#eventually leading to a point where he will have to decide between following orders and playing the favours game and doing what's right

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

.

[grugruel]

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

-

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

-

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

-

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

-

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

[dxxdhood]

wait for me

pairing: waiter!dick grayson x gn!reader

summary: after getting stood up on a date, you notice the waiter who's been patiently watching you all evening.

tags: smut (18+), sub!dick grayson, dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, humiliation, name-calling, slapping, handjob

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hey, hope you guys like this one! if anyone has any requests/thoughts, please send them in. i want to write more, but i really struggle with ideas haha

It’s not that bad, all things considered. You must have the intuition of a god for choosing a restaurant that allows free refills, because if you’ve had to pay for drinks this whole night, you’d have gone completely broke. Still, you can’t help feeling pretty shitty. There’s no way your date is running two hours late.

The place is a casual diner, serving a host of soups, sandwiches, and pastries that had you salivating earlier on in the night, but right now, you’re not exactly in the mood to browse the menu again. The diner doesn’t close until twelve, but it’s been almost deserted for the past hour, probably because it’s a weeknight and the average person has plenty better to do than wait on a person who’s made it obvious they’re not coming

Just as you’re about to get up and leave – for real this time – the waiter comes around to refill your drink. It’s a quarter till twelve, and at this point you know he probably wants to start cleaning up, but still he tops up your drink without saying anything. It’s a kindness, but a part of you just wishes he would kick you out already.

He’s been the only waiter on staff since you got here – even the manager knew this place would be empty – and you’re so glad he was, because if you ever want to show your face here again, all you have to do is avoid one person. It’s a shame that you feel too embarrassed to interact with him, though. He’s been nothing but polite, only asking if you were ready to order at the very beginning before quickly picking up on the fact that you were waiting on your date– the one that wasn’t coming.

You take a sip from your full drink, but you can’t stomach any more. Standing up, you try to avoid eye contact with the waiter, who’s relaxing behind the counter, as you step towards the exit. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of your head, like you’ve skipped a step or forgotten an important task. It dawns on you as you’re facing the exit: you forgot to tip him!

Well, you didn’t order a meal and you paid for your drink up front, so you’re not exactly sure if you were meant to tip him. Hell, you didn’t know if this restaurant accepted tips at all. But this waiter just watched you sit through quiet torture and the second-hand embarrassment was probably like stepping on glass.

“Hey,” you turn around. “Do I… Should I tip you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering that, too,” he says lightly. He purses his lips and stares to the side, “I’ve turned it over a few times in my head, and decided that nope! You don’t need to tip me. You have no lawful or moral obligation, I resolve you.”

You feel your eyes getting watery, so you focus on the dust in the crease between the wall and the floor. Him saying that only makes you feel worse, but it’d be too awkward to hand him the money now. It feels like there should be something you could do, some way you could thank him for keeping you company.

“How many people are staffed right now?” you ask.

He looks caught off guard, like he expected the interaction to end there. “Oh, just me and one other guy in the kitchen.”

“Let me help you close.”

His eyes widen, and you try to meet his gaze. He’s puzzled, probably trying to figure out what you get out of helping him. Eventually, he shrugs his shoulders and gets up from behind the counter.

“Yeah, why not,” he says with a fond smirk, gesturing to you to follow him. 

He leads you to the supply closet, where the two of you grab cleaning spray, rags, and a broom. While you work on wiping down the tables and chairs, he counts the cash in the register.

“So, you always offer to clean up after yourself?” he starts, too focused on tallying up the earnings to notice you staring at him. The waiter, “Dick” according to his name tag, is very cute. You were trying to ignore him the best you could for the sake of your would-be date, but honestly, fuck that guy. Your waiter with the dashing smile and ruffled hair blows him out of the water, anyway.

“Just feeling extra polite tonight. You always accept help from customers?”

“You won’t believe this, but nobody’s offered,” he says with a snort. “Still, probably not the smartest idea on my part.”

You think about his words for a second as you wipe down a particularly stubborn stain. “I wouldn’t be able to rob you if I wanted to.”

It’s true, he looked well-muscled, even if on the leaner side. His eyes are playful as he narrows them at you. “Careful, they take security footage of this place, don't confess to any thoughts you may or may not have.”

You laugh, going back to cleaning before you start again. “Can’t believe you put off closing the diner just so you could watch me get stood up for an extra however many minutes.”

“Counterpoint: Can’t believe you let yourself get stood up for so long.” Dick finishes up at the register and grabs the broom. “You’re worth more than that.”

“Oh? And how do you know what I’m worth?” you say instinctively. 

You watch his eyes widen from your peripheral vision, like he didn’t mean to say his last comment out loud. “I wasn’t trying to overstep, but, like, obviously you’re attractive. You could get anyone you wanted and–”

“You’ve been watching me all night, haven't you?” Filled with newfound confidence, you leave your rag and spray bottle and walk over to where Dick is sweeping the entrance. 

Despite how friendly he’s been tonight, he deliberately avoids eye contact as he works. “Well, yeah, I needed to make sure you got your order once – if – you placed one–”

“No, no. I mean you were watching me,” you place a hand on his shoulder. “What, you wish you were the one I was going on a date with?”

And though you know you’re jumping to conclusions, he stiffens at your words and it’s clear you’ve caught him.

“I… I didn’t want to bother–” Dick starts, dropping the broom. You use the opening to push him against the wall, hearing the scratches of the brick against his button up shirt.

“That’s alright,” you whisper. “I don’t mind being bothered.”

You can feel his chest rise and fall as you press yourself closer to him. His eyes follow your every move, and you bring your face closer until it's only inches away from his. 

You can feel the puffs of his inhales and exhales on your skin, and you’re about to completely close the gap between you two, but Dick beats you to it. He kisses you, and you pull back for a moment in surprise before sinking into the kiss.

His lips are so warm, and as he brings up a hand to pull you closer by the jaw, you notice how surprisingly soft his hands are. You try to deepen the kiss, nipping his lip in the process, and he lets out a gasp. Biting at his lip a little more, he giggles as he realizes you’re playing with him.

“You’re starting to bother me,” he quips, trying to keep his composure as you nip at the underside of his jaw. Just when he starts getting comfortable and relaxing into your kisses, you switch to biting at him, and he jolts.

“Maybe you deserve it. You need to learn better manners, sitting there, watching me all night. Bet you wish I would’ve shoved you against this wall a whole lot sooner, huh?” you whisper into his ear before going back to kissing down his neck. He moans at your words, but tries to muffle himself by pushing his face into his shoulder. You bring a hand up to his hair and tug to get him to pay attention to you.

“Right in front of everyone, too,” you continue, sliding a hand down his stomach to work on his jeans. “Just mark you, make you moan like a bitch while everyone else is watching.”

Biting his lip, Dick tries to ignore the effect your words have on him, but he’s still rutting against your hand as you’re unzipping him. He gives a small thrust against the air, whimpering as you wrap your hand around his cock.

“Shit, this all for me?” you breathe. You swear Dick can hear you smirk, even as he pinches his eyes shut.

“Don’t– Ah!” he gets cut off as you start stroking him slowly. “Don’t let– let it go to your head.”

“No, I think I’ll be just fine,” you quicken your pace, not giving him a second to get ready. “If I remember right, some slut thinks he’s hot enough to get me to fuck him just by, what, batting his eyes at me? From all the way across the diner?”

“Well–” He groans, arching his back against the wall. The sweat shines against his cheeks, you feel so lucky to be the cause of it. “Well I was right, wasn’t I?”

You chuckle, caught off guard. “Guess you are.”

You briefly remove your hand, and Dick grunts, irritated, before you spit in it and go back to forcefully jerking him off. His moans grow louder, and you can see him start to get lost, eyes growing distant while chasing his orgasm.

“Are you going to come already?” you say, slowing your pace to be more deliberate, but still keeping the pressure the same. After a moment of silence, you slap his balls and he lets out a yelp that melts into a groan. 

“Answer me!” you shout, bringing your hand back up to pull at his hair.

“Ah– Yeah, y-yes!” he gasps. “You’re going to make me cum!”

“Good,” you say before you bite at his neck again, sucking a spot right under his jugular. The skin starts to deepen and you lick, tending to it before you nip at it again, just biting hard enough to draw a pinprick of blood. 

Dick screams as he cums, thrusting into your fist at an uncontrolled pace. You work him through it, matching his speed until he falls back against the wall, spent. As he slides down the wall until he sits on the ground, you walk back to one of the chairs.

“Damn, not ready for round two?” you say, propping up your head on the top rail. He huffs through his nose, looking at you for a moment like he’s checking to see if you’re real. He seems to find what he’s looking for, giggling and resting his head on his knees. 

“Oh my god, Dick, stop it. We need to go!” A tall, built man walks out of the kitchen, “Jason” according to his name tag. Looking sheepish, Dick is ready to defend himself, but Jason walks towards him, ignoring every word coming out of Dick’s mouth. 

Dick hands you a napkin, gesturing a phone and mouthing the words “call me” as he’s dragged out of the building by Jason. In shock, you open up the napkin to find his name and his number hastily scribbled in ballpoint pen. Smirking to yourself, you only wish you knew how early on in the night Dick prepared this napkin for you. You could’ve saved the both of you two hours of waiting.

[jilyawards]

The Jily Fandom Rec List 2024 is a compilation of Jily stories our readers want to keep an eye on for this year's awards.

OCTOBER

The Quidditch Captain's Secret (completed, 7.6k) by Finnicksarchive. Rated G.

Embarrassed at having caught a muggle cold, James Potter decides to weather through his illness alone. His loyal friends agree to keep his condition a secret, but his absence is quickly noted by none other than one Lily Evans. On her search to discover the truth about his seeming disappearance, Lily is confronted with a terrifying reality: she actually cares for the cocky quidditch captain. Eventually, Lily finds James in bad shape, and takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health.

The Clean Up Crew (WIP, 16.9k as of 31 October 2024) by @alittlebitofeverything23. Rated T.

There’s an unspoken rule about hosting a House party: if it’s your party, you’re in charge of cleaning up. Follow James and Lily throughout their years at Hogwarts via House parties, birthday bashes, Slug Club events, and more.

Simmer Until Ready (completed, 3.6k) by @kay-elle-cee. Rated T.

James Potter is not a healer. His is a potioneer—the Order of the Phoenix's lead potioneer, in fact. So when their top field fighter—Lily Evans—comes to him for treatment after a particularly rough mission, he helps the best way he knows how: a vial of freshly-brewed Skele-Gro and a dose of laughter. Written for Jily Week 2024 Day 4: Flip the Script

Stupid T-Shirts (completed, 5.5k) by @kay-elle-cee. Rated E.

The last night on a group vacation, Mary pushes everyone to engage in a tacky T-shirt swap before going out. Suggestive shirts, months of pining, and one particular tequila shot finally lead Lily to reach her breaking point. Drunken kisses can be dismissed and joked about, but this—this would be crossing a line they won’t be able to uncross.

You Know How To Ball, I Know Aristotle (completed, 6.8k) by @wearingaberetinparis. Rated M.

Now that the global superstar, Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Lily Evans and professional football player James Potter are together, they have to juggle the difficulties of a relationship in the public eye. Fresh off her World Tour, Lily Evans arrives at Wembley Stadium one year after James Potter first attended her show, to perform there for one final weekend before heading to the studio to record her next album. Her boyfriend, in the meantime, is off to Germany to play at the Euros for England. How will they ever make their relationship work when Lily is - so the press loves to imply - the least supportive WAG of the tournament?

Between the Desire and the Spasm (WIP, 31.8k as of 31 October 2024) by @uncertainwallflower. Rated M.

Trains are arguably the centre of everything. The sinew of civilisation for muggles and wizards alike. They are where all walks of life converge. Congregate. In synchronised traversal. Shared agony inflicted by the piercing screech of metal on metal, bonding all patrons aboard a carriage. And outside. A passing glimpse of someone you thought you’d never see again. Trains. They change everything.

Check out the previous months' recs too: January, February, March || April || May || June || July || August || September

NOMINATIONS OPEN TOMORROW AND WILL BE OPEN TILL NOVEMBER 22ND!

Get reading and submit your nominees for each category! The stories included in the rec list are NOT automatically nominated - if you read and enjoyed one of them, submit it in the categories you think fit it!

[ghcstao3]

Pirates!Ghoap au (I can't stop thinking about it - or about any other au but this one is so dear to me)

Hope you have a nice day ☺️

sort of inspired by the jack sparrow and angelica scene in potc stranger tides. because that is where my mind goes when Pirates

-

Ghost has spent many years cultivating his reputation as a revered, feared pirate, and for just as long he's had several people try to challenge that. Try to challenge him. Of course, they never succeed in such endeavours, but this is much different. This is a first.

No one has ever tried to impersonate him before.

His crew had just made port in one of their more frequent haunts, having barely gotten the chance to step foot on land before an old acquaintance is greeting Ghost with surprise—everyone thought he had already arrived, had already been drinking and picking off the idiots trying to fight him. Had already been spreading rumours of his next voyage; a teasing invitation, a dare for anyone to follow.

But obviously, such is not the case. It can't be, when Ghost is here, fresh off his ship, standing among the few men and women in this world that he trusts—not an ale nor scrap in sight.

So, rightfully confused, Ghost orders his crew to hang back while he investigates, and puts an end to whatever charade this may be.

Despite the piece of skull that obscures the lower half of Ghost's face—all part of his reputation, mostly, and he's glad to have it spark debate on whether or not the skull is real, and whether or not he's human—it's relatively easy to go undetected as he makes his way through the port village, his presence entirely unnoticed as he slips into the tavern that caters most to his... profession.

And just as it's not difficult to sneak around, it isn't hard to spot his impersonator; they're the centre of attention at the tavern tonight, and though Ghost can commend the guts it takes to attempt such an act, he's honestly offended that so many people believed it was really him.

Though, with as drunk as the crowd is, and if he squints just enough, Ghost supposes he could see how the mistake was made. Even still, Ghost isn't particularly pleased with the situation.

He hovers at the sidelines, melting into the shadows as he waits for the fake "Ghost" to catch his eye.

Ghost knows the moment they do, when he watches as they utter some excuse and make their leave. Ghost only follows with his eyes, at first, before deciding to push away from the wall, skirting along the edges of the crowd toward to the door the fake "Ghost" had exited through.

It leads to the back alley wedged between other buildings and darkened cobblestone streets. It reeks of refuse, and it's to no surprise of Ghost's own when moments after the door shuts behind him, the point of a cutlass is threatening his jugular.

He doesn't flinch, only shifts his gaze disinterestedly toward the owner of the sabre.

"Don't think you have much of a right to be doing that," Ghost drawls.

His imitator doesn't move for a long moment, cutlass held steady at Ghost's throat. Even in the dim light, Ghost can tell their eyes are blue, and suddenly he's again offended that this disguise was actually passed off as him.

Then the sword is finally lowered and sheathed. The fake's own tricorne and mask are removed (the skull is fake, Ghost thinks, no question about it), revealing a hideous hairstyle and a charming, shark-like grin.

"Was hopin' I might eventually get to meet the real Ghost," the man says, his voice tinged with genuine excitement.

Ghost... hadn't expected that.

"How long have you been doing this for?" Ghost demands, now irritated more than anything.

The man shrugs carelessly, casually, not in the slightest bit deterred. "Not long enough to damage your reputation, if that's what you're worried about. If anything, I've strengthened your reputation," he insists. Then he's offering his hand out to Ghost. "I'm John, by the way."

Ghost barely spares the gesture a glance. "I don't care. Why?"

John at least has the decency to act sheepish this time. "I had a proposition for you. Needed to get your attention somehow."

Ghost raises an eyebrow. His hand instinctually drifts to the pommel of his own sword. "And?"

John's gaze flickers to the movement and he hesitates, but only minutely. He then lifts his chin and rolls back his shoulders, and Ghost can almost see how John could have the gall to pull off the charade he had for who knows how long. "I want to join your cr—"

"No."

John scowls. "I wasn't finished," he snaps. "I want to join your crew. And if you let me, I can get you to that fountain of youth I hear you've been searching for. I swear it."

It's Ghost's turn to frown beneath his mask. Why would John want to help him for the measly reward of sailing with Ghost and his shipmates? Sure, some have called it an honour—but in exchange for guidance to a reward so mythical? There must be a catch. It doesn't make sense otherwise.

Ghost narrows his eyes, fingers curling around the pommel. "How can I trust you to make good on that promise?"

That toothy grin reappears, more mischievous in nature than Ghost is comfortable with. It warns him of trouble.

"S'pose there's only one way to find out," John muses. "Otherwise I might just continue what I've been doing. Maybe hitch a ride to another island, pretend to be you some more. Hurt everything you've built up. I've fooled enough people so far."

It takes a lot of restraint not to pull out his sword, and fight John right in the alleyway. But the man's right, as deranged as he may be—it's either bring him along, or continue on a fruitless journey to a place that may not even exist.

He doesn't want to accept the deal, but he can't afford to have John ruining his life's work, either.

With great reluctance, Ghost agrees to let John join his crew—he figures it should only be temporary, at best.

"I find out you're lying, I'll gut you," Ghost hisses, only once it's been settled. "I've yet to see a man capable of swimming with his intestines hanging out. Maybe you'd be a first."

John's grin transforms into something else, something Ghost can't quite place.

He hums. "Maybe. But I don't plan on finding out," John says. He nudges Ghost away from the tavern's back door before pushing it open, gesturing his arm out as if beckoning the pirate to enter. Then in a lowered voice, a tone Ghost isn't quite sure how to feel about, John purrs, "Captain."

Ghost is already beginning to think he had made the wrong choice.

[sparklingcid3r]

@redfielddoesthings this one’s for u babygorl bc i’ve had a dallypop roadtrip fic on my mind and i can’t write it yet bc finals are actually beating my ass atm so i’m putting my ideas in here until i can buckle down and finesse the writer’s block

- they’re headed to the bronx, where dally grew up. it’s approx 20 hours by car, so they drive to indianapolis first, break for the night, then drive 11 hours to the bronx w a bunch of pit stops in between

- first pit stop is at a gas station where soda takes the lead while dally tries to hide the fact that he’s never pumped gas before in his life

- he grew up in nyc that boy hasn’t even SEEN a real gas station until tulsa

- they get stuck in standstill traffic at some point so they get out and start praying to deities they don’t even believe in to get it moving again. they’re losing their minds. dally’s banging his head against the horn while soda’s going up to ppl’s windows and chatting with them. dally wants a gun

- they get back in the car and are hanging out, until soda notices something laying on the woods’ edge. since they aren’t going anywhere and the car is in the right lane, he gets out and runs over to it

- unfortunately traffic has started moving the second he’s out and dally has to scramble over to the driver side to start moving. in the side mirror dally sees soda sprinting along the shoulder holding a filthy stuffed bear that makes idle appearances for the rest of the fic. soda reaches the car before dally can hit 20 mph and he practically has to dive into the backseat

- soda vs the mississippi river

- once they reach indianapolis dally’s like “so we can either check into a motel or get fucking litttt”

- immediate cut to soda putting music on a jukebox and dally ordering them drinks

- dally gets plastered and insists on laying down in the truck bed on the drive to the motel. soda hits a speed bump as hard as he can and dally nearly gets launched out the back

- they’re on the road again but the poor truck’s been through it and it starts making some funky sounds until soda decides to pull over because he doesn’t like that noise. he’s no steve randle but he finds out they need to go to a repair shop and get a new part because the one they got now is literally gonna fall off

- so they’re stranded on the side of the highway

- soda decides to climb up on top of the truck because the weather’s real nice up there, and dally follows. he tries putting his thumb out but soda stops him, says he wants to sit and watch for a while. it’s pretty trippy, being so close to cars going 70 down the freeway. when a semi approaches, soda makes a right angle with his arm and pretends to pull a horn until the semi honks at them.

- that’s where a more heartfelt, raw conversation would happen amid the humor

- eventually they get their truck to a repair shop and get a new part! but not before they have like four hours to kill doing literally nothing but like mocking small children and playing i spy

- while they’re at it they also decide to call the house to check in on darry and pony and whoever else happens to be at the curtis residence at the moment

- and they’re back on the road!

- not thirty minutes later they hit a bird and have to pull over again because soda’s crying so hard he can’t drive

- they were playing music on the radio when that happened. the radio is off when dally pulls back onto the highway

- “it had a family.” “yeah, well.” “it had a name.” “alr i promise you it did not.”

- i haven’t thought about it yet but they pass at least one billboard that convinces them to stop and take a look at like the worlds largest rubber band ball or smth dumb like that

- dally hits a jersey slide so they don’t miss their exit and nearly kills a family of four in the process

- getting to see the new york skyline for the first time as they cross the bridge and it would be one of those emotional moments for dally who never thought he’d willingly go back. something about making new memories in the place where bad ones happened to take back your right to love that place again

- at the end soda surprises him with tickets to a yankee game

a lot of this works in my head because i’m imagining it like a sitcom lmfao who knows if i can translate it onto the page without rage quitting

[icedragonlizard]

Updated headcanons for dynamic between Dark Meta Knight and Shadow Kirby

Back then, I headcanoned these two to be enemies.... but as I now feel differently, I've decided to change these headcanons. This is one of the things I touched on in my post of things that I've changed for my headcanon verse, this post will go over the updates on my thoughts for DMK's and Skirby's dynamic in greater detail.

I now headcanon that they eventually become friends.

DMK and Skirby didn't get off to a good start. During the events of Amazing Mirror, DMK was of course helping Dark Mind on conquering the mirror world, which Skirby was against. Skirby however wasn't a good enough of a fighter yet to be capable of stopping the conquest, as he had to count on Kirby to do just that.

Even several years after the ending of Amazing Mirror, these two still didn't get along. Dark Mind was still alive as a weak fragment that then desperately needed DMK to do his dirty work, which he did. For a while, DMK was still doing bad things in Dark Mind's name. One of these bad things was helping Dark Mind feed dark magic to Joronia through the mirror that Taranza gave her, which eventually lead to her spiral into being a mad tyrant. Dark Taranza and then Shadow Dedede also came into existence to be additional hitmen for Dark Mind, increasing the threat even more. This needed to be stopped.

While DMK continued following Dark Mind's orders even with the latter being a fragment, Skirby often left the mirror world to go find Kirby and ask for training on how to use copy abilities. Just like his pink counterpart, he wanted to be a protector for his homeland, as he was determined to stop the threat of Dark Mind for good.

Eventually, after Skirby learned how to use copy abilities and became well-equipped to fight thanks to Kirby's help, he then set off to stop Dark Mind's persistent threat. He was able to succeed in this as he found Dark Mind's fragment and destroyed it with the Sword ability. This angered DMK, who then attacked Skirby in attempt to avenge his master, but failed.

Skirby had trained well enough by that point, and was able to beat DMK in a fight. He then told DMK that Dark Mind was a horrible influence on him, and that he was better off without that vile master around to keep convincing him to commit crimes.

DMK scoffed, as he was stubborn and wasn't willing to believe Skirby. He went on to "try to find a way to bring Dark Mind back". But at one point, he gets jumped by both Dark Taranza and Shadow Dedede, who considered him a 'traitor', but luckily Skirby was nearby to help DMK as they teamed up to beat those two and make them go away.

That right there marked the start of when DMK and Skirby started becoming on better terms. DMK initially didn't want to admit it, but he was actually grateful that Skirby helped him out there. It could've gone badly for him otherwise. It took a while for DMK to truly warm up to Skirby, but they eventually became friends. He didn't want to do this at first, but DMK managed to get to the point where he came to terms with not having Dark Mind be a part of his life anymore.

Dark Taranza and Shadow Dedede didn't care to follow suit. They just decided to go on with their lives elsewhere in the mirror world, not caring enough to get along with either DMK or Skirby.

Although despite becoming friends with Skirby, DMK wasn't really interested in redeeming himself. He wasn't interested in becoming a good person, and he didn't care enough to seriously participate in mirror world society. He just wanted to do his own thing and live unplugged from other mirror worlders. He claimed Moonlight Mansion as his home, with the previous residents leaving the place to go elsewhere. Most mirror worlders live far away from Moonlight Mansion now, as it's DMK's residence.

Skirby was fine with this, just as long as DMK isn't complicit in being a threat to the mirror world at large again. Skirby regularly stops by to visit. DMK didn't mind it; he's largely antisocial and doesn't really care to change out of that, but doesn't mind Skirby's company at times.

A lot of the time they have together, they just chill out in peace.

This routine largely continues on even after Star Allies.

DMK initially did not plan to join Kirby and all the other dream friends during the events of Star Allies. And for a little bit, he really didn't even want to. But because the Jamba heart pieces reached the mirror world and threatened the place, DMK felt like his hand was forced. As a matter of fact, it was originally Skirby that was going to leave the mirror world to then presumably join Kirby and co, but DMK decided that he wanted to "put this shit to a stop himself" and made his move.

DMK became the one to leave the mirror world instead of Skirby. He told Skirby to stay in the mirror world to protect it from the Jamba heart pieces that entered it, as DMK then went out to stop the source of the threat, joining Kirby and all the other dream friends in the process.

By the way, during Star Allies is when DMK first became friends with Kirby. It was also when the vast majority of the other dream friends first met him.

After Star Allies, some of the few friends that DMK made decided to occasionally visit him in the mirror world. It was the others of Wave 2 that visited him... Daroach, Adeleine and Ribbon. Skirby met them in the mirror world and became friends with them. Skirby effectively joined the Wave 2 friend group, as he grew a big liking for them all. He then decided to hop out of the mirror world out of interest to meet all the other dream friends later in time.

DMK and Skirby sometimes visit Popstar post-Star Allies. There are times where it's together, and other times when it's just one or the other.

Funny enough, most of the other dream friends get along better with Skirby than they do with DMK. DMK does not give a crap about most of the other dream friends. He's only friends with Kirby, the rest of wave 2, and Flamberge. The only reason he cares enough to visit Popstar sometimes is to visit Daroach and Adeleine, as he considers the former to be his best friend.

Skirby is DMK's second best friend, but they're still buds in a way. Even now, DMK is still antisocial, stand-offish, rude and still not a good person. He's still prone to unnecessarily violence and is not exactly welcome in many parts mirror world society, but he's grown to care about Skirby. Even if he has trouble coming around to admitting it at times, but he in fact does.

Skirby sometimes gives DMK company, and he also works to keep him in line from going too far in doing shitty things. And while Skirby understands why DMK is unpopular amongst most of the other dream friends, he comes around to help stop many fights that DMK has gotten into with some of them, mostly Marx + Wave 3 who DMK has pretty serious beef with.

What a journey these two have had together. The mirror world counterparts of Kirby and Meta Knight have made a decent bond, even if their dynamic isn't quite the same as their regular counterparts.

[cyanide-latte]

For Tea, Rand, and Xinyi:

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Oohhh this should be interesting... Thank you!

Failure

Toussaint- He considers his greatest failure to be not recognizing that Rollo desperately needed help he wasn't getting and that it culminated in the Night of the Fire Lotuses. Tea feels like he failed his dear friend, again and again, and now it's led to this strange shift between them and he has no idea how to fix it or even if it can be fixed. (I'm sure many people know about it because Tea is desperate for any advice that could help him mend that.)

Bertrand- Refuses to admit his failures. (In actuality, as his creator I can tell you one of his greatest failures that is going to follow him into adulthood is that he fumbled when he confessed his feelings for Felix Pondicliff only for Felix to question his motivations, and as a result, Rand's inability to answer the question leads to him struggling with it. He tries (barely) to self-reflect, only to decide that he's so hurt and angry at the rejection that he's not going to self-reflect, and instead becomes bitter and angry about romantic love as a whole. He refuses to give an accurate account of what happened between him and Felix to most people, with only Rollo knowing the entire truth of what happened (and big sister Marianne having sussed out on her own the truth that Rand refuses to own up to.) Rand shot himself in the foot with this in more ways than one.)

Xinyi- Lol you want a list? No but in all seriousness, every time I think about what they consider their greatest failure, my mind goes back to the song "Reflection", specifically the lines "I will never pass for a perfect bride/ Or a perfect daughter". As Xinyi's kind of an inverse twist of Mulan, they're never going to be a perfect son for their parents. The way they discover their gender identity and express it, and hold to that truth about themselves has led their parents to hold them at a distance. Xinyi has long since come to accept that their relationship with their parents might be broken for the rest of their lives, (especially when they later marry Chrys Shroud, as Xinyi's parents and all but one of their sisters do not come to the ceremony.) It breaks their heart and they mourn the loss of that relationship, but they do eventually reach a point where they also understand their failure to be the ideal son their parents wanted is a small price to pay in order to become the person they are and were meant to be.

Wound

Toussaint and Bertrand are both fairly decent at handling physical injuries and wounds. Both are athletic, Tea doing boxing and Rand doing fencing, and both can handle being wounded, including very basic first aid for themselves and others in order to deal with such. Mental and emotional wounds are something neither is great at handling yet (see: Rollo's bullshit.) Tea will get there, he's more adaptable and wants to learn how to handle such wounds in himself to heal and move on. Rand is...gonna take a while. (See above: the terrible way he handles rejection.) Worst [physical] wound Tea's ever experienced so far were some broken bones in his tail when he was younger. Rand has been far more lucky with the worst he's ever had being a thorn he stepped on that had to be removed very carefully and with professional help.

Xinyi is smiling and threatening me with their fan. Which is fair, there's a fine line between answering this question and dredging up the trauma they're still healing from. They handle physical wounds very well on the other hand, and have a fairly high pain tolerance; worst physical injury they've ever had came from sparring with their cousin, Wei Renqiao. Ren was a lot more vicious and unrestrained when he was in early adolescence, and actually ended up accidentally slashing Xinyi across their midriff deep enough to require emergency medical help and to cause a fairly impressive scar. Ren was devastated by this and it is apparently why (I am just now learning) he makes such an effort to be gentle with everyone, whereas Xinyi is very proud of the entire thing, and it's why they don't underestimate/learn to pay closer attention to just how powerful Ren really is. (Which comes in clutch when Ren later Overblots and has to be stopped in his rampage...)

The ask prompts list! Still accepting these!

Taglist: @blithesharem @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Trent Lane x Reader

Okay, I've been meaning to out this out, but it's never been 100% to my liking. So I decided screw it, and I'm gonna put it out and maybe go back and fix it later. Edited, and edited, and edited.

My family had just moved to Lawndale, and I came down to spend time with them. I had just finished my Associates in Parapsychology, and got a job at a local newspaper. After finishing the associates, I decided to take a break from school, a little worn out. I am currently moving all of my stuff into my new room, and while everyone was unpacking their things, I headed out to explore our new town. In all of my wandering I made my way into a dingy basement full of punk- alt bands and people. The current band playing is called Mystik Spiral. They weren’t awful, but they weren’t necessarily good either. My eyes scanned the members of the band and I lingered on the lead singer. His hair was messy and he had tattoos dancing across his arms. He caught my eye and winked at me. The heat flushed up my body, before dancing brightly across my cheeks. I bit my lip and smiled, not being able to look away. Eventually the embarrassment won out and I looked away. Their set finished soon after, but my eyes stayed glued to my shoes.

“Hey.” A raspy voice pulled my attention from my shoes.

“Hey.” I responded rubbing my arm awkwardly.

“What did you think of our set?”

“It was good. A nice change from what I’m used to.” I smiled at the end, throwing him a wink. He chuckled.

“Trent.”

“Charlie.”

“Wanna get a bite to eat?” He asked, pointing behind him to the door.

“Sure.” I shrugged my shoulders. He smiled and I followed him out of the basement and out to where his bandmates were waiting. We made introductions on our way to a pizza place. Trent and I stayed out later than his bandmates, talking for hours. Eventually he drove me home and it was so late I had to sneak in. This is how the next few weeks went, us going out one or two nights a week, staying out late, and sneaking back in. Some nights I even just watch them practise while eating the food they ordered. Tonight though we found ourselves in his room just hanging out.

“So tell me about your family.” Trent prodded. I snorted, falling back onto his bed. He turned his head to look at me.

“Okay, so my parents are tightly wound, and somewhat distant. I'm the oldest of three. My next sister is a few years younger than me. She’s sarcastic, bleak, and sometimes a little too pessimistic. She’s honest though so…” I shrugged my shoulders, as I trailed off. “Then, I have my youngest sister. She is something else entirely. She’s popular, self-absorbed, but she’s also caring and pretty. Her priorities are just different from me and my other sister.” I sighed running my hand through my hair. “So really when it comes down to it, I’m the middle ground between the two of them.”

“Wow.” He drew out.

“Yeah.” I let out a sigh and sat up so I was closer to him. We just sat there in silence, before there was a knock on his door.

“Yeah?” he called.

“Hey, there’s this party my friend and I are invited to, and I was wondering if you would give us a ride?” A girl peeked her head in and asked.

“I don’t know Janey. I might be busy that night.” He turned from her to me. “Janey, this is Charlie. We met a little while ago, and we’ve been hanging out a lot.” I gave an awkward wave.

“Hi. Now what about the ride? Do you think you can do it?” Jane asked.

“Yeah. You’ll have to wake me up though.” She simply hummed and walked away.

I turned to Trent a wide smile stretching across my face. “That was nice of you.” I put my hand on his arm, trying to get him to look at me.

“Eh, it’s whatever. I’m gonna have to push our night back a bit though.” I lifted my hand and waved it dismissively.

I giggled a little, “It’s fine. Look at you being all..brotherly.” He groaned and pushed me away from him. But I saw a blush creep up his cheeks, when I started to laugh harder. The rest of the night we spend on his bed eating bad food, and talking about random things. By the time I checked the clock, it was one in the morning. We decided to call it a night because Trent’s eyes were starting to droop. He dropped me off outside my house. Before I climbed out of the car I turned to him, “Thanks for dropping me off.” I whispered, feeling a loud voice would shatter the atmosphere.

“No problem.” He smiled and I turned to open the door. “Charlie?” He whispered, placing his hand on my arm.

“Trent?” I turned back towards him holding my breath to see what he would do. He looked between me and my lips, before leaning closer. I froze in place, anticipating what was going to happen next.

“Your door is still locked.” He reached over me, and unlocked the door. “There.”

I let out a huff. “Thanks Trent.” My voice was monotone, and I climbed out of the car. “Bye.” I closed the door and waved as he drove off. When I got into the house, I went straight to my room only wanting to be there. I closed the door and almost punched the wall. I fell face first onto my bed, and screamed into my pillow. “AHHHHHHHHH! WHY????” I rolled over and stared at the ceiling until I found the energy to change into my pajamas. I replayed the moment over and over until I finally fell asleep. The next few days dragged on with no surprises, and lots of distractions for me.

Friday finally rolled around and because of the party I didn’t have to rush to get ready for my night with Trent. Daria said that she was hanging out with her friend tonight so I was left alone with Mom and Dad for a bit. It wasn’t too bad spending time with them, but Mom was trying to pry into my life, without outright asking the questions she wanted answers to. Finally there was a HONK from out front. I smiled and got up.

“That’s my ride. I’ll see you later.” I called out over my shoulder as I headed out the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He responded as I climbed into the car.

“How was the ride?” I asked, waiting to see if he would bring up what happened the other day.

“It was fine. They seemed excited about the party. I thought it looked lame.” He laughed at the end, but ended up coughing.

“Well that was very nice of you. Almost…” I brought my hand up to my chin thoughtfully stroking my fake beard, “...like a protective brother.” I smiled and turned towards him, he turned and smiled back at me. “Hey, eyes on the road.” I pointed out the windshield, and he turned his head. We just spent the night driving around town, and just talking about nothing. We ended up playing and singing our favourite songs terribly. It was nice to just let go. When he dropped me off, I sat there waiting to see what he would do tonight. As predicted, he did nothing. “Well this was a fun night. Thanks.” I leaned into the car, to say bye.

He smiled at me. “Me too.”

[koorinokujira]

Ok this is just an idea, but who do you think would suit the trope s/he (reader) fell first, and s/he fell too late? it's just such an angsty idea i can't comprehend this gosh 😭😭

Oh, such drama! Such angst! But of course, I'll gladly deliver, Anon. Now, this actually made me think pretty hard, because let's be real- most of these people are probably very touch starved, because, you know, war. But I eventually came to the conclusion that it could be a few of our "less approachable/romanceable" leaders. So, our dearest Magoichi, Mitsunari... and honestly, I also decided to include Shingen (not saying he's unapproachable, we love our warlord dad). I chose him because he has great angst potential. So, happy reading! Well... not really happy, but hopefully enjoyable nonetheless.

💔 Too Little, Too Late - SB Imagines 💔

Ever since you met the one you fell so hard for, you felt nothing but affection. Sure, there were flaws, but you were willing to accept them, or try to help fix them if they could be fixed. You were loyal, devoted, and always willing to lend a hand. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, your efforts would be noticed and your love reciprocated. But it wasn't. Not until it was too late... but you aren't the one left to pick up the pieces.

💔 Magoichi 💔

Magoichi was always... fond of you. She didn't even realize it herself for the longest time- after all, relationships weren't exactly her forte. She had the Saika Faction to run, and even when she had time for herself between all those battles and price negotiations, she preferred to remain in solitude. Alone, as she was supposed to be. In her mind, at least.

She found you a bit strange, perhaps. Too good to be true. When she gave an order, you never hesitated and went for it. When she scolded you, you never complained and used it to become an even better soldier. Your skills with a rifle also weren't anything to scoff at. Really, you were a model member of the Faction. Always there, always willing to lend a hand. She appreciated it, as any superior would, though she rarely ever said anything out loud. Actions speak louder than words, after all. And she couldn't play favorites, nor allow herself to be anything but the strong leader everyone needs her to be. She had a legacy to carry.

But now, things are different. It all started innocently enough- she's been getting reports here and there that no one could find you. Of course, you always made sure to have all your tasks completed before sneaking out who knows where. And it happened only every once in a while, so there was no reason to worry. But slowly, it became more and more frequent, to the point where she just had to find out what was going on. Why would you sneak off like that? You were always more than content to spend your free time either alone or with the others- the Saika Faction was like family to you.

She feels your absence most of all, she realizes as she watches you leave from the encampment again, thinking that no one can see. It was like things got... grey, whenever you left. Dull, without that trademark friendly grin you gave her whenever she sent you out to do one thing or another. The way you'd pat your fellow warriors on the back and gave them uplifting words when they needed it. And the way your eyes softened when you talked to her- well, there weren't enough words to describe the feeling.

She hates this, hates this realization. That someone somehow bypassed the walls she built around her heart, and she didn't even notice. And she hates it even more at this moment, because the very reason she plans to follow you now is to check if you're not compromising the Faction somehow. Why else would you sneak off? The chances of you being a spy are small, of course... but never zero, and she owes the Faction at least this much.

Screw it all.

Magoichi makes sure to follow you at a good distance- your senses are not to be scoffed at, of course. You lead her across various paths, through a small forest, over a wooden bridge that's barely stable to walk on, and then... you get to a farm. A village is nearby, too. Everything around it has seen better days, but clearly, the place is still being tended to. There are crops, and Magoichi swears she hears some animals in the distance. But that's not what she focuses on, no.

She focuses on him. The kind looking farmer who looks to be only a bit older than you. You chat and laugh, with you giving him the same look you used to give her once upon a time. And he looks at you the same way. There is a certain... tenderness in the way you move, and the leader of the Saika Faction feels a strange ache in her chest.

You look happy.

And she has to turn away, feeling like a fool for the first time in a long while. Of course she missed all the signs, all the times you passed by her and "accidentally" brushed fingers with her, all the times you made a point to stay nearby after your tasks were finished. She never reciprocated... and so you eventually found someone who cares about you as much as you do about them.

It is a bittersweet feeling, this love. She looks at you one last time before heading back towards the hideout. It hurts badly, to finally let down her guard only to realize it was for nothing. But at the same time... it is strangely reassuring to know that despite her harsh exterior, someone still developed feelings for her, fleeting as they may have been. She knows they were true, this wasn't like that foolish vagabond that pestered her for affection. And she hopes that maybe, just maybe...

...there will be another who will disarm her with such ease. She will be ready this time.

💔 Mitsunari 💔

It's all so... stupid.

The war, the way he has to constantly fight to be respected, the fact that every single day he feels like he loses himself more and more... he hates it. He wants to scream, but how many times did he do that already? How many times did he lose his temper when someone even dared to think of going against him? And where has that gotten him? What was it all for?

Nothing.

If only he had a shoulder to cry on right now. Someone to tell him that all hope is not yet lost. He used to have that. But he took it for granted, and now it's gone. He would like to believe otherwise, of course, but as he stares back at your grave, he is reminded of the painful reality he's found himself in.

He knew these feelings before you died, of course. The deaths of Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Hanbe were more painful than a blade in his heart. The grief and thirst for revenge was what propelled him forward since then. And he'd keep going until he took Tokugawa's head, and everything would be right in the world. It was terrible, painful... but also simple. To him, at least.

But this... this is different. It started with rage, like before, but then it changed into something new. This pain, it's quiet. Instead of a raging tempest, it's a gentle breeze, bringing back the sweet smell of what he once held in his grasp. A soft requiem instead of a battlecry. And somehow, that makes his heart bleed more profusely than anything else before.

It was spring when he first met you, he remembers. He didn't really have time to appreciate the blooming flowers, though. His lord was already dead by that point, and it was all he could think of. And then you showed up, dragging him back to reality by force. You weren't like the others, walking on eggshells as to not upset him even further, no. You fearlessly locked eyes with him, introduced yourself and told him it was an honor to be serving in his army now. He was upset that someone interrupted his moment of quiet, of course, but something compelled him not to unsheathe his blade this time. He still remembers how he just grunted in annoyance and dismissed you without a word. Why even bother?

But you were hard at work, nonetheless. Fighting, doing as you're told, even showing an aptitude for strategy. With each battle won, you rose through the ranks, until he had to see you basically every single day. He would never admit it, but he found your presence refreshing. You were honest - too honest at times - and he never felt like you had some ulterior motive, unlike with a certain someone that acted as his right hand. Terribly stubborn, too; once he showed that he at least tolerates your presence, you refused to leave his side, taking it upon yourself to guard him.

No matter how much he ranted about how he wants to kill Ieyasu, no matter how unfriendly or harsh he was, no matter how much he was falling apart and being a terrible leader, you stuck by. Watching, listening. And more often than not, you had something to say, too. Usually something uplifting. Oh, how he hated you for not letting him wallow in misery back then. How you tried to get him to move on and fight for something else than revenge, that he had potential to even surpass those he missed so dearly. How dare you say such things?

And so he constantly dismissed you, belittled you for your naive hopes for a better tomorrow, for trusting in him so blindly. However, that was just his fear talking. The idea of having hope and it instantly getting shattered by this war, by his enemy, seemed much worse than the pain he was already feeling. He knew that pain, at least.

Mitsunari kept refusing to acknowledge you, despite the mounting feeling in his subconscious that he cared. And before he knew it... you sacrificed yourself. For a wounded brother in arms, despite being wounded yourself. You bought him time and lost all of your own by that deed. He wasn't even there to see it... he just saw your body getting carried into the castle and heard the story from the other soldiers.

Only when he picked up your bloodied blade that day did he realize how much he's really been holding back. He didn't just care, he... he loved. And it wasn't just about the comfort you provided, it was about... well, you. Your smile, the way you'd tap the hilt of your blade whenever you were thinking, the entertaining anecdotes you told him about the time you were still training as a warrior. Oh, and rain, you loved the rain. You'd stand in the middle of the courtyard during thunderstorms with the biggest smile on your face and come inside only after you looked like someone threw you into a lake, shaking with the cold. It makes you feel alive, you told him. Like you can finally breathe.

He kept that blade, using it instead of his own since then. The blade is a warrior's soul, after all. But it doesn't make it much better. He still feels that ache in his chest, even though it's been months. When Lord Hideyoshi died, he could feel angry, he had something to work towards. But there's no Ieyasu Tokugawa to blame this time. Only a battered blade of someone dear, a heart full of regrets and affections unsaid...

...and the flowers he could only place near your headstone now.

💔 Shingen 💔

Hindsight is 20/20, as they say. Not that the Lord of the Takeda clan would know such a phrase. But that doesn't stop him from feeling the crushing weight of its meaning. He's not used to such emotions anymore. When he loses someone, he's sad for a while, and then he moves on. As a leader, he can't afford to dwell on such things. He needs to move forward, lead his clan and help it thrive.

Except this time, he can't seem to shake it off.

And so here he is again, on the battlefield where it began and ended in what seemed like seconds. There's still a few places where grass hasn't really grown back yet after the ordeals of battle, but nature has mostly reclaimed it. There's a soft breeze blowing, and the sky is fairly clear. It's... peaceful. And yet, there's an ache in his heart that not even nature's beauty can cure.

As he sits down into the soft grass, he can't help but think back on the first time you two met. It was thanks to Yukimura, he remembers. You and his young mentee had become friends, and so it didn't take long for you to be dragged over to meet the Lord. Yukimura ranted and raved about how amazing of a fighter you are, while you just politely stood behind him. He remembers how respectful you were the entire time. And it didn't take too long for him to recognize your loyal, honorable ways, either. You were a great soldier.

But there were things he didn't notice fast enough. Like how your clear, formal tone started to soften whenever he discussed strategy with you. How the first thing you did when coming back from battle was to go see him and report personally, even if anyone else could have done it. And that one night when he couldn't sleep and found you in the courtyard, staring wistfully at the stars. You gave him such a kind smile that day, and invited him to join you. So he did. And it was a night that brought great comfort to his weary mind.

Why did he take it for granted?

Time went on, and the day of that fateful battle came. It seemed just like any other that the Takeda clan faced. Armed with both wits and weapons, the troops were ready. Yukimura was getting riled up, while Sasuke dropped his casual attitude and braced himself for the upcoming fight. And you stood proudly right at the front, ready to break through the enemy lines. However, no one expected how wrong it could get.

An ambush. They tore into the left flank, and the situation turned an organized battle into a chaotic bloodbath. There was confusion, screaming, and soldiers were dropping left and right. And as Lord Shingen tried to get a hold of the situation again, he didn't even notice the bow aimed at his back. But you did...

...and the arrow that should have hit him hit you instead.

He won't forget that terrible noise, followed by the thump of your body dropping on the ground. Seconds turned into eternity as he spun around and saw you, clutching the arrow in your chest. He didn't even notice how your fellow soldiers went after the bowman right after as he knelt down. The world seemed to go silent, interrupted only by the sound of you struggling to breathe. There were tears in your eyes and your hands trembled like they never did before. But it wasn't fear of death he saw in your eyes. It was regret.

And then you spoke. It was hard to understand... but he managed. You finally confessed. How much you admired him, and how his very presence made your days brighter. How you loved all his little quirks, and just... everything about him. How much it hurt that you were so close and yet so far. And then you just... apologized and begged him to forgive you for such dishonorable thoughts. But that if you were to die that day, you wanted to die with nothing left unsaid.

He remembers how your hands were still warm when he gently took them into his, realizing with horror that... he didn't want to let you go either. When did you become so important to him, and more importantly, why didn't he realize it sooner?! In his mind, he cursed whatever god made him so oblivious.

But on the outside, he simply shook his head.

"There is nothing to apologize for. I couldn't stop such a feeling even if I wanted to. But I don't. So please... keep it close, until we meet again. And then let me share it."

He still doesn't know how he spoke so calmly. Perhaps he hoped that those tears would stop running down your face, or that the wound in your chest would close with his comforting words. But all he got was a look of relief, before you took a last, shaky breath.

He looks up at the clouds lazily drifting above him, letting the memories flow. He hears birds chirping in the distance, and a white butterfly lands on the nearby flowers.

If only you could enjoy this scenery with him.

---

Whew, finally finished it! Many apologies for the delay. I felt super burnt out because of schoolwork, and these imagines gave me a bit of trouble.

Originally, Motonari was supposed to be here too (so the stories would be two scenarios where the reader lives, and two where they due), but after I wrote almost a 1000 words, I decided I hate it and that I need to practice writing him more before I do any scenarios with him lol. Our cold-hearted tactician will get his spotlight later, don't worry!

I have two more requests lined up right now, so I'll get to work again tomorrow.

Thanks for reading, and as always...

...have a spectacular day!

[boxboxblog]

A General History of F1: 7 or 8?

Hello everyone, This post will discuss the controversy around the 2021 season as well as a brief overview of 2022 and 2023.

Alright jumping right into it, 2021 was really the first year that Lewis Hamilton's legacy was under threat. Yes, the past few years he had Vettel and Verstappen to watch out for, but he had almost always won his championships before the last race. This was different in 2021.

2021 saw Verstappen matching Hamilton almost point for point. Red Bull clearly had finally found their winning car (thanks to Adrian Newey) and Verstappen had matured into a more balanced driver, who matched his aggression with experience.

I won't get into the details of every race, but Hamilton and Verstappen mostly swapped wins throughout the season. While both had some wildcard races where they didn't even get on the podium, their season seemed to mirror each other. This led to the final race in Abu Dhabi being the deciding battle, as both drivers had exactly the same amount of points. This is beyond rare, and spectators expected an intense battle. Whoever placed higher would win.

Verstappen started on pole, and the first controversy struck when Hamilton went off track in order to pass him. Normally this would mean that Hamilton would have to give back the position as a driver cannot overtake off track, but the FIA did not respond to Red Bull's questions and Hamilton kept his place. With a strong lead, Hamilton was now expected to win. But a late safety car threw in some drama.

With seven laps left, a driver named Latifi crashed and the safety car was brought out. Red Bull, smartly, used the opportunity to bring Verstappen in for a new set of soft tires. Mercedes, clearly beliving it was better to keep the lead, did not follow.

When Verstappen returned, 5 lapped cares were between him and Hamilton. The FIA ruled that the cars in between Hamilton and Verstappen were allowed to unlap themselves, controversial and not really allowed. Beyond that, before the unlapping cars rejoined the back of the pack they pulled the safety car in. This meant that instead of finishing under a safety car with Hamilton in the lead, Verstappen was given the chance to fight for it. There was only one lap remaining. But Hamilton didn't stand a chance on his old hard-compound tires, Verstappen passed and won the race. And the championship.

Mercedes protested this ending of the race, and die-hard Hamilton fans insist he won. It was a very controversial day in total, and more than anything the FIA took the brunt of fans dissatisfaction. But Red Bull and Verstappen had won.

The next year Mercedes lost that spark entirely. They dropped down to third place in the championship, and only won one race the entire season. That year was won again by Verstappen, his first non-controversial title. His only real rival was Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc, but due to strategic flops, they eventually were not a threat to Red Bull.

2023 however, is perhaps Verstappen's most famous year. it was a year of complete domination. Every race but one was won by a Red Bull driver. Verstappen broke a record, winning an extraordinary 10 races in a row. I have said certain drivers dominated seasons, but 2023 was unlike anything else. The RB19 was a rocketship of a car, and with a talented driver at the helm it was unstoppable.

And now we come to 2024. A year that has subverted many expectations. Most fans expected a repeat of 2023, with dominant Red Bull. But a surprising challenger came out and the top 4 teams are more competitive than ever.

Until next time,

-B

[aprettyspy]

@fluffbruary Day 2 for the prompt 'trace'. Benoit Blanc comes home to his husband Phillip after his weekend at the Thrombeys

Voracious Mind

Phillip stared at the envelope of cash occupying the exact center point of his kitchen island. Two days ago he had dug out a tape measure from the depths of the hallway cupboard, finding it buried between a pair of en point shoes and a broken tennis racket. The wad of cash was exactly 2 ¾ " high and had been delivered three days previously. It remained sat in its unmarked, plain brown envelope. Benoit had opened it, read the accompanying note and thrown it all down where it still rested. 

Not given to superstition as a general rule, something about this mysterious wad of cash made Phillip nervous. It was too much of a coincidence that it's delivery had occurred just 45 minutes after their ancient and dilapidated water heating system had finally given up with an impressive explosion that had brought with it a portion of their kitchen ceiling. As much as they both loved this apartment, it was bloody expensive to maintain. 

Given that his husband had dashed out the door only a few hours later, and had sent exactly one text message since (It seems this case revolves around the name Hugh, my darling, but what a terrible name!), Phillip's hackles were well and truly risen. 

His best attempts to distract himself with work, walks and a very long call to his daughter back in England had not worked. He was on guard, expecting something. He just couldn't pinpoint what. 

He decided to assuage his building anxiety through the tried and tested medium of vigorous cleaning. He was head down, scrubbing the bath (when he did get home, Benoit would want to use it) and, yet again, resolved to replace these dark tiles when he heard the door slam.

"Darlin? Phil, darlin, you home?"

Phillip whipped off his cleaning pinny and tried to smooth his hair as he dashed down the hall in relief to have Benoit home safely.

"There you are my beautiful boy! My God but I've had some weekend!"

Phillip helped Benoit ease off his heavy wool coat and headed for the kettle. 

Already down to his braces (twenty years in America and Phillip would never call them 'suspenders') and shirt sleeves, Benoit paced, pulling the braces down off his shoulders 

"They were just the most terrible people, that Thrombey family, just awful. They were so rude to Marta - oh, did I tell you about Marta? Just the loveliest creature, you would adore her, we must invite her up, oh thank you-" Benoit took the tea Phillip handed him, "and just awful to one another." He shuddered at the memory.

Phillip took up his customary spot on the middle of the sofa. It was always like this after a case. Benoit's head processed and stored everything he had learned and he liked to do his expounding while on the move. His monologue continued uninterrupted, except by sips of tea. When that was finished, Benoit began to undo his shirt buttons. Phillip watched, knowing it was nearly his moment to step in. He had learned long ago that this exposition could wind his husband up even more, leading to a night of sleepless tossing and turning in the bed, followed by pacing and eventually a cigar on the terrace. 

"Benoit." Phillip called softy. It went unheeded and the pacing continued, shirt now thrown to the sofa.

"- not one word of their Mother, not a single photograph in all that clutter-"

"Blanc!" Louder and more commanding. Benoit stopped and looked at his husband, eyebrows raised.

"Sit." Phillip ordered, indicating the floor between his legs where he sat on the sofa.

Benoit sat, relaxed back against the sofa and breathed deeply. "I'm sorry, darlin', they did infuriate me so." 

"I know, but shush now." Phillip began to knead at his husband's tense shoulders. His strong musculature resisted the massage at first but Phillip persisted. He pushed Benoit to sit forward slightly and began working systematically down the muscles on either side of his husband's spine. As he worked, he listened to the evening out of breath, sensed the quieting of that extraordinary, voracious mind. Phillip used his index finger to trace back up Benoit's spine from lower back to the base of his skull and returned to work on the shoulders. Benoit's huge sigh let out all the stresses of the case. Phillip's own, private Benoit was back home with him again. 

Phillip rested his forehead on his husband's now pliable broad shoulder.

"We need to go and buy a new water heater, love."

[drhu0806]

7. "Follow me if you want to live"

Fandom - Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous (fanfic) Content warnings - none Pairing - Woljif x Knight Commander

BOOM.

A fiery explosion sends shrapnel flying and clears a path through a block of stacked debris. First to emerge from the burning embers is a purple tiefling who nimbly weaves around the flames, followed by four others who struggle to keep up. Behind them, a small legion of demons shuffle forward in their approach. The group of five wheel around a corner of the narrow, abandoned streets of Kenabras in a desperate attempt to escape.

“You just had to go and touch that summoning circle, didn’t you?” Lann yells.

“Hey, what, a guy can’t just accidentally slip on the cobblestone? You think I did that on purpose?” Woljif protests in response. The quickest out of the six, he’s quite a ways ahead of the rest of the group, and it’s all they can do to keep up. There are moments where they almost lose sight of him, only able to barely catch up when someone spots the end of his tail vanishing around a corner.

They reach a fork in their escape, one path leading down a dingy, clustered alleyway while another was more open and looked to lead to a part of the city less destroyed. Ollerus has to pause, trying to determine the best path forward as quickly as she can.

“Hey, Chief! Over here!”

From the shadowy path, Woljif sticks his head out, gesturing to the rest of them. “Come on, I know a quicker way out. We’re almost there!”

Behind her, Camellia scoffs. “Like how your other brilliant ideas turned out? I think at this point the smarter idea would be to do whatever is the opposite of what you suggest.”

The monstrous shrill of a demon’s cry resonates not too far off, and Woljif beckons even harder. “Come on, we don’t have time! You gotta follow me if you wanna live!”

Before they can come to a decision, a commotion is heard from the path they came, and creatures of the Abyss skulk forth, their expressions rageful and thirsty for blood.

Lann throws up his hands. “Come on, we gotta move!”

He runs down the more open path, followed by two others. But Ollerus remains, her eyes darting between their retreating figures and where Woljif hides. Before it’s too late, she darts toward him in the shadows of the small alleyway.

“Get us out of here!” she orders.

A moment of shock crosses his face at her decision before it passes, and without much thought he takes her hand and leads her deeper in. It’s a truly labyrinthian part of town; she quickly loses track of how many turns they’ve made, and her sense of direction is all but gone.

However, the angry shrieks of their pursuers gradually grow quieter and more distant, and Woljif eventually brings them to a stop once he feels it’s safe. As they catch their breath, he looks down and is startled at the sight of their entwined hands; he drops hers, looking away in embarrassment.

But he has to say it. “Gotta say, Chief, I’m a little surprised you chose to go after little ol’ me here.”

Calm, pink eyes regard him. Something about the way she looks at him has always thrown him off, not in a bad way, but in how direct her gaze is, without a hint of disdain. For some reason, it always feels as though Ollerus really looks at him, and he can’t decide whether he likes it or not.

“I figured you would be the one to know the best shortcuts,” she explains. “You haven’t led me astray yet.”

Something warm tickles in his chest, and Woljif puffs out his chest and straightens his back. “What I tell ya? I told you that you made the best decision to get me out of that cell. Nice to know our leader’s really got a great head on her shoulders!”

It admittedly felt nice for once, to have someone who just listened to him. Woljif wasn’t particularly surprised when the others chose the other path, but when he saw Ollerus choose him… He can’t quite explain what he felt between them in that moment, and while they were running this whole time.

Trust, he slowly realizes. Something almost completely unfamiliar to him, something he hasn’t felt in probably forever. Something incredibly valuable… and a little terrifying.

“Well, it’s nice that we don’t have demons wanting to literally bite our asses off but we should really find the others,” she says, looking at him expectantly. “So, my little guide, think you can get us back out there?”

“Please. You might as well be asking me to pick open a broom closet. Let’s go, Chief. For you, I’ll even let you see the scenic route!”

[xaharadesert]

Kidnapped MC Turned Bandit Leader — Headcanon Pt 2

Portia Devorak x MC

A/N: every time someone sends me an ask anonymously I get to neglect it for months without guilt :) please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

🧡Portia🧡

Absolutely inconsolable when you first went missing

This woman is not afraid to cry whenever she has too many emotions, which is perfectly healthy, aside from the fact that she was constantly dehydrated from the consistent tears

She feels useless since she’s pretty much stuck in Vesuvia waiting for her more powerful friends to help find you

A lot of time is spent pacing around the palace grounds (Nadia, of course, gave her time off) and unintentionally scaring off anyone who didn’t know her (when she wasn’t crying, she looked like she was gonna punch someone)

Fortunately for Portia, she has more healthy coping mechanisms than most of the people around her, and plenty of friends to help her through hard times

Although she never once gave up hope that you would come back, she got back to work pretty quickly and kept busy

She also decided that when you did get back, the two of you would need to celebrate

Honestly, she knew she was steering more into delusion with that last one, but she needed something positive to look forward to

If she couldn’t control any part of the search for you, then she could at least control what would happen when you got back

Luckily for Portia, her naive daydreams actually paid off when you suddenly returned a few months after your disappearance

It was Julian who alerted her to your presence at the Rowdy Raven, having sprinted all the way to her cottage when he first spotted you (he sprinted back to the tavern with her too, so he was thoroughly out of breath and wheezing on the floor for a good ten minutes when they returned)

Portia had spent a good deal of time thinking up a variety of opening lines for when she first saw you again, with a few options for each of the dozens of circumstances

But really, when she saw you, all of that left her head and she once again burst into tears

Doesn’t matter if you were sitting, standing, or dancing: Portia barrelled into you at speeds that even professional sprinters would be astonished by

It might have been a little painful for the both of you, but frankly Portia was so happy to see you that she didn’t even care

Absolutely no coherent sentences were exchanged; the two of you just sat on the floor, clinging to each other while she sobbed

Now, at this point your bandit gang was probably a bit curious, but respectfully kept their distance

Portia didn’t really notice, given that she didn’t care about anything other than the fact that you were back, and you were apparently okay

But it would definitely be a topic of discussion between you and Portia, as well as you and your gang, later

Portia wouldn’t calm down for the rest of the night— all plans for a celebration forgotten— so you would inevitably return to your shared home with a promise to your new friends to find them the following morning

Portia insisted that you have some homemade food, and wrapped you in blankets to cuddle

She sat beside you, really just basking in the fact that you were home

Eventually, she dozed off, and the two of you were stuck on the couch for the rest of the night

So waking up was a little painful, with sore muscles and faces puffy

But it was more than worth it to still be together

Breakfast came first, per Portia’s orders, but the conversation about where you had been came shortly after

Portia was torn between being mad, since you definitely could have come home sooner, and being astonished by your adventures

To her credit, she sat and listened with more patience than she had ever used in her life

And the first question out of her mouth was “when can I meet them?”

The “them” in question was your new gang of bandits that you were apparently now leading

Being one of the more open minded people in Vesuvia (not to mention being Julian’s sister), Portia was more than willing to give all of your new friends a fair chance before passing judgement on them

Although, she may have already been slightly biased since she was still pissed that you hadn’t come back sooner

But she could talk to you about that properly later

For now, it was time to learn all about your new life, and how exactly she could fit into it

And, yes, she would be fitting into it, because you had just become 20x cooler and there was no way she was ever letting you go now

[canyon-tale]

I feel like I'm asking too much I'M SORRY I just love this AU ;; I got some new questions, I think these would be like less paragraph and more easy answers to not bother you-

• Do Dream and Nightmare preen their wings from time to time? Taking in mind they have feathers instead of membrane

• Where did Epic and Cross meet?

• Is there an Error equivalent? And is he involved into the gang?

• How does the gang (mainly Cross, since you mentioned he lived with them) react to humans? Did Cross stop trusting them after the war with X!Gaster and them?

Never worry about sending in asks! They always make my day and they're honestly the best for me to collect the jumbled info I have in my brain and finally get it out without delaying it. So asks are really appreciated, feel free to send in as many as you like XD

Also you underestimate my ability to ramble! The answer to the Epic one turned long since I haven’t really talked about Epic’s place in the au until now and he’s actually one of my favs 👀

Answers under the cut!



• Do Dream and Nightmare preen their wings from time to time? Taking in mind they have feathers instead of membrane Dream is the only one with feathers but yes, he does preen them and he loves to get help with it! It a very nice bonding activity for him, and something I can see the Stars doing together a lot~

• Where did Epic and Cross meet? Epic and Cross technically meet for the first time twice! The very first time was in the XTale version before the current one, in which Cross was actually a completely normal Guardian covered fully with mostly black scales. The meetings were mostly between their respective Gasters but they ended up striking up a friendship that was progressing into something more, until Xtale once again reset and the new version of Cross remembered nothing of Epic until much later.

The second time is when the current version of Cross is kind of between factions. Dream has been trying to convince Cross to join his side as Cross grows less vengeful over his past, which eventually leads him to lose his Carnage claim. This in turn leads to Nightmare growing distrustful of Cross, eventually ordering the others to kill him as he's convinced the guardian has joined Dream's side.

Cross manages to escape, mostly due to Dust sparing him, and he ends up traveling between aus to stay hidden. It's during these travels where he eventually bumps into Epic, who at first doesn't recognize him but slowly connects the dots and figures out who he is. Epic himself is gathering intel from different aus and makes that his main excuse to tag along with Cross while trying to reconnect.

Cross is at first put off with having someone who knows a past version of him following him around, but eventually grows curious and closer with Epic. During this Cross is trying to decide who's side he's really on in the battle between Nightmare and Dream, still holding some loyalty to Night despite everything but also feeling a strong sense of trust towards Dream. Epic is a nice distraction from those troubling thoughts.

After everything, when Nightmare and Dream temporarily defeats the Stalker (impossible to defeat a god completely, but it got them off their tails for a while) and calls a tentative truce, Cross joins Nightmare again but also helps out the Stars when he can. Between that he also visits Epic who he quickly starts to see as his best friend, and someone he can keep to himself without all the drama between his flights, so it takes quite some time for the others to clue into their connection. Cross never quite remembers Epic from the point of view of his past self, he has some small memories and recollections, but not a lot. Epic never tells Cross that they were growing to be more than friends in the past, not wanting to influence Cross' feeling for him, but they do eventually reach that point in their friendship again <3

• Is there an Error equivalent? And is he involved into the gang? Yes there is! Error is part of Nightmare's flight, but he's rarely seen around the others in the beginning. He's a demi-god like Nightmare, but through a gifted claim rather than by blood. He's around Nightmare's size but can and will regulate his size to what he finds the most comfortable or convenient. He is also Nightmare's first mate, something that no one catches onto for the longest time and which pretty much makes Killer see him as a rival for a time (Killer was very determined to become Night's first mate, only to have his hopes crushed when he realized he already had one. It left him quite bitter with Error for a while!) Error also bit off one of Nightmare's tails off when they first met, which is why big void corrupt Night only has three tails instead of four!

• How does the gang (mainly Cross, since you mentioned he lived with them) react to humans? Did Cross stop trusting them after the war with X!Gaster and them? Generally speaking most of them dislike or are down right hostile towards humans since basically all of them have had bad past experiences. Cross is probably the most tolerable out of them all, he will act friendly or neutral but still have a hard time shaking off his distrust for them. He and Nightmare are the only ones who can fluently speak, write, and read the human language. I actually imagine that Cross would know more of the human language and struggle with draconic writing/reading, and easily stumble over his words at times. Killer, Dust, and Horror prefer to avoid humans and will attack without hesitation if they think they, or anyone in their flight, is being threatened.

[whoredmode]

ok well my eyes are glazing over from working on my big post so i’m gonna take a break and talk about my AU: santo ileso blues. it’s definitely a vague rewrite of the reboot, but i also took some inspiration from total control and undercover, of all things. something about the boss just disappearing and the saints having internal issues without them there is just really fascinating to me. anyway stuff is absolutely subject to change but this is the general plot outline i have rn.

so it opens on the end of the LoP story. autumn 2012. anteros has a decision to make: kill eric gryphon now, or let him live and hear him out. the actual canon decision is the latter. anteros lowers his gun and they talk, and this leads into the saints becoming an ultor-owned brand and into srtt.

in this AU, though, anteros decides to kill him.

he shoots eric through the head. the gunshot alerts jamie, who calls the masako, and anteros kills her too as she attempts to run. anteros must escape now, though, as the masako are closing in. he gets out, and as if on cue, troy pulls up and tells him to get in the car. they get out, barely, and begin to stockpile and pack all the cash and weapons they have. anteros has just set off something he may not be able to come back from. everything is about to come out: the truth about the relationships between the saints and ultor, between anteros and troy, and the things ultor’s been planning that the public is unaware of.

anteros is in a bad state of mind at this point, having just murdered the man who, whether he’d admit it or not, was giving him some semblance of guidance. he doesn’t know what to do. he’s so lost. he comes to the decision to just run. in some ways, he already knows this is the wrong choice, but the feeling of regret weighs so heavily on his mind. he can’t bear to look at the saints. what kind of leader is he? he can’t do anything without the words of someone else, without a superior to take orders from. so he and troy pack the car and leave before things begin to really blow up.

that night, already hours away from stilwater, anteros calls johnny on a burner phone. they’ve been wondering where he is, hearing that eric’s dead and seeing the masako crawling all over the ultor district and surrounding areas. anteros just apologizes to johnny, tells him he knows he’ll do a better job than he ever could, and hangs up. anteros breaks the phone. he and troy continue their escape.

back in stilwater, johnny is now leader. however, at this point, johnny’s still been dealing with his own issues following the still-recent death of aisha. he’s been a lot more volatile, driven by intense anger and grief. and now he’s suddenly in charge of the saints. something he didn’t ask for. pierce and shaundi try their best to offer help, but it doesn’t end up going over too well as none of them really know what to do. they aren’t sure why anteros has disappeared, nor do they realize what’s about to happen.

they turn on the TV to try to calm down for minute, but upon seeing the news they realize what’s been done. the story is still developing, but things are becoming clear through documents and photos in eric’s possession. the extent of the saints’ dealings with ultor is now public, the relationship between troy and anteros, the undisclosed work ultor’s been doing with their weapons manufacturing, and even with vague info being released about dex now, it’s clear just how much anteros had been hiding from them.

so in my canon, STAG was a part of ultor, and now with things in even more disarray, the remaining board members of ultor make the decision to release them earlier than planned. this obviously ends up triggering a war between ultor/STAG and the saints, similar to what eventually happens in the srtt rewrite, but to a somewhat different degree. it’s not a full city lockdown, but rather a targeted attack on the saints in an effort to get rid of them to improve their image (their PR department ofc already spinning all this shit as entirely the saints’ fault).

johnny ends up getting killed. shaundi and pierce try to save him but can’t, barely getting out of there in time to save themselves. this marks a stark change in shaundi especially. she wants to avenge johnny, and that means finding and killing anteros.

meanwhile in steelport (yes they’re involved in this too), the syndicate has been keeping an eye on stilwater. with the saints potentially being eradicated, this will open up another power vacuum for them to fill. however, some time around 2014 or so, kiki and viola succeed in their mission to kill loren and dex. killbane takes over the syndicate, and the twins leave as they have no personal connection to the organization. however, when they return to ultor, the company does not have the money to pay them in full. furious for not getting their earnings after having been on this mission for years, they decide to track down anteros. he’s the one who started this chain reaction, so he should be the one to pay them back.

over 10 years have passed since anteros and troy fled stilwater. they ended up in santo ileso, living out in the desert minding their business. keeping quiet. anteros has become an extremely sought-after hitman. he’s good at what he does. unlike how he was to those who knew him before, anteros is a quiet, foreboding presence in santo ileso. his face remains hidden behind a violet bandana, and his visage is that of a grim reaper. originally he did his work the old-fashioned way, but as the times changed, so did he. the wanted app exists, but it’s an unofficial app you have to jailbreak your phone to use. anyone involved in anything illegal in santo ileso has access to it in some way.

kevin, neenah, and eli are all still roommates. kevin and neenah are part of their respective gangs, while eli is a corporate law student. they get along well, and even consider each other friends, but i still want an obvious wall between them because of the different gangs and just generally different circles they’re in. i’ll talk about the changes i’ve made to the gangs and gang dynamics in a different post bc there’s several i’ve made. but regardless, they’ve all heard rumors about anteros since they’ve lived here forever, but they’ve never encountered him. he’s almost like an urban legend. however, since he’s never actually bothered the gangs in santo ileso and operates as his own thing, they’ve never had a reason to find him. but all that to say, the three still occasionally struggle with money. and that eventually leads into kevin and neenah deciding (without the other realizing) to take jobs on the wanted app.

so it’s the 2020s, and shaundi and pierce have finally figured out that anteros has to be somewhere in the southwest. santo ileso and its surrounding areas specifically. similarly, kiki and viola have also figured the same. however, with anteros and troy having made roots in the city for a decade now, they hear about shaundi and pierce’s arrival through their own underground connections. and, perhaps, anteros has his own connections to the nahualli, someone else who’s also like a myth in the city.

so anteros puts shaundi and pierce on the wanted app for an insanely high reward. kevin and neenah see these listings independently of each other, and decide to go for it. kevin was tracking pierce, neenah was tracking shaundi. they converge in the middle of the day, about to attack their respective target. but they’re shocked to see each other, and their confusion gives shaundi and pierce the upper hand. shaundi and pierce decide to kidnap them, because if they recognize their faces, clearly they know something about anteros. but then they just learn about the wanted app, but it’s a start. who else would put them there but him?

so that’s the basic outline of the plot. shaundi and pierce using kevin, neenah, and eventually eli to help them track down anteros, who is pretty much a ghost in santo ileso. eventually the twins get involved bc they’re looking for him too. there’s more internal drama as kevin and neenah have to deal with the fact they’re working things that could arguably be used to benefit their gang and not helping them, but i can go over that more when i talk about the specific gangs themselves.