#I just wanna see them setting the world on fire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katiascraft · 2 months ago

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༄“I would set the world on fire for you” | LN4 ⟢

Parings: lando norris x gf!reader.

Summary: after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

Word count: +5k.

Warnings: written and smau. angst and fluff at the same time. Anxiety attack. Overthinking. Selfhatred. Language. And that’s it. I’m not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: lately I NEED to write things to cope with my feelings so here it is. Hope Vegas is good to all of my boys 💌 don’t forget to like, reflow or comment! Ur support its way loved here. and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Your heart was completely shattered. Your heart was racing to get out of your car at the airport. In exactly 20 minutes your boyfriend will be back home after the worst weekend ever imagined. You couldn't assist the Brazilian GP because of your work schedule. You had a few meetings after Mexico gp. And you felt so guilty about it. You knew lando would be more protected if you were there. At least in the intimacy of you, emotionally speaking. Having someone there for him to hug and to comfort him. to calm his mind. To stop the self hatred you knew it was playing right now in his head.

Lando is an overthinker and you get him because you were also one. You knew to which scenarios his mind can travel to and how painful it can be for him to live with himself sometimes. You were fighting your tears reading all of the atrocious things people commented online. You knew that wasn't real life. But you also knew he would see all that and how that would weigh in his heart. They can never let him win. And the worst part was only because it was just him. Other drivers could do or say worse things and everybody would laugh and brush it off. But when it came to Lando, he was a monster, a loser, an arrogant son of a bitch. That hurt deeply. Because in reality lando is the sweetest soul you have ever met. And you knew how vulnerable he could be. Tho you always admired him for that. You always thought that the bravest and strongest people in this world are the ones that admit to need help, the ones that are vulnerable and open about it. In a world this cruel, that was no easy task. But he did time and time again.and he did even knowing how shitty people were gonna be to him. Though, he did it for people he knew that counted on him. Lando always talks about how people sometimes come to him saying he has saved their lives and the impact he had on them. It's something beautiful yet that weighted on his shoulders as well, you thought.

You crossed the airport gates. Anxiety shaking your whole body. You wanted to hug him so bad. To tell him everything was gonna be fine.

You opened the flight information he sent you before his plane took off so you looked for the probable gate he was coming out of when landed. Even though you were anxious you were also relieved that he was home with you.

After a few minutes passed by, a lot of people started coming out of the door you were waiting for. You started gazing at everyone just to find him. After a bunch of people got out, there he was. One of the last ones to go through the door. When you saw him your body almost came undone. You were out of air for a moment while the two of you got closer. When he is finally within reach, you give him the strongest hug you could. He melted on you, hugging you by your neck. Not much time passed when you heard him crying hid in your neck. Your heart that was shattered, broke immediately. You tighter your grip unto him. He started to sob and you couldn't hold your own tears at that point. You knew he had the worst time on that flight, alone with his cruel thoughts torturing him for hours. And there was nothing that you could do to protect him. You couldn't say a word. There was nothing that you could say that it would make things better right now.

Lando was sobbing and shaking. His levels of anxiety reached a high when he saw you standing there looking for him desperately with your eyes. He needed you. But life’s a bitch and you couldn't stay with him throughout the whole American leg. He came undone in your arms. He needed to hug you for so long. He was broken. His mind replying to all the mistakes he made. All of his wrong decisions. All of the shit he said. He was embarrassed, angry and defeated. He was ashamed of himself. Disgusted. Frustrated and scared.

Yu rubbed his back trying to comfort him in the hug and trying to not cry so you could be the strong one for him. He needed you, you knew it. And you wanted to fix all of this in a snap of fingers, but you couldn't.

“It’s okay baby. You are gonna be alright, I promise. I love you. You’re home now ", Yu said, to make him feel at least slightly better. When he heard you he started sobbing even harder. You let him take all the time he needed. While doing so, you tried to see where you were and how you could, if someone was recording and taking a picture. Fortunately you were almost alone. It was the last flight arriving for today. You feel relieved knowing this won't be used against him by the cruel internet trolls.

(...)

The drive home was silent. No music, no speaking. He didn't even look at you the whole ride. He was looking through the window avoiding any contact with society you thought while driving your Audi R8 V10 GT RWD through the illuminated Monaco streets. It was around 9pm. You had cooked for him some home made pasta you knew he adored. You just wanted him to feel better.

When you got home, he took his bags to the room with your help. You left his second suitcase next to his wardrobe and saw him lying on the bed.

“I made your fav homemade pasta. Do you want me to bring it here and eat it in bed?” you offered him with a soft voice. He was looking to the ceiling. He did not answer right away, but after a few moments he did.

“I'm not hungry, but thank you. Maybe i'll eat later” he said with a deep cracky voice and turned himself in the bed showing you his back. You frowned a bit.

He couldn't look at you. He hated that you could see him like this. He was ashamed of himself drawing in self pity and self hatred. He felt he let you down.

“Aln, did you eat something during the flight at least?” you asked worriedly, walking forward to the bed so you could get closer to him. You sat on the table next to his back looking at him. You didn't want to touch him just because you didn't know if he would want you to. You didn't want to be invasive. You stayed in silence for a few minutes. You understood he didn't eat, that he didn't want to either or speak. So you stood up and let him have his alone time closing the door gently behind your back.

You ate alone that night.in silence just as if you could hear him from your kitchen aisle. The past was really good. You turned off your phone after washing the dishes and tidied the kitchen and living room up. You didn't want to see what social media was saying about your lover before bed. It was already enough scrolling and reading so many people wishing lando to die. That was the hardest part of it all. You left your phone charging on the kitchen counter and went to your shared room. When you entered he was already showered getting into the bed again. You half smiled at him even though he couldn't see you. You put on your pajamas in silence and climbed up the bed. He looked at you while you were getting comfortable next to him.

Your eyes met. Any of you said anything. Just looked at each other trying to read each other thought as if that was possible. He licked his dry lips. His eyes turned glassy.

“I messed everything up,” he said almost in a whisper. Your heart is breaking again. You shook your head at him getting closer and bringing him into your chest. You hugged him tightly.

“No you didnt baby. Sometimes people are just mean, you know? They will interpret things as the wish” you said softly rubbing his back and arm and caressing his hair gently. He felt a bit better under your frame. He felt protected but as a little kid when missbehaved so now he tries to find comfort. He didn't want to cry.he was trying hard not to let tears stream down his cheeks. You kissed his forehead and made him look at you. “I know you dont wanna talk about it but i love and i am so deeply and entirely proud of you” you whisper close to his face. You saw him pout and the first tears coming down his face. You hugged him tightly. He hid in your neck and eventually fell asleep. You wanted to set the world on fire for this. You wanted to ruin every single person who says awful things about it. The comments, the media. You wanted to destroy everything and everyone just to protect him. He doesn't deserve this. He is an angel and you can't believe the world could only see the devil in him.

Lando tried to sleep but he couldn't. Everytime he closed his eyes, all of the tragic scenes from the race replayed in his mind. How the car felt, the rain, the radio messages, Oscar's voice, comments from his engineer . everything replayed in his head torturing him the worst way possible. He felt like getting down. He felt alone and miserable. He remembered Oscar words replying in his mind over and over again. “You will eventually make it, mate”. It was a positive message but he replayed it like a fucking nightmare.

What if he never makes it? What if he doesn't have what it takes? What if people are right? What if he is actually a monster and deserves to die? What if he did? Would they like him again or figure him out? Would anyone care about his feelings? Why does it have to be him and not someone else? Why are they all so cruel to him?

He couldn't stop thinking about every single detail about the weekend. He didn't want to celebrate his birthday anymore. He had you there but couldn't look at you. He felt disgusted by himself. He can't control it. He wants to go back into go karts and stop the time when he was actually happy and having fun with his friends. Now that line between friends and enemies is so blurry for him. Max didn't talk to him like before when all of this shit started. He knew Max was really competitive, of course he did, everyone knew it since day 1. But what about their friendship? Lando shit talked, max shit talked. He felt so confused even by his own feelings around this whole shitty situation or championship situation. Whatever you want to call it.

(...)

When you woke up the next morning he was gone. You felt kind of confused for a bit. You heard him talking so you guessed he was speaking on the phone. When you got up from bed you walked out the room to find him. When you got closer to the living room you knew he was talking to Max on facetime because you heard his voice.

“Morning, guys” you said, getting into the kitchen for some water to take your thyroid pills. Lando looked at you half-smile.

“Good morning baby” he said as sweetly as he could. You smiled at him. Before coming back to your room to shower and stuff you went and gave him a good morning kiss making Max almost throw up when he saw you in a funny way. You showed him the middle finger and disappeared so he could talk in private with his mate. You respected his place a lot. And i guess that’s why you understand so much each other.

(...)

The following day things got worse. Lando hasn't eaten any meal you prepared for him, didn't even want to have take out or anything. You found him crying in the kitchen and in the garden by the pool of your house. His anxiety was killing him, you knew. The desperation and guilt were eating him alive and you didn't know what to do rather than try to talk and comfort him.

He was sitting on the sofa in the living room. His sight was fixed on the floor without moving. You got alarmed because you knew what was going on. You got close slowly to not trigger him even more. His face was red, his hands sweaty and shaking. You sat on the floor diagonal from him looking at him. Slowly and gently you grabbed his hands trying to capture his brain's attention and get him out of the fog he was in. You were almost sure he was having an anxiety attack and he started because of your touch. You gently rubbed your fingers in his hands. He was out of breath for a moment and you got scared so you tried to do as your therapist told you in case someone you know goes through this.

“Lan, can you hear me? Try to pay attention to my voice okay? I'm here and I'm with you dull be alright” you said really softly trying to make him look at you. You looked for his eyes with your gaze. “It’s not as terrible as you think, baby, I promise. You aren't all of those things people comment” you used your words carefully. His hands caught your strength and so you reassured him. You saw his pout becoming deeper. You hurt to see him like this. It was so unfair. He doesnt deserve this, god. And he broke. He broke down again. His tears streamed down his face. Sobbing in so much pain. You sat next to him to hug him tightly once more. But now you knew it was worse. He was shaking under your arms.you let him go through this. So he can let go of all of this shit inside him. “I promise lando, you aren't all of those things. People are just mean and cruel. You are a good baby and so talented. Gifted. You have it in you I promise, I can see it” you tried to comfort him with your words as well, trying to distract your mind from the tragic thought he was dealing with by himself. A few tears fell down your face. It was a hard time. And you were trying to be strong for him.

“I'm so stupid I'm sorry” he sobbed and you shook your head.

“No, Lando, you aren't. I promise okay? Believe me.i know you and you aren't. And this will pass. All the people that know you for real, we love you and we are so proud of you. You had an amazing year. You are fucking fighting a three time world champion, even sooner than he did with lewis back in 2021. That’s huge my love. Your dream is near, I just know it. Because I know you, and you’ll make it, baby. You didn't let anyone down. You're getting stronger so when you finally make it, all of these moments will make it taste so much better and sweeter” you explained while rubbing his back. Your words made an effect on him. Heslowly calming down. He didn't want to let you go. He wanted to just stay there in your arms. Where he felt safe and sound. Noone could hurt him there. That was what made him fall for you. You saw him. You knew him. And you care about him. He was finally important for someone for being lando, and not lando norris formula one driver. His past lovers left him feeling confused whether they loved him for him or their idea of him. You came outta nowhere and blew him away. You were brutally honest, no filter yet so gentle and caring with your words. He thought his perfect girl didn't exist but then there was you, listening to him for hours if he needed to. Giving him the best advice and clearing his perspective. Always cheering him up. Cracking jokes so he could distract and feel relaxed. Heknew he was in love with you the moment you offered to give him a ride because he was drunk as well at a new years party. It was normal but the fact that a stranger could do that for him blew his mind. He never admitted afraid people would think it’s weird. But it is what it is. Your smile ended him right there and when you started cracking jokes he didn't want to live in that damn car for the rest of his life. So here you are 4 years later,and you still be the greatest person in the world and the one who knew him the most. He felt your lips on his forehead. For a moment he thought about leaving racing. What if his life was better without it in it? He could go back to Bristol and be with his friends. With you. Maybe start a family and have a normal job so you could spend each day together. He started crying again at that thought. He loved racing but this year was the hardest yet amazing one.

He finally calmed down after a few minutes in silence. He looked at you with puppy eyes. You caressed his face gently brushing a few tears falling down still.

“Would you be there with me? Could you?” he asked, making you a bit confused. And he noticed. “To the races. I need you there. Please. To every race and when I become a champion,would you be there with me? You could feel he's scared. You half smiled at him melting as his comment.

“Of course I'll be there, baby. I’ll always be there for and with you. If I could , I would set the whole world on fire just for you. Never doubt it, okay?” he nodded and you pulled him closer to give him so many little kisses around his whole face making him gigle a little.

“I love you, y/n” he said looking at you fondly.

“I love you, lando. Everything’s gonna be alright” you said, assuring him and gave a peck on his lips. “Go have a shower and dress cute im gonna take you out on a date before your birthday” you said more lighful to cheer him up and his face lit up.

“Really?” you noddedat him and send him to shower agin funny. Before going with him so yhou both looked facy, you needed to say something to the world. You couldnt stay crossed arms and do nothing about it.

── .✦

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maxfewtrell: I CHOKED

norrisfan: omg thank u queen for this

user45: ur as dumb as he is. you cant defend him. he sucks and thats it darling. don lie to yourself.

── .✦

You turned off your phone once again. You were already so fed up with it all. Let them talk. You were sure they would choke with their own shit eventually.

but continued with the day. Lando was still a little off but he was looking better so maybe he is actually feeling better. You took out to dinner at a restaurant he always dreamed of going to. He was so happy to be there. The food was delicious. It was near the beach though it is colder here so we looked at it through the glass window. You gossip and talk about anything and everything as if everything was alright. And it was a fact it was. Because this is real life. Not social media. A few people stopped you while eating to ask for pictures and Lando said yes every time you even became a photoshoot photographer. Nice people telling him nice things was what he needed right now. Plus, you would never be pissed off by his fans. You were actually grateful for them. Of course, some can be disrespectful but you knew the real one was it. You really embraced Lando's life even though it’s nothing like the life you’d dreamed of to have one day. But he is the boy of your dreams so why would it be a problem.

November, 13th

When the clock hit midnight, the restaurant made a cake for him so we all sang him happy birthday. You chose his favorite type of cake. He giggled all nervous and shy. His cheeks red while his eyes showed a little sparkle while watching the candles. He blew them. You recorded the whole thing and took so many pictures. He thanked the staff and staff of the restaurant and they let you enjoy the cake in comfort. Your heart was full to see him a little back again.

After The restaurant kicked you out because they needed to close, you decided to do a road trip through the mountains of monaco. You always enjoy a good ride with good music and good company. And you also had sex in the car. You kind of guessed he needed to take his frustrations out somehow because you had the rough sex you really enjoyed. He joked it was his best birthday present making you laugh. He was joking again.

“Thank you” he said while gently rubbing your naked chest. You were seated on him. You smiled and leaned for a soft kiss on his lips. You really loved him. And all you wanted for him was happiness and well being. And you would do anything to make sure he is okay.

You came back home and had another round of sex. Enjoying yourselves in intimacy. Lando finally fell asleep after a terrible few days, in the calm of your body. His face on your bare chest. You clothed him and fell asleep relieved.

── .✦

yourusername made a post

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yourusername: What can I say about you? There's no words that can describe your greatness. Or my feelings for you. I'm so grateful you were born on November 13th. 25 years ago my best friend and the love of my life was brought to this world. And sometimes what unfair is that, right? A world that is so cruel to you. A world that doesn't deserve your greatness and kindness nor your attention. You are the greatest son, brother, uncle, friend and lover. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't actually know you. We are all so lucky that you choose us to spend your time on this world with. Thank you for being who you care. For caring about the people you love and making sure we are alright and happy. Thank you for being the light that you are for so many lives. Thank you for being vulnerable. I admire you so much, lan. You are the strongest and bravest human I know. so honest and open. Anyone who says otherwise, actually, doesn't know you. I know this is not the best birthday of your life, but I promise you I'll try to make it better. Thank you for being who you are to me. I promise I see you and I care. You're the love of my life. And I'm so lucky you love me over any other human out there. So happy birthday to the prettiest and most genuine, real, fun, kind, warm person I have the chance to call mine everyday. Hope you have the best day you can have right now. That’s the least you deserve. I love you forever bestie. Don’t ever change.

tagged: landonorris

comments on this post have been disabled.

── .✦

So you had a master plan for Lando's birthday. You went to the Hilton hotel for some coffee with Max and Lando of course. We lied and said pietra couldn't make it because she had a meeting and Lando believed. Truth was, you have contacted all of his friends and arregened flights so everyone could make it to Monaco on time. Pietra was the one in your house. You left her a spare key yesterday evening after coffee with alex. You gave her the directions and the idea of what you wanted while you and Max distracted Lando until 7pm, she decorated the house and received all of his friends. Lando had no clue of what was going on but he was so happy it was the second cake you brought to him. You recorded the moment and seeing him smile made your heart melt.

── .✦

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landonorris: I love you greatest girlfriend there to exist. Thank u for everything and specially for making this day so much better. Ur an Angel ❤️‍🩹

⤷ yourusername: I love u more Angel ❤️‍🩹 the least you deserve is to be loved and happy.

User33: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Landostan: THANK U FOR EXISTING AND TAKING SUCH CARE OF HIM UR A QUEEN I LOVE U WE LOVE U

carlossainz55: ur the best 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername: te extraño hermano we need to double date with Rebecca again asap!

── .✦

When 7pm came around we all “decided” to go to your house and eat pizza for dinner. Lando even said to me that they could do a stream and have fun for a bit. You agreed and all knowing that wasn't gonna happen. The ride home was so much fun. You spent the 20 minute ride screaming a one direction song from the top of your lungs. You sang Lando ‘through the dark’ And he sang ‘You and i’.it was lovely, Max almost threw up when you kissed. Luckily he was driving so he hadn't watched much of your pda.

You got out of the car trying to play it cool though you were so nervous. You saw Max texting Pietra that you were close.the lights were off. And silent. Your nervousness took over you when you tried to open the door but let the keys fall nervously. Thankfully Max and Lando were discussing which type of pizza they would order. Finally you opened the door, lando behind you and so you turned on the lights.

Everyone jumped from everywhere saying happy birthday in unison. Yoursmile was so big but when you saw lando his smile was even bigger.

“Surprise!” you said and lando was still processing it. But when his friend started hugging him he started crying out of joy. He thought his friends weren't coming this year because of their busy schedule.but that was a lie you made them tell so lando wouldn suspect anything. Fortunately, they all kept the secret safe. Lando was so happy.

You all spent the night playing poker, drinking gin and tonics and surrounded by laughter and love. In the moment, around everybody, you felt lucky to be there. Especially to be in landos life. Everyone was so sweet and good just like him. He deserves the world.

Everyone went home around 2 am. You were exhausted and tipsy at the end of the night. So you put your pajamas on and sled straight on the bed. Lando wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for everything. It was a great birthday. Thank u for always taking care of me always.you make me the happiest” he said under a whisper looking at you. He looked so gorgeous with that little smile and tired eyes. You stroked his cheek gently, smiling.

“You deserve to be happy darling. You are unstoppable. Better days at work will come,I know.but im grateful that you have so much love surrounding you. I love you” he smiled widely listening to you and leaned to kiss you with so much feelings and passion. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him and also the greatest decision he has ever made when he asked you out.

── .✦

f1gossipofficial made a post

liked by user3423, user96849, user334, yourbff and others.

f1gossipofficial: here it is @/yourusername at the McLaren garage ready for fp1 cheering for his 4 year boyfriend @/landonorris! Lando was asked about the whole drama around the Brazil gp and his birthday and her statement and he said ‘I’m lucky to have her. I would set the world on fire for her. So yeah. We are the same that is why we work so well. It was a great birthday though. She brought my whole group of friend to Monaco for a poker night so yeah’ also he said that if it wasn’t for her he would’ve collapsed on his overthinking but thankfully she was there. We love a power couple on the grid!! What do we think about all of this? #LasVegasGP2024

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User1873: they are both the same shit tbh

User23: I LOVE THEM GREATEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

User29873: I don’t like lando but she cute supporting him like that. I saw she gave a kiss to him before getting into the car. They seem in love!

⤷ Usrr988: I KNOW TIGHT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY I CAUGHT THAT KISS IN THE OFFICIAL TRANSMISSION

Yourbff: she is the greatest person you would know!! Let’s go lan!!!

User564: Max will win the dwc and NOTHING would change that or move me so

User90: omg she is so pretty

y/nstan: how lucky lando is to have her. She is always the sweetest to all of his fans. And also funny. Such a queen!

User897: where are the pictures of them arriving together????????! I NEED THEM

⤷ user45: so iconic need to marry asap

── .✦

It was the day. The day you were back to media duties. Back to being a target for social media. Back supporting your boyfriend no matter what. You even went on media day to be there for him if he needed it. You chatted with everyone around to entertain yourself while he was doing interviews.

Oscar helped a lot and the whole McLaren team to make Lando feel safe and actually enjoy the weekend. You Were grateful for it. At least they decided not to be dicks in front of his face.

Fp1 was about to start and you were proudly there in the garage to cheer on him. You were also anxious because you felt things almost like him and this competition is rather never racking. You kissed him gently but shortly. A good luck kiss before getting into the car. He smiled widely.

“Go be the best you can be. You’re great” you told him sweetly.

“I'll try my best to impress you,” he replied, letting go of your hand.

“You already do everyday babe” you said smiling making him grin before walking into the car to start the first session of the weekend.

You watched from there how fp1 unfolded hoping this would be a great weekend.

── .✦ FIN

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

#lando x reader #lando #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1

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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

Text

X-Men x Fem!Reader (Part.1)

You leave them speechless with your bikini (Part.1)

You arrives at a private X-Men beach in a stunning bikini, instantly capturing the attention of your crush who struggle to maintain their composure

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Jean Grey & Ororo Munroe

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

The sun beats down on the secluded stretch of beach where the X-Men have gathered for a rare day off, the sounds of the waves lapping gently at the shore. Logan stands near the bonfire pit, his sharp eyes watching as his teammates laugh and splash around in the water, but his mind isn’t really on their fun. He’s more focused on the horizon, trying to find peace in the familiar scent of the ocean, but that all changes when you step onto the sand.

He glances over, and there you are, walking across the beach in a bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. His breath hitches slightly at the sight of you, all sun-kissed skin and effortless beauty. The way the sunlight plays off your body makes his throat tighten, and suddenly, Logan has to clench his fists to keep his composure. His sharp senses can pick up on everything about you—your scent, the warmth radiating from your skin, and the way your soft laughter reaches his ears.

You’re walking toward the water, completely oblivious to the effect you’re having on him, and for a moment, Logan’s mind goes blank, his usual cool exterior crumbling as he watches you. He can feel the animal inside him stir, the raw attraction that he tries so hard to keep in check roaring to life. His heart races, and it’s taking everything in him not to let his eyes linger too long, not to show just how much he’s affected.

"Whoa, Logan, you might wanna close your mouth before you start droolin'," comes a teasing voice from beside him. Logan turns to see Bobby grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Logan growls low in his throat, but it’s more embarrassed than angry. "Shut it, Drake," he mutters, trying to ignore the way his face feels like it’s on fire. He can feel the heat rising in his body, a mix of frustration and longing swirling inside him, but he can’t risk losing control. Not here, not now.

Bobby snickers and pats Logan on the shoulder. "She’s somethin’ else, huh? Can’t say I blame you. If I had your senses, I’d probably be in trouble too."

Logan clenches his jaw, his eyes flicking back to you for a brief moment before he forces himself to look away. "Ain’t your business, Drake," he grumbles, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

But Bobby’s words only make it harder for Logan to push the thoughts away. Every time he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, his chest tightens. He wants to go over to you, wants to say something, but the tension between you two has been building for weeks, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, Logan finds himself standing closer to you, the unspoken connection between you two almost tangible. You glance over at him, a soft smile on your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The temptation is too strong, the desire too overwhelming. He’s not sure how much longer he can pretend he’s not completely drawn to you.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The day is hot and humid, the perfect weather for a beach trip. The X-Men had chosen a private stretch of sand, far away from prying eyes, and everyone was in high spirits. Remy, as usual, was the center of attention, making jokes and tossing cards into the air with casual grace. But when you step onto the sand in your bikini, his usual charm falters.

His red-on-black eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you, walking toward the water with the sun hitting your skin just right. You look effortlessly stunning, the curves of your body accentuated by the swimsuit, and Remy can’t help but stare for a moment too long. He’s never been the kind of guy to be at a loss for words, but right now, he feels like someone just knocked the wind out of him.

"Mon dieu," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he tries to regain his composure. But it’s no use—his heartbeat quickens, and his usual confidence wavers.

"Remy, you okay there?" Rogue’s voice breaks through his daze, and when he turns to look at her, she’s smirking, clearly enjoying the way he’s struggling to keep his cool. "Didn’t think I’d ever see you look so flustered."

Remy shoots her a playful glare, but there’s no hiding the flush creeping up his neck. "Ain’t flustered, cher," he says, but his voice lacks its usual smoothness.

Rogue chuckles, folding her arms across her chest. "Sure, sugar. Whatever you say."

Remy turns his attention back to you, watching as you laugh with some of the other X-Men, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him. His chest tightens, and for the first time in a long time, Remy feels nervous. He’s always been confident, always known exactly what to say to charm someone, but with you, it’s different. There’s something real between you two, something that’s been simmering just below the surface for a while now, and it’s starting to drive him crazy.

The way your hips sway as you walk, the way your hair catches the sunlight—it’s all too much. He swallows hard, feeling the urge to go to you, to say something, to finally make a move. But he hesitates, unsure if now is the right time. The tension between you two is thick, and he’s not sure if pushing things further right now would be a good idea.

But then, you glance over at him, your eyes locking with his for just a second, and that’s all it takes. His heart skips a beat, and without thinking, he starts walking toward you, his usual swagger returning as he closes the distance between you two.

"Chère, y’ lookin’ like trouble today," he says, his voice low and smooth, though there’s a hint of nervous energy beneath the surface. He flashes you one of his trademark smiles, but this time, it’s a little more genuine, a little less playful.

You smile back, tilting your head slightly as you look up at him. "You sayin’ I’m too much for you to handle, Remy?"

He chuckles, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Ain’t no such thing as too much when it comes to you, mon amour."

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The beach day was meant to be relaxing, a break from the chaos that usually surrounded the X-Men. Kurt had been enjoying himself, teleporting from spot to spot around the beach, sometimes splashing in the water with his teammates and other times just relaxing in the shade. But all of that changes the moment you step onto the sand in your bikini.

Kurt’s yellow eyes go wide, his tail twitching nervously as he watches you walk by, the sun making your skin glow in a way that makes his heart race. You look stunning, the curves of your body making it hard for him to focus on anything else. His usual calm demeanor falters, and he suddenly feels a little self-conscious. He’s always been drawn to you, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly beautiful, is almost too much for him.

He quickly teleports to the edge of the beach, trying to collect himself. His body is burning with a mix of desire and embarrassment, and he’s not sure how to handle it. Kurt has always been shy when it comes to you, his feelings never fully spoken aloud, but the tension between you has been building for a long time.

"Having a hard time there, Kurt?" Kitty’s voice comes from beside him, and he jumps slightly, his tail curling in surprise.

"Nein, nein," he stammers, though his cheeks are darkened with a deep blush. "I-I’m fine, really."

Kitty raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face. "Uh-huh. Sure. It’s not like you’re staring or anything."

Kurt groans softly, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn’t… staring," he mutters, though he knows that’s not entirely true. He had been staring—he couldn’t help it. You were just so… beautiful. And the feelings he’d been trying to keep under control were getting harder to ignore.

Kitty pats him on the back. "Good luck, Kurt. Looks like you might need it," she says before walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Kurt takes a deep breath, his tail flicking nervously as he watches you from a distance. He wants to go to you, to say something, but he’s not sure how. The attraction between you two is undeniable, and he knows he can’t keep hiding how he feels forever.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The beach was calm, a private retreat for the X-Men to take a rare day off from their usual chaotic lives. Scott had found a spot under the shade of a large umbrella, sunglasses in place, enjoying the peaceful sound of the waves. He liked the quiet moments, where he could allow himself to relax. You, on the other hand, had been excited from the moment the trip was planned, eager to embrace the sun and sea.

Scott wasn’t prepared for what happened next. When you stepped out from behind one of the large rocks, wearing a bikini that hugged your curves in all the right places, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. He tried to maintain his usual calm, controlled demeanor, but it was difficult. His jaw tightened as he watched you move, the sunlight highlighting your figure as you walked toward the water. You hadn’t noticed his reaction yet, your carefree laughter blending with the sound of the ocean.

He adjusted his sunglasses, glad they were hiding the way his gaze followed you. A part of him wanted to stand up, walk over, and say something clever, but he could feel the heat rising in his body, his usual control slipping. Scott’s hands clenched into fists, trying to focus on anything else, but it was no use.

"Havin’ a little trouble, Summers?" Logan’s gruff voice came from beside him, and Scott immediately stiffened, his head turning sharply to the side.

Logan was smirking, arms crossed, clearly enjoying Scott’s discomfort. "Didn’t think you’d be the type to get rattled over a swimsuit."

Scott let out a slow breath, his jaw clenched. "I’m not rattled," he replied, trying to sound composed, though his voice was a little too tight. He glanced back at you, who was now wading into the water, your body shimmering under the sunlight.

"Right," Logan said, his smirk widening. "Just… y’know, if you’re havin’ trouble keepin’ your cool, maybe it’s time you make a move before someone else does."

Scott didn’t respond, but Logan’s words stuck with him. The tension between you two had been building for months, and Scott knew it. He’d kept his distance, not wanting to complicate things, but seeing you now, so carefree and beautiful, was making it harder and harder to stay composed. He couldn’t help but feel protective, the thought of anyone else stepping in to win your affections gnawing at him.

As you swam further out into the water, Scott stood up from his spot under the umbrella, his heart racing as he made a decision. It was time to stop holding back.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The beach wasn’t Erik’s usual scene. He preferred the cold steel of his lair or the sharp angles of his machines, but at the insistence of Charles and the others, he had agreed to join this rare moment of relaxation. He stood off to the side, watching the waves crash against the shore with a distant expression, his mind far from the present.

That is, until you emerged from one of the beach cabanas, dressed in a bikini that immediately drew his attention. Erik’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk across the sand, your beauty impossible to ignore. The way you carried yourself, the way the sunlight seemed to embrace you—it was enough to stir something deep within him, something primal.

You weren’t aware of his reaction, of the way his gaze followed you with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. Erik prided himself on his control, on his ability to maintain a façade of indifference, but this… you… were making that increasingly difficult. His hand clenched at his side as he fought to maintain his composure, the magnetic energy around him humming softly in response to his heightened emotions.

"Quite the sight, isn’t she?" Charles’ voice broke through Erik’s thoughts, the familiar, calm tone both irritating and grounding at the same time.

Erik didn’t bother turning to look at his old friend, his eyes still locked on you as you dipped your toes into the water. "She always is," he replied, his voice lower than usual, filled with a tension that Charles undoubtedly noticed.

Charles chuckled softly, sensing the depth of Erik’s feelings. "You know, it wouldn’t hurt to let her know what she means to you."

Erik’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t a man prone to sentimentality, and yet, when it came to you, his defenses always seemed to waver. There had been an undeniable connection between you two for a long time, a mutual understanding of the world’s cruelty and beauty. But Erik had always hesitated to take that step, knowing the dangers that came with loving someone as fiercely as he wanted to love you.

"Sentiment is a weakness, Charles," Erik muttered, though even he didn’t fully believe it this time.

Charles shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Or perhaps, it’s the greatest strength of all."

As you turned and smiled in Erik’s direction, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that he didn’t feel anything. He wouldn’t allow the world to take this from him—not this time.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden rays across the secluded beach where Warren had flown the X-Men for a much-needed break. With his wings stretched wide, Warren lounged on the soft sand, the sound of the waves providing a perfect backdrop to the otherwise peaceful day. He was the picture of relaxation, at least on the surface.

That all changed the moment you walked out of the changing cabana in your bikini.

His heart nearly stopped in his chest as he saw you, your skin glowing under the sunlight, your every movement graceful and captivating. Warren had always found you beautiful, but something about seeing you like this, so free and confident, stirred something deep within him. He tried to play it cool, lounging back as though he hadn’t just been struck dumb by the sight of you, but it was no use. His wings twitched, betraying his nervousness, and he felt his pulse quicken as you strolled toward the water.

Bobby, who had been building a sandcastle nearby, looked up at Warren with a wide grin. "Dude, you’re staring."

Warren blinked, snapping his gaze away from you as a flush crept up his neck. "I’m not staring," he said, though his voice didn’t quite carry the usual confidence.

Bobby snickered, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, sure. Your wings are practically shaking, man."

Warren shot him a look, folding his wings a little tighter against his back in an attempt to regain control. "Mind your own business, Bobby," he muttered, though his eyes flicked back to you as you splashed playfully in the water, your laughter carrying on the breeze.

The truth was, Warren was having a hard time keeping his composure. The tension between you two had always been there, an unspoken attraction that neither of you had fully addressed, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly stunning, was making it impossible for him to ignore. His usual smooth charm faltered, and for the first time in a long while, Warren felt… vulnerable.

He wanted to go to you, to say something clever and sweep you off your feet the way he always imagined, but instead, he stayed rooted in place, unsure of how to approach the situation. His wings twitched again, and Bobby’s teasing laughter only made it worse.

"Come on, man," Bobby said, still grinning. "You’ve got wings. Just fly over there and make a move already."

Warren rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny the urge growing inside him. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain, but for you… it might be worth the risk. Standing up, he brushed the sand off his shorts, his wings unfolding as he glanced in your direction again. Maybe today was the day he’d finally stop hiding how he felt.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

The beach was a blur of activity, mostly thanks to Pietro zipping around the shore, never able to sit still for more than a moment. You were used to his constant energy by now, but today, his focus seemed a little... off. It wasn’t until you stepped out of the changing room, wearing your new bikini, that you realized why.

Pietro froze mid-sprint, which was a rare occurrence for him. His eyes widened as they took you in, the gentle breeze tugging at your hair, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your skin. You smiled at him, completely unaware of the way his heart was practically racing even faster than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, but his usual cocky smirk faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and awe.

"Wow," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "That’s... I mean... you look—"

Before he could finish, a sharp whistle came from nearby. You didn’t notice, but Pietro did. Logan, leaning against one of the palm trees, raised an eyebrow at the speedster. "You gonna stand there gawking all day or actually do something about it, kid?"

Pietro shot Logan a glare, his usual confidence slowly seeping back into place. "Mind your business, old man," he grumbled, though he could feel the tips of his ears burning. Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying the younger mutant's discomfort.

Pietro’s gaze returned to you as you walked toward the shoreline, blissfully unaware of the exchange. He could feel his pulse quicken as he watched you, his usual bravado faltering just a bit. He knew he should make a move, say something, anything to let you know how he felt, but for the first time in a long time, he found himself at a loss for words.

With a deep breath, he decided to make his move—faster than you could blink, he was at your side, the usual teasing grin back on his face. "You know," he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear, "you’re making it really hard for me to concentrate on anything else right now."

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Wanda Maximoff had always been intense, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface, controlled but always present. You knew that better than anyone, and today, as you stepped out onto the beach, you could feel that intensity directed at you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

The beach was quiet, only a few of the X-Men scattered across the sand, but the moment Wanda saw you in that bikini, it was like the world fell away. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting slightly as she watched you walk toward the shore. You could feel her gaze on you, and it wasn’t just casual. It was hungry, a heat that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You waded into the water, letting the cool waves wash over your ankles, and when you turned back to look at her, you caught the moment she tore her eyes away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Wanda wasn’t one to lose control easily, but around you, it seemed she couldn’t help it.

"You’re staring," Pietro’s voice cut through the quiet, and you saw him lounging nearby, his usual smirk plastered on his face. "Not very subtle, sis."

Wanda shot him a glare that could have melted metal, but it didn’t stop him from chuckling. "Shut up, Pietro," she hissed, but the damage was done. Her composure was shaken, and now, she knew you had noticed.

Wanda stood up, brushing sand from her legs as she made her way toward you, her steps purposeful, but you could see the slight hesitation in her eyes. She was powerful, confident, but when it came to you, she seemed almost unsure, as if she wasn’t entirely certain how to handle the way she felt.

"You okay?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips as she stopped beside you, her eyes locking onto yours.

"Fine," she replied quickly, too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Wanda..." You took a step closer, your voice soft. "You don’t have to hide how you feel."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. Wanda's fingers brushed against yours, and the simple touch sent a spark through you both. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said everything. You could see the desire, the need she had been trying to keep under control, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before she gave in.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

The beach was serene, with the waves gently lapping at the shore and the soft hum of the wind weaving through the trees. Jean was sitting on a towel, a relaxed smile on her face as she watched the others enjoy the rare day off. She hadn’t expected you to take her breath away, but that’s exactly what happened when you strolled down the sand in your bikini.

Jean’s eyes followed your every movement, her usually composed demeanor shaken for just a moment. You were stunning, the sun reflecting off your skin in a way that made her heart skip a beat. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.

As you waded into the shallow water, Jean’s thoughts raced, and she struggled to maintain her usual control. The tension between the two of you had been growing for some time now, an unspoken attraction that was always there, simmering beneath the surface. She had always tried to keep her feelings in check, worried about the complications that might arise if she let them show. But now, seeing you like this, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the pull.

"She’s beautiful, isn’t she?" Scott’s voice broke through Jean’s thoughts, and she blinked, turning to look at him. He wasn’t teasing, just observant, and Jean felt a pang of jealousy twist in her chest. She quickly pushed it down, forcing a smile.

"She is," Jean replied softly, her eyes drifting back to you as you laughed, splashing in the water. "But it’s more than that. She just... has this energy."

Scott nodded, though he didn’t say anything more, leaving Jean alone with her thoughts. As you turned back to glance at her, your smile radiant, Jean felt her resolve begin to crack. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind her fears and take a chance on what she truly wanted.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

The air around the beach was warm, with just the right hint of a breeze to keep things comfortable. Ororo had spent the morning making sure the weather was perfect for the outing, her powers ensuring a clear, sunny sky without a cloud in sight. She was standing near the water’s edge, her feet sinking into the sand, enjoying the peace of the day when she saw you.

The way the sunlight kissed your skin as you stepped onto the beach in a bikini left Ororo momentarily speechless. She had always known you were beautiful, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly confident and radiant, stirred something deep within her. She wasn’t the type to be easily rattled, always so in control of herself and her surroundings, but for a split second, she felt a crack in her calm exterior.

Your laughter reached her ears as you splashed into the water, completely unaware of the way Ororo’s gaze lingered on you. She could feel the tension building in her chest, a mixture of admiration and desire, though she maintained her poised stance. Ororo prided herself on her ability to remain level-headed, but the sight of you was testing that self-control.

"You okay, ‘Ro?" Rogue’s voice came from behind her, and Ororo turned, her serene expression back in place.

"Yes," she replied with a small smile, though her thoughts were still focused on you. Rogue followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Looks like someone’s got you a little distracted," Rogue teased lightly, nudging Ororo’s arm.

Ororo’s lips twitched into a soft smile, but she didn’t deny it. The truth was, she had been distracted by you for some time now, the connection between the two of you growing stronger with each passing day. She had always kept her feelings close to her chest, not wanting to let them cloud her judgment, but seeing you here now, so carefree and beautiful, made it harder to maintain her usual restraint.

As you waded further into the water, Ororo took a deep breath, her eyes softening. Maybe it was time to let go of the careful distance she had been keeping.

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peachyscenes · 3 months ago

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diet pepsi | enhypen x reader

scenarios inspired by lyrics from diet pepsi by addison rae

notes: suggestive, some more than others so proceed with caution. loss of virginity for jungwon's (both you and him), but no real smut. members are not in order to accommodate the order of the song lyrics, reader is described with female anatomy/female presenting!

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

RIKI

“my boy's a winner, he loves the game

my lips reflect off his cross gold chain”

the air is stuck in your lungs as his lips assult your own. your hands grip his shirt tightly, too entranced to let him go so easily. the hand that rested on your knee rides up, leaving behind a trail of fire on your skin. the tension between you two was so thick, he had to do something.

you were supposed to be tutoring him. he had pumped himself up to ask you for help with trigonometry, his friends hidden to not scare you off, but showing him support. he felt giddy when you showed him up to your room, everything about it was you. he was supposed to ask you on a proper date after the tutoring session, but currently his hands were busy playing with the hem of your skirt. not very gentlemanly of him. jay would not be happy.

you break away first to catch your breath. riki felt dizzy, his breathing staggered as his eyes close, reminiscing the feeling of your lips.

you catch a glimpse of your reflection on his pendant and suddenly feel heat rushing up to your face. the marks that riki had made on your neck were beginning to bloom.

riki's head is running when he finally looks at you, wondering if he had crossed a boundary of yours.

"hey, i'm sorry if i crossed the line. i was gonna ask you out afterwards but-!"

you shut him up by pulling on his pendant to meet you for another kiss.

JAKE

“i like the way he's telling me

my ass looks good in these ripped blue jeans”

you're both more than tipsy. giggles and whispers are shared amongst the two of you as you both sit on the couch. the house party was packed, but you and jake were in your own little worlds. there's a sparkle in his eye when he looks at you, everyone can see just how much you are to him. there's song changes to one that makes you perk up.

"wanna dance?"

the music thumps through your bodies as he sways with you. jake lets out another giggle when your hips roll with his own. your back is pressed against his chest and his hands are on your hips, rubbing his thumbs against your exposed skin. you both bask in each other's company. it's then that his hold on you tightens when the song transitions to a more intimate one. he leans down to give your cheek a kiss.

"you look so good, baby." jake was very appreciative of your outfit when he picked you up. he presses another kiss, but this time right below your earlobe. his lips linger there for a bit before he bites your lobe lightly. his fingers loop around your belt loops to pull your ass right up the front of his pants. he lets out a groan, quiet enough so that only you would hear.

"these jeans, i think you wanna kill me too."

JUNGWON

“my cheeks are red like cherries in the spring

body's a work of art you'd die to see”

earlier he had tripped over his pants when he took them off. you also accidentally smacked him in the forehead when you took off your shirt.

for being something you both anticipated, this night feels a bit embarrassing. but you try to not let it get to you, both of you too affected from the heat between your legs to truly stop. after you both successfully managed to strip down to your underwear, there's a moment of hesitation from him. you can see it in his face, he's overthinking. you smile at him when your eyes meet, and gently take ahold of his hands to set them on your stomach.

"it's ok."

he gives you a lopsided smile. his hands tremble when they move up your torso. it's cute, you think. jungwon's breath hitches when he finally takes your bra off. there's a bit of silence between you, but the hard-on he sports is a clear indication that he's just as excited as you are.

"so pretty..." he voices out loud. you shyly look away, a bit embarrassed at how much he's staring. jungwon giggles before sliding himself up to kiss your cheek.

"we're both nervous..." you state. he nods, leaning in to kiss your lips.

"do you wanna stop?"

you wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him in for another soft kiss.

"no."

SUNGHOON

“when we drive in your car, i'm your baby (so sweet)

losing all my innocence in the back seat”

though neither of you are open about your relationship at school, you make sure to let people know. guys who seek to ask you out are met with rejections from you, annoyed when they find out why.

"he's not a good person."

"he's a hooligan."

"he'll hurt you."

you ignore them, respectfully asking them to not speak ill of sunghoon and to leave you alone. your friends still think he has you blackmailed, but you assure them that they're wrong. this school day in particular feels longer, having to endure a nastier rejection response.

"i bet he doesn't even like you."

you wanted to curse at them. scream at how wrong they are.

of course sunghoon doesn't like you.

when the last lecture ends, you rush to gather your things, immediately running off to the exit that leads to the back of the school.

sunghoon is about to smoke a cigarette when he sees you, immediately hiding both the stick and the lighter behind his back.

"it's the first one of the day! i swear!"

you rolled your eyes, simply leaning up to kiss him. he immediately reciprocates.

no. like is too simple for sunghoon. love is not enough either, he told you once.

he's obsessed with you.

HEESEUNG

“break all the rules 'til we get caught

fog up the windows in the parking lot”

you're supposed to be at your club meeting right now. you're supposed to present the new project and your club's goals with another member. you simply emailed her the slides and told her you had an emergency to take care of.

his touch is electrifying. the place even more. there's a voice at the back of your mind that screams at you for not being careful enough. anyone could spot you two. but you trust heeseung more than yourself.

you look spent. your glasses are crooked and your skirt is hiked up to a more than inappropriate length. heeseung looks no better than you. your lipgloss is smeared on his lips and his dress shirt is unbuttoned from top to bottom, showcasing the number your nails did to his chest.

the windows of his old beat up car are so fogged up that anyone who walks by would know what had occurred.

heeseung simply smirks at you before leaning in to kiss you. a moan is ripped out of you when you feel his fingers dancing along your leg, hiking it up to expose you once again. there's a mischievous glint in his eye when he breaks away from your lips.

"round two?"

SUNOO

“summer love (ah, ah), sexy

sitting on his lap, sippin' diet pepsi”

you're the only ones at the movie theater. though the movie you came to watch is popular, you came on a weekday. you share a grin with sunoo, choosing to sit in different seats instead of your assigned ones.

this is your first date with him, after crushing on him all semester, you finally gathered the courage to ask him out. and it couldn't have gotten any better.

you both share a large drink, diet pepsi, and a large popcorn bucket, freely laughing out loud at the movie, making comments as there was no one to shush you.

at some point, you both end up holding hands. and then eventually he pulls you into his lap. his suddenness shocks you a bit, but you're not put off. you balance yourself on his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders to sit properly.

"y'know... i'm kind of bored." he says softly to you. his arms encicle your waist, slowly pulling you into him. you look at him, a bit confused. he sees you thinking, and you miss the mischievous grin that spreads on his face as you fall into his trap.

"what do you wanna do?"

he leans his face closer to yours, brushing his lips against your own. his heart is beating so erratically against his chest, he's sure you can hear it.

"why don't we kiss?"

the date just got a whole lot better.

JAY

“i write my name with lipstick on your chest

i leave a mark so you know i'm the best”

jay feels lightheaded. his legs are still shaking. he swallows as he relishes in this feeling. his hold on your hair softens, allowing you to rise up from the floor. your knees feel a bit wobbly, but you don't mind. you plop yourself down on his lap, arms coming up to loosely wrap around his neck.

he looks absolutely stunning.

his shirt is barely hanging onto his form, sweat glistening against his forehead. the hickies you drew from him more prominent.

your lipstick smeared on his lips.

you bite your lip at the sight of his post-orgasm glow, feeling more heat rush to your core. you're sure that there's a wet patch on his khaki dress pants if you stood up.

"you ok baby?" you ask him, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his cologne. he manages to hum at you, hands sliding up from your legs to your waist, pulling you even closer against him. you can feel his member twitch, still not quite ready to settle down.

"did so good baby. truly no one like you." he grabs you by your nape to pull you towards his lips. you allow yourself to drown in his kiss, addicted to how he tastes. he pulls away, eliciting a whine from you as he gently lays you down.

"sorry baby, just wanna return the love."

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ckret2 · 2 months ago

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Pictured above: a shape's eye view of the end of the world.

The second dimension has burned; and Bill's been accidentally setting the second dimension's neighbors on fire. At the moment, the Axolotl is trying really, really hard to convince himself that these two facts are unrelated. Here, have a fic.

This is chapter 5 of an ongoing fic about the Axolotl in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre as Bill just keeps on committing atrocities. If you wanna read the earlier chapters (and/or look at more pretty art of Bill committing horrors and the Ax witnessing horrors), here's chapters one, two, three, and four.

####

As soon as the Axolotl and the Time Giant exited Dimension Zero, they were greeted with a faceful of rain. Apparently the storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had been waiting for them. "The fires in the remaining dimensions around 2Δ are finally acting like normal fires," it said. "No teleporting around, no more targeting the mortals. We've got the worst ones under control. Think we'll save about 40% of Dimension 2 Zeta and 30% of Dimension 2 Epsilon. Whatever you two did in there, it helped."

"Yeah, well." The Time Giant shrugged, nearly dislodging the Axolotl from his perch draped over her shoulder. "It was one of those problems that fixes itself once you figure out what it is."

So the Time Giant had been right. The triangle's attempts to rescue "his" "people" and to stabilize his strange underworld in Dimension Zero had been what was destabilizing all the other dimensions. As much of a relief as it was to hear the situation was improving... part of the Axolotl had hoped that the fires were still as untamed as ever—because that would have meant the triangle wasn't guilty of perpetuating the blaze.

(If the triangle wasn't actively working to keep Dimension Zero stable, how much longer until it collapsed and erased all its imprisoned souls from existence? Would it be long enough to get them all out?)

The cloud asked, "So, did you find out what destroyed 2Δ?" Right. The Axolotl had almost forgotten that was what they'd originally been looking for.

The Time Giant shook her head grimly. "Didn't see any sign of it. But I've got a suspicion who did it."

The Axolotl said sharply, "All we have is circumstantial evidence." And he'd ripped into more than one god who'd tried to damn a mortal based on circumstantial evidence.

The cloud's sunbeam darted between their faces. Slowly, it said, "I take it you mean our triangular friend. I don't have any proof yet about the original fire; but he's been spreading the fire, I know that much."

"How did you know?" the Axolotl asked. He and the Time Giant had only just learned it themselves inside Dimension Zero.

"We've been interviewing some refugees while you were out. I—think you'll want to speak to them." The cloud directed this statement to the Axolotl.

The Time Giant said, "Later. The triangle says he's willing to move his people to another dimension." She gestured toward VENDOR, flanked by the two cops THEY'd apparently adopted as THEIR personal escorts. THEY were ranting into a phone that the crab-looking cop was holding up for them. "So we've gotta go discuss refugee stuff with Vendy McVendface."

"VENDOR," the cloud corrected.

"Vend 'er? I hardly even know 'er!"

The gods turned to stare at the border of Dimension Zero as the triangle laughed at his own joke until he wheezed. "I had to. It was sitting right there! It woulda been a crime not to pick it up!" His cackles slowly petered out. "What, no laughs? Maybe the joke doesn't translate."

The Time Giant shrugged. "I kinda thought it was funny."

"Ah, whatever."

"Have you been listening the whole time?" the Axolotl asked, not sure whether to be amused or mortified.

"Don't worry about it, I've got something more important to say." He zipped up along the surface of Dimension Zero's border until he was eye level with the Time Giant. "Hey, Hourglass. I didn't say I'm ready to move my people. I said I'm ready to talk about moving. Your guy better sell me on it. If your offer isn't worth it, we're not leaving."

"Are you serious?" She screwed up her face. "Ain't not being erased from existence worth it?"

"I have very high standards. And there are fates worse than death."

"Name one."

The triangle only thought about it a second before he answered, "Captivity."

####

It wasn't until the Axolotl and the Time Giant left the border of Dimension Zero that the Axolotl realized, the moment the triangle had shown up, the storm cloud had disappeared. It was now drizzling surreptitiously near VENDOR, waiting for them to catch up.

As they approached VENDOR, the Time Giant said, "You should give VENDOR the news."

The Axolotl gave her an affronted look. "Why me?" This wasn't his responsibility. He hadn't been hired to do a job here. He shouldn't even be here; he was essentially an over-involved lookie-loo.

"You'd be better at talking to 'em. You move in the same circles."

"I'm not a politician, I'm a lawyer."

"I'm an engineer." She took the Axolotl off her shoulder and nudged his butt to set him gently floating in VENDOR's direction.

The Axolotl twisted around to give her a resentful look, but swam toward the vending machine.

THEY ignored the Axolotl until THEY finished THEIR current call, at which point THEY snapped, "What?" and he explained the situation. Blessedly, THEY didn't ask any further questions or give him any instructions; THEY just grumbled, "Finally," and told the crab cop, "Call the Vitruvian Mandala—we'll need to find places for another ten million 2D refugees."

"And 1D," the Axolotl said.

"Yes, yes." THEY muttered under THEIR fan, "And hopefully we'll get that triangle to the afterlife he deserves and be done with him."

The Axolotl doubted THEY meant a serene eternal paradise. Pointedly, he said, "Which afterlife he goes to is his choice."

Afterlife law was his speciality. Not cases like "based on this mortal's good and bad deeds, which form has she earned for her next reincarnation?" or "has this soul earned entry into his religion's realm of the wicked, the good, or the heroic?" Those were decided on the local level.

Rather, he tended to handle inter-pantheon, sometimes even interdimensional, cases—like, "if a mortal born on one planet lives and dies on another planet, which world's afterlife has claim to his soul?" "Is a soul's right to return to her native afterlife forfeit if she's apprehended in another god's jurisdiction for crimes against reality?" "Can a death god in a dimension where wandering ghosts are banned incarcerate a ghost from a dimension where wandering is legal?" "How does a soul's right to claim an afterlife weigh against an afterlife's right to claim a soul?" "Who has the right to judge a deceased mortal in the first place?"

The Axolotl personally thought that mortals deserved to be treated as mercifully as possible—starting with respecting the dead's own choice of afterlife above all others, and ending with outlawing damnation at the interdimensional level.

The rest of the multiverse... didn't agree with him yet. He didn't intend to stop until they did.

He went on, "Case law has long established that unless the dead made other arrangements premortem, they will be taken to—in order—the afterlife of their birth, their death, or their choice. The afterlife under whose jurisdiction the triangle lived and died has been destroyed, so he can go to any afterlife that says they're willing to take him, whether or not you think it's what he deserves—"

VENDOR's camera rolled and THEY impatiently beeped acknowledgment. "Do you mind, I'm on the phone." THEY turned THEIR back on the Axolotl to focus on THEIR next call. Yeah, most gods didn't like being told they couldn't just smite and damn whoever they felt like.

The storm cloud called the Axolotl's attention with a fork of lightning. It said, "I'll need to help coordinate the rescue efforts with VENDOR. I can get the report on what you learned in there from the engineering inspector; but you need to go talk to some of the witnesses of the fire. Maybe you should ask the Vitruvian Mandala when He's free."

That was the second time it had told him to talk to the refugees. "Why?"

"You said that yellow triangle's your friend, right?"

"I... did, yes."

The cloud didn't explain any further. It only said, "Be careful around him."

####

VENDOR bustled around making preparations to receive ten million new refugees with absolutely no input from anyone else on the scene; the cloud's time was split between coordinating with the ATTF and getting a full debrief from the Time Giant on the conditions inside Dimension Zero; and left alone, the Axolotl found himself staring into the roiling barrier around the bloated singularity.

He swore, no matter where he looked, in the center of his view he could see a tiny, yellow, triangular pinprick of light, like an afterimage burned into his retina. No matter how deeply he looked into Dimension Zero, somehow his eyes always seemed focused on the triangle, making it appear nearer and then farther, like an optical illusion.

Be careful around him. He wished his Oracle were here to ask him questions. Helping her mortal mind make sense of this whole affair might help him make sense of it himself.

He'd seen the horror in the triangle's eye when he realized that he was the one incinerating the dimensions that had once bordered his own. He'd heard the sincerity in the triangle's voice when he said he could feel the deaths of every life that fell into his dream realm—the deaths that he himself was causing. He'd felt the guilt pouring from the triangle when he realized his efforts to save "his people" from being killed were what was killing them. Whatever else the Axolotl knew, he was sure the triangle hadn't meant to cause anyone harm. He hadn't started the fires on purpose. He just... didn't know what he was doing.

And "his people"—what did that mean?

Maybe some of the people in the triangle's dance party were from his dimension. The Axolotl couldn't totally confirm that they weren't; if the triangle had somehow survived, then why not others?

But it was undeniable that the triangle had been "rescuing"/kidnapping people from other dimensions, and he talked about the people he'd rescued no differently from the people from his own dimension.

Why? Had members of his species spread to neighboring dimensions? Or had his species come from another? Had his people established diplomatic relationships with cultures in neighboring universes, enough for them to consider themselves one people?

"Certainly not," said the Vitruvian Mandala.

He was a god from one of the worlds in Dimension 2 Gamma that the ATTF had managed to evacuate before the dimension was fully incinerated. Now, He was just another refugee, huddled with His confused, terrified people on one of the temporary worlds provided by VENDOR, curved uncomfortably atop the spherical planet. He had to be reeling from the loss of His home just as much as His people were—if not more, since He had known and seen and done and loved much more that any single mortal could. But nevertheless, He'd immediately stepped up to assist with organizing the rescue services, acting as a liaison between VENDOR and the 2D mortals to find new homes for them.

And some of His people had been among the ones dragged into Dimension Zero—which was no doubt why the cloud had suggested the Axolotl speak to Him.

The Vitruvian Mandala may have been a minor creation god (He'd only created a galaxy) but He was more than powerful enough to know whether any of His people had ever made interdimensional contact. The Axolotl had waited until He had a moment to spare from assisting VENDOR, and then asked Him about their relationship with Dimension 2 Delta.

"I seeded life on all the populated worlds in My galaxy. None of My worlds have ever so much as been colonized by another galaxy in Our own dimension, much less people from another dimension," He said. "And We're a young galaxy—the most advanced starfarers have hardly ventured beyond their own solar systems; none have left Our dimension."

"And they've never spoken to other dimensions...?"

"No. The first contact We ever had with 'Dimension 2 Delta'—or what was left of it—was when the Magister Mentium began dragging My people into his underworld. The leaders I've had a chance to speak to from Dimension 2 Epsilon and Dimension 2 Zeta have told Me the same. " He called the triangle 'Magister Mentium' without any of the halting awkwardness the Axolotl did, or even the self-consciousness the triangle himself did. The Vitruvian Mandala had never known the triangle as anything but the Magister Mentium—and in His voice, it sounded not like an oversized title for a tiny triangle, but like the name of a fellow god.

But—the Axolotl had only asked the Vitruvian Mandala about Dimension 2 Delta. He hadn't brought up the Magister Mentium, nor mentioned that he was asking about the kidnapped people. "How did you know about the Magister Mentium?"

The Vitruvian Mandala said simply, "Because he introduced himself to My people before he started stealing them."

At the Axolotl's shocked silence, He said, "Do you want to see what they saw?"

####

When the agents with the ATTF had started interviewing survivors about the cosmic fire, naturally, they'd first approached the other gods for information. And then the gods had approached the mortals under their charge to get their testimonies and pass them on to the apoc agents.

The Vitruvian Mandala had telepathically extracted His people's memories and copied them into tiny glassy discs with brass rims. He sifted through dozens of discs before offering the memory of a narrow rhombus from one of His most technologically advance worlds; and the Axolotl stared through the disk to experience the mortal's memory.

The memory started with a sight that had become all too familiar to the Axolotl: a distant line of burning blue fire. It took a moment for the Axolotl to orient himself to the mortal's razor-thin two-dimensional view of her world; but once he did, he realized that, from her perspective, it wasn't a line of light. To her, it was the entire sky. The constellations of faraway flat stars had vanished, and their place was taken by an inferno.

The whole world reeked of a stench that the rhombus didn't recognize, but that the Axolotl did: burning hydrogen. In most dimensions, three-fourths of all the matter in the entire universe—including the very stars themselves—consisted of hydrogen molecules. Hydrogen burned a pale blue. The stench in the air, the pale blue light filling the sky, was the smell and sight of the raw materials of reality itself burning away.

The nearby buildings had emptied into the city streets as people abandoned their work to coming outside and stare at the burning sky. Somewhere—it seemed very far away—people were screaming, sirens were wailing, government proclamations were issuing out of radios and loudspeakers; but on these streets, on the border of the city where the sky was most visible, everyone was horribly silent.

An eerie feeling of unreality hung over the world. It felt like a scene out of a dream. The rhombus's heart filled with dread. She didn't understand why or how the sky was burning, but she felt in her bones that it must mean the end of the world.

She never imagined that it was the end of the entire universe.

And then, more real than reality itself, bright enough to blind, a radioactive-yellow shape appeared in the middle of the crowd. Over the gasps of shock, a voice that echoed between the buildings proclaimed, "Gooood evening! Lines, bis, and tris; quads, quints, and more—my beloved believers and my new friends—I'm sure you all recognize my voice from the news, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in the flesh!"

She wasn't sure he had any flesh to meet. He was ghostlike, as insubstantial as smoke—and just as formless as smoke, too: his shape constantly shimmered and shifted and distorted, his skin appearing and disappearing as his internal organs were exposed; one moment a leg visible, the next a hand, then no limbs at all, just his blindingly bright body. His organs were all wrong. When she could stand to squint at the specter's light, in the split seconds that his ghostly form was properly visible, she thought he looked like a triangle.

(She'd never seen the third dimension, never even attempted to imagine what a 3D shape might look like. She didn't realize his appearance shifted because he was a 2D shape tilting in 3D directions trying to lay flat on the 2D plane of Dimension 2 Gamma, and not quite succeeding. )

"Allow me to introduce myself properly: I'm the Magister Mentium, seer of the third dimension! Your gateway to the stars and stardom, your guide to prophets and profits, your mastermind and master of minds; and, if you're lucky, your new eternal party host! I'm sure the honor's all yours—but please, resist the urge to swoon! I have a limited time offer that you cannot afford to miss."

For all his self-aggrandizing, the triangle was still completely unfamiliar. She didn't see recognition in the eyes of any of the shapes around them, either. She doubted he'd ever actually been on the news at all, unless it was in one of those dubious programs about ghost hunting or UFOs.

But the triangle charged on regardless: "I'm here to bring you salvation from— Whoops! We've got a crying baby over here. Sorry junior, I'm on stage right now." She hadn't even noticed the crying until the triangle pointed it out; the whole world seemed dull and muffled and gray except for the triangle. One of his arms stretched in the child's direction and disappeared; there was a split-second flash of black fingers where the baby used to be; and then both hand and baby vanished, the baby's cries morphing into a shriek of terror that slowly faded into the unseeable distance.

"My baby!" a rectangle wailed. She rushed up to the alien triangle. "What did you do to my baby, you—" She tried to seize his arm, and let out a howl of pain as her hands burst into flame.

"Calm down, Mama, your little brat's okay!" He reached out and flicked the rectangle back. His finger hit her with the force of a catapult. She tumbled away from him through dimensions unknown, skins and bone and organs turning inside-out over each other; and slammed into a nearby building, fusing with the wall. All that was visible of her was a thin cross section of meat. The rhombus couldn't imagine where the rest of her had gone—but she could smell the burning flesh.

"Too bad I can't say the same of you." The triangle turned to stare them all down, gaze darting restlessly from face to face. His pupil was bizarrely long, animal-like; and his gaze burned. She was sure that, if his gaze had lingered on her a moment longer, she would have caught fire, too. "We're burning time, people! Would anyone else like to be excused? Last call!"

There were a few whispers, but no one moved. The crowd was petrified with fear.

"Terrrrific! Then you'd better listen close, because I only have time to say this once," the triangle said. "Here's the deal! There's only two kinds of people: the ones who hate captivity, and the ones who love it. Oh yeah, there are people who love it! Some of 'em like inflicting it, some of 'em are too stupid to think for themselves, and some of 'em just want to do terrible things and pretend they had no choice!

"But I'm here to help the rest of you—you know who you are! You're the ones who never quite tessellated with the other kids! The ones who are sick and tired of your family saying you had so much potential and asking where it's all gone! You can feel the barbs of social obligation hooking into your flesh—yeah, you there, you know what I'm talking about, I see you!—and you'd rip your own skin off if you thought it would set you free! It won't, by the way—take it from a guy who knows! Luckily for you, my way's more effective and less painful! Probably!"

In spite of their fear, more than a few shapes had started pushing closer to the triangle. He was speaking to them.

"So if you crave freedom—from work, laws, morality, physics... death..."

More than a few shapes glanced fearfully toward the sky.

"...if you want to see the stars with me—then raise your hand! Reach out to me! Watch your enemies burn and escape to a realm of dreams with no rules and no responsibilities! That's right, this way!"

As soon as he said raise your hand, it seemed like half the crowd stretched their hands out to him —and the longer he spoke, the more reached out.

She recognized some of the people reaching out—some of them were her neighbors and friends. Here was a beaten-down pentagon who'd spent his whole life being controlled, and just wanted freedom from the ruthless monsters who used and abused him. There was a controlling circle who'd spent her whole life using and abusing others, and wanted freedom to be an even more ruthless monster. They all reached toward the triangle just the same—as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for an opportunity to escape. The desperate, the downtrodden, the dastardly, the barely daring to hope. If the whole burning world felt like a bizarre dream, then this must have felt like a dream come true to them.

But to the rhombus, it felt like a nightmare. She had to fight through the crowd to back away from him.

"No need to push! If you can't see me, just hold your hand toward my voice, I can see you!"

The smell of burning existence was growing stronger.

Was this a test? An approaching apocalypse and a shapeshifting god of light and fire offering a last-minute rapture. The sky was burning—what hope did they have if they didn't go with him? More of the crowd was reaching for him now—terrified of him, but more terrified of their fate if they didn't. The rhombus reluctantly stretched out a hand.

"Thaaat's right, this way! I've got all of you!" His voice was taking on an edge of impatience. "Just—come on already! Hurry up!"

She was at just the right angle to catch a split second glimpse of the triangle through the crowd. She saw as the person closest to him reached out and grasped his hand. She saw as the first of the triangle's new followers burst into flames. The unlucky soul crumbled to ash before they had a chance to scream.

"I said no pushing."

The rhombus jerked her hand back and hoped the triangle hadn't seen her through the crowd. He wasn't offering salvation.

Most of the crowd wasn't lucky enough to get a view of the unfortunate shapes at the front who were already learning what a deal with the triangle entailed. The rhombus could hear people, as though from a vast distance, calling out to the triangle: "Take me, take me!" "I'll do anything!" It seemed like the whole world was trying to get closer to him; she thought she was the only one trying to move away, until she made it as far back as she could, where the crowd was thinning out, and caught a few other shapes in her peripheral vision who'd moved the same way. More than half the crowd was rushing in toward the triangle.

But apparently, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. "Come on, people!" That enthusiastic voice, halfway between a salesman and a camp counselor, was gone now. His voice went shrill with anxiety. "What's it gonna take?! I'm offering you idiots paradise, why won't you listen? Why don't you ever LISTEN TO ME?!"

For a moment, even though the triangle was completely hidden by the crowd, the rhombus could feel his fiery gaze sweep over her. She felt the way her skin threatened to burst into flames, and she knew he saw her.

She backed away until her rear angle bumped into the nearest building.

"Fine! You've had your chance! I've found my people!" The triangle's voice dropped to an angry snarl. "For all I care, the rest of you can burn."

For every hand that stretched out to the triangle, a black hand reached back toward them—dozens and dozens of hands. "Let's blow up this popsicle stand!"

He seized his new believers' hands.

Most of them instantly burst into flames.

Most of the rest were either jerked away into some unseeable direction like the baby had been, or else the burning ghost hand they were shaking yanked something out of them, leaving behind a dry corpse.

Reality warped and distorted in ways her eye couldn't make sense of: buildings wobbling and spilling apart like they were made of liquid; people twisting together with the buildings in sickening multi-corpsed abominations.

"Whoopsie!" The triangle let out a shrill, tittering laugh. It sounded pained. "S-still gotta get the hang of that. Oh well!" He spoke louder and faster. "I saved as many of you as I could, doing the best I can here, the rest of you don't matter, anyway byyye!"

And then he was gone.

And then they were all awake. She hadn't known they were asleep. Whatever happened hadn't been a mere shared nightmare; it was as though the layer of existence that dreams happened on had been pressed into the layer of existence where reality happened, and she hadn't even noticed until the pressure applied by the triangle lifted and the layers popped apart again.

The layers had popped apart too hard. Several of the shapes nearest the triangle that he hadn't taken with him instantly died—the tether between their souls on the plane of dreams and their bodies on the plane of reality snapped like overstretched rubber bands.

The fused corpse abominations had been left behind, still tangled and mangled with the architecture. The buildings were charred. The survivors were covered in burns they hadn't noticed—everywhere the triangle had looked was burned. Anything the triangle looked through was burned.

She was covered in burns. She could feel the burning inside her body. She raised her hands to her face and felt it peeling off.

She couldn't even feel the bright blue fires roaring down from the heavens.

And then something else lifted her out of the world, just before the reality around them began to burn.

She didn't know where all the people the triangle had taken had gone. But as she blacked out, of one thing she was sure: this higher dimension he'd claimed to see, this realm of stars and dreams? They weren't there.

Wherever they were, they'd gone down.

####

When the Axolotl emerged from the recorded memory, he was dizzy with horror. He had to lay down on the prefab planet next to the Vitruvian Mandala while he reeled.

"Are you all right?" the Vitruvian Mandala asked.

Broken, the Axolotl said, "he threw a baby."

"I know."

"Is the baby alright?"

Delicately, He said, "It's beyond the dimensions I'm able to sense."

The Axolotl curled his gills. Not the baby. "What about the rhombus?"

"Her body was too burned; she died shortly after this memory," the Vitruvian Mandala said. "But fortunately, only a small part of her ghost suffered third degree burns. With an ectoplasm graft she's expected to recovery enough to have a fairly normal afterlife. Inasmuch as any afterlife can be considered 'normal' for My people now."

The Axolotl had noted how many ghosts were mingling with the living mortals when he arrived on this planet. He hadn't wanted to say anything; he didn't know whether that was normal for their people. "I can give you the contact rituals of some interdimensional psychopomps I respect. Very professional and compassionate gods." Although they'd be cursing the Axolotl's name for millennia for throwing so much work on their desks.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

The Axolotl returned the memory disc to the Vitruvian Mandala; He momentarily stared into it Himself before returning it to His collection. "He gave speeches like this all across My populated worlds. I've retrieved thousands of memories like this from My people." His voice shook; the Axolotl couldn't tell if it was with anger or grief. "There would have been more—if more had survived."

"I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else he could do for the poor god but be sorry. All the senseless, slapdash slaughter. All of it so casual and accidental.

"Why?" the Vitruvian Mandala demanded. "He didn't speak like he meant My people harm, but he couldn't have done them more harm if he'd tried! I've never heard of him before—what is he, some malevolent trickster god? Why did he do it"

"Because... he thought he was saving them." That was the only thing the Axolotl could cling to.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 5 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl run out of ways to pretend Bill didn't destroy his own dimension.

It's ALSO chapter 65 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: Bill got SO CLOSE to looking like a misguided good guy last chapter, and that's why he had to throw a baby.

No actually it was because it seemed really really funny. Flipped that flat little thing like a pancake.

Due to real-world reasons, this is another chapter that isn't as edited & polished as usual, so let me know if you noticed any rough spots that need buffing. And let me know what you think! Bill with his cult leader persona cranked up to 100% is probably the hardest Bill to write.)

#gravity falls axolotl #the axolotl #(for the actual chapter)#bill cipher #(for the art. and also the chapter)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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v3lary0ns · 4 months ago

Text

When the Light Shines Down

Modern Jacaerys Targaryen x fem!reader

(small snippet? football = soccer fo us american out there)

summary — With a recently broken heart, Jace has convinced himself that loving again is a death sentence. Then his mother hires a new babysitter for his little brothers and, bit by but, the light begins to shine for them.

Jacaerys felt like the world sat on his shoulders—both literally and figuratively—as he jammed his key into the lock of his home and made his way inside. His football bag was heavy as he dumped it in the parlor and kicked off his shoes. His mind was a mess as he shuffled into the house with aching muscles and a possibly bruised rib. He tried to wipe the caked-on grime from his hair as he replayed all the ways today went wrong.

He had tried to keep things from blowing up in his face today by keeping his head down and shutting up. He hardly spoke to anyone—completely abnormal, he was a chatterbox on the best of days—and worked to keep his distance from Sara and her band of hooligans. He had just wanted one day where his breakup hadn’t been brought up. One fucking day, but she had searched him out while he was walking to practice and gotten to him like she always did.

He had a weakness for women who had shitty circumstances. She was his best friend's sister, a child of an affair, and he had found himself in a I can fix her mindset before the month was over. He spent almost two years gripping onto a relationship that was built on foundations of sand. She was jealous, controlling, and so good at crying when she wanted people to feel bad for her. He hated that it took him so long to realize their relationship was unhealthy. He hated that he had fallen in love with her before he realized.

Now he was stuck with the aftermath. An ex who was now desperate to get back together with him, bombarding him when he really didn’t need to be thinking about her words. He was upset with himself for thinking so intently about Sara and her desperation to get back together that he had screwed up in practice. His mind had been so consumed with the way she had gripped onto his shirt and kissed him like the world was ending, and the way he had let her, that he had missed a pass and tripped into the stands. Effectively fucking his ribs up. What sort of captain does that?

Gods, he had groaned, why does this have to be so hard?

Cregan had answered in his brusque bass voice with, Because you fell in love and now she misses someone loving her.

Now he was facing the consequences of thinking too hard during practice with the dull pain in his lung everytime he breathed. He turned as a door in the house opened somewhere, the giggling of his little brother catching his ears as he ran around. “Hey!” came a woman’s laugh, and his brow furrowed, it didn’t sound like his mom. “Come back here silly! You forgot your shirt!”

He made his way into the living room to see Joffrey jumping on the couch in his sleep pants, a wicked grin on his chubby cheeks. “You can’t catch me!” He laughs, bouncing from cushion to cushion. His curls were wet and messy and they dropped water on the cushions—he assumed the other two were asleep based on the fact they weren’t chasing Joff around—as he bounced with each giggle. “You can’t catch me miss!”

“You wanna bet, pipsqueak?” The voice was gentle, yet full of happiness and laughter, mirth covered by the boy's giggles. He couldn’t get a glimpse of you before you jump across the living room and almost tackle the little boy into the couch. Joff nearly screams as he laughs, and Jace watches as you begin to mercilessly tickle his brother. “What were you saying? I can't hear you!”

It was a struggle getting the boy into his fire themed sleep shirt but somehow, he watches as you manage to wrangle the most unruly of his brothers. Giggles and laughter chasing you the entire way as you finally lift him off the couch— seemingly much stronger than you look—and spin him in a circle. Eventually setting the boy down from your whirlwind.

Once Joff regains his balance he finally catches sight of his eldest brother. “Jay!” he yells, moving to dart into the older boy's arms. “I missed you!”

Jace hisses in pain for a moment as Joffrey rams his head straight into the rib he had busted. He slaps a smile onto his face instead and bends down to his brother's height. “Hey Joff, having fun?” There was just a small strain of pain in his voice; his brother was too excited to pick up on it.

“Mhm! We played dragons and had a yummy loaded potato soup for dinner, she had us play a cleaning game and gave us yummy food when we did good, and then she let me help her read Aegon and Viserys to sleep!” He grins, pointing over to you with a happy smile on his face. “She’s the coolest babysitter ever!”

With a grin he messed with Joffrey’s hair before looking up at you. He had expected someone… less? Someone who didn’t have pretty eyes and a gentle smile, hair perfectly framing your pretty face while it was disheveled and messy from hours of playing. Somehow, you wore an average shirt and busted up pants so well that he forgot they probably cost less than his shoes. There was no arrogant set to your face that most people around him seemed to have. Just eyes that gave way to a thousand stars and lips pressed with rose petals.

“Hi… you must be Jace.” You speak softly, and even your voice is gentle as a lover's caress. His throat seemed to close and his mouth dried as he looked up at you. Fucking hell, he thinks. His mind flips at the way your words were lilted and breathy, the way you said his name.

Your name came to his mind easily— he had seen you in the halls on campus, but never so close. He regretted never approaching you when he had the chance, now he was seeing you for the first time. While his heart laid amongst the barren wasteland locked up in his chest. The battlefield of his previous attempt at love left scarred across the insides of his ribs, like a beast clawing its way out. Fuck my life, he groans in his mind. “Yeah,” he chokes in a whisper. “That’s me.”

Your answering smile was radiant, blinding him and his gloomy thoughts for a moment. He was like a meteorite caught in your orbit all too quickly. The lonely expanse of space is suddenly lost on him as you sweep him up with your eyes and warm him with your smile. “Captain of the football team.” You say, the fact rolling off your tongue easily. Your eyes trail down to his side, the exact spot he had hurt himself and Joffrey rammed his head into. It was licking flames of pain up his side. “Poli-sci major?”

His lips lift into a small smile. “Are you stalking me?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms and shaking your head with a smile. “You wish, Targaryen. You’re just hard to miss.”

I WILL CRY IF THIS SUCKS PLEASE DONT BE MEAN !!

#jacaerys velaryon #modern jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon x reader #i’m gonna post this and cry from nerves.

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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months ago

Text

like fire

for @steddie-week prompt 'touch starved'

rated m | 958 words | cw: mentioned child abuse, implied/referenced sexual content | tags: post-vecna, getting together, touch starved steve harrington

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

the last time steve's dad touched him was with a palm to his face, a demoralizing slap to remind him how little he thought of him before disappearing indefinitely to do anything but accept that his son wasn't perfect.

the last time steve's mom touched him was in an attempt at an apology for choosing his dad over him, barely a brush against the red handprint on his cheek before she was following her husband out the door and out of steve's life.

the first time eddie munson touches him, he's certain he's about to die. broken glass against his neck is sure to be the last thing he feels.

but it's not.

as eddie realizes they aren't there to hurt him, his grip eases and lets go completely. as he drops his hand, his hand grazes against steve's.

steve checks his skin for the burn mark he's sure is there after the heat of the touch, but it's just skin. winter-pale skin with freckles and a scar from a fight he lost, but no redness or blisters.

it sticks with him.

when they're doing their best to save hawkins, the world, and eddie's life, it sticks with him.

he knows robin caught on early, but was gracious enough to keep her thoughts to herself as they focused on defeating vecna and keeping the kids alive.

they get eddie out, but barely. he's bleeding too much, and he's near delirious as they slide him into the backseat of steve's car.

"felt like fire," he says as his eyes close.

"what did?" steve whispers, hoping that the kids are grabbing bikes to meet him at the hospital.

"touching you."

steve watches as his breathing gets shorter, pained whimpers escaping from his lips. his eyes don't open again. steve wishes he could kiss him.

he doesn't get to see eddie again until hopper manages to clear his name nearly a week later.

he got updates via his uncle wayne, used the excuse that the kids were hounding him for answers when in reality, steve had barely heard from them because their parents refused to let them out of their sight. even dustin had barely been on the walkies, his mom making him go to work with her during the day so he wouldn't be alone.

but the moment he was allowed to go see him, he was walking through the door to his room with a stuffed bear from the hospital gift shop and a smile on his face.

wayne had already left for the night, and eddie had the television on something he wasn't watching, most likely for background noise. silence was hard after experiencing the world nearly ending.

eddie's eyes were closed, but steve could tell he wasn't actually asleep.

"hey, eds."

eddie's eyes blinked open, widening when he realized who it was entering his room.

"steve?"

when steve sat down in the chair next to his bed, he set the stuffed bear in eddie's lap and smiled.

"he needs a name."

eddie glanced down at the bear in his lap and back up at steve, confused and still.

"i think aragorn would be cute, but honestly i'm not sure if he's a bad guy or a good guy."

steve was getting nervous with the silence, certain that he was going to be told to leave, that he was being too much and that eddie would want space from him.

why would eddie wanna see him anyway? it's not like they were friends. sure, it felt like lightning going through his veins when they touched and eddie may have flirted with him the few times they actually spoke, but maybe that was just how it was for everyone. eddie was a firecracker.

a spark on his hand startled him from his thoughts.

eddie's fingertips were barely touching the back of his hand, but it was enough.

"like fire," eddie muttered, barely audible over the sharp intake of breath.

"you feel it too?" steve thought he was being dramatic, thought maybe that was just his reaction to a gentle touch.

eddie's hand covered steve's and for the first time in too long, steve felt warm.

he still shivered at the touch, surprised at how soft it was despite the rough hands with calloused fingertips.

"feels like i'm supposed to keep you warm."

steve melted.

the touches came easily, always gentle and kind, even when they were hands gripping thighs and teeth biting necks.

it didn't take long for eddie to understand how touch starved steve had been.

it was easy to tell.

steve wouldn't flinch away, but he tensed for a moment, even at the the slightest press of his lips against his shoulder or his hand against the small of his back. he was unsure how to accept the gentleness that eddie was giving him, but it got easier over time.

eddie would help him out of his clothes after a long day of volunteering, pushing him into the shower, washing his body and hair while steve closed his eyes and let him.

he'd massage his back and shoulders until steve felt like he was becoming part of the bed.

his lips brushed against his ear as he whispered for him to turn over and eddie would straddle his hips while he kissed him until steve was moaning and arching up into eddie's hands, silently begging for more.

and eddie always gave him more.

more touches, more kisses, more love.

he never went more than a day without eddie's hands on him. he forgot what it was like to want someone to touch him with love. eddie did it every time they were in the same room, and he'd keep doing it for the rest of their lives.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieweek24 #steddie week

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ravensmadreads · 9 months ago

Text

OK YOU KNOW WHAT

FUCK YOU

T_T

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without – Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come. OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

🤍Masterlist 🤍Pero Tovar Masterlist

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits.

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang.

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle.

And yet, as he climbs those stone steps, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on.

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights.

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will.

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor.

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him.

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down.

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window.

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.”

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world.

All in the time in the world – for what?

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell.

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?”

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.”

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men.

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again.

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet.

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable.

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare.

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again.

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.”

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword.

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm.

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.”

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.”

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.”

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.”

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too.

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight.

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with.

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand.

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.”

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm.

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . . say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?”

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.”

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way?

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.”

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart.

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.”

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar.

Fuck it.

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.”

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth.

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel.

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?”

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last.

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape.

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you.

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob.

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.”

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under.

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.”

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his.

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar.

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe.

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on."

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him.

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of your cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised.

“Unless you don’t want –,”

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest.

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places.

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword.

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress.

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed.

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him.

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh.

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor.

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.”

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both.

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips.

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils.

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm.

“Oh, oh, Pero—,”

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand.

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.”

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body.

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing.

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress.

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace.

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs.

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear.

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth.

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough.

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly.

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving.

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, nails pricking his spine, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cocked soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight draws from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire.

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets.

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again.

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care.

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter.

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.”

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest.

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.”

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.”

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.”

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more.

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss.

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.”

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.”

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.”

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.”

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble.

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs.

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides.

“Have you had your fun yet?”

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very I love you too.”

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.”

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips.

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest.

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks.

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted.

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it.

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known.

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart.

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you.

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

#pero tovar x reader #before we start i just wanna really really really give a very sincere shout out for that header #i didnt expect it.. i thought it was gonna be the generic white person (not a dig just saying)#and i definitely teared up when it was someone who looked like me.. like i can't even explain what this means #so im just gonna gently hug you and walk away like a normal person #AND NOW WE BEGIN #I HAD TO THROW AWAY MY PHONE 3 TIMES TAYLOR THREE FUCKING TIMES #STOP WRITING ART OKAY IT MAKES ME ALL GOOEY AND EMOTIONAL #HOW DARE YOU #ok but the way you wrote peros POV SHUT UPPPPPP!!! that little part about being the outsider the foreigner the one who doesnt fit in #STOP LOOKING INSIDE MY BRAIN MAAM #and then the whole dynamic between pero and his ranita like??? CHEFS KISS #when he asks her to fight while hes using his beautiful words (the role switch the painful vulnerability of doing what they're not good at)#I CANT #the fact that shes scared to fight because she knows she might lose pero (and he own sense of self???)#contradictory to pero being afraid to speak his feelings because all the words in any language couldnt explain how he feels like FUCK OFF #shut up im weak for them #ive had them for 2 minutes but I'll set the world on fire for them #and the SMUT??? your smut always hits harder because the way you effortlessly make it a way of communication n love n a show of commitment??#WHAT IS THIS SORCERY TAYLOR #you lure me in with victorian arrange marriage and star crossed lover vibes AND THEN YOU HIT ME WITH SOFT VULNERABLE FLUFF #JAIL!!! JAIL FOR MOTHER FOR A THOUSAND YEARS #please never stop #every single time you drop a fic you rewrite my brain chemistry #how is this possible #i love u so much im so blessed to see u shine every single day #ok enough mush gonna tackle you to the ground and aggressively make out with you now #*launches at you*#P.S the day you launch A/B/O Joel is the day i vault myself into the sun k thanks bye

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oh-no-its-bird · 6 months ago

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Fic where, in practicing to get edo tensei right, Orochimaru uses Izuna as a test subject and tries to substitute DNA to make it work, using Suigetsu's bc like it's extra flexible or whatever bc shape change

Edo tensei mermaid Izuna locked in a tube somewhere in Oro's lab,,

He's SO mad about it and has literally no information ab what's going on at all bc hes locked in a fucking tube !!

Bonus points if Orochimaru doesn't even specifically know who he is

They unearthed him w the rest of the founders on a whim but bc no one really requested him specifically, the body just kinda sat there and eventually got mixed in w the rest of the Uchiha corpses, till Orochimaru requests an Uchiha corpse and they shrug and send him over

He still has Madara's eyes too (left alone either by oversight / or bc they decided not to pull them before he got mixed in w the other bodies, who had by then already gotten scooped of their eyes so they assumed he'd already been harvested)

Ok but like. No one even tells him what happened/where he is/that madara made the village. Why would anyone?? The only one Izuna sees regularly is Orochimaru, and he doesn't know those facts would matter??

Izuna doesn't even know what Konoha IS, he isn't gonna recognize the name

From Izuna's perspective, he died in his bed and then BOOM. Tank time.

Orochimaru might tell him it's been some years since his death (thinking he died in the massacre) and even if Izuna doesn't believe him bc like, enemy, enemy territory, he sure as fuck probably won't be thinking "Ah yes it's been decades since my death and my brother went against my dying wishes to make that village"

Tho he might get nervous and start picking up those cues when he sees the tech

Oro mentions offhand that the Uchiha were all killed and Izuna immediatley assumes the Senju won the war and loses it

He'd figure it out eventually obviously (probably after being set free, most likley by Sasuke w Suigetsu) But he'd also probably keep that to himself, bc like, enemy territory n stuff

Mermaid shapeshifter Izuna terrorizes the shinobi world,, Sasuke doesn't know what he just unleashed.

Ok actually but like. Suigetsu's shape-shifting but bc Izuna has a fire chalra nature, make it liquid fire shape-shifting. Fuckin, fire mermaid Izuna. He has an awful time retaining his form and actually for the first chunk of time, him being in that tube is genuinley just for the best. He keeps turning into liquid fire with no real solid body and can't put himself back together for hours.

Izuna hears his brother is still alive and running Akatsuki and is so down to clown till he realizes THATS NOT HIS FUCKING BROTHER HOW DARE YOU USE HIS NAME

Anyways oh my god Izuna on team Taka,,

He and Sasuke would be SUCH a dynamic actually, they look alike so much?? Sasuke doesn't recognize him but he's clearly a close relation, so there's some mystery there. Sasuke is like super shaken by finding a member of his clan and Izuna, by that point aware that apparently the rest of his clan is dead, is sticking to him like GLUE. Sasuke is bitchy little brother coded and Izuna understands this is probably karma bc he is also bitchy little brother coded

They probably clash a lot, especially bc both are expecting to be in charge here, but ultimately I think they'd get along better than Sasuke does most people, and there's also that bonus vulnerability of like. Izuna is an older Uchiha boy who's trying to brother him (with a noticeably different brother-ing style to Itachi too) and Sasuke has been alone for so, so long.

Sasuke accidentally calls him nii-san then promptly has several break downs about it

Suigetsu and Izuna either get along ALARMINGLY well or they hate eachother. I think I wanna go with the first bc it sounds more fun. They couldn't talk to eachother in the tanks but they could still see eachother, so maybe they kind of developed some sort of code to communicate?

They are "cause problems on purpose" friends. They're also "wdym I can't kill him???" *looks of genuine confusion* buddies. They're giving Sasuke the biggest headache actually, someone stop them. If you leave them to "take care" of a problem, there will be carnage.

Also, like, Izuna literally has Suigetsu's DNA in him. That's a thing.

Mmm maybe some complex thoughts ab how Izuna has effectively become a bloodline thief against his will (the ULTIMATE taboo for shinobi from his era) and he's like, actually fucked up about it.

Running joke where they refer to each other as cousins, could be funny. They argue over who's the bastard child (it's Izuna obviously but he won't just take that title lying down)

Izuna is like, in his 20s, and Karin is around 16 or 17 at this time I think?? She definatley has a bit of a crush on him (which helps take the edge off Sasuke) but like, he's not acknowledging that beyond patting her on the head. She'll get over it eventually. (Sasuke hides behind Izuna when Karin is trying to flirt w him and Izuna absoloutley laughs at them both)

Izuna is actually really impressed w Karin's sensing abilities specifically. I think he'd be a bit on edge around her at first, bc Uzumaki -> Senju ally. But he'd quickly assume she's a deserter (he has no idea the Uzumaki are pretty much wiped out rip) and becomes cautiously chill after a minute or two (also when he first escapes, he REALLY doesn't have the luxury to pick and choose his allies. He's instantly attached to Sasuke and cautiously fond of Suigetsu, and Karin seems to have Sasuke's trust at least, so he'll keep an eye on it but otherwise trust Sasuke's judgment)

Izuna and Karin besties arc where they paint eachothers nails is a must. I love the take that Izuna is really into fashion n stuff and he and Karin should like, trade hair tips or smthn. Karin knows modern soap brands where as Izuna bought his soaps from clan vendors who no longer fucking exist, so like, it's definatley helpful.

Karin is the only one of them to have any real hint of where tf Izuna came from (tho even she doesn't have the full details) it'd be cool if she was the one to figure out more details ab his general mystery— maybe something about her chakra sensing gives her a hint as to how old he really is?? Or she finds the paper trail that hints towards the bodies being mixed up???? Idk but she deserves to have an "aha!" moment

Also Izuna's medical knowledge/standards are NOT up to modern and Karin is so mad about it, she's giving him hella lessons on first aid n shit and he's very, very interested in all this free medical knowledge

I know the least about Jugo so bear with me on this one pls— I think Izuna would find Jugo to be pretty fascinating as a person actually. He enjoys tentatively poking him with sticks, and comes to genuinley like him as a person (when he's calm) pretty quickly

Also cats love Izuna so he gets bonus points from Jugo bc of that, they can bond while petting Izuna's contracted cats or smthn idk

Yeah I really don't know much ab Jugo so that's all I have to offer sorry

Ok let's backtrack a bit, back to Orochimaru ->

Fun scene towards the very start of the fic, where Izuna still has no fucking clue what's going on, but recognizes Orochimaru as a member of the Orochi clan. He says as much, and Orochimaru has to pause.

No one's mentioned his clan to him in years. They haven't been relevant in Konoha since Orochimaru was born— even before that, they were barley relevant. Izuna should not know who they are.

(The only reason he does know is bc they had a neutral to positive relationship w the Uchiha back in the warring era, and Izuna had visited them once before)

Immediatley, Orochimaru is squinting at this guy. He's giving Danzo a ring asking who exactly he got sent over, but Danzo doesn't actually have anything to offer him??? The paperwork is a mess and there were a LOT of Uchiha. He's not registered as a shinobi tho.

Hmmmm.... ok.

Orochimaru is suddenly aware there's some kind of mystery here now, which is dangerous for Izuna. Izuna is, again, in enemy territory, and he's able to pick up on the fact that Orochimaru doesn't actually know who he is. This ofc means that HE sure as hell won't be telling him.

Maybe he bares his teeth and sarcastically says he's the second coming of Uchiha Madara (not even that big of a lie when u think ab it)

Pivoting time ->

Izuna is listed in the data books as like, being equally as talented as Madara and I think we should talk ab that more actually

I love Tobirama but he really did get him by surprise

Izuna just got cocky and taken by surprise!!

HE DIDNT EVEN GET COCKY HE JUST LOGICALLY DIDNT EXPECT TOBIRAMA TO FUCKING INVENT TELEPORTATION

Then he went down in the history books both in canon and out of it as the weakest of the 4, that's so tragic

Izuna gets mermaid edo tenseid and (once people know who he is) everyone is like "Ok well at least he's uhh. The weakest of the 4 right?? I mean tobirama killed him when they were like only 19/20 so we'll probably be fine???"

Then he just fucking bodies them all bc hes a nightmare actually AND on whatever special test trial edo tensei steroids they gave him

Izuna is fueled on rage and spite and he's full up on both

Imagine he gets the full story of everything that happened while he was dead too, like.

Ok so Madara goes against his EXPRESS dying wishes and makes his village. (what the fuck!!) Then backs out (yay!!) but in an awful way that effectively fucks over the entire clan for years to come (nii-san what the FUCK)

Then gets literally backstabbed by Hashirama (HE FUCKING TOLD YOU!!! WHAT DID HE FUCKING SAY!!!!!)

Then the Uchiha seem to thrive and like. Ok. He's still mad about it, but at least something... kind of nice came out of it.

THEN BOTH THE VILLAGE AND MADARA'S(?????) SCHEMES KILL THEIR ENTIRE CLAN

Izuna is SO mad at literally everyone, holy shit. The only one safe from his rage is Hikaku, god rest his poor, poor soul

Actually, I think it'd be funny if Izuna was like, indescribably extra awful mad at everyone— but then is like. Normal mad amounts at Tobirama, who was a bitch but at least didn't seem to carry on a personal fucking vendetta against the Uchiha like EVERYONE ELSE INCLUDING FUCKING MADARA FOR SOME GODDAMN REASON

Izuna is going like, "FUCK you, FUCK you, OH, EXTRA FUCK YOU—" then squints at Tobirama and goes "...fuck you." Then goes back to screaming

To be clear, Tobirama absolutely contributed to the end of the Uchiha, but like. A) it'd be funny, and B) at least his seemed slightly less on purpose than literally everyone else

There's also I think a difference of like. Izuna never expected Tobirama to suddenly turn around and be pro Uchiha

Where as everyone else (again, including his brother!!) Was like. A genuine betrayal

Tobirama fucking over the clan was never a surprise

He never pretended to be on their side (like Hashirama lowkey did)

Tobirama vs Izuna but it's them getting to relive their rivalry where as Izuna vs literally anyone else is emotionally charged as hell and filled with demented screaming

Leaving it there for now, I might actually try to write this one but who tf knows

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esouliie · 7 days ago

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AND I’LL STILL SEE IT UNTIL I DIE.

(natasha romanoff x reader) (wanda maximoff & reader)

summary | In a world that’s only ever been bleak, Natasha was your anchor, your light in the storm. But now she’s gone, her final act a selfless sacrifice to save a future you’re not sure you can face without her. The shadows are closing in, and so, you’re left with an impossible choice: to succumb to the weight of your loss or to find the strength to honour her sacrifice by living on — for yourself and for her.

warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, open ending, natasha is dead, reader is borderline suicidal, wanda is a good friend.

notes | i am sorry for this lol… but you guys must share my pain and im currently in a lot of it. i miss natasha too much. also, i wrote this as i listened to loml by taylor swift, do i wanna know? by hozier and for good by wicked on repeat so if it’s all over the place, that’s why lmao.

dedicated to @historyofstoriesendingsadly ⊹♡

It was quiet on the edge of the lake. Too quiet for someone who knew Natasha Romanoff. For someone like Natasha Romanoff. It’s odd how this was her favourite place. The stillness doesn’t suit her. She was never the type to bask in silence; she thrived in moments where chaos and calm intertwined, where danger and peace blurred. But here, now, there’s only the still, glassy surface of the water reflecting the overcast sky. It felt wrong, to be out here alone, but you knew there’s no other way this could be done.

No one could’ve done what she did.

You tightened your grip on the small bouquet of wildflowers in your hand, their stems damp against your palm.

It was better this way.

Natasha would have hated the theatrics of a big funeral.

She wouldn’t want everyone standing in line, shaking hands, and trading formal condolences. She saw how personally informal of a funeral Peggy had. She was pretty sure nobody there even knew of the woman. No, this—the quiet, intimate setting, the lake she would sit by as she watched the sunset during your visits—felt more like her. More honest.

You set the flowers down on the wooden dock and sit cross-legged beside them, staring out at the rippled water. “I miss you.” You murmured, your voice barely breaking the silence. “And this is stupid. I’ve never even been to a funeral so I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that you’re not here and I couldn’t just …”

Your words faltered, and you glanced down at your hands, trying to find something, anything, that won’t make you fall apart.

But it’s impossible.

The flowers beneath your fingers begin to crumble under your strength.

You twirled the wedding ring on your left hand.

…

You remembered the first time you officially met her. Her sharp wit sliced cleanly through the tension in the room, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as if she already knew she’d win you over. And she did, effortlessly. She had a way of making herself the most intriguing person in any space, her words both a challenge and an invitation. Even then, you couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She was fire wrapped in silk, a paradox that made her impossible to ignore.

And there was the first mission in Prague, where she saved your life in more ways than one. It was an extraction mission, deceptively simple on paper but riddled with complications the moment boots hit the ground. The target was heavily guarded, and you, fueled by adrenaline and an unshakable drive to prove yourself worthy, pushed ahead despite Natasha’s warnings to wait for backup.

You could still hear her voice in your earpiece, sharp and edged with frustration. "Don’t be stupid, Agent. Stick to protocol." But plans fell apart quickly in the chaos, and before you knew it, you were cornered in a crumbling alleyway, blood trickling from a fresh gash on your forehead, and your weapon lying just out of reach.

But like a ghost in the shadows, she was there. And she moved with a precision that was almost frightening, taking down your attackers in the blink of an eye. By the time the dust settled, you were still catching your breath, slumped against the cold brick wall, while she holstered her weapon and crouched beside you.

"Had enough of the reckless heroics?" She teased, her tone light but her gaze assessing the wound on your forehead. You were expecting a harsh reprimanding for your huge mess up.

Natasha gently brushed a curl away from your face stuck to your open wound. "You’re just as reckless as I was at your age, and trust me when I say, that’s not a compliment."

That night, after the mission was complete and the adrenaline had worn off, you found yourself perched on a sink as she dabbed a damp cloth against you, cleaning the hardened blood from your face.

"I thought I had it under control.” You admitted, wincing as she pressed the cloth a little too firmly against the cut.

"You thought wrong.” She replied without missing a beat.

“I wanted to prove to you that I handle it.”

At first, she seemed at lost for words.

“In this world, you must think first. Act second.” She placed the cloth back into the sink, seemingly done with her aid.

“And most importantly, you must listen to me… you’re no good to anyone if you get yourself killed."

There was a pause, a heaviness in her voice that made you glance up at her. For all her sharp edges and cutting remarks, there was something unspoken in her expression—a flicker of concern she didn’t bother to hide with you.

She cared for you.

It was then you noticed how green her eyes were.

You remembered the way she let her walls down for you. It wasn’t immediate, that trust. Natasha Romanoff was a fortress, her defenses honed through years of abuse, loss, and survival. She didn’t let people in easily; you knew that from the start. Yet, for some reason, she chose you.

Or maybe you chose each other.

Either way, it was at a slow and tentative pace.

There was the night she told you about the Red Room. Not all of it—she never gave you all of it—but enough to make your chest tighten with insurmountable anger. She’d stared at her hands as she spoke. The first time you had ever seen her so frail as she spoke, and yet, her voice was so even it almost sounded detached. But you saw the way her fingers trembled and you reached over to take her hand.

She tried to pull away, but you didn’t let her.

“I’m so sorry life has been so cruel to you.” You had said softly.

She didn’t respond, just looked at you with those green eyes that embraced you tight with each glance.

She held your hand the entire night.

Dismantled piece by piece, you found the woman behind the spy: the one who only watched bad movies, liked to share coffee with you that was way too strong, and carried more guilt than anyone should.

Loving her was simple.

And you remember Vormir. The dreaded decision. And the way her choice was made before you even realised what was happening. Clambering for a grasp on her as she headed for the cliff’s edge, your heart pounded like war drums, drowning out everything except the sound of her voice. That trembling voice, steadier than you could ever be in that moment, told you it was okay. That this was her way of making things right.

But it wasn’t okay.

It would never be okay.

You begged her, pleaded with her, but the determination in her eyes was unshakable. You’d seen Natasha resolute before, but never like this. You needed her, but the world needed her more. Her gaze softened when she looked at you, her lips twitching into the faintest, bittersweet smile.

Natasha had never been scared of dying.

But now, she was scared of what this would do to you.

Tears blurred your vision as you fought for her hold, your fingers clawing desperately against hers. Her own wedding band cutting into your skin. “Don’t you dare, Romanoff.” You choked out, voice battling against the rush of wind. “It’s not your time!”

Despite her confidence, you could see the subtle fear. You saw the cracks in her armor, the little girl that was once trapped in the Red Room shining through. The one who had told you once that she never thought she’d make it out of this fight alive.

And now here she was, proving herself right.

Her lips parted to speak, but she didn’t say goodbye. She wouldn’t let herself say it for she knew she wouldn’t be able to follow through. To do what is needed. Instead, she just looked at you as if you were the last good thing she’d ever know, and her hand trembled in yours once more.

“I love you.”

And then, it slipped.

Too quick enough for you to readjust.

You screamed as she fell, the sound of it tearing through your throat, breaking you in ways unimaginable. Time slowed, and yet it wasn’t enough to catch her. You watched as the green in her eyes disappeared as her body struck the rocks below, your world cracked wide open.

You didn’t even notice the tiny red stone appear in your hand as you cried her name into the wind.

It was Natasha Romanoff who had sacrificed her life that day, for the hope of a better future, but in truth, both of you had died at the bottom of that cliff.

…

The tears came suddenly, hot and unwelcome, but you didn’t fight them. You’d learned to let them fall and embrace their sharp sting, as if it were the only way to keep her memory alive.

You heard the crunch of footsteps behind you, faint at first, growing louder with every measured step. Your breath hitched. You didn’t turn around immediately. You couldn’t. Part of you desperately hoped it was her—that this was all some cruel mistake, and when you turned, she’d be there. Natasha, with her arms crossed, a wry smile tugging at her lips, would tease you for sitting out here in the cold, lost in thought. She’d say something dry and sarcastic, like she always did to lighten the mood, and everything would be fine again.

But it’s not her.

It will never be her again.

“I thought I might find you here,” came a quiet voice behind you. Wanda’s Sokovian accent became a lot more prominent over the years.

You had found out she was also grieving the love of her life. Vision didn’t make it off the battlefield in Wakanda.

You didn’t look at her, not at first. Unable to tear your gaze away from the ripples of the lake, you wasn’t ready to face someone else’s pain, not when yours was already so unbearable.

But when she sat beside you, her presence a hushed comfort, you finally glanced her way. Her eyes were rimmed red, an exhaustion in her expression that mirrored your own. “I didn’t… know her as long as you did,” she said, staring out at the water. “But she meant so much to me. She was always so kind. Even when she didn’t have to be.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “That’s right. She didn’t let a lot of people in, but once she did…she’d do anything for you.”

Wanda let out a small chuckle before admitting, “She would’ve hated seeing you like this.”

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment, torn between speaking the truth and keeping it all inside. You wanted to tell her she should have thought about it before throwing herself off that cliff—before willingly abandoning you, knowing that even if the war was won, life would never be the same for you.

You let the anger wash over you.

“I should have been stronger.” You whispered, voice cracking before you could finish. “I should have stopped her.”

Wanda turned to you sharply. “You can’t blame yourself. She made her choice. She believed in what she was doing. You know that.”

It was the truth. You had always known that. Wanda didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand that. Natasha was always the one to make the hard choices, to carry the burden so others didn’t have to. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You closed your eyes, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. You had promised her, at the start of your relationship, that she wouldn’t have to carry that burden anymore. You had sworn to her that she deserved better than what the world had ever given her, and that you would be the one to show her.

For the rest of your life.

Until death do you part.

But in the end, she had still done what Natasha always did—she put everyone else before herself.

Wanda reached out, her hand brushing against yours. “She’s still here,” she said softly. “We carry her with us in everything we do until we meet again. She wouldn’t want us to let this break us.”

You wiped your eyes, taking a shaky breath. “She was my everything.”

“And she knew that.” Wanda replied, tightening her grip. “She felt that, and you gave her more than you’ll ever know.”

“I don’t know what to do without her. I don’t think I can survive like this.” You admitted outloud for the first time.

It had been eating at you. Your life had abruptly lost all meaning, the colours dulled, the vibrancy stripped. Deep down, you didn’t even want to try to going, to find purpose in the chaos she left behind.

Nothing would work.

Nothing, and no one, could fix it.

Could fix you.

You needed Natasha to carry on living. Without her, you were only half a person, stumbling through a world that no longer made sense.

How cruel the world was to let you taste the sweetness of her love, only to rip it away from you so mercilessly.

Wanda stood by the edge. She reached out with a quiet patience, guiding you to your feet with a gentle touch. The dock creaked beneath your shifting weight, but neither of you spoke as she crouched to pick up what remained of the wildflower bouquet. Cradling the bouquet in both of your hands, she looked at you with an expression that was both solemn and soft. She had always been so kind to you. Her eyes glimmered and she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, motioning for you to toss the flowers into the water.

“You live. You live for her.” And the simplicity of her words felt like a balm, a truth you hadn’t realised you needed to hear.

You hesitated for a moment, fingers trembling slightly against the delicate stems. But then, with a deep breath, you let them go. The flowers tumbled from your hands, spinning in slow motion before they touched the surface of the lake.

“For her.”

The water rippled as the bouquet floated away, carried by the slow current, and swallowed by the horizon. Neither of you said anything after that. There wasn’t anything left to say. The silence was filled with the soft lapping of water against the wood and the distant hum of crickets waking for the night. The orange and pink hues of the sunset reflected on the lake, painting the scene with a warm glow. The air grew cold but Wanda’s hand in yours pressed warmth deep within.

The green of the flower stems caught the fading light, and for a fleeting moment, they reminded you of Natasha’s eyes once more.

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #avengers fic #black widow

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 9 months ago

Note

Heyyy you were asking for recs for the Fire Breathing Roommate right???

Imagine Mitsuki coming to reader and Katsuki’s apartment for his birthday and reader’s like who is THIS goddess at my doorstep like- And Katsuki’s like: Babe- that’s my mother.

I just think it would be SO FUNNY to try to celebrate Katsuki’s birthday the way humans do - because I bet dragons celebrate them very differently. So when reader gives him a big wrapped box and a cake that’s ON FIRE he’s like OH MY GOD THE WORLD IS ENDING

oh my god. you are literally a GENIUS THIS IS SOOOO GOOD AND HONESTLY ADORABLE !!! i had sm fun writing this n i hope you enjoy ! <3 if you guys have any more fbbcXtra requests, feel free to send em to me !! ps. this was way longer than i planned it to be which is funny cus this is supposed to be a mini extra's series, but oh well ! i had fun writing ! and i hope you enjoy reading as well !

♡ extra #2 : birthday battle ♡

in which : you celebrate katsuki’s birthday but you end up getting a surprise.

you wake up like usual in the morning, enjoying your day off as you laze around in bed, shuffling the most you can with the big dragon man’s arms around you, snuggly trapping you in his snake like hold and his tail warm and draped on top of your legs beneath the sheets.

just like usual, except things are a little different today and you crack a smile when you manage to free your head from his iron grip.

today is katsuki’s birthday.

he'd told you about it a few month ago in passing, and ever since you found out you'd planned everything meticulously, hence your day off, so you could make his first birthday here as memorable as possible.

you look up at his relaxed sleeping face with a soft smile, before pressing a small kiss to his chin. then another one to his nose and you giggle quietly when his nose twitches. he grouses quietly in response when you lean up and kiss him again, the corner of his mouth, his cheeks and the ones on his eyelids make him grumble. his arms around your waist squeeze.

"s'too early fer you to be botherin' me, human.." the blonde man slurs. one of his red eyes opens to peek at your smiling face, your smile widening seeing him awake. you press another kiss to the tip of his nose and he grunts in appreciation.

"s'never too early to wish a happy birthday to my dragon man." you croon. katsuki closes his eyes at your affection, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion and his grip on you gets tighter somehow.

"that's what you woke me up for ?"

"of course it is, it's your birthday !" he flops down onto his back on the bed and you break out of his hold to sit up, leaning on your shoulder to watch him. he throws an arm over his eyes but the one closest to you feels around the bed for you.

"babe, it's really not that big of a deal." he utters simply.

he'd told you, and you'd assumed, that dragons celebrate and see birthdays way differently than humans do. it's somewhat of a celebration, but not for very long. dragonshifter where usually raised to be able to hold their own; being taught to be indepented and skilled fighters from a very young age.

"it depends from faction to faction," is what he'd said, "but birth celebrations usually don't last any longer than a few minutes. and we don't do whole birthdays like you do. most ya get is a pat on the back and the most to eat for dinner." he had shrugged. a frown pulled at your face and he smirked at you, ruffling your hair as he told you not to get 'all mopey' for him, and that he didn't mind. but in that moment your mind was set.

you'd get him to experience a human birthday. and it'd be his best one ever.

you pout at him, nudging his arms and he groans despite only barely budging like jello. "it is a big deal ! i wanna be able to celebrate with you." you place your head on his chest. he lifts his arm just a bit to look at you. "birthdays are so much fun, i wanna show you that..i planned everything out too-"

"you planned this out ?" he squints.

"-pleaseee ?" you plead, ignoring his earlier question. the blonde huffs out a large sigh and covers his eyes again.

"fine. what am i g'nna do with you ?" he concedes to himself quietly, but he grabs at your waist and pulls at it, signalling for you to shuffle up towards him. you do, until your face to face with him and he sighs again, eyes softened.

"since it's my birthday, i can do what i want right ?"

"mostly, yeah. no burning anyone though." you poke his nose and giggle when he scoffs a sharp click of his teeth in annoyance.

"whatever, how 'bout you just let me sleep in then ?" he snarks.

"i can do that." you grin back at him and he tries to lean in just enough to bite your nose, but he doesn't lean far enough and simply throws his head back in defeat. you laugh and since it's his birthday, you'll let him have it, so you lean in a bit closer to his face. he takes a modest chomp at your nose and you roll your eyes with a huff at the tired smirk on his face like he'd won some type of prize. and despite his sleepy eyes he still manages to lean in again to rub his nose against yours in lazy greeting. you close your eyes and sigh at his ministrations.

but of course, your katsuki cannot live with himself if his not being a little shit and he yawns in your face. you smack a hand over his mouth and groan in disgust. he just laughs into your hand, then he bites at your palm.

"can you be not-insufferable for at least five minutes after you wake up ?" you whine, childishly wiping your hand onto his tank top.

"no can do baby, s'my birthday." the shit eating grin on his face almost makes you regret introducing him to the concept of human birthdays as a whole. almost though, because unfortunately this absolute demon man has your heart fitted nicely into the palm of his hand.

"you are truly something else." you grumble. katsuki snickers at your annoyance. "mhmm. hurry up an' gimme a kiss." he says but doesn't even give you a chance to respond when he grabs the back of your head and brings you to his lips, you don't put up much resistance either. he makes a forced face when you pull away.

"your breath smells like shit."

"you should absolutely not be talking."

the day has been going extremely well. you'd done what katsuki wanted today. which consisted of sleeping in. having his favorite for breakfast and some birthday pancakes, courtesy of you, which he gobbled up in the blink of an eye. watching his favorite movie to make fun of at the moment and taking a nap again. before going out for a birthday lunch and a (extremely tiring) hike all before dinner. the dinner and hike where set up by you. you could tell he enjoyed the activities even if he hadn't knocked his forehead to yours with a kiss to your forehead and a big blush on his face as thanks, but it was a very nice plus.

katsuki's lazing around on the couch asking you which show you want to watch while you're busying yourself with his secret chocolate fudge birthday cake. you plan to give it to him later tonight. you hide it behind a big tupperware box after checking to see if it was still intact. "just pick whatever !" you call loud enough for him to hear. carefully placing the bakery box back behind all of the other foods.

"i can't pick whatever, 'ts why i'm asking you !" you roll your eyes at his sass, a smile pulls at your face at the idea of a little revenge.

"it's your birthday, so figure something out !" you sing, he doesn't respond but growls loud enough for you to faintly hear it, and soon enough you hear a bunch of netflix prequels playing in quick succesion. you can't help but giggle.

then you hear the doorbell ring. and then again, longer and louder. it's way louder than you ever thought was possible and you wondered if it was maybe time to change some type of batteries or maybe have your boyfriend fix it for you.

"ugh, i'll get it !" you groan. you mutter a bitter 'yeah, yeah, i'm coming.' at the door. sachi definitely doesn't ring your doorbell like..that. and the only friend of katsuki's who'd probably ring the doorbell like this is kaminari, since for some reason he seems to be fixated on loud noises and specifically the noises your doorbell makes.

then you swing your door open and your met with katsuki. except a little bit taller and also a woman.

you have to blink to realise that that's not your katsuki at the door because he's already inside scrolling through shows and movies. rather, it's someone who looks extremely similar to him. the same blonde hair and same piercing red eyes and that same hardened stare. and of course, those fiery red horns and matching tail, altough hers was a little slimmer. she's extremely gorgeous.

you blink and gasp, words won't come out and the woman simply stares like she's analyzing you. you think you see the tiniest of smiles break into her face but you turn your head too quickly to tell.

"katsukiiiii !" you call "there's a very gorgeous dragon lady here who looks exactly like you ! "

in an instant it's like he teleported over to you, already in a fighting stance until he realizes who's at the door and you presume she's here for, and knows, him. his shoulders slum forward and an almost guilty expression crosses his face when he sees your widely blown eyes.

"do you know her???" you whisper yell. you forget the woman is right in front of you and can most definetly hear you, not to mention her superior hearing. katsuki exhales.

"babe.." katsuki winces apologetically "that's..my mom."

huh????

katsuki's mom hasn't stopped touching you since she got here 10 minutes ago.

from what you'd heard from your boyfriend his mother was a ruthless, aggressive stubborn and strict 'old bat' (you quickly scolded him about the way he adressed his mother) but from what you're experiencing now, this was anything but the case, though katsuki had the habit of being quite the unreliable narrator.

because ever since you'd brought her into your apartment, she has not gotten her hands off of you. to the great displeasure of your boyfriend, who's sitting on the kitchen chair glaring at the tv with his head resting against his palm and tapping his foot. when you'd went to bow to greet her she quickly scooped you up in her arms, shaking you around in her arms like a ragdoll with such force katsuki growled at her to let you go. you can't tell if being so affectionate is truly a dragon thing or if it runs in the family.

"oh aren't you just such a sweetheart !" she squeals, grabbing onto your shoulder to bring you closer to her and you squeak at the force. her slit eyes scanning over every corner of your face and she hums.

"mhmm, very good.." she pinches your cheeks between her pointer and thumb and tilts your face around, continuing to exam you. "oh, and so soft an' squishy too, like a little dumpling !" she coo's, smiling softly at you. she's a little rough, but she means well, you think. at least that's what you try to think when she suddenly grabs at your jaw to pry your mouth open. you let out a surprised gutteral noise but mitsuki doesn't seem the least bit fazed, she keeps humming to herself like a doctor. it's stupid but you're a little embarrassed because you'd recently eaten and you don't think your breath smells the best, she doesn't seem to mind that either.

"hmm..teeth aren't very sharp though.." she pouts, before a smile shines back onto her face as if to reassure you "that's okay though, sweetheart ! we can probably do something about that-"

suddenly a hand grabs at the woman's wrist and pulls her away from you and it's none other than katsuki. you smack a few times to readjust the slight pain in your jaw and you look up to see the two shifters in a heated stare down. it kinda looks ike a mirror trick because they're just so similar, it almost makes your head spin.

"quit touchin' on her old hag, at the rate you're going you'll break her fuckin' jaw." katsuki spits, dropping his mom's wrists with furrowed brows. his expression mirrors her own as she stands up to glare down at him fiercely. her eyes locking on yours make you flinch but a second passes and her face morphs, she's smiling. mitsuki grabs the top of her son's head and playfully (you hope..) smacks it a couple times, he snarls and growls but she ignores him in favor of giggling at you.

"he can be quite the brat sometimes, am i right ?!" her forced chuckles quickly turn into her pinching her son's cheeks with gritted teeth and a tick mark on her forehead. katsuki's complaint and what looks like to be an almost scorching grip on her wrist is ignored, she ignores him like he's a mere insect on her shoulder and keeps talking to you like he isn't there. "i hope he doesn't cause you too much trouble ? i know my son is a lot to handle." she asks, her sweet tone of voice returns and you sit up straighter. despite the..interesting first impression you still want your boyfriend's mother to like you.

"oh no, not at all ! katsuki's a sweetie." you smile and she coo's at you like a baby. she laughs like you'd just told her a joke and she pinches at her son's face to get his attention "heh. a real sweetie, eh ?" she mocks, raising a brow. katsuki finally manages to rip her hand off his face and he all but growls at her.

"shut up ! what're you even here for ?!" katsuki's complaint is grumbled as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. the only thing differentiating the two of them is that katsuki is currently hiding his tail, it gets in the way around your small apartment and he says it's annoying to sit with it on the couch and he hates tearing holes in his pants, so he mostly only has his horns out. horns identical to his mothers that point back when she raises her nose up at him with a dissapointed huff.

"oh please, it feels like everyone's been able to see your human den besides me !" she exclaims, resting her hands on her waist. "is it so bad that i wanted to come visit my son, and on his birthday of all days !" she huffs. katsuki scrunches his nose up in response. mitsuki continues, she fixes her warm gaze onto you and you blink up at her in surprise. she immediatly chippers up and swoops down to pick you up and hug you.

"and when was it you where planning on introducing me to your mate, and one who's such a cutie at that !" she rubs her cheeks against yours and you're glad she isn't lifting you off the ground but the way she's leaning over you makes your back hurt and has you gripping her arms. a bad decision since she thinks you're returning her affection and squeezes you harder. she glares at her son "as your mother-"

"urrghh-" he groans

"-and the one who practically set you up, i think you should've invited me sooner." she chides, patting at your head. katsuki's almost pout and slouched back reminds you of a little kid getting scolded. you supress a snort when you make eye contact and his frown deepens when you throw him a questioning lifted brow, he just shrugs and looks away again.

"pops hasn't been here yet either." he shrugs off, adjusting to cross his arms.

"you know how nervous your father gets katsuki." mitsuki scoffs, rolling her eyes at her son's comment. said son mirrors her expression, they seriously make your head spin.

"whatever. you came, you saw-" katsuki starts, heading over to rip you away from his mom's grip with minor resistance. "ya put yer paws all over my mate," he growls bitterly, giving you a firm squeeze before letting you go but never too far away from you. “so you can go now.” he says through gritted teeth and squinting eyes.

mitsuki scoffs, dramatically placing her hand onto her chest and even leans back a bit "how rude !" her wide eyes fix themselves to you and you instinctively nod, earning you a growl from the man next to you.

"while it is true i came here to see where you're living, i did come all the way here to wish my son, a happy birthday." she accentuates, putting extra intonation on specific words and every time she does katsuki shrinks into himself a bit. though after a moment he raises a brow

"there's no way you came all the way here just to wish me happy birthday." he deadpanned "what do you want ?" suddenly a smirk crosses the older woman's face and you see how on guard katsuki gets. you start getting a little nervous when stances start getting more..combative.

"do you think that ill of me, katsuki ? i'm hurt you'd thinkso little of me.. i even brought a gift too.." you start to realise how her horns starts to glow as she also backs up a bit, seeming ready to pounce. you hear katsuki scoff out a laugh and your head whips around to stare at the two. two big wings suddenly sprawl from the woman's back, your dragon man grins, doing the same and you realize-

where they planning to fight in your apartment ????

"woah, woah, woah, woah, WOAH." you get in between the both, frantically waving your arms around (you realize this is the second time you've stood in between two dragons now). immediately there's a shift. the tension remains, both blondes staying on guard but gazes fixed onto you.

"what're you guys planning to do ?!" you lock eyes with the older bakugou and shrink back "..if i may ask.." you squeak out. she giggles at your cuteness.

"oh, don't worry darling, this is totally normal ! i know you humans aren't familiar with birthday battles, but they're harmless, really !" she chirps.

"BIRTHDAY BATTLES???" you shriek, whipping your head around to see katsuki unfazed. he simply shrugs at you and your eye twitches at his nonchalance.

"it's fine. m'stronger than her anyways." he waves off, his mother barks out a laugh.

"hah ! is that the hill you wanna die on ?!" she challenges, your boyfriend has the nerve to try to respond until you cut him off before he can.

"katsuki. you are not battling in the house." you squeak, voice pitched high in distress. katsuki, the dragon man who was just about to fight his mother, apparently to the death, has the gall to pout at you.

"it'll be fine, i'll just fix it later." he grumbles.

"and where am i supposed to be while you guys fight to the death ?!" you say, your arms are still spread out like this could somehow stop the two beasts from duking it out should they decide to right now. his shoulders drop, his horns dimming. he pouts harder and you can already see what's coming.

"katsuki-"

"'ts my birthday."

"katsuki. don't-"

"you said i could do what i want."

"but i didn't think you'd do this ??" you try helplessly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes as a last ditch effort. incredibly stubborn as he is,katsuki doesn't budge. you pause to think.

it is his birthday.

and you did want to make his birthday as enjoyable as possible..and if it meant fighting with his mom would accomplish that, then so be it.

you sigh, loudly, and you want to hate the pleased little smirk on your rabid boyfriend's face so bad. but unfortunately, you can't. and that makes you sigh again.

"fine," you look up at him seriously "but not here. i'm sure you can find a field so you can..duke it out. don't get too injured." your boyfriend scoffs boastfully at your words, he pulls you in and wraps a strong arm around your waist, pulling you in. he seems to forget his mom's presence, who's now staring at you both with a smirk. you grip at his shoulders in embarrassment.

"nah, i told you i'm stronger." he says simply, kissing your cheek hard and sloppily "gonna come cheer me on ?" he offers, teasing smile on display.

"i fear i'd die of a heart attack, so i'm gonna sit this one out." you sweatdrop, patting his chest. he grunts in dissaproval but quickly shrugs it off, pressing a kiss to your head before fixing his fiery gaze onto his mother. "well, you gonna chicken out ?" he jeers.

"don't you underestimate your mother." she flashes you a loving grin, walking over to you and pressing her forehead to yours quickly and you feel your whole body warm up happily "it was wonderful meeting you dear. i hope you'll let me visit again soon."

"hell no."

"of course !" you and katsuki respond in unison. as expected mitsuki ignores her son's words and grins at you again. before she leaves she wraps you up in one of her tight hugs, thanks you for taking care of her son, then follows katsuki to the front door. the blond quickly throwing out a "i'll be back later !" loud enough for you to hear and you wave them off before you hear the door click shut. when they leave you heave a long sigh.

that was definitely one way to meet his mother, but you're at least happy it went well.

you truly hope this birthday battle really as harmless as mitsuki claimed it was, though..

after a few hours katsuki returns. not heavily injured, but extremely dirty and with tears in his clothes.

"katsuki !" you whine, walking over and inspecting his upper body and sleepy albeit satisfied face. you grab his face between your palms to get him to look at you. he closes his eyes, "i told you not to get injured !"

he simply huffs and nuzzles into your palm "m'not injured though. can see it can't you ?" he points towards his very exposed chest and his eyes shine mischievously at your flustered splutters. before you can get another complaint in he shoves his head into your shoulder and you squeal, pushing him away.

"no-katsuki, no." he growls lowly at your denial "you're dirty. go shower."

"s'my birthday-"

"you're stinky, birthday or not. you can't keep using that as an excuse you know." you snort, trying your best to stay firm, you quickly check the clock "your birthday's almost over by now." you push at his shoulders so he wouldn't get the opportunity to get comfy and try to coax you into cuddling with him.

he grumbles something unintelligible before lifting his head up to simply stare at you. "did you win ?" you ask and he huffs but he smirks

"nah, almost got her though."

"well, there's always next year."

he squints, scrunching his nose up at your words "she's not coming here next year." you squeeze his scrunched up nose and he pretends to bite at you. "stop being so mean to your mom."

"m'gonna go shower." he ignores you and you roll your eyes as you watch his tail trail behind him to your bedroom to get a change of clothes before making his way to the bathroom.

as soon as the door clicks shut you jump into motion. you bound over to the kitchen, reaching the fridge you slowly pull the chocolate fudge cake out. placing the candles on it carefully, sticking out your tongue for utmost focus. you're happy with the positioning, leaning back to admire your work. afterwards you quickly search for a lighter, and place it next to the cake, you smile when you hear the faucet turn off, just in time.

when katsuki comes out, hair still wet and puffy wearing a simple grey lounge sweater and sweatpants, you're standing in front of him. he raises a brow at your bright smile, he tilts his head back questioningly "what's up ?" he asks, suspecting some type of trick. but he was in for a surprise.

you lean forwards and grab both his hands to drag him over to the couch. "come on." you urge, pulling him along but keeping your gaze fixed on him. a huff of laughter through his nose, he barely supresses a curious smile at your giggles "what ?" he asks again when your closer to the couch.

"just siddown." you push him down rather harshly and he grunts in surprise. "i'll be right back !" before he can say anything you sprint to the kitchen and bring back his cake. "tadaaa !" you exclaim. his eyes widen.

"what's the cake for ?" he asks gruffly and you shake your head. "s'for you, silly !" you giggle. his confused stare has you explain further "for your birthday, it's what we do here." his eyes fly from you, to the cake, then back to you and you can't help but giggle.

"it's dark chocolate since i know you don't like overly sweet stuff, i figured this is sort of a rite of passage for human birthdays" you laugh, but you're interrupted when your body releases a loud "oof !" when your boyfriend's large body topples over yours. you wrap your arms around his neck almost instinctively with a loud squeak.

he doesn't say anything even as you call out to him, but you think you know what he's trying to say when he nuzzles against your neck and squeezes you tight, so tight you grunt a bit and pat at his back and he plops a wet kiss on your shoulder as apology. you smile, patting his back again, because you know what he's trying to say.

"alright big guy." you start rubbing up and down his back and giggling at his annoyed grumbles. "we still have to eat the cake right ?" you nudge your shoulder a bit to encourage him and he gets off of you after a second. he looks away from you with pink cheeks and scratching at his nape. l-let's eat it then." he mumbles. you can't help the smile that grows on your face, when you remember.

"i'll go get a knife-"

"wait, wait, wait !" you lift your arms into his face and his eyes widen "i'll go get it !" you're already getting up before he can protest fully.

"it's fine, i can do it-"

"no, no ! you. sit." you wave your finger at him and he crosses his arms "m'not a dog." he mutters, but he does as you say, begrudingly.

"c'mooon, it's your birthday right ?" you tease, laughing to yourself as you head over to the kitchen again hearing him groan a 'oh, fuck off'.

you come back with a knife, two little plates, two spoons and lighter. you place them on the little table in front of you and katsuki scans your movements carefully as you grab the lighter first. you don't think he knows what they are and thinking on it now, you probably should've at least shown him how they work. because his eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when you flick it on and the small flame comes out.

"the hell are you doin' ?!!" he shouts, quickly reaching over to grab your lighter away. you manage to carefully swerve out of his way, eyes also wide as saucers.

"what are you doing ??!" you excaim back

"why are you trynna set shit on fire ??!"

"i'm not--i'm just trying to light the candles-it's normal !!" you heave. you both stare at each other chest rapidly expanding.

"oh." is all he says. you let out a loud sigh.

"yeah." you breathe. his shoulder slump and he places his elbows onto his knees, opening his hand up signalling you to give the device to him so he could analyze it.

"you flick it on like this, see ?" you teach, showcasing it to him and handing it over so he can test it out himself. he spins it around in his hands, then flicks it on. his eyes scan the flame before he squints at it.

"f'you wanted a flame, you could've just asked me to do it instead of using this wimpy shit." your mouth almost drops in shock and you chuckle, of course he'd get jealous of the lighter. you reach for the lighter and he gives it back, not before fixing it with a scowl. you calmly now, light the candles slowly while he stares.

"i just need a little light, not a flame thrower." you jest.

"m'better than that too."

"oh, i'm sure of it." you decide to humor him, it was his birthday after all, though you are pretty positive he would be better than a flame thrower and a mini lighter.

you beckon him over and he leans towards you and the cake "now you need to blow the candles out, and make a wish !" his eyebrows furrows.

"it's just tradition." you explain, batting your lashes up at him. he drops his head with a sigh and smirks to himself before leaning in, closing his eyes for a few seconds, then he leans back as his chest expands, your eyes widen again.

"katsuki, just blow on it !"

he stops, annoyed " that's what i was gonna do, if you'd let me get it out."

"i said blow, not extinguish it." you quip. he growls then leans in, closing his eyes again to reiterate his wish (despite making fun of it at first he seemed to be taking his wish pretty serious) then softly blows the candles out, huffing out a laugh when you cheer and clap for him.

"man, i wish i'd bought party poppers.." you whine "guess that's for next year." you shrug off. unbeknownst to you, katsuki feels stupid, but he also feels his heart warm at how casual you uttered those words. next year for his next birthday here with you. he nods quietly.

you cut up a slice and place it on one of the plates, you grab a spoon and scoop up a small bite. then, you jokingly raise it up to your boyfriend who's cheeks burn bright red when you go "alright, say ahh !"

he squints at you "..seriously ?" you chortle.

"it's your birth-daaay.." you sing, inching the spoon closer to his face. he rolls his eyes, then grumbles to himself. he leans in, sharp teeth peeking as he opens his mouth with a half hearted "aah.." and taking a bite. you giggle seeing him look up at the ceiling to taste the sweet treat better, his eyes postively light up and he groans in delight when the taste finally hits. you sit on the couch, and try some of the cake yourself. it's heavenly and you hum in content "s'it good ?" you snicker with your mouth full.

"s'fuckin' good." he confirms, you snort. he let's his head rolls towards you, eyes still closed "gimme more." he demands, you roll your eyes but it's his birthday so you'll comply, feeding him another spoonful of cake.

you sit around like this the whole evening, eating cake and making jokes. and of course, finishing the day by watching a movie. you pull your hands from your boyfriends head in your lap to grab your phone, he grumbles but you ignore it in favor of checking the time. it's well over midnight now and katsuki's birthday is unfortunately over. you're happy, but it has you smiling sadly.

"what's up ?" bakugou raises a brow. his hand grabs yours.

"you're officially no longer the birthday boy.." you whisper, leaning down to place a kiss against his nose. he scrunches it and puckers his lips up, grouchy face and furrowed brows on display to get you to kiss his lips instead. you roll your eyes and even if it isn't his birthday anymore, you comply.

"was good while it lasted." he shrugs off, his eyes dart across the room "i--today was..fun." he admits bashfully, you smile sweetly. he looks up at you and closes his eyes with a huff, pulling your hand into his hair.

"'cept when that old bat barged in here."

"quit talking about your mother that way." you tug at his strands and he bites at you.

a beat passes and bakugou's pulling at your shirt roughly, and you squeak when he presses his lips to yours, pillowy lips biting at your bottom one and making you gasp which gives him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grabbing the back of your head to kiss you deeper.

when you pull away, heaving and lips shining with spit and his hair tousled from your earlier ministrations he smiles softly. it's faint but his eyes shine as hard as his cheeks when he speaks "thanks..for today an' all." he plays with your fingers to hide his nervousness to meet your soft eyes "dunno why you care s'much about this birthday stuff," you try to speak but he bites at your finger to silence "but..m'glad you do, or whatever. had a good day. better be ready to spend it with me again next year." he challenges, smirking up at you.

you smile back brightly, because you'll be ready to spend it with him next year and the year after and the years after that. you'd make sure to be with katsuki for every human birthday to come.

(little did you know, it was katsuki's wish too.)

this took forever but this part is done !! i had a lot of fun writing this one and even tho im a lot of days late (lol) heres another katsuki birthday piece ! i hope yall enjoy reading !! <3 if yall wanna keep being tagged jus lemme know but im only doing this bc some ppl wanted to be tagged for the first part !

*if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( @doofusarena @queenpiranhadon @rosemarygalaxy @slashersl0t @andysdrafts @berryvioo @erenstitanweave @chuugarettes @stardyedkatsuki @atinytiredpanromantic @zaiban2989 @annepamgkrth @mxpl3s-castle @jastoo46 @nemisimp @niktwazny303 @cecee77 @m-inluv

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 months ago

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"The little spoon." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

During a night of drinking, you let Maggie, Glenn and Carol know that Daryl likes to be the little spoon.

A/N: There is no plot, just a short imagine hehe hope you like it!

You were very drunk.

While Carol, sitting on the couch, in the same state you were in, laughed at a rather funny story, you grabbed the moonshine next to you on the floor, and took a swig before laughing with her again. Night had fallen in Alexandria hours ago, but without the family members there, the two of you took the opportunity to have a good time. Carol loved you like the daughter she could still hold on to, she used to braid your hair, make you breakfast, and after years together, you two protected each other. You loved her just as intensely, because she had been the mother you lost when the apocalypse began.

But the laughter died on your lips when the door opened. Glenn and Maggie entered first, followed by Daryl, and Carol squinted to get a better look at them, because at that point, the alcohol had blocked her vision like a thick fog.

“Hey, guys!” She waved the bottle in the air, smiling warmly. “We were waiting for you!”

“With several bottles of alcohol apparently.” Glenn chuckled, as Daryl bent his knees in front of you to be at your height.

Your own vision was blurry, but you could still see the slight smile on his lips.

“You look familiar.” You tilted your head, looking at him oddly. “Have we met before? Because I don’t usually say this to people, but you are very, veeeeeeeery handsome.”

The others laughed as Daryl gently pushed some strands of hair out of your face.

“'kay, party girl, you’ve had too much to drink.” He took the bottle and set it aside. “We better get ya to bed before ya start sayin' weird things.”

“Again.” Maggie muttered, hiding her laughter.

“Like what?” You asked, frowning.

Daryl chuckled.

“Last time ya got drunk ya told Father Gabriel ya didn’t go to church 'cause ya were afraid of being set on fire 'cause of yer sins.”

Carol laughed a little louder than everyone else.

“That can happen, you know? Besides… we’re all sinners! Look at yourself, trying to get me into bed without buying me a drink first. At least ask me to marry you before you try to get in my pants.”

You tried to grab the bottle from behind him, but Daryl pushed it away.

“We’re already married, sweetheart.”

“We are?”

“Yep.” Daryl took your hand, lifting it up so you could see the ring on your finger. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Awww,” Carol said, and turned to look at Glenn and Maggie, who were still enjoying the show. “He said forever.”

“Yep, and I mean it.”

For his part, Glenn helped Carol. But as Daryl placed his arms under your legs and shoulders, to lift you up so he could carry you into the bedroom, a silly thought flooded your mind and pushed out of your lips before you could stop it.

“Did you know Daryl likes being the little spoon?”

Daryl felt the heat rise to his cheeks as everyone stopped to stare at him.

“I like it, so what?” He said embarrassed, but trying to keep a straight face so no one would laugh at him.

You waved goodbye to everyone, your hand in the air before disappearing up the stairs. The moment you two reached the bedroom, Daryl sat you down on the bed, and the world started to spin around you, (even though it was probably you), while you watched silently as he knelt down in front of you to take off your black boots.

“We should totally have sex right now.” You chuckled.

Daryl chuckled as well as he pulled your pants off after.

“i aint gonna make love to ya, sweetheart. Not tonight.”

“Why not?” You asked with some disappointment.

Daryl looked up, and you threatened to get lost in the ocean of his gaze.

“I don’t wanna make love to ma wife when you’re this drunk. Now get yer pretty ass under the blanket.”

Your black t-shirt fell over your thighs, and with your lips turned down in a sad expression, you moved on the bed until the blanket covered your body, enveloping you in a pleasant warmth as Daryl pulled off his vest, shirt, and pants until he was down to his boxers.

You tried not to look for too long.

He laid down beside you, on his right side, his left hand searching under the blanket for your skin beneath your t-shirt, rubbing your back softly.

You sighed at the touch of his hand.

“G'night, peach.”

“Goodnight, love.” You murmured softly before closing your eyes, and within a few minutes, you fell deeply asleep.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

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Set The World On Fire

Chapter Four

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

She was late for work, again. Her boss was going to kill her.

Just like last time she rushed around the house, grabbing what she needed before she left. This time she managed to grab lunch before she rushed off to the office.

When she got there, nobody noticed how late she was. There was a buzz of something else as she slipped into her cubicle, unnoticed. Everybody else was looking towards the bosses office, whispering to themselves.

"What is it?" She asked the girl in the cubicle beside her own as she leaned over.

The girl in the cubicle was also looking towards the bosses office. Staring, actually. "The hottest guy I've ever seen just walked into Oliver's office," she hissed. "Does Oliver have a son?"

"No way," Y/N answered. She too found herself staring towards the office, captivated.

Inside of the office, Lando was beating the shit out of Oliver Cooke, boss of HC Publishing. "You got the money yet, Oliver?" Lando asked between punches. His knuckles ached in the best way.

"Yes!" Oliver cried, thanking god that his office was soundproof. If his employees heard this, he'd never get over it. "Yes, I'll pay you!"

Lando stopped punching just long enough for Oliver to run over to his chest and pull out a stack of bills. He handed it to Lando, flinching when Lando raised his hand to count the stack of bills, to make sure all of the money was there.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said and strode out of the office.

Immediately the employees went back to work, glued their eyes back to their computer like they hadn't just been waiting for him to walk out of the office. The girls were pretty, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing into the cubicles.

Until he came across her.

"Y/N?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lando, what the fuck?" But then a smile crawled across her face. "Are you stalking me? I'm flattered but, seriously, you didn't have to go to this length."

"Not stalking," he said quickly. "But incredibly surprised to see you. I had no idea you worked at HC Publishing."

That was because she hadn't told him where she worked. They talked about everything but their jobs when they drank in his club. "Listen," he said as he leaned against the cubicle. "I've got to go to Spain for a few days. Do you wanna hang out before that?"

"As long as we can do something that isn't drinking in your club until the early hours of the morning. If I'm late again, my boss is gonna kill me."

Lando could do something about that. One word with Oliver, one flash of his bloody knuckles (which were currently hidden in his pockets) and she'd be able to do whatever she wanted in this place.

"Do you wanna have dinner at mine?" She offered.

"Yours as in where you live?" Asked Lando. He had no need to know where she lived, but it would certainly help. "Yeah," he answered, nodding his head. "That would be nice."

"Perfect," she said and quickly wrote something down. "I finish at five." She ripped the piece of paper out of her notepad and handed it to him.

Lando couldn't stop himself from grinning as he said his goodbyes. He was practically skipping out of HC Publishing, and he didn't give a flying fuck who saw.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Several of her co-workers called.

She looked around at them. "What?" She asked as she logged into her work computer. "What did I do?"

"You know the hot guy that had a meeting with Mr Cooke! How?" They all asked as they crowded around her cubicle. It was all very intense.

She was the talk of the office for the rest of the day, a never ending source of gossip. She ignored it, pretended not to hear it when they theorised how they knew her. There were several people that theorised that she had slept with him, others that had kinder theories. One person straight up asked if they were childhood friends.

The end of the work day couldn't come quick enough. As soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the office. Her co-workers were still whispering even as she left.

As soon as she got home, she checked in her fridge. There wasn't enough in there to make a decent dinner for two and she wanted to pick up some wine.

Showering and changing into her sweats, she headed down to the shops. It was a small shop and everything was marked up, but she still shopped out, purely out of convenience. She bought what she needed, plus two bottles of wine, and headed back up to her apartment.

With no idea what time Lando was arriving, she began cooking. She multitasked, managing to get dressed while she cooked.

What she didn't know was that Lando was outside of her apartment. He was dressed down, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his shirt open, revealing his necklace against his chest. He leaned against one of the trees lining the street opposite her apartment and stared up at the apartment he thought was hers.

She ran past the window on her way to and from the kitchen and Lando knew. It was definitely her apartment. The area around wasn't the nicest; Lando had done enough shady deals in this area to know. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest.

He strode forward, making his way into the building. He already had her addressed memorised, reciting it in his head as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Lando passed two other front doors before he was standing in front of her apartment. The light in the hallway above him flickered as he raised his hand to knock.

"Fuck!" He heard from the other side of the door. There was a crash before the door opened and she stood there, hand on her hip as she smiled. "Welcome to mi casa," she said and stood to the side, letting him in.

Lando looked around as he strode in. There was no sign of what had made the crashing noise, and he could only assume that she had cleaned it up. "Nice place," he said, looking at the pictures on the walls.

There were some generic ones that she obviously hadn't changed from when she bought the frame. Pictures of family, pictures of pets, pictures of friends. They made her walls bright and colourful.

She had lights strung up around the apartment. Comically large hearts lit by fairy lights, classic chilli pepper lights and more. The couch was covered in blankets and cushions and a giant eight ball rug on the floor.

The apartment had a good feeling spreading through his chest.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled the first bottle of wine out of the fridge and opened the top. "My friends say my calling is interior design. My bank account says to stop buying everything that looks cool." She poured out the wine and handed a glass to Lando.

They tapped their glasses together and she invited him to sit on the sofa. They talked and she managed to take his mind away from his impending trip to Spain. Periodically she ran off to check on dinner and set the table.

After a good fifteen minutes of drinking and chatting, she plated up the food and invited Lando to join her at the table. He brought his wine with him, slipping into the seat opposite her as she lit a candle.

"Do all the guys get a candle lit dinner?" He asked with a teasing smile.

"What guys?" She answered through a laugh.

For a moment, they ate in silence. Well, almost silence. Lando let out a series of moans as he took the first bites. "Fuck me," he said as he got more food onto his fork. But he had no more positive words as he wolfed everything down at an inhuman speed.

She was eating just slightly slower. "So, why were you at the publishing house?" She asked as she picked up her glass.

Lando stopped eating. He should have expected her to ask, but he hadn't. "Uh," he began, trying to formulate a lie. Not that he wanted to lie to her, but he wanted to keep her as far away from his world as he could. "Uh, the people I work for own the building that you guys rent," he said. "I was... having a chat with Oliver about the changing rates," he finished and quickly went back to his food.

She nodded. "It's kind of cool," she said, her gaze on her food. "That you guys own the place where I work."

Lando nodded in agreement, but mostly because he didn't want to say anything else on the matter.

But she had more questions. "You said you're going to Spain, right?" She asked and he nodded his head, still eating. "So, what're you going for?" She asked enthusiastically. "Family holiday?"

Again, Lando didn't want to lie to her. But he had no other choice. He told her as much of the truth as he could. "We're having a wedding out there," he answered.

"A wedding, huh? Fancy."

No, it was going to be traumatising, Lando thought as he finished his food. It was going to be a beautiful ceremony, he knew, but he was dreading it.

It was switch turned on in his head. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Do you wanna come with me for the wedding?" He asked.

"Seriously?" She asked, surprise in her voice.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, hell yeah! It's gonna be a nice ceremony and they'll have an open bar, and I could use the moral support."

"I'd love to, Lan," she said, letting a smile cross her face. "Thanks. I can't wait."

So much for keeping her as far away from his world as he could.

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 6 months ago

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Yandere! Male! idol x manager! gn! reader

WOOOH finally able to update. I got busy due to working for a summer reading camp. Woop tee doo... At least I got money for a new phone LMAO

And we finally, FINALLY finished the second set of yans! For now, no new yans will be done, and will be focusing on the boys!

Song featured: Too Sweet by Hozier

EDIT: I FORGOT THAT I MADE ELIAS THE SIBLING OF THE YAN! IDOL AND ALREADY NAMED HIM ZAYNE! I'll probably just change Zayne's to Tae-Joon.

Yan! Idol name: Raven/Tae-Joon

The deafening lights and cheers of the people in the gigantic stadium rang around the building. They kept cheering, almost shaking the whole place from their energy.

As the band started playing the intro song, the cheers suddenly amped up in intensity with the focus going back on the stage. Each and every lightstick glowed red, flooding the whole area with a scarlet hue.

The bass pumped, the music riffed, the vibe electric.

The stage fogged up, covering the whole place before the cheering got louder when a appeared in the fog.

Then, there he is.

"HOW'S IT GOING CITY OF [redacted]!"

A charismatic, boyish smile, with pearly white teeth that blinded the secret paparazzi in the crowd, with a tall and lean stature that encompasses talent and discipline in one body, and facial features that make people swoon even in just his photocards.

"RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

The man, the idol named Raven, started to sing. His voice was smooth and low as the romantic yet also sensual lyrics pour out of his pink lips.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well?

He goes up to the edge, swinging around the mic stand as if it was a dance partner. One can hear the passion going off in his tone as his messy hair got flipped upward.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

He gets on the middle of the stage, and the pedestal raised as the spotlight went to him.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

Everyone was seduced, everyone was mesmerized. Raven gave off seductive energy that they held their breath every time his gaze penetrates them. And some even assumed his gaze was on theirs, making them squeal.

It was truly a night for everyone in the stadium.

After almost two hours of performing, Raven, with sweat pouring out of him but still managed to look amazing, descended down on the stage hatch.

But the once shining star back in the stage suddenly threw his beret on the ground.

"FUCK! What was that buzzing sound in the dance break?!" Raven yelled. "Are you serious?! I thought we went over this!"

The people in the back started to groan inwardly. There he goes again.

"Ah... Tae-Joon..." The director said, "We made sure to reprimand the lights and sounds..."

Raven, or rather Tae-Joon off stage, clicked his tongue in anger. "Whatever. Bring me my coffee! I need a break."

"But you can just go home after the cleanup. Do you still want coffee?"

A naive voice said, obviously new to the scene as she juggle with her box of wires.

She's a big fan of Raven and pulled a lot of strings just to be there. A bit bold, she decided to be the concerned type of staff and berate him of his beverage choice.

Yet she absolutely cannot see the pale faces and the dread sticking on the visages of the people around her. She's in too deep in her tunnel vision of Raven to notice his microphone cracking. Another thing to add to the casualties.

"You... What's your name?" Raven glowered. The fan can feel her heart rate pick up as she told her name. "Oh. You're new. All i could say is..."

Raven got up to her and glared at her much smaller form "You're fired. Get out! Nobody gets to dictate what I damn drink!"

The woman was too stunned to speak as she got dragged out of the venue.

This is Raven. Or in real life, Tae-Joon. A charming man in his own right, in front of the public, he's a gentleman with a seductive touch. Talented, with a handsome visage, he's an international idol.

But in reality, he's one hell of a spoiled brat.

"I WANT MY COFFEE NOW!"

Somehow, because of his sheer dumb luck and his reputation, nobody from his staff decided to expose him for what he really is.

He's full of himself and loves to gloat about his own achievements. And one thing he makes sure to take advantage of is his looks.

He brushes his hair back, shaking off sweat (ew) yet somehow looks so ethereal as he clicked his tongue in annoyance, mesmerizing his staff.

He even went as far as to feed his delusional fans and stans.

He's that far gone.

"Where the hell is my coffee!"

"AY COFFEE!"

He's awful to everyone.

Except...

"Tsk. Tae-Joon... If I hear you yell one more time!"

Raven cowers a bit, pouting as he slithers towards his manager.

"But manager~!"

As if he's a new person, Raven clung to you. His head on your shoulder as he played with your left hand.

"I want my coffee and none of these incompetent people are giving me my coffee!" He whined like a child complaining to his parent. "Scold them for me pwease!"

The staff, used to it, sighed in relief as your deadpan look didn't tolerate Raven's rudeness. On your right hand is his coffee that you handed to him.

"Manager! Thank you so much!" His eyes wide and appreciative, he sips on it and sighs in relief. "Ah... So good... This is why I love you, manager."

Goodness. He's putty in your hands.

Tae-Joon was once a trainee. He's naturally good looking already so he's being pulled left and right by companies to be in their side. He's an uncut gem, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. They saw his potential and wanted a slice of his being.

The once sweet boy, hardened by the harsh training, became a gloating hardhead from the way these people fight for him. After all, he was just a quiet, ambitious guy in highschool. He wanted more, and he got it through hard work and natural charm. And now, years later, he's about to reach his dreams.

Yet once he got in the company of his choice, his demands were... Too much.

"I need to share a dorm with others? No way!"

"Ugh the mattress is too stiff."

"Seriously?! You want me to train for five hours a day?! Two hours! Just two hours!"

"What are these clothes?! These are not branded!"

"No way that I'm performing in that small stage. I don't care if I'm pre-debut, that is ass!"

"Trash beats. Next."

The company was exhausted. He's not even raking money in, yet he's too demanding for his own good.

Desperate, the company opened their doors for a babysitter manager that has a "calm and pleasing personality", "trait that can work in high stress situations", "adaptability", "great leadership skills and authoritative", and can "teach those who are under them". Aka: someone who can tame the damn bird.

That's where you came in.

You were just a fresh graduate in desperate need of a job. Nobody was hiring you since you're new, and needed more experience.

The hiring process was intense, to say the least. You had to herd rowdy children and change them to upright good kids in 10 days. You somehow did it and even got gifts from the grateful parents. Next, you had to juggle schedules and ridiculous demands. Then, you had to endure being yelled and insulted at.

Your mind, heart, and body are now made of steel from that hiring process and you're the only one who rose to the top.

"Congratulations. Here's your care. His name is Tae-Joon, stage name Raven." The head said, nervous and hopeful that you with Tae-Joon will change his attitude.

Tae-Joon raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Ugly."

You were flabbergasted. This is a supposed to be future idol?

But you can only manage a twitch on your lips.

It was hell with him. You thought the hiring process/training regimen was bad, but this was something else.

A explosive personality, he's sassy and mean to a point of wanting to face palm through your head. You had to physically reel him in at some point just because of a hater.

But unlike the others who cowered and tolerated his behavior, you were stern with his behavior and lectured him most of the time.

"You can't just yell at miss Park just because she messed up your order!"

"Get the hell up! You're going to be late to your training!"

"Who the heck do you think you are, ripping up clothes like that huh?!"

You were feisty in your own right and constantly butt heads with him.

But even then, even just with you around, he's just a growling beast cowering from your lectures as you yelled at him.

Yet, even if as you yell at him, your caring hands wiped his sweat off and gave him his water. If somebody actually messed with him, you would lecture that guy. And there are some times that you laugh at his antics and shake your head.

You treated him like an actual human with feelings, rather than a ticking time bomb.

Slowly but surely, Tae-Joon clung to you. You were his only ally in this godforsaken industry and the only one who understood him. You also didn't tolerate his personality and shaped him to be somehow decent.

And, as his manager, you cared for him like nobody did.

Your lectures became less frequent, and he had more instances to see where you smile at him proudly as he finally had his solo debut. More time to talk to him normally, and had small, intimate moments that fuels his social needs.

And as his fame skyrocket, you were always there, waving his lightstick and being his number one fan.

Understandably, he fell for you.

He started to be openly affectionate with you, constantly confessing his love to the point that management had to tell him off to stop being so open with his affection since paparazzi can take a video or picture and ruin his reputation.

He honestly doesn't care. But with you raising an eyebrow at him, he pouts and only becomes clingy in private.

He'd rather hold it in than nothing at all.

And hell be damned if someone took you away from him. Because he may be somehow tolerable now, but that's only because you're there with him.

Raven just got back from practicing for his new song, and was totally exhausted. He dragged his feet, clearly irritable especially that you weren't there with him.

The staff knew he's not in a good mood so they steer clear of his way.

"Have you seen my manager?" Raven asked a staff who only shook their head. "'kay..."

He looks so depressed that the people around him took pity on the guy as he trudged towards the head.

He passed a meeting room and he heard your voice.

"Another Tae-Joon?"

Another him? What?

He decided to listen in and he heard the managerial head clear his throat.

"Yes. Since Raven is calmer now, we think he needs to move on to another manager. You, on the other hand, will be training another... Hothead."

You held your head, feeling a headache incoming.

"No way. I'm not going through that again. I went through hell with Tae-Joon before. I'm not repeating that."

Ouch. Tae-Joon held his chest, a bit saddened by your words. Well, it was true but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Yet... You're not going to be his manager anymore?

Strangely, he felt the numbness creeping up his nape.

"No buts, y/n. You're going to be transfered."

"Did you ask Tae-Joon about this?"

"... Yes, Raven gave the thumbs up."

Liar. LIAR!

Tae-Joon wanted to rush in the room and shake the managerial head until he faints. He didn't give the thumbs up at all!

But he's strangely rooted in place as he heard you sigh.

"Okay. Where's this guy?"

"His name is [redacted]. He'll be here by Monday so be prepared."

When you finally finished the meeting, you went out of the room yet felt a lingering warmth by the wall.

Meanwhile, Tae-Joon rushed towards the trainee building. Eyes cold yet body tense. He wanted to see who the hell is this [redacted]. Nobody, as in nobody will be yours. Only he can be yours.

The trainees were flabbergasted as they saw Raven in the flesh, gawking at his presence and bowing in respect.

Tae-Joon didn't care. He wanted to see where this [redacted] is.

Room 5, and he bursts open through the door.

"What the hell- Raven?" The guy was slack jawed, starstruck. "I'm- I'm a big fan--"

Tae-Joon grabbed his collar and looked him in the eye. It was filled with unbridled rage yet at the same time, bone chilling coldness.

"Fix your fucking attitude." Tae-Joon warned. "Don't be over your head, worm. You better be goddamn nice or else I'll lob your head off."

[redacted] felt like it wasn't just a baseless joke, so he swallowed his saliva and nodded.

"Now. I better see you demand a transfer to the group idol department. You hear me? You aren't debuting solo." Tae-Joon tightened his grip. "Understood?"

It reached the ears of the head that Tae-Joon threatened [redacted]. But don't know what. All they know is that [redacted] pleaded to debut in a group and was suddenly meek and quiet when he transfered departments.

Yet, they somehow knew it had to do something with you, as he clung to you desperately for a week after that.

Then and there, they knew to never, ever try to separate you from him. If they don't want to let go of their greatest asset and set him off.

So, despite how dangerous Raven has become, they forced [redacted] to be quiet by... Not so savorable means.

"You're not leaving me, right?" Tae-Joon whispered, looking exhausted yet satisfied as he hugged your waist.

You, who just realized how deep Tae-Joon is in his affection, sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not."

And it better stay that way.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere fic

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