#when he's with his friends because he's safe enough to do so

[fandoms-in-law]

Manual Mood Ring

Summary: To keep up popularity and the Harrington reputation Steve couldn't show many emotions. That didn't mean he didn't feel them, only that he didn't always recognise what feelings he hid. So he wore rings, swapped them out according to his moods. And a few people noticed them.

Authors note: It won the poll by 1 vote and honestly I'm glad about it. In typing the other fic up I realised how not finished it is. This has been a great fic to procrastinate work with over the last couple weeks, but I'm glad with where I finished it.

/\/\

Steve would never say, except to Robin, but it all began because of Eddie and curiosity. If the guys he'd been friends with at the start of high school had paid attention, they could've worked it out too, but none of them thought twice when the week after he noticed, and accidentally cause some bullying over, Eddie's rings, Steve came in wearing one of his own.

The ring, or rather rings, he wore weren't expensive, just simple things he'd spotted in a shop window, but somehow everyone thought it was a wealth thing when they noticed it and so far as Steve heard, nobody realised there were 6 different rings he'd swap out. They definitely didn't question when he swapped them either, not even Nancy.

Robin did know. She only admitted noticing them when Steve dragged her out to buy more after the Russians took his original rings and none of the government agents mentioned finding them. She was the one who asked about why he needed multiple rings when he'd only wear one at a time.

It didn't help the assumptions they were dating when Robin insisted on taking his hand to check which ring he was wearing every time they met up after the explanation that he used them as an indication or self check-in of his mood.

/\/\

Eddie knew Steve Harrington wore a ring. When he started to the gossip in Hawkins High said his father insisted on it due to a tradition but if that was the case then the ring was too plain in Eddie’s opinion.

Then he noticed Harrington changing rings after getting a question wrong in class and was certain the rumour was wrong, even if he couldn't figure out the actual reason for it straight away. After he'd seen that first swap, it was too clear for him to notice the times that the ring got changed, especially since he decided to try and figure out why Harrington would do that.

Spotting Harrington's ring enough to tell the differences in it wasn't easy in school, especially outside of their shared classes, but a theory soon grew in Eddie's mind of them being some sort of manual mood ring. This was only backed up when he visited Scoops Ahoy once or twice over the summer.

Before the fire Eddie even thought he was close to knowing what emotions some of the rings might indicate, but they all changed after that, not even one remained the same as before and, thankfully for Eddie's curiosity, the new ones had more noticeable differences.

With all his curiosity over Harrington's rings, it confused him to realise the kids he'd brought into Hellfire seemed to know nothing of them. Once Mike even commented ' Steve would be cooler if he just wore rings like Eddie's.' as if he wasn't already wearing one constantly. Eddie could spot it glinting on Harrington's finger when he picked them up afterwards, not hidden at all.

From paying attention to those lifts and Harrington's expressions and reactions to the brats gave Eddie some clues on what colour or general shape of rings matched good or bad moods, even if he never saw the detailing on them.

Except for one.

Eddie saw one ring in detail once. Hellfire had an extra club meeting that apparently none of the kids Harrington gave a lift to had mentioned to him until he came storming through the school half panicked. Even after confirming they were safe Harrington made everyone move along the table so he could sit next to Eddie and listen until the end.

The ring that time was in a woven pattern, made of silver and Eddie was certain it meant fear or stress. It had to, given how Harrington only looked away from his kids to watch the door or, for some reason, analyse the ceiling for damage and suspiciously eye the lights.

Who knew getting an answer about one of the rings meanings could give Eddie so many more questions?

/\/\

Survival and fear were the only things going through Eddie's mind. He didn't know what happened to Chrissie or if it would happen to him next. He didn't know if he was trying to hide from that or from the town he was sure would blame him.

He definitely wasn't calm enough to recognise any of the voices yelling for him and dived into the boat as they got closer.

The conversation of the group looking for him was heard but barely understood as Eddie tried to get ready to jump up and fight or run through the hard jabs from an oar he thought was mentioned.

It wasn't the oar or the gaze of the man he pinned that broke through Eddie's fear when he decided to get out.

The hand holding the oar wore a silver woven ring. It wasn't polished and definitely showed signs of tarnishing in the indented areas and it echoed how he felt. He knew the ring and what emotion he was certain it meant.

And he knew that other rings were kept in the back pocket from classes where they'd get swapped out. Those are what he reached for now, still pinning Harrington with one hand which made it harder to separate the bronze ring that tended to be worn if he'd be joking when picking the kids up.

“Guess you're not here to have a go at me, or this would be worn.” Eddie mutters eventually into the silence that had fallen in the boathouse.

“I wouldn't do that. Dustin would never talk to me again if I did that. And how do you know anything about my rings?” Steve's words tumbled past each other, but seemed more confused now, instead of the panic he'd shown when first getting pinned.

“What rings?” Dustin demanded, somewhere behind Eddie.

Steve glanced over, “Forget the rings actually. What happened? We want to help.”

/\/\

Steve hadn't changed his ring in days.

Eddie glanced at it each time they came to give him supplies, came to try and talk him into staying with one of them despite how they'd need to hide him from parents, every time he got the change to.

It was still the silver woven effect ring.

He could only hope he'd live to see another ring take its place and was beginning to suspect Steve was hoping the same thing. A few times he'd been caught looking at the hand wearing the ring, but Steve never said anything, only brought his hand back to the pocket with the rest of them.

“You got the bronze ring wrong.” Robin commented on one of the few moments everyone else was distracted. “It's not when Steve's truly happy or whatever you think.”

Eddie glanced at her, gaze returning to Steve straight away. “What is it then?”

“Forced positivity. It's when he's struggling to believe we want him here so tries to reach out subtly for most of them.” She explained.

“And you?”

“Check his rings when I first see him so give him reassurance as needed. Although you might've changed its meaning now.” Her words sounded slow as if she was musing on the idea. “We'll see after Vecna's defeated.”

Eddie wasn't quite sure what to make of that but Robin was already over with Steve again, catching up with whatever they were working on. At least being in hiding gave him lots of time to think through her cryptic comments for breaks from panicking.

/\/\

“That's my ring.” Eddie stated. He'd been staring at the hand since waking up, originally cause it was clinging tightly and then as his memories filtered through the medication clouding his brain, to see if Steve was still stressed out. How was he meant to understand seeing his own ring being worn by Steve?

Steve's chuckle was watery, and there were tears in his eyes when Eddie looked up. “Yeah, mine now. Glad you're awake finally.”

Somehow that was what made him realise he had none of his rings on at all. “Where are the rest? What does my ring have the honour of meaning?” They felt like dumb questions but Eddie was scared to ask the more serious ones.

“Dustin's got them and your pic necklace. He'll be here as soon as visiting hours start along with at least a few of the other brats. Not sure which are seeing you first today other than him. Wayne's at the trailer salvaging what he can. Added me as an emergency contact so you wouldn't wake up alone.” Steve offered, thankfully guessing what he'd want to know first. “As for the ring, I don't know. I've been a mess, unable to figure out what I'm feeling so it's currently a question mark ring.”

That felt like a familiar feeling as Eddie blinked. He had no clue why things would need salvaging from the trailer at all. “What happened?”

The explanation carried on through the kids arriving, Dustin trying to push the rings onto Eddie and being stopped by nurses not wanting the jewellery in the way, and plenty of interruptions and additions. It covered how the attack that had left him in an induced coma to heal had only partly succeeded and everything that had come after and ended with Steve pushing his hair back into place sighing, “Thankfully most of us decided against sleeping through it all. Vecna is gone now and we're just waiting for people to wake up and heal.”

“And get Steve to explain how he's worn a ring so long without us knowing.” Dustin insisted, glaring at said man.

Eddie grinned, shaking his head alongside Steve. “It's not the king's fault if his friends don't pay attention to him. After all, I'd never spoken to him before all of this and I knew about the rings.”

“Lies.” Robin called, appearing in the doorway. “You spoke to him precisely 7 times as I never served you when you came into Scoops.”

Steve tilted his head, thinking before he shook his head at her. “Nope. He just pointed and handed over the money. I spoke to him before it all, but not the reverse. Such an unsociable customer.”

“You couldn't get Eddie Munson to talk to you? That board needed more tallies under you suck.” Robin teased, coming over and smiling at Eddie. “How are you feeling?”

For a moment it was silent as Eddie didn't realise the Steve and Robin show had finished with a question to him. “Oh, I'm – Honestly I feel like I died and this is a bizarre form of purgatory. Could be hell from the pain levels but you're all being too nice for that.”

/\/\

Robin loved Steve's rings. She saw them as a small rebellion against his parents rigid views of gender as well as a good idea for someone who wasn't often allowed to express his emotions.

Even before she knew what they showed, back when they were just co-workers and former classmates, she paid attention to the rings and the ways Steve swapped them out. She knew the original set of 6 almost as well as she knew the ones she'd helped Steve find to replace them.

And she knew they definitely shouldn't be in Nancy Wheeler's jewellery box, still bagged with a label from the US government stating they had been goods confiscated by the Russians.

When she saw them it wasn't sensible to mention it. They were still dealing with Vecna and trying to find out more about him, but she remembered and once everything was over, and all that was left to do was healing, she wasn't going to stay silent any more.

“You know, Nancy, I've had a question for a while.” She stated, off hand, but laser focused on getting answers.

It was just her, Steve and Nancy for the moment so seemed like the best time to bring it up without anyone else interfering.

Nancy didn't seemed concerned either, just smiling. “Which is?”

“You never had anything to do with the Russians during the Starcourt fiasco, right?” Robin didn't immediately mention the rings, knowing just bringing up any of the events was likely to get the guard up of all of them.

Guarded eyes now looked at her, and beside her, Robin knew Steve was trying to catch her eye to silently ask what she was doing. “No. You know I was researching for the paper or with the kids basically the entire time.” Nancy agreed.

“Okay. So why, when we were trying to figure out info on Vecna, did I find a bag of items labelled as things the Russians had confiscated in your jewellery box?” Robin still didn't mention the rings, but knew Steve would immediately think of them.

After being given his keys back he'd tried asking about them but been told nothing else was found. Both of them had watched the government agent then go to talk to other members of their group but assumed that wasn't regarding any other items.

Nancy narrowed her eyes, but stood, going over to the jewellery box to get the bag. “Because the government agents said they'd found them and they seemed most likely to belong to me.”

Robin nodded, holding her hand out for the bag. “So little miss reporter got handed some items she knew definitely weren't hers and instead of say, asking any of the people who had actually been in the Russian base if they knew whose they were decided to keep them for herself and never question the origins?” She challenged, reaching out to take them when Nancy showed no sign of handing them over.

“I recognised them. I've tried remembering why I recognise them so I could return them.” Nancy insisted.

“Again, why didn't you just ask me, ask Steve, Dustin, Erica, if any of us knew who these rings belonged to?” Robin challenged, Steve's hand coming to rest palm up on her shoulder although he remained silently watching the scene.

Nancy glared, “Because I should know whose they are.” She snapped. “If I could just-”

“Pay more attention to the people around you, you'd know.” Steve interrupted when it looked like Nancy would go into a rant about her memory to try and justify not asking. “The reason you'd recognise these is I was always wearing one of them the entire time you knew me.” His voice was calm, but Robin could feel the tension in him, and a glance over at him showed his current rings had been swapped. She didn't think he'd go back to using the set she held even as she put the bag in his hand.

For a moment it looked like Nancy would scoff before she narrowed her eyes on Steve's hands, as if only just realising he still wore a ring. “But why would there be 6 of them?” She asked. “Only Eddie wears that many or more at a time.”

“Because I swap them out when I feel like it.” That wasn't the explanation Robin had received and she doubted the full one would be offered right now. “Thanks for returning them finally. I'm more annoyed that even when I asked specifically about the rings those agents didn't mention them to me at all.”

“Oh.” Nancy deflated as she realised Steve wasn't going to yell at her. She seemed not to notice Robin's gaze was still hard. “Yeah, sorry I didn't remember or, as Robin rightly said, ask whose they were earlier.”

At that Robin leant forward again, knowing her smile was colder than she'd normally direct at friends. “Please do ask if this happens in the future, because Steve shouldn't have had to replace his rings for you to delay solving a mystery this long.”

Nancy nodded, “I will. Are you two sure you aren't-?”

“Best friends and protective friends at that. You might be pretty but you aren't Stevie.” Robin reaffirmed, before sighing and trying to let her annoyance go. “Shall we put a film on or something?”

Steve hopped up, going to the stairs to listen for where Nancy's parents might be. “Probably not a film. I think Ted is still watching something, unless you're about to suggest going back to mine.”

“Funnily enough, Dingus, I was.” Robin agreed, also getting up. If she hadn't wanted to get him his rings back she'd have suggested going there to hang out from the start but now that was done she would happily swap hang out locations.

/\/\

Perhaps he'd just been young, but Steve had never thought he'd have to get more rings, after finding six of them. Emotions had seemed simple to him, nothing like the tumult he'd been going through and while six rings had stretched before now he was learning that getting more was necessary.

He didn't question how, in getting those original rings back, he knew that one already meant heartbreak and grief, while the rest weren't needed any more. It just seemed reasonable; an escalation of the swap from the ring saying everything is good to saying his world was crashing before he lost them, to now having its hopefully final meaning be grief.

Then there was Eddie's ring, the mixed feelings ring, or as Steve still thought of it, a question mark ring. He hadn't meant to claim it, but when taking the rings off so the hospital didn't dispose of them he hadn't been able to let it go, even to hand it to Dustin. He'd covered by swapping it out with the stressed ring and repeating that Eddie wanted him to wear a different ring.

Honour: A word Steve had only ever heard directed to him jokingly, but Eddie used for his ring being worn. It boggled his mind a bit to realise how sincere the other was being with him. A lot of things did when it came to Eddie, like the fact he'd called Steve a good person out of nowhere and without prompting. Most people just complained about or insulted who he used to be and when he tried talking with Robin about it she'd got mad at herself before repeating how good a person he was now. That hadn't helped his bewilderment, just added another cause for it.

“Dingus, why are you glaring at your rings and a notebook?” Robin asked, draping over his shoulder and bringing Steve's mind back into Family Video and the slow work day they were trying to keep busy through.

“I need more of them but don't want to go around with even more rings in my pocket. Or know how to label what feelings they'd be for.” He grumbled.

She leant closer, forcing Steve to bend with her so she could see the notebook better. “Yeah starting from scratch is dumb. Write what you have rings for already, Your terms not mine or anyone else's, and see what you think is missing after that. Then see which stand out as unlikely to be worn often. Those could live in your car or wallet or something instead of your pocket.” Saying this she moved to his side and laid the rings out on a clear page of the notebook.

As Steve considered the idea Robin wandered off to check on the only customer. It was a pretence he knew, but one he's grateful for, even as the biggest necessity in his list becomes evident.

There's nuance, and different rings for sadness, anger, confusion, embarrassment, heartbreak, but only 'good' and 'trying to see positives' for good emotions. Good was one he barely knew how to quantify now and 'trying to see positives' didn't actually feel good to wear. But Steve wasn't feeling constantly bad, he knew that. He felt hopeful, amused, warm, and loved; like these friends were a real family.

Plus the question mark ring was where good and bad emotions were fighting in him.

“Do you think Eddie will come ring shopping with us?” He called out, settling on the four emotions he needed new rings for and looking around the store for the first time in a while.

“I think I can fit that in, yes Stevie.” Eddie replied, leaning on the counter opposite him. Robin was stood beside him looking over at Steve in amusement.

He shifted a little, looking between them, expecting to get teased. “You've been here how long?”

“Couple minutes, was going to block the page to say hi but you looked so adorably focused.” Eddie shrugged. “Are these all your current ring meanings? You've still not told me-” The words broke off as he read the list, fingers tapping over empty spots noted for new rings

Robin had started snickering, needing no words to tease once Steve met her gaze, but stopped in confusion at Eddie's reaction. “Sure they are. He's decided he needs to show more emotions than that now.”

“Like more positive ones, you mean?” He asked, a sharp gaze stabbing at her. “Little Miss Platonic, why haven't you told him to get more or change all the meanings so he doesn't only have negative emotions to show sooner?”

“What?” The demand was when Steve realised their focus might be surrounding him but it didn't currently involve him. “When did those change?”

He blinked at them, seeing a tussle break out for the notebook and wondering what Robin meant as he glanced as the ring on his finger now, bronze, looking for positivity, then back to her. “They didn't?” He asked, trying to remember what he'd told her they meant. He'd probably described situations which made him change to each ring he was replacing after Starcourt since describing his feelings isn't easy without them. “What did you think they meant?”

Instead of saying anything she snatched the pen to start writing her understanding of the rings down, Eddie's eyes getting wider as he read them. “That's – That's some difference.”

“Did I explain when I'd swap to wearing them before?” Steve asked, unable to read upside down and just getting frowned at as Robin made it clear he had and she didn't like the meaning mix-up it had apparently caused. “You still know how to help anyway.” He tried to reassure, hoping to lessen the glare.

“Just how pissed should I be at Nancy?” Robin demanded instead, angrily gesturing to the embarrassment ring. “How much didn't you say when I thought you might date her again?”

Both Steve and Eddie stepped back from her anger as Steve frantically tried to remember what he'd used to explain that ring and how it involved Nancy. “You literally said you didn't need to know that story.”

“Apparently I do now if just her visiting your workplace has you feeling embarrassed enough to change rings over it.” Robin insisted. “So, story-time please Steve. What happened with Nancy Wheeler?”

/\/\

“Did you argue with Buckley?” Jonathan asked, sitting down beside Nancy and taking in the glare levelled at them.

She looked over as well but soon looked away. “The rings were Steve's. She found them but didn't seem this mad then.”

For a moment he just nodded, before straightening to look for Steve. “I didn't imagine the rings he used to wear then? I guess between you giving them back and now we've been spoken about. Makes sense I think.”

“What does?”

“Steve's best friend being pissed when he told her what happened between us three. I did wonder if she knew anything beyond the rumours.” He explained, waving when Steve emerged from the kitchen.

Nancy stared, trying to understand how Robin's anger came from that, even as she smiled at Steve coming over.

“You two okay? Your move back to Hawkins going well?” Steve asked, relaxed, a ring shaped into a shield on his hand.

“We're good, are you?” Jonathan asked, but carried on without pausing for a reply, “Realised that we never apologised for everything during that Halloween. I thought you'd broken up honestly, until Dustin said you were taking flowers to Nance when he asked for help.”

“I'm good and thank you. It's all history now and I'm pretty sure there was no coming back from that argument. I'm sorry for everything bad I did back then too. Some fault on both sides, I think.” Steve hurried to accept the apology but followed Nancy's gaze when she looked back over to Robin. “And Robs will calm down soon enough. She just got the meanings of some of my rings wrong and is mad about it.”

“What meanings do they have?” Nancy asked, glancing back at the ring he currently wore. “Eddie too? He did the hand hold thing too today.”

His nose scrunched but he looked amused, “Yeah but also no. That's cause Henderson tried using Robin's ring checking as evidence I'm dating her and Eds wants to see if he'll insist the same for someone else doing it. I'm preparing for anything Robin does to me to get copied or escalated for a while.”

“You're cool with that?” Jonathan challenged, looking shocked at the thought and Nancy could remember their fight from years back, wondering if that was why.

“Robin would kill me if I wasn't. Plus it means my empty home is a lot noisier with laughter now.” Steve mused. “Yeah, I'm pretty happy about Eddie's game.” As he finished speaking his hand dipped into his back pocket, a practised gesture that seemed absent enough to be unnoticeable as his ring was swapped out while he looked around the gathering. “I'd better check the kids aren't causing trouble over there.”

There was silence between them for a moment as he headed away. “So that's the first time I've actually seen that happen.” Jonathan eventually commented.

“No wonder. If he hadn't just mentioned his ring I'd have missed it.” She agreed, wondering why Steve would hide the gesture but do it so openly. It was more evidence that she hadn't known him as well as she thought.

/\/\

Dustin was getting frustrated. He'd thought it was a blatant lie when Robin said she was checking Steve's ring each time she took his hands upon greeting. Then he'd thought maybe it was valid but still an excuse after noticing them was what started calming Eddie down in the boat-shed.

Now Eddie kept waiting behind Robin as she checked Steve's rings, draping himself over the side of him left free when they watched movies. It was getting honestly difficult to get a hold of either of them separately and Dustin didn't trust it.

“Why are you leading Eddie on?” He accused one of the few times Steve picked him up without the other already in the car.

“I'm not, but thanks, really flattering view of me you have there.” Steve huffed.

Dustin narrowed his eyes, “You're straight Steve.” He stated as if he was being dumb. “Why are you accepting his flirting when you aren't into him? Are you going to hurt him?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “One, that's not for you to question for me. Neither of us are going to get hurt. Two, Eddie checked and keeps checking we both know where we stand in this. Three, thanks for winning me that bet.”

“Bet? What bet?” He demanded but they'd pulled up in the trailer park and Eddie was already climbing in.

He'd clearly heard the question and leaned over Steve's seat, pulling his hand up to check the ring while asking, “Yeah Stevie, what bet are you telling Dustin about?”

“One I won cause he got in telling me off for leading you on.” He smirked, taking his hand back to pull off again. “Seatbelt.”

“As if I wouldn't follow you anywhere, Big boy. Keep leading.” Eddie remarked flippantly before swatting at Dustin, “But talk about clouded vision, Shithead. So when Robin does it they're dating but I do it and I'm being led on.”

Dustin spluttered for a moment, but Steve's smirk got sharper, “So that's me and Robin one each, you none. Lucas could be anyone's but I think you have a shot at Mike.”

/\/\

Robin helped Steve find it, the final ring he’d buy for himself hopefully. She’d helped with everything else in his realisations since Eddie’s game began and was trying to make him share his feelings with Eddie now.

The ring had been both Steve’s way to delay that admission and his hope that Eddie would bring the conversation up for him. If only because he had no intention of advertising the feeling it meant at all.

It should have worked too, except he was never wearing the ring when Eddie first arrived, never able to get privacy when the change was noticed by the other and didn’t see how it could change with their kids all wanting attention constantly. He almost felt like his crush was doomed to silence and Robin’s teasing over it but refused to accept it, adapting instead. He started swapping rings when even slightly feeling besotted, hearing Dustin raving over something Eddie had done or a song reminding him of the other. Steve even started practising demanding private moments and dragging Robin off during her greetings, just waiting for Eddie to question this new ring.

“Is it my turn to ask for a private chat, big boy?” Eddie asked, finally seeing Steve’s latest ring worn as he arrived.

Everyone else was filing through the house to the kitchen or Steve’s pool and barely glanced their way as Steve tugged Eddie upstairs, blush only noticed by Robin as they went.

“You like my ring then?” He asked only after they were alone. It was partly to delay the admission, but mostly a genuine question. When looking for this ring he’d specifically wanted something that reminded him of Eddie’s rings and the coiled serpent design seemed fitting.

/\/\

Eddie for the first time in a while didn’t know what to say. He wanted to ramble about how much he liked it and wanted a similar one for himself; wanted to interrogate Steve on this new ring when he’d been resolute on pairing rings up if he found an emotion missing from their meanings in the future; wanted to ask if it was a way to get his attention.

It was mostly the last of the list actually, but that felt too vulnerable to say.

“It’s metal, but why? You said you didn’t want to get any more after our shopping spree.” He asked, holding back all the words trying to tumble out.

Steve fell backwards onto his bed, heaving a sigh and making Eddie wonder if he’d asked the wrong thing. “Because a crush isn’t as simple an emotion to indicate and I didn’t want you to make similar errors to Robin if I paired it up with other rings straight away.” He muttered to the ceiling.

Hope flickered to light where it had dimmed at the sigh. “A crush? On who?” There was a guess, especially with how Dustin had been distracted from his questions the week before, but he wanted to hear it for himself.

“You.” Steve said, rolling onto his side and watching Eddie as he stood just beside the door, never having moved since they came in.

He moved now, taking the hand and brushing his thumb over Steve’s ring. “That explains why you weren’t wearing it when I wasn’t around at first, but not why you’re wearing it now.”

“Will mentioned you earlier, some of the chats you’ve had with him over Mike.” He hummed.

“Your love for those kids is cute.” Eddie grinned, kneeling on the bed beside him. “It also doesn’t say what you want to happen now. You seem plenty happy with me copying how Robs treats you but are you wanting more than that?”

Everything in Eddie was screaming to just ask for more, or lean down and kiss Steve, or do something other than gently prying more details out from the gorgeous boy rolling around on the bed.

“Maybe you could kiss me too sometimes, see how we feel about going further when my house isn’t full of everybody else.” Steve smirked up at him, as if reading the desires on his face. “Oh and invitations to either your band practices or performances. I want those too. Who knows maybe the Corroded Coffin boys could just fit in with this chaotic family of ours over time.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, leaning so their lips were millimetres apart. “Want to join our families? You already thinking of marriage, big boy?”

Steve leant up for a small kiss, “Forever with you sounds like torturous bliss. Where do I sign up?”

“I think you already have.” They both grinned into the deep kiss Eddie pulled him into then.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #nancy wheeler #platonic stobin #dustin henderson

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

full hcs for what post-route m6 would say if they got to talk to pre-memory loss mc for a few minutes?

The Arcana HCs: Post-Route M6 get 10 minutes with Pre-Memory Loss MC

Julian

He's sorry

There's a lot more he wants to say, but he begins with a stream of apologies when the person in front of him isn't the investigator who became his ally, but the assistant he failed to protect

He's not proud of it, but for a moment he feels himself slip back into who he used to be

Someone whose value lay solely in how useful he could be to someone else, self-hatred creeping back in like an estranged family member when he sees how useless he was to you

But the you from back then, standing in the middle of the plague and seeing someone stronger, better-fed, less sleep-deprived, the you from back then can see that he's grown. He's happy

The you from back then only seems to want to know if the plague you died trying to make up for had a cure, and if the doctor you lost your life assisting was ever able to find it

And he did. Twice. Without having to prove himself to anyone

Asra

Oh, how they used to miss this version of you

There's so much running through his head. On the surface, it's the first and only chance he's really had to see the difference between who you were when he lost you and who you are now

But deeper, it's the wave of phantom pains, pulling them under and back to when they would've given anything to see this version of you again, when they waded through hell to get you back

And the fear, flashing up from an underlying simmer, that the you then and the you now are so irreconcilably different that there's only one of you he can truly love

As they fold you into the kind of hug that only old friends share, the first difference they notice is that your heart doesn't beat in time with theirs the way they're used to - and it's their revelation

He had enough love in his heart for who you were - and it grew to love you back into his life - and more again to hold both of you in the current one. He has enough for every piece of who you are

Nadia

She's ... humbled, a little

The you that she knows and loves now is someone who has faced down the terrifying and illogical with her, who has supported her through the rejuvenation of an entire city

But the person standing in front of her reminds her more of the person who first walked in through the Palace gates

You're ... normal

Not in a bad way at all, but - you look like every other citizen her carriage passes on her way through the streets. She's reminded all over again how important seeing you in her dream was

Because if you hadn't been pointed out to her, if your first proper meeting hadn't been you freeing her from three years of nightmare plagued sleep, she would have never thought to seek you out

So when the you from the past seems surprised to see the elusive Countess, not nearly as well-known as her extravagant husband

All she really wants to do is thank you by showing you your worth

Muriel

Well. This is awkward. And that's coming from him

There's a well of emotions swirling in him as he looks at you, at the you that Asra left the hut to live with, at the you that took his only found family from him, at the you he came to resent

Because if the worst he can see when he looks at you is someone who captured more of his friend's attention than he did -

What do you see when you look at him?

The you from the past wouldn't have known him when he was retired and forgotten, the you from the past would've known him when he was a gladiator

Or more accurately, when he was the Count's executioner

He's not sure it's good for either of you to be looking at each other

But he can't turn away, and that's because not only do you not seem to be afraid of him, you won't stop looking at him

Your gaze feels the same. Exposing. Open. And though this one is considerably less affectionate - safe, somehow

Portia

She is both starstruck and deeply disappointed

Starstruck because the person she's looking at seems a lot more put together than who you are now, if a little less ... developed

Your magic hovers around you like an old friend and your eyes seem a little more sure about where they want to look

And that's exactly why she's also a little disappointed

Because you aren't like the person she loves now in that way. Who you are now is always looking, always soaking up the world around you like a sponge, because so much of it is still new to you

And nothing seems new to the past you - not even her

She's so happy to take your hands in hers and ask you all about who you've been and collect all the stories and fill in all the gaps she can, to better know how you got to where you are now

And then when the visit's over, she'll happily wave goodbye and walk forward to who you are now

But not without a word of encouragement to her darling first

Lucio

Oh. Ohhh boy

You see, he was fortunate to meet you when you knew fairly little enough to encounter him with an open mind. By the time you learned about his horrible past, you knew his present self

But past you ... past you seems to know quite a bit more

And he doesn't like the way you look at him

There's an edge of uneasiness to the way he plasters on a smile and loudly calls your name, only to be met with a gaze that's polite at best

You're not supposed to be polite to him, you're supposed to love him, to want him, to admire him when he's done good and call him out when he's done bad and forgive him when he tries to do better

At the same time, this is the version of you whose death he knows he's responsible for. It makes him wonder if he's a bad person for being relieved that you changed before meeting him

He'll be happy to leave - but he does manage an apology, first

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #star wars tbb #sw the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair bad batch #tbb tech #tech tbb #tech bad batch #tbb wrecker #wrecker tbb #wrecker bad batch #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #hunter bad batch #tbb echo #echo tbb #echo bad batch #tbb omega #omega tbb #omega bad batch

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 7

Pairing: The Grid x Reader, Lance x Reader

Summary: reader in a crash, book club dads worried af abt her

requests open masterlist

——————

You felt nervous going into Spa, a feeling that you just couldn’t shake. You had talked to Kimi about it and even crashed the Haas garage to talk to your best friends, but nothing could shake the pit as you climbed into the pit as the light rain started. Max looked at you and gave you a thumbs up before getting into his car.

You’ve never done great at Spa, the only reason you are P4 is because of the rocket ship that is you car. That was one lap, this is 44 laps. You release a shaky breath and focus on the lights above you. Not even 10 laps later the pit in your stomach increases due to the increased rainfall. You can’t get rid of the feeling despite your intense concentration on driving.

My tires aren’t going to last much longer, I’m losing grip.

Copy, Y/n, push one more lap then we will bring you in.

By the time you reported the tire conditions you were already mostly through sector three. You resteel yourself and push the car as hard as you could while managing the tires.

It’s when you enter sector two that you panic a little. You are losing grip faster than you thought and have begun fighting the steering.

GUYS SOMETHING IS HAPPENING

Y/n?

Y/n? Are you okay? Y/n!

Your wheels lose grip to the track and send you into the wall. It’s a nasty crash that immediately red flags, the debris across the track plus the rain increasing was enough for the FIA to red flag it. Your head is pounding and your vision a little blurry. Only when your ears stop ringing do you hear the radio.

Fuck, yeah I’m okay

You slur the words and pull yourself out of the car, immediately collapsing when you stand up as everything fades to black.

Lance, slow down, red flag, red flag.

Andrew? Who was that, don’t tell me it was Y/n. Fuck, is my wife ok?

It was her, no word back yet. Nothing over her radio from what we can tell.

Andrew, I need to know. Is. She. Ok.

She just said she was ok over the radio. There is debris across the track, stop the car and a marshall will get you back to the garage.

Shit, that’s bad. Andrew, what are you hiding from me?

Lance stops the car and gets out when it is safe to do so, as indicated by the marshal, but his heart drops when he sees you being put into ambulance.

“Mr Stroll, please let me at least let me get you back to the garage,” the marshal senses that he wants to fun over to the scene. Lance reluctantly goes back to the garage where he immediately pulls out of the race and goes to the hospital where they are taking his wife.

Max, Y/n crashed behind you, red flag.

Shit, is she okay?

No confirmation yet, make your way back to the pit lane.

Max feels his heart drop. He knew how uncomfortable you were going into the race and he would do anything to go back and time and tell her not to race. The red flag ended the race, and every driver had a similar reaction to Max and Lance. Max felt sick that that’s how he won, and he said as much in the post-race interviews. It was visible how much he and the paddock cared about you. Every one of your grid dads, as you affectionately called them when talking to Max, came over to him asking for updates, hoping Max would know more since he was your teammate.

“Lance, take a seat, pacing won’t help,” Kimi tells Lance, equally worried and frustrated at the lack of information as they wait in the hospital. Kimi was already on his way after the phone call this morning, this wasn’t what he expected when he touched down. Half the grid is sitting in the room, their legs bouncing or anxiously conversing.

“Mr. Stroll,” a nurse says, causing the both of them to hop up and walk to the desk.

“Who is Mr. Stroll?” she asks and Lance slightly raises his hand.

“I am, this is her father,” Lance says, the nurse motions for the two of them to follow.

“The doctor is in the private room waiting for you,” she closes the door behind Lance and Kimi.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Janssens. I have a bit of good and bad news. Good news is that Y/n only has a mild concussion, some whiplash, sprained wrist, and a small hairline fracture of the wrist. Bad news is that she’ll be out of racing for at least a month,” both Kimi and Lance cringe at the news.

“That’s all? It was a nasty crash,” Lance asks a bit skeptically, looking at your sleeping figure.

“Based on tests and scans, we have ruled out any head, neck, and back breaks. We have her pain meds, which is why she’s sleeping. She will likely be under observation for another day or two,” the doctor says, trying to relay the information in a delicate manor.

“Thank you,” Kimi dismisses the doctor, a hand resting on your shoulder. He and Lance sit in silence for a minute, gathering feelings and thoughts.

“She looks so peaceful,” Lance says softly, holding his sleeping wife’s hand.

“I’ll give you a moment while I talk to Christian and the drivers. Think about when you want to make a statement. I may hate the media, but you don’t want them to be hounding the hospital,” Kimi says before stepping out. Kimi and Christian quickly come to an agreement about the seat, the later not wanting to lose out on his second driver. The grid takes the news relatively well, but they all know how lucky they were, especially you. Pierre and Charles may have been handling it the worst.

“Kimi, will you look over this statement?” Lance asks, knowing the older man is an expert in saying things vaguely.

All-

We want to thank you for your support following Y/n’s crash. She is currently in the hospital under the care of great doctors. We are thankful that she is okay and look forward to a smooth recovery.

- The Räikkönens and Strolls

“Looks fine to me, I will take care of the outside stuff. You focus on our girl,” Kimi goes into Dad mode, sending the message to Red Bull and Lawrence. He posts the statement first on his account, Red Bull and Lawrence following shortly afterwards. Red Bull edited it slightly to reassure fans that you still had your seat waiting for you.

“Lance? You ask as you wake up, wincing from the pain. The room is dimmer, as to not strain you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he says softly, brushing hair from your eyes.

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Going into the wall will do that to you, you got lucky,” Kimi says from beside Lance.

“Dad? What did the doctor say, when can I get back into the car?” your vision slightly blurry as your eyes adjust to being awake.

“You have a concussion, whiplash, wrist sprain, and a hairline fracture. You’ll be out for about a month,” Kimi says, heart aching.

“Some of the guys are here? Want me to bring them in?” Lance asks, doing his best to distract you from the amount of time you will be out.

“Yeah,” you verbally confirm, not able to nod your head due to the neck pain. Lance leaves the room to grab the grid.

“I’m sorry, crashes like this are the worst,” Kimi tells you, clearly still affected by your crash.

“Thanks for being here, you didn’t have to leave everyone for me,” you says softly, thinking about your family back in Finland.

“They want to know that you are ok, and you are still my daughter, of course I will be here,” he replies, his softer side showing.

“I didn’t mean to scare everyone. Robin, Rianna, and Grace weren’t watching, right?” you panic a little, scared for their young minds.

“No, they know you are hurt, but they think it’s just a boo boo,” Kimi reassures you. The grid comes in and sufficiently distracts you, happy to know you’re okay.

You spend the next month in Finland with Kimi and your family, working back to 100%. Kimi takes you karting when you are almost fully recovered, getting you back to normal. Lance visits when he isn’t racing.

“Sissy, why do you have to go?” Robin asks, you tested in F1 cars again and got the green light to race again.

“I have to go drive in circles really really fast, just like Papa used to,” you crouch down to his level. Your sisters equally sad at your departure.

“What if you get a boo boo again?” Rianna asks, and you pause, thinking about how to explain it well.

��Do you stop going to the park even after your fall and get a boo boo there? Sometimes we get hurt, but that’s ok,” you don’t promise that you won’t get hurt, that’s not a promise you can keep. Rianna nods, understanding but sad you aren’t staying.

“Will Lancie come back next time?” Robin asks, not wanting to let you go.

“He will, I’ll be back in a couple weeks, it’ll fly by,” you give you siblings one last hug. Kimi hugs you goodbye as well, he spent the past week going over the track with you and talking about strategies.

When you get to the track, you are stopped by every driver, asking how you are and saying how much they missed you.

“Welcome back,” Fernando greets you when you walk into the club meeting.

“I listened to the audiobook, let’s get this party started,” you smile, happily listening to Lewis and Daniel fight about some symbolism. Your boys pampered you for your return. George brought you coffee from Mercedes, Logan brought you a pastry that he picked up from a bakery. Valtteri gave you some home remedies for your sore muscles that he swore works wonders. Kevin and Nico just hugged you but that was enough for you.

“Max was freaking out, he chewed out the Red Bull team for not pitting you earlier,” Daniel tells you, having filled in for you while you were hurt.

“That’s nice of him,” you smile to yourself. Lewis had also been vocal in interviews about how your crash could’ve been prevented if the race had ended sooner due to the rain.

“Y/n! Have a second?” a reporter asks and you nod.

“See you later, Danny,” you wave goodbye to him and approach the mic.

“Thanks for joining me, I just have a couple quick questions. First off, how are you feeling?”

“I’m really good, a little sore, but itching to get into the car again,” you reply, not giving away more than that regarding your injuries.

“You certainly seemed to scare the grid when you weren’t responding after the crash. How has your welcome back been?” the reporter pushes for more information.

“They’ve been great, they all came to the hospital to visit and have taken great care of me today. I obviously feel bad for scaring them, but they are the best competitors I could ask for,” you smile, before leaving the interview.

“Welcome back, kid,” Max hugs you when you walk into the Red Bull motorhome. You sing Super Max when you see him, having spent the last month listening to the silly songs that have been written for the drivers

“Thanks Maxie. Who is the better teammate, me or Daniel?” you grin, putting the dutchman in a tough spot.

“Daniel, for sure,” Max jokes. Your jaw drops and you turn around, leaving to go to another motorhome. You find yourself in McLaren, singing Let’s Go, Lando, with Lando himself who was happy to join in with your under-the-breath singing. Oscar wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at or murder the two of you.

“What brings you to our home?” Oscar asks once you both stop singing.

“Max said he liked Daniel more than me as a teammate,” you pout, not revealing that you knew he was joking.

“Right, I’m texting Lance,” Oscar shakes his head with a laugh, leaving you and Lando to chat.

“Y/n, love, you just healed, let’s not get hurt by forcing McLaren security to kick you out,” Lance laughs when he sees you and Lando bonding.

“Noooo, we were just becoming friends, she never hands out with drivers that are her age,” Lando whines. You give him an ick face.

“For good reason, you are all icky,” you quickly turn to Lance, “not you, baby,” you smile and turn back to Lando, “why would I hang out with you all and party after races when I can spend time with the older drivers whose company I prefer,” your eyebrow quirks.

“Say what you want, I’ve seen you at our parties. You have more fun than Lance,” Lando grins.

“Alright Lance, let’s go,” you get up, Lance assisting you since you are still a little slow due to the aches still in your muscles. He walks with you hand in hand back to Red Bull where your trainer helps work out your neck muscles and tape your neck and wrist.

“Let us know if you are feeling pain, if you have to pull out of free practice early, pull out. There is no shame if you are hurting,” Christian tells you, before you get to your car.

“I know, I’ll let you know,” you smile, feeling good in the car. After FP1, all of your grid dads found you after weigh ins, checking you over.

“Mi hija, are you okay? Does anything hurt? How is your hand,” Fernando asks, filling his usual position as the overprotective grid dad.

“A little sore, yeah,” you groan as you roll your shoulders.

“Don’t do that, let’s get you to an ice bath, then some heat,” Kevin says. Lance and your trainer don’t bother checking in on you.

“Let’s have a, well what your would call, a girls night. Help you recover,” Lewis suggests. And that’s how you spend the next few nights, in pajamas, with fluffy blankets, alternating cold and heat on your neck, watching movies of books you had read with the club.

“Petition to make this an occurrence each race?” Valtteri proposes at one point, getting eight voices in agreement back. They did a wonderful job of helping you recover, and the encouraging phone calls to Kimi helped you feel more than ready to race when race day approaches.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! GREAT START FROM RÄIKKÖNEN!” The announcer yells into the mic as you gain a few places, toe to toe with Max.

Can I race?

Permission to Race, give em hell, Y/n

You end up winning the race with a 1-2 finish, pulling a Carlos Sainz and Ferrari after his appendix removal. Your first F1 win.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid #george russell #logan sargeant #max verstappen #valtteri bottas #kimi raikkonen #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lewis hamilton #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen

[nunalastor]

Dark Forced Family/Overlord Found Family

Having Vox on the team might seem like an odd choice given his bad relationship with Alastor, but what sold it for the overlords that the risk was worth it was the power Vox shares with Alastor over radio waves. Vox has a way of communicating with Alastor that none of the others have, because Lucifer may have suppressed Alastor's magic into nonexistence, but he can't outright destroy it, that would cause unimaginable damage, and Lucifer may be crazy but even he knows taking that step is too far. But that means Alastor's power still exists, just suppressed, so if Vox can get close to him, he might be able to get a sense of what they're dealing with.

This wasn't relevant until the final fight with Lucifer. Zestial and Carmilla as the oldest overlord and the one with a shit ton of angel-killing weapons are at the front, with Rosie and Vox taking care of Alastor's body. Vox can feel how weak Alastor has become, he won't last the night if this continues, but that power is still there under the surface, he can feel it and if he really looked, he could see all of Alastor's pain.

He can't speak for Alastor, he can't wake Alastor on his own even if he tried. All he can do is use that to switch off safe mode and beat it into the king's head just how much pain Alastor is in. He is the overlord of technology, and one of his skills is communication, he can rub that in Lucifer's face as much as he has to if it means Alastor survives.

The fight isn't easy, between coming up with songs on the dime, Carmilla and Zestial dancing around, Charlie trying to defuse, and Rosie taking care of Alastor (she would fight but Alastor needs some blood to drink and to be as far from this fight as possible), but they see Vox's methods slowly making Lucifer break down. Vox doesn't need to say anything, just the aggression he is fighting with and a power Lucifer would know he shares with Alastor is enough to get the point across.

Until eventually, Lucifer stops fighting, and he seems to be on the brink of crying, though none of them can tell because his hat is shadowing most of his face. Before any of them can decide what to do, Lucifer quietly asks, "You'll take care of him?" None of them know how to answer to that, but figured the worst that would happen being honest was a continuation of the fight, so they confirm.

Lucifer snaps his fingers, and a gold chain around Alastor's neck appears, only to shatter in Lucifer's grip. Alastor's soul was free, and that included his magic that without warning caused the entire tower and hotel to be caught in a violent explosion.

The overlords get their bearings only a few moments later, looking around the hotel in ruin, all of its residents and the royal family whisked away to safety, and Alastor protected by a shield but left behind. Nobody knows what to think of what just happened. Was that it? Lucifer wised up and after everything... just stopped? What was going on?

Zestial convinces them the logistics don't matter right now. Alastor has his soul and his magic back, but he has yet to awaken. It would be best to provide him with emergency treatment either in the safety of Vee Tower or Cannibal Town.

The other overlords agree and Carmilla carries Alastor to get him to a hospital, but Zestial lingers behind for a moment, looking behind him and seeing Roo standing there. He thanks her for her assistance, and that is when Roo holds up a contract in her hand. "I was just fulfilling my end of the deal."

What Zestial hadn't told the others was that he had made a deal with Roo, selling his soul so she would say and do anything to convince Lucifer to let Alastor go, all he would need was a final push. He had a good run, and even if the deal was going to damn him in secret, at least his friends and his grandson had been able to survive.

👀

#hazbin hotel #nunalastor asks #dark forced family #overlord found family

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude three

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm alive!!! I don't want to talk about how long it's been since the last chapter because it's a little bit embarrassing. Anyways, I'm back! Hopefully! So here's a brief little Bruce POV to hold you over until the next real chapter, which should hopefully only be a week or two maybe? (Also, I apologize in advance....)

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.2k

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Bruce's POV

“Bruce, my dear boy, I don’t tell you often enough, but you are…so stubbornly stupid it makes me feel twice my age.” 

Bruce startled and whirled around to face Alfred. The older man was leaning casually along the work station where Bruce’s video equipment was, his cane next to him, legs crossed at the ankles. 

Bruce opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

It was noon now, and he still hadn’t been to bed. He’d been out late staking out Maverick’s again, hoping to catch a lead on Frank Gallo or anyone that could lead him to the man, when Alfred’s call had come. Security breach. Elevator. The panic had almost killed him. Alfred’s next call came in when Bruce was almost home, telling him that everyone was safe. So he had changed direction and left to clean himself up to make an appearance as Bruce instead. 

And still the fear lingered. Someone had been in his home, feet away from y/n, and he had yet to find any proof of how they had done it. 

He wouldn’t–couldn’t–sleep until he was certain she was safe. 

“What did I do this time?” Bruce finally asked. He turned back to the security footage he was pouring over. It terrified him that they could have been so close to y/n. That he could have been too late. That he could have–

He shut the thought down as quickly as it came. No use dwelling on it now. 

“What haven’t you done? You imploded the most important relationship you have–repeatedly, if we’re being honest. You keep secrets from her but toe the line so recklessly it’s going to blow up in your face. You let your emotions get the best of you. And that’s just lately. Shall I go on?” Alfred recrossed his ankles in the other direction. 

Bruce grit his teeth but said nothing. He restarted the security footage from the beginning and paused it frame by frame. A loud clack echoed around the abandoned station each time he smashed the button to go to the next frame. 

“Let’s change tactics then. How long are you going to let her live in fear before you tell her that the Batman is watching over her from inside her home?” 

Bruce’s jaw ached with the force of his clenched teeth. Still, he said nothing. First y/n had yelled at him, now Alfred. He knew his behavior was…abysmal to say the least. But he had more important things to focus on than everyone’s emotions, his own included. 

He had to find Frank Gallo, and take down the rest of the family, once and for all. When that was done, when y/n was safe, he would think about all the ways he had ruined his relationship with her. 

“Are you listening to me, Bruce?” 

“I am trying,” Bruce said with a smack of his fist against the table, “to figure out who the fuck broke into my home and threatened y/n!” His voice echoed loudly around him, setting the bats to fluttering and chittering above them. He restarted the footage once again. 

Alfred made a noise in his throat. “She hasn’t slept at all.” 

Something oily slid down Bruce’s spine. “Neither have I.” It was a deflection and they both knew it. It killed Bruce to know y/n was so scared. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it–other than find those responsible and make them pay. She wouldn’t want his comfort, wouldn’t want him to hover, so he was doing the next best thing and trying to end it. 

Alfred sighed. “All I’m saying is–” 

“I know what you’re saying.” 

“Then why do I have to keep saying it?” 

Bruce went back to ignoring the older man. Let Alfred think what he wanted. Bruce had work to do. Nothing would get better until Frank Gallo and the rest of his family and cronies were gone for good. 

What gives you the right to act like this? she’d asked, all of her anger turned towards Bruce like a roaring inferno. What gave him the right? He had admitted it to her right before that–I give too much of a shit. 

She didn’t know he was still in love with her. That he always had been. 

He’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t see what was right in front of her face–who he was, how he felt, what it was doing to him. If she would just open her eyes, she would know. 

Instead, she had yelled at him. 

He deserved it. He knew he deserved it. But walking in and seeing her hold Officer Martinez’s hand…it made him crazy. He had acted like the worst type of bastard without even thinking. It was pure instinct, the urge to protect her even from a guy like Martinez rising so strongly within him that it was almost as if he had blacked out. Like someone else had taken over his body. 

She rarely ever got mad at him. It had only happened a few times throughout their many years together. It was a sight to behold, her rage, and he had been equal measures impressed and angry both. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Bruce said after long stretch of silence. His voice was raw with exhaustion and emotion. “Either help me figure this out or go back upstairs.” 

He felt rather than saw Alfred bristle. He waited to get berated yet again, but Alfred merely pulled up the footage on another screen and got to work. 

They spent a few minutes in silence, Bruce’s eyes burning from lack of sleep, his thoughts churning. She hasn’t slept. He ached to go upstairs, to tell y/n that she was safe with him, that he would never let anything happen to her. 

But it already had, and all of it had been his fault. 

He knew without a doubt, just as he had known three years ago, that she was safest far away from him. And look what had happened already–the more she’d become entangled with him, with the Batman, the worse things got. She had spent three years in Bludhaven, far away from him, perfectly safe. And the minute she had come home to Gotham, come home to him…it had all gone to shit. Really it had gone to shit before that–when her grandmother had left the tower for the last time. 

Bruce liked to think that was his fault, too, not that he’d ever it admit it out loud. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Alfred said into the silence. His voice was gentle, almost placating. 

“Mm.” It wasn’t working, then, Bruce thought. He already felt guilty enough. 

“I hate seeing you like this. Both of you.” Alfred sighed again. “I just think that talking about it–all of it–would help you both. It might ease the strain of…everything else going on.”

Bruce couldn’t see how it could help, only how it would make things worse. But he didn’t say that to Alfred, merely nodded and kept working. 

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right. 

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

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[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 4

A Prayer in the Prospect of Death

Summary: The years pass and you find out how Simon feels about you before a familiar face arrives. Words: 2.8k

Parts: 1 2 3 4

“Tell me luv.”

Simon had his fingers tucked under your chin to tilt your head up so you could no longer easily hide. Urgh he was so bloody perceptive. 

“It’s silly.”

“You’re always silly, now tell me.”

You fought the urge to blow a raspberry at him. He was truly the most stubbornly protective human you had ever met and he never just let things go if you said it was fine. He always knew when something was bothering you despite your attempts to hide it. 

“What am I supposed to do when Joey starts nursery?”

You sighed and dropped any attempt to hide how miserable the thought made you. When you and Johnny had gotten married you had decided that you’d be a stay at home mum. You didn’t have a career you were attached to and Johnny made enough to support the household. Honestly you had come to enjoy it in the last year. You decorated your home for every holiday, experimented in the kitchen until you were actually a very good home cook and baker, always felt safe and content with how well you knew your own space and how cosy and clean you kept it. 

It was never how you imagined yourself if you were honest, a homemaker. The idea of you actually sort of enjoying cleaning would have made you feel somewhat ill 5 years ago. But now you were in your own home with a toddler you loved to death and, though you often were reluctant to admit it out loud, a man you loved to death. You had been front and centre for all of Joey’s firsts and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

Simon missed his first steps. Johnny had been fine doing video calls while he was on base during off hours, but you didn’t even have the number of Simon’s work phone. It used to frustrate you that it felt like he didn’t even exist the moment he left for work, but he had spoken about his family on your first Christmas together and it made you understand. He would never carry anything on him as the Ghost that could link back to you, even in the relative safety of the base during downtime. 

Now Joey would be out of the house for most of the day. You could have waited, not sent him to nursery and just kept him home until school, but you knew it would be for your sake rather than his. He loved being around other kids and some of the friends he had made from you taking him to every toddler group in the area in an attempt to be a good mother would be starting nursery as well. 

Could you just do nothing all day? Between Johnny’s insurance and death in service benefits and Simon insisting on funnelling money in, you could certainly afford it now, but it felt so wrong when Johnny was dead and Simon was doing the exact job that had killed him.

“What do you mean? You do the same as you do right now if you’re still happy doing it but without him.”

“Lounge around and do nothing while you are out risking your life you mean.”

Simon considered, always careful to think the situation through rather than reply impulsively. He was annoyed with himself for not seeing sooner that you were undervaluing yourself, only considering taking care of Joey which was a full time job in itself as contributing. While it had been a source of bitter guilt in the beginning, he had started to forget how much younger you were than him. He really should have seen it, no woman in her early 20s saw her full worth. 

“Princess, you decorated this whole house while I was deployed and you’re the one that fixes things or organises for them to be fixed when they break. You cook almost all our meals from scratch and then make extra to donate to the community kitchen. The garden is immaculate because you follow the planting plan you made yourself and are out there doing maintenance every day. You do not now nor have you ever lounged about doing nothing, even if I would like it if you did.”

He already felt bad enough about it. When he was home he threw himself in, tried to take as much off of you as possible even when he was nowhere near as fast or good at things. If anything he was contributing nowhere near enough money to cover all the full time jobs you were gracefully juggling (only because it had already been a fight to accept any money at all, he gave you what you accepted and then put almost the rest of his pay into an account for Joey).

“Shut up!” you whined, battering fists against his chest as your face flamed. 

You had lived together now for just around 3 years. You had been intimately involved for 2. It still absolutely floored you when he was nice to you and made butterflies erupt in your stomach. It was so ridiculous to feel like some wide eyed teen with a crush when it came to this idiot. Unfortunately his favourite hobby was fucking with you when you were taken off guard like this.

“Aww baby girl, you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me and Joe don’t you? We’d fall apart without you beautiful” he said in a smooth rumble, peppering kisses across your cheeks and down your neck. 

It wasn’t fair that he could just tease you with a version of him that adored you. A version that you enjoyed even if you didn’t really think it was real. Sure there had been a maybe ‘I love you’ years ago after all that sexual tension broke and he seemed to be happy enough, but you could only imagine that if he ever knew how you felt about him he would run. The last 3 years you had fought at every turn to protect your heart, but you had stopped denying at least to yourself that it was pathetically his now.  

“Don’t do that.”

“You don’t want praise and kisses?”

He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a small smile. You loved praised and kisses, he knew that because in the bedroom he could use that to turn you into a pile of obedient princess who did whatever he said if it would earn you his adulation. But it was just sex wasn’t it? 

“I don’t want you to pretend.”

He was confused by that and you wanted to sink into the floor to avoid this conversation. You had been avoiding it for a while now. 

“I… fuck. Simon, I don’t- it’s not just sex to me” you choked out, not sure how to put it into words without straight out admitting that you were hopelessly in love with him and wanted him in you and J’s lives permanently. 

“Christ, you pretty little idiot” he growled, grabbing your face roughly in his hands. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not Johnny, I don’t do big romantic gestures. I’m not the kind of man to tell you all the time how I feel. I’m the kind of man who is a selfish bastard because I don’t give a fuck if you deserve someone who does. You are mine. You have been for years. Do you understand me?”

You could only blink wide-eyed as your brain tried to catch up with the whole world restarting itself after the shock.  

“Do you understand me?” he snapped. 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl… wanna get married?”

You stuttered out an outraged shout, feeling the tears that had been building drying up at the audacity of this man. 

“Johnny took me to the cabin. He made me a replica of the first dinner we had together and set the table outside during the sunset. He organised for fireworks!”

“Told you I don’t do romantic gestures.”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine, let’s get married Casper. You’re the fucking worst.”

“Don’t I know it princess. I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Then I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Yes you bloody well are!”

“Wanna bet?!”

-

He did not wear a tie, but Joey did. Your dress was beautiful. Gaz officiated your wedding for the second time. Price said there was an emergency so he couldn’t make it - you weren’t really sure you believed him.

-

As you cleared up after the whirlwind that was breakfast in a house with a 9 year old late for school, you sighed and stuck on a heat patch. You were starting to wonder if being off birth control was maybe a little pointless because in the past 18 months it had only reminded you how much you hated periods after years of them being gone as a useful side effect.

It had been something you were speaking about since you got married. You had always wanted more kids. Simon had never even expected he’d have one. You were terrified of a repeat of your first pregnancy, he was terrified that his genes were poisonous. You had enough money with his hefty pay and your small business (you had started it up soon after Joey had started nursery and you got a lot of orders for events, birthdays and weddings for sets of biscuits. You imagined wherever Johnny was he was howling with laughter that you had turned into a home baker after all the kitchen disasters he had seen). 

In the end it had been Joseph who made the decision. One shrugged mention of how he thought it’d be nice to have a little sibling and that was that. There was not one thing in the whole wide world you and Simon would not give him if it was in your power. Although you were starting to think it wasn’t in your power at all. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t have an active sex life and in honesty it had only gotten more active from the breeding kink Simon had uncovered as soon as it was a possibility. But it just hadn’t happened. 

You wondered if it was better that it hadn’t, at least until Joey was 10. That was when you had agreed you would tell him everything. On advice of a psychologist you had told him that Simon wasn’t his biological father very early on, as early as he could understand the concept, although stressed he was still his dad. The only thing you mentioned about his biological father was that he had died even though that was very much against the psychologists advice, she had said to tell him everything about Johnny.

But in 4 months he would turn 10 and he knew that you would answer his questions then. It was shitty of the two of you really, to hide Johnny until now. Joey’s grandmother still saw him, but she never talked about her son or who he was. It was cowardice. Simon had been speaking with a therapist for years about how to let go of the idea that Johnny died because he couldn’t save him. You felt ill at the idea of your son knowing you had married his dead father’s best friend. Both of you were so scared of Johnny’s ghost that you kept him from his son for nearly a decade. 

Well sort of. Joey knew who Johnny was, just not that he was his father. There were photos of him in the house. Whenever Gaz, Price and their partner (that had been a whole drama, but you were happy the three of them finally worked it out) were around, sometimes they would reminisce about him. Well Gaz and Simon did, Price would just look pained and excuse himself to get a drink.

You could only hope that Joey wouldn’t hate you, but then he was such a great kid. A little wild, but incredibly kind and empathetic beyond his years. He had Johnny’s eyes. You thought that he’d understand when you explained it all. Maybe he’d yell at you for thinking he would blame you for falling in love with his dad, but he’d understand. 

You focused on cleaning up and getting the kitchen back clean and cosy how you liked it, deciding not to borrow worries from the future.

–

Price had told him to settle his arse down in the base and let him travel down and talk to him before he went anywhere. Johnny ignored him. He had just saved the fucking world, there was not one thing that was going to keep him from his wife and child one second longer.

He had debriefed already, been medically cleared to leave. He knew the paperwork was going to be horrendous given that he was legally dead, but frankly he’d leave it for the intelligence agencies to deal with given how much of a big bloody favour he had just done them. He got your address off of them given that Price hadn’t given it to him, just telling him to wait until he got there. Fuck that.

It didn’t take too long to get himself there. It was oddly comforting hearing all the English accents after a decade of hearing almost entirely Russian even if he’d be moving your pretty arse back North of the border as soon as he could. Not a chance was his family living in Carlisle. He wondered why you would move that far from the Highlands where his family was. You had always been no contact with your own family, maybe you had reconciled with them and moved to be closer? 

He would find out. Whatever it was he’d support you. God he loved you, he had missed you so fucking much. He had imagined the reunion for years, thought of your smile and your laugh when he needed to remind himself what he was fighting for, thought of your soft skin and tight pussy when he needed to relieve some tension with his right hand. Whenever he sent up a prayer in the prospect of death, it was for you that he prayed he would survive.

He thought of how he’d hold you for days when he got back. He knew you would have raised a wonderful son and he could not wait to meet the person he had become. He’d hold him as well, spend days cuddled up and watching movies with his family. 

And then he’d take you to the cabin and lose himself in your body. Fuck it was strange to think he’d have to consider it wasn’t just you two anymore. He didn’t want to lose any time with his son, but he needed alone time with you as well. He’d work it out. 

The house was nice, sort of quaint with the pretty flowers both real and painted on the door. It hurt knowing if he hadn’t been away you’d have something bigger. You would have had to for a growing family. 

He wished he had stopped and gotten a change of clothes and a haircut. He was in military issued sweats and a hoodie and his hair had grown out to curl around his ears. He really should have shaved as well, a task he hadn’t had time for in the chaos of the last few months. But fuck it, he was here and he couldn’t wait. 

It was almost like an out of body experience knocking on the door, knowing he was seconds away from you. He should have realised that there was another person around who could answer the door, but he hadn’t been thinking. The Joseph he knew was a tiny baby, not a bright eyed kid with a toothy grin in a football strip (a bloody Man U strip at that, Johnny just knew his uncle Simon would have had a hand in that and it made him grin knowing his best friend was still in his son’s life).

“Ye got big!” he belted, excited beyond proper introductions at seeing his son. 

The kid furrowed his brows for a moment before he brightened with recognition. Johnny assumed now was about the time for crying and yelling and hugging. He was unprepared for the alternative. 

“I know you! You’re dad’s Sergeant! I thought you died.”

His heart lurched, putting the dots together well before his brain could. 

“Joe hurry it up! We’ll miss kick-off!”

Johnny knew that voice. It was not yours. 

“I’m ready!”

“You better be! Right, who’s at the door then?”

The voice got closer and even though he wanted to run Johnny was rooted to the spot. It felt like the next 10 seconds as the footsteps and voice came closer was hours. The door swung wider open as a hand pulled on it from behind and then he was looking into the eyes of Simon Riley. The silence was deafening until Johnny broke it.

“What the fuck did you do Si!”

#mhairiwrites #cod #soap x reader #ghost x reader

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part Six

Words: 5.8k

Just as you approach something resembling contentment, this broken world will exact its toll.

Warnings: smutty smut, trauma, grief, Joel hasn't come to terms with what happened in Salt Lake, Joel is bad at feelings, but pretty good with his hands. Minors DNI.

Part Five | Series Masterlist

You were busy again, the new table earning its keep almost immediately, and the ease that you moved around your treatment room, the way that you could bend without reaching over, push with your weight rather than your wrists, meant that you could concentrate more, heal more effectively. You hadn’t realised how much the clumsiness of the old dining table had been holding you back. Every day that you used it, you wanted to find a new way to thank Joel. Maybe even sometimes, with all of your clothes on.

Except that the idea also terrified you, in a way that you were struggling to really understand. The idea of him, of being naked with him, not that you really fully had been, of kissing him even, no that you had, was enough to send an absolute riot of butterflies careening through your guts and down into your legs, into your knees. The idea of him scared you, his reputation proceeded him, and you kept thinking of how wary Maria was, how protective Ellie seemed to be, how sweetly oblivious Tommy was most of the time which you were beginning to suspect was actually a choice. You wanted to pull them all into a room and forensically map out who the fuck Joel Miller actually was. You were aware you were thinking like a crazy person. You didn’t care.

Because then when he was with you, when you fell into his orbit, looked into his eyes, there was something heavier and realer and more tangible than your stupid, flighty, squawking fears. It worried you, that he made you into a different person when he was around you. You weren’t sure what that person was capable of getting up to, left to her own devices, but you had an inkling.

You knew that you were pushing him away, pushing it all away, because it scared you, but also it felt like the only sane thing to do, had kept you alive for years and years, had meant that when you lost people it hurt less, maybe. Being busy again, and fairly invested in maintaining your denial for as long as you could manage it, you got back to your usual routine of seeing the broken and weary people of Jackson early, before the work hours, and then steadily throughout the day. It afforded you the illusion of being sociable, of contributing to the community, without having to actually be in it. Without Ray and Marla, with Maria and Tommy wrapped up in the baby, with Joel being…Joel, you had collected a long list of clients and a dwindling list of friends. It could have made you sad if you thought about it, so you didn’t, and you were too busy anyway, and how could you be lonely with all these people in your house?

Besides which, in the quiet moments you could feel the tension in people, the uneasiness woven tight into the musculature of most of the residents you now saw. Not everyone knew Marla or Jacob or the others personally, not everyone even necessarily liked them, especially not fucking Jacob, but everyone had an investment in their safe and hopefully bountiful return.

To escape it, you went for long walks along the foreshore of Jackon’s lake at the bottom of the township, until the dying light forced you back. You were there, hands in the freezing water feeling out for flat stones you could warm in hot water and press into particularly assertive muscle knots, when you heard the yelling. You were up and sprinting, the twisty and icy path underneath you occasionally threatening to boot you into the snow, and if you’d had time to think about it you have marvelled at the difference in your reaction from Joel and Ellie’s homecoming to this one. The elation you felt at their return, the relief of it, not just for you and Marla and Ray, but for Jackon. For what it meant for this community. For your community.

Trying not to knock yourself out on the way to the gate meant that you didn’t initially notice the quiet. There was a smattering of people still out despite the cold, the encroaching darkness, but they weren’t rushing forward, weren’t really helping the returned residents, were in fact milling around, some just standing in quiet observance, and it occurred to you for a second that they were like onlookers at a funeral. You pushed forward into the crowd, trying to see past unmoving shoulders, past still bodies, moving towards the sounds of horses, of panting breaths you weren’t sure belonged to whom.

And then you arrived at the front, and you had a clear view. And you realised the panting breaths were your own.

There were only two horses, and only three riders. Marla at the reigns of one, Jacob slung over the back of her saddle, slumping over at an odd angle, his head rolled back in a way that you thought would really strain his cervical spine, until you realised he was tied to the horse, had been roped around Marla��s midsection, that he was nearly as pale as the snow around you, that he was very dead. The other rider stared, unblinking, into the distance and was eventually helped down and led to the infirmary, not ever having said a word.

Marla had seen you, had watched you fight your way to the front of the crowd, had searched you out. She was shivering, a splatter of blood across her chest and under her neck, and you couldn’t tell if it was hers or if it was Jacob’s or someone else’s entirely, and in that moment staring into her eyes you knew that it didn’t matter, that it would never matter, that whatever damage it was it had already been calculated, tallied, on a ledger somewhere none of you would ever be able to balance.

You motioned to a few of the men around you, gesturing to the ropes around Marla’s middle. ‘Cut him loose,’ you said, in a voice you didn’t recognise, and reached your arms up to hold Marla’s hand. You held it, limp and contrite in yours, while Jacob’s body was freed from hers. When he was lifted away she slumped forward, her back having held his weight for god knows how long, and you caught her, pulled her down from the horse on wobbling legs, let her crumple underneath you and set her down onto the pavement. Someone pulled a blanket over her shoulders and you held her in it, gripped her hard and tight and let her shake in your arms. You looked up into the eyes of Ray, who looked like he might throw up or pass out or both, and you pulled him down with you, wrapped him around her while he cried into her hairline, and you watched as the horses were led away.

‘Did you bring anything?’ someone asked from the crowd, quiet but hopeful, and you wanted to reach up and slap them for every moronic word they had dared speak into existence, had thought to utter in this sacred space of abject loss.

Marla never answered, and you squeezed her. She twisted in your arms to look up at you, an angry purple and yellow bruise forming having formed under her eye. You turned to Ray. ‘Help me get her to mine,’ you said.

--

You had the fire going, and you pushed your old armchair right up to it, folding Marla into it under a sea of blankets. Ray went to get something to bring her from the mess hall, something warming but easy to chew, and you perched beside her, slid down until her knees were in your lap and she was resting her head against the wing of the chair, and you stared, together, into the fire.

‘We barely made it back,’ she whispered, her voice dry, her lips chapped and windburned. You stayed still, not wanting to shake her, not wanting to do anything that might stop her from talking. ‘Rode through, all night. I wanted to bring him back, bring them all but I could only get him.’

‘Was it raiders?’ you asked, and she shook her head.

‘Both,’ she said, and you didn’t understand. ‘Raiders that had…kept a few clickers, had them locked up, had them uhhh…weaponised.’

You shuddered. ‘Like pets?’ you asked.

‘Like torture devices,’ she simply replied. You contemplated this for a second, couldn’t imagine it, the terror of being faced with that choice: raider or runner.

‘We got within a few hours of where we thought the pharmacy was,’ she went on, her voice catching. She continued to shake, her hands tremoring underneath the blanket, and you tried to tuck her in tighter, tried to warm her up. ‘We’d gone through a valley, ended up on the other side of a glade, it would have been so beautiful in the before times. We found a farmhouse, looked abandoned. Wasn’t.’

She was jiggling her foot and you put your hand out to hold it, feeling that her socks were wet. ‘By the time we realised they were already on us, were ready, had seen us coming.’

She looked at you, tears forming in her eyes. ‘They tried to lock us in the cage with them,’ she swallowed. ‘Jacob was really brave, fought them hard, stopped them from putting us in.’

If cold had gotten into her boots she must have been freezing, was risking losing a toe. You lifted the blankets to pull at her sock, putting your hand on her bare skin to warm it.

‘But one of them, two of them maybe, they got out,’ she continued. You held the ball of her foot in your hand, rubbing your thumb over the top of her foot in what you hoped were comforting little circles.

‘I just wanted to get him back here,’ she said, just as you felt it, a raised, rough ridge on her ankle, tendrils of heat snaking up her shin. You threw the blankets back, saw the bite there, the way the ropes of twisting fungus had already started their march up to her heart. You froze, your terrified eyes snapping to her wet, sorry, scared ones.

‘Don’t let Ray do it,’ she said.

--

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t been there before, you knew where it was. You wrapped on the door so hard you would later discover the skin on your knuckles had split. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears, your vision narrowed down to a pinprick, the look on Marla’s face so drawn, so scared, so resolute, imprinted on the inside of your eyelids. You kept wrapping, hopping from side to side, your tears mingling with the frigid air. You called for him on his front porch, your voice high and choking on the fear, on the grief in it.

He'd wrenched the door open, having pulled his boots on but not yet done up the laces, the furrow in his brow deep, his eyes wild when he clocked you, when he checked your six.

‘Jesus, are you? What is it?’ he spluttered, and you couldn’t let him finish, had to get the words out in case they poisoned you.

‘She’s bit, Joel,’ you spat out, watching his face fall.

‘Who, Ellie?’ he asked, panic rising in his voice, and you choked out a sob, shaking your head fiercely. He grabbed you by both shoulders, bending down to look you in the eye. You shook underneath him, wanted to launch yourself into his chest and bury yourself in it.

‘Marla,’ you said, shivering so hard your jaw was barely cooperating. ‘She came back bit.’

‘Where is she?’ he asked, and you told him. You’d locked her in your treatment room. She hadn’t turned yet, and you figured there was still an hour or two, maybe. The tremors you’d thought were the cold, shock.

‘Please, Joel,’ you said, and he was already heading back into the house to grab his rifle. Tears were streaming down your face now, your knees threatening to give. ‘Please be kind about it.’

He pulled you in, off his porch and into his living room. Set you down on the rug beside the fire.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘You stay here, you stay warm. You wait for me. You don’t come lookin’, you hear me?’

You nodded, and he shook his head at you. ‘Repeat it,’ he said.

‘I won’t come looking,’ you said, quiet and desperate like a child. He nodded, then, his rifle slung over his shoulder. You took a long breath in, felt the burn of it down your chest and into your lungs. Felt the electricity crackle between the two of you, arcing from his chest to yours through the air, let it fuel you for the next part.

--

The three of you had just left Chicago, two or so days into your trek towards Wyoming, to maybe find something better, to maybe find more of the same. Ray and Marla were ahead of you by about four paces, you deciding to hang back to let them chat. You could hear their murmurs, Ray’s giggle high and giddy when Marla made him laugh. You could imagine the two of them strolling down a sidewalk together, one hand holding their coffees with the other hand holding each other’s. You could see the golden light of the late afternoon in the trees, backlighting them as they chatted about their work, about their friends, about what movie they wanted to see on the weekend. You could imagine them going out for dinner of an evening, Marla resting her head on Ray’s shoulder as the sun set over the water, the two of them intertwined and suburban and blissfully, delightfully bored.

You were so lost in this reverie that you hadn’t realised they were talking to you until you nearly rammed into them, and you stopped to see them smiling, warmly at you.

‘You were a million miles away,’ Marla observed, and she reached out to pinch your arm.

‘Years,’ you said. ‘I was a million years away.’

--

 You sat with your legs folded underneath you on Joel’s floor, the fire warming your skin enough to remind you that you were alive. Your stomach ached, your chest burned, you rocked backwards and forwards and tucked your chin into your chest and sobbed, alternating between wiping your tears with the top of your shirt and just letting them fall onto the carpet.

You saw yourself as if you were floating outside your body, observed yourself get up on all fours and keen into the carpet, unleashing a wail unlike anything you’d ever heard. You thought, for a second, that this woman on the floor was unrecognisable, was barely human, scratching at the rug and trying to breathe through the sobs.

The night grew darker. The fire died down. You collapsed in on yourself, felt the last guide rope tethering you to the ground fail, and you slipped under, crouched on the floor with your forehead resting on your arms, your knees numb from the weight of pressing into the rug, your mind empty, time having stopped, the world having fallen off its axis. A small part of you observed in wonder at how much grief you could carry. A larger part, a wiser part, a part that had taken a back seat to let the banshee take the wheel for a while, knew that this was so much more than Marla. Knew that it was all of them, a ledger steeped in red.

In the darkness you became vaguely aware of footsteps, the sound of the fire being stoked, logs being added. Felt a blanket thrown over your shoulders, then warm hands on the small of your back guiding you, pulling you up and over to sit astride a warm body, a strong pair of legs. You wrapped your arms around him, clung to him like a koala to a Eucalypt, snuffled your tear-streaked face into his neck, into his shirt. He held you to him, a hand buried in your hair and cradling your skull in his palm, the other wrapped around your back, easing the fabric away and tucking under, to touch you, skin to skin. You heard whispers of words, mixed with your own sobs, your own gasps. He held you through all of it, on aching bones on the hard floor, until the crashing waves settled, until you finally washed ashore.

‘You don’t have a couch,’ you said, after a while, pulling your head up to observe the oddly sparse furniture arrangement. He snickered, leaning you back to brush the hair out of your eyes, away from your wet face.

You realised, after a moment, heat on your cheeks. ‘Oh,’ you said, simply. He gazed at you, watched you put two and two together, stood unshaken in all that he had sacrificed for you.

‘But where do you sit?’ you asked, and he nodded towards the old rocking chair he’d pulled in from the porch outside. You nodded your head, because it was perfect really, and because it made sense, and because you needed it to.

‘Is she gone?’ you asked, shifting on his lap to watch his face. He blinked slowly, nodded. You felt your face crumple, felt him tighten his hold on you. ‘Was it bad?’ you choked out, and he shook his head.

‘She was so brave,’ he said, gravelly voice just above a whisper. He reached out and cupped your face, wiped a tear away, held your gaze to him. ‘She was ready. She said when it was time.’

‘She didn’t…turn?’ you asked, clinging to his forearms now, letting him anchor you. He shook his head once more.

‘No, baby,’ he said, and you wanted to wrap yourself up in the sound of it, let it blanket you in warmth and quiet, burrow down into it and hibernate for the winter.

‘Thank you,’ you said, simply. He hummed in response, collecting a tear on his thumb and raising it to his lips, licking it clean. You gasped at the sight of it, his eyes never leaving yours, squirming on his lap, the sudden heat in your cunt catching you off guard. ‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he raised his eyebrows at you. ‘Are your legs numb?’ and he laughed then, because you had managed to surprise him, and after he caught his breath he sheepishly nodded. ‘Take me to bed, then,’ you said, climbing off him and extending a hand. You hauled him up, his knees creaking. For a moment the both of you stood, staring at each other in the light of the fire. You felt breathless with need for him, your head swimming, the sadness shifting just enough to let the heat in, the want. ‘Up the stairs,’ he told you. You slipped your hand into his paw.

--

Joel’s bedroom was sparse, the walnut oak bed pressed up against the wall, a stack of books on the floor beneath a bare lamp, a guitar in the corner. His scent was all over the sheets, all over the clothes strewn around the floor. You pressed yourself against him in the hope that you would absorb some of it into your cotton.

The moment you crossed the threshold his hands were on you, pulling your clothes from you like they had personally insulted him, shucking your jeans off your hips and pulling your panties down with them until you were bare, standing before him at the foot of his bed. He took a step back and you watched his face as his gaze devoured you, the heat of it so scorching that you could swear you could feel his fingers on you even standing three feet away. You trembled from the cold air and the intensity of it, and he saw in your face, read in you that you wanted to turn away from it, from the intimacy of it.

‘Don’t,’ he all but whispered, coming towards you and running his hands up on the outside of your arms. ‘Don’t be shy, not now,’ he said. He slipped a hand behind your back and his knees between yours, pushing you gently onto the bed behind you, laid his body over you and nipped at the skin behind your ear. You pulled at his flannel, trying to claw it from him without even unbuttoning it, groaning in frustration when the garment held fast. He snickered, his little lopsided grin, as he pulled it away.

You lifted yourself up on one arm, bringing the other to cradle him to you, licks and nibbles to his collar bone, to the patches of hair on his chin. His brought his hands to your breasts, pebbled the nipple with his fingers while he pushed and rolled them, squeezed them together just to watch them bounce. He was hard and heavy between your legs, still covered in his jeans, and you lifted shaking fingers to his belt buckle. He froze, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth, as he watched you. You faltered, worried for a second you had read it all wrong, that he was going to push you from him, that he had seen something in you, that you had revealed something wrong and gnarled.

‘Do you…should I?’ you stuttered, and he came to his senses again, his brow creasing when he saw you were floundering.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ he said, and you thought it would be kinder if he just set you on fire at that point, ‘darlin’ I was just awed for a second, that somethin’ as gorgeous as you would want a man like me. An old man like me.’

You felt the relief wash over you, your pulse quickening now but not from fear. ‘Seasoned,’ you grinned, bringing him back down to you, pulling him on top of you as his hands helped yours to free him, push his jeans over his hips. ‘Worn in,’ you went on, and he grinned at your little game. ‘Fine wine,’ you finished, and he snickered again.

‘Vinegar,’ he said, and you pushed his head down to your chest, fed him your breast, let him lave at your nipple while you gasped and clutched at his hair.

‘Experienced,’ you whimpered, and he huffed out a warm laugh into your breastbone. You wanted to unlock your ribs, swing them open like an ancient garden gate, and capture it there for safe keeping.

Free, now, the two of you naked and lying together on top of his blanket, the sheets rumpling underneath you as you rutted against each other. He reached a hand down to cup your sex, groaning when he felt how wet he had made you, how you were dripping for him. You gasped as he ran his fingers up and over your slit, gently teasing your lips apart, testing you, teasing you. You rolled your hips, trying to snare him, trying to slide him inside, but he worked against you, zigged when you zagged, and your frustrated little gasps delighted him.

‘Joel,’ you groaned, your voice tight across your chest, not enough air in your lungs to properly scold him. He ignored you, instead lifting his lips to his fingers and sampling a little taste. You watched him, eyes wide as his fell shut at the taste of you.

‘So sweet,’ he said, almost to himself, before he opened his eyes as if he just remembered you were there. ‘Here, baby,’ he said, and he fed yourself to you, his fingers sliding over your tongue as you suckled at them, his hot breath on your face as he watched you, pupils dark in the half-light of his lamp, sweat forming on his brow.

When you had sucked them clean he lowered them again, slipped them inside you, bending down to rest his ear on your mouth when you began to pant, to whimper.

‘Show me,’ he said, pulling your hand to your cunt and watching as you began slow, lazy circles around your clit. He furrowed his brow, pushed off you and down to watch properly, lifted a leg to prop you open, planting your foot on the mattress beneath you to open you wide and obscene in front of him. You blushed, moved to cover your face with your hands, but he stopped and caught you, brought your fingers back to your core before he slipped inside again. You raised your head to look at him beneath you and you realised he was learning you, studying your movements to replicate them later, letting you teach him how to touch you so that you’d never have to do it alone again.

Your first orgasm hit you hard. Under his careful, studious gaze you felt yourself unravel, your legs shaking where he held you open, his hand grasping at your ankle to keep you from slamming shut. So lost in the feeling of it, of the blooming heat expanding out and into your belly, of the undulations of your cunt around his fingers, that you barely noticed him slip his fingers from you and slide to the ground beside the bed, pushing your legs into your chest and holding them there, pressing you in half all the better to ease his tongue into your cunt and lick up your spend, kitten licks at your sensitive clit before plunging his tongue into your hole, breathing hard through his nose and groaning, uttering filth in the base of his throat as he devoured you, wrung your second orgasm from you in a matter of minutes, rolling from side to side and head thrown back, hands tangled in his hair as his mouth rode you, as he stayed with you up to your peak and then over it, savouring and lapping at your come, rutting into the side of the bed as he let your thighs down to rest on his shoulders, your breath ragged and rippling with pleasure, hands clutching to the blanket to steady himself, to catch his breath.

He gazed at you in repose, ran his eyes over your sopping cunt up to your heaving belly, to the curve of the underside of your breast, the nipples straining into the cold air, and then up to your face, your head thrown back as you came down, as you squirmed from the overstimulation still coursing through you, as you let your hands drop beside you, sated and glorious in his worship of you.

You swallowed, your mouth, lips, throat dry. With shaky hands you reached for him, grabbed at the air above his shoulders, felt him shift and rise up to meet you, felt his weight blanketing you as you came back to yourself. With one hand in your hair and the other tracing your cheek, your jaw, you opened your eyes to stare into his, the desire carved hard and deep into his features.

‘Take it,’ you whispered, watching as his bottom lip quivered with need. ‘Please, Joel.’

He shifted his weight to one arm, reached down between you as you lifted your legs to bracket his hips, crossing your feet at the ankles behind his back. You felt him guide his cock to the weeping maw of your cunt.

‘Please,’ you whispered again, as you felt him slip inside you, the burn and the stretch and the force of him, so hard and pulsing as he parted you. He dropped his head, sighing, and you planted your lips to his brow, whimpered at the weight of his cock inside you, at the weight of the two of you finally, finally joined.

‘She’s tight, baby,’ he said, his brow creasing. He moved his hips, shoving further into you in one shot, and you gasped, grabbed at his shoulders, brought his eyes back to yours. He paused, gazing into your eyes, read the trepidation in them. ‘S’ok baby,’ he cooed, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheekbone. ‘You can do it,’ he encouraged, and you felt the warmth of his reassurance radiate down your thighs. ‘We can take our time,’ he said, languidly pulling back from you before gently, achingly, taking his place again. ‘Got all night for ya,’ he said, and you realised he had started to ramble, and that under his hot breath, on top of his blanket in his sparse bedroom lit only by his bedside lamp, in the cold Jackson night where the snow dampened all the noise, all the loss, all the sharp edges down, you never wanted him to stop whispering his filthy encouragement to you, never wanted him to stop easing his way into you, to the core of you, marking you where only he belonged.

‘Doin’ so good for me,’ he went on, his eyes closing on their own, lost in the grip of your cunt around him, in the heat of you. Finally he was fully seated, the warmth of his belly coming to rest upon yours. He settled there, reluctant to move, until you squirmed underneath him, caged whimpers escaping your throat. He opened his eyes, his lopsided grin appearing above you, as he planted a kiss on your hairline, gazed down at you as you stretched around him. He brought his hand down to cup your jaw again, held you there under his stare, as he withdrew his hips and eased back in again, pushing deeper into you that you gasped when he bottomed out, his eyes never leaving yours as your mouth dropped open in surprise at the feeling he was pulling from you, at the need and the ache of your cunt spread so open and wanting for him, at the way he was so effortlessly taking you apart, so calmly and so warmly unravelling you.

‘Too good,’ you complained, your brow saddling and jaw clenching, as you felt your cunt grip and release, grip and release. He cooed at you, revelling in your whimpers, gasped as you did, shared in your breath, made you submit to the divinity he was pushing you towards. This was how your third orgasm found you.

Locked in his gaze you could only lie beneath him, holding him to you by the shoulders and groaning as he pistoned in and out, watching his eyes slam shut as he was dragged under, submitted to the pull, his come washing the fear and the stress and the grief out of you, replacing it only with scorching heat, with a kind of pleasure indistinguishable from a greedy, pernicious want, with something that, in another life, you could have shaped into love. 

--

You lay, entwined together, under his blanket. Your head on his chest, ear to his heartbeat, you felt your body rise and fall as he breathed underneath you. You hadn’t wanted the night to end, hadn’t wanted to close your eyes and wake to the aftermath. Together you lay and watched the sunrise. Occasionally Joel ran his fingers up and down your arm to let you know he was still there.

‘Joel?’ you whispered, and he hummed in response. You kept your head down, listening to his pulse quicken as you spoke. ‘Canna ask you something?’ you said, jaw resting on his ribs.

‘Uhhuh,’ he said, but his fingers were stopped now, frozen in place on your shoulder.

‘Before, when we were…’ you trailed off, because even though hours before he had been eyelevel with your swollen, puffy cunt, now suddenly talking about it felt too intimate. ‘Before,’ you started again, ‘you said you didn’t think I’d want a man like you.’

‘An old man,’ he corrected, and you smiled.

‘Seasoned,’ you corrected, and he groaned, theatrically. ‘But you said a man like you, then an old man like you,’ you reminded him. He wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the temperature in the room drop. ‘What did you mean?’ you ploughed on, because you were in it now.

He thought for a moment, swallowing hard. You shifted in his arms, looked up at him, saw the flicker of panic there, before he reset his features in stone. You pulled away from him in surprise, not having seen that look directed at you in weeks, not since the first time he had appeared reticent and sore at your door. Your stomach dropped.

‘I gotta check on the horses,’ he said, rolling you out of the way and moving to get up. You sat up with him, grabbing at his arm.

‘Joel,’ you said, trying to pull him back towards you, but so easily overpowered. He rolled his shoulder, shaking you off.

‘The two that came back, they need to be checked over. Waited for first light.’

‘Joel, I don’t understand what’s happening.’ He was standing, pacing around the room pulling his clothes back together, gathering yours and dropping them on the end of the bed. He stared at you, expectant, but you refused to move.

‘What kind of man did you mean, Joel?’ you pressed him, and he scoffed, pulling his jeans on and hastily doing up his shirt. He missed a few buttons, and in that moment you didn’t feel like helping him.

‘You know exactly what kind of man,’ he said.

You saw Maria’s tense shoulders when he came into her kitchen, bleeding. You saw her sitting in your kitchen as you held her feet to your chest, explaining how Tommy was different, how he had only wanted to impress his big brother.

Sort of dressed, he was now pacing, the morning light turning his skin a ghostly pale, and you thought for a moment he was haunting you. ‘You know exactly,’ he repeated. ‘Same reason you came running to me the second your friend needed killin’.’

You flinched like he’d slapped you, would have preferred if he had.

‘What kind of man, Joel?’ you asked, and he looked at you, then, tortured for a second before he wiped it away with his hand on his face.

‘A fuckin killer,’ he said, quiet and deathly in the chill of the morning.

You stared at him, heart racing. You were surprised and you also weren’t. You knew what this world demanded of people, the toll you had all paid for survival.

‘Infected?’ you asked, and he sighed, frustrated.

‘Don’t be so fuckin’ naïve,’ he said.

You remembered you were naked, but this was the first time he had really made you feel it, and you held the blanket to your chest, tight.

He wouldn’t look at you, staring instead out the window as Jackson woke.

‘I ain’t a good man,’ he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

‘I don’t believe that,’ you said, and he sneered at you then, picked up your clothes and threw them at you.

‘You don’t know shit about me,’ he said, and then he was gone. You listened as his heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs, the pause as he pulled his boots on, the slam of the door.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - April 28 - Week 17

Hello, friends, hopefully you had a great week! Here’s what I read this week--I revisited a favorite by Sineala. Check it out and be sure to leave comments/kudos if you enjoy it! 

~ 

Safe Haven by gottalovev, zappedbysnow

It's been three months since the Battle of New York. Four since Steve woke up in the future. Everything is still too fast, too bright, too glib. And then, as if it wasn't enough, Steve is dragged through a portal into an alternate universe. Other Him is happy, though, and that feels like hope.

my thoughts: I love Steve realizing he could and should be happy. The hope that he was given by someone else is just--so lovely to me.

Cicada Days by Captain_Panda

The serum's failing. Overwhelmed by the implications, Steve runs.

Tony Stark catches up to him. And then he puts his foot on the gas pedal.

Because nothing says summer love like a road trip.

my thoughts: come for the angst and stay for ironbound the shark. This has been on my tbr for a while because i KNEW it would hurt me, and it did. And it was lovely.

he's written mine on my upper thigh by meidui

If Tony really wanted to set boundaries, he wouldn’t be picking up Steve’s call this late at night.

If he didn’t want this ill-advised romp with Steve to go any further, he wouldn’t have been on his couch reading a book Steve left behind the one night Morgan is away at a sleepover; he would be on a date with someone his age, someone who isn’t his goddamn babysitter.

my thoughts: i'm obsessed with the way that meidui writes babysitter!Steve. He's so needy and lovely and unapologetic in his devotion to Tony, and Tony 'trying to do the right thing' Stark needs to just get onboard.

the only love i haven't screwed up by meidui

When Steve wakes up from the ice, there’s somebody waiting for him. He's handsome, and older, and he tells Steve that they're soulmates and he's waited all his life to find him.

my thoughts: the way that this soulmate fic plays out is heartbreaking and lovely.

Thrust Issues by Sineala for phoenixmetaphor

A battle gone wrong leads Tony to the unexpected and pleasant discovery that Steve is much more well-endowed than he could ever have imagined. But when Tony learns that Steve has never actually been able to sleep with anyone because of his size, Tony does what any good friend would do: he offers to relieve Steve of his virginity. Personally. Tony's determined, Tony's methodical, and Tony has a plan. He's going to get Steve laid. Tony just needs to make sure Steve never finds out that Tony's in love with him.

my thoughts: Sineala always hits just right with her Steve and Tony and I absolutely adored my reread of this one, how Steve is trying so hard to make this MORE and how Tony just--cannot fathom that Steve would ever want to date him. The 'you're straight' scene is honestly so fantastic.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

[drivesystem]

Tigers Prey

Warnings/kinda: degrading, harddomhongjoong, mentions of blood, names {whore, cumsleeve, cumtoy}

MINORS DNI.

Summary: y/n is known for being a trickster within their sector and ran into general Hongjoong, who started to get curious of them and ending up cornered him into a deal, but of course, it wouldn’t;t be this long if y/n won.

Word count: 11.7k words

This one is a very long one and I feel like i have missed a lot of things when it comes to warnings or tags and if so please to tell me and I will dit it and make sure everything is up to date. I wanted to make this long because I enjoy writing long and descriptive pieces of writing but I do get too off tracked and end up writing more then needed and feeling like I either started to rush or I was writing to much of a scene that I felt the need to hurry and get to the other scene before it was just more then needed to be or just less. But overall I hope you guys do enjoy it and want to read more while I try to figure out how to work tumblr and make my account fitting to my linking and reflective of my writing!

Who doesn’t love a little good menace in their sector every now and then hm? Someone who can make you laugh and feel slightly better about all of the situations that are happening around the place you have to call home, right? Well, welcome to sector 8, one of the furthest sectors from the dune empire. Where the most ruthless were known to be created here and if they ever got out of those crimson red walls it was over for everyone who was in their line of sight. During the day, it was said that the emperor would send out some generals to look over the sectors. Mainly just to come back with a daily report and see if anyone needed to be in prisoned for their actions or harsh statements against the royal house. Something not a lot of people would walk away without having a scar to tell the story, if they ever got t walk away at all. But since no one truly seems to mess with sector 8, their left alone to do as they pleased, slightly having a lot more fun than the others simply due to the fact that it takes a long time to get down here. Having to walk through the quiet yet busy streets of the first 3 sectors, then walking through sector five where all of the clothings are made by hand per request, it’s always so busy there no matter what time you go. Sector 6 is more so if hunting per says, where the spears and arrows are made, sometimes the Royal guards will come down there to get their own weapons made and crafted.

“Your getting old their old man! Come on we’re not even halfway through the sector yet!” His voice cheered as he ran with a small bag of treats. It was just some corn that he would hold over a fire in order to make popcorn at home. But that was it, something that only costed around 2 coins, 2 for a small bag and 4 for a large bag. The vendor was an old-time friend of y/n’s someone they could always joke with, and people would know it by now and never saw a problem with it. So why would anyone go out of their way in order to make it worse? “And you’re jumping around in order to move somewhere else!” The man yelled back in a Happy yet playfully annoyed the while watching y/n jump around on the dirt.

His smile was enough to make even the most stubborn of me and women smile and feel joyful. To lose that would be like losing the sun after so long of enjoying its warmth. But today was no regular day, there was no warning for it either so no one could prepare for this. But there was a. Dangerous jingle slowly getting closer to the sector, one that brought fear and made many people hold their heads down. And when the post watchers saw the man in the blood red kimono, they knew what they had to do in order to keep everyone safe. One of the smaller watchers had run to a bell, listening to the music be loud as people were banging on the drums and rang the bell, looking like it was part of the music before it was all slowly coming to a stop. Leaving the lively and busy streets to be quiet and with people holding their heads down and the large wooden gates slowly moved opened.

Showing the man with a scar over his left eye that had a whole story behind it. The tiger general, a man who looked short enough to be so king and cheerful, someone who would lend you a hand if you asked for it. Was someone who could cut you in two before you could ever begin to beg for help. His hair was was long silky black, it almost moved like water with each step he took. Being held high in a ponytail yet it still reached to his lower waist. His clothes were always clean without a speck of dust of them. Sewed to fight his body in a way that looked so tight, yet he was able to move with such ease and grace it didn’t look like a tiger but a swan. He didn’t have much of anything on him but his sword. They saw there was enough blood from his battles to make his own sword, making it the first sword made out of blood.

The sound of the bell had reached everywhere, making y/n’s smile fade before hiding with the corn vendor, yeosang. The two were around the same age. With yeosang only being a couple years older than y/n, but also more protective of him. Yeosang knew how scary the general could be and never wanted y/n to meet that fate. The vendor was towards the edge where the forest laid bare and untouched by many people. The wooden vendor looking beaten and old, but it did the job it needed to do and that was enough for yeosang. He made sure Y/N was hiding in a spot close to under it since he didn’t have a back side. There were a little hole people could hide if they weren’t supposed to be out. A spot yeosang dug up first before ever making his little vendor. “Yeosang…why- “y/n started, wanting to pout and whine before looking at the shush tester on yeosang face before letting the old rug cover up the hole underneath his feet. Everyone could hear the sound of his men behind him. The sound of the armor clanging together was enough to make everyone return back to their jobs lookin scared and worried.

“Now now why is everyone so tense? I was just hearing that amazing music and joy from back there.” The general started, showing a twisted little grin while looking at each vendor, seeing how everyone was more tensed. Shoulders were raised and they were more focused on their jobs then before. After all some had to skin the fish, some had to take out the bones, some had to peel the corn and peas, cleaning the shows and making the instruments to create such beautiful music that rang loud. But not loud enough for the royal court to hear from their home. People always used to say that the most innocent and colors are the most dangerous and poisonous to be around. One touch and smell and you’ll be dead before you can even realize it.

“Now now proud people of Dune, I won’t bite you... without a reason.” He stated, watching how some kids were staring at him, but their mothers and fathers were trying to hide them without looking fearful, some kids were still playing with a ball made out of bamboo in order to entertain themselves. “I’m just here for my daily check up, come now.” Watching his guards check the vendors, even the corn one but found nothing, just like always, right? Y/N was there, listening to his endless taunts that always had some remains of fear control with each step he took. Making a crunching sound that sounded like the bones he broke and grinned. “Sir, there is nothing strange here.” One of the guards' states, listening to the general do. A taunting clap, it was slow, yet hard and powerful. “Good for them, maybe they can get some of the leftovers too from the palace. Oh, they would love that now, wouldn’t they? He taunted, knowing that he would give them almost next to nothing. Not to be rude, but just to see who would take it in the most brutal way possible. Who was willing to kill for their next meal?

“Anyways, let’s get going, we still have people to check on, don’t we boys?” Laughing at the end of his sentence, he turned on his black heels before marching his way back home. Yeosang looked down and slowly helped y/n get out of the hole, dusting them off but still trying to keep them hidden. But the general could smell someone new here, someone who didn’t have that scent of fear but knew causing a scene was not his style, at least not in the denser sectors. But of course, what’s the fun in confronting them when everyone can see you, hear and even feel you? He has to do this in his own way, hiding his face so no one can see him and try to give up covers. But for now, he needed to head back, the tiger general simply walking back home. He preferred it more then getting on his horse and letting everyone just see him.

Plus, it helps him learn about people, he can read them better this way and even now. With those trying to hurry and get out of his way so his path is clear, he can see those with fear, lust and even excitement in their eyes. Something he grew used to after so long of being here with everyone, and having to learn about people in order to find out who’s who and what could they have possibly done in order to get on his radar in a bad way. “Yunho, when we get home, take me to San unless something happened to where the emperor needs me, alright?” looking over his shoulder with his head tilted back, looking up at the taller male.

Yunho was a man of few words when out in public, his posture was straight and stern with eyes that had no life in them. No color, no emotions in them whatsoever. His hair was kept long per the general's orders. It was kept in a long ponytail as well, the hair was always frizzy whenever he went out, some say it acts like a cat's fur or when all of the hairs stand up on your body and point to a direction. His lips were almost always in a line whenever he was out f the walls of his only home. His clothes were sewed by hand with a color as bright as the sun, with different colors like red, and a difficult orange color to get ahold of when the sheep were cold or there wasn’t enough to feed them. His sword was always kept within its obi sash. With a bright yellow tie on the handle of it. He was one of the very first that the general took in under his own rule when he was invading another kingdom years ago.

But returning back to y/n, they were sitting on the vendor table, flipping a golden coin while kicking their dirt covered feet. Watching yeosang close for the night. It was clear he was on edge, yet y/n was more so carefree, after all the generals didn’t see them so why should they be worried about him? “You’re getting yourself tensed up, it’s gonna give you away you know?” y/N started, trying to lighten the mood as they always try to do but it was clear that yeosang was more worried this Time. The guards were looking around so closely and intense that it was enough to shake him. If it was any other day he would be just fine, trying to joke around and see who can smile and just feel more relaxed as the sun started to set. “Y/N… he had Yunho with him, that alone is enough to make people want to bow to their knees and hope they don’t get dragged away for public humiliation.” Yeosang stated, letting out a stressful sigh, knowing y/n just wanted to make things better, less tense filled and more relaxed before anyone went to sleep. But it just wasn’t working.

“I know you mean well, I truly know that you do, and it makes me happy to see.” He started, looking over to his friend who had a bittersweet expression on their face, it was hard to remained positive when the threat was constantly looking at you in the eyes. With nothing more then blood lust in them in a way that would make anyone shake if they could, not even just shake but tremble even. Setting the copper coin on the table, y/n had jumped down since yeosang had blew out of the candle, it was one of the last ones on the street that was still lit. They still had to walk down the furthest side, the upper parts of the electors were for the shops and materials for those to see and to buy. The very back was where the living sections were. It was hard to be there when everyone was almost just stacked on top of each other, all squished in the three houses it took since there wasn’t enough wood t make more. Sure, they were surrounded by the forest, but if anyone were to cut from it without a Royal order, they were killed.

y/n would walk yeosang over to his bed since they were further apart, everyone had assigned beds and spaces and to switch or move without permission resulted in a slap on the back. “Get some rest and please, if you sneak out don’t you date go to far out understand? I keep hearing someone walk when I try hard enough and-“ “Yeosang you’re stressing yourself out and then you won’t be able to sleep an then you’ll be cranky in the morning before you get to close. I’ll be alright.” Yeosang could only look at his friend, something felt wrong, too wrong for him t comfortably be able to sit down and rest the way he needs to before the morning comes. Holding his blankets he watched y/n skip to the robe, since everyone was still resting or trying to fall asleep. But y/n is a night owl, why fall asleep this soon when there’s still time to kill?

Walking passed the last sector house, there stood nothing in their way. It wasn’t like they would go dar, they were simply just there, enjoying the cold and crispy air around them before taking another crunchy step forward into the think grass. The moon was covered by the clouds, yet it always made for one of the more exciting nights. Walking passed some of the taller trees, y/n was simply walking down the stone made path they made simply by leaving stone rocks so they could make their way back to the pot before it was too late, after all everyone needs to have their own little rest now, don’t they? It wouldn’t be any fun if he was just as tired as everyone else now, would it? There wasn’t much to swing from sadly and since it was dark there was no telling if anything or anyone was in the trees just watching them or if there were any traps still set by the guards. But that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it? Not knowing who or what’s out here and if anything could kill you or injure you in a way that it would take a while for anyone to see or hear you? Let alone find you. “Hm… I could’ve sworn the lake was as lot closer, why does it feel so far away now?”

Looking around and trying to listen the sounds of little water ripples, there was nothing close that could make any sound. There was only silence, too quiet. Yet there was just a pair of eyes that burned like a predator watching their prey in the dark night. Watching how helpless they look, knowing that there’s something, just someone there watching them and their every move yet trying to find their predator was the hard part. Because where are they? Are they on the ground with them? In the trees watching them like a bird would. Maybe if y/n didn’t move then no one would be able to find them, right? After all, if you stay still, they’ll hav do to look for something else if you can hide good enough, right?

This was making the person smirk watching y/n look around, it was like the moon was out and this person could see every move y/n was making. How their shirt hair was moving around in a slightly frantic manner, their eyes darting around while they simply just stood there in their torn up and dirt covered clothes. It wasn’t that far, but y/n had to get back, and so they started to walk before it turned into a jog. There was someone moving after them, making quick running sounds to sound like a tiger chasing their prey finally after waiting for what felt like hours. But just before Y/N could make it, seeing yeosang holding up a candle to try and bring them over, yeosang’s eyes filled with horror after seeing who was behind y/n/ But he couldn’t scream. Because just as y/n was tackled to the hard ground, his mouth being covered by a cloth and his body being held and squished by someone else. Someone had covered yeosang’s mouth, letting the candle fall onto the ground before they stomped on the ground. The only sounds were their muffled struggles and muffled cries as the two struggled to get free from their captors. Who could they be? Who could be here this late just waiting for something horrible to happen? For the time to strike and take them away.

Y/N was lifted up over a shoulder, his legs were tired and so were his arms, but yeosang was freer. “Try to fight and your friend will get hurt too, understand?” The guard said in yeosang’s ear, feeling the wet tears fall on his hand before yeosang quickly nodded his head, being dragged along the sides of the crimson red walls. Yeosang was panicking, he couldn’t see but this man sounded cold and serious and whoever had y/n was more ahead while he could see his body thrashing around. It was a sight he never wanted to see in his life. But why was he taken? Why wasn’t he just threatened to keep his mouth shut or he would be killed in front of y/n as a punishment for them to understand.

“Please…Please what is-“ “You wait. To speak.” The guard said, making his grip tighter around yeosang before they were walking through more sectors. People were asleep and even then, those who were awake were keeping their eyes closed. Yeosang could only whimper in the painful way, feeling his side while his lungs gasp for air. But y/n is stubborn and refuses to go without a fight, this isn’t the first time they’ve been tied up, but they can get out. It just takes time and trying to not alter the man, it could only be one, but y/n is willing to take chances, after all why give up so early and easily when there’s so much more fun to have? By the time had reached sector 4, y/n had managed to break free before jumping on the sides to jump on the wall, getting on top before looking down with adrenaline and fear in hi eyes. He looked down to see the general, with a burning passion in his eyes that would make even the scariest kids sit down and never look him in the eyes again.

The look was screaming murder, but his grin was showing interest. But he also saw yeosang under the circle shaped lantern. He was scared but he was also being dragged by a guard. Someone who was more buff then the actual general himself. His eyes were filled with tears while his body was shaking. The guard had very short hair, he was new and was able to keep his hair as short or long as he wanted to until he’s been with the general for a year, then he would have to keep it long and learn to fight with it. The guard's eyes were filled with something unlike the others. He was trying to make his eyes stone cold like the others he’s around, but it wasn’t guilt in his eyes either. His clothes were black, they had to be the training clothes that most of them had to wear. But it wasn’t the time to be staring. Yeosang was trying to shake his head, telling y/n not to do this, it’ll only make things worse for the two of them and that’s something he didn’t want for him. “Take your choice home, I get to have some fun it seems. If tell the emperor I’m playing with my prey.” He said, watching the guard not before having to throw yeosang over his shoulder before walking back.

Yeosang wanted to scream, telling y/n to stop but the grip only made him gasp for air in pain before y/n started to run along the walls. Listening to the sounds of the general getting faster and faster, but so was he. If he kept going, he would be caught in no time, having to struggling more against someone who would make it harder to move and harder to do anything in that way. So just before the arms wrapped around y/n, he had jumped down into the water. The running was fast, but it was also said to do so, by the time the general had climbed up on the wall he was already running. It was tiring but the adrenaline was pushing them through. Staying in the water and trying to hide the water bubbles, it was too dark in the night to see anyone or anything, but they needed to go. “Smart move to be under the water. I can’t see you since this water is still murky.” The general teased, walking around some before jumping down t the shallow end, slowly moving his shoes while listening and looking around.

“But someone as such as you aren’t ready for water like this. It burns your eyes awhile your lungs just…scream for air. Yet if you come up too fast for air the water will give it away before your gasp for air. You’re at a loss here, little cub.” He taunted, letting himself have a nice chuckle before walking around more, almost disappearing while walking in the water, not even making a sound. y/n’s eyes were burning, they were floating but couldn’t come out for water, not without giving up, but they were close. Feeling the dirt get closer before slowly crawling out. There weren’t any sounds coming from the water, not a drop, not a little trickle before taking off in the woods. He had to leave yeosang even If he never wanted to. But there was not getting caught today, not now and not ever. Running through the woods, yet then finally hearing the faint sounds of someone running after them. It was almost in a taunting type of way, chasing directions ever so slightly in a way that was to throw y/n off before they were tripped over a rock.

Rolling down the hill before hitting a tree, letting out a painful cry of pain before slowly opening his eyes only to see the general standing above them, not even out of breath or tired to say the slightest. If anything, all he did was a simple head tilt before crossing his arms. “I enjoy these types of people. You know how to make it fun, you almost got away from me, twice.” HE started, watching y/n try to move away, but where could they go? “Tell you what, little cub, since it’s clear you’ll just keep trying to run and get away from this, why not make a deal with me, hm?” He started, leaning down closely but not so far as to where they would tip over the edge and fall over to join them, but even then, the general is a gentleman, he sticks to his word. “Why in the hell would I trust you! You took away yeosang who literally has never done anything wrong in his own life!” y/n yelled, watching the man let out a little chuckle that sounded like a man who’s lost his own mind only to have rebuild it again.

“Well, yeosang was wanted by someone for a while but he won’t be hurt, not by hand that is. Now back to you, stalling will just make me change my mind ruin you in ways n one would live through.” He stated, softly titling his head to the side some before holding up one hand. “If you could make it back to the sector within 2 days, it would’ve been three if you waited. Then you will be let off and able to visit yeosang as you please. But if I catch you before then, you have to come with me with no fights. You’ll be my bride.” He finished, he could see the horror written all over his face, either one sounds horrible, but what would be the point if y/n was caught? Being stuck in a room like a dog waiting for someone to come and feed them water? “If I win, I get to see yeosang and the sector gets treated better!” “Say that and I’ll make it one more day when the sun rises. Do we have a deal?”

It took a while before y/n could respond, it was obvious anything but a yes or a no would lead to less time, soon y/n wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “One…Two…” hearing that countdown made y/n start to run, stumbling some while getting further away, only taking a left turn to hopefully throw him off, after all he still needed to get somewhere safe to rest. He only has about one day, but even then, so much can happen during that time. And that’s something the general was hoping for. After all who doesn’t enjoy a good game of cat and mouse. Running as fast as they could for a a while it was clear how far they were from home. The woods were denser, yet it was still quiet, but the sun was rising. There’s no way it could already be daytime this quick right? It was just dark, and everyone was resting!

But the day was hard, it was like every move was the last before getting caught by the general. From walking further to the trees to trying quiet, slowly moving around to find some water. Y/N was out of breath and tired, you could see some scars from falls and some bruises from the falls and crumbles, with the hopes that the general didn’t find him. But he still had to make it home, make it before anyone else could find him and take him a way. He knew the way, he just needed to turn around and make a run for it. That’s all he needed to do, and he was free from this mans twisted game. So, there he was, trying the withering piece of cloth around his waist before running through t he tall grass. Knowing he was close to home, he had to be right? He didn’t go that far like he thought he did.

His feet were burning from bleeding and all the rocks and sticks that poked him, his lungs were burning, and his stomach was growling so loud it felt like he was giving himself away it the man who was never too far but also never too close. The sky was still bright like it was just early morning, it felt like forever when not being home, not messing around with everyone and not even being with his best friend, it all was coming to and end and hopefully y/n was winning. But they couldn’t make too much noise when running, but one thing they weren’t used to, was the weight if everything crashing on them. “No…No please… I’m almost there…”

Y/N gasped, seeing everything get blurry and dizzy but he could see the sector. Where the guards were waiting and so was yeosang, who looked fearful yet almost broken. He was shaking as he saw his friend trying to emerge from the forest, but they were losing. “No…. Y/N YOUR THERE! BEHIND YOU!” He cried out before feeling the hand on his shoulders squeeze them harshly. Ignoring the people watching them since no one was allowed to help him get free, he had to get there before the general did. But he failed, and the last thing he saw was yeosang fall to his knees in pain before everything around him went dark. His body hitting the itchy grass while his feet were covered in more blood while everyone was watching. Hopping Y/N would get up and give out one last push, but there he was.

Walking behind y/n wit his hands behind his back yet that same large grin on his face while swaying side to side in a teasing way. “Oh, so close yet so far, it’s hard to run when your feet are bleeding oh that’s not good for your friend now is it, yeosang kang. Or should we change it to Choi?” The general taunted, picking up y/n like they weighed nothing and kept walking closer to the guards, all of them being men he has trained himself, all six of them. He was humming while rubbing y/n’s back in a slow manner, almost like he was waiting to dig his claws into it and tear into some of the flesh just to leave the perfect kind of marking. “After a deal is a deal and when they wake. They will be in my chambers, and I will be there to watch him. You, however, have your studies to attend to, Choi.” The general let out a twisted little chuckle once again before walking through the old village. Watching people hang their heads down with their hairs hiding their faces.

They lost two people today, one of them being someone who caused them laughter and someone who was either shy or sassy, sometimes even both. The youngest guard was holding yeosang’s hand and making them walk besides him. No one could look, but only in that sector. Once they made it passed the others of course people were staring, after all they started to think he had caught two criminals, and they were being taken a way from their sentencing. Which would be the case if the general wasn’t so interested. “Please… his feet are turning blue...” Yeosang whispered as they made it to the second sector. “Jong-ho did the little kang say something” The general asked, titling his head over while walking up the stairs leading to the crimson red doors. Jong-ho, the youngest general had looked over to yeosang, watching the older man trying to keep his shoulders high but it was hard when the stare was so…empty yet dark. Maybe it was only an act around the others, right?

“I’m not sure, did you?” he asked, looking down to the older male. “The more we stand here the more he’ll bleed, now we can’t have that now, can we?” The general was enjoying his taunts, seeing the look of fear, confusion and anger written all over yeosang’s face before walking up the stairs, allowing some of the blood to trickle down to the stairs before reaching the tall red doors. There were so many gold dots on the doors in order to make every animal that each of the 7 generals presented with the dragon above them, symbolizing the emperor. Watching the doors slowly open, the general walked inside before looking in the red eyes of the emperor. The emperor of the lakes, and the blood that runs in them. Seonghwa Park. He stood there close to the entrance, the sun slightly lighting up his honey tanned skin along with his long purple hair that seemed to only get longer as the years went. They saw so much blood was spilled on his eyes during all of the fights. His clothes were always the best, of course. A rare blue made from the closest sector, with white clothes and his favorite light blue robe to make him stand out.

“I see you’ve finally returned, Hongjoong. Nurse, attend to the…” “Bride or cup, emperor park.” Hongjoong, the general answered while letting the silent nurse slowly take the man and quickly walk over to the emergency med tent. Leaving the men to their own conversation while yeosang kept his head down, after all without permission. He wasn’t allowed to look at the powerful man in front of him, he could only listen to his chilling, yet soothing voice speak through the walls around them. “Clearly their a bride. You never play with your pretty this badly unless you want them alive under your terror.” The emperor said, watching Hongjoong walk closer to him till they were walking side by side with jong-ho tailing along, waiting for his dismissal. “Why of course, someone the people are willing to hide from me? How could I grow curious of a feisty cub who thought running form me was the smart answer?” he questioned, watching the older man smirk in approval.

“I taught you well it seems, now what about little jog-ho? You let him keep a prize?” “Oh, you know, he grew curious to know who was hiding them and had a feeling the little corn stand was a little more…loose then the others and decided to ask me a question. If he was right about the stand, he could keep the owner, and if he was wrong, I was free to punish him. Good thing he was right, hm?” Jong-ho could only nod his head in agreement, something yeosang never knew about. He was a target from the start of it all whenever they had their last visit, which was around months ago, and even when he thought he was being careful he was wrong. Maybe it’s true that none of them are human or yeosang wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Yeosang could only look over before they stopped walking, they were inside the locked doors of the red palace, or blood palace as most call it out of the ears of those inside.

The infamous red color was everywhere, with each hall being dedicated to each member, with the largest being only for the emperor, of course. Leading to his main house where his living quarters where along with any concubine he picked. Both male and females, no one was safe from his eyes once he picked you. Hongjoong was next to his, somewhat, the tiger was painted above the hallway with eyes brighter than his own. “Jong-ho, you’re dismissed. Hongjoong, the boy has been taken to your room, you’re lucky they aren’t sick.” Hongjoong gave a deep bow before walking down the dark hallway, enjoying his to be dark and barely lit before entering his room. It was a grand room for anyone to be able to enter with his rather large circular bed in the middle.

The sheets were as white as snow, opposite of how he is rather with red covers and pillow covers to match it. After all, like this he could hear everything from every corner that there was around him. It was easier this way sine it also never messed with the wooden floors he had. To the right was a door to his bathroom that was slightly opened, he had given his maids permission to clean him, well the butlers rather. He never let the girls see what was his to see under all of those clothes. After all, why would they? His bathroom was almost as large as his own room. With a matching ceiling and floor to his own room. The tub was sunken into the floor with buckets there to let out all of the water and simply use it for the plants within the garden, after all water can never truly be wasted if someone is careful enough. There mirror was slightly large in frame, but it was there, along with wooden carved cabinets with the freshest towels for cleaning and for drying. In the hot filled water was y/n, still asleep but getting cleaned in ways he never was before.

His hair was even cleaned and picked of anything that was still left in there, like bugs, dirt, any lice if possible. He was getting scrubbed so hard anyone would find it uncomfortable, but it needed to be done, the water itself was so dirty but there was progress being made. Even his teeth were being brushed yet he was still asleep, it was estimated h would be asleep for a couple of hours, enough for everyone to get things done without a fight and having to witness the brutality of the general, something no one liked to have dealt with anymore. “We’ve cleaned him as best as we could general, this will help with his recovery.” One of the butlers said, looking over to the general's feet while scrubbing y/n back still, hearing his slow claps of approval which made everyone slow down. “Wrap him in a towel and let me dry and dress him. Afterwards someone will take his measurements and make the clothes for him, along with the dress, he will be wedded to me within this week or the next, whenever the dress is done and the flowers are ready, understood?” He said titling his head to the side and watching everyone nod while doing their request fast and the way he liked.

Soon y/n was back in his arms, still limp like a rag doll, but they were alone once more with no one to hear them, or really no one to stop them. Hongjoong was gentle with the drying part, caressing every body part and making sure it was all dry before getting them dressed in a rather large shirt, it was all he had. Letting the male rest on the round bed while he simply stared at him. To think someone like this had caught his eye after so long of not being interested in anyone, no matter who tried wit their own creative way no one was able to. Yet here he is, looking over his prey like it was too perfect to eat, but not perfect enough to spare the torture.

“So... I had lost the bet then, haven’t I?” Y/N asked one of the maids, watching them take the measurements as needed before slowly nodding her head. It was all she could say, after all what could she do? Hongjoong had ears and was on the move, listening to every word somehow being spilled among people in ways some would say is the world of a demon. “He brought you here 2 days ago to be exact.” “Two days ago? I was out that’s long?” “Your body was extremely weak due to all of the sudden movements and possible high nerves and tension. You never had the time to rest and calm down the way you needed to, when you passed out it was the only way your body was able to recover from the stress and fear of it all. Now, what color would you like the dress?” She held up a wooden board with the strings attached to it all stretched out, not giving y/n much time to recover from the shock of it all.

It was clear she had to hurry, not because she was scared but because she knew that the general would send her out if she wasn’t fast enough to get the information she needed. She had all the measurements, all the numbers needed and now she just needed the color. Which wasn’t much there could be made with the little amount of time. “Does it truly matter what color it is? Won’t he just make it a different one?” “He said this is among the few things you have control over sir. The ones on here are the ones we have enough to make the dress with.” There was blue, red, gold and purple, white was used too much for some weddings if possible and Hongjoong wasn’t going to allow such a basic color, he needed something bold, something fierce and show to show his own marking without even tainting the actual body. “Then I guess… purple will do.” y/N answered, trying to swallow the pride in his own throat while standing tall.

He lost the bet fair and square and even then, this is the home of the emperor, running away would end in death before anything could get out of those walls alive, even with a limb attached correctly still. The maid simply bowed before holding her items and leaving the room, allowing y/n to look around at the place. The windows were always uncovered to show the sky and the moon when it rose, along with the best view of the garden, well one of the best views of the garden. There was a wooden stand with Hongjoong armor on it with one of his many swords attached to it. The closet was small since he never wore much, but he had one made for y/n to be another large extension since he had an extra room, he never saw the purpose of.

“Ah, I see you’ve accepted the deal terms and didn’t put a fight. Good, good, little Choi was so worried about you. It almost made me pity you.” Hearing that voice was like a low roar brushing against someone’s ear before realizing who it was. The two met eyes and it was like a wave of dread washed over the room with y/n trying to remain unafraid, something that would only unfold in ways he never knew were possible. “A deal is a deal and I lost fair and square, what could I have done to make a difference?” “Steal a pair of shoes.” He added, walking into the room and allowing the doors to close with a loud bang as always. Watching y/n try so hard to be brave in front of him, like it will make a difference in it all. “I don’t steal from other sectors. I would’ve been taken much too early.” “And we would’ve had this part over with, don’t you think?”

His smirk was annoying, taunting at the most with a pleasure for this, he could see the anger trying to boil out, the rage of a cub trying to take on the bigger tiger to make a stand, but the cub knew better then to do so. It would mean death without fail. Hongjoong had walked closer, talking long strides over while watching y/n’s shoulders only get tenser and tender with each passing step. Till he was at their level, trying not to flinch as the general pushed some of the hair away from their eyes to be able to stare more directly into y/n’s eyes. “You have a sharp t tongue, something that can be toned to make people listen. But you don’t know when to let the venom sink in, you get too heated and tense, it’s almost like teasing a predator with their food. You give in too easily.” Hongjoong said, in a tone that was almost caring and gentle, something no one hears in public.

“But, as my partner, you’ll be able to learn when to let the drops of poison fall into the preys hands and watch them fight to survive. After all, you hav to learn how to survive me. And that’s never easy. Don’t you agree?” His eyes showed interest for once, but it was twisted, his hand was slowly wrapping around y/n’s neck and squeezing it, not enough to choke him but enough to make him gasp for air while still having a smaller airway to it. “I’ll break you so perfectly no one can put you back together, not even Choi can. You’re mine to ruin, mine to paint and mine to do as I please till, I know you’re ready. You’ll learn just like your friend will have to.”

“You’re insane general. You’re so twisted you think this will make me break? I will never.” Y/N spat back, trying to seem like he had some kind of control of the situation, but it was working, it will never work against someone like this. “Oh, but you already have my dear, you’re trying to get the high ground from me, trying to dig those baby fangs into my neck and let out venom but it’s nothing more then a tingle, a little feeling that fades away. Let me teach you.” He mentioned in a tone that no one could ever be certain was genuine, like eh would actually teach him how to be like him. Like yn would ever allow themselves to ever sink down to their level in such a way. “Now that your awake and well, we can finally start to plan things, who knows maybe even little yeosang can finally see you after having to wait so long to make sure you’re safe and sound, somewhat.”

“Y/N…” slowly turning around the two finally met after what felt like a week durning this time. Y/N was standing outside of the red gates, the look in their eyes was a mixture of dim bravery yet defeat at the same time. Wearing a simply red dressed stitched with gold jewels and bells that rang with each movement, the dress was made to fit and hug yeosang’s every curse and highlight every part that was visible for the public eyes to see, even yeosang’s birthmark under his right eye was shown for those to see but not to touch with their own hands. He was the only person allowed to visit y/n before the start of the wedding. This was the first time the two of them were meeting after so long of not ever being able to see each other due the situation. Y/N’s tired eyes reached yeosang’s own tired eyes. The bags were slightly hidden due to the blush and makeup from everywhere else. The dress was the color they requested, knitted by hand with purple with golden beads sewed into it, the front and back parts had traces of tiger claws in the designs with the gold shoulder pieces.

“We can run ourselves out of this situation, can we yeosang.” Y/N asked, seeing the look on his face answer the whole question without having to say a single word. “Y/N… of course we can’t. This isn’t out territory anymore. This is something not even I can help hide you from.” With hints of soft crackles in his voice, yeosang could only give you an air hug, since touching would mess with the dress and the jewels, and there is almost no time to fix them the way it needed to be fixed. “I have permission to walk and give you away, since we don’t have parents. But, it’s time to go. I hear the drums.” Yeosang stated, watching y/m slowly stand up straight and take a deep breath while facing the doors, watching them slowly open to revel a handful of people, the entire open yard was filled with people. Each section had a few people from every sector to witness this, and those from their sector were closer to the stairs, watching the two of them slowly walk closer and closer to the stairs.

Where jong-ho was waiting to walk the pair of them up further. The outfit Jongho wore was still black from the last time the two of them met. Since he still had to earn his own claws before getting his own suit of his choice. But he had his sword in its oba sha, tied with the golden thread before standing to the side, he had to walk behind the pair before he was allowed to do anything else for that manner. Each step was like a cracking echo within the silence that could never be drowned out no matter how many screams were heard trying to cover it. The only other sound was the drums and calls of a singer. Hongjoong had a grin no one could wipe of his face. Wearing a mixture of blue and red to match, showing the swirls of the colors that were chosen.

“Brave and prideful like a swan, yet as colorful as a poisonous creature, it’s beautiful.” With his infamous head tilt, he was enjoying this, letting his touch burn like fire while standing before those who can’t do anything about it knowing it would lead to their deaths within the hour, not even within the hour but within the seconds, no hesitation. Just a swift and quick execution for everyone to see. The vows were simply, after all, all they had to do was repeat after the emperor before it was time for the celebration between the two of them with a promise of yeosang and jongho maybe being the next ones to be wed, after a longer time period of course. Allowing the pair to be newlyweds just for a while longer and allow everyone to witness the transformation of someone they wanted to protect slowly turn into someone who grew claws and developed a taste for venom.

The celebration was grand with some trying to enjoy it, dancing to the music and quietly enjoying the food around them enough to try it forget why this was even happening within the first place. Yeosang and y/n were able to sneak away, not outside but just a place for themselves and not feeling the dead eyes of the ones who caught them in the first place. “You know, for a bastard that enjoys taunting he knows some good food choices for this.” Y/N mentioned while try eat the chicken, yeosang wanting to smack them but knew it was not the place to do so. Can’t have any watchful eyes trying to ruin their fun already. “What- you love chicken try it. I’m surprised you’re not trying to steal my piece of chicken just yet.” Yeosang could only roll his eyes before trying to take a bite. Letting the soft crunch ring in his mouth before giving y/n a light smack on the back, letting the two of them chuckle like before whenever they were teases to each other.

“I hate that you’re right and that you know I like chicken this much. You still owe me a piece of yours I hope you know that.” “Hey, you waited to late it’s almost gone!” “And I’m older than you let me have a piece!” The two kept trying not to laugh so much, this was one of the only ways they could still hav fun with each other and not feel like one of the others is slowly going insane without the other. It was hard to hide given their attire but if they could get the chance then why waste it? They needed up sharing some of the food with each other. Hanging over whatever piece of chicken had ripped off the bone and gave it to each other. “Gonna tell me if mister bear cub is vicious as he’s trying to live up to?” Curiously was getting the better of him. After all, everywhere he went, yeosang was following after and almost looked ashamed of it,

But it was like a secret, watching yeosang look around to see If either of them was around or looking for the two of them before speaking in a low voice. “You wouldn’t believe me when I tell you he doesn’t even allow himself to sleep in the same bed as me, let alone actually facing me whenever the maids get me dressed, he never looks if I don’t say anything. He still doesn’t!” it was like watching a pair of friends gossip and giggle about a crush that one of them have on someone. But of course, since yeosang doesn’t know what is true or what is an act is going to be fearful of what could happen within the walls between the two but of course this was still leaving y/n to be alone with someone who could tear them in two without any recourse whatsoever and still enjoy the screams of mercy and for help around him.

“Mister Choi and Mister Kim, the generals are waiting for you, it’s time to go.” One of the guards said, one that neither of them had much of a pleasure to meet, Choi San. Some believe that he was the older brother of jongho before learning that the two are actually from different families and different sectors. San being form sector 6, and jongho being from 5. Both with very different experiences when it came to certain things around them, but it was still fun to mess with people in public sometimes. SAN’s choice of clothes was different form most, he was known for wearing nothing more then a long black coat, showing off the ink markings he had written all over his body, not entirely but still enough to show. His chin was sharp, some say it was sharp enough to break a sword before it could kill him and that twisted look of pleasure in his dark brown eyes were strong enough for everyone to see and enjoy better then most.

“And who are you, exactly?” It slipped out of yn’s mouth, raising an eyebrow simply out of habit, watching a smirk appear on san’s face before standing up strength. “General of the west Choi San, some say I’m the shadow general. Now we can’t keep the bride and jongho waiting now, can we? You still have a duty to fulfill tonight, and he doesn’t like to wait much longer for it.” He answered, enjoying the realization hitting their faces at once leaning who they were talking to. Yeosang looking more embarrassed and looking away while standing up while San shook his head. “Now now don’t be embarrassed you two haven’t met me before. I was out of the walls and sending a message to one of the uprising empires, making sure they know who not to mess with, don’t you agree?” He still ha the smirk on his face before walking the two over to their respected partners. San didn’t have anyone to be with before bowing at the two of them and leaving, going to enjoy more drinks.

“How do you always manage to get the attention from those in stronger power when you’re being sassy?” Yeosang whispered, trying not to laugh when seeing y/n’’s face, the look of his lips and the look in his eyes, making yeosang look away while trying to make sure that nothing else was going to happen here. But it was safe for now. After all the two of them had made it to their parents and were able to stand there, feeling somewhat less tense since everyone was still here, giving a false sense of sec I try. “Now what has you grinning so much San? Already having fun with your drinks of choice?” Hongjoong asked, crossing his arms while San hummed, walking over to grab another drink of juice while shrugging his shoulders, making yn start to make another face while yeosang was trying to pinch their back. It was like two classmates looking at each other and trying not to laugh at something when the teacher is being serious about something.

“Just enjoying the night, after all we all know how the tonight will end with you two and to be quite fair, captain. I rather not be hearing that when trying to rest, we all I know it’s going to be a long while before any of us a can get some rest. Well, of course the emperor will be able to rest like nothing is happening, but the others aren’t a s lucky.” Hongjoong gaze slowly turned over to y/m who was trying to remain serious and not giving up. But their face was slowly turning into something when hearing how the night will go. It was the realization back to the real world and the current time. Once those two get into that room and their clothes are off there will be no resting for a while, only the sounds of the two newlyweds. “Goodnight captain, mister Kim.” San had given each of them their respected bows before Hongjoong slowly held y/n’s waist, guiding them back up the stairs to their own shared hallway that was soon to be changed to symbolize the two of them, and no longer just one being the general.

“You seemed to have enjoyed your time with yeosang, we couldn’t find you two for a while, I thought you tried to run again, dishonoring the deal now, were you?” It was a taunt, but also and honest question. After all the two of them were supposed to enjoy a dance before spilling, but as soon as Hongjoong let him go, y/n was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until he sent San to go and find the two that they were able to find them. Seeing them smiling and trying to hide more facial expressions with their friend yeosang but other then that, there was nothing that the two of them were doing. “I am a lot of things, but I can honor a deal. Besides, all we did was sit together and talk.” “What about, hm?” Opening the door, Hongjoong walked them walk in and instantly be surrounded by the butlers who helped y/n get dressed slowly start to undress his bride in front of him. Slowly starting with the jewels and hairpins before just slowly going down to the ears, the neck, the wrist, the waist and the ankles. Before very carefully and slowly raking off the dress. It was weird to y/n. He wasn’t allowed to wear a suit which is something he was used to and even envisioned for his own special day. But it was today where he was in a dress instead, something he was able to pull off better than he ever thought he could.

“Why does it matter to you? Need something to tear into my before you make me unable to leave this room?” Y/N was trying to be his old self while the dress was slowly being removed to revel what was under, which was just a loose white shirt with white jeans. It was a lot to have under something so delicately made but it also needed to be taken care of. It seemed those couple of days leading up to know was wearing off on them, or y/n was prepared for what was about to come, Turing over to see that Hongjoong was getting undress while the others were closing the windows. Locking them tight before leaving with the clothes, simply leaving them by themselves before the door was locked for the outside. All it took was that slight head tilt from the general, showing his sharp teeth with a wicked grin.

“Now now where’s that mouth now? You were so busy being sassy that you forgot your place? You’re my fucking cumsleeve from now on and I will fuck and fill every hole you have.” Hongjoong groaned out, keeping one of his hands tight on y/n hair while bucking his hips with no mercy. Looking down and seeing the tears building up in the males' eyes while he struggled to breathe. Gagging with each movement with sloppy sounds being muffled Because of the length that was inside of his mouth. Hongjoong was not small, despite his height and he wasn’t thin either. He was long, and he was thick. All he could listen to be the gags and muffled cries of the male below him before deciding it was time to yank the male's hair back. Listening to the gasp for airs from the male, the coughing and the cries along with the spit coming down their Jaw. His body was bare with no clothes whatsoever, they were thrown close to the door and would be left there. His shoulders and neck were almost covered in purple and red marks with some teeth marks here and there scattered across their shaking body.

Their eyes were getting red and filled with tears, were they tears of pain? Tears of pleasure? No one would know, because Hongjoong had pushed his dick right back inside of y/n’s sore and swollen mouth. He was redder than a cherry, at least his length was, his face was dripping with sweat, not a lot but it was getting there. His eyes were filled with lust and hunger and the smirk on his face was filled with pleasure. But of course, he wasn’t going to end the night here, no he wasn’t even letting himself release the way he wanted to. “Use your fucking hands you. I want to hear you gasping for hair while trying to breathe.” Yanking them back off and watching them get to work. Y/n used both their hands and was quick to jerk off Hongjoong, watching the burning red tip twitch while their face was covered in tears while they were panting simply trying to breathe before their eyes were closed, feeling the white strings jump t their face and hearing the loud groans.

“Please…Fuck…Please.” Y/N whispered not caring if Hongjoong could before just sucking on the tip of it, jerking off the rest with their eyes closed and broken moans while feeling Hongjoongs hands run through their hair before pulling them back on his lap. Watching them gasp and look down before leaning their head up t let Hongjoong suck on their neck, leaving more purple hickey’s. His hands were being rough while squeezing whatever he could grab while listening to the moans coming from above. It was like watching the yarn come undone from someone using it to sew something.

Y/N’s hops were moving on his own above the tip, pulling his neck away and looking down at the man. His eyes being filled with pleasure and want, meeting Hongjoong’s eyes filled with hunger and desire. “Oh? You want to be used little fucktoy? Is that all you can think of now is my dick inside of there with no prep? No nothing but my dick going inside of your tight fucking hole?” Hongjoong started, watching y/n quickly move their head but knew that he needed permission, and if he rushed he wasn’t getting it. “Then beg for it. Let me hear you crumble for it and you’ll be used the way you it.” It was the last push he wanted to give, something to hear y/n say before he was going to fully make them not only be a dangerous person but also someone who crumbles under his touch whenever they want, and wherever he wanted to have it.

“Sir please…please use this fucktoy that you clearly wanted so bad that you were willing to chase for. Fuck I’m so empty I just want to fill it- oh fuck sir!” Y/n cried, shaking more whilst being thrown on the bed, their head being forced down into the sweat covered sheets, his hips were being held up in the air before he felt the pain of something going inside of their ass. The look in their eyes, it was like watching their eyes go cross eyed while their knuckles were turning white while their head was being forced up by the man behind him, listening to the sound of their hips slapping against each other while hongjoongs groans were as loud as y/n’s moans pleads. “Gods if I could you pregnant I’d have so many children the others would have to prey me off of you and even then I will fill you up till I’m done. Understand me?” Hongjoong said, feeling his release come but his hips never stopped, even when he watched y/n’s body was crumbling and shaking more, trembling so much and yet the liquid was being spilled onto the sheets and close to the floor.

It was a beautiful sight that no one could ever see, capture of even mention and it made Hongjoong simply give a sloppy kiss to him. Their tongues were being entangled into each other with drool coming down their chins with the sweat being stuck to each other, letting the slapping sounds get louder, letting the thrust get faster and harder. Leaving y/n’s bum only to get redder and redder before the pair ended up coming undone once against. Both of their body’s shaking against each other before Hongjoong leaned up straight and watched some of the juices slowly pour out before he slowly pulled out, watching the rest slowly come out while y/n was twitching. His eyes were closed yet his tired and shaking hands was slowly keeping his ass apart.

“You got filled twice and you still want this dick?” Hongjoong answered, panting but pushing himself back inside before hearing the weak sound of a broken moan, pulling out and flipping y/n on their wet back before going back inside. Holding their legs by their thighs before folding them up to their shoulders. Making sure y/n was watching Hongjoong fucking them, watching their dick go inside and out with the wet sounds and some of the juices still going around while y/n was holding his ankles. Looking from the show before to the look in hongjoongs eyes, both of their eyes were filled wit lust and want before another wet and messy kiss was being taken place. It was driving them crazy before the two had released once again, but both of their bodies were tired, drained and not being able to even move. Y.N’s body had completely fallen against the bed while Hongjoong fell on top of him. The two of them were panting, covered in sweat and cum and wanting to rest. They can shower and clean up in the morning, but Hongjoong was still inside and ended up falling asleep just the way he was. After all, why would he leave this?

Extra:

The woods were quiet, nothing else was being heard and it was quiet anyone would’ve thought someone, or something had died, and this was the way of the forest to mourn the death of it. “You’re going well dear, but you need to keep your eyes dim, the more you have emotion in them, which gives you away.” Hongjoong answered, leaning against he trees while cutting an ample before hearing the sounds f the bushes rustling before looking back to see a bunny. Confused, but then looking up to see y/n kneeling down with a smile on his face. His clothes were black now, but they were still baggy, but it was comfortable and able to be silent better within the area. His hair was long to his waist, and it was still blacker than the night sky. Watching Hongjoong give a proud yet small smirk on his face before taking a bite of the apple, putting away his dagger before keeping his arms out. Watching y/n fall down into their arms and wrapping his leg around hongjoongs waist.

“I did it! I get to choose tonight’s feast, don’t I?” They asked, watching Hongjoong grieve a playful thinking look while carrying them back the walls. “Yes dear, you do. And no, it can’t be chicken just so you and yeosang can fight over the biggest piece.” Hongjoong added, watching y’n’s smile turn somewhat dark but still happy even. “Oh, don’t worried, it won’t only be fried chicken.” “Y/N Kim, I will fuck you against one of the tresses.” “Oh, that’s a treat!” Hongjoong only rolled his eyes before looking around, they were still far from the palace before giving y/n that look. Watching their eyes lit up before getting down and turning around, holding not a tree, their clothes were always made with a little cut in the back for Hongjoong to use whenever he saw fit. Hongjoong got closer and untied his ribbon some so his pants were slightly hanging down but enough for his length to pop out before pushing in from behind.

Watching Y/N’s eyes flutter close with a quiet moan leaving their mouth while listening to the soft sounds of their hips slapping, but it was also muffled because of the clothes. “Gods you're such a whore for my dick even out in the woods.” “You made me into the best cumsleeves you ever met now, didn’t you? Ooh, sir please just right there.” Biting their lip with their eyes still closed while Hongjoong smirked with a lip bite. The two of them were known for their sex drive, the two of them would even have little quickies like this before meetings and not caring if others heard or knew about it. “Fill me up the way you like!” The cried out a little louder before letting out a pleased sigh coming from the both of them. Feeling the cum slip inside and even trickling down y/n’s thighs before the two stood up. Smiling before enjoying a heated kiss, with only tongues being used while still trying to figure out what to eat.

#hongjoong #fantasy #seonghwa #ateez san #ateez smut #gayness #fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #yeosang #prey #mxm smut #mxm romance

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x female reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hurt/comfort

[dark-elf-writes]

Harry running to Japan because it is the safest place for him.

Kingsley watching this child who was melded into a soldier in the holding cell, holding his baby close to him, waiting for a trial after losing control. There is .very little chance of Harry getting out of this alive

(Someone tried to take his baby. What was he supposed to do? He doesn’t know.)

He makes a choice, and unlocks the cell. Harry runs.

Harry being broken into his apartment by Hermione and Ron, frantically packing his bags, and taking the portkey to Japan. There is no time for goodbyes.

Him running to the bad parts, so he doesn’t get discovered by the Japanese aurors, and having to fight to keep his kid alive.

He gets a job and food through shady back alley deals, and jobs willing to hire a 17 year old who hasn’t been to proper school since he was 10. One thing about quirks, there are so many people that drop out of school due to their quirk and go into the streets.

Sure they don’t really have a roof over their head some nights. Sure Teddy is wearing one diaper that Harry is just cleaning over and over again. But they have each other, and that’s enough.

Aizawa seeing this *kid*, whose quirk doesn’t stop with his, and his kid with the strongest quirk he ever seen on a newborn. He makes it his mission to get him into UA.

Namdnsnsnsnsbsbnssb screaming about this

Harry who was turned into a soldier, into a killer, when he was still young. Who took his first life at eleven and had to keep going. Who was famous for killing the same man twice. Who never had the space to process the blood on his hands much less get real help for it. His friends tried, the shattered little family they had built tried, but they were not trained professionals. Most of them had never heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder much less what it could do to someone, but still they tried.

But everyone knew Teddy Lupin was Harry’s whole world from the moment he had laid eyes on him after the battle. The entire wizarding world knew that Harry Potter, The Man Who Conquered, was fully devoted to his child in a way he had never been to anything else.

Still they were surprised to see what lines a trained killer would cross when they tried to take his world from him. The lengths he would go to save his child when from the age of eleven he had blood and ash on his hands.

Harry… didn’t remember much of the attack. Didn’t remember how his magic had burst from him the moment he felt someone try to take Teddy from him. Didn’t remember the second wave of power when the aurors tried to take him down and made the mistake of getting a bit too close to Teddy with their wands drawn.

He did remember waking up in the cell with Teddy still clutched in his arms and Kingsley looking at him through the bars.

“Minis-“

“I’m not here officially, Harry.” Kingsley cut him off with sorrow in his eyes. “I’m not here as an order member, either. I’m here as your friend.”

Harry didn’t understand at the time, but he didn’t step back when Kingsley unlocked the cell door. He trusted Kingsley. He wouldn’t hurt Teddy.

“Run fast and run far, Harry Potter,” Kingsley said the words like a prayer. “We never deserved you.”

And Harry ran.

He took the bag a tearful Hermione pressed into his hand, let Ron press a wet kiss to his forehead, and grabbed the portkey that would take him and Teddy far far away. He kept his head down and kept moving where he could. He barely slept. He stole and fought to make sure they had food. He took any job that would take him as long as he deemed it safe enough for Teddy to be around. He transfigured the same three pairs of clothes so no one questioned why they always wore the same thing.

He survived.

Alone. He was so alone other than Teddy, but his child was safe. And that was all that mattered really.

The vigilante justice thing hadn’t been a part of his plan. He couldn’t turn the saving people thing off even now. Merlin, it was probably worse now with how his magic writhed in him like a living thing. He couldn’t pretend not to see the crime around the when the very same could come to his and Teddy’s door. He had to protect his baby. Had to protect the last family he had. Anything to protect Teddy and help those who needed it.

That… didn’t mean he knew what to do when a vaguely familiar man (one of the local underground heroes?) started stalking him on his nightly patrols. With Teddy watched over by Kreature in whatever abandoned building the two of them had charmed into a house for the night Harry had started to go out lore and more. Needing to lose some the eager edge of his magic ever since the attack.

He knew even less of what to do when the man watched him, unblinking, as he set down a package of diapers (exactly the size Teddy was in now) before swinging up to the rooftops.

Harry took the diapers, barely acknowledged the eyes that followed him from whatever job would take him back home then out on his patrols, and kept moving.

“You never stop running, do you kid?” The hero asked one night when he found Harry poised on the edge of a rooftop, ready to apparate out in a moment’s notice.

“I can’t.” Harry said, hating how his voice cracked on the last word. “It’s all I know.”

The hero tipped his head to the side, watching, always watching behind those weird goggles. “I’m a teacher at UA.” Harry had heard of it. It was rather impossible not to. “We can protect you and the kid.”

Harry bared his teeth, his magic making both of their hair stand on end as it built between them. A warning. the calm before the storm. “I’ve heard that before. I won’t let you take him from me!”

“We’re not going to.” The hero didnt look away. Harry doubted he blinked. “I’ve seen how you are with them, kid. You’re a good parent in a bad situation, but someone will eventually try to take him if you keep on as you are.”

The snarl that ripped from Harry’s chest would have put Greyback to shame, but he didn’t attack, didn’t loose the leash he had on his magic. (He was a soldier. A killer. But he had rules. And the hero had helped them.) “He is my baby.”

The hero tipped his head in a nod. “Then protect him, kid. Give him a home and get a degree so you can get a real job to take care of him. Doesn’t he deserve better than this?”

Harry didn’t answer, instead disappearing with a crack loud enough that it set off a few car alarms, but he didn’t attack either.

Eraserhead took that as progress.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #harry potter #feral teen mom Harry is a vibe tbh #a new au approaches? #could definitely see Harry knowing about Dabi and toga in this one

[mychlapci]

time for a few of my favourite sfw cybertronian headcanons!!!!

a big one that is so special to me is cybertronians using their altmodes/altmode features to communicate. i really like smaller cars like bumblebee and cliffjumper beeping when they get startled or when they get excited

bumblebee running around and beeping happily lives in my mind rent free

bigger trucks like magnus and optimus would probably make chuffing noises with their engines as either threat displays or when content. i can so easily imagine optimus as a young soldier honking loudly whenever he's excited. big ole HONK! of sheer joy whenever he gets praised or does something fun

soundwave, blaster, rewind, and other such cybertronians who can record audio or video stim by replaying specific clips. and flight frames like pharma, cyclonus, and the seekers clank their wings together in favour of clapping with their servos. speedsters rev their engines or spin their tires just to burn off extra energy

i also think that communal group bonding is done via altmodes. stuff like sleepovers where it's just a bunch of cars cuddled up to each other, or a group of smaller minibots sprawled out across a convoy like magnus. flight frames probably bond by flying together and speedsters consider challenging others to a race to be a form of getting closer to one another

i imagine that asking someone else to clean your altmode would be a big sign of trust. most altmodes aren't really tailored to quick movements, especially while stationary so perhaps asking someone to help you bathe yourself would be a big deal, especially during the war where resources were scarce and bots were more likely to stab each other in the back over smaller things.

hmm maybe it's even a rite that comes with conjunx ceremonies, both amica and endura. mechs will spend the evenings with their endura to be in the bath, slowly scrubbing down every inch of their partners just to prove they can keep them safe and healthy

grooming might also be another bonding thing. not full out bathing but general stuff, like polishing and getting junk out of the joints. i imagine bigger bots like magnus or overlord might need extra help getting fully buffed and polished because of all their kibble. hmm au where overlord isn't such of a dick and he ends up joining the lost light and the first thing he does to prove that he doesn't wanna cause trouble is ask for help getting all the grit out of his joints.

i'm imagining a little lineup of bots all helping each other polish and wax their plating. maybe even helping with removing plating to get a good scrub at the old protoform. ohhh maybe some bots are small enough to reach deep into vents so that their bigger friend don't need to go to the medic to get themselves fully decontaminated.

i do think that the war complicates things somewhat. luxuries like oil baths and fully solvent showers are rare treats and so many bots are on edge all the time that really asking for help can be hard

hmm i like the idea that the decepticons are actually better at asking for assistance for the autobots. many of them were working class individuals who had to more rely on their communities for assistance when things went wrong

megatron and starscream taking breaks from killing each other to help buff out the scuffs and dents in their plating together. just because starscream knows how annoying it is to reach the hard spots on the back and megatron understands that sometimes starscream doesn't want to burden his trine with cleaning his wings

they go back to killing each other the next day but it's the thought that counts

soundwave and his cassettes helping each other get clean and maybe even dragging shockwave out of his lap to help him with self care. i can so easily imagine frenzy and rumble making a game out of scrubbing shockwave down as fast as possible

the combiner teams always look the best because they know personally that they can fully trust each other

i have too many thoughts about cybertronian cleaning culture for this ask so i'm going to cap it off here

yessssss to all of this. alt-mode communication is so important to me. little honks and beeps, letting sirens go off when you want attention. I bet you Prowl’s police siren has gone off when he was frustrated so many times and he hates it. This isn’t really alt-mode but I always imagine that when Optimus is frustrated his smokestacks start to fume, which is kind of hard to hide… 

I also really like to imagine speedsters, or most grounders really, would bond by going on drives together. And if you have a speedster with a slower grounder, they’d purposefully go slow so that their friend can catch up <33

CLEANING!! GROOMING!!! I LOVE cybertronian grooming practices. deep in my heart i know cleaning is a big thing in cybertronian culture. If you have a species that have seams that are hard to reach, it makes sense cleaning is a communal thing. Of course a cybertronian can wash themself, even properly and thoroughly if they take their time, but it’s much easier to have someone helping you… Maybe it’s a communal communal thing, where multiple cybertronians would regularly wash together, with all kinds of frame-sizes abound to make sure all the little hands get in the smallest crooks and the big hands can clean off the smaller bots in one quick swipe. Combiner teams are usually the ones who keep this tradition well into the war because they’re mostly a hive-mind so they know they won’t really hurt one another. 

now i’m thinking about lost light communal washes. in a normal way.

#normal i’m normal #tf hc’s #i’m making a tag whatever #i could technically main tag this.... #texty

[seramilla]

If / whenever Odette proposes to Verosika— it’s not something big or grand. Instead it’s intimate and quiet when Odette shows the ring to verosika, it’s a beautiful ring— it had probably cost Odette a pretty penny. No one had seen it coming, not even Carmilla—who knows her girls like the palm of her hand.

Odette and Verosika have talked about marriage before. It's to be expected after watching, and participating in, Carmilla and Sera's wedding. Theirs had been an extravagant, social affair, thanks to Zestial and Lucifer, with every blue-blood in Hell who was on good terms with them present. But to the girls, neither really finds those kinds of huge public expressions of love appealing.

Verosika has to put on a show every day, so she'd told Odette, if and when it happens for her, she wants it to be more real. Not during one of her shows, and certainly not on stage; just something small between herself and her beloved. Odette can't say she disagrees. In fact, that's exactly what she'd hoped Verosika would say. Because that's exactly what she'd been planning.

Verosika already has everything a demon could want, and then some. So does Odette, honestly, and while both demons can afford to give each other the world, that's not really what Verosika wants, or what Odette wants, either. She desires to make it special, but also not too over-the-top. She decides to get Ozzy's advice on the right way to approach this. He is, of course, very helpful...but mostly about the honeymoon, and all the fun things that can come after.

He does know the name of a jewelsmith in Greed, though, and after some conversations with them back and forth over the phone, Odette orders a personalized pink diamond in a gold band, fit exactly to Odette's specifications. Not a big one...it's honestly rather small, but still worth a small fortune, she comes to find out. She still thinks it's more than enough to make Verosika happy. Odette hopes so, anyway.

Odette chooses to ask her on a night after Verosika gets back from a tour. They'd already had a date at Ozzy's planned. The king of Lust didn't have any other shows planned, and just reserved a small corner of the showroom for the two of them, allowing the musical stylings of Fizzarolli to complement their dinner of something Odette is too nervous to eat at the moment.

Verosika seems to notice Odette's not eating. Her girlfriend does have a hard time remembering to feed herself sometimes, and she brings it up to Odette, who is quickly shocked out of her state of internalized anxiety.

"Babydoll, you going to eat anything? You look pale."

"Oh! Yes! Sorry! Umm...shit. I was just thinking."

Verosika takes a sip of her wine. They'd only ordered one bottle; Odette wanted to be sober for the events yet to come.

"Thinking about what?"

Verosika reaches across the cozy table to touch Odette's hand. Odette's other hand is fumbling with the small box tucked safely into her pants pocket. Fizz has finished his last musical number, and walks off-stage to take a break. If there's any moment to act, Odette thinks, it's now. Taking a breath, she stands, and moves toward Verosika, before kneeling on one knee at her feet.

"Verosika Mayday...!" Odette starts, pausing more out of anxiety than dramatic effect. She hopes it makes her look cool, and not anxious, at any rate. "Ever since I met you, here, after what seems like a lifetime ago...my world has never been the same. I never imagined a literal pop star would ever look my way, let alone talk to me. You've taught me so much about actually living, and loving...and to never take anything for granted."

Odette pauses again, getting the box ready in her pocket.

"You've also taught me patience, and to love myself, and to never judge a book by its cover. You're my best friend. My confidant. My north star. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you, for however long that lasts. So, um, will you do me the honor of, uh...hold on..."

After a few fumbling attempts and only a little blushing, Odette manages to take the box out of her pocket, and opens in it front of Verosika. The succubus is wide-eyed, the pink of the diamond shining back at Odette through her eyes. Odette finishes her question with only a little bit of a flush on her face. She hopes Verosika will forgive her awkwardness.

"Will you marry me, Verosika?"

Odette doesn't even have to wait for an answer. One minute, she's kneeling at Verosika's feet, and the next, Verosika is lifting her off the ground, and placing her on the table on her back. The rest of their food and drink be damned. It gets everywhere. Odette's glad she's not wearing one of her lab coats, because it's soaking into the black pants suit she wore for the occassion. She puts the ring down on the table, before she drops it.

Verosika kisses her, full and flagrant, forcefully on the lips, and pulls away with a smack! She only lifts from Odette long enough to screech into the room, "Yes! Fuck, Odette, yes! I will!" before she's kissing her again, pushing Odette even more into the table. Odette worries they might be causing a scene. Unfortunately, her fears are confirmed, because Fizzarolli's already making obscene hand gestures behind the stage, grinning with his tongue out the side of his mouth.

So much for being discrete.

Fuck it, Odette thinks. Let him watch. She brings Verosika down further on top of her, and really starts sucking face with her girlfriend -- no, her fiancé -- right there on the table. Ozzie and Fizz give them two pairs of thumbs up, but neither of them notice. They're too busy celebrating, in their own little world, ignoring the captive audience behind them.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #odette hazbin hotel #verosika mayday #asmodeus helluva boss #fizzarolli helluva boss #odesika #ask #anon #fan theories #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seramilla #zestial hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar

[damned-punk]

What You Won’t Ever Find (Kidd x Reader)

Part Eight

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Content Warning: nsfw, modern!AU, suggestive language, unhealthy attachment, angst

Content Description: gn!reader meets Kidd in a bar and their relationship develops from there ♡

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Killer had to work the next day which was why he hadn’t attended the party and while you hated to bother him so late in the evening, you needed to know that Kidd was safe. He answered after a few rings but to your dismay, Kidd hadn’t come home and Killer hadn’t heard from him since he left hours earlier. None of it made any sense, he’d never done something quite like this before and it seemed so strange. Killer reassured you that while he was likely fine, he’d do what he could to locate him and that you should try calling him in the morning. He knew Kidd better than anyone and the fact that he’d told you to trying talking to him later didn’t sit right with you.

Did Killer know something you didn’t? You ran through every scenario of the evening but not even the slightest thing gave way as to why Kidd had disappeared. You’d already been waiting for him to return for just over an hour and since Killer didn’t seem too worried about it, you decided to just go home for the evening. You’d be lying to yourself if you said his actions weren’t hurtful, perhaps there was an unforeseen reason? Nevertheless, you tossed and turned until finally succumbing to sleep sometime in the early morning hours. The first thing you did when you woke up was dial his number. It rang for a little longer than you’d hoped and just as disappointment flared, your call was answered.

“Hello? Who the fuck is it?”, a voice you did not recognize asked, high pitched but groggy from being woken up.

“Who is this?”, you asked, doing what you could to maintain your composure, “Where is Kidd?”

“Still asleep, care to leave a message?”, the unknown person prompted with attitude.

“Are you at his house?”, you asked, ignoring the snarky tone the person had assumed.

“Yeah, I think so.”, they replied as your anger boiled over.

You immediately hung up and pulled yourself together as quickly as possible. Whatever was going on, you needed to see it for yourself. You fought against what would be the worst case scenario, attempting to rationalize that the person could be a friend of his that you just hadn’t met yet. Alternatively, you couldn’t shake the reality that the person could’ve been at the party last night and caught him alone after your heated exchange. You wanted to think that he wouldn’t go as far as to sleep with someone behind your back, but you weren’t sure of anything anymore. The fact that he’d left at all was enough of a problem in itself, made worse by the addition of his unknown accomplice.

And if he had slept with someone else, was it really feasible to be upset? No matter how often you saw each other or how much your time together meant, neither of you had given your situation a title. You didn’t want to overwhelm or press him to move too fast after he’d opened up about his continuous struggle with emotions, but you also couldn’t ignore the intense nausea that came from imagining him with someone else the same way he was with you. As you started pulling into his driveway, relief washed over you when you noticed his car was parked in its usual spot.

That relief was quickly eradicated because just as you stepped out to knock on the door, it swung open to reveal a shirtless Kidd and woman you’d never seen before. She wore a shirt that was very oversized, one that was eerily similar to those you’d borrowed from him. Several deep purple hickeys littered her neck, obviously created within the very recent past. They were talking and laughing far too merrily for your taste, all of it coming to a halt when their eyes fell upon you. Kidd froze in his tracks and felt like he’d been punched in the gut, he could do nothing but watch your eyes begin to water. The woman made her way to his car, slipping directly past you and into his passenger seat where you’d once sat not so long ago as the two of you got to know each other.

Your heart was pounding alarmingly hard and a deafening ringing sounded in your ears, the accumulation of stress and hurt was working against your ability to remain calm. You didn’t want to seem weak and you certainly didn’t want them to see you break down, but something had finally snapped. He’d made a couple mistakes during the several months that you’d been seeing each other, but this was something of an entirely different magnitude. Your face was so hot that you could barely feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, the only indication of your emotions was the shaking of your chest between deeply strained breaths. Kidd didn’t know what to do, he felt like the idea of even trying to begin to explaining himself was off the table which in turn caused his own rage to manifest. It wasn’t what it had looked like, at least not as far as he was concerned, he’d hoped to be able to send the girl on her way and blame his absence on the innumerable drinks he took in stride with his friends.

“What the fuck?”, you asked in defeat, the crackling of your voice serving to substantiate his surmounting guilt, “What the hell have we even been doing all this time?”

You weren’t sure if you were asking him or yourself, all you could really be certain of was the overwhelming feeling of humiliation. So much time and commitment felt like it’d been wasted but even more so than the loss, you felt stupid for thinking someone like him would ever take someone like you seriously. Even as he stood before you, clenching his fists and becoming consumed by wrath with each surmounting second, you mourned the person that you’d hoped he was. Kidd could be good, it was something that you’d experienced many times before and it was great, but it seemed that something like this was an inevitable part of being involved with him. Every incline was met with the eventual plummet, no matter how sublime things had been previously.

“(Y/N), I fucked up and we both know that.”, he said through gritted teeth, his breaths impossibly heavy, “I need some time to think… I don’t even know how to begin to explain this shit.”

“Did any of this mean anything to you?”, your voice raised involuntarily, “We talked about some really serious and personal things, Kidd. You know things about me that no one else has ever cared to know… This is making me fucking sick, I don’t understand why you’re like this.”

You knew you were spilling your innermost thoughts, but the situation was so turbulent that there was no chance in hell you could stop yourself. Grief and its many forms were sinking their teeth into the tattered remains of your pride, working to irritate what was already an open wound. You brought your hands to your face to cover your mouth as tears turned to full-on sobs. Kidd couldn’t take the intense feelings pilling on top of him so he relieved his stress the only way he knew how, carrying himself to the nearest tree and laying a heavy fist on its trunk. The sudden display of violence caused you to flinch, you’d never once feared him but the situation was taking a detrimental turn. He felt like a monster as he watched you tremble, this wasn’t what he wanted and was certainly never something he’d intended to happen. He’d told you time and time again that he wasn’t good with these things, this was the reason no one was ever glad to have met him.

“Of course you mean something to me!”, he shouted far too loudly, “If you didn’t, you’d fuckin’ know it! I wouldn’t waste my goddamn time!”

“Kidd, that’s enough! Get your ass inside and calm down!”, Killer scolded as he stepped out of the house to try and act as damage control, “(Y/N) please, I really don’t think it’s what it looks like. He’s got a bad temper, just give him a second.”

You appreciated Killer’s willingness to jump in the flames for his friend, you were happy to know that Kidd had someone like that on his side. If this behavior was usual for him, he’d need someone like Killer when everything inevitably falls apart time and time again. By this point you were becoming numb, your senses were heightened and you’d been feeling everything so intensely that nothing could register as it had before. It felt like you were watching things happen through a screen, unable to feel your lips moving and only hearing what you were saying.

“I think I should just go.”, you took several strides back to your car, “I’m not welcome here anymore.”

Despite walking through your own front door and seeking the comfort of your bed, you couldn’t recall the drive home. You couldn’t remember a time that you’d driven in silence, let alone a time that you couldn’t remember the task of traveling. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. If the woman was just a friend, why hadn’t either of them just come out and said that from the start? In the most rational division of your thoughts, you knew what the likely outcome was, you just couldn’t face it. Those few fatal minutes you’d spent helping Hip were so much more detrimental than either of you could’ve ever imagined. It wasn’t her fault by any stretch of the imagination, all the same her warning seared through the few lingering parts of your self worth.

Whether you’d listened to her then or now, the damage was done. Your feelings for Kidd had bloomed in spite of her warnings and you were finally paying the price. You wished you could say that you hated him but those feelings hadn’t changed in the slightest. He needed to take accountability for his actions and while you weren’t sure if your relationship was even a relationship to begin with anymore, you admittedly yearned for his comfort. He was somehow the disease and the cure, a twisted dichotomy that had been in motion since the first night you’d met. He hurt you then only to talk his way of it, you couldn’t let that happen again.

You could hear your phone’s incessant buzzing from its place on your nightstand, you certainly didn’t have the energy to answer it. You could see Kidd’s name brandished on the screen, not at all prompting you to answer and instead bringing you to tears once more. What was the point if something like this was going to restart your relationship every few weeks? You had a lot of love for him, but it clearly had nowhere to go.

Part Nine

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A/N: Thank you for reading! All characters presented in the story have been caricatured to fit the desired plot devices. Some interactions and situations may read out of character, this is only to progress the story and does not reflect my view of their canon personalities.

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#kid pirates #one piece #one piece fanfiction #anime #one piece x reader #killer one piece #eustass kid x reader #captain kid x reader #what you won’t ever find #eustass kid #captain kid #massacre soldier killer

[luce-speaks]

kliff and the friends

last minute submission for day two of @fe-aspec-week 2024!! this one is a little thrown together because i had an idea at the last minute but! here goes!!

—

Kliff has never been particularly fond of other people.

He used to think he just got unlucky, stuck in a tiny village where no one understood the concept of personal space. He dreamed of the day he’d escape them, get out, go anywhere but here, and meet people who were actually decent.

Then he started going to school in the next town over, and with each new person he met, that dream died in front of him. Each and every one of them—over-familiar like Gray, clumsy like Tobin, naive like Alm, or disgustingly romantic like Faye. He hated it. He came back to Ram Village with a disappointed letter from his teacher and a new will to tolerate these idiots so he could safely ignore the rest. He might not fit in, but at least they know him well enough to leave him alone while he’s reading.

—

The war comes on suddenly, like a storm rolling in overnight, and things change. Kliff learns what fire spells can do to a human being, and Gray stops joking about hitting Tobin with his sword, and Faye picks up a lance for the first time, insisting she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her friends. Tolerable acquaintances become battle-allies, people you can trust to have your back. People who could die beside you, any day. There’s no room out here for petty bickering, but sometimes it also feels like there’s no room to get attached. When the war is over, Kliff thinks, they’ll go their separate ways. He probably won’t even miss them.

—

Tobin flags him down at camp one day. “Hey, Kliff!”

He rolls his eyes. “Tobin. I thought you knew not to interrupt me while I’m studying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have questions about magic! That counts as study time, right?”

Now Kliff is intrigued, though he refuses to give Tobin the satisfaction. “Since when do you care about magic? I thought it was too complicated for you.”

Tobin settles beside him, keeping a safe distance, but not bothering to ask whether he minds the company. “Well, I don’t really get it. But I want to learn. You know—for the war.”

He sighs. “I don’t know what Alm or Gray did this time, but you’re better with a bow than you’re ever going to be with magic. Focus on getting better at that.”

“Healing magic,” Tobin corrects. “I want to learn healing.”

“What? Why?”

“C’mon, seriously? I’m worried about you guys! I want us to go back to Ram when this is all over—all of us, together. Even if we’re not all planning to stay.”

“…All right, then. I can try to teach you.” Kliff grins. “Though I wouldn’t count on your ability to learn it.”

—

Faye catches him off guard in the middle of an overcrowded mess hall. She’s saying something, but he can’t understand her over the din of too many hungry soldiers. Eventually, she gives up and beckons to the door.

Kliff follows her, plate in hand, out to the cool night air. “What was that for?”

She shrugs. “You looked like you wanted to go outside.”

“I—” He pauses. Mess hall never used to bother him more than any other time around camp, but now that they’ve been getting more recruits, it has been getting louder and louder. He’s never liked loud noises, either. “I guess I did.”

Faye walks a little farther away from the tent, towards the woods. He follows her, and they settle together at the forest’s edge—still in earshot of the camp, but safely away from the clamor of the mess hall.

“I miss Ram,” Faye says quietly, after they’ve been eating for a bit. “Seeing this many people in one place reminds me how far we are from home.”

Kliff snorts. “It just reminds me of school. They always crammed too many people into the common areas for lunch.”

“So you didn’t like leaving then, either?”

“I liked going to school,” he answers. “I didn’t like the people there.”

“What kind of people do you like?”

He thinks on this. “The quiet kind.”

Faye smiles and nods. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.

—

Gray looks out for him during fights.

At first he’s convinced Gray is just showing off, jumping in dramatically and kicking down a mage in mid-chant before they can fire another spell at Kliff. But then it happens a second time, and a third time, and Kliff is more than certain that it’s intentional.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Kliff says, the next time Gray takes a blow for him.

“Do what?” Gray asks. “Look super cool while I’m saving the day?”

Kliff regrets that Gray is too focused on the battle to see him roll his eyes. “Protect me. I can look out for myself.”

“Oh, that? I’m just practicing for next time one of the girls needs saving.” Gray pauses to skewer another incoming mage. “Gotta keep my skills sharp and all that!”

“Gray, I’m serious. Can you stop joking around?” Kliff fires off another spell, stopping an approaching cavalier in their tracks. Now there are no more distractions—Gray will have to talk to him.

Gray turns to face him. “Look, I know you can take it, okay? But that’s not your job. If you’re up in the front lines taking hits, you won’t have the energy to cast your spells. So you do your job, and I’ll do mine, yeah?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“Great! Now how about a ‘thank you’ for saving your ass?”

“In your dreams.”

—

Alm brings him a book from town.

“Here,” he says, unloading it off a pile of rations and weapons. “They had this on sale at one of the booths. I thought you might get some use out of it.”

Kliff inspects it. It’s a neatly-bound red tome, with gold embossing on the front. It looks well-used, but it’s holding together nevertheless. He flips it open, skimming the table of contents, and frowns.

“I hate to break it to you, but this is a book on magical theory. It’s not going to teach me anything I don’t already know about battle casting.”

Alm looks a little offended. “I know,” he says. “I just figured you would like it. You liked learning about magic at school, didn’t you?”

“I did, but—” He frowns again, turning the book over anxiously in his hands. “We’re in the middle of a war. Did you spend army funds on this?”

“Don’t worry, I spent my own money on it. No funds wasted.”

“But—” Kliff stammers. “Why? What’s the point? What do you get out of this?”

Alm sighs. “It’s just a gift. We may be at war, but we’re still people. I want you guys to be happy—at least, when we’re not having to kill people.”

“Oh,” Kliff says. “Uh. Thanks.”

Alm smiles, bright as ever. “Any time.”

—

The war continues, and Kliff keeps dreaming about the places he’ll go once he’s free to travel as he pleases. He’s not sure what kind of people he’ll meet out there, but—he thinks—if they’re anything like the ones he met in Ram Village, he hasn’t got anything to worry about. Other people may be unpleasant—clumsy, naive, romantic, and over-familiar—but they’re still worth knowing, every once in a while.

#luce writes #fe aspec week #day 2: friendship #this is a messsss but i don't care bc i still got it done on time! #fire emblem echoes #kliff #fe kliff #alm #faye #gray #tobin