#and maybe... i did get distracted on an original in the process. maybe

[screamsinsilver]

Max is feeling mopey because his travel plans fell through. Lando’s feeling mopey because he’s sick, he DNF’d, and he didn’t get to see Max on his birthday. Max flies out to Abu Dhabi to surprise him when he lands.

ooh! okay!

fic beneath the cut!

lando knows it's selfish to want to spend a day in the uk before abu dhabi, knows it's unlikely for the team to shoehorn something so irrelevant in before the last race of the season, a 15 hour flight seperating the locations of that final double header. he knows it'll be a nightmare for logistics but perhaps some max time can help him feel slightly more human so he's at least a little more prepared for the time changes and climate changes and cuisine changes from latin america to the middle east.

the last few days have been exhausting for him, even slightly painful at times, from his stomach attempting to evict whatever's inside - even if it's just water - from whatever means available, to the tiny impact of the crash with charles, to the pain of retiring in the midst of the battle with alpine.

he needs a break.

one now, before this last race.

and even though he knows it's entirely possible, he doesn't ask. he just trudges along behind the wave of papaya onto the direct flight to the emirates.

fifteen hours is a long time to be stuck in a cabin with the same faces, daniel's grin absent when lando does consider killing time with some conversation, scaring him away from the aussie. he resorts to his phone, more than willing to pay for internet connectivity flying over the atlantic, opens the group chat for the first time this weekend.

he can't really tell who started the conversation (tom, probably) but it's hit something in max, a waterfall of whatsapp messages from his man cascading meters down the screen. he's upset. lando can tell that much. he's also bored, annoyed at theo, missing lala.

it looks like he's in one of his moods, where he usually goes straight to lando demanding to be held and comforted and spoken to, something to ground him from the hurricane in his brain, only this time lando's on a different part of the planet, far and unavailable, too busy for max to distract.

as if max is a distraction to him.

lando doesn't really know what to do now. he's past the uk, and there's no way the team would let him take the seven hour flight from the uae after they land. he looks at flights for max, but what if he doesn't even want to come? he's already spoken about how much he hates the constant reminder that his dreams of racing are over, how he can only get back behind a wheel for content creating.

sometimes all he needs with max is better communication. which is bullshit becuase he's the only one he actually communicates with anyway.

so he sits, alone, in a slump, hoping that there is another way to get through the next week alone.

as it turns out, he doesn't have to.

landing at the airport, he's very sure he's seeing things, like a man just smaller than he is, bundled up in lando's own sweats (in the dubai heat, really?), a smile breaking out on his beardless face.

"idiot." lando smiles into the crook of max's neck, breathing in his so familiar scent, max's arms finding their way into the grooves of lando's body where they belong.

somehow, lando feels as if this has changed max slightly, too, a long sigh let out from the depths of his lungs and thoughts, finally finding peace.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

in the power of Noticing Things The Xth Time Around the instrumentals-imitative "doot. doot. doot. dooWAH" vocals that kick in during the second verse of centerfold? superlative

[honeytonedhottie]

cultivating creativity and a deeper understanding of self⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

PROMPTED JOURNALING ; 

shadow work and prompted journaling is a rly helpful way to get to know urself better. it cultivates not only creativity and a sense of identity, but also healing.

journal therapy is literally everything and i cannot recommend it enough. some shadow work prompts that you can use to start off are listed below.  

what part of myself do i feel disconnected to and why 

how do i let others invade my boundaries 

what beliefs and behaviors did u adopt from ur family that you now question 

what easily triggers sadness or anger from you. and what might be the deeper reason for this sensitivity

are there desires and ambitions that you feel embarrassed or scared to admit? and why?

journaling mainly involves self expression without fear of judgement. it’s like expressing urself without feeling ashamed so i highly recommend it for anyone who feels like they struggle with self expression. 

SELF EXPRESSION ; 

working on ur self expression also helps to kind of cultivate a sense of identity and knowledge of who you are and what u value. like i mentioned earlier you can express yourself in so many different ways. i’ll get deeper into the self expression aspect in the post. 

PASSION ; 

what are you passionate about? what drives u everyday? is it money? academic validation or academic research? maybe it’s romance or a strong desire for something. 

it’s okay. everyone’s answer might be different but there’s no wrong answer. identify what motivates you and what ur working towards. 

BEING BORED ; 

give yourself the privilege to do nothing. give yourself the luxury of being bored. when ur not doing anything, this frees up ur mind to think and cultivate ideas and concepts, most of the epiphanies that i have are a result of my alone time. 

when there’s nothing to do, you’re forced to think. and most ppl look for distractions and excuses to not spend time by themselves bcuz they don’t wanna spend time in their thoughts. they don’t wanna just be in their mind and i understand cuz at one point i was also in that position. 

to break this habit and be comfortable in ur own mind you must first be uncomfortable. start small, dedicate a small amount time to just lay and think, let ur mind wander as far as you want. and the next day let ur mind wander for a longer amount of time and so on until you can do this comfortably. 

CREATIVE OUTLETS ; 

something that i���ve learned on my journey is that having a creative outlet was rly important for me to be able to cultivate who i wanted to be and to be authentic and original. 

a creative outlet is a way that u can express yourself and your ideas some examples of a creative outlet could be 

pinterest accounts - i have so many pinterest accounts and on those accounts i turn my boards to art. lately i’ve been interested in photography and photos in general so this was rly good for me. 

a blog - starting ur own blog about something that ur passionate about/know a lot about or something that ur learning about is a great way to track progress and document ur journey

a journal - like i’ve mentioned earlier on in the post a journal is the simplest one to do in my opinion and i love it so so much

creating art - whether it’s pinterest boards, paintings, sketches, music, poetry, stories WHATEVER YOU WANT. 

DEEPER UNDERSTANDING ; 

process ur emotions in a thoughtful and efficient way and try looking deeper into ur behavioral patterns and habits. why are you the way you are? 

what are you passionate about? etc etc. cultivate a relationship with yourself through self care and healing work. remember that healing isn’t a linear process and in no case will it be, but i think that u owe it to yourself to know and cultivate urself. 

[deadbeat-motel]

ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.

I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).

Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:

My issues with their Original designs:

Vaggie:

The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because

1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.

2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.

3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?

The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.

It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.

Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)

She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.

Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.

Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.

Charlie:

Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design

It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.

Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.

Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?

Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.

I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".

On to the thought process for these two:

Valerie the fallen:

Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.

I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?

In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.

She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?

She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.

Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.

She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)

Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.

Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.

I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)

Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.

A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.

Charlie:

I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING

Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.

Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.

She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.

I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)

Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.

Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.

Has wings from her father.

Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.

Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form:

[hellish-sunsets]

Lucifer red string of fate soulmate au? Like, maybe he and Lilith originally got together despite the strings because Lucifers was Grey or something at the time; but eventually his turns bright red because turns out his soulmate was mortal and is now a sinner so they can actually be together? I think it would be cute since he's so depressed with Lilith leaving him; now he has the sparkle of hope that he can find the missing piece to his puzzle 😊 if you do end up writing this request could it be super fluffy??? (Also bonus points if Sinner Reader is not only shorter then him but also super kind hearted and sweet!)

I'm a sucker for soulmate AU's! This one got a bit away from me, I'll probably have to make a part two, but for now here's what I got!

Gray Dyed Red

Word Count: 1,912

-------------------------

The strings existed since the beginning of… well, existence. Every being had one tied to their middle finger, or the closest they had to one for the more animalistic ones. No one could see them but the owner of the string, thin things that could never tangle or be broken, either red or gray. And at the end of that string was supposed to be your soulmate. Well, as long as it was red. 

Lucifer’s had always been gray. 

And yeah, it bothered him at first, but he was quick to push aside and keep himself busy with creating with the other angels. He would lose himself in his work. But then, none of his ideas were good enough. They were too… different. He just wanted to make something he could be proud of. 

He was only allowed to watch when Adam and Lillith were made. 

Watching wasn’t as much fun, but he could still keep himself distracted. He smiled down at them as they started their lives on the earth they were given. 

Then they fell apart. He didn’t understand why. Surely the first man and woman would be soulmates, right? But no, they didn’t fit well at all. They’re relationship was a constant fight of who was in charge. He decided he had to help somehow, and in the process fell in love with Lillith. She told him her string was gray, and he thought that maybe they could make it work. They loved and supported each other! What did it matter if they weren’t soulmates?

Even after their fall to hell, they spent thousands of years in each other's arms. 

Then she left.

No word, no note, just an empty bed and an empty castle. 

And he knew he was falling apart, shunning the rest of the world, not even reaching out to Charlie anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted a distraction, something to put his mind on that wasn’t his own failures. 

The gray string of his was just a reminder that there was no one for him, not even the woman he gave all his existence to. 

But it was strange. All these thousands of years, it had never changed color before. 

He didn’t even notice at first, couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it happened. He was in bed, had probably been there far too long. He physically couldn’t sleep anymore, so he needed to distract himself with something else. Maybe he could make an actually good rubber duck today. He should probably shower first, or clean himself in some way. Showers were faster so they usually won out. Though, they didn’t usually end up being faster once he gets in there. 

Whatever, he just needed to get up, right?

With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms over his head. He avoided staring at the empty side of the bed, shoving the covers off to head for the bathroom, the wood floors cold against his feet. 

He yawned as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. That’s when he saw it, a glint of red. He frowned and lowered his hand to stare, wondering what he had seen. It couldn’t have been his eyes, the shade wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t his cheeks. He went to scratch his chin but froze with his hand halfway up. 

The string was red, deep and bright and unlike anything he had seen before. He looked down at his hand with wide eyes, not quite comprehending what it meant, but for some reason his heart seemed to flip in his chest. That was strange…

So… he had a soulmate now? How? When? Were they just made, or perhaps they were born somewhere? Were they from Earth? Heaven? Hell? Could he find them now? Maybe it turned because they just entered hell. But then, how good of a person could they be if they were down here with the sinners, perhaps a sinner themself? Was that even the type of person he wanted to interact with? But he had seen so many find their soulmates on the other end of their string and, good person or not, they were always perfect for eachother.

His heart does another flip in his chest.

He forces himself to undress and get in the shower, but his mind kept racing, going over the same questions over and over again.

His shower was much shorter than usual. He wanted to get out as soon as possible.

It had been a very long time since he bothered walking or flying through the city. He didn’t much like the sights or the people. Lilith was the one who dealt with them. Every single one of those sinners was just a reminder of what he had done, a never ending punishment. He preferred avoiding it all together. The last thing he ever wanted was to see how his gift of free will was abused by so many.

But that didn’t matter now. As much as he hated the people and the crowds, he was going to follow this stupid string until he found it’s end. 

—-------------------------

A few days passed. 

Pentagram city couldn’t be that big, and yet here he was, still searching. He did rest. Occasionally. Sometimes. Probably not enough. The only reason he did rest as much as he did was… well, he wanted to be at his best when he did finally find the end of his string. He wanted to make a good impression!

He narrowed it down to the edge of the city, a more rundown section where new sinners tended to congregate.

So they had to be new to hell. That's why his string suddenly changed color. They must have been a human who recently died and manifested here. He… wasn’t sure how he felt about it. What if she was just as awful as every other sinner? He feared that the most, that he was destined for some terrible person, that he didn’t deserve someone actually nice…

His string went straight down to an alley below. He could avoid the crowd, thank God. He swept down into the alley, feet landing with a quiet clack against the cracked concrete. He withdrew his wings, glancing around his filthy surroundings with a scowl of disgust. Surely there wasn’t anyone lounging in the muck here, right. But no, there was someone here, a sinner in tattered clothes, standing with their back pressed against the brick wall, head bowed as they took deep breaths, like they were calming themself down from something. 

A frown tugged at his lips. He glanced down at his hand, eyes tracing the vibrant red string towards this sinner, the other end tied around their finger.

It was them. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when he started walking towards them, just knew when his hand clasped around theirs. They jumped, trying to pull away at the sudden contact until their eyes met. They almost immediately relaxed, eyes widening with understanding as they gazed down at their clasped hands, then back up into his eyes. It was odd. No one had looked up at him since Charlie was still young.

He was usually better with words. They would normally come so easily to him, even if they may not always be the best or a bit rambling. But for once in his life, he wasn't sure what to say.

“Hi.” They said, smiling up at him ever so sweetly.

“Hey.” He smiled back, a flush rising in his cheeks. “What, um, brings you… here.” He motioned vaguely to the filthy alley with a slight frown, but the smile returned when he looked down at them.

“Ah, you know, just trying to collect myself and not freak out.” They said with her cheery voice, chuckling a little at themself. “I, uh, I never really thought I'd end up down here. I guess I thought sometimes I'd end up in hell, but honestly I just didn't think about it. But it's okay! I think I get it now.”

He tilted his head slightly in confusion, but that giddy smile never did leave his face. “What do you mean? You know why you’re down here?”

They nodded.

“Yep! I'm here to be with you! That must be it!”

Warmth didn’t bloom in his chest like he's felt in other circumstances. No, it was more like being hit by a freight train face first. In an instant he had them in his arms, savoring their surprised giggle as he squeezed them tight, burying his face in their hair. They happily hugged back. 

It could have been only a moment, it could have been hours, but he didn’t care. He didn’t dare let them go until he was sure this wasn't some sort of trick or dream. Only when he was satisfied did he pull away, eyes looking over them intently, committing every contour of their face to memory, every scratch, every scar, those sparkling eyes, that smile sweeter than apple pie. Shit, they really were perfect for him, weren't they? They could confess to murder and he would forgive them instantly.

“My name's Y/N, by the way.” 

Even their name was perfect.

“Lucifer.”

“Like the devil Lucifer?” They didn't even look that perturbed, just curious. He chuckled and gave a little bow. 

“The one and only. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

‐—-------------------

It was strange, having someone in his quarters again, sitting in bed with the sound of the shower running in the back. It felt… right. It was proper he wasn’t alone anymore. How things were meant to be. Nice.

He sat up straighter when he heard the shower turn off. A few long minutes passed before she came out, dressed in a simple white sundress he provided. He wasn’t very good at making clothes, he preferred creating animals and things similar, but at the very least it looked like it fit, accentuating her sweet smile. 

He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he ignored it in favor of exaggerating the smile she brought to his face.

She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, running her fingers through the damp strands of her hair.

“Well…” She started, but wasn't really sure what to say, voice drifting off. She stared at her feet, unsure what else to do. 

He tilted his head to the side, just watching her for a moment. He reached out for her, hesitating for a moment before cupping her cheek, guiding her head to turn towards him. He just… he needed to see her eyes again. He needed to be sure she's real and in front of him and this wasn't some sort of trick. 

She smiled at him and leaned into his hand. His heart melted.

“I didn't think I'd ever find my soulmate.” She admitted in a whisper. “My string was always gray before, so I thought…” She trailed off and shrugged. He nodded his understanding.

“Yeah, me too. ‘Sorta assumed I just didn't have one since I wasn't human. I think it's more common for demons and angels to have gray strings.” His brows furrowed in thought, but whatever was running through his mind vanished as she turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“... what do we do now?” She asked.

He gulped and shook his head, gathering his thoughts.

“I suppose I should introduce you to my daughter.”

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Tourniquet

DUNCAN VIZLA X READER

⚠️ Warnings: Uhhh kinda extreme gore, I mean I definitely go into intense detail about some of the way these people die so probably don't read this if you're squeamish, blood, death, murder, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, I think that's it but yeah ⚠️

Duncan comes to save you and risks his life in the process.

Duncan had originally wanted nothing more than to retire from this god-forsaken line of work he'd been in for over thirty years. To succumb fully to the relaxation that was unemployed bliss, somewhere far off in the lost woods with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Maybe he'd try for another dog again, although he wasn't too lucky with his PTSD responses around Rusty. Wherever in the world he may be or whomever he'd be with, he just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, thankyouverymuch.

Today, he was not so lucky. Of course, he had to take the one job offer to end his career with a bang and to coagulate all of the money he'd originally been promised to begin with. One job after another, one shot fired towards a man's head and a stapler gun to his ankles, all led him here. At the front of this house. On a rescue mission. Which would then lead to a hitman mission. Obviously. Unfortunately.

Duncan sighed and took in the landscape with his one good eye, courtesy of the copious amount of torture he'd pushed through over the past month. Although his wounds were still healing and he felt their burn underneath the folds of his fabric coat, he had to act fast as there was no time to waste. He needed to put his life on the line once again; as he had for so many years working as a hitman. But now, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A reward to his revenge. Nothing that was false promises of money or strippers or nights out at the bar that would only situate him for a week before he grew bored. No, at the end of this mission was the promise of your safety and the potential of the two of you living this retired life he'd dreamt of for so long.

He only had to kill 30+ men and his former "mission mates" before getting to you and fleeing this Damocles shit for good.

Easy, in theory. In actuality, he was probably going to end up dead. Unless he could control himself through his rage and use it as an adrenalin boost rather than a distraction to his plan.

The mansion was huge and lavish in comparison to the wood houses Duncan had come to love in Montana. It was almost entirely frivolous; the magnitude of Blut's weath, all gained from those who did his dirty work and never out of his own aspirations.

Seeing the coast was fairly clear, he crafted a plan in his head as to how he was going to make it in and out of the place unscathed. Two guards to his left on the rooftop, facing outwards. Meaning that there must be at least another two on the other side, not knowing from which direction he'd come. Another one in the upper right window that could easily be taken out with a sniper. A few fifteen or so on the ground in hidden positions, all of which he knew considering he used to work for the damn place. Assuming Blut's usual stupidity would mean that the plans for an attack on Damocles would be unchanged, minus those who were inside of the place itself.

Time for action. He took off his heavy coat and draped it on the tree nearest to him so as not to be weighed down by the material. His thick wool sweater would be more than enough to keep him warm, alongside his steel-toed boots. Underneath his coat and concealed by his initial wardrobe was a now visible belt with two loaded guns on either side. His hand was clad with brass knuckles and he had a knife in his boot, only for an extreme situation. Worse comes to worse, he still had that piece of shrapnel under the second layer of his skin from one of his older missions he could cut out if he really had to. Eyepatch in place and hair tied in an up-do, he was ready to start shooting people.

Hey, maybe if they were all dead he'd finally get his $8 million he'd been promised.

It happened as quickly as the next snowflake hit the ground; Blut's mansion was under attack. They'd been expecting him, but as he was called The Black Kaiser, he was the best of the best. He knew their ins and outs and was now thankful he kept a friendly but protective distance from everyone while he was in the org so that they wouldn't know the specificities for his own attack. One skillful shot to the top left roof was enough to pierce through the necks of both the men standing atop it, one falling off after the other and landing on the ground with a thick thud. Blasted through arteries and a fuckton of blood pooled out the edges from where they'd fallen, creating intricate patterns on the wintery terrain and leaving giant stains on the sides of the building.

Now understanding their mission was a go, the man from the window received the hint and withdrew himself from the window, racing back inside most likely to tell Blut about the outside commotion. No matter. He'd take his time to paint the entirety of the green estate red with the fallen victims of Damocles.

He'd been right about the guards from the top of the building being on the other side, except there were three instead of two. They rushed around looking for the potential places Duncan could be hiding, so as to scope him out first and be the ones to receive the praise from their fat ass nepo-baby boss. They must all be younger and have no idea the amount of years and experience he'd had in this industry because Duncan was in plain fucking sight with his guns readied in both hands.

"Bye." He said, and shot them at the same time, making two of the guards meet the same tragic fate as their friends. One, two, they hit the ground with more thuds and guts, spreading their entrails further out than most people would think the human body could reach. One of their intestines had wrapped around the edges of the window panes, a man still alive wishing he wasn't. He was screaming from the upper floor awaiting his fall as he was held up by the gaping wound in his stomach where Duncan had shot him once more. The last guard at the top of the roof looked down in horror and jumped himself, taking his own life and going limp once his neck made a loud snap against the pavement under the soft snow.

PTSD flashbacks edged the corners of Duncan's one-eyed vision, trying their best to stop him as he witnessed the horror of human death via his hands. He was used to this feeling, of wanting to curl up and revert into himself, to never see anyone or anything again and be tortured as payment for his crimes. He was just a man, not a deity. Why should he choose- or rather- listen to who chooses who should meet an untimely death? What makes him above the others within his species?

Because of their frequent visits, he shut his visions down and went soulless. That was the only way to truly do his job and to continue to do it well within the moment and not fight with the side that was desperate to live in peace and an understanding of humanity. He was a pacifist at heart, truly. And even though it went against his psychological beliefs of the world, he had to pretend that intentions outweighed his actions in the sense of his killing and this mission; that getting to you was worth the rampant murderous spree of all these people, paid by their boss just as he was to do the same tasks he's doing.

Burrowing into himself, he rolls to the nearest icicle filled tree, grabbing the man who was hidden here with the gun and twisting his neck until he heard the sounds of life escaping his throat. He discarded his now empty gun for the one in the holster of the other man, making sure it was fully loaded before proceeding to also extract the menthols from the upper part of the stranger's jacket.

"Mange Tak." He said, Danish for thank you. He could have a little class while he was at it.

Noticing the tree he was under and the man whom he'd just killed, Blut was either following their Five-Ten plan or the Outskirts plan, both of which were effective in combat. The Five-Ten plan was created by Vivian herself meaning that there would be five on the perimeter of the compound, five on the rooftop, and ten within the building before whomever was entering made it inside. Then, after getting through the frontlines of security (if they made it that far), whomever was infiltrating would meet the guards who allowed their cohorts to be killed as preparation time for the main show.

The Outskirts plan, however, would mean that every man who wasn't directly appointed as an assassin to Blut's side would be out in the fields which were now covered in snow, using the trapdoors hidden in the earth to prepare their weapons for combat and kill the intruder as he (or she) approached the compound.

He was going to take his bets with the Five-Ten.

Heart barely going over an easy 65bpm, he calmly readied his guns for the next part of the infiltration where a few other guards would pop up and flock to his sides, hoping that they might catch him off-guard. Which they wouldn't. Another few shots took care of those and as he wiped the blood off his face from the splatter of one of them, he lit a cigarette and started walking towards the front of the compound, taking his chances that he knew which plan they had chosen considering he'd killed most of the other ones when he'd killed Vivian during their surprise attack not even hours before he got here.

Stepping over the walkway and opening the doors to the inside, he'd been proven correct in his intuition and flanked to the wall, keeping himself out of sight to those in the building. There were three open entryways leading from the main hall to the upstairs where the pig himself resided. Which meant around six of those corners could be another guard and he'd have to take his shots carefully, unless he wanted to engage in hand-to-hand combat which didn't always end well when your opponent had a firearm. He checked his inventory quickly.

Six bullets left. He'd have to be stingy about it.

Holding the trigger and aiming the barrel towards his right, he took a shot through the ornate pillars holding up the entryway's corbel arch, a bullet forcing itself through the small opening in which the wall met the pillar. He heard an "oomph!" which he gathered triumphantly signified his tactic of approach was also correct.

Can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Rolling to the floor into the room from whence the sound came, he staggered over to the next wall and shot through the entryway, shooting the man in the room in the leg. Fuck. Slight misstep on his account (or the other guy's considering he no longer had the bottom half of his leg). He dodged the man's bullets and lifted one of the cylindrical vases decorating the hallway and bashed it into the man's skull, once, twice, and then dropping it as he watched blood ooze from his nose. A sound from behind him meant another and he was met with hands wrapping around his throat and a gun being pressed to his temple.

This man was much bigger in stature than Duncan, but it was no matter. He swiftly acted as though he were aiming for his opponent's side as they would have practiced for upon initiation training. Seeing the man respond confidently to where he'd presumed Duncan would strike meant he'd left his nuts unguarded to which Duncan kicked in with precision. The man screamed, letting go of his counterpart and went to hold himself in anguish. Duncan mercilessly grabbed the weapon from his hands and shot through the one holding his injured manhood, shooting off his limb and probably the area underneath.

A few more men appeared from the entryways, and, after killing them all with a few more bullets than needed considering he had two guns now and maybe a hit to the face with his brass knuckles; he made his way to the top of the stairs, ready for whatever else would come. He could take on twenty more of them before expressing any ounce of fatigue as he'd trained his whole life for missions like this.

However, it was just you in the room.

Almost entirely taken aback by the slumped position you were in bound to that chair in the middle of the room, Duncan froze in his advances. He didn't let his guard down, no, but he took careful detail to the contortions of your face and the state of your being from which he could make out from this distance. Your long hair fell from the roots of your head which seemed to still be intact (thank god), but your skin was an ashy grey and blood had littered your hands and chest area. It was deep and dark and so red, redder than he'd felt he'd ever seen before and the PTSD was back, clawing at his chest and vision through his one good eye, all of his labors seemingly returning to dust. If you were dead, it would be the death of all deaths despite having only known you for a short period of time.

It had been the way you'd entered his house for the first time that caught him winded, hands tucked into the pockets of your long coat that kept you warm and smelling like the vanilla candles that littered your house. Your flushed cheeks from being out in the cold. Your smile as he'd offered you a sip of his hot chocolate, only to find out it had an added hint of whiskey. Your face when he'd kissed you for the first time. The hug you'd given him after.

It took fifty years of his life to finally admit it to himself and to anyone else who'd listen to the raspy notches in his throat as he exclaimed that he was, indeed, in love. And it was, indeed, with you.

"Something caught your eye, Kaiser?" Blut's agonizing and cruel voice caught the echos of the marble flooring and flooded the room, signaling his emergence from the darkness. He was wearing his stupid, douchebaggy jacket with a shit eating grin nearly reaching the corners of his eyes. This was the man whom he'd worked for all these years, pledged his loyalty to despite having no ounce of previous companionship with him. The one who owed him $8 million and the one who'd sent out his own personal hitman army to kill Duncan and get away with it so he would no longer be a liability to the company.

"She'd better be alive, or I'll skewer your head on that fucking Damocles sword you have above the mantle." He nearly spat out, taking his time to enunciate the weight of every word that escaped his lips, forcing them out in such an anger that anyone would feel in the depths of their bones. Blut, however, could care less.

"Oh she's alive." Made sure to keep her that way for you." He said, sauntering towards her seemingly lifeless body and tilting her chin upwards to finally reveal her face. "Thought she could use some plastic surgery though, don't you think Duncan?"

It was as if a knife had pierced his chest then and there. Your face, which had been absolutely perfect upon anyone's first glance, now was missing an eye on the opposite side of his own. Flesh had been carved out around it, which meant it would leave a scar possibly even nastier than his. He wanted to throw up at the idea someone could've taken something so important to you and destroy a piece of your life forever. He then thought maybe that was how his victims' families felt, learning that their fathers or brothers had passed due to the brutality of murder.

But you were still beautiful. And he had to save you still.

"Duncan... you're not responding?" Blut taunted with his awful voice, ringing the question in his ears and twisting the metaphorical knife even further into his chest. Duncan knew he'd need to snap out of the hold of his traumas and force himself to swallow anything else other than the situation at hand in order to save you...and himself.

"You're fucking dead. Don't you fucking touch her." Duncan said, grabbing the hefty sword of the supposed Damocles mansion from the mantle near him, letting the blade drag on the floor before discarding his gun entirely and picking up the sword. It had to have been at least four feet long with a shiny hilt and an even shinier blade which would be stained with the blood of the man before him in the time it'd take to say the sword's name. He would avenge this piece of your life that had been wrongfully taken from you.

A little less smug now, Blut reached into his pocket and withdrew a gun. "Y-y-you fucking stay back Kaiser! I won't hesitate to blow your head off!!"

"Where are your other men? Or are you truly so out of options that you're here alone?" Duncan growled, his discarded gun going into the fireplace, and, with a loud boom, caught the floor and curtains surrounding it on fire. The flames twisted and danced against in the reflection of his newfound weapon, a proper visual to the fire that licked his veins with the rage he felt. He continued his progression to your chair, sparing you a softer glance, before focusing everything onto the man before him who was now cowering by the window on the wall.

It was as if he were a child who'd been told hiding under a blanket would save him from the monsters under his bed and in his closet. He shrunk into the glass and tried his best to aim his gun with a shaking hand at Duncan's head. Duncan was now eye-to-eye with the man whom he'd fucking rip to shreds faster than any job he'd done as a hitman in his life.

"Blut...you're not responding?" He sneered, dodging the bullet that flew from his opponent's barrel. He lifted the sword and thrust it from the nape of his neck to the back of his skull, brains flying out against the widow he was in front of. Blood spurt from the open wound like a the lake outside of Duncan's house in Montana, where he'd resided before all this madness. Eyes bulged out of his skull with the optic nerves sliding down the forefront of his face and falling just above his mouth. Duncan dismantled the head from his torso still attached to the blade and spear tossed the sword of Damocles out the window and onto the grounds below, the sharp end getting stuck in the ground and displaying Blut's upside down head like a totem pole.

"'Suck my fucking dick."

Duncan freed you from the chair, taking you outside and down the winding trail, mansion burning to the ground in the distance. Back to Montana where now, at last, he would fucking retire.

[tantei-chan01]

Did you know Branch was originally going to be the one Velvet and Veneer had kidnapped? That would be extremely traumatic for him in the mute au since he had just gotten to the point he felt comfortable even singing in front of other people and not running for cover whenever Bridget or Gristle comes by and suddenly MORE giants are kidnapping him and trying to use his talents specifically because he started singing again.

I like to think in that circumstance, Bridget and Gristle would postpone the wedding to support Poppy, but John Dory would somehow still crash some important even they were a part of, that Poppy would still insist on going with John to save Branch and probably be joined by more than a few guests, maybe even Bridget while Gristle stays back (someone has to watch the kingdom and while he may be bros with Branch, he also knows his first Troll friend is justifiably nervous around Bergans and probably gonna have a bad time if he sees him), and the group would not have as many jokes about Brozone still thinking Branch is a baby because A) he isn't there and B) his friends are and while they are all there for teasing their most introverted friend and learning about his past they cannot get over the fact Branch had been left alone for over 20 years with no family and suddenly they discover he had 4 older brothers who all presumably had jeut up and left

I did know about that and agree it would have gone much differently. Mr. Dinkles would have sent some critters to Mount Rageous to delay the performance for as long as possible.

Poppy would enlist the bounty hunters to help them track down the brothers. First, finding John Dory thanks to Delta's help. Him being horrified at the fact of his brother's kidnapping just as he was packing up to go see him and at the fact that he was also traumatized into losing his voice and turning gray and now this will just make it worse. Luckily he has clues that helps the group find the others.

Floyd would be performing in a small town when they find him. He immediately agrees to go with and feels guilty on what he's been informed about.

Bruce immediately jumps to save the baby of the family, which Brandy encourages and beats himself up for not thinking of going back for Branch after he found Vacay Island.

Clay can immediately tell what's going on after a few words and immediately packed a rescue bag, refusing to leave his brotherbehind again. Viva tries to keep them from leaving, but Poppy, who's already stressed with worry, shuts that down and tells her that sometimes you have to do scary things if it means protecting someone.

They make it to Mount Rageous, where the critters successfully delay the performance for another day, they find out where they live and sneak into the bedroom to find Branch. He's already lost a large amount of talent and can barely pull himself up. The brothers immediately hug the prison and express worry.

Crimp walks into the room and tries to tell Velvet and Veneer when the bounty hunters restrain her. They convince her to help them expose the two fakes of their crime. The brothers try harmonizing again, but it fails due to unresolved issues. Then Cooper asks if it really was necessary for them to be perfect?

He explains that it was something Branch always told Poppy and others trolls when they stressed out about it. He always says that perfection doesn't exist and that being yourself is enough. Velvet and Veneer walk in and immediately try to capture the trolls. The bounty hunters and critters distract them long enough for Poppy to start singing.

Everyone starts singing together and manages to break the prison, Branch landing in Floyd's arms, clearly exhausted and in bad shape but alive. Bridget bursts in the room with the authorities, Velvet tries to argue that they have no proof only for Crimp to reveal that she had livestreamed the entire thing. Veneer willingly gives himself up to the police while his sister fights the entire process.

They head back to Pop Village to get Branch checked out. Along the way, the brothers finally have a much needed talk with each other and agree that being separated for so long affected them in many ways and decided to work on their family relationship. With the help of licensed professionals.

[inkluvs]

dancing in a snowglobe - s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

a/n: originally posted on april 11th || (original a/n) i'm posting this before i can start overthinking it sooo yeah <3 also @forevermoreharrington , @sweetbabygirlsworld , @mothymunson , @livingintheupsidedown , and @crappymixtape all proof read parts of it <3 || (1.9k)

warnings: eventual smut. kissing. petnames(baby ; honey ; etc).

summary: you're snowed in with steve. friends to lovers (1.9k)

A pale stream of sunlight poured in through the window leaving you disoriented as you stirred awake. Last time you checked you didn’t have a window adjacent to your bed, nor was it usually this warm in the morning. You thought back to the previous night and the only thing you could recollect was an all-consuming ringing in your ears. Unable to recall anything of substance, you pushed the covers down and sat up slowly, swinging your legs over the side when you were sure you wouldn’t get dizzy. Your eyes focused on the walls painted a mint green color, and what had happened last night seemed to finally click in your mind. You’d fallen asleep at Steve’s last night, the alcohol you’d consumed leaving you unable to drive home, though you didn’t remember falling asleep in that bedroom.

The walls in the hallway were gray with white trimming along the top. The house seemed oddly unlike him, the only signs that he’d even lived there being the scratches on the wall that he’d undoubtedly made as a child. There were windows on either side of the hallway with beige curtains pulled to the side. You looked out the window to see your car parked in the driveway and the road covered in snow.

It’s snowing. How did you fail to notice that before? Was that on the forecast? You pushed that thought away for a few minutes, opting to worry about that later.

Steve was already downstairs, the smell of his cooking making its way up the stairs along with the soft crackle of the fireplace. He turned down the stove at the sound of your footsteps, turning around to face you a moment later. 

“D’you sleep okay?” 

Somehow, Steve seemed softer in the mornings, his old t-shirt not quite covering his tummy as he reached over to grab a plate.

“Yeah,” you paused, “I don't remember falling asleep there though.” Steve stayed quiet for a minute, like a child who’d done something wrong and had been caught in the process. You’d assumed that you’d fallen asleep there and forgotten but something about the way Steve was looking at you, his honey-brown eyes twinkling with fondness, made you change your mind.

“I carried you there,” he said softly, “is that okay? thought you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch and I didn’t wanna wake you up…” You nodded with a smile and he seemed to deflate with relief.

“d’you wanna eat anything?” You nodded again and he smiled, flipping the pancake on the stove before putting it on the plate. He handed you the plate and you sat down, watching Steve move around the kitchen with a smile. For a second you let yourself indulge in the domesticity of that moment, let yourself believe that this was more than what it was, your friend doing a nice thing for you.

Do friends do this for one another?

You ignored the thought, grabbing syrup and pouring it on the pancakes before grabbing your silverware. Steve joined you a few minutes later, setting down his plate and a plate of sliced fruit before he sat down. His eyebrows puckered once he noticed you hadn’t started yet.

“You didn’t have to wait for me babe,” he frowned. You didn’t know why, but your heart swelled at the nickname. Maybe it was the ease with which it fell from his tongue. The way it came so easily to him to treat you like something delicate and fragile. It was the way you felt yourself melting at the word.

“I wanted to,” you paused, “it felt wrong to start without you.”

In complete honesty, you’d gotten distracted watching him. Trying to memorize every little habit of his in the morning to make the moment last longer. Something about him had you completely and utterly bewitched. The way he would hum softly to the record he had playing in the background soothing you.

You ate in silence for a few minutes, both of you looking up every so often only to see the other doing the same. The only thing you could hear was the scraping of cutlery against ceramic plates. Steve was the one who penetrated the silence, the scrape of his chair legs against the ground making him wince as he stood up. You followed suit a few minutes after, setting your plate and utensils in the sink before washing your hands.

“it’s snowing” He regretted the words as soon as they fell from his lips. You didn’t give him much time to mull it over though, relieved that he’d been the one to start a conversation as you nodded.

“It’s pretty,”

He smiled. 

“You think?”

“Almost distracts you from the fact that you’re snowed in.” 

It was true. Somehow he’d gotten through breakfast and the majority of this conversation without thinking about that. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to spend time with you, he did. In fact, he’d dreamed about having a morning similar to this one with you for a while. But all Steve could think about was how right it felt to see you in his kitchen. To see you leaning against the counter as you messed with the hem of your shirt. He tore his eyes away from yours and you did the same, somehow able to sense the nature of his thoughts. Unable to continue the conversation, Steve excused himself to clean, which. in his mind, wasn’t a lie. The kitchen was a mess from last night. So much so that you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice it earlier. You stood there for a few moments before following, deciding that he would need your help considering the state of his house.

By the time you were finished, the both of you were exhausted. The dust that was stirred up made Steve sneeze, and still, he insisted on taking the vacuum cleaner from you, insisting that you’d already done enough. You know he didn't have any ill intentions in doing so, in fact, you couldn’t help but daydream about that moment.

Your back is pressed against his torso, and the warmth from his skin was seeping into yours through your shirt as he whispered to you, “Honey, you know you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you said simply. You could feel the vibrations in his chest as he spoke softly. 

“You've done lots already, let me help,” It was a sort of back and forth, a dance with one hand tied behind your back as the both of you refused to acknowledge what was obviously there. At some point you let him have it, turning around to face him only to realize you’d overestimated the distance between the both of you. Your breath hitched and for a moment, so short that you thought you imagined it, you could see a flicker of want in his eyes. He stood there, his gaze lingering just a second too long on your lips before he swallowed and he stepped back to give you space.

He’d wanted to kiss you and you knew it. You could see it in the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed. Could feel it in the way his heartbeat had quickened when your chest was pressed against his. And all you could think was why? Why didn’t he kiss you? Why did he ask if you wanted to share his bed? Why had you agreed? Granted he could see you shivering and this is something that you’d wanted forever but it didn't stop you from wondering.

“what’s on your mind?” His voice was soft, so soft, sweet even. His palm was flat against your back, leaving little room between the two of you as his scent, the faint smell of hairspray, consumed your senses. You couldn’t help but wonder how. How he could lay next to you and pretend nothing had happened. Have the warmth of his body seeping into your skin and be okay.

“Can I ask you something?”

“you just did babe,” a childlike smile made its way onto his lips. You fought the urge to mirror it.

“Steve you know what I meant,”

“You can ask me whatever you want, sweet.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” you wondered, “we both wanted to so why didn’t you?”

“oh honey, I—” Your chest ached at the endearment.

“And why do you keep calling me that if you don’t want me?”

“What made you think I don’t want you?” 

“Steve–”

“I want you babe, I’ve been wanting you, so much it hurts. As for your other question, I got scared.”  

His voice got quiet, as if he were ashamed to admit it. Years later he’d explain to you that it all felt more real as he said the last word. Like the entire conversation had been a dream and he’d only now come to realize that the rise and fall of your chest underneath his palm was real. Nonetheless, you went quiet at his words, rewriting the situation in your mind according to the new piece of information you’d gotten.

“You got scared?”

“Mhm”

“you scared now?” he shook his head and you smiled, “then what's stopping you”

His lips were featherlight against yours, one hand holding your jaw like you were something delicate and fragile. Like you would shatter in his hands. It was all-consuming and barely there at the same time and you couldn’t help wanting more.

“Steve,” you pulled away for a second and he pouted at the loss of you, “More, please.”

“You sure?” 

You nodded.

“Words baby I need words.”

“Please, I need you,” That seemed to be good enough for him as his thumb dipped under the waistband of your shorts. The sound that you let out was soft and high-pitched, something between a gasp and a moan when his thumb met your clit.

“That’s cute,” he paused, “do that again for me ‘kay?”

He slotted one of his legs between yours before slipping one of his fingers into you. Your breath hitched in your throat and Steve smiled. It was all a haze, the feel of his skin against yours making you dizzy

“This okay?” He pushed another inside you, the slight stretch making you whimper as it toed the line between pain and pleasure.

“mhm,” He pumped his fingers into you lazily, your slick leaking on his hands and wrist. He had his fingers curled to hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

“Steve” you cried. His mouth fell open at your words, and he swore he’d died and gone to heaven. He quickened the pace of his fingers, and you clenched around him, becoming increasingly desperate for your release.

“God you have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this,” It was lewd really, the way Steve talked to you. The way you could feel his smile against your neck at every little sound you made. The way you could feel his hard cock twitch against your back. The knot in your tummy seemed to tighten as your walls did the same around his fingers.

“That’s it,” his voice was low, the words whispered against the column of your throat, “cum for me honey I know you can.” A mixture of whimpers and whines and his name tumbled past your lips as Steve coaxed you through your orgasm.

“You’re so pretty baby” he mumbled, “you think you can do that again?”

[girlbloggerbae13]

Against Better Judgement - Part 1

I have re-entered my hyperfixation of The Boys due to season 4's release. Unfortunately I am a maladaptive daydreamer and can insert an original character into any given piece of media. So this is a Butcher x OC story, where OC is Hughie's big sister...so it does fit the story of the show pretty much to a tee (that is just how my brain cooks it up, sorry) - but there will be more details, side stories, etc to make it more fun for the Butcher storyline! And of course, it's written in OC's pov, so you get to know her backstory and thought process quite a bit. Please let me know what you think!

At 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Mickey should have been awake. A functioning, stable, put-together 29 year-old would be. Not Mickey. She was passed out in bed (a full size mattress resting on the floor in her room), her body still trying to process all the alcohol she had consumed the night before. And the morning before. As well as the few consecutive days before that. That’s how it had been for as long as she could remember, at least since – 

The phone rang. Mickey groggily lifted her head from the pillow, reaching for her cell phone. She had apparently neglected to plug it in before she fell asleep last night. Hughie? She stumbled over to the corner, where her charger was plugged in, not quite able to reach the bed. I’ve been meaning to call him.

“Hughie? I’m sorry, I really have–,” she started, already guiltily rambling, but she was cut off by her brother’s wails. “Hughie?” He wasn’t stopping. “Hugh? Hugh? Hey, what happened? Hughie?” Mickey was already standing up and putting her shoes on, despite the hangover-induced migraine that was making her ears ring. 

Hughie sniffled, gasping, then went silent. His breath was shaky. “Hughie?” Mickey warily said to her brother.

“She, she was j-just standing there,” he started.

“Who was? Hugh. I’m on my way, but I need you to tell me what happened.”

“We were just…I was leaving work, and she…,” his voice cracked as Mickey grabbed her keys, wallet, and flask. Empty. She’d grab something on the way to fix whatever had ruffled her little brother’s feathers. He was a sensitive kid, always had been. It was probably just some car accident he had seen while going on lunch, or even worse, he had been riding his bike and, distracted by the great Billy Joel, accidentally hit a kid. That had happened before. That would make sense. Everything is okay. The bad stuff happens to me, not him. 

“Robin.” He was gasping for air now. Mickey’s heart dropped. “She was one step off the fucking…and he just came out of nowhere…she– I, I didn’t have time to…God, Mick, oh my God, Mickey…Robin, she’s gone.”

Mickey was about to open the door, but she turned around and threw up in the kitchen sink.

—

“The service was beautiful,” Dad said. Mickey had to stifle her laughter. She always did during times like these. Funerals, memorials, the like. The drinking helped, for a little bit at least. When it stops helping, it just means you need to drink more. 

Mickey took a sip of her drink – some shitty wine her dad had likely bought to assuage the “divorcee blues” – and took a look at her brother. He was staring forward, scowling, with blank eyes. She knew what he was thinking. Hughie was asking himself what he could have done differently. What he could have said, or in his instance, where he could have stood differently. He’s wishing it was him instead of Robin. Maybe he’s thinking about joining Robin in death, or maybe that had just been Mickey when her husband died.

She had stood, motionless, next to Liam’s casket, as friends and family came up to her and gave their condolences. Mickey had sat with her head down, avoiding eye contact with Liam’s mother and father. He had been an only child. Perfect Liam. Hughie had nudged her to signal that it was the part of the funeral where she was supposed to stand for the family honors. Had they never married, the “honors” would have gone to his parents. She was the one that wanted a big, white wedding. 

Mickey’s eyes had been squeezed shut as the rifle volleys were fired. Why do they fire blanks at a military funeral? The loud noises can’t be good for attendees suffering from PTSD. Like Liam had been. Mickey counted the shots.

One. Liam's face flashed in her mind.

Two. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

Three. Everything Mickey had ever wanted. Gone.

One of the other soldiers started playing Taps. She didn’t even have tears left, just rage. Mickey wanted to grab the stupid fucking bugle and slam it on her husband’s casket until it split open. She wanted to pick Liam up by the collar of his stupid fucking uniform and shake him back to life. She wanted to scream at him for leaving her a stupid fucking mess. For leaving her alone. All alone. She wanted to smash his head into the pavement until he died. Again.

They handed her – the next of kin – the neatly folded American flag. Mickey didn’t want it; she would have happily given it to her in-laws. She didn’t need another reminder of the mess he had gotten himself, or herself into, for that matter. Liam and his stupid patriotism. He had worshiped Supes, but unlucky for him, wasn’t gifted with any super ability. So he joined the military. For what? A couple years overseas firing at whatever your commanding officer told you to, a shitty government job where you’re just another cog in the wheel of the “Great Big American Dream” (the military industrial complex), and a never ending B-roll of whatever tragedies you had bore witness to. Mickey’s superiority complex had gotten her into psychology, then into the FBI’s training program to be a special agent. But this happened. And when you fire a gun at your officer’s foot – it was the ground next to him…it was never going to actually hit him…she had fantastic aim, and he was pissing her off – you can’t be a special agent. 

That left her a widow at 26. Jobless. And an escalating alcoholic. 

That wouldn’t happen to Hughie, though. Mickey wouldn’t let it. 

She was brought back to reality by her dad. “Michaela, please make sure your brother signs the papers today. It’s what Robin would have wanted” She waved off her dad, scoffing.

The Vought attorney? Paralegal? PR motherfucker. Had some sense of entitlement coming in and asking Hugh to keep his mouth shut. And for only $45,000, as if that could immediately fix his grief. Obviously, it would work in Vought’s favor. No one would ever know that A-Train had run right through Robin, leaving only her hands, still holding on to Hughie’s. And the TV “apology” the asshole had given was disingenuous, to say the least, and a cover-up, to tell the truth. In the middle of the road? Yeah, right. 

“Can I think on it?” Hughie asked the suit. Mickey breathed out a sigh of relief. It’s not like she hated Supes in general, but they reminded her of the military – especially Homelander – so each day her distaste for Vought, The Seven, and any asshole with super-strength grew exponentially. 

“Good choice,” Mickey told her brother after she hastily escorted the suit out the door. “I know the money seems nice, but in my experience, it only pisses you off more. Plus, you’ll probably blow it on something stupid.”

“Like booze?” Hughie gave a half-smile to his sister for the first time since the accident.

“Ha-ha, asshole. Exactly like booze. I’ll stop when I’m ready to come back to real life.”

“Well while you continue to bury yourself in liquor, I’m going to bury myself in work.”

“Not any time soon, though, right?” Mickey asked, standing up.

“Why not? It’ll be a good distraction.” Hughie shrugged. This behavior wasn’t like Hughie at all, granted she had never witnessed him after he lost a significant other before, not like this. Maybe it will be beneficial, at least more beneficial than the coping mechanisms she chose. Everyone handles grief differently, right?

—

“Sorry, we’re closing–” Hughie turned to see Mickey walking through the tech store door. “Oh. We are getting ready to close.”

“I know, I know. I’m not here to shop. Now that you’re back at work, stupidly, might I add, I wanted to offer my free labor. I figured we could do the opposite of what we did when we were little and had chores. You get to sit and boss me around, and tell me what to do,” Mickey dropped the Tupperware of funeral food on the checkout counter. “Plus, I brought you dinner.”

“Really? Funeral leftovers?”

Mickey rolled her eyes. “Look, dude, it was already made. Now will you tell me what wires I need to put where so we can go home and–”

Both the Campbell siblings turned to the door. The bell rang, and the door was open, but neither of them could see a customer.

“Who are you?” A voice said.

“What the fuck?” The siblings said in unison.

“Right in front of you, pricks.” They were staring at the voice when whoever it was held up a small disc, waving it in Hughie’s face. “You think I wouldn’t find this thing?”

“What did you do, Hugh?” Mickey asked her brother, gritting her teeth. Wanting revenge on A-Train was one thing, but if her hunch was correct, this invisible guy was none other than Translucent. How did he get tangled up with one of the other Seven?

The Supe grabbed Hugh’s badge. “Hughie,” he jeered, then without warning, slammed Hugh face down into the counter, cracking the glass case. Hugh was launched over the counter. “Pussy! I followed you from the fucking tower,” Translucent said, lifting Hughie up again.

“The fucking tower?” Mickey was now yelling, but still frozen. “What the fuck, Hugh?”

Hughie was then launched into one of the store’s windows, cracking it. She had to do something. “Oh, and who’s this, Hughie? Your little accomplice?” The voice got closer, and Mickey could hear footsteps making their way towards her. 

An invisible hand grabbed her by the hair, and she instinctively raised her knee, hard, hoping to hit Translucent where it mattered. He groaned, releasing her hair. Mickey tried to dash over to her brother, but was yanked up by her hair again and thrown backwards into a shelf of routers. Now her and Hughie were both on the ground, coughing, and Mickey still had no fucking clue what was going on. She propped herself up against what was left of the shelf, blinking and trying to reset her eyes. 

“Who’s that guy you were with? In the car?” Translucent asked a panting Hughie. “Who was he? He put you up to this?” Now he was screaming, Hughie trying to escape, and Mickey was trying to get herself on her feet. 

“I, I don’t know! He was just some Uber driver, okay?” Hughie’s voice cracked as he pleaded with the Supe. 

Mickey grabbed an extension cord from the ground and slowly prepared to blindly wrangle their attacker, but unable to see the Supe, she didn’t see him making his way over to the wall closest to her, and in one fell swoop, Translucent grabbed the extension cord and threw it, and Mickey still holding on, to the opposite side of the store. She landed behind the shattered glass counter, still faintly able to understand what was transpiring through the ringing the blow had left in her ears.

“Oh don’t give me some bullshit! Uber driver?” Translucent mocked Hughie. Mickey could see a TV being lifted off its wall mount. “What, you think I’m some fucking idiot?” Translucent was walking over to Hugh, the flat-screen lifted high. “Why’d you plant the bug?”

“Please, please. Please, please, no. Please,” Hughie pleaded.

“We’re The Seven. Earth’s most mighty.”

Mickey had to do something. She propped herself up and took position to leap onto the invisible asshole. 

“Champions of the innocent, motherfuc–”

A car drove right into the shop, shattering the windows, knocking down merchandise, and just barely missing Hughie. “Sorry about the mess,” a bearded man said as he exited the vehicle. “You should fuck off, Hughie.”

Mickey stood up shakily. Now she was really confused. “Who the fu–”

The Cockney-accented man turned towards her. “You must be the sister. Sorry to meet’cha under these circumstances, but you two need to scram.”

Holding a tire-iron, the man slowly walked towards where Translucent had landed, smirking. “Well if it ain’t the invisible cunt,” he chuckled to himself, then began swinging blindly around the TV wall. Moments later, he was launched into a rack of pagers.

“Hughie, Hughie, you heard him, we need to go,” Mickey said, trying to usher her brother onto his feet and away from the store.

“No, no,” Hughie stood up, brushing her off. “We can’t leave him here.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Yes, we can!” Mickey was practically pulling Hughie to the emergency exit when he stopped in his tracks. “Hugh. Hugh! No, don’t even–”

Hughie stepped back into the floor of the store with such force that he yanked her back with him. Mickey huffed and ran her hands through her hair. She inhaled and blood ran down her throat, greeting her with the familiar metallic taste.

Brit was attempting – and failing – to wrestle Translucent to the ground. Looked like he was tasting that red metal too, because with an erratic grin, he spat blood all over the Supe, revealing Translucent’s position. Smart. The bearded man then had the upper hand after headbutting the “invisible cunt” and landing a few punches, whilst slowly covering more of the Supe’s body outline with more bloody spit. 

Though England put up a good fight, Translucent got one good lick in, and the man was down on the ground. Translucent looked up at Mickey, who, overcome with agitation and confusion, had not moved her feet, and she was now standing directly behind the groaning Brit. She swallowed a mouthful of blood. She was trained for this at one point in time, right? She at least had the pent-up anger for this. Mickey stepped over the Brit’s body.

“Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you just come back to the Tower with me, and I’ll make sure you don’t ever have to see these assholes ever ag–”

Mickey cut him off with a punch, slugging Translucent right across his face. Predatorial asshole. “Fuck,” she hissed, shaking her hand. She forgot how much she hated hand-to-hand combat.

Translucent stumbled a little, but popped back up, rubbing the side of his jaw. “Look, lady, I’ll give you that one, but let’s just–”

Mickey hit him again, this time with an uppercut. He charged back at her, grabbing her hair – again? – and landing a few blows to her stomach. Mickey snapped back into it, grabbing his forearm and pulling herself around so that her back was against the Supe’s chest. She flung her head back. Hard.

The Supe instinctively launched her into the wall. Now she could really taste the blood. But before she could steady herself, Translucent kicked her in the stomach, knocking her through the wall of TVs.

Thankfully, this had given England enough time to regain his strength, and he stood up, ready to attack, when Translucent gave him the same swift kick he had just given Mickey. 

“So who are you?” Translucent asked. “Fucking spy?! For who, huh? You’re gonna fucking tell me!” Translucent picked up the Brit’s tire iron from the ground. “Or I’m gonna smash your fucking scalp off! Who the fuck are you?”

Through the Mickey-sized hole in the wall, she could see Brit propped up on one of his elbows, smirking. “I’ll tell you who you are,” he said. “A fucking moron. Translucent doesn’t even mean invisible. It means semi-transparent.” England made a quick glance to the other side of the store, where Mickey was able to faintly see Hughie holding an exposed wire. Hughie’s wire couldn’t reach, so England quickly kicked the Supe, sending him backwards where he waltzed right into the wire.

Translucent screamed as he got electrocuted, lighting up the store. Hughie kept screaming until Translucent’s limp body fell backwards onto the ground.

England stood up with a groan, and through shaky breaths, Hughie asked, “Is he…is he dead?”

The bearded man kicked the Supe. “Well he ain’t movin’.”

Mickey, limping, emerged from the wall she had been kicked through, and ignoring the mystery man and the Supe, yelled at Hughie, “I’m gonna need some answers, Hugh. What the fuck have you gotten into?” She gestured back at England. “And who the fuck is he?”

England put up a hand to silence her. “Whoa, whoa, darlin’, don’t fret. Name’s Butcher, and I’m just a friendly neighbor helpin’ out’ya brother here, alright?” He turned to Hughie. “Now, kid, how’d you know the electric could do the job?”

Hughie was still sitting against the TV wall. “Skin’s carbon…highly conductive. I saw it on, uh, Jimmy Fallon…”

Butcher raised an eyebrow, “Would have taken me forever to work that one out. Good job.” One thing about Hughie is that he knows the most random shit. This time it might have just saved them. Butcher made his way to Translucent’s lifeless body, and against her better judgment, Mickey followed his lead. Hughie wasn’t going to go down for this. “Let’s get ‘em in the boot.”

Hughie brought his hands up to his head. “W-wait, wait what?”

“The trunk,” Mickey and Butcher said in unison.

“See, your sister knows the lingo,” Butcher said while trying to get a grip on the Supe’s upper half.

Hughie looked at his sister, then at Butcher. “No, no, I mean, what are we doing with him?” Hughie was panicking now.

Butcher looked up at Hughie. “Well, Hughie, you just offed one of The Seven, mate.”

Mickey let out a mix of a scoff and a laugh, much to Hughie’s dismay. “Me? I…I…,” He turned his gaze to Mickey. “You’re okay with this, Mick?”

“Well no, but…I mean, he has a point, and I’m not getting in trouble for this.”

“What?! I…I…Butcher, you hit him with a fucking car!” Hughie shouted.

Butcher dropped Translucent’s torso. “Look, potato fucking potahto, we’re all in a shitload of trouble–”

“No, no! No, no, we’re not. He attacked us, and you’re…you’re a federal officer, you know?” Hughie argued, and Mickey dropped the Supe’s legs, standing up to cross her arms. This smug, sloppy, arrogant asshole is not a federal officer. “Just…just call the fucking FBI!”

The hesitation in Butcher’s voice confirmed Mickey’s suspicions. “Yeah, o-okay, so look…technically I’m not a fed,” he said, shrugging, as if this wasn’t just the atomic bomb of all bombs to drop on Hughie right now, let alone a less-than-awesome first impression to have on Mickey. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Mickey started, holding her head in her hands, shaking it.

“WHAT?!” Hughie practically screeched. “Then who the fuck are you?”

[bokettochild]

Bit of a weird question, but how do you think Legend (or any of the Links, really) would handle getting separated once the quest is over?

I'm personally of the opinion that he and Warriors would be the ones to figure out a way to visit afterwards, but that's mostly because I hate found families breaking apart to go home after the plot ends. I also like seeing takes where one of them doesn't return to their original time for one reason or another.

Time is used to this sort of thing; losing everyone after it's all over and not able to go back. If anything, I think he drifts into a short depression but eventually moves on. He doesn't try to get back to them because none of his efforts with similar incidents ever did any good, so he really doesn't see the point in trying this time. Instead, he tries to make sure to take care of the world he has to pass to them.

I think Four would be a bit broken up about it, but he's also used to saying goodbye to brothers once the adventure ends. He might dabble a bit with trying to find a way back to them, but he;s very cautious for fear of bringing back anything else, so eventually gives up and/or get's distracted with a way to bring back Shadow instead.

I think Sky would probably consider trying to use the time gates to visit the others, maybe he succeeds, maybe he get's lost for a bit and Zelda has to pull him back to their time so they can fix the gates to do what they want, maybe it works. I think he'd try though.

I think Wind and Hyrule would be broken up about losing their brothers, but they have too many responsibilities in their worlds (rebuilding their Hyrules) to really get to dabble with ways to meet the others again. I think they'd handle the loss well though, as they're bright souls and still young enough that change isn't as shattering for them. Not knowing any horrible future fates also makes letting go of the others easier, and they help themselves process it by trying to remind themselves that the others can now be at rest and at home.

Twilight and Legend would take the loss terribly. The vet keeps losing people so I think it'll really break him, and Twilight's fear for Time, for Wild, for all his brothers who he can no longer protect 100% gives him constant anxiety. Depression and a need to find a way back to the others probably take them over until either they do make it back to see the others again or they give up in despair (hence why Twilight's spirit lingers beside Wild as the Old Wolf)

Wild, obviously, is so busy rebuilding Hyrule and going through TotK that he doesn't really have much chance to do much more than miss his brothers. Post TotK though, he and Zelda probably do look into time traveling around if/when they find out Zelda's time powers.

Warriors though, Warriors probably confronts Cia and demands visitation rights as recompense for the war, Zelda backs him up. Cia is willing and the heroes get established visiting times so they ca keep up with each other. I will take no discussion on this, Warriors refuses to leave his brothers alone and sad, he will visit them even if he has to beg Cia for it.

(And if Cia doesn't agree, Nayru sort of owes Legend her life, and she's definitely got a soft spot for him, so I can see her allowing him to visit his brothers as long as he promises to not screw up the timeline.)

[liillyliilly]

The Herpetologist

daishou suguru x reader words; 4456 synopsis; daishou suguru goes crazy for one (1) girl and it's the same girl who tells him that she hasn't had her first kiss.

It was always those damn Nohebi afterparties.

The kind that made her face burn in embarrassment. It was cruel really, trying to not hamper the mood of all her friends by declining to play any of the games. For once, she wished that the Nohebi third years would just play Uno. Or maybe, she should ask her friends to stop dragging her to the 18+ parties.

If she was at a normal party, maybe she wouldn’t be sipping a Coke-A-Cola in the corner while her best friend was essentially getting mauled by one of the basketball players. Or maybe this was what actual parties were. What happened to parties where everyone wanted to hit pinatas and watch the newest Jurassic Park movie? What was once popcorn and the Hot Billboard Pop 100 had gradually shifted into jello shots and music that made her toes curl.

To contemplate this shocking discovery longer than needed was distracting her from the original reason she was standing in the cold corner. Her designated corner. She hadn’t kissed anyone yet. It just didn’t feel right to waste a kiss on some stupid high school boy who probably didn’t brush his teeth enough. It also didn’t feel right to waste a first kiss during some ridiculous game only designed by the horniest of teenage desires.

She would go window shopping during times like these. Scanning around the room for a potential option that she could possibly be okay with giving her first kiss to. She never took the first jump into that pool.

It was always those damn Nohebi afterparties.

Daishou Suguru sat on an empty loveseat, arms resting on the length of the back of the couch. His legs were comfortably spread out, leaning back deeply into his seat.

He couldn't care less for the flitting around, drinking, and ridiculous games. Where was all the honest, genuine human connection? Not that he wanted that either. He just wanted something cunning to observe, entertainment at others' expense was his true forte.

Unfortunately, manipulation of people didn’t fly at a party the same way that it did on the volleyball court. He wished he could call Mika, at least so she could tell him an interesting story about college life. Despite their romance not turning out the way he had hoped, they stayed good friends. She was someone who he could rely on. Her new boyfriend was nice, and let Daishou drive his motorcycle around one time for kicks and giggles.

Drinking during the volleyball season was an illogical decision, but drinking when the season was over seemed appealing. Daishou just couldn’t drag himself over to the mixing table.

His thoughts were processing the music. Someone should’ve banned the person who had AUX. It was the third time that “The Color Violet” by Tory Lanez had played.

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Daishou got up and slithered over to the kitchen. In the corner was the girl. She was the one that his buddies had talked about. They complained that she never joined in on any of the games. They had said she refused to take body shots or give body shots. When they scoffed about her antics during the discussion in the locker room, Daishou just kept quiet.

He poured himself a glass of Sprite, threw an ice cube in his cup for good measure, and leaned against the kitchen island facing her.

They both just sipped from their drinks, analyzing the situation. Daishou had entered her territory wordlessly and had claimed a section of it for himself. She wasn’t going to speak first. Why should she have to speak to this prick? She knew him from class, class 6. She had wanted to test into class 7 but it was already full.

“L/N right?” Oh, goody.

“Daishou Suguru, right?”

He raised an eyebrow at the bite she had inserted. He felt like he was going to have a great time with her.

And he did. They had talked all night.

“That’s when I knew I loved volleyball.” Daishou spun around in the office chair. The two of them had migrated to the bougiest office either of them had ever seen. Some of the non-scholarship kids who attended Nohebi Academy were all set for life, including inheriting whatever kind of job provided for an office this expansive.

She was sitting on the window sill, tracing the various shapes on the seat cushions.

Daishou decided to investigate a little.

“You never play the games. You know, the intellectually stimulating game of Spin the Bottle. Or the ever-richly academic Suck and Blow. Or, or my buddy's personal favorite, Marathon Kissing.”

Maybe she felt like she wouldn’t be judged. Maybe she felt like this was a potential opportunity for an actual friendship. Was he lulling her into a false sense of security, or was that earnest tone of voice an actual curiosity?

“I don’t want my first kiss to be for some silly game.”

She got him hook, line, and sinker.

Or maybe he got her.

“How about lessons with a teacher?”

“Kissing lessons? That has to be some form of dubious prostitution schtick.”

“I don’t know, maybe if you had someone to teach you, or at least someone low-pressure that you don’t care about as your first kiss then you could become less of a social pariah at these things.”

“A social pariah, how kind of you to let me down gently.” She stood up from her spot on the window sill and rested her hands on the huge dark oak table. The black mat likely was used to hold a MacBook Pro, and the pen holder contained an expensive German fountain pen, both paragons of the wealth that was held by the owner of this home.

Daishou stood up as well and shrugged.

Her dad used to be really into the whole survivalist thing. She remembers all the stories and rules about snakes. Red touching yellow kills a fellow. The Japanese Mamushi snake was known for literally liquefying the tissue of the victims who got bitten. The Habu snake, found in Okinawa, was naturally aggressive, attacking before even getting provoked. But there was always the Japanese Keelback, a naturally calm, non-poisonous snake that was so small it liked to hide in rivers and streams.

Would he be the Keelback or the Habu? Only time would tell for her.

They kissed for the first time that night, her sitting on the desk, him shoving the ornamental decorations off the table. He held her face in his hands. He leaned so far forward that she was lying on the desk instead of sitting. Hands went from her face to her back, trying to push her up against him.

She wondered if she was a good kisser, or if that was all Daishou’s doing. If he made kissing seem so simple and natural like this. Was that a moan or was she just hearing things? His hands were behind her now, resting on the desk. He didn’t know why but he was keeping his face close to hers, letting his breath hit her neck. Was he panting from a simple kiss, or was the room just hot?

“Are you a liar?” Daishou used his hand to lift her chin, moving her face so he could pretend he was a detective, searching for clues to his hypothesis.

“I, uh, no. I’m not a liar.”

As much as they both wanted to pretend the kiss hadn’t affected either of them. Their share of tension, like a tightly strung cello string, meant they spent way more time together on a day-to-day basis.

He wishes that he didn’t seek her out as often as he did. Suddenly every test score was being placed on her desk to compare. Every essay was scrutinized not just by his eyes, but by hers as well. Lunches with the volleyball team talking about plans and games turned into sitting in Daishou’s car trading fruit cups for pieces of chocolate he had his mom import from Europe because he begged.

The question in both their minds was when they would kiss again. Tomorrow? Next week? Daishou prayed it wouldn’t be more than an entire month. She put her stupid feelings on the line when she asked for another lesson.

They weren’t at a party, they were at his house. He told his mom that they were studying because they were studying something. Instead of classic literature, or calculus, it was the art of the hickey.

Daishou realized he would have to articulate what little he knew about hickies. At least he brushed his teeth four times before she came over.

“Suguru, that’s the third time you’ve brushed your teeth, do we need to go to the dentist again? Want to borrow my waterpick?” His mom had called from the dining room, she was looking through university options for him. Trying to find one in Tokyo that would both challenge him and be close enough to home so she could see her son more often than a blue moon.

“I’m good. Thanks though.”

She came to his house earlier than expected, still wearing the Academy uniform. The girl’s uniform consisted of a pleated yellow skirt, a white button-up, and a green sweater vest. The emblem of a snake wrapped around a shield was carefully stitched onto the left breast pocket. Daishou was still in the bathroom, brushing away while listening to his playlist, he was nodding his head to the beat of “Snooze” by SZA.

When all music suddenly became all about her, he wondered if he still had brain cells that weren’t occupied by his favorite academic competition.

She knocked on the door and Daishou’s mom opened it. She had the same dark, slanted eyes that he did. Her black hair was shoulder-length and curled, she had the same dimples when she smirked at her son’s study companion for the evening. So this was the girl Suguru wanted chocolates for.

“Come in, come in.” Daishou’s mom ushered. “Suguru will be down in a minute.”

Looking around at photos was a good way to pass the time, there was one of Daishou on a soccer team, one on a baseball team, basketball, swimming, and all the other sports. When he appeared to be around middle school, everything was volleyball. There was a certificate of academic achievement resulting in a scholarship award.

“I was so proud when he got into Nohebi. His dad would’ve loved to see him at his alma mater.” Daishou’s mom opened a wooden box on the mantle place, flipping through some pictures before telling Y/n to come and look at the select few.

Daishou was younger in this picture, his mom looked younger too, and there was a man too. His dad. He had his arm around Daishou’s mom and a hand on Daishou’s head. An unreal smile was on everyone’s faces.

Daishou’s mom kept scanning through photos, she landed on one and froze for a moment. It was Daishou in a formal suit, his mother in a black long-sleeve dress, and a memorial picture of his father surrounded by white flowers and green shrubs. Their eyes were red, and his mom was managing a neutral expression, but Daishou looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in that photo.

“Suguru adored his father.” She sniffled, mouth quivering, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to damper your mood. I just thought a few cute photos of Suguru would sell you a little on my son. It's been so long since he had a girl over, especially one who’s smart. He just talks about you endlessly, I almost thought my ear would fall off.”

They didn’t have a lesson on hickies that night. Instead, they ate dinner with his mom and watched a movie. She was curled up with a blanket, watching the screen intently wondering what was going to happen to the main character.

He said he needed to go and get a glass of water. The college brochures were strewn across the kitchen island. He remembered what university she was planning on going to, so he picked up the information booklet for that same university. Grabbing a black marker, he bit the cap off and circled the application deadline several times. Using a thumb tack he put the paper right in the center of the corkboard.

Graduation was great, a blast even. It was three hours long, and the first fifteen felt like they lasted forever. Suddenly, the top students were giving their speeches, she got her diploma and she remembers cheering for Daishou to accept his. And then it was over.

And then he was pulling her aside, shoving a paper into her hands.

“Read it.” She nodded. “Now I mean.”

She skimmed the paper, looked up at him, and then looked back down to the paper.

“Suguru this is great! They gave you the Secondary Academic Merit award!”

“There’s more,” He pointed a finger at something he had highlighted green.

“They compounded it with a volleyball scholarship too? You get to play for the school and your education is free.”

In a moment she was picked up and gently spun around. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, she could hear him swallowing. He mumbles. She cups his face with a hand, making him look at her. It's a short kiss, first on the corner of the mouth, then straight on.

“I still think you’re a liar.” He recalls the first-ever kiss they shared.

Then it dawns on him.

“The school? Don’t you mean our school?”

Some other school gave her a full tuition scholarship. The universities were approximately 3.38 hours away from each other by car. By train, the time was shaved by 0.14 hours. Daishou knows because he spent his graduation night calculating distances and adding up costs for tickets.

His mom tried to get him to eat the seaweed soup she had made, but he was busy writing everything down in his notebook.

He saved up all his frustrations, worries, and joy and then planned a weekend trip to her university. He liked to spend at least an hour or so chomping on her neck leaving teeth marks and arrangements of soft bruises from the remnant kisses.

When she asked him about it, he just shrugged. When she asked him about it again, he seemed to brush the topic away and offered to go get lunch together. The third time she asked was the time she got an answer from him.

“Because it’s to show that you’re mine.” He said it with a calm face. Almost as if he was asking her to ask him about it further. So she entertained him.

“And why exactly do you feel the need to show people that I’m yours?” She tilted her head, accidentally exposing a fresh canvas of skin. In an instant, his mouth was on her neck, biting it as he continued to explain.

“Because then I’m actively claiming you as mine. Despite my lack of physical presence, I’m still there somehow. That way no one will try anything funny.” He nipped at her skin, his sharp canine stabbing into her neck. “Do you know how tough it is being in class sometimes, wondering if there’s another dude in one of your classes who’s eying you up? Especially when you wear that cream-colored cardigan over your yellow sundress?”

When she lets out a short yelp at a bite, Daishou smiles against her skin.

“Plus, you make really pretty noises.”

While Daishou may have initially been a Keelback snake, he evolved into a Habu over time.

He felt like volleyball was going nowhere, each practice felt longer and more exhausting. Each game felt dull. Same plays, same tricks, same result. He wondered why winning so often felt like winning nothing at all. Did he love volleyball?

His dad sure loved volleyball. Each game that was on TV became all that his dad would talk about sometimes. Wearing jerseys and eating huge plates of yakitori on Sunday nights. Daishou’s father always would point at the screen, right when an outside hitter got a deep unreceivable kill spike, saying that's what should be plastered as a true athletic feat. To jump so high, to hit so hard that you became practically a bird.

A bird. His dad was like a bird. Not a crow, or an eagle, not even an owl. But a falcon, a peregrine falcon. One time, at the zoo, when Daishou was still small enough to sit on his dad’s shoulders, his dad whispered and told him to look at the leftmost tree branch within the cage. There it sat, the falcon. Preening at its wings and looking around one head movement at a time.

The fascination with birds was lost on Daishou. He preferred to watch the snakes, the way they slithered around, leaving no trails in the dirt. Wrapping around and around on branches. Even the way their tongues flitted out when they hissed. Sharp fangs get down into the meat of its prey.

“Stay with me for summer break.” He was picking at the orange peel, phone resting between his shoulder and his ear.

“I can’t.” She was lying in bed, typing away on one of her final essays for the year. The first year of university was almost over, and she was killing it.

“Yes, you can stop saying you can’t.” Daishou put a segment of the orange in his mouth, throwing away the peel. He sat down on his couch. His school year had finished a few weeks ago. His mom was out of the country for a case she had to investigate in Hong Kong. Having a hot-shot lawyer mother was nice, but it also meant long durations of staying in an empty house by himself.

There were only so many things to do alone. Tokyo was vibrant and perfect, but without her it was boring. No interesting conversations, no teasing, and no warmth.

She hesitated. She was hesitant. Hesitance was what all animals went through before going right into fight or flight. Daishou didn’t know what to do to bring her over from her school and back to his home. He remembered what his mom said about her trip.

“How about we go to Hong Kong, just for a month?”

“A trip like that is way too expensive.”

“Mom’s there already, her employer gave her a very large, very spacious penthouse to stay in while the lawsuit is still going on.” She was listening, and so he kept going. “I have some money saved for tickets.”

He had just attacked first, without provocation. Adding a new depth to their relationship.

Hong Kong was beautiful. The first night there, despite being riddled with sleep deprivation and jet lag, they went to a food market, trying everything they could get their hands on. Wonton noodles, dim sum, egg tarts.

The smoke from the grills floated around, mixing with the smoke from all the uncles' chain smoking and yelling at each other in Cantonese. Bright neon signs shouted at people to come into the stores. They sat in the open air outside, tightly packed into a table meant for one person. She was sipping some broth, and he was playing with her hair.

The company penthouse was probably worth more than Daishou’s school campus. High ceilings, marble floors. It reminded him of the house from Parasite, just without all the murder. His mom was on her laptop on a huge white couch in the main living area. When they entered, she exclaimed.

“Ru, you should’ve told me when your plane got in! I would’ve picked you both up.” Daishou’s mom was kissing his face and he was leaning away, but he let his mom smooth down his hair while she clicked her tongue against the roof of her disapprovingly.

“It's all good, we went and did a little exploring.” Daishou rubbed Y/n’s back, his thumb moving back and forth on her shoulder.

“Well, you must be tired. Your room is to the left, down that hall.”

She had begun unpacking, putting clothes in the chest of drawers. Daishou was taking a cold shower, scrubbing his hair with the shampoo she bought. She folded his clothes and put them away too. She flung herself onto the bed and soaked into the covers, a huge foam mattress with some bounce.

Her phone binged, a message from a friend back at school. Her friend talked about how jealous she was that she was out of the country with her boyfriend. Then her friend complained about her boyfriend, saying he never did anything out of the ordinary or interesting. She said that she knew too much about her boyfriend.

Did she know too much about her boyfriend? Daishou was open enough, telling her all the important details, except for the stories and memories from his last year in primary school before entering middle school. She knew he liked volleyball because of a story he told about his dad, but that was the only time Daishou had mentioned his dad. You had seen more photos as time passed, but it didn’t feel like enough. She shook the thought, if he wanted to share he would. No need to bring up things that weren’t relevant at the moment.

When he came out of the bathroom he had a towel around his waist and wet hair. He had cut it recently, so his bangs were no longer swept to the left side of his face, instead it was a short fringe across his forehead. His dimples were on full display.

“Hi, pretty lady.” He picked out some clothes, hanging them over his arm. “You look beautiful.”

He sweet talked too much and she was too tired to be clever in turn, “I’m sweaty, dirty, and have been wearing these sweatpants for over twenty-four hours.”

“Exactly, beautiful. If the pants really are bothering you I can take them off, you know, as a favor.” He slowly made his way to her, for a second she thought she saw a pair of rattlesnake fangs appear on his smile.

She scrambled out of bed and grabbed the pajamas she had set on the side table, going to the bathroom.

“Aw c’mon, let me live a little.”

“Not today Satan.”

“It’s Suguru.”

One moment they were holding hands in the Kowloon Walled City Park, the next, they were ducking for cover from the heavy rain. Daishou used his jacket to cover their heads, tucking her under his arm so that she would stay dry. He looked around and found a structure they could stand under, at least until they had a plan for what to do next.

Shaking off the jacket, grateful for the waterproof coating, he wrapped it around her. Rubbing her arms to try and generate some warmth.

“Try not to think too much about the cold, it’ll make it worse.” His teeth were slightly chattering, but he put on a grin, scrolling through his phone to check the weather and nearby restaurants they could escape to.

“That’s all pseudoscience. You should know that.”

“I’m not a science major.” Daishou found his money shot, calling for a ride using the extremely broken Cantonese that he had learned.

When they got into the taxi, she put Daishou’s jacket back on him, rubbing his arms the same way that he had done for her earlier.

The driver looked at the two of them in the rearview mirror, said some things in a language that was most definitely not Cantonese, and handed Daishou the GPS ready for him to enter their desired location.

“ภรรยาของคุณดูจะรักคุณมาก.” The driver smiles, turning on the meter in the car after taking the GPS back.

“ขอบคุณ.”

She elbowed him lightly, “What the heck?”

“Half-Thai right here,” Daishou raised his hand, “My dad immigrated to Japan with my grandparents when he was young though, so I don’t know much else besides a kindergarten understanding. My speaking ability is even worse.”

“How come I never knew this?

“You never asked.” Is that really what their relationship had come to? She didn’t ask so the information was never given?

The rest of the trip flew by, and then they were back on the plane.

“Tell me about your dad.” She wanted to know. And if he wasn’t going to give answers, she was going to ask for them.

“My dad was amazing.” Daishou smiled. One of those bright smiles that made you want to drop everything and only look at him. He talked about his dad for the rest of the flight home, even when she was fighting sleep, she kept listening to him. Daishou held her hand in his.

Graduations came and went.

Birthdays came and a pet snake stayed.

He remembered when she finally had gotten used to kissing, he did teach her about hickeys, and she was a fast learner. Almost too fast.

“Suguru, my turn.” She pushes him away lightly, leaning up on her forearms as the two of them laid on his bed.

“What?” He stutters out. Suddenly very self aware he folds his arms over his bare chest.

“Let me leave a hickey this time. C’mon, my turn Suguru.” It was as if he had melted, his face red and his ears burning. She flipped them over as she straddled his waist, before leaning down and softly brushing her lips over his jaw. Before trailing down and ghosting her tongue over a spot on his neck.

She keeps testing around, looking for the sweet spot. When she nips at a junction between his shoulder and neck he sucks in a deep breath. Pressing another kiss to the spot she opens her mouth and starts to suck at the skin, circling her tongue around the area.

When she pulls away, a small hickey starts to show on his neck. When she looks back to Daishou, he is covering his face and muttering incomprehensibly.

“Aw, I got you all mushy over a kiss.”

“It wasn’t just a kiss! It was a hickey!”

“You’re right, it was just one hickey, but I can do more if you want?”

“No! One is fine! I like one! One, um, one is a good number for today.”

Daishou felt like he found his person. Looking at her cooing at the snake through the glass terrarium was definitely something that made him glad that he had picked her that night. Those damn Nohebi afterparties, making him find his forever person.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 6

It's my birthday, so here is my gift to all you lovely people :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: brief mentions of HYDRA approved "science", insecurities

Word Count: idk ill look later

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5]

Meeting with the contact goes down without a hitch. You’re surrounded by scraggly trees and evergreens, snow heavy on bare branches and pine needles alike. You’re briefed on all the important information: who’s who, ongoing projects, expectations for your work. You nod along as you write down shorthand notes – really only intelligible to you, but you’ll burn them once you memorize the information regardless.

The rendezvous is short, but you’ll be seeing them again soon at your new ‘job’. You flip your notebook closed and dip your head briefly to acknowledge the end of the meeting. Olaf (not his real name) returns the gesture and stalks off, presumably heading back to the HYDRA facility.

You take your time getting back to the house – you want to give Bucky his privacy and time by himself to prepare for the workday ahead. You envy the monotony of working on vehicles all day: scouring the engine, finding the necessary parts, sliding under the metal frame and lying on your back for hours… 

Come to think of it, maybe you shouldn’t imagine lying on your back for hours in the same thought process that involves Bucky. Too many memories and too much pain.

Regardless, anything is better than working for HYDRA, even if you are actively working to sabotage them while you’re there. Yeah, Bucky is here to keep an eye on you and provide backup and know-how, but you’re the one that is pivotal to this mission. The one that needs to get in, get out, and get gone before HYDRA realizes how big of a mess they’re in.

You begin fine-tuning the personality and mannerisms that will serve you best here. Olaf had explained the specific work culture of the HYDRA facility during the meeting, so you’re now better able to imagine your life for the foreseeable future: work, work, work, kidnapping, torture, experiments, exhaustion. 

And going home to Bucky every night, your brain supplies. You mentally swat the words away. Of course you’re going ‘home’ to Bucky. He’s your immediate backup in case something goes wrong – he has to be close. Even if it’s not the intimate kind of close. Not the kind of close you used to be when this mission was first given to you last year. Not the close that originally had you posing as husband and wife, but the kind that now has Bucky as your brother.

A shiver courses through you at the thought, and you wrap your arms tighter around your snuggly bundled self. Bucky as your brother is the worst scenario you could possibly imagine, but everyone agreed that with the new tension between you and Bucky, romance wouldn’t be the wisest play up here.

A soft groan leaves your lips and you dip your head quickly in disappointment before popping back up and looking ahead. There’s no point in yearning for something that will never happen again. You need to actually move on, not just lie about it and pretend like you did. Bucky deserves that much. You deserve that much.

Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus back to the mission. It’s time to embrace the role, leaving behind the echoes of a love that was now confined to memories. You couldn't afford distractions or longing. HYDRA's demise depended on your unwavering commitment, even if it meant burying your heart's desires in the depths of your being.

***

You arrive home a short while later, the creaks and groans of the old house underlying the silence of the empty rooms. It seems that Bucky had left for work while you were out. Glancing over to the clock atop the fireplace mantel, you're taken aback to see how much time has passed. You must have been lost in your thoughts far longer than you had initially realized. 

You close the door softly behind you and shuffle out of your coat. You hang it on a peg beside the door where your and Bucky’s other coats reside, noticing how well the colors reflect both of your personalities. You can’t help but laugh at the blacks, grays, and dark blues of Bucky’s jackets that contrast sharply with the whites, pinks, and pastels of your own. The smile lingers until you kick off your boots and walk further into the quiet house.

The echoing silence pulses in your ears and makes you uncomfortable. You hadn’t been alone like this in a very long time – there was always at least one person in the next room or house or building that you could reach out to. But with Bucky at his ‘new job’ and no neighbors knocking on the door to welcome you to the neighborhood, you feel totally isolated.

With nothing else to do besides wallow in loneliness, you decide to throw on some music and dive into all the information the team has gathered on this HYDRA location. You’d skimmed the files on the way here yesterday, but now you had the time to really peruse. You run upstairs to change into comfortable clothes and throw your hair up and away from your face. You return downstairs and pull out your laptop, setting up camp at the kitchen table. You open your favorite music streaming app and hit play, starting up your ‘get shit done’ playlist. You bop your head to the beat and dig in.

***

Hours later, you hear the door creak open and Bucky steps inside, his face smudged with grease and a tired smile on his lips. You rise from your hunched position and stretch your aching muscles. The pain in your upper back and neck eases slightly as you greet him, "Hey, Bucky. Welcome back. How was your day at the garage?"

Bucky wipes his hands on a rag, glancing at you with a mix of exhaustion and genuine warmth. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fixing engines, tinkering with parts. It's a nice change of pace from our usual gigs."

You nod, attempting to keep the conversation light. "Well, at least you get to put your mechanical skills to good use. It must feel good to work with your hands again."

A brief moment of silence hangs between you as you both glance down to Bucky’s hands. His metal arm is covered by Stark tech that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it in the first place. You can tell how uncomfortable he is with the sight after working so hard and so long on learning to accept himself the way he is now. He picks at the fake skin, pulling it slightly away and letting it snap back into place. Bucky clears his throat, his voice a touch hesitant, "It doesn’t quite feel right, ya know?"

You shift in your chair, tucking your leg up under you. "No, I get it, Bucky," you say. “Doesn’t feel like you, does it?” You give him a smile and a small shrug of your shoulders, as if what you’re saying is common knowledge and an opinion that everyone shares, “If you ask me, I prefer the metal.”

Bucky's eyes soften and he stops fidgeting with the skin, letting his arms drop down to his sides. “Yeah,” he agrees, “me too.”

You nod, trying to hide the warmth swelling in your chest. "Anyway," you begin. “I’ve been going over the data that you guys have gathered in the last few months. There’s a lot here, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs and walks over to you, taking the chair opposite and stretching out his legs underneath the table. His feet encroach on your space and nearly rest underneath your chair, the table not really accommodating for his size. You pick up the one leg you still have dangling off the chair and tuck it under you with the other one. Bucky places his hands behind his head and leans back. “All of my memories of this place are hazy, but this place was a real piece of work.” A grimace mars his face and his eyes start to cloud over.

Wanting to shift the conversation away from the discomfort he may be remembering, you change the subject, "So, did anything noteworthy happen at the garage today? Any signs of HYDRA activity in the town?"

Bucky's eyes shift with a sense of purpose, grateful for the chance to discuss something less complicated. "Actually, there was something unusual. I overheard a couple of guys mentioning some military-grade vehicles arriving tomorrow for inspection. Might be worth investigating to see if they’re HYDRA."

As you delve into mission-related details, a sense of normalcy descends upon the conversation. The awkwardness and unspoken emotions linger in the background of your mind, but for now, the focus is on the task at hand. You understand that the mission takes precedence over personal matters, and you commit again to putting aside your feelings for the sake of success and Bucky’s peace of mind.

With a renewed determination, you delve into strategizing and planning, resolute in your shared mission to dismantle HYDRA's operations. 

Part 7

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[championofsanghelios]

love...

SPOILERS FOR TOTK (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED) "Did something happen with you and Link?" "What?" Sidon snaps out of his daze as he hears Yona's voice. He turns around to face her, letting out a small gasp. "What- What are you doing up here? It's hardly a safe place for-" "-because he seemed pretty upset with you from what Rivan and Bazz told me." Yona continues, tilting her head at him. "Something about...past interactions." "..." The Prince blinks a few times, shaking his head. "...I-...what? I didn't find him to be upset or disagreeable...in fact he seemed quite happy to see me after all this time. I know I was delighted to see him." He tilts his head much like she had. "What makes you say that?" "Your father actually..." Yona sighs. "I went to see him at the Sanctuary and he said he was concerned about what might happen when Link learned that you and I were...well you know." "Instigating old guppy..." Sidon breathes out deep through his gills, shaking his head. He was suddenly realising what she was getting at. "I assure you the stuff that happened between Link and myself is in the past...I'm not entirely sure what drew us together originally, but it's no longer the case." "Well it's not in the past for him." Yona replies, giving her fiancee a look. One she'd given him many times throughout the years they'd known one another. "...he remembers it quite vividly." "Well you can tell my Father that I detected absolutely no signs of-" "-not for him, you silly shark!" Yona breathes a laugh, stepping forwards and prodding him gently on the arm. "For Link. Did you actually look at him when you spoke to him?" "Of course I did." Sidon replies flatly. Glancing to the right slightly. Desperately trying to remember what colour of tunic Link was wearing, if he was even wearing one at all. "It's-...it's only good manners to make eye contact with the person you're speaking to." "Like you're making eye contact with me right now?" "Uh-" "Sidon." "Alright! Maybe I was distracted by what I'm doing here!" the Prince suddenly snips, gesturing at the sludge raining down around them, and the brown gloomy mess that the waters had become. "There is a little bit of an issue if you haven't noticed! One that is taking up a considerable portion of my concentration." "Sidon." Yona continues. "He still cares about you a great deal. Maybe you're not prepared to accept that given that you've moved on from him, but the truth is the truth, no matter how much you try to ignore it." "I'm not ignoring it." he mutters. He turns from her, shaking his head. "I'm just-...it was a long time ago...we're different people now." "Do you still care about him?" is the next question, and as if she couldn't have asked a better one at the most perfect time, he finds himself turning back to her. "What sort of a question is that!?" Sidon exclaims, almost hurt by it on some level. "Of course I care about him! He's my best friend in the world! Why wouldn't I!?" Yona simply smiles at that. "...you should talk to him...properly, when you next see him." "We have a lot to do..." Sidon manages to find the words after a moment, breathing a deep sigh. "...you, my father and I have a Domain to keep safe...but Link? He-...he has 5 Kingdoms to check up on, a Princess to find. There's nothing I could do or say for him that would ease that burden." "This was the first place he came too...after finding his way back to Hyrule." Yona says after a beat. "...and do you know when he walked up to me in the Plaza that first time...his first thought was to ask where you were." Sidon processes that as she says it, his eyes widening a fraction. "...I-...It was?" "When people are under threat of losing everything they tend to seek out what matters to them most." Yona adds finally. "...for comfort, for help...and in his case...love.

She sighs, smiling a little more when she sees it all dawn her fiancee's face. He remembers that you never gave up on him, that you believed in him when he needed it most...next time you see him, make sure you don't betray his memory of you..."

[amrcnnightmre]

Hi I see you take requests. Would you write a CM Punk x wrestler!fm!reader? Maybe one where him and Drew McIntyre are in the height of their feud, and Drew gets the reader hurt during a match. Angst, love, you know lol

I’ve got you - C.M Punk

All fics posted are my original work, feel free to reblog but DO NOT repost thank you!! I haven’t thoroughly edited this so apologies if there’s any errors! All rights are reserved for my writing and any ocs that may be included, please don’t steal and as always.. happy reading!

My Masterlist

CM Punk x wrestler!fm!reader!

( tw: angst, fluff, injury, slight worry & panic )

Word count: 1,9K !

requested.

A feud between Punk and McIntyre had gotten to an all time high, both at each others throats constantly and the person in the middle of it all — y/n. Drew found just about all the ways he could to get under CM Punks skin but dragging y/n into the mix brought a whole other level of anger out of Punk, she was his long time partner after all.

Punk and y/n have been together almost 11 years now, their relationship Is as strong as ever. There is nobody who has supported him more then she has, you see him and you know y/n is never far behind — she always had his back.

The action of Monday night was in full effect— bright lights, loud pumped up crowd members and eager superstars ready to take to the ring for each of their scheduled matches. Y/n stood backstage with a furrowed expression as her gaze remained fixated on one of the many screens showcasing the action currently taking place beyond the curtain. Drew was getting the upper hand on his opponent Jey Uso while Punk sat ringside at the commentary desk, saying just about anything to distract the Scots man — a smug expression laced effortlessly on his face as he spoke to the two men next to him.

Y/n had been warming up for her own match that would take place later that night when her attention was caught by the screen closest to her, she wasn’t suppose to get involved in this match but watching drew get in Punks face and yell all sorts of insults the way he did just set her off. It took her no time at all to reach the gorilla, quickly asking one of the backstage tech crew to hit her music before she slipped out of the curtain towards the ring.

A sly smile graced y/n’s lips as she innocently skipped her way down the isle, her hands interlocked behind her back. Punk’s expression twitching slightly in confusion but he quickly hid it with a smile. “ladies and gentleman that is Cm Punks longtime partner y/n heading towards the ring, what is she doing out here during this match” Michael Cole exclaimed as he looked toward punk who responded almost immediately — “your guess is as good as mine Cole, you can’t tame a woman like her” he chuckled lightly to hide any concern in his tone.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think y/n could handle herself but Drew was on a ruthless streak of aggression lately that Punk just didn’t trust. Y/n’s smile didn’t fade once as she locked eyes with Drew, Anger flashing across his face as he almost became distracted for a moment. She waved at him mischievously from ringside, the match continued until Drew began to get the upper hand, y/n was not going to let that happen on her watch — not after everything he had put her family through. Y/n climbed up on the ring apron with ease, immediately getting the referees attention in order to cause a distraction and as if on cue Punk slipped away from his spot on commentary and into the ring, a steel chair in hand.

Jey Uso was sprawled out on the mat from prior attack curtesy of Drew, Punk smirking at the Scots man across from him as he rose the chair above his head preparing to slam it down on Drews back that was turned away from him. The next few moments were a blur, happening quicker than anyone could even process, Drew turned and grabbed the chair in the process — nailing Punk in the face with a hard blow from his right hand, it caused such an impact that the man tumbled to the mat and it would now be the Scottish warrior holding the chair above his head.

Drew reeled the chair back as if preparing to strike Cm Punk with the cold steel, turning to his left instead and shocking everyone in attendance — he hit Y/n. The chair nailed Y/n right in the head before she had time to process it, the impact so loud you could’ve sworn it cracked her skull. The refs eyes were wide as Y/n tumbled off the apron and hit the floor with a rough thud. “should’ve kept your girlfriend at home where she belongs!” Drew growled at Punk with a sly grin, The rage that surged through Cm punks veins was unlike any other the moment he realised what had just transpired and within seconds he snapped.

An all out brawl ensued between the two men until Adam Pierce the Raw general manager came storming out to the ring, he signalled for back up and before long the ring was filled with superstars and backstage talent prying the two away from one another. The chaos all happening as medics checked on Y/n who was out cold, they worked quickly to get her on a stretcher and brought to the trainers room.

A few minutes later things began to calm down and that was when Punk realised Y/n was nowhere in sight, a panic washing over him immediately — where was she? Was she okay? Why didn’t he check on her first ? The second these thoughts flooded his mind he was out of the ring and sprinting to the back, pushing his way through the curtain yelling at everyone around him as he asked for y/n’s whereabouts. “Where is she?! Where is Y/N?!” He barked at Paul Levesque aka Triple H, “Phil she’s in the trainers office, they’re checking her out to see if she needs to be transported to the local medical facility” he replied in a soft tone, that was all Punk needed to hear before giving the man a nod and heading straight to the office.

The expression on Punks face immediately softening as he opened the door and saw Y/n sitting up slowly with a groan, their eyes immediately meeting as he walked to her side. “Fuck.. I’m so sorry.. I should’ve looked after you and went straight over-” his ramble was cut off by Y/n placing a gentle kiss to his lips as she held his face in her hands. “Hey, hey I’m okay I promise.. just a little sore” she smiled sweetly at him, Punks eyes rapidly scanned over her body checking for any obvious injuries — the bruising already forming only made him seethe with anger. “I’m gonna kill him I swear” he grumbled under his breathe as his eyes met hers again, “mm later” she smiled wrapping her arms around his neck loosely.

“Im going to go get ready for my match” y/n whispered knowing he would be disapproving given her current state, “to hell you are darlin” he shook his head, “hmm too late?” She giggled before getting up off the table and running out the door down the hall. “Hey don’t you dare!” He laughed chasing her, y/n’s loud giggles echoing through the halls as he chased her.

After a few moments she arrived at her locker room and quickly ran in while closing the door behind her, “y/n” Punk laughed, “y/n i know you’re in there, let me in” he spoke softly. “mm only if you don’t get mad that i’m still planning to do my match later tonight” she smiled as if he could see it through the door, “y/n y/m/n y/l/n.. you’ll be the death of me” he sighed with a gentle laugh after speaking her full name. “Okay fine, but you have to get medically cleared by the trainer first.. deal?” he spoke while standing back waiting for the door to open.

After a few seconds the door opened and revealed Y/n with a little grin on her face, “how can I say no to that?” she whispered before pulling him into the room by his shirt and locking the door behind her. “exactly” he replied before picking her up effortlessly and carrying her to the small couch that took up a space in the room. If there was one thing people probably didn’t know about Phil, it’s that behind closed doors he was a big softy, especially to y/n.

“I hope you know I really am sorry, I had no idea that was going to happen” he mumbled as one hand rested on her hip and the other slowly moved to her lower back. “hey it’s okay, it’s part of the job” she smiled softly, her hands roaming his body ever so gently. “I know but you shouldn’t of gotten hit like that, it could of caused serious damage and I just.. I don’t know what i would’ve done-” his voice almost shaking as he thought about what could of happened if things had gone worse. Y/n carefully moved her hands to his face, carefully resting on both his cheeks, “phil.. love.. i’m okay, i’m right here and that’s all that matters” she hummed looking at him solemnly - her heart speeding up just looking at him.

“alright.. I trust you, but i will get drew back for what he did, that’s a promise”. A smile grew on y/ns face hearing his words, she could not get over how much Phil loved her, that he’d do just about anything for her even though he knew damn well she could stand up for herself. “I appreciate that babe, you’re the best” she laughed lightly, “i have no doubt in my mind you’ll get him back and I simply cannot wait to see it”.

The tension in the room slowly rising as y/n moved her hands to Punks Hair, running her fingers through it softly before tightening her grip on it slightly to tug on it. This action earning a slight groan from the heavily tattooed superstar, “However, your pay back can wait.. I think I know what will make us both feel better, hm?” she whispered as she placed gentle kisses to his neck and up towards his jaw.

Soft groans continued to leave Punks lips as his eyes remained locked on hers, “oh yeah you want to show me exactly what that is?” he smirked running his hands up her body stopping right under her breasts. “I think that could be arranged” she shifted so she was properly straddling him, “You only get a preview though, and then the full thing comes after i win my match tonight” she grinned running her thumb across his jaw, both their eyes locked on one another full of lust.

“mm I can agree to that, IF you get cleared.. but either way i’m taking good care of you love” he hummed running his hands under her shirt while keeping his gaze fixed on her, “oh yeah? that’s if I don’t care for you first” she challenged with with a bright smile. A few seconds passed and Punk picked the smaller woman up and smoothly flipped her over so he was now hovering over her gently, a loud squeal followed by sweet laughter erupting from her lips at the sudden action. I think we can all guess that probably wasnt the only noise coming from the room that night.

“I’ve got you” he whispered lovingly, “in and outside of the ring.. i’ve got you, nobody gets away with hurting you like that” their foreheads pressed gently against one another.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello good morning! And also welcome back. Can I request a Yandere Ror Gods x valkyrie reader?

(God) has been in love with the reader, time passed it turned as a obsession. When (God) learned that the reader will do volundr with their respective human fighter, which is also the reader's lover, it angered (God). I will leave you what will be the ending.

The gods are Thor, Poseidon, Heracles, Hades, Hermes, Odin, Loki.

The human fighter can be the God's original rival in the rounds of the ror series. Thanks a lot.

-He only had himself to blame, seeing you with another man, a human of all things. Had he not procrastinated, just choosing to watch you from afar, then maybe he would have been the one you’re smiling up at.

-His affection for you started long ago, many years, he admired you for your strength but also your kindness.

-As a Valkyrie, you were a warrior and a skilled one at that, but he also saw you with children, allowing them to hold your hands and pull you along after them, giving them such soft smiles.

-He wanted to approach you, to speak with you, but was content watching you from afar.

-Now he was there, watching you hugging another man from behind, pressing a soft kiss into his cheek, in love with another.

-You were unaware of (God’s) affection for you, as you had never spoken to him that wasn’t just a formal greeting, showing them respect, so he couldn’t blame you.

-He could, however, blame the human, fully prepared to get rid of this human and appear in your time of need, to comfort you.

-That is, until he learned you were going to be partnering with your lover as a Völundr in Ragnarok, the battle for humanity’s salvation.

-(God) knew, if you lost, if he won against your lover, you would be lost with him, you would crumble to dust, never to be seen again.

-Thor- It was hard for him to put his personal feelings aside, as he didn’t want to hurt you. However, he was able to get a momentary distraction with Lu Bu, who had proved himself as a worthy opponent, and dare he say it, Thor considered him a friend. The two were all smiles, fighting against one another, getting the challenge they both so desperately wanted. In the end, Thor proved himself to be the better warrior; his eyes couldn’t tear from your body, broken and bleeding, now fading away. He not only lost the love of his life, but also the only person who managed to go toe-to-toe with him, even if you did love Lu Bu rather than him. Thor refused to fight again.

-Poseidon- His mind was calculating the whole time during his match, trying to figure out if there was a way to get you and Kojiro to come apart, to break the bond. That way he could kill the lowly human that took you from him, and you would be safe and with Poseidon. These calculations, however, turned to Poseidon’s downfall, he was distracted and Kojiro was fighting for a non-selfish reason and Kojiro ran him through, slicing his body into several large chunks. As Poseidon fell, he glared at Kojiro but his eyes softened, seeing you appear beside the samurai and he kept his eyes on you until he vanished.

-Hercules- He didn’t want to hurt you, he didn’t want to fight you, but seeing you with a serial killer of all people, set his blood ablaze with fury. He had to rescue you, thinking Jack had tainted you, there was no way a Valkyrie like you was with a serial killer willingly. Jack could see his hesitance in fighting, like he didn’t want to hurt Jack, but was soon able to realize, Hercules didn’t want to hurt you. When you appeared, radiantly glowing, Jack could see the adoration Hercules had for you, as well as feelings of regret. When Hercules hugged Jack close, he was also hugging you, allowing himself to be killed, to keep you safe, to keep humanity safe.

-Hades- Not happy that you were bonded to his opponent, he didn’t want to hurt you; Hades was now faced with a dilemma, he could win the fight for the gods, but lose you, or let Qin Shi Huang and you win, and lose his life in the process. Despite being the king of the underworld, death was something Hades had never even thought about before, but knowing that you Valkyries were giving the humans an edge to fight on equal terms, Hades had to face reality sooner or later. Hades decided to go all out, not willing to pull any punches and if you and this human managed to beat him, then he could die peacefully with the knowledge he had a hard fight. As he vanished, he gave you a small, mysterious smile, one that confused you, as Hades gave a small nod to Qin Shi Huang, recognizing him as the true winner.

-Hermes- Your opponent was overconfident, cocky even, thinking Hermes could only play the violin, but Hermes had to admit, he didn’t look like a fighter, looking more like a butler. Knowing you were bonded to this man, this human, brought him so much anger and sorrow and he refused to hold back. (Human) was struggling, that was apparent, but he managed to land some harsh blows on the god, putting up a fight. Hermes managed to disarm (Human), throwing the blade away, as he knew that blade was you before he grabbed it, using you against (Human), against your lover. You broke the Volundr, not wanting to hurt your love any longer and with that, Hermes charged, running your love through, killing him instantly. You wept over your fallen love, watching him disappear and Hermes felt regret, making you cry, but hopefully now, he would have a chance to approach you.

-Odin- This magic was unusual for him, despite knowing many types of magic and knowing how they work, Volundr was one that was new for the All Father. Odin learned how it works, and what it could do, but now, facing (Human), with you as his Valkyrie, he needed to learn how to break it, to save you from your lover’s fate. Odin had no qualms fighting against your lover, the human who had managed to get you before he could, but did his best to not damage you, as you had taken the form of a sword. He would defend against you, but did his best to not cause any damage, at least until he could figure out the magic. At the end of the fight, Odin was the loser, fading slowly away, focusing too much on getting you, rather than paying attention to his opponent. Odin regretted losing you twice, both due to his own fault.

-Loki- Furious and violent, charged at (Human) with no hesitation, blaming him for taking you away, and now Loki was determined to take you back, one way or another. His fury blinded him, while it made him stronger, it made him reckless, and (Human) took advantage of that, beating Loki back. You had known Loki for years and you had never seen him in such a rage, not like this, it honestly frightened you, and you were one of the bravest Valkyries. When (Human) blocked another blow, he was easily able to tell that Loki wasn’t looking at him, it was like Loki was looking into him, looking at you, something you were quick to realize as well. You steeled your nerves, which (Human) felt and he charged, running Loki through. Loki refused to back down, even as he was crumbling away, Loki kept attacking, shouting out your name before he was dust. You held (Human) tightly once the bond broke, shaking in fear and he held you close, soothing you.

[dearweirdme]

Thanks for answering my ask! I was this one: https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/755208541848076288/i-saw-your-comment-that-jkk-tumblrs-were

As for the video, I think it shows how close they are and how delighted they are by each other. I’m not sure why you don’t think JK being obsessed with Jimin and them showing up for each others lives doesn’t count? Or Hobi’s going away doesn’t count when Jkk talk about drinking a bunch of whiskey together the night before? How did Jk learn to play Jimin’s song on the guitar…? Jungkook talked about travelling with Jimin on Suchwita and was giddy. Do you not see it too? Maybe you don’t!

As for the not seeing each other during the first part of the year, Jk was very prolific on wlive (just about once every week or two) while Jimin was busy with Face. After JM was done with schedules, JK also became markedly less frequent on wlive. There were people predicting that JK would go live when JM left the country and then he would! It was uncanny. It happened several times in a row.

We have no idea why Jk didn’t go to JM’s shows, but I don’t think we can conclude it was because he didn’t care. He CLEARLY cared about Jimin and his music. Maybe he’s too distracting to Jimin. It truly could be anything, but do you REALLY believe it was because he didn’t GAF? He knew all the words to all of his songs and learned the guitar to play his song and watched every single video and feature JM put out. He cared.

As to the blogs struggling, they only struggled because they were used to being so well fed! Despite the company barely producing any BTS content during that time, there were still so many days when JK or JM (especially JK) would visit us and talk about the other or they’d interact with each other in some way on social media. It wasn’t everyday, but it was way more than any member of BTS talking about any other member of BTS. It was also addicting, if you’re into that kind of content. That’s what the struggle was.

Finally, as for how much any of them saw each other… well besides JK’s conspicuous sudden absence from streaming when JM was not busy, they did film a travel show together. That was quite a few days of being together that we’ll get to see some of soon. They also applied to be in the military together, which is a pretty involved application process. We can’t know for sure, but they probably saw each other quite a bit during that. But also Jimin started boxing again when he was done with Face schedules. Towards the end of the year, he’d come around with bruised up knuckles. Maybe that wasn’t with JK, but it seems like those two DO have a history of working out together a lot so maybe he was! Neither of them tell us when they are hanging out (unlike how open they are when it’s other members), but we do find out in lots of ways that they do hang out outside of BTS activities. I am happy to tell you why JKks know they hang out a LOT even if they never explicitly say it.

And I mean right now, at great personal cost to each, they are sleeping in the same room every night and bringing comfort to the other, non-stop for 18 months. There is that.

Anyway, I have looked at the tumblr you recommended, but it’s not convincing to me. Because I watch all the original content, I can see how the interactions are cherry picked and not nearly enough to be convincing, especially given the original context of whatever moment. You’re my favorite TKk blogger, so I wanted to know if there was anything that was super convincing to you. I hope you don’t block me for talking with you about this, I really am very curious and I do respect that we have different interpretations of what’s happening.

Hi again anon!

Sigh.. look, you are clearly stuck in Jkk think. I know what Jkkrs think (so no please don’t tell me) and you are just repeating everything the bigger blogs are telling you.. unsurprisingly.

This whole ask of your’s is filled with assumptions, romanticizing, and ‘maybe’s’ that you have no way of backing up with actual evidence. I now know you only watch Jkk content (and sure that might be original content) but you don’t watch content of the other members probably… so this conversation is useless. If you don’t understand why all those things I pointed out don’t count, then I am sure you never will.

I’m not sure how we went from me saying Jk and Jm have a great loving friendship to ‘do you really believe he didn’t GAF?’? Obviously they care a lot, they’re besties. My idea of them actually fits the footage you sent me much better than your idea of them, since I have no questions left at all.. while you are left wondering whether Jk might be too distracting to Jm (here I was thinking they’re in the same band…. 🫠).

Be a Jkkr if you want anon, it’s fine with me… you’ll forever be wrong… but still that’s fine by me.