#barefoot on the fire escape (chasing after you)

[sexynetra]

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

I promised @thecollectionsof that I would finish my amandawn fic today, so keep your eyes peeled for this full story being posted in a few hours <3

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“You trust me, don’t you?” Dawn smiled hopefully — a dazzling grin that had Amanda’s brain shorting out.

She did trust Dawn. More than she trusted anyone in the world.

“That sounds like the kind of thing a serial killer would ask me before they lead me to their super secret murder lair,” she said instead. Dawn’s grin just widened, and she started walking again.

“Oh, please. I wouldn’t have my murder lair in the middle of New York City. That’s out in the suburbs.”

[reveryfics]

hii I was wondering if you could write a scenario where loki and m!reader are avengers (whether they're already dating at this point or not is up to you) and they meet in the kitchen one night coincidentally and end up having some fun(if you're not comfortable writing this I totally understand)

Temptation

Pairings: Loki x Male Reader

Summary: Late at night in the Avengers tower, Loki and you have a little bit of fun after meeting in the kitchen.

A/n: I basically started with writing smut, it's just turned into the less detailed ones I write now, so I have no problem with it!

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The Avengers Tower lay hushed, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall. A shiver chased down his spine as he padded barefoot across the cool marble floor, the kitchen a beacon of warmth under the soft glow of the overhead light.

He reached for a glass, the smooth wood of the cabinet cool against his skin. The ice rattled as he filled it with water, the liquid a welcome contrast to the lingering warmth of the night. He leaned against the cool granite countertop, a sigh escaping his lips as he took a long, invigorating gulp.

A pair of hands, icy and sure, snaked around his waist. He gasped, the sudden contact sending shivers through him. "Fancy meeting you here, darling," a voice purred, low and resonant, unmistakable. Loki.

His hands, strong and sure, slipped beneath his shirt, tracing the familiar contours of his ribs. Loki pressed him closer to the counter, their bodies a perfect fit. He moaned softly, burying his fingers in Loki's hair, the silky strands a welcome distraction. "Don't pretend you weren't following me," he whispered, his voice husky.

Loki chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through him. His lips grazed his neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The scent of mint, sharp and invigorating, mingled with the musky scent of Loki's skin. "And deny you enjoy it?" Loki questioned, his voice a seductive drawl.

He gasped again, his body trembling as Loki's hands explored his skin, arousing a storm within him. He couldn't speak, his voice lost in the maelstrom of sensations.

Loki pressed against him, their bodies aligning perfectly. The friction ignited a fire within him, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. Loki's hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, finding him already hard. He stroked him slowly, savoring each groan, each shudder that escaped his lips.

"You'll get us caught," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He lightly smacked Loki's chest, but his words held little conviction.

Loki grinned, ignoring the warning. "Let them enjoy the show," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Loki sank to his knees, his hands gripping his boyfriend's hips, pulling him closer. He leaned forward, his tongue tracing the sensitive head of his erection. The taste of pre-cum, salty and sweet, exploded on his tongue. He began to move, his head bobbing rhythmically, taking him deeper and deeper.

He arched his back, a strangled cry escaping his lips. His fingers dug into the countertop, his body trembling with the force of his release. Loki's hair, tangled in his hands, offered a precarious anchor.

Loki pulled back, his lips slick with precum and saliva. He stood, a triumphant smirk gracing his lips. "Thought you were having all the fun," he teased, before stripping off his own clothes.

Loki gasped as he was pressed against the counter, his body a living furnace. He thrust into Loki, hard and deep, and Loki cried out, his back arching against the cool surface. Loki clung to him, his nails digging into his shoulders, lost in the rhythm of their bodies.

The thrusts intensified, faster, harder, each one a searing brand. Loki moaned, "Right there, darling," the word a desperate plea.

They reached their peak together, gasping for breath, their bodies trembling. They leaned against each other, exhausted but exhilarated, the afterglow a warm, blissful haze.

A light flickered on in the hallway. Panic surged through him. They quickly dressed, cleaning up any evidence of their encounter. Loki sat at the island, a book appearing in his hands, a steaming mug of tea beside it. He pretended to read, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tony emerged from the hallway, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. "Nearly four in the morning," he observed, his voice laced with suspicion.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Couldn't sleep," he mumbled. Loki nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on his book.

Tony grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, his gaze lingering on them for a moment too long. He noticed something – Tony was wearing Stephen's clothes.

The tension in the air was palpable, but no one spoke. Tony retreated to his room, leaving them to their pretense. He sighed, relief washing over him.

The tension in the air dissipated, replaced by a shared sense of amusement. They exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement passing between them.

"Seems we weren't the only ones enjoying the night," Loki murmured, a playful glint in his eyes.

Loki leaned forward, his lips brushing against his boyfriend's ear. "Perhaps," Loki whispered, his voice a husky caress, "a round two is in order?"

His boyfriend chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through him. "You're insatiable," he teased, but his eyes held a playful challenge.

Loki grinned, his hand reaching out to caress his boyfriend's cheek. "Only when it comes to you," he purred, his gaze lingering on his lips.

The air crackled with unspoken promises, the lingering warmth of their earlier encounter still a potent memory. They knew this was far from over. The night, it seemed, was just beginning.

[unicorncornflakes]

Little One - Story AU! | Chapter 3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: You are the only daughter of Jacaerys Velaryon, future lord of the tides. After the victory of Aegon and his side in the war, your family suffers the rejection in Driftmark. There you must always give an account to the king's new hand, Aemond Targaryen. However, when the time comes, Aegon and his court claim you as Queen Helaena's lady-in-waiting. As a new piece of the Greens' strategy to coerce your father, you are taken to King's Landing to begin your life in high society. Aemond will be, much to his pleasure, in charge of guiding you in this new stage.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Enemies to Lovers/ Emotional Hurt/Comfort Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st, at some points.

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus @tempt-ress

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5K

The jaws of that dragon were approaching you. There was no escape. There wasn't. It didn't exist. Had it ever existed? It was a golden dragon. His scales glistened in the sunlight and he was chasing you. You glanced back at that Driftmark cliff for a moment. His wing membranes were pale pink. While you tried to run barefoot, that monster was chasing you with its mouth open, ready to spit fire at you if you didn't stop. But you weren't going to stop. To stop meant to die. Something inside you told you. You kept running. Run. Run. Run. That was all you could do. Your feet ached and began to bleed from the sharp rocks of that cliff. The threads of blood clung to the rocks. Sticky and garnet. Dense but recent blood. The dragon growled, frustrated that you wouldn't give in, that you wouldn't hold back. He was going to spit all his fire on you.

Just as he was about to expel a hot, destructive mass, Vhagar appeared. The old dragon caught him by the neck, and she squeezed. She squeezed until the other dragon ceased its attempt to destroy you. He made a plaintive sound. A roar that was heard all along the coast of Driftmark. However, the older dragon did not relent in her grip, and she kept squeezing him. You finally stopped. Bloody feet on that cliff as the two dragons fought to see who possessed you… you could feel it, you could see the tension in both mounts. The golden dragon kept screeching. Vhagar squeezing until a sound, a nauseating crack was heard... the golden dragon's neck gave way to that deadly grip and then Vhagar roared at the sky, only to end up looking at you. His reptilian eyes fixed on you. So you did feel it, you shouldn't have stopped. You were sold. She roared, lunging at you.

Helaena screamed at the sight of her vision and Aemond held her close in the dead of night. The prince didn't know what was up with her, but he knew that the days after a dream that woke her up screaming were always difficult for her.

And then your eyes snapped open. You wanted to scream, but you just covered your mouth to suppress it. You let out a plaintive sound. A muffled moan in the middle of that empty room in the Red Keep. You breathed hard and cried. You wanted to come home. However, at that moment you felt a pinch in your lower stomach very similar to... No. No. No. No. Your body couldn't do this to you. It Could not. It was being a full-blown betrayal. You felt betrayed when you just pulled back the sheet and saw the big bloodstain emanating from between your legs. Not only did it hurt more than other times, but it was twice as abundant. What was happening to you? Your body betrayed you. The blood came out sticky and thick maroon. You cried even more bitterly. And you quickly got out of bed. Sore. Your stomach was pricking. Your breasts looked like they were going to burst from the tension... your whole body reacted badly to the evidence that you were bleeding more than any other month. It seemed as if your body wanted Aemond to know that you were already bleeding… What would become of you? You got up as fast as you could. You felt how the blood slipped down your legs and you tried to convince yourself that you could eliminate the evidence. Yeah. That was. You would remove the sheets. You would be able to burn them if by doing so you avoided being discovered. You didn't want anyone there to know you were already bleeding. Even less after the terrible dinner the night before. The king did not take his eyes off him while he drank and ate as if he had no measure. Aemond thought he was more discreet, but you had also seen how he looked at you. The mere prospect of ending up in one of his beds or even both of them made you sick, and made your stomach hurt even more. You removed them with difficulty, drenching them even more in your blood. It was being a disaster. Then you heard the door creak right behind you. You froze, afraid to look at who was behind you.

"But what the hell are you doing?" Mistra scolded you, slamming the door behind her. The maid scrambled up next to you, and she gripped the sheets even harder than you did. "The one-eyed man said you didn't bleed," she hissed, pulling back the sheets.

"And I don't" you told her forcefully while you also pulled the sheets in pain. "I have a wound..."

"Yeah, sure. Do you intend to keep lying until you're fifty?" said the woman pulling the sheet just like you. She looked at you for a moment and saw the fear in your eyes. You were still nervous removing them from the bed, but you realized that you had stained even the mattress. You wanted to die “I have to tell someone. This is a mess. It takes more than two hands to clean this up here.” With difficulty and breathing hard, the old woman went to the door of your chambers, ready to ask any other of her companions for help. You squealed, plaintive with tears in your eyes.

"No, please, no" You pleaded, kneeling down. “Please don't tell anyone. No one can know" was what you told her, not daring to look at her. Defeated in that situation. The old woman looked at you. She looked at you pityingly and turned to you. Lifting you up with a sweetness that you didn't think possible in that woman.

"They're going to find out sooner or later, girl. What's the point of hiding it?" she whispered to you. And you looked into her eyes, looking for complicity that you knew you shouldn't look for.

“Please…” you whispered to her, remembering your father's words. You shouldn't trust anyone. In absolutely no one. Yet there you were pleading with a woman you barely knew. She had simply helped you get dressed one day and she had helped you with your bath. It was already more than anyone else had done. Aemond had put her at your service for something. You knew that, but you expected female complicity from her, sisterhood. After all, she knew what the fate of any woman was in those days. She herself must have suffered.

"Do you want the one-eyed man to hang up on me because I haven't informed him?" she hissed, in case you weren't understanding her situation. Your fate when they found out you were bleeding, would be rape at best. That woman's if they found out that she had betrayed her lords would be her death. For a poor palace maid, who had lived through what she had lived through, she knew which of the two fates was worse.

"I beg you. Don't tell him" you insisted again. And she just sighed, turning back to bed in defeat. You saw that she was taking her sheets by herself and you helped her in silence. You knew that she was going to help you at that moment. She groaned as she picked up all the sheets and loaded them into a sack.

“I am going to prepare a bath and I will bring you some rags so that you can put them on today. If anyone finds out about this, I don't know anything” she told you with little love and pain as she left the room. She was tired of the green ones, and she felt that the one-eyed man was going to kill her, even if she spoke or not.

Already dressed and arranged by Mistra, the old woman silently guided you through the corridors of the Red Keep. No one had bothered to show it to you. After all, no one really knew what you were there for. But, that same morning, the one-eyed man had told Mistra to take you to the queen's chambers, and so she was doing. She always faithful and well commanded. Dressed in green and yellow, she trudged for her age, but she was still one of Aemond's most trusted women there, even if she always called him one-eyed.

She kept walking while you followed close behind, aching from your lunar blood. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye just to check that you were following her. She stopped dead in front of the door to Queen Helaena's chambers and turned to get a better look at you.

"I suppose they did teach you protocol in Driftmark, right?" she asked you trying to catch her breath. She had tried to get as fast as she could to meet her masters, but you and your lunar blood had not made it easy for her that day. Now she was afraid that any of them would suspect her treachery.

"Yes, I have to revere the queen when I see her" you said, tilting your head in a subtle and sweet movement, and Mistra thought that you also had the same problem that Helaena had had all her life: Lack of lights . The woman frowned.

“You won't last here, little one. They're all going to devour you” was the only thing she said when she opened the door, and you froze at her words. However, you didn't even have time to respond. She opened the door and pushed you into the Queen's chambers. You swallowed hard as you saw Queen Mother Alicent scowl at you as she noticed your presence. She sighed and you bowed to her as she looked back at her daughter who was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. Alicent caressed her daughter's face gently.

"You're late" was all Alicent said. Her voice cold and her eyes even harder. You didn't even know what to answer. You did not expect that no one was waiting for you. "My son informed you of your duties, right?" she said, getting up and placing herself with difficulty in front of you. Age had wrinkled a face that should have been beautiful, and she had turned it into a grimace and pain. Alicent hadn't lost any children in the war, but she certainly hadn't been victorious in that contest either. What was left to her was only offal. The remains of three children. The remains of a daughter who barely made any sound.

"Yes, my lady" you said sweetly. "He told me…"

"'Yes my Queen'. This is how you have to address me” she said diligently, soberly, haughtily. Alicent was not going to allow a daughter of traitors to speak to her in a disrespectful manner. She was your queen whether you liked it or not.

"Yes, my queen" you answered with a scared and intimidated voice. You wanted to come home. You needed to come home. There you were not going to get a single ally.

"Good. You will come here every day at dawn. You will accompany the queen so that she does not feel alone. You will watch that nothing happens to her. You will feed her. You will accompany her. You will have lunch with her every day. You will go for a walk with her…” Queen Alicent began to list all your responsibilities. You almost looked like a caretaker, more than a lady-in-waiting. The poor queen continued with her eyes lost against the wall while the old queen continued with all the great list. You kept looking at her while she continued talking. She went on and on instructing you until Queen Helaena seemed to make a plaintive sound. She almost seemed like she couldn't breathe. Alicent stopped talking to you and she ran to see what was wrong with her daughter, her face full of concern. You stayed put while that poor woman nearly convulsed in bed. Her eyes rolled back and she nearly foamed at her mouth. You've never seen anyone like this before. You understood that your father had shielded you too much from the real world. The Queen Mother looked at you in disbelief.

"What's the matter?" she asked you in a scream. “Are you going to come help me or are you going to just stand there?” she told you and you ran to meet her even though you didn't really know why. The queen kept ordering you before what you had to do. She asked you to bring a piece of wood closer and place it inside Helaena's mouth while Alicent opened that same cavity for her. Everything had the function that she did not bite her tongue while she had that attack. You watched the queen writhe on her bed, screaming and wailing as she rolled her eyes. “This is all your family's fault…if they hadn't killed her children…my sweet girl…” And you went pale as the queen continued to convulse. You knew who the greens in your family had killed, but you didn't expect that anyone in your family could have killed two small children. You needed to come home. Another seizure. Another muffled scream. You really needed it.

"Don't dare to tell me that you brought her here to help Helaena." Aemond heard his mother's voice behind him. His hands resting on the balustrade of that balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. At the same time, he was watching you strolling in the distance with the queen. You led her in silence, followed by a bunch of maids. You had noticed that, for being a queen, Helanea had no lady-in-waiting but you. It seemed as if the rest of the great houses of Westeros, whether big or small, weren't the least bit interested in joining the new royal family.

Aemond continued to watch you. At the time putting his hands behind his back while he ignored his mother. Alicent sighed heavily and moved to her son's side, undermining Helanea with concern.

"What have you brought her for, Aemond?" she heard him sigh with pity and sorrow. "That girl... that girl is only going to bring us trouble" she said, looking at him while her son kept staring at you. Alicent had always dreamed of knowing what was going through Aemond's heads, as if he were the most difficult to decipher of all her children. Just when her mother was going to give up and leave, Aemond spoke, looking at her sideways.

"I have plans with her" was all he said and Alicent looked at him confused. The queen mother raised her chin, as if she at that moment had understood why her son had really taken you to the king's landing.

“Are they like the same plans you had with the witch you found in Harrenhal?” her mother attacked him, and Aemond looked at him without love. As if reminding him of his own weakness and stupidity with Alys, he made him feel like a mortal and not the deity that he was for being a Targaryen.

"No," he hissed through his teeth, hurt that Alicent, his own mother, had reminded him of that. "I'll never fail the realm like that again" he spat without any love, wanting to mark his authority, but, he had discovered that the only one he couldn't do it with was her. And, perhaps it was better that way.

"That time was enough for us to be like this now" Alicent snapped just before leaving. He stopped looking at you. You didn't need supervision. You were very sweet. You would end up getting along with what was left of Helaena. He only returned to his chambers to run his kingdom. If they were in that situation, it was his fault. And Aemond knew it very well.

Sitting back in Queen Helanea's chambers after a short walk, you looked up at the ceiling. You needed to get away from there. However, at that moment when both you and the queen were alone, Helaena made a plaintive sound again. You were afraid, what if she had another attack? You were alone, if it had been difficult for you to control it while the queen mother was there, what would become of you if she gave it to you while you were alone? But, only at that moment that you got up to see what was happening to her, she suddenly looked at you, fixing her violet eyes on you. You stood still while those violet eyes, with tiny pupils, scrutinized you in silence. "Watch out for the dragons, little one" she whispered.

"What?" you asked scared. But, she did not speak again. She made no sound. She just cried and you dried her tears. You could only think, sore from your lunar blood, that this was the best thing that could happen to you. After all, at least you weren't warming anyone's bed.

"The girl can't wear a dress like that today." Mistra broke up the conversation the tailor and Aemond were having in his study. This first one was showing him the dress that he had ordered for you. In the next tournament, you would wear a dress with green and gold transparencies that covered your buttocks, your breasts and your pubis at most. The rest of the skin would be exposed. The Hand was dying to see you in that dress that he had ordered almost from the first day he had seen you swim naked on the beach of Marcaderiva, two years ago. He had patiently waited for you to have bled. A pity they hadn't told him. He would have given you that dress for your birthday himself. Aemond sneered at Mistra, raising a single eyebrow. Not only had she interrupted him, but she was denying a direct order of his and she hadn't even addressed him by his title.

"Why not?" he asked to the old maid. The tailor was silent, displaying the dress on his arms. At Mistra's silence and her penetrating gaze, Aemond sent the tailor out of his study. The little man complied, clutching the dress, and only when he was gone did Mistra speak. Aemond sat in his study just to continue writing edicts. He was the only thing he dedicated himself to those days. He was the law.

“She has bled this morning. Just when I entered her room she was trying to eliminate the evidence” Mistra told Aemond and he stopped typing abruptly. He just looked at her silently. Silence always invited the other to continue speaking. The silence made people uncomfortable. He leaned back in his chair, while Mistra continued talking "she made Me promise that I wouldn't tell you anything" commented the old maid "she was scared".

“They have been telling me for two years that she does not bleed. I would be too if I were her” Aemond smirked as he lifted the glass to his lips. He took a small sip. It was the right moment that he had been waiting for too long "But... let's continue her game..." Mistra looked at him confused and he continued speaking. “You are going to earn her trust. I'm going to pretend you didn't tell me anything. I want… I want to know what it tells you about her life in King's Landing, about my family… about me…”

The old maid made no gesture, but she also knew what Aemond wanted from you. She must have known better than the one-eyed man himself, who was beating the air trying to avoid her true intentions. But, the old woman was as old as the devil and she knew even more than he did. She knew that the one-eyed prince's plans passed through your bed and between your legs. Although he did not want to admit it.

"As you wish" the maid answered sincerely. She was a servant of Aemond, who should truly reign, though she was now content to be merely her brother's hand. A true loss to the kingdom. Mistra could have been faithful to you, but that put her head in danger. With that you would learn, she told herself. You would learn to play the way they played in the capital.

“Tonight, I will have dinner with her. Prepare everything so that she is ready. You may retire,” was all Aemond said to her, and Mistra wondered if tonight would finally be the time when you would know the true feeling of being a woman in King's Landing.

You helped Alicent take one last bite of her dinner for Queen Helaena. After their outburst that morning, Aemond had decided that they would all dine separately. Aegon would dine quietly and alone with his whores. Jaehaera and Daeron would dine in the former's chambers. You had noticed that they spent a lot of time together. Alicent would dine with Helaena… And Aemond would do it by himself. You thought he was always alone. But you didn't care. If you were there, it was his fault. He was the one who had taken you to King's Landing. You thought it would have been nice to have dinner with Alicent and her daughter, but you really knew better. So you decided that she would have dinner alone. With no one to bother you, you once helped Helaena to bed.

Once all your labors were finished, you went to your chambers. However, Mistra intercepted you on the way and told you that the one-eyed man wanted to see you. You looked at her confused, what if she had blabbed and told Aemond? No, it couldn't be. You trusted her. It must have been a coincidence. You walked after her again, for the second time that day. Following her like a slaughtered lamb. Was it that you were something else?

Aemond lifted his wineglass to his lips with a smirk as he watched you enter the doors of his chambers. You were beautiful, but you always were to him. Mistra nodded goodbye to him and you timidly entered his chambers. You were dressed in green and black on that occasion, with a discreet neckline, but one that would delight many. He got up as soon as he saw you and fixed his only eye on you. His face completely stoic.

“My prince" you greeted him with a bow of the head and the sweet voice that Aemond imagined you would have when you were tangled between the sheets of his bed. 'My prince'. He imagined that you whispered it with a smile in his ear while he was kissing the skin of your neck. He could see that you were afraid of him. You were still standing in front of him, even when Mistra had closed the door behind her. But that didn't bother him. Rather the complete opposite. That turned him on.

"(Y / N), you look very beautiful tonight" he told you as Aemond with his hand invited you to sit next to him at a small table in his private chambers. On the table were two plates, a few meats, and fruit. He didn't throw the big feasts that Aegon did to impress a woman.

"What do you need from me, my lord?" you spoke in a sweet voice, but without moving from the same place next to the door where the maid had left you. Aemond looked at you confused. The old woman should not have informed you. She only should have told you that he wanted to see you. Nothing else. You grabbed the skirt of your dress. You obviously didn't want to be there, but Aemond…he wanted you to be.

“We could have dinner together. Both you and I would have dinner alone tonight if not” he told you as he offered you a seat again. And you doubted so much kindness. That arrogant smile that he outlined as soon as he saw you. That cold purple eye that you didn't think could be happy with anything.

You slowly approached and sat next to him. You weren't going to deny him what he wanted, no matter how much you wanted to run away from there. Aemond always terrified you. He always did. Once in the chair, the prince sat back down as well. You pursed your lips when you felt him so close to you. He smelled of steel and leather. The scent of a man who, despite his skill at arms, still continued to train every day.

"Why don't you serve me wine?" he asked you, looking at you with an arrogant smile and you nervously picked up the jug of wine, almost trembling. You had never been alone with him. That must have been one of your father's worst nightmares and… one of Aemond's best dreams. You served him in silence while he pinched a few grapes and put them in his mouth with amusement while he watched you in silence. Seeing how you didn't pour wine for yourself, he took the jug himself. Willing to serve you. He would show you that he could also have nice gestures with you. Yet you put your hand on your cup. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “It's a fine Dornish wine. I'm sure you would enjoy it."

“No, I… I don't feel like it” you whispered. You took the jug of water and served yourself. He sighed, setting the wine jug back on the table. You didn't intend to drink that night. You couldn't afford to dull your senses with the enemy so close. You took a sip of water and helped yourself to some of the little meat that was on the table, Aemond did the same.

You began to dine in silence. You could only hear the night sound of the city at the foot of the Red Keep and the cutlery you were using. You saw that Aemond barely ate or drank, it seemed as if his presence manifested itself only from the air he breathed. He was methodical even in his way of eating. He was even disciplined in that. You both dined on the balcony that was in their rooms. You thought that he must have seemed like the best place of all those that existed in the sobriety of his rooms.

"Do you like the dinner?" he asked again, trying to talk about something with you. You didn't even know what to answer. Everything tasted like ashes. Things had stopped smelling and tasting since you'd left Driftmark, and really, you were glad. King's Landing just seemed to smell and taste like a rat's nest. It was better to have neither smell nor taste in this city. You just nodded your head and took a couple more bites. Aemond spoke again “I have asked for figs. I know what you like” you looked at him incredulous. How did he know that? He had only seen you eat at your father's last birthday celebration. You knew he hadn't taken his eye off you, but that…

At that moment, a dragon much smaller than Vhagar but still imposing, passed through the red keep on its way to the Dragonpit. You stayed silent. Admiring him. They really were beasts that scared you. You had only seen Vhagar. She was the only one you'd seen, but that's why you weren't going to be shocked to see another. Aemond chuckled sweetly. It was the first time you heard him, a different laugh than the arrogant one he always had.

"They're impressive, aren't they?" he asked, bringing his hand to yours, but you quickly pushed it away, hiding it under the table, much to Aemond's disquiet, who drank his wine again in a vain attempt to hide the shame he felt for such a bold move with you.

"I don't like dragons" you said as you turned your attention back to the food, ignoring the young dragon that kept flying to his home. "One murdered my uncle Luke, another two my grandmother Rhaenys, another my grandmother Rhaenyra" you blurted out without thinking, looking at him full of contempt, in a gesture you never thought you could do... and that turned Aemond on again. If before he had found you fascinating, now he found you irresistible, although he would never accept it. He was too proud for it. He just smiled at you as he amusedly leaned back against his chair. He went back to take another sip of his drink without even stopping to look at you with his only eye. You also had him for a Kinslayer. He would never have thought of you, but certainly, what did he know about you? Beyond seeing you naked on the beach a couple of times, or seeing you read in your rooms in Driftmark, or seeing you dance at your father's last birthday party…gods, He was crazy about you. He realized at that moment that you were trying to reveal yourself against a dragon.

"I see... that your father has told you about the Dance, even briefly" he smiled amused. "I'll tell you a secret..." he approached you and whispered in your ear. “History is written by the winners, and in this case, the losers were also jerks. It could be said that those who died won…” all your skin stood on end as you felt his hot breath against your skin. You lifted your chin arrogant and haughty. How could a man like Aemond cast a spell on you like that? It was impossible. He smiled when he saw your reaction, and at that moment, he gently caressed your bottom lip. In a gesture that he would never have thought himself capable of doing, he joined his lips to yours.

As you experienced your first kiss with your father's enemy, Helaena stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Aegon was choking on a sip of wine that he tried to drink with his misshapen mouth. Your father silently mourned the death of your little brother. Jaehaera and Daeron held each other silently in her chambers. Alicent lit two candles in the sept. One for each dead grandson…everything had been torn apart by the Dance with Dragons. But right now, while the rest of the world suffered, Aemond Targaryen, a Kinslayer, was kissing the woman he liked... who happened to be the daughter of his worst enemy.

[kindergrrl]

Courtney Love at the Hollywood Palladium for a Hole show.

November 9th, 1994.

Hollywood, CA.

In the first photo, Courtney is backstage. The 2nd photo is from the after party.

Hole performed here in front of some notable names such as Ringo Starr, Danny Devito, and Juliette Lewis just to name a few.

According to a show review, Courtney had brought Frances Bean out on stage and said that she didn’t care if anyone thought she was exploiting her, Frances Bean was the most successful thing she’d ever done in her life.

The After Party story is quite a trip. Mary Lou Lord who Kurt was going out with right before he got with Courtney made the grave mistake of showing up to this after party.

From Mary Lou Lord herself, here is the story -

“Well, in retrospect, it was quite a night. I was there because we had the same booking agent and I was invited by the entire William Morris people. I liked Hole. I thought it would be ok. I never did anything to her. If anything, I should have been the one pissed off….but yea, the night proceeded in her chasing me down Sunset. Her dress straps fell down, so at that point in the chase….barefoot with a blue thing around her waist. I had torn myself away from a security dude at the gate and in the process my shirt, bra, hat…all that came off. I was running down sunset topless with her essentially topless and barefoot chasing me. I hid behind a big lamp post behind the denny’s and sort of had to crouch and circle around it when she got close. I pissed my pants I was so scared….ugh.”

“She chased me down the entire side of the Palladium on the fire escape in her bare feet screaming the whole way “I’m gonna k!ll you!” the guard guy at the fence thought I stole a guitar or a mic or something and was trying to keep me in the gated area. I pulled away leaving him with my clothes. shit, I never ran so fast in my life. The funny thing, is that many of the people from the remains of the party also followed down that long fire escape to watch the action….I distinctly remember a person with a movie quality camera catching this whole thing running behind us.”

Credits:

1st review used cited from lonesomebeehive .com

Mary Lou's story cited from rocknyc .live

Live shots by Kevin Estrada.

[ohbo-ohno]

Obessed with the idea where you’re just really damn fast in the ghoap serial killer AU.

So Simon and Johnny let you go thinking it’d be a fun little game for them, except— much to their shock— you make them work for it. (Maybe you’re muzzled during this so that you don’t try to scream and attract attention from anyone nearby?)

Just imagining Johnny being giddy with excitement and Simon cocking his head ever so slightly as they watch you disappear into the forest. They’d take off after you, feet thundering against the ground and echoing throughout the forest— and somehow, you seem to speed up even more.

Feel like you would have the advantage of being lighter than Simon and Johnny, letting you gain more momentum, enough to prevent them from capturing momentarily; but I also feel like they’d have shitloads of stamina and their military training to boot.

So maybe in the beginning they take it easy, perhaps underestimating you— something they make sure to not do next time— and just yelling out to you in the forest. Johnny would taunt you with a big shit-eating grin on his face and Simon would say the most ominous shit that would internally freak you the fuck out.

The start to get worried when they notice some smoke and realise some campers or something are nearby.

You notice the same time they do and you take off with them hot on your heels. (Knowing that Death in the form of two men are following close behind you, that these people will likely die because of your choice— knowing and choosing to anyway, praying that they’ll be enough to distract Simon and Johnny long enough so that you can escape.)

Your start to hear sounds, and something stirs in you; but before you can make it another step you’re slammed into the ground and the air is forced out of you. Maybe you’re dazed and can’t focus on anything but breathing at the moment- you don’t even notice when you’re picked up or being moved, can only scream in frustration later when Simon and Johnny have chained you up as punishment.

(Simon ends up putting a leather shock collar on you next time they play so that you don’t get to far— unbeknownst to you of course. You just think that they’re fucking insane and logically, in your brain, said territory just comes with weird kinks on top of that.)

🍋 Anon

Lemon you’re my soulmate

I’m always so torn on how much of a Character to make a reader insert, because I don’t want to actually make an OC. I never describe readers in my WIPS either (so anyone can read them - please let me know if I ever use descriptive words and I’ll cut them out) past having them be AFAB and fem presenting, but the temptation to give them a decently unique background is sooo strong.

I love love love the idea of the Serial Killer AU!Reader being from like, rural southern America (like me lol) and having grown up chasing friends through the forest, so this whole “playing tag with a serial killer” thing ends up being just That taken to its most extreme version. She’s a little bit feral, she’s run barefoot through the woods before, she can do this

The scenario you wrote with the campers has my heart pounding. I could see that going one of two ways

(a) You make it to the campsite. As soon as you spot the smoke you’re off like a shot, and because you’re closer to the campers than Ghost and Soap, you get there first. The poor campers are having a lovely night toasting marshmallows and bam - a naked, muzzled, and filthy woman bursts into the clearing like her ass is on fire.

You try to rush them out - don’t worry about the muzzle you have to fucking go they’re literally right behind you - but they’re not listening, crowding around you instead and prying at the muzzle, at your sluggishly bleeding cuts (from the bushes you’d skimmed). They’re weirdly touchy, and you end up desperately shoving their hands away and near screaming through the muzzle to be heard.

The first one is shot through the head. One second he’s panicking and telling his friends to get away from you, the next his head is just gone - just an explosion of red and brains from a shotgun blast. That gets the others screaming, gets them dashing away from you. But you know it’s too late, can only fall to your knees and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes that it’s over soon.

You only stay like that for a moment, their screams already fading a little with your disassociation, when a rough hand grabs a chunk of your hair and yanks back. Your eyes fly open, and Simon rumbles in your ear, “No, look. Look at what he’s doing to them. Look at what you’ve done to them.” You thrash a little, throwing yourself this way and that to try and get away but Simon’s grip doesn’t loosen at all, and you don’t want him to tear chunks of your hair out. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out the axe Johnny raises high above his head and the screaming girl beneath him, only to feel a heavy smack against your cheek. Simon snarls, his anger radiating through every word. “No. You fucking look. This is your fault, these people wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t fucked everything up. You’re going to watch them suffer, and then you’re going to dig their graves.”

And you do. You watch Johnny decapitate the girl, watch him guy another person and force their head down to see it, watch him strangle a third, bash a fourths head in with a rock. The dirt is more red than brown by the time he’s done, and you can’t hold back the sobs and pained moans, loud enough to be heard even through the muzzle. Johnny sits with you and the corpses while Simon grabs a shovel, reiterates again and again that these people died because you were a fucking idiot, and the three of you are out until sunrise while you dig a grave for them.

Later, Simon bandages your wrecked hands and Johnny coos over you, kisses your palms and apologizes when you whine at the sting. Simon gives you painkillers, and neither of them make you lift a finger until you’re all healed up

(b) You don’t make it to the campsite. Johnny and Ghost have already got you in their sights, and the half second you pause in surprise before taking off to your gives them enough time to catch up. You run with everything you’re worth, sprinting faster than you ever have before to get there before them and pray to God someone has a gun.

You’re almost there, you could nearly throw out a hand and be seen in the clearing, when you’re tackled to the earth. You go rolling, breath knocked out of you and your back erupting in pain as you’re viciously held to the ground. There’s a hand locked around your throat, and body straddling you, and it takes a minute for you to be able to blink past the pain and see that it’s Johnny.

“What were you gonna do, huh? Gonna go running off and beg for help? No one can fucking help you out here, bonnie. We’d slaughter them - might just do it anyway. That what you want? Huh?”

His teeth are bared, sweat dripping from his face to yours and eyes alight in a sort of primal rage. He flips you onto your stomach, fucks you deep into the dirt right there as you stare at your would-be saviors. You scream, cry, beg, and more, but the muzzle muffles you so you’re not even sure if Johnny can hear you. Your orgasm comes just as the first person’s head is blown to smithereens

Love the inclusion of the shock collar again. I feel like it fits more in this AU than the other one tbh

[acotrash]

Sweet Summer - Eris

You had known Eris for as long as you could remember, being the daughter of one of the Autumn High Lord’s most trusted and closest adviser 

Which meant you saw a lot of Eris and his siblings even when you didn’t want to see them 

You watched Eris grow up too fast, he would kick your dolls when you were playing in his mother’s apple orchid or would tie your ribbons all in knots, once he placed your favorite book in the fireplace and tried to set it aflame, the only thing he managed to actually set on fire was his new orange tunic. 

You were confused as you watched your best friend turn into this cruel child, a copy of his father, but as you grew up you also understood. Most High Fae males in Autumn tend to be cruel and unkind, your father included 

However, your mother was gentle and soft, coming from the Summer court you always thought of her as a soft gentle summer breeze and found the beaches of Summer more of a home than the chilly Autumn mansion you spent most of the year at 

Your favorite childhood memories involved your summers in Summer, it was away from Autumn, away from the stranger who used to be your best friend and best of all it was always you and your mother. 

Your favorite memory was running barefoot in your Grandmother’s backyard trying to catch a firefly. Your laughter filling the air as you chased them, gently cupping your hand around the bug as it lite up and walking ever so slowly to show your mother and grandmother. “I caught one!” You’d open your hand slowly to expose the bug. The process would start again once the bug took off as soon as you opened your hands to show it off. 

You loved Summer, you were allowed to run barefoot in the grass and in the sand, your pockets full of seashells and your hair frizzy. 

Over the years it had become your safe haven, your escape for a few months you always spent summer in Summer and you always spent it without the Autumn males 

That was until this year, when the High Lord asked you during one of his formal dinners he held for his advisors if you would escort his eldest son to Summer on your vacation, something about minor court business and how the heir needed to learn how court politics worked if he were to be High Lord soon

There was a protest on the tip of your tongue but one look from your father and a gentle hand on your arm from your mother and a sympathetic look you swallowed the fight you so desperately wanted and gave a curt nod to your High Lord instead. “Of course, I would be honored to escort Lord Eris.” your eyes quickly flicked to Eris who had a smug smile on his face 

Eris didn’t need an escort to Summer and he told his father as such, but it was hard to turn down an escort when his father suggested you as the escort 

 He had missed you, had hated how things happened when you were both children, so when his father suggested you take him to Summer, Eris couldn’t turn it down, it was a chance for him to get his best friend back 

He had a whole plan, which started with him winnowing the both of you to Summer.

You were less than thrilled with that idea, your demeanor icier than the glaciers in Winter and as soon as your vacation house, your grandmother’s old house materialized in front of you, you pulled your hand from his throwing a curt “thank you” over your shoulder before marching into the house 

Eris followed you inside, he suddenly felt as if he had no clue who you were even though Eris knew everything there was to know about you. Even when his father tried to train him into a fit and proper lordling, something fit for his father he still kept his tabs on you. You were his best friend after all, even though he wasn’t much of a friend to you. 

He looked around the house, and was jealous of how much Summer suited you. You never seemed to fit in Autumn, you seemed happier just breathing in the salty air and had kicked off your shoes the second you got inside 

You felt his eyes on you, you only glanced over at him before walking out the back door. “What?”

Eris shook his head, quick to catch up, following you all the way down to the beach where you stood where the waves licked at your ankles and breathed in deeply. 

He wanted to apologize for everything, but he didn’t know how so instead he just stood by you, breathing in the air and closing his eyes, enjoying the breeze. 

He stood silently next to you for the longest time, Eris wasn’t sure how long you two just stood there, but finally you started walking down the beach, walking right where the water meets the sand and to your surprise Eris trailed behind you 

“You don’t have to join me, you know.” You said softly, the hem of your dress was wet against your legs where the waves splashed you and your hair kept whipping around your face. Eris shrugged, looking out over the sea. “I know.” He said quietly. “But I want to.” 

“Why?” You couldn’t help the question as it flew out of your mouth. You knew you should be embarrassed for talking to the heir like that, but you weren't. You couldn’t even make yourself feel embarrassed. 

Eris sighed through his nose shaking his head. “Making up for lost time, if its not too late?” His eyes looked into yours, hopeful you guessed and you tore away from his gaze, lifting your shoulder in a shrug.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You said, quick to continue walking, and Eris easily caught up. 

“It’s a long month.” You nodded your agreement, half hopeful he meant what he said, half hopeful that somehow things were able to be repaired between the two of you 

“It is.” You said, leading him back to the house. 

[chibivesicle]

Trigun Stampede - Episode 3 review; well, that escalated quickly.

Another Saturday has arrived here in North America and the new episode of Trigun Stampede has dropped.  Knives is making his first appearance in the present along with various characters from the anime/manga assisting him in his quest to destroy humanity on the planet.

A note for those who are reading my meta for the first time - I like to do indepth analyses looking at various themes, links to other media and anything else that strikes my fancy at the moment.  If this is not your cup of tea, you likely will not enjoy my metas.  If you want more context for my format, please feel free to look at my archive and skim my chapter summaries for Golden Kamuy which were either single or two chapter summaries that followed the manga in real time.

Sorry for the interruption! Let’s get back to the action with Knives in the desert.  He shows full true villain form by walking to Jeneora Rock, by foot and barefoot in an approaching a sandstorm?  It seems that his attack on the city is likely coordinated with the sandstorm since everyone is running to the main street for shelter.  Or is the sandstorm a feint for the chaos to confuse the city, since no sandstorm ever arrives?

We get an awkward shot of our core group of named people and Rosa finally confirms that she must be pregnant by holding her belly as she struggles with Tonis.  I’d have to admit, I spent the first two episodes trying to determine if she was pregnant or not but this seems to confirm it.

The action continues to be going at a rapid pace in this episode as more of the phage virus bombs attach themselves to everyone.  Roberto continues to be our source of information stating that these bombs have to be the work of the ‘Easy Bomber’ Ethan Gilbert Hamilton.  Due to the information that our seasoned reporter knows, Vash quickly figures out where he is watching them from and fires a single bullet at him to flush him out.  As the citizens rush out of the city, a few more are taken out by a landmine.

This then allows for the transition to the anime/manga name of E.G. the Mine, who introduces himself to the group stating that he’d been upgraded by someone.  It then cuts to the OP.

After the OP, E.G. hops into his roller cage in search of the treasure, which Vash immediately realizes is the plant.  The animation shows what E.G. can see on his visor as CGI in a CGI animation to lead him to the plant to steal.  He drops little bombs to try to trip up anyone chasing him up the stairs.  I’m going to assume he was able to avoid his landmines as he spins off across the sand before hitting the metal of the city structure but I’ll come back to this later.

While Vash is chasing E.G., Roberto and Meryl are talking about what makes him the humanoid typhoon.  This is Roberto explicitly explaining that his nickname explains the chaos that surrounds him and how you get swept up on it.  His grim suicide joke about the bomb on his back, gives Meryl and idea.

Vash gets tossed around as E.G. tries to escape with the plant, now between the wider wheelbase of his roller cage? Tire? I dunno what to call it so roller cage it is.

As it is rolling back down the stairs, Meryl and Roberto approach and they just sort of stand there.  Which results in Roberto jumping in to protect Meryl from being run over.  I’m not entirely sure why they decided this was a good idea.

However, it gives me a good idea that each time Roberto either tosses/pulls/pushes Meryl out of the way from being hurt might be a good drinking game prompt.

While this is going on, Vash is yelling at him to disable the bombs since he already stole the plant.  Yet, E.G. wants to use the act of stealing to allow him to kill all the civilians of the town.  Vash pulls his gun and points it directly at him and we see our first very serious Vash facial expression here.

There is even a zoom in to see the nervous swallowing as the barrel of the gun is pointing at him. 

It appears that this is enough to break his concentration and he veers off course, ultimately flying off the structures and back onto the sand.  With Vash knocked off as well, he loses hold of his gun giving E.G. the opportunity to pick it up and aim it at Vash, basking in his ability to defeat the feared humanoid typhoon.

The awkward pair of Roberto and Meryl rush in with Roberto calling E.G. by his former nickname distracting him for a tackle, while Meryl uses her camera flash to slip by and grab onto his arm with the gun.

This is where Meryl’s brilliant ideal comes to fruition as they latch onto him with the literal time bombs on their backs.  With their assistance Vash leaps into action and gets him in a stranglehold from behind.  We get to see some angry Vash eyebrows here.  Anyone else getting the eyebrow vibes of Amaro from FLCL?  Not as thick but similar in the dark contrasting nori color.  It might just be me.

And by threatening to blow him sky high along with them, E.G. caves almost immediately and Vash pushes a red button on his back.  Okaaaaay.  Sure.  That completely solved the crisis.  The phage bombs disarm and fall off of everyone at 8:30 into the episode.  I’m also going to assume that this also disabled all the landmines since no other landmines explode the entire rest of the episode.  What was the point of laying all those landmines to only use one in the plot?

With that, based on both the manga and anime, we can say our goodbyes to E.G. the Mine as he’s failed in his task to both steal the plant and kill the populace of the city.   Roberto is the one to tie his hands behind his back with a simple rope and Nebraska wants his revenge but Vash stands between the two.  Again, Vash is asked ‘Whose side are you on?’ This is something which also appears to be a statement that everyone likes to say to Vash.  I’d like to give the writers the benefit of the doubt on this narrative catchphrase, but it comes off as lazy writing.  I think you can achieve this by different characters using other statements that still get to the point that Vash isn’t on anyone’s side.  Which makes me wonder why everyone is so fixated on the concept of a certain ‘side’. 

However, Vash is distracted and turns to look back up to the saloon that is called a diner with an expression of shock and then fear.  Below the swinging doors we can see a figure in silver seated at the upright piano, playing the tune that everyone else can hear.  We saw the upright saloon style piano in episodes 1 and 2, which fits in the Western decor.

However, this threw me for a loop as I wasn’t expecting the piano to sound like more classical style piano.  I would have expected to hear the tune on a piano like the one below.  Yes, the music on the piano below is more ragtime tunes, but it is the sound that matches the old time Western feel.  By having an old upright saloon style piano the visual matches a Western look but the sound is completely clean and modern, again highlighting this version of Trigun Stampede is sci fi more than anything else.  I honestly thought when the music started playing it was just a dramatic cue from the OST to let us know that Knives was here and things were going to get heavy, not that he was literally playing the piano.  Do we know that this is now his theme music? Yes 100%.  It would be harder to make dramatic sounding music with a saloon style piano - you’d have to dig into the dramatic soundtracks from old silent films to get a similar vibe.

The sci fi versus Western vibe contrast is highlighted by how the anime leaned into that older tech feel.  I don’t think it is quite fair to compare it with the manga since there is no OST, though the overall visual style is very much Western.

Episode 2, ‘Truth of Mistake’ from Trigun had this nice little insert here with the old phonograph with a heat warped record.  It really highlights how the original team at Madhouse leaned into the Western aesthetic with the old and warped feeling to the sound making the ‘wah waah’ as the record played.

What all of this is telling us by episode 3 is that Trigun Stampede is most definitely not Trigun nor the Trigun Maximum manga.  It is something completely different and the Western vibe has been only transferred over at a superficial level thus far.  This is a sci fi series on a desert planet with a general feeling of lawlessness but it is not equivalent to the myth of the wild west popularized by American media after WWII. 

This was in part a cold war era tactic to solidify a made up American identity of the lone white straight male gunslinger in the public consciousnesses.  Which is totally not accurate but that’s the American media industrial complex at work!  If you want to learn more about this, I’d suggest watching these videos by Kaz Rowe here about the much more diverse history of the wild west in terms of sexual orientation and race.  Having lived in a city for almost eight years, where Billy the Kid stayed in a certain building (there’s a plaque to prove it!), it is pretty obvious that many of the people of the past living in the region were not white men based on demographics alone.

and here:

We know for a fact that Yasuhiro Nightow is of the right age to have grown up watching American media that fed into the original lone gunslinger myth and that there was a lot of trans Pacific crosstalk between American media and Japanese media, specifically samurai films and wild west films.  Keep in mind that Gintama also feeds into this as it has the samurai theme of chambara which plays into that dialogue with American wild westerns. 

This was a rather long winded tangent to note that the media around the wild west is more complicated than just ‘white dude shoot gun at bad guys’ - and that due to this media awareness, the original manga and the anime by Madhouse are adding to this visual language across the Pacific based on their own age and demographic backgrounds.  I find it nice that Trigun Maximum has a diverse and queer cast and that Kas Rowe’s own research dovetails with that nicely in the videos above.  It is like a little bonus the more you think about it.

Back to the episode!

After listening to the piano a bit, Vash screams at everyone to flee the town immediately.  He knows who is playing it and knows it will end very badly.  E.G. escapes despite Nebraska trying to shoot at him and most of the group scatters.  Roberto and Meryl smartly flee while Rosa looks at the plant and seems to be torn.

E.G. excitedly rushes to Knives to ‘grace him with his presence’ which promptly gets him death by blood loss due to both of his arms being cut off.  Welp, it was nice to know you E.G. . . . I guess this version of the Gung-Ho Guns don’t have the succeed or die pact as a rule?  Like Vash, I’m not a huge fan of lots of blood and gore, so even though the manga had some pretty gross stuff, I’m not thrilled to see it in the anime.

Taking his time, Vash slowly approaches Knives entering the room and aiming his gun at his brother.  Based on their conversation, it has been a long time between they last saw each other and it is clear that Vash isn’t clear on Knives intentions behind stealing the plants.

At least he’s articulate in his intentions with strong working of taking it back and that it ‘belongs’ to him.  Before immediately correcting that the plant belongs to the both of them.  Of course Vash is against the theft of the plant as the town would die which then prompts even Knives to ask him ‘whose side are you on?’

So again, we have this concept of ‘sides’ which remains unclear in the first three episodes since there have never been any clear factions defined.  We know that there are general civilians, criminal elements like the Nebraskas, corrupt military police, Knives and his Gung-Ho Guns (to be revealed); however, the conflict between them is muddy at best at this point in the narrative.  Definitely not keen on this set up. 

The two of them both realize neither has changed over the years and then Knives is able to toss Vash’s mind into a sort of other state where he’s still a child and he points out he still can’t do some sort of fundamental ability as a plant, which leaves him frozen in place.  Child Vash cries out to Nai from the other plane and the action shifts to Nebraska still on the quest for revenge for his son’s death.

Nebraska gets an arm chopped off by Knives to allow for him to build his bad ass boss character and Vash cries out to Nai to stop.  This third episode also makes it clear that the markings on Vash and Knives are not a tunic underneath but instead some aspect of their plant-ness as they fade out around the ankles and wrist.  This is why we see Vash wearing a turtleneck, to cover up the markings.

Knives is making his way to the top of the structure when a vehicle pulls up; Grey the Ninelives appears to be a robot in this version like the original anime.  We also get a man in a suit with a briefcase leading a young girl to the location who is also barefoot.

Knives continues to leisurely and barefoot (eeewww) stroll up to the top of the structure.  I know this is a stylistic choice, but the sand and grit that would have stuck to his bloody feet is just - ick.  Think of how it would feel between your toes.

Rosa and the two unnamed mothers race to the top of the stairs to make a stand against Knives and Grey delivers Conrad and the young girl.  He tells them to stand down, which is good advice in this situation.

Knives remarks that the Doctor has arrived and tells him to retrieve the other plant. They leave and Knives handles the three women.  To fit his name of Millions Knives, he uses his nanotech chains of razor blades to make quick work of the two nameless women, slicing them up, leaving Rosa with her friend’s hand only.  Rosa in shock retreats back into a wall as Knives uses his razor blade chains to skip over her.  I’m going to guess that he didn’t kill her because she was pregnant and not that she would no longer put up any resistance after seeing her friends exploded before her on eyes. 

Vash has caught up to Knives again and tells him to stop.  His gun still has the weird frosty bit from Knives on it and Knives asks him again ‘Whose side are you on?’  as he removes the dying plant as well.

Meanwhile, Roberto and Meryl find Tonis hiding since that’s what is mom told him to do.  As they somehow know that Rosa went back into the town?

The action jumps back to the Vash-Knives showdown where Vash tries to shoot through the chain of razors and Knives mocks him for trying to shoot his own brother.

This allows for Knives to go into true villain form by getting all old testament. with his line of ‘In the past, God rained fire from the sky, destroying the city of depraved fools.’ We know that Knives is taking this out of context as he knows that many people on the planet are just trying to survive as indicated by Rosa and her behaviors.  This isn’t a Sodom and Gomorrah parallel but we know that Knives has his own plan for things.

Vash again is in utter shock realizing that he intends to destroy the entire town and he tells Rosa in absolute fear to run.  With his advanced nanotech razor knives, he slices up the namesake rock of the town.  Evil organ music plays as Knives laughs and Vash pulls shell shocked Rosa away.

Grey with the unnamed girl escape with the healthy plant, while Knives takes hold of the dying plant with his razor chain. Vash asks aloud why Nai is doing this as he pulls Rosa along as the rock collapses.

As the area collapses, Meryl tries to hold onto Tonis, but he falls from the unstable structure as Roberto holds onto her.  He later pulls her out of the rubble before she rushes to see how Vash and Rosa are only to see that Tonis had somehow lost an arm in the fall?

Rosa monologues that they are lost; they lost the town, the plant and people died.  And since Knives is Vash’s brother she tells him to leave.  It is his fault that their town was destroyed and if he’d never have come there, this wouldn’t have happened.  Silently, Vash picks up his bag, dusts it off a little and begins to walk off into the moonlight night as Meryl chases after him.

He stops for her and picks up Tonis’ cage of insects which glow and he releases them into the night sky as he smiles sadly and Meryl asks him why.  He with his sad smile then replies that he doesn’t deserve to cry.

And he continues to walk, heading east to July where he knows that Knives is.  It is unclear from the context to far if July is still a functional city and Knives is living there or if the Lost July incident has already occurred and Knives is living there.  We didn’t get much from the establishing shot in episode 1.  This is pretty much it with what I’m assuming are the puppet vultures from the original.  But since Vash was attacked by the corrupt Military Police from July, it implies that there is still some sembelance of order in July and maybe they were even trying to get the money to pay for something in July that is the result of Knives actions?

And with Vash walking off into the night, the episode ends.

Overall impressions:

This episode was less cohesive than the first two.  The pacing seemed a bit off and it kept flipping back and forth too much between locations and characters.  E.G. the Mine shows up, reeks havoc, surrenders only to be killed by Knives.  It leaned into the scif fi aspect even more with E.G.’s simulated cage view bit and the appearance of Conrad who is only in the manga but had helped Knives out (he had no choice) and even examined Vash for Knives to determine who had the better angelic power potential (Vash).  This episode was an opportunity to demonstrate how ruthless Knives is with all the slicing and dicing of people.

Themes thus far into the narrative:

i.) Brotherly conflict - 100% confirmed as a major theme in this version.  This is much more at the forefront of the story with the reunion, Vash being tossed into the other plane due to the lack of his development of his own powers.  Knives being a terrible older brother, and Vash asking ‘why’ and Knives never answering him. All in all, Vash being owned by Knives.

They also show that neither of them has changed since their last meeting and unknown number of years ago.  We don’t have enough background to know if it was 80, 130 or 150 etc.

ii.) Unclear concept of sides - Good or bad, the team at Studio Orange want to beat into your head the theme of ‘sides’.  Rosa, Roberto, Nebraska, Knives they all ask Vash about his side.  Unfortunately, we are lacking the context and world building to understand what all the possible sides are with clarity. 

Vash’s side is likely respect for all life, but that is based on the anime and manga knowledge of him.

Rosa’s (general civilians) side is to scrape by.  Make a living and anyone who prevents this is their enemy.

Criminal elements’ (either corrupt July MP or Nebraskas) side is to do crime and profit from it.

Knives‘ side is to exterminate all humanity, claim all the plants for himself for something.  We have no idea if he will follow Trigun Maximum in this objective.

This is the best I can come up with for the moment.  I think the creative team wants to show how nice their CGI is and are really trying to milk the action scenes but it leaves little room for characters to breathe.  Honestly, their animation is quite good, it is clear they are a great animation studio in that regard.  I see no issues with their quality factor.  However, their storytelling and narrative structure is not their strong suit as far as I can tell.  I know they did Beastars but that was a very direct adaptation of the manga, to the extent of my knowledge.  Beastars manga readers weigh in if I’m off about their adaptaion. 

Another friend noted that the character designs are generic which upon hearing that, makes sense for me.  They do look generic in the way many of the isekai animes fall into expected looks for characters.

iii.) Barefootness/footprints in the sand - means something.  What it is I don’t know yet.  Knives apparently likes to feel the things between his toes, and the unnamed girl is also barefoot with Conrad.  We’ve seen lots of visual framing with footprints - Knives approaching Jeneora, Vash following the wheel tracks and then Meryl chasing after him.  Footprints and tracks in sand specifically have a strong sense of impermanence associated with them as the winds quickly shift the sand and remove all traces of your path.  Does this mean you are literally a speck of sand in the universe?  Or that you are important even though your mark is limited? 

Does being barefoot imply a closeness to nature?  To God?  To both?

For me, the concept of being barefoot in the desert is - ick, ouch, stabby-stabby pain in your feet. A good descriptor of walking in a desert is pointy rocks and pointy plants, meaning you always want to wear protective footwear.  Sure, you can wear sandals, but don’t do so during spring dust storm season.  The grit between your toes is unpleasant.  This sort of feeds into my thoughts of the superficial feeling of the wild west that Trigun Stampede is using.  It looks like it but less of the logistics with these shoe-less people running around.  That’s why in the original everyone just wears normal shoes.  Knives can get away with his lack of clothing at times in the manga since he never walks around casually outside - he’s always in a building, ship or someplace.  What Knives is not is someone who’s out for an afternoon stroll in the desert landscape in these versions.

Characters and general observations:

Vash -  With his reunion with Nai, it is immediately clear that the two are polar opposites and Vash does not understand at all what his brother is doing.  Vash seems to flip between being befuddled by his brother or sad rejection boi.  We don’t get any example of his skill as a gunman in this episode or his creative solutions to problems.  Just a lot of confused pleading or angry about not being able to save everyone and get along.  Manga Vash was pretty sad and guilt ridden as well, but he still had a sense of humor to lighten the load.  Stampede Vash currently seems to be more resigned sadness.  Will this change when his brother from another mother, Nicholas D. Wolfwood appears?

Meryl and Roberto - I currently see them as the awkward pair.  Meryl is quick witted enough to show she can think under pressure to stop E.G. and her use of the camera flash was clever.  Yet, she still needs to be constantly saved by Roberto who continues to info dump for the audience.  She is less whiny in this episode but it would be tone deaf for her to be like that in the current circumstances.

Rosa - Is clearly a character that stands in for the regular people of the planet.  Honestly, I can’t quite get her deal. She’s inconsistent in her behaviors and I wonder if it is because she is our named stand in for regular folks?  She swings back and forth between trusting Vash to save them and cursing him at the same time.  Do we have poor characterization of her or is she this erratic?  Hard to tell.

Tonis - is our child who must be saved and also a victim of the chaos.  Either the loss of his arm will allow for him to maybe get a new one like Vash (good) or gain a new one to work for evil? 

Knives/Nai - Is a genocidal chaotic plant with a plan he wants to put into action.  His plant abilities are more advanced that Vash’s and a ruthless cold blooded killer.  Definitely our big bad with a strong old testament ‘wrath of God’ approach to eliminating all of humanity.  In this version, they took is slicing arm ability and literally interpreted it as Millions Knives.

E.G. the Mine - We only knew you briefly.  One of the valid critiques of the original was the lack of backstory and motivation for the Gung-Ho Guns in the anime.  Stampede also doesn’t give us anymore information.  Okay, they give us a real name for him as his ‘Easy Bomber’ moniker but that doesn’t do much else to make it a better retelling of his own motivations. He again, is just a man who wants to use his actions as an excuse to kill.  Opportunity lost.

Conrad - The Doctor from the manga who was on the ship with Rem, Vash and Knives and dicovers them and keeps their secret.  He stays hidden for some time in the manga only to be found by Knives and is forced to work for him witholding the key information that Knives is not immortal and that as his hair turns black he is indeed aging.  That Knives will eventually die and that his power is limited.  He didn’t do a whole lot other than helping Knives analyze Vash’s own body and gets killed by Knives.

Unnamed Girl = Zazie the Beast? - With her blonde hair and barefoot nature, I think this is Zazie the Beast. The walking barefoot may be a way to communicate with the sandworms and the fact that in the manga Zazie can change hosts as the representative of the insects of the planet.

Grey the Ninelives - appears to be a robot.  The anime vesion was a robot that Wolfwood fought while in the manga it is nine individuals in the body.  Since Stampede is full on sci fi, I’m going to go with either robot or mind of a human put into the robot to operate it.

Welp, that is all for this week.  We shall see what happens in Episode 4 next week as it is likely that Meryl and Roberto indeed chase after Vash on his way to July.

[beechersnope]

part 2

***

Venus gleams over the horizon against the first shades of twilight.

A gust of wind whips through the clearing where the pack house stands in a small copse of mesquites that extend from the arterial branches of a meandering slough. This is the house where Oscar was born; this is the thicket where she’d first learned to shift under a Whispering Moon; beyond, the meadows where she’d hunted with her mother; past the springs and the cottonwoods, the old stone cabin where—

The moon rises before she can finish out the thought. She feels that ache again, low, toward the back of her jaw. It’s not right, she thinks, with the voice of the pack. The throbbing urge to bite, to claim—it’s not right.

She’s careful not to let the feelings show as she follows Lando down off the deck and over to the fire, where her mother stands, arms outstretched, ash-stained palms presented to the line of girls, each of whom places their own hands against Nicole’s as they walk by. After they’ve taken the alpha’s mark, they circle the bonfire, rubbing the soot into the skin at their throats and under their jaws. Oscar is the last to take the mark, but she’s far more diligent than the others in covering any trace of her scent.

Oscar glances back at the illuminated windows of the house as she takes her place within the circle, wondering if her sisters are watching from the kitchen the same way she had before she’d turned nineteen.

Wind howls through the clearing once more. A few of the girls jump as the fire leaps and billows. A spark erupts from the fire and singes the inside of Oscar’s wrist. She doesn’t move.

A few of the men, older, already long-bonded, spill into place at the edges of the circle, several yards out from where the girls are standing. They face away from the fire, their backs to the girls inside, and it isn’t long after they move into formation that Oscar’s mother gestures for the boys—and Carlos—to finally come down.

Oscar can’t help but wonder if this is how the wolves in Carlos’s pack had done their Chases. Maybe wolf ceremonies were different. Maybe there was no ceremony at all. Maybe male wolves got their pick of the litter and that was that. No running, no chance to escape an unwanted fate.

Oscar lifts her head to take in the sight of the moon overhead. It’s so bright it drowns out the stars. When she finally lowers her gaze just as the fire starts to wane, she realizes that Carlos is standing directly across from her, tall enough on the sloping terrain to stare right past Fernando, whose hands are clasped tightly around Carlos’s forearms.

He's staring at her again. This time, Oscar quickly averts her eyes.

It’s only now that the nerves start to set in. Oscar goes over her mental map of the meadows, the routes she’s planned, ones she’s run hundreds of times before. Follow the slough to the lake. Get lost in the trees. Spook a few jackrabbits for good measure. They won’t catch you. They can’t keep up.

Distantly, Oscar becomes aware that her mother is giving the blessing, but she doesn’t hear a single word over the sound of her own blood roaring in her ears. She glances across the circle towards Carlos—his eyes have already gone gold, pupils dilated, teeth bared. There’s nothing civilized about it. Oscar forgets herself for a moment; she shivers, and for just one second, she sees something in Carlos’s eyes that scares her.

As soon as her mother stops speaking, Oscar runs.

She’s barefoot, sand under her heels as she sprints straight into the trees. She doesn’t shift right away, instead tearing through the thorny branches and leaving a confusing mess of blood and scent right there at the forefront. Then she reaches the edge of the thicket, where she pauses only long enough to pull off her t-shirt and shorts before launching herself into the air.

When she lands, it’s on four feet.

Oscar’s instincts are sharper in this form—her thoughts fuzzier at the edges, dull, and out of focus. She’d spent more of her nineteenth year in this shape than in her human one. Running is as easy as breathing. She doesn’t think about the distant howls behind her as she winds through the marshy veins of the southernmost slough.

It feels good. To run.

She pants hard as her paws zigzag through sharply alkaline mud. Her coyote form is so slight she hardly leaves a print behind. After a while, she forgets the Chase, forgets the plan. The others have all but faded from her purview, their howls lost to the spring wind.

Oscar makes it to the lake with ease. The oddly-rectangular body of water feels enormous and out of place in an otherwise bone-dry desert: an oasis—turquoise blue under the sun, silver glass beneath the light of the full moon. Here, the water’s too salty to drink. The animals congregate at the springs instead, lapping it up straight from the source.

Oscar stands on the shore for a moment, watching serenely as the last of the day’s shorebirds scatter in her presence. The wind picks up the water dripping from their talons and deposits it like gentle rain on Oscar’s summer coat. She shakes instinctively.

Then a dark shape emerges from the trees and tackles Oscar into the sand.

The blow knocks the wind out of her tiny frame. She feels teeth sinking into the fur at the back of her neck and shifts without thinking—the fever-hot sensation of canines tearing through flesh forces an all-too human scream out of her throat.

The thing on top of her slackens its jaw but doesn’t let go. Oscar seizes the opportunity to shift back, the sudden implosion of size and form putting enough space between her and—and—it—that she manages to scurry off into the brush before the larger creature has a chance to pick itself back up and give chase.

Not that the head start will make much difference. Oscar leaves a blood trail in her wake as she tears through the dense collection of ash and saltcedars, her heart beating so fast in her little chest that she feels like it might explode. She runs in a blind panic, and it isn’t until she breaks through the last of the trees that she realizes where she’s ended up.

Oscar shifts again, standing with her hand pressed against the broken skin at the nape of her neck, shivering and naked in the moonlight. A few yards away stands a lonely stonework cabin, the doorway a yawning black hole. She stares into the darkness until it gives her vertigo. Then she turns her head to the side and retches into the grass.

She keeps running.

is this anything

***

They’d left the water in the freezer too long. It comes out as something in-between; Oscar catches herself staring at the bottle in Carlos’s hands as he flips it back and forth, shaking the icy slush inside with a quick jerk of his fingers.

It had taken some getting used to—using his name. For a while after he’d come into their territory, everyone in the pack had just called him The Wolf. It’s not natural, some had said. It’s not right. Wolves should keep to their own kind.

Three full moons had passed since then, and not once had Oscar seen Carlos shed his skin.

In that time, spring has come and gone. Summer is nearly upon them, and with it, the first blue moon in nearly three years. The last time Oscar had sat out here on the deck of her family’s back porch like this, the entire pack gathered in anticipation, she’d been eight months shy of nineteen, young enough still to feel a pang of jealousy as she watched the others lope out into the darkness, wishing it was her turn.

Things have changed in the years since. Oscar doesn’t find the idea of being chased down by some uppity pup nearly as romantic as she did when she was a teenager. Not that there’s much hope of being anyone’s first pick—not anymore. She reaches a hand up towards the back of her neck before becoming aware of the motion. Stiffly, she jerks her hand back down to her lap and focuses instead on the mesmerizing swish of the ice in Carlos’s water bottle.

It takes him so long to take a swig of the damn thing that Oscar’s hands start to cramp where they’ve formed fists against her thighs without permission. She uncurls them slowly as she watches him swallow, beads of condensation slicking up under his fingers as beads of sweat make shimmering tracks down his throat.

“You know you can’t call dibs.” Lando is smirking when Oscar tears her gaze away from Carlos to face her friend.

“I’m not interested,” Oscar replies dully.

She flexes her fingers a few more times, nostrils flared as she takes in the scents around her. The whole pack is here, even the city yotes who think they’re too good to come home during equinox and solstice. She catches something salty and rich when the wind turns; it makes her jaw ache. She doesn’t turn to face it.

In some ways, May in the desert is even harsher than July. It hasn’t rained since February and won’t again for months yet. The wind is relentless. It howls in a shrill mimicry of Oscar’s birthright through the vents in the ranch house, pulling the dust and the flies and the locusts in with it. It makes her restless. She used to run during the spring storms sometimes, despite the wind, despite the dust. But that was before.

“Everyone’s interested,” Lando shoots back.

“Not like that,” Oscar points out.

Lando doesn’t respond. Oscar’s right.

Oscar still isn’t even sure why her mother is letting Carlos run at all. The whole wolf thing aside—and it is very much a Thing—Carlos is a good ten years older than the other late bloomers even, the ones who had opted to wait until the odds were in their favor. You only get one chance at the Chase.

Carlos had apparently assured Oscar’s mother that he’d never participated in one with his old pack back in Texas, but Oscar isn’t convinced. He’s almost thirty-four. Oscar had done the math in her head nearly a month ago. Carlos’s first blue moon was almost fifteen years ago, on the eve of his nineteenth birthday. Most pack leaders tended to force the issue by the third. Abstention is never a viable option.

Oscar has wisely opted to run this time around despite her general disinterest in a positive outcome. For her, this is as good as the odds would get; there are far more unmatched females than males, and Oscar is fast. When they were kids, the others had always made fun of her in her shifted form, barely bigger than a jackrabbit. They won’t be laughing when she outpaces them all tonight.

“Nervous?” Logan asks, his shadow briefly obscuring the sun as he wanders over from the water coolers to hover in front of where Oscar and Lando are sitting with their legs crossed on the floor. He has a half-empty water bottle crumpled in one fist. Two others are clutched by the caps between his knuckles, both full up. He extends them to Oscar and Lando in turn, and they both accept wordlessly. Technically, Logan isn’t supposed to be on their side, but Oscar’s mother isn’t as much of a stickler for rules as other alphas. He’ll get away with it as long as he doesn’t sit down.

Oscar shakes her head just as Lando lets out a derisive snort.

Logan grins. “Yeah, me too,” he says with a wink before wandering back onto the boys’ side. He parks himself noticeably closer to Carlos than any of the others, probably trying to show off. He’s one of the late bloomers, a year older than Oscar, maybe intent on Chasing her tonight despite everything—and if things had been any different, if Oscar had still been eighteen—she would probably have let him catch her.

“I wish this part didn’t take so long,” Oscar mutters under her breath. The preparations always go on for ages. She knows the waiting is part of it, that she should be sizing up her counterparts, memorizing their scents, planning a potential route to evade any unwanted suitors. But that’s just the thing. They’re all unwanted. All of this, the bonfire, the blessing, the ceremony, the Chase itself—it’s all a pointless ritual that Oscar has no interest in participating in.

Thirteen moons from now, Oscar plans to be unmatched and unmated, free to seek out a potential bond on her own terms, whenever it feels right. Even if it never feels right, she thinks with a hot surge of righteous anger.

Without warning or cause, Carlos glances up, nostrils flaring, his eyes connecting with Oscar’s from across the back deck with a deep, intense stare. The expected, submissive thing to do would be to look away, so Oscar holds his gaze as if intending to meet a rival alpha’s challenge, daring Carlos to break eye contact first.

But neither have a chance to settle the score. Finally, the sun begins to set over the dark ridge of the Funeral Mountains. And the howling begins.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Hunt.

Pairing: Yandere!Yuri x Reader (Fire Emblem).

Written for a very lovey anonymous commissioner.

Word Count: 3.5k.

TW: Violence, Physical Abuse, Phycological Abuse, Delusional Thoughts, Mentions of Kidnaping, Blood.

It’d taken Yuri months to get used to his own home.

He’d never struggled to adjust, growing up. He was good at it, carving out a place for himself, learning how to dig silver-linings out of dirt of cobblestone, using what he had rather than what he needed, not that he was ever at a lose for anything, anymore. You were a symptom of that, of his ambition, of the awareness that anything he wanted could be his with enough time and effort and careful, cutting remarks, but there was a difference between being able to adjust and being able to make himself comfortable, and he would’ve been lying if he tried to say he felt at-ease the first time he saw the dark forest that circled his estate, a thick section of woodland that outlined the courtyard, barely contained by the dilapidated gate the last owner had spent decades neglecting. He’d considered repairing it, but he wasn’t fond of guests so easily intimidated, and it served its purpose.

The scars cross-hatched over your legs, left by your first and only attempt to scale it, were proof enough of its value.

It’d taken months to get used to, but he was a survivalist, a fighter, and he’d faced worse than gnarled roots and overgrown foliage. Usually, you opted for the main pathway, a straightforward route that would take you to a road, or a town, or anywhere you’d be able to find help, but you were being stubborn, tonight, you were being coy, and for whatever reason, you’d decided to draw out the chase, leave him little more than a trail of footprints down a narrow trail behind his mansion and give him something to work for.

He almost wished he’d given you shoes, or footwear more protective than slippers and stockings and other pastel, decorative things that served to frustrate you more than appeal to him. You rarely left your bedroom, but you might think more fondly of him if he gave you yet another leg-up in this little, intricate game of yours. Then again, he liked the image of you running barefoot, bleeding, darting through the forest like a rabbit that’d already freed itself from the hunter’s trap. He liked the idea of having to carry you home, bruised and broken, because you were too exhausted to take another step.

He liked the idea of making you beg him to, even if he knew it would take a few more rounds before your pride started to crack so visibly.

Yuri’s pace had never been rushed, but he let himself slow as your footprints grew heavier, slower, the space between them more uniform, more measured, more calculated. They went on, continuing far past the point where the trail faded into the darkness, but Yuri didn’t bother following any further, letting his eyes wander to his surroundings, instead. He’d reached a denser part of the forest, where the trees grew taller and their branches were allowed to cross and wind and grow and grow and grow until the moonlight could barely break through. It took a moment to find what he was looking for, but it was there, hanging off of a tree to his left, on one of the lower branches – a scrap of silk, the color bright and the fabric dim, a match to the material of the tunic you’d been wearing when he last saw you, that afternoon. He let himself sigh, audibly. He’d liked that outfit. It’d be a shame to ruin it any further than you already had, but he was willing to make sacrifices, for you.

He thought about climbing after you, for a moment. It’d be faster, it’d be fun, but he still wasn’t sure where exactly you were, and he didn’t want to try his luck navigating a maze of branches so many hours after nightfall. Maybe next time, if he could convince you to escape a little earlier. Or before sunset, at least.

Instead, he stayed where to was, only raising his voice slightly. You wouldn’t have gone far, once you found your hiding place. You never did. “C’mon, sweetheart. I don’t have all night.”

No response. Yuri smiled to himself. He wasn’t surprised, not by your silence, your refusal to just come out and play along, but you usually gave yourself up quickly. You were a simple little thing, too focused on your own survival to worry about tactics or strategy. Yuri found it charming, if a little repetitive. He was almost disappointed you were starting to learn.

“You stole my knife, didn’t you?” It hadn’t been his, exactly, but you hated any reminder that he owned everything you touched, that you couldn’t take a step without seeing something that belonged to your captor. Even something as simple as a paring knife, left on a tray by a forgetful maid, would get under your skin, remind you of who you relied on, willingly or otherwise. You would’ve hated having to use it, spent every second you took to pick the lock on your only window loathing yourself, loathing him, loathing the thought that, even if you got away, he’d still be responsible for your success. Not that you were going to get away. He wasn’t willing to go that for just to get inside of your head. “And I had so much faith in you, too, almost thought you’d finally learned your lesson. Are you going to make me bring a thief home, (Y/n)?”

He paused, but not for very long. You didn’t scream, anymore, you’d gave that up the first time he threatened to carve out your tongue and make screaming all you could do, but you yelled, sometimes, cursed at him, listed off all the many grisly, gory things you’d like to do, if you ever got the chance. You were louder, after you lost your temper, more faithful in your hollow threats. He liked it, when you believed what you were saying. He liked knowing he had your full attention. “Do you miss me? It’s been a few hours, and it’s awful cold out here. Are you shivering, right now? Trembling? Is it worth it, just to spite me?" The wind blew, stirring the leaves, sending a few spiraling to the ground. He couldn't imagine you'd be very happy, up there, even if your discomfort would make what came next a little easier. “Aren’t you tired of this? How long have you been trying to run away from me? Six months? Seven?”

He felt himself smiling, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. This part had always been his favorite… or, it was close to his favorite, at least. “How many more times am I going to have to beat the same lesson in to you before you understand that you don’t stand a chance against me?’

Leaves rustled. A twig snapped, barely loud enough to make a dormouse startle. His eyes darted towards the treetops, out of instinct, expectation, but his body was smarter than that, faster, and his sword was unscathed in the blink on an eye, raised and ready to parry the object you’d planned to bludgeon him with, an iron spoke, rusted over and jagged on both ends. A bar from the gate, one that must’ve fallen off years ago. And he thought you’d be too afraid to get close to the damned thing, again.

“Clever little thing,” He growled, under his breath, leaning into the blow and shoving you away. You stumbled back, a step, then another, clutching onto your makeshift weapon, clearly struggling to keep your footing under its weight. So much time spent subjected to his love and care couldn’t have done your strength any justice, but your jaw was set and your eyes were narrowed, even if he could see your arms shaking. Good. He liked it, when you got yourself all fired up. “Attacking from behind? Isn’t that a little unfair, love?”

“Like you care about fairness.” You were talking to him, this time. Often, you’d wait until you’d already been defeated to say a word, to ask nicely not to be left on the forest floor to bleed out. Sometimes, you’d yell, rant, curse his name for every bruise he’d left on your body, for every time his blade had ever cut your skin.

Once, you’d refused to open your mouth at all he’d brought you home, bathed you and dressed your wounds, when you were too weak and too beaten to do anything but mutter ‘I hate you’ as you fell asleep in his arms. He’d left you in the cellar for a week, after that, let the household servants tend to you until you were desperate enough to ask to see him on your own. Afterward, he’d told himself it was because you’d bit your tongue, kept quiet for so long.

He’d told himself the worst thing you could possibly do was fail to entertain him.

He’d told himself he’d rather let you hate him than ignore his affection entirely.

You stepped forward, as you went on. The trail was too narrow, too dim to allow for much pomp and pageantry, but he let you advance. You got to have your fun, and then, he’d have his. “Did you think it was fair when you kidnapped me? When you locked me up in that goddess-forsaken room? Did I do something deserve being the target of your sick obsession?”

You had. You’d let your hand brush against his, and you’d laughed, and you’d trusted him, enough not to push him away, enough to let him get close enough to do the things he did. But, Yuri didn’t have to say that. It was enough to grin, to not pity you with a response at all, and you were charging forward, raising your spoke, aiming to beat the smirk off of his face before it could grow any wider.

You’d never been formally trained, your instruction limited to the handful of sparring sessions he’d forced you to sit in on, but you had a further reach and a much more durable weapon, even if he doubted you recognized your advantage. You didn’t seem to, judging by how close you got, regardless, how much force you put behind each blow, giving Yuri time to block with the flat of his blade, to bring you into his range, to reach up and brush his knuckles against your cheek as you struggled not to be pushed away so easily, this time. “You’re beautiful when you’re out for blood,” He sighed, the words coming out airy, quiet, nonexistent to the rest of the world. “I think it’s when I love you most.”

“Fuck off.” You didn’t seem to share his preference for privacy, letting out a frustrated snarl as you turned your head and bit into his hand. Yuri jerked back on reflex, letting the edge of his sword skim against the worn iron of yours until it threatened to cut into your hands, forcing you to draw away just as swiftly as he had. Even in the darkness, he could make out your frown deepening, your glare becoming something truly vicious. Something in his chest twisted, in an upsetting, complicated way. He might’ve kissed you, if he weren’t so sure you’d take the opportunity to dig your teeth onto his throat and tear. “Do you ever close your mouth?”

“If I did, you might forget how much I care for you, my dear.” You stiffened, your grip tightening impossibly. He thought, for a moment, that maybe he would kiss you. It might’ve been worth the risk. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

He aimed for your side. It would’ve been a deep cut, but non-fatal, even in the worst scenario. Luckily, you dodged, getting away with little more than a thin, red line above your hip, and repaid the gesture in kind, attempting to drive the sharpened tip of your spoke into his chest. He turned, letting it collide with his shoulder, instead, rip through the thin fabric of his shirt before he caught it with the tip of his sword and forced your weapon upward, directly upward, to an angle so awkward, even a seasoned swordsman would’ve struggled to maintain their vice grip. You didn’t stumble, didn’t trip over yourself to win back control, but you faltered, twitched, let it distract you. Let it tear your attention away from where it should be – on him.

He was only correcting your mistake, really. Reminding you of something you shouldn’t never have forgotten.

He was sure you would’ve thanked him, if you were any less stubborn.

A step forward, a knee thrust into your solar plexus. You buckled forward, your grip loosening just enough to let him twist the iron bar out of your hold entirely. It clattered uselessly to the ground, and Yuri kicked it away, somewhere into the foliage. He considered coming back for it, later on, collecting it and mounting it somewhere public and visible where you’d have to pass by it day after day, week after week, until you could swallow your pride and ask him to take it down. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t, but either way, it could wait. You were his priority, right now, and the last thing he wanted was to make you think otherwise.

For what it was worth, you didn’t give up easily. He’d never kill you, and you knew that, well enough to attack him with a weapon or without, to claw at his wrist as he caught your collar, to draw blood, to try to put on a brave front as he drove the rounded hilt of his sword into the base of your diaphragm, leaving you breathless, stunned. You didn’t fall, but you didn’t resist, either, as he dragged you off your feet and threw you to the ground while you struggled to do anything more than gasp and clutch at your chest. You recovered quickly, attempting to push yourself up, but he took care of that, driving his heel into your stomach and listening to something deep inside of you crack, in response. You didn’t try to get up again.

You were beautiful, like this. Sprawled out, filthy, a thin trail of blood forming at the corner of your mouth, most likely from a split lip or bitten tongue or another minor, ignorable injury, even if he let himself hope it was something more, something that he could kiss over and curl against while you were too dazed to think to shove him away. He let himself stare, watch you shut your eyes and shrink into yourself, and when your breathing began to even out and you crossed your arms over your chest in that small, subconscious, telltale way, he let himself kneel by your side, take what was left of your sleeve between two fingers and fiddle was the ragged fabric idly. Ruined, but he’d expected as much. It was a small price, for getting to be so close to you for so long.

He took the time to work off his glove before he touched you, really touched you, his fingertips brushing against the back of your wrist, then the area just above your collarbone, your cheek, eventually, the skin thin and rubbed raw. A bruise was forming above your eyebrow, another on your jawline. He decided he’d trace over them, later on, while you were asleep, memorize the shape and size of each. He’d remember them, next time he had to hurt you, how easy it was to make you wince, how adorable you looked while he was tending to you. He’d try not to remember that he was the once to cause such definite damage.

“All worn out?” You didn’t answer, didn’t move, but he splayed his palm under your chin and tilted your head back and tried to imagine what it would be like if you were willing to nod for him, to cooperate. After you’d already had the resistance choked out of you, obviously. He didn’t know what he’d do if you ever grew so complacent. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. All you’ve gotta do is sit still and let me.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper of what it’d been, before. Not pathetic, not weak, only tired. Exhausted. More drained than he’d ever seen you. “I hate it. I hate not being able to go outside. I hate living somewhere so dark, so empty. I hate wanting to hurt you, I hate fighting you, like this.” A deep exhale, long and ragged. He’d have to wait a little longer to let you slip out, next time. You’d need a few weeks to recover, let alone regain your strength. “I don’t want to keep doing this, Yuri. I don’t want you to make me keep doing this.”

“You could stop. Settle down, behave.” It was a suggestion he knew you wouldn’t take to heart, even as he said it aloud. He’d tried, waited, played the role of distant guardian as he kept his distance and gave you time to adjust, but this was more effective, more efficient. It was easier just to show you how unfit you were for the outside world, rather than try over and over again to explain it in gentle words and soft coos. It was easier to revel in the violence, now, and mourn the loss of your trust, later on. “Leave the locks alone, stay in your room when you’re asked to. After a while, you could visit me while I work, distract me with foreign chocolates and sappy kisses.” He paused, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “You could pretend to love me, even if you don’t.”

You only shook your head, and suddenly, Yuri felt a little smaller.

He stood with a sigh, not bothering to brush the dirt and dust off his clothes. “That’s enough,” He said, offering you his hand. You took it, gingerly, your reluctance overshadowed by your fear. “You’re bleeding. I need to get you cleaned up.”

You moved to stand.

Then, you pulled him toward you, instead.

It was nothing, really. A slight tug, an abrupt jerk, just enough force behind the gesture to get Yuri to bend down as you leaned forward, to make himself vulnerable as you pressed yourself against him. He was confused, at first, but not alarmed. He saw something catch in the moonlight, silvery and slim, heard the sound of skin splitting open, muscle parting until metal hit bone. The pain was delayed, nonexistent for the first few seconds. He could taste copper on his tongue.

He looked down, before he could stop himself. He saw your face, your expression, downcast and slightly trouble. He saw your hand, curled around a handle a serrated, metallic handle. He saw the sky, slivers of it, through the forest’s canopy. He wasn’t sure when you’d gotten him on his back.

The paring knife. Small, but no less effective than any other blade.

He’d forgotten you were still carrying it.

He might’ve still been able to walk. Still been able to run, still be able to fight, albeit not in a way that would flatter his abilities. But, you were straddling him, your hands on your knife again, pulling it out, stabbing it into his shoulders, his arms, his chest, every puncture only marked by a crushing pressure and the agonizing burn that followed. It wasn’t how people fought, in the world he’d invited himself into. It wasn’t swordplay, or dueling, or anything that could be called by such a pompous name. It was the way children born in the gutter fought, hungry and weak, desperate to win because winning meant survival and survival meant everything. It was the way animals fought, irrational, violent, your breathing labored and his blood dripping down your cheek and your grip on your weapon so tight, it was hard to believe you hadn’t broken it, by now.

It was the way a pet would fight, once it finally, truly turned against its master.

Fuck.

You really did hate him, didn’t you?

He wasn’t sure when you stopped. It seemed like a small eternity, hours of little more than you and the forest and the knife, left somewhere in the crook of his ribcage, by the time you finished. It seemed like days, and yet, you left all too soon, fishing a ring of keys out of his coat's pocket and dragging yourself off into the darkness without another world, another insult, another sign that you cared about him at all, that you thought anything of leaving him on the ground to bleed out, that it pained you to hurt someone you used to love, or might’ve loved, or could’ve loved, if you’d ever tried to. If you'd ever wanted to.

But, you didn’t love him. You’d never loved him, not really, not as he’d needed you to, not as he’d loved you. It wouldn’t hurt you to hurt him. It wouldn’t fill you with joy, or grief, or disgust. You didn’t think he deserved that much. You didn’t think he was worth that much.

But... that was alright. It was fine. He’d worked with less, before.

You’d love him. You would, eventually. Or, you’d be his to love, at least.

All he had to do was hunt you down one more time.

After that, he’d never let you leave his side again.

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

You can read part 1 here 

You can read part 2 here

Part 3; Finale

Spinning your keys around your finger, you go to slip them into the backdoor's lock, finding that turning it was difficult. 

Far too difficult.

"Did someone break in?" You mutter, pulling the key out and beginning the walk around to the other entrance. "Well, if they did I doubt they'd stay long, not with William there."

Entering through the front, you look around the dark establishment, trying to spot if anything had been stolen or otherwise interacted with violently. With a sigh of relief at the sight of everything being normal, you fully step in, making your way through the building and wondering with a disgusted expression how William was able to walk through this place barefoot.

Turning the corner that allowed you to look into the window of your office, you see your golden-green companion looking at the door with his head tilted, an unrecognizable expression on his face.

"Yeah, the lock's broken for whatever reason." You say, his gaze shifting before his face does.

"Mhm." He walks towards you, stopping a few meters away. "Say, have you thought about me very much?"

Caught off guard by the question, you tilt your head. "Huh?"

"My existence. How I came to be trapped in a suit." He elaborates.

"Not really, to be honest… why?"

He looks into the office window, eyeing that tablet. "The suit, being an original model, incorporated these little devices known as springlocks."

Your brows furrow. You only knew of Springbonnie and Fredbear from random things online, so the inner workings of them was completely unknown to you. 

"The reason why they're called suits; the springlocks pushed back all the little bits of animatronic things that filled them, thus allowing them to be worn by employees. I, as you can tell, was one of them." His gaze shifts back to you. "However, I wasn't when I was subjected to my slow death."

He takes one small step towards you. "It was in a room known as the saferoom- ironic, isn't it- which was invisible to both cameras and the animatronics that walked around."

His lips twitch up. "I hid in there, waiting for them to come near me. When they did, I broke them. They all came, and all of their shells were destroyed."

Shells? Destroying the animatronics?

You watch as he takes another step forward, this one larger. 

"But, the ones inside those shells weren't so easily deterred."

Ones inside…? 

"They chased me. Forced me into hiding in the suit. They wanted revenge; wanted me dead."

He takes a few larger steps, now within arms length. You, however, grow uneasy, stepping back. His eyes stay locked with yours, a soft grin on his lips. 

You truly do look like his prey.

"I don't blame them. After all, who wouldn't want their murderer dead?" 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions are proven correct. When he takes a step forward, you do the same in reverse. If you look away for one moment, he'll catch you. You've seen his speed.

His eyes glow in the dim light, lips curling into a nightmarishly wide grin.

"Oh, it seems you've figured out my big secret. Does it change your view of me? Would you still wake up on top of me so calmly?" He laughs. "Would you still let me rest my head on your hand? Would you still so easily approach me?"

You were wrong last night. Dead wrong.

He's terrifyingly monstrous, even as a human.

"Well, I suppose my last question has already been answered." With a small chuckle, he jolts forward, you ducking to the side right before he could reach you and dashing off. He glances your way during his brief pause, expression horrifyingly giddy.

 His steps are loud behind you, and you only manage to reach cam 6 before arms cage you in against the wall, you turning to face the grinning man as you push yourself up against the wall as if trying to force yourself through it.

He lifts his hand, placing it on your chin and using his thumb to brush over your cheek. "You're too adorable. You really are like… my prey."

God, the fear in your eyes…

His grin widens a bit more, and his hand slips to the front of your chin. You clench your eyes shut, hearing a gruff laugh before his chapped lips connect with your own. You tense, feeling his other hand grip your wrist, applying more and more pressure until you let out a pained noise, him taking the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your eyes stay shut until he finally separates, where you reluctantly open them once more, finding a very satisfied-looking William and a small string of saliva temporarily connecting your tongues. "Don't worry. It's not the end of us after just that." He assures.

The hand previously on your chin shifts to your hip, where his fingers press somewhat harshly against the cloth, holding you in place further. Leaning in once more, he grins at the tiny whimper that escapes you. Redirecting himself, he instead aims for a much more sensitive area.

You let out a gasp as you feel his lips against your neck, quietly hissing as he harshly bites down, his sharp canines drawing blood. After he has his fill of that, he follows it up by sucking on the spots he had just bit, you feeling your heartrate pick up even more. 

The sound of your heavy, stuttering breaths in his ear certainly doesn’t discourage the man.

Still, he leans back, enjoying the sight of your reddened face as you reach up, covering your neck with your free hand. This, of course, wouldn’t be the end, but he needs to save the rest for later. 

He steps back.

His grip on your wrist, while looser than before, is still firm as he begins to walk you back to the hall in front of the office. "Now, I have a little game for us to play. We've done it before, so I won't explain the rules. If you make it to 6, I'll let you leave. But if you don't…" He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at your panicked face, which he responds to with a smile. "Well, I'm sure you can guess."

Standing in front of the entrance to the office, he waits for you to hesitantly enter. 

"As usual, I'll start in the back. Don't even try to escape, it's not gonna work. I broke the lock and that door isn't going to be breaking from anything but power tools."

You give a small nod, eyes shifting to the chair.

"Well, good luck. You'll most definitely need it." 

You don't react to his voice, walking towards the chair as he begins his walk back. 

You turn on your phone, checking the time and finding that fifteen minutes have already passed. 

You can't call for help, if anyone came in they'd be killed by him. If he lived through an endoskeleton being shoved into him, he'll live through pretty much anything.

Still, you text your brother quickly.

You put your phone down, not caring about the wave of notifications that came from him spamming trying to get you to respond.

Pulling the camera pad out, you switch to where he normally starts right as he walks in. He sends a chilling smile up at the camera, eyes eerily glowing within the shadows. 

"Let's begin!" He calls. 

Immediately, your eyes widen as he reaches up, ripping the camera right off of the wall.

You feel your breathing pick up again as your heart pounds out of your chest. 

You aren't going to make it. 

When he dashes into the next room, you lead him back. He snarls. Briefly, before cam 10 gets ripped off of the wall, you see him glance at the vent.

Thankfully, he ignores it, running into the next room before you hit him with the sound again, rebooting audio and cameras tight as they go out. 

"Fuck that guy for making this shit so 'authentic' it breaks down every two seconds!" You mumble to yourself. 

William tears cam 8 down, running out once more. When you manage to catch him, he's in cam 4, and you lead him back with more audio. 

"You won't keep this up, you know! You'll run out of cameras!" He laughs, the sound echoing in the building.

You frown as cam 5 goes out. You lead him back further, hearing the thumping of the vents and quickly switching your cameras to them, sealing off a vent thankfully just in time. His grin drops.

You check the time. 

It's 2. 

5 of 10 cameras have already been torn down, and you are unable to play audio from them.

He gets out of the vent surprisingly quickly, continuing his race to you. 

When he reaches another vent, you block it off before he reaches the end. He rips off a camera that you haven't even used yet upon getting out. As soon as he sees cam 3, he rips it off as well.

You see the first sparks.

You lead him back again, he charges again. 

The cameras start it.

You lead him back again, he charges again.

Soon enough the back half of the building is in flames, swallowing everything and coming for you faster than William could.

You have nowhere to lead him to but right outside your door, and he disappears. 

Completely. 

Not in any cameras, not in any vents, and not in your vision.

The smoke began to pile into your room, so you rip off a sleeve of an old jacket that was left and tie it around your nose and mouth, getting out of your chair to stay lower to the ground.

Frantically, you switch through everything again, continuing to look for him, but turning your head to the sound of a grate both thrown aside. 

He went through the break room.

There, you meet eyes with William, who seems to be doing just fine in the intense heat that fills the attraction.

You quietly gasp, grabbing your throat as smoke fills it even with the makeshift cover. You wince, ripping the cloth off, finding William about three meters from your office. Frantically, you reach towards the vent close button, but when you press it, you hear the sound of failing machinery.

It was broken. 

He broke it the first night, and now you would die because of it.

Blindly grasping for your phone, you send another message to your brother.

'Get fire help' is all you could type out before William pins you to the ground, you barely managing to send it. 

Grabbing your phone out of your hand, William carelessly throws it into the wall, you wincing at the crunching noise. 

"You know, back when I was alive, I did much research on souls. Every soul contains this little thing known as 'Remnant.' Now, Remnant is the only reason I'm alive. There's no way to destroy it, except for fire."

Your eyes widen. 

"This building won't get hot enough to completely destroy our Remnant, so don't worry about that. Still, think of it like a metal. When it gets hot enough, it melts. It can meld into other people's Remnant."

You clench your teeth.

"Of course, there's no way I am going to destroy you. So, instead, I think I'll go with another option." He smirks. 

You can feel your vision get hazy.

"Within this fire I will preserve your warmth, and we will be welded together."

Your lids droop as you feel your breaths become raspy. 

You're going to die to the smoke, not to the fire that roared outside of your office, slowly inching its way in. 

You let out a few more wheezes, feeling lips against your own before your vision goes black.

-

He gets the news less than an hour after he calls the fire department.

His brother, the only immediate family he had left, had died in the fire. 

It doesn't take much thinking to figure out who did it. 

William. 

That man, that murderer, is going to pay.

However long it takes.

-----

i did not plan this out right this part is a lot shorter than it should be but ehh whatever

whoop whoop it is done… I mean I have a sequel planned but either way, this part of the story is done

See ya later :)

[sexynetra]

Guess who wrote a fic loosely based on this video 🤭

Thank you @thecollectionsof for encouraging me <333

“You trust me, don’t you?” Dawn smiled hopefully — a dazzling grin that had Amanda’s brain shorting out.

She did trust Dawn. More than she trusted anyone in the world.

[lazarettta]

Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

First Kiss

Pairing: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: The safety of your uwu's. We got stuff from me writing at 3 AM, which is basically Sugar Sap Hours TM, so be warned. Also if you don't like kissing. Idk why you would keep reading if you didn't, but yeah there's some detail.

This is what I mean when I say that I am little more than a hopeless romantic.

If this is bad then that's because the last time I kissed someone was when I was six years old.

Enjoy!

-Sugar

.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima

Midoriya:

● Boy was so nervous

● Truth be told, he'd wanted to kiss you long before you started dating, but he never knew how to ask

● It had been a month or so into the relationship, and you'd begun to take notice that the two of you hadn't gone any further than hand holding

● You didn't want to pressure Izuku into something he didn't want to do, neither of you did. It was just that—you longed to feel his lips pressed against yours, and with each passing day the temptation only worsened

● One afternoon, Izuku had just gotten back from his hero training session. You had been watching with the rest of the class as he sparred against Tokoyami. After a hard fight from the both of them, Midoriya had finally come out on top and won against him

● He walked back into the observation room, still panting slightly as he adjusted his protective gloves

● You felt so proud of him. That was your boyfriend and he was a m a z i n g

● Most of the class crowded around and congratulated him as he walked in, and Aizawa sensei even gave him an approving nod

● The glow his eyes had taken on pulled you in, and, before you knew it, what was meant to be a congratulatory hug from you turned into a kiss

● It was quick, your lips barely pushing into each other before you pulled away, but it still had a massive impact

● The whole class (minus the few who had left to get ready for their turn) erupted into cheers and 'OHH!'s

● You both turned bright red and jumped apart, Izuku unable to do anything other than stand glued in place and grin sheepishly

● Once Aizawa had settled everyone down, you pulled your boyfriend towards the back of the room

● "Sorry," you apologized immediately. "I got carried away and—"

● "Why are you sorry?" Izuku asked, suddenly incredulous

● "I just wasn't sure if you were ready—"

● "Do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you?" he cut you off, keeping his voice low so prying ears wouldn't be able to listen in *AHEM, Mina and Kaminari*

● Your face flushed a whole new shade darker. "I may have an idea . . . . I've felt the same way."

● Izuku took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the side. "If you want to start now, we can."

● "I'd like that."

● He bit his lip, blushing again as he put a hand on the back of his neck. "We could do some more . . . once class is out."

● Your eyes shone, already giddily anticipating meeting Izuku in his room. "That sounds wonderful."

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

Bakugou:

● It was no secret among the Bakusquad that a certain explosive blond had taken interest in you

● It started with Mina noticing the subtle glances (*stares) he'd throw you, then she enlisted Kirishima to ask him, which only lead to a solid confirmation from Bakugou himself (and Eijirou nearly getting his face blasted off), which then was spread to Sero and Kami

● Within a matter of days, Bakugou's crush on you had simply become common knowledge to the four of them, and now they had to decide on what to do about it

● There was some teasing, of course, in the week that followed; Sero or Kaminari lightly jabbing at him with their elbows when they caught Bakugou absentmindedly watching you

● But Mina wanted more than that, and the others were quick to agree

● One afternoon when classes were over for the day, the quartet were hanging out in the common room. You happened to wander by, looking for something to do and they waved you over excitedly

● They invited you into a game of truth or dare, which they had 100% NOT started just because you walked in

● "Oh, (Y/N), just in time," Sero called out to you. No one other than you missed the way Bakugou shifted in his seat across the room at the sound of your name, back turned to the group

● So as not to seem suspicious, everyone went around a few times, playing their turn

● When everyone's eyes turned toward you for the third time, Denki finally took the opportunity to quietly dare you to go over, kiss Bakugou, and live

● Nothing much, just on the cheek if you could

● You, who were blissfully unaware of Bakugou's feelings towards you, happily accepted, already anticipating seeing the look of pure rage on his face

● You sauntered toward the gremlin boy, who was sitting on a couch across the floor, not paying any attention to the game that was going on mere feet away as he read over one of his notebooks from class

● You leaned over the back of the couch, positioning your face at a perfect angle level with his

● "Hey, Kacchan."

● His head whipped around at the name, giving you perfect access to plant your lips soundly on his cheek for a solid half second before bolting off as fast as you could

● Bakugou just sat there for a second, dumbstruck and trying to process what just happened

● Had that been you? Really you? The (Y/N) who had been stubbornly and oh so agonizingly plaguing his mind for the past two months? Kissing him on the cheek and calling him Kacchan???

● Your speedily retreating form confirmed it for him, plain as day, and he wasted no time in jumping up and vaulting over the couch to chase after you

● Your mind and heart raced in tandem as you finally heard his footsteps slapping after you, running barefoot down the hardwood floored hall

● I'mgonnadie I'mgonnadie I'mgonnadie

● You couldn't help but allow giggles to escape your lips, however, especially when you heard little popping noises behind you, signaling Bakugou was firing off tiny explosions in what you could only assume to be rage

● You began to panic as you realized his legs were longer and he was faster than you. You yelped as searing hands grabbed your shoulders and pressed you against the nearby wall, signaling your defeat

● You were uncertain as to what you should do now, having not thought so far ahead. His hands were now resting firmly on either side of you, caging you in as the both of you lightly panted from the excitement of your short chase

● You defiantly shoved down and silenced the voice in your head that was screaming that he would certainly kill you and spit on your grave, opting to instead grin smugly at his face which had curled into a bit of a snarl

● Oh, how handsome your murderer-to-be was. You couldn't help but finally notice the fact now that you had kissed death, both literally and figuratively

● "So this is how it ends," you said, straining to keep your voice steady and the smile on your face. "If it makes you feel any better, I did it on a dare. Denki's fault."

● Confusion suddenly contorted your face as you watched Katsuki's fall. "That didn't mean anything?"

● You blinked. "Uhh, should it?"

● Katsuki's carmine glare never ceased in its intensity. He harshly bit his lip before removing one of his hands from the wall to drag over his mouth; processing

● You stayed in place, mind racing as to what he might mean. Had he enjoyed it? Did he like the thought of it? Had the Bakugou Katsuki developed . . . feelings for you?

● Of course you knew Katsuki wasn't lacking in the looks department. As you made your rounds assessing all the boys in your class, just like most high school girls do, he most certainly crossed your mind as not bad

● His personality had turned you off a bit, but you knew enough about yourself by now that you were a damned sucker for a bad boy

● His red eyes, which had trailed down to the floor as his mind raced through thoughts of his own only made your face heat

● The way his lips pouted ever so slightly, already enticing you to lean back in for seconds

● No, you told yourself. Begone, thot. Thought? Ha ha. This means nothing, you're just overthinking like you always do.

● You shifted your weight between your feet a few times, trying to physically distract yourself from how close his face was to yours

● Katsuki looked back up at you, disturbed a bit by your antsy squirming

● "What do you want me to do?" you finally asked him, wanting to mull over these intrusive thoughts in the silent privacy of your room. Maybe die in a hole later. You never knew.

● "I want you to do it right this time."

● "What?"

● "If you want to, kiss me like you mean it. If not, you can always go." He kept one arm at his side, open for you to slip away from him if you so chose

● But you didn't want to choose that option. Your head spun, trying to keep up with everything that was going on around you

● It was all so fast, and yet—you loved it

● Shutting down your brain entirely, you grabbed at the back of Katsuki's head and kissed him, full on the lips

● His eyes widened in surprise, having half expected you to slide out from under him and walk away, but no, you were kissing him and it was both everything and nothing like he'd imagined and your lips were so soft and—

● He pushed back into you, fisting your hair in his hands. He was rough and unpracticed, but what he lacked in sweetness he made up for in unapologetic passion

● His teeth knocked against yours and your heart soared in excitement, warmth flooding your body in ways you'd scarcely glimpsed the feeling of

● A sudden cheer brought you both out of your heightened euphoria, Katsuki pulling away and whipping his head around so fast you nearly whimpered at the loss of his lips against yours

● You were just able to see four bodies briskly retreating around the corner, absolutely cackling as Bakugou embarked on his second chase of the day; blushing up a storm and screaming considerably louder at his friends than he had at you

● You brushed the tips of your fingers over your still hot lips, still tingly after what they'd just experienced

● Smirking to yourself, you leaned back against the wall, coming down from your adrenaline high as you attempted to slow your pounding heart back to its normal pace

● He would be back. Boys like him always were. You would talk about your status and becoming official then, but for now, you were content to listen to the echoing explosions sounding off in the other room

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

Todoroki:

● Even after a few months, Shouto was still getting used to the whole idea of 'dating'.

● You were his first s/o, so he wasn't really certain what he was meant to do

● Nevertheless, he tried everything he could think of to be a good boyfriend

● He'd of course noticed that couples kissed, and now that he had you, he wondered if you would like it and what it would feel like

● The two of you were just vibing in your room, doing homework together as you liked to

● Shouto looked up at you to find that you were concentrating on a math equation, nibbling on the end of your pencil

● Your lips suddenly looked so full and soft and enticing, and Shouto couldn't think of anything other than having them pressed against his

● He had been staring at you for quite some time, so you looked up

● "Need something, Sho?" you asked, wondering why he was looking at you like that

● "Can I ask you something?" he asked

● "Sure."

● "Would you mind if we ever . . . kissed?"

● You blinked, taken aback by the completely unexpected question

● "Uhh, like . . . right now?"

● "That would be nice."

● You blushed and smiled. "Sure."

● You moved your notebooks behind you so you could have room to sit close to each other, sliding forward until you were comfortably in front of him

● Shouto felt semi prepared. He had watched exactly five videos and read two articles on this. How hard could it be?

● He touched your cheek, looking into your eyes as he ran his thumb over your skin

● Shouto leaned in, simultaneously guiding you closer to his face

● His nose fell in place next to yours as he gently brushed his lips over your soft pink skin

● You were surprised with how well and confidently he was kissing you, blissfully unaware of his search history

● He left several little pecks against your lips before finally pressing them flush against his in a deeper kiss

● Your eyes had fluttered shut, experimentally pushing back as his lips moved against yours

● It wasn't long before your mouths had opened and your tongues were gently tapping against each other, aching to explore a foreign cavern

● It was only then that you began to notice just how warm he'd gotten—yet simultaneously cold?

● You flicked your eyes open to see that Todoroki's right side had begun to frost over slightly, his left sending waves of heat rolling onto your body

● You reluctantly pulled away, Shouto's lips cutely chasing after you for a second before he opened his eyes

● "What is it?"

● "Is this getting too intense for you?" you asked

● "Not really. Why?"

● "Your, uh, quirk."

● Shouto glanced down, only now realizing how much he'd unwittingly let it activate

● The frost patches quickly receded, and the heat abated slightly, though to say your own cheeks weren't burning in their own way would be a flat out lie

● "Sorry about that," Shouto apologized

● "It's fine," you waved off, trying to keep your giddy expression toned down

● "So did you . . . enjoy it?" he asked

● "Yeah." Your voice was breathy as you ran a hand through your hair

● Todoroki allowed himself a small smile before settling back into his seat on your bed

● "Want to do it some more later?"

● "Of course!"

● Needless to say, it wasn't long before the two of you had become total pros at kissing

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

Kirishima:

● Kirishima is a very romantic kind of guy

● He'd been thinking about kissing you for a while, but decided it would be more manly to wait for the most perfect moment possible when he could be certain that that was what you both wanted

● You'd gone on a couple of dates together, but he hadn't taken the opportunity to kiss you yet

● Finally, he couldn't get the thought out of his head, the urge to take a step further in your relationship ever-present in his mind

● He planned for it a few days in advance, making sure to get a good time for when you were both free

● It was late when he came to collect you, around eleven o'clock

● He led you outside into the night, making sure the both of you were quiet as he guided you along

● Soon enough, you reached your destination, which was simply a small blanket laid out over a patch of grass in an open area right under the stars

● You both sat down next to each other, the warm night air keeping you just at the right temperature

● Kirishima watched as the light of the stars reflected and twinkled in your eyes, and he thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful as your features lit in their glow

● You began to point out your favorite constellations, tracing the groupings of stars with your finger as you held out your hand to the night sky

● "I love them," you said, referring to the sparkling lights. "Do you ever think about just how far away they are? It's all just so magical and humbling all at once. They may look like little pinpoints of light but we're the small ones, you know?"

● Your voice was so soft in his ear as you scarcely dared to raise it above a whisper. It soothed him, making his eyelids feel comfortably heavy

● Your body pressed closer into his, leaning against him while you looked up and mused

● "They're never gone, either," you continued. "Do you ever think about that? The sun is just too bright for us to be able to see them during the day, but they're there all the same, watching over us."

● Kirishima wanted to be there for you forever, making sure you were happy and safe

● Your wide (E/C) eyes drew him in, your words making his mind swirl

● Before he knew it, his nose had brushed against your cheek, causing your head to turn at the contact

● Your nose bumped against his, and the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips caused your cheeks to warm

● "You know," he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours, "you're more beautiful than all the stars in the sky."

● Before he could close the remaining distance between you, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle

● "That was really cheesy," you remarked, closing your eyes and letting a small breathy snort leave your nose

● "Aww, what?" Eijirou pulled back a little, causing you to open your eyes again in disappointment at the lack of contact. "I meant it, it's true. And a super manly thing to say."

● You couldn't help but notice the tiny flicker of anxiety in the backs of his ruby red eyes, worried he'd done something wrong

● You couldn't resist that look, the way he pouted ever so slightly, just scarcely able to make out the outlines of his endearingly abnormally sharp teeth

● In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to feel those lips against your own, to feel what those teeth would feel like under your tongue

● "You're right," you finally said, reaching up to hold the back of his head in your hand, fallen red spikes tangling between your fingers

● You pulled him close and let your mouths move together, hesitation quickly changing to courage the longer you left each small peck

● Eijirou was quite possibly the sweetest guy you knew, but you'd never experienced anything so sweet as his kisses. There was no heat behind them, but the passion and love for you was evident all the same

● He eventually pulled away to caress your face, hand cupping your cheek with softest care

● You leaned into his touch and gazed up into his eyes; freckled by the light of the stars. Somehow, the reflections seemed even better than the real ones hung in the tapestry of the atmosphere

● Eijirou pulled you onto his lap and into his chest, where you instinctively clutched and buried your nose into the soft fabric of his t-shirt

● He hummed a little in his throat, beginning to rock back and forth ever so gently as he held you in his arms. You could hear his heart softly pounding deep within him

● His warmth lulled you to slumber, allowing you to slip into the depths of sleep without you scarcely taking notice

● Kirishima allowed you a few minutes to settle, switching between gazing into your sleeping face and back up at the stars

● He finally stood, carrying your limp form back to your room, where he laid you out on your bed and tucked you in

● He felt like he'd done well, and finally went to sleep himself, the taste of your lips still tingling on his tongue

.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇

So, uh, I was going to do Amajiki and Shinsou but I low-key ran out of time and ideas so . . . yeah. Maybe I'll do them later, but probably not. Idk. If someone asked for it I would but for now . . . probably nah.

Anyway, I really liked how these turned out! I hope you did too! My favorite is probably Bakugou's, but I also super enjoyed Kiri's.

Thanks for reading! Have a nice day!

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sokkasangel​ @xoxopam4

[falseandrealultravival]

Female amd Male -１ Female-Male relationship seen in "Musume Dōjōji"

Kiyohime(清姫), a serpent who chases Anchin(安珍)

(From Encyclopedia Alpha)

Do you know the legend of Anchin Kiyohime ? This is a story about the origin of Dojoji Temple(道成寺) in Wakayama Prefecture. The synopsis is quoted from wikipedia.

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Anchin and Kiyohime :beginning of love

The time is around the summer of the 6th year of extension (928), the reign of Emperor Daigo. There was a monk who came to visit Kumano from Oshu Shirakawa. This monk (Anchin) was a very beautiful figure. Kiyohime, the daughter of Kiyohime Shoji of Masago, Muro-gun, Kii Province, fell in love at first sight when she saw Anchin who rented her inn, and she crawls on his man at night. As a person who is worshiping, Anjchin is in trouble even if he is pressed like that, and he tricked her into stopping by on his way home, so he went quickly without stopping after worshiping.

Kiyohime's wrath

Kiyohime gets angry when she learns that she has been deceived, and she chases her barefoot and catches up on the way to Dojoji Temple (Ueno no Sato). Instead of rejoicing at her reunion, Anchin lay a lie on a lie that he was a different person, and even asked for help from Kumano Gongen and tried to escape when Kiyohime was tied sleeping paralysis . At this point, Kiyohime's anger strikes the heavens, and she finally turns into a snake and pursues her Anchin.

The end of Anchin

The one who follows Anchin who crossed the Hidakagawa River and escaped to Dojoji is the figure of a snake crossing the river on its own while blowing fire. It didn't make sense for her to ask the ferryman to "Don't let her cross the river." Achjin who has the big bell lowered and runs away into it. However, Kiyohime does not forgive and wraps around the bell. Causal retribution, pitiful Anchin was burned to death in the bell. After killing Anchjin, Kiyohime enters the water in the form of a snake and died.

Buddhahood

After reincarnating in the serpentine, they appear under the priest of Dojoji and ask for a memorial service. Due to the merit of the Hokkekyo（法華経） advocated by the priest, the two became Buddhahood and appeared in the dreams of the priest in the form of a heavenly man. In fact, these two were the incarnations of Kumano Gongen and Kanzeon Bosatsu, respectively, and ended in praise of the Hokkekyo.

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Anchin who escapes to the bell, Kiyohime who winds the bell around.

It seems that their appearance can be imagined in a general gender relationship.

Kiyohime, who wraps around the bell with a snake body, is the "female genitals" itself. And does she mean, She burns out his male genitals. In fact, female genitals are sometimes referred to as "fireplace: hot". The man counters this fire by giving out "water" (ejaculation). Fire and water cancel each other out and SEX is completed. In this case, the woman's "love juice" is not water, but fire. It is "fire" because it burns out. This view can be seen in China's "Ying Yang Five Elements Theory".

Depending on the text, when Kiyohime crawls at night, Anchin responds by vowing to become a married couple overnight. It seems that there was a rich night life. In this case, Anchin is mostly bad.

Pine and Wisteria   sonnet-like poetry

Pine tree: Hey, Ms. Wisteria,

You are entwined me,

How long will it be?

Wisteria: That was Mr. Pine, 10 years ago.

10 years ago

I wrapped around you.

Pine: That's right, anyway

After being entangled with you

I have no choice but to want water.

Wisteria: That's because you, we are still having sex.

Pine: You mean we are having sex ...

Wisteria: Mr. Pine, that's because I'm tightly wrapped around your skin

Is that part dented?

This is a testament to our love.

A word of the day: The kanji "必::must" is a hieroglyph and means to tighten a stick, and the word secret (秘/密) is similar and has a sexy meaning. I think you who read this blog will understand why.

[planetchii]

THE MEGA NICHIASA SHITPOSTING REPORT

NOW WITH THAT GREAT 2 WEEK LATE TASTE

Tropical Rouge, Culture Festival! Everyone Together, Let's Put Make-Up On Aozora!: The Tropical girls are getting ready for the best time of the year: The cultural festival. And in true Tropical Fashion, the girls decided to hold make-up classes for all visitors. But while planning just the right make-up to teach the novice children and grown adults, Laura gets suspicious that Minori is looking over to her ex, the Literature Club. I mean, when you up and disappear into the library, it's kinda hard to not think that you're looking for an escape route. But it's fine because they totally have enough people to help with the make-up classes. As long as Minori stays in the clubhouse.

That being said, distancing yourself from the rest of the group isn't very cool, Minori. Now you have a suspicious smug fish being all suspicious. And being a detective. And asking questions. A lot of questions. And she would ask even more questions if Manatsuu and the Smug Fish Laura's homeroom booth wasn't short-staffed because the kids with that shift decided to get an early head start on getting their Yaruki power stolen.

Meanwhile, the Lazy Trio has clocked into work, and Chongiri drew the short straw today. Guys, he just wants to cook. He wasn't trained for this. And he certainly wasn't trained for being kidnaped by a bunch of martial artists to run their grilled squid booth. Even if it's the most fun that he's had. At least right up until the point where he remembered he was still on the clock. At least everyone is busy.

I mean, really busy: Sango is still teaching people how to put on lipstick properly, and Asuka is trying to make sure no one cuts the line. The only one who the Broadcast Club could interview for the Tropical Club was Minori. Who turns out to be a secret master of the make-up arts.

The lesson the monster should have taken away was don't touch books. Books are supposed to bring people joy. I feel like I've heard that before. It also turns out that the reason Minori left the Literature Club is because her sempai quite literally read The Great Book and that story was already written, and therefore boring and too familiar and unoriginal. Again, I feel like I've heard this before. But that's okay because Minori's stronger with the Sword of Logos Tropical Club.

Reviving A Legend! The Pretty Cure's Power-Up Makeover!: After getting the results of a contest that the girls were not aware they were part of, The Tropical Club finds out that they came in second in the "hey, this booth is pretty cool" contest. Everyone is so excited that even Kururun even has to say something in front of the School newspaper. In other news, the girls suddenly develop a love of ventriloquism. Before telling Kururun to do their best impersonation of a statue.

Elsewhere, the Witch is waking up from a nightmare when her ex-girlfriend up and left her. If only her ex just didn't have the energy to leave... she probably should have given her ex's money back. But on the plus side, the Butler finally does something! He heads to the nearest watering hole and figures out a way to make polymer slime. While that is going on, Manatsuu and Laura are having a loving conversation over who is the most Tropicool.

After a nice long conversation, Manatsuu and Laura head to sleep, where Manatsuu meets the legendary Precure in a trippy and glowy dream aquarium. Manatsuu probably shouldn't overeat at dinner. Especially when she nearly drowns in her own dream.

But in the morning, the Girls start heading to school, only to have the Butler's slime experiments come up from the depths of the town's canals. So the girls transform and try to find the source of the Yaruki power, only to have the Aqua mirror 404 error on Cure La Mer. But while trying to find the source of the Yaraneda power, Cure Summer learns that Kururun is a good listener and has not moved since the beginning of the episode.

Meanwhile, the villains really still have no idea what their actual job description is. They're now working to form a union because they don't even know why they have to do all of this extra work. They're just a maid, doctor, and cook respectfully. They have also decided that union dues are due at the end of the month. Nuremi will collect.

Elsewhere, Cure Summer has picked up one (1) Kururun but ends up having to sacrifice herself to save the good sealo. And while Summer is now being farmed for Yaraneda power, Kururun becomes the new Cure Summer. All Hail Cure Kururun. Only to get hit with friendly fire via Cure Papaya's eye lasers. RIP Cure Kururun.

But with the power of Friendship (TM) and a new Mirror (buy our toy) Toei actually giving a good budget for an episode and some new barefoot dancing, The Butler's polymer slime experiment is defeated. This type of leadership should be the Student Council President. Revice, The Devil is Just a Bad Guy?!: It's time for a company review of last week's (lol), super conference where FENIX was super happy to show off their belt and their choice for a Rider in front of the whole world and one over-excited family. Since it didn't go too well, someone's getting demoted as punishment. RIP Hiromi's commandership. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried to be a hero, because now instead of a belt, he has a contract to become a magical girl I mean, have a deadman walking around. And now, the one that they wanted to be Revice in Daiji, has become a go-for to get his older brother to sign a contract to also become a magical girl I mean to work for FENIX, since he's not scared of the belt. Daiji can't win.

Meanwhile, in a golf competition, an older brother and younger brother are fighting over who has the better swinging motion, and who has the better golf knowledge. The fighting gets so... well, not intense, but belittling for the younger sibling, so much so that he gets fired as his older brother's caddy.

Don't work for family. (I say that as a younger sibling too.) But at least he was sold this spiffy new contract by a personified alcohol person. Alcohol for your soul. Salespeople are getting real pushy with their selling.

Meanwhile, back at the bathhouse of Happiness, Daiji has come back home to offer Ikki an offer he can't refuse.

Ikki promptly refuses it. Something about needing more bare butts in the tubs. And probably wouldn't want to trigger Vice's fight or fight harder instincts. But in the mists of the "Please, Ikki, there's a 300,000 yen signing bonus" fight to get Ikki to work for FENIX, the dad apparently found a live stream of the golf fight. Fight or Fight Harder instincts fully engaged, Vice possesses a bike to get to the action faster. Regular bikes are for squares; get your demon-powered bike now at your local bike store.

At the golf course, Ikki and Vice transform. And while Ikki was actually doing his not-his-job, Vice went off to do some selling. He'll be denied no fights. At least until the new VStamp pulls him back in to become an Eagle. After beating the older brother's contract deadman, Vice goes back to selling things. At least until Ikki undoes the transformation.

But good news, everyone! Mama is almost completely healed from almost being eaten unceremoniously. And soothes Ikki's fear and tells him that plenty of people have had 2 jobs before. I mean, look at Vice, selling things. He sold the younger golf brother on visiting the Deadmans and getting his own Deadman. That's some A+ selling.

Not the right selling, apparently, since Ikki is pissed. We're not supposed to be selling the Deadmans, we're supposed to be selling the bathhouse. I mean the bathhouse services. And as punishment, Ikki fights this new Deadman without transforming when Daiji notifies them of this new, totally out of the blue and not sold to, Deadman. I mean we can't have other lives in danger.

Tasked with either apologize and fight properly or not fight at all, Vice agrees not to sell shit like Deadmen again and finally gets that magical girl contract. After beating the second Deadman of the day, the two golf brothers make up as much as siblings are willing to, for the low price of their stamps.

Hostage Trouble, What To Do Brother?!: While hanging out at the best-awarded rave place in town, the Deadmen are trying to look for a way to revive their head of ravers, and peanut butter named villain Jif I mean Giff, with a new recruit, a walking hood. Meanwhile, while Mama is trying to support her middle child, in a surprise to all middle children everywhere, an eviction company came to evict the bathhouse. Ikki proudly states that they will never be evicted from that spot, despite the father's best attempts.

Elsewhere, Sakura and her best friend forever Ayaka are going shoe shopping, where Ayaka finds these really nice sparkly shoes. Since Ayaka was not invited to her little sister's photoshoot (instead opting to bring her mom), it was only fair to bring about the shopping therapy. But it turns out that one of them has a stalker following them. And that stalker has some Deadmen foot soldiers. He really has this thing for Ayaka. But Sakura has a cellphone, and calls for Ikki, since we're not doing hide the identity thing.

When Ikki gets to the scene of the crime, he tells them to run, only for the stalker to throw a Pokeball and catch Ayaka. He also demands Sakura, a woman who could probably kick his ass, or he'll kill off Ayaka. But live your dream dude. No kink-shaming here. But they agree because killing people is bad. But is then interrupted by the Kong Deadman. At least Daiji comes in at the right time with the 555 suitcase, now holding the Revice Driver.

While in the midst of a hard-fought battle, the Deadman runs to where the girls are kidnapped, and while chasing this Deadman, Revi and Vice run against another alcohol personified man who wants to make a bargain: The girls for the stamps. This leads the new Go-For Daiji to go back to the FENIX Inc., and retrieve the new stamps, and takes a look at the new P-Bandai belt. Daiji asks if it's possible for him to use that belt, only for George to do his best Ankh impersonation and laughed in his face.

In a sign of kindness, the stalker allows Ayaka to call her mom, who tells her to bug off, she's watching her daughter work the cameras. It sucks to know you're not the favorite.

Elsewhere, the trade is going down, in the following fight allows both of the stamps to go back to Ikki and Vice who pull off their best Den-O impersonation, and end the fight. And in the confusion, Sakura breaks out of her confinements and kicks the ass of the stalker, proving that if Toei doesn't make her a Rider they are missing an opportunity. Sucks that it seems the stalker isn't the actual contract holder.

Back at the Rave Central, The Hooded Intern has these new sparkly shoes.

Zenkaiger, No. 27-kai! A Great Voyage Through Seven Worlds!: After hearing that his mom is still alive and has escaped her deep sleep can on Tojitendo Kikaitopia, The Zenkaiger group starts looking for Kaito's mom Mitsuko. Despite their best efforts, including a massive Google search by Secchan, they still can't find her. This leads to the thought by Gaon that maybe she escaped to a whole other world.

Since it was a good thought, Kaito asks his boyfriend Vox if he can borrow his pirate ship to go look for her. He promises to fill it back up with gas. What does it take, diesel? Regular?

Vox doesn't allow this because Kaito has no driver's license. I mean, neither does Vox, but Flint does and Flint has the keys.

Meanwhile, Stacey hates his job and now is sent on a wild chase to find a woman he may or may not have let out for the sake of his adopted grandma and ice cream supplier. Truthfully, it wasn't entirely his fault. It's not like he attacked the warp gate like the others when he may or may not have left the sleeping pod open.

Back with the heroes, Vroom and Gaon stay behind because Toei's budget is running a little tight. Can't have all that CGI and stuff after spending all that money on the CGI for the other worlds. There are budget concerns to think about, you know. But the remaining heroes board the Pirate ship and Magine sets about looking for Mitsuko with her crystal ball. But because the Pirates have no time for proper seancing, they just start picking the closest worlds to our heroes' world and work from there. Mr. Su is everywhere, by the way.

And after going to worlds where they are called perverts, nearly arrested, and freeze to death, in that order, Stacey arrives with his entourage of other people looking to cash in on overtime and says that all of the other worlds are getting visited, because she didn't just go back home, and not because they shot themselves in the foot. Instead of searching for clues in the Ice World, the Zenkaigers and Twokaizers head off to the Mushroom Kingdom. They did not see any plumbers, however. But, they "find" "Mama" "Mitsune" before Stacey and his crew of merry overtime workers, and a fight breaks out. After beating this wave, the Pirate ship heads off to Earth, much to the relief of Stacey who just wants to make Yatsune happy. Only to be told to follow them. Leading to another battle on Ice World. Stacey better be getting paid time and a half for this. The Zenkaigers win again and head back to Earth. But after the fight, "Mitsuko" takes off the magical disguise to show that it was Me, Magine! (not actually this writer.) with the hope that the bait and switch will get Tojitendo Kikaitopia to leave the other worlds alone, and just focus on them.

No. 28-kai! Weekly Shonen Manga World of Great Illustrations!: Kaito finally got his learner's permit to drive interdimensional ships and is going on a drive with Flint and some of his friends for practice before his big test with the Experienced Driver Flint. Vox has decided that is not his scene and is hanging out at Colorful, on Kaito's dime.

As someone who loves discovery, Vroom has made a big one: Vox is an Otaku. Vox loves him some manga. This is cool since Vroom is also a Manga Sommelier. And so is today's world, Manga World. And Manga World is working on his new hit piece for not-Shonen Jump about the everyday lives of the People of Earth. The pages even move! Now with exclusive Zyuran and Magine chapters! This is a limited edition, so make sure to get yours soon.

Back at Kikaitopia, the entire Tojitendo is still not happy about losing the Eve to their Adam. It'll be fine guys. It's not like there's someone there who'd sell you guys out for one ice cream parfait or something. He's too busy trying to get intel and how to get the father out to really mess with his own dad.

Back at Colorful, the Comics and the Not-Comics are having a conference about how to deal with Manga World. Kaito thinks that because Manga is just "drawing" and "some words" and some "Ink" that anyone can be a Mangaka. That it's sooo easy. This may or may not piss off Vox (and this writer.) about how people think it's so easy to be a Mangaka and storms off. Probably to an art room to make his Manga.

So because plan A didn't work, they go with plan B and buy the latest edition of the most popular manga. And after unbinding the pages of the latest Tankobon of Kimetsu no Yaiba and laying them off on the floor, Manga World starts trying to collect and read the pages. Kaito, thinking he's a ninja tries to steal it while he's reading, only to be caught and sent to the Manga page world. That Limited Edition now has a Kaito Chapter. Only 50 made! (Use the Ninninger or Hurricaneger gear next time.)

But this gives just enough time for Vox to drop ALL of his doujinshi and Original Works onto the floor. The Manga World loves the fact that they're seeing this new work about a pirate in space, looted, in true fashion, from Mangatopia. So much so that Vox does what pirates do best and swipes the limited edition not-Shonen Jump.

Everyone transforms to fight, including the comic pages. And proceed to fight and win, with half of the time acting it out in comic pages. And all the people are freed from their comic pages. I hope you got that limited edition not-Shonen Jump before it was too late.

And while Vox used that manga to save his family, he'd like to get it back now. Too bad Yatsune has ordered that manga back to Mangatopia. If he doesn't tell, will he get to keep it?

[smoaking-greenarrow]

If I Tremble chapter 21: Clutch

Rated M

(Gif)

“Do you think in another life, or on one of those other earths...you could’ve been a mechanic?”

Oliver paused for a moment, and then continued adjusting the gear on his motorcycle, not turning around. His hands and shirt were covered in grease from the engine. It was late.

He was tired.

And he was sad.

Tomorrow, he’d have to say goodbye to his beloved bike. The same one that had helped him escape some risky missions unscathed. Carried him through high speed chases with criminals. But most importantly, the bike held some of his fondest memories. And all of those fond memories involved Felicity pressed against him somehow.

Oliver had owned this motorcycle when he first met her. He could still remember the first time she got on it and how good it had been just to feel her there.

It was dark and raining. They’d just had a long day at Queen Consolidated; the kind of day where he was irritable and snappy with Felicity and she’d given it right back to him. They took a short cease-fire in their snide back and forth so they could go home, eat dinner, and get ready for another night of vigilante business. But the break hadn’t done either of them any good. They were still at each other’s throats by the time they met up with Digg at the lair. Unfortunately, it was also a quiet night on the streets, so Oliver and Felicity had nothing to do but bicker.

After a few hours of it, they finally decided to call it a night. Or rather, after Diggle got sick of playing the middleman, he called it a night for all of them.

But then Felicity’s car wouldn’t start. Digg had already left, so Oliver offered to drive her home. Because of course he wasn’t going to leave her stranded in the Glades. No matter how much she tested his patience on a daily basis, he knew that he cared about her. A lot.

And Felicity accepted the ride, not knowing that he’d brought his bike that night.

Oliver tossed his leg over the seat, unable to hide his smirk as she gaped at him. He’d wondered, once or twice, or maybe more often than he was ready to admit...what it would be like to have Felicity on the back of his motorcycle.

“Hop on, Miss Smoak,” he offered her the helmet, his voice thick and his eyes trained on her.

Her mouth hung open and she shook her head.

Hesitant little thing.

Felicity had never been on a motorcycle. Which he knew. The first time she’d seen his bike, she’d told him as much. And she’d informed him that she had no desire to ever be on one. To be fair, she’d also seen the way he drove, so her fear wasn’t entirely misplaced. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted to change her mind. That she wanted to find another way home. But after the tension they’d been sharing all day? Felicity wasn’t about to back down to him.

So she climbed on the back, grumbling to herself about the bus stop a few streets away.

As if he was ever going to leave her at a bus stop alone.

He took his time getting to her apartment, driving slow, making sure she felt safe and sound.

To his amusement, Felicity loved it.

When they finally reached her home and he helped her off the bike, Felicity was smiling ear to ear. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he got her on his motorcycle.

It became sort of a goal for him, actually.

He started taking his bike every day in the hopes that she might need a ride.

Even as the broken man he was back then, it had felt right to have Felicity there with him. That first night and every night after it. The countless rides with her, all while he’d been falling in love.

Granted, ever since Mia was born, it had mostly been collecting dust in their garage, but it still held a sentimental value that made it hard for Oliver to let go of it.

“Mechanics are pretty sexy,” Felicity hummed, pulling him back to the moment.

Oliver turned around to look at her, letting out a sigh as he grabbed a rag off the floor and wiped his hands. “And men who have daughters and sensible cars...they’re not sexy?”

Felicity made a face, lifting her hand to wave the baby monitor she’d brought from Mia’s room. “Oh no, trust me. The loving dad to a little girl thing is...very sexy.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh, giving his bike another glance. It was in better shape than it had been a couple of days ago. After taking the time to fix it up, it was ready to ride again.

Selling it was a better plan than hoarding it in the garage, after all.

“What about an exhausted mom who has sore boobs because her daughter has an incredibly demanding appetite?” Felicity cocked her head to the side, “Or a woman who had to change her clothes because that same daughter just hurled all over her? Super sexy, right?”

Laughing, Oliver shook his head. “You’re always sexy. Trust me.”

“Well,” Felicity moved down the steps into the garage, setting the baby monitor on the shelf near the door. “You didn’t see the mess your child made of my favorite sweater. She chugged that bottle like a college frat boy and then threw up like one, too.”

“She still hasn’t learned that lesson?” Oliver stood up, finally getting a good look at his wife as she came closer. She was barefoot, her legs exposed, because she wasn’t wearing anything but a t-shirt. His t-shirt.

“Like father, like daughter...” Felicity mumbled back, smiling as she stopped in front of him.

He gulped, leaning against the seat of the bike as his eyes raked down her body. His wife gently nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Then she leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear. “You know,” she whispered, her arms winding around his neck, “we had some good times on this motorcycle. Remember Coast City?”

Oliver’s eyes closed on instinct, the feel of her body and the sound of her voice doing a number on him already. “Of course I remember,” he groaned, nuzzling her cheek.

It was a few months after they came back to Starling. They’d been missing Ivy Town and the summer they spent together, so they’d decided to take a weekend trip to Coast City. On the bike. “That night I took you out to dinner…” Oliver grinned, his voice low, his chest pressed to hers.

“You parked in the alley behind the restaurant.”

“And for some reason, you wanted me to teach you how to drive this thing.”

Oliver couldn’t see her face, but he felt her shiver.

He remembered, very vividly, how he’d put Felicity in front of him on the motorcycle, her hands on the gears, his on top of hers as he sat behind her. “I thought I did a pretty good job,” Felicity chuckled.

She’d only driven it from the mouth of the alley to the end of it once before she stopped the bike and started grinding her ass against him. Which led them to a very heated make out session until Felicity finally insisted that he take her back to the hotel immediately, and Oliver did his best to obey all the speed limits to get there while ignoring a massive boner.

“I guess our days of being spontaneous are kind of over,” Oliver sighed regretfully. As much as he loved being a father, there was a part of him that missed that time in their lives. The freedom of it. The adventure of every day with her. An open road in front of them that could take them anywhere they wanted to be.

And god, did they explore together.

In many different senses of the word.

Felicity shrugged, pushing his leg aside so she could climb onto the motorcycle. “Says who?”

“Uh...the baby who wakes us up two or three times a night?”

She rolled her eyes, “Mia’s sleeping. Let’s say goodbye to this old thing...the best way we know how.”

With a smirk, Oliver climbed onto the motorcycle behind her.

It wasn’t something that he’d ever admit to anyone, especially not the young gentleman who they sold the bike to…but Felicity knew her way around the machine, despite the fact that she’d never driven it outside of that alley in Coast City. She knew where everything was because they’d done... other things on this bike.

Of course, the new owner didn’t need to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to know the details of those things they did.

There had been nights. Dangerous missions and life-threatening encounters. Close calls and moments where one of them thought they might lose the other. Nights when Felicity had been insatiable and Oliver had needed her just as badly, the spark between them full of desperation and relief. Impossible to deny. Nights where they’d needed each other but had nowhere to go, so they got creative.

Having sex on his motorcycle wasn’t really something that they could just do once and then not want to do again.

He’d be lying if he said it was a one time thing.

Wrapping his arms around Felicity, reminded of those moments and how it felt back then, Oliver pressed himself against her back and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hands slid slowly over her stomach, skimming down her thighs as he started to kiss her ear. Then he moved one hand to her hip, pulling her back against him. He ground his hips forward at the same time, and Felicity groaned when she felt his hardening length rubbing against her ass.

Silently, he slipped his other hand up her side, barely letting himself touch her breast before he flattened his palm on her chest, his fingers curling lightly around her throat. Just the right pressure to make her shiver. “Oliver,” she mewled.

He dragged his lips to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt out of the way. He only let go of her when she began to roll  her body on her own. Keeping his grip on her neck, Oliver dipped his other hand underneath the shirt, kneading one of her breasts.

Felicity plastered herself to him like she couldn’t get close enough, a low cry escaping her mouth. She dropped her head against his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to kiss her. His tongue demanded entrance, which she easily welcomed.

Oliver could feel her pulse thrumming under his fingertips, her skin getting warmer under his palm.

Her breath grew shallow as his mouth ravished hers.

God. Damn.

It didn’t surprise him anymore how quickly and how thoroughly his wife could turn him on. But it still amazed him. She was letting go, grinding her ass against his cock, and he was practically seeing stars.

Not wasting any time, Oliver leaned over, fumbling to find the keys while Felicity was too distracted to notice. When he turned the keys and started the engine, she gasped at the unexpected sound.

The bike purred to life, vibrating beneath them. Felicity’s hips jerked in response, finding friction.

Oliver kissed her harder. “Turn around,” he growled into her mouth. “Felicity, come here.”

She scrambled to spin around on the seat, nearly falling, but his firm hands guided her movements until she was facing him. Then Felicity hummed as she wrapped her legs around him, the noise mixing with the steady buzz from the motorcycle.

Her hands were on his jeans a moment later, nails digging into his thighs and then his hips. Then she reached for the button of his pants, snapping them open quickly. Felicity moaned as she slipped her hand inside, rubbing him over his boxers, feeling the length of him as he hardened beneath her palm.

Oliver lifted his hips; one arm branded around Felicity’s body as he did his best to pull his pants down. He could barely get them over his ass while he was straddling the bike, but it was enough that Felicity could free his cock.

His jeans were painfully tight around his legs, but as he settled back down on the bike, Felicity started grinding her hips down on him. He groaned in approval as her wet underwear rubbed up and down on his erection.

Felicity rocked her hips against him, her breath catching every time the head of his cock would slip between her folds. And Oliver tried to control his own breathing, his face buried in her throat; her familiar, delicious scent filling his nose.

He was vaguely aware that the garage door was wide open, which left him with the sense of being exposed and vulnerable, despite the fact that no one came to the cabin aside from John, Donna, and Thea.

None of which were expected for a visit tonight.

So the dirt road and sunset ahead was private. Safe, of course. Yet it still provided a thrill behind their actions; the feeling that they were somewhat in public.

“Is the monitor on?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask. His last shred of control.

Felicity gave him a quick, short nod as she pointed to the baby monitor on the shelf.

With the lungs Mia had, they both knew they’d hear it if she did happen to wake up…

“Fuck, Felicity,” he huffed out a breath, giving in to the incredible feeling of doing this with her. Again.

For the last time.

Fuck.

Oliver shoved his hand between them, yanking her underwear to the side and dipping his fingers between her soaked folds.

She was so damn wet.

He bit his tongue to keep from cursing again.

It made it easier that he knew exactly how to get Felicity going. How to really turn her on. Quickly. Because he was certain that as much as he wanted to take his time, he wasn’t going to last very long. He never did when a situation involved his motorcycle and his hot wife. Although this time, at least, there were no life-threatening missions to urge them on.

There was just her.

And god was he desperate for her.

Pushing his fingers inside, Oliver let Felicity set the pace; keeping his fingers straight, curving them to hit the spot deep inside that made her cry out for him.

Each time she thrusted down, her walls would squeeze his fingers tight and his hand would press against her clit.

Oliver ignored his aching cock, begging to be touched, in favor of watching Felicity.

He loved the way she moaned his name.

Loved the way she rode him.

Loved her.

It didn’t take long before her breath on his cheek became shallow. Her fingers pulled on his hair and her legs tightened around his waist, the vibrations of the bike coursing through him and straight to her.

And with one final roll of her hips, Felicity stiffened. She choked on her next breath. Her grip on his hair was hard, making him grit his teeth.

“Oh god,” she whimpered in his ear. “Right there, right there. Yes!”

Oliver straightened his fingers, moving them in and out as fast as he could while Felicity came.

Her legs tightened, shaking around him. Her head fell back, her breath catching.

He finally eased up, coaxing her down from her orgasm as he slowed his movements down, then carefully pulled his fingers out. He brought them to his mouth, and Felicity leaned back to watch him lick them clean.

With a smirk, Oliver tilted his head, his mouth meeting hers.

Felicity’s lips were slow to kiss him back, a sweet sigh falling from them. Oliver sucked on her bottom lip, his hands gliding down her back until he reached her ass. And he kissed her harder, squeezing the flesh, tugging her closer.

Her hips were already starting to move again, seeking friction.

Oliver smiled, giving her ass a light smack.

That’s my girl.

Felicity gasped, her mouth breaking from his while her body instinctively surged closer.

But when he went to kiss her again, she turned her head, letting his lips land on her cheek. With a pout, Oliver trailed kisses along her jaw, stopping at her chin. “What’s wrong?” He mumbled against her skin.

She didn’t answer right away, so he moved lower, licking and sucking a path across her throat. Felicity shivered, arching her back for the briefest moment, but pulled away as soon as he started to press his face between her breasts.

“Felicity?” Oliver frowned, holding her tighter.

Looking up at her, he saw the smile on her face; her lips swollen and red from his beard, her skin flushed, her eyes wide with pleasure. She shook her head once, moving to get off of him and the bike, and this time he let her. Felicity climbed down, using his hand for balance, then she nudged him to get up, too.

Once she had him on his feet, Felicity hooked her fingers through his belt loops and dropped to her knees, taking his pants along with her.

She took his cock in one of her hands, grasping him tightly. She smiled at him with those swollen lips. Stared up at him with those wide eyes. And Oliver instantly groaned, his hips snapping to meet her hand. His hands reached for her head, wanting nothing more than to dive his fingers into her hair and hold on while she did whatever she wanted with him.

But Felicity had other ideas. Her hand flattened against his stomach, “Sit,” she demanded, pushing him back until he fell onto the motorcycle.

‘Oh, fuck,” he huffed as he landed on the seat, the vibrations hitting his backside. But before he could get his bearings back, Felicity’s mouth was on him.

She nipped at his chest, scraped her teeth over one of his nipples, licked her way down to his stomach. And by the time she kissed the tip of his cock, he was already feeling lightheaded. Glancing down at her, he ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face so he could see her better. Felicity met his eyes as she swirled her tongue around the head. Oliver sucked in a breath at the sensation, struggling to keep still.

God, he was sensitive.

Felicity grabbed his waist, holding herself steady with her nails digging in. Slowly, she took him between her lips. Inch by inch, he disappeared into her warm, wet, perfect mouth.

Until she had all of him.

Oliver instantly cried out as she swiped her tongue along the underside of his cock, jerking inside her mouth.

He could feel her throat constricting around him. Her teeth gently scraping his length. Her eyes watching him, blinking back some slight moisture as she pulled back and took a deep breath. Then she did it again, taking every inch of him. And again. Always stopping to swallow when her lips reached his balls, making his breath catch as she tightened her throat around him. Felicity kept her movements slow, which she knew drove him crazy in all of the best ways.

When she changed pace, focusing on his head while her hand stroked up and down his shaft, Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure washing over him. The intensity of the bike rumbling beneath him and the things she was doing with her mouth...it was almost too much. He didn’t realize he was rocking his hips towards her until he heard Felicity moan.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again to look down at her. She hummed, giving him a nod of approval. “Oh my god, Felicity,” he grit through his teeth, snapping his hips again. Every time he pushed into her mouth, she’d swirl her tongue around him. And every time he pulled out of her mouth, he’d lean back against the bike and feel the vibrations of the motorcycle, coursing straight to his balls, making his pleasure skyrocket.

He could feel his own orgasm coming as fast and as hard as Felicity’s had, and it was beyond tempting to let his body follow it. But Oliver leaned back, holding her head steady as he pulled out of her mouth with a loud pop.

Felicity furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Her lips, that were even more swollen now, pouted up at him.

He sighed, both in regret and anticipation. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that being buried inside Felicity’s mouth when he came would be incredible. But he really wanted to be buried somewhere else. Oliver stood up again, helping Felicity to her feet. Then he gave her an ardent, slow kiss.

Felicity moaned into his mouth, and he kissed her harder as he tasted himself on her tongue.

Their eyes met again, each of them smiling. Oliver gently tapped his index finger to her nose, making her giggle.

God, she knew what that sound did to him.

It was a laugh that quickly faded when he grabbed her waist and spun her around. Taking a moment to admire the view in front of him, he pressed his palm against her lower back and guided her to bend over.

Felicity did so willingly, her breaths ragged.

Without a word, Oliver clutched onto her hips, gently kicking her feet apart, spreading her legs. He lined himself up at her entrance, and Felicity gripped onto the seat of the bike.

As he started to push into her, Felicity tossed her hips back, making him moan as he filled her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking, and Oliver let out a breathless chuckle in return. His hands skimmed up her back, his fingers dragging, until he could grip her shoulders. Her smile fell when he pulled out, and she moaned his name when he thrusted back in.

Oliver kept his pace slow, a careful force behind his thrusts, since he knew that the motorcycle couldn’t take too much pressure. But it was more than enough.

As he felt his orgasm begin to build again, he shifted his weight over Felicity, pushing his hand between her body and the bike. And it only took a moment to find the right angle; his fingers working quick circles on her clit as the bike pulsed under them.

Felicity came with a shout, her hands flying to his arm, anchoring herself.

And Oliver followed right behind, spilling inside of her while his body folded over hers.

The motorcycle muffled their cries, the throbbing machine making everything feel more intense.

As he came back to his senses, Oliver lifted his hand from Felicity’s shoulder, keeping the other pressed against her clit, and reached over to turn the engine off. Listening to each of their heavy breaths, Oliver kissed Felicity’s shoulder, every patch of skin that he could reach without having to move.

“Having any second thoughts about selling this thing?” He mumbled against her back.

Felicity laughed, nudging him until he moved off of her. “Was this your way of trying to get me to keep it?”

He slipped out of her with a groan. “Honestly, no. But if you want me to do some more convincing, I’m all for it.”

“I’ll always love the bike...” Felicity shook her head, “But no. It’s always been more about you than the bike.”

He smiled at that, agreeing with the sentiment completely. Everything that he’d just felt had been entirely Felicity’s doing.

“That’s true,” he sighed, noticing that her legs were shaking when she tried to stand, and he quickly moved to pick her up. “I already know how easily you can get me wound up. Basically anytime you want.

“And anywhere,” Felicity grinned as he carried her towards the house, grabbing the baby monitor from the shelf as they passed.

Oliver turned the light off while Felicity pushed the button to close the garage door, each of them giving the motorcycle one last loving, appreciative look. “It may be ‘goodbye’ to the bike,” he whispered in her ear. “But I’m sure that we have a lifetime of thrills ahead of us still.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, “I’m willing to bet you’re right.”