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rax-writes · 3 years

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Fandom: MCU Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings: Sexual intercourse with a female-identifying person with a vagina + a bit of sugar daddy Zemo vibes at the end Notes: Y’all... don’t judge me. I have a power kink, and Marvel did me dirty by randomly deciding that Zemo is fifthly rich royalty. And my girl @henrysmorgan did me even dirtier by actively encouraging my attraction to this fucker. So, blame Marvel, and blame her. // This is kind of really fucking long, and I didn’t edit it much, because I wanted to get it posted before episode 4, in case that episode flips the script. So, potentially some editing issues, and slightly rushed writing. Hopefully it’s alright, but please let me know if I screwed up anywhere. // Lots and lots of TFAWS ep. 3 spoilers

When Bucky texted you to ask that you meet him in some dusty, old, abandoned-looking car garage, you certainly didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that an old friend needed your help, so you intended to be there.

It had been a few months since you’d last seen him, and even longer since you’d participated in any sort of mission, but you suspected that was what you were walking into. Being exposed to the Mind Stone had granted you the power of telepathy, which meant that SHIELD was quite keen on persuading you to work for them. They trained you in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, and you went on miscellaneous missions a handful of times. They put in a lot of effort to convince you that it was your moral obligation as an “enhanced individual” to help them with these missions, but you ultimately decided that that simply wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. Instead, after the Blip, you began working a desk job for SHIELD, which is when you crossed paths with Bucky, helping him with paperwork associated with his pardon, and the two of you formed a friendship. But SHIELD kept trying to coerce you to get back into the field, constantly badgering you about it and making it clear that you weren’t wanted if all you were doing was paperwork.

The truth is, you weren’t cut out to be a superhero, and you had no desire to be. It didn’t help that your entire country had been reduced to rubble several years prior, leaving you with a bottomless pit of homelessness in your heart. So, you left SHIELD, and started a life in Berlin, where you were content to live out your days as the owner of a small bakery, residing in the small apartment above your shop.

That is, until Bucky Barnes dragged you into a particularly sticky situation, with a certain Baron Helmut Zemo.

You knew that helping Bucky and Sam would throw a colossal wrench in the life you’d created for yourself in Berlin, but after they explained the situation with the super soldiers, coupled with Bucky’s puppy dog eyes, you found yourself refraining from storming out of the building the second you saw Helmut fucking Zemo.

“We need you to keep an eye on him. You don’t have to tap into his mind 24/7, we just want a heads up if he’s going to screw us over,” Bucky explained.

"Look, we really need him. We’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, otherwise he'd still be in that cell. And neither of us want to be packing a criminal around like a rich bitch's chihuahua, so we need you here to make sure we're not gonna get bit," Sam explained.

"Fine. But you both owe me," you relented, and they both took sighs of relief. You glanced at Zemo, locking eyes with him for several tense moments. He gave you a polite smile, giving off the impression that he had nothing to hide – which he didn't, as his thoughts showed his intentions were pure at the moment. "We're good for now. He just genuinely wants the opportunity to take down these new super soldiers."

Sam and Bucky nodded, visibly releasing tension from their shoulders as they moved to head out, now reassured that Zemo was truly on their side. Meanwhile, Zemo eyed you with curiosity and awe, murmuring, "Fascinating."

The four of you walked on the landing strip toward a private jet, owned by Zemo.

"So all this time you've been rich?"

"I was a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country," Zemo explained, before glancing at you with a small smile. "But you knew that already."

"Wait, how did she know that?" Sam asked, then turned to you. "How did you know that?"

"I am Sokovian myself. I was certainly not royalty, but I lived there for my entire life, until it was destroyed," you explained, stopping outside the jet as Zemo greeted the elderly butler, Oeznik, in your native language. It made you smile to yourself; it had been years since you'd heard it spoken. Zemo shot you a grin when he noticed, and when you took a peek into his mind, you saw that he understood exactly how you felt.

As the butler handed Zemo a flute of champagne after you all boarded the jet, the Baron smiled politely as Oeznik stated, “Apologies if that's a little warm. The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the galley.”

Zemo glanced as you sat across from him, then in Sokovian, Zemo told Oeznik, "Another flute for the lady, please. And if the food does not pass the smell test, give it to the gentlemen."

"It's good to have you back, sir!"

As the man retreated to the cockpit, also in Sokovian, you noted, "You are a mischievous man, even more so than in your infamously criminal ways."

"You will find that there is more to me than meets the eye, angel," he responded coolly, the Sokovian language rolling off his tongue like honey. Before you could respond, admittedly enjoying speaking Sokovian, Sam grew tired of everyone speaking a language he couldn't understand.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?"

After a tense exchange between Bucky and Zemo, followed by a discussion about Marvin Gaye, Zemo finally got to the point: Madripoor. You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead in your palm in exasperation.

“You couldn’t have invited me on a mission to Cancun? Or Paris? Why must it be Madripoor?” you asked Bucky, who shot you a tight-lipped, pitying smile, silently apologizing for what he was dragging you into.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s,” Bucky explained.

“And upon seeing it, you would see that times there haven’t changed one bit since then,” you added.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone,” Zemo said.

You frowned as you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s thoughts as he went silent. Fear. Anxiety. Disdain. Apprehension. You reached across to rest your hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He shot you a small smile, then looked out the window.

Upon landing in Madripoor, one of Zemo’s contacts met you on the landing strip with a new wardrobe for you, Bucky, and Sam, and Zemo explained that each outfit was per his instruction, carefully chosen to fit the role each of you would be playing in Madripoor. One by one, you took the covered clothes hanger to the bathroom of the jet and changed. Bucky was first, stepping out in some sort of leather number, looking eerily similar to the Winter Soldier you’d seen in photos. Sam was next, donning a three-piece suit of burgundy and gold. He looked sharp, although he was immediately complaining about how ostentatious it was. And finally, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, unzipping the covering on the hanger and revealing your “carefully chosen” outfit.

“Ich werde dir im Schlaf die Eier abreißen, Zemo!”

Bucky choked on his water and Zemo chuckled under his breath, while Sam looked between the two in confusion.

“I don’t know what she said, but she sounded pissed,” he observed, eyeing Zemo suspiciously.

“She informed me that she intends to remove my testicles in my sleep.”

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps because he’s chosen to parade me around Madripoor like a cheap whore,” you said angrily, stepping out of the bathroom with your hands on your hips, glaring at Zemo.

“That dress is by Armani Prive, and your shoes are Louboutins – far from ‘cheap.’ And you do not look like a whore, the dress is merely more revealing than what you are used to,” Zemo argued, standing and walking over to survey your outfit. He seemed to be enjoying what he saw, judging from the way his eyes raked up and down your body, but you didn’t dare check his thoughts to confirm or deny it.

If you were honest with yourself, he was right. It was a very nice dress; plum purple, matching the color of Zemo’s turtleneck, with long, fitted sleeves, all of it made of the softest silk you had ever touched. It was fitted at the top but flowy from the hips down, with a low balconette-style neckline, showing more of your chest than you were accustomed to, although you pulled it off quite nicely. It ended just above your knees, which was fine, as you sometimes wore skirts of that length. Overall, the luxury of it and the low-cut neckline ensured that you were out of your comfort zone, but you looked stunning – and expensive, despite your spite-fueled initial claim.

“I thought the color would look nice on you, and I was right. And I knew that the flow of the fabric at the bottom would allow for this,” Zemo said, his hand gingerly trailing from your waist to your thigh, where he pulled up the hem of your dress slightly to reveal the edge of the Glock strapped into your thigh holster. He smirked as his suspicion was confirmed. He knew you’d find a way to arm yourself, regardless of what you wore.

In hindsight, the way Zemo touched your side and lifted your skirt was all far more intimate than you should have allowed, and yet… you couldn’t deny the way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you, or how his close proximity made your body temperature rise, as he gazed down at you with those intense brown eyes.

Christ, you needed to get laid. Soon. Before you further entertained the idea of jumping the bones of a highly wanted criminal.

“Touch me like that again, and I will kill you where you stand,” you informed him sternly, and Zemo immediately took a step backwards, looking apologetic. From the corner of your eye, you saw both Sam and Bucky visibly relax, tension leaving their shoulders. You had read their thoughts briefly, and they were both wondering why the hell you were so calm about getting cozy with Zemo. The absolute last thing you wanted was for them to know that you were, in fact, inexplicably drawn to being that close to the Baron.

As the four of you walked along a bridge in Madripoor, Sam was quick to resume his complaining.

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname,” Sam grumbled, then looked at the phone Zemo handed him. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“And who am I supposed to be?” you inquired, glancing down at your clothing to see if you could guess who you were meant to be portraying. An heiress or socialite, perhaps.

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered simply, the faintest smile on his lips.

You barked out a crude laugh, “Oh, I think not.”

“There is no one involved with Madripoor who looks like you. And it is rare that there are newcomers to the island, especially not in the place we’re going. Pretending you are someone random would raise concerns about the intentions of your presence; you would be perceived as a potential threat, which would jeopardize our mission. It is far easier to simply pretend we are engaged, I assure you.”

You hesitated a moment, before arguing, “No one will believe that we are engaged.”

Zemo pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, took your left hand, and slipped it onto your ring finger. It was a solitaire diamond ring; not large enough to be gaudy, but enough to catch anyone’s eye.

“They will if you play your part well,” he told you, then addressed the rest of your party when he added, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

The four of you reached a sleek black car, and climbed in, you in the back between Sam and Bucky. The ride to Low Town was tense and silent, as each of you mentally prepared for what lay ahead. When you arrived, Zemo offered you his hand as you exited the car, and the pointed look in his eyes told you that it was time to begin playing your part. You took his hand, and as you began walking into the heart of Low Town, he laced his fingers with yours. As the crowd drew near, Zemo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gloved fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. After reading his mind, you realized that it was both for the sake of protecting you, and showing possessiveness to make it believable that you were his girl – and because he simply enjoyed having your body close, although you suspected that he’d rather you have not known that.

Despite the fact that you had been on a few missions for SHIELD, you were not exactly incapable of fear; you did not possess nerves of steel. All of the missions you’d been on were low-profile, and you were mostly just there for the sake of gathering information from those reluctant to share it. Sure, you’d been in danger before, you’d had to fight your way out of several sticky situations, but this… this was different. You were in the crime capital of the world, a lawless place filled to the brim with crooks, thieves, and murderers. More than likely, any given person around could slit your throat and never bat an eye or give you a second thought. Swallowing your own pride in the face of fear prompted you to return Zemo’s gesture, wrapping your arm around his waist and sticking close to him, which earned a smile from the man.

When you arrived at your destination, Zemo approached the bar and leaned against it confidently on one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

“Hello, gentleman,” the bartender greeted, before his eyes fell on you. “Who’s your new lady friend, Baron?”

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered, then turned to you and ran his finger along your jawline, as you looked at him in adoration. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Very,” the bartender acknowledged, then turned to Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo responded.

The bartender made ‘Smiling Tiger’ his usual drink, which apparently consisted of… something he cut out of a snake, and dropped in a shot glass with a bit of liquor. You shared a look with Bucky before he turned away to survey the room, and when you read his thoughts, you found that you both desperately wanted to laugh out loud at Sam’s ‘short end of the stick’ situation, but didn’t want to risk everyone’s lives for the sake of a chuckle. You returned your attention to Zemo, opting to sell the whole “fiancée” thing a bit more by turning into him and tracing patterns on his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, while the bartender handed you and Zemo each a shot glass of your own – sans snake organs, thankfully. You both downed yours, while Sam understandably struggled a bit more with his, but still managed it.

A random man approached Zemo then, and as Zemo turned to face him, he protectively moved you behind him a bit.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo countered, gesturing toward Bucky, who looked menacing as he pretended to be the Winter Soldier. “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

After a weary look in Bucky’s direction, the man walked away, and Zemo turned back around to face the bar, this time keeping you in between him in the bar, in case someone were to come up behind him – which they did a few moments later.

“Winter Soldier… attack,” Zemo commanded in Russian, as a different man came up and laid a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. With a pained look in his eye that quickly shifted to cold determination, Bucky grabbed the man’s hand with his vibranium arm, twisting it as he removed it from Zemo’s shoulder. Zemo took a step away from the bar to allow you room to turn and observe as Bucky beat the absolute shit out of various challengers. Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he noted, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

The unmistakable sound of numerous guns cocking drew your attention away from the altercation, and Zemo gently pushed you behind him as he surveyed the room to note all the weapons drawn. Sam grabbed Bucky’s bionic arm to stop him, but Zemo whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”

“Well done, soldier,” Zemo then said to Bucky in Russian, signaling for the ‘Winter Soldier�� to stop.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interjected, and Bucky released his grip on the random man’s throat.

“Thank you,” Zemo responded, walking off to find Selby, grabbing your hand to guide you, but not before you spared a sorrowful glance at Bucky as your friends followed closely behind.

As Zemo took a seat on a couch across from Selby, you sat close to him, crossing your legs gracefully as you leaned into him, your arm wrapped around his as he clasped his hands in his lap authoritatively. You watched his exchange with Selby in silence, as did Sam – and Bucky, of course, considering he was pretending to be the Winter Soldier.

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison,” Selby told Zemo, then smiled as she looked you up and down, before her eyes found the diamond ring. “And not engaged – to a woman far out of your league, I might add.”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered calmly, then looked over at you, staring into your eyes with warmth and adoration, and you smiled lovingly at him. “My beautiful fiancée was a guard at the prison. We fell in love over the years, and she helped me escape. Anyway, I’m sure you have already figured out what I’m here for.”

The conversation went relatively smoothly after that, until Sam’s goddamn phone rang and screwed the entire operation. In the blink of an eye, Selby was shot dead, you had shot two of the guards with the gun strapped to your thigh, and Sam and Bucky had each knocked out one, before Zemo suggested sneaking out of the bar as best you could, without any weapons. You secured your gun back in its holster, not missing the way Zemo watched as you hiked your dress up to do so, before making a break for it with the three of them.

Once you were on the streets of Madripoor, bounty hunters began to come out of the woodwork, and when they began shooting at you, Zemo abruptly grabbed your hand and ran down a nearby alleyway. As you were running, the heel of your stiletto caught on a grate, and you’d have fallen flat on your face if Zemo hadn’t caught you.

“Are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he supported you, before standing you back onto your feet. You nodded, and he glanced over your shoulder as he noticed a few men looking down the alley. “Forgive me.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about, but then Zemo abruptly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, pinned you against the wall behind you, and kissed you.

The men at the end of the alleyway muttered something about “freaks who do it in public,” then their footsteps faded as they walked off, clearly thinking the two of you were some overly horny couple, not two of the people with an insane bounty on their heads. But you were barely paying them any attention, a bit preoccupied with the fact that Zemo was fucking kissing you, and much to your chagrin, you really fucking liked it.

Once there were no more voices and no more footsteps, Zemo broke the kiss and sat you down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you heard more gunshots, and you broke into a run in the direction Bucky and Sam had gone, desperate to find your friends, and no time to process what the hell just happened.

As soon as you caught up with them, the two bounty hunters nearby were shot dead, and the four of you turned to see Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows.

An hour later, you found yourself in her swanky home in High Town, in a change of clothes, since the brick wall Zemo had held you up against ripped the back of your silk dress. You lied to Sam and Bucky, saying that it happened because you fell while running in your heels, and thankfully, they believed you. Sharon commanded the four of you to lay low and enjoy the party, which Sam and Bucky left her living room to go do, entrusting you with ‘Zemo watch.’

It seemed as though he was merely nursing his brandy in lieu of abandoning it for the party prior to finishing it off, but his eyes were on you most of the time. You didn't necessarily believe he could be plotting to overpower you and run off, but there is always that possibility, so you delved into his mind to check.

Expecting to find thoughts of strategy about how to defeat the super soldiers or travel plans, or even plots to escape you, Bucky, and Sam, you were astounded to find nothing but thoughts of you.

The way it felt to kiss you in that alleyway, and how he had monetarily debated just staying there, having his way with you against the brick wall before Sam and Bucky could locate you. The dress from the bar, and how it rested on your thighs, revealing just enough to have his mouth watering without being revealing to the point of immodesty. The way your necklace currently rested against your bare collarbone, and how desperately he craved to litter the area with love bites. The delicate skin of your throat, thinking of how it would look with his hand wrapped around it, just enough to cut off a bit of air but not enough harm you. How alluring your voice is, and how much he'd like to know what it would sound like to hear you scream his name. The softness and warmness of your skin when he had his arm around you in the bar, and when he held your hand as you fled the scene, and he wondered how soft and warm you were elsewhere.

"Your thoughts are filthy."

He bristled immediately, sitting straighter in his seat and eyes going slightly wide, either forgetting you can read minds or not realizing you'd be doing it right then. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, before he took one long, last drink of his brandy and set the glass on the table in front of him. He turned his whole body to the side to face you, as you sat on the opposite end of the couch, wearing a small, somewhat mischievous smile.

"I suppose there is no sense in denying it, is there?"

"What game are you playing, Zemo?" you snapped. He was rattling you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was. For the entirety of the time you'd been around him, this wanted criminal had been flustering you, and goddammit it, you wanted to know if it was accidental, or for nefarious purposes. He could be using it as a tactic to throw you off your game, so that he could get away when it was just the two of you – like right now.

"There is no game, Liebling," he stated softly and sincerely, sensing your discomfort. Slowly, he scooted closer to you on the couch, so that the arm he had laid across the back of it was now behind you, as he stared intently into your eyes. "Merely the natural response of a man who has been widowed and then locked in a prison cell, and therefore has not known the touch of a woman in many years, sitting next to a woman of absolute ethereal beauty."

You said nothing, merely stared at him, sizing him up to see if he was toying with you or telling the truth. Zemo sensed your lack of belief in his words.

"If you doubt my true intentions, you are welcome to delve as deep into my mind as you'd like to find the truth."

In all honesty, you'd have done that already if you weren't trying to avoid being even more flustered by his thoughts about you – but you couldn't tell him that. So, you did as he bade you, and searched his mind to find any shred of malevolence towards you, but you came out empty-handed. Zemo genuinely just wanted you, craved you, like a starved man sitting in front of an endless buffet. He watched you carefully as you came to this conclusion, and although you said nothing further, he knew that you had found what you needed to know.

"Just say the word, and I will never approach the topic again, as well as attempt to quiet my thoughts about you. But if there is any part of you... deep inside you," Zemo paused, eyes grazing you up and down purposefully, before continuing, "that has any interest in being with me... I will do anything to bring that to fruition."

The ball was in your court now. You could tell him to get bent and never speak to you like this again… or you could get your rocks off, and maybe even get something more in return.

"Such as?"

"Name it, Schätzchen. Anything you want. A car, a mansion, jewels – say it and it's yours, if you will be mine," Zemo proposed earnestly, licking his lips quickly as he looked at you, visibly thrilled that he was getting somewhere with you.

You weren't the type to accept gifts from men you barely know, but… this was Zemo. A man who had done a great many terrible things, which soothed your guilty conscience. So, you said the first thing that came to mind.

"A car," you blurted out, then explained, "Mine broke down a week ago, and it's beyond repair, so… a car."

"Tell me the make and model of your preference and I'll have it delivered to your home within a week's time," Zemo said calmly, then brushed a lock of hair away from your face, before allowing his fingers to trail delicately along your cheek and jawline. "Is that all, Kätzchen?"

"No. One more thing," you replied, then looked at him sternly. "You must agree to never speak of this to Bucky or Sam."

"You have my word," he assured you, smiling in amusement.

"Then I'm yours."

Zemo's smile faded slowly, and he merely stared at you for a split second, before cupping your face in his hands and pulled you into a searing kiss, full of ferocity and sheer desperation. It shouldn't have been this easy, to kiss a man who's done such terrible things – yet here you were, melting into his embrace, allowing him to pull you into his lap and straddle him, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping the black fabric of his turtleneck. His hands laid flat against your back as he kissed you in this new position, slowly gliding down, down your sides and to your hips. He kissed you in a way that was feverish and fast and hungry, as his fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly against him as if he were fearful that this was all a dream and you'd disappear at any moment. Upon taking a peek into his mind, you realized that was actually exactly what he was thinking. Additionally, he mentally spoke to you directly, somehow knowing you were reading his thoughts at that moment.

"Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, and know that you have absolute freedom to end this at any given moment."

You pulled away slightly to nod in confirmation that you received his message, before resuming the kiss. Mind hazy and instincts taking over, you found yourself tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a low groan from Zemo. One of his hands darted upwards to grab a fistful of your hair, right against your scalp at the base of your neck, and he pulled on it harshly, causing you to let out a wonton moan. He then laid that hand flat against the back of your neck, holding your lips firmly against his as he kissed you with even more fervor, and the other vacated its position on your hip to slide slowly up your torso, until he began palming your beast through your shirt. You moaned softly against his lips, but not as loudly as a moment ago.

Zemo wanted more, needed more; he longed to hear you loud and desperate. So he delved that hand at your neck back into your hair, gripping it tightly once more, and used it to pull your head backwards a bit, so that he could have better access to your neck. The action itself, and the tightness of his grip, earned an embarrassingly loud moan to escape your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin. He moved his hand to the middle of your back, supporting you as you leaned back a bit to grant him better access. As he littered your neck and décolletage with kisses, you felt him pull the neckline of your blouse down a little, then felt the sharp pain of a bite on your chest, above your breast. When you looked at him with narrowed eyes, he wore a cocky little grin.

"You should not be surprised, Liebling. I know you saw that I've been wanting to do that all day when you read my mind," he noted. "Wear a high neckline tomorrow, it will be fine."

Before you could respond, Zemo pulled you flush against his chest with that hand behind your back, and into another heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and without thinking, you ground your hips down on the bulge resting against your core beneath your skirt. He groaned, both hands flying to your hips to push them down again, guiding them as you repeated the action. It only took a minute or two of this before Zemo had enough, abruptly grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the couch beside him. He then loomed over you, one hand propping himself up and the other applying slight pressure to your throat, gazing at you with admiration in those searing eyes, pupils blown wide from lust. You looked right back at him, pupils undoubtedly dilated as well, eyes half-lidded, panting a little, and hair a bit of a mess.

"You are an absolute vision," Zemo praised softly, to which you smiled, then he released his grip on your neck to lean down and kiss you again. That only lasted a moment, before he broke the kiss to pull your blouse up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Your bra joined it shortly after, then he moved to your skirt, fussing with the zipper for a moment, but it seemed to be caught on something, as it wouldn't budge. Before you could interject and state that you'd get the zipper yourself, Zemo ripped the seam apart with his hands, before tearing the article from your body and tossing it like he had with the blouse. A gasp escaped you, but you had no time to think much about his actions, before he was pulling off your panties and bra as well, dropping them somewhere beside the couch.

He was then looming over you again, kissing you breathless as he rested on one elbow while the other hand toyed with your nipple, his knee coming up to rest between your legs as he laid between your body and the back of the couch. You tangled your fingers in Zemo's hair, moaning against his lips as you sought friction against his leg. He smiled softly against your lips, before your hands wandered, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it off of him. You had just managed to get his belt off before his hand left your breast, trailing downwards across your torso as he moved his knee further away from you, before delving between your hips and expertly locating your clit.

No longer capable of focusing on ridding Zemo of his clothes, your hands gripped his shoulders, and he hissed deliciously as your nails dug into his skin when he began rubbing small, methodical circles on your clit. Small moans fell from your lips as he watched the way your mouth hung open slightly, face relaxed and eyes closed as you enjoyed his work. But again, he wanted more, needed more. Still observing you, he delved his middle and ring fingers into your core, causing you to let out a loud gasp that faded into a long, low moan. Zemo smiled to himself. That was the reaction he was dying for.

He kissed you senseless, drinking in your moans and gasps of pleasure like wine, his free hand cradling the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. It didn't take Zemo long to find that sweet spot, deep inside you – as he'd subtly alluded to earlier – that longed for his attention the most.

You couldn't help but moan loudly and cry out, "Fuck! Baron!" Zemo growled low in your ear, clearly a fan of your usage of his title as he picked up the pace, fucking you with his fingers with expert precision and speed, sending you hurtling over the edge with a string of curses in both Sokovian and English. By the time he removed his fingers from you and stood, you were seeing stars, breathing heavily as you laid flat against the couch. When your dazed gaze found him, he was naked from the waist down, and was just finishing rolling a condom over his length. You had no idea where he got it from, but you were way beyond giving a shit at this point. Zemo then rejoined you on the couch, roughly spreading your legs apart as he kneeled between them, looking at you with a primal, deep hunger in his eyes.

"You are certain that you want this?"

"Yes, please – fuck," you cut yourself off as he began rubbing your clit again.

"Yes please, what?" His voice was low, teasing, as he continued his work below. "I want to hear you say it again, Kätzchen."

"Yes, please, Baron."

"Good girl."

Zemo took your leg and rested your calf on his shoulder, before easing himself into you, agonizingly slow. You watched through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrowed together, his jaw went slack, and his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out. He was silent, but you very much preferred it when he was a bit vocal. So, you flexed your muscles down there, and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder.

"Do not do that if you want this to last long," Zemo suggested through clenched teeth. You smiled to yourself, then said the magic word that you knew would get him going.

"Yes, Baron."

He growled again, right in your ear, then sat more upright to begin a harsh, quick pace of thrusting. His hips collided with your body each time, causing a delicious sort of pain, and he leaned down to lock you in a messy, deep kiss.

A few minutes later, Zemo moved your other calf to his shoulder as well, and the new position enabled him to get delectably deep inside you. You raked your nails down his chest, watching as a shudder ran down his spine, all the while releasing small, breathless moans and whimpers. When he opened his eyes again to gaze down at you, he licked his lips before delving both hands under your head and into your hair, and forcefully gripped two fitfuls of it at the base of your skull. The moan that tore its way from your throat was animalistic, as your nails dug into his forearms as you desperately gripped them from their positions on either side of your head. Just then, he hit a spot deep inside of you, and that familiar, tight coil in your lower belly began to form.

"Fuck! Right there, Baron, please, right there!"

"As you wish, Schätzchen."

Zemo began to thrust even faster, careful to maintain the same angle as he released his grip on your hair and leaned up a bit, so that he could resume rubbing your clit. Moans began to fall from your lips practically endlessly, and somehow, you still needed more. More, more, more. You took his free hand and laid it on your neck, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your throat, careful to apply pressure on the sides but not the front, as to avoid harming you. When he opened his eyes once again and looked down at you, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.

"You will be the death of me, mein Engel," Zemo whispered, seemingly more to himself. All you could do was moan in response.

"Baron, I'm going to – fuck – I'm —"

"Yes, come for me, Kätzchen. I want to feel you."

That was all the encouragement it took. Well, that plus how perfectly he was rubbing your bundle of nerves, and how his pace nor angle had faltered once since you had requested exactly that. You came undone again, legs shaking as your nails clawed at his shoulder blades, earning a series of groans from him. As you came down from your high, Zemo's hips began to falter, enthralled by the waterfall you had become, soaking the base of his cock as your walls squeezed around him. His hand at your wet heat abruptly moved to grip your hip, at the same moment his hand around your throat clutched at your hair again, and he met his end with a loud, gruff moan as he spoke a mantra of nonsensical praises and your name.

Zemo rested on his arms on either side of your head, and he let your legs fall to the sides of him, breathing hard against your neck as he occasionally peppered kisses there. He remained inside you for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before you chose to have a bit of extra fun by flexing your lower muscles and squeezing yourself around him again. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled out of you, shooting you a glare.

In Sokovian, he murmured, "You are a naughty little thing."

"You adore it."

"That I do," Zemo conceded, then stood and walked off to the restroom. You heard the tap run, and a few moments later, he returned with a glass of water for you, sitting beside your feet on the couch and resting his heels on the coffee table. He was exceptionally handsome like this; still catching his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, a content look upon his face. You spent a minute or two admiring him, before he looked over to you, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"I cannot thank you enough for that. I must admit, I spent countless nights alone in my cell, dreaming about getting to touch a woman like that again. Especially considering the fall of our country, I never could have imagined I would be lucky enough to lay with a stunning, intelligent Sokovian woman."

"In the spirit of confessions, it's been a while for me, too. My last boyfriend was about two years ago. And I'm not the one-night-stand type. So, do with that what you will," you stated, earning a small chuckle from Zemo. You sat up so that you were sitting beside him, instead of laying down, as you continued. "I fantasized about it a lot myself, but I never even dared to think my next time would be as good as this was."

Zemo smiled, a mix of pride and joy, then his smile softened as he leaned toward you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "This doesn't have to be our last time, you know. I would be honored to have you as often as you'd allow me to. And I assure you, I would make it worth your while. I will give you whichever vehicles your heart desires, more jewelry than you know what to do with, take you to the most beautiful places in the world, dine at only the finest restaurants – and above all, treat you like my queen. Take care of me, and I will take care of you, Liebling."

You allowed your curiosity to get the better of you, as usual when you feared that someone was lying to you. You searched his mind for any fraction of false pretenses, but there were none. The man simply found you intoxicating, and would do whatever it takes to keep drinking you in.

The arrangement wouldn't exactly be an easy one, nor would it be all that wise – nor morally correct, in all honesty. But he was undeniably sexy, and the danger and reprehensibility of it all made it that much more alluring. And besides all that – the way his power and wealth turned you on, how good he was capable of making you feel – most Sokovians were dead, and you missed home. Getting to speak your native tongue with him, chat about your country – it made you feel at home with him.

But you wouldn't give Zemo the satisfaction of agreeing to him that quickly.

“We'll see.”

—————

Part Two

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nebulablakemurphy · 3 years

Text

Miss American Pie

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

Warning: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader relationship.

Summary: After freeing the widows from chemical subjugation and destroying the red room, you and Yelena finally settle down.

Part 1 & Part 2

The widows welcome you, the ones you trained with and the ones you didn’t. After Dreykov was gone and you had nothing but time. Melina and Alexei go to work on replicating the antidote. Creating enough to free all chemically subjugated agents.

It’ll take time. But the more you free the more are willing to help. Some of the widows just leave once they are given freedom. Ready to wash their hands of all of this and start living. You understand that more than anything. Eventually the operation is running on such a large scale they hardly need you at all.

Natasha hasn’t reached out since you separated after the red room. Probably off with the Avengers trying to save the world again. No one blames her, for her inability to be still. Not even Yelena.

“So,” you plop down on the couch beside Yelena. “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know.” She admits, staring up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far.”

“Yeah.” You tug at a loose strand of her dirty blonde hair. “That makes two of us.”

“We could pretend to be normal.” Yelena offers. “What would a normal person do?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “I’ve never been one.”

“Maybe...settle down.” Yelena’s eyes are far away.

“Would you have wanted to-“ You break off, trying to sort out the words. “I mean if you could…would you have a baby?”

She raises her brows, “I never thought about it.” A long pause. “I wouldn’t know how to be a mother.”

Neither would you. You’ll never be right. Whatever that is, was, or might have been. Always a little too guarded and rough around the edges. “You never waste time thinking about things you can’t have.” You sink farther into the cushions, her pinky skates over your own. Taking the invitation you twine your fingers together.

“I thought about you.” She lowers her eyes to the coffee table. “Everyday. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I-“

“The red room took that from me too.”

You shake your head at her. “They can never take anything from you or anyone else ever again,” you whisper. “And to be clear you can have me.”

A laugh rumbles out of her chest at the news. “I can?”

“I mean if you still want me.” You tease, “I know that the chase is half the fun for you. So I can keep on running. I’m one foot out the door-“

“I am tired of running.” Yelena murmurs, curling up against your side.

“Me too.” Your chin rests atop her head.

“Then stop doing it!” She scolds, slapping your arm playfully in retaliation.

“I will if you will.” You know why she runs. The same reason you do. Because you’re afraid. That maybe some parts of you are too broken to love.

She mulls it over for a moment. “Truce. I don’t run. You don’t run.”

“Deal.” You give her fingers a squeeze.

“Except into the face of danger.” She clarifies, only half kidding. “Then we run, straight ahead.” Yelena motions with her free hand. “But together.”

“Together.” You agree, with a soft smile.

“We could get a dog.” The tone of her voice tells you that she is invested in the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind a dog.” You prop your feet up on the coffee table.

Yelena hates anything but a straight answer. Still feeling the need to convince you, she presents the facts. “Dogs are really cool! They have special powers.”

You chuckle, “dogs do not have powers.”

“Yes!” Yelena argues, “they can predict natural disasters and judge character.”

“That’s a special power?” You quip, “I can do that too.”

She grumbles under her breath.

“I want one.” You sigh. Feeling all the tension leave her body.

“I knew you did.” She smiles, contently.

———————————————————————

Dogs might have powers, but the only thing your puppy currently seems to posses is the ability to chew up anything in her path.

“Yelena have you seen my-“ you pause, taking in the scene before you, “shoes.”

“Don’t be angry,” Yelena holds up a hand.

The tiny puppy beside her squeaks, not quite a bark yet. Your demolished sneaker tumbling to the ground.

“What happened?” You run both hands over your face.

She sweeps the dog into her arms. “I told Fanny we could go for a walk once you got out of the shower. She was excited, Y/N! She was trying to bring your shoes to you. But she got distracted, only a little.”

“A little?” You can’t help but smile.

“Look at this face,” Yelena waves Fanny’s paw at you. “You can’t be mad at this face. Tell her girl. Say, you can’t be mad at me Mom, I’m trying my best.” She brings the dog closer.

You raise a hand to pet Fanny lightly. Yelena’s right of course, there is no being mad at that face. “Let me find a pair of shoes that isn’t mangled. Then we’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll wait with Fanny.”

“Of course you will.” You retreat to your bedroom. Rummaging through the closet in search of some sort of footwear. You’d settle for slippers at this point. Fanny joins you after a moment. Nuzzling at your ankle as she whines.

It’s not everyday that she follows you, she is Yelena’s dog and never lets you forget it. “You’re really excited aren’t you?” More whining. You scoop Fanny up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You huff, finally locating a pair of sandals. Slipping them on quickly so you can return to Yelena and gloat about being Fanny’s favorite. “Hey baby, I don’t know what you did, but look.” You smile, gazing up as you present the dog…to an empty room. That’s odd. Maybe she’s waiting outside.

You grab the leash Yelena abandoned on the countertop, securing it to Fanny’s collar. “Come on girl. Let’s go find Mama. Where’s Mama?”

Fanny follows you out the door, onto the walkway.

“Yelena?”

Nothing.

You scan the area, no sign of her. “Ok…” Back into the house, you check the bathroom next.

“Yelena!” You shout, knowing you’ll feel stupid once she replies. But she doesn’t.

A buzzing from the cell phone in your back pocket draws your attention. You set Fanny down gently, accepting the call and moving the device up to your ear. “Alexei?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god!” His voice booms through the speaker.

“Are you ok?” You ask immediately. Leaning down to grab the television remote, turning to channel thirteen, still broadcasting it’s usual gameshow.

“I am alone.” He cries through the speaker. “Melina left me with her pigs.”

“What do you mean she left you?” Something is very wrong.

“She disappeared.” He says somberly, “didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” The dramatic monologue continues. “I give her back rub every night and then-“

“No,” you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Under no circumstance is he going to tell you what happens next.

“I have made mistakes, but this! This is cruel.” Alexei, clearly distraught begins cursing in Russian.

“Alexei, I know you’re upset but I need you to listen.”

“What?” He asks. “What is it?”

“Yelena is gone too.” You inform him. Your eyes flicker over the words at the bottom of your tv screen. “People disappeared all over the world.”

You fall back onto the couch, feeling all the air leave your lungs.

More hysteria on the other end of the line. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m gonna find Natasha. Maybe she knows something.” Assuming that Natasha is still here.

“What about me?”

“Come to Ohio. You can dog sit.” You offer, familiar numbness seeps into your limbs.

“I have nine pigs!” Alexei shouts back.

“We have a backyard, don’t worry.” You hang up before he has a chance to argue.

You return to the call screen. Scrolling to find a different contact. Pressing the dial button beside her name.

It rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello.”

“Natasha,” you let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What the hell happened?”

——————————————————————

The Avengers fortress isn’t exactly how you imagined. Not very homey.

You park your car in the lot. Removing your keys from the ignition and stowing them in your back pocket. The clear rectangular keychain with a picture of you and Yelena inside sticks out. Clinking when you round the vehicle to retrieve Fanny from the passenger seat. “Come on, Fanny.”

She wags her tail, waiting expectantly to be carried.

“You’re spoiled, you know.” You sigh, taking the puppy into your arms and closing the door behind you.

The front gate is open but Natasha takes a moment to locate. She cut her hair up to her shoulders, dyed it blonde. “Hello stranger.”

“You got a dog.” She says, in greeting.

“Yeah.” You reply, not in the mood for small talk. “It was Yelena’s idea.”

“I knew she’d sucker you into that.”

“It’s not like she could make me do anything I didn’t want to.” Your finger slides along the edge of the metal table Natasha’s seated behind.

She barks a laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Maybe so. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Still cool. I like the hair too,” you motion toward her blonde locks.

“That’s not really mine either, is it?” She remarks.

“Is anything ever really ours?”

“No.” She frowns. “I guess not.”

“What happened?” You ask again.

“It’s a long story,” Nat crosses both arms over her chest. “You might want to take a seat.”

You clear your throat, pulling out the chair beside her. Fanny curls up in your lap, curious eyes darting about every now and then. You tell yourself it’s because she’s in a new place, but part of you knows, she’s looking for Yelena.

Natasha stares down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of infinity stones?”

You shake your head. “Must be an avenger thing.”

“There were six of them, scattered all over the galaxy. If a person has all six they can use them in anyway they choose. Thanos, used them to eliminate half of all living creatures.”

“Are you the only one left?” You lean in.

“No.” She sniffs, blinking away tears. “There’s others.”

“So where are they?” The place looks abandoned. “Why aren’t you charging into battle?”

“Because we lost. Probably the worst we’ve ever lost.” Natasha clenches her jaw. “By the time we found Thanos again he already destroyed the stones.”

“We’ll try again.” You decide immediately. This isn’t over.

“Will we?” Natasha shakes her head with a smirk.

“If she was gone for good I would know it.” You tell her truthfully. “I would feel it, in my heart and I don’t.”

“You didn’t see it happen. I saw him snap his fingers and-“

You lay your hand over hers, squeezing tight.

“Did you see her go?” She asks, voice just above a whisper. “Yelena. Did you see her?”

“No.” You confess, “I didn’t see.”

Natasha closes her eyes. “That’s why you still have hope.”

“Look maybe you’re right.” You shrug, “even so, now seems like a really stupid time to give up.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Fanny.” You inform her.

“Come on.” She rolls her blue eyes. “You’re kidding right? Tell me you didn’t actually name a dog after one of those stupid aliases Rick made me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“I guess a dog’s better than a pig.” Natasha reasons. “Are they still here?”

“Not Melina.” You break the news quickly. Like tearing off a bandage. “But Alexei and all nine of her pigs are on their way to our house in Ohio.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Always room for one more.”

——————————————————————

You stay like that for a long time. Hopeful. Sure that this was all some nightmare that you could wake up from; fight your way out of.

And then five years passed.

Now you come to see Natasha twice a month, just to check in. Alexei and his pigs have taken up permanent residency in the home you bought with Yelena. As for you, you bounce around. Never staying in one place too long.

“Any news?” You wonder, leaning against the doorframe of Natasha’s meeting room.

“No.” She bites out. Kicking her foot up on the desk. “You should move on.”

“Is that what you call this?” You flick your wrist in her direction. “Crying into a peanut butter sandwich.”

“It’s therapeutic.” She waves the bread at you. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

“Nah.” You take a seat, reaching across to make a sandwich of your own. “It’s not the sandwich’s fault.”

“Am I interrupting the pity party?” Steve says, announcing his presence. Captain America is as self righteous as ever.

“Didn’t you grieve for a century over a girl you kissed one time?” You arch a brow at him, licking wayward peanut butter from the pad of your thumb. “Five years is just a drop in the bucket.”

Steve purses his lips, you have a point. “It wasn’t a century.”

“Close enough.” You mumble around a mouthful of your dinner.

“Want a bite?” Natasha offers half of her sandwich to him.

“No thanks.” He takes a step closer. “I’d offer to make you a real dinner, but already look pretty miserable. Where’s your dog?”

“Visiting her granddad.” Everyone and their mother loves that damn dog.

“Oh yeah, my great adversary.” How could he ever forget. “Is he still wearing that stupid suit?”

“I’m pretty sure the suits are stowed away. But it’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Your mind wanders to the vest. The one Natasha returned to you after Yelena was gone. The one you retired because it doesn’t smell like her anymore. Nothing does.

Most things remain untouched in the Ohio house. Your pictures. Your memories. Your plans. You can’t get rid of them. Can’t stomach being around them either.

Someone, a man, alerts the security cameras, pounding on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home? Hello! Can you hear me?”

“How old is this video?” Steve asks, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s the front gate.” Natasha breathes, enlarging the image.

“Do we know him?” You squint at the man in question.

“It’s me, Scott Lang, Antman. I met you guys at the airport in Germany a few years ago. I had a mask on, you probably wouldn’t recognize me.” He rambles on.

Natasha presses the access panel, opening the gate.

You straighten yourselves out, before he makes it down the long hallway into the common room.

Scott paces, a lot. Nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Scott.” Steve finally cut in. “Are you ok?”

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ok. Alright so, five years ago. Right before Thanos. I was in the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like it’s own little microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my uh-“ he trails off. “She was my…she was- she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“I’m sorry that must have been a long five years.” Natasha apologies.

“That’s the thing, for me it wasn’t.” Scott replies. “It was five hours.”

“What a trip.” You snort, absently toying with your belt loop.

“The rules of time are different there. See everything is unpredictable.” He explains, getting distracted by the food in your hand. “Are you gonna finish that?”

“I guess not.” You hold it out to him.

He accepts, gratefully stuffing the bread into his mouth.

“Scott! What are you talking about?” Steve demands.

“So what I’m saying is time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But if we did, if we could somehow control the chaos; to enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time and exit at another point in time…like,” Scott locks eyes with you then. “Like before Thanos.”

You nod.

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Steve sighs, running a hand over his tense forehead.

“No. No of course not. Not like a time machine but like a…yeah.” There’s no other word for it. “Like a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it! There gotta be some way.”

“Scott,” Natasha calls his attention. “I get emails from a raccoon. So nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“So who do we talk to about this?” His eyes flicker between the three of you.

“Don’t look at me.” You hold both hands up. “That’s way above my pay grade.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @3and30aresoultwins

#yelena belova x reader #marvel fanfiction #yelena belova #black widow #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova imagine

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averytiredfanfictionwriter · 3 years

Text

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again.

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met.

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain.

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him- Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it.

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.”

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back.

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room.

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her.

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

#dsmp x reader #dsmp techno #technoblade x reader #technoblade x platonic!reader #philza x reader #philza x platonic!reader #hybrid reader #technoblade x hybrid!reader #philza x hybrid!reader #technoblade x y/n #philza x y/n #lizzy writes

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themand0lorian · 3 years

Text

Pride & Prejudice & Mandalorians (ii)

Summary: You make the trek to Mos Pelgo to check on Jas; the settlement is unremarkable, your company remains standoffish. Until it doesn’t.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG-13 (nondescript mentions of illness)

Words: ~3300 (AO3)

Tags: Pride and Prejudice AU, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love; This is P&P. You know what happens.

This part: general illness, mentions of Omera, Cara’s here and shes a lil shit

Notes: The moment we’ve all been waiting for!!! The hand flex!

Anyway, thanks for all the support on part 1! I’m so happy you’re all enjoying this as much as I am, and if definitely inspired me to get this next part out!

gif by @thorakgae

You’d never considered Mos Eisley a metropolis until you saw Mos Pelgo. Though just as dusty and arid, Mos Eisley felt like it had life. It has people and buildings and corridors; moisture farms and wandering droids littered the streets. The cantina brought in species of all types; at night, lights shone from the tallest points of antennae, and the din of people brought a quiet calm to the desert stillness. Mos Pelgo has…sand. It’s really all you can point out in the little settlement; barely a few citizens milled around the streets, a single bantha bellowed in the distance. The whole town felt eerily still and silent; Aunt Peli had tried to warn you.

“Mos Pelgo? Why are you going to that skughole? Everything you need is right here in Mos Eisley--”

“Jas was visiting the Marshal and got caught in the dust storm. Storm sickness,” you murmur, watching as Lyra pokes at a pit droid. The droid retreats into its shell at her touch, and she jumps back in surprise.

“I got ya, sweetheart. What’d’ya need?” Aunt Peli gives you an understanding look, her undertone turning maternal. Despite no blood relation, she was your mother’s closest friend and practical sister, and in her absence, often took on the role for you and your sisters.

“You got any more speeders? Oh, and Lyra—” she perks at the mention of her name like she’ll be joining you “—needs somewhere to stay.” Aunt Peli rolls her eyes when Lyra turns sour.

“Lyrie can stay here. As for speeders, Jas took the last one.” Your face falls, and she smirks as a new thought seems to strike her. “I got an idea though.”

That’s how you ended up trudging through the Tatooinian desert on dewback, dust and dirt and perhaps a bit of dewback drool staining your trousers. What was a rotation’s ride by speeder became a three-rotation’s ride by beast, which allowed you three cycles of silence to ruminate about Jas. What if she had worsened? What if she had already passed? You couldn’t remember the last thing she said to you before she set off, whether it was poetic or kind or a reminder to make sure Lyra ate her veggies—

The second you can, you tie the dewback to a post and rush through the streets on foot, ignoring the stares of the citizens pegging you as an outsider as you search for any sign of the Marshal. Eventually, you find a potential lead—if there’s one place you can use to find someone, it’s a cantina.

You’re surprised when you walk through the door to find the place mostly empty; on Mos Eisley, it always seemed full and lively, Cee (and on rare occasions, Lyra) working hard to fill drinks and wait tables. Here though; here, the place practically looks abandoned, save for a bored Weequay bartender who shifts uncomfortably at your presence. Before you can ask for the Marshal, you hear the scraping of chairs; at a table in the back of the room, which you hadn’t noticed was occupied, sits a fierce looking woman with a Rebel tattoo under her eye. She has limited armor on, but her body language looks almost hostile, the way she finishes off her drink almost challenging. Next to her, stands the Mandalorian, his chair pushed behind him as if he stood with a start—imposing, shiny, and impossibly stiff—as he announces your full name in surprise.

“W—what are you doing here?” you stutter. You watch as his hands hang idly at his side, no response forthcoming—the woman cuts in instead.

“Maker, did you walk here?” She sounds almost sarcastic, but despite your dry mouth, you answer.

“I—I took a dewback,” you respond, looking to take in your haggard appearance. Stained trousers, rumpled tunic, hair full of dust and face smudged with three-cycles of travel. You can practically feel Mando’s judgmental eyes running over you at the same time, the woman at his side snorting a laugh until Mando seems to shoot her a look through the helmet. The three of you stay in awkward silence until you can’t take it anymore.

“Sorry, where’s the Marshal? How’s my sister? I’m here for Jas—”

“She’s at Vanth’s. Last dome down the walkway, red stripes over the door.”

“Thank you,” is all you can awkwardly choke out, rushing out the door to the Vanth residences based on Mando’s instructions. You’re gone so fast you don’t hear the woman’s sardonic comment and deep sigh.

“Not again, Mando.”

You don’t see the Marshal when you get to his home; a nurse droid lets you in, scanning your face to determine you are actually Jas’ sister before allowing you into what you assume was, at one point, Vanth’s bedroom. It’s since been taken over by medical supplies and blankets, and in the center of the cot lays Jas, pallid and feeble; the droid beeps to wake her, and her eyes still sparkle when she spots your worried expression across the room.

“I’m fine, Kitten,” she garbles, voice rough from the amount of sand she no-doubt ingested. She lets out a raspy cough at the end of her sentence, and you rush over to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed to brush hair off her forehead. When the droid brings a canteen of water for her, you quickly take it from it to help her with it yourself.

“I feel worse mentally than physically. I mean, he invited me here and all I’ve done is take his bed and worry you all sick,” she whispers, resting after her water. There’s no real cure for storm sickness other than rest and waiting, and you grab her clammy hand in yours and squeeze.

“You care too much about everyone else, Jas,” you chide gently. “All we want is for you to get better. Then you can run off with Cobb and do whatever you want,” you tease, and as if on cue, a knock sounds at the door. The dormant nurse droid whirrs to life, going to answer the door, and apparently, not letting the visitor in.

“Listen, you bucket of bolts, this is my house, and that’s my girl in there,” you hear in a twang, and Jas makes sleepy, lovesick eye contact with you. “You better let me in or I’m sending you to the sarlaac pit!” With that, the droid beeps wildly, and soon, Cobb Vanth is at Jas’ other side; he primps her with a soft smile, running a hand across her cheek before looking to you.

“Cara told me you were here. I told you, she’s getting the best care—”

“I know, Cobb. I know. But she’s my sister. Plus, I thought I could use a little vacation,” you joke, trying to underplay your own insecurity.

“I’m sorry, Cobb—” Jas’ voice barely sounds like her own, and you know it pains her to speak; you both shush her at the same time, but Vanth speaks first.

“I told you, Jazzy. No more apologizin’. I’m happy you’re here.” You shoot him a look, so he clarifies. “I—I’m not happy you’re sick, but I’m happy you’re here…being sick.”

“It’s definitely better than our little hut,” you point out. “Remember when Lyra had that fever and we had to run sixteen blocks every time we needed medicine?” Jas chuckles lightly, and the droid beeps at your back to indicate it’s time for her to rest. The small metal bucket ushers both you and Cobb out of the room and closes the door behind itself, leaving you in new company.

“Uh—thank you, Cobb. I mean it. She’s getting better care here than we could have ever thought about at home. And the fact that you’re here with her definitely makes us both feel better.” The man smiles bashfully, and you follow his lead through his home as he responds.

“Anything for my Jas.”

With Jas holed up in bed and quite possibly the strictest nurse droid in existence on your tail, you don’t get much time with her while she’s recovering. This leaves you with Cobb, and—to your disdain—Mando and his associate, who you now know as Cara Dune, to keep you busy. Mos Pelgo is quiet, not much happening at any hour of any day, leaving the four of you in each other’s company far more often than you’d like. You spend most of your time in the cantina reading on your holopad; Cobb goes about his Marshal business, settling petty disputes and shaking hands and kissing babies. Cara—the former Rebel shock trooper, Cobb informed you one night at Jas’ bedside—mostly focuses on the spotchka supply, the Weequay keeping her glass full at all times. You can’t help but to think how irked Cee would be by her presence. Mando, for the most part, sits silently; occasionally he cleans his blasters or seems to tinker with his vambrace, but without a face to read, he could be sleeping for all you know.

You hadn’t intended to stay long in Mos Pelgo, but when Jas’ condition didn’t immediately improve as you had hoped, you sent a holo along to Aunt Peli to warn her you’d be gone a bit longer. She responded back in kind, rolling her eyes when Lyra came running into the background of the call like an excited Massiff, blabbering about the latest man she met in the cantina. You heard the words “sexy,” “credits” and “brooding,” and turned the comm off; you had more than enough rich, brooding men to deal with in Mos Pelgo.

As usual, you find yourself in the cantina on a hazy Mos Pelgan day, business slow as you, Mando and Cara sit around what seems to be your assigned table. Mando fiddles with some sort of defunct technology on his wrist while Cara tosses a jorgan fruit in the air; eventually, even Vanth makes his way into the fray, grabbing a drink before sitting down to take a swig.

“You’re always messing with that armor,” Cara points out.

“It can always be improved.” Mando’s response is simple but curt.

“Still, can’t imagine there’s much more you can do to that thing,” she gestures at his vambrace. His helmet tilts sternly in her direction. “I’m just sayin’, if it were me—”

“Good thing it’s not you, then,” he responds curtly, and looking to save face, Cara shrugs it off.

“You spoken to the kid recently?” Her question makes you look up from your holopad, novel long forgotten as you take in Mando’s tense shoulders. You can practically feel his anger from across the table, and you try to hide your surprise that he would even have a kid he would contact frequently enough to be mentioned with his sour attitude.

“No.”

“Well, next time you do, tell him I miss him, the little womp rat.” Mando seems to just stare at Cara’s statement; she clearly struck a nerve, and she only hums in response before continuing to push his buttons. “What about Omera? You heard from her?”

Mando only glares at her harder, if possible. You shift uncomfortably in your seat before Cobb speaks.

“Omera? Who’s that?”

“Sweet young widow from Sorgan. Krill farmer. Thought Mando here was gonna settle down with her,” she smirks, and you quirk a brow at the revelation. You find it hard to believe anyone described as “sweet” would fall for Mando—and equally hard to believe any royalty would settle with a poor farmer on a backwater planet.

“No.”

“Why not, Mando?” she presses again, and you swear you hear him huff under his helmet.

“She—she’s not my type.”

“Pfft, who is?” Cobb prods. Him and Cara both seem to have easy comradery with Mando, but he doesn’t seem amused at their taunts.

“What is it Bo always says? ‘She has to be smart. Worldly. Know how to fight and how to rule. Devoted. And live and die for Mandalore,’” Cara chuckles in an exaggerated accent, and you can’t help but interject.

“I find it hard to believe there’s any woman out there who fits those criteria,” you roll your eyes, and if possible, Mando tenses even more.

“No?”

“A woman who’s smart but physical, worldly but devoted to one planet. I’m not surprised your krill farmer couldn’t live up to those standards.” You say it with a certain sense of snark, and Mando bites a retort.

“Well, she could have. But—that’s what Kryze wants. Not what I want.”

“And what is that?” Cara presses. You think she gets a thrill from pushing Mando’s buttons, watching as he fidgets uncomfortably, not answering. “Someone who’s good with the kid? Someone who can fix your ship? Someone who…reads?”

You suddenly realize that Cara is describing you, and you bristle immediately, her plan all along now fleshed out as heat rises to your cheeks. Unbelievably uncomfortable, you exit out of the illuminated novel on your holopad and stand with a start, and the group all looks to you for an explanation.

“I—I’m gonna go for a walk.” You begin to walk away, caught only when Cara responds.

“I’ll go with you. Mando—care to join us?” You look at her incredulously, and she smirks at Mando, who stands stone still. She seems to be plotting something further, though her plan has yet to pan out when Mando shuts her down.

“No.”

“Why not?” Mando on glares at Cara through his visor. “Oooookay. C’mon,” Cara gestures, and you don’t have time to twist your brow at Mando’s statement as she leads you out of the building.

You and Cara trudge through the sandy streets side-by-side in silence. The locals have accepted your presence after so many rotations, barely batting an eye as Cara slices jogan fruit and pops it in her mouth without looking. Unable to take the uncomfortable silence any longer, you speak first.

“So, you and Mando—you’re…?” You’re unable to define their relationship, so Cara steps in.

“I would say we’re friends,” Cara snorts.

“You certainly poke the bantha a lot for a ‘friend.’” She shoves another piece of fruit in her mouth with a chuckle.

“We’ve been through a lot together. But Mando—he’s—hard to read. He comes off as this ruthless hunter--and he is—but under all that beskar is a big softie.” You scoff. “I know. Hard to believe that a man covered in armor actually has emotions, even if he’s bad at showing them. Once he cares about you, though—he’s the most loyal, devoted man you could have on your side.”

“Is that because of the kid you mentioned?”

“Yeah, probably,” she shrugs.

“I didn’t know he had a child,” you offer, and Cara starts to explain.

“Well—it’s a long story. He should probably tell you the details himself, but yeah. He had a foundling that he returned to his people. Still visits occasionally, comms sometimes. He misses the little guy.” You nod, practically unable to process the information. The lull in conversation allows Cara to slice another piece of fruit and eat it, and you fill the silence with the first thought that comes to mind.

“So, what—he has a kid and I’m supposed to believe a man who proudly stands in a full suit of armor and is the leader of a planet of warriors has gone soft?” She barks a loud laugh, and you feel embarrassment rise in your cheeks. “What! I’ve heard stories. Mostly from Aunt Peli, so who knows how accurate, but—"

“I’m just saying, don’t write him off yet. When you’re in his good graces, he would die for you. He practically has, for me and Cobb both.” You only nod in response. “But, if you cross him, Maker help you. Even if he doesn’t kill you, he’ll never forgive you—and that might be worse.”

“It’s hard to find fault in that,” you murmur, approaching Cobb’s place. “I mean, the killing—yes—but the forgiveness. I—I think I’m the same way.” Cara hums. “I’m gonna check on Jas. Thanks for walking with me, Cara.” She dismisses you as you knock on the door—instead of the incessant nurse droid, you almost jump for joy when Jas answers the door, looking healthier and more vibrant than she had all week.

“Jas! You look—you’re better!” You launch yourself into her arms, and she tries to warn you.

“Kitten, I need to tell you—”

“There she is!” You jump back to take in the rest of Cobb’s home; sitting on the couch are Lyra and Aunt Peli, with Mando idling in the corner and Cobb giving you a sheepish look.

“Lyra? Aunt Peli? What are you doing—”

“Couldn’t keep this one down,” Aunt Peli laments, gesturing to Lyra. “She wanted to see Mos Pelgo, and I thought I’d better escort her. Plus, I someone brought in an air speeder—he owed me, and I figured you’d want a ride back home.” You look between Aunt Peli and Jas, eyes landing on Lyra when she speaks.

“Cobb, Mando, when will you be back in Mos Eisley? I’ve missed you at the cantina.” She bats her eyelashes at the man, who looks to Jas before turning back to Lyra and responding.

“Not sure, but tell ya what—we’re having a bit of a celebration here in a few weeks. It’s been a cycle since Mando here defeated a krayt dragon for us—we’re putting a little something together for the occasion.” He looks directly Jas before continuing. “I’d love to see you there.”

“We’ll be there!” Lyra responds excitedly, and you shush her in embarrassment. Like Cara with Mando, she seems to know just how to push your buttons; to be uncouth and disrespectful to your gracious host. If anything, you think she may get along with Mando more than you originally thought.

Cobb and Mando walk the group of you out, Aunt Peli taking the driver’s seat and Lyra sitting next to her. You thank the Marshal for his hospitality before leaving him with Jas so they can say goodbye privately; you’re surprised to see Cara had stuck around, and you give her a short goodbye, thanking her for her company. You didn’t spend much time with her, but she didn’t seem all bad; perhaps a bit stuck in her ways, but who isn’t. When you see Jas has mounted the air speeder, Cobb guiding her by hand and kissing her knuckles before letting go, you know it’s time to go; Mando stands at the door, and you know you’ll have to give him a polite goodbye, no matter how unpleasant he’s been.

You regard him as you pass, and his helmet tips in your direction; as you ascend the steps of the speeder, the vehicle wiggles under the change in weight; a gloved hand reaches out and grabs yours, steadying you and only letting go once you settle into the carriage. You follow the orange tipped gloves up to a familiar vambrace and black flightsuit, up to the onyx visor as he releases your hand. You try to hide your surprise at his gentlemanly manner, but your breath is caught in your throat at what felt like sparks when his hand met yours. When Aunt Peli starts the speeder and begins to drive off, you barely make out Mando making his way back to the cantina.

His hand flexes, open and closed, open and closed, like your touch burned him, like his hand would be scarred forever by your simple touch.

And maybe it will be.

TAGS: @ophelialoveshandsomemen @ksd24670 @rosiefridayrogersunday @evelynseventyr @ajeff855 @thewintersoldierswife @knowledgefulbutterfly @amneris21 @sarahjkl82-blog @hellovanessax @darling-din @rebel-fanfare @tobealostwanderer @randomness501 @farfromjustordinary @outlawedmando @agirllovespancakes @pedrostories @solemnlyswearss @mandocrasis @feministfanboi @mindidjarin @startrekkingaroundasgard @notagamersdey @mamacitapascal @castleamc @feministfanboi @dream-visual-51 @fangirl-of-randomness @aquilacorvinal @notagamersdey @castleamc @folklord @heavenseed76

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kanmom51 · 3 years

Note

I wonder: if I showed this simple (and definitely incomplete) list of things Jikook did with each other to some outsider... would they think they are a couple or not?

(-> YES. YES THEY WOULD. The fact that people have the gut to discredit them because they are same sex members of a boy group blows my mind! The overly pushed heteronormative is especially disgusting :/)

JM is JK 's emergency contact

JK has JM initials tattoed on his ring finger

they know e/o's family very well JK's mom loves JM JK references JM's father multiple times JK's brother seem to like JM a lot

JM gave JK a '(love)bite' on his neck

JK nibbled on JM's ear on a stage in front of 66k people after saying 'I love you'

JK called JM baby

JK called JM dangshin

JM called JK puppy prince

JK drops honorifics with JM

you are me I am you

they where together on free days/national holidays

they are often seen arriving and leaving together in the same car

JK said JM is the perfect person to marry

JK always gives JM his full attention when JM is talking

JK said JM is the member who gave him the most confort

they went to see the first snow together

they wore matching outfits on valentine's day

they went on a private holiday together (JK's present to JM for his birthday)

JK recorded their holiday together and published the video as his last present to JM (said video has romantic undertones and lyrics)

JK has preferential treatment for JM - pancake - never getting angry and letting JM get away with anything - scolding the other members when they talk over JM

they have special voices/tones for e/o

they share or match clothes jeans shirts green jackets vampire t-shirt olive brewery sweater grey t-shirt pants/shirt by LV check collection olive green and balck plaid jacket purple shirt and purple marni sweater shoes on several occasions

they went on a date to disneyland

they went on a date bowling

they went on a date ice skating

they touch in sus places neck (both) inner thighs (both) waist (JK to JM) chest (JM to JK) hair/face/lips (both) ass (both)

they hold hands for no reason

they back-hug for no reason

they side-hug for no reason

they hug for no reason

they sit on top of e/o

JK gravitates towards JM

JK stares at JM a lot esp his lips

they cuddle

JM said he would go to the moon with JK

JM said he would feel safe with JK even on a deserted island

JM said JK is a reliable banreyo

JK said everything about JM is cute

JK said JM is the cutest

JK said JM with makeup is sexy

JK said 'if it's sexy, it's JM hyung'

JM said he loves waking up and seeing JK

JK portraied his and JM morning routine in the music video for LGO bc he wanted realism

JM said the part of his heart that thinks about JK is quite big

JK woke up early on a 'retreat' in New Zeland to collect snow and gift it to JM

JK said JM's existence is honey for him

they have been seen going shopping together

they have been seen working out together

they have given e/o plenty of compliments (even on their phisical appearence)

the thing JK is most sorry for is an argument with JM when they were younger

jin repeatedly teased them for their couply behavior

they flirt on stage magic shop

they naturally pair up for group pictures

they wait for e/o to head home

they give e/o advice on dancing, performance and singing

they are together at weird hours at night (night buddies coff coff)

V called them out several time for being together alone instead of with him (vlives)

they said they better not do vlives together bc they distract e/o

the members refers to them as a unit

staff has said they never see them separated

they have questionable selcas together (of buised lips and shared beds)

JK said JM is shameless

they flirt a lot during downtime

JM seems to like being picked up/carried around by JK

JM said JK is his happy virus

JK said he makes JM happy. JM didn't deny

rabbit spit

JM saying JK likes being tied up

allusive pick up lines everywhere my heart is burning why are you acting cute detective play with me arrest me do you think you can always be forgiven bc you are cute it's not our first time I want you why do you always come to my room give me a kiss why am I so erotic? I am going to be your future boyfriend are you happy bc of me? Don't you hear my heartbeat? I purple u do you like me that much? This is my toy JK's holy sweat You gotta spank him although he's older

questionable subtitles provided for context star, wind and romance mood and they lived happily ever after JK is happy with JM kate minslet and leonardo jungcaprio JM is JK's favourite model the director is getting into it JM and JK are one the maknae is happy thanks to JM hearts, cute comments and music from the editing team over their interactions

the sun and moon duo

golden closet film

big romantic gestures for e/o JM getting back to korea from Paris for JK's birthday JK singing romantic songs to JM

korea's open secret

being seen together taking a covid swab

JM always stays afterhours to reharse with JK

they are e/o biggest fanboys

JK is protective of JM (airport)

jimmeo and kookliet

JM got annoyed Jin called him while he was spending time with JK

they went on a boat date to see the red moon

they went to see malta together

JK is often potographing or filming JM

they have moments together that are proper misteries and so weird the mosquito net incident the whole osaka vlives fiasco the various 'home' references laguna beach the kiss sound video while JK reharses weird tweets/hashtags what do you want for your birthday, do you have a desire? Ambiguous use of the world ARMY what is tasty in Busan JM's manager the tissue incident the incriminated-selfie gate

they seem to know everything about e/o

they mention e/o a lot

their last two solo songs are love songs (finding love in unexpected places and the joy coming from happy love)

j-hope mixes them up a lot

JM has plenty of cute pet names for JK

JM said 'it could appear as if JK is simply somebody close to him who is younger (but...)'

JM is always with JK when he is phisically or emotionally hurt

JK often massages JM for his chronic pain

JM often massages/caresses JK bc yes

JK imitated JM's dangerous dieting in order to make him realize how bad it was

they have private (questionable) videos dancing together/practicing alone

JK took over a call JM did to Jin on vlive to say 'I love you'

JK said 'I love you JM' in the mic after a concert

JK said 'I love you' to JM on the red carpet in sign language

They both said they get hyped when they make eye contact on stage

JK gave JM the cutie award

JK stays close to JM when JM falls asleep in public places

they blew kisses to e/o

they got lost staring at e/o and forgot what they where doing JM on the red carpet both of them at awards

they paired accessories

they paired hair colors

they have a lot of admiration for e/o as people

JK lets (or makes) JM win

they get frequently lost in their own world

they reference things only the other understand

JK sometimes puts up a bit of a jealous act I do not approve of this

JM lets JK scold him

JK said to JM 'you are always number one for me'

JK said to JM 'I am always watching you'

JK has been recorded softly containing JM when he's on a perfectionist streak

they seek e/o out for comfort after performance hugging/hand holding

when one is hurt the other looks like he's suffering too JK on stage when JM broke down in the first virtual concert JM when JM got denied in a game

they defend e/o from the other members and have e/o's back

the other members separated them on several occasions when they got too touchy

personal space who?

They know things about e/o that are clearly not shared with the class brushing teeths snoring alarm ring sleeping time

black swan performance

they put e/o hands under the other's clothes to touch bare skin

JM kissed JK's neck

they feed e/o

spanking and ass-grabbing

they were caught on camera ogling e/o shamlessly

JM's weird strenght kink

JM said his camera roll is full ok JK

they have a different smile for e/o

other members said suspicious things about them together

JK only saw JM and J-hope during their official break

all the members minus JM complain about JK not answering his phone

heart eyes

drinking from the same bottle

blindly recognizing e/o's body parts just by touch or out of context photos

napping on each other (yeah, you read that right)

non-verbal communication over 9000

weird editorial cuts in backstage videos when the two of them are together

JM said 'JK falls asleep hugging me'

JM said 'JK plays hard to get but when he thinks I am sleeping he comes by and say I love you'

JM said he is the main model for GCF

JK said JM's photocard is sexy

JK sometimes hesitates in touching JM or holding him when he knows they r on camera

JK said JM is a fallen angel

JK praised JM's dancing several times

JK likes to tease JM

fixing e/o clothes

JK closes his eyes when JM touches him

JM run trough a whole stage abandoning his stage persona when he hought JK was being sick

JM puts JK's happiness first

similar mindset about important stuff in life

JM sat on JK. Uh. Different ways

JK putting his hands over JM while being hugged in order to drag JM even closer

JM ordering JK around and literally dragging him around

JK being overprotective

the members subtly panicking when JK/JM have to interact closely on camera

JM having to fight for JK's forgiveness while Jin was immediately let off the hook

Quite a list anon, lol. You put so much work into this list I couldn't not post it.

I do agree with most of your points if not all of them, but a good example of just how much there is out there to show how these two are the real deal.

#ask #anon

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shorkbrian · 4 years

Text

Infuriated

Prelude - ok.

Y’all are so horny for Levi Sir and I get it he’s hot lol. I am trying to get to everyone’s asks I promise!!! Also it’s up to you why Levi is mad lol

Prompts -

Pairing - Levi Ackerman X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, choking, mentions of snuff, emotionally compromised Levi, overstim.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/2f2hbFjim051DVx0o8o4rU?si=5waL376sSRSqjN2j8G0Y8w

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He comes home in a bad mood.

He shuts the door quietly, and it’s clear he’s beyond pissed. Past the point of yelling, of slamming the door and causing you to flinch with the indicator of his foul mood. It’s not you he’s mad at, but it might as well be. He finds himself wanting to break something, but not dishes or glass, just you.

Wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze till your breath rattles in your chest.

Levi finds you in the living room, standing by the hallway with wide eyes, shrinking against the wall. You thought you could avoid getting his anger taken out on you if he didn’t catch you while you were lounging on the bed. Hoping the man wouldn’t strip you bare and crush your soul like he had so many times before.

He’s so enraged that he can’t even think of the event that provoked him to such a state in the first place.

“Come here.” He stops in his tracks when he sees you, hands flicking to his tie so he can unknot it, loosen it from his neck. It’s not often he gets this angry, warm and burning, filled with emotions that he doesn’t know how to process, doesn’t even really want to.

“Come here.” Levi repeats himself, eyes burning when you still don’t move, as you begin to shake. You’re afraid of him again, good.

You had gotten past that, at least to the point where you could hide your fear of the man. Tamp it down beneath submission and pleasure, because doing what he says meant getting fair treatment.

But you aren’t doing what he says. You’re cowering against the wall, and Levi’s furious. You’re meant to follow his every order, know what he wants you to do before he even has to say, and yet you’re ignoring him as if you had the luxury of making that decision.

His shoes click across the tile as he strides towards you, already unbuckling his pants with sharp movements. When he reaches you, your frightened eyes pleading, the rise and fall of your chest quickening. Levi bets if he checked, your pulse would be fluttering, fast, like a scared little bird.

Your head snaps to the side when his hand connects with it, the sharp sound echoing throughout his home.

“Take off your pants.” Clothes are a luxury he’s been allowing, but this blatant disobedience when he’s already fuming will result in punishment.

Trembling hands fly to your pants, and Levi almost wants to laugh at the expression in your face as you turn it back, cheek reddening immediately. You should’ve came when he called you.

He doesn’t bother to take his slacks off all the way, barely pushing them down to his thighs before taking his cock in hand. He’s not even hard, but he needs to fuck something, focus on a different emotion than the fury settled deep in his bones. The satisfaction of how easily you break under his hands, the pleasure of filling you, stretching you past your limit, the way you draw him in like that’s where he belongs, even though it’s obvious you want to be anywhere but with him.

The hand on his cock is too dry, too rough, but that doesn’t matter. Levi’s able to pump himself to hardness as you fumble with your pants, almost falling as you slip them off.

With a quick movement, he’s slamming you hard against the wall, breath punching out of you, head hitting the wall and dazing you.

Levi spits in his hand, takes it between your legs and rubs his saliva where it’s needed. There’s no way you’re wet, no way you’re ready to take him. But if there’s a little blood, there’ll be a little blood. Levi can clean it off your thighs later.

It hurts when he starts pushing inside, the head of his cock breaching your hole far too fast. The crushing realization that he isn’t going to actually prep you is evident across your face, obvious by the panicked little whine that falls from your lips.

“Shut up.” He can’t stop himself from snapping at you, irritated at the noise.

He’s focused on filling you, the too-tight squeeze around his length and the overwhelming heat of your body where he’s pressed against you. At least you know better than to try and fight him, hands only clutching his shoulders, not trying to push him away, just trying to hold on.

What he would do if you struggled now, Levi doesn’t know. It’s possible he might break something important, push too hard, forget his own strength as he throttles the life out of you.

That reminds him.

The hand not guiding his cock into you rises to your throat, grasps the smooth column tightly, tight enough to feel the ridges of your esophagus, spongey and delicate. If he squeezes a bit harder, Levi wonders if it would collapse, crumbling beneath his fingers like tissue paper.

But your loss would make him inconsolable, so he reigns in his wrathful curiosity, his impulsive side that only sees the sun when he’s furious.

He's fully seated now, pressing deep into your sensitive walls. You’re shaking, trying to hold in your tears, your pitiful noises, your desire to beg him for mercy. There’s no slick feel, other than the slight ease from his saliva, so Levi knows you haven’t torn.

That eases his mind a bit as he slowly retreats from your hole, intent on making this quicker than it should be. He needs to fuck, hard and fast and maybe just a bit painful. There’s no explainable reason as to why, and Levi isn’t interested in trying to analyze himself at the moment.

So he draws out, pushes back in immediately, doesn’t mind your choked, hiccuped gasp. You’ll adjust soon enough; even as he pushes back in, you’ve started to get wet, and there’s no stink of iron in the air, so it’s your body trying to make this easier for you.

Levi figures it’s good that at least one of you was actually concerned about that.

As the slide becomes easier and easier, his pace picks up accordingly, until he’s swinging his hips in a punishing rhythm. He can’t stop himself from giving a rough press onto your throat, relishing the way your body jerks, already breathless and panicked, now denied air and already missing it.

He’s getting close, which is surprising. Levi thought it might be difficult to reach release, reasoned that he was too focused on the rage filling his veins and weighing him down to lose himself in your body.

But he should’ve know, you always have an effect on him.

Your cunt starts clenching around him, and Levi’s head shoots up from where he’d been watching the steady hammering of his cock into you, glares at your face now.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare.” His tone is clipped, and he’s mad all over again. He doesn’t even know why.

It’s not fair that you’re enjoying this while he’s still simmering, struggling to calm himself. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to find pleasure, but the least you could fucking do is have some decency for once and not cum before he does.

You clench your teeth, grimacing as you try to listen, do your best to obey. He’s trained you well.

But not well enough.

With a pitiful cry, you squeeze tight enough to make Levi groan as he refuses to stop moving his hips. Velvety walls spasm around his length with a vengeance, your nails digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself to the sensation.

Levi’s infuriated.

“You’re not allowed to cum.” He hisses, and your eyes are filled with sorrow, with regret and remorse, with emotions Levi has never bothered to learn the names of.

He slows down, slams into you hard enough that his tip kisses your cervix, makes you lurch in pain that lances through the afterthroes of your orgasm.

Your throat is abandoned for now, his hand joining his other in painfully clutching your hips, fingers dimpling up your flesh, sinking into the pillowy skin so he can pull you down onto his cock the same moment he thrusts up.

It’s hurting now, your face contorting on each deep thrust. Levi doesn’t care, you were selfish enough to take your pleasure before him, when he so obviously was trying to soothe himself.

He’s starting to get a cramp from how hard and slow he’s driving up into you, but he’s crawling closer and closer, so he ignores the twinge for now.

And then he’s there, bursting from the inside out, uncaring of trying to avoid filling your womb with his seed.

It feels good, good enough to talk him down from the edge of hurting you, of destroying, of raging and bruising and damaging.

Levi’s left panting as he finishes, as his abs clench and unclench while he shoots his sticky finish into your tight hole. You’re still grabbing at his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the foreign sensation; Levi usually dons a condom, or at least pulls out. Rarely does he lose himself to do what he just did.

He’s calmer now, feels less like a pacing tiger that's been provoked and prodded until it attacks.

But he finds himself irritated at you, at your audacity.

The man knows he’s being irrational, and that he’s emotional right now, prone to lashing out and striking at anything that dares to defy him. You hadn’t done anything particularly wrong except exist in the same space as a thoroughly pissed-off Levi, and he recognizes that.

But he still wants to see you punished.

So you find yourself on the bed, stripped of your clothes. The only thing you’re wearing is a leather collar, attached to cuffs on your wrists by a thick metal ring. The contraption keeps your hands up by your face, unable to do anything but clench into little fists. It’s almost cute.

Theres a spreader bar cuffed to your ankles, and a vibrator in Levi’s hand. He had cleaned himself as soon as he pulled free of your warmth, not bothering to stop the cum that escaped from the unconscious clench of your hole.

Levi had taken a moment to change out of his work clothes, calm himself further and evaluate everything with a clearer mind. Now dressed in nothing but loose sweats, he felt more at ease, cooler both physically and mentally.

The vibe was flicked on, pressed to your mound at the same time Levi wiggled a finger inside of you, feeling his cum still warmed by your body. It was a weird sensation, but you were wet, and he was focused on the task at hand.

Making eye contact with you, Levi leveled you with a stern look.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

Four minutes later, when you crested the edge despite an obvious struggle against it, Levi clenched his jaw, removing the vibe and his finger from rubbing at your walls.

When your eyes opened, Levi met them with a glare.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

The vibe was flicked back on, a setting higher this time. Levi shoved two fingers inside of you, and you whimpered in distress. You’d beg if you knew it would sway him, but Levi had forced you enough times for you to know that he followed his own desires.

You were just supposed to lay there and take it.

#yandere #yandere levi #Yandere Levi Ackerman #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman #ackerman #dark #tw noncon #tw dubcxon #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon

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houseofdabs · 3 years

Text

It's Raining Cats and Dogs Out There

This isn't nothing serious, just wanted to write sumn, might not be too good, I haven't written nothing in years.

warnings: none

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

Bo had slept in, something that wasn't particularly rare, but something he wasn't too keen on. Maybe it was from the lack of sun in his face, or the comfortable cool that made it so easy to curl into the blankets on his bed, but it was more than likely from the exhaustion he accumulated from so many nights full of work and less of sleeping. Deep down he knew he needed the extra sleep but as quick as the thought came it was just as quickly replaced with the self-degradation that pushed him to work hours on end with little care for himself-- the fuel that worked him near death in order to prove himself. The wind outside began to pick up and Bo peaked out the window to watch the dead leaves that danced within it, the thought that the only movement in the desolate town being dead itself made him frown a little. Gray clouds above covered the usual harsh rays of the Louisiana sun, what was once a vibrant sky was now dull. The blanketed sky looked heavy and with every movement threatened to burst and unleash the gallons of water it held.

Bo weighed his options in his head: he could either hurry up and make his way to the station to work before the rain started or he could stay and spend his day inside. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rainfall outside the window, mother earth decided for him-- he was spending the day inside.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, the weather had him hankering for something warm to combat the chill that the elements brought with it, coffee sounded real good. Bo didn't realize how hungry he was until his stomach announced it's vacant state, he supposed some breakfast wouldn't hurt either, and it wasn't often he had the time or care in mind to make himself an early meal. He just hoped the eggs and bacon hadn't spoiled.

The storm outside had picked up significantly and he didn't hear the small taps from Jonesy coming in from the doggy door in the back, the dog nearly made him drop the egg he was about to crack as she shook the water from her coat, some hitting Bo.

"God damnit, Jonesy, you 'bout scared the mess outta me!" Bo hollered as he watched the dog dry off, "ah, quit that, yer gettin' water everywhere." He grabbed a stray washcloth and wiped her down a bit before he threw it on the ground, an attempt to pick up some of the puddle that accumulated at the pups feet. "What am I gonna do with you?"

After he dealt with Jonesy, Bo turned his attention back to the stove, more focused on his egg sunny side up than the dog at his feet. In the middle of moving the egg around there was a clap of thunder outside that caused him to jolt, the spatula breaking the yolk from Bo's harsh movement. A quick 'fuck' escaped his lips as he watched the runny liquid start to cook in the hot pan, he really wanted them sunny side up. He noticed Jonesy move and watch in interest as he plated the now 'ruined' egg.

"Quit yer beggin', got food in yer bowl, leave me alone." He grumbled as he cracked another egg in the pan before he made his way to start the coffee. Jonesy just sat and watched him before she headed over to lay under the kitchen table and out of Bo's way. Not long after the coffee machine was done rumbling, Bo had him a cup of the steaming liquid with the proper fixings, his plate at his space at the table, and a begging dog at his feet once again. As he brought a bite of egg to his mouth, he watched as Jonesy's interested peaked, she went from laying under the table to sitting upright beside him, her eyes followed the movement of his fork.

"Tsk," Bo sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes, "now go on somewhere." In no mood to deal with the dog, he dropped his hand to swat her away but Jonesy stood her ground. Her head lolled to the side as she peered up at him with her big puppy dog eyes, a soft whimper leaving her muzzle.

"Nu uh, I'm fixin' to put you out if you don' hush up, don' give me none of that shit, what? Vincent don' feed you none?" He tried his best to ignore her eyes but he couldn't ignore the way she made a noise as he continued to eat. Bo sighed and his eyes fell to the egg that he had messed up earlier. He let out a huff as he fished the food off his plate and looked back at the pup.

"Alright, you wan' it? You gotta work fer it." He lifted the food to show her but as she went to lunge he held his hand up, halting her movements. "What I say? Now," he pointed his pointer and middle finger in the shape of a gun at Jonesy, "BANG!" She stared up at him, tilting her head again and Bo felt a little embarrassed that she didn't respond correctly.

"Damnit, girl," he attempted once more, "BANG! Jonesy play dead gosh-dangit!" Bo's lips curled up a bit as the dog did as told, although not with as much enthusiasm as she would with his other siblings, but he supposed it was enough. Bo plopped the egg down on the ground for her and Jonesy scrambled to eat it the second she heard it hit the ground.

"Actin' like we'on feed you, shameful." He shook his head and sucked his teeth before he finished his plate. He sipped from his mug and peered down at Jonesy from the rim as she stamped her front paws a little, her head jolted as she softly barked at him.

"I'on got nothin' for you, now g'on, get." Bo nudged her out of the way as he got up, piling his dishes in the sink before making his way to the living room, Jonesy followed at his heels.

Bo stood in the middle of room and scanned the contents it held, trying to decide if he wanted to read or watch a movie but he changed his mind the second his eyes fell on his parents old cassette player. His fingers skimmed the cassette holder and stopped on Marty Robbins' "Return of the Gunfighter", nothing too sad and he loved storytelling. The peaceful guitar contrasted the harsh snap of thunder outside; it calmed him.

The tape played as he settled into the couch, his fingers drummed along to 'San Angelo' as it played in the background. While he preferred the twangy sound of Johnny Cash telling the big guys to shove it, he couldn't help but feel something for the expressive guitar, the Tex-Mex style bewitched him. He enjoyed the songs of a lone cowboy who had no time for love, but his favorites were the ones in which an outlaw managed to find a companion despite their wrongs. Love was always described so sickly sweet, and while he was usually put off by it, he couldn't deny he yearned for it, the idea that someone could love a criminal like the outlaws that were sung about, maybe someone like himself.

The once warm cup in his hands was now cold, the liquid inside had cooled while he sat in thought but Bo couldn't bring himself to care. Jonesy stretched as she laid beside him, her head found its way in the man's lap as she nestled in the couch. He bought his hand down to scratch her side, chuckling a bit as her leg kicked before giving her a couple smacks on her side. Her tail drummed wildly against the sofa and she wiggled further into his lap, licking at his hands.

"Alright, now settle down, girl." He smiled and brought his hand up to rub her head, his cup now abandoned on the table beside him. He readjusted himself, careful not to disturb the animal in his lap as he got more comfortable. Bo allowed himself to further sink into the cushions, sighing contently as he laid his head back. He finally relaxed, his eyes closed as he listened to the rainfall's percussive taps as it landed on the earth around him, lulling him to sleep.

Vincent made his way to the house through the tunnels, having finally finished the wax sculpture that kept him up all night. As he made his way from his late father's office, he took notice of how quiet the house was aside from the quiet melody of Marty Robbins that played in the living room. He stopped walking when his gaze fell on his twin and his dog cuddled on the couch, Bo's chest rising in falling as he slept. Vincent watched for a while before he retreated back to the hall closet and retrieved a blanket for them. Carefully as not to wake them, the twin laid it over the two. He grabbed the coffee cup Bo ditched on the table and took it in the kitchen, noticing his brother managed to cook breakfast. Vincent picked up a covered plate that sat on the stove, smiling behind the mask when he realized that his brother fixed him some as well. He retreated to his room with the food, taking one last glance at Bo and Jonesy before ascending the stairs.

#bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #jonesy sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair house of wax #vincent sinclair house of wax #slasher writing #slasher fandom #slasher community #slashers #bo sinclair fluff #vincent sinclair fluff #fluff #houseofdabs writing

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kojinnie · 4 years

Text

Something About Pain | Reiner Braun

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Reader (she/her pronoun)

Summary: You ran away from home and your boyfriend Reiner Braun is desperate to bring you home. When the two of you meet, you share a conversation about how pain inflicts the two of you differently.

Tags & Warning: Angst, (eventual) fluff, (mild) hurt/comfort, slow burn, major miscommunication problem, past trauma, abandonment issue, mention of anxiety, Reiner is a grumpy, hurt individual yet delicate inside | SFW

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Based on the request by @okubean for Twisted Match-Up! I hope you like it, boo! (More A/N at the end of the fic)

.::My Masterlist::.

Twisted Match-Up (x Reader): Zeke | Hange | Jean

There was a vivid look of worry on the face of Reiner Braun as he drove through the empty neighborhood streets. His right hand on the steering wheel, the other one tapping anxiously on the phone, dialing the same number over and over again to no avail.

All of his calls had gone straight to your mailbox, and his text messages were no longer delivered. Reiner came to realize that you've blocked him. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, cursing this whole modern affinity to accommodate people running from their problems easier. Reiner thought the feature was the stupidest thing ever created by humankind, he was pissed, but more annoyed. He realized how tired he was, and if he could, he'd rather be in bed right now. Not roaming your friend's neighborhood at ungodly hour.

"Where... the fuck... are you..." he was pissed, evident from the grunt as he tried one final desperate attempt to call you. It went straight to your mailbox. Your cheery voice didn't make him feel any better, if any, Reiner wished he could tell the mailbox-you to shut the hell up.

Reiner finally hit the brake, sighing annoyed. His black SUV stopped underneath the streetlamp, at a random neighborhood he could only vaguely remember. He had been here before, when he picked you up from your bestfriend's house after one of your "night out" with your friends from college, but he could barely remember which one of these identical suburban houses did she live.

He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, racking his brain trying to remember the house number. Is this even the correct cul-de-sac? There are tens others. Who the fuck came up with the concept of suburban housing? Strips and strips of uniformed houses. And even worse, who the fuck thought that it was such a great idea to live in one? Like some Stepford Wives nightmare. Reiner couldn't believe some people would save up money for all their lives to pay off their mortgage to live in complete conformity, like a communist utopia with capitalist credit system. Were these people right in the head or had their brains fucked over by the boring 9 to 5 jobs they've had for decades?

That's beside the point. Reiner sighed. He ranted a lot when frustrated.

He knew you'd be there, in one of these houses, curled up crying in your bestfriend's bed, perhaps pouring your heart out on how much of a bad boyfriend Reiner was. He knew because you've passed the micro-aggression millionth times, muttering under your breath, saying that you'd be fine if Reiner kicks you out because your bestfriend would take you. What kind of fuckery was all that? Why would he ever kick you out? Reiner thought. He was clueless. Why were you so adamant that he would leave you eventually? Reiner could feel his annoyance grew while reminiscing your antics. He began to think, maybe he had never understood you to begin with.

But Reiner was wrong, because he was right about a lot of things about you. You were exactly in your bestfriend's house, curled up in her bed, ranting how hard it was being with Reiner. Although the tears had dried since hours ago. You were in your PJs and drinking the hot coco your friend had made you, comfortable in the bliss of obliviousness upon the fact that your boyfriend of one year was now driving aimlessly trying to locate your position. You were adamant that he was going to leave you anyway, you thought he wouldn't exert an ounce of energy trying to plea you home.

It was 4 AM in the morning and you hadn't come home. The trace of you had gone completely from Reiner's apartment since early morning. Reiner knew that this was bound to happen, had he done anything differently - would you stay? He thought of you and the state that the two of you had been tangled in. All the unresolved tension, or the persistent insinuations coming from you that you always shrugged off in the end, saying "Nothing." as if it did not matter, each time Reiner shot them with, "What did you say?"

You sipped your hot coco and let a troubled whimper as you told your bestfriend what was happening. It's the culmination of small things, your feeling of inadequacy and the anxiety of waking up every morning, being convinced that each day would be the day that Reiner finally leaves you. Every day you’d be mentally preparing yourself for the ultimate fate until Reiner returns home with his big, warm hug until your anxiety caves in. And that the anxiety would appear again in the next morning.

The idea of him leaving became incessant and you could never bug it off. You wondered why, maybe because you believed that you were inherently flawed. Maybe it's the way Reiner made that small "Tsk," when he came home to see the garbage piled up, "Babe, didn't I tell you to put out the garbage?"; or the deep, annoyed and condescending sighs he made when he missed his favorite show because you forgot to pay the cable bills while he was out at the office.

Maybe it's the way you couldn't match his sharp memory and reliability with you constantly forgetting things and your seeming inattentiveness despite the abundant reminders, notes and alarms you've made to keep yourself alerted. At times, your mind just wandered, and you needed him to rope you back in, but he never got the gist.

So, you were adamant that you had grown to be nothing but inconvenience for him, hence when he spent the night over at his office due to what he called "Shit load of work" over the phone, you were certain he wouldn't come back at all. You knew that the pain of being abandoned would haunt you to myriad of miseries, so you'd rather leave first. You knew it would be the end you both needed, because you knew Reiner did not care about you enough to tolerate your shit any longer. He was always quiet, there was hardly ever any expression on his face, God knows what he was thinking underneath. Each of your "Reiner, I'm sorry." would only be met by a singular hum or a quick, "It's okay." that left you wondering, did he ever mean it at all?

So that morning you left. While he was still at the office, because you knew there was no feelings strong enough for Reiner to keep him from leaving you eventually. You left first.

Your bestfriend nodded in reassurance, "You gotta do what you gotta do." she said pulling you into a warmly hug, but your attention was suddenly caught by the pile of plastics and packages from your take-outs at the corner of your friend's room. It just bothered your mind, and you got up to take it out. A small token of atonement to what you wish you had done to Reiner.

Your bestfriend immediately scrambled and took the garbage away from you. Insisting for you to stay in bed and let her take care of it. You nodded and retreated to the pillow fortress. You felt bad for her because the temperature was dropping, and there was no necessity to take the garbage out right now, but your impulse was often hard to subside, and your friend had grown to acknowledge and take sympathy over that. Unlike Reiner, you thought.

Maybe it's because Reiner never shown anyone openly about what he felt, but what you did not know, sometimes he wish he had. Sometimes he wished he'd opened up about how hard it is for him to breathe when unfortunate things occur that he did not have the answer to. Sometime he wished he could share his fear, worry, anger and disappointment, but he was always thought that a man got to suck it up, and perseverance was the only way he knew how to survive.

Sometimes he wished he had told somebody that the constant worrying about his loved ones consumed him too, to the point it became hard for him to let his guard down even when things are okay. He was always on alert, and sometimes it got exhausting too for him. He wished he had told all that, so in times like these he did not have to assume the heartbreak alone while trying to find the solution to it. Sometimes he wished people knew that he cared too, he loved too, he knew too when someone he loved was struggling, but he never learned how to show it. Reiner knew your mind often raced hundreds of miles per hour, Reiner knew your state of agitation, but he never had anyone to teach him how affection should look like, other than be of service, which he tried his best at being. It was no wonder that Reiner was left clueless when you chose to leave without warning.

He was pissed because he knew how daft he was, yet none of it was ever intentional. He cursed himself for not knowing what went wrong, for not being more observant, for not being open with his feelings, for not telling you how much he had grown to love you and how much his apartment immediately grew cold at your absence. But mostly, at this moment, he cursed himself because he wasn't attentive enough to know you friend's house number.

The air was crisp when your bestfriend stepped out of her porch. She made quick steps to the garbage can when she saw bright headlights coming in from the end of the street. She grunted, wondering what was her neighbor doing, cruising around with dramatically low speed. It seemed odd.

She put her fingers above her eyes, trying to recognize the plate number or the driver, but the black SUV lights were dispersing her sight.

She closed the garbage can and tried to immediately return inside but the car cruised closer and pulled over in front of her. The window rolled open.

"Hey," There was an immediate look of surprise from the person that Reiner barely recognized. But he was sure enough that it was her, judging from her body language; all tensed and alerted, "This is Reiner."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence between Reiner and your bestfriend. She was considering carefully on what to say next.

"Uhm yeah, I know." Your bestfriend finally spoke, her voice creaked, caught by surprise. "What do you want?"

Reiner spoke your name, "I want to meet my girlfriend." Reiner could hear the desperation in his own voice, but your friend jeered in response.

"My girlfriend." she passingly mocked the way Reiner spoke, she came to dislike what she thought was possessiveness in Reiner's nature of speaking, "She's not available. I suggest you to scram. Before my neighbors complain."

Reiner furrowed his brows in dismay, couldn't seem to understand the hostility presented by your friend, "I need to talk to her."

She stood unyielding. Reiner opened the door and climbed off of the car, sighing as he walked closer, propelling your friend to keep her distance away even further. "Please, let me talk to her."

"Not a chance." She turned around and scurried back into the house. Reiner was quick to yell, to her expected dismissal. Without thinking further, Reiner got back to behind the wheel and moved his car forward on to the curb, proceeding to close off the exit way for her small city car in the driveway.

Reiner jumped off the car as your besfriend realized what he had done, "I'm not moving the car until she comes down."

She let out a restraint shrieked, "What the fuck?! I got a dentist appointment tomorrow morning!"

"Then please, tell her to come down and talk to me," Reiner said, sounding almost apologetic. He threw a glance at a lonely swing set in the small park across the street, "there."

The occurrence happening before your eyes was unexpected to say the least. You closed the small slit from your bestfriend's window fold, trying to manage your heartbeat that had become almost deafening. At the same time your bestfriend appeared from the door, face red with flustered, "I think he really wants to see you."

Thousands of thoughts made a commotion in your head. It did not make any sense. You made it easier for Reiner by walking away with clean slate, you were sure this was what he had hoped secretly.

Your friend shuffled inside and shot you a deep stare, she sighed heavily and told you that whether you liked it or not, you had to face him. Reiner looked genuinely worried, she said, twisting your guts even further.

You sat in her bed for a moment, trying to relive every waking moment with Reiner. Sure there were moments when your own thoughts chased you into a deep corner and you wished Reiner had seen it. Sometimes you wished he’d hold you tight, kiss you with reassurance and told you how meaningful you were to him. Sure, sometimes being with Reiner could feel lonely, but he had never treated you back nor was he ever intentionally mean to you. What do I want? The question hung heavy in your mind.

I want him to say that he wants me, the voice within the nook of your brain said, I want him to say that he loves me.

You nodded, finally ceasing from running away further.

Reiner never thought that at his 20-something he would sit miserably on a random swing-set at a random neighborhood just an hour before the dusk cracked. Reiner was a big man, but even with his figure and the aid of his tailored suit and shirt, wrinkled after gruesome hours at work trying to keep his company afloat on the thin ice of his personal relationship with you – Reiner was tired, and miserable, and desperate. Even more, he was cold as the temperature continued to drop down.

He hung his head low, trying to fight the shivers. It was quiet, too quiet, only the faint sound of the wind and the creaking sound of the swing-set holding off to its dear life under Reiner’s massive weight. The man sighed, never he thought that the sight of you coming out of someone’s house in the dead of a night would be a spectacle he looked forward to the most.

He closed his eyes, shutting himself off from any sound and thought. Thinking that maybe in the bleakness of his sense, the time would pass faster and your heart would soften.

In the nothingness Reiner could feel a sudden warmth crept from the tips of his fingers, he opened his eyes to see you standing before his eyes, towering him who was sitting like a pathetic boy on the swing. You were wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, hiding your PJs underneath. In your hands were two cups of scalding tea, you shoved one into his hand, “You came.” You stated.

Reiner let out a deep sigh of relief as he saw you safe and sound. He felt warmth travelled across his body, he did not know whether it was the tea in his hand or simply the sight of you that made him felt so. His eyes latched on to you as you sat on the swing next to him, “Hey. What are you doing?” Reiner asked.

“Running away.”

“Why?”

Reiner looked at you intently, and the guilt started to consume you. You gazed afar, softly shook your head, “Dunno.”

“I see.”

Yet another silence ensued.

“How’s work?”

Reiner sighed again; the heavy breath seemed to be the only way the two of you communicated. Just two troubled minds pouring their burden at each other, “Bertholdt abruptly resigned—fuck, it’s been a nightmare, but—” Reiner pressured his thumb over his brows, trying to ease his sharp migraine that suddenly came, “—that doesn’t matter now. Will you come home?”

He looked at you again, you were still gazing to god-knows-what, everything other than his eyes. Reiner grew antsy on his seat, the swing creaked again. Please look at me. Please look at me. The words resonated incessantly in Reiner’s head but nothing came out of his mouth. Just a stoic, to-the-point question.

Don’t you wanna know the problem, Reiner? Is that all? I said I don’t know and you didn’t even try to dig in deeper? You came all the way here and you just straight up asking me to go home with you? Your mind was nowhere better. It’s in uproar but there was only silence coming out of your mouth. But he came, he didn’t leave. Contradiction danced inside your mind like an unwanted guest.

The silence grew heavier. You saw the lights from your bestfriend’s bedroom lit off, she had got to be tired eventually. Suddenly, you felt so alone. Just the two of you in this odd morning.

“It’s hard, right?” Reiner broke the silence, he looked at you again, this time he was desperate for you to look into his eyes. Little did he know, you were refusing to do so because you could feel your fragility forming in your eyes. You swore not to cry.

“What?” Just a depthless answer you uttered.

“Growing up.” Reiner muttered. The man sounded almost contemplative in his defeat. He sighed again and shook his head, “I thought I’d be someone better by this time in my life.”

The answer surprised you. You thought he would say something like ‘Relationship is hard’ or some jargons he picked up from one of the movies he watched without you. You felt bad for undermining him just because you were upset with him. Does it really mirror your true perception of him? Maybe you really hadn’t known him that well.

You had no resolve to his statement, so you just nodded, allowing him to pour out his thoughts.

“I thought I’d be better with my job, with myself, and most importantly,” he shifted to lurch towards you on his seat, the wire strings of the swing twisted to your direction, “with the people I love. But obviously, I still… suck.”

“And here I am. 4 AM. A fucking adult on a fucking neighborhood swing-set.”

You could feel the air suctioned out of your lungs, as you felt guilt loomed bigger inside you. He came and he felt bad – what more could I ask for? But then you remembered the nights of loneliness despite having Reiner sleeping next to you. You had a bad day, but you were too prideful to come clean. You wanted him to be intuitive, but he never did. Being with Reiner, you had mastered the art of crying in silence while sharing the bed with him. It’s exhausting. Yeah, Rei, maybe you’re bad at this.

Despite that, you stayed silent.

“Will you hate me if I say I don’t know what’s wrong?” Reiner knew how daft he sounded, “God. I’m pushing my luck coming clean at you.”

You were at loss for words. You had so many things to say, but too few of a courage.

Reiner called your name. He reached over and tried to tangle one of your fingers with his. From your periphery sight, you could see him forcing a smile, “I—”

He sighed again. Reiner’s chest was filled with words and all he wanted was to vomit it out, but he never knew how to properly addressed the feelings he had—he couldn’t even describe what he felt. All he knew was one thing: he wanted you home, back in his arms, “I am a stupid man. I really don’t know what’s happening between us. You.. just.. gone. Please, just tell me what’s wrong. I’m not smart enough for all these..”

There was almost a childish plea in Reiner’s words, and you couldn’t help but to threw a faint smile. You chuckled, “What did you say? You’re—what?”

He scoffed at himself, “I am stupid.”

You finally caved in because you realized there was an undeniable genuineness in the way he spoke. And the sentiment was mutual, you felt stupid as well for you had not realized how completely, utterly, truly clueless Reiner was.

Eventually, you looked at him. His hardened face quickly turned wary to finally see how puffy your eyes were from crying earlier, you forced a smile, but it was clear you were pretending, “You make me feel so lonely sometimes.”

The words came out of your mouth like a canonball that had been stuck in your chest for too long. You felt relief, but on the other side, Reiner could feel his heart broke. A pain from a man realizing too late of the damage he had caused.

You thought of everything that had made you feel so. The way Reiner rolled over in bed away from you, drowsy and unaware, when you called him in the dead night as your anxiety kicked in; when his hand let you go as you tried to hold his hands in public; the complete non-existing mention of you in his social media; the take-outs that he mindlessly brought home when you had cooked dinner; his easiness in dropping a problem after he said sorry without checking up with you further.

It was the absent of his intuition that made you felt invisible – but you realized too late that maybe he was truly oblivious, evident as he said, “But how?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Babe,” he further tangled your fingers into his grasp. Your hand and his, they hung in the middle of the two swing seats, “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“I’ve always thought you wanted to leave me but never got the right moment to it. The affection—I hardly ever got it from you. Not the affirming words, not the reassurance. Hell, maybe I want that public kiss and hugs that you thought was stupid, Rei. Just—”

You could feel the tears forming, choking you mercilessly, “—just to feel loved. To feel wanted. For once.”

You finally let your tears dropped. And Reiner was slapped with realities that both of you were in. He let go of your hand and stared down at the pavement, “I’m sorry. I never knew.”

“You never asked.”

“But I never knew. How am I supposed to know that I should ask when I didn’t know I should ask on the first place? I’ve always thought you wanted to be left alone when all your crazy thoughts come in—but you—”

“—you—"

Reiner groaned, obviously frustrated. He rested the blabber, “Maybe we’re just not good at this.”

Like a train, you could feel the ending coming to hit you. This is it. This is it. You thought to yourself, picturing how Reiner would finally leave you. You secretly wished Reiner wouldn’t give in, you wish he’d put up more fight, so at least you’d know that you carried a weight in his heart. But you knew this was bound to happen, so why were you so upset?

“Maybe.” You wiped your tears dry, “That’s okay, Reiner. I know that’s what I am.”

“What?”

“I’m just an embarkation point, right? Everyone will leave me eventually. That’s why I left, because I know eventually, we’ll be talking about this. So I’d better leave first.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Reiner grew even more frustrated with the way you danced around your words.

“It’s okay if you want to leave me. That’s what all people do to me.”

“You left because you think I was planning to leave you all along?” Reiner asked, sounding painfully offended as he finally got to gather what you were insinuating, “So that is the problem?”

“Yeah, so I better leave first, right? Before I get hurt again? Before you leave me like other people and—”

“Fuck other people!” Reiner raised his voice, which he immediately regretted. He ran his fingers over his hair irritated, turning it into a complete blond mess, “Are you trying to avenge your revenge for other people—those exes you’ve had—on me?”

Tears welled up again in your eyes, as you looked away from him. But he called on your name again, this time there was a deep sternness in his call that you couldn’t help but to face him. Reiner was glad that you finally gained courage to speak the truth, when he had not, “So you want reassurance, yeah? How about the times I told you how beautiful, how smart, how great you are – only for you to tell yourself the opposite immediately.”

Reiner looked directly into your eyes, “I can’t make you something you’re not. What you are is who you think you are.”

“You can never matter – if you don’t think you do.”

An expressionless, soundless tear fell onto your cheek. A heart broke to your dismay. Reiner finally said the truth and there was no way you could delude yourself into thinking that he was wrong, “Then… why don’t you just leave me, Rei? Why don’t you get rid of me a long time ago?”

“Because I’m giving you something that I never received in my entire life, ever. I’m staying for you.” There was a palpable pain in the way Reiner spoke. He landed his finger on to your heart and you could feel it pierced through your skin with heavy realization, “I’m staying. Like no one ever did in my life. Not my ex-girlfriends, not my friends, and certainly not my father. That’s what makes us different. I have more faith in you than you have in me.”

Reiner was a man with heavy heart. He had been through a lot of things in his life, learned how to fend on for himself since very young, and dreamed of the day when he could finally put his hair down with someone he cared for. And what you hadn’t realize, was how essentially similar you were to him. How both of you longed for someone to let go of your inhibitions and fear? Just two broken people finding refuge in each other’s longing for the same thing. And that’s what you failed to see. He understood you, just in a way you didn’t understand.

And that’s the thing about pain, they are inherently personal. No matter how much you have shared yourself to others.

The two of you went dead silent for a moment. In the horizon, the sun rays were starting to emerge, the morning had arrived. Your tears cascaded painfully slow; Reiner was looking at his feet trying to sip his tea that had gone cold. His hands were trembling with both sadness and anger that were beginning to secede.

Reiner finally called your name, this time it was delicate, “I’m sorry, alright?”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes as you nodded, “Alright.”

“Will you come home, now?”

“Yes,” you muttered, “I think I will.”

The two of you got up and Reiner immediately drew you into his chest, holding you the tightest you had ever been held, reconnecting all the broken pieces scattered inside you. You buried your face into his strong chest as you sobbed once more, while he kissed the top of your head with affection more vivid than thousands of words of affirmations.

“What do we do with these hearts, Rei?” You asked as you felt your chest throbbing with pain and love.

The man loosened his embrace and smiled, “Persevere.”

A/N:

First of all thank you so much to @okubean for giving me a hellish prompt! This one really made me faced my own abandonment issue and poured it into a writing. I tried to touch about the absent-mindedness as the implication of ADHD but I’m really worried that it doesn’t really do it justice. So hereby my sincere apologies! 😭🙏

Nonetheless, I really hope that you may enjoy this piece and I’m so sorry if it comes off as boring!

I literally drafted this on the metro, and got really carried away with it!

Did I enjoy it? (Yes)

Did this turn out longer than I expected? (Yes)

Am I worried this will bore people? (Yes)

#reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #reiner fluff #reiner angst #aot reiner #snk reiner #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #snk #aot fanfiction

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loser-hub · 4 years

Text

All For One.

Summary: There needs to be more content for this gloriously sinister man and I am more than happy to provide! How does it begin? Will you escape his clutches or will you submit to his desires?

Warnings: Yandere Tendencies, Kidnapping, Mild mention of Starvation, Dubcon, Quirk use during sex, Mind-Break and a whole host of degeneracy.

Notes: I tried to make the reader as vague as I possibly could for insert pleasure! GN with as few details as possible so it could be anyone or anything! This is 18+, minors dni. If you'd like to block any content of this nature on my page please put Tw: Heavy Spice in your filtering options!

A/N: I really don't know if I should apologize for this or not, you can see the point it got out of hand so please be warned and take your tastes and limits into account while reading!

A terrible fate has befallen you, hasn't it?

Your meeting was rather innocuous. So easily forgotten despite the feelings time with him supplanted. Long before his debut in the Kamino Ward and before his defeat at the hands of the Symbol of Peace. He wasn't heavily deformed then, he could easily mix in with the crowds and disappear as quickly as he appeared. His shaggy white hair and piercing blue eyes matched only by his stature and smile, the consensus of the humdrum day-to-day passerby was that he was quite attractive. Not that he ever entertained their mindless and painfully obvious observations.

The fateful event happened rather cliché all things considered. It began in a library. Wonders never ceased and he was unsure what compelled him to enter the home of knowledge and entertainment but he never once regretted it. Wandering the sea of books he looked for anything that would pique his interest, he nearly gave up the search until his eyes landed on you. An innocent, tiny thing that perused the history section for your latest essay or project, he never specifically asked why you were there.

He was captivated, captured by your beauty. Staring there at the entrance of the aisle for so long that when you turned you shrieked, believing him to be a well dressed Weeping Angel that you had read about the night before. That was the most embarrassing moment of your life as you apologized to him and to the librarian that zipped to the location to scold you about being too loud. For once he found apologies endearing, cute even, adorable if you feel so inclined and the sheer shock that a creature like you could exist in this world was pushed to the wayside.

The encounter was swift but profound, for him at least. Using his towering height to pull a book from the shelf you were too short to reach and place with the over growing collection. You were stuttering and blushing something fierce underneath his gaze and he had to stop himself from smirking at your bashfulness. He asks for your name and once you divulge it he responds by insisting you call him Mr. Shigaraki. After more insistence from either side hearing his name fall from your lips was like he was graced with hearing the voice of an Angel.

Sadly that's where the meeting ended as your time was up for whatever was going to take up your time next and you needed to scurry away. You wouldn't be forgotten as your face was forever burned in his memory, a fondness churning in the pit of his stomach. He believed everyone else was beneath him, save for his brother, who were all ants that needed to be squashed. You were different and he needed to find out why.

Time passes, as it always does. You forgot your encounter with Mr. Shigaraki and life went on. The day started off oddly, you couldn't place why but the hairs at the back of your neck stood on end. A lingering sense of doom settled in your mind like a dense fog on a dewy spring morning but whatever the reason had yet to reveal itself. This too was forgotten as the day progressed until it was late, late enough for you to seek refuge in your bed. About to drift off to sleep when suddenly your whole room shook, no, the entire area shook like an earthquake had just opened the earth beneath your feet. Looking out your bedroom window you saw chaos, the entire area had been decimated and nothing but rubble remained. Heroes had appeared and began evacuating just in time for your home to collapse.

You drifted in and out of consciousness. The moments where your eyelids were opened you saw none other than All Might, the Symbol of Peace, face down a masked villain in a suit. Shock was written on the hero's face when you called out to him for help, accidentally gaining the attention of the villain as well. If he still had eyes they would be wide and manic, he had not forgotten you of course but there you were. He had searched for you so fervently and yet here you were right under his nose. Your presence, he could feel it using that quirk from the cat rescuer and he instantly knew it was you. What luck. The fight was abandoned when he saw this was his best chance, the rest of the heroes were too focused on fighting off his pawns and All Might was too wounded to move.

In an instant the masked villain moved the rubble that had been pinning you in place and whisked you away.

Your fear was intoxicating. The pleas, begs and sobs that you cried were more delicious than anything he had ever experienced. More euphoric than any narcotic, sweeter than ambrosia. The beats of your hands on his back drowned out by the drumming of his heart, his mouth was beginning to water. He could hardly wait.

Like any self respecting villain All For One had many, many hideouts and safe houses. Many hadn't been used in years, others were still unknown to the heroes, then there was one. The place he took you was far more special, the place he had planned to bring you after that fateful day but never used when you slipped away. Well, you wouldn't escape this time.

For a place that hadn't seen life in years it was surprisingly well kept. Not a speck of dust laid on any surface, a few lightbulbs had died or exploded when he flipped on the lights but the water still ran and there was heat, it would do nicely for the time being. During the short trip via warp gate you had passed out, the silence when it had been delicious begs was disappointing but his signature smile appeared. There would be plenty of time to hear you cry while he breaks you into the perfect doll.

After your "retrieval" he places you on the never before used emperor sized bed and retreats to the lounge chair at your bedside. He sits perfectly still, staring at you much, admiring how much you changed and grew in his absence. A hint of pride bubbles up, he's pleased to know the lovely being he remembers became even fairer and more perfect. The feat would be impossible for any other person but you were made for him, you're his, and you had to be for a man such as him.

When you wake up those beautiful, blissful begs are heard by his worthy ears once again. Behind his life support helmet he sighs, a heavenly breath that you take for annoyance. You cry. "Please don't kill me", "Don't hurt me", "I'll do anything" but oh sweet thing, you're going to do anything he says regardless. You're his. Why would he hurt or kill you? If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead.

It comes as a surprise that he's afraid to remove his facial cover. He might be the Symbol of Evil with plans of world domination but there's a portion of him that is a slave to your desires, just as the world is a slave to his. A sliver of doubt appears as you ask who he is, if he reveals his identity and you ask for proof, his disfigured appearance would revolt you. No blue eyes to see you blush, no hair for you to run your hands through, no lips to feel yours on his.

"Mr. Shigaraki" was the clue he gave you. It was adorable seeing your face go blank as your mind was wracked trying to remember the face. He watched with bated breath as your eyes showed recognition, you remembered him. You remember his face, his smile, his feeling. That wasn't helpful, now you had a face to the person who kidnapped you. Who was holding you captive for...what? Ransom? To be tortured? To be his plaything? Every possibility was worse than the last, each one more dire and inescapable and bleak.

He did his best to comfort you albeit in a deleterious manner. The Emperor of Darkness' weight was displaced from the lounge chair and moved to the bed, his near gigantic form towering over you. Knee pressing into the mattress, causing your body to naturally shift into him. You couldn't move. There was no gap to dash through if your body would get over being paralyzed in fear. The hand that could cover your head was placed on your cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness, a soft gesture that was masked by the sinister appearance staring down at you.

"Fear not, My Sweet." His voice is slightly muffled by the life support, the emotions were unbridled, intense and all together unhinged. He's wholeheartedly delusional, diluted enough to believe he's going to the the greatest Demon Lord who ever lived and would dismantle the world, rule it all the while having your love. He craves it, he needs it, he's desperate for it. It drives him mad and being this close to you sends him to the brink of insanity.

Your limitless stubbornness is as wonderful as it is infuriating. All For One can't have the object of his love be a pushover from the gate, at least not yet. He has to experience the pleasure of breaking you, making you submit to him before you're allowed to follow his orders. He has to make you his Doll first, his obedient, beautiful Doll. That's a tall order and as the days pass his desperation grows. The itch in the back of his mind needed to be scratched and it was becoming clear his tactics were having the effect he desired. You stymied his every attempt, reacted the exact opposite of how he expected. He loved it, the last flame of your fighting spirit getting snuffed out in his raging insistence. He was beginning to wear you down, headway was being made and the inevitable end result was near.

All For One's machinations had increased in cruelness, once he had left you enough water to last a week and nothing else. The food vanished and all you were left with were bottles of water. He was gone for two weeks, it only took ten for you to teeter on the edge of sanity. Devoid of any interaction from the outside world. Only you, your thoughts and the dwindling "supplies". When he returned he was pleased he was greeted with showers of affection, your touch was smothering and your body was pressed to his as close as humanly possible. The last of your will had fled in his absence and now his Doll was in the perfect state to mould to his liking.

That night it begins. You're so needy, so greedy. He decides to indulge you and removes his helmet, confident you wouldn't be repulsed by his scarred visage. He's correct of course, when you were met with the invitation to express your desperation you take it. Your lips wander. Pressing messy and half-opened kisses to his neck, jaw, and whatever remained of his own lips as his massive hands lead you towards the bed. You don't notice until the back of your knees hit the edge and suddenly you're falling.

He's on you in an instant. The bed sinks with his added weight and the heat he radiated replaced the warmth provided by your clothes. Before you knew it his thick yet dexterous fingers were pushing into your hole unprompted, sheathing them down to the knuckle before they were retracted. He was going to take immense satisfaction by making you climax until you were babbling incoherently before even preparing you for his villainous cock.

Which was exactly what he did, denying you orgasm until you were red in the face and sobbing. All For One sat back on his knees in victory, smirking as he watched you wiggle and writhe at the loss of attention. There was one final thing: hearing you finally give into him. He owned your body but he needed to own your mind, your soul, your spirit, everything.

"Say it." In the moment his voice was low, gruff, reverberating throughout your clouded mind to send heat straight down to your nethers. You might've been aroused before but nothing compared to what his voice did to you.

"S-s-say w-wh-wha?" Barely able to form a sentence you willed yourself to speak, if only to repeat whatever he wanted so he would continue with his mind numbing ministrations. The lack of sending you in a desperate rut the likes of which you had never experienced. He was cruel, further denying you what you wanted. His hand so near to your skin that the tiny peach hairs picked up the presence but when your hips bucked to force him to touch you? He left entirely.

"Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, to ruin your body, to corrupt your mind and make you mine. Mine alone."

That was quite the mouthful and you weren't sure if you could say it back but that's what he wanted. Mustering your frenzied will you commanded yourself to speak, to plead for what you so desperately wanted. "Please, please fuck me. Please I need you, I need you, please make me yours. I want to be yours, please!"

Every second, every breath, every thought had been leading up to this moment. All For One was in Seventh Heaven upon hearing your final submittance, exultantly triumphant. Your reward was swiftly delivered, the bulbous head of his cock pressed against the entrance of your hole and with one swift thrust he inserted himself to the hilt. The sharp edge of his hips cutting against the plush of your inner thighs, it hurt, it hurt so much. He had prepared you, scissoring and stretching you, it wasn't enough. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the full stuffing of his cock inside you was enough to make you regret begging him to fuck you, sensing this he didn't move. Giving you time to adjust and acclimate while licking away your salty tears. The heat of his heavy breath oddly comforting.

Once your filled hole stopped fluttering all bets were off. His hips snapped expeditiously in the customary manner of fucking ones Doll till they came undone and fell into unconscious from the exhaustion and pleasure they felt. He was unrestrained. The initial softness and care he showed was the furthest thing in his mind now all that was left was a feral need to fuck his Doll till they were bedbound. He makes sure you know who owns you, using his numerous quirks to let you there was no escape. Musculoskeletal Coiling to make his already bed shattering thrusts harder. Proliferation, creating several pairs of arms and hands to tease you in places all at once. Reaching to grasp at your neck, fingers tweaking your oversensitive nipples all the while more teased and played with places unimaginable. Once using his Air Walk quirk to suspend you both amidst the impactful love-making.

Time had no meaning. Whatever seconds you counted to remember how many times he had made you climax were a distant dream, black spots appeared in your vision, your body somehow numb and pained all at once. The lightest touch was like you had been set on fire. In one particularly lucid moment you swore a drop of his milky cum was sliding past your nose but you don't remember blowing him or snorting it out but in the haze who knows what had happened. Finally the peaceful sleep wrapped you in its arms and carried you off to a safer place for a time.

Just as you passed out All For One finally came. Engorging you to the very brim, his fingers acting as a stopper to keep his demonic cum from spilling out. Whatever was left of the wrecked bed was used as All For One took your limp, sleeping body and wrapped you up in the soiled duvet.

The afterglow shone brightly like a halo while he laid with you. Keeping you flush against him. The plotting began again. Awaiting your eventual awakening to show you the other quirks at his disposal. He was far from done with you. It hadn't been a day since your submission and he intended to keep you as his Doll till you were well and old and your last breath was the escape from his eternal love.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #all for one #afo #mha afo #bnha afo #afo x reader #all for one x reader #tw: heavy spice #tw: yandere #tw: kidnapping #tw: dubcon #tw: mild starvation #tw: quirk use #tw: mind-break #tw: doll

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love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Cold Sea Monster

M sea monster X GN reader, 2,713 words.

Winter is a rough time for monsters who usually live in the tropics. Luckily, he can rely on you to keep him warm.

There was a lump in the blankets of your bed. You prodded at it, lips pressed together to hold back a giggle. “You can’t stay in there all day. You know that, right?” The lump wriggled away from your touch. “Come on. I need to make the bed.”

“No, you don’t.” The voice was muffled beneath the cloth. The lump curled into a tighter ball.

“I do. And you need to get out of bed sometime today.” You tugged at the edges of the blanket, trying to force it up. Claws hooked it from the other side, pulled it back down. You swallowed hard against the tidal wave of giggles.

“I’m hibernating.” The lump shifted and you managed to get the grip you needed to wrench the covers up. Your partner wailed as the cold air touched him. “No! Give me back the blankets!”

“Get out of bed,” you said, staring firmly down at him. “It’s past noon.”

He slunk slowly out from under the covers, gazing at you with enormous, sorrowful eyes. His dark, fishy eyes gave him a look like a kicked puppy. Luckily, he’d given you the look so many times, you were immune.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said. “You can go get in the hot tub, if you want.”

Getting a hot tub had been expensive, but absolutely necessary when your partner was amphibious. He was covered in pale blue scales that melted into skin on his belly. Brightly colored fins stood on the top and sides of his head and his long tail ended in an enormous, frilly fin, though it was folded down most of the time. He crouched on his long, digitigrade legs, peering at you with soulful, sad eyes.

“It’s so cold,” he whimpered. You rolled your eyes.

“I turned the thermostat up.” Keeping a tropical boyfriend warm in the winter was a pretty big task- even with the thermostat in the seventies, he still shivered and complained.

He looked sorrowfully at the electric blanket as you tucked it away. His mouth gaped in an enormous yawn. It was quite a change to see him now from the summer- he was usually energetic, but the instant the temperature started to dip into the forties, all his enthusiasm seemed to drain out of him.

“I set up a fire downstairs,” you said. “And a humidifier.” The drying effect of heating a house wasn’t great for an amphibian either. He yawned again, standing to his full height. He was much taller than you, with long limbs that helped him move through the water.

“Okay.” He snagged a quilt from his blanket pile and wrapped it over his shoulders. “Are you done?”

You smoothed down the last of the bedsheets. “Yeah, I’m done. Do you need me for-”

Before you could finish your sentence, he had seized you and pulled you into his arms. You yelped, startled, though not entirely surprised. He had a habit of picking you up and hauling you around. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, he simply pulled you into the living room. The fireplace was going, and there was a humidifier humming away in the corner. A heating pad sat tucked in a pile of soft blankets.

He wasted no time burrowing into them, you still in his arms. “Hey,” you said, squirming. “Come on, Morgen, I have to go to work.”

He rolled over, smushing you underneath him. “You work from home!”

“Yeah, on my laptop. Which is in the office. And not here,” you said. Morgen grumbled.

“What I mean is, there’s no way they can tell if you’re in the office on time or not. So…” He squirmed over, trying to give you another sorrowful, big-eyed look. It was a bit diminished by the fact that he was mostly covered in blankets and it was hard to see his face.

“Look,” you said. “It’s past twelve. I’m technically on a lunch break right now, but I am going to have to go back to work eventually. And you’re going to have to let me go eventually.”

“That’s what you think,” Morgen said, puffing up his chest. “I could lie here all day. And you’re going to lie here with me!”

You stuck out your tongue at him. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Ugh.” He gave you a playful shove. “Why do you always have to ruin all my perfectly laid plans?”

“If reality has started screwing up your plans, maybe they weren’t perfectly laid in the first place,” you pointed out. Morgen wrapped you in his arms and pulled you further into his enormous nest of blankets.

“Shh,” he said. “Be quiet. Let’s take a nap.”

There was more work to be done and a billion other things you could be taking care of at the moment. But it was so warm under the blankets and Morgen was rubbing at your tense shoulders in a way that felt so nice after hours of bending over a computer, and the idea of crawling back into the cold office and staring into a screen was sort of depression.

You groaned and rolled over, pressing your face into his shoulder. He made a quiet noise of triumph next to your ear, squeezing you even tighter. “Yes. I win!”

“Yeah, sure,” you grumbled. “Hope you like going to bed alone because I’m going to be staying up late finishing all my editing.”

“Noooooo,” Morgen wailed. “I hate going to bed alone! It’s so cold.” Despite that, he didn’t make any attempt to release you. If anything, he clung tighter. You snorted, stroking your fingers along the top of his head. His fins twitched as you ran your fingers along them. They twitched and jerked under your ministrations. His fins were so delicate and sensitive. Apparently, they could pick up subtle changes in the currents when he was underwater. On land, they made him very ticklish if you played your cards just right.

One of his ear fins twitched wildly as you ran a calloused fingertip over it. “Cut that out,” Morgen said sleepily.

“Yeah?” you said, scratching at the thin membrane. “What are you going to do about it?”

Morgen made a noise that could generously be described as a snarl and less generously described as a snore and rolled over onto you. “Gotcha,” he mumbled, wrapping his tail around you. “Now you’re never getting out.” You were completely smushed under him, though he was leaning back so you could still breathe. His tail was twitching, fins slapping against your back. It was rather funny, the way he wagged his tail when he was comfortable.

There was very little you could do to actually get him off you. He was pretty heavy and as he started to relax, the weight only seemed to increase. It was still pleasantly warm under the blankets, though his skin was cool against you. You closed your eyes, running your hand along the top of his head.

You startled awake abruptly. Your head was hazy and confused and your sense of timing was completely lost. It could have been thirty minutes or six hours for all you knew.

Muzzily, you poked your head out from under the pile of blankets. Morgen was still on top of you and he protested sleepily against your movements. After a moment of craning your neck, you caught a glance at the clock.

“Morgen, you need to get up. It’s two thirty.” He groaned, attaching himself even tighter to your side. “I need to work, come on!”

“No! I’m sleepy and you’re so warm.” It was impossible to get up with Morgen attached to you. He was so tall and his gangly limbs meant that he could very easily attach himself to you and he couldn’t be pried off.

“It’s past two! I need to work.” You kicked the blankets away from you and shivered. Even with the fire on, the warm was still pretty chilly. Morgen whined and retreated back into the blankets like a deep-sea creature recoiling from sunlight.

“You’re going to abandon me,” he said. He blinked at you from under the blankets. Somehow, having the blankets tangled around him only served to make him more pathetic. “Your boyfriend… all alone… cold and abandoned.”

“I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to be one room over! You’re going to be asleep, you’re not even going to notice that I’m gone.”

“I’ll notice,” Morgen said sorrowfully. “I always notice.”

You hesitated, then crouched down next to him again. “Okay. I think I have a plan. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

He looked suspiciously at you, but he let you leave. You trotted to the office and carefully pulled your laptop free from its nest of wires.

Morgen had fully buried himself under the blanket when you returned. He peeked out as you stopped next to him. “You brought your computer,” he said.

“Yeah. Budge over, make some space for me in the blanket.” Morgen was only too happy to do so, rolling over and lifting the blankets so you could shuffle in next to him.

It was sort of hard to write while lying on your stomach. Resting all your weight on your elbows hurt after a bit, and it was awkward to type. Morgen didn’t help in any way. He was half-sprawled over your back, a heavy weight that pressed you into the ground. Despite all the discomfort, though, you didn’t want to change your position. Morgen made little, sleepy noises of contentment as he pressed his face into your shoulders. Occasionally, he would even move to press kisses to the base of your neck. It was utterly delightful.

The afternoon dragged on. It was impressive how much Morgen could sleep, really. And such a change. It was strange to think about how much temperature affected his mood. You looked at him, curled against your side. He wasn’t quite entirely asleep, you thought. It was more like the sleepy hazes your childhood cats had gone into. His eyes were closed, but his fins twitched at the slightest sound and you could see his eyelids twitching every now and then.

You only ended up working for a couple of hours. Not only were you getting stiff from trying to type on the floor, but you were also growing increasingly distracted by Morgen. He had started to stir and was clearly trying to get your attention.

“Do you need something?” you said, finally pushing your laptop away. Morgen beamed, tail wagging so hard it shifted the blankets aside.

“I think I just got it,” he said. He tucked the blankets securely around you. “Want to put on a movie?”

“Are you actually going to stay awake through the whole thing or do you just want something in the background while you go to sleep?” you asked. Morgen tried to look innocent and utterly failed.

“It’s not my fault the cold makes me sleepy,” he said. “You can put on whatever movie you want! I won’t even complain if it’s one of those really boring ones.”

“The Poltergeist is not a boring movie. You just have no appreciation for subtlety,” you said.

“It’s so subtle that nothing happens,” Morgen said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t get why humans are so scared by it.”

There was no way either of you were going to win the argument, so you just grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Morgen wasted no time in sprawling himself across your lap, still smothered under several blankets. In the end, you put on an animated move you’d both seen several times before. Morgen said the way the water was shown reminded him of home, and you liked the story and bright colors.

Morgen dozed on your lap as you half-watched the movie. In truth, you were more paying attention to him. you worked your fingers over his scalp, scratching against the fins. He made little noises of satisfaction, leaning into your touch. For a water creature, his cat-like behavior was rather funny.

“I can’t believe how much you can sleep,” you said as he started awake and shifted his position on her lap. “You’ve barely been awake for two consecutive hours.”

“It’s the cold,” Morgen said. You ran your hand along his head and he pressed into the touch enthusiastically.

“Does the cold just make you more sluggish or does it actually make you need to sleep more?” you asked. Morgen rolled onto his back, his head still resting on your lap.

“This is just a guess,” he said. “I’m totally speculating here based on some stuff I’ve heard, but I think it’s mostly accurate. So, my species lives in tropical areas, yeah? But it was thought that in the past, we lived somewhere a little more temperate, that sometimes got cold snaps. And when there were cold snaps, in order to conserve energy, we went into a hibernation mode, where we all gathered together and slept until temperatures rose again.” He yawned, showing off his large canines. “Sorry. Anyway, when we moved to more tropical areas, we stopped needing to hibernate, but we still have the genes for it.”

“Which means that spending time in the cold is triggering your need to hibernate,” you said. “That’s why you’re sleeping so much. Your body is trying to hibernate.”

“Mm,” Morgen murmured. “My body wants to find somewhere warm where I can sleep until the temperature rises.”

You stroked your hand over his head again, fingers twitching. There was an abrupt feeling of nervousness coalescing in your stomach. “It must be hard. To fight that.” You played with one of his fins. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“I’m sleepy a lot. And cold a lot,” he said. “It’s a little uncomfortable, I suppose.”

You pursed your lips. “Would it…” There was something choking happening in your throat. Morgen blinked up at you, waiting for you to keep speaking. You cleared your throat a couple of times. “Er. Would it maybe be easier for you if you did hibernate? I mean… If that’s’ what you’re supposed to do in the winter? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Morgen looked up at you with his big, soulful eyes. “If I’m asleep, then I can’t spend time with you.”

You snorted. “You’re avoiding hibernating because you’re afraid I’m going to miss you?” It was unreasonably sweet and it was also fairly accurate. You pushed your sorrow away, though. It wasn’t fair to him, to force him to stay awake for you. “I mean, I will, but it’s only during the winter. And you’ll be awake sometimes. I’ll manage. You’re not the only person I talk to, you know.”

Morgen’s fins drew close to his face and he gave a small, slightly sheepish smile. “I wasn’t really worried about you missing me, exactly. I was more worried about me missing you.”

You made a noise of surprise. “You’ll be asleep. Are you even going to notice?”

He flicked his fins out and in, his version of a small shrug. “I think so,” he said. “I haven’t just been wanting you around because you’re warm. I love you a lot. I want to be with you.”

“I know,” you said. You couldn’t keep the emotion out of your voice and Morgen smiled, pressing his face into your stomach. “But I don’t want you to make yourself sick or something because you’re not doing what you should during the winter. And I really don’t want you doing that on my behalf.”

“I’m not doing it on your behalf,” Morgen said, his voice muffled. “I’m doing it because I want to.” He turned his head to blink sleepily up at you. “Trust me. I’d much rather spend time with you, even if I’m a little sleepy, than spend all winter asleep.”

Your eyes stung with tears. You sniffed. “That’s the sweetest thing I think anyone’s ever said to me.”

Morgen lifted his head toward yours, smiling. “It’s true.” You bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He sighed, reaching a hand up and pulling you down to kiss you more firmly.

“See?” he said as you broke apart. “I can’t get that when I’m sleeping.”

#exophilia #sea monster #sea monster boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #fluff #this is just straight fluff guys #monster bf

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years

Text

IOTA Reviews: Furious Fu

Well, I'm surprised this is here so quickly, but here we are. The first episode of Season 4. While I was on the fence about reviewing it even though it isn't in English (though there’s one in Spanish with English subtitles), but it seems like there are people that want to see me do it anyway, so who am I to let them down? Hopefully, I won't be regretting my decision to go over every episode of this season later on.

Will Marinette's new position as Guardian lead to more storylines other than her suffering? Will the show actually resolve the whole Love Square debacle this season? Why am I asking you all these questions?

Let's dive right into the first (actually sixth because of course it is) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season, Furious Fu.

We start off with all of the Kwamis under Marinette's care asking to see Former Master by Default Fu, before Marinette reminds them, and by extension, the audience, that he erased his memory during the events of last season, making her the new Guardian. They continue to act like hyperactive children until Marinette finally caves in and carries them in her backpack, although not before they give us one of the most unintentionally creepy images in the entire show.

I apologize in advance for your nightmares tonight.

The only Kwami who stays is the Dog Kwami, Barkk, who looks like she's going to see if Marinette's parents have any wine in the kitchen once she leaves.

Marinette heads down to the train station, where she meets up with Fu and Marianne, a former confidant/old flame who he recently reunited with. It turns out that inbetween Seasons 3 and 4, not only has Fu been living in London with Marianne while taking up painting as a hobby, but they've actually gotten married. So yeah, while Marinette has to deal with the stress of protecting some of the most dangerous artifacts on the planet, Fu's just been chilling in London, oblivious to the fact that he forced a teenage girl to do his job for him. Nothing but the best from this show's wise and lovable “mentor”.

After heading back home, Marinette sees a strange man who has broken into her room and demands to know where she got the Miracle Box from.

This is Master Su-Han, the former Guardians before Fu accidentally killed them all. He's naturally not happy with the “improper” form of the Miracle Box (he's not the only one) and wants to know how Marinette got in in the first place. When she says she got it from Fu...

Yeah... while it isn't as obvious as “Animaestro” and “Felix”, you can kind of tell that this is a “turn the critics into enemies” episode. Even though the criticism towards Master Fu isn't as prevalent as the criticism those episodes were meant to call out, there have been some fans on Tumblr and Reddit who have criticized Fu's actions in the show, calling out his decision to make Marinette a guardian in particular. Likewise, Su-Han is meant to be a strawman to mirror the complaints, and show why they are ridiculous. Though ironically, Su-Han's dialogue and rules also unintentionally highlight how incompetent the Order of the Guardians was, but we'll get to it later.

But because the script says she has to, Marinette defends Fu's decision to make her Guardian. She even refers to Fu being the reason the Guardians were all killed in the first place as a “mistake”.

NO HE DIDN'T! How was what Fu did in any way a sacrifice? When he made Marinette the new Guardian “Miracle Queen”, All Fu really did was make the box float for a bit before it immediately landed back in Chloe's hands. If the box had magically floated over to Ladybug in the process, I'd see why Fu would have done it. It'd still be reckless, but it would be a good way to escape from Hawkmoth and Mayura's trap. Hell, the Kwamis had already refused to let Chloe transform when she had their Miraculous, so there was no real threat there. We don't even know if Hawkmoth knew how to transform with the other Miraculous. So again, I raise the question: How was Fu forcing Ladybug to take his job while he gets to paint in London a heroic sacrifice? How can you even frame that as anything but cowardly?

Su-Han notices a few of the Kwamis are missing, and takes notice of Plagg, who was shown to devastate Paris with a single tap to the ground, being missing in particular. He's even more horrified to see Marinette's earrings, because, get this, Guardians aren't allowed to wear Miraculous.

You're telling me that if someone gets their hands on a Miraculous and goes rogue, the Guardians are supposed to fight them with their bare hands? They don't even explain it by saying something like how the Guardians aren't supposed to be tempted by the power of the Miraculous, we're just supposed to accept that rule as fact. How are you supposed to fight someone with superpowers like illusions, shapeshifting, teleportation, and time travel on your own?

So Su-Han orders the Kwamis back into the Miracle Box (still don't get why they have to listen to him) and lists off some of the rules Marinette broke like he was a Ferengi reading the Rules of Acquisition. He does all of this while voicing several concerns fans have about Marinette being Guardian, but rather than being out of concern or compassion for her, it's condescension.

It's pretty easy to understand Su-Han's side of the story, and if the episode actually acknowledged it, I wouldn't mind. But no, everything he says is automatically supposed to be wrong, because when has anything with a different viewpoint portrayed as a good guy in this show?

Su-Han orders Ladybug to take him to see Cat Noir before demanding they both hand over their Miraculous, and we learn something interesting about the Order of the Guardians.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?

Of all the stupid Guardian rules Master Fuckup didn't blindly follow, it's the rule that Miraculous are ONLY SUPPOSED TO GO TO ADULTS!? Why the hell did he even recruit Marinette and Adrien in the first place if Miraculous for adults to use? What did he even see in them? All they did was help him once!

And again, we're supposed to see Su-Han as wrong for doing this. Why can't Ladybug simply tell Su-Han about Hawkmoth and ask for his help before she returns her Miraculous to him? That way, Hawkmoth is defeated, and Su-Han gets the Miraculous back. And it's not like Ladybug doesn't try to talk things out with Su-Han, so you can't say she didn't consider it. Oh wait, that would imply Su-Han is supposed to have a point in his claims.

Though to the show's credit, Su-Han's words do get to Ladybug, causing herself to doubt herself and her ability to stop Hawkmoth, but Cat Noir helps to reassure her, saying he'll only return his Miraculous only if she asks him to. It's a brief moment, but it's nice to see him place his faith in his partner in a platonic way.

Less nice to see is Cat Noir finding out that if Ladybug gives up her position as Guardian, she'll lose her memory like Fu. Except... Cat Noir was there when Miraculous Ladybug failed to restore Fu's memory, so why does he see this as new information? Did he only think it would happen to Fu? Did he lose some of his memory at the end of the last season?

This information is enough for Cat Noir to start a fight with Su-Han, with Ladybug abandoning any attempts at diplomacy by declaring that Cat Noir won't lose his Miraculous. It's a little frustrating to see them engage Su-Han, but again, this is meant to show Cat Noir trying to protect Ladybug so she doesn't lose her memory. This scene still does a good job showcasing the bond the two heroes have. It's far better than anything we got from the New York special.

Su-Han is trained in... Oh God... Mirakung-Fu, which somehow gives him the ability to predict Ladybug and Cat Noir's moves before they make them, comparing it to his rage “adaptating and always finding a way”. Translation: Astruc ripped off something else from Dragon Ball, Ultra Instinct. Ladybug distracts Su-Han and gets the Miracle Box, while Cat Noir gets his staff. After briefly trapping him under some rubble (which I guess doesn't kill him because of his “Mirakung-Fu”), the two heroes escape.

Meanwhile, Shadowmoth, the upgraded form of Hawkmoth that I'll talk about in his debut proper, senses Su-Han's negative emotions and sends out an Akuma after him. Su-Han sees Fu painting in the park, and steals his cane, thinking it's a Guardian's staff he can sue to track down the Miraculous. When the Akuma reaches him, Su-Han uses a technique to repel the Akuma completely. I like this idea. It makes sense that a monk would find a way to mask their emotions and achieve enough of a state of zen to ward off an Akuma. The Akuma instead reaches Fu, turning him into Furious Fu.

I like the design of this Akuma. While I personally thought it could have made for a more interesting fight if he was still short (like Yoda's fight scenes in the prequels), I think it's really clever to incorporate Fu's Hawaiian shirt into what looks like a Chinese gi. Furious Fu's powers are kind of like Evilustrator, only he has to draw down a Chinese character on a talisman before the power takes immediate effect, and lacks the weakness Evilustrator had with his tablet being easily breakable, with the corrupted object, a paintbrush on his ear, being harder to reach.

Ladybug and Cat Noir retreat to the unnamed stadium that the local school has gym class in for some reason, where they're confronted by Su-Han, who in turn, is confronted by Furious Fu. This leads to a three-way fight for the Miracle Box, which they all kick around like a soccer ball. Cat Noir even gets a goal. All around, pretty fun bit, though not for the Kwamis, I guess.

As soon as he sees Furious Fu get the Miracle Ball, Su-Han hides while Ladybug and Cat Noir get beat up by the Akuma. While he does get up eventually, he's still taken out by Furious Fu. Apparently, Su-Han's “Mirakung-Fu” is only useful against Miraculous holders, not supervillains created with the powers of a Miraculous. How the hell does that work? That's like being a trained soldier in the Marine Corps who's terrible at laser tag.

Ladybug uses her Lucky Charm (again, I'll talk about the suit change for its proper debut episode), and gets a pair of wire cutters. She uses them go get a soccer ball from a nearby container while Cat Noir keeps Furious Fu busy. Furious Fu, in turn, uses one of his talismans to predict Ladybug's plan, and manages to immobilize both heroes, but not before Ladybug traps the soccer ball underneath Cat Noir's arm before Furious Fu can use his Cataclysm against him.

How do they stop him? By having Marianne casually walk up to him and break the paintbrush while he's distracted. Honestly, that's a pretty funny payoff. Not “Puppeteer” or “Bakerix” funny, but it's still one of the funnier Akuma defeats I've seen. Another funny joke is Cat Noir using his Cataclysm on a soccer ball before he accidentally uses it on Ladybug and Marianne for their post-victory fist bump.

Later on, after Marinette sees Marianne and Fu off while the latter continues to avoid responsibility, Su-Han apologizes to her, and decides to trust her. He'll still take away the Miracle Box if she screws up, but it's a start to someone Marinette can at least consult Guardian to Guardian.

And honestly? I think this episode is a pretty good start to Season 4. It really feels like the writers are learning from their mistakes in Season 3.

Yes, Marinette is blamed by Su-Han, and while it is frustrating to turn Su-Han into a strawman, unlike other Season 3 episodes where Marinette is blamed, the blame itself is unwarranted, and by the end of the episode, it looks like Su-Han is willing to change, as he apologizes to Fu after he's de-evilized. That's a lot more than I can say for Astruc's other straw characters like Chloe and Felix. Sure, some of Su-Han's concerns are brushed off, but it's still a start.

From what little we saw of him, Cat Noir is also a lot better, really showing the character development promised towards the end of “Miracle Queen”. He's thankfully turned down the flirting, and I can only hope he keeps his promise as the season goes on. I hope we get an episode or two showing his perspective on Ladybug becoming Guardian, and how he feels less like her actual partner now. You know, something that can reinforce their bond as partners.

My biggest complaints from the episode really come from the way Fu is portrayed, and even then, it's only because of events that happen because of what he did last season and how much of a screw-up he is, despite the narrative trying to tell the audience he isn't. Then there's the revelation that Fu's cane has the ability to track down Miraculous. So... we're seriously learning this now? Why didn't Fu use it earlier to look for the two missing Miraculous? He literally has a Miraculous detector! But hopefully, the consequences of Fu's actions won't affect this season too much.

So yeah, I'm actually feeling pretty optimistic about this season so far. Maybe Season 4 won't be that bad after all.

Oh.

Oh no...

youtube

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mldrgrl · 4 years

Text

Broken Things 2/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Mulder blinks in surprise at the widow’s sudden dismissal. He’s overwhelmingly concerned for the welfare of this woman he’s just met and he has no idea what to do about it, but he does know he can’t just leave her here.

Moments ago he was looking around this house, thinking that it might just crumble around them where they stood. The place looks to be already abandoned, far worse than when Old Man Goodwin was living here, and he wasn’t much of a housekeeper. There are no furnishings. No dishware or pots and pans that he can see. No lamps. Not a knick knack or vase of flowers. She has nothing. Less than nothing, really, and he finds that to be unbearable.

The only thing Mulder knows about the widow, Katherine, is that she’s well-spoken and has been educated. Somewhere along the way there has to have been a fall from grace. Life has handed her a raw deal, that much he can gather, but there’s a spark of determination in her to keep her head above it all. She’s utterly captivated him and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let anything happen to her.

A wild idea pops into his head and he’s never been one to pass on a whim, wild or not. His gut tells him what he’s thinking might be crazy, but he’s followed his gut on crazier notions before and he’s learned to trust his instincts.

“Marry me,” he says.

“I’m...sorry?” Katherine asks. Her right eyebrow lifts into a perfectly peaked arch and he’s never found anything so endearing in his life.

“Hear me out before you object.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you have a copy of the lease your husband signed?”

“I do.”

“May I see it?”

She hesitates for a moment, but then turns and moves to the back of the room. She reaches under the bedstead and returns with a tattered bible which she thumbs through and takes out a folded scrap of paper. He takes it from her, unfolds it, and then reads it.

“This is good,” he says. “Exactly as I’d hoped. Your husband signed a five-year lease with an option to purchase at the end of the term. Do you know if he has a will?”

“None I’m aware of.”

“And there are no children?”

Her lips part on a breath and then she closes them again and swallows before answering. “I am unable to have children.”

“I see.” He folds the lease agreement back along the original creases and hands it back to her. She slips it into the pages of the bible again. “Well, in the absence of any will, you would be the sole beneficiary. If we were to marry, I would assume your assets as well as your debts. I can pay what’s owed and if Mr. Skinner will allow it, make good on the option early. And you do know that it would also mean that what I own becomes yours as well.”

“I am quite certain you could own this land without marrying me.”

“That’s true I probably could. But, then where would that leave you?”

“I haven’t quite solved that particular problem yet, but you certainly don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

“Oh, but I do. Now that I know you, I can’t leave you here. You’ll be removed from the property soon enough and with no people to come for you or to return to...well, I couldn’t stand by and see that happen. My conscience would not allow it.”

“I could find work.”

“Out here? The only spot in town that would hire you is a house of ill-repute. Unless you plan to walk to Fort Worth, and even then there aren’t a lot of...look, I bet you know how to mend things? Cook some? Clean?”

“Of course.”

“I would offer you a job in that respect, but towns are small and people talk. If I take you on as a single woman to a ranch with six men about, people may think something improper was going on and that would affect business.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Mr. Mulder.”

“All my friends just call me Mulder. You might not be my responsibility, but I happen to like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re smart and you’re kind and I enjoy speaking with you. And I know you don’t deserve to be put out on the street with nowhere to go and no people to turn to.”

She looks down and away from him and he moves his hand out to lift her chin, but thinks better of it and doesn’t touch her. He knows horses a lot better than he knows people, and hardly knows a thing about women, but she reminds him of a spooked colt and he doesn’t want to overwhelm her and cause her to retreat. Horses will hurt themselves out of fear, and she just might do the same.

“Think of it as a business arrangement,” he says. “You will be in charge of the household duties, and if you ever decide you’d like to leave, I will be sure you’ll go with the value of this land in your pocket.”

“Cooking, cleaning, mending,” she mumbles. “What else might you be expecting?”

“I’m not looking for sport, if that’s what you’re thinking. I told you, there’s a house in town and If it was sport I was after, there are certainly far cheaper alternatives. Excuse me for being blunt.”

“No, I appreciate your honesty.”

“You can trust me.”

“I’d like to believe that.” With her head still lowered, she reaches up and brushes the side of her hand across her eye. “What if one day you find a woman you actually wish to marry? Start a family. What would happen then?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a singular focus and nothing else matters to me. But, if you should wish to marry, one day-”

“I won’t,” she says quickly, and firmly, shaking her head down at the floor. “I do not wish to marry again. I mean...aside from what you’re proposing.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You would really do all of this for a bit of land?”

“It’s good land.” He pauses and twists his lips for a moment or two. “But, as I’ve told you, it’s not just for the land.”

She finally glances up at him, but then quickly looks away again.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asks.

“I believe God has a plan for everyone.” Her brows furrow. “But, fate? Logically, I would have to say no.”

“One of my horses threw a shoe today. I wasn’t supposed to go into town this morning, and yet I did. If Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe, I wouldn’t have been in town and I wouldn’t have found out about your husband. If I hadn’t found out about your husband, I wouldn’t have ridden out here. If I wouldn’t have ridden out here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“But, if you weren’t away on business, you could have had this land six months ago, as you said.”

“Exactly my point. If I had purchased this plot six months ago, you never would’ve shown up here. I think this is meant to be. I think this is fate.”

“I don’t know about that, but...may I have a day to think this over?”

“Of course you may. And please, let me take you away from here. There are coyotes and bears that are apt to prowl around at night and this door doesn’t look very stable. Not to mention the drifters that pass through and the Indians that roam about, though they won’t usually do you any harm unless provoked. Still, I’d feel better if you’d come with me now.”

“Wouldn’t that look improper?” she asks, and her brow quirks again, only this time it feels a little more playful.

“Yes, Ma’am, it would, if I were to bring you home. I was planning on setting you up in town.”

“Surely not to the house of ill-repute?”

He smiles, glad that she’s in good enough humor to engage in a bit of banter. “John Byers and his wife Susannah operate the mercantile in town. They also have extra room since their boy, Franklin, has gone off to school. When I tell you that Susannah would be delighted for a lady friend, it might be an understatement.”

“If I leave with you, what if Mr. Skinner shows up?”

“I’ll handle Skinner.”

↭

Leaving with this stranger will not be the most rash thing she’s ever done, but it will be high on the list amongst the impetuous things she has done in her life. There’s something about him though that calms her insecurities and makes her feel like she can trust him. Besides, there really doesn’t seem to be any other option except to sit and wait to be evicted.

“Bring with you whatever you might need for a short time,” he tells her. “We can come back with a cart for anything else.”

But, there is nothing to come back for once she packs her nightgown, her bible, a tin cup, a broken hair comb, and a deerskin blanket into a burlap sack she’s been toting for the last few years. He looks at the sack and then at her and around the small sod house as if he’s waiting for more possessions to magically present themselves.

“This is everything I have,” she tells him.

“Alright then.” He nods and puts his hat back on.

His horse is very fine looking. Yellow, with a white mane. It whinnies when it sees him and he scratches it under the chin and rubs its nose. For a moment, it almost looks as though they’re holding a private conversation, with the horse nodding and whinnying and Mulder whispering softly to it. The horse scrapes a front hoof into the dirt and Mulder pats it gently on the shoulder.

“This is Blondie,” he says, smiling as he turns to her. “I was letting her know to be on her best behavior while you’re on her back. Do you ride?”

“I’ve ridden some when I was younger. I can walk, though.”

“We have to cross a creek up a bit and you’ll be safer and drier up here. Don’t worry, she’s nice and gentle. I’ll lead her. All you have to worry about is sitting straight and not falling off.”

“And getting up.” She eyes the stirrups on the saddle and estimates they’re at least as high as her shoulders.

Mulder chuckles and takes the sack from her. She notes the consideration he takes in placing it down on a patch of grass a few feet away and doesn’t drop it in the dirt. He comes back very close to the horse’s side and lunges forward a bit and slaps his knee.

“Go on and grab the saddle horn with your left hand and step on up with your left foot. You may have to lift your skirts a bit to throw your leg on over.”

It takes her three starts to gain the momentum to hoist herself up. She does what he tells her to though and gathers her skirts up. She knows she should be embarrassed by the holes in her shoes and that she has no stockings, but she lost the ability to care about such things a long time ago.

“Well done,” he says, and then passes the sack up to her. “I’m going to adjust these stirrups to fit and we’ll be on our way.”

He works the buckles and straps swiftly and expertly and apologizes for touching her ankle when her foot momentarily gets in the way. After he’s done, he brings the reins down over the horse’s head and turns it away from the house. Katherine realizes, once they’re some ways away, that she never even had the thought of turning back for a last look.

He tells her about the potential he sees in the land as they walk. He tells her about the corral he’d like to put up and how he would like to expand his business of training horses.

“You’re not from here,” she says at one point when he’s lost in his rambling.

“No, I grew up back east. Massachusetts.”

“How did you come to be so interested in horses?”

“Hand down that sack and hold on tight here, we’ll be crossing the creek and the horse could slip.”

She gives him her burlap bag and holds firm to the horn of the saddle. He throws the sack over one shoulder and guides the horse towards a small embankment and then tests the footing before they cross. She’s barely jostled by it. He stomps his boots once they’re back on dry land and hands the sack back up to her.

“That’s my girl,” he says, patting the horse lightly on the neck. The horse snorts and its ears twitch. “That creek was the dividing line of our properties.”

“Perhaps not for long.”

“Hopefully.”

The faint aroma of fire is in the air and she can see a thin curl of grey smoke in the distance. She sees Mr. Mulder breathe deep and then smile broadly.

“Looks like Melvin has noon dinner on the stove,” he says. “We’ll eat before we head into town.”

She doesn’t tell him, but she hasn’t eaten for almost three days. The pump behind the house gave plenty of water, but their food stock was depleted even before her late husband left last Saturday. She was able to boil some dandelions for a couple of days, but quickly ran out of matchsticks. Her stomach clenches and her mouth waters at the thought of food.

“So, you want to know how I came by the horse business,” he says.

“Mmhm,” she murmurs.

“When I was five years of age, there was a cholera outbreak in Boston. My parents, in their wisdom, felt that the city was unsafe for their children and they sent us away to live with my father’s dowager aunt at her country estate.”

“Was that difficult? Being away from your parents?”

“Not at all, actually. Auntie was a great lover of the outdoors and of children. She cared for my sister and I like we were her own, spoiled us as though we were as well. She gave me a little pony with a little cart for my birthday and that’s where it started, I suppose.”

“What happened when you went back to Boston?”

“Ah, well. I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“The cholera took my mother. My father was not as equipped to care for children as Auntie was. He allowed my aunt to adopt us and then he eventually remarried and I have a younger stepbrother named Jeffrey who I don’t know much about except that he’s probably of the age to start college soon enough.”

“And what about your sister?”

“Her name was Samantha.”

“Was? Oh. I’m sorry to have-”

“You do not have to apologize.” He stops the horse and looks up at her. “It was a long time ago. She was eight when she passed on. Smallpox. She loved horses even more than I do. Blondie was actually her horse. Of course, she was a bitty little filly at the time, but Sam made me promise to take care of her, and I have. She’s been with me nigh on thirteen years now.”

Katherine doesn’t know what to say to this. The small smile Mulder gives her after he stroke’s the horse’s cheek is a sad one. It’s a painful reminder of the grief she also carries that she’s never spoken so freely about. She’s never spoken about it at all, in fact, and she can’t ever see a time when she will be able to.

The rest of the journey to the ranch is in silence.

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 2 #AU #MSR

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

The right to bare arms

Beta:@voiceswithoutlips Rating: All Pairing: Spider!Namjoon x Reader Genre: Hybrid au, Fluff, Adventure, little spooky Words: 2.8k

Summary: A Halloween special for the youtube channel ‘Ama-Jin Friends’ sees a group of young individuals visiting an abandoned and supposedly haunted hotel. Legend says there are evil creatures inside ready to devour those who enter. But in the depths of the building you find the supposed creature isn’t as deadly as it seems, actually he is a bit clumsy.

You were sitting in front of the camera, feeling a little nervous. Halloween was coming up and well, that meant spooky content, and you were a big scared cat.

“Good morning, noon, or night and welcome to another episode of Ama-Jin friends, I am your host Jin, and these are my friends. As today marks the first day of the week leading to Halloween, we are going to raise the stakes with a little competition.” Jin began speaking to the camera excitedly and you fidgeted, catching Hoseok’s eye as he too looked nervously around.

“I told you all to pack a bag with everything you would need to stay the week in a hotel, the competition is simple, the last person to leave the hotel wins.”

“That’s easy!” Jungkook puffed out his chest, his Brown bear hybrid nodded in approval.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Yoongi asked, noticing his owner Hoseok’s nerves rising.

“The catch, it’s not just any old hotel, it is the most haunted hotel in this town, and top three in the country.” He smiled evilly, you and Hoseok shivered nervously. “Well since we are all packed let’s all head out?”

“As usual we have the camera crew, each group will be given a cameraman, except one, now we will be drawing lots on who will be going alone.” We each picked a piece of paper from the basket. “One of the papers is marked X the rest are marked O, the X is the individual who will go through the house alone without a camera crew. “

You looked at the paper and felt your body go weak, you were going alone. Bracing yourself on the couch you took some deep breaths, “are you sure you are okay, you look sick?” Carl, one of the cameramen asked.

“I will take it if you want?” Jungkook

“No, I will take it!” you sighed. When you arrived at the hotel, you felt like crying, “this looks like something from a nightmare.”

You were each given a tracker bracelet and a headset with night vision goggles and a mic. Strapped to your chest was a go pro and you had a 360 camera on a stick, you were told to check the equipment every five minutes, to see if they were recording properly. And finally, you were given a heart monitor.

You each stepped in with your backpacks of clothes, some water, a torch, and your electronics.

“Pick a room and have fun, last one out wins”

You headed in by yourself, going to the back, on the first floor. You were shaking with nerves, “I don’t think I can make it through the night, but since I am all by myself I should stay on the bottom floor near the working toilets and the kitchen.

“Since this place has been turned into a haunted house the show stuff is upstairs. This stuff is pretty clean for people to eat food during Halloween.” You informed the camera.

“I have to find somewhere to sleep that doesn’t scare the crap out of me,” you muttered, lips numb, you found the kitchen and sighed, “I can’t sleep there, I found a small office, but it was locked, So I’m just outside in this lockable infirmary, so this is where I will camp for the night”

You chose that as your sleeping place, as there was a clean bed in the cozy room, however, the floor creaked and the carpet was discolored by water damage, but it was dry at this moment, and that’s all you needed.

You spent the night talking to the camera and trying to sleep, unsuccessfully, when you heard a sound coming from the kitchen, “I heard a sound from the kitchen, and it’s freaking me out, can you guys hear it?” you whispered looking at the small light glowing in the corner of the lense.

Moving out the door and down the hall, you saw Jungkook and V cooking Ramen on the stove.

“You idiots! I just had a heart attack!” you walked in shaking, Taehyung rubbed his round ears, embarrassed, and hugged you.

“You want some noodles?” Jungkook asked playfully.

“Yes please,” you whined.

“Hey y/n, I was telling Yui that I can smell another hybrid, I can’t tell what breed it is but it gives me a weird feeling?” Taehyung spoke in a husky voice.

“What does it smell like?” You asked aiming your camera at the two men as if you were interviewing them. Before placing the camera near the ramen.

“Like a rancid, bitter smell.” Taehyung expanded on his thoughts pulling a face.

“What smells bitter and rancid, snakes, lizards?” you brainstormed animals you knew that could be considered odd-smelling

“It reminds me of Ants?” Taehyung said thoughtfully “You don’t think it is a giant Ant hybrid?”

“Ants to me have an aniseed smell” You spoke to the camera wondering if others would agree with your statement, “Do you guys feel the same way?”

“No, not like that, it’s funky,” Taehyung shrugged

“So something maybe insecty, I have never met an insect hybrid,” you hummed

The three of you ate ramen and parted ways, you went back to your room, but your torch was missing and you were scared, someone thought it was funny to take it but jokes on you, you wouldn’t use the torch anyway, you didn’t want anything in the dark knowing where you were in the halls.

The first night you heard a noise, it sounded like it came from under the bed, you had been suspicious for the last hour that there was a hole under the bed. You dropped the stupid stress ball Jin had given you onto it bounced two times and stopped. When you moved to sit up there was a groan in the wood, mere seconds before the bed collapsed through the floor, you lunged off the bed for the ledge, but you missed and fell into the pitch-black basement.

You screamed, but you never hit the floor, you were cushioned by sticky rope, you touched it and realized it wasn’t rope, it was a thick wiry spiderweb.

One could always tell the size of the spider by the size of their web, but this was too big, this spider would have to be the size of a small bear, that scared you. Taehyung had said he smelt a hybrid, an insect hybrid, what if it had been eaten by the spider. What if it was that spider?

You felt movement on the web and you froze, something big was coming, you were desperately trying not to hyperventilate. You saw black shiny eyes and something retreat into the dark. But whatever it was, it didn’t attack, maybe because it thought you were dead when it didn't feel you struggling on the web.

You looked around slowly, a shuffling sound could be heard below, and as you hung from midair stuck in these rope-like webs. As the sounds grew louder you screamed again as a light came hit your eyes. “Hey, you alright? You fell through the floor.” A deep voice spoke making your heart explode, you were going to die.

“Who are you?” you asked mouth gone dry, looking around until you saw the torch pointed at the roof illuminating both of your figures, he was a handsome young man.

“I’m Namjoon the security guard, I watch on the cameras to see if anyone gets hurt. I came as soon as I saw you fall�� He was wearing a very large puffy security jacket, you watched him struggle up the web and pulled you free, placing you on the ground, you picked up your things and he held out the stick 360 camera. “You might need this to continue your filming, are you like a tv show or something online?”

“We are online,” you smiled taking the expensive camera which thankfully was barely dirtied and still recording, you were still moving along behind him, you were a little scared, in a movie he would either get killed for helping, or he would be the killer.

A shiver passed through you, you whispered into your mic. He led you to the first floor and fixed the barricade and sign that said water damage, and warned occupants to not travel down that area of the hotel.

“Can I ask you a question?” The security guard Namjoon asked curiously.

“Sure” you smiled, happy to be back on the first floor, he told you he would take a stroll to check on every floor and make sure no one else was hurt.

“Well every one of your friends has a hybrid except you, do you not like hybrids?” He said curiously as to why you were exploring alone.

“I love hybrids, I just don't want to force one to live with me, but maybe if one wanted to then that would be different,” you murmured. “It’s complicated.”

“Sounds complicated?” he laughed, “what would you like? A cat hybrid or a dog hybrid?”

“I have no one specific in mind, just someone I could connect with.” He tripped and you went to help him up but he was already scrambling onto his feet.

“Sorry I am a bit clumsy.” He smiled and you looked at him in the light of the hall, his eyes were all black and beady. He lowered his head. “I didn’t mean to scare you or bring you any harm, I am just a hybrid, not a pretty one either.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have lived in this house all my life now, I just have to face that this is how I will live from now on, I am not upset, I just don’t know what I am.”

He went to leave and you grabbed his arm, “You are a hybrid?”

“Yes,” He smiled sheepishly, “I should go… back down there?”

“Wait, if you have lived here all your life, where do you sleep and what do you eat?” you asked curiously.

“Well, my job is the security here, so I make some money and so I sometimes eat Ramen but when I was a child, undiscovered by the staff, I would eat whatever I could find,” he smiled sheepishly, “I have my own little home in the basement”

“Can I see?” you asked, the idea that this sweet dimpled young man grew up here with no food pulled at your heartstrings.

“You almost passed out whilst we were down there, are you sure you want to go there again?” he asked and you shivered, remembering the damp basement, he laughed putting his arm around you. “It’s okay, you don’t have to go down.”

“I am just afraid of the dark,” you admitted, now he started laughing wholeheartedly “Oh yeah just laugh at the scared girl!!”

“It’s just I live in the dark so that’s kind of funny,” he grinned, “I find comfort in the dark”

“Are you like a bat?” You guessed,

“No, I can’t fly,” he chuckled, “I am evil, scary, and everyone hates me.”

His laughter died off, he was left looking sad and lonely, you wondered if your suspicion was right, was he the spider? or something else? He was a nocturnal animal with entirely black eyes but other than that there were no distinct features about him. He was very tall and his legs seemed to go on for days but that was all.

If he was a bat or moth he would have wings and, or webbed fingers, if he was an ant, beetle, or spider, you assumed he would have a more obvious behind. But his butt was confined to his pants perfectly, he caught you staring and he looked over his shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“I was just checking something sorry,” you blushed, he probably thought you were checking him out, the way you were adamantly staring at his butt. “Anyway, what if you come to live with me?”

“You won’t want me,” he spoke bashfully, “I am not cute, and I am clumsy and repulsive-looking.”

“I have decided that if you want a home with hot water and real food, I could adopt you,” you crossed your arms, “you have never had an owner so I will be that, I will give you a better life, how does that sound?”

He looked like he was trying to contain his excitement and be reasonable, but he just couldn’t wipe that smile off his face as he stood up, “are you sure?”

“Let’s go pack your bags,” you grinned, “I won’t take it back, and I won’t ask you to reveal yourself, I will give you your own room and personal space so you can be yourself.”

Namjoon seemed to like this, grinning and heading to the basement. You tried to follow him but you slipped on the stairs, almost tumbling down the steps. Namjoon turned, looking shocked, he lunged for you. There was a tear of fabric and the jacket he was wearing ripped, revealing six more pairs of arms.

You fell into all eight arms and he stumbled backward falling onto his back, “Are you okay?” you asked, making sure he didn’t hit his head. Obviously, you now knew he was a spider, you were a little weirded out by multiple arms; they were all entirely human just eight altogether.

“I’m okay,” he seemed more concerned about you, “Are you?”

“I am in safe hands,” you snickered and stood up, holding out two of yours, “I only have two to help you up, but I am sure it is more than enough, let’s go pack your bags.”

It was safe to say you didn’t win the bet, leaving early but the video was a hit as Namjoon was the first spider hybrid caught on camera. He was introduced to your house where he got familiar with everything. You were quick to get custom-made shirts for his many arms.

Namjoon was soon the newest member of Ama-Jin friends and though there were hate comments, the people grew to love him, seeing his cute side. They especially enjoyed him playing games and trying new things as he often made a mess. One of your competitions was to make coffee, he somehow got tangled in his arms and well the milk got more on the bench than in the mug.

The cutest part was how naive he was and how he never shied away, he loved trying new things and wasn’t scared to fail, and when he did fail he gave a dimpled smile. The fans fell in love with Namjoon when they saw how smart he was. They started to send him little toys and trinkets of his favorite animals. So here he was in a shirt that said ‘Crab Life’ it was a blue with a brilliant coral crab on it. The fans sometimes called him Daddy-Long-Legs, which had made the others laugh hysterically.

You finished up today’s fun episode and headed home, you decided to go into the grocery store, grabbing Namjoon’s favorite foods, at the check out you were paying the cashier talking to Namjoon. “If you want to grab some groceries I will grab the rest and we could head home and watch some TV”

But when you turned you saw each hand carrying a bag and you couldn’t stop laughing. His ears turned red and you assured him it wasn’t bad, “you just never cease to amaze me. How could anyone hate you? You are a precious and sweet angel!”

Namjoon puffed up his chest and grinned, he was happy to be wanted and useful and you were happy to help him feel wanted. “I think you are an amazing owner too, you support me in what I do and you aren’t too overbearing. Plus you cook really good food.”

“Well if you like my cooking, I should let you know tonight I am making your favorite,” you smiled, opening the front door, you sorted out the groceries and thanked that Namjoon was so tall he could always reach the top shelf.

“Do you need help?” Namjoon asked and you grinned as he liked to participate, but you had to remind him to go slow and think about what he was doing first before he did it, you always gave him safe tasks not wanting him to burn himself.

“I have a salad that could be made so I need you to wash the spinach and chop the avocado and just dice everything slowly okay, take your time and don’t hurt yourself,” you warned him, getting the rest of the food ready, “I will finish making the japchae.”

“I love japchae,” he wiggled excitedly and began washing the spinach, it made you laugh, he was still such an excitable young man, he never had someone cook for him or to hang out with. There was never someone to talk to or confide in, he never had a safe place to explore the world and expand his mind.

He grew up well despite living alone, having access to books, and was smart enough to teach others, he even knew multiple languages that he self-taught from watching tv in the basement of the haunted hotel.

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