#not exactly the right decade i know but it was stuck in my head

[capcollector]

“why do people call him danse? he doesn’t look like he moves that good.”

[crazy-pages]

I'm going to throw my two cents in to the conversation about why James Somerton didn't get caught earlier. Part of the answer is of course that he did get caught, he just bullied and lied to get away with it for a while, but I know a lot of people still express confusion. And of course he went out of his way to make sure his audience didn't know about other queer history sources other than himself. But still. How could he have so many viewers of his videos and none of them had seen X source material?

Well. To be blunt, most of his videos were pretty basic. He tended to copy the highlights of what he was plagiarizing, not the really advanced stuff. And insofar as he copied the advanced stuff, he had a tendency to chop it up and serve it out of context alongside other plagiarized work. The material he was presenting was revolutionary to an audience unfamiliar with queer history, but like. I'm guessing 'Disney villains are queer coded' is not exactly a new concept to the kind of people who read multiple books about queer coding in film.

Now I'm not a film studies person, I'm a physicist. But you know what I do when I get a video in my YouTube recommendations about some fairly basic physics concept?

I skip it. No shade to the creator, but like. I hit that topic a decade ago and I've added literally thousands of hours of studying and research to my brain since. I'm just going to give it a pass, all right?

These kinds of videos self-select for an audience which isn't going to be familiar with the source material. The people who know it are unlikely to keep listening after the first minute or so.

And you've got to remember how much of this content the experts have consumed! With very few exceptions for weird little things that stuck in my head after all these years, I would probably not notice a physics explanation plagiarized from one of my textbooks! Not because I wasn't intimately acquainted with the textbook, but because I was intimately acquainted with many such textbooks. Spend enough time learning this stuff and it all blurs together a little bit. Does this explanation sound familiar because you've heard it before, or because you've just read books which cover this specific topic seven different times? And does that wording or that example ring a bell because it's plagiarized, or because it's common to the field?

Catching this kind of plagiarism requires having the kind of people who are already familiar with these sources, and therefore uninterested in video summaries on the topic, to watch the video. And among those people who do, it requires them to match Somerton's words to one specific source on the topic out of many, that they probably read quite some time ago. And then you have the filter of how many of those subject matter experts have the source on hand to check, to turn a vague "...hmm" into something solid.

If you know enough about queer history to say that some of his plagiarism was obvious, now that you've watched the video, then you should remember that there is a reason you probably weren't one of the people watching his videos! And because YouTube promotes videos through algorithmic engagement, none of this stuff has to pass the sniff test for any other expert in the field before it gets released. No experts have to like it for it to get published or for it to get good reviews or for it to get a recommendation in, I don't know, the New York Times.

The only people who have to like the videos for them to get traction are people who are just trying to learn introductory queer history and film theory. The exact people who aren't going to notice this. And for those of you who to whom it is obvious, ask yourself. When was the last time you watched a basic level queer history introduction on YouTube?

[azrielbrainrot]

I'll Be Here

Pairing: Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue.

Word Count: 3605

Warnings: None

Notes: I had this stuck in my head and decided to just write it down. I'm not really a writer so bear with me please. Hope you enjoy!

Healer!Reader Masterlist

It's hard to keep an eye on how much wine you drink when the glasses get refilled magically. You've heard that this house has a consciousness of its own. Maybe it can sense your growing anxiety and keeps filling your glass in hopes of helping ease your mind a little. The more you drink the more worried you get, the thought that getting too drunk will only put you at a higher risk of embarrassing yourself having infiltrated your brain and pushed all the rational thoughts out. Big gatherings aren't exactly your cup of tea and the fact that this one was personally hosted by your High Lord didn't exactly help ease your nerves.

You've visited the House of Wind before but always as a part of your duties. Though it was because of your duties you were invited to this dinner so maybe you could add this attendance as part of your job. The High Lord and High Lady decided to invite notable people in Velaris for a night of celebrating the thriving city. After losing its High Lord for decades and the war that followed his release, Velaris went through some tough times but with the help of its people - most of them gathered in this space tonight - the city was once again prospering.

As a healer you usually see the High Lord and his Inner Circle in a state of emergency, when your abilities are needed and there's usually no time for formalities or worries. Every time you encounter them outside of those situations you never know what to make of yourself. You wouldn't say you're completely inept at social situations but you're definitely a lot better at handling them when they involve your patients and you have a job to do, something more important to focus on than choosing the right thing to say.

Your relationship with the Inner Circle is professional albeit friendly. It's hard not to feel your heart warming at the cupcakes the General insisted on buying you for helping heal his wings even after explaining that you actually only helped on his recovery process. Every time he drops by the clinic to pick up any herbs or ointments he insists on buying you one - though you suspect it's also an excuse to get one for himself - and when you see him out and about he demonstrates how healthy his wings are, having done it just before dinner when he was in charge of flying you up to the house. The painting the High Lady personally painted for you, as an acknowledgement of your efforts during the war, hangs right behind your desk in your office at the clinic and is one of your most important possessions.

This would be the kind of relationship anyone would kill to have with their employees - friendly acquaintances. But, since you were there for some of their most intimate moments and helped them through them, you never know how to act when you're not doing your job. You can't exactly call them your friends, even putting the fact that is your High Lord and High Lady aside, outside of work you only exchange some pleasantries whenever you bump into them. However there's too much knowledge for you to act completely professional after decades of nursing them and their family back to health. It feels awkward to shake their hands when they have hugged you with tears in their eyes, thanking you for saving their family.

There's also the tiny detail of the crush you've harbored on the resident shadowsinger ever since you first laid eyes on him. On top of trying to walk the line between friends and strangers with everyone else, you also have to be careful with not letting the observant Spymaster find out about the beat your heart skips when you see him. Making things awkward because of a silly crush is the last thing you need.

It's that reminder and the monumental effort you have to make not to let your eyes search for him that has you finally sneaking out of the room, deciding to find a quiet place to sober up. The House had fed you too much wine, and you still had to be flown back down at the end of the night. You'd really hate to throw up on Cassian's fancy suit. He probably wouldn't buy you cupcakes ever again.

You remember some of your surroundings after decades of being called in for emergencies, quickly finding one of the huge balconies overlooking the city. The fresh air grounds you almost immediately. You can still hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing party but the quietness of the mountain lets you get lost in thought. As much as you enjoy the liveliness of the nightlife in Velaris, you infinitely prefer the quietness and freedom only the woods or mountains at night can provide. When it's only you, the moon and the stars, and the world stops.

You don't know how long you sit there for, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance, wondering why your healing abilities work on some forms of poison but not on sobering you up. Your head only comes back to earth when you hear a familiar voice calling out your name behind you. You turn around fast enough to make you a bit dizzy, leaning back against the railing with wide eyes.

“Didn't mean to scare you,” the shadowsinger explained, “I just noticed you were gone from the room.” You spot the way he's bringing his wings closer to his body, making himself smaller, if that were even possible. Azriel made you feel a lot of things but you hadn't felt scared of him in decades, ever since the first time you met him. If you hadn't been already tipsy and distracted thinking about him you wouldn't have reacted so dramatically.

Realizing the spymaster of this court had just found you wandering around his house unattended, you rush to apologize and give him an explanation.

“I'm sorry. I needed some fresh air and remembered there was a balcony around here. I shouldn't have left the party without permission.” You make to move back, showing you were ready to go back to the party but he raises a hand and takes a step closer to you, stopping you before you can.

“You're not a stranger to this house. No need for permission,” he took another tentative step towards you before continuing, “Do you feel better now?” You relax back against the railing, your heart beating fast for a whole different reason now. It's not often you get to see Azriel out of his leathers and you barely had a chance to see him up close tonight, he looks mesmerizing.

“What?” Maybe you didn't sober up as much as you thought. Maybe being this close to Azriel was just an intoxicating experience in itself. Either way your brain was having a hard time catching up to his words and your chest was starting to feel warm.

“You said you needed some fresh air.” There's a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. Probably realizing that you weren't actually going to be sick. His shadows peak behind his shoulders, following their master as they usually do.

“Yes. It was just getting a bit stuffy in there.” Aside from the butterflies creating a hurricane in your stomach, talking to Azriel feels right. His calm demeanor lets your thoughts quiet. “I might have drank too much because of the nerves.”

The Shadowsinger moves until he's leaning against the railing next to you. His eyes wander the illuminated city slowly before meeting yours. Stretched wings hang in what you assume is a less straining position after having to be pulled tighter into his body in the crowded room. Shadows start rolling off his shoulders, now lazing around him instead of covering him. The soft wind moves his hair ever so slightly, letting a few strands curl around his forehead and giving him an almost boyish look. It's not often you see the spymaster appear relaxed. You decide it might be your favorite look on him.

“Nerves?” Your eyes search his face once again after hearing the confusion in his voice. Azriel has a permanent seat at the High Lord's table not only as the Night Court's Spymaster but also as someone Rhysand considers family. This night isn't so different from every other dinner he shares with his family, just more crowded.

“I've never been to this house outside of my duties. It's a bit nerve-wracking to be personally invited by the High Lord.” As you finish speaking one of his shadows curls around his ear. You've learned they do this when they're speaking to him. The thought of it being about you has your heart speeding up. Only the Mother knows just how much those shadows can see and hear, if they can hear your thoughts. You check your mental shields just in case. They can be as terrifying as they are beautiful.

“Rhys and Feyre couldn't have thrown a party celebrating the strength and courage the people of Velaris have shown without one of our best healers. You've helped more people than we could ever thank you for.” The warmth you felt in your chest before was now spreading up your neck at an alarming rate. You had just been doing your job but being recognized for it felt incredibly rewarding. The fact that this praise came from the shadowsinger was making you especially giddy. “Rhys invited you because you're very important to this court, to us.”

“I am?” The question comes out before your brain has a chance to catch up. You try not to cringe at the surprise in your tone. It's not that you're not aware of your capabilities, the High Lord and High Lady either call for you or for Madja, one of the most powerful and wise healers you have ever seen. But old insecurities will always show their claws, indifferent to your achievements. To think that you could be important to all these extremely powerful people seemed like the punchline to a joke.

“Of course.” His body turns to you ever so slightly. Fingers uncurl as if he wanted to reach out, comfort you. “None of us would be here in good health if it wasn't for you, maybe not at all. You've helped us more times than I can count.”

“I was just doing my job. And I can't take credit for Madja, I'm usually just assisting her.”

“Even so, you've helped us through a lot.” He sounded very sincere, there was no denying he meant every word, but you still have a hard time believing it.

“I just don't think I really fit in here,” you whispered so low that if it wasn't for his fae hearing he wouldn't have been able to make out the words. The admission felt heavy in the air, it felt good to let it out. You hadn't been this honest with anyone, perhaps even yourself, in decades, you must have drank way more wine than you initially thought.

You weren't born in Velaris, but you've lived here for a century. The problem is you've spent the better part of that century waiting on feeling like you finally belonged. You never felt at home in your own court or in your family so it might have been wishful thinking that it would happen here.

“I think like that sometimes too.” As baffled as you were to hear that coming from him, he looked even more surprised than you. It seems he hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the words couldn't be taken back now.

“That's insane,” you try to level your voice after the outburst, "You're part of this family. Why wouldn't you fit in?” You couldn't let him think like that, there was no doubt in your mind everyone here loved and cherished him like family.

Rhysand's inner circle was known for how close they were, they were seen as the High Lord's family regardless of if they were blood related or not. Azriel has always been calmer and you know he likes to keep to himself but you never thought he looked out of place for a second. It's hard to imagine Rhysand and Cassian without his brother.

His eyes were trained on the city under you. His shadows had come back to him, almost covering him completely. Azriel was quiet for a while, long enough you thought he wouldn't even give you an answer. But then you feel a shield form around you, lest someone wanders in and hears his next words.

“Sometimes things and people change while you stay stuck in the same place,” his eyes meet yours as he talks and you search his expression for the rest of the story you know he won't tell. If there's one thing you hate about the shadowsinger is his ability to mask his emotions. His face was the perfect stoic mask as always.

It's not hard to understand what he meant. In less than a decade the inner circle almost doubled and some of the dynamics had likely changed with it. His brothers have found their mates, something every fae dreams of, and he was the odd one out. Even the Morrigan and Amren had found lovers in recent years.

You had heard some rumors he had taken a liking to the middle Archeron sister after pining for the lovely Morrigan for centuries, but she had also found her mate. Not even his methods of interrogation could make you admit you were avoiding the entire inner circle during that time. The hope you had felt upon realizing he wasn't looking at Morrigan like she hung all the stars in the sky was short lived and it only made you feel pathetic. You didn't understand why it had affected you so much. This was just a silly crush after all, you had never considered actually pursuing a relationship with the shadowsinger.

“I still don't understand how Amren got a lover before you.” You had meant to clear the heavy air between you but why your brain decided to use the millennia old creature to do so was beyond you. “I mean she's just…” you continue, startled by your own words, praying to the Mother that the shield he put up stopped Amren from hearing you, “Well, she's fae now but wasn't before and is still mildly terrifying, even after the transition, and you're so-” Wide eyes meet hazel and nothing could ever prepare you for the look on his face. The amusement shone bright in his eyes and in the teasing grin he wore. Just when you thought the shadowsinger couldn't get any more beautiful.

“I'm so?” He tilts his head a little as he asks the question. His shadows start almost dancing around him, like they can't wait to hear your thoughts on their singer. You clear your throat before continuing, trying to salvage some of your dignity.

“You're the Spymaster, the only known Shadowsinger. That's incredible, anyone would be lucky to have you.” Something flashes in his eyes and your mouth starts back up at the thought that it could be disappointment at the impersonal description. Azriel is much more than his role in this court and you can't let him think that's all you see in him.

“You're also one of the kindest people I've ever met. I've seen you worry over every single person in that room, putting their needs over your own even when you're also injured. You always keep your composure for them and give them your support. I've seen you around Velaris too, you're always respectful to everyone, even when they're a bit scared of you.” Eyes drag themselves back to the shiny stars in the night so you can keep going without wanting to jump off the balcony and making an even bigger fool of yourself. “Even as far as looks go... I would bet my house that if we walked down any of these streets we wouldn't find anyone that doesn't think you're stupidly handsome.”

“Stupidly handsome?” The amusement was dripping down his voice at this point. The smile was unmistakable in his tone and you couldn't hold yourself back from watching him any longer. You feel yourself relax at the grin plastered on his face. It isn't often that the shadowsinger shows any emotion at all, and you can't help the pride in knowing you put that gorgeous smile on his face, especially after the somber turn the conversation had taken earlier. You continue despite the warmth you feel in your ears, you'd compliment him for hours if it meant he wouldn't feel sad ever again.

“I've actually heard someone use those exact words to describe you.” You've thought it to be the most accurate description of the immense beauty the shadowsinger radiates ever since you heard the barista use it. Apparently she hadn't been born in Velaris and had taken up the job only a few days prior to serving the illyrian. She had barely held the compliment down long enough for Azriel to exit the building, shooting up into the sky. A few fae present couldn't contain the laugh at the fervent appreciation of the shadowsinger, but the air of agreement shared by everyone was unmistakable.

“I'll have to let my mom know,” there was laughter in his tone, “I'm sure she will be very proud that her son is receiving such compliments.” You hadn't known his mother was still alive which makes you think it's meant to be kept secret. You almost curse at the way your heart flutters. Stupid crushes.

“I'm sure she is very proud of you regardless.” He doesn't give away any hint of what might be going through his brain and it leaves you in a slight panicked fear of overstepping or having said the wrong thing. You could swear you saw a glint of disbelief but it was gone too fast for you to be sure. The idea that the Spymaster couldn't see his own mother being proud of him was ludicrous to you.

The nod he gives you doesn't give any of his thoughts away, but his shadows keep moving slowly around the balcony, never rushing to cover him.

“Why are you single then?” You know he's changing the subject but you don't have time to consider that when you realize it's your turn to answer the questions.

“Me?” You barely register the slight nod he gives to show you he's expecting an answer. If you had shadows of your own they would have wrapped around you like a blanket until only the top of your hair was peaking out. “How do you know I am? Are you using your spies on me, Spymaster?”

“I have to be well informed of what happens in this city,” he searches your face just like you did to him, “And as the spymaster I'm more than familiar with deflection. You don't have to answer my question. Tell me if I'm overstepping”

“No. It's-” you cringe, trying to find the right words. “I just never found anyone special I guess.” Even talking about this with him has your heart swelling in your chest and you pray to the mother he can't pick up on any changes in your heartbeat. You've been avoiding this conversation with family and friends, but despite all this you know Azriel will understand and won't make fun of your feelings. It feels safe talking to him. “I get really busy sometimes so it's hard to keep up a proper relationship, even with friendships. Sometimes people need more time than what I can give them.” You try not to think of all the times you didn't measure up to other people's expectations, when they didn't see you as enough for the trouble.

“They're idiots for letting you go.” You don't know if he's being polite in not mentioning how your heart keeps speeding up or if he thinks you're drunker than you are, but you thank every deity you can think of that he doesn't say anything.

“Some things just aren't meant to be.” You hope he doesn't insist on this conversation. There isn't much else to say and you'd rather not keep talking about how many times you'd gotten dumped. You consider pointing out he never gave you a reason for being single and that he was the one actually deflecting, but you don't want to push what clearly isn't an easy topic for him to discuss either. You suspect Azriel barely opens up with anyone, so you'll just treasure the brief look into his heart he allowed you before.

The rest of your night is spent with the shadowsinger, sitting in that balcony, watching the stars and talking about anything. The next day you'll sit in bed mortified, thinking about how you were doing most of the talking while he listened, but he had seemed content enough so you couldn't have been too annoying. When the party ended you had said your goodbyes to your hosts, without the previous nerves after your conversation with the shadowsinger. Feyre had even asked you if you were alright because she also noticed you leaving in the middle of the party, though something about the glint in her eyes told you she had gotten the wrong idea. Then Azriel had flown you down the steps and winnowed you to your front door - even though you could do it yourself. Maybe you'd have to rethink calling the inner circle your friends.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 5

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, PTSD, violence, mentally unstable Soldier Boy, anger issues, Soldier Boy hates everyone, Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 3032

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Present, 2022

Butcher grinned and added, “Lift your asses up, boys. We're heading to Russia. Let's see what's being hidden there that could kill.. Cuntlander.”

Butcher had been looking for any other way to terminate Homelander and was working hard to get the chance to succeed. Butcher's past was clear after everything that transpired with Stormfront, but he didn't like the quiet. He still had unfinished business with Homelander. He was willing to take a chance and find a way out, but he wasn't sure if his plan would work out well. He would fuck around and find out.

It wasn't challenging to enter the Russian basement with Temp V on his body and the boys around. When they stood near the well-guarded metal object that concealed the potential end of Homeland, they took extreme caution. They all were aware of that was their final shot. Butcher didn’t know what could he done more to end Homelander.

Kimiko and Frenchie retreated a step as Butcher approached and removed the metal object's door with ease. Frenchie's gun-wielding fingers clenched, and Kimiko attempted to peek inside the box. As the strong smoke began to reduce, MM's eyes grew wide with horror, his heart paced with distress. Butcher leaned forward and muttered, “Soldier Boy.”

Ben removed the handcuffs and the object from his face with ease as his senses began to awaken. His legs felt like jelly, and he was holding on to the metal object he was in. He couldn’t see a shit at first; everything was blurry as fuck. When he began to realize the real gravity of what was happening, he understood that he was completely naked. He was being watched intently by a few people around him. He blinked in confusion, sensing immense power beneath his chest. His muscles began to tense with fury.

“It’s okay,” one of them said with a calm voice.

That fucking calm voice, Ben thought. It was the same tone as the fucking scientists who tortured and poisioned him for years, like they were studying a fucking little rat. They were all going to pay for what they did to him.

Ben experienced an immediate increase in warmth and energy in his chest. As he exploded, he let out a painful shout and felt a wave of relief afterwards. Fuck, he thought. What the fuck was that? What they have done to him? He was aware that he had to leave the region as soon as possible. He needed to get out from the lab as quickly as he could before they caught them again.

Ben then remembered you. He was informed that Vought had punished you for treason by shipping you to Russia in a metal box where you would be subjected to the same smoke that he had breathed for decades. You were nowhere to be found, even though he tried his hardest to locate and rescue you. When he realized that fucking Crimson Countess had betrayed him, it was too fucking late. She would be the first to die.

He would track them down and rip their limbs off for their betrayal. Stan Edgar would be the fucking second among them, if he was still alive. He had to find you first, though. He didn’t know what exactly happened to you. He didn’t want to think the possiblity of your betrayal. Ben had done unforgottable things to you, hurt your heart pretty bad, after all. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Ben stuck into an airport after he stole some clothes and illegally boarded a passenger plane bound for America, New York. It was the city that he had known you had been last time he remembered. However, he got confused seeing huge buildings and crowd. The city was nothing like he remembered at all; there was huge screen around, everywhere. Ben paused for a moment and thought what he should do. Everything he knew had changed and he didn’t feel like fit in there.

A nearby location played Russian music on the radio that Ben heard as he wandered down Manhattan's street. He recalled all of the torture and shit he had endured over the years. Back in Russia, he experienced the same overwhelming sensation in his chest. He struggled to control this new power without drawing attention to himself or doing any harm, but the terrible memories overpowered him so much that he was unable to control it and let out a loud groan as he exploded.

“Oh fuck,” Ben whispered when he opened his eyes. Maybe he needed to find Legend first to make a start somewhere before he exploded the whole country. Fuck, he needed you.

Butcher and MM were too late when they arrived in New York, where Soldier Boy exploded. Their eyes widened with shock, seeing the entire building burn out. There were at least ten corpses around the building. It was a big fucking mess. Butcher’s chest overwhelmed with remorse. He was the one to free Soldier Boy after all. But there were no place for soft heart at that moment.

“Where could he have fucking gone?” Butcher murmered as he wandered around, overwhelmed by the chaos in the street and hearing cryings. He wasn’t sure at this point if Soldier Boy was really controllable or not.

“Who else lives in this city?” MM said, raising his eyebrows. “Think about it.”

Butcher’s eyes widened with excitement, and he said, “Legend.”

Legend was drinking his visky in joy when Butcher, MM, and Hughie knocked on his door out of the blue. He resisted letting them in after seeing Butcher among them, but he eventually gave up and invited them in.

“I swear on my kids,” Legend said, raising both hands up. “I haven’t seen Soldier Boy.”

“You hate your kids.”

“Well, you’d hate them too if they were your kids,” said Legend with an irritated voice.

“Fuck, stop being stubborn. Nothing will happen to you. I give you my word,” MM said, trying his best to convince him to talk. Butcher’s patience was also growing thin.

“Your word? He gave his word too once. I fucking lost my leg.” Legend snapped suddenly, showing off his prosthetic leg and waving it on the air.

“You’ll have to order another one if you keep talking like that old man,” said Butcher, getting up from his couch.

“Let’s calm down,” said Hughie. He got anxious because of the heat of the moment, but nobody gave a damn about him at all, so remained silent.

Legend sighed as he kept sipping his visky, and he murmered “I thought I'd seen a ghost. Fuck, he never aged a day, despite his long, odd beard. He just took his suit, nothing more.”

MM and Butcher exchanged a look.

“It seems like he demanded something,” Butcher stated, casting Legend a wary glance.

“Well, he requested the address of the Crimson Countess. I don't know, but he appeared quite furious. I don't expect to have an enjoyable visit.”

Ben learnt that Countess had been living in a trailer before he arrived. Thankfully, it was very easy to locate the bitch. His heart filled with anger seeing she lived her life while we was burn and tortured for decades. Before he entered the trailer, Ben had seen the same cocksucker back in Russia. His eyes narrowed in confusion. He had a very punchable face.

“You’re the same asshole in the lab,” Ben said with a questioning voice.

“Yeah. I am the asshole who let you out. Your lovey-dovey countess is inside the trailer. All yours. Consider it a good gesture of faith,” said Butcher giving him a sly glance.

“Good faith for what?” Ben asked in an arrogant voice, ignoring his little stupid comment about Countess. Ben didn’t even know that cocksucker, but he had a lot of things to do, and he didn’t have time for games. He couldn’t rely on anyone either.

“I was thinking, you and I might come to an arrangement, you know.”

Ben didn’t say a word as he walked by him and went inside the trailer.

“Ben?” Crimson called him with a shaky voice. Her hands were in chains, and she was looking at him with fear. The place she lived looked pathetic to his eyes. Ben’s heart was filled with immense hatred seeing her face after all those years. How could he even spend a minute with her? “You look so young.”

“You don’t.” Without letting her talk, he inhaled deeply and asked with a calm voice, “Why did you even sell me out? How much did Russians pay you?”

“I wasn’t paid,” Countess said, closing her eyes with shame and fear. She never thought this day would come.

“What?” Ben blinked his eyes in confusion.

“What did you thought would happen? Everyone hated you so fucking much,” she went on while she was looking at him with despise. “It wasn’t my idea, but I wish it was,” she said cruelly. Ben’s grip on his shield grew tighter as she spit hatred towards him.

You also warned him that Countess would be the first to betray him if he continued to behave as he used to. It felt like it had been a day ago when you had that talk, and it was painful to realize how correct you were. He bet you would die to see his face right now.

He didn’t care what she or others felt towards him at that moment, though.

“Where is Y/N?” he asked with a firm voice as he got closer.

With a sly smile, Crimson raised her eyebrows, saying, “How could I know this? But she’s most likely napping. Perhaps in China, perhaps in Russia, who knows.”

Every time she spoke, Ben's chest grew warmer, but he had to maintain his composure in order to get to know your location. “She was already off the team. What the fuck have they done to her? And Why?”

“If anything bad did happen to her, it was due to her own naivety,” Crimson snapped. “You were the only person they intended to capture, but they also wanted to ensure that no one would come to your rescue. She tried to save you, and that was a big mistake.”

With one quick motion, Ben grabbed her throat, his glowing chest continuing, he knew it was getting out of control, but he couldn’t stop it. “I asked you a fucking question, and you'll fucking answer me,” he repeated while still strangling her.

She was attempting desperately to free herself from his strong hold, but she remained helpless, his strenght was unmatchable. Ben continued to choke her and ask the same question, and she closed her eyes in misery.

“You’ll never know. You lost the only person who wanted to rescue you. Good luck with living with this,” Countess whispered with a weak voice. Not being able to control himself anymore, Ben exploded with an angry growl.

He walked out of the trailer with a heavy heart. He considered the awful experiences you may have had for decades because of him. Despite everything he had done to you, you still loved him and attempted to rescue him. However, all he gave you was pain and suffering. You may be in a container of metal or suffering from torture right now while he was free. Feeling his shield becoming heavier in his hands, he tried to process what was happening. He fucking had let you down. He has never felt so lost.

He didn't know where to look for you because he was unfamiliar with the modern world. Even if he was still the strongest supe, he didn't feel that way at that point in time. He knew he would never give up looking for you, even if he had no idea how to find you. There was nothing that could stop him.

Ben turned to face the cocksucker who had been following after his balls since yesterday after sensing that someone had been observing him.

“It seems that you require a place to stay, don't you? After all, you are currently the state's greatest enemy.” With an encouraging smile, Butcher added, “You need our help.” He was closely gauging Soldier Boy's facial reactions.

Ben nodded and followed him out to his car. Hughie and Butcher exchanged a look and both sighed with relief that Soldier Boy wasn't hostile or anything.

Ben was given a cheeseburger and anything he wanted, including cocaine, some pills, and a drink, by Butcher in the morning. Ben needed to be in business and in shape, and he needed his fucking energy back. 

Ben continued eating his hamburger and said, “So, what exactly in the world do you two fuckfaces fucking want from me?”

Hughie turned to face Soldier Boy's enormous shield and used all of his strength to try to raise it. It was so freaking heavy that even with his best efforts, he could not get it to move an inch.

Ben angrily commanded, “Hands of the fucking shield,” to which Hughie responded with a shy smile and a mumbled apology. 

“We will assist you in locating your former teammates who betrayed you,” Butcher stated bluntly as he settled into the seat. “so that you can take your revenge.”

Ben instantly dropped the hamburger and furrowed his brows in suspicion. “But how can you manage to track them down?”

With hesitation, Hughie walked up to Ben and smiled slightly, saying, “Internet, GPS, Google Maps—you can find anyone with those things.”

Ben’s heart paced with hope as the bottom-faced guy said strange words. They could find Crimson even before him, after all. Maybe finding you wouldn’t be so hard. He had no other choice after all.

“You made those words up,” Ben said, not sure if they were talking true shit or just trying to deceive him.

“Those words are real words.”

“The kid’s right,” Butcher said as he gave a sly smile to Ben. “We will find every single member of Payback, so you can have your revenge.”

“And what do you cocksuckers want in return?” Ben asked rudely.

“We just want you to add one single person to the list. The cunt’s name is ‘Homelander’”

“Alright,” Ben responded without raising any further concerns. He wouldn't bargain when it was your life he was talking about. He could easily kill one more jackass; he'd killed plenty already. “But who is he? I’ve seen his pictures.”

When Soldier Boy didn't even hesitate, Butcher and Hughie sighed with relief and were unable to control their big smiles.

“He’s the new you,” Butcher said with a smirk.

“No one’s the new me, pal,” Ben answered with pride and arrogance, but deep down, knowing he was betrayed by his own country and team, he couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. Nevertheless, he surpassed his feelings with a smile.

So, that was it. His nation used him in every operation, every war, and anything that required a supe, but they treated him like a worthless piece of trash in return, repaying him with disloyalty. Despite everything he had done for his nation, he was ignored and treated like a rat in a lab. He realized at this point that you were the one person who had never betrayed him and that you were the only one who would care about him. He made a promise to himself that he would make everyone pay for how they treated him and you, and he would make sure you and him would rule this modern world together.

“Let me to test you. What functions does your so-called internet offer?” Ben asked Hughie seriously, changing the subject.

“Alright. It can display images, films from all eras. You can even see the space through Internet,” Hughie answered, attempting to seem straightforward and sound simple like he was talking to a child so as not to confuse him. “You can learn everything from it. Billions of people are having their job done through Internet.”

Fuck, Ben thought. How the fuck he was supposed to save you through Internet thing? He was so fucking unfamiliar with that bullshit.

“Is there a way to see a photo of a Payback member?” Ben got up and asked. The excitement in his voice was obvious. 

“Absolutely. You can even find more information about them on several websites.”

Soldier Boy was watching very carefully when Hughie asked him the name he was interested in, and Hughie then showed him your images, saying “Here.”

Ben quickly grabbed Hughie's phone and gazed at your photo with a heavy heart. Fuck, he thought to himself. Undoubtedly, the term ‘internet’ was real and it fucking knew everything. He felt helpless at that point, since he had missed you so much. To find you, he would kill anybody those fuckers needed him to.

“I need to find her,” Ben whispered, showing your picture to both of them right to their eyes like they were blind or something. “If you help me find her, I’ll help you two fuckers kill that guy, Homelander. That’s the fucking deal.”

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N: Consider this chapter as a filler chapter. Sorry, if it is bad. I kinda didn’t like it personally, but here we are. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! ♡♡♡

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto  @yvonneeeee @starryperson    @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara   @boywivlove   @stilinskisthings

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! -`♡´-

[cjlouwho]

prompt: something where buck and tommy argue over gerrard. like, buck doesn't know how tommy could have been so passive, and tommy's like way over that version of himself or something. I know a lot of people don't want that to happen in the show, and I get it, but I'd like a fic version!

“I have never, in all my life, dealt with someone so- so... so evil!” Buck was pacing back and forth in Tommy's living room, just as he'd been for the last half hour since he arrived.

“Really, Evan? Never?”

“You don't understand, Tommy. Gerrard is, it's like he's targeting me, but not in a bad way.”

“There's a good way to be targeted?” Tommy asked from his spot on the couch.

Buck sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “It's like he- he wants us to be buddies, ya know? He thinks I'll be his puppy or something. H- He's treating everyone else like garbage except for me and it makes me feel really weird. He took me golfing, Tommy. Golfing.”

“You fit his ideal firefighter, Babe. He needs minions, he's gonna latch onto you.”

“What do you mean his ideal firefighter? What even is that?”

“White, strong, straight,” Tommy replied simply.

Buck raised an eyebrow. “What we did yesterday morning was very not straight.”

“Yeah, but does he know that?”

“Does he know what we did yesterday morning?”

Tommy tilted his head. “Evan.”

Finally, Buck plopped down on the couch, staring toward the blank TV. “I figured he knew after we went to the medal ceremony together.”

“It's not like we made out in front of the crowd. For all he knows, we're friends.”

Buck was silent for a moment. “I've never really talked about my personal life with him,” he admitted. “Didn't really want to. N- Not because I'm ashamed or anything,” he added quickly, looking at Tommy with wide eyes. “I'm not. I promise, I- I'm not ashamed.”

“I know, Evan.” Tommy reached over and gave Buck's hand a squeeze. “You're a very good ally.”

He glared at Tommy. “I'll never live that down, will I?”

“Nope.”

Buck grew quiet again, and Tommy was beginning to think the conversation was over.

Then Buck, barely above a whisper, said, “I don't want him to think we're just friends.”

“It's fine if he does,” Tommy replied. “I don't mind. Probably best that way, honestly.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. He turned more toward Tommy, his back leaning against the armrest. “What do you mean?”

Tommy contemplated his words before speaking. “Listen, I'm not telling you to be buddy-buddy with the guy. I definitely do not recommend that. I'm also not saying to turn a blind eye to all the crap he pulls. But, why make it harder on yourself?”

“Because it's living a lie, Tommy.”

“It's not lying if you just don't mention it.”

Buck huffed out a breath. “You want me to hide who I am? I distinctly remember that being the reason our first date ended so abruptly.”

Tommy let out a deep breath. “I'm not saying to hide, Evan. And that's not exactly the reason our date ended, you know that. I'm saying if there's been no reason to bring it up so far, why bring it up now? What he thinks about you doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid himself of the growing frustration. “So, what? You wanna walk into Gerrard's office and say 'Hey, I'm bisexual by the way. Also, I'm dating that Tommy guy you worked with years ago. You know, the one you made fun of when you saw him at the medal ceremony?' You really think that's the best thing to do?”

“It's better than being his puppet like y-” Buck cut himself off abruptly.

“Like me?” Tommy finished. “That's what you were gonna say, isn't it?”

“Tommy, I-”

“It's true,” he continued with a shrug. “I was his puppet. I did whatever he wanted me to do and I didn't question it. Even after he was going to let me die in that explosion, I still stuck by his side. I don't deny that part of my life, Evan.”

“I wasn't trying t-”

“You know I apologized for all of that well over a decade ago, right? I feel like I remember us talking about that.”

“W- We did.”

“And I would never want or expect you to be who I was. You know that?”

“I know, Tommy, I-”

“And I'd never ask you to hide yourself, because I did that too and-”

“If you'd let me finish a damn sentence,” Buck snapped.

Tommy stopped, stared at Buck with pursed lips. A silent go ahead.

“I don't- I didn't. I... Ugh, Tommy!”

A pause, then. “That's what you needed to let out?”

“God, you're being so annoying right now!” Buck could feel his body getting hot.

“No, I'm trying to stop you from getting needlessly harassed at work.”

“By essentially cutting off a part of myself every time I'm there!”

“Evan, if your sexuality hasn't come up by now I don't see a reason why it ever would! It's not cutting off a part of yourself, it's just existing!”

“But I- I'm getting special treatment because he doesn't think that part exists,” Buck tried to explain. “I don't want to be his right hand man, Tommy. That might've worked for you but it doesn't work for me.” The words came out harsher than he intended. He knew it was a low blow to bring up something from so long ago, something long dead and buried. But Tommy had made him upset, and he needed to make Tommy upset too.

Except Tommy didn't get upset. He got quiet.

Somehow, that was worse.

A tension so thick you could cut it with a knife filled the air.

After what felt like an eternity, Tommy stood, letting out a sigh. “I'll be back,” he said, beginning to walk out of the living room.

“What- Where are you going?” Buck nearly shot out of his seat. “Are you leaving?”

Tommy turned back to him. “First of all, my house,” he said, motioning around the room. “Second, I'm going into the kitchen to get a drink.”

“Well, I- do you want me to leave?”

“I didn't say that, Evan. I mean, I'm not gonna block the exit if you wanna go, but I prefer to finish the arguments I get involved in.”

Buck sat back down. “Then I'm staying.”

“Good. You want water or something?”

Buck folded his arms over his chest. “With ice.”

“Okay.”

A couple of minutes later, Tommy returned with two cups of water in his hand. He held Buck's out to him, Buck taking it with a low, “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” They both took a few sips, then Buck stared down at the ice in his cup until Tommy started talking again. “You're not wrong,” he said. “Being his right hand man did work for me for a long time. It's not something I'm proud of, and I don't make excuses for it, but I also don't really appreciate it being thrown up in my face.”

Buck set his glass on the coffee table. “That wasn't fair of me, I- I know that. I was just angry. I'm sorry.”

“I probably should have tried explaining myself a bit better,” Tommy replied. “I'm sorry too.” He set his own cup down, then held his arm out toward Buck. “Will you come here?”

Buck didn't hesitate to move into Tommy's space. He curled up next to him, resting his head on Tommy's chest while Tommy wrapped him in his arms. “I can't help wanting to protect you, Evan,” Tommy said, pressing a kiss to Buck's head. “I know you don't need it, and I know it's selfish, but the idea of you getting harassed by that man for any reason, it- it scares me. I have,” he let out a humorless laugh, “I have never been as brave as you. I still feel nauseous every time I see the guy. But I never want you to feel like I want you to hide yourself, or that I want you to be like me. That's not what I meant.”

Buck ran his hand slowly up and down Tommy's chest. “I know. I- I get it. I've never dealt with a Gerrard before, not directly. Didn't think I'd ever have to.”

Tommy hummed. He ran his fingers through Buck's hair. “I will back whatever decision you make,” he assured him. “Whether you tell him or you don't, I am right beside you. I never want you to think I'm not.”

Buck propped himself up enough to be able to look at Tommy. “I know you are,” he replied, bringing a hand to Tommy's face. He stroked his thumb along Tommy's cheek, then leaned up for a kiss. “That's why I love you.”

Tommy sucked in a breath. His heart began to race. They'd never said those words before. Honestly, Tommy had stopped himself a few times, figuring it was way too soon.

But, as always, Evan burst through every door Tommy had locked up in his mind.

“I love you too, Evan,” he replied, and he hoped Evan could feel just how much he meant those words.

But, in case he couldn't, Tommy pulled him in for another, deeper kiss. Holding him close and tight while he wished they could stay right here in this moment for the rest of their lives.

When they finally separated for some air, Buck sat up straighter. “I'm going to tell him,” he said without an ounce of fear or hesitation. “Maybe not the way you suggested, but I... I want him to know I'm yours, and your mine, and screw whatever he has to say about it.”

And God, if Tommy thought he couldn't love this man anymore than he already did, there went Evan proving him wrong.

He nodded. “Okay.” He brought Buck's hand to his lips, pressed a kiss against his knuckles. “I'm with you. I love you.”

Buck smiled, wrapping himself up in Tommy once again. “I love you more.”

[elvensorceress]

sunday snippet

I meant to have this fic done ages ago but it's now somehow three times as long as it was, I've rewritten it five times, and I'm still working on it 🫠 oh well. have a snippet from snickerdoodles.

@tizniz @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @kejfeblintz @smilingbuckley @sofa-king-lame @chaosandwolves @smilingbuckley @belasmalhotra @bekkachaos @blutterlie @sazanahashi @livinginsunnyhell @epicbuddieficrecs @sparklespiff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @dangerpronebuddie continued from Wednesday

Eddie tries again, but still sounds rough and hollowed out. “I don’t want to drag you down. Okay? You should move on and forget me and— and it’ll be better.”

Not so much for Eddie. He’s never let go of anything in his life. It’s all there hiding under the surface, stuffed in cages. But Buck should move on. Buck should survive him. 

Is this their only future? It feels like losing everything. Eddie is losing everything. He’s kidding himself if he thinks he hasn’t already lost Chris. What if Eddie doesn’t survive this time? What will happen to everyone he loves? Everyone who loves him?

Does anyone love him? Does he mean anything to anyone? Has he ever meant anything?

“Forget— I should forget you?” Buck snaps, his anger un-contained fire now, not just a hint of smoldering kindling. Vicious, spitting, sparking, living flames that will turn everything to ashes. 

Maybe they should actually fight and say awful things and then it would be easier to walk away. 

Eddie’s not sure he could even manage that right now. There’s nothing left in him. No fight, no fire. It’s all shattered, scattered pieces. But he would try. If Buck needs that. 

He might need that. He snaps again, “Like you’re a pair of socks that disappeared in the laundry? Or something I meant to pick up at the store and spaced? Like it’s easy? Like you’re nothing? Like this? Us? You and me? Means nothing?”

Okay, when he puts it that way… it sounds dumb. But how else can Eddie stop hurting him? “No,” Eddie says. Not fiery, not loud, not anything. “No. Just. Something that doesn’t—”

“You're my best friend. You— you’re— I’ll let you go. Okay. Whatever. I’ll do that because I know you and I know you need Chris and I get it. I wouldn’t want you to do anything but love him exactly the way you do. But I won’t, will not and can not pretend that you aren’t my best friend and my partner and the person I love more than anything. All right? I’m not going to do that. I’ve spend years—literal— almost a whole decade of years loving you more than anything. I’m not going to just forget that or forget you. I’m not throwing that way. I’m not ever going to lie and say otherwise. This is not a ‘move on and grow out of it’ scenario. I love you more than anything in the world. Okay? You told me I wasn’t expendable and I had to deal with that so you have to deal with this. You mean everything to me and I love you, and that isn’t going to change even when you leave.”

“—hurt you,” Eddie finishes. It doesn’t really sound finished now. He says it because he was already saying it. 

But that the fuck does he say now? 

Eddie doesn’t usually think of himself as small, quiet, or fragile. But he feels like that now. His feeble words sound like it even in his own ears. Small. Inconsequential. Torn apart.

Buck steps back toward him. Not enough that they’re touching, but enough that they’re closer. “Hurt me. Drag me down. I don’t care.”

Eddie recoils. No. No, he hates that idea. He is not doing that. Not intentionally. Not. What the fuck. 

He knows he said the words. He said them because his mother said them and they stuck and haven’t left his head or his heart and it’s all he does. Ruin people he loves. 

Buck shakes his head. “Be in the way. Burden me. Share whatever weight you’re carrying. Be something that stays even if you’re not here. Be part of my life even if it hurts. I don’t care if it hurts, I need you to be something to me. Having nothing of you would be a hundred, thousand, million times worse. I am in this with you. I always have been. Don’t shut me out just to spare me. If you’re facing the fire, I want to be right there with you. Please don’t make me lose everything of you. Please don’t— please. Don’t pretend this is nothing. I can take you leaving, I can’t take this,” he motions between them, “meaning nothing.”

Eddie stares and doesn’t move. And stares harder like it will help him understand. 

He knows he’s breathing still because there’s air. 

Maybe he’s not breathing. But something is making air flow in and out of his body. Like rescue breaths? Supplemental oxygen? It’s not Eddie doing it, he’s not taking in air, but it happens anyway. 

He doesn’t understand. Maybe he never has. Maybe his brain stopped processing information when he stopped breathing because the brain can’t function without oxygen. Something like that. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t. 

Buck wants something of him even after everything? After all the people who have walked out on him and treated him like he doesn’t matter? Even with how Eddie fails and hurts people who care about him? He means something to Buck? Even though he’s hurting him and abandoning him and losing him? Eddie’s just another person who leaves him. He can’t hurt Buck. He can’t keep doing it. Buck doesn’t deserve this. And Eddie deserves no loyalty, no forgiveness. 

He doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. Not in any form. He shouldn’t have it. He’s never had it. 

“I don’t—” Eddie tries to say. He has to say. He has to make the words come out. “I don’t want to hurt you the way Abby hurt you. I don’t want to do that.” 

Buck shakes his head again and starts to say something.

Eddie beats him to it. “I know it’s not the same. I know I’m not— I know you don’t— It’s different. Still. I know how she hurt you, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t know how to not do that. I’m leaving you here. In my house. Just like she did when she left you. And I have to—” Do the same fucking thing? Give him up? Walk away? Destroy everything they made together? And maybe the only way to survive is to do what Eddie does best and ruin everything? 

He looks back at Buck and doesn’t mean to say it. He wasn’t going to say anything. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. He should be mean and nasty and he should tell Buck he means nothing, this means nothing, and then Buck can just be justifiably angry and hate Eddie properly. 

And it would spare him. Whatever pain and tragedy that is associated with being near Eddie. It would spare Buck. 

That’s what he should do. 

That would be mercy and kindness. Pick up the weapon and blow this all to hell. 

Eddie can’t breathe. He can’t do this. Any of it. 

He can’t let go. He can’t lose Buck. 

And then he’s suddenly confessing, “I don’t want to do this."

It’s too late. It’s always too late. And what he actually wants has never mattered. He doesn’t matter. He never has. He twists his hands together and has nothing else to hold onto. It’s too late, so none of this matters. Eddie doesn’t matter. But he meets Buck’s lost gaze, stares into his eyes for three seconds, and he can’t keep it in.

“I want to be with Chris. I miss him so much. Every minute of every day. But I don't want to leave here. I don't want this. But it doesn't matter what I want. It never has. The one time I said, 'What about me? Why didn't you think of me?' Chris left. He left because I hurt him. And my dad says, ‘don’t wait thirty years to listen to your son.’ So I listen. I don’t know what the hell else to do. I listen, and I do what all of them ask. Even when it’s the last thing I want and I’ve already said, no, please stop, I need more time, please hear me. They don’t listen to me. I’m still nothing to every single one of them. And I just keep thinking why don’t I ever count? Why don’t I matter even a little bit?

"You think you aren't everything to me, too? Do you think that I don't love you just as much as you love me? But I don’t get to pick you. I don’t get to have anything of you. I hurt everyone I try to love including you and Chris. I’m not enough for anyone, in any way. I can’t love anyone the way they need or the way I’m supposed to. You say you’re defective parts, well I’m fucking broken.

"That’s why you should forget me. I don’t matter. You shouldn’t care. I should mean nothing because I am nothing. I’m not worth this. If I were a better, stronger person, I’d make you hate me. But I can’t even do that. I don’t want to hurt you more. I have to lose you and I don’t know how to lose you. I love you more than anything and it’s not enough. I don’t know what else to do but say, you should move on and forget me.”

Eddie turns away and covers his face, tries to hold his head because it’s aching. It’s too much. That was too much. He’s not supposed to be falling apart. Everything is supposed to be getting better. 

Shards of ice crack and fracture and break underneath him. Everything in the cage around his ribs snaps and he’s crying into his hands, trying to keep it together. Trying and failing. Always failing. His face is already wet. He was already broken. A long time ago. So many times. 

Buck is suddenly behind him. Not distant. Close behind him. He touches Eddie’s back gently and then steps around until he’s standing in front of him. He reaches between them and rests his hand on Eddie’s chest. As if he can stop the never-ending bleeding that’s somehow always pouring from Eddie’s heart. “You are enough, Eddie. You’re more than enough."

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part iii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,255

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(

a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx

You didn’t text Jungkook back.

No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).

Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.

Besides, it’s not like you mind. 

You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.

Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.

[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)

You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.

"It’s good to know your phone works.”

“Oh my god!”

Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”

“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here. 

He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”

You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project. 

Something doesn’t seem right.

Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”

You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”

“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin. 

Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.

And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.

The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.

“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”

Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”

You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”

“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.

How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him? 

“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird. 

You don’t.

You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.

You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.

You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.

Damn it… 

It’s a really good iced americano.

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Two)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff, mentions that reader moved to korea, if i missed anything lmk!!

Word count: 1,953

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

Previous | Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

“So am I your captive or what?”

Chan paused, looking up from his food, “What?”

You looked back at him, still chewing a mouthful of food, sitting criss-cross on his bed while he ate on the bed opposite yours, “Are you holding me hostage here until I… I don’t know, do whatever I’m supposed to do? Succumb to Stockholm syndrome or something?”

It was the next morning when Chan knocked on your door once again, and he didn’t actually expect you to open the door for him. You looked back at him with no expression, just blinking as he stared back in surprise. He was frozen seeing you cooperating even a little bit.

Strange werewolf hunter, was all he could think.

He had told you breakfast was about to be ready, but then you scowled and stated you weren’t going downstairs to eat with the pack. Were you holding a grudge against the two members of his pack that you’d scuffled with? Well, yeah. They both hurt you pretty badly – especially that Seungmin guy. If you had a chance, you’d give him a piece of your mind.

So a few minutes later, Chan returned with two plates of food and with a grin, said he was going to eat with you upstairs. So that’s what you were doing. And, again, he was shocked you were letting him keep you company. You were…oddly nice for a werewolf hunter – or supposed werewolf hunter.

“There’s no Stockholm syndrome if you’re not captive,” he chuckled with a shrug. “I guess…yeah, you could leave if you wanted.”

You were surprised by his answer, freezing mid-bite and just staring at him for a moment. He stared back, raising his eyebrows for your response.

“You’re not gonna force me into being your mate…?” you quizzed slowly, surprised that he was telling you that you had the option to leave.

“I mean, you and I both know I’m a hell of a lot stronger than this door. If I wanted to do anything to you, I could’ve by now, but you survived a night here. Woke up safe and sound,” he pointed out. “Besides…you could probably kill me if you wanted to.”

While that was true, you didn’t know if he could sense you didn’t have any plans to do so – at least not to Chan. You had started out as a hunter, but after fleeing to Korea, your father started training you and your brother to hunt werewolves specifically. And while you might’ve been really good at most parts of the training, it didn’t mean you liked what you were doing. But you wouldn’t let your father or brother know that.

“I don’t really have any weapons that could subdue a werewolf, though,” you reminded him.

“Well maybe if someone didn’t try to pull a knife on one of my pack,” he cocked his head and gave you a pointed smile.

“Nobody got hurt,” you scoffed, going back to your breakfast.

“There would’ve been a round two in my kitchen if I didn’t catch you before you jumped Minho,” he stated.

Okay, maybe he was right. However, the question of if you’d win that fight or not was definitely debatable considering you only had that tiny pocket knife as your weapon. Among…other reasons. But again, you were unsure if he knew that. He must’ve. He probably didn’t sense any werewolf hunter with you in the house, which was actually embarrassing on your part.

You were just grateful your father and brother lacked the senses that werewolves had.

As you settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you ate, your mind began to wander as it tended to do since ending up in this situation. And there was a lot to think about considering Chan was a werewolf, and you were a werewolf hunter who had…very strange circumstances.

Despite the fact you were training to be his sworn enemy, Chan didn’t seem to care. It was like he completely disregarded whatever instincts he had, and had given into the mating pull already. How he managed to just let go without a care, you weren’t sure. Your favorite answer was that Chan was just crazy and didn’t know how to be careful. But you figured it was because of how strong the pull was. Because if what the hunters taught you was correct about the strength of the pull, it would lead a person to do some very crazy and dangerous things…

But you were crazy, too, weren’t you? Because you hadn’t threatened him, tried to harm him, or even tried to run away once. You stayed in his bed when you woke up that morning and just thought. You didn’t try to sneak out or scream for help. You were letting this werewolf hold you captive, but he wasn’t even holding you captive. You were just staying at your own will at this point while his arms stayed wide open, giving you an out.

Yes, both of you were crazy. But maybe you were crazier than he was because the pull wasn’t even as strong for you as it was for him.

So, to at least keep a shred of your pride, you broke the silence and said, “Don’t think that this means I trust you now. I only wanted sustenance.”

“Of course,” he smiled, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, hunter.”

“Your alpha must be angry with you,” you mused, putting a little less food into your mouth this time. “You’re a stupid wolf for imprinting on a– werewolf hunter.”

You hoped he didn’t notice how you hesitated with your words for a split second, the sentence almost flowing seamlessly but not quite as you tacked the ‘werewolf’ on at the last second.

But he didn’t seem to, scoffing with amusement by your comment, but he didn’t say why. Instead, he sat back in the chair like he was becoming more relaxed around you, especially now that your stomach had quieted.

“You’re one to talk. You let a wolf into your room when you have no weapons or defense. I even locked you in here and you didn’t complain once,” he pointed out. “I haven’t even heard you screaming for help up here.”

Your mouth opened, but silence followed instead. You almost gave yourself away, stopping before it was almost too late.

You realized Chan reminded you of him. Actually, the whole scenario did. You weren't sure you liked that, feeling your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What’s up?” Chan wondered, noticed you staring into space with your mouth open.

Your mouth snapped shut and you quickly shook your head, “Nothing.”

You were becoming too soft around him so quickly. You were getting too comfortable without realizing, and you knew it was because of the mating pull. Suddenly, you could hear your brother and father’s voices in your head.

All werewolves are bad, _____, your father spat in your face during your very first werewolf hunter lesson, Even if you think you know them, they’re evil, horrible creatures! If you don’t kill them first, they’ll turn on you eventually.

But that memory made you think of another…

It’s your fault this happened, Nolan had scoffed at you once after one of your training sessions. You weren’t very good back then because, frankly, you didn’t want to be good, and your brother was pissed at you for not putting your heart in it, If it wasn't for you, we’d still be home and everyone would be happy and alive. Then you act like you don’t even want to make things right? I should shoot you myself, you fucking traitor.

You set the food down and shoved it away from you.

“I think you should go,” you stated coldly.

Chan suddenly sat up straighter, confusion on his face at how you suddenly seemed to just flip a switch, “What?”

“Get out,” you told him, looking across the room at him, dead in the eyes.

“I– What? Wait, was it what I said?” he asked quickly with a twinge of hurt in his eyes that you definitely noticed as he stood from the bed. “_____, I didn’t mean–”

You stood from the bed and pointed at the door, “You just had to feed me. I’m fed. Go. Away.”

Chan stood as well and walked over to where you stood in the middle of the room. Without thinking, he reached out to hold your hand, “_____–”

Immediately, your instincts kicked in. You quickly turned on your heel, keeping his hand in yours while reaching for his arm with the other, holding it over your shoulder. Then you pulled and bent over, throwing the werewolf over your body until he landed with a loud thud on the hardwood.

He didn’t even seem hurt. He just stared up at you in shock. He even seemed…a bit impressed. You’d just flipped him with ease.

You were shocked yourself. Some part of you felt...bad.

But now you could hear multiple sets of feet running up the stairs, and you knew you were in for it if his pack saw that you flipped him on his back. You harmed him. You were a threat to them now. Obviously you couldn’t fight all of them, so you just wanted to keep them all away from you.

“You have five seconds to get out of my room,” you told him, sounding more panicked than menacing.

Instead, he gave you a defeated look and pushed himself off the floor before going over to the bedroom door and unlocking it. He didn’t even look behind him as he left, but you heard the whine come from his chest.

Once the door was closed and you had locked it once again, you waited until you heard the commotion of the pack retreat back down the stairs. Then you sat back down on Chan’s bed and let out a deep sigh. Why did it have to be you? You were going through enough with conflicting ideals that went against what your family wanted you to feel. Now whatever higher power out there had to make it worse and force you to have feelings for a werewolf? Why did you have to be stuck being his mate? Why you? Why you?

You decided you needed to escape. The thought sent a twinge of pain to your heart that reminded you–

You shook the thought from your head, blinking rapidly to fight back tears as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Leaving was the only option for either of you to be safe. You wouldn’t tell Chan you wanted to keep him safe, but you knew you felt it and you had to act on it. The alternative was both of you getting killed, and probably even his pack. That wasn’t something you could let happen.

You glanced at the window that was perfectly centered between Chan's bed and Felix's. You stood and went to examine it, seeing a tree not too far from the window. You could probably jump to it and then climb down. Maybe while the pack was asleep.

You’d leave that night, you decided. You felt bad, thinking about leaving without any explanation. Maybe you could find a way to get some paper and a pen or something to leave a note?

No. If there was any evidence that you felt bad leaving…

As much as it hurt, you had to do it. You had to do a lot of other things in your life that hurt, anyway, so this was no different. Suck it up and carry on like always.

You were a strong werewolf hunter, after all. You had a reputation to live up to.

»»————-　　————-««

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[qin-qin16]

We need more Classic in this household and I'll help you with that.

How about this, just Sans being himself, punny and funny skeleton in reader's house but then they suddenly ask him to let them see his soul and touch it.

Getting his permission and they do just that, bcuz they are just being curious about how soul works while making sure not to make Sans uncomfortable.

Just fluff and mild suggestive to satisfied reader's curiosity. I'm counting on you with your beautiful writing 🤭

cw.: Classic Sans x Reader, Alphys is mentioned, fluff, bam! Kabedon scene, they're both a blushing mess... 

note: I'm trying out a new type of writing, let's see how it goes. I'll make a part two of this! So let's say this is a prequel :D

In the past days, a recurring question haunted your thoughts from time to time: what would Sans's soul be like? Sure, in a way, you knew exactly what a monster's soul looked like; there were no mysteries! An upside-down heart with a pattern color.

Even though it was fascinating to imagine that monster souls might, though rarely, have a color other than white, it still remained an impossible theory — at least, that’s what Dr. Alphys told you when you pondered the differences between human and monster souls out loud.

You can still hear her stuttering in an endless loop, a never-ending monologue filled with technical terms and theories that she contradicted during the conversation (which you participated in only as a listener later). Unfortunately, you could barely remember half of the information she threw at you — if your memory serves you right, Alphys deliberately mixed the topic with some shoujo anime she was watching at the time. If that served as some kind of analogy, you don’t remember.

In any case, one of the few pieces of information Dr. Alphys shared that really stuck with you was that viewing someone else's soul is an extremely intimate act — on a level of interpersonal relationships that spans years or even decades, according to research conducted in the Underground.

Since then, you found yourself constantly watching Sans, following him around the rooms until he went to work or locked himself in his office — always using the same excuse of working from home, but you were beginning to suspect that he simply didn’t want to handle the paperwork outside the house. 

He seemed to take pleasure in vanishing every time you gathered the courage to ask the long-awaited question—only to open your eyes and realize you were speaking to yourself. But this time, Sans wasn’t going to escape.

You had devised the perfect plan, and the moment to put it into action had arrived.

"Well, my break’s over; looks like I’ll have to work to the bone now. Heh." Sans remarked nonchalantly, shrugging as he made his way to his infamous hideout, the office (which had originally been a recreational area until Sans had slyly taken it over with his stacks of paper and dirty socks).

Time to put the first part of your plan into action.

Before Sans could even touch the doorknob, you rushed toward him — almost losing your balance as you had to sidestep his favorite pet rock.

Bam! The door slams shut with the palm of your hand, startling both you and the skeleton, who was still facing away with one hand on the doorknob. Without hesitation, you press your other hand against the door as well, pinning both of them against the wooden surface and effectively trapping Sans.

“Nah-uh!” you counter, watching him turn around with one bony eyebrow raised, looking more intrigued than surprised by your stance. “I know your meeting schedule for today, and you don’t have any meetings right now!” Your triumphant smile doesn’t escape Sans’s notice.

He chuckles before turning fully toward you, leaning his weight against the door. “Heh, looks like someone’s been watching too many anime.” He gives you a lazy wink, glancing at your arms pressing against the wall, one on each side of his head.

Even though he was the one cornered against the door, it was you who felt your own face burning, probably flushed after receiving such a rare wink from your boyfriend. Despite your composure slipping slightly, your hands stayed firmly pressed against the wall as your eyes roamed over Sans’s face — from his relaxed smile to the bright dots in his eyes.

“N-N-No, it’s not that, it’s just that—um…” You hadn’t expected to be this nervous when you came up with the plan, especially under Sans’s attentive gaze. “I-I…” You stammer once more before letting your eyes drop to the floor, focusing intently on it.

“C-Can I… see your soul? Please?” You never thought your voice could come out so softly, almost like a whisper meant to go unheard, timid and gentle.

You didn’t want to repeat the question, but after receiving no response—not even a half-hearted laugh — for a while, you glanced back up at his face, hoping to see his bony eyebrows furrowed in confusion or a hint of hesitation in his signature smile.

But all you see is a skull bathed in blue, with Sans’s eye sockets looking more widened than usual (was that even possible in a skeletal structure like his? Apparently, yes). As if mirroring him, your own eyes widen in surprise at seeing such an unusual expression on his typically relaxed face.

“What?” Unlike you, Sans spoke in a loud whisper. It seemed your question had completely unsettled him..

You inch closer to him, careful with your approach — as if you didn’t want to startle him further with your “unusual” actions. One of your hands glides down the door until it gently presses against Sans’s ketchup-stained shirt. Without realizing it, your face is now only inches from his, nearly brushing against him in a touchless caress.

“I want to see your soul…” you repeat, a bit louder this time, but still gentle and tinged with shyness. “I can show you mine first, if you’d like…” you add, gazing intently at the fuzzy lights within his eye sockets.

For a moment, you close your eyes, trying to muster the courage you had before. When you open them again, Sans is no longer in front of you — vanished like every other time you tried to ask that same question to him.  All that’s left is the office door and the rapid thumping of your own heart.

Inevitably, you let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of defeat on your shoulders. You gently bump your head against the door, knowing that sooner or later, Sans would have to face you, and if he were a good boyfriend, he would answer your question with some decency.

This turned out worse than I thought, you think aloud as you step away from the door and return to the old sofa in your home — your solace after the failure of your meticulously planned (or at least, in your mind, meticulously planned) scheme.

[fairy-princette]

i gave your name as my emergency phone call

AO3 link | 1 (you are here) 2 3 4 5 6

Stan receives a postcard from his twin brother - who he's not seen in a decade - asking for his help. But like with everything else in his life, he runs into some trouble on his way there

1. and the dial tone is all i have

Stan looked down at the phone number written under the return address on the back of the now-crumpled postcard as he punched the digits out on the metal keypad.

ring ring ring ring

Stan shuffled his feet on the scuffed linoleum floor, his head falling back to look at the tiled ceiling.

ring ring ring ring

The uniformed man next to him crossed his arms, clearing his throat as the phone continued to ring.

ring ring ring ring

“Hello?”

“Ford, thank Moses,” Stan let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Ah Stanley, you got my postcard then, good good, and you’re on your way here?”

“I’m on my way but there’s been a slight hiccup in my travel plans.”

Ford instantly sounded annoyed. “Stanley, this is of the upmost importance, we do not have time for you to be stopping at tourist traps or whatever is taking up all your time.”

“Well, heh,” Stan let out a self-depreciating laugh, “It’s not exactly a tourist trap that I’m stuck in.”

“Oh for- Stanley, I already told you, I’m incredibly busy and I don’t have time for whatever nonsense this is, I’ll see you when you get to the cabin.”“Wait, Ford, don’t hang up! This is my only phone call, I won’t be able to get to you otherwise.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”“Well, see, I might’ve been in a bit of a rush to get to Oregon and gone a teensy bit over the speed limit and then-“

“Get to the point Stanley.”

“I’m in jail and I need bail money.”

Silence.

“Ford? Sixer? You still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here Stanley. Of all the idiotic, thoughtless-”

“Hey, you’re the one that made it sound like an emergency, excuse me for being in a rush.”

“And what exactly do you expect me to do about it? As I have said, I am very busy and my work is-” there was a harsh sigh through the phone. “I am not in the position to just drop everything and drive across the country because you are incapable of abiding by the speed limit.”

“Look, Ford, if it were up to me I'd be perfectly fine cooling my heels in a holding cell, but you’re the one that’s wanting me to haul ass to some forest in the middle of nowhere. This is as much your problem as it is mine. Are you telling me you don’t know a single person in Science Dives or wherever that likes you enough to get your brother out of jail?”

“Gravity Falls, not Science Dives.”

“Whatever”

“I-,” Stan heard an exhale through the phone. “There might be one person I could ask. We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now, but I’m sure he’d make an exception. It is for the greater good after all.”

“Thanks Ford, I-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“Hello?”“Fiddleford - it’s Stanford, I-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“Hello?”

“Fiddleford, it’s-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“Fid-”

click

———

ring ring ring ring

“The number you are calling is not in service.”

click

———

Stanford stood in the floral carpeted hallway of Fiddleford’s landlady’s home - he may not be well known in town but at the mention of the cabin she had invited him in, wanting to meet the ‘mysterious scientist’ who lived in the woods. After evading her attempts at small talk and offers of tea - apparently they thought it was very kind of him to support Fiddleford in this hard time, whatever that meant - he found himself stood outside the door of his ex-lab assistant’s sublet.

He knocked on the door and crossed his hands behind his back as he waited.

He heard shuffling from inside the room approaching the door.

“Mrs Duskerton, I’m real appreciative, but I really don’t need more tea right-”

Fiddleford cut himself as he looked up from the paperwork in his hand, swinging the door shut much faster than he had opened it. Stanford shoved his foot in the gap between it and the doorframe, thankful he had decided to wear his lab boots for this expedition.

“I don’t want to talk to you Ford,” Fiddleford started kicking at his foot to try and shut the door. “I unplugged the Duskerton’s phone specifically so we couldn’t talk. Now get out!” The last word was punctuated by a much harder kick and Stanford’s foot slipped back, the door slamming in his face. He stood facing the door, letting the silence hang between them for a moment.

“I’m destroying the portal.”

A beat. The door opened a crack, just enough to see the edge of Fiddleford’s glasses peering out at him.

“You’re destroying it?”

“Yes.”

“For good?”

“Yes.”

“Well then. I’m guessing you better come in.”

———

Ford sat on the singular desk chair in the room while Fiddleford faced him, leaning the ex-vanity-now-desk strewn with notes, blueprints and calculations. The floral theme continued throughout the room, covering the walls and curtains with pastel pink and yellow flowers. Fiddleford looked worse for wear than the last time Stanford has seem him - though not as bad as he himself certainly looked. The shadows under his eyes spoke of restless nights, as did the bloodshot eyes and clenched jaw, though the latter could be a result of his presence.

“So, you’ve finally come to your senses and realised that demon was lyin’ to ya then?”

“Yes. Bill was… not exactly what he seemed.”

“You’re telling me. And now you, what, need my help dismantling it?”

“In a manner of speaking. Bill is still able to get in my mind - anything I know, he knows. I can destroy the portal but I need to take precautions to make sure it is never built again. I’ve already hidden two of my journals - I don’t even know where I was when I buried them so there’s no way for Bill to find out - but I need the other one to be taken as far from here as possible so the three can never be reunited.”“Stanford, are you askin' me to travel across the world to hide your journal?”“No, of course not. You have your family, Emma-May and Tate, and a whole life, I couldn’t ask that of you. No, I have a brother, he travels a lot. I’ve asked him to come here so I can give him the journal. I can entrust it to him, he can keep it safe.”

“Look, I’m mighty glad you’ve decided to do the right thing, but I’m not seeing how I fit into this here plan of your’s? And doesn’t Sherman have a family of his own?”

“No, not Shermie. I have a twin brother, Stanley. We’ve not spoken in- in a while, but he owes me this. Stanley got into a bit of trouble on his way here. Long story short he’s been arrested for speeding and now needs bail money and a lift here because they’ve impounded his car. I know it’s a lot to ask - it’s a long drive - but you’re the only person I have to ask, Fiddleford.” He looked up at his friend pleadingly.

Fiddleford crossed his arms, staring at a spot on the wall above Stanford’s head, mumbling to himself as he thought. Stanford waited for him to make his decision - time may be of the essence but science had taught him many things, including the need for delicacy and patience.

Fiddleford let out a sigh that sounded like it came from his bones. “Fine. But I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for the safety of Tate, and Emma-May, and the rest of the world. And I have one condition.”

“Yes, what?” Stanford looked up at him with the unblinking stare of a man running on too little sleep.

“I want an apology.”

“An apology? What for?”“What for Stanford? What for? How about for not believing me when I told you Cipher was bad news? How about for lyin’ to me about where you were getting your ideas and blueprints from? How about for dismissing what happened to me when I went through that portal? How about for any of that Stanford?” Fiddleford drew himself up to his full height, taking a step across the room to Stanford with his fists clenched at his sides.

Stanford dropped his head to look at his fingers entwined in his lap. “No, you’re right, you’re right of course,” He lifted his back up to look Fiddleford in the eye. “I have been a terrible friend. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t listen to you about the portal, and that I didn’t trust you.”

Fiddleford glared down at him. “I suppose that’ll have to do. Now give me the address of where I’m getting your brother from.”

[twistedbunni]

Unrequited

Buggy x Reader Angst

A/N: I just wanted to write something moody, it's not the best honestly but I might continue it sometime. I took inspiration from the song "DYWTYLM" by Sleep Token and a bit of dialogue makes it very clear.

You'd been left behind in some shitty run down town. The ship you had sailed on for the past decade had drifted out to sea along with the crew that's been like family to you. Your life had basically disappeared right infront of you.

You knew none of them meant to leave you behind, but you also knew it'd be far too late for them to come back for you when they do finally notice your absence. They'd all been so excited to Finally see the Grand line, practically buzzing as they had loaded the final crates of supplies they needed for the trip, far too distracted with thoughts of what they would see out there that no one had noticed you weren't back from running the final errand you'd been tasked with.

By the time you'd returned to the dock the massive ship was already far enough away that it looked no bigger than your hand. Shouting or swimming were far beyond the possibilities of working out in your favor. You fell to your knees heartbroken at the sight, watching everything and everyone you'd ever known shrink into the sunset never to be seen by you again.

You'd still been there when Buggy's ship pulled into the harbor late that night. The Clown's men had whooped and hollered in delight of finally being on land again as they past you. The crowd of them seemed to move around you as if you'd been a rock and they were a river flowing around you. None of them seemed to pay you any mind, too concerned with the prospect of getting drunk at the few bars the town had.

It was only Buggy who'd stopped, he stood there staring at your form now sitting with your knees to your chest as your eyes stared unfocused and empty out at the sea at the exact spot your ship had finally disappeared from view. He could tell from the state of your face that you'd cried, maybe even sobbed and we're now left shivering from the chill of being soaked in a mix of your tears as well as the water that had occasionally splashed up onto you from the waves of the sea.

Silently he had placed his coat over your shoulders, sitting down beside you to look out at the water as well. He knew what was wrong, he could tell exactly what happened to you. You had that undeniable look of someone who knew they'd lost everything, he'd seen it multiple times before on people whose lives the Buggy pirates had destroyed, and more importantly had seen it first hand on himself when Shanks betrayed and abandoned him.

"You'll catch cold if you stay out here any longer, especially with the state your in." Finally he'd broken the silence, broken you from your trance of despair, bringing you back to reality and the pain it brought with it.

"They're gone. They left me behind. I'll never see them again. My whole life was practically on that ship, I know nothing but life on that ship... and now it's just... Gone." Your voice was weak, throat hoarse from the lump that'd formed in it hours ago when you'd first began crying.

Buggy wasn't entirely sure what to say now, his initial comment was just to bring you out of that dark mindset he knew you'd been stuck in for what was practically all day. He wasn't use to comforting people, just threatening them or leaving them for one of his crew to take care of. All he could muster up in his head was generic bullshit. "I'm sorry, I've been in your shoes honestly but I don't know what to say."

"What am I supposed to do now? I have nothing left and no where to go." Finally you'd turned your eyes from the sea, looking over to the man sitting next you.

Buggy kept his eyes on the sea thinking for a moment, before turning to meet your gaze. "I don't know, but you're more than welcome to join my crew and I. Even if it's only till you figure out what you'd like to do next."

God were his eyes beautiful, the moonlight was making them practically glow, infact all of him seemed to glow in the silver light as if he were an angel. You gave a weak nod to him, a small seed of happiness planting itself deep within your hallowed heart.

He stood lending a hand to help you up as well, leading you onto his ship. He'd fed you, given you a change of clothes, told you all about his crew, all their flashy acts and adventures. He seemingly fixed you that night, taking you in as one of his own and taking care of you.

You knew it was due to the emotional mess you'd faced that day but when Buggy had tucked you in and bid you goodnight, your heart couldn't help falling for him.

A year had passed now since Buggy took you in and in that time you'd grown to become one of his most faithful crew members. You'd always assist him with all preparations for his performances, standing by during his shows with anything and everything he'd need. By now your dedication to the man could not be questioned, and no one dared to anyways, they could see you loved the man they all looked up to.

Everyone except the man himself could see how you adored Buggy since that fateful night, and some of them even tried to protect those feelings you held. Cabaji or Mohji would always distract you somehow when they knew the captain was 'entertaining' himself with someone, making sure you were too far away to hear any moans that would surely spill out of the Captain's room.

The pair often felt guilty for sheltering you but they couldn't stand to see their newest friend get hurt and deep down they were hoping the captain would eventually fall for you too. Sure your feelings had started out unhealthy, you initially falling for Buggy because you were broken and he was the one that had picked up your pieces, but by now you'd actually grown to hold a healthy love for the man and the both of you deserved to feel that love.

Things changed when Alvida was added to your crew. Buggy was often too absorbed with scheming up plans with the beautiful new co-captian, that he seemed to not have much time to spend with you or any of his crew anymore frankly. It was affecting a good chunk of his crew, especially you, and no matter how much Cabaji or Mohji tried to distract you from the hurt, the pair knew they couldn't fix the problem entirely.

Cabaji was stood out on the upper deck with you currently, looking out at the stars and holding mindless conversation about how to better his act for the next performance.

"Maybe I could teach you how to unicycle, then we could figure out some flashy synchronized thing to do as a pair." He placed his fist to his chin in thought.

You chuckled at the thought of you on a unicycle, swerving around the circus ring with a spotlight on you. Knowing your luck and coordination you'd probably wipe out midway through and end up somehow run over by your own unicycle or Cabaji's. "I'll let you teach me but I don't think I'd ever become as good as you are."

"That's bull, your good at just about everything!" Buggy's voice called out, interrupting your conversation.

Cabaji saw the way you froze and placed a hand on your shoulder whispering his next words to you. "It's just capt, she's not with him don't worry." He gave your shoulder a little squeeze and you a friendly smile before turning to face the Clown.

"I'm gonna let you two talk, I've gotta go practice my routine anyways." Cabaji excused himself, heading below deck to give you two privacy.

"Long time to see it feels like!" Buggy joked coming to lean against the railing beside you.

"It's your own fault you know." Your tone was cold and your eyes remained fixed on the night sky.

"Yea, I guess it is." He felt a little guilty now that'd you'd pointed it out. "Sorry bout that."

"Whatever. Why aren't you spending your night with her like usual? Did her beauty become too much for you, so you came to see me instead?." Your words were laced with hurt.

He glanced at you for a moment, confused at what you were trying to imply. "She's got some things of her own to do tonight is all. What does her appearance have to do with me talking to you?"

"What doesn't it have to do with it? She far more attractive than me, it's no wonder you abandoned me for her." Your gaze shifted downward to the sea below you, watching the waves shimmer in the lights of the night sky.

"I didn't abandoned you, what the hell are you talking about?!" Buggy turned to face you fully, trying to desperately read your body language or what little of your face he could see. "I spend time with her because she's a co-captian and we have to plan out how the hell to accomplish the things we need to!" You stayed silent, not moving at all from you spot, and just when Buggy was about to storm off you had spoken.

"I regret joining your crew." A few tears rolled down your cheeks.

"What do you mean?" The clown honestly couldn't believe your words. How could you regret being one of his crew? You had given no signs of ever being unhappy until now, you'd grown close to his 2 right hand men almost immediately and always seemed to eager to help him with his shows. So why are you just now telling him you'd regretted your decision?! Did he do something upset you? Were you silently hurting as a result of him never having time to spend with you lately?

"I regret everything that's happened since that night you found me. I regret agreeing to let you take care of me that night. I regret agreeing to join your crew and befriending some of them. I regret being by your side ready to help you with everything and anything. I regret letting the others distract me when you'd sleep with a captive or crew mate. I regret letting them try to mend me when Alvida joined and you'd grown distant. I regret feeling at home here. I regret you finding me that night at all. But most of all.." You paused, finally turning to face Buggy with tears in your eyes.

God did it break your heart to see him lit up like an angel just as he had looked on that faithful night. And Man did it break Buggy's heart to see your eyes were filled with that hurt of betrayal and abandonment like they'd been when he first saw you. You were both back to the same state of being you'd been in when you had first met.

You sighed, closing your eyes finally ready to say what you needed to. "Most of all I regret falling for you, letting not only myself but also the crew believe you could ever grow to love me back."

He felt like he'd been hit by one of his famed giant explosive Buggy balls. Every single thought that had been in his brain was gone with the only thing remaining was you admitting you fell for him, replaying over and over again. He knew you were deticated to him but it was normal for a crew member to be deticated to the captain. How had he missed the fact your looks and actions towards him were filled with far more adoration, than those of the rest of his more faithful members. He hadn't let himself see you in the same light as you did him, only letting you remain as someone who's pain he could relate to. He stopped making time for you, distancing himself without even realizing it. Somehow he had managed to push you from his thoughts entirely to the point he had grown to see as just another member of his crew.

"I- I didn't- I don't-" He was stuttering, desperately fighting for his mind to say something, ANYTHING at all.

"Save your breath, I know you didn't know my feelings for you were so deep." Your eyes opened finally, seeing Buggy fighting to get ahold of his own thoughts.

You watched him flounder his mouth open and closed a few times for a moment before taking a few steps away to lean on the railing to watch the stars again. "I'll be leaving ship tomorrow when we dock in Loguetown."

Finally his mind seemed to snap into place, allowing him to speak and think clearly again. "Why?! No one wants you gone."

"You told me that I could stay with you and the crew till I figured out what I wanted to do next." Your voice was soft and smooth, any hurting you felt was undetectable in your tone.

"So you decided what you want to do?" He moved a step closer to you.

"Not really, I only have a small idea of what I could do." You shrugged.

Buggy grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around to face him, his eyes searched yours intensely. "Then why the hell are you leaving?"

"Buggy do you love me?" You had ignored his question, asking one of you own and when he didn't reply you decided to ask a different one. "Do you wish that you loved me?"

He was silent still, causing you to sigh and push his hand off your shoulder begining to walk away. Though his hand quickly flew to stop you, he finally spoke. "I don't know how I feel honestly. I try to tuck away my own emotions so I don't have to deal with them."

"Maybe it's not that you conceal your feelings, they just don't exist. At least none for me anyway." It was a harsh reality that you knew he also knew but was trying to fight. "How ironic isn't, that you're so desperate to be loved by someone, but now that I do you can't bring yourself to love me back. You can't force feelings Buggy, no matter how viciously you try to and we both know that."

His hand released you coming back to rejoin the rest of him. "You're right, I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself."

With that you walked off going to pack your things, leaving the clown to think as endlessly as the stars above him. A hollow feeling formed in his chest, not because he was losing someone he loved or cared deeply for, but because he wasn't and it made him feel extremely guilty for not feeling that way.

By the time you'd docked in LogueTown the next day the whole crew had heard of your leaving them. Many wanted to try to convince you to stay, especially Cabaji and Mohji but they all knew you leaving was for the best after hearing of your talk with Buggy last night. Both Buggy and you had not spoken or even seen each other since said talk, a mutual feeling that there was nothing left to say between the pair of you.

The purpose of the ship docking here was to find the straw hats and reclaim the map of the Grand line from them. The two captains, your two friends and about half of the crew went off to complete the mission, so you really didn't have anyone there to see you off. You'd just grabbed your belongings, saying a few goodbyes to crew that was left on the ship, then left to go into town. Maybe you'd join the Marines now, or find some fishermen and offer to help them out, you honestly had no real idea of what to do now.

Due to the commotion in town caused by the mix of Buggy's crew, the Marines, and the straw hats, you'd somehow ended up on board with the latter. Setting sail for the Grand line with the band of misfit pirates Buggy and your friends had failed to capture.

"So what were you doing in a town like that?" One of the crew asked.

"Nothing really, just saying goodbye to my heart I guess you could say." You answered, a sad smile on your face as for the 2nd time in your life you watched the life you'd grown to know, shrink till it was out of view.

Though this time it was you onboard leaving someone behind to watch helplessly from the docks.

[rom-e-o]

A Moment of Weakness (Emmrich/OC)💚F!Rook

The game isn't even out. We don't know Emmrich's personality, VA, ... really, anything beyond the bare bones as I write this ... but I couldn't help myself! I hope this little story is enjoyable, despite inaccuracies, haha!

TW: alcohol mention/mild tipsy behavior.

It had started with a simple sentence, but one that Emmrich immediately realized was shrouded in complex sentiment.

Hours before, Belisma (“Rook”, as she was affectionately called) had knocked on the door to his study and invited him to share a drink with him. More specifically, she had wanted to toast a successfully long day of battles and negotiations by imbibing together at the Lighthouse, a base that was unnerving as it was beautiful. She had even surprised him with a dusty bottle of red imported right from Nevarra. It carried the region’s distinct fruity notes; a stark contrast to the stench of death and semi-permanent haze of stale incense the region was known for.

Perhaps that was why such bottles were so coveted. Even he, with all his knowledge and history of the reason, carried not the knowledge of a versed sommelier. He did know, however, that the drink was strong.

The drink had boosted their spirits quickly, and loosened lips even more so.

Moments before, he'd been laughing amicably at an amusing anecdote she'd told him about an awkward encounter with a former suitor. Quite the crude young man, from what the woman had described. Hardly someone suitable for a woman like her, he'd thought.

Then, she’d let the sentence slip.

"I’m glad I can be useful here … I’m more suited for the battlefield than a quiet life anyway.” Then, she added, "Could you imagine … me, with a husband waiting for me back home? What poor soul could I do that to?”

Emmrich, dressed casually in a starched shirt and trousers (but still adorned in his rings and jangling bangles), paused to flick his gaze at present company.

"What?"

With a little hiccup, she allowed herself to sink against the weight of the table. "It's amusing, isn't it?"

"What is?" Emmrich prodded, a silver brow lifted. Her self-deprecating words had sobered him. "The thought of you with … a husband?”

"Right," she said. "Or a lover or ... someone of similar station. Even if someone was interested, I have nothing to offer. Mages aren’t exactly known for their large dowries and influence – even the wealthiest ones – compared to normal nobles.”

She paused, her eyes drifting askance as she tapped her nails on the oak table. “That was what he said, anyway.”

"Who?"

"Cyril," she reminded him. "I just told you about him. He was my last ... suitor, I suppose. I was 25. We met in a Circle. It feels like yesterday, but... his words stuck. Evidently."

The man gently lowered his chalice onto the table, the sweet wine forgotten. His eyes, rimmed with intrigue but touched with sadness, examined her. While a devoted scholar, Emmrich was also a man with decades of experience working with peers of many ages and backgrounds. Many called him a gentleman for the ways he seemed to invite conversation and put others at ease, but he preferred to his he simply put proper effort into listening. He leaned in, encouraging her to say more.

The silent prodding bore fruit. "I mean, it's inarguable. Look at me."

He did. He had been since they'd started working alongside each other.

He saw a lovely woman, just a small handful of years younger than him. She was a head shorter than him, with a feminine but muscled build from years of training as a mage and honing her skills. Her jaw, cut perfectly square enough to put the gems on any viscount's ring to shame, was adorned with bright eyes and lips that were ... very pleasant.

Her eyes reflected the color of freezing cold sap, tapped from the tree of Emprise du Lion. Her lips, painted with a swatch of coral, looked full and soft as far as he could tell. He hadn't been blessed enough to feel them pillow against his skin, but he could imagine. Her skin bore a light tan, and her hair swung gaily over her shoulders with each spin and flip on the battlefield. Starlight-gray waves sprouted from her scalp, and he thought they framed her face beautifully. Elegantly.

"I ... see you," he said carefully. He stammered a moment, eyes still searching for what she could mean. “I see you quite well, as a matter of fact.”

To him, she looked like a partner anyone would be lucky to have.

"Well, there you go," she added with a light, almost flippant laugh.

"I fail to see what's funny."

"...Emmrich, you don't have to be polite," she said, her voice becoming softer as a result of his stern but inquisitive tone. “I’m not a child.”

"I am being honest, with the politeness always secondary," he reminded her. “Lucanis can testify to that.”

A tense beat of silence passed. Before he could speak up, she sighed and pushed her chalice away. It flared bottom skipped lightly across the uneven wood grain. "I-I'm sorry. That's my cue. I’ve had enough to drink, I believe."

Another shaky laugh left her. Emmrich heard a telltale tremble in her voice, and rose to pursue her.

"Belisma, wait—”

"I’m sorry," she said, cutting him off. Palm flattening against the wall to better support her weight, she made her way toward the great hall's door to exit.

It only took one hobble for him to round the table after her. "You’re unsteady. I'll walk you."

"Please. Stay."

A man of many years, he could easily transcribe her true request from the dismal look on her face: “Keep back and let me go.”

So, he did.

Not one to disobey their leader, especially when she requested something so simple, he respected her desire for space. Falling back, he watched her go. She did not falter again, from what he could see.

Her shadow eventually slinked out of the room and to the left, which was the path he knew led to her quarters. As he watched her vanish into the night-darkened halls of the base, regret filled his lungs like sea water.

He should have said something sooner.

Night.

Night in the Fade was … very similar to the day, he had to admit. It wasn’t even really night, he supposed. Just an agreed upon hour where they all stole moments of slumber between onslaughts of enemies.

Back home, night was the most comfortable hour for the necromancer, as it shrouded the work in a silver-tinted darkness. Temperatures cooled, and his mind could home in better on his duties as an esteemed member of the Mourn Watch. Night was a time for study; a time for work. A time for solving problems he refused to let fester.

Here, the air still shimmered like mica, but the sky did not grow inky like it did in the mortal realms. Its comforts felt somewhat hollow, but it was all he had, so he took them.

When the Lighthouse was quiet save for his footsteps, he left his chamber and began to walk.

Emmrich knew his destination, in theory. There was a sparse list of places their Rook would, or could, travel to for relaxation. One of those areas was a small room located a few floors up, overlooking the Fade’s ever-twitching horizon. A small, stone room where mages could practice magic without risk of rogue spells hurting others.

Upon arriving at the room, he heard her voice from within. Grunts and yells of exertion peppered the otherwise quiet air. The older man took a deep breath, which served the dual purpose of bolstering his confidence as well as calming his racing heart.

He knocked. A beat of silence passed.

Then, a voice called from beyond the iron-enforced frame. "Come in."

A pleasant voice. A kind, womanly, familiar voice that could lure enamored men to burn their tomes for her.

Ignoring that he fit into that category all too neatly himself, he swallowed and entered the chamber. As he laid his palm against the frame, the metal was warm to the touch, even through his adorned glove.

The room was built from stone, top to bottom, with only a few slots to serve as windows. They also provided the handy attribute of ventilation, as this chamber was one mages utilized to train their abilities.

It was quite common to enter the training room to find the air crackling with electricity, or to nearly slip on ice-covered stones from the last mage practicing a bout of freezing spells.

In this case, Belisma appeared to be practicing fire magic. Her staff drawn and the smell of cinder permeating the air, she turned and gave the visitor a smile. The iron-clad tip of her staff still burned red-hot in the semi-darkness as she turned to him.

"Oh! Emmrich."

She looked pleased to see him on the surface, but he knew her better by now. There was a slight, nervous way her lower eyelids would upturn when she peered at him, like she was squinting through him, as if to see better intentions.

Nodding, he risked a step forward. "I thought I heard you in here. I ... wanted to check on you."

Although he spoke carefully, her face still fell at his admission. "Ah. Because of earlier."

"Yes, earlier."

A measured sigh snaked in and out of her lungs.

"It … was a moment of weakness," she confessed, hands dropping to her sides. He noticed with a heavy heart that she cast her gaze to the opposite corner of the room. An obvious sign of shame. "I shouldn't have burdened you with that. I'd had too much to drink and ... I suppose the ghosts of the past got a hold of me. I apologize."

"You needn’t apologize for that," he said kindly. "You're hardly the first one to divulge personal secrets over a chalice of wine, and I'm sure you'll be far from the last."

Her brown eyes sought his. "W-Well, when you put it like that ... perhaps you're right."

"I often am," he teased.

She smiled at that, and his heart leapt again. Gods above, how had any man made the woman before him feel unworthy of affection. Had time-altering spells been more his forte, he might have chanced traveling back a few decades just to clobber the fool with a skull. Or two. Perhaps a dragon skill, if he could lift it. Taash could help, he reasoned.

As the silence spurred his thoughts, it quieted hers in tandem. She sighed, tapping the leather-wrapped end of her staff’s hilt against the floor.

In a split second, bright sparks flitted between the crevices in the stone, snaking their way upwards through the narrow channels until the fire leads to the wicks of the candles adorning the room's small chandelier. With the formerly cavernous room now aglow with firelight, he could more keenly observe a notable flush to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm glad I didn't scare you away from wanting to talk to me."

He snorted in amusement. "It'll take more than banter to scare me, dear."

The realization of the term slipping out hit too late, and he cleared his thought awkwardly. "I-I've seen more death than some armies, you know. So n-no. Not scared at all. No."

He heard her chuckle warmly at his stammering. Perhaps she found it endearing, he hoped.

Nonetheless, fighting his own blush now, a hand lofted to scratch his temple. It was also his turn to look away, lest he become lost in those syrupy eyes again.

“I promise to hold my drink better when we hold our next private celebration,” she noted gaily. “You won’t have to listen to an old maid ramble, haha. Nobody here needs that in our only place of respite.”

Just as Emmrich had turned to scuttle away, he was lured back. “Stop that.”

She paused, glancing up at him. “Hm?”

“Stop with the self-depreciating comments, Belisma.”

Unlike his voice before, which had wavered from boyish shyness, his tone in the moment was pure bravado. He allowed himself to take pleasure in watching her cheeks turn cherry-red. Despite the color that bloomed on her face, her eyes remained glued to him.

“E-Emm—”

“You are a woman of immense talent and beauty, and while I enjoy your company here more than the company of any other, I cannot abide by you taking every opportunity to be so disparaging of yourself.”

He took a step toward her, and Maker, she stayed in place. He didn’t so much as take a breath as he dared to advance another. Before he knew it, it had crossed the threshold between them enough for their chests to barely touch. He couldn’t help but note that she was even more captivating from this angle.

“You are our leader, a talented mage, and your dedication to leading us through this rather unprecedented situation is nothing short of remarkable,” he reminded her.

“You think—”

“You call yourself an ‘old maid’? Please. You are an incredible woman, and any soul across Tevinter, Nevarra, or bloody Thedas would be lucky to share a room, or a drink, with you. I certainly am.”

He saw her eyes widen, but he couldn’t stop himself. The floodgates had opened, and it was impossible to bring them crashing down again.

“They’d be even luckier to have you as a partner…a lover, as you said before.”

A stern finger lofted to prod her collarbone lightly, a gesture that would have potentially felt patronizing if they weren’t too adults that seemed to be drifting closer by the second.

The next words caught in his throat.

“A-As I…should …”

The molten intrigue in her eyes vanished in that moment. With the poise he often saw her display on the battlefield, her eyes fell shut as she flowed forward.

He braced for a slap, but felt her lips press against his instead.

Maker, he thought in a blitz of passion, how long had it been since anyone had kissed him? Decades, probably. The thought was met with fleeting entertainment, but quickly passed as he realized he wasn’t going to overthink himself out of appreciating the moment.

He leaned in, hands finding purchase on her hips for balance.

Her lips, as he’d thought, were so soft. They became even more pliable when he reciprocated, angling his head in a way so that slotted his nose beside hers and pressed hard into her cheek. The better angle allowed him to nudge all the closer. Her bottom lip was nestled between his at first, but with another sway of their bodies, she tilted away, and he took the opportunity to take that lip between his teeth just slightly.

He worried for a moment it was too forward, but concerns melted when she moaned (gods, a glorious sound!) and inched her arms upward. First, she gripped his shoulders. Then, her arms wrapped around his neck, nudging their pounding hearts into further alignment.

Just the scrape of his teeth made her gasp again, and her strong arms hauled him closer. With her bosom pressed to his chest and their thighs flush, it was euphoria. The man was too enamored to realized that he’d walked her backward across the room, pressing her to the stone wall gently. Unable to help himself, he smiled against the kiss, and she chased that smile with her own.

When they parted for air, panting and breathless, he stared into her eyes. They looked even darker than they had before. All the more tempting to become lost in them, he noted.

“I…I have not been kissed in a very, very long time …” he admitted breathlessly.

Belisma’s lips, now a slightly more muted shade after he’d kissed her lipstick off, curved into a smile.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she confessed with a whisper. “Ever.”

Shared mirth leapt between them, and he dared to rest his forehead against hers.

“P-Perhaps I should get tipsy more often if it leads to pleasant moments like this.”

A laughter, warm like summer thunder, rumbled in his chest. He eyes crinkled as he cupped her cheek, noting how she leaned int his touch.

“Well,” he husked, his voice shifting to a pleasant burr as he urged her close, “All the more reason from you to not drink alone again, dear.”

This time, he leaned in to capture her lips against his.

And she, their fearless Rook, leaned into him with abandon.

I'm now going to go back to begging BioWare for crumbs, haha.

[actualalligator]

Bucktommy with "fuck, I'm so tired baby" please?

Sorry for the taking a decade and a half 😅

Tommy had a sixth sense, Buck was sure of it. It was the only thing that made sense. He always seemed to know exactly when Buck needed him the most. Like the moment he was finally off the clock after 24 hours of hell. He hadn't slept at all, and he was ready to be home.

He'd just said goodbye to Eddie and was fumbling through his pockets for his keys when his phone rang. Keys hit the ground. He swore, answered the call, and said, "Hold on! Hold on!"

He could hear Tommy's laugh as he pulled the phone backand crouched to grab his keys. He unlocked the door, tossed his bag into the passenger seat and swung himself into the jeep.

Buck leaned his head back and put the phone back up to his ear. "Hi."

"Hey Evan," Tommy all but purred in his ear. "How did the shift from hell end?"

"With a bad car accident. I'm done with today. And maybe tomorrow. I'm going to roll up into my comforter and stay forever. Fuck, I'm so tired, baby," Buck replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that, especially since I swapped shifts with Davies, and I've got the next two days off," Tommy said.

Buck felt a wave of emotions crash into him. He wanted to laugh and celebrate but also cry because it had been a hard shift and he was pretty sure a hug from his boyfriend would fix him. "Yeah? I can come see you?"

"Either that or I'll come invade your little Evan burrito. But I can guarantee a hot bath and an omelet if you come here," Tommy replied. "How's that sound?"

Buck sighed. "A bath, food, and a good long sleep all wrapped up in your arms sounds like exactly what I need right now." He stuck his key in the ignition and started the jeep. "I'll head your way now. I love you, Tommy."

"I love you too, Evan, drive safe," Tommy said, and then the call ended. Buck dropped his phone into the cup holder and pulled out of the parking lot, ready to put some space and time between him and the firehouse.

Thank you! 😘

[2amficposting]

Split Ends - Prologue II | Shigaraki x Reader

Synopsis: Shigaraki ponders about his old friend. Old scabs get picked, old places revisited, and new feelings emerge. He swore he had a plan when he saw you that day, but plans change, don’t they?

📝 gn!reader | childhood friend! reader

-

Shigaraki had never been one to feel confused about anything. He had been the most certain he’s ever been at his stance on his past. He was abandoned, then taken in, then let the truest form of reality show itself piece by piece. He was certain of who he was.

So why is it that he was confused when he saw you for the first time in a decade?

It was no surprise that when he saw you after a decade or so, he was planning something. Planning a reunion, of sorts. Yet he was stuck, stuck in the rut of trying to find out just what the hell happened to you for you to come back so suddenly. He had been tracking you, of course. Memorizing your routine, the steps home, where you usually frequent. He needed everything before he could even begin to act on this so-called “reunion” plan.

He slumps over his chair, feverishly playing the sims to get his mind off of things. He needed to have control of something right now.

Memories of when you were kids began to replay in the back of his mind. You were his closest friend back then, and you probably would think that you still are now. He could hear the shared giggling ringing in his ear as he continued to get sucked into the game. He cant admit it. He won’t admit it.

Still, the sounds of your laughter echoed in the back of his mind as he continues to be brought back to that place, back to the few things he remembered from his childhood.

They say that it’s normal to be battling demons from the past, but you couldn’t exactly fit the description of one. You were sweet, kind, and the only one outside his mother who had treated him the nicest in his life. You had indulged in his fantasies of becoming a hero. You had tried your hardest to play with him despite your parents’ wishes, and you especially were trying until you couldn’t anymore to see him.

So why, why is he so pissed off right now?

Maybe it’s because you were the only living person alive to know “Tenko” and only “Tenko”. Perhaps it’s because you were the only one he didn’t already disintegrate, the only one he hadn’t ruined by his own hands. Or maybe it’s his reaction to knowing that there is one other person alive that would be able to understand him now.

He knew you were at least alive. But you were unreachable, at least now.

Ah. His sim just blew up the stove. Great.

Shigaraki scoffs, leaning back as he stares up the ceiling. He breathes in the room air as he ponders what had happened to get you to come back here.

-

Visions of the past starts to resurface. He remembered, you used to play with him after school, didn’t you?

The sounds of birds chirping in the background colored his ears as he remembered the streets you two would walk together with. You had a hero action figure on one hand, and the box at the other. "I can't believe it! We scored another goodie!" Laughter filled the air as the two of you shared glances at the toy. "You're too good at this sometimes...it's insane!" Tenko exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air once as if he were a superhero. You smiled "I know right! My quirk's looking up to be quite useful after all~" - Shigaraki clicked feverishly again, trying to undo a fire. - More visions appeared. This time, you were the one to wait outside his house.

"Tenko! It's me! I got the board game!" Tenko of course, ran downstairs with his backpack and hat ready. His mother shared nodding glances at yours as the two of you head over to your house to play. In your room, you open up the board game to reveal a monopoly game. Only this time, you two wouldn't be playing the usual way. Pieces began to float as you closed your eyes, manipulating a scene of a lively city area. The pieces move and manipulate to your heart's whims, Tenko only stared in awe as the molded plastic suddenly turned lively. "What do you see, Tenko? I need to keep my eyes closed to keep going" Tenko furrowed his brows, tilting his head as he sees a man trying to control his out of control dog from.

"A guy is trying really hard to control his dog right now" he giggled, leaning closer to watch the events unfold. You could only giggle back, shutting your eyes further as you imagined that scenario even more vividly. "And what's happening now?" Tenko stares down, seeing a group of individuals dance around near the beach. "There's a dance group right now! They're doing that one kira kira sequence!" You gasped, opening your eyes "Really?!" Just like that, everything stopped, reverted, and fell to the side. The two of you sighed, disappointed at the sight. A pout formed at your face "It's not fair...I wanna see my quirk too..." You slumped over, fiddling with one of the plastic pieces "If only I could open my eyes without disabling my quirk...It's no fun only having to hear what's happening while everything's pitch black..." A sigh escaped your lips, yet Tenko muttered out, his face flushing "Well, if we were a hero duo, I can look out for the stuff you're doing always" Your eyes opened up "That's a great idea! We'll duo this thing together!"

Tenko looked over at you, his eyes glimmering with a sense of admiration. "Y-you really mean that?" You smiled, pumping your fist in the air "Yeah! We could be a hero duo just you'll see! You be my eyes and I'll be your hands!"

- Another screw-up. Shiggy's sim didn't feed their baby again. -

Another memory. One that wasn't so...happy. It was the last time he had ever saw you. A day before you left the neighborhood, and the day you left him. You were in his room this time, flipping through the comic books that Tenko had borrowed from the library. The air was quiet, but even he could tell that you were troubled by something. You spoke out finally, “My parents are mad at me again...” Tenko looked over, closing the comic as he looked over at you in confusion. "Dad doesn't like my quirk at all...he told me that if I keep using it, I'll get in serious trouble" You frowned, continuing "What does he know anyway? It's not fair..."

Tenko could only look down, saddened that you're being punished for something so great. I mean, why would your dad even find issue with this? It's your quirk for goodness’ sake! If anything, you should be able to use it as much as you wanted! You sighed, rolling over closer to Tenko "But y'know...Mom has a way to convince dad that my quirk is any good" Snickering through your words, you smiled "If all goes well tomorrow, I'll be in the clear to be a certified hero when I grow up!" Tenko only smiled, chuckling softly as he reminisced about that promise of being a hero duo with you.

"I can't wait for tomorrow then!"

- Shigaraki's eyes twitched as he sees the notification bar on the top right. His baby was taken away.

He took a deep breath, hands shaking as he tried his best to not disintegrate his mouse.

"Dammit."

Shigaraki cursed at himself silently. He stared up at the boarded out windows, seeing the moonlight illuminate his room as he stared at the clock right next to one of the windows. It was time for your nightly walks. He begins scratching his neck again, thinking...

Maybe it was time to pay you a visit. Personally.

[valeovalairs]

A Riptide AU that I came up with

Some pretty big spoilers for Riptide Episode #109, please don’t read further you have been warned.

Okay, I know episode 109 JUST came out, and Niklaus is probably going to fix Chibo, -with a price and conditions blah blah blah most likely but like, hopefully he’ll be fine and get his heart back… hopefully, maybe, I hope he’ll be okay- but I had an idea. 

Or more like I came up with an entire AU in my head halfway through the episode as it really started to sink in that Chip is now undead (at least he’s not dead dead yk, thought he was for like two seconds). (Mind you I thought of this while things were really starting to seem hopeless and before Niklaus became a possibility.)

Okay first of all, Chip has a bandana that could change his appearance right? I’m pretty sure he still has that right? That’s going to be important later.

May I present to you: The Legend of the Immortal Riptide Pirate.

So say Chip never gets fixed. They’re able to successfully leave (idk how but they do) and eventually they escape the Black Sea (maybe they’ve fixed it, that would be great and ideal), but Chip is still undead, and for all they know they can’t heal him, he’s stuck like that forever. He begins to constantly use the disguise bandana to just look like himself. Alive. (So no one besides the crew knows he’s undead)

The Riptide Pirates keep going, but time passes. Everyone gets older, years go by, and Chip is still the same. He never will change. He’s 19 and he will always look 19. They live their lives. But eventually Chip is the last one (this gets a little sad I’M SORRY). He doesn’t take on another crew, and the Riptide Pirates become something of a legend. 

People begin to whisper about the Riptide Pirates, or Pirate. How he mans the ship alone, and some might even say he’s immortal, as people from decades ago remember hearing of him. And seeing him. He’s seen occasionally, docking the Albatross, and doing something piratey. Usually he helps people. (I just thought of this I don’t have specific details), usually he messes with the Navy and Raft (because they don’t die either apparently, so he’s made it his mission to screw them over as much as possible)

At this point where the AU really would kick off it’s been decades maybe even a whole century or more since the events of Riptide. There’s a Ferin descendant, and she’s heard stories of her ancestor Jay Ferin, who was apart of the original Riptide Pirates crew, back when there was a crew, and how she sailed with the Legendary Riptide Pirate. She’s her hero. Her family is trying to rope her into Raft, to send her off like to Navy school or whatever. She wants none of that but they aren’t really giving her a choice. So she’s there, probably in All-Port, and she’s trying to come up with a way to get out. She knows her ancestor used to be a Riptide Pirate, and she knows THE Riptide Pirate is still drifting around. So she has an idea. She wants to be a Riptide Pirate. She begins to plan her escape.

Meanwhile, the Undersea had a new Chosen One. She’s meant to do what the previous Champion didn’t do. She’s completely just for ceremonial purposes, and she isn’t actually THE chosen one, there was only one, but the Undersea pretends to have another one because they don’t know what else to do- the Elders keep this fact secret. She hates it, but she’s known nothing else. The Undersea decides to show her off, diplomatic stuff (what exactly, I’m not entirely sure atm). She’s in All-Port and above on land for the first time ever. It’s incredible. And for the first time ever, she sees a way out. 

The day the Champion is in All-Port coincides with the day the Ferin decides to make her break for it, there’s supposed to be a lot of commotion with the Chosen One and Undersea Elders which should help them get away and give them some time. The Ferin gets out and begins to weave her way through the city, heading for the docks. The Champion had got out too, but she hadn’t really thought that far ahead and doesn’t know where to go or what to do. She’s just wandering around late at night by herself, clearly lost and a little scared- because she can’t get caught she doesn’t want to go back. The Champion runs into the Ferin who instantly recognizes them as the Chosen One and is confused and panics a little because what is the chosen one doing here? The chosen one is supposed to be on the other side of the city and being the chosen one and distracting everyone not here. They both realize they’re trying to leave, and after a quick conversation the two of them run off together, because the Riptide Pirate had known the first Chosen One, they had been friends and co-captains. He could help her, help them both get away. He would understand. So they leave.

The Ferin has a small ship that she’d be able to handle herself, or maybe she steals it idk. They go off together. Eventually they dock at one port (I’m thinking Zero- they know from asking around that he frequents Zero) and then they wait. And once they know he’s there and docked, they sneak onto his ship.

Chip is very surprised to find the Champion of the Undersea and a Ferin together on the Albatross once again.

(That’s as far as i thought but I think it’s pretty cool- I may or may not work on this some more)

[thinplacesradio]

a staircase ascending upwards, framed pictures on the wall to the right. a pink haze over everything. the image is distorted by VCR static. white text reads:

[028] THE CURSE. A CALLER RETURNS TO A DARK PLACE. THE HOST DOES TOO.

listen here, or anywhere you find your podcasts. transcript under the cut:

[static, radio tuning]

[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]

[click]

Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I’m your host,

and it is the middle of the night. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.

[Thin Places theme] 

[background thumps and buzzing]

I’m coming to you apprehensive from my studio, which is what I like to call this long, long staircase, built from decades-old creaking wood, descending down into the darkness below this antique store. I know I’ve been here before, even if I’m fuzzy on exactly when, or exactly how. Those memories I can look at out of the corner of my eye, if I don’t turn my head too fast. If I just let the road lead me back through my own mind, I think I’m getting somewhere. I’m its supplicant. I follow. 

[creaking footsteps] [thumping]

If I turn around now, I can see the rectangle of light above and behind me, the first eight and a half steps down, the splintering railing and a few shelves. A mouth. But now I’m lost to the sensation of nothing, the damp, woodsy chill that’s engulfed me.

[feet scuffing]

There is a kind of dark so absolute it makes you forget you exist as a thinking, feeling creature. You are nothing more than a heart beating in your own eardrums. If I listen very carefully I can hear it speaking with a voice of its own. But I don’t know what it’s saying. The dark. I have to wait for my eyes to adjust to it. But I know they will. You can adjust to anything if you give it a little bit of time. 

But it’d be nice if I could find a f***ing light switch down here instead. 

So… what is Thin Places Radio? Well, you can call in about anything strange that you’ve got going on in your life - feelings, omens, premonitions, hauntings.

Is your new pet a ghost? 

Does something bad keep happening to you when you pass through a certain place?

Are you trying to navigate a galaxies-long-distance relationship? 

When the veil between worlds is thin, we get closer than ever to the strange and the unexplained - and also to each other. Call in, get it off your chest. Lines are open.

[click] [voicemail:]

Hi - first time caller, long time listener, love your show. Thank you. I was wondering: do you think that a place can be cursed? Or that somebody can be - I don't know, like, when someone goes through a place that it can affect them in a negative way. The reason I ask is, I am sitting in Waco, and Waco always seems to be a weird place for me when I drive through. So I'm sitting here, in the middle of the night. It's been 3 hours. I'm sitting behind a car wreck. And people go up there and don't come back and it's just been a long time we've been waiting. But, anyhow, this first happened probably 30 years ago. I was driving through Waco, and we stopped at McDonald's, and we're eating our meal and look out the window and a trailer is literally being backed on top of my vehicle. It like, actually climbed up on top of my car. And it was just like so weird. So we kind of avoided Waco for a long time. We had like several other incidents where we got in accidents or almost got in accidents just in passing through Waco off of a particular stretch of 35. So my question: Are places cursed? Can a person be cursed in a place? Thank you.

[click] 

Hi, caller, thank you so much - it’s nice to be thought of. The answer to your question is exactly what you think it is.

Yes. Of course. 

It’s hard to imagine a place with darker energies than Waco, Texas, but everyone has their own personal cursed places, the places that pull them in again and again to get them stuck and to vanish them and to eat cars. Sometimes you don’t even know where that place is until you pass over it, again, and your body remembers that something happened to you there.

[searching music]

Sometimes what happens in a place curses it; sometimes, you keep carrying out the curse yourself.

And sometimes, when something cursed happens somewhere, it primes you to keep looking for the curse – to keep your ears pricked and your eyes peeled for another stretch of bad luck. When you’re stricken with a curse, that very first time, it’s really hard not to always be ready for it to come back to you. You want to be ready for when it hurts you again. You learn to expect the pain.

Pain will always find you. That’s not something that your mindset can fix. It always comes back to you, and you'll keep carrying it with you. But that’s when it becomes more important than ever to search for the blessed. The relief. The strange small beauties, even in a place like Waco, Texas. The gift of three hours to yourself, in the dark, in a place you didn’t want to sit and think in. The energy of a McDonald’s meal. The saving grace of a near-accident that wasn’t an accident. The wildflowers on the side of the road. The person in the passenger seat next to you.

You’re still allowed to take another route home next time, though. That’s okay, too. 

[click]

I could stay down here, you know. That’s what it’s telling me.

[echoed thudding]

In the dark you can be anything, and everything, and in the dark, it does not matter if you do not remember your name. It does not matter if you have a mystery to solve or food to find or a life to live. The forgetting lives in the dark, where there is no difference between sleep and waking. [buzzing, echoed words:] It wants me to stay. It would love me as a sponge loves water. There would no longer be a me. 

[buzzing builds, then stops abruptly]

But - no. No, there was someone on the line, just now. Someone that I was someone to. There’s a job I have to do. And there’s a lamp on a desk somewhere, back here. I remember. There’s - 

[steps]

There.

[lamp clicks on]

Oh. There’s nothing here. There’s nothing here. 

That was weird. I’m gonna get out of here. 

[lamp clicks off] [footsteps leave]

[click]

Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do. As always, our number is 717.382.8093. That’s 717.382.8093. Until next time. I’ll be here.

[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: the - road - provides - the - road - provides -]

Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of Your Host is Kristen O’Neal.

Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by Kelly. Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme, by Miles Morkri, and Umeed by RANA. If you have a question to ask, a story to tell, or a suggestion for the host, give us a call at ‪(717) 382-8093. The lines are always open.

[Thin Places Theme outro]