#but there is an undertone here that is really twisted and tragic. like. like

[popponn]

// bllk manga spoiler - uber match ending //

hiori's parent wants to make hiori the best striker.

hiori wants to produce the best striker in the world.

hiori says he will discard strikers who can't keep up with him (his pass is the exact writing).

hiori failed to scored the goal by himself and nearly gave up soccer.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HIT ‘EM UP! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: This chapter is LONG AS FUCK, so y’all have been warned! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

SEVENTEEN: MISDIRECTION.

Dear, Shoko,  Hello from Willow Springs! Yes, I’m here and yes, it was one hell of a journey as you can imagine. Let’s just say waking up in a soft bed and taking a hot shower in the morning is MUCH better than dodging bullets and fending off nature.  I can’t complain though. Gojo & Geto have been a big help to me. We’ve helped a lot of people on our way here and we’ll continue to do so once we leave Willow Springs. Right now, I’m staying with my parents. They moved out of the South some time ago and moved here, so they offered us a place on their farm.  I’m safe if that’s what you’ve been worried about. And I’m happy. Finally, I can live without looking over my shoulder or lying. Speaking of lying, I’m sorry I never told you who I really was or what my true intentions were. I hope you can forgive me.  I just hope you’re safe and happy too. How are the others? How is the saloon? Valentine is in prison again. I’m sure you’ve heard about his escape, but we took care of it. Still no Benji yet, but we’ll get him soon. You can count on that.  I hope you miss me just as much as I miss you. You don’t have to answer this letter. I just wanted to say hi. -Love, Y/N

After finishing your letter to Shoko, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, the summer night breeze cascading over you from the open window. The letter lays on your chest, possibly never to be seen or sent off to your old “home”. Your old life.

Black Waters seems so much farther away now. Everything does at this point, including your snake bite. 

It’s been a couple days since you moved into your parents' home and things have been looking up for you. You’ve been following Nanami’s instructions down to the point and doing physical therapy––several minutes of walking and ankle stretches—which have helped you tremendously. Now, you're walking without the cane and you can even see the bite marks fading. 

You can hardly believe that the snake bite even happened. Days of simple living have made everything before seem like a dream…except one thing. Or rather, one person: Benji the Bandit. He is still out there somewhere, waiting for you, searching for you. You know that it’s only a matter of time until you fully heal and you’ll be back on the road to find him. 

So why not practice for it? 

In the dead of night while the house sleeps, you dress in a loose spaghetti-strap top, some riding pants, and boots before you tip-toe out of the house with your pistol. You go out of the kitchen to the backyard which is separated from the farm and the forest by two white picket fences. 

When you finally get outside, you breathe in the summer night air, staring up at the twinkling stars above. It is a clear, warm night with only the buzzing of insects and the hooting of a lone owl from the forest to comfort you. “Goin’ out?” a familiar voice asks behind you. 

You nearly shriek, whipping around with your pistol drawn and cocked. But then you see the Gunslingers lounging about on the wrap-around porch. “Shit!” you gasp, damn clear close to a heart attack. “Y’all scared me half to death.” 

Both of the cowboys sit in their neighboring chairs, both wearing jeans, riding boots, and their own tank tops that show off way too much muscle and skin to be appropriate…for you, anyway. They both pass a cigarette back and forth, reminding you of an indirect kiss when Gojo takes a puff of it after Geto gives it to him. 

The blue-eyed bandit gives you a humored smile. “I know,” he chuckles. “That was the cutest thing ever.” Geto rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Satoru, cut her a break,” he huffs. “She almost died a couple days ago.” 

You chuckle at his wry joke, loosening your grip on your pistol. Geto nods down at your boots. “Speakin’ of which, shouldn’t you be restin’ up like the doctor ordered?” 

“I’ve rested long enough,” you scoff. “Plus, I need to brush up on my skills for Benji while I’m here.” You twirl your gun around your thumb and position it straight again before aiming at a nearby tree. 

Behind you, Gojo gives an overly-dramatic sigh. “Benji this, Benji that,” he groans. “Christ, girl, don’t that bloodlust got an off switch? Besides, we can’t kill him, remember? Unless you want us all behind bars.” He gives you a smirk as he rises from his chair on his long legs, taking a stretch. 

“Well, I can still shoot and miss,” you hotly reply, placing a hand on your hip and cocking it to the side. The men watch your hips very intently, unbeknownst to you. “I’m not hellbent enough on revenge to let y’all get arrested, especially since y’all saved my life.” You flush warmly even though it’s true. The duo look happy from your words. 

For the next few seconds, silence descends on you. You take those shorts seconds to turn away from them and focus on drawing, moving your hand as fast as it can go until it cramps. Behind you, you hear the crunch of grass under some boots and turn to see Geto. The moonlight illuminates his hair, turning it silver. “How you been doin’ since we’ve been here anyhow?” He asks, giving you a warm smile. 

Gojo follows him, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He passes the cig to Geto, sticking it between his lips on his own. “Yeah, you’ve been avoidin’ us.” He pouts at you, his lush bottom lip poking out at you. 

Of course, you deny this because yes, you have been avoiding them. “I have not!” you protest, flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve just been helpin’ my parents who are up there in age, thank you very much.” You turn away, pointing at another tree that is much bigger and thicker. 

“Oh, we’ve noticed,” Geto chuckles, puffing on his cigarette. You don’t look at him, not wanting to see how hot he looks doing so. “Yet your dad is always out there in the trenches tendin’ to his farm and your mom seems overly excited to have us help her in the kitchen.” 

You groan at his words, inwardly cringing. You know Yuri has taken a shine to the duo as has Eren even though he doesn’t show it. You can tell they like the Gunslingers and though that makes you happy, it also makes you nervous. What if they start asking about marriage or pushing you to have something with them? 

Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets, looking over your small frame. “So about this ‘brushin’ up’ thing,” he begins. “Whatcha gonna do when you have no gun or knife? How are you in hand-to-hand combat?” You turn to him, frowning. “Gojo, I know how to fight.” 

He shares a look with Geto, both looking totally unsatisfied with your response. You scoff, putting away your pistol and crossing your arms. “Fine then. Teach me a few things.” Gojo raises a brow at you. “You sure?” he asks, looking unsure himself. “Not to toot my own horn or anythin’, but I’m a black belt in jujutsu.” Geto rolls his brown eyes, still smoking his cigarette. 

But instead of looking intimidated or second-guessing as you’re sure the duo thought you would, you put a good distance between you and Gojo, square your shoulders, and put your fists up to block your face. “I think I can handle it,” you whisper. 

The two look at each other and then at you, the moon illuminating their stunned expressions. Then they each break out into a smile, liking your willingness to try. “Alright, darlin’,” Gojo sniggers. “But don’t say we ain’t warn ya.” 

You never thought you needed much training or help when it came to fighting. You always thought you were pretty good after years of fighting outlaws which usually ended in you using your gun anyway. But while training with the Gunslingers, you realize just how much you need to learn when it comes to learning different combat styles and how to truly squabble. 

Geto is gentle with his approach at teaching you. He is the best kind of sensei–kind and nurturing but he isn’t afraid to point out your mistakes or things that need changing. He first teaches you about stance when facing off with an opponent. You square your feet, one behind the other to support your weight, and ball your fists up by your face while sizing up the oak tree in front of you as if it’s a gun-wielding outlaw. 

“Uh-uh.” Geto takes his cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it far into the forest, respecting your parents’ land enough to do so. You don’t know why that makes your stomach flip. “No, no, wrong stance,” he critically yet softly says. “Here, turn your hips so they angle with your feet.” 

You suddenly feel his big, warm hands on your hips, angling them so they are in line with your feet. You’re so focused on his hands that you barely notice Gojo slipping in front of the tree. He is now your opponent, a smirk on his face. 

You envision him to be Valentine or Benji and suddenly, you hear the blood pumping in your head. Geto is a soothing presence behind you, touching you without even getting near you. “Stop thinkin’ so hard,” he whispers, his lips near your ear. “I can hear those thoughts. Clear your head and watch your opponent.” 

You look at him, but turn back around when you hear a stick crunch beneath a shoe. You react just in time to Gojo’s sudden jab your way, ducking away from his blow. He smiles at you, nodding in approval. “Not bad, little lady,” he chuckles, grinning at Geto. “But I think I can teach ya better.”

Meanwhile, Gojo is all hands on and teases you every chance you get. When you practice punches, he puts his big hands up as punching bags and has you throw jabs at them, grinning annoyingly as you do. 

“C’moooon, little miss,” he cackles. “That’s all you’ve got? What, did your mama’s cooking make you soft?” Glaring at him, you give him a sharp jab in his side, earning a grunt. “Says the one who’s always beggin’ her to fix him sweets,” you retort, making Geto laugh. 

He, like Geto, likes to work closely and with his hands on you (with your consent, of course, and for the good of your fighting skills). He stands behind you, teaching you a new stance, and has his elongated fingers brushing against your belt. 

“You should have your hand at your gun if the opportunity presents itself,” he instructs. “Like so.” He takes your hand and places it on your upholstery, his hand covering yourself. “See?” he whispers, his icy mint breath fanning your ear. “You can slip your hand back here with no problem.” 

You feel his hand caress your hip and it’s like you’ve been dipped in a hot pot of liquid the way your body is in flames. “Gojo,” Geto critically growls, glaring at his friend. Gojo steps away from you, leaving you feeling cold. “What? I’m just anglin’ her hips right!” 

You then move onto more moves where Gojo acts as an actual opponent again. He stands a foot away from you while Geto watches leaning against a nearby tree. The white-haired outlaw towers over you, fists up and knees bent gingerly. “Try dodgin’ me again,” he instructs, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. 

You nod, thinking that this will be easy being that Gojo has been so playful so far. But to your shock, that playfulness fades and he’s all business as he tosses you multiple punches and jabs one after the other that you need to dodge. You gasp and let out little pants as you dodge each one, ducking beneath his fists and side stepping him when you need to. Your eyes lock with each other and you clear your head, helping you size him up the way Geto taught you. 

You almost feel as if you’re dancing with him with the way your legs burn and a slight smile appears on your lips. Finally, when your body is screaming for rest, he stops. “Not bad at all, rookie,” he praisingly says. 

Geto claps from the tree, but you ignore it, too focused on Gojo’s nickname. “Rookie?” you scoff, raising a brow. “Don’t insult me like that.” The gunslinger just laughs, making a fire bloom inside of you. 

Now you really want a challenge. So you step father away from Gojo and put your fists up. “Alright, cowboy,” you tease. “Let’s see what you got.” He smirks at you. “What I got?” he scoffs. “Don’t forget about him now, sugar.” 

He turns to Geto and so do you, expecting him to have a gun drawn or something. But to your surprise, the space by the tree where he once stood is empty. Suddenly, you feel a tug at your belt and look up to find Geto standing behind you with your pistol dangling from his hand. “Hey!” you shout. “How’d you–” 

“Misdirection,” he chuckles, his eyes filled with playfulness. “That’s your next lesson.” Your eyes tick up to your gun, already figuring out how to get it from him. “You want it back?” He raises a brow at you, putting the gun in his back pocket. “Then come get it, darlin’.” And smirk stretches across his lips, making heat pool in your legs. 

The fight is on. You make the first move, lunging at him to distract him before sending a jab at his lower stomach. It isn’t enough to hurt him, but it’s enough to make him double over and give you a good chance to grab your gun. Geto is quicker than you though, and uses one arm to take a chop at the inside of your knees. 

With a gasp, you buckle and go down, your knees hitting the ground. Luckily, it doesn’t slow you down. You immediately pop back up and glare up at Geto who looks down at you with a darkened gaze. “C’mon,” he says. You lunge at him, but he takes off before you can catch him. 

“Pass it!” Gojo calls, waving his hands from the fence. Geto tosses your pistol at his partner and he catches it before the two jump the fence and enter the woods. You quickly run after them in your boots, jumping the fence and scampering into the forest. You’re about five feet from the farm when you track down Gojo standing in a clearing of trees. 

He grins at you, standing alone. You don’t know where Geto has gotten to, but right now you don’t care. Wordlessly, you put your fists up, scowling at him. He smirks and pockets your gun, slipping it into his belt. You watch him, already planning on how to get it back. 

When you blink, Gojo is suddenly closer, wordlessly telling you to make a move. Instantly, you do so, tossing a punch his way. He dodges it effortlessly just as he does the other ones. You decide to leave his handsome face alone and shoot for his waist, grabbing at his belt to yank it off. 

Gojo counteracts this by grabbing your arm and spinning your body into him. Your back presses against his front and he locks your arms behind your back as he presses his face against your ear. “You should’ve been watchin’ the hands, sugar,” he chuckles. 

You begin to squirm and writhe in his iron grip, trying in vain to kick back to get his legs or groin. Nothing works. You whine, the sound coming out like a cry for help. It must work because Gojo  loosens his grip a bit. “You cryin’?” he teasingly laughs. “Ain’t no cryin’ on the battlefield, little miss. You’d better wipe them tears or—“ 

With a hard kick, you aim your foot at his thigh, causing him to grunt. His grip loosens farther, allowing you to free your right hand and deck him in the face. As soon as it happens, you regret it. Gojo covers his cheek, his blue eyes blown with shock. “Oh, shit!” you gasp. “I-I’m so sorry!” 

To your surprise, he begins to laugh, still holding his wounded cheek. “No, no!” he cackles. “That was priceless! Damn, girl, did those antibiotics give you super strength too?” He continues to laugh, even as he takes your pistol out of his belt. 

You think he’s about to hand it over, but he tosses it somewhere behind you instead. You turn, watching Geto catch the gun and slip it into his belt. “Nice right hook,” he praises with a smirk. “But ya still didn’t get this back.” 

You immediately toss yourself at him, grappling with his belt, but he laughs and skips backwards, making you chase him. When you manage to reach towards his holster where your pistol is, he takes your arm and twists you so your back is pressed against him. “Geto, come on!” you shout. Give it back!” 

He continues to laugh as you struggle, much to your dismay. And the fact that he’s so fucking massive doesn’t make it any better. With his one arm holding your arms down, you decide to use your feet again and kick at his knee. He grunts, causing his arm to loosen, allowing you to bend down onto your knees. 

“Hittin’ below the belt?” he laughs. “Why, darlin’, that isn’t very–” 

But he doesn’t get a chance to finish because you’re looping yourself between his legs and popping up behind him before unsheathing your gun from his holster and looping your arm around his neck. “Misdirection,” you breathlessly whisper. 

He long-haired outlaw looks down at you, shock in his brown eyes that quickly turns to pride illuminated by the moonlight. Your eyes flit down to his lips, parted and soft, soft pants escaping them. Maybe it’s the moonlight. Maybe it’s the adrenaline rush you feel from the fight session. Maybe it’s his scent of pine and something else spicy that attracts and intoxicates you as you keep his arm looped around his shoulder.

Or maybe it’s the way his arm comes back around your waist to hold you, but not forcefully like before, making you feel safe. Either way, you find yourself kissing him. It isn’t as long as Gojo’s, but it’s just as soft and just as exciting. Geto’s kiss makes you crave more like you would cold water on a hot day. You stand up on your tiptoes to reach him because he’s so tall, causing your neck to strain slightly.m

But just as it happens, it ends and you pull away. You stare up at him wordlessly, trying to make sense of what just happened. He looks like it too, his expression stunned. “Y/N,” he says. “I–” 

He’s interrupted by Gojo who saunters to you, applauding you. “Not bad, rookie,” he praises. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone leave Suguru shaken up like that before. We definitely made the right choice invitin’ you into our little family.” He is completely unaware of what just transpired between his partners.,

Quickly, you tear yourself away from Geto and pocket your gun. “Uh, thanks,” you awkwardly reply. “I-It’s kinda late, so I should be headin’ inside. Thanks for the lessons.” Before either of them can speak, you quickly hurry off back towards the farm, abruptly leaving them. “What is somethin’ I said?” Gojo asks, utterly confused. 

You don’t stop moving until you’re back in the house and finally in your bedroom. Once you are, you close the door behind you and lean against it for a moment to compose yourself. Your heart is hammering like a rabbit’s and it has less to do with your recent activity and everything to do with the lips you just kissed. 

You can’t believe it. You’ve kissed both Gojo and Geto. Your partners. The same men you tried to kill weeks ago. How is this possible? How did you get from despising the outlaws to loving them? 

You pause, your brain practically scratching a record, getting stuck on that one forbidden word. Wait…love? 

And then it hits you. Like a herd of horses or a freight train barrelling towards you, it hits you dead on: you’re in love with Geto and Gojo. “Shit,” you say into the dark. Now things will never be the same. 

**********

Just as you suspected, things are not at all the same. 

For the next week, you barely talk to the Gunslingers. You go about your business, helping your parents out around the house, and spending time on your own. You avoid Geto and Gojo as much as you can which, fortunately for you, isn’t hard because they have barely been talking to you too. 

And it’s horrible. You feel like you’re all ghosts orbiting and existing around each other, invisible but still there. You want so desperately to talk to them, to discuss what happened with Geto that night and even what occurred when you got bit by that snake, but something always stops you. 

Embarrassment? Humiliation? Fear? You don’t know, but whenever you walk by their room or hear their voices, you feel that urge to talk but also that twist in your gut that stops you short. It’s exhausting! 

But instead of being an adult and discussing it, you continue to avoid your friends and help your ailing parents with chores, such as helping Eren out on his farm. You stand in his vegetable garden in the warm sun, your bare feet in the soil and overalls over your undershirt. Eren stands beside you in his flannel and boots stained with mud, his cowboy hat low on his head to block out the sun. 

“Now just sprinkle in the seeds like so,” he instructs. “Then we can water ‘em and cover ‘em up with dirt.” He hands you a bunch of cabbage seeds and nods at the bed he dug earlier for them. 

You crouch down in the dirt and sprinkle in the seeds, making sure they have a good distance apart. Eren hoops proudly, ever the girl dad. “Perfect!” he says, applauding you. “You always did have a green thumb.” You stand up straight, stretching your arms high over your head to touch the blue sky above. “Hardly,” you snigger. “I was always the one for the kitchen.” 

Eren throws his head back and laughs, his green gardening hose wound around his hand like a python. “That you were!” he fondly laughs. “You were always your mama’s little assistant. I still remember that gumbo ya made that time for New Years Eve. Still the best one I’ve ever had.” 

You smile wistfully, thinking of those times. Those times when you weren’t hardened by so much grief and revenge. Those times when you didn’t have blood on your hands. You wonder briefly what would’ve happened if you hadn’t left your parents and became an outlaw. Would you have been a better person? Would your life have been okay?

One thing is for sure though: you would’ve never had met the Gunslingers. 

They suddenly appear yards down from the garden, walking out of the barn with axes and a wheelbarrow. As if to tease you, Gojo only wears a white tee that is tight on his toned muscles while Geto is shirtless, each muscle rippling enticingly. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail to avoid strands sticking to his face, making him look like a damn wet dream. “Good mornin’, Mr. Tokiyami!” he calls, waving one big arm to him. 

Eren waves back, smiling at the young men. “Just Eren, son!” he calls back. “And good mornin’ to y’all!” He turns to you, oblivious to your mixed emotions. “They volunteered to help cut some extra wood for the upcomin’ winter. They’re quite the help, your friends. I’m sorry about what I said about ‘em bein’ outlaws and all.” 

You pat him on the back, smiling proudly at his change of heart. “I’m sure they wouldn’t be mad at you, Papa.” He returns your smile and begins to water his tomatoes and herbs, leaving you to watch the duo walk across the land to the woods. 

They catch your gaze, but don’t say anything, only offering a smile and a nod. You were kind of hoping they would say something. Eren notices and pulls a face, perplexed. “Huh,” he says. “That was a little awkward. They ain’t even tell you hi.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh, waving it off. “They’re probably bein’ weary because I yelled at them for makin’ all this noise last night while I was tryna sleep.” You come up with the lie on the fly, having become an expert at it. Eren scowls in confusion, cocking his head to the side. “Funny, I ain’t hear nothin’.” 

You laugh, bumping his hip with yours. “Well, that’s because you were sleepin’ on two glasses of whiskey and a full plate,” you joke. Before Eren can say anything more, Yuri appears in the garden in her cotton blue dress and apron. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaims. “Dr. Nanami is here to see you. I told him I’d fetch ya and tell you to clean up.” 

She begins to dust the mud off of you while Eren laughs, telling her to leave you be. Afterwards, you leave the garden and enter back into the house through the kitchen door so Nanami doesn’t see you. You change out of your sweaty, muddy clothes and into a clean red sundress that stops at your knees. Something cute but respectable. 

You then go back downstairs to see Nanami standing in the foyer. He, too, is affected by the heat, his spits slightly staining his button-down and his blonde hair pushed back. “Kento!” you sweetly greet him. “What a surprise to see you.” 

He stands from the wicker chair and bows, clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, Y/N,” he politely says. “I hope I’m not interruptin’ you and your family. Your mother let me come by.” 

“No, just preparin’ for tonight’s big celebration in the town’s square,” you reply and then giggle. “A shindig, if ya will. A hoedown.” Nanami cracks a smile at your goofiness. “Yes, I forgot that was today,” he sighs. “That’s why everyone is leavin’ work early and I’ll have no assistance.” 

The people of Willow Springs always celebrate on the first day of every new month. “It’s a tradition of ours,” Yuri explained to you one night while out for a walk among the trails in the backwoods. “To us, it brings good luck and fortune.” Businesses close early, food is cooked, musicians bust out their instruments, and everyone gathers in the square to dance until midnight. 

It sounded like a perfect distraction to you. It’s been a while since you actually relaxed and let yourself go, so a night of drinking and dancing in a place where you feel safe sounds perfect to you. 

“Oh, yes, the party!” Yuri shouts, scaring you and Nanami half to death. She suddenly appears in the living room near the delicious-smelling kitchen. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dr. Nanami. I cook every month for this celebration.” 

A ding penetrates the air and Yuri jumps. “Oh, those are the hush puppies!” she gasps before scurrying off. You turn to Nanami, sighing. “You may wanna stay in case she has a heart attack,” you joke. 

The handsome doctor chuckles. “I just came to check up on you and make sure you’re doin’ alright.” He nods down at your foot which has begun to successfully heal. You no longer feel any pain and can finally walk without the cane. 

“How sweet,” you coo. “I’m right as rain thanks to you and that magic medicine ya gave me.”

The doctor appears happy with that answer and goes to say something more, but he is interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. You turn around, your heart leaping at the sight of Gojo and a shirtless Geto. The only difference is that he’s put a flannel on to hide his glistening abs, probably to show respect to your parents’ household. 

They look at you and then at Nanami who silently stares at them. The tension is so fresh and so thick that you’d have to cut it with a chainsaw. Quickly, you try to dispel it. “Uh, fellas, you remember Dr. Nanami?” 

Geto only offers a smile while Gojo, the certified yapper of the both of them, verbally acknowledges Nanami. “How could we forget?” he chuckles. “You saved our partner’s life. Pleasure to see you again, doctor.” 

He thrusts his hand out for a shake, a smile stretched across his pretty face (despite the blindfold). Nanami slowly takes Gojo’s hand and shakes it like he’s afraid it will bite him. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he replies though he sounds like he really doesn’t mean it. 

Geto’s eyes meet yours, but you quickly look away, seeing visions of his face illuminated by moonlight before you shared that kiss. 

You feel like you’re about to either bolt or throw up from the awkwardness. It’s bad enough you and the Gunslingers aren’t talking, but Nanami also doesn’t trust them as entirely as you do. You feel like the room is about five seconds away from exploding. 

Luckily, your mom comes through, ever your hero. “Oh, boys, are you goin’ to the party tonight?” Yuri yells from the kitchen. 

The Gunslingers share a confused look. “Party?” Geto asks. “What party?” 

Yuri sticks her head from out of the kitchen, her face slightly flushed from the hot oven. “The party in the town’s square that happens every first of the month. Y/N, did you not tell them?” All of them turn to you and you shrink under their gazes. “Was I supposed to?” you ask. Yuri gives you a motherly glare. 

While Gojo looks happy with the invitation, Geto seems put off by the idea of partying with strangers. You can’t blame him for it. As a fellow outlaw, you have to be wary even if danger isn’t at every corner. “Thank you for the invite, Yuri, but I don’t think it’d be wise.” 

Gojo side-eyes him, definitely not down with this plan. “Why the hell not?” he scoffs. “You may still wanna lay low, but I could use a night of drinkin’ and dancin’ to take the edge off.” 

Geto’ jaw tightens and you can tell that this is going to be a fight. “Uh…excuse us for a moment.” He silently walks upstairs to their bedroom and Gojo silently huffs to himself, following after. Yuri gives you a guilty look, but you wave it off, silently telling her to forget about it. 

When she disappears back into the kitchen again, you tend to Nanami, trying to make this situation as less awkward for him as possible. “You want some lemonade or somethin’?” 

He shakes his head, taking his hat from th couch. “No, thank you,” he replies. “I’ve overstayed my welcome already. I should be headin’ back before my next appointment at 1 PM.” You nod, walking him to the door. 

“You should come tonight, if ya want,” you casually say. “We’ll have good food, music, booze…” He turns you to and blinks, looking shocked at the suggestion. He takes a moment to think about it and you begin to think that he’ll say no. “Social gatherings aren’t entirely my thing,” he admits. “But I suppose I could stay for a minute or two.” 

You are relieved at this, happy to have a friend other than the Gunslingers there. You don’t know when you started thinking that Nanami is your friend, but somehow it feels right. He is kind and respectful, which are two things you need right now. You open the door for him, letting in the summer heat for a moment, and give him a smile. 

“I’ll see you then,” you softly say. 

Nanami’s green eyes lock with yours and you feel as if you are being plunged into a refreshing pool of forest water. “Until tonight, Ms. L/N.” He then puts his hat on and walks out of the house into the heat of the day towards his horse at the end of the road that waits patiently for him. 

You then stand there silently and watch him and his horse totter off down the road, not realizing that the Gunslingers are watching you from afar…and the way you look at the doctor.

[onlyhereforangst]

I don’t go here but you’ve mentioned chenford isn’t great. Do I know what Chenford is? No. Do I still know they broke up? Yes.

Pls share the fandom lore and ur thots 🎤

ok so.

chenford, or lucy chen & tim bradford- former rookie & training officer, respectively. the actual characters have been written so fucking phenomenally i barely have words (she says as if she isn’t about to just. go off). they have managed to truly incorporate authentic human flaws and emotions and decision-making into these characters which have, across six seasons, played out for gorgeous individual & paired character arcs. like they are GREAT are they in a great spot? no. but they are FANTASTIC.

now.

if you were to ask the fandom that same question. excuse me while i die laughing 💀 unfortunately the strikes really helped a large majority of the chenford fandom to twist canon into barely recognizable fanon and now that canon is back and progressing as it absolutely narratively should people are losing their gd minds. deactivating accounts, claiming their done with the show, touting that they’ve been manipulated a bold face lie if you have critical thinking skills but i digress. there’s a select few of us having the time of our damn lives, feeling blessed to have such good writing on a procedural????? of all things. unheard of. truly.

so yeah the fandom is Something because who doesn't enjoy a feast of delicious angst? i mean lucy cannot stop inserting herself into every situation, even her boyfriend who has repeatedly asked her to not because he is trying to protect her (this is it's own separate problem) but literally flinging yourself around outright screaming at your significant other is just. not it. i speak from experience 💀 this is not how you get someone to healthily tell you what's bothering them to the point of tears multiple times. its like if lucy isn't the default hero she just cannot handle? its insane and beautiful because its her tragic flaw coming to a glorious, screeching climax. AND meanwhile??? so is tim's!!!! his loyalty to a tragic fault got him in a bind and he doesn't know what to do and can't handle and thinks protecting the one he loves by shutting her out is the way to be most loyal to HER because suddenly he doesn't feel he deserves her so he's going to break his own heart since lucy was too polite to do it.

anyways this storyline has been blessedly built up with undertones and crumbs since literally the end of season 4 and the fandom acts like it was a total blindside. lmao honeys. have you watched the show??? plus its been teased in interviews for over a year i can't 😭

both characters have a LOT of growing and self-discovery to happen individually before they can even begin to consider being in a relationship. not when that relationship had been built on a foundation of subordinate-superior. that *shockingly* doesn't equate to a romantic relationship of equals and guess what?! it had its ramifications!!! miscommunication trope my beloved you slayed.

ok that was surely more than you wanted seek but a million voice notes to the like 2 people that have been calling this storyline with me since the beginning and the vibrating still isn't out of my system!!! cheers to the hate anons i'm sure to get if anyone takes the time to read this 🍻

[the-fire-might-be-shooting-at-us]

I'm sorry you have to deal with the billy stans. I tried once, but they wouldn't listen to a word I say.

Like when I brought up that Max was verbally abused they twisted in a way that because she yelled at Billy and drugged him she was also an abuser who was on the same level as his dad because she used the words Neil used on Billy. However, they really close their eyes at how Billy also uses those words at Max (the Say It and Understand part). They also ignore the context. She had to watch Billy almost kill a guy. What should she have done? Talk him out of it. Drugging was her saving Steve and Billy because he would have murdered him.

Him threatening Max in the car earlier in the season was after Max expressed that she liked it here and it was Billy's fault for them to move, he then had to intimidate her by driving recklessly (putting her in danger for funsies) and wanting to run over a bunch of kids so he has control over Max again. If that isn't abused, idk what is. Or when he broke her skateboard after he found out Max hung out with Lucas at the arcade. It's implied he does this quite often, idk if this is normal sibling behavior, lol. Max even confides to Lucas that Billy takes out his anger on her, but his stans ignore it. She literally cried in front of him, which is big because Max is very closed off.

Also, the way they shit on Steve at the Byers house. Like Steve only lied because Max was terrified of getting hurt by her brother. I could even imagine Lucas begging Steve to do something because he knows about the situation, and he would have picked up on the racist undertones Billy gave him. To say Steve lied for no reason and was in the wrong idk, he didn't want Max to be hurt. Billy would have done something to her. He held in his anger the entire time waiting to explode, and Max already told us she would receive it. Billy didn't care about her he only cared to get her home so he could stay out of trouble. So Steve got Billys anger full unleashed and yeah me may have thrown the first punch (after Billy threatened Lucas and pushed him violenty in a cabinet), but after he was knocked out, Billy never stopped. Some even say Steve deserved it, which is like okay?? But then ship h*rringrove at the same time.

Also, Billy isn't even redeemed in my eyes he never made amends to Lucas and Steve. Maybe he treated Max better, but he still wasn't sorry about his behavior towards Lucas. Max had every right to have complicated feelings about his death. I think that was the thing s4 got right. Her not being able to open up to Lucas or Steve because Billy hurt them, so she retreated and pushed them away. She knew her friends hated her brother because he was awful to them. So she felt like she couldn't tell them she missed him or felt guilty for gis death. At the same time, she felt relief because he couldn't harm her anymore, which also made her feel guilty because that's still her brother.

I get why he acted the way he did, but that doesn't give him a free pass to do whatever. I have a friend who relates to Billy, like she also acted it they way he did, but she never makes excuses for him. She can recognize his faults. Billy needed help, which he sadly never got, that makes him tragic, but he also hurt people along the way, and they also have every right to critique his behavior. Same with people watching the show, they should be allowed to discuss it in a way without others coming for them and harass them (especially if you tag it accordingly).

I'm sorry this is kinda long, but you can't say this on here, or you will be hunted down and ridiculed. (Also, you can totally ignore this if you don't want to have this discourse anymore)

No bc you're so right I'm just so over Billy that I can't be bothered to add more.

Perfectly worded, I find Billy an interesting character for sure, because the abuse cycle, the patterns of trauma infliction, it gives a new perspective to how abuse affects people.

The Billy stans excusing his actions just ruins this take for me, and it also just feels like a further insult on Max and Lucas's characters.

Also the Hargrove stans are by far the most unnecessarily aggressive, toxic, and illogical, and I've seen the twitter Steve vs Jonathan discourse.

[lizzygrantarchives]

The Quietus, October 4, 2011

Even though her song ‘Video Games’ emerged a couple of months back, Lana Del Rey has already experienced equal parts adulation and suspicion. Here, John Calvert speaks to her about David Lynch, New York and the ghosts that hide behind her ‘white picket-fenced cheer’.

She talks like a dairy queen, like Britney Spears, like a cheerleader. 24 years old and exuding the hardy effervescence unique to healthy American girls, there is nothing in Del Rey’s manner that connects the voice at the end of the line to ‘Video Games’, the YouTube smash hit carried by a purring vocal performance so rich you can feel almost feel David Lynch’s velvet carpeting under your fingers.

That is until I hit playback on my telephone’s dictaphone. Slowly all the years of a weary, haunted youth spent in backwoods New York State unravel from under her bubbly facade, like furtive murmurings on the other side of a door. As per the many doomed chanteuses and dead movie idols she invokes in her cinematic music, it seems Del Rey is a good actress. In true Lynch fashion, beneath her white picket-fenced cheer hide the writhing earthworms that plague her heavy heart.

With increasing frequency, naysayers are testing the walls of Del Ray’s persona, in particular questioning exactly who should be credited for her perfectly realised Valley of the Dolls aesthetic. Amidst universal praise for ‘Video Games’, she’s nevertheless faced the incredulity of everyone from high profile bloggers to broadsheet columnists to disgruntled indie stars (Amy Klein of Titus Andronicus threw her oar in), some of whom are convinced she’s a kohl-eyed marketing ploy and as fake as those eyelash extensions. So in a delicious twist of dramatic irony, it’s precisely Del Rey’s persona – the artifice – that forms her only barrier of defence against the media’s worst advances.

Its a lie, however, to tell the truth. Because it seems her story up to now, if largely less glamorous, isn’t so different to that of the Marilyn Monroes or the Judy Garlands, or indeed Lynch’s own tragic starlet in Mulholland Drive. The story goes: smalltown girl moves to the big city, falls into dark waters, becomes forever imprisoned in the house of mirrors that is the media’s oppressive gaze.

Enter frame the Quietus, at hand to shoot the close-up she may or may not be ready for.

Have you always had a dark side, Lana?

When I was younger I felt lonely… In terms of my thought processes. I had the constant feeling that I thought differently to everyone around me. So, I suppose I felt lonely for a home. I didn’t know where I wanted to be, but I knew I wasn’t there yet. I think that this loneliness set a dark undertone for things to come.

Are you a David Lynch fan?

Yeah. When I was a kid playing in bars in Lake Placid, after every show somebody would come up to me and be like ‘You must be a David Lynch fan!’. At the time I wasn’t up on ‘all things cool’, but I looked into Lynch and quickly became a fan. Although I think the themes he explores are a step further into the extreme than I’m prepared to go.

If you can put it down to one scene, which Lynch moment do you return to most for inspiration when writing? I envisage something like the Mulholland Drive theatre sequence, crossed with the home video of a dead Laura Palmer dancing with Donna on the hill.

Have you ever seen Fire Walk With Me and the scenes where Laura Palmer is in the bar with the lumberjacks, sort of dancing and getting crazy? Well, it’s that frightening sensation of being out of control that really sticks in my mind.

Some of the music in your chosen field of expertise suggests love has more to do with obsession than companionship. For example ‘The End Of The World’ by Skeeter Davis has a creepy What Ever Happened To Baby Jane quality about it. And then there’s your line from ‘Video Games’: ‘It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you / Everything I do’. Does this idea resonate with you?

I really love that [Davis] song, actually. And yeah, that idea resonates with me. Growing up I was always prone to obsession, partly because of the way I am, but partly because after feeling so lonely for such a long time, when I found someone or something that I liked, I felt helplessly drawn to it. I suppose that accounts for some of the creepiness in my music.

Like a fatal attraction?

Yeah. After I was sent away to school when I was 15, I had to start life on my own. So I began looking for that ‘someone’ to hang on to. And if it so happened that I found him, then there have been occasions in the past where I’ve been overtaken by my feelings. But with some of the bad things that come with love, there’s also a lot of good… For example that connection… which I struggle to have with most people. So although there’s a dark side to love, there’s also something really hopeful.

You moved to New York City at age 18. Were you at all inspired by New York’s noirish undertones?

Yeah. The way I experienced New York, for a long time after I moved, was alone and at night, walking the streets. I mean, there are thousands of streets in New York and I know them all. I’d go down to the tip of Manhattan, or even down to Coney Island, then travel all the way back up. Because I come from a place that, geographically, isn’t that stimulating. But New York’s architecture alone is enough to inspire a whole album. In fact, that’s what happened at first – my early stuff was mostly just interpretations of landscapes.

Do you feel yourself change when ‘in character’?

‘Lana’ and ‘Lizzy’ are the same person. I wish I could escape into some alter-ego, just so I could feel more comfortable onstage, but I feel the same as Lana as I do Lizzy.

How was it working with David Kahne [The Strokes, Regina Spector, Paul McCartney] on your debut? He has a background in replicating bygone eras.

It was validating when David asked to work with me, only a day after he got my demo. He has known as a producer with a lot integrity and who had an interest in making music that wasn’t just pop.

In terms of instruction, what was Kahne’s input?

He had a lot of things he wanted done. For example, he was interested in a more traditional vocal style and I wasn’t. He’s also a real scientist, so he had a very particular plan. The album ended up somewhere in between what he wanted and what I wanted.

There’s a theory that the archetype you portray plays to male sexual fantasies?

In the video for ‘Video Games’, I was trying to look smart and well turned-out, rather than ‘sexy’. Of course I wanted to look good, but ‘smart’ was the primary focus.

What inspired ‘Video Games’?

A boy. I think we came together because we were both outsiders. It was perfect. But I think with that contentment also comes sadness. There was something heavenly about that life – we’d go to work and he’d play his video games – but also it was maybe too regular. At the time I was becoming disillusioned with being a singer and was very happy to settle with a boyfriend who I loved, but in the end we both lost sight of our dreams. Maybe there’s something not-so-special about domestic life.

A popular American blog recently published a supposed exposé on you, with accusations of inauthenticity. Do you feel like you’ve had your eyes opened? [At the beginning of the interview tQ apologises in advance for ‘going on a bit’. Lizzy/Lana’s telling response is ‘Better a bore than an assassin…’]

I dunno. If I say anything they’ll just publish something like [speaks like an anchorman reading the headlines] ‘Lana Del Ray Gets Her Feelings Hurt!’. It just seemed that with that one article, they were particularly cruel. Not in a playground/indie/mean way, but in a personal vendetta sort of way. They really made it their mission to destroy me. I’m not a confrontational person, so if that’s going to be my life from here on, I’d honestly rather not sing or have a career.

In an interview with Pitchfork you said that people have offered you opportunities in exchange for sleeping with them. Is this true? At the corporate level?

[Laughs, then becomes tongue-tied]

I mean… uh… uh… I mean things get a little crazy, I guess.

Um… There are some situations when you kind of know.

… I mean, it’s sort of a loaded question.

It’s common knowledge that The Pretenders’ Chrissie Hynde was, by her own admittance, hopelessly drawn to the bad boys – damaged and dark men. Would that be the case with Lizzy?

Yeah, in the past that has been the case. I think with so-called ‘creative’ people, their particular strain of genius can cause the pendulum to swing too far – into self-destruction and what you could call ‘madness’, which is something I can relate to. So, yes, I was once attracted to that. But that was then. Now I’m looking for something more simple.

You also told Pitchfork that God has saved your life a million times, which strikes me as in opposition to your music. Because, in films based in small town America, religion is frequently a patriarchal, repressive and evil presence, with the archetype you portray acting as a force in subverting it.

I think there’s a division of organised religion similar to what you’ve described. But where I’m concerned, my understanding of God has come from my own personal experiences… because I was in trouble so many times in New York that if you were me, you would believe in God too. When things get bad enough, your only resort is to lie in bed and start praying. I dunno about congregating once a week in a church and all that, but when I heard there is a divine power you can call on, I did. I suppose my approach to religion is like my approach to music – I take what I want and leave the rest.

What kind of ‘trouble’?

Any and all. When I was in New York I had nowhere to live, and I was trying to find a way to be a musician… Just trying to survive, which is fucking hard by the way. So I got myself into a lot of situations I didn’t plan on. [Pauses] I think what I was going for was something beautiful, but I kinda got myself into trouble along the way. Sorry, that’s pretty vague.

But you live in London now?

No, not yet. I’ve been in London for most of the last two years, but I’ll book three months there then go home to New York for three weeks. However, when I’m not working I go see my friends in Glasgow, so I spend my time there when I want to have fun. I’m in Glasgow right now.

Any encounters with [notorious angry drink enjoyed especially in Celtic territories] Buckfast? I like the image of you stabbing someone in a car park.

[Laughs] No, I’m a good girl. I leave the drinking to the boys these days.

Do you feel that the ‘Femme Fatale’ archetype still has the power to tap into ‘male sexual anxieties’ or challenge a patriarchal society?

If I’m honest, no. Not as much as it used to. In the 50s it was a new premise, a new form of female power. I think that these days, plain old intellectualism is a more powerful force than the idea of the femme fatale.

Why is it, do you feel, that so much of ‘Golden Age’ pop placed love, and laterally eroticism, in such close proximity with notions of death? In particular the music of Roy Orbison.

I suppose because, sometimes, love feels like a life or death situation. I mean, losing true love is pretty much as bad as it gets, other than actually dying or losing good health. Most people know that. Most people can relate. As Davis says, it’s like the end of the world.

Originally published on thequietus.com with the headline Original Sin: An Interview With Lana Del Rey.

[skateamini]

I had my Hannibal obsessed phase (especially because of Mads Mikkelsen). I love this kind of art, dark, strange and morally dubious with lots of blood. I watched Bones and All (again, because of Taylor Russell) and really liked it.

About All of Them Dreams, I really think the movie A Ghost Story will make you think, it's like its description of the story. There is also a book called The Ghost Bride that addresses the world of spirits in Malaysia, it is a fantasy with a lot of Asian culture.

This year I read Carmilla, a classic vampire book that came long before and which inspired Dracula, about Carmilla and her obsession with beautiful women, especially the book's protagonist, Laura. It has everything that the term "vampirism" carries.

There's a film about cannibalism called Raw, it's very explicit, but it has some interesting discussions.

A list of films that are unique, in my opinion:

Antichrist is about a couple who lose their son and deal with their grief, but things go south in Act 3.

Climax is a crazy movie too, it makes me think of Hoseok because it has an opening about dancers explaining why they dance and then a long presentation with various dance styles, but again, things get dark.

Martyrs from 2008, in French (the remake is not worth it) about a religious sect that tortures people so that they are between life and death and can glimpse the other side and tell what they see.

I watched All of Us Strangers yesterday and, my god, the ending left me with my mouth open. It's Queer and talks a lot about loneliness. A writer visits his childhood home and meets his parents, but his parents died when he was a teenager. Meanwhile he starts to get closer to his neighbor.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer was one of my first in the "bizarre" genre.

I have more recommendations, but I don't know if you want them? I think I've already written too much.

No, thank you! Go ahead and recommend everything. My favourite kinds of media are those that are "bizarre" and strange!

To balance it out, here's some films and books that I enjoyed for being dark and strange:

The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires - a lot more gruesome and dark than the title insinuates! About a vampire. Weird stuff going on. A great allegory for community groupthink and underprivileged voices not being listened to.

Piranesi - the narrator lives in a great hall, flooded by the sea and full of columns and ancient greek statues. A really strange and magical world with a darker undertone!

House of Leaves - a really dense and convoluted novel with an "editor" writing and editing text around the story of a family who discovers a door in their house that leads into a dark and endless labyrinth

Handling the Undead - one day the undead wake up, and chaos ensues! Dark, haunting but also tragic.

Where I end - a dark and twisted story about a young woman who looks after her bedridden mother (read TW for this book regarding infanticide and abusive behaviours, etc.).

Here are some films that inspired All of Them Dreams:

The Devil's Backbone - takes place during the spanish civial war, boy abandoned in orphanage in the middle of nowhere, a ghost of a little boy tries to warn him.

Incantation - Taiwanese Horror Film about a mother who has cursed herself and her daughter, found footage style

The Wailing - Korean horror film, folk horror and shamanism.

The Others - woman whose husband is off at war lives in house with her two young children, strange servants show up one day to work, strange things happening in house.

[llondonfog]

3, 11, 13, 15 and 16 for the TWST ask game if it’s not too much 😅

Twisted Wonderland Ask Meme

3. Who is your favorite non-NRC character(s)?

Even though my knowledge of him is REALLY limited right now thanks to being an EN only player (who lives for spoilers lol), I've enjoyed what content/character analysis I've been seeing lately for Rollo Flamm— I may have a bit of a bias since I love Hunchback as a movie, but I live for a tragic villain wrapped in religious undertones and mired in guilt :')

11. If you had a unique magic, what would it be?

This question is so hard, I feel like I'm always changing my mind! I'm trying to think what would be useful in-game— maybe the ability to listen/hear conversations in different rooms, within a certain radius to keep it limited

13. Who is your least favorite character(s)?

Being contentious, I see . . . lol oh gosh, this won't win me any favors but best to be blunt— based on their attitudes/character interactions, I really don't care for Ace, Leona, or Jamil, they rank bottom on my list.

15. If you could pick a Disney villain to add to the Great Seven, who would would it be?

Maybe Mother Gothel? Just because I love in-game how they flip the script on rationalizing all the villain actions as if we don't know any better and I'd love to hear how they'd make her the hero lol

16. If you were to make a character that had to be based on a Disney villain, which Disney villain would it be?

Oh boy, I'm going to go outside of Disney classic here because I'm running out of options ahaha I can't really think of a villain but I think I'd like to pull from either Howl's Moving Castle or Pirates of the Caribbean— I think both those films/franchises have beautiful visuals, mystery, and interesting magical lore surrounding their 'villains' to make for some fun OCs if I was ever inclined to do so!

[kork-inkorkerated]

Part two (ig) of the Dr:S inspired fantasy AU !

For Nagito, I decided to play pretty heavily into the little mermaid aesthetic since his canon story has decent parallels ( hopeless romantic, tragic back story undertones, unlucky, self destructive levels of devotion) and also because whenever I draw him please imagine his Japanese VA instead of his English VA.

(When it comes to memes , Bryce is pretty good and I don’t hate his voice, but I think Megumi does a much better job of encapsulating ALL of Nagito’s character better( her softer tone definitely helps imo) not just the more comedic bits.)

As for his outfit’s individual details, I leaned into servant’s pretty liberally as well lol. My initial thought for this was some sort of twist on a holy prophet. Like he could be an envoy of the god of the sea or something, or even a water nymph himself.

Like with the Kokichi piece, part of the fun is not knowing entirely what his deal is lol. My Nagito in Danganronpa S had “Ice freeze all” so I gave him hand wraps since like Rantaro he’d probably get cold a bit too easily (and also because in canon he’s pretty sickly) .

The pseudo shawl around his shoulders and his waists have stripes on them, a nod to both old style striped sailor uniforms and Servant’s striped shirt. He also has the skill “debuff” so I decided to lean into the more “gentle death “ type Nagito ( the one seen more clearly in his character songs lol) who is kind of not even trying to be an antagonist but he’s long accepted that it’s just how things are. He also has “sleep”in my game and I like to imagine that translates into songs like lullabies or ballads lulling people into sleep. His shawls and over skirt are white and airy but tattered, to complete the whole eerily beautiful look, like the transience of life that is again referenced in one of his character songs.

For Izuru, I wanted his body and outfit to clash in a sort of way. I wanted to make it look like his head didn’t fit his body or uniform because he was technically “possessing” it. Obviously he and Hajime share one for this specific concept I had, although that was only this design and since it’s a fantasy au, I’ve grown more fond of the idea of them having seperate bodies so I might redo his design!

Though it’s not colored, I imagined him with the typical red eyes and black hair Izuru has. I also really like the “Izuru has emotions he just doesn’t know how to express them” headcanon ( and this is an au so I do what I want uwu) and the Izuru I like to draw is typically the silent affection type. He’s still got the look of someone who is born of apathy but he’ll do things like lean in for a hug or skin ship or be an absolute cuddle monster, all while not changing his expression. Out of all of his design choices , his hair was the hardest. I tried to make it as similar to his canon hair that I could but looking at the references, his hair is kinda a little dumb so I reworked it just a little bit, giving it a more proper whorl and making it a bit thinner to fit the wispy shadow motif he has going on .

The two of them are obviously close in the AU, and much like canon I like to imagine that Izuru is a godlike figure for Nagito, with Izuru being not really all that excited about that lol. I also like the common headcanon that Izuru isn’t entirely ‘bored’ of Nagito and might even be one of the less boring people in his life due to his luck cycle, so that’s in play here. This Izuru is kinda uncomfortable with how much Nagito puts himself down but lacking the full range of expressions he can’t convey it as clearly or bluntly as Nagito would need to see to get it. Part of their character arc is dealing with that and working towards common ground, kind of like a fusion of an old married couple and newly weds lol.

That’s pretty much it for now for this au in terms of characters I’ve drawn ^^

Thank you for reading if you got this far and have a good day!

[raelikestoramble]

yesssss, I'm still trying to recover from the finale... Can you do an story w Eddie pining for Buck after his break up w Ana? Like he releaized his feelings for Buck after getting shot and almost dying but Buck is together w Tyler? Please and thank youuuu

AN: Sorry, this got away from me and I wrote more than I thought I would! Thanks for the great prompt, I really loved it but wasn’t sure where to take it, so a lot of this is Eddie’s internal thoughts. Hope you still like it!

Eddie hadn’t meant for it to go on for as long as it did. Truly, he hadn’t – time had a funny habit of slipping away from him as of late; in his recovery, what mattered most to him was getting himself back to normal – or as close as he could ever return to, given what he had been through – and keeping life as stable as possible… for Christopher. No big changes, no upsetting surprises.

That thought did little to ease the lingering sense of guilt, though.

It had been only a few days since Eddie finally sat Ana down to, as delicately as he could, say that their time together was coming to a close.

She had been so lovely about it, too, because that was her nature and it had made having to break it off worse, almost. Ana was kind, sweet, understanding – perfectly nice – and, for all those reasons, she deserved better, a lot more; someone who was completely in it for her, as invested in her as she was in them. He didn’t always realise it, but he knew for a while before he broke it off that he couldn’t be that person for Ana. In time, another would be. He was sure of it.

He had felt, much to his embarrassment, tears burning his eyes as he explained to her that he entered a relationship with her for the wrong reasons… and that he had so much to figure out about himself. She had clasped his hand in hers, gave a watery smile, and told him that she understood; she had even reassured him that it was all okay and he didn’t need to be too hard on himself over it. It was the most amicable split he could’ve imagined happening. With guilt, came the sweetness of relief, an acute light feeling that he didn’t notice was missing for the longest time.

And then, once that was over and the dust had settled… he was free. Free to… wallow, he supposed, in what he had realised weeks ago, because there was nothing that Eddie could do about it.

He remembered how it felt, being disoriented, in pain, slipping from consciousness, with those blue eyes boring into his, wide and frantic, as Buck fought hard for him, for his very life. How it felt afterwards seeing his face come into view from around the corner, smiling at him with such a genuine and unfiltered joy. Warmth, safety, and happiness – because Buck was family, that much he had decided to make official in a legal tie a year ago.

It was the overwhelming feeling of love, and relief in seeing him safe, unharmed and by his side the first chance he got, that sent Eddie’s mind reeling and down a path he couldn’t back out from. Buck was all of that to him, and more, and the feeling of longing had burrowed into Eddie’s mind, becoming a nagging and persistent sensation that made him feel… sick, flustered, and even morose.

Love – romantic and sexual love - for Eddie had always been a struggle, had wound up feeling oddly… unnatural, as though he was following the expectations of others, or his own idea of familial obligation, rather than his own heart. He was chasing something that, by all accounts, should have felt right, but with Ana… and even with Shannon, it was wrong; it all fell flat in some way. Finally becoming aware of the different light in which he saw Buck in was like a piece of himself just clicking into place; he felt whole, finally.

It was more than a little inconvenient, though, realising that he was in love with his best friend… someone that he happened to see pretty much every day, either at work or off shift. His very straight, very happily coupled up best friend. It was a lot to wrap his head around.

Of course, Eddie was being very mature about it, something he could find a small bit of pride in – because he knew he needed to get over this, to respect Buck’s happiness, his relationship with Taylor, and not ruin their friendship by foolishly expressing what he really wanted. That was the respectable, adult thing to do. So, he kept his desire quiet, and he tried his best to be the good, supportive friend Buck knew him to be, but… in a small way, he had pulled back; he knew he had. Sometimes, Eddie was allowed to act to protect himself; allowed to be a touch selfish. To get over it, he needed a bit more space than usual. It was only fair.

“Eddie,” came Hen’s voice unexpectedly; he picked up instantly on the concerned undertone.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her furrowed brows and the frown lines on her face. He wished people would stop looking at him like that – like he was to be pitied, like he was still injured and helpless. The whole team all went through their fair share of ordeals… it seemed part of the job description, but there was something about the sniper targeting them that unnerved everybody more than anything else that they had faced before. It had struck Eddie’s core, too, and brought up a lot of ugly, old wounds - he was giving therapy another try because of it… and it was going better than it had before, to his surprise.

It had been months since he was shot, significant progress had been made, but there was still an unspoken tension in the firehouse at times. It was especially bad with Buck – he had pulled closer than ever, always happy, eager even, to offer his support and help in… everything, which made Eddie’s need for maintaining some space between them all the more difficult. It also gave him a sliver of hope, and that was a dangerous thing. He had grown too dependent on Buck; he had someone else to share him with now, he thought with a pang to his chest.

“Yeah?” he returned tiredly after a delay, still staring ahead.

His gaze was fixed on where Buck was sat a small distance away with Chimney by his side, his head thrown back laughing in a moment that ought to be captured in a photograph – oh, and how that beautiful, jubilant sound leaving his mouth twisted mercilessly at Eddie’s insides.

“You’ve been moving that piece of pasta around your bowl for the last ten minutes.”

“… So I have,” he sighed, letting his fork clatter against the plate in defeat.

He’d barely touched his lunch, but his appetite had been culled. Buck’s voice was loud – it carried effortlessly across the room. So, he easily overheard Buck responding to Chimney bringing up the topic of Taylor, and it was… embarrassing, the impact it had, how easily it soured his mood.

“Is that all I get? It’s ‘going well’?” Chimney exclaimed, nudging Buck’s side, a teasing grin on his face. “C’mon, Buckley. We usually can’t get you to shut up.”

Buck laughed bashfully and lifted his head up, almost catching his eye, but Eddie averted his gaze just in time to miss it. He could’ve sworn that he caught the sight of Buck’s smile faltering. He shook his head, working to tune out that conversation as best he could.

“You know… it’s okay to need more time. If you’re not ready to be back yet, no one will think less of you,” Hen suggested hesitantly, voice soft.

“No, it’s-- not that. I’m glad to be back. This is where I need to be,” he said simply.

Eddie didn’t like where this conversation was headed – but none of it broke through to his expression, and so Hen pushed on, sympathy etched into her features.

“Then… tell me what’s bothering you? You seem down, Eddie – a lot, lately – and I can’t sit here and act like I’m not worried.”

Had it really been that obvious? It was like he, a man in his thirties, had been rendered a hapless, lovestruck teenager – with how he let his feelings for Buck affect him so obviously that Hen had not only noticed but grown worried for him. It was so tragic he could almost laugh.

“Mm, I have a therapist for that,” he said with a wry smile, but instantly regretted it as he saw how Hen leant back in her seat, lips twisting into a frown.

She was trying to help, to be a good friend, and he was dismissive of her attempt right away. His tendency to try to avoid more heavy, emotional talks was one of the issues brought up in therapy and he really was working on it, but it felt impossible, in that moment, to tell the truth, to speak the words aloud to somebody else. Even though he knew Hen would, without a doubt, understand and keep his secret for him – that it might even help for her to know, as awkward and humiliating as it might be at first.

“Sorry. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He dared to look back over to the corner where Buck was – now, he was showing Chimney pictures on his phone, which were undoubtedly of him and Taylor. Jealousy welled up inside of Eddie, burning hot, and another sigh fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to run down the side of his face. It wasn’t getting easier, only more frustrating.

When he glanced back at Hen, she was already watching him, an odd look on her face, eyes slowly widening. Realisation had already dawned before he could interject and divert the conversation.

“Wait. You-- Buck--?” she started.

Panic enveloped Eddie and, before she could go any further, he abruptly sprang to his feet, hands clasped together.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly.

Without waiting for her to give an answer, he made his escape, darting over to the countertop where the coffee pot was located. After a short pause, he noticed that Hen had made no effort to follow him, because – of course she hadn’t. What was he expecting? Her to run after him, get him into a headlock until he confessed to the revelation that he had that he was head over heels for Evan Buckley? No, this wasn’t a playground. He needed to get a grip.

His shoulders slumped as he expelled a heavy breath out into the air. He gave himself another moment, to allow his heart to stop pounding wildly in his chest, before leaning up to grab a clean mug from the cabinet.

“That was awful,” he muttered to himself, swiping his favourite from the shelf.

“What was awful?” asked Buck, suddenly, appearing at his side.

“Oh, God,” Eddie jumped, and the mug almost slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

Catching it and clutching at it, Eddie gave a breathless laugh.

“Nope, just me,” Buck countered, popping the ‘p’, with a toothy grin on display that caused Eddie’s stomach to start doing flips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie’s expression softened, the hints of anxiety vanishing from his face as he lowered the mug to the surface. He reached for another, automatically, eyes still on Buck. He really was beautiful to look at, all bright, excited eyes, soft dark blonde curls, and crooked smiles – and what was most unfair about it all was that his good looks weren’t the most beautiful thing about him by a long shot.

“I’ll let you off the hook,” he grinned.

Buck leaned forward and his shoulder brushed against Eddie’s, sending a jolt through him that made him step back, the contact quickly lost. Fortunately for him, Buck didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

“So, anyway, I was wondering – you got any plans tonight?” Buck asked cheerily.

Eddie was slow to smile again, but he did, because he knew what he was about to do – give in, so easily. Space was important, but… so was spending quality time with loved ones. He could practically hear his therapist’s voice offering him encouragement.

“I think I have a spot open in my schedule,” he said slowly, giving the impression of nonchalance.

“Great! What do you say to joining me and Taylor out for drinks tonight? You could bring Ana. I think it’d be good for them to start to get to know each other better, don’t you?”

Eddie’s heart sank in his chest, eyes closing for a few seconds before he plastered a placid smile to his face. Disappointment was such a bitter taste, and… he really needed to get around to telling him about Ana. Even if he and Ana were still together and he could agree to this double date, the thought of watching Buck and Taylor together for a whole night… well, he could think of a long list of things he’d rather do instead.

“Actually, I don’t think I can – I don’t know how it slipped my mind but, after my appointment, I promised Christopher that I’d spend the night with him…”

He felt bad using his own son, someone Buck loved dearly, as a shield, but it had to be done – Buck wouldn’t question anything if it was done for Chris’ benefit.

Buck’s smile strained, and there was a look in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite place. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and Eddie caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“Well, what about next Friday?”

“I can’t—”

“Man, I… Eddie, have I done something?” Buck interrupted; brows knit together in worry.

“Sorry?”

He looked vaguely embarrassed – and was that a pink tinge to his face? Surely not. No, Eddie was seeing things he wanted to see. He didn’t want to play that guessing game anymore, reading into every little interaction they shared, for some kind of sign. It was exhausting.

“It’s just… I don’t know, you’re a lot busier than before, maybe, but things are definitely… different. I—miss you,” he admitted sheepishly.

Clearly, this had been bothering him for a while now, and Eddie felt stupid and cruel for ever thinking that Buck wouldn’t notice that he was limiting their time together, even if only by a relatively small amount.

“Things are different,” Eddie explained carefully, trying to figure out his wording. “It makes sense that we, er, aren’t spending as much time together, because…”

Buck waved a hand.

“I know I’ve got Taylor now and you’ve got Ana, but that doesn’t mean that—”

“Buck, I ended things with Ana,” Eddie cut across impulsively.

There was an incredibly still moment that followed, and a tense quiet descended upon them, the only sounds the muffled comings and goings and odd background chatter from their other teammates. Buck’s lips parted and he appeared to be frozen as he slowly computed this information, and Eddie was almost scared to move – to break the spell.

It was getting alarming, and Eddie was about to wave a hand in front of his face, until finally he returned to reality, snapping back with a quiet and bemused, “Wait, you did what? … Why? You two seemed so happy. I thought you… that’s why…”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, taking in a breath as he turned to properly face Buck again, making direct eye contact. Buck wet his lip, a crease forming in his brow. Eddie wanted nothing more than to know what was going through his mind, but he was at a loss this time. Usually, he could read him so well.

Eddie shrugged – an attempt in vain to still appear casual. He knew he was way beyond that point now.

“I realised she wasn’t the one for me. And… I know everyone says it, and us first responders more than anyone, and we still sometimes forget to actually live by it… but life really is too short to spend with the wrong person. I owed it to her, and to myself, to end it.”

Buck blinked rapidly, and, really, Eddie couldn’t understand why this was all coming as such a shock to him. Had he really expected he and Ana to go the distance? For him to settle down with her?

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

Then, the wailing of the siren pierced through the air; whatever question had formed in Buck’s mind would have to remain there, until another time.

[sailormoonandme]

Why does Usagi think Mamoru might leave/cheat on her?

Occasionally during Sailor Moon R, S and SuperS Usagi seemed to have these moments of insecurity where she was concerned that Mamoru was either interested in other people or else other people might make a play for him.

The real life reason for this I suspect is simply because Sailor Moon has a lot of sitcom sensibilities alongside it’s romantic elements, so milking comedy from a romantic topic by having our lead act over the top or goofy is a logical writing tool to reach for. Especially when you have such a large quantity of episodes to produce.

However, I have a more in-universe explanation to propose.

In real life Usagi’s behaviour would most likely be connected to trust issues with her partner, with other people or else concerns about her own inadequacies. However, I don’t think that’s the case here.

Rather, I think it’s actually far more connected to the numerous times Usagi has loved and ‘lost’ Mamoru.

Back in the Silver Millennium days there was this low key implication that romantic mingling between the Moon Princess and Earth Prince was somehow forbidden. After all when Endymion came to the Moon and tried to warn Serenity about Metalia and Beryl the royal guards chased him away and he needed to disguise himself. So from Serenity’s POV the social system she was living in was limiting her ability to be with the man she loved and made their future together at best uncertain.  

Now, I admit that’s perhaps a bit too big of an extrapolation to draw from, especially for the anime version of the characters where we got far less info about their past lives. However, the more significant part here is the fact that Endymion was taken from her when he was killed by the Dark Kingdom. Seeing her lover murdered in front of her whilst her home were also being destroyed (and her friends killed) would obviously be very traumatic, particularly if Serenity was mentally and physically the equivalent of a fourteen year old like Usagi.  

In her next life she was crushing very hard on Tuxedo Mask who routinely showed up to aid her and then rarely lingered. That’s not exactly traumatic, but the early days of their relationship would’ve still been founded by Usagi seeing the person she wants to stick around and spend time with her leave her when she wouldn’t want him to.

She also feared Tuxedo Mask had died in episode 13 when Jadeite announced that he’d killed him. True, he was revealed as alive and well shortly afterwards, but the horror of that moment (however brief it may’ve been) could’ve stuck with Usagi.

Then, in the iconic 34th episode of the show, Mamoru was violently impaled right in front of her. We can debate if he died and was consequently revived by the Dark Kingdom or if he was merely close to death before his abduction. But either way that’d inevitably be an instance where Usagi once again traumatically lost the man she loved, or at least came extremely close to doing so if not for the emotion of the moment re-awaking her old memories.

Speaking of which, as episode 35-36 make clear, the mere act of abruptly regaining all her memories would be emotionally wrenching all on it’s own. When combined with the tragic and traumatic nature of those memories, it’s far from unbelievable that subconsciously this would further mark Usagi’s psyche.  

The reveal that her lover is alive but no longer remembers her and is actively a threat to her now would obviously compound this. As would the fact that in episode 36 he uses a rose to hurt her. It’s not a serious wound at all, but he still hurt her and used an object that up until then he’d used explicitly to help and protect her. Within Usagi’s mind his roses would’ve likely been ‘coded’ with positive emotions, so seeing them used in that way would’ve been further upsetting for her, in essence a perversion of what they should  mean to her mind. The roses now being black are an apt metaphor for this point.  

Of course during the final stretch of episodes in season 1 Usagi almost  restores Mamoru. But that’s the key here, she almost  succeeds. First it the ski episode where he briefly seems to break out of his brainwashing and then again in the episode where Ryo (and the other Rainbow Crystal hosts) returns. In the latter she actually succeeds in restoring him to normal but he’s abducted immediately once again. Not only did Usagi lose Mamoru a few more times but her active efforts to bring him back to her failed.

We then come to the most traumatic events in Usagi’s second life (up to that point), episodes 44-46.

In episode 44, not only did she once again re-experience the tragic destruction of the Silver Millennium, but she got a ‘bird’s eye view’ of everything that happened, including the specific moments she, Endymion, her friends and even her mother died. True, her sadness or trauma over everyone else isn’t specific to her losing Endymion/Mamoru, however because these events happen so close together and are connected it’s not unbelievable that Usagi’s mind might’ve created an association. So her pain over seeing her mother die is associated also with her ‘losing’ Endymion as well. By that same token, the death of her beloved friends in episode 45 might’ve consequently become associated with what happened next.  

In episode 46 Usagi is outright attacked by a brainwashed Endymion. First she sees him loyally serving her enemy who (by proxy) murdered her friends like an hour ago. Worse she might’ve picked up on the obvious romantic undertones between Beryl and Endymion, including him kissing her hand, and let’s not forget in the flashback from episode 44 Beryl clearly desired Endymion. Whilst intellectually Usagi might know he’s not in his right mind, emotionally seeing him like that with Beryl in that context could emotionally upset her, almost as though he was betraying their love in the worst possible way.  

Endymion’s efforts against her are also significantly more violent and active than anything he did before since episode 36. Dashing a rose across the back of her hand pales in comparison to ensnaring her and shocking her with his roses. Not to mention trying to slice her up with the very same sword he would’ve used to defend her in the Silver Millennium. Even if you don’t buy into my point about perverting these symbols of their relationship, the mere act of him hurting her and trying to murder her like that is going to obviously be emotionally arresting.

In a sense in those horrible moments for Usagi Endymion/Mamoru really was ‘lost’ to her, he merely looked  like her lover. This I think is why it was significant that she actually fought  back against him with her tiara. But since he still looked like her lover and intellectually she knew he wasn’t to blame (and emotionally hoped he was still salvageable) her own act of self-defence horrified her.  

Of course she does save him, but then he dies again. Depending on how you look at it, from Usagi’s POV this is at least the second  time he’s really died and that number climbs higher if you include his presumed death in episode 13 and the number of times she had to re-experience his death in the Silver Millennium. And that isn’t even counting traumatic dreams about him dying in the aftermath of episodes 34-35. It doesn’t help that his mortal injuries in episode 46 are eerily similar to the ones he sustained in episode 34, namely a violent impalement.

We might even argue this is categorically the worst  instance up until this point of Usagi watching her lover die or seemingly die. In the Silver Millennium she herself died seconds later. In episode 13 they weren’t nearly as close as they’d become by episode 46 and she at least had friends and family in her life she knew she could lean on. This equally applies to Mamoru seemingly dying in episode 34 and even his abduction in episode 35. In fact with Minako, Makoto and Artemis Usagi had an even larger support network than before. In episode 46 though her lover has died in her arms, she’s left to go on and the Inner Senshi are dead, Luna and Artemis aren’t around and the end of the world is imminent. She’s truly all alone in her grief and intellectually she knows that even if somehow she resolves the crisis her support network has been mostly gutted. THEN she herself dies  to defeat Beryl/Metalia and save the world.

She gets her fondest wish, to go back to a normal life, but that’s also taken from her due to the arrival of Ail and An. Yay for Usagi, she gets to have ALL of those traumatic memories from the Silver Millennium rerun through her head AGAIN. And this time they’re complimented by the Hell she went through in losing her friends, her lover and dying herself in the Arctic.  

But hey, at least now she and her lover can finally be together right? Nope. He literally doesn’t know her. He isn’t Endymion. He isn’t Tuxedo Mask. He isn’t the Mamoru she knew and doesn’t even want to know her. Meanwhile a prospective romantic rival is sniffing around him and for all she knows he may well be interested in her. She gets a tiny ray of hope when Moonlight Knight shows up but that’s abruptly squashed when she receives (seemingly) hard proof this guy who seems oh so similar to the man she loves definitely isn’t that man. So her tiny hope of maybe  getting him back is taken from her almost as quickly as it came.

After Ail and An depart Earth Usagi finally   has what she wants…until two episodes later. This time in the cruelest twist of fate for her, it isn’t external forces that tears Mamoru away from her. This time he  takes himself from her. From a certain point of view this is sort of worse than him dying. Usagi knows death and reincarnation are a thing and that magic exists. She already knows that, as traumatic as it might’ve been, the pair have been given more chances than most people to get together. But how is that to happen when Mamoru, in his right mind and fully possessing all his memories, clearly conveys he doesn’t want her. In the same way Tuxedo Mask pulled a disappearing act early on, now Mamoru in normal life begins actively avoiding Usagi and even saying hurtful things to her.  

It is in episode 61 (the break up episode itself) that we arguably first see this insecure side to Usagi where she questions if Mamoru prefers a child under 10 years old to her. From there we also see Mamoru try to hint to her that he’s seeing Unazuki.  

Of course Usagi eventually learns that it WAS another external force pushing them apart again (well sort of but that’s for another day). However, to lose Mamoru again after all she’d already gone through to be with him was emotionally going to be a serious twisting of the knife for her, in addition to his efforts after episode 61 to push her away. The fact that his own desire to be with her caused him to still help and even hang out with her on occasion would’ve further confused her.  

But even after  this mess is cleared up, in Sailor Moon R The Movie: Promise of the Rose Usagi has to witness Mamoru nearly die for her again. And like on other occasions it comes via an impalement right in front of her and a consequent abduction to boot. And the abductee happens to be someone she and her friends suspect might harbor romantic feelings for Mamoru as well, someone who actively insulted her, actively tried to dissuade Mamoru from dating her and who literally  pushed her away from him.  

When taken collectively, I think all these traumas associated with Usagi ‘losing’ Mamoru or otherwise being prevented from being with him would make Usagi subconsciously on the alert for the next  thing that might take him from her.

I propose that this is the actual reason for Usagi’s concerns that Mamoru might like Chibiusa more than her, for why she gets concerned when Ami and Mamoru chat together in S, for why she goes all ninja in SuperS, etc. Deep down she does  trust him and deep down she trusts her friends and doesn’t actually  feel threatened by anyone who might try to hit on Mamoru.

It’s in reality a case of her gripping too tight precisely because the object of her desire has slipped through her fingers far too many times in the past.* Or if you like, from Usagi’s POV destiny might’ve pre-ordained that she fall in love with Mamoru but she may well be concerned that it’s also pre-ordained that they be allowed to enjoy  being in love, not for too long anyway.  

However, I think this in turn set up a great example of character development for our heroine.

First of all, in episode 132 we have Chibiusa outright warning Usagi she has a romantic rival and that if she doesn’t shape up she will  lose Mamoru to her, and yet Usagi shrugs this off. 

Of course, we could argue that this is Usagi trying to simply one up Chibiusa in this moment, or else she is dismissive of the warning precisely because it comes from Chibiusa whom is both a child and someone who makes a point of trolling her. On the other hand we might view this as an example of how Usagi has in fact grown and is more at peace with the idea that she isn’t about to have Mamoru taken from her for the umpteenth time.  

Granted her over reaction in episode 136, wherein she dresses as a ninja to ensure Rei and Mamoru don’t get up to anything, goes against that idea. However, we could just as easily argue that Usagi’s reactions in that episode were an example of her backsliding precisely because of Rei and Mamoru’s history. She might not worry about Rei and Mamoru deep down, but the idea of them living in the same place when they used to date and when she knows how active  Rei was in pursuing him back in the day? It’s not beyond belief that in these specific circumstances Usagi’s resolve faltered whereas she’d have been less concerned if it’d been a stranger or someone with no romantic history with Mamoru.ffff

More significantly though is Sailor Stars. Once more Usagi ‘lost’/nearly lost Mamoru. This time this was due to Queen Nehelenia, whose efforts poisoned the Earth and by extension endangered the life of her lover. Then she did that AGAIN, this time outright brainwashing and abducting him. 

Even if this didn’t remind Usagi of her horrible experiences with Evil Endymion and Beryl, it would’ve still been disturbing and upsetting, especially when Mamoru developed a mirror fetish. Usagi went through Hell and physical torture to try and save her lover and this time the stakes were even higher. Because this time losing him would also mean losing the other person she loved the most, (Chibiusa) a horrible event that she eventually witnessed happen.

Sure, she saved the day and got both her future husband and future daughter back, but she still had to live through those horrible experiences to get to that point.  

And yet, despite these fresh traumas regarding losing her lover, in episode 173 Usagi handles Mamoru leaving for America surprisingly well.

It’s made clear she’s upset by his departure and doesn’t want  him to go. But she comes mere inches from seeing him off with a smile as she intended, demonstrating her increased strength and maturity. 

And despite her tears, despite her not wanting him to go, she still sees him off, she doesn’t try to dissuade him, she isn’t worried that he’ll meet other people or that their relationship will get torn asunder once more. She is sad because they are going to be physically separated by a long distance for a long time, but that’s the only  thing that’s of concern to her. And her reaction even then is relatively reigned in (by her standards) even in the privacy of her own home.  

And from a narrative/emotional POV it is almost like the universe rewards  her for that growth via Mamoru giving her a promise/engagement ring, saying he loves her and kissing her in the airport.

Whilst the significance of the ring is obvious (albeit not to Usagi) we shouldn’t undersell Mamoru’s words or the kiss. 

I’m willing to be corrected on this but I’m fairly certain that episode was the first time Mamoru (not Endymion, not Moonlight Knight talking about  Mamoru, etc) had ever told Usagi he loved her. Of course, his actions spoke louder than words on this front. Even before Usagi knew Mamoru was Tuxedo Mask she suspected the latter rescued her because he was in love with her. Nevertheless, having your partner actually look you in the eye and say the words can be incredibly emotionally significant for a lot of people. In a sense it is the ultimate unambiguous proof of the other person’s feelings (in theory anyway). Even if Usagi hadn’t been waiting to hear him say the words (personally I think her expression implies she had been) it would’ve nevertheless been a significant development in their relationship all the same.  

And as for the kiss, I admit I only vaguely know about Japanese cultural norms regarding PDA, but it is to my understanding that kissing in public is frowned upon. Even if I’m wrong about that, Mamoru (as evidenced by the R movie) certainly doesn’t like to kiss Usagi when anyone else is around. If you go back to check most of their kisses, either they are alone or else it’s obvious Mamoru doesn’t think anyone is observing them. The fact that he kisses Usagi not only in a public space, but an airport of all places (when there are crowds there for three big celebrities no less) is a huge deal for him. And in turn it’s a huge deal for Usagi because, whilst Mamoru might have more reservations, Usagi clearly cared a lot less about PDA, typically being the one to initiate their kisses.  

Consequent episodes further demonstrate Usagi’s growth regarding her old insecurities with Mamoru. Putting aside how we never once see her worried about him seeing other girls, in episode 181 Seiya outright raises the idea of him seeing other people. Usagi casually, without a hint of aggression, dismisses the idea.  

The irony is that it is Usagi  who’s in the situation she so often worried about regarding Mamoru. She is the person being pursued by  romantic rival to her lover, namely Seiya.  

The cruel  irony is that Usagi having matured enough to accept Mamoru leaving (despite being deeply upset and lonely about it) actually had  lost him yet again.  

She just didn’t know it.  

*Not to mention…she is a teenager. Those people tend to be ever so slightly prone to emotional over reactions at the best of times.  

[pynkhues]

A 2.10 Reading List

As a part of the re-watch, I’m now doing little fic rec posts focused on stories that were written around, about or for each episode! You can read the 1.06 - 2.09 posts here, and check out the 2.10 recs below!

Do Not Give What is Holy to the Hounds by dentigerous

(11k words. Beth Boland, Rio. Beth x Rio).

Rio doesn’t handle Beth being out as well as he wants to.

Tragically, this fic is unfinished, but man, if it isn’t a really fun alternative to the end of s2. Navigating Rio’s fixation on Beth and his inability to let her stay out during 2.10, it builds into a compelling story full of that push-pull we love!

Caught by thatbluenote

(2k words. Beth Boland, Rio. Beth x Rio).

After the events of 2.10, Beth gets a drink at Rio’s bar, intending to be gone before he gets there. It doesn’t quite work out that way.

God, this fic is just so fun. It really builds off the concept of Beth viewing her relationship to crime and to Rio as an addiction, and the way she plays with her own desire and temptation in this fic comes through so well. Plus the dialogue is so, so good, and the acidic undertone of their dynamic is *chef’s kiss*.

Swingsets by @mamey2422​

(1k words. Beth Boland, Rio. Beth x Rio).

Beth and Rio meet again at the park after the Boland Motors raid.

This is so quietly intimate and gentle in a way we tragically get so little of in the show. Beth and Rio navigate not just the act of Rio’s warning, but their history, and it’s got a really sweet energy to it that feels like a lovely cap to canon.

Why Try to Change Me Now? by fakeplastiktrees / @nakedmonkey​

(2k words. Beth Boland, Rio. Beth x Rio).

Rio doesn’t let Beth off the hook, even with Boland Motors closed, and Beth handles it in typical Beth fashion.

I really do love when fics lean into canon and twist up parts of it in new and interesting ways! @nakedmonkey​ does such a great job of it in this fic, playing with the fact that Beth quitting really takes place halfway through a business arrangement that in no small part relies on her. After all, the cars are coming in through Boland Motors! It makes for a great catalyst to explore Beth and Rio’s respective wounds over the break-up, and those feelings erupt so well in this great fic.

Good Sport by fireinsideforfun

(13k words. Beth Boland, Rio. Beth x Rio. Explicit).

After the events of 2.10, Rio starts coming over to Beth’s to sleep.

There’s not much I can say about this fic that hasn’t been said already. It’s a lovely fic steeped in the stranger sort of intimacy that can really define Beth and Rio – they don’t know each other, and they know each other too well – and the ebb and flow of it in this fic is pretty special.

And that’s it for this week! As always, feel free to add your 2.10-based fic recs, and I hope to see you next week! :-)

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Heeeeey, y'all!! I know it's been a hot minute since I've updated his soy & I apologize for that. I've been so busy with my college courses now that I'm back in school & preparing for work, but I promise that I'm gonna finish this story, even if it takes me until the fall. Thank you for your patience, love & continuous support on my shit lol. I hope y'all enjoy & have a great day! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

TEN: SOMETHIN’ WICKED THIS WAY COMES.

Once in Sage County, a day’s walk away from the Devil’s Trail, you go shopping. 

“So remind me,” you say as you look through a rack of skirts in the little store. “What’s the plan again?”

Gojo is happy to ​​run it by you again: “You’re an aristocratic woman here on business with her two personal escorts, so you’ll have to act like a bitch, but that won’t be too hard for you.” 

You strike him in the side twice, hard. “Ow, ow, I’m kiddin’!” he exclaims.

Geto glares at you both under his hat from a rack of dresses, eyeballing two beautifully sewn pieces. “Don’t attract any unwanted attention, you two,” he criticizes. “Hmm…this isn’t quite your color. Maybe somethin’ red…” 

“And you think that this is gonna work?” you ask. “‘Cause you realize this entire plan could go to shit.”

Gojo goes to take out a cigarette, only stopping when the shopowner eyeballs him. “Have some faith in us, sugar,” he scoffs at you. “You’re lookin’ at two seasoned actors here. None of our plans go to shit!” 

After running like hell away from Benji’s men who rudely ambushed you, you three finally made it to Sage County.

It is truly the crowned jewel of this Northside of the county––buildings towering over you, steam rising from chimneys connected to homes, businesses, and shops; automobiles traveling down the street so fast that you, Gojo, and Geto had to walk your horses on the sidewalk; train stations and food carts and people trying to sell you shit, not recognizing you behind your bandana and hat. But as soon as they saw the Gunslingers, they backed off. 

“We’ll have to lay low for a minute if Benji is really here,” Geto said as you walked, his hat tipped low to not give off any red flags or tips to anyone who could recognize them. “So stayin’ at a hotel for a day or two might be the move. It won’t knock us off course either.” 

You walked between the duo, pulling Reneigh along behind you. “I don’t get it,” you scoffed. “How did he even find us?” For Benji’s men to know exactly where you were is no coincidence. 

“Benji’s got his ways, little miss,” Geto says, puffing on a cigarette Gojo passes him. “He’s got people all over the place; a whole operation of members. I wouldn’t be shocked if his bandits in Bull’s Creek said somethin’ about us lookin’ for him.” Now it all makes sense! Someone snitched! 

“So now he’s tryin’ to take us out,” you sighed. “Great. Maybe they’ve got a Willow Springs in the afterlife.”

Gojo lifts up his blindfold and his blue eyes lock on yours, irritation swimming in them. “Don’t say that,” he said, so firmly that it shuts you up completely. “Nothin’ is gonna happen to us. We’re gonna get you to Willow Springs and bag Benji ‘cause that’s what we agreed on.” 

The blue-eyed outlaw stands with you now, pulling out a slim, violet dress decorated in beads. “Oooh, this is pretty,” he coos. “Rich-lookin’, dontcha think?”

He shows Geto who taps a thoughtful finger against his chin. “It’s her color,” he says, delighted by the little article of clothing. “Now all we need is some accessories.” You snort as you watch the two grown men look for necklaces and earrings. “Y’all are enjoyin’ this more than me. 

Gojo laughs, passing you the dress with some satin shoes. “It’s always fun to play some dress-up now and again. Now put this on and show us how ya look.” He shoos you off to a try-on room while he and Geto look for accessories to hide their features. 

You try on the dress and the slippers, noticing how soft they are and how the dress hugs you tight. You feel good in it. Normal, even, like a regular woman who doesn’t bust guns and jump from county to county. You look at yourself out of your hat, boots, and bandana, feeling different, but a good different. You feel beautiful. When you walk out to show Gojo and Geto, they are busy counting their coin to pay for the items. 

“How do I look?” you softly ask, making them stop. You immediately have their attention, their eyes grazing over your body and the extra layer of skin that the dress provides.

“Like you could win an award,” Gojo chuckles. You instantly feel like maybe this plan could work. 

After the boys change into their own disguises–suits and fake mustaches–, you head over to the five-star hotel you had your eyes on before and park the horses outside before heading into the clean, sophisticated-looking lobby. A man in a doorman uniform looks up from his book, immediately frowning at the sight of the Gunslingers. 

“Are you hear to purchase tickets for the opera tonight?” he asks, nervously staring up at the very tall, very muscular men holding your bags behind you. You shake your head, though it does explain why so many rich-looking folks are here. “Can I help you then?” 

“I hope you can,” you snootily respond, trying not to laugh as you do. “I’m attending the opera tomorrow and ordered a room here beforehand, but it was taken without my knowledge! I’d like to pay for another, please.” 

The man, still nervous, nods and flips through the book where a bunch of room numbers sit. “May I have your name so I can put you on the waitlist?” he asks. 

That’s when you muster up as much of your acting skills as you can. “Waitlist?” you scoff, putting a hand to your heart. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” The man stays silent, so you continue. “Alana Tabuki, first of my name, owner of several acres. Now, I don’t want to believe that you’d disrespect me, sir, because you’d also be disrespecting my men.” 

You turn to the Gunslingers who still look menacing despite their disguises. You offer them your arms dripping in bangle bracelets. “They don’t take too kindly to that, do you, boys?” you titter. 

The duo takes each of your hands and begins to pepper them in kisses, starting from your knuckles to up your arm to your shoulder. Each kiss leaves a trail of fire up your skin, similar to have Gojo’s kiss made you feel. Once they get to your neck, you start to feel liquid heat pour into your stomach, especially when the two begin to softly moan in your ear. Is this still a part of the plan? 

“O-Okay, that’s enough,” you stutter, feeling hot in your dress. “We don’t want to make the poor man feel uncomfortable.” 

The desk clerk, sweating bullets and looking like he wants to die, rapidly grabs a room key from behind him and drops it into your hand. “O-oh, look at that!” he squeaks. “We have a room that just opened! Please follow our luggagemen to take your bags, ma’am!” He nods at the two luggagemen near the elevator. 

You nod your thanks and slip Geto the key. “Nicely done,” he whispers, pocketing the key before walking off with Gojo who gives you a wink. You proudly smile and follow them close behind as they help the luggagemen with their bags, probably weary about giving them their shit. 

But before you can walk into the elevator, someone comes around the corner and bumps into your side, nearly knocking you down. “Oh, excuse me!” you gasp, stumbling to the left. What you really want to say is, “Hey, watch it!”, but you know that would gain too much bad attention. 

However, when you look at the stranger, all words and thoughts cease to exist. All you feel is fear and dread wrapped up in one as you stare at the man before you. Benji the Bandit is much bigger in person–about six-something feet towering over you and even bigger because of his hulking frame. You bet he’s even taller than Geto and Gojo combined. 

He is much older with long, black hair streaked in gray, a salt-and-pepper beard, an eyepatch that covers his scarred right eye, and a smile glittering in gold that sends shivers down your spine. Despite the wrinkles by his eyes, obvious aging, and the suit he wears, he still scares you like he’s the Boogeyman. 

“No,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice that sends shivers down your spine. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m so desperate to get these opera tickets that I forgot my footing.”

He laughs, the sound like a rumbling earthquake, and gives you a nod before heading off to do his business, walking with a slight gate on his long cane, his big, ringed hand tattooed with a rose on it. 

You don’t get a chance to say anything else because Gojo is pulling you inside the elevator and the doors shut, and with it, your target. 

**********

Your five-star hotel room is much better than sleeping in a tent or in the open by a fire. 

The clerk hooked you and the Gunslingers up with a hotel suite with two separate bedrooms with their own washrooms, a kitchenette with appliances for brewing tea and coffee, and a lounging space with two fluffy armchairs and a couch near a window overlooking the streets below. The floor is shag carpet, the walls are painted a buttercream yellow, and sweet-smelling, red flowers sit on the table in front of you where you sit on the couch. 

Included with the flowers are two trays of food, a bucket of ice, and a complimentary bottle of champagne that Gojo has already popped open. The trays are littered with finger foods: crackers, all kinds of cheese, fruits, meats, and mustard. Gojo sits next to you, chomping on cheese and sipping bubbly, his bare feet kicked up and having ditched his disguise for a wife beater. 

You hear the water in his and Geto’s chosen bedroom shut off and out walks Geto in a robe, his muscled calves and chest dripping in water on full display. He pulls his wet locks into a bun, looking like a wet, dark-haired Adonis. “Ah,” he sighs. “Much better, though I am jealous of the two of you for havin’ such a beautiful view durin’ your soak this mornin’.” 

He smiles at you but you can’t find it within yourself to return it. You would be indulging in the luxury of the room with them if it wasn’t for Benji the Bandit taking up your thoughts. “You should,” Gojo chuckles. “It was a very beautiful view…I mean, before we were rudely interrupted by bullets, don’t you agree, Y/N?” 

You don’t really hear him, staring blankly down at your satin slippers sitting by the door. You haven’t yet changed out of your dress, even though your bag is in your bedroom now. “Y/N?” Gojo repeats.

You turn to him, finding him and Geto staring at you. “S-Sorry,” you say, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m just a little tired is all.” 

But Gojo isn’t dumb. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. “You’ve got somethin’ on that mind of yours.” He pours you a glass of champagne and passes it to you. You barely take a sip. “What’s wrong?” he asks, worried. “Can’t we talk about it? It’s important that you’re feelin’ as good as we do.” 

You want to tell them you saw Benji, but at the same time, you don’t want to worry them. They seem so relaxed. “How come y’all wear gloves all the time?” you randomly ask.

They blink at you, confused. You nod down at Geto’s bare hands which are bigger and thicker than Gojo’s. “I noticed even when we’re not on our horses, you wear gloves. Y’all germophobes or somethin’?” 

You make the joke to avoid getting forced to cough up the truth, but you even feel weird doing that. Gojo snatches a strawberry from the tray. “Nah,” he chuckles, chewing on the fruit. “But Sugu is. I’m shocked he hasn’t wiped this place down yet.” 

His partner glares down at him. “Not yet,” he growls, snatching the champagne glass from a giggling Gojo. “The gloves are for protection. Not only to avoid leavin’ fingerprints on our targets but to also hide our tattoos.” 

He shows you his rose tattoo inked on his knuckles, the same as Gojo’s. “Benji made us get these when we started,” he explains. “He wanted us to prove our loyalty to him by gettin’ his symbol on our skin forever.” He snorts crudely at the ink, shaking his head. 

Seeing the distaste in his and Gojo’s faces at the sight of the ink on their skin, forever bonded to them whether they like it or not, you break. “I saw Benji earlier,” you finally confess.

A tense, shocked silence falls onto the room and you instantly regret saying anything. “What?” Geto asks and his tone shocks you––it’s sharp and intimidating like an angry father would use. “When?” he demands. 

You swallow hard, knowing you can’t button your lip now. “Earlier while y’all were takin’ the luggage to the elevator. He bumped me comin’ around the corner.” 

The duo continues to stare you down, making you feel uncomfortable. “Did he say anythin’ to you?” Gojo asks.

You passively shrug, hugging yourself as a way to self-pacify. “Just that he was sorry and he’s goin’ to the opera tonight…which I also think we should attend.” 

The white-haired outlaw scowls at you. “And how in the fuck are we supposed to do that?” he scoffs. “We don’t even have tickets!” 

You scoff, glaring at him. “This is comin’ from the same guy who scammed a motel clerk out of some rooms,” you sharply retort, eyeing the both of them suspiciously. “What’s up with y’all anyway? All of a sudden, y’all sound like y’all don’t wanna catch this big-bodied bitch.” 

“That’s not true, Y/N,” Geto firmly protests. “We wanna catch Benji as much as you do, but this is also the same guy who tried to kill us just this mornin’. If he knows we’re here, we could be in big trouble and blow this whole operation to hell. That’s why I said we need to lay low for a bit.” 

But that isn’t good enough for you. “So we just…sit here and let him get away?” You can’t help but be increasingly pissed at this new “plan”. You would think that the Gunslingers would be jumping at the chance to get Benji, but instead, they’re hesitant. Resistant. Not at all the Gunslingers you met and thought they were. 

“It can’t be just a coincidence that he’s here at the same time as us, Geto,” you argue. “It’s a miracle! Obviously, somethin’ in the universe is tellin’ us to get this guy and y’all are more concerned about blowin’ your cover?” 

Geto sighs, looking physically tired of your shit. “This isn’t about our cover. It’s about keepin’ us safe and alive until it’s the right time to pounce.” 

“This is the right time!” you argue, standing up from the couch. “What other time do we have to wait?”

The duo just stares at you, neither one backing down from their decision. You simmer, angered at them. “Maybe I was wrong about y’all,” you hiss. “Fine, since y’all wanna be pussies about it, then I’ll go myself.” 

You begin to stalk towards the door, but Gojo gets up and blocks you from going any further. “No, you’re not,” he sternly says. He looks strange without that usual, gigawat smile on his face. Scary, even. His blue eyes look like ice to you, making you feel like you’ve been dipped in a pool in the Arctic. 

But the stubborn, bratty bitch in you just scowls up at him. “And who the fuck is gonna stop me?” you fridigly ask. Before he can answer, you push past him and continue to walk towards the door. 

You barely make it to the knob when you suddenly feel something tighten around your midsection. You look down, finding a leather whip wrapped tight around you. “Hey, let me go!” you snap, pulling at the whip. “Dammit, Gojo, I said let me go!” 

Gojo just stands there, holding onto the whip with one hand, watching as you as struggle. “Nah, I think I’m gonna let leave ya there to think about your bratty behavior.” He yanks on the whip, causing you to forcefully be jerked toward him. You try to dig your heels into the floor, but it’s no use. He’s just too strong. 

“Satoru,” Geto firmly says. He stands from the couch, fists clenched. “Let her go.”

Gojo scowls at him but releases you anyway. You stagger away from him, finally feeling like you can breathe. Geto strides over to you and stands in the middle of you and Gojo, not wanting the suite to turn into a battlefield…but it already has. 

“Let’s just calm down, okay?” he suggests, collected and composed. “Y/N, I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be for right now. We’ll find out where Benji is headed next and go from there, but for now, let’s just relax and get some rest.” 

He tries to take your hand, but you flinch away from him and storm off to your bedroom to get the rest he speaks of. But you can’t get rest, especially when night falls. You toss and turn, haunted by vengeance, leaving you hotblooded and your pistol hand itching. 

When you rise from your bed in your PJs, Geto and Gojo have already gone to bed, their door cracked and the sound of Gojo snoring is heard throughout the suite.

You slip into your purple dress and heels from earlier, make your hair look presentable, and slip on your leather jacket. Once you’re dressed, you add your accessories: a gold necklace, bracelets, a knife in a garter belt strapped to your thigh, and a pistol that you slip into your purse. 

You don’t bother leaving a note. You know that the boys will know where you’ve gone. So you slip out the suite, locking it, and down the quiet hallway to the elevators. You don’t turn back. You’re afrai that if you do, you’ll rethink this and decide to stay. So when the elevators ding, you walk in and head to the lobby. 

Once the doors open, you give the doormen a nod as you head outside in the summer night. Reneigh is waiting for you along with Geto and Gojo’s Broncos, all of them chuffling when you see you. You pet Reneigh’s nose and untie her before hiking your dress up and mounting her, feeling weird without your riding boots and pants. 

 “C’mon, girl,” you whisper before softly clucking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Reneigh takes off clicking down the path, leaving the hotel behind.

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Pairing: Greer x Lancelot

Tagging: @plumpblueberry ​ @thetwinkims @sakura-1819 @ikemen-lover159 ​

A/N: Wow it’s been a hot minute since I wrote the first chapter of this. I meant for this chapter to introduce her to Edgar and Zero as well but then her and Lance had some alone time and I decided to end it on a fluffy note. Next chapter, there will be angst XD

[25 Days of Christmas 2020 Voting]

“Excuse the intrusion.”

The three maids assisting the young woman in dressing and straightening up the room, gave a respectful bow and made themselves scarce. Greer easily recognized him. After all, her brother complained about him in every letter he wrote her when he still served in the army. “Good morning, Jonah.”

“Yes, good morning, Mrs. Kingsley.” The way he spoke sounded forced. He wasn’t pleased with the secrecy of the arrangement and it likely bothered him that she bore the Atlas name before taking Lancelot’s.

“There’s no need for formalities. I’d prefer to be called Greer.” She offered him a warm smile, fiddling with the ring awkwardly snug around her finger.

Jonah gave a curt nod, dutifully doing as asked of him. “I’d like to escort you to breakfast in the dining hall.” He had plenty of questions that he needed answers to. King Lancelot had refused to speak of it, only giving orders to make sure Greer was treated well.

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Greer had few memories of Jonah, only seeing the man from afar. Their family’s cordial and she was sure that she’d spoken to him a handful of times, if only to say hello. She did remember that he could always be found with Lancelot, his admiration going all the way back to childhood.

From the upstairs window, the training yard below held a unit of soldiers headed by one of the other Chosen Thirteen. The woman paused, drawn in by the uniformity and focus. “I’ve never seen it so closely.” Her brother preferred for her to be kept at a distance.

“As the King of Hearts wife, you should familiarize yourself with certain subjects, including the army.” Jonah observed her fascinated features. How many women had he walked down this hall for audiences with his King? All had complained about the headquarters or pretended that they weren’t in the presence of soldiers.

Greer didn’t find this place frightening.

“Yes, I agree. I have much to study.” Her golden eyes turned from the training yard to the Queen of Hearts, finding his amber ones. “Would you recommend some documents and books? I would greatly appreciate any assistance. I know so little about this part of Red Territory.”

Jonah was certainly surprised. She genuinely wished to rise to her new position, not something that most high-born women would agree to. “Of course. Whatever you need, I shall arrange for it.” 

Honestly, she was nothing like he had been imagining. Sitting across from her in the dining hall, Jonah could find little fault in her manners and etiquette, although it was taught to all who bore a Chosen Thirteen family name. She gracefully answered each of his questions without becoming defensive or annoyed, as most did.

“Why did you marry King Lancelot?”

The undertone of the question really asking: why did your family push for this arrangement? For power? For higher status?

One that Greer knew she’d be answering time and time again. Most of the highest families in Red Territory wanted a clear line of succession into the army, so there wasn’t too much intermingling of the Chosen Thirteen’s families in the marriage aspect. Alliances were one thing but claims to certain seats in the army were expected to be clear.

And as such, an Atlas marrying a Kingsley had caused an uproar, especially with their seat forfeited to a man that had no pedigree.

Greer set her teacup onto the saucer without a sound, quietly considering the question before speaking. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to say that we married for love?” She posed the question with a weak smile. “But it’s never so easy.”

The Queen of Hearts waited in silence. He hadn’t gotten a satisfactory answer from Lancelot, instead being told that the reason was irrelevant. The younger Atlas nothing like he’d imagined. Not at all like her elder brother. Jonah might even admit that he found her a good fit for his King, but it depended on this very important question.

“I don’t believe that I can give an answer that will suffice. Lancelot needed a bride to calm the fighting in his family, and I needed a husband for the same reason. It’s as simple and complicated as that.” Greer paused, squeezing her hands together in her lap.

“Then I am correct to assume that your family wants a claim to the King of Hearts position.”

The young Atlas nearly nodded. It was the truth, one that wasn’t hard to figure out. “What my family wants and what I want are not in alignment. Lancelot is aware, as well. It’s quite selfish, but I said yes to the marriage as a means to escape the Atlas family. Lancelot has promised to keep me safe.” Or at least, that is what Greer wanted to believe. The influence of her family would not be easily escaped. Even at the headquarters, they would find a way to get to her.

They wanted a child, a way to extort the Kingsley family for power and status.

Greer simply wanted to be happy, something almost unattainable in the world she resided in. Something that she had yet to experience. Mousse had escaped. He found purpose in being a diplomat. The family had shunned him, blaming him for shaming the Atlas name.

She couldn’t admit that her family still had their claws deep in her. Even though she knew how they would view her and Lancelot’s child, Greer thought she would be thrilled to be a mother. And yet, how much of that want was her own?

“I see.” Jonah observed her for a moment longer. There was no ill intent on her part. He would personally look into her family and do whatever necessary to protect his King and his new wife. He cast a glance at the clock and rose silently from his seat. “If you require anything, please ask and it will be done.”

The kitchen staff swiftly removed all the dishes from the table. Their curious gaze flickering to the woman, all having heard the rumors of Lancelot’s bride. They scurried back to the kitchen to gossip, but their whispers weren’t quite low enough to evade her ears.

I heard the Atlas family practically has been begging for her to be married for years now.

The family may be disgraced but I feel bad for the poor girl having to marry into the Kingsley family. Everyone knows that King Lancelot is cold-hearted. I bet she’s miserable.

I’ll wager he gets rid of her before the end of the month.

Don’t say that! You’ll get in trouble with the head chef!

But it’s the truth. He’ll send her away and some tragic accident will befall her--

“Excuse me. May I have another cup of tea?”

All three heads swiveled toward her voice with varying degrees of shock and embarrassment, having been caught. Jumbled apologies spilled from their mouths as they bowed respectfully. “Of course, just one moment-”

“I’m surprised you’d speak so poorly of the King of Hearts.” Greer watched them visibly shrink at her words. It wouldn’t do to have rumors spreading about a weak wife. It would only cause discourse and put her in danger. Their silence prompted her to continue. “It would be wise to consider more carefully before so casually spreading false information.”

The three were moving around the kitchen stiffly, unable to look directly at her.

“I do appreciate the worry for my wellbeing.”  She twisted their words with expertise expected of her status in the territory. Although she would not hold quite as much power as any man, there was still a healthy amount of respect to be given to the wives. Greer would not be needlessly cruel, but she wouldn’t allow there to be rumors of her painted as weak and pitiful or rumors of her husband treating her poorly. “However, there is no evidence of any ill treatment, and you’ll do away with such speech whether in the presence of us or in secret.”

Putting to rest this distance between the couples would be best.

“I’ll hear nothing else of this. Our marriage is not subject to your petty grievances. You will be respectful of both King Lancelot and I. Am I understood?”  Greer had no reason to raise her voice. Her words stood on their own without the volume.

Many talked about how Lancelot was cold and aloof. The women who were rejected by him would gripe endlessly at cordial parties but would attempt it again and again. Staff that had served in the army spoke in a similar fashion. As if they had any idea what his position took from him, what he must do in order to protect and serve Red Territory.

Much of which Greer had little knowledge of but vowed to learn so that she could better support him. Their public image had to be maintained, otherwise they became targets to tear down in order for others to gain power.

The last thing they needed was more enemies.

“Here you are, Lady Greer. We sincerely apologize for our carelessness.”

Satisfied with their remorse, she accepted the cup and went on her way. The moment the dining hall door closed behind her, she leaned back against it. A soft sigh passed her lips. This would become a regular occurrence, she was sure. At least she’d had the practice of explaining her brother’s departure from the army to those who criticized.

The layout of the building just as Jonah described to her. Soldiers passing her in the hall gave curious looks. It was tiring, but they had to courtesy to whisper after she’d gone by. They wouldn’t dare blaspheme their King. 

Greer found the office with little trouble. The cracked door easy to slip through and she found Lancelot at the desk, alone, with a stack of documents. Clear blue eyes rose when she placed the cup of warm tea in an empty spot.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with bringing me tea.”

“I wanted to.”

Lancelot set his quill down, plucking the cup from the saucer to take a sip. “I heard you had trouble with a few of the kitchen staff but handled it well.” He nearly laughed at the way her brow knitted in confusion.

“How did you already hear about that? It was only moments ago.” Greer couldn’t call seeing anyone leave the office that would have knowledge of that. The staff themselves would never admit to their blunder, lest they lose their job.

“There’s little that happens here that I don’t know about. You shouldn’t bother yourself with such nonsense as idle gossip. I’m in no need of protection.” He’d grown quite used to the rumors surrounding him. His wife would be subject to the same treatment, and he’d known that before agreeing to a marriage.

She brushed a strand of brown hair away from her face with a gentle smile. “Perhaps not, but it’s us now, together. The more we allow people to pry and insinuate, the more problems that are going to arise. I was simply putting out the sparks to a potential fire.”

Rumors about either one affected the other.

Lancelot could honestly say that he hadn’t expected her to react in the way that she did. There were two kinds of women in high society that he’d come across. The ones who wielded their power above others to entertain themselves, and the quiet ones who found their identity solely in their husband, choosing to blindly follow.

Greer was neither of them.

And he quite liked that about her.

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” He’d surprised himself by asking that.  His better judgement failing him. It would be safer to keep her at a distance. This arrangement only for show, to satiate the wolves for the time being. But, after witnessing her display through the mirror, Lancelot desired a little more time with her.

The air outside brisk even in the late morning. It held little bite, but it was enough to cause the young woman to shiver. Fall had descended on Cradle, turning the green into brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. The sun shining down on them aided in a little warmth.

“You seem to have made quite the impression on Jonah, as well. It’s only your first day here.” His Queen of Hearts shuffling around the topic in their meeting, praising her and calling her well-suited for the position she now held. He hadn’t expected her to do so well.

Greer lightly laughed, tugging her white cloak a little tighter. “Jonah is exactly as I imagined he’d be. Mousse wrote about him often. He’s loyal and strict but he cares deeply for his country and for you.” Golden eyes turned upward to meet his, a gentle smile on her lips.

“Yes, he does. Approval from him is a difficult task and yet you received it with one conversation.” The leaves crunched beneath his boots. Of all the proposals he’d received, Greer remained the one that wouldn’t leave his mind. She was kind and fair, smart but willing to expand her knowledge, and today he’d learned that she also stood up for herself and him. She continued to surprise him at every turn.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that he approves of me. Just that I’m a few steps above my brother in his eyes. It’s going to take time for the people to accept me and accept us. We’ll have to work quite hard to gain public support.”

The King of Hearts hummed in agreement. Even if their marriage was one of necessity, there were still hurdles to overcome. Their lives would be picked apart. They’d be forced to prove their affection and commitment to each other, especially since the wedding happened in private and so quickly. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when she took his hand in both of hers.

“We both want the best for Red Territory, and for now, I think that’s enough to make this work. I meant what I said at the altar. I’ll do everything within my power to help achieve the peace in Cradle that you’re striving for.” Playing the dutiful wife had been her families plan, but Greer wanted to be more than that. She would be whatever he needed.

Lancelot didn’t doubt her sincerity, not the first time she said it nor now. “Yes, I’m quite sure you’re willing, but I’m not going to risk putting you in harm’s way. There are going to be times that I cannot allow you to assist.” The defiance in her golden eyes was unusual for a new bride, but he didn’t dislike it. “However, there are matters of my family that need to be settled and you will help me quell the fighting.”

Her shoulders relaxed and a satisfied smile tugged at her lips. “Of course.”

Greer didn’t know why he’d done it. Was it the soldiers watching as the patrolled the grounds, or the staff peeking through the windows? It was likely for show. To prove to the onlookers that they were, at least on the outside, a committed married couple.

And yet, it didn’t feel so empty. His warm lips against hers, a tender kiss that drove away the cold from her body and replaced it with fire. His arm around her waist to hold her body against his, giving a sense of safety and comfort. He lingered, giving her heart a little too much to hold onto.

She didn’t love him, nor did he love her, but…

Greer imagined she could get addicted to this.

[goddessofthundathighs]

I’ll Take Yo Man

A little college Hennessy and Erik foolishness concocted by @hearteyes-for-killmonger & myself. Based on the following prompt:

Friday. The day Hennessy had been looking forward to the whole week. Erik would be home from his most recent deployment the next day and she needed to prepare for his return. She went and got her hair done, opting for a silk press to her usually springy curls. She followed that up with a well deserved pedicure and a full-set of stiletto dick grabbers, both in his favorite color on her: sunflower yellow. She was now perusing the shelves of MAC, looking to restock her dwindling supply of Snob and Saint Germain lippies and her prep + prime lip primer. The freshly cleaned diamonds in the Cuban link necklace Erik gifted her twinkled under the light of the store, attracting the attention of the young woman working. She was about 5’9, 150 pounds wet with what looked to be a 24-inch body wave weave with a lifting frontal and lipstick that clashed with her undertones. Cute, but not Hennessy. She looked Henny up and down with familiarity before her eyes finally landed on the letter E tattoo that rested on her collarbone.

“Oh, you must be the new freak of the week?”

“Excuse me?” Hennessy asked with a raised eyebrow. Erik was popular, so it was no surprise that the whole state of Massachusetts knew that he was officially off the market.

“I know that Cuban, he gave me one like it when we were fucking around. Erik?”

“Who are you?” The name tag on her chest read Brittani, but it should’ve said Bold Bitch, seeing as how she was questioning Henny like she was Erik’s mother.

“I’m Brittani. Erik and I fucked around on the regular up until about a year ago.”

Hennessy smiled as Brittani spoke, remembering the day that he stumbled on her doorstep.

"And you still on him? Baby, move on." This caused Brittani to give her the most menacing look.

“Funny, you’re bigger than his usual type.”

Oh, you one of them bitches. Salty as the everlasting fuck that a thicc bitch took the nigga you wanted.

“Any particular reason why you’re divulging this information? I’m just tryna buy some lipstick not hear your dating history.”

Brittani smirked, snatching the items from Hennessy’s hands and ringing them up aggressively.

"History tends to repeat itself. I could take your man. Easily! Look at me and look at you.”

Hennessy laughed loudly then, completely disregarding the Great Value Cyn Santana. Having been officially dating the soon-to-be King of Wakanda for a year now, she was used to slimmer, Instagram-esque women feeling loose at the lips when it came to her boyfriend. At face value, Erik was the total package. He was incredibly smart, handsome, and his sex could convert even the most devout nun. But the real Erik, the fragile lost boy who had discovered his father’s lifeless body when he was only a young boy, that was a completely different story. The real Erik was moody, mean, and when he was in Killmonger-mode, a vengeful shell of a man that cared about nobody else’s feelings but his own. It had taken some time, but Hennessy had skillfully and meticulously broken down some of the rougher areas of his psyche and had learned things about him that no one else would dream of knowing. In him, she'd found a kindred spirit. A twin flame. They had bonded over their love for marijuana and their need to escape the realities of their tragic childhoods. She'd seen him at his weakest, his ugliest, and his most tragic. They'd butt heads and found homeostasis more times in a month than most couples even saw each other. She knew no one else could handle the man she called hers and she’d be lying if she said the idea of someone trying was not comical.

“I'll tell you what. You can have him, but I guarantee after 24 hours you’ll give him back.”

“Shiiid. I know what that dick is like and I swore that if I ever got it again, I’d never let him go.”

Hennessy laughed harder as the young woman slid the bag of purchased items across the counter.

“I’ll give you 24 hours. Any longer and you're stuck with him.”

“Deal.”

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

“You really out here tryna pimp a nigga, huh?” Erik asked from his place between Hennessy's legs. After having successfully broken her back on every surface of their shared apartment since he stepped foot in the door the previous day, Erik was now lazily resting on Hennessy’s belly while she massaged through his dreads. He had missed the way her plush body melted into his, much like the memory foam mattress they were currently lounging on. He loved the way their bodies fit together, like Bast had created her just for him. She was his personal Sour Patch kid, sweet and sour depending on her mood, but always soft.

“It’s only pimping if we're getting paid. Lil’ Mama said she could take you from me, so I told her she could have you. You and I both know you’ll be back.”

“You damn right. You’re my favorite brown liquor and plus, I can’t leave my Creole lady for too long. What you gonna do while I’m gone?”

Um, party? She thought to herself.

“Relax,” she said instead. Though there were experiments that needed to be done, she was going to use the day for some much needed self-care. Her hair had long since sweated out from its silky state, so she planned to wash and twist it, exfoliate and shave, and binge watch all the shows she’d missed during the week.

“You relaxed while I was gone, ma,” he pouted as he snuggled closer to her.

“No, I worked while you were gone. You know I have to keep busy so I don’t miss ya fat head ass so much.”

“You love my fat head though, boffum,” he teased as he ran his fingertips up her thighs.

“You’re disgusting,” she sneered.

“Filthy,” he called back, dipping his fingers between her thighs, drawing a soft mewl from her.

“Again?” she pouted.

“I missed my baby,” he growled before his tongue met her folds.

Here we go again.

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

Erik watched Brittani's back, unimpressed by her lack of food and general unpreparedness. Hadn't she heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach? She sat a bowl in front of him and stuck a spoon in it like she was done.

“Bruh. What the fuck is this? I asked for shrimp and grits, not oatmeal,” Killmonger fussed from his seat at Brittani’s counter. He had been in one of his moods ever since he came over, mentally noting to curse his girlfriend out for subjecting him to such torture, and now she was trying to kill him. Immediately he began to remember why he cut Brittani off in the first place. She was cute, but that was all she had going for herself. She couldn’t cook, she wouldn’t clean, and she was always in his business and trying to go through his phone. If she wasn’t trying to force herself onto his dick then she was whining about wanting him to take her shopping and show her off, though she wasn’t much of a trophy. She couldn't even keep her wig under control. He could see the screen door material sitting on top of her forehead. Henny always put makeup on hers. He could see her in the mirror now, doing that goofy ass dance she did whenever she got a new wig, patting and parting to make sure it looked good. He looked down at his watch. 16 more hours to go. This was finna be a long day.

“That is shrimp and grits, babe. I followed the recipe and everything.” Hennessy didn’t need a recipe.

“My name is Erik,” he reminded her as he tried to lift the spoon from the bowl. “Call me babe again and I’ll slit ya throat,” he threatened, mostly serious. “Why the grits so thick? Did you devein the shrimp? Is this a shell?!” His appetite quickly diminished when he spotted a creature the size of his thumb crawl across the stovetop.

“SHIT…. I’m going to the gym,” he snarled dusting himself, suddenly paranoid.

You love me especially gentle every time // You keep me on my feet happily excited // By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence // You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me // You school me, give me some things to think about // Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me // You incite me to chorus, ooh

Back at their apartment, Henny was soaking in a vanilla lavender bath while her curls deep conditioned under her large pink bonnet. Jill Scott serenaded her while the warm water soothed her aching muscles, an indication of the previous night’s activities. Her music was interrupted by her ringtone.

“Miss me already, Daddy?” she teased, putting the phone on speaker so she could finish her bath.

“This bitch got bugs bigger than me crawling around her shit. Them bitches benching 350. I’m not sleeping there tonight for them niggas to jump me in my sleep.. and I’ma beat ya ass when I get home,” he fussed, still dusting himself occasionally as he drove.

“Aww, baby it can’t be that bad,” Hennessy tried.

“She needed a recipe for shrimp and grits. Who the fuck needs a recipe for shrimp and grits?! It’s in the fuckin’ title! Damn shrimp still had shells on ‘em, the grits was hard as a fuckin’ brick… it was just a mess. Then Craig the Cockroach or whatever the fuck it was came crawling across the stove like he was lookin’ for a plate too. I had to go.”

Hennessy was a giggling mess as Erik explained his morning ordeal.

“Didn’t y’all use to fuck around? You ain’t know she had roaches?”

“I used to fuck that bitch in her driveway cuz she lived with her mama. I had no idea what the inside of that place looked like.”

“You was a dirty dick ass nigga, huh? Just sticking it in anything warm.”

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, I’m aware of the error of my past judgement, but this is NOT the time to be making jokes. I’m distraught and you laughing. If I die in there, it’s your fault.”

“I mean, according to ya military paperwork I’m ya wife, so I’ll get a nice check.”

“Wooooooow, it really be ya own people. Just for that I’m going in ya ass with no lube tomorrow.”

“Wait, I take it back. I’m sorry. If you wanna come back sooner, handle her. Make it so she knows you're mine or help her move on. One or the other.”

“BET.” With that, the line went dead and Hennessy already knew which option he chose. She had basically given Killmonger permission to hurt this young lady’s feelings, and boy did he intend to do just that.

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

Hennessy was mid happy baby pose when her phone rang again, this time with an unfamiliar number. She cleared her throat and pulled out the French, just in case it was a bill collector or one of Erik’s more shady acquaintances.

“Bonjour, Aurélie.” She was met with the sound of soft sniffles, followed by her boyfriend’s voice roaring in the background.

“The fuck you crying for? You knew what that shit looked like when you woke up this morning. Didn’t even try to run a brush through it. That ain’t what Beyoncé meant when she said she woke up like this.”

“Please come get this nigga,” Brittani said between sniffles. She had had it. Ever since Erik had returned from the gym he had been tearing into her. Hennessy knew it would happen and she almost felt bad for releasing the beast. Almost.

"I would’ve kissed you good morning just to be nice but I went through your bathroom cabinets and you ain't got no mouthwash. Your toothbrush look like it was originally owned by George Washington and your breath smells like halitosis personified. And don’t get me started on Craig the Cockroach. That nigga probably twerked his ass all over your lips and your tongue the way you were snoring. Why you sleep with your mouth open when you got roaches?”

“That’s actually a valid question. That can’t be healthy,” Henny finally spoke up.

“That nigga Craig pay rent or is he like Bruhman from the fif flo? This his house, huh? You just his pet human.”

“Nigga!” Hennessy exclaimed through the phone. She had been successful at keeping her laughs at bay, but was done when he called her the roach’s pet human.

“I can’t do this anymore, you can have him back.”

“It’s only been 9 hours, sis. I thought you said you’d never let that dick go.”

"So now you don't wanna be with me because I'm telling yo triflin’ ass the truth? And who said she was getting dick?! Nah, you ain’t about to put no voodoo curses on me for sticking my dick in the Men In Black bug. I try to bust a nut and my shit just fall off. Hell nah.”

“Just get ya shit and go, nigga. Shamu can have you.” Time seemed to stop once those words left her lips. Even Craig the Cockroach disappeared. It was one thing to disrespect him, but his woman? All bets were off when it came to her and Brittani was about to learn this the hard way. With deadly stealth Erik zipped from across the room to right in front of her face. He wiggled the phone from Brittani’s grasp and ended the call before putting his face as close to hers as his nostrils would allow.

"You fix them crusty lips to call my woman Shamu one more time.. and I'll throw you in the ocean with Bruhman chained to your ankle like a weight." Brittani remained silent, only nodding her head fervently when he was done.

"Nah, you know what? That's not good enough. Call my girl back. Yeah, call her."

“Yeeesss?” Hennessy sang from the other end of the phone.

"The bit-, I mean Brittani got something to say to you. Go 'head."

Brittani hesitated, Erik's eyes giving her the option to cooperate or face consequences. He'd taken pictures of her dirty stove capturing a roach on the move and was threatening to post it on a MAC forum along with a short video of her asleep with a roach on her forehead. She decided it would be best for her to cooperate and cut her losses.

"Hi, Hennessy. I'm sorry for what I said to you and you were right, I couldn't handle him. I guess..," she wavered briefly, "I guess you're a better woman than me all-around. I could never. I see that now."

Erik cleared his throat quietly.

"Oh, a-and you're very beautiful, very statuesque and curvaceous. I wish I looked like you--"

“You don’t have to lie, now, sweetheart. You don’t wish you looked like me, you’re only saying that because you’re afraid of what he’ll do to you if I give the word. However, let this be a lesson to you. Just because you think you’re better than someone, that may not always be the case. Even if this little experiment had been his own choice, he’d still come back to me because he knows that no woman will ever treat him the way that I do. I’m one in a million and he’d be stupid to let me go.”

"So I can come home now?"

“Of course you can, Daddy. I got homemade crab cakes and lobster man n cheese waiting for you as well as two freshly pearled blunts of some new shit. I even felt generous and made a bananas foster cheesecake.” Erik’s mouth watered when she mentioned the dessert he fell in love with when they visited her parents the previous summer.

"A nigga need a bath, a nap, and a backrub. I ain't get no sleep. I had one eye open all night."

“You can have whatever you like, baby. My schedule is clear for the next week.”

“Shiiiit, I’m on my way.. And be naked when I get there.”

Horny ass nigga.

"Take notes," he said to Brittani as he hung up. “And tell my nigga Craig he can have them clothes. I ain’t tryna bring none of y’all kids home.”

TAGS: @panthergoddessbast @amethyst1993 @vikkidc @blackpantherismyish @youreadthatright @mareethequeen @princessstevens @bartierbakarimobisson @madamslayyy @nickidub718 @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @muse-of-mbaku @killmongersgurl @thehomierobbstark @forbeautyandlife @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @purple-apricots @trevantesbrat

[katsukikitten]

Hollow

Katsuki didn't want to believe the rumor until he saw what it was for himself.

The news had a bad habit of spreading lies like wildfire more often than not.

And truth be told, he wanted this one to be a lie too.

But as he stands in the liminal space of the park long forgotten in the late hours of the night as his scarlet eyes watch the tall grey building across the street, he begins to wonder.

And wonder deeply, if the rumor is more truth than lie as he sees the familiar pattern falling into place before him.

The string of robberies, all at banks or jewelry stores.

The same punctual hour of three am, or 'witching hour' as someone *once* dear to him called it.

And lastly the unmistakable reports of the lingering, unmistakable smell of death.

*'I marked him...Suki...'*

He swallows as he watches a slim silhouette slip into the building before him.

The clouds overhead compete with the thundering roar of his heart as lightning darts across the sky. He wishes he could blame dunce face for the light show but he cannot. Again he swallows his displeasure as he watches.

As he waits despite being ordered not to follow up on this case.

Despite being begged by his close friend Kirishima and his good rival, Deku, to lie low.

To leave it to them.

Which he almost did, what with having to leave the country for a collaborative mission over seas and all.

But as he packed his extra hero suit neatly into his black backpack the news just HAD to mention the most recent robbery that reminded him too much of his last and only failed mission.

The news just had to describe the perpetrator in detail from first hand witnesses on scene.

The news just *had* to remind him of the anniversary of that tragic death of someone he held in his incapable arms as they pulled their last breaths to them.

Of your tragic death.

The thought pushes his feet forward towards something he knows he shouldn't see.

Something he doesn't want to see.

Still the ash blonde is sure to keep his swift steps silent as he seemingly polevaults across the haunting child's playground as more lightning stripes the sky. Rain threatens to erupt from the sky with each roaring shake of the clouds.

He slips into the cold lobby, eyes darting to every shadow to be sure the perpetrator is alone. His heart thuds harder into his ribs than it has ever before.

Harder than the league of villains appearing out of nowhere in the training gym.

Harder than being tied to a chair in front of those fucking fools that had kept him hostage years ago.

Harder still than the first time he grew the balls to kiss you, unknowing of the change you would inflict upon him.

When he was younger all he saw was black and white. Good and Evil.

That was until you showed him the world was painted in more grayed tones than he'd ever care to admit.

That most of them were people too, with jaded pasts, and maybe they just needed help healing.

The ones that *could* be saved anyway.

He was convinced you were one of them.

But Mother Death took you before he could ever find out.

Stealing you away from him as you took a blow aimed for him.

A blow you never would have taken for anyone else, nor even dreamt of it as you walked the fine line of grand larceny and petty theft.

Even now he can feel your last moments.

The awkward weight of your body going slack as the last of your fight comes tumbling out in a croaking, heart wrenching exhaled breath.

His retinas burned with the image of your eyes dulling in a matter of seconds, no longer sparkling with curiosity, with fire.

With love for him.

An image that he sees every time his long blonde lashes kiss his soft cheeks, reminding him of how weak he was.

An image that drove him to this bank tonight.

An image that he has fought himself over, knowing he will lose to the call of his revenge.

There will be no grey tones to paint the scarlet eyed man with not when he gets his hands on whoever hurt you.

No they will paint him in the blackest of blacks. The hue so deep it swallows all of the light in his heart.

The sound of a safe clicking open brings him crashing back to the here and now, his gloves groan from the force of his clenched firsts.

The sickening sweet smell of rotting fruit wafts his way as the perpetrator makes a sound of delight. Deft hands work quickly, before Katsuki can turn the corner he hears the satisfying click of the grated door opening inward to the vault. He exhales slowly, attempting to withhold his rage as he really isn't sure who or what will be on the other side of this corner.

You did say the dead you raised had lived on for months after you awakened them, that the ones that escaped your command for slumber would take on some of your habits.

But you also whispered through bloodied lips that you marked the person who killed you with the scent of death.

Either way Katsuki knew he needed to end this here and now.

It was just a matter of would he walk away a hero tonight?

Or a villain himself, hands dipped in the blood of someone who stole from him.

Who stole his one and *only* love.

He rounds the corner with ease but the explosion on his palm dies even as a fresh sheen of cold sweat coats his skin.

He cannot believe his blood red eyes as he stares as the perpetrator standing in the vault.

Humming a hauntingly familiar tune of a spell.

A spell to raise the dead.

The skeleton clinks as it moves unnaturally, pulling its calcified limbs with invisible muscles as it picks the lock to the safety deposit boxes. Throwing the contents into a labeled bag along with the file of the owner. Lightening flashes, illuminating the mouth of the darkened vault and revealing several sets of glowing, eerily beautiful eyes.

Or where a set of eyes should be.

But none as beautiful as the set that drags over the thick steel compartments that houses hundreds of thousands of yen.

Katsuki closes his eyes at first. Thinking the roaring thunder, dancing lights and the now pounding rain are playing tricks on him.

It all has to be. The anniversary of your death, the haunting nightmares he has had of late and surely the smell has him seeing incorrectly.

But when those scarlet eyes drink in the scene once more they are not mistaken as they rove over the familiar body.

No, he would never forget the shape of you.

This must be an illusion from some other villain to fuck with him.

It fuels a burning rage in his chest, so hot that for a sliver of a moment he cannot see.

Partially losing control as he sees red so deep it seems black.

But he comes to his senses when the first popping explosion on the bones sends calcium shrapnel into the air.

The sound making an odd addition to the hum escaping your lips.

You turn to face him, your features shadowed by the dark revealing on a malice laced smile.

"Katsuki-kun!" You sing song, as the hope of you being a cruel illusion dies in his chest.

"It...It can't be you, Y/N!" He yells, voice raw with unspoken emotion and untapped rage. Lightning strikes fast and close. Close enough that you can smell the smoke from the now charred brick.

Although the light show is the worst of Katsuki's problems as the rest of your hidden features are briefly revealed for a few short seconds.

That doesn't stop Katsuki from seeing something that will now haunt his every nightmare and possibly every waking moment as he is left with the unsettling color of your eyes.

As they are no longer a hue so gorgeously memzmerosing, no now they are a milky, filmed over white.

He notices too that your skin is no longer the right color, it has a sickly undertone, veins too deep in color from sluggish blood.

He tries to swallow the horror that tears up his throat.

He gets caught in his throat as he throws a few more explosions to the clinking and some rotting bodies to which you've awakened.

For every foe vanquished, you summon another, causing the stench of death to cling to Katsuki's clothes, skin, his very bones as he demolishes each animated figure one by one.

Soon the hot head is gasping for air, as your smile continues to be much too wide for his liking.

"Is that all you've got?" He gasps in angry ragged breaths.

"There will always be Dead, Suki." A phrase you had told him many as you pulled them forth.

Bending the afterlife to your unyielding will.

He dodges a fresh corpse turning in time to ignite his caramel sweat and launching himself into you at the same time. He slams you against the cold metal but the skin beneath his finger tips is colder.

Colder still is the heart that lies unbeating in your chest as his digits dig in bruising flowers on your shoulder.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" A mix of snarl and hurt. An emotion that Katsuki cannot place flashes across your features before twisting.

"Who do you think?" A laugh peels from your chapped, bluish grey lips, a laugh unlike your own. The weight of its echo causes Bakugou's stomach to knot as he slowly tries to place the pieces together.

When he cannot say one of the two conclusions he has come to you answer impatiently. A hint of a giggle clinging to your lips as mischief still somehow hangs in the white film of your muted eyes.

"It was me." This time you do giggle as Katsuki's handsome face contorts, reflecting the emotions that most be flooding his godly body, "Why do you think I used my dying breaths to ask a favor? It was my own blood in that vial that you poured into my mouth."

"Or maybe I could say it was you!" A cackle rings out, "You did this to me, Suuuukiiii-kun!"

His fingers dig deeper threatening to break paper thin skin that once used to be feather soft. Hot tears burn in the back of scarlet eyes but he blinks them away furiously.

Just in time as you spit thick blackened blood onto his face, little white larva crawl across his cheeks, threatening to push past his lips. He jumps back, gagging from the smell, from the sensation as he swipes with newfound anxiety at his face.

Another laugh echoes in the small confinements of the vault and in Katsuki's head.

"Why...why would you do this?" He hisses angirly, explosions dancing on his skin, "You always said you hated your quirk. You hated what you created."

"Necromancy has been unnatural and yet highly strived for since the first death of mankind." You say with a sugared voice as you shove him harshly against the unforgiving iron.

Hard enough that the vault gives way, bending beneath the force of Katsuki's weight.

"Do you honestly why I hated the things I summoned?" You lean close as shining scarlet eyes glitter from unshed tears, both from the stench of your rotting insides and the blatant hurt. When he does not answer you continue.

"I hated them because I *envied* them. They do not feel. They do not feel love, pain, sadness. They do as they are told. Plus if I had never raised myself from the dead how else would I get to have your whole heart?" You ask, shoving your hand deep into Katsuki's chest, holding his heart in your palm, fresh blood splatters your face to which to lap with your tongue. His face pales from the foreign object protruding from his chest and pales even further as you pull his beating heart from between his overly protective rib cage.

He slumps to the vault floor, the world quickly falling away from him.

He can no longer feel the pressure of your in his chest nor the icy cold vault walls.

He can no longer see your parted lips coming ever closer to his still beating heart.

He can just barely smell the rotting pungant stench that is you as he hears a sickening sucking bite.

As one does when they bite into a peach so juicy they must suck in to keep the sweet nectar from falling from their lips.

All in a matter of seconds before his conciousness blips out of existence.

"Not so fast, my little Katuski." You smile with ruby red liquid dripping from plump lips, "I didnt even get to give you a good bye kiss."

You lean closely pressing your glossed lips to his before pulling away.

Silence weighs heavy on the building of the bank.

Hell, the silence weighs heavy on the entire block as the storm begins to die after a short half an hour of gale force wind carried rain and lightning so fierce it fried the grid to the city.

A final flash illuminates the vault revealing a now two sets of milky unfeeling eyes with matching maliced lips.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Fallen {Part 2}

*Loki x reader*

{Part 1} {Part 3}

Chapter: 2/?

Words: 2k

Imagine: You go on a more or less involuntary roadtrip with Loki after he finds you hiding in Grand Canyon. With the Avengers AND the police chasing you, you are forced to trust each other in ways neither of you could've imagined.

Genre: mainly humor, little fluffy

"And why are you here?" Loki asked, letting his gaze wander over the rocky landscape.

"Nah… doesn't really matter. I'm here. That's all that matters." You mused, gazing up to the millions upon millions of stars.

There was something in the way your voice carried their meaning through the silence and it made Loki shiver involuntarily. He was sure of one thing: you didn't refuse to tell him because he was a stranger. No, it was something far worse and he would make sure to find out what it was. For now all he could tell was that the memory pained you. Usually, under normal circumstances and with any other being but you it would be his greatest joy to dig deep into this wound until his target cracked, crashed and burned. But for some reason, being here with you made him want to do rather the opposite. Not because you were so fragile or because he cared so much… he just couldn't imagine to voluntarily hurt you and so he didn't inquire any further. You seemed equally lost in thought and thus the two of you remained in the comfortable silence of the nature around you. 

"Are you cold?" Loki finally asked and his smooth voice seemed to cut through the cold nightly air like a breath of fire. Despite every vain attempt to keep his cool and pretend that not every nerve in his body was ablaze, he just couldn't stop himself from growing increasingly fond of you and with a speed he couldn't quite comprehend.

"How'd you get the impression? Can you read my mind?" You smirked.

"No. You're shivering." He rolled his eyes at your ridiculous question, but only then realized that you were merely mocking him, playing him like a damn game of cards. He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. If he kept being around you, and he knew he would, you'd drive him absolutely mad.

"Why do you sit as far away from me as possible?" You asked with a teasing curiosity, closing your eyes and slightly swinging your foot to a music only you could hear.

"I don't like being around people." He answered coldly, his voice coming out harsher than intended.

"And yet you are still here…" You sang and turned your head to face him. The huge grin on your lips was the most annoying thing he'd ever seen and yet… also the most endearing.

"You know nothing about me." Loki sighed. 

"Oh well, I know that your name is Loki, that's something at least. You're probably not out here alone, but you despise your company. Probably the Avenger-guys, if you ask me. Only ever saw them on TV to be honest, but they seem quite… righteous." You laughed, making him chuckle in return. 

"Righteous is a very... fitting way to put it." Loki grinned at you. "Kind of an understatement though." 

"Nah…" You winked at him. "I bet they are annoying as hell."

Loki let out a loud and sincere laugh. "Oh, you have no idea! They are a melting pot of mundaneness, prejudice and witty remarks."

"Well, I could live with the witty remarks." You chuckled. "But the rest… I'm not that much into normal people."

Loki grinned at you; of course you didn't like normal people. Otherwise you'd hardly be sitting alone in the wilderness talking to a stranger in the dark.

"I get why you'd run away." You sighed, sitting back up and crossing your legs beneath you.

"You do?" He asked immediately.

"Well, I… I just don't think they are the kind of people who would be very open for things, or people, they don't understand. People can be cruel when they are scared. They lash out at the people who deserve it the least just because they are different." You said quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

Your words twisted the sinews of Loki's heart and he felt uncomfortably exposed. But then again, your words made him stop before he could lash out at you in defense. That was exactly what you were talking about and the realization that he himself was no better than the Avengers in this regard hit him hard. 

"I'm sorry if I crossed a line, I didn't mean to…" You looked back up and into Loki's wide eyes.

"It's… it's fine, you are right. They are a mean bunch of assholes if you ask me. But they are kind and welcoming to each other and that's what hurts me the most." He said without thinking, only realizing too late that he had unintentionally shared one of his most intimate thoughts with you. This has never happened before, not once in the small eternity that he has lived. A cold heat washed over him like a wave crashing on the shore. Every cell in his body was burning and freezing at the same time and he felt the sudden urge to run.

You could only hear your own breath as you stared into his wide eyes. Both of you sat completely still as the space between you seemed to shrink into nothingness, eyes fixed on eyes, both unsure what do say or do.

You took the time to study his sharp features and his beautiful eyes, certain that if you just looked long enough you'd be able to see his soul.

Loki however couldn't believe the effect you seemed to have on him. He'd just shared a deep insight into his feelings with you and yet, he felt… relieved to have told you. Unbelievable. 

"I…" You started, feeling the overwhelming urge to open up as well. "I'm just passing through here, you know... I'm on my way to New York. I started in Sacramento and hitchhiked my way to Grand Canyon. There's always someone willing to take a helpless little girl a few miles east." 

"You don't look all that helpless to me." Loki chuckled. He was grateful for the opportunity to change the topic and leave his sudden reveal of emotions unaddressed for now.

"Well, they won't have to know that." You winked. 

"Why are you going to New York?" He asked, leaning his head to one side. "I mean… do you really want to go to New York or do you want to get away from Sacramento?"

You smirked, shaking your head slightly. "You're good at reading people. Really good."

"I've heard that much." He laughed. "And you're really good at avoiding questions you don't want to answer."

You smiled at him sweetly. "Everyone needs a talent I guess…"

"So… how are you planning on getting to New York from here on?" It was obvious to Loki that you didn't want to talk about your reasons or your past and he could very well live with that. As much as it intrigued him, he had his own demons he was trying to leave behind. If anyone understands the trouble of a difficult past, it was him.

"I wanted to ask random tourists if they'd be willing to take me a few miles, maybe I would've hidden in their cars… but I was stupid and fell asleep. Woke back up shortly before you attacked me."

"I'd hardly call that an attack!" Loki protested, humored by your little banter. "I hardly even scared you! I must say there are very few people who won't panic when a dagger is pointed at their throats."

"I was scared as hell, but showing fear is something entirely different. But you've got some really nice daggers… can I see them again?" You smiled at him in ever so slight excitement.

He just couldn't help himself, the way your eyes light up… He materialized one of his daggers and flipped it so that the blade lay in his hand, holding it out to you. In amazement you took it from him, holding it carefully but with a certain expertise. In the moonlight it looked utterly out of this world and you let out an unintentional sigh. You wanted to facepalm when you realized that indeed, neither Loki nor his blade were in fact out of this world.

"You like it?" He smirked, feeling confident like a little boy showing off his best toys to his secret crush.

"It's well balanced, light weight and elegant. Couldn't ask for more."

"I'm not gifting it to you." 

You let out a snort and gracefully twisted the blade in your hand before handing it back to Loki. "I didn't expect you to."

"You didn't?!" He mocked you. "I thought mortal women always expect to be gifted things."

Now you straight out laughed in his face. "Oh, you forgot that we're also helpless, stupid little things without an opinion, eager to let mysterious and of course male strangers dig into our tragic pasts full of sadness and misery in the hope of saving our poor little souls, which we will gladly reward by gifting them or bodies." 

Loki suppressed the urge to laugh. "Yeah, sorry, I forgot that. My bad."

You grinned at each other for a little moment longer, before Loki let the dagger disappear again.

"How do you do that?" You asked.

"It's called magic." He said with so much sarcasm in his voice that you just had to roll your eyes.

"Can you make me disappear?" You asked once more, but with a more serious undertone.

"Why would I do that?" Loki frowned at you.

You shrugged, not in the mood to explain that sometimes you'd like to simply be gone and not feel a thing anymore. 

Then, you heard a car in the distance, it's brakes screeching loudly.

"I must go." You said immediately, jumping to your feet. Loki however just stared at you in confusion.

"I can't have anyone find me." You added while grabbing your bag. Loki also got up, stepping off the blanket so you could stuff it into your bag.

"I found you." He said calmly. "Was that so bad?" 

"Yes." You frown and shake your head. "Well, no, but you're not…" You groaned in frustration.

Loki rose an eyebrow at you and watched you panic. Maybe he should do something to help, his feelings were urging him to do so, but his mind wanted answers first. 

"So you're on the run?" He asked.

"Yes." You sighed.

"You could've told me that."

"Yes."

"Why did you not?"

"Would it have changed anything?"

"No."

"Then there's your answer." You smirked at him. "It was nice meeting you, Loki. Really nice, actually. I haven't felt like this in months."

He felt himself silently agree with you. It had been more than nice. So much so, that he didn't want it to end already. But he realized that he would have to return to the Avengers soon and that you needed to go as well.

Just as you were about to walk down a small path, a rustling caught the attention of both of you.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" A ranger demanded to know rather loudly.

You froze in your movement.

"Hey, haven't I seen you before?" The ranger pointed at you and walked closer. "Yes, you were on the news!" 

He drew his gun and pointed it at your face with shaking hands. "Don't… don't move…" With his other hand he went to alarm his colleagues.

"You don't seem to do this very often." Loki commented from the side, seemingly completely unbothered by the weapon.

The ranger's head shot around to look at Loki, who he obviously hadn't noticed before. "You! Get over there!" 

With an eye roll Loki sauntered off to stand next to you close to the edge of the cliff.

He could see the panic in your eyes as you looked at him, silently begging him to help you out of this.

He knew what helping you meant, knew that he'd have to live with the consequences. What had gotten into him, thinking about someone else's well before his own? When had that happened? But no there was no denying it any longer. One more look at your face gave him every certainty that what he was about to do would worth it. You were worth it, to him. 

"Do you trust me, y/n?" He asked quietly.

"No." You breathed. "But do I have a choice?"

"No."

With that he gently took your hand in his. Just as you were about to protest, he pulled you with him over the edge of the cliff. Greeted by nothing but the empty air, you fell into an uncertain future. But not once did Loki let go of your hand.

___________

A.N.: I'm sorry this chapter is a little short and rly badly written 😭 I've been rewriting it over and over again but nothing good came out of it... So this is what we're rolling with! It's kind of like a filler chapter to establish a basic relationship between Loki and reader... I rly hope you still somewhat enjoyed it and I promise the next chapter will be better 💗✨

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@oceans-deep-ice

@waiting-for-motivation

@its-remy-not-ratatouille

@scienceofficersmith

@rinthehufflepuff

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