#i say likely because there could still be some exceptions to this i feel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheriedivine · 1 day ago

Text

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

chapter I | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, weed, creepy guy, slightly suggestive, tension (if u squint).

꩜ WC: 4.9K

꩜ A/N: okayyy soooo, i’m starting a new series, it will be a slow burn so bear with me. Im excited for this and all the yearning to come woohooooo! just your typical loser lesbians who are best friends and there’s tension but they don’t know it yet alright…

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How can we tell something is complicated? Is it because the easy way isn’t available — or because we crave the possibility of more?

Life is full of complex things like the human brain or death or love. Especially love.

The line between love and codependency is blurry, if it even exists. Do we cling to the people we love because we need them — or because we don’t know who we are without them?

Still, love is more than need. It's more than survival.

Of course the easy way is not to feel.

But then again — what’s the point of life without love?

Without being consumed by it? Without being absorbed?

Ellie always felt like love wasn’t meant for her. Yeah sure she had been in a few relationships in the past, casual summer flings, but nothing that got too serious. The moment someone wanted to put a label on her she was out the door.

Maybe she was doomed from the start, sentenced to suffer in loneliness for the rest of her life. Maybe it was karma for all the shit her ancestors had done.

Or maybe... she was just twenty-one, and spiraling.

But then she met you.

Her best friend. Her whole world.

You brought sunshine into her life like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

She smiled more. Went out more. God — she even made stupid jokes just to hear you laugh. Saying you made Ellie’s life better was an understatement.

How it started?

It was a casual Thursday. Ellie was tired — the kind of tired that settled deep in her bones. She’d been up since 5 a.m., chasing the sunrise for an early shoot, and stayed late at the studio the night before, hunched over rolls of film, watching images slowly come to life. Now, all she could think about was the couple she’d photographed that morning — mid-twenties, freshly engaged, smiling like they had the rest of their lives mapped out. Some people had it all figured out, she thought. Settled. Steady. Meanwhile, she was here — at her usual breakfast spot, an old fashioned diner, squinting at her laptop, scrolling through photo edits with aching eyes. Her camera bag sat beside her on the booth seat, worn and stickered to hell — Savage Starlight, Sleater-Kinney, a faded rainbow sticker that had started peeling at the corners.

She yawned into her tea, hood up, headphones loosely slung around her neck, when someone placed a plate down in front of her. chocolate chip pancakes, soft scrambled eggs and bacon — her usual.

Ellie blinked up, and you were standing there, wiping your hands on a dish towel tucked into your apron. Your eyes flicked toward the camera case.

“Savage Starlight,” you nodded at the sticker. “God-tier taste.”

Ellie froze for a second, then smirked. “You read that?”

“Duh,” you said like it was obvious. “Issue 8 ruined me emotionally for weeks.”

That pulled a laugh out of her, the first real one she’d had all morning. “Same. Still not over that ending.”

You smiled, shifting your weight to one foot, clearly not in a rush to leave. “Cool camera, by the way.”

“Thanks, she’s my baby” she said, suddenly aware of how wrecked she must look — messy bun barely held up, camera strap indenting her neck. “—I’m Ellie, by the way.” She stuck her hand out, immediately second-guessing it.

Was that too old-fashioned? Joel really was rubbing off on her.

“I know. I take your order every other Thursday.” you said, shaking her hand.

She blinked, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry. Early mornings kinda melt my brain.”

“No worries,” you grinned, and Ellie noticed the little pin on your apron — a tiny, pixelated spaceship with your name on it, stupid stupid stupid. she thought to herself for not noticing it earlier.

And since that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t anything loud or life-altering, not some cheesy movie moment with music swelling in the background. But it was something. A small click, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Ellie became obsessed with you, in a way that she needed to be around you or her day wouldn’t be complete, she needed to hear your voice, your laugh, you calling her stupid for a dad joke she made, she just needed you, her best friend.

From then on, Ellie started showing up more often — not just on Thursdays anymore. Sometimes it was Tuesdays. Sometimes Saturdays, right before the lunch rush. She claimed it was for the pancakes, and not the terrible service (she earned herself a playful smack on the head for that). She’d sit at her usual corner booth, camera bag by her side, flipping through photo previews on her laptop, waiting for your shift to end.

Ellie would usually show up with the latest issue of Savage Starlight, sliding it across the counter like some sort of sacred offering. It became an inside joke — your “weekly trade deal,” she'd say. In return, you’d draw ridiculous little faces into her pancakes with extra chocolate chips — crooked grins, wonky eyes, sometimes a very unflattering interpretation of Joel. She thought it was hilarious.

You’d complain about the usual chaos — rude customers, shit tips, kids treating the floor like their personal warzone. Ellie would listen between mouthfuls of bacon, eyes gleaming.

“Sounds like you need a cig break,” she’d propose, already halfway out of the booth.

And that’s how most of your breaks ended up — at the back of the diner, sharing a cigarette with your best friend, the smoke curling into lazy spirals between your fingers. Who would’ve thought the best thing to come out of this job would be the quiet girl who used to sit in the corner booth alone, camera gear spilling across the table and making it a logistical nightmare to serve her food?

You ducked behind the counter, catching your co-worker scribbling down an order on a pad.

“Taking five,” you whispered into her ear, already slipping off your apron and tossing it over the stool.

Ellie was waiting by the door, cigarette hanging from her lips, hands in her pockets, grinning like an idiot. Moments like these, quiet, in company of you, were the highlight of her day.

The metal door creaked behind you as you stepped out into the alley, greeted by the smell of old grease, cigarette smoke, and freedom.

“You have no idea how much I despise this uniform,” you groaned, tugging at the stiff collar of your work shirt like it personally offended you. “Why do they make us wear these stupid skirts and hats?”

Ellie chuckled, flicking the lighter and shielding the flame with her hand. “You look cute, very… militant barista chic”

You gave her a flat look. “It’s a literal open invitation for creepy dudes to stare”

“In that case I’ll beat them to death with my camera tripod” she said around the cigarette, grinning as she passed it to you. “I would like to see you try honestly.”

You took a drag, leaning your back against the brick wall, bumping your shoulder into hers lightly. “I’m just saying, Hooters uniform has more coverage than this… thing.”

Ellie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah? Are you a Hooters expert now?”

You snorted, passing the cigarette back. “Certainly more than you. I wish I could just spend time with you in your stinky little studio instead of serving Ice lattes to Karens”

Ellie blinked, a flicker of something crossing her face — but she masked it quickly with a laugh. “Obviously. I’m way prettier.”

“Thats certainly one way to put it.”

“Rude.”

You both stood there for a while in comfortable silence, trading the cigarette and small complaints about the day, until your five minutes were definitely more like ten and your co-worker cracked open the back door to glare at you.

Ellie just winked and mouthed bitch. She checked her phone, winced, then let out a dramatic sigh like the world was ending. “Shit. I’ve got a shoot in twenty minutes.”

You blew out a stream of smoke. “Ugh, fine. Go be artsy and productive or whatever.”

“I will. Gotta make the girls look ethereal in a field of flowers or something,” she joked, already stubbing the cigarette out on the wall and stuffing it into an empty Altoids tin she kept just for that purpose.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell them to pose like they're not better looking than me or I’m gonna have a problem.”

Ellie gave you a look, smirking as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re the muse.”

You flushed but covered it with a sarcastic bow. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m stuck in hell for two more hours, but I’ll text you after. You still down for the movies tonight?”

“Dina threatened me if I bail. Jesse’s picking the movie, though, so get ready to watch something with car chases and unnecessary explosions.”

You groaned. “He has the worst taste. I swear if it’s another Fast and Furious sequel I’m leaving.”

Ellie laughed and started backing down the alley, walking backwards. “You say that every time and yet you stay. For the family.”

You threw your apron at her. She dodged it.

“Text me when you're done,” she called out before disappearing around the corner, entering her beat up truck.

Back inside, the rest of your shift crawled by in a blur of clinking mugs, whiny toddlers, and low-tip customers — but it was easier to survive knowing you had a movie night waiting, with your best friends, and Ellie sitting next to you in the dark, probably whispering dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.

You smiled to yourself as you cleared a table. Just two more hours.

The field was nice. Golden-hour kind of nice — warm light slicing through the tall grass. Ellie adjusted the settings on her camera, peeking through the viewfinder at the group of girls twirling in their flowy pastel dresses, laughing like they were in a Greta Gerwig film.

“Alright, ladies, pretend you like each other!” she called out, grinning.

They laughed and did that overly-exaggerated cutesy pose thing, arms slung around each other, a couple fake-kissing cheeks. Ellie snapped the shots effortlessly, stepping around them with practiced ease. Her brain clicked into auto-pilot when she was shooting — light, angles, timing — the rest of the world faded.

Except for one of them.

Cat.

Bridesmaid number three. Mid-20s, pretty, clearly knew it — and knew how to work a camera. She'd been giving Ellie a look since they started, the kind with too much eye contact and a little too much lower lip biting.

"Should I hold the bouquet like this?" Cat asked sweetly, lifting it chest-level and tilting her head just enough to make it obvious.

Ellie didn’t skip a beat, snapping the shot. “Sure…unless you’re auditioning for a rom-com in which case, maybe tilt it a little more—yeah, that’s the angle. Nailed it.”

The girls laughed and whooped like they were in a music video.

Cat winked at her. “You’re kinda funny, camera girl.”

Ellie smirked but didn’t look up from her camera. “Only kinda?”

The flirting kept bouncing like that for a bit — harmless, surface-level, the way Ellie always played it when she wasn’t invested, just bored. She never let it get too deep, not like with you. After wrapping the shoot and handing off her card to the bride, Ellie was stuffing her camera into her bag when Cat came up to her, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers like she practiced that in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said, kind of sing-songy. “You should give me your number. You know, in case I wanna book you for something… personal.”

Ellie bit back a grin, already zipping her bag. “Oh, totally. Here—”

She grabbed a pen from her tote and scribbled a number on the back of a coffee receipt. Not hers, obviously. Some random number she made up.

Cat took it, all flirty and hopeful, and Ellie gave her a small salute before heading toward her truck.

As soon as she was out of sight, she cracked up to herself, shaking her head.

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”

She wasn’t mean. Just... not interested. Not in Cat. Not in anyone lately.

Only person she actually wanted to hear from was probably just clocking out of that stupid diner, peeling off that stupid uniform and texting her with some dumb meme or a rant about someone leaving syrup on the counter.

She checked her phone.

No text yet.

She leaned against the side of her truck, thumb tapping lazily against the metal, waiting. Like clockwork, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A text from you.

It was a photo—your middle finger proudly raised beside your diner uniform, crumpled and defeated on your bed. “im out. pick me up at 6?”

Ellie chuckled, typing back: “Only if ur wearing the uniform.”

Your response came quick: middle finger emoji.

Still grinning, she climbed into her truck and headed to her studio (which, technically, was also her apartment—but calling it the studio made it feel a little more like she had her shit together). She was planning on washing off the day and changing into something comfortable for movie night at Dina’s.

Meanwhile, back at your place, you kicked off your shoes the second you walked in. Your roommate wasn’t home—probably still stuck at work—so you shot her a quick text letting her know you’d be out late. You peeled off your uniform, and threw on your robe before texting Ellie again: “home. picking me up at 6 still right?”

You stepped into the shower, determined to scrub off the smell of burnt bacon and sticky syrup, letting the steam pull the exhaustion out of your bones. Afterward, you got caught up scrolling on your phone, time slipping past unnoticed… until there was a sharp knock on your door.

“Shit,” you muttered. Then louder: “HOLD ON, I’M COMING!”

Still wrapped in your towel, you darted to the front door and flung it open. Ellie blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes flicked over your towel-wrapped frame a second too long, before she quickly covered her grin with a hand, trying (and failing) to play it cool.

“I am so, so sorry,” you said, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed. too self conscious. “I got distracted and totally lost track of time.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, but her voice stayed teasing. “You sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ten minutes. Swear.”

You vanished down the hallway. Ellie flopped onto the couch, pulling out her phone and texting the group chat: running late but grabbing snacks first. don’t start without us.

She shifted to get more comfortable—and caught a glimpse through the crack in your bedroom door. Two inches. Practically nothing. Not on purpose… right?

You were slipping on a hoodie, back turned, still in just your bra and pants. Ellie’s face flushed instantly. She snapped her head away like the door had personally scolded her. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. “Fuckin’ creep.”

Before her spiraling could get worse, you emerged from your room, hoodie on, tugging on your shoes.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing your keys and swinging the door open. “Let’s go.”

Ellie followed, still flustered, and absolutely not ready to unpack any of what just happened.

The sky was starting to turn soft and purple as Ellie pulled out of your complex’s parking lot, her tattooed arm flexing, hand grasping lazily on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume knob. Some old indie playlist was shuffling through the speakers—Ellie music, as you called it. You leaned back in your seat, hair still a little damp from the shower, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over your hands.

“So?” you said, glancing at her. “How was the rest of your very glamorous day?”

Ellie let out a snort. “Oh, you know. Just got aggressively flirted with by someone named Cat.”

Your head turned so fast it nearly cracked. “Cat?”

“Bridesmaid number three. Said I looked like I’d be good with a camera and my hands.” Ellie smirked.

You groaned, but came out more like a failed laugh. “Ew. Who says that?”

“She did. With full confidence. Honestly? Kinda impressive.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Tell me you didn’t flirt back.”

“I mean, a little. For the bit.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “You’re shameless.”

“Hey—she asked for my number, I panicked and gave her Joel’s landline. So I think I redeemed myself.”

That made you burst out laughing, and gave you a weird sense of relief. “Oh my god, imagine her calling and Joel picking up.”

“‘Hello, Miller residence.’ And then just click.”

You were still giggling when you turned toward the window. “You’re evil.”

Ellie looked over at you for a second too long, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re just jealous.”

You scoffed. “Jealous of Cat? Please. I wear a dumb visor and serve bacon to men named Dennis who tip in nickels.”

“That’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “My shift was hell. I had a kid throw a hashbrown at me and scream because I gave him the wrong syrup. Like. What syrup could he possibly need at age four? It’s all just sugar.”

“Future criminal behavior,” Ellie said. “I would’ve drop-kicked him.”

“Oh believe me, I considered it. But then I remembered I’m trying not to go to jail this year.”

“Personal growth,” she nodded solemnly.

There was a comfortable silence after that. The kind that didn’t feel like it needed to be filled. The kind you only got with someone who knew you well enough to not need noise. But still, Ellie spoke again, a little quieter this time.

“Hey,” she said, eyes on the road, voice soft. “We still have to get those snacks.”

You turned your head, smiling without really meaning to. “7-Eleven stop?.”

“7-Eleven it is.”

The buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the refrigerator coolers welcomed you as the door to the 7-Eleven swung open with a mechanical chime. Ellie held it open for you with a sarcastic bow. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes smiling. “Wow. So chivalrous. All for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged, grabbing a plastic basket. “I’m a provider.”

You split up for a second—Ellie going straight to the drinks section while you scanned the candy aisle, already filling your arms with too many options. Gummy worms. A Kit Kat. Those sour blue raspberry straws Ellie claimed she hated but somehow always ended up buying.

You were just about to decide between a regular-sized Snickers or the obnoxiously large King Size when a voice behind you broke the silence.

“Damn,” the guy said, eyeing you up like you were on sale. “If I was your man, I’d never let you out the house looking that good.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him at first, just dropped a pack of sour candy into your basket.

“If you were my man,” you said, glancing over with a tight smile, “I’d move states and change my name.”

He scoffed. “Damn, you don’t gotta be a bitch about it—”

“—And you gotta be stupid enough to not take a hint” Ellie appeared behind you, sliding an arm around your shoulders with a lazy grin, completely playing into the moment.

The guy blinked, probably about to say something else, until Ellie looked at him, really looked at him and whatever speech he had left drained from his face. He turned and walked off without another word.

“You find the sour blue raspberry straws?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

You nodded, leaning into her like it was muscle memory. “Yep.”

Something always shifted in Ellie when guys like that got too close. She didn’t make a scene, didn’t have to, but her jaw would clench just a little, her voice would drop, and suddenly she wasn’t just your best friend. She was your shield, your protector. And no one got to talk to you like that when she was around.

Once he was out of earshot, you burst out laughing, nearly dropping your armful of snacks. “Babe is new”

“It felt right,” Ellie said, grinning. “And also hilarious. You should’ve seen his face.”

You were still laughing as you dumped your haul on the counter. “Thanks for the save, my prince charming.”

“Anytime,” she said, tossing a couple of sodas beside your loot. “Protecting you from weird dudes is in my contract.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised a brow. “Where’s this contract?”

“In my head,” she said.

You shook your head, still smiling. “We should make it a real thing. Ellie Williams: official candy mule and creepy guy repellant.”

“I prefer the term bodyguard,” she said, pulling out her wallet. “But yeah. Works for me.”

Dina’s apartment smelled like buttery popcorn, weed, and that vaguely sweet candle she always left burning on her windowsill—something with a name like Midnight Fig or Velvet Moon. The TV was already on when you walked in, credits of some old romcom playing, Jesse sitting cross-legged on the floor, halfway through a bag of gummy worms.

“You’re late,” Dina called from the kitchen, not even looking up as she stirred something in a pot. “Movie night rule number one: punctuality. Rule number two: bring snacks. Did you guys bring snacks?”

“We were on time,” Ellie said, kicking the door closed behind her. “But somebody forgot I was picking them up.”

You shot her a look. “I was in the shower. I told you to pick me up at six, not barge in at six.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse muttered. “Just make out already.”

“Shut up,” both you and Ellie snapped at the same time. Jesse loved to poke the bear when it came to you two, claiming it was funny how flustered you both got.

That only made him grin wider.

You dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, pulling a throw blanket over your legs and tossing a bag of hot cheeto chips onto the coffee table. “There. Snacks.”

Ellie flopped down beside you, her thigh barely brushing yours. Not enough to say anything, not enough to move away—but enough to notice. She leaned back, hands behind her head.

“So,” Dina said, walking over with a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like boxed mac and cheese. “Ellie, how’d your shoot go? You flirt with any bridesmaids?”

You groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”

Ellie smirked. “Told you already. Bridesmaid number three. She winked at me and called me ‘camera girl.’”

Dina wheezed. “Wait. Wait. Did she give you her number?”

“She asked for mine,” Ellie corrected, proudly. “I gave her Joel’s landline.”

“Are you trying to get disowned?” Jesse asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

“I’m trying to avoid drama with a woman named Cat,” Ellie said, dead serious.

You shook your head, “You’re impossible.”

Dina squinted between you two, then looked at Jesse. “Tell me they’re not already dating.”

“Not yet,” Jesse said, popping a gummy into his mouth. “But they will be. I give it, like, three months. Maybe two if there’s a karaoke night.”

You threw a pillow at his head. Ellie snorted and leaned closer, her arm grazing yours again.

“Anyway,” Dina said, tossing a remote into Jesse’s lap, “are we watching Jennifer’s Body or are we letting Jesse pick another sad man movie again?”

“Jennifer’s Body,” you and Ellie said at the same time.

And just like that, the night rolled on—warm, loud, stupid. Full of bad jokes, half-eaten snacks, and shared glances neither of you really knew how to deal with yet.

Not tension, exactly. Not yet. But something.

The movie had long since faded into background noise, replaced by gossip and stolen bites of popcorn. Jesse and Ellie kept chucking snacks at each other like overgrown children, until Dina groaned from the armchair, "You idiots are cleaning all this shit up. Y’all are like toddlers when you're together."

They both laughed, Jesse flinging a pillow in her direction, which, of course, kicked off a full-on war. You were winning—striking Ellie with a pillow like your life depended on it—until she fought back three times harder, knocking you onto the couch and sending the whole group into hysterics.

This was your group. The best friends you ever had.

You’d all met not long after you and Ellie did. Jesse and Ellie were practically siblings, bonded since childhood, while you’d known Dina since high school—trauma-bonded over shitty exes and academic burnout. She knew you like the palm of her handl You definitely were an incredibly different group of humans, but it’s what made things more genuine with y’all.

You and Ellie had a secret running bet about Jesse and Dina. After one drunken party makeout they swore never happened, they’d been in full denial mode, sneaking glances and pretending it meant nothing.

Ellie bet $20 and a month of free rides that they'd never admit it. You, being the romantic, countered with a month of free pancakes and $10 that they would.

(Not that they needed to know about it.)

A blunt or two made its way around, leaving everyone pleasantly buzzed, limbs heavy, laughter echoing off the walls. Jesse and Ellie were laid out flat on the floor. You sprawled on the couch with Dina nestled between your legs, her back to your chest. It was warm, hazy, perfect.

You glanced at your phone—2:57 a.m. Saturday. No work tomorrow, thank god. You’d definitely get fired for showing up this stoned.

Your fingers idly played with Dina’s hair while she giggled at nothing. Jesse and Ellie were arguing about something in the background, their voices fuzzy through the weed fog. Eventually, Dina stretched and yawned, announcing she was going to bed.

“If anyone’s crashing, cool. Just don’t open the windows and don’t trip balls in my apartment,” she mumbled.

Jesse followed behind, only to get a very loud, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM, I’M NOT HIGH ENOUGH FOR THIS.” He retreated to the guest room in defeat.

Ellie dropped down on the couch next to you, head tipped back, eyes glossy.

"You don't have an early photoshoot with your kittycat tomorrow?" you teased, glancing at her sideways.

"You wish. I might as well just cave and give her my real number," she said with a lazy grin.

“And forget about me?” you said, bumping her shoulder.

"You know I would never."

"Oh, I know. Im just fucking with you" you smirked.

“Oh yeah?,” she shrugged, grin widening. “I think you would like that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think that’s why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah, you’re my best-best-best-friend-ever-in-the-world,” she said, slurring it like a spell. “But shh, don’t tell Jesse. Sensitive guy.”

She held a finger to her lips like she was sharing an FBI top-secret, you laughed, shaking your head.

Shortly after that, you dozed off on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could smell your shampoo, faintly sweet, and the ever-present scent of maple syrup that always clung to you no matter what. Like it was just… yours. Branded in her brain.

Your thigh was warm against hers, and yeah—it wasn’t weird. You were always like this. Close. Safe.

But then Ellie’s mind flicked back to your apartment. That two-inch crack in the door. The sliver of skin, the bra strap, your back. She’d looked. Not on purpose—but she’d looked. The weed was fucking with her head.

Her chest tightened. Was that weird? Creepy?

But best friends think about stuff like that sometimes… right? Like, it wasn’t a big deal to know your friend was hot, and protecting her from creepy guys knowing you’d treat her so much better In a normal, totally non-weird, completely platonic way. Right?

She tilted her head slightly, watching you breathe, peaceful and soft beside her. Her brain finally quieted.

You were her best friend.

And that would always be enough.

Right?

#ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams oneshot #ellie tlou 2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams headcanons #ellie willams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie fanfic #slow burn

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arkaiveofurown · 2 days ago

Note

Hii! How are you

So I'm new here, idk if you take requests, but if you do, could you please write something about katakuri? Like big mom arranges Katakuri's secret lover's marriage with oven or cracker. But katakuri speaks up (for the first time) against his mom.

Braver Than Silence

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x Reader

He was raised to hide everything soft and vulnerable—his mouth, his thoughts, his love. But in your light, Katakuri found something he never thought he deserved: freedom. And when Big Mom threatens to take you away, he learns that some truths must be spoken, even if it means defiance.

Word Count: ~2,900 words

tag: fluff, secret relationship, family conflict

my masterlist here ♡

——

a/n: this is such a nice request——thank you so much! it’s my first time writing about katakuri and i really hope i did him justice (⸝⸝╸-╺⸝⸝)

——

Katakuri doesn’t speak much.

He watches. He calculates. He acts only when necessary.

But you know more.

You know how his eyes soften when you smile. How his shoulders relax when you brush his hand. How his scarf sometimes slips when you’re alone and he doesn’t rush to pull it back.

He doesn’t say, I love you.

He doesn’t have to.

Because when you sit together on the cliffs just outside Totto Land’s borders, you rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets the silence hold the meaning.

“Do you think she’ll ever know?” you ask softly, referring to Big Mom.

Katakuri is still. “If she finds out, she’ll take you away.”

You nod.

And neither of you say what you both feel—because even in your secret, the danger is real.

Still, he brushes your pinkie with his, letting it curl around yours.

He’ll protect you.

Even if he never says it.

⸻

It happens at a banquet.

The room is filled with laughter and sweet, dripping wine. Crackers crunch under feet and the table overflows with frosting, pastries, and fresh meat.

You’re helping Smoothie with the seating arrangements when Big Mom’s voice cuts across the room:

“I’ve decided it’s time. You’ll marry into the family officially.”

You freeze.

“I’ve chosen Cracker,” she continues, smiling wide. “He’ll treat you well. You’ve been around long enough to be trusted. This is good for Totto Land.”

The room goes quiet—except for Cracker, who gives you a smug little grin.

You feel Katakuri’s stare before you even look.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Of course he doesn’t.

Of course he will always put the Charlotte Family first. He upholds their pride and status above all else. That’s how he was raised. That’s who he’s always been.

Of course it’s them over anyone else.

Even over you.

Even over himself.

⸻

You don’t cry—not until you’re alone.

When Katakuri finds you that night, he says nothing at first. He just closes the door behind him, the click of the lock soft, heavy.

You face away from him, staring at the cold mirror in your room.

“I can’t marry him,” you whisper. “I can’t even pretend to want it.”

He steps closer, and you feel the heat of his body behind yours.

“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly.

“It’s yours?” you snap. “For not saying anything? For always hiding me like I’m a shameful secret?”

The air thickens.

“If I told her, she’d hurt you,” he says. “You know she would.”

“So what?” Your voice breaks. “I’m just something you visit in the dark while your mother decides my future?”

He flinches—but doesn’t move.

“I love you,” you say finally, trembling. “But I won’t survive this if I’m treated like nothing.”

Silence.

Then, low:

“You’re not nothing,” he says.

You turn your face halfway toward him.

“Then why are you always quiet when it matters?”

He’s quiet for a long time.

Then:

“I wasn’t afraid she’d say no.”

You look at him.

“I was afraid she’d say yes.”

He steps around you slowly, enough for you to see his eyes. Not just shadowed by his scarf, but guarded. Worn.

“I’m afraid of what she’d do if she knew.”

You stare at him.

“To her, love isn’t sacred. It’s… strategy,” he says, voice rough. “Everything personal is a tool. If she knew how much I loved you, you wouldn’t be safe. You wouldn’t be yours anymore. You’d stop being someone I chose—and become someone she controls.”

He looks away, jaw tight.

“She’d use you against me. Or worse—decide to ‘correct’ me by handing you to someone she could command more easily. Someone obedient. Someone like Cracker, just so she could show her dominance.”

You blink hard, something cold crawling down your spine.

“She wouldn’t be giving you a place in the family,” Katakuri says. “She’d be taking you from me.”

You stay quiet.

He lowers his voice even further. “That’s why I never said anything. Not because I’m ashamed. Not because I doubt you. But because the moment you’re exposed, you’re no longer mine. You’re Mama’s… ”

His eyes lift to meet yours again—something raw flickering in them now.

“I didn’t want to lose you to her.”

⸻

Katakuri doesn’t sleep that night.

He stands on the balcony, arms crossed, scarf pushed down. The moon reflects off his sharp features, jaw tight with thought.

Brûlée appears behind him.

“You’re thinking about her.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Brûlée sighs. “You always protected your siblings. Even when you hated them. But this—this is different.”

Katakuri doesn’t answer.

“Are you going to let her go?” she asks softly.

And his jaw clenches.

“No,” he says. “Not this time.”

⸻

It’s rare for Katakuri to speak in front of the family.

Even rarer to challenge Big Mom.

The room is full again—this time for a wedding announcement feast.

You’re standing beside Cracker, your face numb, hands clenched behind your dress. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but the cold weight of the moment makes it hard to breathe.

Katakuri enters late, his scarf half-lowered, his mouth visible.

Gasps echo as he speaks.

“She’s not marrying Cracker.”

Big Mom’s grin falters, eyes narrowing.

“What was that, Katakuri?”

“She’s not marrying anyone,” he repeats, his voice like steel. “She’s mine.”

The room goes dead silent.

Then chaos.

Cracker shouts. Smoothie drops her drink. Perospero starts laughing.

And Big Mom stands, her towering figure looming over the room.

“You went behind my back?” she roars.

“I protected her from you,” Katakuri replies, his voice calm but unwavering. “Because I knew what you’d do if you found out.”

Big Mom’s eyes flare with rage.

“And you thought I wouldn’t control you?” she spits, her voice dripping with venom.

Katakuri takes a step forward, his presence growing more intense. He stands taller now, his usual reserve slipping away for the first time in years.

“I’m not your soldier anymore,” he says, his tone full of finality.

The tension in the room is suffocating—everyone watches, breath held.

Big Mom’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You think you can just defy me? After everything I’ve done for you?”

“I’ve spent my life protecting this family, but this time… I won’t let you control her,” Katakuri says, his voice softer now, but no less fierce. He’s speaking from the heart. “I’m done letting you decide who belongs to who. She isn’t a pawn in your game.”

He pauses, his eyes now searching for yours, as if he draws strength from you.

“And she’s never been a pawn,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “She’s the one who’s always accepted me—all of me. My flaws, my imperfections, the things I’m not proud of. She loves me for who I am. Not because of the family name, not because of what I represent, but because she sees me. For the first time in my life, someone sees me for who I am, and that is what I won’t let you take from me.”

You stand there, stunned by his words, feeling a warmth spread through your chest despite the storm that rages around you. But it’s the way he looks at you that holds your attention the most—the quiet, raw tenderness beneath all his resolve.

Big Mom’s face contorts with rage and disbelief. “This is the son I raised? A traitor who chooses his love over his family?”

Katakuri doesn’t flinch. “I choose her because she’s made me see something you never let me have—freedom. I choose her because I finally know what it means to be myself, not just the thing you made me into.”

Big Mom’s fists clench, shaking with fury. “You are my son. My right hand. You owe everything to this family. And you—”

Katakuri interrupts her, his voice finally cracking the surface of his usual calm. “I don’t owe everything to you. I owe my loyalty to the family, yes. But I owe my heart to her.”

The silence is deafening now.

Katakuri steps closer to you, his hand reaching out for yours. “Come here,” he says, his voice quieter now but full of an undeniable pull.

You move before you think, your feet carrying you to him instinctively. His hand takes yours, fingers firm and grounding, as though they’re the only solid thing in the room. His grip tells you everything—you’re not a secret. You’re not something to be hidden anymore. He’s done hiding.

And for the first time, you see fear in Big Mom’s eyes.

Because she’s losing control.

Of him.

⸻

You’re sitting beside him in his private quarters, the storm long passed.

He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time.

You rest your head on his shoulder now, feeling the way his heartbeat finally begins to slow.

“Do you regret it?” you whisper.

“No.”

A pause.

“I should have told her long ago,” he murmurs. “But I was afraid.”

“You’re not afraid of anything.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

You tilt your face up to him.

“And you didn’t,” you whisper.

He pulls his scarf down completely.

And kisses you.

Not in secret. Not in shadow.

But in light.

Braver.

#charlotte katakuri #katakuri x reader #katakuri x y/n #katakuri x you #charlotte katakuri x reader #charlotte katakuri x you #charlotte katakuri x y/n #big mom pirates #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #trafalgaw law x reader #portgas ace x reader #charlotte katakuri fluff #secret relationship #family conflict

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 2 days ago

Note

I'm slowly savoring the absolutely delicious dish that is Princess Stan fic and the "turned into gold" scene can't leave my imagination.

So sorry if it was asked before, but was it confusing for Dragon Ford? Because I'm imagining that for a first several moments he's even reassured because his little twin is feeling so right, so shiny, so precious. He smells right and he shines as he always should... And then as he realises what happened he's horrified because for some moments he was welcoming this turn?

What I'm hearing is you'd like a Ford Pov of the gold Stan scene :)

"Fine, but make it quick, I'm trying to gloat here." Bill said, making the rage and fire in Ford's chest burn brighter. How dare the demon claim to be his Stan's relation in any kind of way. His Stan was His, and their parents were only of dim importance to that fact.

His Stan stretched his mouth out, bringing a hand up to massage it while trying to look at the demon perched on his shoulder. Another reason to crush him into pieces, no creature like Bill should be able to touch his Stan.

"What do I get out of you sticking to me like a barnacle? You just gonna yap-" his Stan was cut off as the demon's arms came up and wrapped around his mouth, making Ford and his Stan growl.

When he got his claws on Bill, the demon would regret treating his brother so carelessly.

"You see, thats the kicker here," Bill sighed, sitting down on his Stan's shoulder like a common seat, completely disregarding the respect his Stan deserved, "the job description was kinda vague, but it boils down to 'making you happy' and 'granting withes' which, lame? Why should I waste my time making you happy? Your misery makes me happy enough."

His Stan's happiness was like the rarest pearls. Ford had been trying for weeks to get the barest of his Stan's smiles, and he treasured each one like diamonds. Bill's words were an insult to life itself.

Before he could start telling the demon that in detail, his Stan tapped the arms around his mouth, making Bill groan.

Good.

"Look, you're already so needy. What is it now."

"Why on earth would I want you to grant any of my wishes?" his Stan asked, looking annoyed as he eyed Bill, "You already said you were a demon king-"

"THE demon king, brat"

The urge to tear Bill limb from limb was almost impossible to control. His Stan? A brat? The moment he could he was going to rip the demon's tongue out for daring to call him something so awful.

His Stanly ignored it, continuing on like Bill hadn't insulted the best thing to walk the castle halls.

"-A demon king, why would i trust you to do anything?"

Exactly, Ford nodded, eyeing Bill and slowly moving the claw not holding his Stan closer, judging the space over his shoulder and how well he could pinch something so small.

"You'd obviously twist everything I wanted around, like when people say 'I wish for my weight in gold' then-"

Bill snapped his fingers, and before Ford could blink his Stan went silent. He was still leaning on Fords claws, still eyeing Bill, still looking distrustful. Everything was the same, except that he was now solid gold.

Ford felt his heart stop in his chest, the dread and panic hitting him so hard, he hardly registered Bill disappearing in a cloud of pink smoke.

My Stanley, he cooed, gently reaching out with his other claw to brush through his brother's hair. It clanged against it, leaving the smallest of scratches.

Gold was very soft after all, and Ford was very, very big.

MY STANLEY! Ford roared, claw twitching before he straightened it out, terrified to put the barest of pressure on his brothers too still form. Gold was so so soft, and Ford knew, deep in his heart, that his Stan was made of it from the tips of his hair down to his toes. Just like he knew where every object of his hoard was and what it was worth, he knew his Stan was right here, unmoving and worth more and less than he every had been.

Some darker, primal part in him trilled in delight at his brother's new from. Like this, his Stan looked just as precious on the outside as he was on the inside. Like this, his Stan couldn't try sneaking out, couldn't wander off or away. Like this, Ford wouldn't have to worry about food, or water, or keeping him warm. He'd stay right where Ford put him.

Forever.

Ford crushed that part of himself. He snarled as he ripped it to shreds and burned the pieces to a crisp. His Stan might be difficult, but he was precious because he was Fords brother. His twin brother, who was loud and funny and made Ford feel safe and loved. The best of friends, together wherever they went.

His Stan couldn't be any of those things like this. Not with how he was slowly cooling in Ford's claws, stiff and lifeless.

MY STANLEY! he roared again, leaning in as close as he dared while he inspected the golden statue in his claw. No heart beat in its chest, no air moved in its lungs. The light from above shone down and reflected off of the curves and folds of his brother's hair and clothes in a shimmering display as Ford turned him delicately in his claw.

How beautiful.

How horrifying.

He was going to shred Bill to pieces.

FIDDLEFORD! Ford roared, carefully standing on his hind legs and rushing towards the treasury doors, FIDDLEFORD!

Fiddleford could help, or Emma-May. They'd been studying curses this whole time, so his servants friends had to have some idea of what to do. Ford's thoughts scrambled and snarled at each other, only agreeing to hold his Stan cupped in his claws, so his poor brother couldn't be damaged any more than he already was.

They'd fix it, or work on fixing it. Something. Anything.

Otherwise he wasn't sure he'd be able to control what he did next.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #ford pines #princess stan #dragon ford #bill cipher #ignore how i wrote this instead of the next chapter of doppelganger

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salty-autistic-writer · 2 days ago

Text

Tommy prepares for Bobby's funeral. (AO3 Link, tw: grief)

On the morning of the funeral, Tommy wakes up from a night of tossing and turning, feeling like he barely slept.

He has never been a heavy sleeper and is used to short periods of rest being interrupted by waking up from a noise or a sensory discomfort like the air being too warm, but this is different. This time, he had trouble sleeping because he is scared of what he has to do today.

In the bathroom, Tommy washes his face with cold water until he feels a little more aware and looks himself in the eyes, repeating the truth to himself that still feels so surreal it hasn’t had a chance to settle in yet.

Captain Bobby Nash is dead. Today, they are going to lay him to rest. And Tommy is going to be one of the people carrying his casket. One of the six pallbearers.

Tommy can still feel the aftershocks of surprise that hit him when Athena had asked.

“Are you sure?” He had to check. After all, he hasn’t been part of the 118 for a long time.

“I’m absolutely sure. Bobby would have loved you being one of the pallbearers,” she told him, putting her hand on his. “You saved his life eight years ago, you saved it again when you flew a helicopter through a hurricane to search for that damn cruise ship and you helped save Chimney’s life. Of course, you are going to be one of the pallbearers.”

Tommy was touched and had to blink back tears. He didn’t even know she was aware of that night eight years ago, when Captain Nash stumbled into that room and almost broke through the collapsing floor before Tommy managed to grip him in time and pulled him back from the edge, away from that abyss filled with raging flames.

“Athena is right,” Evan told him. “Bobby would have wanted you there. He … He spoke very highly of you.”

Tommy almost winced at the unsettling formality in Evan’s voice and the serious expression on his face, which had been there ever since Evan emerged from the lab, stone-faced and pale, his eyes red-rimmed but empty, staring straight ahead.

You don’t have to pretend with me, he almost said. I saw you.

I know you’re not okay.

You can not be okay with me.

But then, before he could say anything, the moment was over, and Evan left to check on Chimney.

Evan.

Evan, who said Bobby was the dad he never had.

Tommy’s heart twists.

Evan is going to be one of the pallbearers too, of course.

Tommy is more unsure about what they are or what they aren’t than ever. He just knows no one made him feel like this before. Like he wants to tear his heart out of his chest and put it into a box, hand it to Evan and tell him: Here. It’s yours. Do with it what you want.

He slowly puts on his dress blues, his throat tightening when he remembers Kevin’s funeral and Chimney ringing the bell, looking so shocked and broken. Since then, Tommy has been to three more funerals of fallen firefighters. Two of them were pilots. He wonders when it’s going to be his turn. Wonders who is going to carry the casket.

It could happen any day now. Any moment.

Death is their constant companion after all. Death is with Tommy when he flies his helicopter. Death is with Evan when he steps into burning houses. Death.

There are things Tommy wishes to say before it’s too late. And he can feel them bubbling up to the surface of his thoughts, now that they are about to bury someone who shouldn’t be gone. Someone who was such an exceptional and solid presence in everyone’s life.

Tommy has his own memories of Bobby Nash. Some of them changed his life.

* Family dinner. That’s what Hen called the new routine Captain Nash decided to introduce. And that’s exactly what those shared meals start to feel like.

It’s nice. In the beginning, though, a persistent part of Tommy, that has lived through too many disappointments, wonders if this is some kind of trap.

He keeps his walls up, waiting, watching, suspicion nagging at him, until he finally decides that Captain Nash isn’t doing this because he is so desperate for people to like him or because he wants to find out things he can later use against someone he’s crossed with.

No.

He is doing this because he wants to do it.

Because he likes to cook, and he likes to watch people enjoy what he makes. It’s visible in the way he sits at the table, watching and smiling.

Tommy relaxes gradually.

Bobby Nash is a good Captain. He’s … different from the people Tommy has worked for so far.

In the field, he’s calm. Precise. Determined. He gives orders in that certain way that speaks of experience. But his eyes soften with emotion ever so often. His voice cracks when he promises a father he’s going to save their kid or when he’s talking to a dying woman, telling her everything will be okay.

Bobby Nash cares. Maybe too much, sometimes. He tells Tommy, “Well done,” and pats his back and smiles at him. It’s a real smile that reaches his eyes. The change from Kinard to Tommy feels almost natural. As does the shift from Captain to Cap to Bobby.

One day, one of the civilians they saved from a car has to be airlifted. They watch the helicopter start and take off, Tommy’s heart doing a flip when he remembers flying. Bobby looks at him. “That’s pretty cool, huh?”

So cool. And Tommy can’t help himself. He tells Nash everything he knows about this specific model of helicopter. All the technical facts. His brain just releases them from some corner of his mind where he buried them with all the other facts about aeronautics. They were never gone, and once he started, he can’t stop.

Minutes later, he realises he’s been rambling and feels his face heating up with a blush. Suddenly, he’s twelve again and his father tells him to finally shut up because no one in the world wants to hear so much about something they don’t give a single fuck about. He ducks his head. “I’m sorry. Kind of got carried away.”

Nash smiles. “It’s okay, I didn’t know all that. Impressive. You were flying for the army, right.” It’s not exactly a question. He probably took a look at all the files of his subordinates before starting to work as a Captain. It only makes sense.

“Yeah,” Tommy nods, his cheeks still burning.

Nash hums. He doesn’t add anything. They return to the firehouse and have dinner together with the team.

A little while later, Bobby tells him, “You know, there’s an open position for a pilot at Harbour Station. If you’re interested, I can put in a good word for you.”

“You would do that?” Tommy asks, baffled.

“Of course. I’m not going to lie. I would hate to see you leave. But if this is something that would make you happy, I’m going to help you get that position,” Bobby says.

Tommy is at a loss for words. The mere thought of getting to fly a chopper again makes him feel lightheaded. But at the same time, the 118 is starting to feel like family. He has friends here now. Real friends. And a Captain who respects him. He would walk into a fire for Bobby. Literally.

But they don’t know you. Not really, a voice in the back of his mind whispers. You’re still wearing a mask when you’re with them. Still hiding. Still pretending. Because you’re scared. Because you’re scared to lose it all again. When have good things ever lasted?

Tommy swallows around the lump in his throat. Who knows. Maybe becoming a pilot and switching things up is going to help him be braver. Flying has always made him feel free.

He accepts. Of course he does. And when he enters a chopper for the first time in years, he can feel the joy of his inner child who spent so many hours on the floor of his room, reading every book about planes and helicopters he could find.

A little while later, Tommy meets the 118 at a call. It’s a big accident. One that requires the help of many stations.

He finds time for a short chat while a patient is lifted into the helicopter.

“Flying looks good on you,” Bobby tells him with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“Great,” Tommy says. And means it. “Turns out getting my wings back was exactly what I needed. Thank you, Cap. But I have to say, my partner isn’t as thrilled about my career path as I am.”

“Is she worried about the risks?” Howie chimes in, grinning. “You just need to tell her about the crazy stuff you did in the army. After that, being a firefighter pilot is going to seem like a walk in the park.”

Tommy chuckles. “I doubt those stories are going to help in this case. My boyfriend is scared of flying.”

There.

He said it.

He said the word.

For a horrible moment, Tommy feels the clutch of familiar fear around his heart. Feels the urge to retreat. To hide behind his old walls. This is the first time he comes out to someone from his past. They are going to see him now. It’s terrifying to be seen. And he’s not Hen. He’s not that brave …

“I can relate,” Howie says, grimacing. “Humans weren’t made to be up there. Only the crazy ones. Hey, if he needs someone to rant to while you’re in the air, you can give him my number!”

Oh.

“And you’re always welcome to dinner,” Bobby adds with a warm smile. “You can bring your boyfriend.”

Oh.

A heavy weight falls off Tommy’s chest.

He breathes.

They see him. They do.

It feels good. Feels freeing.

“Take care, Tommy,” Bobby tells him, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Warm. Solid. Comforting. “It’s a shame you won’t meet our new probie. You might have taught him some important things.”

* He’s in that casket, Tommy thinks, grasping his own hand. This can’t be real.

But it is.

It’s a hero’s funeral. Everyone is there. Everyone is very composed. Unshed tears sparkle in eyes that are focused on Chief Simpson as he talks about the life of Robert Wade Nash.

Tommy blinks his own tears back and glances at Evan’s tense back, his chest clenching.

This is not fair. This shouldn't be happening.

But life is rarely ever fair. Tommy knows that well enough.

He can hear Gerrard’s heavy breathing right beside him and suppresses a shudder.

Tommy didn’t forget the medal ceremony. He didn’t forget the slur. And when Gerrard tried to act like nothing happened, even offering Tommy a hand to shake, Tommy ignored him, just taking his seat and staring straight ahead, his heart pounding in his chest and his blood rushing in his ears as rage mixed with his grief.

It’s bad enough he has to breathe the same air as this man, this bigot. He doesn’t have to force himself to interact with him. At least Gerrard seems honestly upset about Bobby’s death. At least.

But Tommy doesn’t care about him.

He cares about Evan.

Evan, who looks like he’s sleepwalking, when they prepare to carry the casket.

Evan, who is rigid and wears his chin up while they walk behind the truck, but Tommy can see his hands clenching hard.

Evan, who watches as they load Bobby’s casket into the plane, his lips slightly parted and eyes starting to mist.

Tommy watches Evan.

And his heart is breaking for him. With him.

* “Evan.”

“Oh. Hey, Tommy. I was just about to do the groceries for Athena, so she doesn’t have to worry about -”

“Evan. I saw you.”

“What?”

“I watched you on the monitor. I saw you crying.”

Evan goes tense. His mouth is open, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Tommy, blinking.

“Evan,” Tommy says softly. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t act like you’re fine. Not after this.”

“I’m fine,” Evan says. “I’m … Bobby said I’m going to be fine. And I am.”

I have to be. That’s what he doesn’t add, Tommy knows.

He can see the cracks.

They start in Evan’s eyes.

“You don’t have to be fine with me,” Tommy says quietly. “I know what Bobby meant to you.”

The father I never had.

“Tommy …” Evan exhales shakily and slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know. I … I don’t want to take advantage of you again.”

You won’t. Because you already own a box with my heart in it. I know where I want to be in the time we have left. I want to be right here. With you. Please let me.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tommy asks, smiling weakly. “I’m here for you.”

Evan’s eyes gleam with fresh tears. “Are you sure?” He whispers hoarsely. “Are you … Can I …”

“Yes,” Tommy says.

Always.

Evan looks at him for a few heartbeats more, a tear running down his cheek. He takes a deep breath. And then he breaks open. Tommy sees him. Sees the walls crack and crumble. Sees the waves of grief. He sees. And he feels.

Tommy holds Evan in his arms as he sobs and shakes, as the grief wrecks them both.

He holds Evan in his arms, sharing memories that make them cry and laugh.

He holds Evan in his arms and says, “There are things I have to tell you, Evan. If this showed me anything, it’s that we never know how much time we have left. We only know how dangerous our lives are. So … I need to say these words now.”

Tommy holds Evan in his arms. And he talks about a box.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 spoilers #bucktommy fanfic #bobby nash #grief fic

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hedwig221b · 2 days ago

Note

stiles and derek body swap fics?

sure thing

Fuzzy Logic by Sparseparsley

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink. “Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to. He’s looking at his soulmate. -- Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

Your Body's My Body by derekstilinski

Derek and Stiles get body swapped… Interesting things happen.

Under My Skin by Renmackree

In his defense, Stiles wasn't even trying to find his way into the supernatural tonight. He had gone to a normal party at Danny's after their summer Lacrosse practice , met a normal girl who seemed interested in him, left with her to go to her normal apartment in the hopes of having normal sex for the first time. But, then again, when has anything normal happened to Stiles Stilinski?

Might Not Make It Back by GotTheSilver

Bodyswap. Because of the fun.

Yours, Mine, Our Body by christinchen

Stiles wishes Derek could see things from his perspective. His magic decides to grant him that wish. Literally.

Trust Fall

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide. Great. Wait…does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over. They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused. Of course.

it is so quite new a thing by sheafrotherdon

In the last, lazy moment before he opens his eyes, Derek realizes something is wrong.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlock (sapphicblight)

Suddenly his entire body felt tingly and sensitive and he could swear gravity had failed on him just then; he couldn’t feel the chair he was sitting on, or where he’d planted his feet on the floor, or the clothes he was wearing, or the pen he was holding, and then his vision started blurring and morphing into a picture of some place that was not his classroom. “Oh, shi—” “—it,” he finished with a different voice. Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they're temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it's his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.

if i was you and you were me, we'd still be us by thoughtsandthings

"Derek,” Stiles said slowly. “Why do you look like the evil twin version of me?” “Go look in the mirror.” - After swapping bodies, Stiles and Derek walk a mile in each other’s shoes and learn a lot about each other (and themselves) in the process.

[masterlist link]

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moonsuke · 2 days ago

Text

Blue lock 301 leaks

I saw the leaks… Nagi looks so dead… This hurts way more than 300 tbh the way Nagi was constantly wondering if Choki changed while he was gone (and he was always so happy and accepting of it too), the way he was always so excited when he noticed himself changing, all that wonder just to be thrown back in his face that both of them didn’t change at all… this hurts man.

Choki really is used as a metaphor for Nagi, there's a really cute moe point about that I really like lol, and how Nagi's the only one who has this. I love how he gently set Choki down by his bed with the implication he went to collect it from Baaya? It feels sadder somehow, him collecting his pet cactus and going home alone… Hope to see this expanded in epinagi (in like 5 years…).

And again, knsr is STILL gatekeeping Nagi’s tears from us… Look, I wouldn’t be clamouring for it this much if it wasn’t teased during the Naruhaya scene!! Don’t tell me we’ll only be seeing it in epinagi?? Then what about his backstory??? knsr is just so MEAN. I just know he’s taking joy writing this whole Nagi dying arc and drawing it out.

It won’t end until Nagi hits utter despair though, because no matter how dead he looks it just doesn’t feel like his lowest point yet which means… maybe Nagi tears next chap?? 😭 I really think it’s been set up that his utter despair means tears AND KNSR JUST KEEPS DRAWING IT OUT. I know it’s cause Nagi’s the sorta character where it’ll take longer for emotions and the reality of the situation to set in, and considering this would be his first time experiencing such a set back too it makes sense. I really do like the care knsr is putting to writing his character, reactions and story.

302’s titled “もういい” (That’s enough/I’m done) and idk, it just sounds so depressing and defeated and also so Nagi-ish? His entire narrative is set up to find his inner fire so obviously his story isn't ending here. Plus I love how he's the only eliminated players with such a huge focus lol (except kngm at that time).

Like even with the new covers omg, for both epinagi and bllk, both feature Nagi! knsr sure can't bear to let him go/let us forget him the way he keeps inserting Nagi everywhere, love that as a Nagi stan. You've no idea how happy I was to see him featured alone (with death) on volume 7. 7 is reserved for Nagi and him alone!!

And the Buratsuta cover too with the Nagi coin was honestly so funny. I swear rong fans all share the same brain cell lol, all of us were just thinking of Nagi falling victim to the dirty ways of the capitalist, fat, old, rich swine (plus Ray dark??) and Reo having a financial battle with him (plus some NTR 😭).

Speaking of Reo, I thought it was hot how stoic and angsty he is this chap in his suit and all (Are they in their Egoist exhibition suits?)... Truly future CEO material. Its especially hot because of the contrast with his emotionally wrecked self last chap lol. I wonder what's he thinking and cooking up. Any diabolical mastermind plans?? 👀

I also love how we're continuing with the Isanagi moments and parallels. Him and Reo are really the only ones moping about Nagi. When it comes to Nagi's story, it'll always be the 2 of them be it if the shippers like it or not. Isagi regretted he could only say "don't quit soccer" but I actually thought that was really meaningful and I found the Isanagi scene in 300 way more impactful than even the Reonagi ones which were the bulk of the chap. I actually had a lot of thoughts for last chap to the point I couldn't get everything out but basically I just really really like the Isanagi scene lol. I'm just glad we still have Isagi thinking of Nagi this chap, really cements their bond and the importance of Nagi's role in the series.

And about their parallel, as I've said over and over... Their trajectories are meant to be opposite of the other and this chapter further hammers that in with Isagi reaching the peak of his soccer career and gaining recognition, full ego shining in his eyes and all but Nagi?? All dead and alone at home.

It hits especially hard cuz it was NAGI who really wanted recognition what with his whole "hello japan i'm nagi seishiro" and "wait for me, world", he’s all about trying to feel that heat, that spotlight, wanting to shine the brightest (I’m still thinking this is part of Nagi's ego) but all of these again, got STOLEN by Isagi 😭😭😭😭 It's just so sad and honestly if this was any other character besides Nagi I would be wondering how wounded is their pride but I feel like for Nagi's character, issues like "pride" isn't a focus.

Anyway... I wonder if this'll be a way to fire him up seeing Isagi stealing all these from him. Isagi really be stealing from everyone lol, like how he stole Nagi from Reo (kinda parallel how Reonagi views "treasure" differently but I digress). I've honestly no idea what's gonna happen with Nagi's rebirth except that giant hint on Buratsuta's cover... I thought he would be gone from the series for a bit but at the rate things are going, will he even be gone? LOL. knsr really can't let go of him man, I love that.

I wanted Nagi's rebirth to wait a bit before happening but if we're diving into BL tropes of nasty old men and falling victim to capitalism and perhaps exploring the darker sides of the sports world... I'm kinda all for it 🤡

#i wanna ramble about 300 i've SO MUCH to say about that chapter #ms #blue lock #manga #nagi seishiro #mikage reo #isagi yoichi #reonagi #isanagi

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veliseraptor · 3 days ago

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April Reading Recap

Now with Storygraph generated visuals!

Finished out my Wheel of Time reread last month with Towers of Midnight and A Memory of Light; I still have all the same frustrations with both and with Brandon Sanderson's books more generally but A Memory of Light did make me cry (again) so...I have to give it credit there, if for nothing else. The other 11 books I read, not including the Black Widow trade paperback collections that I reread (mostly because I felt lazy about it):

The Haunting of Room 904 by Erika Wurth. This book confused me - as in, I wasn't totally sure what was going on or why. The plot was happening but I wasn't really following the chain of causality most of the time. I'm still going to read Erika Wurth's other book, because I didn't find the experience of reading itself to be unenjoyable, and maybe it was just me, but...damn, I felt like I was struggling to piece this book's disparate pieces together and figure out what it was saying.

A Rome of One's Own: The Forgotten Women of the Roman Empire by Emma Southon. I don't know that I could adequately explain why I picked this one up when I was mildly irritated by A Fatal Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, except that I guess gender-related studies of the Roman Republic/Empire are catnip to me in a similar way that mythological retellings are (I often don't like them, I read them anyway). I was once again mildly irritated by the chatty, conversational tone of this book, which is really a me problem and not an it problem but I did find it personally grating. The scholarship underlying the text might be strong but the text itself feels like it undermines the scholarship. Or maybe I'm just a snob.

The Merciful Crow by Margaret Owen. I almost never read YA for a few different reasons, but this one was recommended by a friend so I gave it a go. And it was pretty good! But still did feel very YA to me in a lot of ways. I don't know if I'll pick up the sequel. I might, because it was a very quick read and I found some of the worldbuilding interesting, but I didn't really connect to most of the characters and found the plot fairly predictable.

Metal From Heaven by August Clarke. I've seen this book recommended widely so I had high hopes for it, and I wasn't...disappointed? Exactly? But I don't think it really worked for me. Possibly some of that is that first person narration is something that is really hit-or-miss for me, but honestly I think more of it comes down to the fact that - and I feel like I keep saying this - it ended up feeling like the delivery mechanism for a manifesto rather than a narrative. Which wasn't inevitable, I don't think! There were interesting things going on here, potentially! Though I think they were underexploited in terms of the, I don't know, moral thorniness that was kind of brushed off by the "our thieves are good and moral" thing. Reminded me a little of what happened with the Lords of Fortune in Veilguard, honestly.

I don't know. Maybe if I can come out of a book feeling like I can confidently say what an author's political stance is on a specific issue, I'm just not going to like it. And now I'm talking myself into feeling like maybe I was disappointed after all.

America for Americans: A History of Xenophobia in the United States by Erika Lee. I've had Erika Lee's other book (on Asian-American history in the United States) on my shelf for a while but got to this one first largely because. You know. I definitely learned about a few new chapters of ignominy in US history that I wasn't previously aware of; I was already in agreement with the main thesis of this book (that xenophobia is a core and recurring piece of United States culture) so that wasn't a revelation to me or anything. This was published pre-2020 but the paperback included a postlude on racism against Asians and Asian-Americans around the outbreak of COVID.

A Short History of Queer Women by Kirsty Loehr. Speaking of books with a chatty, conversational tone that turns me off! This was supposed to be a fun little interlude, took me a few hours to read, I thought I would enjoy it. It annoyed me. It did, however, provide me with a citation of a more sober history of lesbian women that I probably will enjoy more.

The Icepick Surgeon: Murder, Fraud, Sabotage, Piracy, and Other Dastardly Deeds Perpetuated in the Name of Science by Sam Kean. This one was...fine. It was fun, it was interesting, it was trying a little too hard to have a moral message and not just enjoy the narrative ride of people doing wild (and often terrible) things in the name of science. I was also sort of irritated by the author's constant footnotes basically saying "go check out my podcast for more on this!" but maybe that is unfair of me.

Birds of Prey: Murder & Mystery by Gail Simone, Ed Benes, et. al. I don't remember exactly what inspired me to go back and reread this run (because I have read it before), but something did. The art has not aged well; the writing is still quite good. I am, if anyone was wondering, still bitter about DC "fixing" Babs and effectively deaging her.

A Culture of Conspiracy: Apocalyptic Visions in Contemporary America by Michael Barkun. I pulled a quote from this one that was very oof to read in our year 2025. It was originally published in 2003; there's a second edition from 2013 with additional material that I'm trying to acquire, but even that is going to be miserably out of date as far as the current state of conspiracy thought in the United States. I'm glad I read it, though; the most potent thing I took out of it was probably the way the author discussed the shift from conspiracies that are either religious or secular in origin to what he called "improvisational," meaning that they are omnivorous and borrow from multiple, unrelated strains of thought/ideology. I also just finished another book about conspiratorial thinking in the US and found myself comparing it unfavorably to this one, despite the other one being newer.

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. I love mysteries though I sometimes forget how much. I love second-world fantasy (obviously). I also really love Robert Jackson Bennett's work and pretty much have across the board (though I haven't finished the series beginning with Foundryside). This is clearly riffing on Sherlock Holmes but secondary world, but it worked for me and I'm excited to read the sequel.

The Voyage Home by Pat Barker. I read The Women of Troy a while back and don't really remember it, but The Silence of the Girls by the same author remains one of my all-time standouts of Iliad retellings and myth retellings in general so when I saw this one, and read that it was going to cover some Oresteia ground, I tossed it on to-read list fast. I liked this one better than I remember enjoying the second one - I don't think one needs to read either of the others to read this, though there are connections between them. I think what made this book work for me in a way that myth retellings often (generally) don't was the fact that it felt much less like it was self-consciously Retelling a Myth with a point to make than it was taking an existing story and working within it to tell a different story. It felt much more about the characters than about the myth, if that makes sense. I think telling a solid third+ of the novel from an outside point-of-view - not one of the core myth characters - was also a good choice, here.

---

Anyway - I have about 8 books out from the public library right now, so those are taking priority, followed by the two books I have borrowed from a friend. It's about half/half fiction/nonfiction, mostly horror, so I'm going to try to alternate. Right now I am reading Hungerstone by Kat Dunn, which I am excited about; also upcoming is The Museum of Other People and The Reformatory.

also continuing to reread a bunch more comics, apparently.

#reading recaps #sometimes i read things #did i write this instead of doing work? yes

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lostcatinthedark · 3 days ago

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Do you have any thoughts about how Jimin probably hasn’t been to the Hybe building since enlistment. I try not to get my hopes up but I really can’t see him renewing his solo contract after 2024. Not after everything they’ve done to him

Ok I usually try to keep it objective with these type of theories because there are many things we don't know about or can know for sure. But today I feel like maybe discussing it and making some assumptions.

First and foremost this is just me talking, remember to keep your expectations level headed! Ok, yeah I actually talked about this with some other pjms because it is very interesting. And many people noticed it too. Now, it could be that JM is just very focused on his military stuff, and wanted to completely separate from his idol life these past months. But it's still very interesting because he's made time to do some things on his leave days and none of them involve his company. And it makes me remember how he also recorded Face away from Hybe, or how his trophies are now in his dad's cafe. He seems to show up only when he absolutely needs to, which means he's not attached to it that much. Maybe he sees it just as a workplace, where he has to go to whenever he has schedules and responsibilities, but I don't think it's a place where he finds inspiration, or comfort, not even to remind him of what he has achieved considering he doesn't even have a studio there and he probably asked for his trophies to be relocated with his dad. All the members (except Th but I'm no sure) have visited, gone to the rehearsal rooms, taken photos, talked to the staff, practiced dancing, and he's just not there at all. So it could be him trying to take his military life very very seriously, or he just doesn't have any reason or upcoming plan to be there. Whatever it is, the fact that it's not a priority for him is very telling on how his relationship with the company is.

And what if I say that when the group decided to stop their activities, JM just cut ties and pretty much distanced himself from everyone and everything 😭. I think BTS was also some kind of glue for him, he endured many things for the sake of the group and the fans, and since that isn't a priority anymore, it's almost like he's had to reevaluate what he's going to do moving forward. Because there's no point in staying in that same place (figuratively and literally speaking) anymore. And his first instinct was to work with his 3 producers in Pdogg's house, in a different environment. That speaks volumes to me. The same way he doesn't visit it now that he's enlisted.

(Also I remembered something that rubbed me the wrong way about their latest CEO appointment, but it might be just my mind overthinking so idk)

#I sense some strained vibes going on #Considering how nurturing and grateful he is to the people that support him #Something has definitely happened along the years to make him so detached

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theysayalltheworldsastage · 14 hours ago

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@cherrycolacowboy okay so more on my earlier headcannon. and also just to add i am normally not a modern au girly but i do really love this au a LOT. anyways. for anyone not following, this is a headcannon i have about a the A HELPING HAND AU

Soda has ADHD and Dyslexia. Does he know this? Maybe. Do most people in his life know this? Yes. But if you know the Curtis house, you know they don’t have the money for that. It hurts though. It hurts the people who love him to see him hide behind a mask. To know what’s going on in his mind (they don’t know half of it) and not be able to do anything about it.

Sure, Paul had heard this hurt from Darry before. But he never expected this. He didn’t except for his chest to ache so much.

Paul has become used to Soda following him around the house, talking about everything on his mind. He’s used to the kid never sitting still, and having trouble reading. He’s used to the range of emotions he has. But also the smile always on his face. And the jokes he makes out of everything. Even the times he shouldn’t have to feel like the mood needs to be lightened.

To an extent, Paul has learned how to deal with this. How to not outwardly express his exasperation and exhaustion because he knows it’s nothing Soda can be at fault for. Chet and Soda have a lot of differences, but also a lot of things that Paul can tell are in common. Maybe Chet’s more quiet, but he has to always be moving. Doing something. Maybe it’s fidgeting with something in his hands, or walking in a circle around the coffee table twenty times.

Paul has also learned that when Sodapop Curtis gets quiet, it isn’t right. When Soda stops trying, and when he doesn’t even attempt wearing a smile on his face, or to focus on something other than his mind, it feels wrong.

So one night in spring, Soda had been slowly spiraling. He was getting quieter, and he was going between staying in bed all day and walking to the park, near the tracks, around the neighborhood. He was either still or constantly stirring.

Yes, Chet noticed this. Started holding him extra close. Darry made sure Paul was keeping an extra close eye on him. Pony realized the signs. But he was never quite sure how to comfort Soda the way he had comforted him all these past years.

Ponyboy and Sodapop had always been like little brothers to Paul. To an extent. But lately they have been his brothers. They were a family now. The gang had been spending more time at Paul’s house too. So he didn’t miss the way that Steve was hanging around a little bit more. Or how on the days that Paul couldn’t get Soda out of bed, Ace would drag him to the park to sit and get some fresh air. He was real grateful for them. But a hopeless feeling started to claw at his chest. It felt the way that Darry had described it to him many times before.

Eventually Ace couldn’t pull him out of bed. Steve started to get angry. Twobit looked concerned. Pony really did try, but to no avail. Darry would spend hours sitting besides Sodas bed, but couldn’t get him to say a word. Dally and Johnny had even tried what they could. Nothing.

One night, everyone was at their own places. Most nights someone was staying over. But not tonight. Ponyboy was sleeping in his own room. There was soft rain you could hear throughout the house. Paul was walking into the kitchen when he saw Soda. The kid was just sitting on one of the wood chairs, staring. It was hard for Paul to tell if there was a lot of something, or a lot of nothing behind those eyes.

“Soda?” The kid turned to Paul. And he started crying. He looked at Paul with the same sadness that the older felt inside his heart. Maybe sadness wasn’t the word. Maybe it was worse. It definitely was. The younger just shook his head real slowly. And as tears were still falling down his cheeks he spoke.

“I don’t know Paul. I’m so tired of this. My mind isn’t normal.It’s not, I’m not fucking normal. Something is messed up but I don’t know what. I can’t read and. I can’t shut up and I dont know something isn’t right, Paul. Something isn’t right. What I feel isn’t normal. And no one understands. I mean, I don’t really understand, but no one understands. I’m okay sometimes but my head? Sometimes it just snaps. I don’t. Paul something isn’t right. I can’t read and, Paul I need help.”

Soda was now sitting on the porch outside watching the rain fall and he wasn’t really breathing right but Paul was sitting right by him with an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulder and even though Paul didn’t say anything he knew he was there and that’s all he could ask for because his breathing evened out a little bit more and he started talking again because Sodapop Curtis just can’t shut the fuck up can he?

“And i’m just so messed up. I get angry. And I get angry when I’m not supposed to and I laugh when i’m not supposed to and why does hearing people chew make me fucking angry? That’s not normal, Paul. I had to drop out of school because I can’t read and I’m just so fucking stupid I can’t read or do math and all the words just go everywhere and that’s not normal, Paul. I need help I need fucking help but I don’t know something isn’t right and my heart hurts and I just. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be like this Paul. It’s not fair. It isn’t fair what did I do to be like this? It’s so stupid. I’m just so fucking. It’s not fucking fair. It’s not fair, it’s not fucking”

And not he had his face in the older boys shoulders and he was hiccuping and he was crying because Sodapop Curtis is a real fucking mess isn’t he?

And maybe Paul wasn’t the best with words. Not like Soda. Soda could find words and a way with those words for every thing. Paul is sure he could find a word for the feeling that he felt right now. Because he sure as hell didn’t know how to explain it. But it was horrible. And it wasn’t something good. He couldn’t imagine was Soda was feeling right now! But he knew that whatever Soda was, he wasn’t stupid. And curse whoever made the kid think that. Curse the world for giving Soda those thoughts. Because truth be told, he might be the least deserving people of a mind that feeds him those words. Sodapop Curtis is the light and joy of this world. No one would get by without him. So yeah, maybe Paul wasn’t good with words, but he was good at being there. So that’s what he did. He sat with Soda. He didn’t hush him, he just let him cry with the rain. Paul cried with the rain too. Because this was his brother. And he would die for him. Paul Holden would fucking die for Sodapop Curtis. Because they were brothers. And that’s what brothers do.

It was a learning process. For both of them. Soda asked for help a bit more from here on out. Because letting those words out helped ease his mind just a bit. And Paul worked to get someone for Soda to talk to. Get him some medicine. (Though this is another story. Soda refused to take medicine for a long time. He was scared that it would change his mind. And he wouldn’t be him anymore.)

But this wasn’t the end. Things didn’t only go up. Because he had more breakdowns. Some of them were slow. Some of them were filled with anger, others with sorrow. In fact, the next one after this was scary for everyone. There weren’t any signs. He just snapped. He. Just. Snapped.

But one thing didn’t change through it all. Paul was there to protect him. And for that came a feeling that Soda wasn’t quite sure how to express in words.

not perfectly written. am i the biggest fan of this writing? nope. but i like the concept. so this is what we’re working with rn lol. in fact, not edited at all. will i go back and rewrite later? maybe! was going to go back through and add italics to some words to emphasize some things but i’m not feeling up to that super much at the moment. but yes. it’s something

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forsaken-headcanons · 5 hours ago

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(TW for implied child death !! and body mutation idk. uhh basically the c00lgui did some things. yeah.)

If we're going to start blaming a survivor for being Spectre or for being the reason everyone's there, it's most likely to be 007n7.

NOW HEAR ME OUT PLEASE DON'T BLOW UP MY HOU gunfire sfx

ANYWAY AS I WAS SAYING, if one of the survivors were to be "Spectre", it would most likely be 007n7 for a small list of reasons I've gathered so far.

First off, the survivors and killers. I have a small list of the characters and why he would "forsaken" them.

Noob & Guest 666 - Noob and G666 had an extremely positive friendship back then, which made 007n7 deeply resent them because - how dare the two of them be happy, while he had to suffer in his own guilt for what he had done to Noli? He did some shit and figured out how to fuck with G666's code (I imagine Robloxians are mostly made up of code) and made him what he is in forsaken, hence why G666 mostly has a red-black color palette like his c00lgui (the color palette's definitely a stretch, but whatever </3)

Elliot - This is a really obvious pick. Part of me thinks that he would've let Elliot go if he hadn't pissed him off by banning them from Builder Brothers' Pizza and making c00lkidd extremely emotional and throw a tantrum about it, but I feel like that's just the PizzaBurger shipper in me. If I would be more realistic, he might've just forsaken him out of spite.

The Admins + 1x1x1x1 - Again, really obvious. They tried to supress him and his hacking things yada yada.... He also made Doom a killer out of spite and specifically chose him because... y'know. Doombringer. He is quite literally the bringer of doom??? And he also added 1x1x1x1 to rub more salt in Shedletsky's hypothetical wound.

Taph - Works for the Admins. Also, I feel like at some point, Taph would've demolished 007n7's house because - y'know - falsely terminated, so 007n7 just kept that hate to himself internally because he knew damn well he was gonna get his "revenge" soon.

Two Time & Azure - Similar to Noob and G666, he resents their relationship and how close they were. When he found out that a ritual had been performed and Azure had been sacrificed, he had taken that opportunity and made him into the killer he is in Forsaken, along with sending in Two Time, a way to teach them that no offense goes unpunished.

Guest 1337 - 1337 had a positive and a really happy family. 007n7 envied his joy and decided to take it away from him, just his own was taken away, too. This could explain why Guest was never favored by the "Spectre" and hadn't left him with any tools or items to fend himself with, only his fists and abilities.

Chance - They were always carefree and were surrounded by a BUNCH of people. 007n7, again, envied that. The carefree attitude they always had, their large friend groups, their fame... He had everything, and yet he still had the nerve to let himself be put into dangerous situations for the adrenaline rush. If life-threatening, adrenaline-inducing, scarring experiences was what Chance wanted, 007n7 would give it to them.

Area 51 killers - 007n7 probably had an Area 51 phase as a teen or something. Idk I can't make up anything here except for that.

John Doe & Jane Doe - Again, envy. Seeing their positive marriage had dealt some level of effect on 007n7. He felt envious of the fact the two were happily in love, happily holding a relationship he knew he would never had. The thought of that alone had driven him insane with anger and guilt, corrupting John Doe and leaving Jane Doe only as a mere spectator, never being able to see her own husband face-to-face ever again.

Noli - As a plea of forgiveness. Before he had left Noli for whatever reason, 007n7 knew about Noli's sadistic tendencies and how he used to often torment people with his programs. He had forsaken him as a way to tell him "Hey, I still remember you enjoy this. Please don't ever think I forgot about you." and "I'm sorry for what I did. Here, I'll let you have free will to do whatever you want, as long as it means you'll forgive me."

(This is where the TWs come in !!)

c00lkidd - Had a bit of difficulty figuring out this one without implementing some hcs into it. You know how there was an accident that had something happen to c00lkidd? 007n7 could never forgive himself after that. He spent all night and all day trying to search for kidd, going from town to town, asking locals if they had seen his son, to no avail.

It wasn't until the day he had finally found c00lkidd's body, deep in the woods, dripping in blood. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know why his son was dead, heartlessly murdered, left in the woods. Driven by guilt, he had tried his best to bring him back to life, tears dripping down his face as he messily fumbled with his son's code, trying to find a way to bring him back warm and into his arms.

All he had ended up doing was disfiguring his own son's body. Arms and legs freakishly longer than a normal 10-year-olds, a wide, sunken smile on his face, and a distorted voice. But it didn't matter. He had brought his son back to life. He knew what he had done was wrong, but he couldn't bring it in himself to undo his craft. Instead, he had opted for sending his son into the crooked world he had crafted, letting him "play" with the survivors and make new friends. After all, all he wanted was the best for his beloved son.

As for 007n7 himself, well...

The one in rounds isn't actually him. It's just a more advanced clone of himself, which is why "he" almost always never smiles, always looks distant or out of it. He had used that puppet multiple times to try to have conversations with his son and former friend, trying to see if they were doing alright in the pocket dimension.

Uhh might add some more on this theory soon <3 my brain is FRIED rn and I still have some homework to do :P

-⛑️🍗 anon

007N7 AS THE SPECTRE AU/THEORY??? WAITT THIS IS LOWKEY PEAK.... we might fw the idea for this actually...

godss the concepts of how everyone got here are so so good!! but trust us when we say we are hunting you down for the potential angst ideas /silly. in tears at c00lkidd's part... 7n7.... 7n7 we don't think that's what your son would've wanted vro 💔💔

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munchkin1156 · 1 day ago

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HADM Day 4- Alternate Ego

Does detective Joel count as an alternate ego? ...Probably not. Did I consider that when I wrote this? Nope. Hahaha, oh well...

As always, thank you to @hermitadaymay for organizing this event!!

Word count: 1,000 (aaaaaaaahh feels so smooth don't it)

Tws: Alcohol, being drunk, blood, dead horses (none of it graphic at all)

Enjoy!

. . .

Joel had been watching over this city for as long as he could remember. Since the day he signed that contract to become a detective, he'd worked day and night to ensure the safety of the people that lived here. He'd stopped countless villains in their tracks to world domination, with his quick wit and clever thinking. His skill in working out cases was incomparable. Anyone who had had the lucky chance to work with him would agree, but of course, those were few people, because he liked to work alone. So, yep, basically the best at doing his job and solving cases, if he did say so himself.

So why oh why, could he not solve this one?

It had looked to be a pretty average case, when he first got it. At least, compared to the ones he usually got. Just some maniac who went around killing people's horses and leaving their heads everywhere. Kinda creepy, but nothing he couldn't deal with. At least, that's what he'd thought.

Now it was three months later, and he was no closer to cracking this case than when he'd started. Joel wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, but whoever this person was, they were one step ahead of him at all times. It drove him mad, and the other people in his department could tell. So, they'd told him to take a break. A break. Could you believe it? They wanted him, the best person on their team, to take a break. Ridiculous. Still, there wasn't much he could do to convince them otherwise, so, with reluctance, he left his red yarn pin board to rest.

Well, they didn't want him protecting the city? Then he wouldn't protect the city. So there.

Several hours later, he found himself drinking away his sorrows down at the pub. The bartender knew him well, and, upon seeing his face, hadn't asked any questions except if he'd like his usual or something a little stronger. At this point, his thoughts were quite hazy, and his words were slurred as he spilled his troubles to the bartender. First, just about this and that- the seats were uncomfortable, the weather seemed to change to rain whenever he was sad, all the types of complaints that any drunk person would make. But then he did something sober Joel wouldn't approve of.

"This case is going to be the death of me, I tell ya." He stated loudly, peering into his half empty drink, possibly expecting to find more in there, and looking disappointed when he found out how little there was left. The bartender raised an eyebrow, a silent sign telling him to go on. Or maybe to shut up, he wasn't sure. And since Joel hadn't been too right in the head then, he did. "The guy I'm trying to catch is a m- maaadman, y'know? Horse heads everywhere. D- D- Disgusting." He almost spat in his drink, but thought better of it, and finished it instead, slamming it back onto the table. "An', an', he's always one step ahead, he is. Like he knows what I'm thinkin'."

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair as the bartender laughed a little, refilling his empty glass. He probably assumed Joel was just too drunk to be telling the truth. Well. That was rude. Not much he could say to convince him in this state. But he continued despite the rudeness. "Imagine that! He'd 'ave to be like my- uh, clone or something! What a- a blummin' stupid thought." Joel sipped his drink, wincing at how strong this one was.

"You ran out of the other stuff or what?" He asked, surprised. The bartender shrugged. "I just thought you might like something with a little kick. This case of yours seems to be really getting you down." Joel hummed in agreement. "That is true." Setting his glass back down, surprisingly gently this time, he tipped his hat, a proper detectives hat, to the bartender. "Gotta hand it to ya, this is preeeetty fine stuff." He watched as the man smiled at him. "Thanks, man. I only give out the best to my favourite customers, anyhow." Huh. Neat.

Joel's haziness had grown a good deal, and after this, he was ninety percent certain he'd call it a night. The room was very blurry, and everything was swaying slightly. Also, he felt kind of sick in his stomach. And his head. Maybe drowning his sorrows in alcohol hadn't been his best idea to date. Could you blame him though!? He'd been (and still was) very upset! Both about working on the case and getting nowhere, and not working on the case, and (sadly) getting the exact same results! This was possibly the only good thing that had happened today.

That's what he had thought, anyway, until something red dripped into his drink from high up. Since he was a little drunk, thank you very much, he didn't notice for a few seconds until it registered inside his brain. Frowning in confusion, he looked up.

It was a taunt. It had to be. Whoever it was, they were mocking him. This must have been hilarious to them. It hadn't been there a few minutes ago, Joel was certain of that. He felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over his body, and he knew he would've preferred that over what he saw. Despite having been incredibly… tipsy, a few moments before, Joel had never felt more sober in his life.

Oh god. Oh god.

Because, right there, staring down at him, looking lifeless in the most haunted manner possible, dripping blood into his drink, was the one thing he wasn't supposed to see. He'd been put on break because of this. Oh god. It- It… It couldn't be. But it was, and the rest of the room faded away as Joel stared up in horror at what was hanging from the ceiling.

It was another horse head.

. . .

Dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnn how terrible! I wonder what might happen next!

Guys you'll never know...

It’s also just a sketch for today, but that’s also because tomorrow is going to be all illustration, no fic!

Taglist: @i-am-beckyu @da3dm , @faeiyn-cant-write , @boiled-ginger-ale , @local-squishmallow , @akatthatwants2sleep , @vocal-nyx-cords

Taglist just for fics: @mushr00mgurl

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dragqueenstarscream · 2 days ago

Note

same tfone starop anon (and starop with a casual filled valve anon, but I assume that's obvious since I mentioned the other ask in my first one LOL. either way hi again.) sorry in advance for how long this ask is I'm kind of #going through it

going back to tfone since I rewatched it again with oomf and tfone starop is still interesting to me. Orion getting into Sentinel's tower and running immediately to D-16 because that's his best friend, but he can feel Starscream's eyes boring into the back of his helm. Jealous not only because Orion immediately went to someone else, but that someone else is D-16, the person who damaged his vocal processor. Orion catching his eyes behind D-16's face and his eyes soften for just a moment, seeing the hurt in Starscream's eyes.

The way Starscream cowered and hid when the high guards' base was raided I could see him getting separated from Orion in the conflict, the two maybe making eye contact for a split second before some bot slams into Orion. Starscream trying to get to him after he's buried under the rubble and protect his new treasure, only to get taken by Sentinel's forces.

and then the ending, seeing D-16 blast Orion apart and drop him into the planet's core, too stunned to speak. Thinking about how the person Orion put before him just let him go like he was worth nothing, like nothing he did mattered.

and when Optimus is fighting against Soundwave/Starscream/Shockwave/Megatron, Starscream just hesitating for a moment. Pulling his punches and trying to target his explosives on non vital parts of Optimus like limbs. And when Megatron is banished, he just has to turn and leave. He looks back, and he sees Orion's eyes for a moment, before they harden back into Optimus because Orion fell into Primus and Optimus crawled out.

okay that was much more serious than I planned LOL I love the idea of a possessive clingy Starscream watching what he just built fall apart so quickly. also I think eye contact is a huge thing for Orion, something Starscream picks up on very quickly and tries to reciprocate.

okay on a less serious note going back to sex I still stand by pentup easily overstimulated Starscream but I also really like the idea of him being way more in control than Orion, using the thrusters in his pedes to keep up a brutal pace on Orion's spike, telling him how good he's doing for a bot who just got his cog and how happy he's making Starscream. That he's so good at it and he's so talented. these two can feed into eachother however methinks because I like Starscream starting off overconfident and domineering and reduced to a babbling mess of praises and various death threats as Orion takes him. Orion headgame exceptional as well I love the idea of him getting Starscream to come *way* faster than he expected and he's just got a dumb smile, transfluid dripping down his chin as Starscream is gasping for breath. Optimus Prime would be very different.

Hypothetical tfone future ofc but Starscream on some mission in Iacon, accidentally encountering Optimus in an alleyway or something. Optimus just sighs and comments how they're going in circles, how they should just acknowledge they happened for one night and it was incredible. Starscream says something back about how Optimus left him before it quickly devolves into desperate frotting and leaking plates because Starscream missed him so much and Optimus needs him. okay ask over I will be back.

ohhhhhh the ANGST! THE ANGST POTENTIAL WITH TFONE STAROP, it's SO DAMN GOOD

the betrayal starscream feels upon watching the one who saved him from getting murdered running to save his potential murderer, only for said potential murderer to actually kill orion right in front of him... shit, imagine if that was what led starscream to betray megatron! like, he's not an idiot, he knows that megatron tried to kill him. what if him joining the decepticons instead of staying in iacon is part of an elaborate plan to usurp him, take back control of the high guard, and finally get his revenge?? OOOOH i love a starscream who's in for the long haul!

and starscream not recognizing the orion still in optimus when optimus erupts from cybertron's core is always so good! like yeah, optimus has to make the hard choice now. even if starscream tried to pull his punches, he tried to destroy iacon, and now he has to suffer the consequences. no matter how much it hurts him.

the difference between interface with orion and optimus is also peak. orion is a lot more eager and willing to please, while optimus will make it clear that he's the one in control in this scenario. orion will let starscream take the reins, guiding him, hanging onto his every praise, until starscream's a drooling mess from just how good orion is once he gets into the swing of things. meanwhile, optimus is willing to make starscream work for it. starscream may think he hates optimus now, but that doesn't seem to be the case when optimus has starscream rutting against his thigh, his plates leaking transfluid, frantically chasing an overload because dammit, he misses orion, optimus, whoever this is, and he's gonna take this opportunity while he has it.

#fuuuuuuck this is so good #thank you for coming by the inbox anon #transformers #starscream #optimus prime #orion pax #transformers one #tfone starscream #tfone optimus prime #tfone orion pax #starop #starprime #starscream x optimus prime #starpax #valveplug #answering things

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lrayasostripes · 2 days ago

Text

Rayas at the RTV Tour.... THE CHAOS at the Social Media Department. (Week 3.5)

Third week and a half of the RTV Tour, by @rtv-puzzlevision-studios

Note 1: Once again, writing this in first person. Also, no drawings here sadly.

Note 2: My main Oc is in the spectrum. But as the Tour goes, she might slowly try to interact a little bit. Especially when either trying to make social interaction. She eventually shows she's an empath. But also, do not overwhelm her.

Note 3: Interactions to the inserts are all Bg and not always direct for bigger actions. Interactions with Ocs and RTV characters more obvious.

Note 4: Some lore drop, and 2% angst.

Final note: Same as previous posts. Rayas is a participant/visitor, and not the same for a future RTV version.

Story

"Well, if you’ve said your GOODBYES then we can get moving again!" said Mr Puzzles. EVeryone is heading to the Social Media Department.

I turned around and waved one last time to the SMG3 Gang, just in case, they still see me... they do (apparently as SMG3 seemed to soften his expression despite his tired look) (hope they'll never forget me)

Thanks for the gifts.

The walk to the courtyard has been uneventful, except the fact, I can see my drawing flying around from a distance, taunting me! Taunting me to break from the group. Sigh....

The fact the drawing isn't being noticed, it's because it is flying very quietly (why so quiet?), and maneuvering in a way it is almost impossible for someone to notice. I feel like someone jinxed it back home, just to get me in trouble. I just wished someone I trust in this group could grab it and give it to me when they find it and see the watermark.

Sigh, I hug my umbrella and Puzzles plushie for comfort and reassurance. And still thinking of the gifts Boopkins and Tari gave me back at the castle. The acrylic Pichu brothers keychain, and the custom Inscryption Deathcard (Tari decided to make a copy to keep it. Smart).

“BACK we go to Block B! No worries though, you don’t have to walk the STAIRS again. The Social Media Department is on the ground floor!” said Mr Puzzles as everyone kept walking.

But one thing I still recall, is that I was able to respond to (RTV) Mr Puzzles when he addressed me back at the game room. I feel like I made progress with meeting other Puzzles. Note, he's the first 'other' Puzzles to meet; the rest... still thinking, if it all goes well. (But why did it had to be him? and why did my drawing had to go at the wrong place?)

Now, the Puzzlevision Studio is near now. My drawing, still flying in the breeze; invisible to all but me. Hm... has Lucian seen it? Also, did the silhouette girl liked the matcha latte? I wanted to move around, find her and get close, but I'm still wary.... Not yet. Okay, guess I'll subtly try to approach Lucian to ask if the girl liked it. I slowed a little and glanced at Lucian. Without saying a word or displaying something in his "face," he gave me the thumbs up. Phew...

If SMG3 loved it, and then the Gang, does it mean... what i make... would it heal others? Am I a healer?

I look back at the drawing, still flying around. Ah! It is immediately heading at the group. Please don't be noticed and or landed to someone. Wait, it's heading in my direction! Come to- The drawing smacks right into the face of a participant with a Puzzlevision cap who's in the back! Ah! Please don't look at it! (I can't help but cringe inside and look away) And please, give it ba- No! Don't flick it away! It's flying in the air again... Nice... I just hope this person didn't looked long enough at it. I turn my face forward... Sigh... (A... hoodie?)

The doors to the studio open. Let me guess, the drawing will either stay outside, or go back in without anyone but me noticing it? The answer.... Inside. Well, time to play the waiting game I guess...

Huh, why am I feeling something weird in my stomach (nope, nothing to do with Grinnames' dish, I trust her) and chest? Also, my head feels weird as well. I close my umbrella just as the doors to the studio open. I hug my umbrella and plushie; they make me feel safe.

The bridge... still have yet to cross it...

Back inside the studio, heading towards the ground floor, Block B; and closing my Umbrella. Heh, it's strange, the Art Department is on the same block, above the Social Media Department. Hm... I wonder what the department looks like. By the way, I have not forgotten Animsay is the head of the Social Media Department.

I got a bit distracted that when I heard... something around the building. What was it? (Just hope it isn't what I'm thinking) OH man... I lost track of my lost drawing, but I hope if the cameras saw it again, they could inform Lucian to get it back to me... again. I walked just a little bit, on the corner of my eye, I saw the silhouette girl with the matcha latte. Score!! She kept it! Oh how I would like to tell her it was me who made it, and asked Lucian to give it to her; and say everything will be okay.

Thinking of all the good things past, I sort of felt that every time something good happens, my chest feels warm. And for whatever the reason, it seems people are likely to befriend me. Again, am I an empathy/sympathy magnet?

But not now... the next department.

“Whooooo! Home sweet, home!” Said Animsay cheery after Mr Puzzles announced the department. (Ha ha, Animsay is fast)

“Animsay will now explain to you the BASICS of this department.”, Mr Puzzles explained, before stepping into the corridor where Animsay now opened the door to the biggest office room of the department.

Well, looking into the big space of the department, every monitor was on every desk row. And a very large screen shown on the wall, projecting the Puzzlevision logo (from this place). Just... wow...

I got to say, despite what I thought about Animsay of her maybe not knowing boundaries of social interaction with someone like me, it was kind of funny when she stood on top of the table on the big screen.

“We are mainly responsible for making ads AND as the name says, manage pretty much everything connected to social media! Into that counts the creation and coding of websites, boosting and advertising Puzzlevision media and posts, but also…moderation.”

Oh, well that checks. Moderation, as in... what not to share or, the cons of use of social media?

Animsay actually answered that. So basically, the Social Media takes action when something. And incredibly, alerting the law as well? Hm... that's something. Well, this place does have a level of keeping things done, but in excess? The topic changed to Swag getting the law on his door three times all because he talked about his tank in a group chat (I couldn't help but imagine that)- Wait, is Swag still in the military in this place's version? Anyways.... um... great example Animsay.

"Back to Topic-" said Mr Puzzles, slightly louder. I couldn't help but glance at him. He appears to be having a headache, like, he's trying his best not to lose his cool as Animsay continues to get back on topic. Again, this Mr Puzzles is different...

"What else is there to say? Well, my office is next door but that’s not really interesting. There are a few side offices as well for brainstorming or if you prefer a smaller environment. Oh yeah and then there is the room to the room one day further where we talk to-”

(Um... Earth to Houston, Earth to Animsay?) (Also talk to who? I don't know how this place works or the story, but... I'm just a visitor. Not a part of the story...)

“Well, sadly it’s off limits! Unless, boss over here allows a look?"

I waited a little to turn to Mr Puzzles' reaction. When I did.

"Off-limits I’m afraid. VIP only." Phew, he answer curtley, and smiled as an apology to the crowd (I admit, I imagined he saw me in the crowd). Well, if "The Room" is off-limits, I would never go against the rule.

"Welp, that’s all then! If you have questions they can be asked now!" Animsay clasped her hands. Well, wonder what everyone will be asking now.

So... now what?

At least, everything is going fine. But, why does my chest and head feel weird? Like... something is about to happen. I keep my umbrella and plushie close for comfort-

I noticed Mr Puzzles look around the crowd... why? (and where's the little girl, the youngest, in the group going?) Oh boy, the look... As his eyes passed me, I hugged my plushie and umbrella closer. For a moment I saw him look and briefly smile softly before changing to a stern look as he looked away. Hm... just me? I tried my best to keep my mind off... whatever is happening. The weird feeling remains... I have to...look back-

OH... Oh no! (It's too soon! Not now!)

.......! My drawing!-

"SMG- (ouch my ears)

It happened so fast! My drawing happened to slip out of a ceiling vent, just right into Mr Puzzles' direction! And the timing when this person... SMG4 (this diff SMG4), shot what appears to be an EMP blast at his head. The way RT- Mr Puzzles fell, it was... The whole room was entire chaos. Everyone panicking and running. The girl who I made the matcha latte for her, ducked away, but the drink falling to the floor. A person with very big hair ( @purplehairball ) falling on to him (left hair on his clothes, oh dear). In the panic, I was running around and pushing to get my drawing back. So many turns and almost getting tripped, I managed to catch it from under a cubicle. I let out a big sigh now that it has returned to me; I tuck it this time, under my shirt's pocket, behind my vest.

The noises, so LOUD. I covered my ears, as the commotion went. I couldn't help but, glance back. Oh boy... SMG4 is not getting away anytime soon. Even if I knew this is a different Four, and that I'm just a visitor, I couldn't help but feel bad for him... But what can I do?

“I-I don’t even know you!”...... of course, he.

We are all outsiders and doesn't know it... And as much as I wanted to tell him, we are all just participants... I cannot interfere with the plot. Recalling my drawing smacked him in the face back outside, if he got a better look at it... Who knows if the bridge will break with the knowledge... of.... the existence of... other...

I saw Animsay walking up, leaving where she was. She gave me a brief glance from where I was hidden and her smile still present before walking a few steps to face the crowd. The smile... how is she not panicking? I don't know her much... but is she that... resilient? (if I where her, I would be concerned and at least, comfort someone)

... OH this is not going well to my emotional state. Feeling a near overload of emotions...

Before I reach a meltdown, and now that I have my drawing back, I decided to get up, and hopefully run past Lucian (sorry) when he's being confronted by the same dragon shifter (Marie by @fenicearts420) and a girl wearing a mask and brown hair (Lari by @lari-the-dragon); both trying to defend SMG4. And Lucian appears very reluctant to fight them; they are tourists... I was going to slip by and run to the exit but....

In the corner of my eye, I saw the little girl who shuffled quietly a minute ago before the chaos. She looks very scared (are those antennae trying to poke out? cute). And I just.... froze...

“Dear employees and visitors, we are currently facing a vermin problem. Until the issue is resolved, the whole building will be going on lockdown starting now.”

The intercom sounded, that is snapped me out of my daze (or it was Grinnames' panicking. Hey, careful!! Sorry). And that... voice? I don't think it's Karen from back in the Lobby. As soon as the intercom finished, metal blinds covered the windows, and sounds of stuff getting locked throughout the building ... Oh boy... it's dark now, with the screens and the big one to illuminate the big office (Lucian's "head" has a cool neon glow effect though)

All of a sudden, the screens including the big one. (Animsay... what?) The screen finally showed the silhouette of... Wha?! HIM...?! (right... this... this place.... it's story...it's characters) If Meggy was here, she'll probably have a panic attack, ever since the incident.

(I half learned this place... is it changing too quickly?)

What is he going to do now?

“If you want me to lift the lockdown, you have a choice.” "Option 1: You take out 4 over there and I will give you a free pass! Tour is over, the problem solved, you all can go home!"

I just hope doesn't mean... putting him down, I don't think I would handle it. Even if it's a different Four. I rather continue the Tour with no issues, and just remember the times things went well with me.

“Option 2: You wake up the big boss and he can decide what to do with you.”

Waking Mr Puzzles could help stop the AI,... But, wouldn't he lose his cool once awake? Besides, the dragon shifter and one with the mask defended SMG4... I imagine they aren't going to go scott-free. The "Wren" AI saw... EVERYTHING.

Is there a third option?

“Option 3: You outlaws do neither of those and we can enjoy playing a game of tag. I’m sure I can take care of this whole issue myself within the hour! So, choose wisely. Happy trails!”

All of the screens return to normal.... We are.... oh boy... (So much that I'm a "comes in three" and third try's a charm)

But... I... I didn't even joined in to stopping Four, and or defending him... I'm in the middle of the storm now. The ones that also didn't do anything... (are we... what's the name... collateral?)

Tuning out the squabble of Four and Lucian, for a long time since... I felt lost, useless, hopeless... null. I just wanted to recover the drawing, and leave the tour on good terms; return home with my new plushie, place the gifts from the SMG3 Gang, sleep in my warm bed... and if there's an opportunity, show my drawing if things go well.

My attention then shifted to the same little girl. She has moved to the corner, further away from the group, still scared as she was, hugging her Puzzles Plushie. Her antennae more visible now. Well... the least I can do if neither two options are met, I could do one (last) thing.

As I slowly pass by... I heard Lucian explain, in a low volume (my ears are sensitive so...)... an Extra Option. The Ai security (Wren) can be disabled manually in a place located in the Control Room (four options now). But... if picking helping Mr Puzzles, everyone will head to the Health Department. Apparently, the head of said department is here with us. And her name is Nira ( @niranutcake)

I slowly approach the little girl and crouch down a little. I wait a little until she notices me. When she sees me, she's confused; and, trying to hide her antennae but dropping her own Puzzles plushie. Seeing her cry did hurt a little... given the current situation.

"Hi... I'm Rayas," I greeted softly.

She almost looks like wanting to hide, but shows she's curious. I tilt my head as if to show, I'm curious to why she's hiding her antennae.

"Hey, you don't need to worry about them. Look at me..." I move my big ears to make her see them. "I got the biggest ears there is." And I begin to move my ears in many directions, and this makes her more curious, she slowly stops crying. She giggles a little.

I then show funny faces with the second mouth, the one to express my emotions more pronounced, along with moving my ears. She giggles a little more. She slowly letting her antennae loose, but not yet. Maybe there could be more?

"Want to see a magic trick?" the girl seems more curious, she nods. I grab my custom Inscryption card from my front vest pocket and show it. Alright, I never done a magic trick before so... I do this... concentrate and... Now there's two custom Inscryption cards (on the first try)!

(The card in Question)

(Hm... looking at the duplicate card... I wonder)

She claps in amusement, and letting her antennae show. But when she realizes it.

"You don't have to worry, I don't see anything wrong with them. Believe me, they look nice." I said it in a very reassuring way. I pick up their Puzzles plushie and give it back. "Here he is. What's your name?

....

"Harley... ( @entityarts) "

"Hello Harley." (I made another friend now)

This moment, I feel my chest even warmer, that I almost don't notice my cog gear slowly spinning...

(Could it be...?)

I took one moment to look around, the group seem to me thinking about helping Mr Puzzles up, the safest option (Who placed sticky notes on him?); but another half want the risky of shutting the (Wren) AI. I briefly glanced that the silhouette-like girl (Nick Nack by @runrabitrunrunrun ) is looking in my direction. Did she see what I was doing? I saw her make a soft expression, or what I made out to be; I noticed she had a mouth, but sometimes it would disappear. Curious... (Wow, is she... bioluminent?)

(But even if... why do I feel a dark aura still lingering on her? The same when she rushed to the castle's restroom. Was the latte... not enough...? :'()

I look back at the cards, and tuck one back in my vest pocket. The other...

"Harley?" I asked her, as I bring my umbrella. "Would you like to hold my umbrella?"

She's confused but nods. I decided to open it and have her hide under it, including me. At the same time, I holding onto the card, holding it very close... my cog gear is slightly reacting a little more.

"Whenever I feel scared or unsafe, I keep my umbrella close to me. And when I go outside, rain or no rain, I would open it. And feel safe again... Now close your eyes, and think of something that makes you happy, grateful, safe..."

(I wish.... I wish...)

"How are you feeling Harley? Much better?"

She nods, glad to see she's doing better. Now, we slowly approach the crowd now, but very slowly; she stays close. I slowly approach, and Loyboo ( by @alelathedragon ) sees me from slightly away from the crowd. I do the Shy Boo gesture; covering my eyes. I had to make sure he's okay, knowing he's the most shy of the group.

"Everything okay?" I asked. He nods, glad to see; yet he still seems uneasy for the whole situation. Drawing in his notepad as a coping mechanism.

Looking at the crowd now, I almost forgot that SMG4 is with us now. Oh boy... Couldn't he wait until... whatever he was doing until the tour was near its end or ended in full circle? Then again, no one had any idea that the (Wren) security system was solely tied to Mr Puzzles (from this place), and him not awake, the AI can do whatever it wants... (whatever he... wanted)

My headache no longer feels weird after the scare, but why....? Now I feel weird...

"Well, what will it be?" asked Lucian slightly louder. "Arrest SMG4, Help my Boss, or we face the consequences. (and the secret fourth one)" He's sounding slightly agitated now.

Man, I really feel bad for him. He had a job to do, but he fumbled thanks to some who support SMG4 (this SMG4)(why can't everyone keep to themselves?). By the way, if the whole place is on lockdown, I wonder how Colores is holding up to above Block B; is the SMG3 Gang experiencing the same thing? Hopefully not, because again, Meggy; especially after showing just his silhouette and voice. After everything I interacted with them, they looked more happy and less tired (hope the meal Grinnames and the latte I made are good when they find them); and I don't want all that ounce of happiness gone from them. I just hope the Gang are okay; and also hope that my time with them will help them feel... safe. (Wonder that if something happens to me... will they remember me?)

I slowly approach Lucian, and glance at him in a "I'm scared as well/what now?" expression; ever since he returned my drawing to me, I trust him. And... even if I would be supporting SMG4, I would still trust him. (And even if there's something he's ordered to do that would endanger me.... I'd forgive him)

Lucian finally notices me. His face shows the word "sigh." Even without a face, I could tell, he's either trying to reassure me, or... because based on his body language and vibe, he's worried for everyone else's safety. Including me. And I think Harley as well; she's still with me, and hiding her antennae again. (She's the youngest of the group, and now she's involved into something too serious for her)

Trying to make some small talk... But... I don't know what to say. But it looks like he decided to speak first, albeit in a hushed tone with still remaining slightly agitated; but it seems he's trying not to sound like it since Harley is with me. (or... as Lucian said, the AI security is still watching and listening; and now being careful what he and/or everyone says?)

"Sigh... should have seen this coming. But a bad timing nonetheless, because as far before SMG4 came and shot my boss, some of you... were very nice...

I only hum as a response.

....

"You don't ever let go of that umbrella do you? Or the stuffed toy you got?" casually asked Lucian. Guess he wants to get his mind off the tension? I agree, because the umbrella makes me feel safe. Also, I still have my Puzzles Plushie with me, gifted to me by Colores, and the Gang's gifts; receiving the same treatment of never letting them go. "And that blue puzzle piece on your tie... you have autism? Just want to make sure if I'm correct. All this must be too much for you..."

I nod. "I do."

Looking back at the crowd, SMG4 is still cornered, with people taking sides; for and against him. Swag and Chris, getting stressed of the situation. Animsay.... still... smiling? I got to say... why right now? Harley is still huddling close to me, because I think I'm the first person to not judge her by her antennae and the one person she feels safe; besides, I saw an alien participant with droopy antennae ( @alien-star88 ) so why the self-consciousness. So, why can't there be a combination of the first two options? Something around the fact, SMG4 started the whole mess, he should be responsible. He caused this, he fixes it, he helps get RT-Mr Puzzles up; and.... turn himself in a guess? And the participants who defended him should also be accounted since they made Lucian not able to do his job (sorry but just being honest. Also, did they got a scolding for skipping the Stairs of Doom?). But... the sense of uselessness returns again... saying that out loud. Should I? What's the use? I'm just a visitor. What help can I bring here?

Huh, I'm starting to feel tired...

Now, back to the main issue. Well... with people around the unconscious Mr Puzzles, it looks like the second option is the choice; but also couldn't help but listen of going for the secret option in hushed tones.

Nira, the one being the head of the Health Department, the white squirrel, looking after him for any signs of him coming back... No dice it seems. But first... I... I couldn't help but notice that his clothes are covered in white and pink hair ( @purplehairball ) and the sticky notes from whoever thought it would be funny while he was out... If everyone will get him up, he better be presentable when he wakes up. I can tell some don't like him (again, this Mr Puzzles is different); but in my opinion, it's not necessary to have to like him, just show some respect. I'm a visitor I repeat, and I'm not in my home. Well... I suppose, I'll have to do it myself.

(And... where's his bowtie? Isn't the one where his 5th star is?)

I... Never was this up close to Mr Puzzles (or any), but oh boy. I'm not feeling... Well, here it goes...

"HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON'T TOUCH THE BOSS!" yelled Swag despite the monotone (ouch my ears, but I don't care)

(I felt my chest briefly get cold for a second)

"Just taking these stick notes off," I explained calmly. "Um... anyone has a lint roller?"

I knew people's attention were on me now, all eyes on me. I should be scared, but... I'm mostly scared for everyone else's well-being. The first sticky note is off now... twenty left... And being very delicate and careful to remove them, as if Mr Puzzles was made of very thin glass. I think Nira understands what I'm doing... and maybe helps remove the ones I'm self-conscious to remove; especially the ones on his head.

Still removing the sticky notes, before someone passes the lint roller. In a moment, I glance at SMG4. He sees me. All I can do, is make an expression of disappointment for complicating things at a bad time; but at least, not in a hostile way. More like... it was all going so well until he showed up. Different SMG4, but still... (why now?)

I'm feeling slowly more tired, but... why? I roll up my sleeves just as the last sticky note is off, and someone passes the lint roller; and gloves for some reason, but I immediately remember that I heard that R- Mr Puzzles doesn't like anyone touching him without gloves (I noticed Nira is wearing them as well). Why do I feel everyone is now looking at my arms before putting the gloves on? I admit, to some... it doesn't add up to my head's shape; but it's still my head.

And can I keep the gloves?

"Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind..." I couldn't help but sing softly... it feels nice, even if in fragments (Human by Rag n Bone.) "Some people think I can solve them/ Oh Heavens Above/ I'm only Human After all/ I'm only Human After all..."

"Human...? huh..." I heard someone say, but don't know who.

What felt like... an hour passed, Mr Puzzles is good as new; thought the crack on his screen... (and his Bowtie...?!) Someone passed me a paper towel since my nose was getting runny (I failed to notice I was actually bleeding, but okay, don't want a drop fall on Puzzles. Weird fact, my blood changes color from red to blue once out of my system). And... the tiredness was growing, possibly from the stress of it all. (And to weak to yell where his bowtie was)

Nira helps to keep me upon my knees since, I was feeling weak; and thanks for trying everything to use her powers to heal, I appreciate it. And I don't know why; still thinking it's just stress. I noticed that a few participants are picking up the new situation, I just caused. Grinnames, Harley, the TV Head with the Kuromi cap and purple teeth ( @kuromipuzzles2000 ), and a random few bend down to comfort me.

Ha! Ha! Oh Grinnames... (I guess some humor helps)

Seeing some worry for me... I cannot believe that even if meeting people I never seen or only seen from afar, they all care for each other. Again, my chest feels warm again.

But... where's my stuff? My umbrella and Puzzles Plushie? The Pichu brothers keychain and my first custom Inscryption card are already in my vest pocket. And my drawing still neatly, and very carefully tucked in my shirt's pocket behind the vest. Now for sure it will not leave my sight.

I look at the tv head with the Kuromi cap and purple teeth.

"I... what's your name? Never got to..." I address to the Kuromi TV head.

I hear her name is Kuromi Puzzles, and/or Crystal. Hello Crystal. (the second Puzzles I meet now)

And, what's left of my energy ... I say as loud as I could... "How was the matcha Latte?," aimed at the silhouette girl, but my eyes where feeling so heavy.

The noises are slowly drawn out, so all I could barely hear were.

"...didn't know she would take it so badly..."

"Two patients to my office then..."

"Is she going to be okay?...."

"...remember the plan... who joins our...."

"... move...."

And then, I heard... gasps after a brief pause?

"...the... hell?" someone said.

"Holy S@&!," I recognized it at Animsay. I weakly chuckled a little at that, even if bleeped.

What was going on? But, I came back to briefly, to clearly hear the intercom speak again.

"Wise choice... And maybe a little extra credit for cleaning up the big boss. (But holy... holy S%&!...) Alright, you can all leave to the Health Department to wake him up, and wait what he will do to some of you who defended the feller Four."

Said the voice of the Wren security system. I think this is a green light now. He saw everything... But why did he sounded for a moment,... shocked? (What happened?)

Finally... Rayas out..... but just a second... I thought I saw someone with big ears approach me.... but even if I saw some participants with big ears,... I'm the only one with the largest ones....

.......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The walk to the Health department was pretty much... nerve-wrecking? Maybe. Everyone is doing their best at good behavior as not to upset the security system (but keeping secret of another group will... no spoilers). I'm being calm as best as I can. I didn't know that, what happened back at the Social Media Department, was now a weird one, where no one would forget. But I'm curious what will Mr Puzzles' reaction be.

*I look down, as I'm very careful carrying "me." Wonder if "I" saw me as I cradled her as "I" lost consciousness. I didn't know the whole chaos was going to be taken so badly for "me." I have to carry the umbrella in one arm, and place the plushie carefully on "my" arms; I know, "I" look so weak, pitiful even (R- Mr Puzzles who's still out cold, I'd say... less?). I wonder how the Puzzlevision staff, and the whole group are feeling after seeing what happened to "me" and I back at the Social Media Department. And even SMG4....

*I... thought I heard someone call "me," an amoeba ("Human" Amoeba?) moments after I just showed up? (And did "I" heard it as well?) Not going to lie, but "my" (our) custom Inscryption Deathcard from back in the game room, was composed with a pre-buffed Amoeba card. Irony much?

*Painfully saying my goodbyes to some who are on the alternate group, Harley (never thought she was so strong, and declined my offer to look after her plushie), Grinnames, and even the girls who defended SMG4 that I found out their names where Marie and Lari. I think they feel sorry for what happened to "me". I forgive them, but still not forgotten they started it (can copies share... yeah, makes sense). Wow... just... wow.

*The Health group me and "I" are is composed of Nira the head of the Health Department, a person with big white and fuschia hair ( @purplehairball ) (is that stuff on their hair?), the unconscious Mr Puzzles, the same cat creature with a single eye ( @theclosetcreature), A woman with brown hair and looking somewhat too anxious (Becky by @beckycat19 ) (oh boy...), Loyboo, and a few others.

*Off to the Health Department then...

*This tour is really taking longer than I thought... and the bridge is getting longer and longer... but will it fall?

*"Um Nira..., how far is the Health Department?"

"It's further back in the studio, Rayas. I have some warm blankets in my office as well."

To Be Continued...

_______________________________

Author's notes: Slightly shorter, but just wanted to get it done quickly. And oh boy... Now there's two Rayas in the Tour. (Might edit it later if anything changes). The real Rayas got sick, so she somehow made a clone show out of nowhere, and is now going to be caring for her and cover.

Text with *B.....B is the Second Rayas. Plain text is the real Rayas

At last, she recovered her drawing. And hope it stays where it is.

The drawing in question.

(Between The Star and AV Puzzles is Astro by @the-masked-astro , one of the participants on the tour) All Ocs/AUs belong to their owners and can be found here Puzzlevision Mass Attack)

Note about the drawing. In the story, her drawing is impervious to getting destroyed/damaged, and the only one who can is Rayas since she made it. So, anyone not from her home or herself, it's like stretching an unbreakable rubber band.

Note, interactions available, but comment/dm first. Plus, if anything, I might slightly change the story here.

#rtv tour #rtvtour25 #rayas o'stripes #Rayas got sick but her copy will take her place until she rests #give RTV his bowtie back please #rtv tour gone wrong #rtv wr3n #smg4 au #rtv puzzles #rtv au #rtv au insert #mr. puzzles #reality tv au

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ittybxttykxttytxtty · 1 day ago

Text

I MIGHT'VE FALLEN ASLEEP AGAIN, IM SORRY.

“You know how that makes me feel, right? Like I’m just some pawn in your twisted web.”

Baby girl, why are we still surprised? The things you've seen him do 😭 i guess reality caught up with her.

“What if I didn’t go along with your trap? Would you have killed me?”

.....he'd rather set himself on fire.

Well, that wasn’t terrifying at all.

Babe, it's okay. We're into it.

“Can you honestly say, without a doubt, that you hated seeing how obsessed I was? Would you really rather watch me pretend to be less?”

GOTCHA!!! Istg, i can imagine him saying this with an unhinged fuck me, rail me, devour me look in his eyes.

“I know,” He says firmly, “And don’t you love that?”

When your freak matches his freak and it takes you by surprise 😭

“I’d let you ruin me, destroy every piece of me,” A slow breath, “If I could just stay with you a second more. A moth and a flame, Icarus and the sun. I don’t want to exist without you.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. A million times yes.

And with one final kiss to his lips, you reach over, grabbing the little pile of divorce papers, and letting the edge of it touch the flickering candle.

I sighed so loud 😭😭😭😭

“Till death do us part.” You mumble to yourself, the finality of your decision sinking in, the immediate relief of it comes as fast as the fire does.

NOBODY TOUCH ME. I AM FERAL. 😭😭😭😭

You want to warn him about the fire alarm,

You know damn well that even if the staff and fire department comes barging in, Billy isnt gonna stop fucking you.

“Fuck. That- was so fucking good, little wife.”

I always knew this bitch has a wife kink.

It’s the same snake that’s on his shoulder, except this time its fangs aren’t bared, its serpentine body is wrapped around the stem of a rose.

I KNEW IT. I KNEW SHE HAD A TATTOO.

“Snakes,” you whisper softly to him, too afraid to break the trance that he’s in, “shed their skins all the time. They are symbols of transformation and rebirth. Misunderstood, but deadly when underestimated.” You repeat the words he said to you as best as you could remember.

I remember that. Chelsea, I am crying. I am bawling. I am inconsolable.

“No, I have my bodyguard, Dave with me.”

I just realized, does Billy still have blue contacts on when all of these went down? 😂

“That’s quite a dream, little wife.”

And the epilogue, please. I am begging, I need this.

I already sent you an emotional message but I will give you your flowers again because you deserve it. This series is so good!!!!! Every moment of it was so good. I felt the frustration, the angst, the yearning. Damn.

Once again, thanks for sharing and finishing this series!!!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

This, is my Solemn Vow

Part 17 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: I don't want to spoil anything, but this part contains similar themes as most other parts of this series, including discussions that may be deemed as dark. Be warned.

It was looming over your head, twisting your insides into knots, and you were pretending that everything was okay.

When you wake up in the morning, he asks you to get dressed, taking you down to the marina, and guiding you onto a barge styled boat, with a restaurant inside.

You have breakfast beside him for the few hours it takes to sail around Sentosa island, wearing a loose yellow sundress, while he wears an olive green t-shirt tucked into black jeans.

You looked like a lemon-lime combo, and you can’t help saying this to him at some point throughout your journey, laughing with him as though everything was alright.

It wasn’t.

You were both pretending and you knew it. Clinging to the role of husband and wife because you had no idea what would happen after.

It was fucking weird.

You would hold his hand, and tuck yourself into the space beside him, but you resisted kissing him, because you were confused and this was confusing and you might tear your hair out if you didn’t clear the air soon.

It was familiar to you… but also not.

You could at least admit to yourself that there was an easy friendship here, if nothing else, you liked sitting with him, and listening to him speak, and engaging him in light conversation about tides and wind resistance.

Something twists sharply in your chest at the thought of being only friends with him.

When you get back to your hotel room, you curl your hands into fists, anxious and determined to have it out before you find yourselves stuck in this strange purgatory for much longer.

You strike a match, lighting one of the scented candles you’d gotten in your time here, letting the aroma of sage and Palo Santo wood calm you.

He’s in your bedroom taking a call, you can hear the calm cadence of his voice as you find the stupid divorce papers, pulling them out of their hiding place in your luggage.

You feel like you’re ambushing him, when you drop it onto the nearby marble countertop, bracing your arms on the sturdy surface and willing yourself to have the strength to say what you have to say.

You hear him step out of the room, his muffled footsteps as he approaches, and then slows down when he notices you.

You gulp, looking up at him, his face is calm, but it’s his eyes that hold all of his heartbreak.

“It’s time for that talk.” You whisper ominously.

He sucks in a shaky breath, approaching, giving you a sharp nod.

“I’ll start simple- I remember that night we got married.”

You watch him nod in understanding.

“I had the rings with me… hoping for a chance to work them in. You stopping to look at the veil was my perfect opportunity.”

“If I hadn’t stopped, did you have a backup plan?”

He glances down, nodding.

“I would have made you sign the papers and fabricated the witnesses.”

You shake your head.

“If I had been a little bit more sober-”

“-but you weren’t. You were tipsy enough to go along with me, and sober enough to consent. I kept you right on that precipice the entire night. I was standing on that balcony, counting the shots you were taking, making sure that you didn’t have more than you could handle. I wanted you impressionable, not unconscious.”

You can’t fight the horror that his words draw out of you.

“You know how that makes me feel, right? Like I’m just some pawn in your twisted web.”

He swallows, nodding, he doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I know. I just don’t want to hide from you anymore.”

“Did you,” You struggle to ask the words, “Did you have any hand in Dominic breaking up with me?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, he shakes his head.

“I knew he would fuck up eventually. I wanted to kill him so many times, but I needed you to see him for the piece of shit he was.”

“Oh.”

You swallow, trying to get yourself together before you ask your next question.

“What if I didn’t go along with your trap? Would you have killed me?”

He glances up in shock at your question. You give him an apologetic smile, unable to phrase the question in a better way at the moment.

“I could never bear the thought of ever hurting you,” He whispers, approaching till he’s right in front of you. He raises a hand to cup your cheek, “However bad of a person you think I am, I need you to know that no matter what happens between us, I will always put your safety first. I’ve watched you from afar for years, I knew what kind of person you were before I’d ever slipped that ring onto your finger. I hoped that I could give you exactly what you needed if I had the chance.”

You swallow, eyelids fluttering at the soothing feeling of his hands on your face.

“If we got divorced. Would you keep stalking me?”

He holds your gaze, your heart hammering as he answers without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Well, that wasn’t terrifying at all.

“You-” You huff in exasperation, “Why didn’t you just ask me out on a date like a normal person?”

He chuckles.

“I keep trying to tell you- I’m not normal.”

You groan, laughing at his words in the next moment.

“Okay, I wish I had a clear answer, maybe I’m like a dog that isn’t socially adjusted so I do weird shit and hope I don’t get caught. I’ve never been like this before either, I’m usually more… subtle when I approach women. But there’s something about you, something that made me terrified of your rejection.”

His thumbs dance thoughtfully on your cheeks as he looks away, deep in his own head.

“And the more I got to know you, the more I saw you, the real you hiding under all those layers of anxiety and insecurity, I realised that we were more alike than expected.”

You gulp, your dark tryst in the castle coming to mind.

He looks back at you, those dark eyes of his trying to see into your mind.

“Can you honestly say, without a doubt, that you hated seeing how obsessed I was? Would you really rather watch me pretend to be less?”

“That’s not fair,” You argue, “You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I know,” He says firmly, “And don’t you love that?”

You gulp, raising your hands, you push him away, angry at the way he makes you feel with such a dangerous question.

“You’re so-” You were going to say ‘insane,’ but hadn’t he been admitting that the entire time?

You stop, your eyes drawing to the manilla envelope, the gears turning in your head at a too slow rate for you to comprehend.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He begs.

It takes you a moment to get the words out.

“I’m… scared that I’ll regret my decision.”

Billy releases a slow breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, his eyebrows are drawn together, the faintest hint of a wrinkle in the space between. His eyes take on a glassy appearance as they fill with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispers, and you can almost feel the defeat in the tone of his voice.

You glance away, unable to meet his eyes, there’s a strange feeling inside of you, a hurt you can feel coming but it’s not quite there yet.

“For what, exactly?”

“For… loving you the way I do.”

You try not to let your words choke you, though they beg for your decimation. You didn’t know heartache could come on so gradually.

“And what way is that?” You pry.

He’s quiet for a long time, and you glance up at him, seeing the way his words stick in his throat, the same way yours do, the way sweet words have the bitterest taste.

“Tell me.” You demand.

“Please.” You beg.

He still doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’d let you ruin me, destroy every piece of me,” A slow breath, “If I could just stay with you a second more. A moth and a flame, Icarus and the sun. I don’t want to exist without you.”

Your mind reels with the implication that he thinks you’re going to be his destruction.

It’s a calm sort of anger, your hands shaking imperceptibly, your heart trembling in the very same way.

“Fuck you, Billy Russo.”

His glassy eyes meet yours, dark pools of love and despair. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t shy from your anger, so ready to accept it, prepared for your rejection.

The way everyone in his life had abandoned him before.

“I didn’t choose this,” You hiss, stepping into his personal space, “I definitely didn’t ask for it. You took any agency I had and made it your own. You made me your own.”

He closes his eyes, it cracks your heart into pieces to watch tears stream down his face.

You reach up swiftly, locking your fingers behind his neck, bringing your face right up to his.

After a moment, you bring your thumbs up to wipe at the tears on the apple of his cheeks.

“You’re not Icarus, Billy, and I am not the sun.” You finally breathe to him.

He shakes his head, disagreeing with you silently.

“It’s true,” You urge, pressing your forehead to his, “You’re not falling.”

And with one final kiss to his lips, you reach over, grabbing the little pile of divorce papers, and letting the edge of it touch the flickering candle.

You hear his choked breath, and you smile, angling the papers so that the fire eats the material faster.

“Till death do us part.” You mumble to yourself, the finality of your decision sinking in, the immediate relief of it comes as fast as the fire does.

One moment he’s letting you hold him, and the next moment he reaches for the papers, pulling them from your hands and dropping them on the counter to continue burning.

You open your mouth to protest, the papers are going to scorch the marble if they’re not moved, but Billy steals your focus, turning your face forcefully to pull you into a kiss.

You make a sound of surprise, eagerly responding to him, understanding how badly he needs to be reassured right now.

Your kisses are bruising, so forceful that they borderline on pain, you grip his shoulders, humming happily as he pulls you even closer together. Your brain glitters like shattered glass, embracing sunlight.

“I love you,” He says into your mouth, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You can’t help your giggle.

“I love you too, Billy Russo.”

He groans, his hands roam your body, tugging your dress up on his way to squeeze your ass. His mouth is unrelenting, kissing over your neck, down to your clavicle. The pleasure you feel is alive under your skin, begging for more.

“My wife.” He hums in between kisses, “My perfect wife.”

You feel like you’re being mauled, and you can do nothing but take it, smoke fills your nose, and you turn your head to see the divorce papers almost halfway on fire.

You want to warn him about the fire alarm, but at the same time he turns you, pinning your front to the counter, tugging forcefully at the strap of your dress until you hear the seams rip. You only have a second to gasp before he bites down gently on your shoulder.

Pleasure explodes behind your eyes, you shudder as his hands find their way under your dress, palming over your panties, before he slips his warm hands under them.

“I need to feel you.” he breathes into your ear, the heat of his words setting your insides on fire and you nod, your body responding to every part of him.

His fingers find your clit easily, pressing down, he hums in approval when he finds you wet and swollen.

You make an embarrassing squeaking sound, his tongue gently tracing its way over your shoulder, and up your neck a little till his lips meet your ear.

“You're so wet, baby.” He praises easily, “Did hearing how obsessed I am for you get you like this?”

“Yes,” you groan, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He chuckles, palming your breast over your dress, while his fingers swirl purposefully over your clit, making your hips move in an attempt to grind on his hand.

“There’s no going back now, you know that right? I’m not letting you leave again. You’re mine. Forever.”

You nod frantically, understanding the consequences of setting the divorce papers on fire, glancing at them, watching the flame consume your only chance at escaping him.

“You’re mine now too.” You breathe.

He swears, pulling his hands away and spinning you once more to face him. His mouth finds yours just as he grips your hips firmly and seats you on the countertop.

The marble is fucking cold against the back of your thighs, but you can’t help sinking your fingers into his hair and rubbing your tongue against his messily as you hear the clink of his belt being undone.

You smile into the kiss, thinking that he’s so feverishly eager for you and of course, you feel the exact same, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his magnificent cock, his answering groan into your mouth as you stroke him firmly, sending ripples of delight through you.

He huffs, pulling you to the edge of the countertop before tugging your panties to the side. You want this so badly that you feel the ache between your thighs worsen, a thrumming in your center that begs for relief.

His eyes meet yours when you align the head of his cock to your entrance, searching your eyes for reassurance as he presses in.

“Deep breaths baby.” He guides, watching as your eyes roll shut, nodding your head. He’s big, you almost forgot how big, now astutely obvious as his cock demands you yield for him.

You try to relax as best as possible, feeling him sink in further, making you feel so full.

You whine his name, and he leans in to press a kiss to your mouth, unintentionally sinking himself deeper into you.

Your thighs tremble, wrapping around his hips, you bring your arms over his shoulders so you can bury your face in his neck.

“Doing so good,” He praises, “My perfect little wife.”

You make a keening sound, struggling not to clench around him prematurely, gripping the back of his neck, breathing him in as he fully fits himself into you.

You’re so wet, but it’s been a month without him and it stings in the deepest parts of you, brings about an ache that hurts and feels so undeniably good all at the same time.

He takes a moment, you feel him kiss the top of your head, the gentleness of the act unintentionally making you clench around him.

His next groan has an unhinged manner to it, drawing back subtly to press into you again.

Fuck, it feels immeasurably good, you baffle at the willpower he has to take it slow for your sake.

You can tell he’s trying hard to rein himself in. The veins on his neck poking out from beneath his skin, his breaths are all shuddery against your hair.

You want him insane with desire, tipping your head back, you look up at him before you whisper in your sweetest voice.

“Please, husband, I need you so bad.”

His breath catches in his throat, and you watch as all the self-control bleeds from his eyes.

He makes a low sound, one hand tightening on your hips, the other reaching up to tangle in your hair.

“I was trying to be nice, wife. But you don’t want nice, do you?”

You shake your head rapidly.

He snaps his hips forward, your mouth dropping open at just how forceful his movements are.

He does it again, and you can’t help the little sound of pleasure that leaves you, his cock, stretching you open in a painfully perfect way.

His hand tightens in your hair, tugging so that your head is tipped back while he keeps snapping his hips.

“Do you want me?” He asks, his words warm against your lips.

“Mmm, I do.” You hum in the affirmative.

He grunts.

“Say it.”

“I- ah- I want you.”

His nose brushes yours, “Fuck. Fuck.” he swears.

There’s nothing you can focus on except how primal this feels, to be taken like this, to freely give yourself to him, to feel each movement he makes and have your body respond with bliss. And then his actions grow more forceful, faster, your thighs tremble around his hips, your body shaking as the pleasure overwhelms you, pushing you right up to that edge before you can even comprehend the feeling.

He knows, you watch him grin as he realises how quickly you’re on that brink, body shaking, head swimming in hazy desire with each thrust he makes.

“Do it, sweetheart. Come all over your husband’s cock.”

Your body tightens, and with one final push of his hips, you hit your breaking point.

An unintentional sound leaves you, your inner walls flutter around his cock as the shockwaves grow more intense, finally gripping him tightly, your eyes rolling back in your head as you lose control of your body. It feels like lightning, the way it electrifies each of your nerve endings, making you feel like there’s energy coming right out of you as you hit that peak.

Your fingers claw into his shirt, gripping for dear life as you come so hard you stop thinking. You hear him groan loudly, his cock fitted deep inside you as you explode around him, giving him exactly what he asked for. You squeeze him so tightly that you swear his length is imprinted into you, dropping your head into the crook of his neck as you come down.

You still shake in the aftermath, looking up at him, you give him a weak smile, holding him closely as you continue to tremble.

“Perfect.” He hums, leaning down to kiss you, and then he withdraws subtly to press into you again.

His pretense of control is all gone, you can tell by the wild look in his eye, and the sharp, uncontrolled movement of his hips.

He’s so alluring in this moment, taking what he needs from you without apology, his hair askew from your hands, his body hot beneath all his clothes, your orgasm being drawn out by your perfect husband.

“I love you.” Are his last words before he buries his face in your hair and groans- his orgasm taking control of his movements, filling you with his cum.

You even feel his cock throb inside of you, your body so hypersensitive that you feel every little move he makes inside of you..

He laughs deliriously into your hair, and you find yourself smiling in turn.

“Fuck. That- was so fucking good, little wife.”

He studies you, strokes your hair, cups your face to tilt your head up so that he can keep kissing you passionately, moaning into the kiss like he’s still hungry for you, as if his spent cock isn’t already softening inside of you.

He waits, till you’re calm, till your body has stopped shaking, to withdraw himself.

You hum when you feel a touch of soreness, clenching when you can feel his cum, slipping out of you in that uncomfortably messy way you’ve grown to love.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks softly, bringing his mouth back to yours when you look away- glancing at the smoking pile of divorce papers.

“No,” You answer into his mouth because he gives you no other choice. He hums in delight, before scooping you up, walking you down the hallway towards your bed.

“I need to hold you.” He murmurs, as if you don’t already know, seating you on the bed as he undresses himself, kicking his pants away, and pulling his shirt off.

You wait patiently for his help, as he kneels in front of you, clad in only his boxers as he leans in, reaching around to unzip your dress.

You study his tattoo, as he tugs the torn dress down your torso, and you tilt your hips up to let him get it totally off.

You watch his eyes roam over your body, a pleased smile on his face. It takes him a few seconds to locate the ink on your hip.

He blinks, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, tilting his head, eyebrows draw together before he looks up at you in surprise.

“Is this real?” He questions, glancing down once more to trace his thumb along the edges.

It’s right at the front, over your hip joint, about the approximate size of your hand.

It’s the same snake that’s on his shoulder, except this time its fangs aren’t bared, its serpentine body is wrapped around the stem of a rose.

You know what you wanted it to mean, that he owns you, in every dark possessive way he wanted. This was you, allowing yourself to be wrapped up in him, for better or for worse.

It was a sign, that you would always love him, no matter what.

His eyes are filled with tears once more when he looks up at you, a shy smile graces your features as his dark eyes consume you.

His jaw tightens, as he rises, and goes from staring up to looking down.

Desire sparks once more in the deepest parts of you, his darkness is like an aphrodisiac, it makes you want to be very good for him.

“Get naked,” He hums, “Lie back on the bed.”

You tug the straps of your bra down frantically, and then your panties are tossed in his direction when you get them off.

When you settle, he presses his palms to the bed, crawling toward you, fingers gripping around your right ankle to bring it up to his face.

He kisses the inside of your ankle, beard scratching along your skin as he works his way up. His other hand finds your pussy, your mouth dropping open as he rubs his open palm messily over your cunt, his thumb swiping over your clit swiftly.

“Mine.” He finally whispers into your inner thigh, “You’re all mine.”

His words make you rut your hips into his messy palm.

He draws his palm away and you whine, breath stuttering when he brings his hand up to your face, hovering right above your nose.

“Taste us.” He says in a low tone that warns you not to question him. You huff, running your tongue along his palm, humming as you catch remnants of his cum and your arousal on his hand.

When you’re sure his palm is clean, you feel him drag his thumb over your lips, a deep concentration in his eyes, as though he’s trying to stop himself from doing something.

When his fingers go around your throat, cutting off your gasp with a squeeze, you finally begin to get a hint of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Tap me on the shoulder if it’s too much.” He murmurs with absolutely zero explanation, your eyes widening and he leans in, and you feel his hard cock pressing into you in the next moment.

You groan, the sound muffled by his hand on your throat, his cum from earlier making it so perfectly easy to slide right into you.

You feel your body relaxing to accept him, the head of his cock touching your cervix in a way that makes you see stars, your breathing sharp and shallow while he grips your throat.

He begins with a rough pace, that only gets rougher as time goes on, grunting and moaning into your ear, whispering on shaky breaths every version of how good your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

You wish you could respond to him, or even articulate a thought, but you can actually feel any semblance of thinking leave your head with each move of his body on yours.

Chest to chest, he gives you a delirious smile when he sees the tears of bliss slipping from your eyes, the grip on your throat eases, but doesn't relent.

“Were you hoping to see me react like this, little wife?” He leans in, licking at your tears, “Is this what you fucking wanted?”

You gasp, nodding violently.

His skin slaps loudly against yours with how forceful his thrusts are, and you begin sobbing, begging him to never stop.

“Stop? No, sweetheart,” He withdraws from you, for only long enough to flip you over, tucking a pillow under your hips, leaning over you till you can feel his front pressed to your back.

“I'm not fucking stopping.” He whispers sweetly right before he enters you again.

Your moan is almost a shout, the way he feels so much bigger, and even more unrelenting in this position.

It doesn't take long before you're mewling out a warning that you're close to orgasm.

“Take every inch of my cock.” He grunts, speeding up the force of his thrusts until you feel like your body is about to supernova.

“I'm gonna keep you like this, nice and full of my cock until you beg me to stop.” He chuckles breathlessly over you, “Forever, little wife.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, your body stiffening as you cry out, before your orgasm slams into you, making you tremble violently as you come.

“That's it- oh fuck you're squeezing me so tight-” He groans, and while you come apart around him, you feel his movements stutter as he releases inside you once more.

You're still trembling as he pulls out of you, collapsing into the sheets as your body aches in sweet bliss. Billy grabs the pillow, tossing it behind him so that he can pull you into him.

You curl against his body happily, resting your head on his bicep, barely able to keep your eyes open but wanting desperately to be reminded of the things you've been missing when he wasn't around.

“I love you.” You sigh, the emotion building too much in your chest to be left unsaid.

He pauses his act of pulling a thin sheet over your bodies to look at you. Tilting his head he smiles softly, before cupping your jaw.

His kiss is deliciously slow, your heart fluttering softly in your chest at the sensation of his slow passion.

He breathes out a sigh, rubbing the length of his nose against yours.

“Fuck. There aren’t words.” He hums to himself for a second, “Hold on let me think of some.”

You smile, opening your eyes when he raises his head a little, deep in thought, your eyes find their way to the beautiful snake inked onto his perfect skin.

“You don’t have to,” You whisper, “...Find the words I mean.”

“I really do, I need you to understand how much you mean to me.”

“I know.” You protest softly, pressing your palm to his face, moving over his jaw, and down his neck.

He blinks, looking down at you.

“I want to feel your body crushed next to mine in the morning when I wake up. I want to memorise the colour of your eyes in the darkness before I fall asleep.”

He pauses, his eyebrows drawing together as he searches the deepest parts of his brain for the right words.

“I want you to reach out and touch me anytime you want, because when you do, you remind me that there’s a person out there that sees me- all of me- and you’re not scared of it.”

You take a slow breath, trying not to disrupt his thoughts, desperate, hanging on to his every word.

“I’ve spent my entire life trying to be worth something, to convince people that I belonged wherever I was, but I never really believed it… until I met you.”

He finally meets your gaze, tilting his head, giving you a small smile.

“I don’t just love you. It’s more than that. You’re my reason. You’re why I breathe.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, an ache in your chest as you look into his eyes.

You say his name softly, fingers tangling in his hair as you coax his mouth down to yours.

He groans into it, cupping your jaw to tilt your chin higher.

“My wife.” He whispers into your mouth, before he kisses you again and again.

You grin.

“My husband.” You reply.

“What’s taking you so long?” You call from your spot in the warm bath, glancing at the open door, trying to catch any sight of Billy moving around.

“Patience, wife, I’m just getting something.” He calls back.

“Get it faster,” You whine, “I miss you.”

He steps into your line of sight, grinning at you as he raises one of those fancy water bottles in explanation.

You almost want to ask, but you assume he’s bringing water and not wine because of the copious amounts that ‘Dave’ has seen you drink in the last week.

He places the water on the ledge beside you, before kicking his boxers down his legs. You lean forward, allowing him to slide in right behind you, smiling when he grips your hips to pull you into his lap in the warm water.

“I remember our first bath.” He teases, bringing a hand up between your breasts just like the first time, to wrap his slender fingers around your throat.

“What was it I said? Nothing feels more right than this.”

You laugh, closing your eyes, settling against him.

“I have something for you.” He murmurs, and you open your eyes, turning your head to look up at him, thinking about all the possibilities and zeroing in on the most probable.

You can’t help your grin, raising your left hand out of the water expectantly.

Billy blinks in surprise, before he chuckles, reaching to pick up something on the ledge beside him, before he slides it onto your finger.

“You might know me a little too well.” He acknowledges, as you watch your wedding ring glint under all the suds clinging to your hand.

You link your left hand with his right, letting it settle under the water as you relax into him once more, a small kiss to your head.

“If there was anywhere else in the world you wanted to be right now… where would it be?” Billy asks after a few moments, his voice is low and calm, as at ease as you feel.

The corner of your mouth ticks up in mischief.

“I would be… hmm… in a cozy little cabin in the snowy woods.”

He hums, amused.

“All by yourself?”

“No, I have my bodyguard, Dave with me.”

It’s not an answer he was expecting.

“Dave?” Billy asks with an incredulous tone.

You giggle.

“Yeah, it’s cold, and I want to get cozy, and I sort of annoy my bodyguard Dave by making him do things for me because I’m not the best at keeping tabs of everything, so I boss him around a lot, the poor guy.”

“I’m sure Dave likes being bossed around by you.” Billy thinks aloud, playing along.

You nod.

“Yeah, but I’m especially bossy this time, and the snow gets worse, and I make the mistake of drinking a little too much alcohol because it makes me feel so warm.”

You can almost feel the air supercharge with electricity when Billy realises where this is going.

“Definitely, a poor choice, princess.” He murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You clench around nothing, trying to stay perfectly still.

Nodding, you continue talking as if nothing is wrong, “Dave would probably be so angry, having to take care of me, I doubt that’s even his job.”

“On the contrary,” Billy interjects, “His job is to protect you, even if that’s from yourself. If you push him enough, there’s no telling what he might do- or how he might go about teaching you discipline.”

A low moan of delight leaves your throat, you find your hips rolling in need, desperate for friction.

“He’d probably pull my clothes off, so he could touch every part of me, cuffing my hands behind my back-” You shudder when Billy’s fingers find your clit, rubbing generously at the aching spot under the warm water.

“He’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk, mark your pretty skin so that you knew, deep down, who’s really in charge.” Billy raises his other hand to pluck gently at your stiff nipples.

You grin, nodding.

“And then, when I’m nice and full and dripping with his cum, he takes a few pictures so that he can tease me about them later.”

“That’s quite a dream, little wife.”

You smile, turning your head to kiss the column of his neck.

“No rush, we’ll take our time working up to that.”

He kisses the top of your head.

“Of course.”

You shift your hips, feeling his stiff erection under you- telling you exactly how he felt about your pretend scenario.

There were so many things you wanted to do with him, and you couldn’t wait, the prospect of a lifetime with Billy Russo made you happier than you could imagine. Even better, the knowledge that he was just as content with you, as you were with him, made all of the hardships of the past, present and future seem absolutely worth it.

Because when it really came down to it, you were together now, and it didn’t matter how it started, whether it was accidentally,

Or on purpose.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #dark!billy russo

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