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taintandviolent · 7 months ago

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bend without breaking ; Jimmy Darling x reader

summary and word count: 4.4K! requested by @sugarr-and-spicee. you get jealous of Maggie Esmeralda, and decide to give Jimmy a taste of his own medicine. Angst, smut and a little fluff ensues.

w a r n i n g s: contortionist!reader, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, angst, jealousy themes, rough sex, alcohol mention, clunky writing, uhhhhhhhh Jimmy being real handsy and kinda' manhandling reader a bit. maggie esmeralda hate.

a/n: written partially at work, so if it's clunky or disjointed I apologize!! divder by cafekitsune!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here!

It's not like you owned him or anything. It's not even like he really even cared about you outside of the scope of the general, amiable 'member of the troupe' kind of relationship. Now, of age, he flirted with you casually, like he did all the girls, but you, as delusional as it may have been, thought you had something special – because boy, oh boy, did you care about him. You were obsessed with Jimmy Darling, in all ways possible.

You'd grown up alongside him, from the age of sixteen when you got kicked out for a plethora of reasons, and ran away to the traveling freak show that was opportunely in town. It had taken the owner, Elsa Mars, almost all day to be convinced, but when you bent over backwards, putting your head through your legs and pleaded with her upside down, a sly smile spread across her thin, aging lips.

You thought that Jimmy might’ve fancied you – that was until Maggie came along. The liar. The fraud. The insolent little brat that she was. She’d taken a liking to Jimmy, and seemed to snatch up every second he was alone – something that you used to do. He had fallen for her fortune teller act, but you certainly hadn’t. Your aunt had been a fortune teller and had possessed a true and genuine gift. This broad did nothing but spin silly little tales about misfortune and good luck, generic things that any person could identify with.

You’d decided to test the waters one hot summer afternoon. It was before the show, and Jimmy was preoccupied setting up the cash box. With your skirt in your hand, swishing it back and forth, you strolled up to him feeling as giddy as ever. It was rare that you didn’t feel bubbly when you were around him – he had that effect on you. Before you spoke, you took in his appearance; a sheen of glistening sweat covered his bare, tanned shoulders, his caramel-coloured locks hung in a cluster on his forehead, and his dark, brown eyes swept over the cash as he counted it, arranging the tickets neatly next to the box.

“Hey Jimmy,” you cooed. “Need any help?”

Without looking up, he replied: “Nah, doll. I’m just about finished.”

“Well, maybe I could help you with whatever you’re doing next…”

“If I need ya’, I’ll find ya, sweetheart.”

“Or you could find Maggie.”

“She’s in her trailer.”

Your heart quivered and sunk, cracking like a delicate porcelain vase. He already knew; he’d already found her.

“Of course she is, and of course you’d know that.”

He grinned crookedly, exhaled out of his nose and shut the cash box, turning the key. He looked at you then, with a pointed gaze. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean? Huh?”

Your brows rose high on your head, feigning innocence. He, of course, with all his charm and wit, saw right through it. You didn’t care. “Oh, nothing , Jimmy. Nothing at all.”

“Sure, dollface, sure. You wouldn’t be jealous, now would ya?”

“Of her? I’d be more jealous of a drowned rat in a sewer than I would be of Maggie.”

With that, you stomped off, your steps crunching the tall grasses that covered the field you called home for this month. Your heart was pounding, your cheeks had flushed. Feeling like a fool, you marched right to your trailer, taking great care to slam the door as hard as you could.

You spun around, facing the door as thought he was behind it. “How dare he think I’m jealous of her ! That horrible woman, and he thinks – oooooh! ” You clenched your fists, shaking them at the door.

It had taken you two hours to calm down. Two hours of pacing your small bedroom, fussing with your appearance and reading a magazine you’d picked up in town last week. It also took you two hours to come up with what you thought was the revenge plan of the century.

An hour later, you found yourself at the local diner, schmoozing with a cute young man in his early twenties. You’d batted your fluffy lashes and pouted your lips and with hardly a few words, you had him wrapped around your manicured finger. He’d bought you a milkshake, which you were nursing, taking small sips in between answers.

“You’re sure you won’t run out of this diner screaming?”

“No - no. I promise I won’t.”

“I’m a travelling performer… I’m only here for a few more weeks. I work at the Freak Show in the field down the road.”

“What do you do?” He asked, cautiously, looking you over your body with a suddenly very critical eye. To most, you looked normal . Sure, you were a little longer and lithe than some girls your age, but you didn’t fit the bill of a freak. That was until you bent and contorted your body into the most mystifying, inappropriate positions that they had ever seen a woman in.

“I’m a…” you leaned in, dipping your chin to your chest, keeping your gaze sternly locked on his. “A… contortionist.”

“A what?”

Oh, what a dumb bunny . He was cute, you’d give him that; his pretty, sea-blue eyes, pink lips and dirty blonde hair that had been perfectly styled. The clincher was that he had two very nice hands – strong, and veiny. The truth of the matter was that you preferred Jimmy Darling’s hands – but he didn’t need to know that. To him, this would be a threat, and if everything went according to plan, Jimmy would be red with anger, furiously jealous and looking as though he must bust a vein.

“I’m flexible. Very flexible.”

His eyes lit up. It was a predictable response, and one you’d seen before. Men were grotesque, they liked the idea of bending a woman into unique positions like a jointed doll, just to see her body in a fresh, new way. They liked the thought of fucking you while you were bent over backwards, folded up neatly.

The waitress brought your food; you’d only ordered a side of fries, which you dipped into the remainder of your shake. A habit that you’d learned from Amazon Eve – it was easily the most delicious combo you’d ever tasted. As you two ate, the conversation drifted naturally. You laid on the charm heavy. Every other response contained a compliment, telling him how handsome he was, how you’d never seen a boy as cute, so on and so forth. He fell for it hook, line and sinker. And you.

Afterwards, he paid and held the door open for you. As any gentleman should, he wasn’t earning any points with you. Only one man could…

“Can I come see your show?” He asked, playing idly with your fingers.

You reached over and yanked one of the flyers from the nearby telephone pole, folded it in fours, and pressed your lips to the paper, leaving a crimson mark. You tucked it in the man’s shirt pocket.

“See you tonight. Tell ‘em that I sent you. Front row seats.”

He stammered out an agreement, looking flustered. With a wink, you were sauntering back down the sidewalk. The great big sun, orange and warm, was making its heavy, tired descent back into the horizon, and you quickened your pace. The last thing you needed was Elsa being upset at your disappearance.

As you made your way back to the field, you hummed the song that was playing in the diner and skipped. There was something to be said about the butterflies in your stomach, though you couldn’t discern whether or not they were for the fact that you were going to see that man in the audience. You suspected not. Jimmy Darling would be jealous and that was the thought that sent you.

Later that night, as the calliope played, your hands glided up over the curves of your thighs, and over your sides, gracefully, like a burlesque performer teasing a reveal. With one movement, you brought your leg up to your head, pulling it tight. A few oooh’s and chortling chuckles from men in the audience dotted the room. With floaty, delicate movements, you slid down into the splits, never losing your bright smile in the process. More pleased reactions and some applause. You crossed the stage in backbends, working the crowd as they cheered for you.

At the final backbend, you sunk to your stomach, laying on the floor. You were just nearly at the edge of the stage, and directly in front of you was your diner boy. His eyes were locked on you, enchanted, enrapt and obsessed like a dog staring at a fresh cut of sirloin. With a come-hither smile, you reached out and swept your hand along his jawline before tapping his chin with a single finger. You sucked in a deep breath and brought your legs forward, curving your spine around until your feet were planted on either side of your face.

The crowd gasped in horror, and little girls shielded their eyes, expecting to hear the dull crack of your spine as it snapped in two. But Diner Boy was fascinated, and still staring at you. He was looking at your body, the unnatural curve of it, and the way that you’d brought your cunt somehow closer to his face. As the seconds passed, he looked more and more like a dog to you, hungry and slobbering.

You smiled, scanning the crowd again. Your eyes drifted to the corner of the stage, where Jimmy stood against one of the support poles, arms crossed. At least, despite Maggie, he’d retained his habit of watching every performance you did – though this one, he didn’t look as delighted with. You could tell by the way the corners of his mouth were pointed down in an angry frown, his eyes narrowing at the little things you did to entice Diner Boy. You grinned at Jimmy, acknowledging him and tapped the toes of your shoes childishly against the stage before unfolding your body again.

The rest of your show finished without a hitch, and Diner Boy played his part very well. He took in every moment, and at one point, when you reached your hand out to him, he interlaced his fingers with yours. A nice touch. When you looked back to where Jimmy was, he was gone. You smiled inwardly, prideful and gratified by the way your devious little plan had gone.

As soon as you went off-stage, Jimmy grabbed you by your arm, gripping your bicep hard. Almost too hard. You winced. “What was that about?”

“What? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Casually, you yanked your arm from his grip and began to polish your nails on the fabric of your shirt.

“Cut it out! You know what. Who was the guy in the audience? You sure were payin’ him a lot of attention.”

His words, though loud, were a little slurred, his breath smelled of alcohol; you could tell that he'd taken a few gulps of liquid confidence before approaching you. You didn't mind; your father used to say that the truth came out with booze. You hoped that would remain true with Jimmy and he'd spill his guts to you.

“Just someone I met at the diner, Jimmy. Why are you getting so heated over him? You flirt with girls in the audience all the time.”

“It’s part of the act, doll! You know I have to act a certain way, I can’t –”

“Can’t what? Stand to love me?”

Jimmy stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging slack. His chest rose and fell with hot, angry breaths.

"Just because I can bend without breaking doesn't mean my heart can, Jimmy."

“Dollface, wait.”

“No.”

You pushed yourself through the flaps of the tent, storming off towards your trailer. Jimmy followed close behind, calling your name.

“Doll, c’mon, hang on a minute!”

“No, Jimmy. Maybe Maggie can hang on a minute .”

“Hey!” He bellowed, catching your arm again. You pressed your back against your trailer’s door, again, yanking it away from him and crossing them tightly across your chest. Your heart thudded against your ribs, deeply delighted at the fact that he was chasing you, pursuing you with an overbearing jealousy.

“What.”

“Can we just…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “...talk about this a second?”

“Sure.” You snapped.

Jimmy’s black coffee eyes scanned over you, searching your face for some semblance of softness. He found nothing but a tightly pressed line of lips and a cold gaze.

“What’s your problem, huh? I can’t flirt with other guys?” you finally asked, your stern voice shattering the awkward silence.

He shook his head, almost sheepishly. “I don’t like seein’ it. I know they don’t care about you.”

“And you do?”

Jimmy swallowed again, forcing the lump in his throat down. For the past several years, you’d been a constant in his life, by his side, and taking all his showman flirtations in stride. You’d never once fired back at him, and he thought that it was because you could care less about what he did or who he flirted with. Against the voices in his head, Jimmy pacified the anger in his gut by leaning forward to crush his lips against your red ones, tasting the sweetness of whatever gum you’d been chewing before the show.

He lingered there a moment before his conjoined digits made their way up your waist, gripping it softly. He waited for you to soften, to ease into his kiss, but you didn’t. You stood your ground, arms still pressed against your breasts. You intentionally filled your mind with thoughts of Maggie Esmeralda and how close he’d gotten with her. You thought of all the times that he flirted with girls in the audience, damn near kissing them with how far he’d lean off stage during his song.

“Baby, please…” You blinked. His low, smooth voice pulled you out of your hateful thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, you murmured, “I want to hear you say it, Jimmy.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

The muscles in his jaw fluttered as he clenched them, grinding his teeth hard. Jimmy spent his whole life being put on the spot, but it never got any easier. Especially not in front of you – the girl he’d fallen hardest for. He inhaled, puffing his chest out and mustering up all the confidence he had.

“I don’t like seein’ you flirt with other guys… ‘cause… I wish it was me.”

“Who’s jealous now, huh?”

“I am.” He looked at your lips, then back up to your eyes. A cricket started off somewhere in the field, and your attention flitted off towards it, only to have Jimmy’s large, warm hand bring you back. “Hey.”

He kissed you again, his strong tongue darting out to taste you again, his plush lips closing around your bottom lip to suck it gently. This time, an undulating warmth erupted deep in your core. You couldn’t help but melt into him and your arms relinquished their position, dropping heavily to your sides. Your fingers reach forward to claw at his shirt, just above the waistline of his jeans and instead latch onto his belt loops, pulling him closer at the hips.

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, swirling your tongue with his. Mingled with his personal taste, he tasted like warm honey and the liquor you smelled on his breath earlier. Not always admirable, it was something that you knew him to dabble in when his mother wasn’t looking. More often than not, he’d sneak some booze, saying it calmed his nerves before and after shows. You didn’t mind; in fact, you wondered what it would be like to have a drunk Jimmy, sloppy and unable to control himself around you.

“I’ve waited a long time for this…” you broke the kiss, breathlessly whispering over his lips.

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you blindly felt behind your back, where the handle of your trailer was digging into your soft flesh. You yanked it open, and took a fistful of Jimmy Darling’s shirt, tugging him inside.

It was like someone had fired a gun and Jimmy was a racehorse. He charged at you, his big, conjoined fingers wrapping tightly around your hips on either side, kneading the flesh like dough. He kissed you again, hot and in a hurry, like you only had a few minutes to do whatever it was you were going to do. With your hands on his pectoral muscles, you pushed him off gently, just enough to get a look at his face.

He, being mere centimeters from your breasts, wasn’t looking at your face. His attention was clearly elsewhere. A low, rumbling groan vibrated through his throat as he craned forward to kiss your skin.

“Jimmy, baby, slow down…”

Between feverish kisses to your neck and chest, he muttered: “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

He had you where he wanted you, after so long, and he wasn’t going to let that slip through his fingers this time. Jimmy muscled you backwards, urging you towards the small hallway where your bedroom was. He was all hard-working muscle. Having done set-up for so many years had lined his body in bulky strength, the kind of strength that you only get from hard labour. So, when he started guiding you backwards, you could do little to protest.

“Jimmy, my god, what’s the rush?”

“I want you bad, baby… bad.” As proof, he urged his hips against yours; the hot rigidness of his erection pressing into your hip bone. You let out a surprised mewl, and wrapped your arms around his warm neck, fingers slipping into his short-cut hair. His lips found yours again as the backs of your thighs hit the mattress. He kissed once and playfully, shoved you down. You bounced twice on the bed, looking up at him with a heavy, wanton gaze.

“I’m all yours, Jimmy Darling. All yours.”

Jimmy didn’t say anything, just sunk to his knees, his hands finding the stretchy hem of your sequined shorts. He pulled them down in a swift jerk, before moving right back up to your waist. Those striped tights were next. He rolled them down off your thighs and over your knees; which fell apart, exposing the already-damp satin of your underwear. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he worked.

He was in too much of a hurry to bother taking off your shirt, instead just gathering the fabric and pushing it up over your breasts, letting them bounce free. He may have been raised a gentleman, but he wasn't immune to the tantalizing sight of some tits -- especially when they belonged to a girl he'd been lusting over for months now.

"God damn, baby. Look at those."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling your cheeks grow hot at his compliments. You bowed your head, casting your eyes to the floor. You were so stern before -- what had happened? Silly question. You knew; he was undressing you in your trailer, all that confidence had melted away underneath his strong, fused fingers.

“Jimmy, promise you won’t flirt with Maggie anymore…”

He scoffed. “She’s nothin’ to me, honey. Gals like her are a dime a dozen.” He pressed his lips to your kneecaps before kissing his way up your thighs. You whimpered, your head lolling heavily back between your shoulders. You thought about revealing that she wasn’t a real fortune teller, but Jimmy’s mouth neared your cunt, and the thought disintegrated.

“...my god…” you breathed, your lids drifting shut. Jimmy nuzzled his face and lips against your soft mound, the hard bridge of his nose teasing at your soaked slit.

“You like that, baby?”

You nodded, again, whimpering. He pressed his fingers slowly against your soft mound, over the fabric. Feeling the puddle that had settled into your underwear made Jimmy clench his teeth, hissing loud through them. With one hand, Jimmy maneuvered your underwear down your thighs. Once they were off, he tossed them carelessly behind him – you’d find them a day later in your kitchen sink. Now exposed, you gazed at him sheepishly, for the first time since he'd started kissing you. His eyes fixated on the wetness that glistened in the low-light of the trailer.

"I had no idea..." he said, the pad of his thumb sweeping over your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe in lustful agony, aching desperately.

"No idea what?" You breathed.

"To be honest with you, that you liked me that much..."

You leaned forward, taking his chin into the palm of your hand. You stroked it gently, falling deep into his eyes. "Jimmy... I've wanted you since before I could have you."

You looked on at his face in admiration as the thoughts played out, the realization of what you meant dawning on him. He grinned his bright, lopsided grin and his large hands slid up your legs, caressing the outside of your thighs thoughtfully.

"Baaaby," he hummed before dipping his head down. You gasped, your lids drifting shut in ecstasy as you felt his breath rush over you -- you knew what was coming; one deep sweep of his tongue along the length of your cunt, between your folds to taste you, to savour your silken wetness. Burying his nose in your pussy, Jimmy alternated between using the strong tip of his tongue to flick at your sensitive spots and lapping at your clit with a flattened, thick tongue. Adventurous and hungry, he'd venture further down to get a mouthful of your sweet, heady wetness and would murmur how good you tasted into your cunt -- the vibrations of his voice made you shiver every time.

After a few minutes of this, you felt the inner core of your legs begin to shake every time he made contact with your clit, your tummy tightening in a warning clench. You reached forward, gripping his head on either side, yanking him softly off your cunt.

To your relief, he straightened up, chin glistening with your fluids. He swallowed you down, growling in satisfaction; the intimacy of tasting your lover's ejaculate was unparalleled, and when your eyes finally opened, they met Jimmy's lust blown ones. He was ready, and so were you.

"Fuck me," you said, nodding.

Jimmy made quick work of undressing, pulling his briefs down over his ass cheeks before he lined his red-tipped cock up with your leaking slit, bumping into the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times before he stuck you. He didn't ease in, just bottomed out and you let out a pleasurable yowl, tossing your head back at the sensation of being so full as his thick cock violated you, slipping against your slick walls. He found a rhythm, thrusting his cock up into you as deep as he could. You clenched hard around him, pulling a groan from deep within his chest. He pulled out, looking down at your sopping wet and now reddened cunt.

"'Hoh' my god, baby... do that again."

He gripped your hips hard, pulling you roughly onto his cock. You clenched again, swallowing him into you. The tip disappeared inside you, hot and leaking, and he held himself there, completely engrossed in the sensations. You clenched again, pulling him further in and Jimmy's head fell back, his hips bucking hard out of instinct. You both found a hurried rhythm, grinding and rolling against each other with voracious desire.

As he thrust into you, Jimmy watched you intently, holding onto you tight, his thumbs working your hips, kneading them in small circles. He looked starved for your image, the way that his eyes climbed from your hips to your breasts to your face and back down again. You let out a particularly ecstasy-ridden moan, and Jimmy dug his fingers into your hips.

Rocked back and forth with the strength of his thrusts, you look down, watching as his thick cock pumped in and out of you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, and Jimmy's dark eyes followed them as they moved.

"Huuuh... I'm gonna' lose it, baby... you feel so god damned good..."

"Give it to me," you coax, moaning deeply. His thrusts get faster, more feverish and uneven, and before you can say another word, his expression contorted, brows pulling together in pleasured agony. You felt the warmth of his cum as he filled you up with a few spurts, but kept pumping until it leaked out the sides, groaning deeply. Your orgasm raced towards you quickly after that, pulsing around him in a hungry grip.

With a heavy sigh, Jimmy pulled his softening cock from your cunt and flopped heavily onto the bed onto his back. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath, sweat streaming from every pore. Both of you, collapsed in lust, saying nothing, just enjoying the warm scent of sex that lingered in the air. Soon, your sappy gaze drifted from the ceiling to Jimmy. His fawn coloured hair clung to his forehead in sweaty clumps, his cheeks flushed. You'd done that. Made him jealous until he fucked you silly. You smiled inwardly, and adjusted your head on the small mattress.

"Turn the fan on, Jimmy, it's hot."

Jimmy leaned over, flipping the small metal switch. The fan rattled to life, blades spinning and washing your sweaty skin with a soft breeze of cooler air. He leaned back, enjoying the change in temperature.

"I meant what I said, dollface. Maggie's nothin' to me now that we're uh..."

You pressed your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss. "We're what?"

"Y'know..."

"Fucking each other like teenagers?"

"More than that, baby. More than that."

You weren't sure what that meant yet, but you weren't about to question a bit of it. You paused, furrowing your brows. You realized that Diner Boy had probably expected to see you after the show, but you hadn't shown. You hadn't even thought about him, far too busy with Jimmy's lips to even remember he was there.

"What?" Jimmy asked, concerned.

"I wonder if he was waiting for me..."

"I hope he was, and I hope he figured out real quick that you weren't comin'."

You kissed him again, inhaling his scent. Jimmy hummed into your lips, pulling you atop of him, his face bright with adoration.

He stayed in your trailer that night, and you two fucked each other, explored each other's bodies repeatedly. When the morning sun peeked through your lacy curtains and your lids peeled apart, a yawn ripping through your mouth... you wondered if Maggie Esmeralda saw that coming.

#Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x you #Jimmy Darling x reader #AHS Freak Show #ahs freakshow #myfics #requests

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miyahchan · 1 month ago

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Week Two - October 9th - Grim Reaper!Higuruma x Reader

Synopsis: After a close call with death, the Grim Reaper himself can’t seem to let you go.

Word Count: 2.6k

🚨 Warnings: 18+ content, dubcon (alcohol consumption), oral sex (male receiving), penetration, girl on top, missionary, pretty smutty in general.

A/N: This post does have some content that can be seen as “morbid”. There’s nothing super graphic or anything but death is a pretty heavily talked about thing in here so be aware. Also, I’m hoping everyone is staying safe here in Florida with this hurricane coming. Evacuate if you need to and don’t forget to stock up on supplies and gas. I’m praying for everyone’s safety! 🚨

Check out the official Kinktober 2024 post HERE!

3 months ago, Higuruma appeared downtown, dawning his usual suit and briefcase. He didn’t take the train, hail a cab, or even walk. Oddly enough, he just always appeared when he was needed. He stood on the corner of Main St. and 4th Ave, just waiting patiently. The streets were unusually bare, the only sounds filling Higuruma’s ears being the lulling sound of the wind and the occasional rattle of raccoons rummaging through trash cans.

Who would it be tonight?

Higuruma started his walk down the street, glancing into the windows that he passed. He passed a bar. Would it be the man who passed out after too many beers? Maybe alcohol poisoning? Then, he passed an office building. Would it be an employee leaving work, only to be mugged and killed? No. Those didn’t feel right.

Finally, a roar of an engine made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not from fear, but anticipation. This was it.

A silver car sped down the street, swerving uncontrollably. Higuruma only watched idly. The car ran the red light before fully losing control and heading directly toward a brick building. It collided with the brick, the front of the car crushing like a soda can and completely caving in. The airbags exploded from inside, suffocating the driver, who hadn’t moved. It was a speedy, harsh crash, one of the worst Higuruma had ever seen in the entirety of his job. He’d seen much worse, of course – sick children, freak accidents, even the grisliest of murders. But he couldn’t pretend that this one didn’t make him wince a bit.

Had it been a drunk driver? Texting and driving? Over the plethora of years he’d been alive, Higuruma learned how idiotic humans were. For such weak beings, they constantly overestimated their mortality and made the worst decisions. He couldn’t count on ten hands how many people he’d seen die due to the choice of getting behind the wheel while intoxicated, or thinking that a phone call was more important than keeping their eyes on the road. He’d grown indifferent to it, knowing his role.

He made his way toward the hunk of metal that used to be a car, ready to get it over with, but he stopped in his tracks soon after.

There was movement.

The airbags looked like they were breathing as something moved underneath them. They separated from each other and something peeked out from the gap. A head. Higuruma watched as the driver pulled themselves from the wreck, squeezing through the crushed metal to escape.

“Help!” They screamed as they limped into the middle of the street.

Higuruma stood there, frozen in place. Something wasn’t right. He looked down at his own form, for the first time feeling something he hadn’t felt in quite literally forever – confusion. He questioned why he’d appeared there that night, never having appeared when he wasn’t needed. But, most of all, he questioned… you.

He had seen people pass away from much less, but there you stood, full of life after crashing straight into a brick wall. Higuruma hated questions. He hated the feeling of something being incomplete. He saw the world as black and white, right or wrong. It was why he was so good at his job. Death had no grey area – you were either alive or dead.

You were an anomaly.

You had cheated death.

Higuruma never left any questions unanswered. Before he’d became what he was now, when he was merely a human, he had been a defense attorney. He’d prided himself in defending those who were unjustly convicted, going out of his way to take on cases that other attorneys wouldn’t dare touch. It wasn’t because he necessarily cared about doing the “right” thing. No, it was because, in his eyes, just like death, the law was black and white. Either you did the crime, or you didn’t. Either you were guilty, or you weren’t. People who were in prison for crimes they didn’t commit were imbalances in a world that Higuruma needed to be balanced. He supposed this mindset followed him to his otherworldly state.

If it hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have been following you now.

The three months between then and now had infiltrated Higuruma’s mind in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not anymore. His days were still full of the usual reapings – he would never let anything come between his job. But, when he caught the incredibly rare millisecond where no one in the world dies, he would spend that millisecond peeking into the window that was your life.

He’d caught you in the hospital, checking up on your ankle that you had fractured in the crash. He’d caught you celebrating your friend’s birthday. He’d even caught you fresh out the shower once, though he’d felt embarrassed, something he hadn’t felt in millenniums.

You made him feel a lot of things, perplexed being the overwhelming feeling from the list.

Why you?

The question ran through his head every time he caught a glimpse of you. Had the universe sent you to as a cruel joke? Higuruma tensed every time he thought about it. You were just a loose end, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

He had a habit of tying loose ends, so he made the ultimate decision on a Saturday night.

He hadn’t been in his physical form in a long time, if ever. He wore the same suit and carried the same suitcase, but he wasn’t just a spectator anymore. Humans glanced at him as he walked down the crowded sidewalk, making his way to the bar on 4th Ave. He knew he was breaking some sort of rule, but he needed to scratch the itch.

Higuruma scanned the faces in the bar on 4th, cursing at how crowded it was. He knew you were in there, but his physical form had its restrictions. He made his way through the crowd of people until he finally reached the bar, where you sat.

You had on a skintight, black dress and black pumps, sipping on a martini and looking bored out of your mind. It was like you had waited for him. He took the empty seat beside you, immediately catching your attention.

You eyed him up and down, focusing on the suitcase that he brought along with him. “Businessman?”

“Hmph. I guess you could say that.” Higuruma ordered a drink. Whiskey, neat. Alcohol had no effect on him, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t miss the taste of a nice drink.

You smile at his response. He figured you were already a bit tipsy when he eyed the two empty martini glasses next to your half full one. “I don’t know. You have a very strict, no-nonsense thing going on. I don’t know anyone that wears a suit at a bar.”

He remembered another thing about humans in that moment – they were very judgmental.

“Just had a long day at work, that’s all.” Was his simple response.

“Let me guess. CEO?”

He shook his head.

“Lawyer? No, attorney?”

“More like a… judge.”

You giggle at that. “You look pretty young to be a judge.”

He smirks. “I’m older than I look.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur. As much as you had invested yourself in the conversation, Higuruma hadn’t allowed himself that pleasure. It felt more like an assignment than a pleasant conversation between two strangers. Throughout the night, he’d taken to trying to figure you out. It wasn’t like he had expected you to admit that you were some sort of immortal demon that was sent to trick him, but it would’ve eased his mind a bit, admittedly. Instead, you were just like every other human he’d ever seen.

Higuruma never took to believing in luck, not even when he was human. Luck allowed too much room for oddities, too much room for things that just didn’t make sense. But, as he sat in the bar with you, he realized he would be forced to question whether such a nonsensical thing existed.

You weren’t only an anomaly. You were also incredibly lucky.

Lucky enough to convince Higuruma to come home with you.

He knew humans had… desires. He’d seen a lot of them put their desires before anything else, leading to stupid decisions. Even back when he was human, he remembered having his own. He would bring women back to his penthouse, fulfilling every desire he had before kicking them out the next morning. It wasn’t the right thing to do, but he was a busy man. You were no different.

As soon as the two of you entered your apartment, you were on him.

You smashed your lips against his and Higuruma returned the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. The sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss and the bitter taste of liquor on your tongue created an intoxicating combination, making Higuruma kiss you even harder. His hands slide down and cup your ass, and he curses the leather dress that acts as a barrier between him and your soft skin. He feels you begin to work on undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white button up before he helps you rid him of his layers. He, then, unzips the back of your dress and it falls to the ground.

You stand before him, completely nude and vulnerable. He admires every dip and curve of your body, taking note of every single detail so he could remember it for the next few centuries. You were breathtaking.

You grabbed his hand and led him to the couch, making him sit. Higuruma watched as you kneeled before him and began to unbuckle his belt. You reach into his dress pants and pull out his dick, your eyes widening at the size. He knew he’d been blessed in that department, but seeing a human reaction to it made his pride swell. You take it in your grasp and place a kiss on the tip, a string of precum connecting your lips to him. Your lips then wrap around it, lightly sucking. Higuruma threw his head back against the cushion and let out a relieved sigh. He groans as you start to suck on his length, bobbing up and down. You were slow and meticulous in your actions, staring up at him through thick lashes and gauging exactly what he liked. He appreciated your attention to detail. He squirms when you deepthroat him, your throat pulsing around him and engulfing him in wetness. Fuck, you were good at this. He didn’t know if he felt powerful or powerless. This had been the first time in centuries he’d had any contact with a human, and here you were, making him feel so good. Higuruma can feel himself coming close to release, but you pull away at the last second.

He’s irritated until you straddle him, lining his dick up with your entrance. You rub his tip on your clit a few times, letting out a light moan at the sensation, before you finally slide down on it. With you wrapped around his so tight, Higuruma is breathless. He placed his strong hands on your hips, encouraging you to move. You ride him slowly at first, grinding down on him. He stretched you out so good, hitting every spot inside of you. Your moans are music to his ears and he feels himself grow addicted to the sight of you fucking yourself on him. His moans mix in with yours, and he grips you tighter before helping you bounce on him. He moves you up and down faster, and you let out a sharp cry as he hits your g-spot. He’s forgotten how sensitive and fragile humans were. In that moment, he felt like he had the upper hand, guiding your every movement. He repositions himself so he can thrust up into you and his hands cradle your thighs, providing support. He fucks you from underneath, and you go crazy.

“Ah! Right there!” Your eyes are squeezed closed, relishing in the pleasure. Your body shakes above him as you come undone, a string of incohesive words spilling from your mouth. Higuruma continues to drill into you, watching as you leave a ring of cum around the base of his dick. When your orgasm washes away, your knees grow weak and Higuruma holds you to stop you from collapsing. He flips you over, laying you flat on your back against the couch cushions and he hovers over you, spreading your legs and sliding back into you.

You gasp as he fucks you into the cushions, not even bothering to hold back. He throws your legs over his broad shoulders, angling himself deeper in you. He fucks you relentlessly, your moans spurring him on more and more. He has your ankles by his head, and he turns to place a kiss on the ankle you had fractured in the car crash. You cum again, thrashing against the cushions. Higuruma attempts to hold you still as he feels his own release coming. He thrusts until he finally pulls out and spurts his hot cum across your torso, long strings of white painting your perfect body. A low moan erupts from him as he rides his high. He was disappointed that he couldn’t come inside you – not that he physically couldn’t, but he didn’t know what the repercussions would be if he did that with a human. He didn’t mind risks, but not that type of risk.

Higuruma helped you off the couch and he helped get you settled for the night. He ran you some bath water and watched as you slinked off to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. It was uncharacteristically warm of him, but he figured it was the least he could do. He got himself dressed and grabbed his suitcase before he left your apartment.

6 months later, Higuruma appeared at a scene. He was in the middle of a hallway, standing at a door. Apartment 244. He doesn’t immediately recognize the place, but he knows he’s needed there. He comes through the door, stepping into the living room. Only then does a wave of realization hit him.

He remembered the couch. He remembered the colorful decorations you had hung up on your walls in an attempt to make the bland apartment seem more lively. He even remembered the sweet smell in the air from the candles you liked to burn. However, it wasn’t the same anymore.

Drawers were pulled out and objects littered the floor. The couch cushions had been flipped over. Chairs were overturned. And was that…? Higuruma looked at the large, red stain on the carpet, then his eyes travelled to the trail of red splatters that led into the kitchen. He followed the red until finally, he saw you. There you were, laying on the tile floor.

A home invasion gone wrong.

He had seen countless but seeing you on the floor was an entirely different experience. He’d talked to you, touched you, tasted you, and there you were, another soul to collect. He cleared his throat and made his way toward you. Business was still business. He placed a hand on yours, both of your skin equally as cold, and he reaped your soul. A white aura surrounded your body, engulfing you like you were sitting in a bed of clouds. Then, that aura split from your body and turned into a bright orb, floating in the air. Higuruma opened his suitcase, looking at the various colored orbs that rested inside of it. He gathered your orb in his hands and guided it inside the case, placing your soul amongst the others. He closed and locked his suitcase before making his way out of your apartment, but not without glancing back at your lifeless corpse.

Humans were such mortal creatures.

#jjk smut #anime smut #miyahchan kinktober 2024 #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #anime Kinktober #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi smut #jjk headcanons #jjk higuruma smut #anime x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #higuruma x you #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma hiromi #higuruma

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itzsana-kiddingmenow · 4 months ago

Note

hc where minho gets his head stuck in one of those tight stage shirts, and instead of helping chan just tickles him, claiming he's "trying to help" LMAO

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 788

𝙖/𝙣: it has been one year since i posted my first fic, hoodie, which was also a minchan fic, so to celebrate, here's another! happy hoodie day, everyone <3

𝙩/𝙬: rough and soft tickles, minho gets stuck

𝒍𝒆𝒆: minho

𝙡𝙚𝙧: channie

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

“Whooo…” Minho sighed. “What a performance.” He groaned at the way the tight, stiff material of his shirt hugged his curves, not allowing for an ounce of breathing room.

Chan shut the door to their hotel room behind him, fondly smiling as the dancer practically teleported to the suitcases to find something more comfortable to wear.

“Ahhh…” Minho finally found his hoodie and sweats, immediately grabbed the hem of his shirt while Chan was searching for his sweatpants.

Minho, desperate to get out of the stiff shirt that made his chest hurt, pulled it sharply over his head.

Then it happened.

“…Hyung?”

Chan turned to see what happened, just to let out a strangled laugh and hyena like cackles when Minho tugged at his arms, pinned high above his head by the shirt.

The leader could hear a small grunt and Minho’s head popped up, hair disheveled and face slightly pink from embarrassment. "I might have been a teensy bit hasty..."

“Oh, Min…” Chan sighed, clearly amused. He walked over to the struggling dancer and traced along the shape of his pecs, causing poor Minho to squeak and stumble a little.

Chan hissed in sympathy at the red marks along Minho’s torso, the shirt’s friction causing scarring to appear.

He got the lotion, laying Lino down on the bed. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone.

“Aah—HAHA Hyung p-please just get the freaking shirt ohofff!!” Minho giggled cutely, squirming as Chan massaged the lotion into his upper torso.

“Stay still or I’ll get your armpits too.” Chan deadpanned, fondness surging in his chest as Minho turned scarlet, suddenly letting out a boisterous squeal when Chan massaged the lotion into his belly button.

“Does it tickle, Minnie?~” Chan teased, spidering around the area as Minho thrashed and cackled his heart out.

“HYUHUHUNG HYUNG I CAHAHAN’T MOHOHOVE!!” Minho was teary eyed already, cute smile spread wide across his red, flushed face.

“Oh, I know. Shouldn’t have gotten yourself stuck, huh?” Chan moved his fingers, gently spidering up the bare torso in front of him, earning shrieks and high-pitched giggles from the poor dancer.

Hands massaged the lotion gently into his armpits, and Minho screamed, legs drumming frantically behind Channie.

“NOHOHONONO IHIT TIHIHICKLES PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!!” Minho threw his head in every direction, letting out a plethora of happy little noises that had Chan’s heart almost exploding in cute aggression.

“You’re too cute, I really can’t take it.” Chan mused, leaning down to kiss his little kitten on the cheek.

He decided to give the younger a break, moving to his neck instead. Tracing along the area, he relished in Minho’s whimpery, cute giggles.

“It’s so nice isn’t it? You act so tough in front of the fans and the others, but here, I have you giggling and squealing like this…all for me…” Chan sighed contentedly. Min squeaked at the leader’s words, teary eyes looking up at Channie with almost all the love in the world.

“But of course, there are times where I need to get you back for all the mischief you’ve caused.”

Minho’s eyes widened before all hell unleashed.

Chan ducked his head down, blowing raspberry after raspberry onto the warm skin of the kitten’s waist and belly button, hands reaching to knead torturously into the boy’s ribs, outstretched from all the thrashing he had done.

Minho howled, stilling to let out a deafening scream before descending into the loudest laughter Chan had ever heard from him.

“STAHAHAHAAHAP OHO MY GOHOHOHOSHH—PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

His arms trembled in the shirt, tears dripping into the collar as he cackled and laughed and squealed until his throat went hoarse.

It was torture, but it felt so nice to laugh and laugh and not think of anything but how much happiness Min felt. He could feel his mind practically melting under Channie’s fingers.

“IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES TOO MUHUHUCHH!! HYUHUHUNG I CAHAHAHANT I CANT STAHAHAP STOP STAHAP PLEHEHEHEASE AGHH!!” Minho babbled, laughter interrupting again. He was sure this was the worst wrecking of his life, he was unable to even think straight anymore.

Before he could even comprehend it, his shirt came loose; Channie had stopped and had pulled it properly off of him. Minho felt unrelenting sleepiness overwhelm him, giggling hysterically and panting for air.

“You okay, kitten?” Chan asked, slipping the dancer’s once-abandoned clothes onto his boneless frame.

“Mhm…yeheheah…” Min mumbled, an unfamiliar need for the older next to him leading to the kitten grabbing Chan’s waist and pulling him into an open hug.

Channie smiled as Minho shyly buried his head into his chest, arms slipping under the dancer to hold his sides, warmth seeping into his body.

“…I’ll ask them to give you looser shirts.”

“That would be for the best.”

#kpop tickle #midzywannabeitzy #skz tickle #stray kids #skz #lee! minho #ler chan

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chelseeebe · 11 months ago

Text

wherever you stray (i follow)

more apocalypse au! yayyy

i actually really am enjoying writing this bc it’s so different.. i haven’t really decided if it’s zombies or UD related but i guess it’s not explicitly mentioned yet.. anyway, there may or may not be an appearance from someone from steve’s past.. we’ll have to see

i’m sorry everything is taking so long.. it’s the festive period and i am working like crazy while also trying to see my friends and acc enjoy the time so my writing time is limited

as always, 18+.

₊ ⊹

steve had never expected life on the road to be so.. fun?

he feels weird even thinking about it because in all honesty, the shit you’d both endured while on this journey had been anything but fun. he thinks, or rather knows, that if it were anyone else but you, he’d have turned back a long time ago.

you’re not easy on him by any means, coaxing him into walking to the next town over after he’d already proclaimed he was done for the night and making him open the scary doors while you stood poised. nevertheless, he enjoyed it.

that was until now, when everything was flipped on its head and you were the one begging to call it a night.

‘steve,’ you warn from somewhere behind him. he barely glances back, keeping on hobbling forward. his leg was throbbing, the pain searing up to his thigh, but he’d never tell you that.

steve had got caught up in some barbed wire a few days ago, the sharp metal had torn his leg to shreds. it was an almighty wound that had set you back a couple of days in the schedule. you’d been petrified of tetanus, asking him hourly if he was sure that he’d had his vaccinations, tenderly prodding the painful area as you muttered a plethora of symptoms of infection.

there wasn’t really much he could do except bandage it up and hope he didn’t die. maybe a few years ago he would’ve freaked the hell out over it but now he’d realised that that never helped anybody. it especially would not help you.

‘i’m fine,’ he grits, stopping to turn and look at you. your face painted with the deepest frown, arms crossed over your chest. it was reminiscent of his mother, how she’d stand a the kitchen table when he’d come home with yet another black eye. except he felt you actually cared, she had just wanted an explanation.

‘no you’re not,’ you assert, as if you knew him better than himself. hey, after this maybe you did. ‘there’s a perfectly good house here.. we can rest for a while and i can check your leg,’ you bargain with him, trying the puppy dog eye technique that very often won him over.

steve holds his hands up, he wasn’t going to let you win this one, not after he had been the sole reason you guys were so behind. ‘i’m okay.. i don’t need to rest, i’ve got at least another two miles in me,’ toothy grin on full display.

‘i’m not going back and forth with you, we’re stopping here for the night.’

he sighs as you stomp angrily up to him, ‘i am fine.. no we’re not. why don’t you just believe me?’

steve thinks he sees hell in your eyes, the scorn of the devil written all over your face, ‘because i love you and i don’t want you to lose your fucking leg for the sake of two extra miles,’ your brows knotted together in pure rage.

he doesn’t respond, decides it’s better for his health not to. rather just nodding, letting you guide him towards the, hopefully, derelict house. your words ring around his head, echoing loudly as you do all of the heavy lifting, checking the house and ensuring there were no nasty surprises.

love.

you said you love him.

he wouldn’t ever admit to it, but he’d been toying with the same thought for at least two weeks now. deciding over and over again that it couldn’t possibly be love, it was too soon. he was just.. infatuated, or something.

but hearing the words straight from your mouth solidified his feelings.

the moment you clear one of the upstairs bedrooms and bundle him inside, his grin is unstoppable. reaching his eyes as he just stands staring, waiting for you to finish barricading the damn door before he speaks.

‘what?’ you question, startled by his stillness, ‘what are you looking at?’

‘what d’you say outside?’ he doesn’t take his eyes off of you even as you rush around, checking the windows and then slinging the heavy bag into the floor.

you blink back at him until it clicks, ‘wha- oh,’ your cheeks burn, suddenly much more interested in the room than him, ‘please don’t.’

‘you said you love me,’ steve beams, ignoring your warning though he’d probably regret it.

‘steve, i didn’t-,’

he cuts you off before you can even finish, not allowing you to play the bashful game, ‘you didn’t mean it? i don’t believe you,’ his unfaltering smile still occupying his entire face, right up to his eyes.

you punch his arm, now stood directly in front of him, ‘i didn’t mean to say it like that,’ your own smile inches onto your lips, he’s almost begging you to let it out, ‘i thought it’d be a little more romantic than this,’ gesturing towards the rundown house you stood in.

‘i don’t think romance exists anymore,’ his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer as you use his shoulders for leverage, ‘say it again.’

you groan, hands coming to connect around his grubby neck, ‘do i have to?’

‘yes.’

steve adores how diffident you become, ducking your head down before the words form and the very quietly squeaking out a tiny, ‘i love you.’

it’s enough for him, his grin growing tenfold, ‘i love you too,’ bumping his nose against yours, drawing your attention back to his face rather than the splintered floorboards.

what’s left of the pale sunlight reflects off of your eye, practically glimmering at him, ‘i know,’ you giggle quietly, ‘you said it in your sleep the other night..’

his smile drops, ‘what? you weren’t supposed to find out like that,’ sighing softly, his stupid, drugged up brain had let it slip before he even had the chance to.

you respond by pressing your sweet lips to his, god he wishes he had some chapstick. you deserve more than his cracked lips.

far more than this world could offer you.

though he would certainly try his hardest.

steve normally took first watch because he knew if he didn’t, you’d never wake him up for his shift, rather letting him sleep all night but tonight he doesn’t argue. his leg hurts too much to waste time going back and forth with you.

it’s only when he wakes up to a room full of sunlight that he starts to question how long he’d been out. there’s an echo of his name coming from somewhere, still too encompassed by sleep to figure out what the hell was going on.

‘look who’s finally awake,’ the voice starts but it’s not you.

you’re not next to him either, his arms cradle the pillow where your body should’ve been. that’s when he turns, the bedroom door flung open and a familiar figure looms in the doorway.

‘tommy?’ he croaks out, sitting up against the headboard.

what the hell was happening?

you’re nowhere to be seen, the makeshift barricade pushed back against the wall rather than where it should’ve been. his mind instantly flashes to the worst case scenario, you’ve been taken or tommy has done something to you.

holy shit.

‘stevie! i didn’t know if you’d recognise me,’ tommy leers, still lingering in the doorway, hand poised on his gun.

steve hadn’t seen the boy in years at this point, not properly. they passed each other in the halls but after the whole ordeal with jonathan in the alley, they hadn’t spoke since. which steve was eternally grateful for, the red head was in simple terms, an asshole. there was no part of him that wanted to be involved with people like that.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ steve questions, voice still heavy with sleep.

god he hopes this is just a bad dream and any second now, he’ll wake up and you’ll be by his side.

tommy’s face drops in faux-offence, ‘c’mon man, is that any way to treat an old friend?’ the side of his lips curling up. he always was a horrible person, provoking people til they had no choice but to respond.

‘how’d you know i was here?’ he asks, deciding not to mention you on the off chance you had just run off and tommy had no idea of your existence.

‘i was searchin’ houses.. thought you’d be smarter than this man, sleepin’ with no protection,’ his eyes fall to steve’s leg, eyebrows raised with opportunity, ‘and you’re hurt,’ the boy tuts, ‘this should be easy then.’

steve stiffens up, his bag was on the floor next to the bed, there’s no chance he’s faster than tommy.. he’d never get it in time.

it’s then that steve’s eyes flit to you, appearing silently behind tommy in the doorway. his heart drops. you were alive. tommy clocks on immediately, eyes following steve’s gaze to your looking figure behind. but before he can turn around fully, the baseball bat connects with his cranium, his body falling to the floor with a mighty thump.

you stand staring at the lifeless body for a moment, chest heaving as you step over him and over to the bed. wide-eyed and trembling, god knows how much of that you heard.

‘oh my god you’re okay,’ steve starts, reaching up to hold onto your cheeks, ‘i thought something had happened.. jesus christ where were you?’ he’s trying not to sound like such an overbearing mother but it’s not exactly working.

‘your leg was hot.. i went to go find medicine, i barricaded it from the other side but i didn’t think that asshole would show up,’ your hand caresses his atop of your cheek, ‘i got the medicine though,’ you look somewhat hopeful, pulling the bottle from your pocket and presenting it to him.

once steve has calmed down a little, he takes two of whatever it is, looking nervously at his ex-friend still on the floor, ‘i can’t believe you killed him..’ he trails off, even if he didn’t particularly like tommy, he didn’t want him dead.

your face screws up, pausing as you shove your belongings into your rucksack, ‘he’s not dead steve,’ you state, features contorted as you glare at him.

‘oh,’ he chuckles awkwardly, relief washing over him. ‘well shit,’ a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, taking over when you shake your head in disappointment. look, he wasn’t the brightest, never had been.

‘he’s probably gonna wake up soon so we need to get the hell outta’ here,’ you frown, glancing at the lifeless body.

you trundle over, taking the man’s gun from his hand, patting his pockets for anymore concealed weapons he may have. pulling a small switchblade from his back pocket, steve recognises it immediately. he’d been there when tommy had carved his and carol’s initials into some old tree in the woods by school. he wonders if it’s still there now.

‘how d’you know this guy anyway?’ you ask, slipping the knife into your own pocket. he watches dubiously, he’d never been a thief.

‘we were best friends..’ he swallows, maybe he had left some things out about his life before the end of the world. there’s no way to explain why they drifted apart other than to admit to how cruel he once was. ‘just drifted, you know?’ it wasn’t exactly a lie and he’s not sure you’d even care but now didn’t feel like the appropriate time to admit to all of his wrongdoings.

you nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder, ‘sucks.. but i’m not gonna lie, he didn’t seem like a great person,’ shrugging as steve finds his feet, getting off of the bed for the first time in hours.

‘he wasn’t,’ again, not a lie.

you hum in response and steve looks to the floor. he wasn’t keen on discussing the ins and outs of his friendship with tommy hagan right now. or ever really.

the rest of the journey up here had been pretty non-eventful. his leg was healing nicely and he was able to walk for at least another hour without complaining out loud. most people had obviously found communities, not daring to go out in the road anymore.

without mention of the run in with tommy, it had just been just the two of you. well you and the grotesque, rotting monsters that roamed around the forest. he thinks the cold must slow them down as your gun goes, mostly, unused.

steve has never seen you look quite so excited. the moment you’d crossed the boundary into your town, you’d been babbling nonstop about where you grew up. pointing out important locations and silly details about things he couldn’t even picture. his eyes instinctively roll when you mention the now decrepit diner you had your first date. he can’t help it.

it’s only when you near what he assumes is your neighbourhood that you quiet down, holding onto his hand with an iron clad grip. your nails dig into the grime covered skin when you spot the gargantuan make-shift wall up in front. he doesn’t squirm or pull away, instead he whispers a small it’s okay as you near the cul-de-sac.

‘what if they’re not there?’ you ask, shrinking into yourself.

he doesn’t have the right words to assure you but he’ll try his hardest, ‘then.. then we’ll find them.’ he hasn’t a clue what lies on the other side of that wall, perhaps the people behind it weren’t friendly and you’d never find out or maybe there weren’t even any people left.

but you’ll find out together and that’s all that matters.

someone’s head pokes over the top of the wall, gun poised at steve’s head. they must be stupid if they think he’s the one they should be scared of.

‘stop right there, don’t come any closer,’ the heavily armed woman shouts down, ‘what do you want?’

steve looks to you, unsure if he should even attempt to speak right now. his fingers squeeze yours for silent reassurance, there’s a voice above but he can’t see who it’s coming from, tucked behind the wall as they inevitably discuss your fate.

‘i used to live here,’ you speak, just loud enough for the first woman to peer down at you. she looks back towards the other mystery voice and then another face appears, eyes like saucers when they spot you.

‘open the gate,’ she orders, ‘open the gate now!’ barking at the other lady who jumps to it.

steve stands in quiet wonderment, glancing back at you with your mouth hung open. so you must know each other. or is that your mom? now he truly understands how you must’ve felt coming out of that nurses office to a bunch of strangers.

but you don’t let go of his hand when the gate creaks open just enough to let the two of you through. the houses are all more or less how he imagined they’d looked before everything started.

‘oh my god,’ you sputter out, dropping his hand to jog over to the faceless woman, throwing your arms around her neck as she pulls you in.

you don’t look particularly similar but steve has no idea what your parents look like. he wasn’t quite so prepared to meet the parents though he’d had weeks and weeks to think about what to say.

who even is he? not your boyfriend. yet. maybe it just wouldn’t be brought up in the midst of all the reunions.

he knows you love each other, you’d said that much, that he’d hobbled across state lines for you and would do just about anything to make sure you were safe so, did labels even matter in the apocalypse?

‘i can’t believe you’re here,’ the lady cries, still wrapped up in your arms. the locals are looking on with a mixture of confused and joyous looks on their faces.

‘neither can i,’ you sniff, pulling back and looking at her, hands still firmly on her arms. ‘are they here?’ you rush out excitedly, full of hope.

the woman’s, who is still yet to be introduced to, face falls, her voice dropping an octave as she speaks, ‘baby..’ she tremors through the sentence. ‘they left to go and find you.. i don’t- they haven’t come back..’

your smile drops immediately, steve’s heart sinks. he couldn’t begin to imagine how you felt. the pair of you had made it across multiple states, lived through steve’s injury and evil past friends for nothing.

he supposes that it wasn’t for nothing exactly. despite the bickering and rumbling stomachs, it had brought the two of you closer.

now his heart breaks the way yours does when you bury your face into his chest, shoulders shaking as you wet his already ruined shirt.

the next few hours are a blur of introductions, meeting people you called neighbour not so long ago. the now-identified woman was called janet, who had told him all about how they fortified the neighbourhood and their efforts to keep everyone alive. they’d done something similar to the school, kept the water system running so they could clean and drink and hoarded supplies the second they realised the army weren’t coming for them.

this was followed by a tour of the place and then your house. it had been left untouched in the hopes that your parents would come back eventually. dusty pictures of you in school, at college and one he particularly likes of you at christmas, nose scrunched up as you grin into the distance.

maybe he’d snag that one for himself.

it’s only when you bundle him into your room that you really let go. sobbing in his arms on your bed. surrounded by a time capsule of the past. if it felt weird for him, it must be utterly awful for you.

‘i thought they’d be here,’ you choke through tears, ‘they were supposed to be here,’ fingers grabbing at his biceps.

steve’s not known for his quick thinking but he realises there’s not much else he can say. the situation would seem hopeless to most but he wasn’t letting you give up now. not after you’d dragged him thousands of miles to get here.

‘you were at college in indiana, right?’

it’s enough for you to stop crying and look up at him through your wet lashes, ‘yeah.. why?’

you had never really spoken about college. he knew you went to college in indianapolis, that was obvious from the ratty letterman jacket you’d been wearing when he stumbled upon your camp, but that was about it.

‘so we go back to indiana,’ his fingers tangle in your hair, unsure if a smile would be completely inappropriate.

‘steve.. we-,’ you go to object but he can see the cogs turning in your brain, it’s the only sensible suggestion either of you had. ‘you would do that?’

this is where he smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, ‘of course,’ he’s not even sure why it’s even a question.

he’d do anything, traipse after you to the ends of the earth if you asked. hell, he’d do it even if you didn’t.

he continues on, ‘we’re in this together now.. like, forever,’ pressing his forehead to yours, thumb coming to swipe over your sodden cheek.

there’s hope, or at least a tinge of optimism back in your eye, ‘forever?’

steve nods, caressing your dirtied face as if it were precious porcelain, ‘is that alright with you?’

maybe, in a roundabout way, that was him asking you if you’d be his girlfriend. he knows he probably should ask properly but he’s sure you know.

it’s contagious, his smile, your lips curving as you blink slowly, ‘sounds good to me.’

that night, you’re fully relaxed, a kind of placid state that steve hadn’t seen since the school. normally, you’re on high alert even in bed. your muscles stiff as you let him sleep. but this time, he lets you drift off first.

his fingers glide through your now clean hair, eyelids fluttering shut on his chest. he thinks you might even start purring.

instead, your breaths get deeper, and slower until you no longer even murmur in response to whatever he was saying. and eventually, steve drifts off too. relieved that you can both sleep tonight, both feeling a sense of security that hadn’t been there for weeks.

steve awakens suddenly at what he determines the middle of the night, your palms clammy as they grab hurriedly onto his chest. you’re panting, desperately trying to steady your breath when his arms tighten around your shoulders.

‘what’s wrong?’ he asks, still in that confusing transition between sleep and awake, his eyes struggle to adjust to the dark room.

you exhale, the outline of your face suddenly begins to form, ‘i had a bad dream, i’m sorry,’ chin pointed upwards. your face is wet, eyes glossy with tears.

‘it’s okay.. it’s okay,’ he soothes, heart still pounding rapidly even after he knows no creatures have mattered down the door and had a chomp on your leg.

you swallow loudly, still gazing up at him when his head rests back on the pillow. ‘i love you,’ you squeak into the quiet night, the third time he’d ever heard it tumble out of your lips.

it mostly went unspoken. coming through in little gestures, feeding him his medicine or scratching your nails into his scalp the nights the pain was too much to sleep. he liked it that way. as if your love was only for the two of you.

this world didn’t deserve to witness that.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington au

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strawberryfairi · 1 month ago

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Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 1.2k💠 Released: October 2

Previous | Next | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Stop it's chapter freaking 1 on October 2nd! I'm beyond excited about this story so I really hope you guys enjoy it too! I'm getting heavy in my world building bag with this one y'all💅🏾👩🏾‍🍳

C.W: None

𝟏 || 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

(Red Book of Desires Theme: Victory - Lost Traveler )

It's not often you come into a bookstore, but when you do, it's usually when you're on a mission for a specific book you'd like to purchase.

Not today though.

It's a sunny day, the weekend, and everyone's out to enjoy the summer breeze during the early afternoon. You'd just taken yourself out for brunch, and it seemed like a sin to go and head straight back home when the day looks like something out of a movie.

Not a cloud in sight, the sky a vibrant blue, summer flowers are fully in bloom, and friends and families are all walking around perusing through shops or utilizing a restaurant's outside seating.

So voila, you decide to stroll through this quaint, old style looking bookstore. It's a boutique, nestled right inbetween Tony's Brick Oven Pizza Place and a vinyl record store. It's such a cute atmosphere.

The door chimes as you walk in, and the smell of books instantly greets your nose. Shiny, dark wood shelves hold a plethora of vintage stories from Dostoyevsky to Baltasar Gracián, along with newer selections as well. Each section labeled by the genre.

With a slender finger you graze it gingerly along the hard spines of each book, waltzing through the isles pretending to be a princess in her grandiose atheneaum.

"What's this...?" You whisper to yourself, pausing as your finger rests on a bright red book.

It's particularly vibrant compared to the other books on this shelf; and seemingly newer looking.

"There's no title on the spine..." You notice, your brow raising curiously.

With a low "Hmph..." and a tilt of your head, you pluck the book from its home on the shelf, and run your hand across the blank cover.

As your fingers brush the book, royal purple cursive lettering begins to appear like magic, revealing the title. But there's no author.

"The book of desires; by no one." You mumble, and for a moment you look both ways down the isle, hoping this wasn't some kind of wild sex positions book or something.

Biting your lower lip you can't help but look and see what it's about, turning over the cover and searching for a hopefully interesting synopsis.

Instantly your brows furrow. Each page is completely blank. Just pure white paper with a red cover and purple titling. "This book ain't 'bout shit. Is this a journal..?" You question out loud.

"Careful with that." A male voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

"Oh! You scared me." You chuckle awkwardly, abruptly closing the book as you turn to see the face that matches the voice. You figure they must mean for you to be careful since it's potentially an old book, and could probably fall apart at any moment.

"I didn't mean to touch—" You start, but the man waves you off with a knowing smile.

"No one ever does..." He steps closer, his eyes never leaving the book. "That one's been waiting a long time for someone to pick it up again. Looks like today's it's lucky day." He adds with an inviting smile.

You glance back at the book. It's strange how drawn you seem to feel towards it. "Do you know what it's about?" You ask, voice quiet, as though speaking too loudly might somehow break the connection.

The man shrugs. "It's different for everyone. It shows you exactly what you desire most; even if you don't know what that is." Then his smile widens just a fraction as he says,

"It's not always what you expect, though."

You frown, unsure if the man is messing with you or not. To be honest, wether it's true or not, this man is doing a damn good job at selling you this book though, that's for sure. You look down at the mysterious book, watching the title reappear as your fingers slide over the red cover. A strange warmth spreads through you, and you feel a sudden rush of excitement, or maybe it's more of a curiosity, and something else... It's like a deep, unspoken yearning.

"How much is it?" You ask softly.

The man chuckles softly. "For you? It's free. Consider it a friendly gift."

Your eyes widen as you hesitate, but then, before you can begin to protest, you decide to just thank him. "Oh, that's so kind of you! You didn't have to-

You cut yourself off as a sudden, abrupt shiver runs down your spine, and for a brief second, the world around you seems to flicker. You blink reflexively, but everything is already normal again before you could even process what you actually saw. The bookstore, the red book that is now yours, the dark wood shelves. Everything's still there.

"Enjoy." The man says from behind you. Yet as you whip around, he's nowhere to be seen.

Back in your little apartment, you sit on your cozy bed, staring at the new book. The sun has long set, and the LED lights you have lining the upper part of your ceiling glow a soft orange-yellow hue, the perfect ambience.

You flip the book open to the first page. There are no author's notes, no table of contents, no nothing. Just a single line that slowly appears, written in elegant, looping script:

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉?"

You furrow your brows, feeling a strange, intensely magnetic pull. It's silly, really. You don't believe in magic or anything like that, but the question the book asks you lingers deep in your mind. As if it's engraving itself there.

What do I desire most?

Success, obviously. You've been working so hard to make it in the music industry, writing songs, performing at small venues, sending out demo after demo, reaching out to producers and other artists further than you in the industry, and getting nothing but rejections in return. You want to be heard, to have people love your music, to finally feel like all your hard work has paid off. Has been worth something.

But there's something else, too. Something deeper. A part of you that's always been restless, yearning for something more since childhood. The excitement of a true adventure, probably. Or love. Things like the movies that've shaped you into the starry eyed, hopeless romantic dreamer you always have been. Peter Pan, The Goonies, Who Framed Roger Rabbit to name a few. Then with romance...

You've never really had the time for romance after graduating college. Not with everything you've been focusing on. Then honestly, when you think about it, you just aren't in the mood. Not for another mediocre experience people nowadays love to call "romance" and "a relationship". But sometimes you do dream of it—of passion, of something wild and exciting, of a life that's more than just struggling to get by and toughing and "thugging" it out one disappointment after the other. Telling yourself one day it'll all work out when in the moment you couldn't be any more lost and unsatisfied.

That's the word right there, unsatisfied.

You shake your head, letting out a small "tch" at the way this one sentence had really gone and thrown you into an abyss of depressing introspection. It's stupid, but still, you want to read more.

With a dramatic sigh, bracing yourself for the next simple yet wildly cryptic question, you flip to the next page. And then—

Darkness.

#strawberryfairi🧚🏾‍♀️#The book of desires🌹#wakasa imaushi #wakasa imaushi x black fem reader #wakasa x fem reader #wakasa smut #tokyo rev #black fem reader #black female writer #new story #chapter 1 #author au #smutty fanfic #scifi aesthetic #scifi fanfic #desire #imaushi wakasa #80's aesthetic #futuristic city

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rorywritesjunk · 11 months ago

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I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. A known swordsman makes a brief appearance in this. Buggy is jealous and a bit insecure in this chapter. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 7

Buggy woke up to a bucket beside his bed, a glass of water on the nightstand, and a note telling him you were in the kitchen. He was confused as to why you left him a note because he didn’t know why you were there at first. He had fuzzy memories from the previous night: going to the shop, walking back to the ship, a drink, a marriage proposal, sharing his bed-

Oh shit. He fell out of bed, horrified by how he acted towards you. That was the last thing he wanted and he scrambled to find some clothes to put on. He found his shirt from the previous night and threw it on, ignoring the stains and smell of beer coming off it. Maybe you were still on the ship and he could explain everything, unless you left and never wanted to see him again. That was entirely possible.

You were in the kitchen when he came crashing in, eating a banana as you looked at the photos he showed you last night. He froze when he saw them and you looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Buggy.”

“Where did you get those?!”

“You showed them to me last night.” You chuckled before taking a sip of your tea. “After you asked me to marry you.”

His hand shot off to grab them but you were quicker, moving them out of his way. You then pointed to the floating hand.

“Also, can you explain this?” You asked. “Miss Pins mentioned something about Devil Fruits but I didn't get it. and last night your body… was a part for a moment and it was…interesting to see.”

How were you talking so casually about all this? It was like discussing the weather, you were asking if it was cloudy outside. Others would have been horrified, thinking he was some kind of freak for what his body could do, but you were just eating a banana as you waited for an answer.

“I… have Devil Fruit powers.” He mumbled as he sat himself in a chair across from you. “I ate the Chop Chop fruit, so my body can split apart.” He scratched his head and looked at you. “Well? Aren't you disgusted or scared of me now?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You frowned as you finished your banana. “It's not like you bleed everywhere when it happens, right? If anything it's probably useful. You took your bottle back from me last night when we were walking, which was, admittedly, a little weird, but I had already seen it before. Just after you laid down last night I realized I wanted to ask you.”

“So…you're not disgusted that my body does this?”

“Buggy, I don't find your body disgusting.” You assured him as you sipped your tea. “Okay?”

He blushed and looked away. “Really? Even my nose?”

“I think it's cute.” You smiled.

“Sh-shut up! Don't lie to me!” He shot back as he glared at you.

“I'm not, promise.” You assured him as you looked back at the photos. “You were so cute as a kid.”

Buggy sat back in his seat, still glaring at you as you set the pictures down and got up to pour him some tea. Did you really think his nose was cute or were you just saying that? So far you'd never been mean to him, only occasionally teasing him, but he still was wary when it came to his nose.

When his tea was ready you brought the cup back to him and pushed the plate of fruit over to him. “I figured fruit would be a good post-birthday hangover meal. You need to hydrate.”

He crossed his arms and eyed the plate before looking back at you. “Why are you still here? I figured you would have left.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You told him as you picked up an apple and cut into it, separating it into slices. “You said stuff about me making you happy if I married you, and… I got worried.”

“I'm fine.” He grumbled as he looked down at his lap. “I was drunk, ignore what I was saying.”

You put the apple slices down on the plate before getting back up to find something with protein for him. He picked up one of the slices and shoved it in his mouth as he turned to watch you. He acted like a damn idiot last night but you stuck around to make sure he was okay. Did you want something from him or did you genuinely care about him? This wasn’t something he was used to or expected, so it was a little hard for him to understand. You found a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard and grabbed it.

“Here, have this.” You opened it, noting that it still seemed edible before finding a spoon to scoop some out for him onto the plate. He watched you suspiciously before he helped himself to the peanut butter.

“You don't have to stay.” He said with his mouth full of food. “Your boss is gonna come looking for you.”

You shrugged as you sat back down in your chair. “I'll leave in a bit, but only if you walk me back.”

He glanced up at you with a frown, but you said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wiped his face for him. He grumbled and tried to pull away from you but you didn't let him, making sure his face was clean before you sat back down. He glared at you, face flushed as he finished his plate.

“Ignore everything I said last night.” He said again as he looked down at the plate. “I was drunk.”

“So you don't think I'm nice?” You asked with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “Or soft? You don't want to marry me then?”

“I-I do!” He said before slapping his hand over his mouth. You grinned at him and leaned back in your chair. He glared at you. “You're cruel.”

“I thought I was nice.” You teased as you sipped your tea. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance as you grinned at him. “Let's finish up, I need to head back. I have a customer returning today and I need to make sure he gets his order.”

He just grumbled as he drank his own tea. You got up and tidied up the kitchen, making sure to wash the dishes and dry them. He watched you as you moved about, enjoying how you already felt comfortable on the ship, that you seemed to know where everything was already in the kitchen. It was a sight he could get used to, he decided, but he didn't know if it was something you'd want.

“Let's head out, okay?” You said with a smile.

Buggy just nodded, but instead of leaving the ship you led him back to his room to put the pictures back while he pulled his boots back on. You found him a clean(er) shirt to wear and held it out to him, turning you back so he could change. He didn't know why, you obviously saw him shirtless (and he had a brief flashback to what he thought was going to happen last night and he momentarily died of embarrassment before straightening back up), but once he was ready he reached to put his bandana back on when you stopped him.

“Can you leave it down?” You asked, your own cheeks pink as you reached out to touch a lock of his hair. “It's um, just so pretty. I’d like to see it.”

He stared at you, wondering if you were teasing him again, but you weren't. A lock of his hair was entwined in your fingers as you ran your thumb over it, and when you realized what you were doing you let go and put your hands behind your back.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's…fine.” Buggy said as he tossed the bandana aside. He always put his hair up, finding it to be a nuisance as it got longer. His Devil Fruit made it difficult to get a haircut, it just reattached itself whenever he tried to cut it, so he gave up and let it get long. He didn't think it was a feature someone would care about, like his nose.

You smiled at him, he felt his face heating up and he looked away as he held his arm out to you. When you linked your arm with his he straightened up before he marched out of his room with you on his arm, thinking today would be a good day.

When he saw your customer he was horrified by how handsome he was. Dark hair, cheekbones, sharp, yellow eyes. And you were nice, helping your customer into his coat, explaining what you did with his request, and when you touched his shoulders Buggy couldn't help but feel jealous because you did that for him too, you always made sure his coat fit him, but it was obvious now that you did it for everyone. Buggy had no reason to feel special.

When you finished up, your customer kissed your hand before leaving. Buggy was seething. You just shook your head before grabbing Buggy by the hand and leading him to the backroom.

“I have a present for you, Buggy.”

He tried to ignore Benji saying how cool that guy looked or Miss Pins commenting how that customer was so handsome because he knew they wouldn't think that way about him, so why would you? He said nothing as you let go of his hand and retrieved a small white box from a pile of other ones. He crossed his arms, glaring at his feet as you walked back over to him and held it out.

“Happy birthday.” You said, but he wouldn't take it from you. “Buggy?”

“You didn't know it was my birthday until last night.” He mumbled. “How do you have a gift for me already?”

You shrugged as you opened the box for him. He still wouldn't look at you. “I thought of it this morning. I did some hand stitching on this for a customer who never came back for it, but thankfully he prepaid for it.” You pulled out a square of silk, a light purple color, and held it out to him. He finally looked up, reaching out to touch it with his fingers carefully. “I thought it would look better on you than in some box.”

He hesitated and pulled his hand back. He didn't deserve a gift like this from you, especially considering on your own birthday he was an asshole to you. You said nothing as you rolled the fabric loosely before draping it over his neck. You pulled his hair out from under it before you looped it into a knot and tightened it just a bit.

You smiled as you tugged on the front of it gently. “It looks good on you, Buggy.”

Buggy swallowed heavily and nodded. You were so close to him right then. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. If he didn't do what he wanted to do right then he would regret it. You'd get romanced by someone else, some more handsome pirate, and he had to make it up to you for what he did on your birthday.

Without a word he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, nose bumping and-

Honk!

Buggy froze and pulled back from you, a look of horror on his face at what just happened. You stared at him, but before he could bolt you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, tilting your head just enough to avoid bumping his nose. He kept his arms at his sides, unsure where to put them.

It felt like it went by too quickly when you pulled back from him, smiling brightly as you pecked him on the cheek.

“Is this a belated birthday gift, Buggy?” You teased as you let go of his shirt. He was red in the face but he grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to be smooth.

“D’you want it to be?” He asked. You touched the silk around his neck and leaned into him, but he leaned back, expecting some kind of surface to support him, but instead he fell backwards and crashed onto the floor.

You immediately knelt down and helped him sit up, checking him for injury. He seemed fine, just embarrassed, so you kissed him on the cheek.

“It could be, but I wouldn't say no to flowers.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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i-like-cats-and-stars36 · 1 year ago

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I made a shellshocked bad future fanchild!

Meet Rio Dai Hamato-Morales! Or Rio Dai Morales.

Why are you seeing two version of her on this post? Well, the one with the Prowler jacket is the version of her if she was raised by shellcrime instead of shellshocked.

Soooo, some general lore about her:

-Rio was born through a mystic accident while Miles and Mikey were practicing mystics together.

-They were very overwhelmed by a eighteen-months-old baby suddenly appearing in their arms, but quickly accepted her as their daughter.

-Being born through mystics, she is not entirely human and posesses a plethora of mystic abilities that used to go haywire when she was small a lot.

Think of Baby Rio suddenly going invisible and everyone freaking out because they can't see her anymore.

Or it getting too cold in the apocalypse and Rio straight up using those turtle DNA parts to hibernate.

-So as soon as she was old enough, Mikey started giving her mystic training, so she can learn to control her mystics better.

-Taking an example in Splinter, Mikey always tries to make the lessons fun for her and it quickly becomes their main bonding time since Mikey can be quite busy through being one of the resistance's strongest fighters.

-Through that training, Rio herself quickly becomes a powerhouse in the resistance.

-Her main attack are flaming mystic webs.

-Some of her other abilities include: invisibility, a strong spidey-sense (she also gets a lot of visions) and mystic healing.

-Personality-wise: She is sweet, fiercely optimistic and quite expressive and emotional, but also tends to be reckless and impulsive. (It's the ADHD.)

-She feels very strongly her emotions and wants to help the resistance and protect her loved ones with all her might.

-Still, it's the apocalypse and Rio knows that every mission could be the last of someone, so that gives her plenty of anxiety as well as the thought of not being strong enough to save them if she could.

-The death of Miles hits her hard and is the final push for her to go on the frontlines and fight the Krang head-on. It's why you see a lot of Miles imagery in her costume.

-On a lighter note, Casey Jr. is her favorite cousin.

-Her favorite uncle/aunt is Raph (It's April, but we can't tell Raph that, he would cry).

-She would like sour candy if that were a thing in the apocalypse.

-She is pretty close with her abuelita Rio.

-If Rio could choose a job other than resistance fighter, she would become a nurse like her grandmother she was named after.

Now, about some differences in shellshocked! Rio and shellcrime! Rio!

-Shellshocked!Rio's full name is Rio Dai Hamato-Morales while shellcrime!Rio's full name is Rio Dai Morales because I headcanon that 42! Mikey was raised by Draxum and therefore doesn't have a sttong connection with the Hamato name.

-Shellcrime! Rio hung out a lot in Donnie's lab when she was younger because Miles G helped Donnie run resistance tech (pushing Miles G & Donnie friendship here) and she learned a lot about tech there. Don't get me wrong, she's still a badass mystic warrior but she can also program a computer.

-Shellcrime! Rio was a lot more sheltered and trained as a child because Miles G was very anxious about her getting hurt in actual fight. It lead to a bit tension when she got older, but Miles G died before they could ever find a solution and Rio got to fight at the frontlines.

-Shellcrime!Rio doesn't posess Spidey-sense, mystic webs or invisibility and instead she fights with mystic lightning.

So that's all I have for now! I probably forgot some stuff, but we can talk about that another time!

I hope you like Rio and feel free to add your own headcanons here, I'd love hearing about them!

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idontknowreallywhy · 1 year ago

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Estera Ch 6 - Safe

(Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5)

(Sofasurf’s Recrudescence which is the foundation for all of this)

Scott’s fled for the skies. Estera needs to find someone’s inhaler. But what happens next?

Well. Some details follow.

My usual blend of fluff and “Yikes”…

Confession - this got a teeny bit dark in the last section. If you want to stop reading at the end of the fluffy bit (you’ll know it when you see it) then there is zero judgment from me. I even make myself go “Yikes” with that one…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The authorities had called her a cab home, the hired coach having been sent away when all the parents arrived in person to collect their children. Although she had protested at the expense - surely there was a bus route somewhere nearby - she hadn’t had the energy to argue.

Thus she sat alone in the back seat trying to collect her thoughts. They resisted collection in a way that made cat herding look like a relaxing past time. So she fidgeted, putting on her cardigan then removing it again, retying her hair, rearranging the contents of her rucksack. Which she’d already done ten minutes before. She tried to force herself to calm down and turned to look out the window, her forehead meeting the glass with a surprisingly loud clunk.

“There’s a universal charging cable under the seat, Miss, and free WiFi if you’d like to use it.”

Of course there was. Couldn’t escape it these days. She didn’t want to appear rude so she smiled, thanked him and dutifully plugged in her battered mobile.

It flickered to life and within seconds several messages popped up… from her sister, a couple of friends, her elderly neighbour, even her hairdresser - clearly today’s events had hit the news. She drafted a quick reassurance, copied it to everyone and put the device down. She felt weirdly detached. It seemed strange that everyone was freaking out about her having been stuck in a cave when that had paled into utter insignificance compared to the shock she had experienced afterwards.

How could it be possible? He couldn’t have escaped, could he? If it hadn’t been for his reaction she’d have persuaded herself she was imagining things. But his reaction had been… compelling.

She picked up the phone again and opened a browser

‘International Rescue Scott’

An overwhelming plethora of photographs and articles and, wow ok, actual fan pages sprang up.

Most of the photos were distant, or amateur and blurry but his unmistakeable blue eyes shone out at her from the official ones - profile shots for International Rescue, some charity positions and… she gulped… he was the multi-billionaire CEO of one of the biggest companies on the planet. Even she knew of Tracy Industries - they were one of the good ones. A school in one of the more difficult neighbourhoods nearby had just had a complete IT infrastructure upgrade thanks to a grant from them.

His official TI profile confirmed his Air Force background, with honourable discharge after active duty. It didn’t say where that was but she knew.

Oh, she knew.

She skimmed some of the more gushing articles. All fairly light on objective facts but weighty on opinion and that opinion was pretty much universal - he was a hero, beloved by millions, a undoubted force for good in an often cruel and selfish world.

And she’d left him to die.

She closed the browser, no longer able to bear the accusation in his eyes.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

The taxi driver was watching her in the rear view mirror.

“I’m fine. Thank you.“

She let out a breath as his eyes returned to the road ahead. But he wasn’t done:

“Long day was it?”

“Something like that.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

For the second time in as many months Virgil vowed to chase Brains up on the speed upgrade to Two. It was absolutely pointless trying to catch up to his brother who could be halfway to anywhere by now. Thankfully, he had John and Five.

“Virgil! He’s heading back your way.”

“What?”

“One just did a U-Turn. She’s heading straight for you.”

“What do you mean “straight”?”

“A collision course. Virgil, I think you should get ready to take evasive action.”

Even at a moderate speed the two birds making any kind of head on contact…even a wing clip, meant mutually assured destruction. Was Two nimble enough to avoid that?

Scott would never risk Virgil being hurt.

But… he remembered the cold, unfamiliar look on the former fighter-pilot’s face as he’d spun to face him not ten minutes before. Was his brother in a state to know who was flying the ship chasing him down?

Virgil bit back a scream.

“Can’t EOS…?”

“No. She can’t. He’s blocked her access.”

Virgil looked down at the Atlantic far below him. Could he drop his ship safely on the surface of the water? He cut his speed.

“I’m tracking her path, I’ll tell you when to move.”

This couldn’t be happening. He tried the comm again, fighting to keep his voice calm and unthreatening:

“Scotty? Can you hear me bro? It’s me, Virgil. Please pick up? Please?”

“25 seconds, Virgil. Start reducing altitude.”

White knuckled, he tipped Two’s nose downwards and went to accelerate.

“Wait!”

“What? What???!”

“It’s ok. It’s ok, he’s adjusted course to pass on your port side. I’m… I misunderstood what… I’m sorry to have worried you.” John sounded almost light headed.

With her familiar crack-boom One shot past in a blur. Virgil flinched as her vapour trail crystallised on her sister’s windscreen for a few moments. He levelled Two off and pulled up the graphical readout of One’s tracker. Scott appeared to have done one of his signature handbrake turns and was heading back towards him at a more sedate pace… the rocket’s trajectory heading safely to the left of Two. Gleaming silver came into view alongside and Scott matched the green ship’s pace, the way he often did on journeys home from the more difficult rescues. Those times when Virgil knew his big brother needed company more than the adrenaline rush of g force and extreme speed.

The comm remained muted, but they were together. And that, until they got home at least, was all that mattered.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The lift was broken again and Estera truly empathised with it as she dragged herself to the 5th floor. Her limbs were jelly and once she was on the right side of her front door she considered just lying down in the hall and having done with it. At which point 60 kilos of floof and enthusiasm canonballed into her and she realised with a quiet groan that she had to take him out before he destroyed everything in her apartment. Glancing down at her dusty sleeves as they contrasted with Bez’s snowy fur, she resolved to shower and change first else people would think she’d just escaped from a disaster zone.

Not so different from the state she was in when she first got here come to think of it. The darkness of the following few days in Processing crowded in on her and she didn’t have the energy to push it away. It was all too close to the surface today.

Bez licked the salt off her cheek.

With what felt like superhuman effort she dragged herself upright. At least here she had her own shower. And clean towels. Squeezing past the wall of hair she made it to the kitchen, draped her coat and bag over the back of a chair and spotted the note on the table:

Walked Niebieski. Soup in fridge. Glad you are safe.

Edith & George

She blinked back more tears. The elderly couple next door were an absolute godsend.

Ok. Shower. Soup. Stupid movie to prevent too much thought. Could maybe make some popcorn. That was a plan.

She did like a plan.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The pool slid closed overhead and Scott allowed himself a few moments to sit back and breathe before regrouping and running through the comfortingly routine process of post-flight checks. His shoulder twinged sharply and that itchy trickling sensation reminded him that steristrips were no match for the physicality of flying a supersonic jet.

His vision lurched as her voice came back to him and he desperately focussed on grounding himself. He could hear the creaking of cooling engines, feel the harness over his shoulders, the seat beneath and around him. Wait, something else was off too. Something was pressing uncomfortably into his hip… he leaned to the side to extract the item from his baldric. A tiny Thunderbird 2 looked up from his palm, accusingly. His hand shook and the toy dropped, hitting the deck far below with a distant ping.

He stared down into the abyss.

Virgil was right. It wasn’t safe. HE wasn’t safe. If he couldn’t trust his mind to stay on track then he couldn’t be trusted. How could he keep his brothers safe from the world when he couldn’t even keep them safe from himself?

He tightened his fingers around the levers, every inch of the ship’s controls so familiar it was like an extension of his own limbs. Closer to him than his flight suit in a way. One was a part of him. IR was a part of him. Maybe the majority part. Certainly the best part.

If he couldn’t do this… then…

No. He shouldn’t think like that. He just needed more time. He flicked the switch to extend the chair and took a purposeful step down on to the gantry.

He had an apology to deliver.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Virgil looked down at his twitching, sleeping brother and fought back the urge to bear hug him and never let go. There had been plenty of those earlier. Scott begging for forgiveness he didn’t need. Virgil and John trying to reassure him, their words seeming so powerless and both desperately hoping that holding him tight could somehow piece their hero back together.

He hadn’t expected the honesty. That was new.

Scott had looked Virgil in the eye and told him he was right. He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t ok. Virgil had shaken his head, denying the words he’d said over and over this last week. He didn’t want to be right. It was too painful. It wasn’t fair.

But Scott had been adamant - he was grounding himself for another fortnight. He needed time to process. Something had triggered him, he acknowledged that much, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. He’d lowered his eyes and quietly asked if they wouldn’t mind staying with him because he didn’t want to be alone.

As if he could stop them.

And so the six of them crowded into the lounge in a nest of blankets, fluffy cushions and rogue bits of popcorn. Scott had sagged against Virgil’s shoulder and passed out not half an hour into the film. John curled on big brother’s other side, if he was asleep it was likely with one eye open. Allie and Gordon were a tangle of limbs on the floor while Kayo dozed with her head atop the pile.

They’d get through this together as they always had. As Virgil watched, Scott sighed in his sleep and his face relaxed. He was here and he was safe. Hopefully tonight the nightmares would leave him in peace.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Estera braced her feet and shoulders against the splintering wood and bit through her lip as she tried to remain silent despite the terror of the world tilting and sliding. The rumble of aircraft engines filled her head to the point where she wondered if she could even remember any other sound. But she knew where she was. This was to be expected. It would end soon. It had to.

The unsecured packing crate slammed into something again, her head rebounding painfully off the inside and she was consumed by nausea. The tiniest sob escaped and she froze. With a click the lid was opened and blinding light flooded into her streaming eyes as she tried to focus on the figure leaning towards her. It was him! Was she saved? Was she safe?

No.

Dread filled every cell of her body. Vivid blue eyes looked down at her but they were unseeing. A dark line ran from the corner of his mouth and then red, sickly gleaming red was everywhere. His blood was everywhere and it was her fault. His body fell heavily on top of her and the lid was slammed shut and she screamed for help until her throat burned.

Nobody came.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Chapter 7…

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Estera #Tw: ptsd #Tw: implied violence #Tw: mild horror #TB Estera

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amazing-spider-man-book-club · 6 months ago

Text

Amazing Spider-Man #1 (1963)

Published: March 1963

Containing: "Spider-Man: Freak! Public Menace!", "The Chameleon!"

Introducing: J. Jonah Jameson, John Jameson, The Chameleon (unnamed)

Synopsis: following the death of his uncle, Peter now has to leverage his identity as Spider-Man to find cash quick as a means of taking care of himself and his Aunt May. Various attempts to do so are stopped by his need to maintain a secret identity, his slandering by media mogul J. Jonah Jameson, and indifference by the public at large.

Read alongside us here:

@frankendykes-monster : After the better part of a year, material originally intended for Amazing Fantasy can now be taken off the shelf and published in The Amazing Spider-Man. For as much as these are two separate stories, our first one is divided into three parts and they chain together incredibly well with the new through-line of Peter desperately needing to make money.

Peter's origins are oh so quickly recapped in less than a page and transition immediately to the new status quo he finds himself in, at least for this single issue. Lee's narration on the title page is right, there hasn't been a character like Spider-Man yet, he can't even begin to worry about altruism or emotionally come to terms with his actual ongoing motivations (which will not come to a head for quite some time, keep following this blog!) because he needs to help cover the rent first. I think a lot of subsequent Spider-Man media neglect this lowest point of Peter's life now that I think about it; I'm not sure why, it makes for great material even if it isn't a "fun" read to see Spider-Man suffer. We get to see some nice stuff like Peter making a parachute out of his webbing, which at certain points in this run might feel more like a Green Lantern ring in terms of objects that said web fluid can be molded into. Spider-sense is also used several times, which is a power I've never been hugely into if only because it's convenient for writers to forget Peter has said ability whenever he needs to be punched in the face by someone right in front of him. Said ability was created by Ditko on the spot when asked by Lee how Spider-Man could see and fight people in the dark (just draw squiggly lines above his head and call it a day.)

I actually had no recollection of why Peter can't go back to show business as Spider-Man beyond the ingenious "you can't cash a check signed to Spider-Man" bit, but it's because of the debut of one J. Jonah Jameson. I mentioned in the post for Amazing Fantasy #15 that many of the plethora of characters "introduced" there would only become retroactively important after Ditko left the title...welp...can't say that here. Jameson will become arguably the second most important and frequently appearing character after Peter and immediately hits the ground running.

I think it's a popular interpretation of the character now to say that his thoughts on the subject of Spider-Man are misguided when he, a character inside the story, does not have the benefit of knowledge the we the readers do. It's fair game to say something is off about Spider-Man, this completely anonymous individual that can climb walls and swing across buildings and has already gotten into the habit of being a vigilante. Peter's relationship with Jameson isn't at all developed here, they don't even meet, but that will change soon enough.

Spider-Man exists in the same fictional space as other characters published by Marvel, huh, that was fast. I actually had to double check and see if this was published the same month as Fantastic Four #12, which guest stars The Hulk. It was. Truly the Marvel Age of Comics is upon us (I feel like I've already said this). My general thoughts going forward are...meh? Ditko is going to introduce enough characters and concepts that The Amazing Spider-Man isn't really hurting to team up with or fight other superheroes, but if they're here to stay for the time being, one of his get rich quick schemes being that he wants to join The Fantastic Four isn't a bad one.

And our first proper supervillain of the run, The Chameleon! The Chameleon isn't one of the "heavy hitters" amongst this rogues gallery, more a perpetual b-lister, but he mostly gets by on his excellent design; a blank canvas face that he can easily slide life-like masks over. Though, this is a concept that Ditko had already visited in Out of This World #6 (1957):

That would be the end of things for this issue, a nice transitional piece in the fallout of Spider-Man's origin, but some cracks behind the scenes are already starting to show. Even though the character is officially titled Spider-Man, with the hyphen, the text within the issue can't seem to recall if it's spelled that way or not. The second story has Peter referred to as "Peter Palmer" several times, though this isn't a blunder that would be repeated across several issues (see: Bruce Banner being referred to as Bob Banner). Ditko, upon being given the plot for this issue, reportedly hated the sequence wherein Spider-Man jacks a plane to save John Jameson in a plummeting space craft, comparing it to the likes of a high school football player joining the Super Bowl.

Where the plot that Lee provided Ditko came from is unknown, people looking into the subject like Stan Taylor and Stephen Bissette have come to the conclusion that they actually were provided by Jack Kirby to Lee to pass on to whomever ended up taking over Spider-Man, but the evidence isn't conclusive so I'll not state that that was the case. Ditko wasn't the type to be into flights to space, or making Communist villains like The Chameleon's motivations here, is what I will say. Ditko is clearly already developing very clear ideas on who Spider-Man is and where to take him, and any influence Kirby had on the conception of the character will quickly be shed. This will not be the last time we here of Ditko rejecting or altering ideas presented to him by Lee however.

@duel1971 : So very excited that we can start talking about J Jonah Jameson. In this story we see only one side of the man: a loudmouthed, ungrateful bully. He’s a perfect antagonist for Peter at this point in his story. Peter and his aunt are broke and desperate. Jameson is financially secure and has a platform that allows him to totally destroy Spider-Man’s reputation practically overnight. The fact that Jonah doesn’t actually know he’s targeting a struggling high school student at the moment is his only real defense.

The parallels between the Jameson and Parker families are something I’ll be writing more about as we go. John Jameson is successful and beloved where Spider-Man is shunned and hated, and Jonah has all the power in the world while Aunt May has almost none. Their similarity is in their loyalty to each other: part of Jonah’s hatred of Spider-Man in this issue seems to be fueled by thinking Peter was out to steal John’s glory in some way or another. (I say “seems to be” because it’s hard to take anything he says at face value.)

Second story: This one is really interesting to me because of how ambiguous Peter’s character arc is in it. He continually tries to do the right thing: first trying to impress the Fantastic Four in a desperate bid for a steady paycheck, and then aiding the cops in stopping the Chameleon. Both times, he is rejected and he remains an outlaw at story’s end. The last page features the Fantastic Four reflecting that someone as powerful as Spider-Man may well be a threat someday.

Of course, we know Peter didn’t turn to evil. But things aren’t going well! In spite of being powerful enough to take on the entire Fantastic Four by himself, he’s just a kid who’s worried about his aunt and doesn’t know why everyone hates him so much. It’s all too easy to imagine the path his life might’ve taken.

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nomsfaultau · 7 months ago

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Hi! I’m rereading your fic, and I’ve been chewing on some questions for a while now.

First, do we ever get introduced to other dsmp characters outside of the foundation, or will this story continue with just a limited cast?

Second, will Tommy ever.. like… see his friends and stuff again? (Same for techno, the community college but is just. TOO GOOD.)

These questions do seem kinda spoiler-y, so I tooootally understand if you can’t or don’t want to answer. I’m just curious.

Anyway, have a great day! <3

It's a pretty limited cast story, which is how I can get so deep into each one's psyche. But of the other scps that have showed up (Charlie, Badboyhalo, Skeppy, and Ranboo) at least one will come back in a major way for a plotpoint. As for parts not yet published in Fault, Niki will be making a appearance in the third epoch. Used to be 3 mcyts were going to show up, but they were written out ages ago for a plethora of reasons really. Niki is replacing the role of one (and became a much cooler character tbh I'm going to be rambling about her soon but life is getting busy and I have a lot of projects atm). Webb stole the role of another and OH MAN IT'S GONNA BE SO SICK but he's not really mcyt. Last of the trio became obsolete.

Anyway, I know there's room for at least one more mcyt in the story I have planned so far. Haven't fleshed out who or what they are, but I do know that whoever it is will be a half feral Keter and I can't wait to figure that out in. Probably the years down the line when I finally get to that part lol.

As for Tommy's old friends, his long term goal is to get back home. So, they will at one point get to Nottingham, just, you know, there's an ENTIRE FREAKING OCEAN in the way. And there are absolutely no plans whatsoever for the community college guys to show up. Given they're all amnesticized to hell and back, it's been [redacted] years, and the group is trying to be hidden, it would be insane odds for them to return to the narrative.

#ask #fault au #sbi scp au #something to nom on #now I have technically come up with a lot of scp versions for a whole slew of mcyt but tbh most of them are jokes #oh I guess Sam technically shows up at one point but that's more cameo #and there's a lot of foreshadowing to characters who won't show up now so oof to that lmaoo

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numberonebidoofenjoyer · 5 months ago

Text

[There seems to be a video segment.]

[Play it? Yes/No]

Plethoras of Bronzor seem to be floating around in the air, moving in curricular patterns. They don’t seem to notice the viewer. They appear to be around a destroyed ruin, moss and vines covering the cracked stone bricks in the purest form of nature.

“That’s….a lot of Bronzor….” A voice comes from. The camera shifts to reveal Lochland, crouching next to a decaying pillar.

“Bzzt, what do you think it is…?” A digtal voice emerges the recorder. Lochland ponders the question.

“….Bronzor gather around burial tombs from ancient times, don’t they?” Lochland mumbles. “Maybe there’s one around here somewhere? Roto, can you check the map for-”

“Already checking….” The video cuts out briefly. When it resumes, the camera shakes side to side. “Nothing.”

“Well, there has to be something nearby. Otherwise, why would they freak out like this?”

“Bzzt! How should I-” The video is cut out by a loud screech, and a scream of terror. The Bronzor stop, all turning to the east.

“S-someone’s in danger!”

“Then it’s up to us to go investigate!” Lochland exclaimed, reaching behind his Bag to pull out a Master Ball.

“Fangs, let’s roll!”

Tossing the Poké Ball, an unfamiliar red Pokémon, with white highlights with blue and purple at the end, mainly seen on its tendrils and chest, with has a large black throat sac. Its tail swings impatiently as it glares at its trainer and the Rotom.

“I know boy, but something is seriously wrong and we need to hurry!” Lochland apologizes, climbing on on top of Fangs. He huffs, before tucking in his tail and inflating its throat sac, looking similar to a Cyclizar.

It sprints off into the east.

“H-hey, wait for-”

[The video abruptly cuts off.]

#lochland here!#roto sayz #post #video #herba hunting #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon #rotumblr

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sandrockianblues · 2 years ago

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Some of our loved gang annoying each other when bored head cannons? plsss?💕👀

Let me just cuddle up to you real quick to express my adoration for you anon💜💜💜✨

I’m assuming you meant the bandit boys again, if not, feel free to correct me and I’ll make another (This is kinda long so let’s hope it’s what you asked for😭😭)

Feel free to spam my inbox with more! I’m always willing to share my head canons!!!💜 or if you just wanna talk or say something

Bandit Gang Annoying Each Other:

💣Haru💣

He always tries to busy himself with work and planning ahead (bc someone’s got to) but there are times where he just can’t keep his head buried in his work anymore or he doesn’t feel motivated to study up on the shit he needs. So, he takes it out on the boys lovingly

-Andy> at first it was sorta dumb stuff just to tweak him like wetting small shredded pieces of discarded notes and ideas he had tossed aside, throwing them at the kid until it stuck. Other times it was a blank stare and unyielding until Andy would screech at him to stop because it was freaking him out. After he finds out the kid has developed a major crush on Jasmine? “There was this one time Jasmine and I-,” “I don’t wanna hear it.” “Yeah, ya do.” Plethora of stories that Andy both loves and hates to hear because he does not like Jasmine, dammit. It’s especially more annoying when Haru tells stories of a very young Jasmine saying she’ll grow up to marry Haru or Logan someday like any other kid would do.

-Logan> literally poor fucking guy. Cowboy prince bandit here cares about his appearance because let’s face it, he and everyone else knows he’s pretty. Not Fang pretty, but roguishly handsome and solid main male lead, handsome enough to be that NFL player you suddenly get into a team for despite not knowing how football may work coughs-. So he’s a little vain and tries to take care of his appearance. And Haru abuses that. Will catch him off guard saying he’s spotted a gray hair among his strands (mind you, Logan has a head of white hair) or that his eyes seem to be dulling all of a sudden? Then there’s times where Haru tells the most outlandish science shit that’s in no way true or plausible and Logan believes it for a good part of the day week because, well, it’s his friend that’s the brainiac. But then it hits at some point and Logan always gets so bent out of shape that he’s been fooled once more. They’re so friendly with one another that they can joke about even the harder topics- so, long story short, Haru likes to claim being Howlett’s favorite. You can imagine the angry cowboy face there. Logan comes for his ass (settle down LoHaru fans, let’s keep it PG-13 and save it for fanart and fanfic). IF LOGAN IS INTERESTED IN THE BUILDER>>> 11/10 likes to reference the start of their “interactions” (I.e. Logan watching the train the builder was on come in their first day- tho really, Haru just kinda puts it together and does the math/ after Water Tower explosion and their eyes met)- essentially, anything he can use to make it seem like they’re some star-crossed lovers or living out some dramatic romance fantasy. IF HARU IS INTERESTED IN THE BUILDER TOO>>> not entirely confident he can win their heart and affections against Logan, but it’s too fun to casually remark that the builder may prefer guys who aren’t tall as hell or that have a tanner complexion or dark hair and eyes- lmao not Logan trying to figure out how to properly tan or appear shorter or even willing to dye his hair.

🦸🏼‍♂️Andy🦸🏼‍♂️

He’s a kid and a smart one at that, but his attention span is so small at this age and he gets bored so easily. He worships Logan and Haru, idolizes them even. Being a bandit was essentially his dream. So, he mostly behaved. But it’s when Sandrock accepts their bandit boys back that he starts being a little shit (Andy, my child).

-Haru> this man unnerves Andy in a different way than his buddy does. Andy wholly believes that Haru could kill him and get away with it. But it doesn’t stop him. Andy likes to disorganize his notes so they’re not in order. Will sometimes leave feedback on random sticky notes to the most obscure shit and they’re all filled with critiques (some of which are valid and actually do annoy Haru Lmao). He once saved up all his money and bought a jelly jar that was actually filled with glitter that Vivi had. Took some of Haru’s notes and from what he could do, he made a glitter bomb (it was a Thursday and Jasmine was helping Heidi organize some things so he was lonely). The fortunate part to the end of that tale is that it was mostly plain glitter so like silver. The unfortunate part is that sometimes, if you pay attention, Haru fucking shimmers. This was very distressing to Mi-An once who has found this battered but readable cringey book about vampires, but that may have been the best day of Logan’s life who laughed so hard he wheezed and had some blood vessels burst in his face. IF HARU IS INTERESTED IN THE BUILDER>>> Andy will resort to basic elementary tactics and make kissy faces that are totally visible to not just Haru and the builder, but also everyone in the vicinity. He’ll sing that “kissing in a tree” song. Walks by the guy who is trying his best to be subtle about his feelings yet attempting to flirt and going like “oh dang, tell them how u really feel” and sometimes leaning against a railing watching them from above shouting in a monotone voice “OH SHIT, THAT SOME GOOD CHEMISTRY YOU GOT THERE”- Andy’s fuckin’ fast as hell, but if you wanna see him fly, wait until he pisses one of his bandit fathers off. Kid doesn’t even touch the ground when he’s running.

-Logan> you know that pic of Ben Affleck? Nvm, you know it, I don’t even need to describe it. You know it. Homie would put his little brother/son (depends on the day and how much he wishes to throttle the tween) on a flag pole by his raggedy little cape if he could sometimes. Logan is literally the true victim between the two of his friends/found family. But in their defense, it’s just too fucking easy to rile him up. Andy will still do dumb shit like steal his hat or dress up like him like he did for Bronco the Kid, posing as Logan the Bandit and nailing down his gun twirl (chill, it’s a water gun with no water bc Sandrock is dryer than my ex’s personality) and the dramatic swish of his cape. Literally the kid was born for LARPing or Comic Cons, maybe even acting, but the world missed out. Regardless, it is some good shit. Owen even lets him recreate Bandit Gang memories on stage sometimes because he thinks the kid is a blast when he’s all dressed up (he will actually start giving the kid a “1,2,3” count if he dresses up as Bronco again), much to Logan’s dismay. If you think that is bad enough, Andy actually has Logan’s signature down almost perfectly and will sit at a little table like it’s a lemonade stand selling autographed WANTED signs of the good looking bandit (much to Unsuur’s dismay) IF LOGAN IS INTERESTED IN THE BUILDER>>> Andy will abuse his height, his speed, and Logan’s patience. Homie will yeet himself into either Logan’s back or the builder’s and make them fall into each other as he takes off cackling and screaming about PDA. Now, Logan is a chill guy and recognizes it as both manipulation and a somewhat accident, but it’s the fact that this is the fifth time the cheeky bastard has schemed this week and at some point, the builder has to catch onto why Andy’s doing it to the two of them specifically. He WILL intentionally leave WANTED posters of Logan on their front door or workshop table or in their mailbox. No, please don’t ask Unsuur about this. He’s fucking done with the posters.

🤍Logan🤍

Logan was someone that felt like he had to grow up a little too fast to help his father deal with raising him alone and hunting monsters. His only reprieve from that maturity and the weight of the world on his shoulders was spending time with friends like Haru or Elsie or Jasmine, etc. There, the rascal like side of him poked out. Logan is the man of action and the one to carry out missions. He’s not big on planning, so, when there’s no mission to carry out and no action to be doing, he’s gonna have some fun.

-Andy> to the Logan simps out there, y’all better pray the builder and him have a daughter because Logan is much GENTLER and CAREFUL with girls (don’t think about the fight y’all have if you a girl). He will swoop down with far too much agility for a man his size and grab Andy by the ankles with one hand, standing upright and flipping the kid upside down in his hold. Isn’t above shaking him to see how much candy and stuff he nabs (literally no one cares and they just pretend to not see because it’s minimal shit) falls out. Or he ruffles his hair and messes it up completely. Sometimes, he’ll sit down with the kids (no chair is too small for him- that’s a lie, every chair is too small for him. Just look at his weird ass throne.) and asks whether he’ll be the main of honor or the best man to their wedding. He’s not above his bandit ways and WILL demand a dowry for his precious Princess Jasmine.

-Haru> they go back and sometimes, that’s not a good thing. Logan knows exactly how to annoy Haru. It’s just when he decides to find new ways that Haru gets nervous. Like after the Mi-An incident where she thought he was a vampire, Logan spent money on glitter himself that he kept in his pocket and would randomly throw it like confetti in the air with an emotionless face, watching it rain down on Haru with glee burning like the blue flames of a fire. Or when he actually borrowed Mi-An’s book so he could read it (he honestly hates it, nothing makes sense and he almost abandoned the idea numerous times) and WILL quote it at him. Haru hasn’t read it, but at this point he essentially has given how Logan took this way too seriously and is passionate about giving him shit. Sometimes, Logan will idly remark about being sick of shit and wanting to run away. Which annoys Haru because “been there, done that”. Not letting Haru sit in his weird throne actually annoys him but for the principle, not because Haru really wants to sit there. Logan also likes to remark about how smart Qi is and wonders if his bombs would be more effective. Then there are times where they’re just meandering about riding their steeds and Logan will go off on this near philosophical and rather introspective tangent that takes Haru by surprise, going to respond to Logan only to be met with “I was talking to Rambo.” 💀 IF HARU IS INTERESTED IN THE BUILDER >>> Logan is both the best and worst person to have as your wingman. I don’t make the rules (yes I do ). He’ll give him openings to make his move, he’ll set up the scene perfectly like this is mere child’s play to him (it’s odd, the things Logan chooses to be good at), hell, he may even pay for their dinner. But then there are times where they’re having a nice date and Logan will all of a sudden stretch over the divider wall of the booth with a harsh and loud whisper of “diD YoU kiSS ‘eM YEt?!” He is both a himbo and a child. IF LOGAN IS ALSO INTERESTED IN THE BUILDER>>> if it was anyone else, he’d be pulling out all the stops to win the builder over. But with Haru, all he can do is poke lighthearted fun at his height or how he’s missing a duster or a cowboy hat. Sometimes a “is your heart a ticking bomb? What’re you swearing for?” sort of shit to tease him.

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