#you know the off screen murder from last page? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theehoneeybee · 4 months

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Late Night Sugar Fix

pairing: Edward Naston/gn!reader word count: 1.3k warnings: swearing, brief mentions of murder, implied stalking, usual Gotham things

synopsis: the night shift at the diner was always quiet, few people willing to venture out into Gotham at night, except for one regular who came in on an almost nightly basis.

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a/n: i'm back in my paul dano era. I used to write for him back on an old blog of mine and it's nice to do it again :)

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Another slow night. The drops of rain trailing down the window carried the colours of the glowing city lights with them. The small, old TV perched in the corner re-aired news segments from earlier in the week. The sounds barely reached your ears and the subtitles lagged behind the speech.

The diner had become quieter over the past couple of weeks. With two vigilantes using the city as an oversized playground, and crime at an all time high, people weren't too keen to leave the house. Especially at night.

There was a few regulars who still came in, fellow night shift workers coming in for a much needed cup of coffee after a long day. The familiar chiming of the bell pulled your head away from the TV, turning around in your chair to greet the stranger.

His back was turned to you, his green jacket decorated with dark spots from raindrops. He set his umbrella gently down by the door and shuffled over the the bench, taking a seat on the cracked black leather stools.

"Evening," you greeted him. "What can I get started for you?"

The man barely makes eye contact with you. "A cup of coffee please, and, um, do you have any pumpkin pie?"

The clear frames of his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, little droplets of water clinging onto the lenses. His soft brown hair stuck to his forehead. The umbrella must not have done its job. You gave him a nod and went out the back to prepare his order.

Once you came back, the man had cleaned off his glasses and his attention was now focused on the TV screen. You placed down the food, matching his gaze to look up at the screen.

It was a repeat of a news story from earlier in the day. 'The Riddler terrorises Gotham' the subtitles read, the face of the news reporter was replaced with one of the Riddler's infamous livestreams. The reported called him all sorts of names, 'murderer', 'villain', 'terrorist'. You couldn't help the small scoff that left your lips. This caught the strangers attention, half turning his head to look at you through the corner of his eye.

"Look, I don't agree with the killing," you quickly tried to justify yourself, hoping you hadn't offended him. "But at least he's doing something. I know too many people who have suffered because the cops don't do shit."

An emotion you couldn't quite place flashed on his eyes, leaving just as quickly as it appeared. He nodded, looking back at the TV. "Someone had to do something."

You spend the rest of the evening aimlessly scribbling in your notepad, occasionally turning to the TV for some lacklustre entertainment. The man left, giving you a small nod on his way out. As you cleaned up the plates, wiping down the counter, you glanced at the door.

He left his umbrella.

You leant against the counter, idly flicking between the pages of a newspaper that a customer had left behind.

"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears," you read the riddle printed on the thin pages aloud, "I have no body, but come alive with the wind. What am I?"

"An echo." The answer made you jump, no longer alone in the diner. "The riddle," the man gestures to the newspaper in your hands, "It's an echo."

The same man from yesterday with the clear frames and mousey brown hair was back. You never even heard the door bell ring. Same routine as last night, he sits down and orders a slice of pumpkin pie and coffee. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he ate, filling in the puzzles from a newspaper of his own.

Strange, you settled on, was the best way to describe him. He kept his head down, occasionally shifting awkwardly in his seat and adjusting his glasses, a nervous habit. Strange, yes, but he also was also endearing. Or maybe you just pitied him, the same way a sad puppy is both adorable and heart breaking.

The man was about to leave, folding the newspaper into a neat little rectangle and tucking it into his jacket. Before he had a chance to go, you dashed into the back of the diner to reunite him with his forgotten umbrella.

"Wait!" you called out to him, "you forgot your umbrella yesterday."

"Oh," he says quietly. "Thank you." He took the umbrella from your hands.

"I never got your name, by the way. I know all my regulars by their names," you explained.

He stares at you, eyes obscured by the reflection of light on his lenses, expression unreadable. "Edward," he finally introduces himself.

It was around the time that Edward began to frequent the diner that you began to notice strange occurrences.

When you would walk back to your apartment, the sun barely peaking over the tall city buildings, it felt like you were being followed. You could feel a pair of eyes searing into the back of your head. A wave of relief would wash over you once you finally stepped into your apartment.

On one of the few nights off you had, you were laying on the couch when a card was slipped under your front door. Getting up from your comfortable spot, you half-opened the door and peered down the hallway. Empty. It was a small greeting card with a cartoon owl of the front with the text 'owl always love you' written in cursive.

'I have keys but no locks. You can enter, but you can’t go outside. I have space but no room. What am I?' was scribbled messily on the inside of the card.

You didn't sleep that night.

You and Edward had developed an unspoken friendship. Each night you found yourself looking for forward to his visit. While you didn't talk very much, there was a mutual enjoyment of each others company. He would help you solve the puzzles in forgotten newspapers. Edward was very intelligent, always quick to answer. While he liked crosswords and dabbled in sudoku, you learnt riddles were his favourite.

"Are you any good with computers?"

Edward looked up from his puzzle, "I'm okay. Why?"

"Well I've been having this issue with my laptop," you explained. Whenever you tried to use it, it would work for about a minute before the screen blanked. Only a small question mark could be seen, flickering in the top right of the screen. You didn't want to waste your money bringing it to a repair shop or buying a new one, so your best bet was asking Edward. "It's probably a virus from one of those shitty free streaming sites."

"I can come take a look at it."

You scribbled your phone number down on a scrap piece of paper. "Thank you so much."

You had texted back and forth with Edward to arrange a time for him to come to your apartment to look at the laptop. Was it the smartest move to invite an almost-stranger into your apartment? No, but Edward seemed trustworthy enough.

'I'll be there soon :)' his message read.

Soon, there was a knock on your door and you were letting Edward into your apartment. He took a seat at your desk as you booted up your laptop.

"It'll be fine for a few minutes and then-" the screen went black. "Bam!"

Edward adjusted his glasses, bringing the laptop closer. "Yeah, I see what you mean." You watched anxiously as he fiddled around with it to little success.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to fix it here," Edward explained. "However, if I hook it up to my computer at home I should be able to get the virus off it."

"So it can be fixed? I don't need to buy a new laptop?" Edward shook his head no. "Oh, thank you! You don't mind doing it do you?"

"It's okay. I'll give it back to you at work tomorrow."

You thanked Edward profusely as he left your apartment, laptop in hand. When you sat down on the couch, fear punched you in the stomach. The blood drained from your face when your realised that,

You never gave Edward your address.

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inkmonster21 · 12 days

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Sing for Me

1. The Beginning

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader / The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Series Masterlist

Strangers, friends, lovers. Isn’t that the natural flow of things? The instinctive humane magnet that pulls two souls together; wasn’t that just the way of life? I often wonder if I had never laid eyes on him would the word still be intact? If I had never said yes to the role, if I had just moved on to another project, maybe my world would still be turning. I could still have a real body, real blood flowing through my veins. I almost remember what it felt like to bleed. Is it strange that I missed it? The pain? In this sorry excuse of a world, I guess anything can be normalized. Sadly I can’t recall what happiness used to feel like. I assume amazing and warm.

I stare into the cracked mirror, dusting the powder over my face, touching up the tattooed perfection. "Ready in 5," Conor speaks from the curtain. "Thank you," I take one last look into the remains of myself. I press my hand to my chest, feeling the light thump of my heart, one of the remaining parts of who this woman used to be. I stand, the black shawl dragging the ground behind me, the edges ripped and frayed. I pass Conor, grabbing the glass of water and drowning it down. "You've got a big crowd tonight." I smile at him, the facade growing. "Why wouldn't I? Even in this wasteland, I'm still the best singer the world has ever seen." A light centers onto the stage in the back of the venue. I step out beginning the set.

217 YEARS AGO

The crowd applause rings through the venue. I raise both my arms taking a bow, soaking in their appreciation. I blow a kiss before sauntering off the stage and behind the curtains where my assistant waits with refreshments. "Honey, I've got someone I want you to meet.” I roll my eyes knowing exactly what that means. “I’m not taking the time today, Louis.” He proceeds to grab my elbow and guide me to the dressing room. “Yes, you are. Especially when it’s a director.” My ears peek at the mention. “A director?”

The door swings open and I see a man sitting on my sofa. Expensive suit and tie, most definitely involved in the business. “There she is!” He extends his arm, grasping my hands, “Our Nation's sweetheart. Boy, my wife is going to be upset at this one.” I smile at him. “Well, the pleasure is all mine. I hope you enjoyed the show.” He beams at me, “the show? Oh, I could’ve watched for hours.”

Louis steps in, tossing my robe over my shoulders and taking my jewelry off my limbs. “Mr. Vander is here to discuss an opportunity for you.”

Mr. Vander nods with excitement brewing. “I certainly am! I’m casting a new film, Under the Covers, and I want you to be our leading lady.” I open my mouth, eyes widening “You know I’m a singer, not an actress, right?” Mr. Vander waves his hands in protest. “That's just the thing! I've had some written songs for the film. It's not a full-blown musical, but I'm widening my wings. I guarantee you will do just peachy!” I twiddle my fingers. “I don’t know, Mr. Vander. The big screen? Me? I just can’t see it.” Mr. Vander slides a script across the table. “Take a look, give me a call. No pressure, Sweetie.” He leaves without another word.

As soon as the door closes Louis is flipping through the pages. “You’re doing this.” I sigh at his words. “Can’t I take a break? It’s been show after show, and now I finally have some time off and you want me to go out to California and embarrass myself? I’ve got a lucky set of cords, that’s all.” I begin to wipe away my makeup.

Louis chuckles as he reads a line from the page. “You would kill this role. She’s a sassy badass. Look! Just read this line right here.” He pushes the paper into my face as I sit. I look over the words with a light giggle before turning to gaze at myself in the mirror. Louis begins, “I made a bad call.” I roll my eyes, “you think? Just sit there and let me do all the work. You men are sure good at causing trouble, but you ain’t too good at getting out of it. That’s where you need me.” I bite my lip as I finish reading. It would be fun to star in a film. Different and unique. I would still be able to sing. Not many singers get the chance to branch out like this. I wave my hand with confidence. “Oh, what the hell? Why not. I’m in.” Louis jumps up in celebration.

The following week I was on the set of a real movie. Trailers lined the lot, makeup bags and racks of clothes in every corner, and people buzzed around in their madness. Louis stands behind me, hands on my shoulders, “You got this.”

“Excuse me? Hi there, I'm Mr. Vander's executive assistant.” A woman asked directly. “If you would follow me. Mr. Vander wanted to make sure of your arrival.” Louis hauls my bag behind him as we follow the woman through the busy lot.

“Mr. Vander? Your star is here.” He flies out of his seat and grabs my hands, kissing my knuckles. “Ah! My leading lady! My Songbird! I am so happy you decided to say yes. We are going to make this such a special film. Now if you please follow me, I’d like to introduce you to your costar.” Walking a short way, we stop at a scenic backdrop where a man is walking down the street. He dips down an alleyway silently. He tips his hat slightly, before walking towards a building in question. Loud bells ring out, and the buzz of people continues, as their tasks have switched.

“Cooper,” Vander waves the man over once the scene has been cut. “This is our leading lady. She’ll be portraying Mary.” The man takes the hat off and shakes my hand lightly. “Cooper Howard. It’s a great privilege. My daughter adores your records.” His cheery smile and soft eyes struck me. His skin is smooth and warm to the touch. I had to kick myself just to speak. “Hello, Mr. Howard.” "Oh please, call me, Cooper."

And from then on, from that one moment, I was in trouble.

We would rehearse together, have our lunch together, and have dinner together when the day rolled around too late to go home. It became a natural routine. He made me feel special. By 4 weeks in I was in deep shit. I couldn't wait to see him. He started to invade my mind at all hours of the night. I started to question if he would like certain outfits as I put them on each day.

He told me about his life. He shared little details that seemed intimate. I sit in my makeup chair as he enters my trailer with a coffee. "Your ears must've been burning. I was just going to ask for one." I tease as I take the cup into my hands. He smiles that dumb smile, and I can feel myself sink into the chair. My makeup artist twists a tube of liner and groans upon seeing the state of said liner. "Ugh, I need to get another lip liner, don't move." I sit very still with wide eyes making her laugh. "I didn't mean it literally!" I smile as the door shuts. It doesn't take Cooper but a second to be standing over my chair, hands on my shoulders, exchanging glances in the mirror. It was now 9 weeks into filming, and I was fucked. I was completely infatuated with this man.

I feel the exposed skin on my shoulders burns as his fingertips brush over it. I feel my head lean into his touch ever so slightly. "You look beautiful." Why the fuck was he doing this to me? It's on purpose, it has to be. He certainly didn't act like this to any other female on set. Was it just a method to make sure we had that connection when we filmed?

Cooper's light squeeze on my shoulders brings me back. I smile at him in the mirror. He tilts his head, "You alright, darlin'?" I nod silently. Cooper leans down, his lips trailing up my ear as he whispers, “You nervous about the kiss?” I stare into his eyes, mine widening. “I thought we weren’t filming that scene until a few weeks.” His smirk only grows. I unknowingly provided my answer. I knew I was going to say it if he didn’t leave my trailer. I couldn't help myself. His fingers burned my skin. My lungs filled but wouldn't release. I was surely going to burst. "I-" "FOUND IT!" My makeup artist walks in victorious. "Cooper, they need you on set." I avert my eyes from him, trying to control my breathing. He nods and releases my shoulders before exiting. I felt my body exhale the large sigh I was holding in. I shake my head lightly trying to push my inner thoughts away.

The detective watches the passing car. He begins to trail the group on foot as they turn down a street. "Well, if it isn't my big tipper." He looks up to see Mary Jones, the singer from the club the men in question were just seen leaving. She makes her way across the street, meeting him under the lamplight. He was losing his chance, but he would get shot if he was promised she'd be the last thing his eyes set upon. "Just leaving, Mary?" He narrows his eyes at her. She knew something. She was the boss's favorite girl after all. The detective points down the road. "Those men, did they mention anything interesting?" She narrows her eyes, "Are you asking me to go against my boss? Where else would I sing?" Her sly smile cuts him deep. He wishes no harm to come to his beauty. He could let them get a head start. He lays his hand on her waist, pulling her in, their faces inches apart. "Now, you listen, doll. Those men, they could hurt you." Mary runs a gloved finger over his bottom lip. "And I can handle myself, sugar." She stares at his lips, her tongue darting to wet her own. “But if you’re so concerned, why don’t you walk me home? Make sure I get there safe and sound.” They move swiftly down the streets sharing cigarettes and longing gazes.

He leans on her door, drinking her in. “Don’t go to the club tomorrow.” He says in a whisper. She picked his chin up, “You understand I have to. But you can come visit and return this for me.” She leans up pressing her body against him, attaching their lips in harmony. His hands moved to grip her waist, pulling a small moan from her mouth.

“CUT!”

I blink quickly, suddenly becoming very aware of my closeness to Cooper. Hell, I just kissed the man. Well, Mary technically kissed the detective. I beg my bones to stay professional, but the heat growing in my core causes me to shutter.

"Beautiful! Just stunning. I could swear you LOVE this man! Singer my ass, you picked the wrong path Sweets." Mr. Vander cries as he takes off the headset. He spins me around dramatically. "My little songbird!"

"Whoa, now, bud. Don't go breaking her," Cooper's voice peels out in a firm tone. Mr. Vander sets me down, holding me at arm's length. "Now, this Friday we will be filming your solo. So, drink some tea or whatever the fuck you do." I laugh trying to sway back and forth to gather friction between my legs. I can feel his body heat next to me. He lays an arm on the small of my back, drawing circles. I jump lightly at his trailing fingers. I need to get away from him before my internal flames ignite this entire lot.

"Cooper, I need you to rehearse as much as you can. Love you, buddy, but you have two left feet and your chops are going to need some tuning. So, with that being said, please spend every waking moment together." Fucking great. Vander walks away but turns back quickly. "And Cooper, I want you both in the dance studio tomorrow morning. Jessica wants to rework the choreography."

I am so fucked. I can barely stand close to this man now without wanting to pounce on him. I take the larger shawl off my shoulders and toss it on the chair. I begin to walk away to my trailer, but Cooper catches my elbow. "Hey." I smile lightly, I take a second glance at his lips, missing the warmth. I register his lips moving, sound coming from his mouth, but I can't hear a word he says. I grab the collar of his shirt, bringing his lips down to meet mine in a rushed kiss.

The echo of my name and his fingers snap in front of my face. I shake my head, running away from the thoughts. "Yeah?" I stare anywhere but his eyes, I stare at his hair, his eyebrows, lips... fuck, I'm looking at his lips again. I turn away from him and make my way to the trailer door. "I'm sorry, Cooper. I am just so tired." I open the door, but his hand pushes it shut before I can escape. He leans down with furrowed brows. "You seem frazzled." He runs a single digit up my arm causing goosebumps to run along my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold the shutter inside. I shake my head, "No, I just didn't sleep well, and today ran long. Just tired."

He hums softly. His finger traced the strap of my dress. “You look so beautiful.” I shutter at his touch, and he knows it.

He opens the trailer door for me, "Then you better get some rest. I'll have you worn out tomorrow." WHAT? He must be fucking with me.

I feel the smirk creep on my lips. Unable to hold it in, I allow myself to surrender just a little. I reach out, straightening his shirt collar, and adding a subtle tug. "I think you'll be surprised how tired I can make you." I watch as his eyes search mine. Seeming to dig into my soul. Finding me and my true desires. He leans down ever so slightly, like a magnet forcing us together. Inches between us, so so close, but I pat his chest with a smirk. I watch as Cooper opens his eyes with stardust lining his lashes. I whisper to him, "Goodnight, Cooper." And I close the trailer door. Just an inch before it shut, Cooper caught it with his hand.

He peals the door open, stepping inside, making me back away into the small counter. He stares into my soul, communicating silently. He dips down quickly capturing my lips. His hands guided me to the small couch. Clothes were torn, and only the essential items were removed for our intimate skin to brush against each other. Cooper rushed to tear my panties away, and I was right behind him, pulling his rock-solid cock from his pants.

He fucks my body deep into the couch, the repeated grinding against my clit causing sparks to ignite. I clasp at the wide planes of his back, my fingernails skidding down the fabric of his dress shirt, threatening to rip the material. "Cooper, fuck!" I moan out as I watch where our bodies meet. Cooper took my wrist, pinning my arms above my head, sinking into me deeper. He watches me with knitted brows, completely lost in the actions. He dives down to my neck, teeth grazing a spot on my neck that stimulates the blissful warmth.

It's rolling through me, I can feel the tightness building in my core, the cord tightening. I toss my head back, closing my eyes. He pushes deeper. The trailer gives a slight rock, as our moans fill the vicinity. If anyone was near there would be no hiding our actions.

"Oh my God, I'm coming." I pant, the coil popping and my release begins flowing. I arch up into his chest. Cooper pulls out, finishing on the crumpled costume. I breathe deeply for what feels like hours. I open my eyes to see Cooper smirking above me, soft kisses peppering my cheeks as his hands glide down my arms, releasing where he's had them pinned above my head. Unable to move I just stare at him as I catch my breath.

“Oh my god.” He breathes out, readjusting himself before sitting by my feet. A smirk builds its way to his mouth. He runs a thumb over my legs.

I stay silent. I feel like I should pinch myself. I could swear I was dreaming if it wasn't for his fingertips trailing up my leg.

Oh, fuck, this was a mistake. This is so wrong. Maybe this was just a moment of weakness. He has a wonderful family...

He calls my name softly, continuing his soft touches. "You're thinking too loud, darlin'." I sit up, jitters still running through my body. "How could I not? That was-" "Amazing." He leans in catching my lips again, softly this time around. He pulls away, just enough to whisper. "Let me walk you to your car." I nod wordlessly, quickly changing into my regular clothing. Just as we are about to walk out the door, I tug his arm. "Wait." I press my lips down on his, meeting perfectly.

He walks me to the car, only passing a few stragglers, but paid them no mind, his hand still glued to my waist. He opens the door to my car, allowing me to get seated. He leans down with a smile, "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, beautiful."

As I drive away down the road, my smile slowly fades. "Oh, my god." I just slept with someone's husband, and I loved it! I stare at myself in the rearview mirror. I let myself fall limply against the headrest. I curse his name lowly as I fall into the shame of the actions I am committing behind closed doors.

Her car door shuts, and I am left staring at her vehicle slowly disappearing. my eyes in a daze, cheeks perking the color of a rose. Hell, I'm acting like a damn teenager. She makes me feel things again. Certain feelings of the warmth a good woman like her can spread. I am fucked. She was so warm, so tight. She fit so perfectly around my cock. I wanted to go slow, I was trying to beg myself to pace myself, but she was too irresistible.

I chuckle, running a finger over my lips. I had kissed costars before. It was never a problem. It certainly never leads to scandalous acts, but when it comes to her it seems everything is out of the ordinary for me. I shake my head lightly as I am whisked to my car. Floating on the memory of her eyes, laugh, kissable plump lips, and skin that smelt of strawberry jam. It was those thoughts that got me home. It was those thoughts that invaded my mind as poured myself a drink upon entry. They were also the thoughts that broke the thread as I pumped my shaft in my hand, once again overcome with the need for her. Concealed in the master bathroom, in the shower, allowing myself to fantasize about another woman. "Fuck," Her name left my mouth in a breathless moan.

I looked into the mirror at the man before me. He was a shameful mess. The present visions of her supplying my imagination didn't trouble me. The constant pressing of my cock threatening to twitch at the sound of her voice on the radio didn't trouble me. What troubled me was the fact that I enjoyed every second of it. I yearned for the morning sun each night, the fact of knowing I would be able to see her the next day was enough to close my eyes each night. I would get to hold her, brush her hair behind her ears, and smell the sweetness of her skin. A shameful mess I was indeed. The want grew each hour I spent thinking of her.

The bright sun in the sky barely kissed the hills as I opened the door to the studio. I was more in my element. Acting was fun, but I had been missing the feeling of confidently knowing what to do. In here, I could sing and sway to my plans and no one would correct me. I stretch on the ground freely, humming as I do. The door opens and I look back, silently hoping Cooper walks through. But it's just, Louis.

"Well, you seem to be in a good mood this morning," Louis calls out from the door. I smile at him, continuing to stretch. "I just caught up on some much-needed rest." Yes... Rest...

Louis eyes me up and down, not convinced. "I'm not buying that shit. What happened? You look... different. Did you curl your hair for rehearsal?" I slap his hand away from my hair. "So what if I did? I have appearances to keep up."

Louis rolls his eyes, "Yeah fucking right." He lies down on the floor with me as I stretch. "Who was it?" I look at him in confusion, "What?" Louis cackles, "Who did you fuck? Come on I want details." "No one. My god, Louis. Make yourself useful and go put my bag up." Louis tosses the bag over his shoulder with a smirk. "I'm just saying, you've never been this perky in the morning unless you've been riding a dick all night." I cover my eyes in embarrassment. Several of the crew were on set now and heard what Louis blared out. "Shut the fuck up." I snide at him.

I look around in hopes that Cooper wasn't around to see or hear the exchange, but I am never so lucky. He stands at the back of the room, tying his shoes, a small smirk littering his lips. If he did hear, then he is acting like he didn't.

He waltzes over looking awkward. Fuck, I knew this was going to be weird. I narrow my eyes at him as he sways from one foot to the other. "You okay?" I ask with a small smile. He was finally on my rank. These were my stomping grounds and he was completely lost. A light confidence perks in my veins. "Not much of a dancer, or a singer for that matter." He watches as I spin, the black leotard hugging my body. I catch his eyes burning into my frame. "I'm sure you're better than you think." "Oh, I don't know. Never been good at dancing with pretty women."

Jessica stands in front of us and the few extras needed. "I want to run the solo with the choreography from the first take. I know we talked about it, and I know you said you weren't all for the sexy moves, but-"

"No, let's do it." I want to run it." I interrupt her quickly, her eyes lighting up. She claps her hands with a smile. "Everyone else, take your position. We're going to run it."

Jessica gives me the floor as she begins the music. I feel the chords flowing, the music taking over. I begin the rehearsed song and choreography. Swaying lightly to begin, but slowly making out into the crowd. I sing and turn around the tables, captivating the eyes of everyone in the room. One in particular looked as if he was fighting his own will to stay seated. I sing as I sit at the table he's at. His eyes dive into mine and suddenly it is just the two of us, and I am singing directly to him.

I rest my hand on his chest. I can feel the rapid thump of his heart. Cooper stands placing his hands on either side of my face as I sing. He allows his hand to feel down the side of my body. Memorizing the curves of my waist. I turn his head to look back into my eyes, finishing the melody. He brings my face in, passionately pressing his lips down onto mine. Applause erupts from the studio, but he doesn't pull away. Cooper grips my waist tightly, dragging me to the edge of the table, pushing his hardened cock into my thigh. I gasp feeling his length against my leg.

Unknowing to others, but I know. By the look on his face, he knows that I know. A smirk grew on his lips. “I’d say that scene will be perfect, darlin’.” Cooper pulls away from my body, the warmth disappearing. He sits in the seat watching my every move such as a predator stalking their prey.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #fallout imagine #fallout

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tatsumessy · 10 months

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Secrets - two - {Inumaki Toge}

Jumping up from your position, you held your head in pain gently rubbing it to ease the pounding headache. Your hand was grabbed and a glass of cold water was placed in it, “thank you.” You said taking a sip and finally opening your eyes to look around, you were in Toge’s room. Looking to the side you were face to face with those beautiful violet eyes that you loved. “Toge.” Hurriedly you stood up off the bed ready to apologize heavily and leave his room but his hand held onto your and wouldn’t let go.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and showed you the screen. A page full of things he wanted to say to you, First off I want to apologize. Normally I’d be the last person to apologize, you know I can be a brat but in this case I should. I now understand why you never told me about what happened to your parents.

“Wait, Hiro told you about what happened.” Your hands came up to your mouth in utter shock and disappointment to say the least, being so distracted by your thoughts Toge reached up to grab your face and force you to look at him. He lifted his phone again forcing you to read the rest of his message.

I can understand your pain and the burden that you hold for yourself and your brother. You are an amazing person and I’m lucky that I even got to call you my girlfriend. Im sorry for judging you without even giving you the chance to explain. I understand now why you always kept secrets from me, especially with how you’d think I’d react. Y/n I’m sorry that you’ve felt alone and me hurting you yesterday wasn’t any better. But you have to know that you can’t keep things like that to yourself, do you know how scared Hiro was yesterday. He was so upset.

“Where is he?” You said standing up, he gripped the sides of your waist and forced you to sit back down. “Toge, what ar-” shoving his phone in your face once again you read the last part. Hiro left last night after the storm. He said he’d call you in a couple of days, something about some finals he had to take. You looked up at Toge and he gave you a sympathetic smile, “do you think I’m a murderer?” You said caressing his hands that had yet left your waist, he shook his head no. “this is so difficult to try and say what I want to you and not be able to hear your voice talk back to me.” You admitted feeling the need to want more from him.

He looked down at you leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead. Holding his phone up once again he showed you one last paragraph, you need time and space. I’m willing to give you that, our relationship has its difficulties. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t work it out, we just need a break. Sleep here tonight and we can talk some more in the morning okay? You nodded your head yes and he didn’t hesitate to tackle you on the bed and hold you under the covers. He rearranged your bodies to where you where laying on his chest, “Toge…we talked about being together after leaving Jujutsu. I should’ve sat down and talked to you about it.”

“Bonito Flakes.” I don’t plan on leaving you beautiful. He showed the small message on his phone and awkwardly pat your head in a joking way. It was the both of yours inside joke.

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littlebitsmile · 3 months

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in flames [C.L.] | Chapter V

This is it, finally. With this chapter, we kick off the 2024 season and Emma takes part in her first official F1 race in Bahrain. I'm really excited about going forward with this, hopefully you are too.

Enjoy this chapter, breathe it in, feel it in your heart xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R V ɞ────

"How exactly does this work here?" I ask, while two screens of light shine directly into my face and three or four cameras are pointed at me. A makeup artist is just powdering the last of the anxious sweat on my forehead dry, and a young man is sitting opposite me with a script in his hand. Probably the same one that was sent to me two weeks ago.

"You introduce yourself with your name, which team you drive for, and then I'll ask you a few questions. Easy cheesy lemon squeezy," he replies without looking up from his script.

I can't deny that I'm afraid of messing something up. I still regularly attend the social media training sessions run by Aston Martin's PR department, but Netflix's Drive to Survive team is probably in a whole different league. At least most of the drivers have already warned me about it.

Someone shouts "30 seconds," and suddenly the room empties. The lights are still blinding, and apart from the camera lenses and three-quarters of the interviewer's face, I can't really see much. Just a dark room, almost as if I were the suspect in a murder case and was being questioned - creepy.

I'm handed a film flap with my name, my team, and "Take 1" written on it. I hold it up in front of me and wait for the interviewer's hand signal.

"Hi!" I wave at the camera. "My name is Emma Verstappen, I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm driving for Aston Martin as a rookie in my first Formula 1 season."

"Cut!" A little bit of shuffling around echoes through the room. "That's great, Emma. You're doing good!"

"Thanks, I'm trying my best. Do you need that again or...?" My voice goes up half an octave towards the end of the sentence, unintentionally.

"Ah, no, thanks! But you can answer a question for me directly! How does it feel to sit in this chair?"

"Honestly, like I've been accused." I laugh nervously into the camera. A montage of the last six seasons of the show plays in my mind's eye - almost as if my brain is warning me not to say the wrong thing or get emotional.

"Don't worry, the jury found not guilty. For now, at least." A brief pause as he flicks through his question pad and finally stops at a page. "Emma, when you think about the coming year, what do you feel?"

"You're not the first to ask me that, what do you think my answer will be?" I raise my eyebrows. After his interview, Max gave me the advice to be as detached as possible. Don't stir up drama. Don't take shots at other drivers. Then I take two breaths and continue: "This is a huge year, not only for me, but also for my team. Aston Martin has made a huge bet by putting me in one of their cockpits. But I have no intention of making them regret it."

"Completely understandable! Do you feel comfortable in your team? It was actually very surprising that you didn't end up with your brother's team, Oracle Red Bull Racing! Would you like to tell us briefly how that came about?"

"Well, you probably all know Max, and you don't know me, but let me tell you, even though I love him and he's my brother... we would need some more time to get acquainted with the feeling of being stuck in a team together. Our mom could tell you that as well - everywhere Max and I are involved, there is trouble to follow." I answer honestly. What I don't say is that Max didn't speak to me for a week and a half after I turned down Red Bull's offer to be a test driver for this season. That I had to explain to him almost every hour why the match with Fernando Alonso works better for me at the moment and that later, after I've proven myself, we can drive together until we're old and gray.

"Emma? Are you still there?" The interviewer waves his hand vigorously in front of my face. I apologize and ask him to repeat the question.

"As you know, some contracts are coming to an end this year, and that's why there are a few places with big teams that have been in high demand for years. With Lewis moving from Mercedes to Ferrari and some contracts expiring, for example, Sergio Perez at Red Bull - are you speculating on one of them?"

I have to think for a moment, do some soul-searching. Do I even want to join a big team? Is "Formula 1 World Champion" at the top of my list of dreams? Then I answer: "As a driver, every week you're fighting for your seat, especially this season. It's no longer about where I stand in the world rankings, but rather about the potential I bring with me. I am convinced that I will find my way - regardless of my brother, Red Bull, or anyone else. Where this path will ultimately take me... I don't think anyone really knows."

"Two more laps, Emma," Sarah orders over the team radio. She still doesn't speak much, but at least the radio communication works well. Will I ever have as much fun with her as I did with Enzo? Probably not.

"Copy."

I say copy, but what I really mean is I hate you. Forty-five laps under the desert sun of Bahrain, drops of sweat evaporating in my racesuit and making the fabric stick to my skin. I've been trying to suppress my thirst for half an eternity. At least the heat is now my only problem. During the first few test laps, I had to mentally remind myself several times that throwing up in a new car doesn't make a good impression - especially not on the official first day of work. That moment when you're standing at the end of the pit lane waiting to get the final go. In the first corners while hitting the brakes for the first time, my head got put back against the headrest, body compressed. It felt like my heart was going to give up at any moment.

Pre-season testing is the first chance to see if what my team spent the whole year designing is actually going to work. So far, the car feels great - a few comments here and there about oversteer, the right braking behavior, and the optimal line, but at least I'm not a total failure. At least, I hope I'm not.

Fernando has already completed laps in the three-digit range yesterday and this morning combined. I happen to be put in the same test window as Max. I didn't think long about whether this was perhaps intentional, so that we could compare ourselves better, but after the first few laps, the thought crept into my head and wouldn't let go.

As I return to the pit lane faster than expected and the engineering team pushes the car and me back into the garage, I realize that I'm still holding my breath. I take off the steering wheel, release the headrest, and squeeze out of the tight seat. A few mechanics murmur "Good job!" or pat me on the back, but no one says a word. I exhale. Then I look at the car again. Standing right in front of it while the green of the bodywork hits me - an indescribable feeling.

"You know I'm your biggest critic, but that was a good performance today. We can work with that," says Sarah as she comes to a halt next to me and compares graphs on her clipboard. She looks at me from the side, then glances at the car and back at me. "This is your car, you better believe it."

I laugh and nod. "Thank you, Sarah. I don't think that was such a bad practice. There's still plenty to do." As I start to speak, I take off my helmet, finally remove the hearing protection from my other ear, and walk towards my cabin in the back of the garage. Sarah is hot on my heels. "I feel like I have to turn the steering wheel a bit more on the right-hand bends... but maybe it's just because the right-hand bends are a bit faster than I originally thought. I don't feel the headwind as much as I did in the wind tunnel, you can really feel the aerodynamic adjustments on the sides straight away. Do you think I can do one or two laps, just running around the track tomorrow before the start of training? I feel like I don't have every corner completely under control yet and..."

"Emma," Sarah tries to interrupt me, but I keep talking. Unlike me, she is at a loss for words and never let me finish my thoughts during our first few weeks. But this is about our car, about the points, about moving forward and not standing still. I carry on talking impartially.

"...maybe I can have a quick word with Fernando tomorrow? I'd like the front end to be a little sharper, at the moment we still have a lot of leeway - only if it's okay with him."

"Emma."

"Hm?" Now I'm paying attention.

"You're in fifth place at the moment."

"Wow, I didn't think so. That's good news, isn't it?"

"Max is in P6," she says slowly, smiles and then leaves me standing alone in the corridor. My water bottle almost falls out of my hand. I turn around quickly and call after her.

"Hey! You can't just say something like that and then disappear," but she's already around the corner and isn't paying any more attention to me. Has she just smiled for the first time since I met her? And that makes me almost more nervous than the fact that I have beaten my brother for the first time.

I'm not that lucky over the next few days of pre-season testing. But the high from my first day of practice on the track carries me through the week like clouds, before we even get to the first three free practices. I stay in the top 10 during the practice sessions that are part of the race weekend, but I seem to have completely lost my groove in qualifying. Starting from 12th on the grid, neither I nor my team are particularly enthusiastic about my performance, and this contributes to the fact that I don't get much sleep the night before the actual race.

I also have to attend several photo shoots in between - not just from my own team but also the official ones. For the first time, I get placed in an all-male field of riders, which is why I am allowed to stand in the middle of the so-called "class of 2024"-picture this year. That is more than awkward for me, but in that respect I will probably have to get used to not being allowed to have a say. On this occasion, I also try to spend more time with my brother, firstly to get some first hand insider advice and secondly to get to know the people he gets on well with.

Carlos Sainz, who tried to persuade me at all costs to go and celebrate with the group before my first race - as a season opener – immediately melts my heart. When I thankfully declined, he laughed and told me not to worry so much - after all, the Verstappen gene is in me too. I didn't mention that I wasn't so sure about that. At the same time, I wish him all the luck in the world - after all, he is currently without a seat for 2025. Secretly, I hope that he achieves better results than Charles, but of course I'm not allowed to say that out loud.

I also have time for a game of paddle tennis with Max, Fernando, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo - none of them seem to care that I've never held a tennis racket in my life, let alone a paddle tennis racket. On the contrary, each of them patiently explains their way of playing to me, until at some point I'm sure that each of them has at least slipped me some false information so that I don't turn out to be a sudden natural talent.

Unfortunately, all these distractions have not helped to reduce the pressure. The pressure from my father, who follows every Instagram post with excitement and then asks me whether I can really afford to play paddle tennis with Max and whether he missed the fact that I already have a World Drivers' Champions title in my pocket, which would explain why I would think that some free time is something I am allowed to have. The pressure from my team, whose hopes are mainly pinned on Fernando, but a driver duo consists of two people and not everyone is convinced that this is the right place for me. So I continue to sleep uneasily.

Before the race starts, I march up and down in the garage with a pulse of just under 130. Outside, I see fans running past, taking their seats, while the structure of the course burns in a continuous loop in my mind. It feels like I remind myself every five minutes that I shouldn't pick at my fingernails and instead find my focus. Max wished me good luck as I left the hotel, and he meant it, but that's easy to say when you start from pole position and have literally nothing to loose.

I overhear Sarah being interviewed somewhere, but unfortunately, I can't quite make out who it is from the voice. The walls here are so thin that I can hear every little movement of the technicians on the car, so I'm not surprised that I overhear conversations that aren't really meant for my ears. Only the interviewer's question burns itself into my head: Do you think you put too much faith in someone who is still so young?

I immediately shake my head, grab my helmet and water bottle, and make my way to my car. There I high-five one or two mechanics and then squeeze into the seat of my car. The cable for the radio connection on my left shoulder is connected to the car, someone plugs in my steering wheel, and the crew slowly removes the heaters from the tires. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, squeeze harder, and then let go again. Sitting here feels right, just like the pedals under the soles of my feet and the muffled sounds that can’t quite reach my ears. I try to find my focus and go over the route again in my head. Too much faith in someone who is still so young. The colleague in front of my car gives me the signal to rev the engine and drive out of the garage. Then I'm pushed to the starting grid.

The next few minutes fly by. The impressions of the last few days, the ups and downs, the conversations with other drivers, but also the phone calls with my father and his criticism - everything is buzzing around in my head without having an outlet for it. My body is tense at every turn and I'm literally clutching the piece of metal between my hands. I keep counting to ten in my head and tell myself that everything will be fine, no matter where I end up today - at least that's what I try to tell myself.

The signal is given for the last call to leave the start area. I get some last looks before my team makes its way towards the pit lane.

"Let's go, Emma," says Sarah through the microphone. I nod, even though I'm aware that she can't see me. My brain empties completely during the warm-up lap. Quicker than I'd like, I'm back in my starting position and looking towards the traffic lights. I feel nothing, think nothing. This is the first race of the season and nothing has been won or lost yet. All the cards have been reshuffled and we can only really say how the cars will actually perform afterward. The first lights turn red. Red. Red. Red. Red. And then the lights go out, and my foot presses down on the gas pedal. This is the official start of the 2024 season.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter IV] [Chapter VI (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #slow burn #f1 imagine #haters to lovers

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jessequinones · 10 days

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Writing Advice: Resurrection Trope

I was reading a story where the main character dies but gets brought back to life and this is such a common trope I shouldn’t be surprised when I see it but yet I still am. I’m not sure if this is a good trope, but I guess many people like it enough that it gets included in everything.

Here’s why I don’t really care for this trope if you can bring a character back to life, then death has no weight. The moment you do this, you’ll have to explain to the reader “No, seriously, they won’t come back again, trust me.” But how can we trust you after the first time?

I’m not talking about fake-out deaths where we think a character is dead but they’re just off-screen preparing to emerge from under the rubble of a fallen building. Gandalf is a great example of what I'm talking about where we only see him fall but never the body until after he comes back. The kind of resurrection trope I’m talking about is where the heart stops beating their soul is gone just for them to come back for round two a few pages later.

I understand these scenes are very emotional for the characters, but this trope is so common that if I see the main character die halfway through a book, I don’t feel anything because I know they’ll come back on the next page. Honestly, I’m more shocked to see someone not come back. I’m like, “Damn...they dead, dead...wasn’t expecting that.”

You might be asking yourself “How can I write a scene where a character dies, but later comes back to life without losing any of the emotional weight? Also when I do kill off the same character, how can I convince the reader they won’t come back?”

And honestly...that’s a pretty big question because it’ll depend on your setting, lore, and world.

In most cases, if the hero gets murdered and comes back to life, that’s to be expected. However, if the hero sacrifices themselves, then they stay dead. I’m not entirely sure why most of these death scenes are written this way but that’s typically how it plays out and if you’re creating that, you’ll need to convince the reader that a sacrificial death is different than getting murdered. Most of the time these sacrificial deaths have to deal with the hero turning into balls of light, but that also doesn’t mean they won’t come back because I’ve seen balls of light bring characters back. (Pokémon Mystery Dungeon)

You can inform your reader that a higher being said the next time the hero dies, they won’t come back, however, I’ve also seen the same higher beings go back on their word. There’s nothing you can say that’ll convince me, yup the hero won’t come back this time, because I’ve seen it so much that like I said before, I’m more shocked when the hero stays dead.

I’m not saying you can’t do this trope, but I will say it’s very hard to do right. Dragonball, God of War, Sailor Moon, Pokémon, Any superhero comic, Tangled, Warriors, Mass Effect 2, Bio Shock 2, Teen Titans, Avatar The Last Airbender.

I don’t think any of these are bad stories...for the most part, but I also don’t feel anything when a character dies just because I’ve already seen them come back to life so death no longer holds any weight.

I’m not saying you can’t write the resurrection trope, just understand having a character come back to life, might lessen the impact of when another character fully dies in the future. I would suggest, before you bring someone back, just create a version where they don’t and see how your story continues after the characters stay dead? What’s the tone after said death? Just an idea to think about if you’re thinking about bringing someone back to life.

#writing #writeblr #book #books #writers on tumblr #writers #write #author #creative writing #writerscommunity #writer #writerscorner #ressurection #on writing #writing advice #novel writing #authors of tumblr #writing tropes

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fullchicanery · 3 days

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I just have to get this out there but it's funny how I liked Buddie, but with all the hate and vitriol this season from Buddie fans, it has turned me against the idea of Buddie ever becoming canon.

With the way people are acting, you would think Tommy had murdered someone or did something of equal grotesque. And this happens with every Tommy scene. It's actually quite disturbing to see.

Tonight, again, I see a lot of Buddie fans pulling the same behavior. But I'm 100% sure that if Eddie had had the same interaction with Buck, their reaction would be different.

Tommy checked in with Buck to make sure he was okay, then told a joke to lighten the mood. And Buck's smile is obvious that he liked it. They've obviously reached a point (unfortunately off screen) where they know each other enough to do that.

I swear people seem to either forget or have no experience with relationships. Not everything is heavy, deep, emotional. Nor do Buck and Tommy's scenes need to reflect that. Especially at this stage of a new relationship. What new relationship would be like that?

If Tommy and Buck does last, then I would expect more scenes to come out with deeper, emotional tones. For now, it seems, they are just enjoying each other's company while exploring the beginnings of a relationship.

And perhaps, their levity is what the fandom needs to take a page from based on how people are acting.

#911 abc #911 on abc #buck #tommy #tevan #not even going to tag the other ship in order to protect some of my peace #can we just have peace though?#9-1-1

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billyrussohaven · 1 year

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Into My Web

Chapter 18

Dark!Vampire!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Cowritten with @the-cult-of-russo

Ratings: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include; Sexual situations, swearing, human slave, biting, blood, murder, obsessive thoughts, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting.

You looked up from your bowl of cereal to a dashing looking Billy in his best suit. You forgot your spoon halfway to your mouth and stared at him, mouth slightly open. A wide smirk crept onto his face at your reaction. He knew he was good looking but it didn't mean he didn't enjoy his ego being stroked by his favorite little human.

The sound of milk dripping from your now tilted spoon shook you out of it and you kept eating.

"You know the rules," he muttered as he made sure his tie was straight. It had been a good few days since he'd first been back to work and he was easing back into it. He had an important client meeting today and he wasn't looking forward to it. Meeting stuck up people drove him nuts but he'd be getting a nice sum of money for it so he'd do it with a charming smile.

"Yes, I'll behave or be punished," you said between two mouthfuls looking up at him with a smile. You really didn't want to be anywhere else anyway.

"Oh! By the way, do you have any more movies? Cuzz I've watched all the drawer ones like twice now," you asked with a little pout. You didn't really know what to do with your day since you've done most of today's chores in advance this week.

He was smoothing some stray hairs back in the mirror and he turned to look at you with a smirk. He moved to grab his laptop before putting it in front of you, pornhub open for you. He figured you'd have plenty to entertain yourself with and maybe you'd learn a few new things.

"Oh my God! There's just so many!," you said open-mouthed looking at his laptop screen. There seemed to be thousands of short to long videos of all kinds. You'd need weeks to even see half of them.

"Daily uploads? Does that mean they even add more everyday to the thousands already there?!" You asked incredulously looking up at Billy with absolute astonishment.

Billy bit his lip to stifle a laugh. You had the enthusiasm of a teenage boy first discovering porn and it amused him greatly.

"Yeah. There's a lot on here, I'm sure you'll find some things you like," he said as he grabbed his coat and put it on.

"Whoa…" You said already browsing the site unblinking while eating your cereals. He shook his head with a snort, giving you one last look. It was nice to not be so worried about you trying to escape or run off while he did his work. It still shocked him how much things had changed between the pair of you. He really wouldn't have guessed sex would be the key to your obedience.

"Alright, I'm headin' out. Be good," he said firmly as he made his way to the door.

"Bye," you said looking up from the screen quickly. He nodded before he swiftly left, leaving you to browse all the porn until your heart's content.

You got up from the table at some point to do the few daily chores you could do while he was at work. You then flopped down on the couch with his laptop and went back to the site he had opened up for you. After a few videos, some just grossing you out only two seconds into it, you saw a little account button. You clicked on it being the curious kitten that you were and saw his account page. It was mostly blank but the thing that really caught your attention was the tab named watched videos. You clicked on it and it was exactly what you hoped it'd be. You quickly scrolled down to the first video you remembered watching and went backwards from there.

It was very interesting and intimate to watch videos he enjoyed, some even liked with the heart-shaped button. You watched those with a particular interest, trying to pinpoint what he seemed to enjoy about them. A few videos later, you ended up on a very different scene and it wasn’t just one in a million, the same scenes and title act was repeated on multiple videos. You went back to the first and clicked play again.

The lady was tied up standing with her back to a weird X-shaped wooden cross thingy. The room was very bare and much like the creepy basement under your feet. You scrolled forward a bit to a handsome man towering over her, reminding you of Billy's dominance over you. You felt goosebumps flare all over your skin at the thought of it. A knife appeared out of nowhere in his hand and he proceeded to strip her of her clothes, the sharp knife cutting into the cloth easily. Once she was all naked for him to enjoy, he ran the point of the knife down her chest leaving a red scratch behind. That was something you did with your nails once and Billy enjoyed it too, just like the girl on screen making little needy sounds.

The man slowly and carefully cut into her skin with the knife near her right ribcage. It wasn't a deep cut but it started to bleed nonetheless. He did a few more cuts on her body staying away from her arteries as you remembered what you learned reading the library anatomy book. The man smeared the blood on her body with his hands and proceeded to lick his way down her body.

Knife play. Blood play.

You watched a second video only this time it really piqued your interest. A man and a woman devouring each other's body with haste and a roughness you knew very well. Only this time, they both cut each other. You watched the man fall to pieces under her dominance and it fascinated you. How he groaned when she licked his dripping blood and when she dangerously threatened him with the sharp blade over his arteries. He seemed to worship her for it, the blood play, the dangerous teasing… You wanted to be her.

After a few more videos you closed the laptop shut and put it away on the coffee table. You took a deep breath and stood to pace around a bit, your cheeks feeling very hot and your brain going a thousand miles an hour. You looked thoughtful with your vacant eyes and biting your thumb nail.

Billy could absolutely not do that to you, being a vampire, blood, killing you and all… But maybe you could do it to him. After all, you knew very well where he kept most of his weapons around the house. You also had an almost empty basement right under your feet with plenty of room to set something nice up.

The more you thought the more the scene became clearer and clearer in your head and you realized you really wanted it. You remembered how sweet his blood tasted the other day. Your mouth almost watered at the thought of it. You slightly wondered if it was a vampire thing because when you hurt yourself that time Billy just took off to not kill you, you had a taste and it wasn’t yummy at all.

You looked at the clock on the wall and made a decision. You had three hours to go. It was now or never.

You had prepared a little makeshift scene downstairs that reminded you of that Aladdin movie you watched the other day. The basement floor being concrete was definitely gonna be a bitch on your bones. So you might have stolen the guest room carpet, a couple of pillows and throw blankets here and there.

The comfort part of the evening being taken care of, the lighting part was still problematic. The bright swinging light bulb on the ceiling was just gonna kill every chance of this being a success. You ran back upstairs and looked for candles. You remembered Billy telling you where they were in case of an electrical issue. He could see in the dark, you'd just break your neck with how clumsy you were sometimes.

You took a couple of candlesticks with their small holders and a pack of matches. You hurried back downstairs and finished prepping everything up. You looked at the time and hurried up for a quick shower to freshen up. You tried to put some make-up, finally using those samples you got from the pampering day with Karen. It wasn't bad, very subtle but you liked it. Then it was time for the last pieces of the evening, beside Billy, obviously.

You took some lingerie he had gotten you the other day and put the bodysuit on. The black shiny straps over your hips and bum felt very comfortable, caging you safely in. One long single strap ran up your torso, between your bare breasts and ended in a choker around your neck. You carefully applied the heart-shaped pasties to your breasts and looked at yourself in the bedroom mirror.

You wondered if you were gonna make a fool of yourself and piss him off. It was a very, very fine line you were playing with and it could definitely mean the closet AND the wobbly stool all over again. If he wouldn't just take the knife and kill you with it.

"Urg!! Stop freaking out and be confident for once" You said angrily to your reflection stumping down your foot. You knew he'd love it. You remembered how he reacted the other day when he nipped his lip and you kissed it clean. If the dozens of videos on his laptop account wasn't proof enough already. You squared your shoulder and kept your chin up.

You took a detour to where you knew some weapons of his were. You carefully picked a knife that felt comfortable in your smaller hand and put everything back like you found it. He'd be home any minute now, you couldn’t back out now. You made your way to the basement and waited hid in the shadows, the knife in your hand.

By the time Billy was getting home, he was tense and tired. He hadn't been able to check the cameras since that morning, stuck in meeting after meeting. The important client meeting ran on for what felt like forever and the man was a grade A asshole but Billy really wanted his money. And if all that wasn't bad enough, Frank kept trying to talk to him. Luckily he was too busy so he avoided it but he knew soon he wouldn't be able to. He wasn't as mad at Frank since some time had passed but the betrayal of Frank trying to take you away from him still stung like a bitch. He wasn't sure why he thought it'd be a good idea to take you there. He knew it wouldn't be, knew how Frank would react. And at the time the urge to bring you was explained by him wanting to push Frank's buttons for always making him feel like a bad guy. But it wasn't just that, he'd really just wanted you to meet his family for some reason. A reason he wasn't sure of nor would he look into too deeply.

Not being able to keep an eye on you for most of the day left Billy feeling agitated. He missed your presence and he had no idea if you'd been a good girl or not. He'd be pretty pissed if he got home and you'd ran off again. As he unlocked the front door, your scent hit him, your heartbeat in his ears. He untensed a little knowing you were here as he toed off his shoes by the door and made his way further inside. It was oddly quiet which made him suspicious as he moved into the living room. Your heart rate was pretty fast and he stood still in the centre of the room as he closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint it. Your scent was also sweeter, as it usually was when you were excited but it was also tinged with some nerves. He had no idea what you were up to.

"Kitten?" He called out, dark eyes sweeping around the room. He got no answer and his eyes narrowed slightly.

He slowly followed the sound of the fluttering of your heart, going towards the basement. What the fuck were you doing in the basement? You waited till the last second before jumping out of the doorway, right in front of him with the blade at his chest. You grinned wickedly and tried to suppress chuckles by biting your lower lip.

It didn't startle him in the least and a smirk tugged at his lips at how unbelievably adorable you were. His eyes raked over your body in the lingerie and he felt the deep tugging of arousal pulling at him. It was only increased by his knife you were holding.

"Whatcha doin' with the knife, kitten?" He asked amused, brow raised as he looked at you.

"I prepared a little surprise for you," you said with a smirk, running the pointy end of the knife down his chest.

"Did you now?" He asked in a low voice, intrigued and turned on. He had no idea just what you had planned but he knew he was looking forward to it. He couldn't take his eyes off you, all dressed up for him with a deadly weapon in your hands. His dick was already hard and straining against his pants.

"Mmhmm! Although it'd be a shame to ruin one of your suits," you said thoughtfully, tapping the blade on his chest as you wondered how pissed he'd be if you cut into it with the knife. His eyes darted to the knife before back to your face, a brow quirked.

"But I'll be a very, very good girl for you if you let me?" You asked a bit sheepishly, batting your eyelashes at him. You were about to do very bold things you'd never ever had thought you could do and live to tell the tale. You reached for his hand to slowly pull him forward and downstairs with you.

Billy really wasn't sure what you had planned for him but he was incredibly curious and so turned on that he followed willingly, wanting to see just where the night would go. He didn't think it would hurt to at least see what kind of things you had in mind. If he wasn't into it then he could put a stop to it no problems.

You were relieved to feel him follow you willingly without too many questions. You carefully went down the stairs so as not to fall and stab yourself like an idiot. You led him near the little love nest you had prepared and let go of his hand so he could take in the scene. You sat on a pillow like a mermaid on a rocky shore, inviting him into your deadly loving arms.

Billy's dark eyes travelled around the normally cold and miserable basement, brows raised and a smirk on his lips. Honestly, he was impressed. He wondered how long it took you to set all this up and he was a little grateful he hadn't been able to spy on you.

"So… what are these plans?" He asked, moving to sit next to you as his eyes drank in the sight of you looking so pretty for him.

You moved so you were straddling his lap, wanting to be close to him for this.

"Well, I thought we could do something...new," you said to him with a naughty smirk. His hands smoothed up your hips over the lingerie and to your uncovered sides, settling in the dip of your waist as he looked at you curiously.

"New?" He asked intrigued. His eyes couldn't stop roaming your body and how adorably delicious you looked with the heart shaped pasties on.

"I might have found some previously watched videos on that site you showed me," you said, biting your lower lips and looking up into his eyes almost timidly. He hummed with a smirk, his hands moving to your ass and palming it as he watched you. He was incredibly curious about what you'd been watching.

"Saw somethin' you liked, kitten?" He asked teasingly.

"Mmhmm. I was hoping you'd let me...try something..new and not..get mad? Maybe?" You said nervously, sounding like an idiot. You rather sound like an idiot for a minute and break the mood than stay quiet and end up dead for your boldness.

He leaned closer and trailed his nose along your neck up to your ear. Your pulse was going a mile a minute and the predator in him loved it.

"Consider me interested," he purred before nipping your ear. He really had no clue what you wanted to try that might make him mad but he'd keep it in mind since you spoke to him first for his blessing. If he didn't like it he'd just tell you.

You grinned and leaned forward to kiss him deeply. You put the knife down for now and pulled him closer to you by his tie. He moaned into the kiss, hands still on your ass as he pressed you against him. He was already worked up from being away from you all day and coming home to you like this.

You slid your hands inside his jacket and slid it off his shoulders as you nipped his lower lip with a chuckle. You decided you'd keep part of his suit intact for now. He couldn't keep his hands off you, caressing your soft curves as he felt his need for you increase.

You kissed his lips, his neck and made sure to keep him under you for now as you teased him. You helped him out of his waistcoat and moved off his lap to undo his belt slowly, way too slowly. You loved how he looked back at you with dark and narrowed eyes . It made you feel almost power drunk as you grinned wickedly.

He smirked as he raised a brow. You were lucky you were being so cute with your teasing.

"I'm startin' to see why you thought I'd get mad," he drawled playfully. He wanted nothing more than to pin you down and fuck you until you lost your voice, but he was far too curious about whatever plans you had for him.

You laughed sweetly and it echoed off the concrete walls around you. You finished undressing him of his pants, leaving him with the three pieces of clothing you were definitely cutting into. You moved back to his lap and yanked on his tie a little rougher than you'd dare.

"That was just the opening act," you teased, hovering above his lips taking hold of the knife with the other hand.

He groaned, fingers digging into your thighs as he tried to chase your lips. Your confidence caught him off guard a little but he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't enjoying it. He liked teasing. Usually he was the one giving it out but it didn't mean he didn't like to be on the receiving end of it. He had a limit though and he wondered just how far you were going to push him.

You brought the dull edge of the knife to his perfectly defined jawbone and ran the blade over his skin. You still had a death grip on his tie with the other hand. The feel of the cold metal against his skin made him arch up at you with a soft moan. Excitement ran through his body as he watched you with rapt attention. He hadn't thought you'd be into knifeplay but he was more than happy to take part in your little fantasy.

You carefully slid the blade between his tie and his shirt, aiming the blade away from you both. You gave him a smirk and easily cut through the tie with the knife. You dangled the ruined tie before tossing it away, looking at him for his reaction. A sly smirk spread on his lips and he bit his lower lip. His suit was expensive but he wasn't really upset about it when the whole thing turned him on this much. He could always buy another, it wasn't like he didn't have the money.

"Naughty kitty," he smirked, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Kitty has claws today," you said back, amused and pleased by this whole new leading experience. You just couldn’t stop grinning, smirking and biting your lower lip. He chuckled as he watched you. He wasn't sure how you could be cute when doing something intense like this but you managed it and he loved it. He was enjoying seeing this side to you.

You pushed him back with one hand on his chest so he'd lay back down. You weren't sure where to cut his dress shirt. You rolled your hips over his covered cock and you considered how to go about this. He moaned as he grasped your hips, squirming under you a little. He didn't think he'd be content to let his little pet play dominant with him but so far he was enjoying himself.

You tilted your head to the side and nodded, you knew how to do this. You lifted the hem of his dress shirt and slid the blade under it. Once you saw the knife peek out at his neck you playfully kept sliding upwards until the pointy blade was poking under his chin. He tilted his head a little, arching his neck as his almost black eyes bore into you.

You swiftly pulled the knife back down cutting through the threads holding the buttons which went flying everywhere. You were done teasing, you wanted the main event now. You quickly opened up his ruined shirt and licked at the skin of his chest, moaning. He groaned, very much enjoying the erotic show you were putting on for him.

You reached down hurriedly with your free hand to stroke his ridiculously hard cock, making a loud moan leave his lips as he arched up into your hand. You gave him some good relief before sliding off his lap and carefully, cutting through his boxers on each side. Vampire or not, you wanted to keep his balls very much away from the blade.

He was starting to feel delirious from how badly he needed you. The little friction you'd given him wasn't enough. He watched with rapt attention and his now red eyes as you cut at his boxers. There was something deeply alluring about the sight of you with his knife like this.

You yanked on his ruined boxers giggling. You loved just how much he let you try this freely, letting you lead and all. He smirked up at you, glad you were also enjoying yourself. His patience was starting to wane though, he wasn't sure how long he'd let you have you fun until he took over.

You moved back to straddle his lap, one hand caressing his chest. You leaned forward, your lips crashing on his as you kissed him hard. He kissed back hungrily with a groan, rubbing himself against you for some mild relief. His hands were everywhere at once as he touched anywhere he could get his hands on.

You pressed the sharp part of the blade down on his right pect and slid the knife quickly so you wouldn't chicken out of it. You stopped moving, the knife still in the air in your hand, waiting for his reaction. You were either gonna live or die.

He felt a wave of arousal and pleasure shoot right through him as he gasped and he looked up at you a little shocked. A wicked grin worked its way onto his face as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your face towards his roughly.

"Harder," he demanded, needing more.

You hissed as he pulled you toward him but you relaxed instantly when he spoke. You looked at his chest and wondered just how much harder he meant. You put the knife back to his chest and pushed down harder, hesitating.

"I'm not sure how much you can take, I don't wanna hu-" your sentence never finished itself as your eyes stared at the first cut. It was already completely healed. The only clue there was ever a cut there was the few drops of blood still there. Your eyebrows flew upwards as you stared down at him with amazement.

"Vampire, sweetheart. I heal fast," he grinned, red eyes boring into you intensely. The fact you didn't want to hurt him was amusing and adorable. The fact you thought you of all people could cause him harm was laughable.

You cut into him quick and sharp. It left a bigger cut than the previous one but as you stared at it, you could already see it healing over. You looked at his face and understood what harder meant. He gave you a dirty smirk as he raised a challenging brow at you, hands gripping your hips tightly.

Your free hand smeared the small amount of blood over his chest and you sucked your fingers clean. You moaned, enjoying the sweet taste of it. A part of your brain knew it was blood but it didn't taste like blood. You couldn't even start to comprehend what it tasted like. You just knew you loved it as you rubbed yourself over his cock, wishing you were naked too.

He saw how your pupils dilated and heard how your heart rate changed. You liked the taste of his blood and it would have left him breathless if he had a need to breathe. He was so hard he was aching for you and he moaned at the friction you were providing him with. His patience was really wearing thin and he grabbed the lingerie you were wearing and ripped it with ease, the sound of the material ripping filling the room. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

You gasped at how easily he tore through it and it shot a wild jolt of pleasure through you making you moan loudly. You rubbed your wet pussy over his cock and brought the knife down again. This time, you really cut through and blood spilled out of the wound.

An absolutely filthy moan left his lips as the mixture of pleasure and pain ripped through his body and brought all of his senses alive. He'd never found anyone willing to play so rough with him before.

"More," he growled, needing more of the feelings you were giving him.

You gave him a wicked smile. You've never seen him this needy before and it made you feel empowered. You moved your hips to finally take all of him inside you as you slid the knife down his ribs cutting him again. He gasped, back arching at feeling you so wet and tight around him.

His moans were music to your ears, it sent goosebumps all over your skin. You rode him hard, smearing his blood all over his own chest. You grinned at him as you leaned down to lick the blood running down all over him. He was an absolute mess, writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat under you. He didn't think he'd ever felt such euphoria before but it was overwhelming him. Seeing you licking up his blood had him precariously close to the edge of his release.

You moaned and made a bloody mess out of your lower face, not caring about staying clean as you licked and sucked the blood off him. It felt surreal, otherworldly, like every inch of your body was electrified. You rode him faster sitting up and running your messy hand all over your skin.

You were a vision with his blood painting your skin like this. A Goddess. He didn't think he'd seen a sight more beautiful than this before. His hands joined yours, taking in every inch of your skin and smearing his blood along your body as he went. He was still gasping and moaning, the pleasure running rampant through his body.

A wild thought crossed your mind and you bit your lower lip hard as the images flipped through your eyes. You stopped riding him and slid off his lap to lay down next to him.

"Come play with kitten," you invited him, legs wide open and a naughty grin, twirling the knife in your hand.

A growl rumbled deep in the back of his throat and he practically pounced on you, his lips devouring your blood tinged mouth as he pushed inside of you with a loud moan. Even though it was his own blood, he liked the way your tongue tasted with it. He was rutting into you like an animal, pure primal need taking over his body as the beast took over him.

You wrapped your legs around him, kissing him back with the same hunger.

"Have I been a good girl?" You chimed in playfully. You barely gave him time to answer, you were already cutting him down the middle of his chest. A guttural moan got ripped from him at the intense pain and pleasure.

It was messy and deeper than you predicted as his blood dripped down on your stomach and breasts. You tossed the knife next to you both and used both hands to smear every drop of it on both of you. He knelt up, still inside of you as he thrust into you hard and fast. You were covered in his blood and he watched you eagerly as you rubbed it all over your body.

You moaned, kneading your blood covered breasts as he looked down on you with need. He felt almost desperate for release, this whole thing the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced. He went at you harder, his hand sliding down your blood covered stomach to between your legs. He started rubbing frenzied circles around your clit with his bloodied fingers, his hips snapping to yours almost violently as his moans filled the room.

You gripped at the carpet hard, you back arching up as he furiously pleasured you. You felt like you were gonna explode in a thousand pieces, it just kept building up and up. You couldn't stop gasping and moaning so loud your throat hurt. You ran your bloodied hands in your hair and closed your fists in them. You looked at him before shutting your eyes tightly and came with such force your shoulders left the floor. You gasped for air between screams of pleasure echoing all around you.

It pushed him right over the edge, pure and raw pleasure tearing right through his body. He came hard with a loud moan, spilling himself inside of you. The wave of bliss washed over him and it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The intensity of the sex making it so much stronger than what he was used to. It was like he'd had a hit of heroin or something. His body suddenly felt like jello and he lay on top of you, careful not to put too much of his weight on you so he didn't crush you. He nuzzled your neck, practically purring as he let the feelings linger in his system.

You flopped back trying to catch your breath. You moved your hands to play in his hair and caress his cool skin.

"That was…" you panted under him. It had been such an intense experience you didn't have words for it. Your throat hurt from all the loud screaming and moaning, it made it hard to swallow.

He chuckled and placed a sweet kiss to your neck.

"It was," he murmured. He didn't think you had it in you if he was honest. It was way more than what he was used to with his many one nighters. He didn't think he'd ever felt this content before.

You laid there for a while enjoying the weight of his body as you played with his hair. Your brain was now thinking clearly, pass the primal and foggy haze of sex. You had stepped way beyond the line with him tonight and it made you wonder if he'd punish you even if he seemed to have loved it. You moved your head a bit and looked at him.

"I'll clean everything up before bed. I know you like to keep your home tidy," you said with a bit of a weak smile, blowing on the nearest lit candle. You didn't want to clean at all. You felt physically and mentally exhausted. The last thing you needed was to heave the carpet upstairs and clean the damn thing. You clearly didn't think the whole thing through.

He moved off you and ran a hand through his hair.

"Nah, leave it for now. Let's go get clean," he replied. He did like his home tidy but right then he couldn't care less. You'd been a very good girl and he thought he could at least give you the rest of the night off so you could sleep and recuperate. You were covered in his blood and while blood was nothing to him, you were human and he knew once your high wore off it'd be uncomfortable for you. He very much wanted a repeat of this sometime so he wanted to make sure it was a pleasant experience. Even after.

He stood up, taking your hand and helping you stand. After blowing out all of the candles so his house didn't burn down, he led you upstairs to the bathroom. He set to work getting towels ready and turning the shower on warm for you.

You were shivering so much your body jerked in spasms making you gasp sharply. You crossed your arms over your chest in hope to warm you up. You felt cold but it was an odd cold, it felt hollow somehow.

Billy glanced at you and frowned. He had a feeling you were feeling the drop after such intense sex and he needed to make sure you were okay so you didn't see this as a bad experience.

"C'mon," he murmured softly as he guided you into the shower.

You walked in the shower with a small hiss when the hot water hit your skin. You almost backed away but you knew better. You looked down to the blood tinged water running between your toes. Billy's blood. You knew it wasn't yours so why did your chest feel so hollow and painful. You frowned, annoyed with your reaction and knowing very well he'd be aware of your change of mood. You kept your head down and rubbed the dried blood on your arms with shaky hands.

Billy was keeping a close eye on you. Your heart rate, your scent. He could tell you were dropping and fast. He took your hands and moved them from your body, taking over as he gently started to wash his blood off you. He was feeling unusually calm and sated, the animalistic sex had soothed the beast inside of him so much he was sure it was asleep. He felt almost human, it would have been unsettling if he wasn't feeling so calm.

You looked at him through the corner of your eye and it made your chest hurt even more. His presence wasn't soothing like usual, it felt painful and sharp. It made you feel alone, like he was a foot away from you but it felt like he was miles away.

You were so quiet and seemed in your own head, it was a little worrying. He hoped he hadn't gone and broke you. This whole thing was your idea and it was amazing. He'd be pretty pissed if this was what pushed you over the edge after everything else he'd done to you.

"You're okay, kitten," he soothed softly as he cleaned you up, the blood washing down the drain.

Kitten. You loved his pet name for you so why did it make you cry?

"Excuse me, I-I'm not, I don't know what's happening. I don't feel good. Why am I feeling so…" you stammered frowning, having no idea if there was a word for what you felt. You had loved surprising him and it had been a really crazy experience you enjoyed a lot. You loved when he touched you, when he kissed you and smiled at you. He's been super kind to you this week so your reaction deeply confused you.

He heaved a deep sigh, gathering you in his arms as he cradled your head against his chest.

"It was intense, your body's just tryin' to handle it. You don't gotta worry, you'll be fine. I got you," he murmured, stroking your wet hair as he held you close to him. Maybe he felt a little bad. Just a little. You clearly weren't used to things like this and you'd done it for him. And he knew you'd enjoyed yourself while it was happening. Your little human body was just struggling to deal with it. He didn't like the guilt blooming in his chest. Billy Russo didn't do guilt. He needed it to stop and the only options he had were to snap your neck or comfort you. And since he quite liked having you around he decided to settle on the latter. He stroked your hair soothingly as he held you tight, nuzzling the top of your head as he tried to ease you through the shaking.

You melted into his embrace one hand around him to his lower back and the other resting on his arm. You closed your eyes, focused on the smell of his cool skin and took deep breaths. You loved how safe you felt in his arms, how it warmed up your chest and made your heart all fuzzy.

"Thank you for being patient with me. That's not how I pictured the end of the evening," you said sniffing a bit with a chuckle. He smiled to himself and placed a kiss to your head.

"You've been a very good girl. Just lemme take care of you now, alright?" He said softly, moving to look at you. You looked up at him and gave him a soft smile, nodding. You rested your head on his chest and sighed peacefully.

#billy russo #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfics #ben barnes #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #billy russo/reader

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poisindonottouch · 1 year

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Queer Reads: The Last Binding, by Freya Marske

We missed day 15 because I’m travelling (did you know 4 month olds don’t understand time zones? or appropriate bedtimes? Shocking, I know.) So, day 15 of queer books I recommend are these:

First off, these covers are fantastic. When I can afford my own victorian house the a turret, I’m going to find William Morris wallpaper and put it up in every room. Seriously. (google William Morris wallpaper, and you’ll see what I’m on about.)

This series is fantasy with a strong does of romance. The books all focus on a different couple, and the romantic arc is a large focus of the plot. The couple in the first book plays an off-the-screen role in the second book, but all three couples should be on page in book 3 (which comes out November 7th. I’ve marked my calendar.) Overall, the books focus on a magical conspiracy that threatens the safety of every magical person in England, for which people have been murdered. That’s not a spoiler. A Marvellous Light starts off with the murder of Robin’s predecessor.

A Marvellous Light features a mm romance and does a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of world building and how magic works in these books. The setting is Edwardian England, but with a secret magical underworld. Robin is a mundane guy thrown into a job he absolutely isn’t prepared for, while Edwin is his magical counterpart, who doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with Robin being new to the whole magic thing. The writing is great, the world building is fascinating, and the spice is hot (heavy romance, remember).

A Restless Truth leaves Edwin and Robin to their own pursuits and follows Maud, Robin’s sister, and Violet, a new character. They’re on a boat crossing the Atlantic on their way to England from New York. Think the first half of Titanic, except make is queer. And more murder. This book is ff, and also steamy. (like that scene in Titanic with the car, but make it queer.) This book also gives us the intro to the pairing of book 3.

I’m excited for A Power Unbound to come out, and will definitely reread the first two books before then.

#sandi reads #happy pride 🌈#queer books #A Marvellous Light #A Power Unbound #A Restless Truth #Freya Markse #The Last Binding

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thelonelywiz · 5 months

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THE POET VIRGIL.

“Death and grief, I find, is inherent to vampirism. I’ve seen many die young and old, naturally and unnaturally. It may not look it, but the beast follows me yet still.”

SYNOPSIS.

In a world where monsters and humans coexist, anything can happen. Especially in the brownstones of Brooklyn, New York City.

The famous vampire poet, Virgil, lives with his roommate, Bea, a werewolf and former rock star drummer of BLUDHOUNDS turned grade school teacher. With his very last chapbook in the works and an award ceremony to attend, Virgil has a speech to write. But when his literary agent and best friend (and Bea’s on and off girlfriend), Calypso is found dead, he and Bea are spun into the world of murder mysteries and conspiracy. The threat of succumbing to their monstrosity increases as tensions and risks run higher, and Virgil and Bea must learn to face their grief together despite their differences. With the help of Bea’s brother, Seven; a fairy from the Bronx, Juno; an unlikely ally, and an eager human barista, a team of monsters (and Aaron) is just what the five boroughs need to defeat The Hunters once and for all.

In this romantic comedy turned murder mystery, The Poet Virgil tells a story of death, love, and what it means to be seen as a monster.

NOTES.

Started: Feb 2022

Format: screenplay

Word/page count: 256 pages

Genre: urban fantasy

Themes: grief, justice, friendship, family, generational trauma, love, hope

Content warnings: transphobia, heavily implied child neglect, on-screen child death, domestic violence, on-screen violence, blood & gore

(the following character art was made using wervty’s picrew, the first two are commissioned art by @fesenmoon)

CHARACTERS.

Virgil (he/him): An introverted vampire poet born in 1888. He likes baked goods, all things gothic, and has a special interest in the arts; art history, piano music, and of course, poetry. Protagonist and foil to Bea.

Bea (they/them): The former drummer of the all-werewolf punk rock band BLUDHOUNDS, now they’re a grade school teacher. They are the oldest of 8 and have lots of issues because of it. Deuteragonist and Virgil’s roommate (and foil).

Calypso (she/her): A human who would do anything to protect her friends. Her death haunts the narrative. Virgil’s literary agent and friend, Bea’s on and off girlfriend.

Aaron (he/him): A human barista who’s flirty but so incredibly awkward. A mama’s boy through and through. Virgil’s love interest.

Seven (he/him): The former lead singer of the all-werewolf punk rock band BLUDHOUNDS, now a college dropout. Second oldest out of 8 but is pretty chill about it. Not dissimilar to Beastboy.

Juno (she/her): A nature fairy going to community college. Has a special interest in insects, specifically beetles. Hates being called cute, don’t call her cute.

Belladonna (she/they): A water nymph who does get paid enough for this, but it’s not worth it. Morally gray, knows her way around a silver bullet. Works for the enemy…or do they?

Orpheus (he/him): A human musician that’s too obnoxious for his own good. Has a weird obsession with monsters. How he hasn’t gotten himself killed is anyone’s guess.

Minerva (she/her): A half beast that’s been severely brainwashed. Very bloodthirsty and weirdly into her boss. Has killed and will kill again.

Pandora (she/her): A human woman who really hates monsters, like really hates them. Main antagonist, manipulative and uses eugenics to get her way. Used to be a cop…enough said.

FURTHERMORE…

Feel free to send me asks or prompts about this project! I did a lot of worldbuilding on this and I think about it a normal amount (lying)

Soundtrack: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1irfe7yT2sWBlh506wOJVF?si=iZ5NXL-xQ06fmmIvaven-w

Pinterest board: https://pin.it/1FzCle5

Main tags: #tpv

Taglist: @calenhads, comment or write in the tags if you want to be added to the taglist :D

#my writing #tpv #writeblr #writerblr #writers on tumblr #I’m v bad at writing character descriptions but I prommy they’re v cool #also i've tagged fensenmoon in sm posts across platforms skdkddkd i just rlly love the way he draws virgil gahhh /pos #his art goes very hard pls peep his art !!!!#also this was gonna be way prettier but I’m all about efficiency folks #sorry it looks so bland the 10 image limit on mobile got my ass #anyway enjoy and pls bother me about this I love screenplay more than anything #<3 #urban fantasy

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oveliagirlhaditright · 1 year

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"After a short time, they reached a fork in the path. Sora was wondering how to best make their way through the narrow corridors of the maze with so many people when Riku offered an idea:

'Looks like splitting into two groups might be our best option.'

'Yeah, I agree.'

Riku walked down one passage, while Mickey walked down the other. Aqua and Ventus followed the king, while Kairi and Axel joined Riku.

'Be careful, everyone,' called Kairi.

'Same to you,' Sora said back, then let out a deep breath." - Kingdom Hearts III novel 3: Remind Me Again, page 148. Based on the game by Tetsuya Nomura, novel written by Tomoco Kanemaki.

The last of my "let's see if I can adapt scenes that weren't in the games from the novels" attempts. At least for SoKai. And here's the KHIII one.

Maybe it's just me, but I felt like this moment was a little foreboding (which is what I was going for with the picture and Sora's face there). I mean, we all know what soon comes after this: Kairi's kidnapping and then murder at the hands of Xehanort:(

Edit: Oh! And my computer is pretty much broken right now, and making me see weird glitches on my screen. I don't think they're there in reality. But on the off-chance I'm wrong and some are actually there in this picture I made, please let me know so I can try and fix it. Thank you.

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regarding-stories · 1 year

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The Ever-Changing Story (Part 2a): Nobody can keep track of SAO anymore

This was too funny to pass over... So, I have a guilty pleasure. I love reading tvtropes.org because I love to see their take on what tropes are contained in media I consume, and while writing the previous article I started reading the character page for Asuna.

And today I found this gem:

"First Girl Wins: Asuna is the first of the many girls in Kirito's (virtual) life, and the only one to win his affections. While Sachi was possibly Kirito's first love, he actually met Asuna first." (from tvtropes.org)

If you know Sword Art Online (SAO) only from the anime series, this is true. If you accept Sword Art Online Progressive (SAOP) as taking place in the same continuity as the previous books, this is also true - at least if Progressive overrides things that were actually written before it. This is the magic of retcontinuity. A character's context is shifted but the character remains, changing the role they play in another character's life.

In Sword Art Online 1 - Aincrad the following things happen:

Kirito joins the guild Moonlit Black Cats, meets Sachi, then the guild gets wiped out, all including Sachi die. This is on floor 27 which at that time is close to the frontline.

If we take Asuna's word for it, she first noticed Kirito when she met him (on Floor 59), taking a nap. This starts her infatuation with him - it grows over the following weeks and months.

(There's a parallel between the two girls since both experience Kirito's presence as something that helps them sleep.)

If Sword Art Online 8 - Early and Late is your guide, Kirito was at least aware of who Asuna was, but then again supposedly anyone in Aincrad was at some point in time. But even then Asuna's rise to stardom must have been gradual and knowing "of someone" is not the same as "meeting them first."

But the makers of the anime felt that the gaps in the continuity of Aincrad were a bit too big, and so Kawahara gave them access to what became Aria of a Starless Night, the first part of Sword Art Online Progressive 1. Even SAO 8 predates SAOP 1 by full year.

So the "book chronology" is:

SAO 1

SAO 2

SAO 8

SAOP 1

All the later books shoehorn events into the timeline of Aincrad as a retcon:

SAO 2 adds Liz/Rika and Silica/Keiko as characters and adds a story of Kirito's dark days when he can't get over his guilt regarding the death of Sachi. Includes Sachi "sending" him a letter to the future.

SAO 8 adds the Safe Haven Incident, beefing up the early phase of Asuna and Kirito's history together with a joint murder investigation. Another story introduces us to events on the first day in Aincrad that almost got Kirito killed by another player.

SAOP 1 one pulls the meeting between Kirito and Asuna forward to within a month after the start of the game.

To add further to the confusion, only Aria of the Starless Night is included in the anime, but not The Reason for the Whiskers nor Rondo for a Fragile Blade (both contained in SAOP 1), so for viewers of the anime Kirito and Asuna teamed up for the first boss battle then went separate ways. (And Kirito left Asuna behind. Surely the actual, official end of Aria was written after the anime was already made. But in SAOP 1 Asuna turns around and leaves Kirito. He doesn't just wander off and leave her.)

But then for readers of SAOP 1 this lasts only for a few days of in-game continuity - covered in the interlude The Reason for the Whiskers. Then, in Rondo for a Fragile Blade Asuna pulls Kirito into her party again and never lets go. The series has now progressed into eight light novels and that hasn't changed.

What has changed in regards to Sachi is the order of events. It has been turned on its head.

The Off-Screen Girl

There is a character whose existence practically all happens off-screen - or when she's on-screen, she calls from the dead. Sachi.

If Sachi is Kirito's first love (which the anime heavily implies), then this has not been established in SAO 1 where we first hear of her. Kirito doesn't mention it. I have to admit, I have not finished the story in SAO 2 yet, so in this case I had to look it up. The events from the anime indeed seem to be taken from SAO 2 (according to a summary on the interwebs).

But that is already a story told from memory of another person, Kirito. Sachi reappears in SAO 22 when her emotional residue on the old Aincrad server calls for Asuna. Theosophists would be proud of that one - Sachi's emotional residue attracts Asuna's soul into a scene through a sort of out-of-body experience where she can convey a final message to Kirito, expanding on her first message from beyond the grave.

Sachi is a character of echoes, of reverberations. Her death makes waves. She goes on in a sort of half-digital, half-unexplained afterlife. She reaches out. Her love for Kirito finds a way to reach his soul.

We don't know if Sachi was Kirito's first love. But he loved her, and her death broke his heart. We also know that Sachi loved Kirito, and loved him enough to leave an emotional residue so strong, it creates an undeniable attraction in the digital world towards the spirit most suited for transmitting her message. Asuna loves Kirito, and so she becomes the conduit for Sachi's love to speak through her.

Sachi is one of the characters that unsettles me deeply. Her death in Aincrad is a hard thing for me to confront. Aincrad loves its drama, but it hides the cruelty of what actually happens behind the imagery of exploding into blue polygons. But with Sachi I can't help think back that this is a person that Akihiko Kayaba kills. An innocent, scared girl in the middle of her teenage years, lying in a hospital bed somewhere, having her brain fried by a burst of microwave radiation. She stands for all the Aincrad players that are slain, and if you look at it visually, slain in their sleep and utterly helpless.

In this sense Sword Art Online is more cruel than most any survival story to me. Some are more fair, more less. But whether it's Squid Game or Alice in Borderland, whether it seems a bit fair or an utter screw job, somehow these people fought with all they had against their fate. But SAO's villain kills teenagers, and in this case what feels to me like children. Sachi is the fearful child in all of us. Kirito wants to protect her also because we all would.

And any of the characters in SAO could have had the same fate, characters that we learn to love over the course of the series, like Silica/Keiko. People of a certain innocence and with lots of potential. That makes Sachi's story very hard to read for me. Sachi's power is that she doesn't make it. (Just like Yuuki Konno's story in Mother's Rosario is powerful because she dies.)

I love Asuna as a character, I love the whole Progressive series and want more books of it. But pulling her forward steals something from Sachi and detracts from her story. It creates a deeper rift than other aspects of this retcon.

Yes, Sachi's story will always be strong on its own merit. But by placing SAO Progressive in the same continuity as main series SAO, it takes away Sachi's role as the first girl to touch Kirito's heart. Now she is relegated to be a low point between two Asuna bookends.

Not particularly hopeful

The Hopeful Chant side story released before Ordinal Scale movie seals this. It's written as a top-down mid point between Progressive and the main series continuity. Mainly this story exists to "patch" Yuuna and Nautilus into the Aincrad continuity, but Kawahara used the opportunity to shine a quick light on Asuna and Kirito's relationship at the time the 40th floor was tackled.

According to this story, Asuna broke the party with Kirito at floor 25 to join the newly formed Knights of Blood, creating a continuity between the Progressive Asuna and the Asuna of the main series. But by floor 40 she is terribly conflicted and guilt-ridden about having abandoned Kirito (like she sees it). Even though this is pretty much in tune with what Kirito would hope she would do in the first place, it happens after four months of adventuring together in the early period of beating the game, thereby (top-down) establishing a timeline for as-of-yet unwritten Progressive volumes. (SAOP 8 has progressed as far as the 7th floor, so this leaves an 18 floor gap to the events supposedly ending the partnership between the two - and also that event is again only alluded to. It's unwritten as well.)

This changes the core of both Asuna and Sachi. Now Sachi becomes a filler in a gap Asuna left. There may be barely a month between dissolving the party and meeting the Moonlit Black Cats. But even worse for Asuna! Her inner life gets ripped out and rewritten.

Yes, patching in the 40th floor encounter between Kirito and Asuna seems to establish a mid point between "We were together all the time, then I left" and "I start chasing Kirito" for Asuna. But it changes all the inner stuff behind it. Originally Asuna came to Kirito only with her own baggage. She fell in love with him and decided gradually to act on her feelings, then basically "caught her man." But her inner motivations were simply those of an infatuated teenager. She was impressed with Kirito, and she realized that she was lacking love in her life, she learned to step out of her compulsive sense of duty to beat the game. She learned to love life. And nothing prevented her from acting on that impulse.

The Asuna Progressive leaves us with already has done all of that. And then she leaves. She makes a painful personal decision that might have hurt both of them, and thus puts her duty above her feelings for Kirito. Then she buries her feelings for Kirito under her guilt over her actions (the events of Hopeful Chant in regards to both of them). But then there is nothing connecting that Asuna with the Asuna that starts chasing Kirito. How does the Asuna of Hopeful Chant overcome her powerful guilt? How does she realize that she loves Kirito enough for other things to become secondary? How does she go back on her previous decisions? How does she decide to act?

The truth is that that Asuna would also need to be written. Hopeful Chant inserts an Asuna into the timeline that fits the retcontinuity of what happened before her but she does not connect to what comes after her. Instead of the thread flapping loose at floor 25 or at floor 7, it now hangs loose at floor 40. The story is still disjointed, the puzzle pieces do not match, but now the waters of character continuity have been muddled further.

Because it's "easy" (in relative terms only, of course) to break something up and to saddle a character with guilt and pain, but it's hard to get them out of that hole - especially if that character (Asuna) has a powerful sense of having done wrong by another person and no right to approach that person anymore.

And to make things perfect, that is another pulling forward of her character arc. That is the Asuna, internally, of the moment when Kirito kills Kuradeel. That Asuna of that moment wanted to leave Kirito alone because she felt she was incapable of protecting him, she was in her mind also endangering him. So she was about to give him a speech, out of her sense of duty, out of the pain she felt over almost losing him, that she will leave him alone. The Asuna of Hopeful Chant does that! She's an alternate reality Asuna that runs away from Kirito by failing to run after him. And Kirito is no shape to remedy that, either.

In other words, the events that happen later in original SAO continuity get pulled forward, the inner workings of the character are similar, but they lead to another outcome. Every time such a powerful retcon of the inner workings of a character happens, it just creates more character "plot holes" further down the line.

The reality is that SAO needs rewriting ever since SAO Progressive was introduced. By not making it an outright reboot, the timeline keeps fracturing under the paradoxa of retcontinuity. The makers of the Re:Aincrad manga seems to understand that almost better than Kawahara - the naming is telling in terms of what they think Progressive is. SAOP is not the telling of how SAO was beaten, floor by floor. It's a retelling of how Aincrad was beaten. And as long as it is not considered its own parallel timeline, it will keep pulling characters apart and forward in its wake.

#asuna yuuki #asuna #sao #sword art online #sword art online progressive #retcon #retcontinuity #sachi #reboot #soft reboot

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not-close-to-straight · 1 year

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Your thoughts about Billy made me so emotional. I agree 100%. I've seen people say that Billy was written to be racist and irredeemable and therefore he is irredeemable and anyone who sees or writes him otherwise is fundamentally wrong and must agree with all the wrongs he's done.

But writers' intent is only the beginning. When a character comes to life, they grow beyond what's just on the page. We're shown that Billy is capable of growth. We're just only given seconds to see that.

When people say he's not capable of redemption, I feel like they're saying all the people who saw some part of themselves in him also aren't capable of positive change.

Your nature vs nurture nearly made me cry.

As someone who's been part of fandoms with very intense villains, I have to say, it is BAFFLING to me to be part of ST and have the child antagonist be treated so badly while almost every other villain in all the other fandoms is almost treated...neutral... or even obsessed over in a "lets do everything to redeem him" sort of way.

For example? Loki. Loki is a full blown villain who ALSO came from a shitty childhood and iffy family life, who acted out in terrible ways and in the Thor movies was 110% ready to commit genocide just for his father's approval. In the Avengers (2012) movie it's pretty well accepted that he was actually being mind controlled but he didn't do a single redeeming thing even after Thor broke him out of the mind control, instead he said "it's too late" and watched the destruction unfold.

BUT we love Loki. I LOVE loki. I've written hundreds of thousands of words about him. He's petty and selfish and always looks out for number 1 until literally the last second in Ragnarok and IW but ever since Thor 1, people have been trying to redeem him.

So. Mass murdering genocidal god figure with dreams of glory and no problem manipulating everyone around him for his own sake, directly caused the death of his mom, sort of directly caused the death of his dad, stole the tessaract again and brought Thanos to the ship which directly caused the death of most of the asgardians and kick started the next wave of Thanos sponsored terror-- 100% redeemable.

But a kid who goes through on screen abuse, is on screen preyed on by grown women, is on screen told that the actions of his step sister are directly his responsibility (with the off screen implication that he'd be punished for her issues) is on screen possessed and forced to do awful things, on screen screaming crying begging for help, on screen apologizing and sacrificing himself for a little girl he honestly doesn't even know-- 100% a lost cause.

The math ain't mathing.

And the racism thing-- I've seen so many people "well he's racist" as if that makes him a terrible person all the way around. But here's the thing.

I'm a WOC who was adopted into an all white, law enforcement heavy family. I experienced racism every damn day of my life, in microaggressions from other family members, in more blatant shows from the church and school I went to where I was one of maybe three non white kids in my highschool, in "jokes" about how they coudln't see me if I was sitting in a dark room, I got told "stop acting so black" every time I got angry and "why do you act so white" when they thought I was being a snob, if I raised my voice I sounded "ghetto" if I wore Black-marketed labels (like... Baby Phat??) I was dressing "trashy" I wanted braids in my hair and was told "just brush your hair so it won't be nappy"

I am a WOC and heard that shit my entire life and when I moved out at 18, it took me AGES to uncover and recognize and REMOVE those harmful thoughts from my process.

I didn't think those things by myself, I was told them constantly in a thousand different ways, my entire life. Racism is LEARNED. Racism is TAUGHT.

We see ON SCREEN Neil pushing Billy around and forcing him to parrot back words/phrases that Neil demands he says and believes. We see ON SCREEN Billy telling Max that "you learn" to stay away from some people.

Who do you think taught Billy to LEARN that POC weren't the sort of people to be around? And how do you think that lesson was enforced?

I'm rambling again (big personal thoughts about billy ughhhhh) but my point is--

Treating Billy like he's irredeemable at literally barely 18 is ridiculous not just because of the clear double standard for way worse villains in the same show (brenner literally tortured children for science!) but because everything Awful about Billy is clearly shown to be a direct result of his Dad.

And the side of the fandom that boils it down to "well he's racist!" shows an actually astounding lack of social awareness, media literacy and any sort of maturity and understanding about just how damaging it can be to grow up in that ^^ sort of circumstance.

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thebookbin · 7 months

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Wolfsong

TJ Klune

Publisher: Tor (Macmillan) Genre: fantasy, LGBT, romance Year: 2016

So I stayed up until 2am finishing a book, so what? It's been a while since I've done that. I feel like that's what this book does-it's nostalgia and tropes wrapped up in one angst-filled wild ride. You can definitely tell Klune wrote this more at the start of his career, because it feels a little like something someone wrote in creative writing class. I say this because of the sheer angst. About 75% of this novel is just pure angst. It actually bothered that so little time and consideration was left to the post-angst consequences and comfort. The book only has 1 chapter of reconciliation after the very angsty and dramatic climax, and it is not enough time to come to terms emotionally with everything that happened. Gordo, Ox's brother-father figure doesn't even have any screen time in this last chapter to process anything and I feel cheated.

The pacing is off in other places, too. I don't understand why this book starts where it does. It starts on Ox's 16th birthday when he gets new neighbors and their 10 year old son latches onto him. The pace is slow and meandering as Ox integrates into their family, discovers tragic backstory, and his haunted by his own. The blurb mentions a tragic murder. It doesn't happen until about the 50% mark. From there, the love interest, Joe, splits off and they are separated. It's giving the New Moon depression montage. It's not until about 75% of the way through when Joe returns that feels like the true heart of the novel. I think a lot should have been trimmed on the front-end and more meat in the back end. While Ox growing up and learning to find his family is touching, I don't think it merited quite so much page-space, especially if the conflict resolution in the last half.

Also surprising: the sex scenes. I wasn't expecting them, I don't often read smut, but I found I really enjoyed these. I realized I could really feel the difference when a gay man was writing the scene--I feel as if most of the smut I do read is written by women. You could really tell a man who loves men wrote this.

I have very conflicting feeling about the age gap. 6 years isn't that much in the grand scheme of things, but they met when Ox was 16 and Joe was 10. Yes, there's weird wolf-magic that makes them like Chosen that Ox doesn't understand, but all the wolves do. It was very much You nicknamed my daughter after the Loch Ness monster?! IDK for me it's when you meet. If I meet someone as a child they're forever a child to me. There's a point when Ox starts dating as a young teen and Joe gets jealous. The literal child?? Why did the book start here? Or at least why did it spend so much time on their childhood? This confuses me.

Also, I can definitely tell a younger person wrote this, because when Joe is 17, he decides he has to leave for angst reasons and doesn't return until 3 years later. For those 3 years the split off members were living rough, hiding and hunting in the backcountry. And literally all I could think was "Joe does not even have a high school degree, he never finished high school, how is he supposed to be 'leading a pack' or doing angsty whatever when he probably doesn't even know how to calculate a hypotenuse?" When you're young you're like "yeah this feels great for the story" but when you get a bit older it's like "where are your parents, it is past your bedtime."

But there are so many things about the book I loved. Ox is disabled. A lot of his trauma comes from his deadbeat father calling him "slow" and "stupid" and telling him nobody could love him before he dips. I took a special joy in watching him become a cherished member of the Bennet family and grow into himself as a leader. The writing style captures Ox's unique voice and speech patterns so extremely well. There weren't a lot of female characters, but when there were, they were awesome. I really liked Jessie. The found family vibes (in between the overwhelming angst) were top notch. There were no weird heteronormative expectations on the MM couple (none of this top/bottom nonsense) and when it comes to fantasy relationships, it was an alpha/alpha relationship which is a subversion of a lot of omegaverse tropes (thank you tumblr, for allowing me to know this).

Overall, a very fun and nostalgic read that feels like a response to the Twilight era, but gayer. The angst and drama and fun sex scenes really took me back to high school, which is why I found myself up until 2am finishing this book, just like I did back then.

storygraph | bookshop.org | local houston

★★★ gay werewolf knockoff Twilight stars

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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Hello. Ok so I saw your recent garcy posts and had an idea. If you’re not down for writing more of them/just not feeling it THATS OK!!!! Do whatever you please and know that there is never any pressure💖

Ok SO: Carol is alive and she/Rittenhouse find out where the team is (past or present idk 🤣) The team knows they practically have no chance but they’re going to fight anyway. HOWEVER Carol reaches out saying that she/rittenhouse will spare the team if they turn over Lucy >;) the team is obviously HORRIFIED by this and flat out refuse. Lucy decides to sneak away and surrender herself to save her team. Enter flynn who discovers her plan and has to stop her. Of course he feels terrible about retaining her because of their history 😇

Ok thanks for listening!!! Have a good day🥰

The bunker is quieter than Lucy has ever heard it.

She stares blankly at the wall, her face still throbbing, her body suffused with a bone-deep ache that she can't imagine ever going away. Even that, however, is nothing compared to the black hole in her chest, the gaping maw that will open up and swallow her whole if she lets herself slip for a single instant. The nightmare of Chinatown keeps replaying on a vivid loop, over and over. Her mother whispering that she wished she had raised Lucy in Rittenhouse from the start, her idea of a last blessing. The world blowing apart, the way Lucy would have murdered Emma herself in that alley if Flynn hadn't found her. And the worst, the most unbearable, unendurable. Rufus. Rufus. Rufus.

Lucy leans forward, putting her head in her hands. She doesn't know where the others are. In a piece of exceptionally bad timing, Wyatt decided to tell her that he loved her, and she didn't know what to say back. Turning back to desperately clutch at her after Jessica vanished, or thinking it would comfort her, or... Lucy doesn't know, and she can't spare the emotional energy to riddle it out. Jiya is crying herself to sleep, plucked back from three years in Gold Rush San Francisco only to wake into another nightmare. Maybe they should have left her there; it seems like it would have been kinder for all of them. Mason is trying to comfort her, no doubt, even as he is reeling over Rufus like the rest of them. Denise is doubtless burying herself in work as a coping mechanism. And Flynn --

Once again, Lucy's train of thought breaks off, won't resolve clearly, doesn't make sense. Back in 1888, he was going to say something to her in the shed before Wyatt burst in, she's sure of it. But he's been shot too and went through just as much of a wringer, and she doesn't know if she can face him right now. If nothing else, he will take one look at her and know exactly how much of a wreck she is, and Lucy is desperate to maintain a few illusions. Even that, or --

Just then, a steady beeping catches her attention, and she jerks up to see a light flashing on the Lifeboat's control console. For an insane moment she thinks that it's Rufus, paging them to come back and pick him up since he can't understand why they left him behind. But when Lucy turns her chair around and wheels over to the screen, she sees that the encrypted message has her name on it, in block capitals. LUCY.

Moving as slowly and dully as if through mud, she clicks on it, opening up a brief block of text. It is short and almost brutally to the point.

Princess --

I'd like to finish what we started. I'm sure you do too.

Give yourself up to me, and I'll bring Rufus back to life. Yes, I know how to do it. I know much more than any of these other idiots. Such a pity you didn't understand that sooner.

If you don't answer and don't turn up, I'll blow the bunker. My new best friend Jess made sure to tell me where it is.

Lots of love,

Emma.

Lucy stares at it until her eyes cross, until she is shaking from head to toe with rage that scalds like poison. She wants to put her fist through the console; wants to tear everything apart and leave nothing standing, a fury that frightens her with its need and its potency and its utter plausibility; she could, and seeing it so clearly terrifies her. She pushes her chair back with a jerk, staggering to her feet. She has enough of her wits remaining to know that she's obviously being baited, forced into making a reckless, emotional decision just like this, but she's so angry that she almost doesn't care. If Emma still thinks she can toy with Lucy like this, with this sneering mockery and disrespect, after Lucy very nearly did kill her not even three hours ago and a hundred and thirty years away --

Maybe the part about Jessica revealing the location of the bunker is a bluff, but maybe, and more likely, it isn't, whether or not Jessica actually wanted to do it. Not even to mention the rest of it -- bring Rufus back to life. It's a lie, it's obviously a lie, Emma will say anything to provoke Lucy into a response, but it likewise has a poisonous ring of truth. Emma knows more about Rittenhouse, about time travel, than anyone, and yet she's used it in the service of this. If Lucy could seize her, overpower her, force her to cough it up --

She feels like she's in a fever dream, hot and giddy and delirious, seeing everything with the clarity of madness. Now, it has to be now. If she's going to slip out the back while everyone is paralyzed with grief over Rufus, maybe bring him back as if he was never gone, then she has to be quick. And so Lucy turns around, runs directly into a man who, despite being the largest resident of the bunker, has managed to come up silently behind her, and almost screams.

"What are you doing?" she hisses at Flynn, who is standing there in his burgundy sweater with his wounded arm in a sling, looking at her as if she's the one who has lost her mind. "Get out of my way!"

Flynn doesn't budge. The silence crackles. Then he reaches out with his good hand and very lightly touches her chin, tilting her head back to look at him. "Lucy," he says hoarsely. "What's wrong?"

Lucy almost snaps that it's none of his business, but he's still the only person in the bunker that she wants to talk to on a regular basis, and he did hold her in the alley while she sobbed, cradled her to his chest like she was the most rare and precious thing in any timeline. Besides, Flynn is obviously useful in the killing-people department, even if he's not at his best, and she has a feeling that he'd have no objection at all to following her around. Still, her pride won't quite bend, won't crack, fears (entirely reasonably) that he might object to this very stupid idea and attempt to stop her. "I just need to.... do something," she says, trying to dodge around him, which has all the effect of a tugboat versus the Titanic. "By... by myself."

Flynn continues to look at her without a word. Then he lets go, steps past her, and looks at the screen, where Emma's taunting message still glows, before Lucy can stop him. He reads it with a single sweep of his eyes, then turns back to her. Very simply, he says, "No."

"You can't tell me what to do," Lucy spits, heartbroken and furious, determined to make him rile, to shout back at her, to do something. "You're the one who's done so many stupid things trying to stop Rittenhouse! Isn't it my turn?!"

"Maybe." Flynn's voice remains quiet, gravely. "That doesn't mean you should."

"Rufus," Lucy says, clinging to it like a lifeline, the self-evident reason why she has to do this. "She said that she would bring back Rufus."

"And you actually think she would?" Flynn sounds utterly disbelieving. "That Emma Whitmore would do anything to help her enemies get back the one man they need the most? She won't, Lucy. She won't. She'll just take you and destroy you too, and I can't -- "

Again, infuriatingly, he catches himself. He swallows visibly, throat moving, and looks away. Then he finishes, "We can't do this without you either. Not even possible. Besides, we're dead on our feet."

"She said..." Lucy feels like she's sinking in quicksand, the darkness closing over her head, and she reaches out for the only solid thing she can find -- which, of course, is Flynn. He goes rigid from head to toe when she grabs his good arm, but he doesn't move away. "The bunker. She'll come here. She'll destroy it. She'll kill us all."

Flynn laughs, grim as winter. "I would love to see her try."

Silence, another instant. Lucy wants to end this conversation and storm out, but then she would have to let go of Flynn, and she isn't sure that she remembers how to stand up. He gazes down at her with the softest look she has ever seen from any living creature, and she feels it to the back of her spine. Once again, his hand lifts as if to touch her cheek, then falls. "We will get Rufus back," he promises her. "And we will do it the right way. Not with Emma. Now you need to sleep, Lucy. You need to rest."

"No," Lucy murmurs, already tilting forward. "No, I won't."

She's dimly aware that she's losing her footing, that her surge of rage-fueled madness is draining out of her and leaving only endless cold, and Flynn swoops in and catches her with only a small grunt of effort. Then he lifts her up, carries her down the hall, and kicks open the door to her room, setting her down on her bunk. Lucy reaches out for his hand, trying to grasp it, trying to get him to stay, terrified that he too will be gone when she awakes, but she is asleep before she can even properly close her eyes.

#anonymous #ask #lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #(modified your prompt slightly hope you don't mind)#fic prompts

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love-kurdt · 1 year

Text

Straight Through the Heart: I

Word Count: 1,263

Warnings: Mentions of death (canon), internalized homophobia

A/N: Title is based on the absolute banger by Dio. I’ll be doing a tag list if anyone is interested!

The phone rang, but he didn’t get off of the couch to answer it. He was too busy trying to read a book. He’d made the mistake of purchasing a mass market copy, so the pages were small and the font was even smaller. He was about ten pages in and his head was already spinning, but he’d be damned if he didn’t find out what the fuck… murder? Murdor? Whatever the hell it was. He let the phone go to the answering machine.

“Hey Steve, it’s Dustin, hope you’re doing well. Uh, listen man, we’re worried about you. You haven’t left your house in weeks and, um, I just want to know if you’re safe. Give me a call back when you get this.”

He could admit that he wasn’t the best to be around ever since what happened in March. He was angry all the time. He began snapping at his friends when they would try to distract him from the depression that was slowly but surely infiltrating every cell in his body, until he would inevitably become a shell of the person he once was. That’s how he knew shit was hitting the fan; everyone had gone from being mad at him to concerned for his well being.

The kids had been extra kind recently. This was probably the first time in a long time that he hadn’t been teased by Dustin for merely existing. Lucas and Erica brought food over to Steve’s house weekly since his parents still hadn’t returned to Hawkins. Jonathan and Will had come over with some Purple Palm Tree Delight and the three guys had a deep conversation about mortality whilst sitting atop the kitchen island. Mike called once, probably forced by Nancy, but still. He appreciated the sentiment. El had even taken it upon herself to go into Steve’s mind and help him relive a few positive memories from his life and temporarily escape his mental prison.

But there came a point when everything got to be too much. The tiptoeing around him, the food, the weed, the heart to hearts, the phone calls, the fucking telepathy, or whatever. Every second Steve was breathing was a reminder that Eddie wasn’t.

—

The final straw for him was when he and Robin had planned to have a Star Wars movie marathon. When he saw Anakin pulling himself across hot coals after getting burnt to a crisp, he suddenly couldn’t breathe. All he could see, despite the comforting blankets over his legs and the flashing screen in front of him, was Eddie’s bloody torso and glazed over eyes. He didn’t even realize he had been crying until Robin pointed it out.

“I can’t unsee it, Robs, I… fuck, it’s so fresh in my memory,” Steve whispered, unsure if Robin could even hear him. “Even though it’s been almost eight months since Eddie died, it feels like it happened hours ago.”

Robin nodded, “I know, I honestly still can’t believe it. He was a good friend. And you two seemed to surprisingly get along really well.” She glanced up at Steve’s teary eyes, then down at his hands, which were fidgeting with one of Eddie’s rings that he had worn on his left hand ever since. “Hey Steve?” she asked.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning his attention away from the movie and toward his best friend.

“Remember our talk in the bathroom last year?”

“Yeah…” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, “why?”

“It’s okay if you like Tammy Thompson.”

“Uh, I don’t, but… okay,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair and leaning back against the couch cushions. What was she even talking about?

“Steve.” He snapped out of his thoughts. Robin’s expression had turned into one he could only recognize as the one that she had when he’d said that Tammy was a girl. “I mean… it’s okay if you found your own Tammy Thompson. In Eddie. You guys had a connection that I’ve only seen a few times in my life.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he swiftly backed away from Robin. “I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he said, his voice rough, “but I– I’m not a fucking f… I’m not gay! We just… talked!” As soon as Steve said it, he felt his entire body go cold, and watched Robin stiffen and recoil in shock. He could fix this. He had to, damnit. “Fuck, Robin, I didn’t mean that, I’m so sorry…”

“That was a real King Steve move, you asshole,” Robin told him, getting up from the couch and walking towards the front door. “Come to me when you’ve got your shit sorted out. I’m going home.”

—

Steve was living a lie. It was an Eddie-Munson-shaped lie that burnt a hole straight through his heart. A lie that manifested itself in Steve’s dreams, or rather memories of sneaking onto the top of the stolen RV, not sleeping on account of Vecna plus the manhunt going on in Hawkins, listening to Eddie practice on his Sweetheart for the upcoming ambush in the Upside Down, and stargazing before sharing their first kiss under the full moon. It was all real, but at the same time it was all gone, and that was what terrified Steve the most.

He turned to the next page of Fellowship of the Ring, having completely lost track of his place. This happened quite often; he would start to read, then a phrase or word would remind him of something in his life, then he would trail off into his own world but his eyes would keep reading. He’d snap back to reality and his eyes would refocus but within the time he had spaced out, he’d subconsciously turned two pages and would have to backtrack.

That was kind of a giant metaphor for his life. Everything had happened so quickly, and now he felt so lost. Their relationship had ended as quickly as it had begun. He put the book down, bringing a hand up to his face to pinch the space in between his eyes, relieving the impending migraine forming. Fucking Mordor. Steve placed the book facedown on the coffee table, groaning as he sat up and stretched. He stood and felt himself getting a little bit lightheaded, probably because he hadn’t eaten anything in more than twenty four hours amidst his quest through Middle Earth.

He walked to the kitchen, grabbing a banana and a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, he dwelled in the uncomfortable silence of his house. Steve had himself completely convinced that he was destined to be alone. His parents didn’t love him, yet he found himself emulating traits of his bigoted father. Nancy dumped him and called their love “bullshit.” So many failed dates happened with so many girls while working at Family Video. And the one time he found someone who loved him for who he was, who didn’t call him stupid or refer to him as an idiot, respected him, had parental instincts with the kids, and whom he loved in return… Well, he had died only a few days after they first met. It wasn’t fair.

Steve felt himself spiraling into his thoughts again. He thought of Robin, and how he could possibly attempt to make things right with her. He thought of the kids, whom he was supposed to be taking care of– not the other way around. He thought of Eddie and fiddled with the ring on his finger. Out of nowhere, Steve was startled by the bellowing sound of heavy metal drums blasting from his bedroom.

Oh hell no.

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