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shorkbrian · 3 years

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He’d be so freaking mean too omg

like all “Shut the fuck up, did I say you could fucking speak?” spitting at you when you’re panicking, blubbering out anything to get him to stop.

Originally he was just going to spank you until your skin had broken, until there were raw welts across your ass and thighs, bruised and sensitive to the slightest breeze. Levi would want you to remember and suffer with the pain for as long as he had to suffer and endure the pain of almost loosing you. The hurt of knowing that you’re still trying to run, still trying to get away from him.

But now he knows that the pain of a few smacks won’t be enough to convey the ache you put his heart through. The ripping, tearing, long-lasting suffering afflicting him whenever you show your disdain for him. He masks it with anger, with the poorly restrained attitude of a trainer correcting its pupil, but the hurt is still there.

Levi knows it’s all wrong, everything that he does to you. But in a twisted, fucked up way, you deserve it. Deserve it for catching his eye, and being nice to him even when he was a bitch (which was always), for letting things progress to this point - a relationship filled with suffering and heartache.

It’s all your fault.

That’s what he tells you when the man hisses at you to shut up again, delivering another resounding smack to your rear to convey the seriousness of his point.

“Brat. What did you think you’d gain from running? Huh?”

He’s so aggressive, pulling your hair, smacking you around, his hands stinging with the abuse he’s littering across your skin. When you attempt to garble out another plea for mercy, for forgiveness, Levi grabs your face in one hand and pinches, pulling you towards himself with a cruel expression. “You don’t get to ask for an ounce of goddamn mercy. I am being merciful, you stupid little shitstain.”

The sheets are smeared with the slightest bit of blood.

“Now be fucking quiet.”

You can’t help the yelps of pain that are smacked out of you when Levi’s hand connects to your raw flesh, immediately sobbing and biting your lip as tears soak the sheets, mingle with the blood.

Levi’s so pissed, he doesn’t care how hard you’re trying to be silent. With a growl of frustration, he grabs the back of your neck, hauling you up onto your knees on the bed.

A palm strikes hard against your cheek, whipping your head to the side and then it strikes again in the exact same spot.

“Are you so stupid that you can’t get it through that tiny fucking brain of yours - this is a punishment. I’m in charge. I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. I own you.”

Your ears feel like they’re filled with cotton, you can’t stop the wretched sobs heaving from your chest. Levi is furious.

He maneuvers you until you’re on your hands and knees facing away from him, barely able to hold yourself up through the fuzzy panic filling your body, weighing you down and making you dizzy.

More spanking is expected, and you’re already struggling to brace yourself for the inevitable hit when instead, hot fingers covered in cold lube grip your ass, pull the cheeks apart.

Levi ignores the way your breath catches in your throat, how your body freezes completely and your tears start falling faster. He doesn’t care about your comfort right now, he’s trying to prove a point.

His nails are blunt and short - the man keeps his hands neat and clean. It just means you’re forced to feel the full sensation of Levi’s fingertips probing at your ass.

“You better relax, or else I’ll shove my entire fist up your ass and fuck you with it until you bleed out.” Levi snarls, and you realize you’re shaking terribly, almost convulsing as you force your hole to relax and stop clenching.

A finger worms it’s way inside, painful and entirely too fast, too soon. But Levi doesn’t care. You deserve to be in pain.

He only wants to work two fingers inside of you, just enough so that he can spread his digits and open your hole a little. Levi knows you’ll probably tear and bleed anyway tonight, but he’s not looking to actually kill you, so he squirts lube directly into your hole, sneering when you clench at the sensation and it makes a disgusting squelching sound.

“You aren’t trying to take a shit, stop that.”

As if you could control the way your body reacted to painful stimulus.

Levi fishes out his cock, doesn’t even bother with removing his clothes. He’s going to fuck some sense into you, make you understand pain and consequences, and then he’s going to leave you lying in a puddle of your own tears. You’re pathetic.

He taps his cock against your hole, jaw set in anger, thinking about how he’d felt to hear that you’d somehow gotten loose in the barracks, running through the halls and trying every single door, hoping to find a way out. Good thing all the cadets, all the staff - they knew to who where you belonged.

“L-Le-L-N-n-n” You managed, tongue thick and heavy in your mouth. You wanted to say no, tell him to stop, that you’d listen and be good and do whatever he said, if only he would please not do this.

But all your mushy syllables gained you was a violent slap to your rear, Levi seething. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you? Can’t do anything right, useless brat.”

And with that, he was pushing inside, forcing his way into your body, relentless and uncaring of the extreme pain he was putting you in.

A horrified wail tumbled from your lips, body jolting and spasming and struggling to lurch away from the assault, but Levi held you easily in place, exactly where he wanted you.

“Don’t, you brought this upon yourself.” He ground out, your walls squeezing the tip of his cock almost painfully, so tight and convulsing wildly as your body tried to force him out.

He was tired of talking, tired of trying to get through to you with words.

In no time, he was fully inside you, lube easing the way, blood joining and slicking your passage even more. As his hips pulled back, the gross mixture dripped to the bed below, staining his sheets. Levi was disgusted.

But he pushed forward, finding his rhythm with quick swings of his hips, pummeling your insides with barely a care for your wellbeing.

Maybe he was sick, but it felt good.

It felt good to see you in so much pain, mourning the choices you had made to lead up to this moment.

It felt good to feel you squeezing at his cock so intensely, body reacting in violent spasms that felt exciting and made Levi’s balls tingle.

Usually Levi would at least try to help you cum. A hand between your legs with he fucked you, fingers flicking against your clit. Having you ride him and control the pace so you could bounce until you reached your peak. Fingering you after your hole was loose and sloppy from his cock, curling his digits just so that they rubbed against your G-spot and made you squirm on each thrust.

But now Levi had no desire to make you feel good. You had made him feel awful; he was just returning the favor.

Seeing you like this, struggling underneath him to stay conscious through the hurt, crying and sobbing his name even though the man had told you to shut your fucking mouth, taking what he dished out....

Levi felt warm.

That stupid, syrupy warmth rising in his chest, threatening to spill out his mouth by way of foolish words.

“I love you.” Is what he wants to say, press himself down until he’s flush with your back, mouth next to your ear so he can shamefully whisper it just so you can hear.

You’re in so much pain, writhing and jolting, clawing at the sheets - Levi doubts you’d even understand him if he said anything at this point.

So he lets his body talk for him, hips speeding up as he felt his balls tighten, cock twitching inside your hole and you screech in agony. He won’t drag this out any longer, you’ve learned your lesson, remembered who it is you’re supposed to love.

Levi grabs your hips, clutches onto you with white knuckles and pounds home, faster and faster until he feels himself let go, cock twitching wildly as your hole squeezes him down.

When he pulls out, the cum that drips down your thighs is tinted pink.

Levi’s reminded of the color of love.

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...

But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)

Find it here on Ao3

Of Silence And Slow Time

part i of iii

New York City, 1920

Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.

“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”

Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.

“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”

It had taken everything for him to get home.

Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.

Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.

“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”

“I’m not going back to France.”

“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”

Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—

Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”

Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”

Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”

Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.

Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.

He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”

Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.

Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.

Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.

Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.

“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.

Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.

“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”

Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.

Le Lion.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”

The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”

Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.

A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.

“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”

Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.

“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”

“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”

Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.

The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.

Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.

When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.

Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.

The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.

The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.

Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.

And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.

“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”

Leo?

And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.

“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“

He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.

Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”

Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”

“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.

“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”

That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.

“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.

He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.

Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”

It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.

“Please,” he managed more quietly.

He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.

“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.

Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”

“And where are you taking me?”

“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”

#finn o'hara #hazelverse #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #o'knutzy #historical #historical au #ancient greece #1920 #wwi

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stars-a-n-d-scars · 3 years

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Wolfstar Hurt/Comfort fic.

This is my birthday gift for @dobbys-simp. I know it’s a bit late sweetheart, but I hope you like it!

I suck at angst so don’t judge.

***

It was cold. So cold. Sirius was hunched over in his cell, crying. He tried, again and again to transform into Padfoot, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Remus’ voice echoed in his ears.

“Murderer”.

“Traitor”.

“Death Eater”.

A vaguely familiar scream bounced off of the stone walls, amplifying over and over until Sirius’ ears were splitting from the sound. He wondered if it was his.

Dark haints swooped down around him, malevolent phantoms bent on consuming what happiness was left in the isolated room, on the isolated rock, in the middle of the isolated sea. Alone.

So alone.

So cold.

He was drowning in the darkness, in the sorrow and despair. And Remus was there again, his facing leering out of the darkness. Sirius’ lungs filled with water as he spluttered, help, help, help.

But all Remus did was laugh. A laugh filled with contempt, all of the pent up rage and hatred he had for the man that killed his best friends. He laughed and laughed, holding out a helpful hand to Sirius, only to snatch it away before it was within reach.

A thousand voices filled his ears, but they were all Remus. Remus jeering, Remus hating. Remus telling him over and over again that he deserved this. That he was the reason they were dead.

“Sirius…” it was extraordinary really, how whispers could be so deafening.

“Sirius… you killed them”.

I know Remus, I know!

No matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn’t come out.

“Sirius… I never loved you”.

Sirius screamed again, a terrible, inhuman sound of pure anguish ripping through what was left of his decaying flesh.

“Sirius… none of us ever loved you. We were pretending. The whole time, it was just a game. We pitied you. And so, we said we cared. But it was all pretend. Sirius…”

“Sirius…”

“Sirius”.

“Sirius!”

He woke with a start. He was drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around his legs like a straitjacket, trapping him. He couldn’t move.

And then Remus was there. Not the terrifying, dream version of Remus, but his Remus. Remus, with his amber eyes and his god-forsaken hair. With his hands, surprisingly soft for all the writing they did. With his beautiful scars, tracing a map of every moonlit adventure, every painful night and every blissful morning.

As he looked up at his husband, Sirius’ breathing slowed. Inch by inch, Remus was pulling him back to reality. Back to safety.

The war was over. The war was over, and Voldemort was dead, and Harry was fine, and Remus was fine, and they were married, and they were happy.

Instinctively, his hand reached for the wedding band on his ring finger. The cold, cool metal instantly calmed him, centered him. He ran his thumb over the engraving, which read

La lune et les étoiles, ensemble enfin.

Remus was mumbling sweet nothings, his sweet breath warming his husband’s cheek.

“It’s okay, mon chien. You’re okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re home. You’re home.”

Slowly but surely, Sirius’ breathing returned to normal.

“Do you want to go and sit outside? The sun should be coming up in a minute.”

Sirius nodded. Not trusting himself to speak just yet.

Slowly, with shaking legs and trembling hands, Sirius made his way to the door, guided by Remus. Remus lowered him into the chair on their back porch, and draped a blanket over him. Bending to his knees so his face was level with Sirius’, Remus looked at his husband with that soft, reassuring gaze that Sirius so adored.

“I’m going to go and get us some hot chocolate, okay sweetheart?”

Sirius nodded again. Remus rose to his feet, kissing his husband on the forehead before heading inside to the kitchen.

Sirius gazed out at the horizon. The Scottish countryside stretched on forever. Flower-draped hills seemed to sway in the wind, creating a picturesque haven, tucked away in the northernmost corner of that tiny island. The rising sun shattered the night sky into a million vibrant shards of pink and orange. Sunkissed clouds looked as though had been dipped in molten gold, constantly shifting and rearranging themselves to tell intricate stories in a never-ending blur.

Sirius was happy. And when Remus returned, it was clear to see in his face that he was happy too. Without a word, he handed his husband a mug of hot chocolate. With his other hand, he intertwined their fingers, and fell back into his chair, finally content.

It was a pretty house. Like a painting, it was draped in honeysuckle and joy. Thousands of pictures covered every inch of the walls, turning the whole place into a scrapbook of the lives of Moony and Padfoot. Except for one place. There was a wall, above the fireplace, that was completely bare, except for one piece of parchment. It sat, not framed, just open on the mantlepiece. Anyone could tell that it was old. Maybe 60 years old. It had stood the test of time, that parchment. It had stood the test of many other things too. Spilt butterbeer, intrusive teachers, even Mrs. Norris had had a go at tearing it up. But it had always survived. And here it was, all these later, sitting on the mantlepiece of the remaining marauders, and all it would display was two words. Two words that had never, in their saying, been truer than they were in this moment.

Mischief Managed.

#wolfstar #marauders #maraudersera #siriusblack #remuslupin #jamespotter #hp #jily #peterpettigrew #lilyevans #sirius black #remus lupin

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faithfully-writing · 4 years

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Neko! Levi Ackerman X female reader [NF NSFW]

~Your point of view~

I return home from work to be greeted by my cat. He quickly leaps into my arms and licks my nose in place of a kiss. A giggle escapes as I rub my cheek against his, his short black fur soft to the touch. But he wasn't a complete black cat, he had a white chest. He looks up at me with unique dazzling eyes full of boredom and coldness yet at the same time love and trust. I smile softly down at him, closing the door behind me and placing him down on the floor much to his disappointment. He started to meow and whine for my attention so I flopped down on the couch and he suddenly landed on my chest, right on my breasts. "Oof." I gasp at the contact. He starts kneading before curling up and resting his head under my chin, purring while falling asleep. "Oh Levi." I sigh in complete relaxation. "I'm so glad I found you." Truth be told that a few weeks back I had saved him from dying of hunger and thirst as he was only skin and bones and some of his now soft fur was missing in tuffs. But back then he was a cat and all attitude. Always grumpy and glaring at me, even when I fed him. It took him a while to calm down and to accept me and since then he's just found his own personality. Though when I do clean my house, very rarely I might add, he seems to be in a happier mood and I can't get him away from my mop. I pet him and all I get in return was him purring. My (e/c) eyes feel heavy and I close them, falling into a comfortable sleep.

~Couple hours later~

I groan and crack open my eyes. I feel a strange hot and heavy sensation from my chest down. I lift my head and my (e/c) eyes widen to plate size. There, using my breasts as a pillow, is a man. His black undercut hair tickles my neck and his eyes are closed. He appeared to be sleeping. I quickly shout and push him off, standing up and running to the other side of the room. "Who are you?" I question, pointing a finger at the man.

He sits crossed legged, rubbing his dull yet bright silver eyes with the back of his hands which were covered by a long sleeved black woolen jumper with a long white scarf. I look at his head once again and almost shriek in fright. There, pointed up, were two black cat ears. Swishing behind him was a back tail which looks like it should belong to a cat. "Don't ignore me please. Who are you?" I speak softer. He was quite handsome and cute at the same time. But he was still a stranger. A stranger who managed to get into my house. “Where's my Levi?” I demand, hoping he didn't do anything to hurt the creature.

The man looks over at me and all of a sudden he pounces on me, knocking me to the ground. A low rumbling purr erupts from his chest as he hugs me tightly. "Tch brat. I'm your Levi." He rolls his eyes, brushing his cheek against my own softly as if helping me to remember. "You shouldn't yell. It doesn't suit your kind nature." He licks my cheek, his grey eyes staring down into my own (e/c) ones. His hands push down on my shoulders, pushing me against the floor harder. "Though you're cute for a brat." He says, his grey eyes darkening and filling with an emotion which I think is lust. "Maybe these clothes should come off? Tch pesky clothes."

I'm at a lost for words as his hands trail along my now showing stomach. His fingers dancing and trying patterns which slightly tickled and felt soothing. I giggle at the touch a little and his ears perk up. His grey eyes glisten with playfulness and another purr erupts from his body. "Le-Levi." I struggle to speak with the feeling of my once cat now person, touching my stomach. I blush bright red as his hands start trailing higher.

"That's it brat. That's it my (y/n)." His voice thick and heavily filled with lust, "Say my name. It's been ages since I've wanted to do this." He mutters before crashing his lips against my own with enough force to bruise. I let out a small squeak in surprise and he smirks knowing full well what he's doing. He shifts his weight so that his legs were taking it all and not my waist and his cloth covered cock brushes against my bare stomach, reminding me exactly what he was planning.

I gasp and he slips his tongue in. The wet slimy organ brushes against every part of my mouth, coating it in his own saliva. He grips my tongue with his and starts a small tug-a-war in which I lose as he squeezes my left breast. The sudden feeling of unknown pleasure was too much and I slightly let a quiet moan slip past my (l/c) lips only to be swallowed greedily by Levi.

He detaches his lips from mine and a thin trail of our mixed saliva joined the two of us together. I blush a bright red as he smirks down at me, his ears twitching as well as his tail. "I want you to make more of those sounds. Tch. Only make those sounds with me brat. As I can be the only one pleasuring you." He uses his long nails and rips my (f/c) shirt from the inside and slips if off my arms tossing it near the coffee table but not enough for it to land on it. I blush darker as he views me, even though I still wore my bra and shorts, it felt he could see straight through it.

"Lev-Ahh!" I were in the middle of saying his name when he forcibly bit on the nook of my neck, drawing a tiny bit of blood in which he lapped up like he did with his milk.

"Tch brat. Your taste may get me addicted." He grunts before kissing my neck looking for my sweet spot. My once idle hands came up to his head and starts knotting themselves into his hair, sometimes brushing against his ears which caused a low growl to emit from his chest. I moan Levi's name when he finds my soft spot and he abuses it until it was black and purple leaving me out of breath. "Now you're mine." He purrs satisfied, sitting back up looking down on his work with pride. I was getting hot and bothered and feeling him wasn't enough. My breasts hadn't even been freed from their confinement.

I smirk up at him and push him over so I was the one sitting on him. Oh how the tables had turned. His silver eyes widen in surprise before narrowing with a smirk. He seemed to be egging me on. I smirk down at him and lick my lips. I reach down and pinch the tip of one of his cat ears getting a reward of him giving of a little yelp like moan. I snap my bra off and throw it away this time landing it on the coffee table.

I start to move my hips, grinding on him, making sure to pay special attention to any small changed in his tone. He lets out a slight groan, letting me know that it wasn't enough. But he was helpless to get me moving faster as when he tried to help I just pinned his wrists down.

"(Y-y/n)." He lets out shakily. Ripping his wrists from my hands and gripping my hips tightly, digging his long nails into my (s/c) skin, as a few ruby droplets fall. I just sit up a little straighter and move a little faster, pulling the scarf off before reaching down for the hem of his sweater and pulling it off him, leaving him bare chested. It seemed he didn't wear shirts underneath his sweaters. The sweater and scarf left my hands, flying somewhere unknown this time and I focus on his perfect skin. My hands trail down his chest, and along his abdomen, feeling the smooth skin and earning sharp intakes of breaths. But it didn't last long as he quickly gathered ahold of himself and before I could place my lips against his collarbone he suddenly flipped the two of us and was kneading my breasts like he did in cat form.

I moan as the pleasant feeling rose. He leans down and gives me a small soft kiss on the lips before trailing them down along my jaw, down my neck, along my collar bone before latching onto my right nipple. Haven bitten a couple of times on his journey down, I now had a numerous number of hickeys that would be hard to cover up. The feeling felt unreal as he flicked his tongue, making my back arch and him to gather more into his mouth, sucking and nipping. He other hand that wasn't gripping my right hip was fondling my left breast, pinching the tip before massaging the small amounts of pain away. My moans filled his ears like a song and he got more and more excited. "My name brat." He growls lifting his head up to look into my glazed (e/c) eyes, "say it." He demands next, leaving my body to the cool floor as he went down to my legs.

He places both his hands against my short's hem and gently tugs it down, leaving (f/c) underwear on. He sits back happily, watching me breath heavily with want and my eyes clouded with lust. "Levi." I mutter look over at him. He smirks and trails a finger up the inside of my thigh reaching closer to my clitoris.

"Is that all?" It was like a switch had been flipped and he tears the remaining cloth from my body, feeling the wetness of it. "Well it seems like your prepared." He chuckles, flinging the cloth away. He leans his face close to my folds and softly blow air along it, sending shivers up my back.

"Lev-Levi!" I exclaim in surprise, leaning my head back against the hard floor as a finger gets pushed inside, electric shocks running haywire through my body as I tighten against the strange feeling. It slipped in easy and he started to thrust that one finger slowly, enjoying the looks of pleasure and want contorting my face. My (e/c) eyes half closed with lust as I moan out from the pleasure which sent my mind clouding, "Levi m-more." I stutter, closing my eyes as he adds a second and a third. Stretching me out. There was pain as I stretched but it was soon pushed away by pleasure been his thumb pressed and rubbed my clit. My moans grew louder as a coil tighten in my stomach, it was growing tighter and tighter with each finger thrust and curl he did that I clamped my legs against his arm tightly.

He quickly spreads them and sits between my knees forcing them to stay open. "Your moans are delicious (y/n)." He whispers to me, and that's what snapped the coil, an explosion of feelings and colours happened as I cummed over his fingers without warning. He continued to thrust letting me ride out my first orgasm before pulling his fingers out and licking then sexily. "You taste so sweet (y/n). I must have more." He whispers as I lay there panting, trying to regain my head, "I think I'm addicted. Punishment will be given out brat."

He kisses my folds before licking them, cleaning off any cum before sticking his tongue straight in. Moving the organ around and lapping up the cum, smirking as he felt me shake in pleasure. 'Oh how fun his days were going to be now.' He thinks as he tastes his love's sweetness. Earning more song like moans as the feelings piled, waiting for the lid to blow. He started to thrust his tongue in and out until I was close, having nothing to grip onto, my hands found there way into his soft locks and I pushed him closer in, wanting more of the friction, my body now greedy for pleasure. I start to grind myself against his face as Levi continues to thrust before he claps his hands on them, stopping me from moving. The coil comes back but tighter than ever but before I could release he retracts his face, leaving me on the edge.

I pout and struggle to talk, wanting more of him. I shakily hold up a hand towards him and he seems to get the idea. He moves back up and kisses me harder than before, most like bruising my lips worse. His tongue slips in automatically and I can taste my own sweetness as well as his saliva. We both break of for air and during that time he pulls his black trousers off, leaving him in his boxers with a fairly large tent. "Take them off." He demands, his grumpy nature leaving for a more demanding Levi. I slowly sit up, wanting some friction on my clit but none being granted, I whine and look at him wanting him to continue but he shakes his head. I push him on his back once again and press light butterfly kiss down his chest, nipping here and there as I grind myself against his hips, making us both groan and moan at the pleasure. "Hu-hurry up." He demands getting impatient. I hook my fingers into his boxers and pull them down, them finding somewhere else in the room to land. I look down at his larger than average member, not knowing what to even think. He raises an eyebrow and asks suggestively, "You like?"

All I could do was stare at it, not even thinking if it was going to fit. I kiss my way along it reaching the tip, flicking my tongue along it, retracting a groan from Levi. I lick from the base to the tip where I swirled my tongue around it. Hollowing my cheeks I slowly start to take him in, encouraged by his moans and groans. Soon enough his hands tangle into my (h/l) (h/c) hair and pushes me onto it, deep throating him. I try not to gag, and wrap my hands around what I couldn't fit. Unsure of what to do I give his shaft a lick and he groans, losing himself in my mouth. He starts to push and pull me along his cock, as I lick as much of it as I can which caused more grunts and groans, while pumping my hands. He starts to move my head faster as well as some thrusts, the tip hitting the back of my throat more than once. His pants were getting louder and well as his groans, "Stop little one.” He demands, pulling my off him. But I don't listen, “Baby girl. I want to cum in you so you best stop before I change my mind about pleasuring you again.” I stop and back off, sitting back on my heels. I tilt my head at him, waiting for his next move.

He quickly shoves me quickly to the ground, sitting between my legs once again. He grips my hands and brings them up, each on either side of my head. He leans over and his cool silver eyes looking into my own (e/c) eyes with a heated expression. "Tch. Just remember I love you brat after all this." He mutters looking to the side as a faint blush appears on his stoic face. His ears twitch and his tail wraps around my left leg, as if clinging to it.

He places the tip of his hard cock at my entrance and he slowly rubs the tip up and down, coating it in my fluids. He smiles faintly before gritting his teeth and pushing in slowly. I feel my eyes widen as I gaze up at him. He was larger than I thought he would be. I could feel him stretching my walls but it was purely pleasure. Sure I had a couple of guys who I had let do this to me but none were as gentle and loving as Levi was being. For them it was all about having a quick fuck. I moan as I feel him fill me completely. It was like a lock and key. He kept pushing while whispering loving murmurs and telling me to relax and breath. I could feel my breath leaving me as I grew tense. My walls clamp around his throbbing cock, stopping him from entering any further or he could damage me.

He stops and hovers over me. Freezing his movements. "(Y/n), love? I need you to breath and relax." He whispers. Leaning down and pressing his lips softly against mine. None of the other guys could of filled me up this much. The pleasure was overwhelming and I can't think straight. All I can think about is the large, hot, throbbing cock. Slowing making its way inside me and filling me up. He breaks the kiss feeling me relax a little. His warm breath hits my bruised lips in an uneven pace as he struggles to keep himself together. "I don't want to hurt you. I have never wanted to hurt you." He mumbles, slowly pushing in again. My walls relax and so does my body allowing him ease of access but he moves more slowly, being careful not to let me grow to tight otherwise it could bring harm. Once he was in to the hilt he closes the small gap between our lips and kisses me softly again but with more passion. I could truly feel his love being translated through the kiss.

If I was still standing I was sure his kiss would've made me weak at the knees and limp. It still did even if I was laying down. He slowly draws back until just the tip was in before thrusting just as slow back to hilt, meeting some friction. The friction between us was hot and made me impatient.

He breaks the kiss as he feels me squirm underneath him. He kisses my nose gently and smiles down at me. "Patience love." Levi whispers. It seems his cold exterior from before had broken down, showing the loving man well neko underneath.

He leans back and hooks his hands underneath me, clasping them together at the small of my back. His hands slightly tickle as he moves his fingers along my back. He pulls he with him as he sits on the floor and brings me on his lap. His cock still completely engulfed by my vagina. He starts to rock back and forth on his ass, making me loop my arms around his neck in response. He slowly starts to thrust in time with his rocks. It was slow and painless. Pleasure filling my every sense. It was like every sense had been magnified. His scent of cleaning products and fresh air filled my nose as our skin rubbed against each others. It was relaxing. Just rocking and his thrusting in time as my fingers knot in his hair.

The pressure and heat was building up much more slowly, almost in an agonizing way, but it was much hotter with a larger pressure. It was like it was being magnified. His cock swelled and my walls stretched to fit him. He made sure I was comfortable at all times as he thrusts. He locks our lips again in a passionate kiss full of love. Never have I've experienced such a passionate sex. All the others were rough and just after the high. This seemed more about translating love and relaxing. It was just pure enjoyment.

We broke of the kiss, panting lightly before rejoining our lips again. His thrusts didn't seem to fasten it's pace nor slow it. He continued rocking. I could feel his cock against my walls and the friction was heavenly. The coil grew larger and hotter the more he rocked and thrusted. It was agonising not going faster yet it was more pleasant. I close my eyes and lean my head back as his lips trail down my neck. The coil was getting hotter and hotter. Almost like a burning sensation.

"Lev~Levi~" His name is uttered from my lips like a soft moan. He smirks against my neck, moving down to my collar bone. He sucks and nips, leaving more hickies as he continues to thrust. I was getting close. I tighten my legs around him as my walls gripped his cock tighter than before.

He grunts, now forcing himself. "(Y-y/n)." He groans, thrusting in one last time before letting go at the same time. He groans loudly, his hot cum filling my womb to the brim, some even flowing out as I cum as well. It was the most hottest feeling ever. I could feel the weight of his cum and mine. He forgot to have protection. I could of cuffed him over the head if I was wasn't so tired and sore. He slowly pulls out and kisses me faintly, lips barely brushing. He moves his arms lower and grips underneath my thighs.

"Hold on for me." He whispers, not seeming tired at all. I grip the back of him and lean against him. Too tired to even do anything else I let him lift me up and he stands up, carrying me gently through the house and into my room. Levi gently sits me down in the attached bathroom and grabs a towel he cleans us both before laying me down gently on my (f/c) bed. He lays down beside me and draws the covers over us. "I'll try to stay in my human form until you wake up, than I'll need to take a break from using my energy." He whispers, holding me close to him and stroking my hair with one hand and trailing along my back with his other. I splay my hands our on his chest and bury my head into it. Our legs tangled together. "I won't leave you brat. Not now. Not ever. Tch. Nobody would be able to drag me away." He places a soft kiss to my forehead. "Now relax and go to sleep. I'll wake you up at tea time."

I close my eyes and relax, falling into a warm sleep in my neko's arms.

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #smut #attack on titan #nekocat #neko #normal AU #lemon #commission #commisionwork

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inkblotsandpapertrails · 4 years

Text

Heart of Stone {R.H.} [Pt 4]

Warnings: Mild Depictions of Injuries

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Description: You didn’t agree with your brothers much. You didn’t like how they treated people or handled emotions and etcetera. But you could all agree that the Delancey’s were a proud family. A strong family. You didn’t get close to people, you didn’t show emotion, you didn’t let anyone have power over you, no matter what, because that made you weak. Except for the pretty newsboy with the foghorn voice and smart jokes, apparently.

A/N: don’t you love panicking over not updating in a while so you anxiously post one segment of an unfinished chapter because you don’t think you can finish this chapter soon enough and then you finish said chapter immediately afterwards and look like an idiot? i sure do!

You stood outside the deli awkwardly in the sweltering heat of New York summer, first aid kit stuffed clumsily under your arm. You couldn’t help but feel panicked – sure, Medda had given you the address and everything, but it wasn’t like she knew you were part of the family whose whole livelihood was based around scamming, screwing over and beating up newsies.

You swallowed heavily and steeled yourself – maybe you weren’t a Delancey anymore, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be tough.

When you opened the door, you felt the temperature drop. It was probably just the cooling system, but still, it freaked you out. Every single newsie was staring at you. Some looked angry, some shocked, a few of the younger ones looked downright terrified.

“Hey.” You said awkwardly, raising your hand in a little half-wave before quickly shoving it back down. One newsie narrowed his eyes at you viciously, twirling his slingshot in his hands.

“Whadda you want?”

You looked away and cleared your throat, holding up the first-aid kit in lieu of an answer.

“I saw, um...” You murmured. “I just thought you might need help.”

A low murmur spread around the room as the newsies muttered to each other, their gazes flicking to you suspiciously every so often.

“I can go...” You said quietly. “I just, um... I thought you might want- I dunno. I’ll go. Bye.”

You turned stiffly and was about to open the door to leave when-

“Ey, [Y/N]!”

You spun around frantically to see Race waving at you from across the deli.

“Thank God ya got out okay!” Race grinned as he all but sprinted across the deli and took you by the hand. You swallowed heavily as he led you through the shop, chatting the whole way. “I meant to check in at Medda’s, but, um – well, some shit’s been goin’ down, let’s just say. You doin’ okay, though? Medda treatin’ ya good?”

Oh, you were supposed to respond now. Okay.

“Um – Yeah. I suppose. She, um... She feeds me a lot.”

Race threw back his head and laughed.

“Yeah, that’s Medda? Real motha hen, she is.” Race chuckled. You frowned – something felt wrong. His laugh felt too loud, his smile too big. He felt... Fake. “’Ey, Dave, where’s Les?”

A lanky newsie with circular glasses grabbed Race’s wrist.

“You are not letting that near a kid.” He hissed, shooting you a panicked glance. “You got no idea what them Delancey’s are like!”

You felt your skin crawl at the way he said the name ‘Delancey’. You used to be so proud of the name – it wasn’t your name by birth, but ever since your parents had dumped you on Delancey Street, you and your brothers had dragged yourselves out of the gutters and decided to take it anyways. Because no matter how hard people tried to stomp you down, you could take it and turn it into something great. That’s what being a Delancey meant.

You wondered when the name ‘Delancey’ stopped being a beacon of hope and started feeling like a chain wrapped around your leg.

“This one’s different.” Race said coolly, but you still noticed the way he shifted his stance a little so he was blocking you ever so slightly. The Delancey part of you wanted to feel insulted – the rest felt... Fuzzy, in a way. Like a soft blanket had been draped over you. It was weird.

It was interesting.

“Are you insane?!” The spectacle kid spluttered. “The first day of the strike, you said-!”

“I know what I said, and I changed my mind!”

The two newsies glared at each other fiercely, puffing themselves up in that way teen boys did. The way your brothers did before they started to beat each other into submission, no matter how much you screamed at them to stop.

“It’s okay.” You said quickly, stepping in between the two. “I shouldn’t’ve come, I’ll go.”

Race looked at you with confusion and something that looked dangerously close to disappointment.

“Wh- No, [Y/N], it’s okay, we want you here-!”

“I sure as hell don’t!” Spectacle kid snapped. A few newsboys murmured in agreement, refusing to look you in the eye.

“Hey, it ain’t like they’re the one who-“

“Race, it’s okay.” You said firmly. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble, and if me being here is going to do that, then fine, I get that. I understand. So just...” You shoved your first aid kit into his arms. “Take the kit, if anyone needs first aid they can come to you. You’re the second, right?”

Race blinked from you to the kit.

“Well – yeah, but I-“

He looked desperately at the kit and then at the newsboys, all busted and broken like wooden dolls. It was then that you started to realize just how young Race was – barely older than you, really, and clearly not the eldest boy in their group. He shouldn’t be in a deli bandaging his friends like a soldier bandaging his squadron in the barracks, he was just a kid, a kid that was so clearly out of his depth that it hurt.

“Excuse me?”

A soft voice broke you out of your spiralling.

The new boy – the one Weasel tried to rip off, the right hand man who was basically the brains of this whole operation, the one who had jumped onto a cart and yelled so bravely and rallied the newsies together – was now looking at you with the most painfully hopeful expression you’d ever seen.

His eyes were puffy. Red around the corners. His nose looked pretty sore. If you looked closely, you could see the tear tracks marring his cheeks. You wondered how old this strike leader even was.

“You know first aid?” He said quietly, but his voice pitched high with hope and desperation.

“Um.” You mumbled. “Uh – yeah, I’d patch up my brothers every time they-“

The spectacled boy shot you a fierce glare.

“I know first aid.” You finished lamely.

“Can you set broken bones?”

You fought the urge to gasp. How badly did the cops hurt these kids, how many kids got arrested, how many kids are rotting in the Refuge right now, how many kids are going to die because of fat old men denying them basic human rights, how many how many how many-?!

“If you need me to.” You shrugged, glancing at spectacle boy from the corner of your eye.

“Great.” The new boy beamed. “My name’s Davey. Follow me.”

New Boy Davey took you by the wrist and tugged you to the back of the deli. You wondered why it felt less fuzzy than it had with Race.

“Les?” Davey said quietly as he leaned under one of the tables. “Les, you can come out, it’s okay...”

A kid crawled out from under the table with his arm in a sling that had been crudely fashioned out of a table cloth. You winced in sympathy, your heart aching when he sniffled quietly into his sleeve.

“Hey, kid.” You smiled as best you could, leaning down so you could make proper eye contact. “What’s your name?”

The kid looked up at his brother with wide, frightened eyes. Davey smiled gently and placed his hand on the boys head. It almost covered him entirely. He was so small...

“Les.”

“Well, Les,” you said in a tone that hopefully didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “You must’ve been pretty brave fighting those bulls, huh?”

Les bit his lip and shifted on his feet.

“I didn’t fight all that much...” He mumbled. “They mostly jus’ wailed on me... Hurt me real bad...”

“Well, take it from someone who’s taken a few beatings,” you smirked. “It takes a lot of strength to get your arm busted and keep on going. You’re a tough kid.”

His lips twitched into a tiny smile.

“I guess I’m kinda tough...”

“Definitely tough.” You grinned. “Now I’m gonna need you to hold still for me, okay? ‘Cause I’m gonna take off this sling, and that’s gonna move your arm a little and it’s probably gonna hurt. So be tough, yeah? Your brother’s right here, you can go to him if it hurts too much, okay?”

Les nodded slowly, though he still looked a little reluctant.

“Okay...”

“Good kid.”

You dug through your kit and managed to find a roll of gauze and two pieces of cloth. You winced. Good, but not enough.

“Everythin’ okay?” Race asked.

“I don’t have enough stuff.” You muttered. “Should’ve brought some sticks, I should’ve known someone would have a broken bone-“

“Hey, hey, s’okay.” Race said quietly, rubbing his hand down your back in a way that made your body stand on edge for a moment – you weren’t used to touch like this. “We can find ya some sticks. Got any idea how long they gotta be?”

“Long enough to go down his forearm. Not super thin, thick enough to take up the middle of the arm.”

“Gotcha. What else?”

“Ice. It won’t take the pain away but it’ll take down the swelling and numb it up a little so that we can put the splint on without it hurting too bad.”

“Right.” Race whistled sharply and nodded at a redhead perched on a table. “Albert, c’mon! You take ice, I’ll get sticks – Jacobi’s gotta have some ice in the back, yeah?”

“Hopefully.” Albert shrugged, hopping off the table and following dutifully.

They came back in almost no time at all, depositing the supplies at your feet. The ice was fine and went straight into the cloth you’d set aside to hold it, but one look at the sticks told you they were far too dirty to be put near a wounded arm like this – god knew the last thing you wanted was the kid to get an infection. The boys had clearly grabbed the only kindling they could find, which was sweet, but it wouldn’t help.

“Hey, you.” You tapped the redhead’s shoulder. “You got a knife?”

Albert nodded, retrieving a flick-knife from his pants pocket.

“Perfect.” You handed him the sticks. “Whittle these down, go with the grain. If the kid gets a splinter on top of this, it’ll hurt like a bitch and be a pain to remove. And make sure there’s no sharp corners, we don’t want him in any more pain.”

“Bossy.” Albert smirked and shot Race a pointed look. “Beginnin’ to see why you’s so popular.”

You frowned at his remark. You’d hardly describe yourself as popular in general, especially not with the newsies. Still, apparently his comment deserved a firm punch in the arm from Race, because that’s exactly what Albert got, much to his discontent.

“Hey, c’mon, man! I’s just statin’ the obvio-“

“Are you going to keep distracting me, or are you going to shut up and let me work?” You huffed, fixing him with a sharp glare. Albert grinned and lifted up his arms in mock surrender, and you couldn’t help but feel your agitation fade away a little. The laid back and teasing nature of the newsies bond felt... Brotherly felt like too much of a word. But wasn’t that what brotherly was supposed to mean? Friendly, fond, kind? That had never been what ‘brotherly’ was to you – at least, not with your brothers...

You shook your head and set to work on Les’ arm quickly enough – Race held the ice over his arm carefully while you undid the sling and set his arm into a splint with the newly whittled sticks and your roll of gauze.

“Okay...” You murmured quietly as you knotted the new, clean sling over Les’ shoulder. “Done.”

“Perfect.” Davey breathed a sigh of relief. “And that’ll heal fine?”

“All I can do is set it. He’s gonna need to keep it rested and make sure not to move it if you want it to heal properly.”

Les nodded obediently and shot you a wide smile.

“Thank you!”

You couldn’t help but melt a little. The kid had been so brave, barely even whimpering when you pressed the sticks against his wounded arm. You removed his hat to ruffle his hair, then put it back on him backwards just to make him laugh.

“You were real brave, kid. And, um.” You turned to Race and Albert awkwardly. “Thanks for your help.”

“Ah, ain’t no problem!” Albert grinned before Race could say anything. “Anythin’ for a pretty thing like you, right, Racer?”

Race stomped on his foot, hard.

“Man down!” Albert cried dramatically. “Mutiny! I’m hit! Save me, doc!”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at their antics, a noise that made Race beam with delight.

“I think you’ll be just fine. Besides, I should probably be going now.” You tipped your hat at the newsboys and tried not to grimace at how loose it was. Morris had given it to you a while back; he’d shoved it on your head while you were walking home in January and muttered about how only an idiot walked around in the dead of winter without a hat. You compared that small show of affection, one that had meant so much to you at the time, to the newsies’ shows of affection – they showed their love for each other easily, slinging arms around each other, strong-arming each other into hugs, stuff like that... They didn’t have to hide their love behind insults or cruel words. The hat still meant a lot to you – you just wondered why your brothers, the people who were supposed to be there for you, had to constantly act like they didn’t love you at all.

“Been a pleasure.” You said quietly as you righted your hat back on your head. You tried not to make your disappointment too obvious – the last thing you wanted to do was guilt trip the newsboys into letting you stay. “And, um.” You gave Race an awkward punch to the shoulder, a far softer punch than any of the others your brothers had given you, or the ones you’d given them. “Nice seeing you, Racer.”

Race shot you a small smile. He reached up to thumb the spot where you hit his arm, and for a moment you worried that you’d hurt him, but the touch looked more... Fond than anything else.

“Actually,” a small voice piped up. “Could ya take a look at my wrist real quick? I can move it, but it’s real swollen, and it really hurts-“

“Yeah, and the cut on Finch’s arm’s lookin’ real messy-“

“Romeo’s eye’s still busted-“

Somehow, you wound up being shoved around the room, tending to each individual newsie and their injuries. While you had gained some of the newsies trust when you tended to Les and his injuries, some of the more sceptical newsies (specifically Specs) watched you cautiously. The part you should’ve found most annoying was Race hovering over your shoulder, glaring at any newsie who tried to stare you down or scare you away. You tried not to focus too hard on why you found it endearing instead.

“Okay,” you said slowly as you finished dabbing Romeo’s black eye. You tried not to dab at it too hard – god, you hated cops. They’d started leaving you and your brothers alone ever since your uncle took you in, and for a moment, you’d started to let yourself believe they’d changed. But no. They were the same people who’d drown you and your brothers in the gutters and throw you around in the Refuge. “That should take the swelling down.”

“Or...” Romeo grinned despite his busted eye. “My nana used to say kisses always made stuff hurt less. Care to give it a try?”

You snorted and flicked his forehead.

“No thanks, pal. And word to the wise – maybe don’t bring up your nana when you try to woo someone.”

“So close...” Romeo sighed and leaned back against Specs, who had been hovering behind him ever since you’d begun fixing up Romeo’s eye. Specs smiled and ruffled his hair fondly and oh. You blinked at Specs in surprise, and you could see panic begin to colour his features. You shot him a quick smile. He paused for a moment, looking at you carefully, before relaxing and returning the smile, albeit more nervously.

“Alright.” You clapped your hands together, which surprised yourself – you’d never been so loud or confident around your brothers before. “We all good here?”

“I got a problem, doc!” Albert grinned, waving his arm in the air. “Busted lip, might need someone to kiss it better for me!”

“Hey!” Romeo wailed from behind you. “That’s my move! Specs, he stole my move!”

You rolled your eyes and packed up your first aid kit.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You said dryly, handing him back his knife. “But if you keep on jabbering like that, you may need to have that tongue amputated.”

“Yeah, Al.” Race huffed, swatting Albert upside the head. “Shaddup, will ya?”

“Yikes, tough crowd!” Albert snickered. “C’mon, Racer, don’t act like you wouldn’t-!”

“I said shaddup!” Race snapped, slapping his hand over Albert’s mouth.

You scoffed at their antics and decided to take your leave – the newsies, though they were still in low spirits, were certainly less quiet and more lively than they had been when you’d come in, and you’d patched them up as best you could. As much as you wanted to stay – as much as that strange, awkward part of you that you didn’t quite understand kept begging to be near Race and talk to him and maybe hold him properly instead of just punching his arm and no stop it stop it, you had done what needed doing and there was no reason for you to stay. After all, these weren’t your people.

You had gotten to the door unnoticed when Race grabbed you by the wrist.

“Hey, ya leavin’?” He asked, his smile still wide as ever, but his eyes a little less bright. “So soon? Y’ain’t even had lunch, yet.”

“Medda’ll have food for me.” You said sheepishly. Why was his hand so warm? “I don’t want to overstay-“

“Aw, c’mon! It’s a public space, y’ain’t overstayin’!”

You bit your lip awkwardly. God, you wanted to stay, but you knew you couldn’t – these weren’t your people, these were newsies, they didn’t like you, they didn’t want you here, you were just performing a service and if your brothers found out they’d – they’d...

You were jolted out of your spiral by a flurry of orange bursting through the door.

“Evening, boys!” Sang a reporter you recognized. She definitely didn’t work for the World, she wasn’t there enough to work there, but you’d seen her around a few times when you had started your workplace training. She even got called into Pulitzer’s office once, which was weird for a reporter who didn’t even work there.

A small murmur of acknowledgement spread through the deli.

“Oh, would you look at these glum mugs?” She said in a tone that bugged you. Of course their mugs were glum, they’d just been pelted into the ground. They were hurt, injured, most likely homeless with no family – something this obviously wealthy woman had never experienced. You forced yourself to shake it off – she was clearly a friend, and you had no right to judge if someone was being unfair to the newsies, what with everything your family had done. “Could these really be the same young men who made front page of the New York Sun?”

And just like that, it was as if a switch had been flipped. The boys leapt to their feet and swarmed around her to get a glimpse at the newspaper, all of them grinning ear to ear and laughing in delight. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy – how was it so easy for this woman to swoop in and make them all smile? She clearly hadn’t known them that long, so how was she able to cheer them up and be open with them with no struggle whatsoever? She made it look so easy – how could you even begin to do that?

“Check me out, fellas!” Race grinned, leaping onto a table. “I’m the king of New York, baby! I’m famous!”

“Call me when ya rich.” One boy snorted.

“Aw, ya don’t need money when ya famous!” Race waved him off. “Folks give ya whatever ya want, gratis! The next time I go to Sheepshead, they’s gonna be givin’ me my own personal box! Mush, you could get some new shoes, matchin’ laces, too! And Finch-“

“A haircut!” Finch cried. “A proper barbershop one, not my ma with her sewin’ scissors!”

“A haircut?” Another newsie scoffed. “If I’m famous, I ain’t gettin’ no lousy haircut – I’m gettin’ a watch, solid gold, and a chain to twirl it with! Try that on for size!”

Soon enough, all the newsies were chiming in with what they’d get now that they were famous, all more outlandish than the last. They were dancing around, cheering and celebrating, their wounds all pretty much forgotten about. You frowned up at where Race was engaging in a playful spoon fight with a small newsie – how had he done that? Just used a few pretty words and silly jokes to make all the newsies think that they were okay, that everything was fine, that they hadn’t-

That they hadn’t already failed.

You grit your teeth and marched out of Jacobi’s deli. You couldn’t believe it. For a moment, you’d thought you were the one in the right – that you’d had this brilliant revelation and seen the light, all thanks to stupid Racetrack Higgins. And now, all you could think about was your fight with Oscar.

“What, you think just because some newsie tells me a few jokes I’m gonna side with them over my own family?!”

“I think you’re a dumb kid mooning over a boy who lies for a living. And if you’re not careful, he’s gonna use that skill on you.”

You clenched your fists. You’d been right not to trust him that first day. He was a newsie, a lying newsie, a stupid handsome charming liar that actually made you believe you could be something more than a kid whose parents left them in a gutter and had to crawl their way out by themself.

You were better off with your brothers. You were better off living and dying under Uncle Wiesel’s hand. At least then, you hadn’t had any expectations.

“Hey, [Y/N]!”

You grit your teeth at that familiar foghorn voice. Stupid loudmouth, never should’ve given him the time of day, should’ve listened to Oscar-

“Where ya goin’?” Race smiled, and god you hated how easily that smile made you melt inside. Weak, weak, weak-

“I’m going home.”

Race’s smile dropped.

“Home, like... Back to Medda’s?” He said hopefully. You shot him a dry look.

“Home like my actual home.”

Race’s face fell. He looked conflicted, opening his mouth to say something before quickly thinking better of it, grabbing your hand and dragging you into a nearby alley.

“You can’t go back.” He said firmly, manoeuvring the two of you so that he blocked the way out of the alley. “[Y/N], you know you can’t.”

“It’s my home!”

“No, it ain’t!” Race snapped. “You know it ain’t! Those guys hurt you, and not just on the day of the strike! I see the way you flinch whenever someone moves to quick or comes too close.”

You felt your stomach drop. Oscar was right, you let it show, you let it show and now he knew.

“I don’t need your help.” You growled, clenching your fists. “I don’t need you to fix me, or send me to your fucking caretaker because you think I can’t handle myself.”

“That ain’t what I’m doing and you know it!”

“I don’t know anything about you!” You snapped. A greasy, slimy voice inside of you, one that sounded suspiciously like your uncle, told you to shove him, punch him, show him you were stronger and better than he was, better than the weak little kid who needed saving that he thought you were. You wanted to, a little. But no. You couldn’t hurt Race. Even if all his kind words had been lies, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Weak, the voice sneered.

“I don’t know shit about you.” You snarled. “You’re a liar, all you newsies are. You lie for a fucking living!”

“I never lied to you!”

“You just lied to them!” You yelled, gesturing at Jacobi’s. “You lost, Race. The newsies? They lost. And you’re here dancing on tables and telling everyone everything’s fine when it’s not and convincing them that they can do things that they can’t and I won’t! Fall for it anymore!”

“But I didn’t-!”

“No, no, it all makes sense now!” You said, waving your arms and pacing the alleyway as you ranted. “You come up one day and you see me laugh at one of your dumb jokes and you think oh, now I have an in with the Delancey’s and, and you tell me all these stupid jokes and you laugh at me and smile at me like you – like you like me because you know no one else does! And then you strike and you make me feel guilty for what, sticking with my family?! Like anyone else would?! And you get me to leave them and punch out my own brothers and you take me to your fucking mother or whatever and have her act like she cares about me and-“

“Do you even hear yourself?!” Race snapped. “You think I only talked to you to, what, trick you into joinin’ a strike that hadn’t even started yet?! You think I planned on you leavin’ ya family and jumping into the fray so I could send you to Medda’s, who I somehow already spoke to despite planning a fucking strike – yeah, figure that one out! – just so I could fool you into coming to Jacobi’s for what, free first aid?! Do you even hear how crazy that sounds?! How is it so easy for you to think that but so fucking impossible for you to believe that I care about you?!”

“Stop it!” You cried, slapping your hands over your ears and pressing hard, like maybe you could press all these stupid thoughts out of your head. “Just stop it, just stop!”

Race paused for a moment, his eyes flicking over your panicked expression with sad eyes. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t wanna yell at you.” He said gently, too gently, far more gently than you deserved. “But I dunno what else to do here, [Y/N]. I dunno how you expect me to – to prove to you how much I care about you.”

You couldn’t help it. Your eyes flicked down to his mouth. Race frowned, his expression morphing from confusion then realization then downright shock horror.

“Wait.” He said, taking a step backwards (recoiling, disgusted, angry, run, run, run-). “Wait-“

“I’m sorry.” You said quickly, like you couldn’t spit the words out fast enough. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve done that, I can leave-“

“No, [Y/N]-“

“I’ll go now, I’ll go and I won’t come near you again, I swear it-“

“[Y/N]-“

“Just don’t tell my uncle! Or my brothers, please don’t tell my brothers, they’ll never let me-“

“[Y/N].” Race said firmly, and it was only then that you noticed how he’d been inching towards you as you rambled. He placed a hand on the wall, just above your shoulder, and another on your jaw. If it were anyone else, you would’ve knocked it away, punched him to the ground, do anything to make sure you got the high ground and he didn’t. But this didn’t feel like anyone else. It didn’t feel like he was boxing you in, or forcing you, or making you feel trapped. Every move was calculated and precise, always punctuated with a raised eyebrow, as if asking permission, before following through. It was careful, soft – if you weren’t a Delancey, you’d call it sweet.

He ran his thumb over your cheekbone.

It was sweet.

“Quit talkin’ so much, wouldja?”

You breathed out a frustrated huff. Race was close enough that it made his curls bounce.

“Oh, that is rich, coming from you of all-“

“[Y/N].” Race said firmly. “Stop talkin’.”

There’s no sunshine or rainfall, no sparks or fireworks. There’s just Race. Race and the taste of cigar smoke and Race and the bite of the brick wall against your back and Race and Race and Race.

It’s incredible and it’s terrifying, all at the same time. You can feel your stone heart melting with each gentle press of his lips, each stroke of his hands against your waist and your jaw, each awkward bump of his nose against yours as the angle shifted, until he held your heart like warm, malleable clay just waiting to be pressed and handled into something more.

That, or he could squash it between his hands. Throw it onto the floor and step on it. Burn it in a kiln until it was reduced back to a bitter lump of stone.

“I can hear ya thinkin’,” Race muttered into your skin as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “Why ya thinkin’ so much, sweetheart?”

The nickname makes you shiver, and you can’t stop yourself from loving it.

“I’m thinking...” You murmured as Race’s forehead pressed against yours. “My brothers are gonna kill me for this.”

Race grumbled in the back of his throat.

“Please don’t talk about ya brothers while we’s-“

You kiss him before he can finish. He holds your clay heart ever so gently, smoothing his thumbs over any cracks until it’s smooth and warm and glowing.

It’s sweet.

(tag list: @annabethgranger123 @farfromjustordinary @yxseminx @oswin05 @theater-geek76 @wnygirl2012 )

#newsies #newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins #heart of stone

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popculturebuffet · 5 years

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Excalibur #1: “The Accolade of Betsy Braddock”

As the magic of Krakoa seeps into Otherworld and puts Morgan Le Fay in a genocidal mood, Betsy Braddock tries to find her place in the new world while also dealing with her idiot brother.. but you know instead of Paul Rudd she has a reality warping man child with mental instablity. Meanwhile Apocalypse adopts an unprouncable name and a new misson statment as a wizard man, Gambit suppresses the urge to kill him and Goldballs tries a new somehow even worse name out.

Welcome back. Due to yesterday being kinda nuts, and the last review being more taxing than planned, this one is kinda late. But better late than never as dawn of X continues it’s win streak with Excalibur, back and better than ever. And thankfully this time, the exposition is all really easy to bake in as we go compared to my last few reviews, so without any delay, it’s time to forge the sword once again. This is Tini Howard and Marcus To’s Excalibur.

We open on a long info page revealing that when Xavier gave his big “While you Slept the world changed” or, to put it more acuratley “All I wanted was to love you , to help you to save your asses and all you did was either try to kill us, look away while others did, or make a token effort at best to help. Fuck you, we’re taking what’s ours bitches. “ speech, Apocalypse gave his own, in a sense telling Humankind “Magic is ours to take back now.... “

We cut to the present where Morgan Le Fay is in Otherworld, basically the court of king arthur, the source of Captain Britan’s power, and a realm created by the british public’s collective subconscious. I don’t get it either. But Morgan Le Fay, Arthur’s evil sister and long time pain in the ass of the Avengers in the 616, has taken over in his absence and nearly drowns one of her minons upon finding something in her well.. a weed affecting it.. and since the x-men have a plant motif and apocalypse made a big MINE NOW speech to the rest of the world.. it’s easy to see Krakoa’s involved. Nice work Apocalypse, your on Krakoa one week and you’ve already pissed off the neighbors.

After the opening titles, we cut to Braddock Academy, basically the british version of Xavier’s and Avengers Academy and unsurprisingly a pet project of Brian’s. Since the school is also the Braddock ancestral home, Betsy’s been crashing here while sorting things out after getting her original body back. Yeah for those of you not that familiar with Psylocke, which I am not but know at least this much, was body swapped with the Assian Kwannon. That was reversed shortly before Dawn of X, which in order to help smooth the transition has given each their own starring roll. And really it is an intresting thing to explore: Betsy spent 5 or 6 years in a body that was not her own, living her life, loving, and doing bloody awful things in the name of the greater good. So it’s no suprise being put back in her old body after all this time and the implications of having basically lived her life in someoen elses skin with the other person now having it back and being understandably pissed about it, having only not gotten it back sooner due to dying of the Legacy Virus. Thankfully this issue dives deep into it and we’ll explore it more as we go.

The child loudly complaning is Margaret, Brian and Meggan’s daughter. Margret is one of the few things Mark Guggenheim’s run on X-Men did that was all that intresting as, probably thanks to a combination of her dad’s magical man juice and her mom’s already shifting genetics, can already talk in full sentences and comprehend stuff at the tender age of 1. Betsy is of course heading to Krakoa but much like Kitty last week, she’s unsure. But it still works: Kitty was unsure because Krakoa, for whatever reason, basically rejected her and staying would just make her a ghost again. For Betsy, she’s gone from living in a stranger’s body and back again and is understandably frazzled and unsure of tommorow.

But as Brian escorts her to the portal on his property, a touch I like as Meggan is a mutant herself and Brian is a longtime ally so it makes perfect sense to put a portal down there both for his mutant students to depart and for Meggan to visit without having to leave her husband behind, he encourages her. This is something I love about the issue: most x-runs I see betsy in kinda forget she has a brother and Uncanny X-Force turned him into an asshole. Here, their close bond and past, she was a supporting character in his book first after all, is shown beautifully as Brian , while happy to have her back, wants her to move on with her life and knows she’ll do great.

As also seen above Betsy wishes their brother could join them though Brian isn’t so sure. I didn’t really get into Jamie in the other review, and i’m pleased as punch to get here there. Jamie is their older brother.. and also has schizophrenia and the power of god, two tastes that instead create a rancid punch that threatns all life as Jamie dosen’t think anything else is real. Despite this, Betsy wishes he’d be there to see it and hopes it’d make him better. After all if Apocalypse can find a new start here why not him? They literally have worse people on the island.

Speaking of the devil, after Betsy makes her awkward entrance, we cut to Apocalypse who’s of course standing out a window watching everything meancingly, because even when he’s on the good guy side and no longer plotting horribly Darwinian crimes.. he’s still a super villian deep down and old habits die hard. He’s visited by Trinary, a fairly new x-character introduced in X-Men Red, she’s a technopath, as well as one of the brain trust running Krakoa’s computer network. Also as you can see apocapse want’s to be called by his weird Krakoan name.. i’m just going to stick with Apocalypse as I assume it’s the same thing and even Tini Howard herself has flat out admitted she dosen’t have a translation for it and just scripts him as Apocalypse still. He also gets dagger eyes from everyone’s faviorite Cajun as he makes his villianous rant.

Remy does however have more reason than most to hate the man: He was one of Apocalypse’s horseman once: he attempted to go under cover, but underestimated how good the horseman process was and would up having to go to Mr.Sinister of all people to get himself back to normal. So yeah, having the guy who turned you into a monster that tried to kill your future wife, KINDA makes you not willing to have a ham sammich with the guy. Trinary came to fetch Apocalypse to check out a new gate that opened.. to otherworld.. the problem is Morgan sealed it, and thus Apocalypse , not being a moron, decides they need “a champion” to break it. And since Hercules is on a three month no pants cruise of the bahamas right now, he’s going to have to be less literal about it. Meanwhile MOrrigan is an asshole to a coven of sorcerers decreeing that they failed her by.. letting mutants exist. Yeah the one weakspot I have with the book thus far is the opening villianess: Morgan Le Fay simply isn’t that intresting and while she’s had a good storyline or too here she’s pissy because.. mutants found magic again. It isn’ t a terrible motive but her steroptical villaness “take my anger out out my minons” stuff is just tiresome and not at all entertaining. She’s the right level of threat for this book, just not fleshed out about enough and is the one real dry spot in this issue.

Back on Krakoa, Betsy runs into Kwannon and it’s.. about as awkard as you’d expect as you can see.. and really isn’t helping Betsy’s unease. And I actually, despite not having read a ton of comics with Betsy in them get why she’s so uneasy besides the obvious problems of having the woman whose face you stole around all the time: she has no idea what to do. Everyone else on Krakoa, for the most part at least, is fully on board with the new plan, rairing to go. Sure some understandably object to their old foes being there… but theirs a sense of optimism and wonder and happy.. that just dosen’t go with someone who has so much blood on her hands she looks like she took a guys heart out with her bear hands, is in a body that hasn’t been home in years, and has to look the person who’s body she stole, intentional or not, and didn’t put any effort into bringing back from the dead or once she was back giving her her body back in the face. She’s just not in a great place. Thankfully even if her old pal Jubilee dosen’t pick up on this she does get Betsy could probably use some booze. Unfortunatley pressing matters keep her from finding out if krakoa can pour mimosa’s directily into her mouth via some kind of hose bush:

It’s your pal and mine goldballs, one of the five mutants able to raise the dead (but the car is fine). Or Egg I guess but I’m not calling him that. For one goldballs is a far better name just for the ridiculous factor. For another, just call yourself goldeggs. It’s still dumb but egg is somehow dumber. Even add a Z if you want no one cares. Your one of Krakoa’s own personal jesus’. You could rip a person’s throat out and no one would care… though granted that’s also because death is now meaningless for mutants. But yeah as you can see he has a problem and it’s Jamie.

And yup Jamie is back, alive and while not trying to kill everyone, is still kind of a weird asshole. Also I do not want to know what he did in there but I presume he fucked at least one person. Maybe he made them out of thin air, maybe they just came in. Maybe Sinister decided why not. Either way he’s fouling up the pods, and soon puts his foot in his mouth by saying Betsy’s classic look reminds him of better times right after their parents died. However in a nice little character bit he quickly apologizes, showing he has genuinely changed thanks to his resurrection on some level, and admits that the real reason is because they were all together then and all happy. As for why he’s a nusiance, it’s simple: while ressurectees DO need time to recover from you know, the whole being dead thing, it usually takes about ten minutes for the shock to wear off. And while there’s clearly no shock left Jamie is just farting around. Betsy’s response is to treat him like a ten year old.

It..actually works.. but unfortunately Jamie has about as much intrest in seeing Brian as Brian does in seeing him. And I see why: before he went insane, Jamie was still a supervillian and still hunted brian out of jealousy, while Jamie.. is just kind of a dick. He’s like Krakoa’s own discord: he’s not an apocalyptic godlike threat to the world any more but he will fuck with you just for cheap laughs. Betsy tries using her telepathy to force him to go but Fabio stops her, as it upsets the eggs apparently and decides to drag Brian here, something even Jamie can see as a bad idea. And when the naked man whose been back for all of 5 minutes can see the holes in your plan, maybe you rethink things. But I also get why Betsy is trying so hard at this: She has almost no stablity left and Brian has been her rock, past and present. But Jamie is still her brother and now has the potetinal to do good and while still a loon, is no longer a genocidal madman and is stubbornly refusing to reconcile because he’s decided to swear off humanity. She just wants her family whole and her brothers not trying to kill each other, but is in too bad a state to recognize they need time and may NEVER get along. it’s how it is with family. Dosen’t mean she has to choose one or the other. Brian wouldn’t make her and frankly Jamie isn’t dumb enough to try that. Thankfully apocalypse interupts Betsy’s extrodinarly bad plan to ask her about the gate.. and point out that Brian himself would be the best way and that, even as a half human, he’d be welcome here in this crisis. He probably get some leeway since apparently the captain britan thing makes him half otherworlder and he is a cosmic champion versus just some joe who wants to enjoy a paradise he hasn’t earned thorugh hard work or nearly dying a bunch.

Betsy heads to Braddock Manor where Brian is already planning on going to Otherworld to fix this and is naturally not all that inclined to listen to Apocalypse. So as seen above Betsy goes with plan B: She’s going with him even if it’s a trap because fighting alongside her brother doing the right thing is better than moping around an island trying to dodge Kwannon. This also gives me a nice opprotunity to bring up Betsy’s approach to their former enemies. She’s far more accepting than the rest, even Logan outright objected, but I also easily get why: She’s former black ops, having served on one version of X-Force and lead the one right after it. She understands the need for pragmatism and is a pragmatic person. It’s probably why she’s so willing to forgive Jamie: yeah he did terrible things, but at his worst he was mentally ill, and as established by X-Men #1, Krakoa has terrific healthcare and telepaths and empaths to help him work through his issues. He may not WANT to of course, but he’s more likely to and him slowly improving in paradise is better than her brother just being dead to her as a genocidal mad man. They encounter Morgan who, being basically a 50′s disney villian, expects Brian as otherworld’s champion to start drowning his own sister.. because fuck subtley.

Back on Krakoa we meet up with Rouge and Gambit. As a tiny bit of exposition for you lapsed ex fans the two are now married. The two reconciled in the excellent Rouge and Gambit mini series, hashing out their long and messy history. Then X-Men gold happened.. see there was SUPPOSED to be a wedding of Colosus and Kitty.. but their reconcilation was so terribly forced no one wanted the wedding and editoral had gambit, of course, steal The Wedding. So the two are in a happy place, though Rouge dosen’t want to use her power dampener on paradise, understandable as said dampener is a repurposed anti-mutant thing and it’d be like brining a pile of nazi gold as your present to a jewish wedding. Rouge then decides , as shown above ot bring up the idea of having kids but before Gambit can say “of course”, Trinary summons them for apocalypse. Apocalypse needs Rouge as he figures her absoprtion power might allow her to serve as a gateway, and a way to retrieve Betsy. Remy, Understandably, dosen’t want her to do this But Rogue is willing to take the risk to save her friend. Remy , now tenativley on board, suggestings bringing in Jubes since she was the last one to talk to Betsy, but A-Train is way ahead of them.

Naturally, having talked to her all of one sentence, she has nothing. Also curiously apparently Apocalypse wanted Jubes to bring her son, adopted if you didn’t knokw about him, Shogo with her but shockingly she didn’t want to bring her son to see the scary blue man who had no trouble trying to do a murder on a child when she was younger. However Apocalypse really needs her as a bridge between minds: Rouge will touch the portal to break through it and Gambit will keep watch and is all too happy to. As a side note i’d lvoe to see apocalypse babysit “So you see small infant, after that I cleaved the flesh off his skull and put said skull on a pile as a warning to my enimies. You always want to get the flesh nice and clean off.. .the bits create more of a smell and you need to think of the smell. Speaking of the smell I think someone needs a changie!”

I would too, but i’m pretty sure Remy would be a ground smear, but I think Apocaypse does respect his willingess to try anyway even if he dosen’t take gambit serious as a threat.

Back in crazy magic lady town Morgan is slowly corrupting Brian, and despite Betsy’s best attempts to stop it, is quickly turned into a warped dark knight who’s trying to shove the amulet of right in her face for some reason.

But with Apocalypse plan in motion, she figures out what’s going on and destroys the portal.. unfortuantley for Rogue this causes to feel weird and then well.. this is the end result.

What exactly the fuck dosen’t even begin to describe this.

Back in King Arthur’s House, Trinary’s words not mine, Betsy tries to kick Morgan’s ass but Dark Brian blocks her… before the above happens.. and it’s clear WHY he was cramming the amulet down her throat... Morrigan has full control of him, he can’t do anything to stop her.. but he can pass it on so she can hopefully stop her or , if he can’t be freed, destroy him before he harms anyone else. He sends her back to the real world as Betsy wails> This scene is damn powerful, as we’ve seen before Brian was one of the few people who understood she was going through some shit and offered her his full support... and now he’s gone, no idea how to rescue him, leaving a wife and daughter behind.

Back on Krakoa things arne’t much better wirth Rouge int he flower cocoon I showed earlier and Gambit ready to blow Apocalypse’s head off.. and as you can see Apocalypse is like “Fine i’ll come back from it stronger, but can you please wait? We’ve got a lot of shit going down. But before Apocalypse can pound Remy into a Cajun Corpse, the assembled group is distracted by a returning Betsy.

And so we end on Betsy, now fully crowned once again as Captain Britain, wondering what the fuck is up with Rogue. We get a quick Epilogue where one of the covern from earlier joins a cult based on the same one related to apocayplypse and we’re out. ‘Final Thoughts: Excalibur #1 is a good start. While some things don’t quite gel, Otherworld isn’t explained at all for those who have never heard of it (raises hand), it feels fresh and makes me invested in Betsy’s struggle, the tragedy Brian goes through, Remy’s fury and Apocalypse, who for once gets to serve as a wise sage instead of a warrior and it’s an intresting role for him, as well as him clearly being set up to mentor Betsy as she rises higher than ever before with her new role. It makes you want to see what comes next and the only real drawback is that Jubilee is basically a tagalong while Rictor is entirely absent, but both I suspect will be fixed with time. As fhte first part of a story, and the first Dawn of X Comic to be part of an arc since the two mini series that launched it, it works well setting things up. As I said the comic suffers from a lack of exposition on Otherworld and from a weak villain, but it’s not enough to distract from this fun, well crafted fantasy and I can’t wait to see what comes next. Until next time, hail to the queen baby.

#excalibur #dawn of x #captain britain #psylocke #betsy braddock #rogue #gambit #jubilee #trinary #goldballs #jamiebraddock #otherworld #analysis of x

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frostyalice · 5 years

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fic: an ode to the man bun (1k)

“Only by loss of an unfortunate bet would I allow myself to walk into a building full of pubescent teens wearing my hair in a ponytail.”

“Man bun,” she corrects. “And they’re not pubescent,” she adds.

“That’s what I said, a ponytail.”

“A bet, huh?” Alice ponders, ignoring him. Then, to Jasper’s horror, he watches as a cheerful smile graces his mate’s perfect little face.

or: 1000+ of unnecessary words about how alice coerces her husband into a man bun for high school. to keep up appearances and be trendy, obviously.

a/n: hi! just dropping a little fic like i’m not new to the twilight fandom (i mean i’m not i’m just new to the twilight renaissance i believe is what you all are calling it). this fic was born from my random guilty pleasure but as i found quickly, other people liked the idea too. the idea wouldn’t go away, so instead of leaving it on my phone, i’m leaving it here for anyone to find. sorry for any typos. this was mostly done on my phone.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Jasper.”

“Alice.”

“My life,” she tries.

“My whole reason for existence.”

Alice scoffs. “Well, clearly not. Since you won’t even do me this one favor.”

“Jasper rolls his eyes. “I would die for you and you know it. Don’t take advantage.”

“This is a million times less painful than death.”

“As someone who has experienced death and has been ripped apart numerous times, I disagree.”

“You are so dramatic,” Alice complains. Jasper raises an eyebrow then watches his mate’s eyes lose focus for a second. He opens his mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence,” she hisses.

“I didn’t even start it.”

“It’s just a man bun!”

“Two words that were never meant to be put together in a sentence, I’m sure.”

Alice crosses her arms and pouts, the little manipulator. She knows what that does to him. But Jasper has faced hundreds of newborns collectively; he can stand against this not even five foot creature.

He can.

Alice widens her eyes a little and shoves an extra dose of hopefulness his way.

He can’t do this.

But he’s going to keep pretending. He crosses his arms. “Only by loss of an unfortunate bet would I allow myself to walk into a building full of pubescent teens wearing my hair in a ponytail.”

“Man bun,” she corrects. “And they’re not pubescent,” she adds.

“That’s what I said, a ponytail.”

“A bet, huh?” Alice ponders, ignoring him. Then, to Jasper’s horror, he watches as a cheerful smile graces his mate’s perfect little face. Perfectly devilish face he thinks to himself. See, this is a smile of a girl who’s had a vision of this situation going her way. And Jasper has long since stopped trying to be against those.

“I’m not betting on anything now!” Jasper protests.

“Oh, sweetie,” Alice coos. “You already have.”

What?

“What?”

“Remember a week ago? You bet Emmett that you could breathe fire by swallowing some god awful alcoholic fluids and then spitting it back out with your venom?”

Jasper nods, a little sheepish. He had thought that they could maybe breathe fire by swallowing copious amounts of alcohol, letting it mix with their venom and essentially puking it back up. Something like shaking a coke bottle and then opening it. It was supposed to have worked.

“I remember,” Jasper replies warily.

“Remember what he said to you after you lost?”

(They were both laid out on the ground with something akin to a stomach ache and a weird sizzling feeling in their throats.

“Ugh,” Emmett groaned. “Worst idea ever.”

“Yeah yeah,” Jasper conceded. “So, what do you want?”

Emmett had barely opened his mouth when they both turned their heads to the sound of a front door opening and shutting. Jasper had watched as Alice quickly flitted out the door, paused to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then move onto Emmett. Jasper couldn’t be sure because her tiny stature had been blocking his view, at the time, but he had thought he’d seen her pass the large vampire something. Then, as a fast as she’d come, she had gone.

Emmett was left standing with a smirk on his face.

“Well?” Jasper had prompted.

“Hm?” Emmett as innocently.

Jasper was immediately suspicious. Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel anything other than his brother’s normal cheerful demeanor radiating from him. “The bet?” Jasper reminded. As if Emmett could have forgotten in the seconds it had taken for that weird exchange to happen. Emmett never le ta bet go if he won.

“Don’t worry about it, bro. I”ll collect my winnings when I think of something,” Emmett had said before lumbering off into the house before Jasper could question him further.)

“Hey Jasper,” the bear of a vampire greets cheerfully, walking into the living room and pulling Jasper out of his thoughts.

Jasper knows he’s been listening and narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

His brother shrugs.

“C’mon, Emmett, we’re brothers,” Jasper tries. Alice just swings her hands by her sides, watching the both of them. Jasper knew a lost battle when he saw one.

“Sorry man,” and Jasper could tell he was sympathetic. Just not sympathetic enough, clearly. “Alice promised she’d convince Rose to leave me behind when they did their seasonal shopping this year,” Emmett explains.

Jasper winced. Damn.

Alice would probably convince him to go. Double damn.

He glared at his mate. She just smiled and blew him a kiss. “Meet us in the bathroom fifteen minutes before we have to leave for school,” she instructs.

Wait a minute.

“Us?!” Jasper sputters. “Fifteen?! How long does it take for a ponytail?!”

“Man. Bun.”Alice corrected again.

Jasper growls.

“Love you!” And then she was gone, off to get herself ready for the fashion show that was high school.

Jasper sighs. “Love you, too.”

Emmett pats his shoulder in condolence as he passes. Lucky bastard died with short hair. Jasper thinks maybe he should just cut his..

“I wouldn’t do that!” Edward yells from somewhere in the house.

“Get out of my head!”

Twenty minutes later, and twice that amount of hair product and do overs, Jasper finds himself riding in the Jeep along with his siblings, sporting his new, perfectly messy but not too messy or too greasy or too frizzy ponytail.

“Man bun,” Edward corrects from the driver’s seat, then quickly ducks when Jasper tries to punch him on the side of the head. The car never swerving once.

Jasper inhales sharply. Even though he would never admit – and I’ll rip your fingers off knuckle by knuckle if you tell, he adds mentally for his mind reading brother – he’s nervous.

As if he and his family didn’t already stick out like a sore thumb. He had been sporting his longish hair the same way every day this year. The middle of the semester was not the time to try to start being trendy.

“Game time,” Emmett announces as they pull into the parking lot.

It’s already full of kids, standing around cars, avoiding homeroom.

Well, here goes nothing, Jasper thinks morosely. Alice squeezes his hand as they get out. As per usual, they turn lots of heads. Why did they decide to all drive together this morning? Jasper regrets this since it attracts more attention.

“Who’s the new guy with that Alice Cullen?” he already hears someone whisper.

Jasper grits his teeth and feels a very strange, uncalled for streak of jealousy go through him. The thought of these kids thinking some other guy is with Alice. Even if that other guy is him. Jesus, it’s just hair, it’s not like I shrunk.

“Is that Jasper Hale?” a second asks.

“Of course it’s Jasper, don’t be stupid.”

Jasper mentally sends appreciation to the one kid who seems to have his head screwed on straight. Edward chuckles. If the rest of the day is going to go like this, he was in for a long one.

The day passes relatively without too much drama. The same gossip. The same problems. The only thing new being all the “hey look at Jasper’s new hairdo” comments, which he does not appreciate.

He and his man bun would like to just lay low until this day is over, but it’s hard to do when for five students they pass, at least one of them make some kind of comment to their friends about it.

Lunch is the worse since the Cullens are usually the only thing to look at when they all walk in together. Again, maybe they should re think that. Unfortunately, the comments about his hair double. He tries to place himself between the wall and Emmett so there’s less of him to see. Unfortunately, Emmett chooses today to be perceptive and just scoots back whenever he can.

Jasper glares at him.

Alice touches his hand though, and he watches as her eyes inch up just slightly higher to take in his new hair for the day and smiles just a little bit wider and he love for him flares just a little bit brighter.

Jasper thinks he’ll make it through this day just fine.

“We should make this a Man Bun Monday sort of thing!” Alice suggests suddenly. Her eyes losing focus, but not in a vision sort of way, as far as Jasper can tell, just normal day dreaming.

“Absolutely not,” Edward responds before Jasper can. He feels a spark of irritation and… fear? He’s trying to figure out what Edward heard. As far as Jasper was concerned, he thought his brothers were all for his constant high school humiliation.

Then Alice says to Edward, “Oh, but you would look absolutely adorable with a little ponytail!”

Jasper can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, come on, Edward,” he ribs. “Misery loves company.”

Edward grumbles something offensive.

“Hey, no fair,” Emmett cuts in. “What about mine?”

Alice just pats his short curly haired head. “Don’t worry, Em, we’ll figure something out for you, too.”

Then she looks over to Jasper and gives a little wink.

And Jasper? Well, Jasper loves his family. But he really loves his wife. Even if she is a little prone to making him change hair to fit the times.

But hey, a little man bun never hurt no one.

end note: thank you for reading. i do believe this is what the fanfiction world calls a ‘crack fic’ the part about vampires being able to breathe fire is an ode to one of my favorite jalice fics - where they CAN breathe fire by doing this - which you can read here. let me know what you thought? tell your friends about jasper’s man bun potential! typos are my own. if you’re interested, i have written another fic! (this one features tattoos)

#man bun potential #does this really count as crack fic if jasper would totatally do this for alice imo #jalice #jalice fanfiction #do people use that tag #idk #twilight fanfiction #crack fic collection #is anyone even awake to read this lmao #whoops forgot my actual fic tag #my fic #jasper hale #twilight renaissance #posted

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

Text

The Ties That Bind

Thanks for all your feedback on the first chapter. I loved reading it all! I hope you enjoy the second chapter.

Once again thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Chapter 2 : A Recreational Activity (well, a few)

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only. -Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Jamie groaned and hoped that the banging inside his head would stop soon. This was the problem with drinking wine. Generally Jamie tried to steer clear of ‘grape’ and stick to ‘grain’. However, last night, he had supped copious quantities of both and now was suffering the consequences. He stretched his hand out hoping to find a glass of water and possibly even two aspirins left on the bedside table by his more responsible alter ego yesterday. There they were. Gratefully, he sank back onto the pillows and waited for them to do their work.

Parts of his alcohol-induced dreams came back to him… miles and miles of hotel corridors and he was chasing, chasing... a woman with the most gorgeous legs he had ever seen. He kept chasing her, but she wouldn’t stop and she wouldn’t turn round. A flash of wild dark curls and…

The banging in his head seemed to be louder now. “Unca,” a cross little voice added to the general cacophony. “Unca, get up now. Mam says now. ‘Tis beckfast and then ‘wimmin’. Mam says.”

Jamie forced himself out of bed. Fastening the towelling bath robe, he opened his door. His little nephew rushed past him and started jumping on the bed. Jenny stood in the doorway, her eyes darting all round the room.

“I go ‘wimmin’ with ye, Unca, wiv Spideyman shorts. What ye shorts, Unca?”

Jamie sighed and looked at his sister. “She’s no’ here. She didna stay. Nothing happened.” He grabbed Wee Jamie round his middle, lifting him high up in the air. “And who said I would take ye swimmin’, ye wee fishie?”

“Mam said so, she did.”

Jamie gently set his nephew on his feet. “Aye, well, yer mam makes an awfa’ lot o’ decisions fer the men in this family. But I guess I canna refuse, no’ if I ken what’s good fer me.”

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

Claire lay on one of the day beds next to the swimming pool and wiggled her toes, admiring the newly applied scarlet polish. She set aside the copy of Hello! she had been skimming through and turned to Geillis.

“This was such a good idea of yours, G. Total battery recharge today… and we’ve even had the whole pool to ourselves. I don’t reckon we’ll be seeing any of that wedding party any time soon. Not if last night was anything to go by.”

“I am rather full of brilliant ideas,” Geillis agreed. “Although I feel we may have missed an opportunity last night. So many men...”

“... And no doubt so many wives and girlfriends!” Claire interrupted.

“Och, well,” Geillis dismissed Claire’s interruption. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“Anyway, so I’ve a body wrap, then hot stone massage in twenty minutes. I’m going to head into the sauna for ten minutes first. You coming?”

“Aye, may as weel. I don’t reckon there’ll be anything worth hangin’ round here fer today.” Geillis gathered up her belongings and followed Claire into the sauna.

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

Jamie sat in the male changing room, blowing up his nephew’s armbands (Spider-Man, obviously a theme here) while Wee Jamie hopped excitedly from foot to foot.

“Now, afore we go in the pool, are ye sure you dinna need a wee? Ye ken what I told ye, as how if ye wee in the pool, the water turns bright blue?”

“Nah, Unca, c’mon now. Wanna go ‘wimmin’.” The little lad pulled his armbands up, grabbed Jamie’s hand and headed for the door. “C’mon, c’mon.” He paused and stared intently at his uncle. “Ye no Spideyman shorts?”

Jamie looked down at his blue checked board shorts and tried to look sad about this. “Sorry lad, I’m too big fer such a fine pair.”

As they entered the pool area together, Jamie looked around. It was totally deserted, which, Jamie thought, was hardly surprising based on the amount of alcohol that had been consumed the day before. An abandoned magazine lay on one of the day beds.

Wee Jamie pointed to a small passage way on the other side of the pool. “What’s ‘at?”

“Ah, nothing for ye. Just the sauna... it’s awfa hot and no’ fer children and the girls’ changing room is down there too. That’s definitely no’ fer us lads, eh?”

Following Jenny’s instructions to “wear the lad out, we want him tae sleep in the car going home,” Jamie stayed in the pool, playing with his nephew until he noticed the lad’s eyelids start to droop. He scooped him up and carried him back to the changing room, intending to just wrap him in a towel and leave the tricky drying and dressing to Jenny.

Wee Jamie held tightly to his uncle’s neck. “You fib, Unca. Ye did. I wee’d and I wee’d but no blue.”

Jamie chuckled. God, he loved this little lad something fierce and maybe someday, God willing...

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

Claire picked up the two whiskies from the bar and made her way to the table where Geillis was sitting. The pub was quite empty at the moment, just a handful of people, like them, having a quick drink after work before heading home.

Geillis looked Claire up and down appraisingly. “Ye ken I love ye, Claire, but could you no’ wear something a bit, weel, more alluring when we’re out?”

Claire gazed down at her old jeans and plain black tee shirt. “G, I’ve been on my feet in theatre for the past 8 hours. I’m so knackered, you’re lucky I managed to change out of my scrubs and into this! Besides, however can I compete with your alllllluuure?” She drawled the last word out jokingly. “Maybe you have the allure for both of us? I can be your duff.”

Geillis raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Designated ugly fat friend.” Claire explained with a smile. “According to the movie, every friendship group has one. You and me, we’re a friendship group, ergo, I must be it.”

“Claire, ye may be many things but fat or ugly never.” Geillis said, “Yer hair’s a wee bit wild, mind. Do ye no’ fancy a Brazilian blow dry?” She ran her fingers over her sleek strawberry blonde locks.

“And here’s me thinking a ‘brazilian’ was about a different part of my anatomy altogether!”

Geillis smiled, then a serious expression crept over her face. “But, Claire, ye dinna think ye’re fat or ugly really, do ye?”

Claire stared at the beer mat on the table, her fingers picking at it, ripping it into tiny shreds of paper. She really thought she’d outgrown that nervous habit.

“Well, no, but, it’s difficult to explain. Frank...” She could hear Geillis tutting at the mention of his name. “Frank had certain… er, expectations of how I should be. How I should behave, how I should look. The disapproval on his face if I took an extra roast potato, ordered dessert, poured myself another glass of wine. There was always someone younger, more self-controlled, thinner. So, for a while I tried to become the person he wanted me to be. I tried to see myself through his eyes and I saw the fat arse, the lack of control, the not-really good enough...”

Geillis leaned closer and gently placed her hand on Claire’s. “Thank God ye got out of there. That wasna a healthy place tae be, Claire. Ye know ye’re worth a lot more than that.”

“I know. And I am joking about that duff business but occasionally, old habits are hard to break. That’s why I’m not after a serious relationship. I’m not sure I’m ready to let someone see me as I really am.”

“But a fling will do ye no harm at all. It will do ye the world of good, let ye see how another man treats ye. In fact, we need a list. A checklist. When ye’re in theatre, ye dinna start cuttin’ till ye know everything is in place, all the boxes are ticked. So we make a list of what ye want and ye dinna start, er, flingin’ till a man ticks all the boxes.”

Claire finally put the mangled beer mat down. “A list, really?”

“Aye, it’s scientific, ye ken.” Geillis picked up her bag and rooted around for a piece of paper. Finding an unused paper napkin, she smoothed it flat on the table, extracted a pen from the depths of her bag and sat poised ready to write. “Ok. Point one…” She scribbled something down quickly.

“Come on, Let me read it.” Claire laughed, turning the napkin round. “Must look good in, and out of, a kilt. G, you have a one-track mind.”

“Och, it’s a fling we’re talking about, ye only need one track, I reckon. So, what about point two?”

“Well, I may as well play along. Point two must be no complications.”

Geillis obligingly wrote that down. “Next point. Enjoys a drink. Likes to let his hair down.”

Claire took the pen from her friend and added another line. Geillis read it upside down. “Really, it’s a fling ye’re after. Ye’re tellin’ me if they dinna like the X-Files, that’s it? Is that a deal breaker?”

“What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Fine, but I’m adding this one then. Fancies ye as ye are. No changing ye.”

The pub was starting to fill up. Most commuters had already made their way home, to be replaced by those heading out for the evening, coming into the pub for a quick drink before their evening plans properly began. Even on a drizzly Thursday evening, it was getting to be standing room only. Claire noticed several people eyeing their table enviously. She drained her whisky glass and stood up.

“I think that’s me done for this evening. Any more and I’ll have to be put to bed right here. I’ll just pop to the loo and meet you outside, G.”

As Claire crossed the room to the toilets, Geillis started to gather her stuff together to leave.

Immediately a woman rushed to the table, plonked herself in one chair, and stuffed her bag on the other chair. She eyed Geillis, willing her to hurry up and be on her way. Geillis ignored her and continued rifling through her bag, her movements deliberately slowing. Eventually, Geillis decided she’d had enough of the game, turned away and walked to the exit.

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

Geneva caught Jamie’s eye as he moved away from the bar, drinks in hand, and pointed to the seats she had found for them. He sat down, taking a deep slug of his whisky as he put Geneva’s vodka, lime and soda on the table next to a tatty old napkin.

“Someone’s shopping list, no doubt.” Geneva dismissed it with a wave of her hand as Jamie picked it up and carried on telling Jamie about the difficulties in trying to find the correct colour for a new bedroom throw. “...Not really a teal, but not quite a cerulean colour either…”

Jamie knew his role in this. It was just to nod and murmur appreciatively at appropriate points in the story. That gave him time to think… unfortunately. Thinking made him realise that Jenny had been right three weeks ago at the wedding. Geneva was not the one, he didn’t need to try again just to see. And she did talk utter shite.

He groaned, which Geneva seemed to take as indication of his deep interest in her tale of home furnishing trials and tribulations. He should never have slept with her. He hadn’t intended to but last night, as the blood left his brain and migrated south, he had lost the capacity for rational, coherent thought and had followed his baser instincts. Which had been a very bad idea.

Jamie glanced at the napkin he was still holding. Straightening it between his fingers, he began to read. A woman with long strawberry blonde locks suddenly leaned over and gently took the napkin from his fingers.

“Thanks, it’s fer scientific research, ye ken.”

He watched as she walked to the door, to her waiting friend. Her friend with the long shapely denim clad legs and mad curly hair and her face, so full of life with sparkling eyes he longed to dive right into.

“What an odd thing to want.” Geneva interrupted his contemplation. “That couldn’t have been scientific research. On a used napkin. Some people are just strange.”

Jamie felt his breath catch in his throat. Jenny had been right - he recognised it. What to do now?

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #modern AU #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #the ties that bind #chapter 2 #fluff #bit of angst #first time writing #sorry i dont know how to add links to previous chapter here

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glitterysummerkitty · 6 years

Text

Dr Bombshell & Mr Hollywood

Please go to the Masterlist for links to the preceding chapter. Thank you.

Chapter 14

(Part 1)

Finding herself in the same stressful situation twice in a span of less than twenty – four hours wasn’t something that was good for Candice’s heart, as it refused to slow down in its confines. Naomi’s dinner proposal, at her place had taken Candice by complete surprise and her brain had frantically plunged into finding a reason to avoid it, but the great Claire had taken it upon herself to accept the invitation for the both of them.

So, on that glorious Saturday night, Candice found herself on board Claire’s car once again, headed to dine with Naomi, in a different part of the city than she was used to. She wanted to just curl up in her couch with Mr Ruskin and continue reading the book or cook a warm dinner and listen to Debussy, but life just didn’t work that way.

“Do you think Jake Gyllenhaal would be there?”, nothing seemed to deter Claire’s excitement, as she carefully navigated through the Saturday evening traffic. Candice sneakily observed her perky agent and was totally narked by the excitement dripping from her expression. How could she be so excited about the situation while she was dreading the whole thing? With some degree of conviction and concern for herself, that maybe her lawyer wasn’t wrong or even Melanie for that matter, about her needing therapy. Of course she knew that there was nothing wrong with anxiousness. Everyone faced anxiety to some degree when faced with new situations, but she was beginning to realise that what she was facing was not healthy.

“Hello... Earth to Candice!”, Claire’s excited voice cut through her self- diagnosis and Candice shot her companion an annoyed look.

“I asked you if you thought Jake Gyllenhaal would be there.”, Claire grinned, her brown eyes still fixed on the road before her.

“Should it matter? Aren’t you married?”, Candice cavilled.

“So what?”, Claire snorted. “There’s no harm in some flirting. Besides George isn’t here.”

“Well, then. For your sake I hope he’s there.”, Candice said, her mind briefly going back to that night at Gustavo’s.

The rest of the ride Claire kept chattering about Jake and his movies and his scandalous relationship with the now famed actress Tessie. Candice tuned out the entire conversation and instead paid attention to the streets. Ever since she moved to New York, she had explored fair part of the city but still there were areas that she had never been to and Hudson Square was one such neighbourhood. Being within Manhattan, her work and home lay in Upper East Side and she never had an excuse to drive so far south until now. She tried to keep her attention pegged to many new street names and the several establishments that lined the streets in order to escape her torturous thoughts of what lay ahead.

Finally, after a good thirty minute drive, Claire came to stop before a lavish apartment complex. Candice stepped out gracefully out the car, her cocktail dress slightly rustling as she did. No sooner had she stepped into the lobby, Candice felt gratitude towards Mabel’s sister Josie, who had graciously lend her 2k worth Miu- Miu dress. The place screamed wealth with its exquisite marble that glimmered under the soft lights, from the magnificent Crystal chandelier illuminating the grand lobby. There were also lush and comfortable looking chairs and couches spread out, for visitors such as herself she supposed.

What more? The apartment building had a door attendant and a concierge service. Although she lived in a reasonably expensive apartment building in Upper East Side, her building had neither. Candice and Claire were greeted by the pleasant woman at the receptionist, who was dressed in an immaculate three piece suite. Upon seeing them, she offered a genial smile before greeting them. Apparently, she had been expecting them and as soon as Claire confirmed their identities, the woman called their hosts to inform of their arrival. Candice felt her heart throw itself rapidly against her rib cage. The mere luxury of the place made her queasy and gave her a strong sense that she didn’t belong here.

Candice didn’t know how long they had waited when finally a figure she recognised from the many pictures emerged from the elevators. Maggie Gyllenhaal looked suave in a Black and Nude embellished jumpsuit. Her short hair was parted at the side and styled elegantly. Candice stood behind Claire and watched her walk in their direction. She had not seen them yet, but then Claire raised her hand and waved at her, drawing her attention towards them.

Maggie’s eyes first fell on the overtly excited petite woman who was shifting her weight from one feet to other as she waved at her. She smiled at her politely and strode towards her while her eyes looked beyond her in search of the other woman. When her gaze caught the tall blonde her smile and steps both faltered as she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Hi... I am Claire. Candice’s agent.”, the petite woman said, extending her hand when Maggie reached them. Maggie greeted back politely but she couldn’t take her eyes off Candice.

“You must be Candice. Nice to meet you.”, Maggie took Candice’s hand in hers and gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you too.”, Candice blushed under her scrutiny. Maggie found herself melt a little at the smooth voice. She could most definitely listen to that voice all day.

With the formal greetings over, she led them towards the elevator but not before thanking the concierge at the desk.

“It feels really good to finally have a face to the name I have been listening to the past few weeks. Mom hasn’t been able to stop talking about you. She really adores your work and most certainly you too.”, Maggie complimented as they stepped into the elevator. Maggie watched the blonde’s fair cheeks turn crimson as she looked down smiling and mumbled a thanks. Normally, when girls did that it would make her roll her eyes but for some reason she found this little reaction endearing in Candice. Probably because she could sense that it wasn’t fake but a natural reaction for Candice.

“Did she tell you that she made me read the book? No offence but the book was slow in the beginning but she kept nagging me to finish it and I must say Candice, the ending was so unexpected. I liked it at the end.”, the crimson on her cheeks turned darker and Maggie smiled broadly.

“I am a fan of yours Maggie but I must say I adore your brother more.”, Claire’s comment made Maggie laugh.

“You don’t say. Well I am sure you will change your opinion after tonight.”, Maggie winked. Her gaze travelled back towards Candice, who stood meekly behind Claire, and thought about what Jake had previously suspected. Her mother sure did play this well. She bet that not even Jake with all his insecurities would be able to resist such a beauty. Now she couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

Candice smiled but focused on the door opening into a decorated foyer. She stepped after Claire who followed Maggie and as they turned around the corner of the tiny foyer she realised that the elevator had brought them directly into the apartment. Her eyes roved around the enormous pent house with an open floor plan giving it a much larger appearance. It looked like a sitting room cum kitchen cum dining area with minimalistic yet modern furnishings.

“Here, let me take your coat off your hand.”, Maggie took the caramel coloured coat that Candice took off from her hand and laid it on the lone arm chair. With nothing to hold on to Candice felt vulnerable in the large apartment. That the people were strangers to her didn’t help her blooming unease.

“Candice! Good evening. My, my! You look so... Gorgeous.”, Naomi’s familiar voice boomed as she pulled Candice in for a tight hug. This time Candice had expected it and so returned it a little less awkwardly than the previous day. In a shimmering poncho top and a pair of loosely fitted cotton pants Naomi cut a leisurely look. Being Hollywood royalty and all Candice had this image in her head where she imagined them to be dressed crisply in expensive clothes. Instead, both Naomi and Maggie were dressed casually yet elegantly and that helped Candice feel a bit comfortable. They weren’t pretentious people, she decided.

When she finally pulled away she came to face another man, whom she didn’t recognise and a visibly shocked Jake. However, when their gaze met, Jake carefully schooled his features and his intense blue eyes rapidly filled with..... Anger?

“Candice I would like you to meet my son, Jake...”, Candice wiped her sweaty palm against her dress before extending her hand to greet. Jake lifted his hand slowly to meet hers and when his large rough hand wrapped around her smooth one she felt a slight shiver run through her body causing the hair on her body rise. She brought her molars down hard on her lower lip in an attempt to try and compose herself. Jake had an intense gaze and under it she felt exposed. Also she couldn’t overlook the fact about how good he looked. Closer she could see how well built he was and how well his white dress shirt moulded around his ripped arms.

“And this is his business partner Paul Wheelan. Paul and Jake had recently started a production company together.”, Naomi continued as she pointed out to the lean man standing beside Jake with a stunned expression on his face.

Candice reluctantly shook hands with Paul, feeling very uncomfortable as his eyes raked her body before settling on her chest. She heard someone clear their throat and looked up to find Jake glaring at Paul who promptly let go of her hand after noticing Jake.

When Claire was introduced, she had a fan- girl moment with Jake. She gushed about her love for his latest movie, that Candice had no clue about, and how much more handsome he looked up close in person. Candice watched him take these compliments gracefully. After that they were ushered towards the sitting area. Candice took a seat on the cream leather couch next to Claire while Jake took his place in the grey striped arm chair right opposite to Candice. Maggie and Naomi sat on either side of Jake while Paul took the chaise lounge chair.

No sooner had they settled in, Naomi made the announcement that she had decided to adapt ‘Love Knows no Bounds’, something Candice already knew deep down in her heart. Naomi broke open the Champagne and gave a toast. All the while Jake kept studying Candice as discreetly as he could.

Candice squirmed through the small talk that Claire engaged in with the others. She was really glad for her agent who took charge of the conversation. Had she been alone here, it would have been one hell of a lousy exchange. Now that she was seated she wondered why Jake was angry with her. Slowly she peeked at him from under her lashes and found him staring at her. He appeared stoic but behind that astute gaze she sensed some amount of animosity which left her confused.

After some more talk about weather and other mundane topics they shifted to the dining table where Naomi and Maggie bustled to lay the elaborate meal Naomi had prepared. Candice wasn’t hungry per say but she was glad to have something to occupy her from worrying about Jake’s constant calculative gaze and Paul’s obvious leering. She ran a hand over the corner of the table, admiring the beauty. She didn’t need to be told that this table must have cost a fortune. It was a rare wood. She looked up and found Jake talking to Claire but he was still staring at her, seemingly following her every action.

“The food we will be serving tonight, I prepared each one of them. I hope you two like it.”, Naomi said, setting a plate of crispy potato skins filled with something that Candice was yet to figure out. She felt slightly guilty too at Naomi’s comment. Ever since the day had begun, she had just wanted this night to come and go, so she could get over the dinner, but she could see how much effort Naomi had put in towards this evening as a whole. Candice felt how wrong her attitude towards the evening was and chastised herself. Then and there she made a decision to enjoy the dinner no matter how she was feeling at that moment.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #imagine #fiction #fanfiction #romance #thriller #mystery #suspense #not a real story #long reads

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coltgrices · 7 years

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For the hurt meme, could you do "i got you. it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.” With Levi please? Thank you!!

I haven’t written anything in quite some time so this might be rough!! Also you didn’t specify so I used female pronouns!! Hope you like this!!

Another disastrous mission, ending with the lives of many being lost and many others being injured. Levi was a man who had seen a lot during his many years of being alive and he grew numb to seeing soldiers die, gruesome wounds, and trauma. He felt as if he wasn’t human anymore as he didn’t even bat an eye at the awful things he saw happen around him, things that would make any normal person sob and brake. He didn’t feel alive anymore not until he met her. Her name was ________ _________.

Levi had seen her a few times before she had been in the Scouting Legion far longer than he had. She was a childhood friend of Erwin Smith and she was a little younger then he was. She had a warm smile that was never forced. She was kind to everyone and comforted new and old soldiers who broke down after missions. Levi had noticed that she had made an effort to know every solider’s name in the Scouting Legion. She was so kind and loving, Levi couldn’t believe that the cruel world hadn’t gotten to her yet. So when Erwin had assigned _________ to join Levi’s Squad he felt a little excited though he didn’t show it.

“Lance Corporal Levi Ackerman. I’m Captain _______ _______. It’s an honor to be apart of your squad. I hope that I can get along with all of you and be a help.” Were the first words she said to him, she had a wide smile and gave him a messy salute as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

Levi scoffed and crossed his arms, “Don’t be so formal. Levi is just fine. Obviously you’ve got some talent if Erwin had assigned you to my squad without even asking me. Anyways follow me, you’ll have to share a room with Petra.” He said as he motioned for her to follow him to her new room. “The others will be here later. They had errands to run. There’s only two rules for being in my squad. Trust yourself and your teammates and don’t make a fucking mess. That’s all remember them. Dinner’s at six, don’t be late.” He said and shut the door behind him. He didn’t know why he acted the way he did but he for some reason hoped that she wouldn’t hate him and think that he was a shitty person. It had been one year since _______ had joined the squad and she got along with everyone perfectly. She was even better in battle, she was a quick thinker and was extremely agile in battle anyways. Outside of battle she seemed to always be stumbling and tripping over things and running into random things or knocking stuff down. Levi found himself noticing the little things that she did. He noticed the tiny birthmark on her neck, the faint scar on her chin. That one strand of hair that never seemed to go down, no matter what. Levi confined in Hanji and immediately regretted it. “Levi you’re in love!” The woman shouted.

“Tsk. Yeah right four eyes. I don’t think that’s it.” He muttered as he rolled his eyes. Hanji laughed loudly and patted Levi’s back, “Just admit it, it’s okay. You should tell her because a little birdy told me that ________ is also feeling the same way. Just do it Levi.” Hanji encouraged him. Levi sighed and left her office.

Levi finally got the courage to admit his feelings and he was surprised and relieved when you returned them. He finally felt alive again, he felt happier then ever. He thought that maybe for once it would be okay to get attached to someone and love them. A year passed of them being together. Then it all suddenly changed one day.

The Female Titan had cornered Levi’s Squad. They knew what had to be done they had to protect Eren from the titan. ________ pushed Eren back, “Get away Eren! We’ll handle her! You have to leave now!” She shouted as she flew landed on a tree. “Trust us!” Petra shouted. “We’ll be okay. Just go Eren! Trust in our abilities. Now hurry! Meet up with Levi and Erwin!” _______ gave Eren a reassuring smile as caught up the rest of her squad. Eren left them, he trusted in their abilities. But one by one ________’s squad was being killed off, it was happening quickly. She had barely anytime to register exactly what was happening before it was too late. She was the last one remaining of her squad and she saw Eren running back to the area. She squeezed her hand tightly around the sword and flew towards the Female Titan tears pouring out of her eyes. “That fucking idiot kid….” she let out a weak laugh as she heard him yelling. She flew towards the Female Titan’s neck and to her surprise the Female Titan hardened her skin faster then she could reach it. Her blade broke immediately and flew off, the side of her body slammed into the hardened skin. She could hear her arm crack from the impact. But quickly she shot at the hooks at another tree. “You fucking bitch! You killed so many people!” _______ shouted as she quickly circled back to the Titan’s face to cut out the Titan’s eyes.

It was too late, the Female Titan had grabbed the rope of her maneuver gear and ripped it out of her neck. She flung ______ to the side hard. The last thing ________ heard before slamming into the trunk of the tree was Eren’s yelling and roar of his Titan. “I’m sorry Le-” she was cut off by her head hitting the tree first.

Levi appeared at the scene minutes later and found the dead bodies of his squad. Then his eyes landed on the one person he did not want to be dead. “_______…” Levi’s voice cracked as he saw her body. Bloodied and completely broken. He raced towards her and landed on the ground. He dropped to his knees and pulled her lifeless body in his arms, “I got you. It’s gonna be okay you’re going to be okay.” He rocked back in forth slightly as he felt his body shake. He knew that you were already gone, he knew that there was nothing that could bring you back. He saw the lifelessness in your once bright and beautiful (e/c) eyes. He clenched his fists as he heard Mikasa yell. He laid you down gently before going towards Mikasa.

It wasn’t only until he got back home to your shared bedroom that he completed broke down. He sobbed for hours, he could hardly breath and his head ached. His whole body felt weak and he felt completely useless. He couldn’t save Farlen and Isabel from dying. He couldn’t save his own squad from death. He couldn’t save the one women he loved from death. He couldn’t even bring any of his squad’s bodies back. All he had was the patches from their uniform. Levi knew was cursed to live a life alone carrying the weight of all those who he cared about dying. He clutched the tiny black velvet box in his hand, inside was a simple rose gold ring with a few small diamonds decorating it.

#hurt meme #ask meme #anonymous #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #one shot #fic

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sending-the-message · 7 years

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DOG by Ilunibi

So, I’m a found object artist, specializing in assemblage and creepy fucking sculptures. Not one that you would have heard of, just one with a day job and a weird hobby. I spend a lot of time at flea markets and peddler’s malls, because they’re the one place you can go with fifty bucks and walk out with a mummified deer head and a crate of old, rusty kitchen knives, all of which fit my motif to a T. Courtesy of crazy country folk with enough money to rent booth B-4892, I have done such magical, artistic things as help build a monster out of dog jawbones and scrap metal and shove a cow skull in a box with serial killer scrawlings, the latter of which is set to glow bright red at night because Christmas lights were on sale and I didn’t realize how tacky it would be until after the fact.

I don’t always make wise decisions.

But, yeah, you can gather that I gravitate toward creepy things. Sometimes, though, I’ll drift toward the stalls colored bright pink with fluffy stuffed animals and old McDonald’s toys still in the bag, if only because a touch of cute to something unsettling can make it ten times more powerful. Desecrating something wholesome and pure elicits a lot of uncomfortable feelings in people, and trashing those tiny plastic Furbies that came with Happy Meals in the ‘90s is super satisfying. They’re terrifying.

Fortunately for you, though, this isn’t a story about Furbies. This is a story about Dog.

Dog was the denizen of one of those pastel toy booths, crammed so far into an Easter basket that it was like somebody was trying to bury him out of sight for the rest of his little puppy life. One look at him and it was evident that he was probably older than my mother, crafted of a ragged brown fabric that was threadbare in places with wide, orange/pink eyes that gleamed red in the fluorescent light. He was bottom heavy, the majority of the sawdust inside of him crammed into his legs from what I assumed were years of sitting on his ass. When I picked him up he felt gritty and made my hands uncomfortably dry.

A tag was dangling from his wrist. Typically, ancient stuff in this particular peddler’s mall would have the year printed on it to entice antique hunters, but all his said was “DOG, $5.” Strange, but hey, maybe they didn’t know how old he was.

I instantly liked Dog, though. He was strangely cute and, despite my art’s subject matter, I’m secretly a glitter-loving, cat-snuggling pushover. As I wandered around looking at old Coke bottles and rusted traffic signs, a part of me regressed to being that softhearted five-year-old who was paranoid that if she didn’t have all of her stuffed animals on her bed that the ones left behind would be scared and alone at night. My mind kept drifting to Dog, crammed in that basket, looking vaguely afraid, probably overlooked because people thought he was ratty and gross. He wasn’t even disgusting, really. He was just slightly terrifying and showing his age.

I must have looked like a sight, walking up to check-out with a goddamn meat cleaver and a ratty toy dog, but I couldn’t resist in the end. I didn’t want Dog to be alone. He was older than the hills and had made it this far, so it’d be a shame if he didn’t sell and ended up in a landfill somewhere. Dumb to be concerned about an inanimate object, I know, but again, I’m a fucking pushover.

So, I brought Dog home to my apartment, much to my roommate’s delight. He loves creepy things and old things and Dog fit both of those bills. He originally expressed some concern that my cat would be a little too interested in him because he was filled with sawdust and smelled like outdoors, but thankfully she didn’t really want anything to do with him. Safe from being a scratching post, he found a new home nestled on the row of stuffed animals that we had gradually been accumulating on the back of the couch: souvenirs from zoo and aquarium trips, geek toys from our favorite games, that sort of thing. Dog became the semi-permanent neighbor of an ESO mudcrab and a bushbaby.

Notice I said “semi-permanent.” I say this because it didn’t take long for Dog to start traveling in instances my roommate and I originally blamed on the cat. It started with him being behind the couch, then dragged outside our bedroom doors. Then, it evolved to him teetering on top of our headboards while we slept or peeking from behind the milk in the fridge. We assumed the other was just messing with us until, finally, I got a call at work after my roommate dropped me off. His voice was shaken and I could hear the sound of traffic rushing behind him.

Apparently, after dropping me off, he caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision. He checked once, and there was nothing. He checked once more when it happened again, and Dog was sitting in the passenger’s seat. It startled him enough that he pulled over to call me, convinced there had to be some sort of explanation, but what explanation could there be? I was at work, Dog hadn’t been in the car, and then he was. Not like I could will him inside of it.

I got periodic text messages throughout my shift. How my roommate got stuck in unexpected traffic because he pulled over and his twenty minute commute turned into an hour. How uncomfortable he was being in the car with Dog. How he put Dog back in my room to keep from having to look at him but he was back on the couch after he took a shower. The kicker came in the last hour of my workday, though.

“I missed a six car pile-up at our exit because I stopped. FedEx semi. Rolled over and caught fire. Eight dead.”

The traffic my roommate was stuck in was the result of an inexperienced semi driver trying to illegally change lanes at our exit. I don’t know the logistics of it, but apparently he somehow managed to tilt his cargo while trying to overcorrect and wound up crushing the cars in the lane next to him. It caused a pile-up because nobody on the interstate actually drives the speed limit, then, bam. Gas and sparks ignited and the entire thing went up in smoke. It wasn’t anything my roomie saw, mind you, because he got impatient and got off at the previous exit, so it took him by surprise to read the local news later and realize that Dog’s miraculous intervention saved him from burning alive. Potentially.

Needless to say, Dog got a lot more respect after that. Back on the couch he went, with the occasional head pat for good luck and just to let Dog--or whatever was in Dog--know that we appreciated whatever it was that he just did. We didn’t even sit in front of him when we played video games or watched Netflix, just in case Dog wanted to watch, too. Whenever he’d disappear and pop up someplace else, we always acted happy to see him, like he was a kid playing hide and seek or something.

It sounds crazy, but we didn’t regret it when we began to notice patterns in where he popped up.

Shows up in the fridge? He was next to expired food. Saved me a morning of rancid cereal. An appearance under the sink? We had a mild leak and mold was beginning to grow. That could have been bad for my allergies. We still didn’t know why he showed up on or near our beds or outside of our bedrooms, but we thought he may have believed that the cat was a threat and was trying to protect us from her. He is a dog, after all.

Then? Dog stepped up his game.

It was one of those days where you come home from work and are just done. Eleven at night and it was all I could do to get out of my uniform and walk to my bed. My typically nocturnal roomie was in the same boat, having “accidentally” stayed up for a good forty-eight hours playing goddamn Fallout 4 because he has the self-control of a kindergartner on his days off. We high-fived our Dog buddy on the couch and were out by midnight.

Now, normally, I’m a deep sleeper. Being a deep sleeper does not keep you from being woken up by the sound of “What the fuck!” ringing through your apartment in a voice you, unfortunately, don’t recognize. Then, I heard barking, loud and furious, ripping through the air at a volume that seemed unnatural. It was like cranking up Cujo on an old television as high as it would go. There was growling and snarling, cussing and fussing, then the sound of my cat bolting under my bed. Heavy footsteps thundered down our hallway, then back. Our bookshelf of knicknacks rattled, I heard the door to our balcony squeak open, some rustling…

… Then, a thud.

A male voice screamed on impact and I bolted out of my room, meeting my roomie in the hallway with the best weapon we own in the goddamn apartment: a fucking broom. While I’m not sure what he hoped to accomplish with that, at the time he seemed like a knight in shining armor. I hid behind him while we edged toward the living room.

It took extreme courage to flip the light on. We both half expected to be attacked as soon as an intruder saw the whites of our eyes. But, there wasn’t an intruder.

The balcony door and screen were open, and lying in the middle of the living room floor was Dog. A seam on his leg has split, sawdust scattered around him. While my roommate assessed the damage, I poked my head out the balcony door and took a look-see. It took a little help from my phone’s flashlight, but I could assess the damage as one broken branch on the dogwood tree beside our balcony and one grown-ass man sniffling on the sidewalk right beneath our third floor apartment. He’d attracted quite the audience of pajama-clad neighbors with his screaming and, after a quick phone call, the cops were in attendance as well.

He wasn’t anyone I knew and he wasn’t there to burgle anything. The police seemed to recognize him almost instantly, and I got a pretty stern warning to keep my balcony door locked because apparently the dude had been gunning for me for a while. He had a car parked around the block, and a nasty assortment of objects that spelled a bad time for me. They didn’t tell me much more than that, which I was fine with, but they did ask me one weird question before the left.

“What did you hit him with?”

I told them the truth: Nothing. Which the officer found mighty suspicious because the guy’s hair was full of sawdust and he was adamant that I had thwacked him with a sock full of something. Right before my dog tried to attack him, apparently. A dog I technically don’t have.

I spent a lot of time patching Dog up after that--not so easy, given his age--and both my roomie and I sat around trying to figure out the how or the why of what happened or, more importantly, how long that dude had been creeping around inside of our apartment while we slept. After all, Dog always showed up whenever danger (however minor) was near. How many times had we woke up in the morning to find him sitting vigil on our headboards, nestled beside our heads, sitting at our doors? Honestly, I don’t want to think about it.

Lately, he’s been pretty stationary, save when we forget to clean out the fridge or the cat knocks something over and breaks it. I’ve occasionally found him staring wide-eyed out the balcony door, which is unnerving, but I keep it locked up tight anymore and we’ve upgraded our home defense from “broom stuffed in a closet.”

I’m not too concerned. Maybe he’s just keeping watch, since rotten yogurt and broken glass seems to be the most he has to worry about anymore.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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