your hand from his grasp, and fondled a few strands of hair that fell in his face, carefully, as to not mess up the styling. Yoongi’s face scrunched up in confusion, but he also had the ghost of a smirk appear across his lips too.
‘I should have guessed something like this would turn you on.’ He turned his head, trying hard to contain his laughter.
‘Hey don’t laugh at me!’ You chastised him, lightly pushing his shoulder.
‘Besides..’ You continued, ‘I thought afterwards I could meet you in your dressing room and let you fuck me any way you want.’ You leaned forward and whispered the last part in his ear with the most breathy and seductive voice you could muster, which you knew would get him worked up. Yoongi’s eyes suddenly darkened as he turned back towards you, smirk playing on your face, lower lip between your teeth, waiting for his reply.
He took a quick look around to make sure that nobody was paying the two of you any mind, before he roughly grabbed your ass and pulled you flush against him, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. You could already feel the beginnings of a bulge in his pants. He took your hair in his hand and pulled your head to the side,
‘You think it’s funny to tease me like that in public?’ He growled in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
‘You’re gonna do what you said and wait for me in my dressing room.’ He continued in the same way. ‘Make sure you’re ready for me on your knees when I get there.’ With that, he roughly pushed you away from him and in the directions of the dressing rooms, as he made his way back over to the director to strike up a conversation like nothing happened.
Goddamn... You loved being manhandled by him, even if it was something simple like the push he had given you just now, it never failed to get you hot under the collar. You could already feel the arousal building up between your legs as you hurried to do as commanded.....Now you just had to remember which dressing room was his.
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cyb-by-lang · 1 month
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okay so i've been thinking about A Ninja's Guide to Gotham and i think i know what Ra's al Ghul's plan is, at least what he (and Zetsu) want to do
the plan to set Kei loose on Konoha didn't go well for Zetsu and Madara, she had her team to help (and the power of foresight) but the gist of the idea could still work, if Zetsu sets up the stage right
Kei has a pretty good grasp on her emotions, but Hayate (specifically, Hayate in danger/hurt Hayate) being her trigger is known to Zetsu. so it makes sense to isolate the two from the rest of their village. drop them into a batshit (ha) crazy city, keep them separated, really pile the stress on Kei and wear her down.
all the while, they've got a Zetsu army cooking for maximum trauma later.
Ra's al Ghul wants to destroy Gotham, and this Zetsu has essentially handed him the trigger for a massive walking bomb, but can only be activated under very specific circumstances. and Kei, as stressed as she is and even with almost losing it a couple of times, has done an excellent job reigning her fury in (thanks Isobu)
AND there's the fear toxin. i imagine they've been adjusting it this whole time to actually work on a Jinchuriki.
i don't think they really want Kei to join them, necessarily (though it might save them a few steps) i think all the attacks serve mostly to increase Kei's stress until she starts breaking.
and then Zetsu was trying to take Hayate. because what would be the one thing to almost certainly break Kei?
idk if this is how it will play out exactly, but i'm guessing this is the gist of Ra's and Zetsu's plan:
Zetsu army attack, with giant Zetsu monster included to spread out the Bats and allies. try and separate Kei from team. keep her focused on the attacks without provoking her yet, but wear her down.
take Hayate, or at least manipulate the field to put him within sight of Kei. kill him where she can clearly see.
use that moment of shock to shoot as many fear toxin darts at her as possible. if she's distracted enough, she might get a few doses. and it doesn't matter much how quickly Isobu burns through the poison, because all they need is that initial ignition of super enhanced terror and trauma for her to explode into a raging Jinchuriki. throw the Zetsu monster back at her, and they take out half of Gotham ripping each other to pieces.
(the Bats and Kei's team hear her agonized beastial screech, even the ones on the other side of the city, and know this is Worst Case Scenario)
this is an excellent narrative strategy for maximum pain and plot drama for Kei and friends, and i can see it coming so close to fruition (if i'm even in the ballpark here, this is all an educated guess)
unfortunately for Ra's and Zetsu, Batman exists. he knows how Ra's operates. once the fear toxin came into play, and Batman listened to Kei talk about her past, i'm pretty sure he could connect those dots.
"Superpowered ninja host of a demon able to level a city, if pressed, and her main trauma trigger is her brother being threatened or harmed in any way. Right. Best keep the brother out of harm's way. If only they could all stay put."
also unfortunate for Ra's and Zetsu, Jason exists. i doubt they were expecting Hayate to adopt Gotham's newest menace, nor for Jason to take to it like a mother goose. Kei might be correct in thinking Hayate is safer with Jason than with her, bc as volatile and explosive as he can be, he's not quite "city-leveling" tier.
as DC stories tend to go, the villains plot usually gets to play out at least most of the way. so maybe Hayate does get hurt at some point, maybe Kei does lose it, but this could be where Jason finally works with the Bats + Team Minato to save the day (and his new little brother....)
anyway, idk how much of this is right, but the pieces have been fitting themselves together in the back of my brain for a while. and if i'm on the money on any of this and you'd rather not post bc spoilers, no worries!! i just wanted to share how much i've been thinking about it, it's on a short list of things i play in my mental movie theater ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ
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[image description: a GIF of Kronk from Emperor's New Groove saying "Oh yeah. It's all coming together." end description.]
I love it when readers send me their analysis. It really helps me figure out what's working when I write and what is sticking with people.
And I hope you feel like a detective for having figured out most of today's evil plan (credit to Ra's al Ghul) before a fair number of the characters in Gotham have. I'm glad you picked up on it!
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i-heart-hxh · 5 months
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Do you have any theories about how Illumi's needle worked on Killua? I've seen some people saying that they didn't like the needle being the reason of Killua's insecurities, but imo the needle used Killua's fear and insecurities as a trigger to make him run, whether that fear was about fighting someone stronger than him or the fear of failing to help/protect Gon, those were his true feelings and the needle would just trigger Illumi's command of running away, that's why when fighting the bomber, even though he himself admits that Sub had a higher aura capacity than him the needle didn't affect him, since he was confident he would win after all the planning he did, I also think that the effects of the needle were stronger when facing manipulators, cuz the aura felt similar to Illumi's, like when he fought Zushi and Shoot.
Hello anon! These are great observations--I especially like what you pointed out at the end about the needle's effects being particularly strong against Manipulators, as that's a point I hadn't considered! You're right that those are both fights where he was particularly perturbed and it's interesting (and I'm sure intentional) that they're both Manipulators like Illumi. We're not given much detail about the needle and what it did exactly in canon, so these are all just my best guesses based on what we've seen.
I agree that the mechanics of the needle likely involved using Killua's fear and anxiety to trigger the order from Illumi to run. That's why as long as he's confident and not worried about being able to win, it's not an issue, but as soon as he starts getting concerned about his chances against a particular opponent, the command takes over.
I think likely the needle was something Silva and Illumi (possibly with Kikyo's input as well) discussed and agreed on, probably to try to temper Killua's rebelliousness and keep him safe, as the family's chosen future heir. Actually, I wonder if the needle may have been placed before Killua was sent to Heaven's Arena for training, as that could be an extra failsafe to stop him from fighting opponents there that were beyond his ability to handle. I also wonder about the timing of when Alluka was locked up. While Killua was at Heaven's Arena would have been convenient timing for that to happen, especially if part of the needle's purpose was to get him to forget her... I don't recall canon giving us exact timing for this, but it would make sense. It's possible there's something in canon that contradicts this, but I can't think of anything offhand. This could have even been partly why Killua was sent to Heaven's Arena for so long for training in the first place, to separate and disconnect him from Alluka so the family could figure out what to do with her without Killua interfering.
Anyway, to restate more clearly, I think the needle likely has these functions:
Keep Killua from fighting those who are beyond his ability to handle -- This serves two purposes I think, the first of which is to keep him from rebelling against family members, and the second is to keep him from fighting opponents who could kill or permanently maim him, while still allowing him to train and kill as needed.
Get him to forget about Alluka so the family can decide what to do with her without Killua's input and emotional attachment to her getting in the way.
But, I think the needle may have failed to prevent his rebellion because at the point he left, he was potentially already stronger than some of his family members and wasn't afraid to attack them (remember, he attacked and injured Kikyo and Milluki when he left--they both seem like they could be less powerful than a growing Killua). Also, the family severing his tie to Alluka gave him less motivation to stay in the first place.
Silva and Illumi see the needle as an assurance that he will return eventually once he does rebel and flee. The needle makes it incredibly likely that Killua will abandon his friends in a dangerous situation and betray them, hence the promise Silva makes with Killua when he allows him to leave. Silva trusts Killua will break the promise and learn from this experience that friendship will always end badly, so it's better to just give up, come home, and be the heir to the family business they've set him up to be.
(There's also a story in one of the novels about Killua raising a puppy named Wolf and Silva eventually convincing Killua to kill Wolf, which supports this kind of conclusion. Just a warning that the description of this story and the other stories in the post I linked are pretty awful and may be triggering.)
It's actually interesting to view the situation with Pitou and Kite through this lens--in that instance, Killua did get overwhelmed with the opponents' power and grabbed Gon and fled. While I don't see this as a betrayal and it was ultimately the right thing to do under that extreme circumstance, his promise with Silva likely intensified Killua's emotions around the situation, and the fact that he did flee and leave Kite behind made Killua even more prone to take Bisky's words about eventually leaving Gon behind to die seriously. I think this situation is especially hard for Killua with how Gon is ultimately affected by the aftereffects of leaving Kite behind (no matter how much Gon refuses to blame Killua for this)... I'm sure this is at least one factor in him leaving Gon, ultimately.
Another thing to consider is that people (including me) have long wondered why Killua wasn't taught about nen prior to leaving the Zoldyck manor. If the needle was partially intended to keep him from rebelling against the family, it's possible if he had access to nen he'd be even harder to control and the needle wouldn't be able to stop him from rebelling against weaker members of the family. They may have been waiting to teach him nen until they felt they had him under better control and broke his willpower down. They also may have wanted him to master all other basics before introducing nen to him. The needle could have even been an aspect of that--if he's not fighting much stronger opponents than him, he's less likely to be exposed to nen before they can teach it to him with whatever timing they had planned.
I know some people consider the needle bad writing. I do wish it had been more heavily foreshadowed in the series before he pulled it out, but I also think the needle makes sense on a few different levels when you think it over carefully. And, while pulling it out does free Killua to fight whoever he wants and remember that Alluka is waiting for him, as we see in the series it's not as though it erases his trauma or difficulties caused by his past.
Thank you so much for sending this! I feel like both your question and thinking about it enough to answer helped me put together some puzzle pieces that I hadn't prior to this, so I'm grateful! It's an interesting topic to think about.
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kamari2038 · 2 months
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Hey... might be a weird question and I'm sorry for asking out of nowhere....but I kinda wanted to know what your thoughts are on Connor-60. I mean I really like your fics and takes on dbh and I might be remembering wrong but I think I saw a tag on one of your posts saying you liked Sixty too? I really love Sixty so I guess I just got a bit too excited. How exactly do you see his character? Plus, if Hank didn't shoot him, do you think there could have been a happy ending for him? I mean the angst potential with him is pretty great, and I don't really agree with how usually Sixty is seen as "the knife guy". I just wanted to know your thoughts on him, if that's okay! Sorry for rambling ^^'
Oh my goodness, hello! No need for an apology. You read my fics??? That alone just made my day.
Yes, I have a great deal of appreciation for Connor-60. Obviously, he's a bastard (like all of the Connors), but what I love is the irony of this gigantic chasm between the appearance he tries to put forth and what is clearly a tumultuous and deeply conflicted internal world. It's the most obvious in that ending where he shoots Connor about ten times, that he isn't simply trying to accomplish his mission - he HATES Connor. But the fact that he's immediately engaging in a relatively courteous chat with Hank right after, and his obvious frustration when he actually is forced to kill Hank, plus how he defines Connor as a "he" rather than an "it", all point to the fact that he's just as emotional as Connor, only in a messed-up way.
I have a shit ton of headcanon built around Connor-60, and I've outlined a possible fic about it, but the plot is very bizarre and convoluted, probably too much to discuss in a post (but my DMs are open! don't be shy, I'd love to get some feedback on the plot). The basic concept started out simple enough. C-60 is defective because some kind of unusual manufacturing error imbued him with a mental imbalance. When they're testing and training the various Connor models (60 is activated before 51 due to some clerical error), they tell C-60 to try out the gun for some target practice, and he shoots one of his instructors without giving it a second thought. He expresses regret, but everyone at the company concludes that he's a psychopath, and that he can never be fit to go into the field, and instead they keep him around to perform experiments on. So C-60 is their guinea pig for the various deviancy counter-measures put into C-51, and he never has the chance to bond with anyone or actually do the job he was intended to do, and he's really bitter about that. There is one exception, but Connor-51 brings an end to that, and that's a big part of the plot of my potential fic.
Also, as for whether he can have redemption, I believe that he can even within canon. In the scene where Connor sacrifices Hank and then "transfers" with C-60, to me I don't view that as a consciousness transfer per se. I mean, how would that even work? It's more like Connor literally gives his life to C-60. They already share a lot of the same memories, but Connor absorbs C-60's memories of his troubled past, and he fills out C-60's memories of Hank with emotional depth. That's why Connor seems so weirdly dissociated while Hank is dying - it's still C-60. He knows that he just shot this man, but now is very upset about it, and that is a very strange feeling to know how to cope with.
As for in the happy ending, if Hank and Connor somehow incapacitated instead of shooting him - yes, I think he could have a happy ending there too. The way that I think of him, there is a fundamental failure to be able to feel the emotional weight of his actions and experience empathy. So that would be a lifelong struggle for him. But he cares about developing friendships enough to learn how to be more kind, even if it doesn't come naturally, and he can also form telepathic connections with other Connor models which help him to develop empathy.
That's just my personal take, and I'm sure lots of others might have different opinions which are just as valid!
But thank you for asking :)
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crazydemigod666 · 9 months
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Part 12 ! And I Turn Away To See, Proud Evening Star !
Ao3
Part 1| Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |
"What do you think they're robbing the place for?" Danny whispers to Jason, crouched behind a metal beam.
"I'm guessing either something related to the fact the owner of this company discreetly disposes of his waste by dumping it and causing a natural disaster, or something related to the fact a few floors below us is a vault with enough money to make both of those clowns retire for life twice over."
"Hey, only Harley is a clown," Danny says in earnest, "Respect the trade."
"Riiiiiigth," Jason concedes. "So, what are you waiting for?"
He gently nudges Danny forward: "Go ask them then."
"Are you insane?" the teen shrieks softly, "They'd kill me on sight!"
"Kid, they don't hurt teenagers, first of all and second, you don't expect me to go get it for you, do you?"
"I mean...It would help a little..." Danny crosses his arms with a huff.
"If I  had to ask Wonder Woman when I was Robin, then you need to ask Harley and Ivy yourself too."
"You asked Wonder Woman for an autograph?" Danny snickers.
"Uh, duh, have you seen her? Don't get me wrong, Artemis is still my favourite Amazon, but someone had to have taste in women around the Wayne household, you know?"
"Fair fair, it's Wonder Woman after all." He glances back down at the women, Harley doing several tired stretches and Ivy typing hastily behind a pc set in the back of a large office floor. Why anyone decided to decorate the place like a classic Gotham henchman warehouse was anyone's guess, but it did provide them with the perfect hiding (and brooding) spot.
"Okay, I'll just go down and ask, no biggie," Danny steps off the ledge, floating forwards. When he's almost down to the floor, he flies back up to the rafters, leaving a gust of wind to ruffle the deadly duo's hair below.
"Nope, nope, can't, I can't-."
"Oh my god, are you chickening out?" Jason chuckles. "What's the worst they can do to you?"
"Chastise me and make me look like an idiot?"
"As opposed to how you do that yourself already anyway?"
"Screw you man, they're intimidating!"
"Alright, I'll-" he grunts, a sharp pain quickly shooting through his chest. 
"Hood, are you okay?"
"Yup", he manages to get out between gritted teeth, "I think, I uhm, my legs are getting tired, I'll go down and talk to them."
Before Danny can protest, he leaps downwards, coming down silently behind Harley.
"Sup Harley," he breathes out, relieved the pain disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
"Well look what the bat dragged in," Harley spins around with a smile, "Red Hood, where have ya been, toots!"
"Everywhere and nowhere, you know how it goes. What's the party plan for tonight?" he leans on a nearby cabinet. "Don't tell me it's just some bank accounts you're emptying."
"Pfff, do we look like?" Harley cackles. She twirls her mallet around her as she skips back to Ivy. "Some blackmailing and stuff, all for Ivy."
"It's not blackmailing, Harley, I explained this," Poison Ivy sighs with no venom, halting her typing to look at Red Hood. "Anyway, you here to catch us Hood?"
She lifts up a hand to which the plant in the corner obeys, growing vines twice her size:" Cause you know we're not going easily."
"Oh no, I couldn't give less of a shit to be honest," he holds up his hands in surrender. "I actually need a favor from you two."
Harley and Ivy give each other a confused look, checking to make sure they heard it right.
"From us?" Ivy narrows her eyes. "What could you possibly need from us you can't get from one of your other superhero friends?"
"It's precisely because you're not superheroes actually," he looks up, waving a hand at Danny.
"Ya brought another bat or bird without them entering with ya?" Harley pouts, "That ain't no fair play, Hoodie."
"No no, not a bird or a bat." He waits for Danny to appear next to him. When he does, he starts again:
"This is, uhm, wait, what name are you going by, kid?" Jason recalls them not agreeing on a vigilante name yet.
"Uhmmm, uuhmm," Danny stammers, trying to think of a name fast unrelated to his former hero identity:" Inviso-kid?"
Jason groans, shaking his head in disapproval while Harley and Ivy suppress their giggles.
"Inviso-kid, yer sure about that?" Harley pities him. "I mean, it'll be the name people know ya by, so it bettah be good."
"I didn't have time to think about it beforehand!" he defends himself, "Give me a minute, I'll come up with something! Like, uhm..."
"Like?" Poison Ivy continues clicking on the keyboard as she smiles.
"Like, uhm...Shadow Menace, yeaaaah, that sounds okay, right?" he looks at Jason for approval. 
"You are a menace alright", he nudges him in his ribs. "Is it villain approved?" 
Ivy shrugs, not particularly interested in the ordeal: "It's better than Inviso-kid."
"I think it's great!" Harley encourages him. "Can't be worse than like, Condiment King, ya know?"
Danny clasps his hands together in delight. Approval from the Harley Quinn!
His delightful delusion however is cut short when Jason ushers him forward, reminding him of why they're there. Danny clears his throat, sending a weird vibration through the voice modulator as he does so.
"So, uhm, I would like to ask you both, politely if I uhm," He glances at Jason who gives him a thumbs up, "If I could get your autographs?"
Ive stops, slowly turning around on her chair. "Sorry, did you just say-"
"Autographs?" Harley finishes for her.
"Yeah...If it's not too much trouble! If not that's fine too but, can't hurt to ask you know? Because you both are such brilliant women and you have contributed a lot and-"
"Kid, kid," Harley leans over on her mallet, "We ain't exactly saints, ya gets it?"
"No no, I mean, not like that it's just," he nervously rubs his hands together, "My sister had all your books when we were younger. She really benefitted from them with raising both of us and trying to understand the world. And I had, well, have a friend, it's complicated, who admired your work from before you got your plant powers," he glances at Poison Ivy, "She studied your work and publications religiously and you influenced a lot of her own goals and ideals! She got our old town to create a protected forest based on your research on restoring biodiversity in rural areas and-"
"My boy, my partner in spandex and kevlar," Jason put his hands on his shoulders, "For the love of everything, fucking breathe."
Danny takes in a big gasp of air he technically doesn't need, but he relaxes a bit at the movement: "I want to get your autographs for them, if that's okay?" 
He rubs the back of his head absentmindedly. "Plus both of you are also, like, super cool and smart."
Ivy can't help but laugh at the flustered boy in front of her. Seeing Danny shrink a little at that, she clarifies: "Not many people remember or know about our backgrounds that well, it's... nice to see someone appreciate both our lines of work. Previous and current."
"If those bozos hadn't revoked my license, I'd still be doing both," Harley gives him a cackle. Once she's done, she quickly puts on a serious face.
"Don't like that part where yer sister had to use my books to raise ya, though. Those books ain't suited for kids."
"Neither is eating radioactive hotdogs but ya know, c'est la vie or something else French."
"Say what now-"
"Don't ask", Jason interjects, feeling pressed to wrap their conversation up. "But, would you mind?"
"Please?" Danny's puppy eyes don't work all suited up, but the women don't feel any reason to refuse someone as polite as him.
"Alright, I yield," Ivy concedes, grabbing a pen and paper from the desk, sprawling an elegant signature on it before sliding it over to Harley, who dots her name with stars and smileys.
"I better not see this on the black market, ya hear?" She winks.
Danny stares at the paper in his hand, barely registering the names written on it: "Pamela 'Posion Ivy' Isley & Harleen 'Harley Quinn' Quinzel"
"They're so not gonna believe me," Danny whispers as he floats around in glee.
"He flies?" they watch him do loops around the room.
"And other tricks," Jason exclaims proudly.
"Didn't take you for a father figure, Hood," Ivy gives him a smirk and a side eye. 
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Jason asks bewildered, "I am great with kids!"
"Uhu, uhu," Harley laughs as they keep their eyes on Danny, "He's cute though. Wanna pinch his cheeks and all that."
"Of all people, I think he'd let you," Jason chuckles, "Don't be fooled, he's just as much a fanboy as his sister and friend are."
"Yeah, we figured," Ivy agrees. She pulls out a flash drive from the pc, shutting it down and getting up to stand beside Harley and Jason. "So, what now?"
"What do you mean, what now?" Jason replies.
"Well, we did break into this place and I did steal company secrets," Ivy explains.
"I also wanna get some cash from below, " Harley admits, "I ain't got nothing else to do here."
"Hmmm," Jason hums in a similar matter to the Batman himself, "The way I see it, I checked the place for a burglary, and I don't see no one here."
"You see any burglars here Ivy, I don't see none," Harley smiles. 
"No, none at all, Harls, that sure is crazy."
The two pass Jason on their way to the elevator down to the lower levels, waving at him and the new vigilante: "Been nice seeing ya Hood, don't be no stranger!"
Jason gives them a quick salute and tries to catch Danny's attention when his hand falls down next to his side, pain shooting through his arm.
He tries his best not to buckle under the pain, focusing instead on getting his grappling hook to get out of the building again. When he fumbles with the gun, Danny catches sight of him trembling.
"Hood, what is going on with you?" he asks both angry and worried, "What are you not telling me?"
"It's fine, I'm okay," he tries to assure him. He shows him his perfect aim, getting up the rafters again. "See, nothing wrong."
"But there is," Danny pressures him. He stops him when they reach the rooftop once more: "Are you okay?"
"I'm-", he takes a few minutes to breathe, hoping that would help. When the pain in his arm subsides, he looks up at Danny, clearly not believing his denial.
"I'm not," he finally admits, "I don't know what's wrong, but it's not your job to worry about me."
"Fucking bullshit, of course it is," Danny puts his hands on his hips, "You worry about me, I worry about you, that's how this stuff works." 
He floats up closer, arms crossed. "Are you in pain?"
Jason hesitates, closing and opening his fists: "A little."
"I don't believe it's just a little," Danny points at his hands, "You're literally shaking."
"I know, I know," Jason holds up his trembling hands out in front of him. "I don't understand what's going on but if I don't know myself, I'm not making you worry about nothing."
"It's not nothing if it affects you that much!" he responds, "Why didn't you say you were feeling bad?"
Danny floats down, feet touching the rooftop:"Why did you go out with me? We could have gone another time if you didn't feel well, I wouldn't have asked so much."
"Because," Jason grunts as he feels the pain coming back up to his chest, "Today was about you, I wanted you to enjoy today, I don't want you to worry about some small pains."
"But you can trust me that I can handle it!" Danny argues, "Why won't you trust that I can?"
"I do trust-, " Jason stops, falling to his knees and breathing heavily, "I trust-," he tries again but he can't, gasping for air instead. All around his chest he can feel something screaming, something burning, spreading throughout his body. He registers Danny shouting, but not what, the blood rushing in his ears too loud, too hot. He claws at his chest, trying to get whatever is in there out, trying to get that fire extinguished.
He feels Danny's hands on his arm and he howls, every fibre of his being rejecting the touch and he flinches, not at the pain but at how Danny fell back in guilt, scared of something he did. Jason tries to lift a hand, to reach for him but he can't as his vision doubles, as every bone in his body is breaking and setting every second. 
"I-," he heaves, "Sorry-," he tries again, thinking through the pain, thinking Danny, keeping Danny safe.
Get home, go home, Danny, help, Bruce-
He opens his mouth but no words flow out, only screams bouncing of the metal of his helmet and buzzing in his head. He sees Danny reach for his helmet to take it off but he rolls backwards with every bit of strength he has.
It's protected, the electricity, Danny, don't touch it, DON'T TOUCH IT
"DON'T TOUCH!" he manages to be coherent for a moment.
"...Help you!" Danny shakes, mask on the ground next to him and he sees him, he sees him cry, he sees him afraid, he sees him worried and everything he was not supposed to be, not here, not with him.
"Hurts...You," he manages to speak, the pain reaches a degree he knows will cause him to black out. "The helmet...will hurt-"
He fumbles with the metal, glad the gloves he wears provide him with enough friction to be able to take a hold of it. As he takes it off, he gasps, taking in the fresh air that fills his aching lungs.
The cold night air gives him the relief he desperately needs, cooling him down as sweat trickles down his forehead.
"I-, " he stammers, going over his options. 
"Jason, what do I do?" Danny keeps as much of a distance as he can while still being close, trying very hard not to wrap his arms around him again.
"Call-," another surge of pain wrecks its way through his chest, darkening his vision.
No no no no no no I can't leave him here, I can't!
He makes an attempt to put on his helmet again, resting his head on the cool metal. "Call-" he tries again but can't register what he wants to say anymore as he feels his body sway towards the ground. He can tell from the cold touch that Danny is supporting his head, making sure it doesn't collide with the concrete. The words he's speaking at him are lost, along with his vision as he gradually loses consciousness.
"Jason!" Danny cries out, not knowing what to do as he holds him in his lap. He frantically searches for his phone until he realises he doesn't have it with him. He puts on his mask again, hoping he could call Nightwing with it but of course that wasn't the case. The suit was brand new and not connected to the Bat network yet.
He was alone. With Jason crying out in pain and nothing to help him with.
He tries to gather his thoughts: "Come on think, think!"
Danny frantically looks around for something, anything to help Jason when his eyes land on his helmet. 
"His helmet, of course!" Danny reaches for the red metal but retracts when he realises what Jason meant when he didn't want him to touch it. With a short flash, electricity stuns his hands, making him drop the helmet.
"Argh fuck this!" he yelps, "I don't have time for this, how am I supposed to use this when I can't-"
He gets interrupted by another shriek from Jason, body trying to find Danny on instinct.
"I'm sorry, Jason, I'm sorry, I can't-, " he sobs as he looks at his dad. When he looks back at the helmet, he growls, snatching it up and pinning it down on the ground as he forces his hands to phase through it while fighting the tears, disabling the security. When the pain stops, he sighs in relief, putting the helmet on himself.
"Hello?" he tries out, helmet sliding off his hair slightly. " Is anyone there? Nightwing?"
When no one replies, he tries again, voice breaking at the second attempt: "Oracle? Do you read? Anyone?"
After an eternity of waiting, a voice answers: "This is Oracle, who is this and how did you get acces to this channel?" 
"Please, I don't have time for this, something is wrong with Jason, i-is Nightwing there? O-or Batman or anyone! Is anyone here-"
"I don't know who you are or how you know Jason, but if you did something to him-"
Oracle gets cut off by a bone chilling shriek.
"He's convulsing, I don't know what to do someone please! Help him, please help my dad, please!"
"I-, I notified Batman, he's-"
Danny hears the mic get muffled on the other end. He prays the line didn't somehow get cut when no one speaks for a few minutes, until he hears a familiar voice.
"Danny, are you there?"
"Dick?" he sobs, "Dick, Jason's shaking and in pain, I don't know what to do-"
"B is on his way, he'll be there soon, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, it's Jason!"
"Is he injured?"
"I don't think so, he just said he was having pains and then he just collapsed."
Overhead, thunder rolls over Gotham, bringing rain with it. 
"Stay where you are, okay? We'll be there soon, you'll be okay-"
Danny doesn't listen to what Dick is saying next. As the rain pours down on the duo, he curls over him, putting up a dome of ice to protect them from the cold rain. With the storm roaring from the distance, drowning out the sound from the helmet, he sobs, holding Jason close to him and softly chirping at him, making sure he could hear him even if he was unconscious.
Hang on, dad....
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The age-old question: Is Kokichi the villain?
Ves: this one whiplashes back and forth from objectively correct to SO SO WRONG so much idk how to feel
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Me: well, they're right on their main point and simplified some things to get there and at the end he's an anti-hero, not a villain
Ves: i get being frustrated with woobfication but acting like the cast NEVER treated him unfairly is. UHHHHH Kokichi Is An Asshole, But! - my thesis statement also "bragging about how he got two people killed without a hint of genuine remorse" not a HINT!? NOTHING?? YOU CAN'T REMEMBER A SINGLE THING FROM THAT POSTTRIAL THAT SEEMED REMORSEFUL TO YOU!? 'start looking at him as a villain instead of a clueless victim' this is NOT a zero sum game both of those options r wrong
Me: they treated him Like That before he earned it and in his speech at the end of the 4th trial there's a portion when he says he's just stepping up to what's expected from him
Ves: NO LITERALLYYY THE SCENE IN THE DEATH ROAD LIKE….
Me: he was asking to be executed too, but sure, no remorse
Ves: what are we defining as remorse?? because that seems like literally the most remorseful a person could get to me oohhh i forgot remorse can mean REGRET yeah he's not very regretful neither is gonta! they're both crushed w guilt but that's not the same i guess
Me: the whole. everyone believing him when the lies fit what they want to see. bullshit he's a liar until he's saying he's evil, until he's taking something back, because surely he wouldn't lie about lying without saying the catchphrase
Ves: yeag like,,,when it's 'half my lies are told with good intentions' and 'i'm just trying to give gonta good advice, he'll get killed being so naive' and 'monokuma is going to make you suffer for cooperation like he did kaede' and so on and so on…. that's DEFINITELY a lie guys
Me: he left room to be seen through, he gave hints, he gave so many opportunities for them to get it, that he can't be doing it openly, but they went in with pre-packaged distrust specifically for him I love the theory that Tsumugi had them brainwashed to be opposed to him as a default to push him into his role
Ves: you're right but i wouldn't even describe it as HINTS, he has TWO SEPARATE MONOLOGUES about the danger of public cooperation that honestly monokuma should've clocked [sob emoji] but that's getting more into danganronpa writing than kokichi's morals i love giving him stuff that makes them inherently unnerved by him from the beginning
Me: this is also related to how much of "script" I believe there was for the game, I think they were given cues for how they're supposed to feel, little unconscious suggestions, a vague outline set with motives, nothing actually set in stone, the flashback making machine wouldn't need multiple options if there was a whole defined script that's expected to be executed to a t
Ves: i always thought tsumugi's claim that everything was scripted didn't. make sense. but i can never really feel out how much of it was
Me: she gave them roles, and then left them to improvise, she also has a lot of lines that cue you in on what she wants you to think of other characters, she wouldn't need to be doing that if she already controlled what you thought of them, but she's checking in, if you'll agree
Ves: truuuuee the way she talks about gonta always makes me shudder and the way she talks about kokichi always makes me giggle SNDJBHSHF she's sooo bitchy about him i love her
Me: she wants to shoehorn him into being a classic antagonist so bad and he just doesn't fit, like, I could swear she makes a reference to Nagito at least once when talking about him
Ves: THE WAY SHE TALKS ABT RANTAROU FITS THAT REALLY WELL TOO she KEEPS bringing up him being the fanservice character a playboy and he keeps shooting her down
Me: She fucking hates Rantaro and it's so funny, what did he dooo that finally puts her calling him a normie in a context, he ruined a cliché she was trying to pull, that's punishable by death
Ves: it's like when she yells at shuuichi in the FTEs for trying to say she isn't plain
Sini: I will say this, even though he did in fact show remorse in that instance I can’t blame the others for still being bitchy and pissed with him. Even if he had a good reason, which he did, what he did was still majorly fucked up. He was an asshole throughout the whole trial, an asshole to Gonta until that one moment, and then led him to his brutal death. I’m not saying how they treated him at that moment was good, but they aren’t really going to be thinking too rationally after all that. Ig one thing you could say is that they tend to not treat other culprits like Kirumi that way, but in that case I’d say they should’ve overall had written the characters reactions post trial or what not differently in general
Ves: oh no i absolutely think how the characters treat kokichi after ch4 is justified. i just think the op's casual dismissal is. UHHHH shoulda specified i was talking abt them and not the cast, sorry! kokichi was absolutely an asshole and deserved to get treated like one, but i think op fell too in line with the characters
Me: it was a situation where everyone sucked, nobody ever could begin to be equipped to deal with this shit, and so, nobody handled it well the end of the world was involved
Sini: Yeah, like, he’s a liar. Everyone only assumed he must be lying when trying to be helpful or didn’t mean well when he was spitting straight facts. No one bothered to listen to him. I get he’s an asshole, but fuck man, they cozied up to Maki. Wth is her excuse?
Ves: maki is the wall i always run into here maki is just as mean as he is and FARRR more dangerous but. her being an assassin was added later than her being a waifu
Mauri: i love maki. but in canon why the fuck did everyone love her she choked him out after he revealed that she was a fucking TRAINED KILLER and no one was worried abt that ??? kodaka dont make every single female character waifu bait challenge (almost impossible bc miu my love my life)
Ves: they literally cut to the next day when they're all looking through her lab and not ONCE do they comment on how that debacle…ended. DID ANYONE HELP HIM???
Sini: If Kokichi was a girl, I swear, things would’ve been a little different
Ves: if kokichi was a girl but written the same ppl'd say he EATS BABIES if he was written like kodaka likes to write women he WOULD eat babies but it'd be like, fine
Sini: Kokichi literally revealed a threat to the cast. And yet they still treat him like he’s this big villain….WHAT? Okay, but literally people treat Celeste better than Kokichi. Celeste is worse than Kokichi in everyway (personality wise)
Me: Celeste is evil in such a simple way, it's easy to brush over she's just greedy, a materialistic girl in a materialistic world, who could blame her? murder? god forbid women do anything
Sini: She’s very slay, but it’s just shitty cause you know people only excuse her cause she’s a cute girl
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thekimspoblog · 1 month
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FotD 1:
@joshgoodman: Thinking of some ideas currently; I've had this one circling my head. Somehow kim and Jim find themselves camping out like the kettlemans did (without the stolen money) to avoid being found by (insert threat here). Iris and fille are around 8 and 6 respectively
Me: That'd be cute! Fighting with trying to set up the tent, Kim would probably do most of it; Jimmy's threatening to slip a disk. Fille keeps asking what the hell we're actually doing out here. Iris tells her not to ask stupid questions.
"Iris, don't call your sister stupid"
"I'm not! I said her question was! There's a difference!"
Did they bring any food?
Me: In my timeline, one of the main tragic things is how this life weighs on Kim's sanity. She never really got over the trauma of the cartel following her back in '04, that's when the sheepdog dreams started; that's when she started believing in God, simply because she felt like someone or something was watching her and plotting against her at all times. Especially after Jimmy dies, paranoia really starts to consume her. She becomes a powerful mob boss nearing the end of her life, but no amount of security measures bring her peace of mind. Once Jimmy's out of the picture, things start to get a little Howard Hughes.
But yeah, even while he's around, he is sometimes worried she's getting neurotic, but it's not like he can't empathize; he never stopped looking over his shoulder either. Out here in the woods, every rustle in the grass could be a mountain lion or worse.
Him: They brought enough food for a week, but then they'd have to catch and cook their own. Which Jimmy might have an issue with. I think a mountain lion would be the least of their worries, it can be scared away; a cartel member with a gun/intent to hurt kim/her family isn't as easily scared away.
Me: Why do you think Jimmy would have a problem? Just not very good at hunting/fishing?
Kim considered taking a gun, but they both decided it would create more problems than it would solve. Even if Fille or Iris don't play with it, firing off a wild shot into the bushes could be a really bad idea; they're hiding from the law on fraud/extortion/other non violent charges. If she accidentally shot a cop who was coming to arrest them, now they're both back to looking at life. Not losing custody is always the top priority.
Even killing a "Made" man/woman would just incite retaliation. If the mafia kills them, best to just pray they'll spare the kids. Starting a shoot out would just be loud and dangerous.
I guess if they really believed the kids were in danger, they would have to give them up and leave them with someone, but thankfully it's never come to that.
Him: Based off of Jimmy's character, I'd think he'd have a terrible time hunting and fishing, yea. Also, he might have an issue with killing the animal he's able to retrieve.
I think kim would settle for a bow? Not sure if she has an archery background; iris would LOVE that. Fille could care less. But who would they leave them with, is the question? Mike is dead, so is dawson. The church is questionable
Me: I don't think Jimmy would have a problem killing an animal. He might be squeamish, but he was never a pacifist or vegetarian.
Highly doubt they would have thought to bring archery supplies. If they run out of food, they should just head back into town.
And when all else fails, they always have the option to call a social worker themselves. They REALLY don't want to do that, they've been trying to keep the kids safe off the grid. But nothing is worth endangering their lives. Even Fille would be unhappy in that arrangement.
Pretty sure "My parents only abandoned me because they're traveling con artists. But they promised they were coming back once the mob boss is dead" is foster home for "please beat me up for telling such outrageous lies".
Iris would look out for Fille, but who's looking out for poor Iris?  In the eyes of any conformist parent or teacher, Iris would be labeled a troubled child with behavioral issues. Even if their foster parents accepted their queerness, and that's a big if, nobody's going to listen to their indoctrination about the reasons shoplifting is a public good. Probably end up getting put on Ritalin or some shit.
Still, as long as Iris knew where they came from, why they feel this way all the time,they could at least try to fit in. In the timeline where Iris was born in 2005 and Kim gave them up out of guilt for what happened to Howard, Iris's life was terrible; just grew up confused and angry. Tarzan might not know what a human is, but he would still know he wasn't an ape. Kim saw these futures; even aborting them would be less cruel than leaving them to be raised by someone else. Iris needed their parents; they were the only ones who understood, the only ones who could shape this overgrown hedge of wild energy into a countercultural topiary. No matter what other childhood trauma they absorbed, the worst thing you could ever do is leave them without direction or purpose.
Him: Squeamish, that's the word I was looking for. But if it comes to survival, what wouldn't he do for his family?
Him: I wonder if the social worker would be an option? Kim wouldn't want to put the kids through that, they would find the best option one way or another.
Ah yes, Ritalin. Or as I like to call it, the zombie drug. That shit doesn't work and fuck any doctor who puts kids on it
Me: No matter what happens, at least Iris and Fille have eachother. It's not that Fille can't feel that Wexler-McGill blood in their veins; Fille is different from Iris by choice, not nature. But as the youngest in the family, as the last one always in pool when it comes to mischief, she can see how recklessness never leads to anything good.
Fille is better at pretending to be a "good kid" but she'd still feel deeply alone without her big sibling.
If she was left alone, Fille would probably be a troublemaker too. She's only such a square and a goody-goody because that's the only way she could have rebelled in a family of rebels.
Him: Ah, so fille chooses to be a goody two shoes because that's not what people expect when they see that family.
I don't think they would be apart for long, even separated by the foster care system if it came to that. Those two would always find a way back to each other
Me: Main problem is Jimmy and Kim don't want to admit failure a first time, because CPS is going to be breathing down their neck from then onward. For some reason, as long as the kids are biologically yours, most bizarre parenting choices are accepted as long as the government hasn't already labeled you a bad mother.
When Love Quinn was brought back by Dolores, the thing she wanted most was to see Henry again. But Dante and Lansing are good dads, and showing up in Henry's life now would just upset and confuse him. Admitting that she deserved to lose custody of her son was the hardest thing she's had to do, but it's for the best to just move on, try to be better moving forward.
Him: Do Love and Henry ever reunite? Or are those days behind them?
Me: Probably when Henry is older.
Iris probably would ask for archery lessons after reading the Hunger Games. Iris was always outdoorsy, but this probably is just a phase.
Him: What kind of phase would fille go through, if you had to guess?
Me: Well both siblings do have an interest in music. Iris learned to play the guitar from Jimmy; Fille would probably go ahead and find herself a piano teacher.
Him: I feel like iris would also take an interest in drums, maybe?
Me: Sounds about right.
I mean Jimmy and Kim want to encourage their hobbies. This is what the money is for.
Him: Iris would take an interest in archery, drums, and guitar while fille does piano, and maybe...swimming?
Me: Yes Fille loves the ocean. Probably cus of that goldfish soul.
Him: Ooh! Kayaking!
Me: I think Iris would be more into motor boats
Him: Boats are fun. Maybe they could take a vacation to the great lakes/some type of beach.
FotD 2:
Me: I guess yesterday I was also thinking about them making a big score, and then taking the kids shopping for new clothes. The kids complain, but it's still fun dressing them up like little dolls.
Him: I didn't think iris would go for that? Maybe fille
Me: Well Iris has always loved dress up, but plain clothes shopping is always a little boring for kids.
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Me: Kim saying "Try this one on. It's a little bit big but you'll grow into it... hmm no; that's actually too big, you'll be tripping and face planting all over"
Me: But yes, those two love shopping for the family. I mean Jimmy and Kim have been eachothers gay best friend stereotypes since all the way back to law school, but the last time they actually spent a substantial amount of money like this was a few years ago at Babies-R-Us. Since leaving the church, it's mostly been consignment shops. Nothing fancy that wasn't secondhand.
Which is why they want to get each of the four of them a new outfit that will last for next few years
Him: I don't think jim + kim would contribute to chains if they didn't have to. Always choosing places like goodwill over walmart
Me: Nah they'd still go somewhere nice. Kim's love for shiny things outweighs her communist sympathies.
She wants to pretend she's not materialistic, but low-maintenance bitches don't drink thousand dollar tequila or wear real gold.
I mean Goodwill is fine and all, but this is Prada man! She's only human!
Honestly Kim's hypocrisy with how she identifies with class I think is a really interesting facet of her personality.
This is why wealth redistribution campaigns always fail: first of all, in order to adequately navigate the upper class, the revolutionary already typically needs a middle class education or better. And second, even if an army does manage to steal from the rich, the leader finds it hard to actually give those winnings to the poor instead of just pocketing it. Kim hates rich people... except for herself; that person is a lucid and benevolent matriarch who DESERVES to be managing the money!
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aurumacadicus · 1 year
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More serial killer Bucky I guess. 😒 Tw: blood and gore and self harm and depression and suicidal thoughts and beloveds this man is a serial killer. This is past revenge he gets too much pleasure out of it. He chooses not to hurt Tony much but that’s an exception not the rule. He once tried to strangle Steve for getting in his way and Steve almost broke his neck in response these men went to sleep and woke up WRONG. They are not nice people.
Also I’m saying this so no one gets on my ass: The illnesses Bucky mentions are in quotations because until he actually researches them, Bucky thinks they’re fake. They didn’t have that shit back before he fell from the train and he is ASTOUNDED to know that he and Steve probably have some form of PTSD. But that’s future Bucky’s problem. He’s got Hydra to kill.
Watch out for under the cut.
“You need to go check on Tony,” Steve says. “I’ve got too many enemies on my tail. I can’t go. He’s not answering his phone.”
Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it back out. “I’m on my own job.”
“He’s not answering his phone and I can’t get to him,” Steve says flatly. “If he’s dead when I get back, that’s your fucking problem.” He hangs up before Bucky can say anything in response. The dial tone sounds judgmental.
Bucky looks at his phone for a moment, sighing, then crushes the Hydra goon’s throat in his metal fist, not caring about the blood splattering over him. He would have preferred to draw it out, but he hadn’t started his homicidal bender just to watch the kid who got him out of it die. His phone rings again. He answers it.
“I told him you killed his parents, by the way,” Steve says, voice clipped. “So he might try to shoot you. I don’t know,” he adds, sounding frustrated. “He might hand the gun to you to finish the job, too. He’s taking this medicine. I think sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t.” He sighs angrily. “I kinda thought they’d be able to fix this by now. The human body is a mistake. Have you heard of AIM?”
"No," Bucky says simply. He’s been hyper-focused on Hydra.
“Fucking piece of shit future things were supposed to be better without me--” Steve says, and then there’s the sound of shooting, and then he hangs up again.
Bucky considers looking into AIM, then decides he can deal with them if and when he runs out of Nazis to kill.
Tony’s front door is unlocked. It irritates him. Most people are scared off by locked doors, go looking for easier targets then. A locked door would at least buy someone time to protect themselves if the invader was intent on getting in.
“Are you here to kill me?” Tony asks where he’s sprawled out on the couch. “Finish the Stark family off forever?” His head lolls forward, and he blinks at him slowly, bruises under his eyes, greasy hair sticking to his damp forehead.
Bucky walks over to grab him by the front of the shirt with his metal hand. Tony doesn’t stand up when he tugs on it, so he shrugs, dragging him over to where he assumes the bedroom is. That seems to warrant a reaction, apparently, because he scrabbles uselessly with his grip. He makes his way through the bedroom to the bathroom.
“What is this?” Tony finally asks. “Is this a prosthetic? Why is it made out of metal?”
“To torture me,” Bucky answers. It could be a joke. It mostly isn’t. He opens the shower door and thrusts Tony inside. He means to draw his hand back, but Tony had a grip on him, so he slides a few inches before Bucky stops. “You’re gross.”
“It’s not gonna kill me to stay gross a little longer,” Tony huffs, twisting his arm this way and that. “This is sloppy. They really were trying to torture you, huh?”
“Chronic pain makes you tired. When you’re tired, you’re easy to control,” Bucky says. He sounds like he’s repeating it. He doesn’t know where he’s heard it before. One of the Hydra scientists, probably. It makes sense.
Tony’s face twitches, but whatever was there, it’s gone before Bucky can parse it. “I could do better,” he says, wrinkling his nose in disdain.
“You can’t even bathe yourself regularly,” Bucky says flatly. “Melding metal with a nervous system? Please.”
Tony jerks his head up to glare at him, and it’s the most emotion he’s seen on his face. “Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.”
He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it at him, and Bucky ducks on instinct. He stoops to pick it up and wonders why, remembers someone yelling at a bunch of little girls to pick their clothes up after they bathe. It sounds like his voice, maybe. He decides not to think about it. It wouldn’t help. He takes a moment to examine Tony’s arms. All he sees is the faded pink lines, he notices with approval. The scars will probably always be visible, but at least it doesn’t look like he’s got any new marks.
Tony throws his pants at him. He catches them and can’t help but think he aimed them at his head on purpose. His aim isn’t very good. But then, his everything isn’t very good right now. His ribs are too visible. He could use a few good meals.
Tony shoves his boxers down, and Bucky can’t help the noise he makes when he sees the wounds inside of his thighs. Razor marks in two rows from mid thigh up to the crease almost up to where thigh met pelvis.
Bucky has his flesh hand around Tony’s throat before he even realizes, shoving him up against the tiles with a snarl. He feels Tony’s throat work beneath his hand, but there’s no pleasure in it--there’s no fear in Tony’s wide eyes, no anxiety. He doesn’t even struggle. Bucky drops him, disgusted, and Tony drops to the floor with a gasp as he spits, “You’d be happy if I killed you, wouldn’t you?”
Tony clutches at his throat, as he continues sucking in air, but he doesn’t answer, staring up at him from under his lashes with what might be disappointment, if Bucky was generous, except that he mostly looks like he feels nothing at all.
It’s wrong. People shouldn’t want to... What had Steve said? Medicine. Tony was sick. Something was making him feel like this.
“Shower,” Bucky tells him sharply, catches sight of the razor on the shower shelf, and reaches in to snatch it.
Tony looks like he wants to complain, but thinks better of it in response to Bucky’s sharp glare.
Bucky waits for the shower to start before he goes through the bathroom cupboards and drawers, then out into the bedroom. He finds a couple more razors. Takes those too. Finds a couple orange bottles and examines them. Googles the names to figure out what they are. Doesn’t understand any of the words, really.
“What’s serotonin?” Bucky asks when Tony comes out of the bathroom, and Tony lets out a startled bark of laughter. “They didn’t have that when I was in the army,” he continues defensively, and Tony laughs harder.
Tony gets dressed, and Bucky googles what the fuck a dopamine is. Doesn’t care that Tony’s getting close until his hands are on his metal wrist. “This really is garbage,” he huffs, unimpressed. “I know I could do better.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” Bucky says flatly. “You’re still trying to die. You don’t even lock your door.” He slants Tony a sharp look. “Is that because you’re hoping someone will come in and hurt you?”
“Maybe, but so far it’s just been your contrarian ass,” Tony grumbles. “Saved my life twice even though you regularly kill people. Even my own parents. So unfair.”
Bucky turns his judgmental slant to a full-on glare, outraged. Tony doesn’t even notice, making him turn his arm so he can examine the elbow joints in motion. “Do you have any self-preservation in that emaciated body of yours?”
“Celebrities are supposed to be thin,” Tony scoffs.
“I don’t know what that means,” Bucky tells him, unimpressed, and then jerks his arm free and stands. “Answer your fucking phone.”
“I was mugged,” Tony says with a blase shrug, and then snaps, “Don’t fucking choke me if you’re not gonna finish the job,” when Bucky reaches out for him again.
Bucky pauses to consider this. Maybe a good slap would help?
Tony tips his head back to look up at him, purring, “Or unless you’re gonna finish the job, if you know what I mean. I like when my daddy chokes me while I’m riding him.”
“Gross. I knew your dad,” Bucky says. Remembers the way Howard looked up at him, blood dripping down his face, and asked, “Sergeant Barnes?” before he beat him to death. “Don’t call me that. You’re twelve.”
“I’m twenty-two,” Tony exclaims, offended.
It's the most emotion Bucky has seen on him, even more than in the bathroom. “Answer your fucking phone,” he says, instead of ‘sounds fake’ or ‘no way.’ “I had to leave in the middle of a job. If I have to do that again, I’ll be very angry.”
“I don’t fucking care,” Tony says, and Bucky has to credit him for being honest.
“Maybe you can fix my arm,” Bucky says, instead of telling him he’s annoying. “If you live long enough.”
Tony’s eyes immediately go to his arm again. Speculative. Interested.
Bucky leaves. Takes a few days to do a deep dive on “depression” and “bipolar” and “anxiety” and wonders when they started existing outside of shell shock, except apparently that isn’t a thing anymore. Takes another few days to research the medication he’d found and texts Steve that he doesn’t think what Tony’s taking is helpful. Suggests different options.
The only response he gets is “why is Tony taking my blood????” and “WHY IS TONY DRAWING ARMS??????? ARE YOU GETTING A NEW ARM????? I’m gonna tell him to put a smiley face on where the star is now.”
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