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husbandohunter · 3 years ago

Note

Your Stardew Impact has given me a serious brainrot and I couldn’t sleep on it so here

Imagine the boys getting Isekai to Stardew and meeting their (soon-to-be) s/o a.k.a the farmer who found them in the mines and dragged them out.

It’s basically the same as the original but the reader lives in Stardew universe from the beginning.

The Outlanders who trespassed the Stars [Stardew Valley + Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: You were a simple farmer who lived a simple life before crossing paths with these outlanders. A tale of greetings and farewells tells a story that loving someone was like looking at the stars in the sky; a sense of warmth amidst darkness, where the dots connect no matter what distance it was. But just like stars, they were meant to be unobtainable.

(Basically what happens if the boys get Isekai'd)

Genre: fluff, angst (faceapalm didn't mean to)

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Zhongli

(A/n): Hi anon, haha I didn't think the Stardew Impact series would be this enjoyable. Allow me to serve your brainrot. But just for future references there is a character limit! Also it long, a pro tip to use ctrl+F and type in the name :>

======================

~Childe's Story~

The day you met Childe was perhaps during the most fortunate yet unfortunate hour of your life.

Winter comes by, your fields were left dry, what else was there to do other than mining? You were aiming to build a new Barnhouse before summer comes, fishing only made average income thus you decided to take your pickaxe and hope to run into some diamonds, gold or even better: prismatic shards. However, expensive items could only be found in the deepest parts of the mountains, where dangerous monsters lurk by.

When peeking over the abandoned minecart you so carefully shielded yourself with, you began contemplating whether you've just dug yourself a grave instead. The whole area became infested, you weren't in the best condition and on top of all that, you were out of food.

You decided to make a run for it, with the treasures and goodies at hand, you couldn't give up. However, things only got worse when purple mist began taking over your vision, signaling a lava bat wave drawing nigh. It was thanks to your greed that you ended in such a predicament but it was also your greed that brought you to him.

"W-Woah!!"

You tripped with your toe pointing downwards into a pile of wooden crates. The bats swarmed in shortly after, daunting around the area above but you couldn't afford to look. Your face was down to the ground and you could only rely on your ears regarding their whereabouts. As if Yoba heard your prayers, the lava bats could not seem to find you, confusing them to think you've escaped. And so, they flew away.

"I'm never doing that again," The sudden impact was excruciating, you were sure that your lip bled due to biting too hard. At least the floor felt somewhat soft, cotton-like and warm enough to be comforting. Yet, for some reason it was also a little…bony?

"…Mn…."

Your body jerks up like a springboard when you felt something shifting. A man, no older than his twenties, no older than you, lays sprawled out under your form. He was beginning to stir and you panicked when a pair of blue cerulean eyes pointed into your seemingly shocked ones within the close parameter.

Too close.

The man gives a cheerfully wry chuckle, you could practically feel his breath almost, "Well this is quite unexpected, didn't think I'd end up in this position," he jests, soon his expression began to tighten into a grimace, "Mind getting off me though? With all due respect miss, you're a little-…heavy."

You scrambled to the side while still kneeling, "What the hell, who are you?!"

"Hm," The man didn't answer, instead he pushed himself upright and turned his attention to examine the surroundings, "Where are we?" He paused when he noticed how the ceiling was made of rocks, "Wait, is this a cave?"

"Ninety two floors deep and surrounded by monsters," you sighed in frustration while rubbing your head with your palm, "Seriously, whoever you are you shouldn't be here, especially if you're not even carrying the necessary supplies."

"Hey, I just got here. I'm just as confused as you," he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture, "But how strange," he mutters to himself, lowering his arms ever so slightly before pinching his chin in deep thought, "I swear it was the right portal…or maybe it was the other one? Hmmm, could it be the effect of the hidden seal?"

I have so many questions. You sweatdropped nervously. Here you were, hours spent to get to the deepest parts of the earth and looking like a cavewoman while his clothes were practically untouched, nor did they seem to be a recognizable fashion. You've seen many odd events within Stardew Valley but not to this extent, "Alright you know what, let's forget about it for now. We need to get out of here before those lava bats come back for us again. Otherwise we're toast," you gestured to the lava pool, "Literally."

He gave another one of his gleeful smiles, you wondered if he was afraid at all, "Sounds like a solid plan to me. Judging by the equipment you're wearing, you seem to have been here for a while. You know your way around?"

Figures that he doesn't know, you thought, "I'll lead."

"Glad we're on the same page. Though, we've only just met and yet you're still willing to help a stranger like me," he mentions in an off-handed manner, perhaps he wasn't used to generosity ever since being recruited as a harbinger, "But not that I'm complaining. You have my thanks, comrade."

"(Y/n)," you tell him, "That's my name. I'm a farmer that resides in this town."

"I see. A town it is then," he inquires, "Call me Childe, as where I'm from, not sure how to answer that anymore."

"What do you-"

But before you were able to question him further, a hoard of lava crabs were spotted crawling it's way towards where Childe sat. He shot you a confused look and turned to the direction, amusement sparks in his eyes,

"Lava crabs? You've got to be kidding me," your arms have already grown tired long ago, at this rate, you figured it may be best to pay a visit to Harvey's doctor office and check up for any muscle strains that have occured during the process. You most likely have considered how heavy your items felt now. Partaking in another battle would only make it worse.

"Ah an opponent, to think this place wouldn't have a set of new monsters to fight. I was growing tired of beating up hilichurls all the time."

His casual reaction caused you to scrunch up your nose in disbelief, "We're being ganged up on and your first response was that???"

Childe paid no mind, instead he propelled himself back to his feet using his trained reflexes and swaggered towards the crowd, "Relax girlie," Stopping just after a few steps, he turns his head ajar over his shoulder with a floppy smirk spreading his lips, "I've got this."

You held in your breath, wondering if you could trust this man. For now all you could do was sit back and hopefully regain some of your strength while observing by the stacks of crates that were abandoned years ago. The lava crabs formed a straight line in front of him, they were smart creatures, cornering their prey in a very well strategized form so that trespassing was out of the question. Childe wasn't intimidated in the slightest, he merely looked down at them with hooded eyes, flexing his fingers for preparation.

"Lava crab…in other words you're of the pyro element," the harbinger holds out his hand in front of him, trying to cultivate the shape of his bow, "A shame. This fight would end much shorter than I anticipated."

However, when he expected his element to manifest, nothing came out. Childe was left dumbfounded.

"Don't just stand there," you screeched, "Do something!!!"

"Wait," he halts you and tries to summon his bow again. Once, twice, as the crabs grew closer still there was nothing, "My powers…they're gone?!"

"Take this," left without a choice, you pushed yourself towards him and shoved Neptune's glaive into his grasp. He examines it with curiosity, but you knew this was also your own well-being you were entrusting him, "It's really easy to use, just-"

When a crab leapt forward, you ran back to create some manageable space for Childe to move in. He delivers a powerful slice using one arm, hitting the crab's weak spot while tossing it toward the side until a dent was formed in the wall. Your mouth parts, fast, he was fast, you didn't even have the time to blink. It was as if he knew the glaive more than you did. Though, the assumption wasn't that far from the truth. Childe was well adept with swordsmanship as he was an expert with many other melee weapons. Which is precisely the reason why he chose the bow as his main, a ranged device, the challenge to keep him on his toes. Just like he was now.

"He wasn't lying when he said he could fight," you watched in mesmerization, each single blow he delivered deemed equivalent to three hits on your part. Childe was both powerful and swift. He was formidable. The way he effortlessly deflected his opponents despite not having an enchantment ring made you forget how much of an idiot he was earlier before. Soon, the lava crabs began to lessen, leaving what remained of their dusted corpse while some retreated back into the depths of the cave.

"Not bad, it was kind of fun!" Childe laughs exasperatedly, glancing at his blue reflection upon the marred blade, "It's been a while since I last used a sword, and still haven't gone rusty either," he hands you the hilt, "Thanks for letting me use it by the way. You seriously got yourself a sick weapon."

"Keep using it for now, I think I'm a little too worn out to handle it," you say regretfully and pointed your nose towards the ceiling, "The mist hasn't disappeared so there's probably gonna be more monsters we'll encounter soon."

Childe looks up as well, "Huh I was wondering what that meant."

"By the way I've never seen anyone fight like that. Exactly what kind of place are you from?" You finally ask, "You somehow ended up in a cave, without anything to defend yourself with and it's not like you know your way out either. Are you...from another world?"

"Huh didn't think you'd draw that conclusion so quick," he comments jokingly, "Guess there's no reason to hide it anymore. Indeed I am from another world, at least, that's what I can tell so far. I've never encountered these types of monsters either."

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his honesty, "That was strangely easier than I thought...."

After escaping the cave, you introduced Childe to the wizard who lived in Cindersap forest, M. Rasmodius. He was extremely intrigued by the concept of an outlander and seemed happy to be of assistance. Since helping others was the culture of Pelican Town, you commissioned Robin to build a small cabin for him to live in temporarily. In return, Childe must accompany you back to the caves and make up for your losses. It was a mutual benefit since he had the opportunity to fight as well.

Childe befriended the townsfolk rather easily. On friday nights where everyone goes to the Saloon to enjoy their time, he would be found in the other room playing pool with the gang (Sam, Abigail and Sebastian)-- you as well when he managed to drag you along with him.

Crashes at your place when you were busy with the farm. You can bet that he would pop up suddenly midday through your window, “Can you use the door like a normal person???” But despite how much you get irritated by this habit, all bygones are bygones the moment he starts a conversation.

He sticks around as you carry your hay batches, sharing his stories. How the organization he worked in was a powerful militaristic force that had authority over many countries. But you didn't see him as a brute since he only joined for the sake of his parents, for the sake of his siblings and their dreams.

You thought of your grandfather who also once told you to pursue your dreams: live a peaceful life away from urban society. However, as long as the harbinger was with you, there wasn't much option for 'peace'.

"Tell me again why you dragged me out here? You know thatI still have a lot of work to finish back in the farm," you trekked your feet through the thick icy sheets with one hand clutching the zipper near your collarbone. It was incredibly windy in Cindersap forest and Childe happened to have convinced you to leave the comfort of your home for 'a surprise favour'. He purposely made a vague statement to draw in your curiosity but if you had refused-- well, that would have led to constant nagging on his part.

"You'll see," is what he said, it was what he told you through this whole ordeal. He lifted his chin to feel the frosty air against his face, "There's this one activity I wanted to try out. Back in Snezhnaya, I used to bring my brother to go skating out on the lakes. It's deadly freezing there so the ice is pretty thick to work on. Haven't done any of that since I joined the Fatui."

You shot him a deadpan glare, "That's why you brought me out here? Why didn't you just go by yourself?"

"Now that's cold (Y/n),” you rolled your eyes at the pun, “Can't you loosen up instead of throwing yourself in a pile of work all day?"

"It's not that I don't want to...I'm just very busy with the farm since it's the last day of the month. At least I want to do as much as I can before Spring comes."

"Haha you're right but you only live once y'know?" Childe noted happily despite your protest, "And like I said before, seize the opportunity when you see it. You never know when it will be your last."

You cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Now let's get started shall we?" As you both reach the edge of the frozen lake, Childe takes a step forward ahead of you, "Have you ever gone ice skating before?"

"Yeah but..." You glanced at the glassy surface with skepticism, suddenly struck by hesitance. The thought of drowning made you retreat your steps right away, "I don't know Childe, it doesn't seem that safe."

"That's true if you're not careful enough," he pointed out, "Luckily you have me to help you with that."

"How does that work?"

He placed one foot onto the hardened lake and parts his mouth into a grin, "Watch."

In contrast to your cautious personality, Childe was considered to be more of a wildcard if anything. He loved adventure, just like you except his side often included bloodshed and the thrill that danger carries. You weren't sure if it was worth putting up with his antics or entertaining his idea of skating on thin ice, but you complied regardless. He had a way of delivering his words through that cheery voice you couldn't deny.

Prior to meeting him, life was boring. The corporate world was boring. You moved into your grandfather's farm in order to search for some form of fulfillment that Zuzu city couldn't give and you thought you did now that you had your very own farm, but slowly you began to pile more responsibilities than you could even count.

Everything you did, you did alone.

If it weren't for Childe, you wouldn't have learned the art of surfing on ocean waters. You never would have known the taste of mixing three different ice-cream flavours together despite what strange names they all had. Or what it felt like to mingle with the townspeople rather than mingling for the sake of business. Suddenly, everything became...fun.

Childe wanted to go far and wide. He was always running, so far ahead, somewhere beyond the stars as he could conquer the world to the point you might no longer reach him.

No longer reach him, huh. Curling your fingers into your palm, you renewed your courage and took a step onto the ice.

At the sound of boots tapping behind him, Childe spins around to see you wobble in your stance, nearly tipping over. He slid across to where you were and grasped your arm before you fell.

"Gotcha."

"Thanks," You sighed in relief, "Jeez, this is harder than I thought."

"Guess this is your first time then," he commented with a bit of jest, "Don't stress yourself over it too much, you'll be okay. I got you."

He carefully led you to the center, staying close in case you were to fall sideways again. You awkwardly tried to keep your legs straight, balancing on your own yet the fact that there was still water underneath struck fear into your nerve. It caused you to tremble and eventually skittered backwards.

"Haha ice skating isn't your forte isn't it?"

"I'm just getting started!"

He takes your hand in his before you could even protest, it was one of his many aspects that you found endearing-- the fact his impulse stems from genuine intentions, feelings, not giving them a second thought. The two of you glide using the soles of your shoes, he speeds up ever so slightly and the adrenaline begins to increase until there comes a rush of excitement, freedom. The stress you once had already forgotten once taking flight upon the ice.

"Look Childe! I'm actually doing it!" You couldn't help mentioning with a bit of youthful playfulness in your voice, "It's so smooth and fast! Almost like I'm flying!"

He smiles quietly from a distance, “See? I told you that you'll be fine.”

It was clear to many that the two of you were much closer than what meets the eye.

Childe began to notice the change in your aura. You were happier and much more soulful. Before you were always on the edge, cautious in contrast to his sanguine approach, he couldn't help but be caught off guard whenever you teased him. Or the sudden honesty that causes him to be flustered. By your side, he was no longer a Fatui Harbinger rather more of a puppy, adorable almost.

But when he saw that the reason you changed was because of him, it brought fear into his bones. Why? How did things get to this point? You were lost in a wonderland, ignorant to the blossom that had sprung inside of your chest.

Maybe it was better to be ignorant. Just live in the moment while it can still last.

"You're leaving?"

Standing at the gateway between the mountain cliffside and the starry sky, you call out to the man you've known in a way that carries more than what words could say. Because he left a mark in your years that could never be erased and here he was, trying to erase his existence completely.

Childe lets out a bitter chuckle, he didn't dare to face you, "I didn't expect you to catch up so quickly. You're quick-witted, comrade."

"It's (Y/n)," you corrected, trying to steady your voice so that he couldn't tell the expression you were making, "Why didn't you say anything? What makes you think that I'll just stay silent and let you go on your own way? This isn't a joke Childe! Don't act as if none of it matters to you because it sure as hell did to me."

His lips that held his usual smirk flattens into a straight line, "Even if I did, would it make a difference?"

The world stills. You knew the answer, he knew the answer, you just refused to admit it. One by one, the stars begin to collect themselves until a bridge was formed in front of him, on another day he would be enjoying the scenery alongside you. But today they would be for you alone to witness. The man who you spent your time with had slowly, regretfully, inevitably became a stranger. He was right. It wouldn't make a difference. You were already aware since the day you met him that he belonged to another world and you willingly offered to help him find a way home.

"You know, you could come with me."

Your eyes jolt open. His voice was so free of care. As if he was commenting on something so minor on a casual Sunday afternoon while accompanying you to the beach. But when you came face to face with the harbinger, his expression lackluster, you knew that he meant every word.

"Just you and me, we can travel across the world to our heart's content. I always thought you were an adventurer just like me and you know what, the farm life just doesn't suit you," Childe slowly extends his hand as an offer, for you it was a temptation, "So what do you think? Care to join me?

Your lip quivers. What he said sounded like a sweet dream that you so desperately wanted to take a bite out of. But even so, you thought about the townsfolk, your farm, your grandfather. Their images flashed in as if holding you back, chaining you to the ground, "I can't."

The answer pained you more than it did to him.

"Figures, this is your home after all," he huffs out, " Now do you understand? I can't leave my home either. If I did, heh, I think my siblings would despise me until the very end and I just don't want that. So no hard feelings, okay?"

You didn't reply.

"Don't worry. I won't pressure you if you don't want to," Childe turns back to the bridge, it was almost time, "Do what you have to do (Y/n), hate me if it makes you feel any better. You can even forget about me," he paused, renewing his resolve, "But I know I won't."

"Childe-"

You ran to grab his scarf only to have it ghost through your hands. He was relieved that he couldn't hear your voice, as he returned to Teyvat, Childe wonders what kind of expression did you have before he left? He'll never know.

---

~Xiao's Story~

The day you met Xiao...well, you weren't in the best of the best positions.

This was probably your sixth attempt trying to make it through all levels of the cave and reach the last floor. The quest had been sitting in your drawer for months.

Of course you didn't expect things to be easy, the fortune teller channel you watched every morning had yet to inform you with any good fortune and you would often bump into obstacles that would halt your progress.

But to be fair, sometimes the colourful ore would attract your attention and before you knew it, it was time to go.

So close yet so far. You dragged your feet tiredly against the ground. What time was it? Who knows. Judging by your state, you assumed it had already struck past 12 a.m.

However, today luck seems to have taken pity on you, just...slightly.

You puffed air into your cupped hands for the nth time, huddling deeper into the touch of your coat while trudging into the cave's cold climate. A little longer, any time soon, you kept telling yourself over and over but as if time was frozen, the wait felt like an eternity. Ah how much you wish to be in the comfort of your soft, fluffy bed right now. Though, merely visualizing the image only reminded how achingly freezing it was so you decided it was best to spare yourself from the details.

"I can't do this anymore..." leaning your head against the ice covered cavern, you whimpered, "I should have stayed home."

As you were about to shut your eyelids, something flashed by your peripheral vision. You darted towards the direction it came from, the light was a bright green hue against blue, could it be, "Warmth!"

It seems you jumped to conclusions too quickly. With impatience, you swung around the corner, expecting to find a heat source, only to meet something much more horrifying.

"KYAH!"

They stared straight into your eyes, those demonic eyes tainted by black and fangs that stuck out of the mouth like tusks on an elephant.

However, when the light evaporated you were able to have a better sense of sight, slowly revealing the monster's true form and the body of a human boy. He fell onto his back with a thud and you used this chance to calm yourself from the frightful encounter.

"He's...unconscious?"

You meekly crawled to where he lay and examined closely. Aside from the mask, there were various distinct features that stood out in his attire, his tattoo being one of them, imprinted in what looked like an eagle. You then realized how unsuitable his clothes were in this current situation. At least there were no injuries so far. But was that a good thing? This man practically came out of thin air as if some sorcery had been committed. Witches never left a good impression ever since they cursed your chicken coop. You were hesitant whether to help a stranger who could potentially be one of them or a creation they cultivated. What other explanation could there be?

"I can't leave him here, it's too cold."

Your gaze suddenly falls upon his covered face. The design, although intimidating at first, upon closer look was very alluring in it’s own way. You haven't stumbled upon anything like what the merchants had to offer in Pelican Town and the mask almost looked too foreign. Was he from the east? Curiosity eventually takes over and you gingerly reach for the mask, sliding it off his face.

"Eh...?" You gasp, taken aback by his striking appearance. A part of it made you feel this was no ordinary boy but that didn't mean he should be abandoned in this environment. It would be immoral to let him die in a place like this.

Before you could even make a noise, his eyes bursted awake, grabbing your wrist in a harsh grip. He used his other hand to push against your shoulder until you were instantly pinned on your back with no opening to escape. You choked a sharp sound as you stared with wide eyes. The man was akin to a beast, he had the expression to match it, like the glaring sharp gaze of wolves that roam at the mountain cliffside near Zuzu city and the ferocity of the demonic mask he once wore. You were breath taken but in a more fearful way as he continued to grip onto you tighter with the possible intent to harm.

"Speak!” He demanded, “What have you done to my powers and where have you brought me?"

In Xiao’s case, he was thrown into another world under the circumstances of fighting against one of Liyue’s unknown beasts. He was on high alert, thinking the fight was still ongoing.

You may look human but you could still be a threat. Xiao is the type to act upon instinct in the moment when something feels out of place. Like the spear he wields, he was trained to behave like one: to strike, strike down his foes without hesitation. Don't leave an opening for them to take the advantage. Xiao is a weapon and violence was what he knew best. He couldn't afford to lower his guard even for a minute.

You could say he left a pretty strong first impression to the point you were paralyzed. As he looked at your face, petrified and tense, he wavered and began to reevaluate things. Large doe-like eyes stare into his feline ones. They didn't seem to hold any sort of malice, was it possible for you to be the one who cursed him?

"Eeeeeek! I-I have no idea what you're talking about, let me go let me go!" you cried, "Please don't hurt me!"

Perhaps he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

Xiao feels your struggle and eventually gets off to give you some space. Your reaction was understandable, he was used to it anyways. Xiao scoffed to himself, why are mortals so weak? Their strength, if compared to the adepti, was separated by a large gap (Like it always should be). Xiao kept his gaze averted to the side as you rubbed your wrist, focusing his attention elsewhere. He glanced at the vastness of the cave in front of him.

Why was he sent here? For what reason did it serve? Ever since he sealed the contract with Rex Lapis, the guardian Yaksha had never entertained the thought of leaving his country nor did he act upon it; he was far too loyal to his god to do so. But here he was, against his own will yet free from his karmic binds, stripped of his divine powers in the return of endless questions about this new found mortal-like form.

What should I do now?

Choosing not to dwell in any longer, Xiao rises to his feet and proceeds to walk the other way.

"Ah u-uhm sir, where are you going?"

If the universe wanted to test him then he'll find his own answers.

"Wait! Please wait up!"

"Tch."

Although he intended to keep going, Xiao heard you running to his direction and slowed to a halt, some mortals surely do not know their boundaries, "Hmph there's nothing timid about you. Leave me be," he demands without turning around, "Don't forget what I'm capable of."

Stay away.

"I-I know that," you retaliate weakly. Just by hearing his tone made you want to melt away and become one with the ice. He was a scary man indeed, the same one who attacked you earlier. But even so, "That doesn't mean I want you dead! If you go that way, you might freeze to death. Aren't you cold? You don't even have a coat on."

"..." Upon the mention of his predicament, his senses started to kick in. As a yaksha, Xiao wasn't able to be affected by temperature but now he felt his hands beginning to sting, trembling from it’s impact. Ah, so this is what it feels like to be cold. Still Xiao was stubborn and continued to push you away, "What happens to me has nothing to do with you. Now leave, or else."

"I-I can't do that!"

Xiao clicks his tongue in frustration. How annoying. This is why he dislikes meddling with meddlesome humans. But quite frankly, he wasn't sure how to handle your type of forwardness since most tend to back away. And so, Xiao does what he usually does, he ignores you and continues walking, eventually you'll give up on him anyway. However he hears a loud thump and whips around to see your body laying in the snow. The hours of travelling in the cave have seemed to caught up that you inevitably collapsed from exhaustion.

Knitting his evergreen brows together, Xiao lets out an irritable sigh.

...

You wake up to find the sky above your head and your coat draped over your shoulders like a blanket. Dawn was slowly rising above the distance valley, you figured it was around 4a.m in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you eventually noticed a figure sitting across, admiring the sunrise.

"Ah it's you!"

Xiao jolts ever so slightly, peeking over his bare shoulders until you could see the sun's light casted against his golden irises. Did he stay here while you were asleep? Then, that would also mean he was also the one who carried you all the way up from sixty floors below.

“You're awake,” he noted flatly, “If that's the case, then I have no reason to stay here."

Of course, that wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

You were a tenacious human being, always so insistent in dragging him away from his lonesome personality. He resides in the forest and camps there for the time being (similar to Linus since they’re both homeless lol). But you’d always run in, DAILY and sometimes for the most stupid and mundane reasons. It could either be giving him the snacks you snatched off the table since Xiao refused to participate in parties, or fancy seashells you found on the beach. You didn’t want him to miss out on all those things of course! Although he responds with irritation, it was as if his words went through your ear and then out the other. His efforts were futile (however, he was slowly warming up without realizing).

He learns how easily his body reacts in the presence of food purely because he was hungry. You bring an extra set of blankets and pillows to his campsite when the ones you gave him wore out (he didn’t ask by the way). Xiao needed help whether he liked it or not since he no longer has his powers, hence he couldn't run away. He somehow ends up moving in to live on the small islands near your farm.

Xiao doesn't understand humans very much. Just as he was unable to understand how human emotions work. He was the almighty yaksha, Adeptus Xiao and a formidable beast that killed thousands in thousands of years, at least that's what he used to be. Even now he still has yet to figure out what he was or who he was exactly without a weapon to define his existence. He was made for battle but nowadays, he found himself watering plants, chopping down trees and throwing seeds to the chickens living in your coop. How did everything escalate to this? It baffles him, how much his life changed so drastically.

Haha, you’re Xiao of course! The greatest farming assistant I could ever have.

But above all else, the one thing Xiao couldn't understand among those universal questions, is you.

"Why are you doing all this?" Finally he asked. The urging thought had been persisting at the back of his mind ever since.

You stopped on your tracks and turned to look at him, tilting your head with a complexion made curious, "What do you mean? Ah, did I do something to bother you?"

"I didn't say that," Xiao interrupts abruptly, he folded his arms across his chest and shot you a deep contemplating gaze, " You're...incomprehensible. All I did was drag you out of that cave yet why are you so kind to me? Don't you think you're extending yourself too much just because of one little deed?"

Because to him, saving a life was the norm. He does it unconditionally just like you helped him with those same intentions. Except, Xiao had been pursuing corrupted souls behind the scenes all this time and expected nothing in return. Experiencing someone's gratitude was rather new.

You shook your head, "It wasn't small to me," a satisfactory smile melting onto your face, "I'm here at this very moment, feeling the wind against my skin and smelling the scent that nature carries, these are just the few things I cherish. It's thanks to you that I can still watch over grandpa's farm, that's why I don't feel like I'm overextending myself in any way," suddenly you beam at him, "At first I thought you were a scary person. Haha. Time flies so fast, it's amazing how much can happen in between."

"Hn, you're a simpleton. But that's not a bad thing..." he points out curtly yet softly, "Do as you wish, I won't stop you so feel free to call my name whenever you need my help. I'll be there."

Xiao also finds you to be very clumsy. He couldn't leave your side even for a minute. But that was a lie. He just grew very attached to you.

When you tell him that you've been going into the mines for a quest, he tells you that you're far from capable. So he teaches you how to wield a weapon properly. Xiao was a strict teacher and he intends to keep it that way, he wouldn’t even allow you to set foot in the mines until he finds you capable enough.

You were a meek yet optimistic person, yet you were also strong-willed.

For a place that wasn't his home, he felt it was. And he found that it was all in your presence. Those peaceful hours hiding inside the barn while a storm rages outside, you sit beside him while hugging a sheep close to your chest. Xiao learns how to feed some of them, he even brings seeds for your hen house too. If you were ever short on materials, Xiao would travel to the enchanted forest behind the wizard's tower and get them for you, no matter how late it was. Though if you went by yourself, he'd deliberately go with you despite your protest.

The minute Xiao realized how much he was attached to you, it was devastating. As if the claws of his karmic debt had come back, pulling him into the shadows once more. He was an adeptus with a contract and bound by his duty, he must choose between his god who saved him from a nightmare and you, the girl he fell for, showed him that the world was indeed a beautiful place, he was stuck in an equilibrium and he felt that the binds may even tear him apart if he kept resisting.

But when did he ever have a choice?

"Where are you going Xiao?"

When he heard your voice calling his name, the yaksha willingly pulled himself to a halt. His sunset eyes narrowing from guilt before it shuts with a trembling sigh out of his mouth. Why is it that you always appear during the moments where he desperately needs to get away from you? He planned to sneak out the door, making sure his footsteps were unheard while you slept. And by the time you woke up, he didn't have to face you, he wouldn't have to say goodbye. He won't. Even if what he was currently doing said otherwise. He will never hear himself say those words.

"Xiao?"

Yet, he cannot refuse you. Not now, not ever. You were breathtaken to see a type of expression that you never thought was possible for him to make. The creases that once formed between his slender brows, the heaviness he always carried in his expression was replaced by a sense of sentimentality. Before you could register what was happening, Xiao took his step towards the porch of your house, not once did he tear away from your attention. He slides his hand beneath your jaw and affectionately against your cheek, the fondness evident in his gaze that you almost felt imprisoned by it.

"You never fail to appear in the most inconvenient of times," He gives a weak smile, a smile that makes your heart swell. Despite how much you could drown in his honesty, you couldn’t help but feel there was something wrong, “No matter how many times I’ve tried to push you away.”

You don't know him. You don't know his history and what things he committed in the past. But as if you've known this whole time, Xiao couldn't picture you leaving him for those reasons.

“You’re gentle but you don’t let others put you down. You’re kind but you don’t allow it to be your weakness. I sometimes wonder how it is possible for anyone to be so forgiving?”

"I-I don’t understand why you’re this Xiao. Is something happening?”

He won’t tell you. He doesn’t see the reason why you need to know.

You wince when something poked the side of your neck and you realized it was a tranquilizer. You looked at Xiao with dismay, his face becoming hazier until your vision darkened and could no longer hold your own weight. Xiao caught you around the waist with one arm as you fell unconscious.

"How can you be so stupid...?"

But he speaks as if those words were meant for him.

Pulling your body closer to him, Xiao chains you down into a desperate embrace. A silent scream of desperation. His forehead pressed against the bent of your shoulder and the other arm rested his hand at the center of your back. He will relish in the shape of your body, memorizing every curve both perfections and flaws. The way you fit into his arms and the pleasant smell of nature that you taught him to love, this was the only remnant he was allowed to take. Every detail, he will remember it as if clinging to the last moments of his whole world.

If he was allowed to have a desire, let him meet you again. He prayed to a god, any god-- even if it meant damaging his oath, he will accept his punishment. He prayed to each star in the sky and if he must he'll pray to the devil himself, whatever it is, he will do it for you.

As he painfully lets go, Xiao lets his hand slide off your body until the last thing he felt was the very tips of your fingers. He settles you down gently into your bed. You belong here in this peaceful world, not the one riddled with monsters.

---

~Zhongli's Story~

The Skull Cavern was considered to be the most dangerous mine of Stardew Valley. It wasn't your intention to run into any trouble, all you wanted was to test your cool new galaxy sword on some easy monsters and then be on your merry way. At first.

Just one more floor. You say, before catching an arm sticking out a pile of rocks.

"I-Is that a person?!!!"

You dug as fast as you could, any time soon the mummies would wake up and start attacking. Quick quick! Moving the last rock, you saw the face of a young man, he was asleep but alive! and undeniably attractive oh wow *lip bite*. But despite your attempts of shaking him awake, it was fruitless and the monsters weren't waiting.

Taking out two warp totems, you raised it to the ceiling and chanted a teleportation spell.

It wasn't everyday that you brought a man to your house.

But when you did, he wouldn't be from a cave, six floors down and buried in a place filled with monsters.

"And this small black device you say is some form of communicator? That certainly is intriguing, never in my years have I heard of something so advanced."

However you were beginning to think otherwise. That this man would have been from the prehistoric ages who you managed to unbury after his thousand year slumber. Zhongli sits on the couch across from you while examining your smartphone, a term he claimed had been completely foreign. You were contemplating whether you should bother Harvey despite being past his work hour and book an emergency appointment to see if this man had a special case of amnesia.

You brushed the idea away. There was so much going on and nothing made sense, for now, you decided to settle this on your own.

"Uhm Zhongli is it?" you asked nervously, "Maybe you can try giving the name of a relative or someone you know. I can use the phonebook to see if I can find their number."

“Number?” He parroted.

You blinked a few times, making sure if you heard him correctly, “Yes, number. You know? To communicate?”

"I appreciate your kind gesture," Zhongli acknowledges in a polite manner, "But that won't be necessary. This device doesn’t seem to be at a level where it can communicate with the people from my homeland."

If he was travelling then how the hell did he end up in THE Skull Cavern is what I wanna know!

“T-Then if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?"

Zhongli takes this moment to think of an answer, aware that if he blurted something out it would not have translated in the way he wanted. But you so kindly invited him to your humble household that he felt it would only be proper to owe you an explanation, "I suppose a land from afar."

You sweatdropped, "Suppose?"

"Yes. Although I won't spare you the details since this is not your burden to bear, it’s quite difficult for me to try and remember exactly what happened," Zhongli took his chin into his hand, fingers almost covering his mouth, "Perhaps I would need search for clues in order to refresh my memory."

Oh no he really does have amnesia!!

"A-Actually why don't I just call the local doctor, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a hand," you say while taking your iPhone.

"A doctor? There's no need," dismissed Zhongli, "My condition is only a minor one and I do not think I'm in a position to afford medical assistance. Besides, you have done more than enough. May you find great fortune in your years Miss (Y/n), I shall be on my way."

He pushes himself up from the couch and you watch him cross towards the door. But just when he was about to reach the space of your carpet, Zhongli pulled to an abrupt stop.

"Ah yes,” He began as if remembering something, “ Do you happen to know where the nearest Inn is located? I would need to find a place to shelter for the time being."

"..."

This was how the former god ended up being your roommate. Like Xiao, Zhongli also takes upon a human form. He needed to eat, drink and a place to sleep. He insisted that he would take the couch as well as help you with any tasks that needed to be completed during the day.

You question if Zhongli was even aware of what situation he was currently in. Answer: HE WASN'T because Zhongli is an extremely dense man. To feel embarrassed was not part of his dictionary when living with a woman.

The type to take long showers. You always find the bathroom steaming because he doesn't turn on the fan to get rid of it (but maybe you should've taught him). So when it was your turn to use the shower, the water was either lukewarm or worst case scenario, cold.

Also he somehow finds your old kettle (that your grandfather used) to brew tea even though you told him you already had a water boiler. He stated that he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, it brings him a sense of nostalgia. You couldn't understand what he meant (unless you considered that he was older than he seemed....no that can’t be it!)

Despite it all, Zhongli was incredibly polite and considerate. Tending the farm was not an easy job and you often came home with sore muscles, fatigued from running so many errands. He's knowledgeable in terms of making the best herbal mix for a soothing remedy.

You would see a warm cup, every morning before going to work and every time you come home, it was sitting on the kitchen table (if his drink had potion effects, they would be regeneration).

Gentle he was but it wasn't good for your heart.

Ever since Zhongli moved in, it became difficult to live in your own house.

There were many situations where he caused trouble despite not intending to cause disruption to your daily routine. And when he did, the repairs came out of your own pocket. One time you opened your microwave to find thick ash and burnt cinders stuck upon the walls.The entire space was a hazard and needed to be dispensed immediately since Zhongli thought that plastic-wrapped items were allowed to be microwaved. Another incident, as bizarre as it sounded, was when your vacuum cleaner zoomed out of your house...and never came back. You remembered the awkward cough he gave when you shot him a deathly glare, hence why Zhongli was not allowed to touch your high-tech devices (if you considered them high-tech) without your permission.

Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. It was the opposite in fact. One day, all the flaws you counted suddenly became his charms. You came to find them endearing almost.

Zhongli was a handsome man. He carried himself with a distinct aura that could only be found in the rarest geodes; revealing orestones mined from the depths of a forgotten cave, sometimes in the shape of exquisite artifacts-- a type of ancient charm. Perhaps that was why people were willing to obey his every command without hesitation. Whenever Zhongli spoke, it was full of firmness and authority yet somehow deprived of arrogance. He was polite to all and does not indulge in conflict despite how tempting gossip can be in modern society. Always patient during your temperamental moments and considerate to the point you wonder if he even had any desires. He was so kind that soon enough, you couldn't help but be flustered by his presence. Forget about having a conversation, maintaining his leveled gaze was already enough of a challenge. Like staring into the sun after the morning dew. So gentle and so very comforting. But the more you linger onto the sun, it's rays will continue to set ablaze, eventually bringing you pain.

And you feared that you have grown addicted to those feelings.

Why can't he understand?

Stopping at the center of the bridge, you kept your head low while letting the anger take form into your tightened fists. The town was empty with only the sound of water flowing beneath your feet, filling the heavy air. They rippled and swayed, peaceful amongst your inner turmoil. The fact that such a miniscule attribute was able to make your blood rise was hilariously pitiful. How did you stoop to a point that even nature, the very being you've tended for a living, could bring you bitterness? Were your feelings this uncontrollable? The answer was obvious. It spiraled, violently and mercilessly as if commanded by another. There was a wave of emotions filling your heart and you could almost feel yourself drowning from the inside. If only they were as tranquil as the ones you stood upon.

"I thought I would find you here."

The voice you dreaded calls from across and you fight to keep yourself from gasping. Oblivious to it all, Zhongli proceeds to close the distance until he towered over you, looking down to your bowed head, "When you hadn't returned home without a notice, I was getting worried if something had happened. But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

Your whole face clenches.

"Is something bothering you? If you would like, we can discuss it after eating dinner. Come, I have already prepared our meal while you were gone as well as turning off the rice cooker once finished. I hope it can ease your stress since I know it can be difficult maintaining a farm like this."

"Zhongli."

He blinks hard when the sound of his name falls out of your lips. Zhongli was an experienced observer and listener, he was able to catch the glimpse of frustration that dripped from the tone you used. Relaxing his poised shoulders, Zhongli carefully asked in a reserved manner, "Have I...done something to make you upset?"

A trembled breath escaped when you breathed out. Dense. He was so dense that sometimes it made you want to crack him open.

"Tell me..." you began, "Are you also like this with other women?"

The former god sets a brief sharp pause, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm talking about the way you act, they're...giving me all these mixed signals. We've been living together for months, we even share meals together! And sometimes you would help me with the farm and when I didn't ask, you still insisted on tending to my needs when I felt sick. I just…” you trailed off, trembling ever so slightly, "It's all perfectly normal. You’re nice to everyone. I know that. I know that!"

"(Y/n)," Zhongli whispered. They sounded like a thousand needles to your heart.

"I doubt you have the intention to put me in this situation. You're a really great person Zhongli but I sometimes can't help feeling this isn't just some roommate thing you know?" closing your eyes, you thought of your past relationships, how they started and ended, "Do any of your actions mean anything to you? Do you know how it makes me feel? Or am I just overthinking this, that it was all one-sided this whole time?"

Alas the truth spills and the air stills, bringing the waves to a halt. Peace, tranquility, nothingness. That was all you wanted. That was all you heard. It was deafening.

"I see, so that's why," Zhongli mutters to himself with eyes narrowed, "There's...something I need to confess."

After several months, he tells you everything. How his memories returned, some of them were already intact. He told you about his homeland and his true identity, that he was a god that once ruled over Liyue for six centuries before giving away the gnosis.

The reason why he hadn't said anything until now was because there will be a day where Zhongli must depart and return to Teyvat. He was a god with a contract, the circumstance didn't matter, he must stay with it until the very end of time.

Through his years, Zhongli learned to cherish his finite moments. He didn't want to taint them with troubles to come. Thinking too far ahead into the future would only bring strain.

But what he didn't tell you was his true feelings. You were a sweet woman, tender and enthusiastic about agriculture, the way your feelings extend to the earth with grace whereas many others chose to trample over without hesitation, he fell deeply in love with that side of yours. You taught him many things and showed him many sides of humanity that he had never seen before. He even discovered an aspect of himself. Like breaking a geode, revealing the beauties held inside.

Zhongli couldn't look you in the eye when your expression was covered in disbelief. He thought he hid his feelings well but it seemed that he was expressing his love in subtle and subconscious ways that eventually drove you to fall for him as well. You didn't stop him when he left the bridge. He wasn't even in your house. He chose this, he chose to set you free from his heavy presence.

And as the weight started to lift from your shoulder, you sank to your knees and wept. It was cruel of him. To give you these emotions yet he could not bring himself to stay by your side. But your heart would not allow you to hate the man you love.

Things couldn't end this way. You had to say goodbye to him, see him one last time because if you didn't, these burdens will haunt you forever.

When Zhongli looked up to the sky he saw his ending drawing near.

Three days had passed since he last spoke with you and he had no plans in seeing you again. Soon, the former god will return to his rightful place. Even though he had already given his gnosis to the Cryo Archon as Liyue already began to enter a new era, it seems that his decisions weren't his to make as he was born in a world where stars ruled above the archons. Fate-- they won't allow it. He does not belong here. If there was one thing Zhongli regretted during his time in your world, it was that he couldn't leave you a good memory before taking his departure. The sight of your large glassy eyes and quivering lips when he crushed you with the truth, he sincerely believed that they would haunt him much more than it probably did to you. But perhaps things would be easier if you despised him. Because if he had stayed and you came to forgive him, he would no longer have the strength to let go.

Despite it all love was indeed a selfish creature. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards the stars for bringing you into his life in such a mockingly sweet manner. They tied him with a contract, made him vow to his own beliefs and tested them by using you-- a bystander struck between the crossfire, eventually bringing you down into the depths of his battlefield and he thought that maybe...maybe there was hope that he could bring you with him as well.

How disgraceful for a god to let the devil tempt him so.

Zhongli was thankful that you weren't beside him. Otherwise he would dance with the ugly hope of a slim chance for you to come along. This was the best choice. It was for his-- your own good.

"Zhongli!"

The arch of his lined eyes shot upwards. As if fate had decided to give him one final test, he felt your small figure crash into him from behind and your arms coming to hug around his waist, tightly and fearfully that he felt like you would be the one who would slip away instead.

"I...I made it time," you panted, burying your nose into his clothed back, "I’m so glad...I'm so glad you're still here…!"

Your cry of relief was a thunder to his ears, a reminder that he was the main cause. Zhongli, casted by solemn smile, lifts his hand to cover over yours and grasped onto them, I'm here, he wishes to say. Yet he knew they were only temporary promises, "To come all this way despite everything that has happened. You foolish girl..."

"It's your fault Zhongli, I'm a fool because I love you! It's all your fault that I have to say goodbye," You grit your teeth as the tears fell down your face until it blended into his clothes, "Take me with you. Please. Don't leave me all alone…!"

The words he wanted to say melted into a silent gasp through parted lips. Zhongli merely clenched them back together and his hand on your hand, even tighter. He won't lie to you. At the very least, let his actions speak for him where he himself could not.

Take me with you.

Don't leave me alone.

Goodbye.

If it is fated Morax...we will meet again.

"I see," letting his thoughts echo in his mind from the distant memories, the former god begins to take a new perspective upon his wisdom, "For many years, I have experienced countless farewells from the people I've come to known," Zhongli reminisced, tilting his head back with his golden eyes against night, as if searching for some sort of answer, "And yet I never thought what it must have felt like being in their position."

"Zhongli…" you trailed off, "Then don't! I may not know everything about you but it doesn't have to be this way. At least, just answer me this, will I ever see you again?"

"I'm sorry (Y/n)," he apologized and you knew the answer. He gently pries your arms off him, turning around so he could swipe the corner of your eyes dry. There was a glowing reverence in his countenance, one that he reserved for you and only you, it was the only way for him to express the feelings that run deep in his heart, "I cannot thank you enough for coming into my life. If there will be a day when I erode from your memories, I truly hope that you will find someone more suitable than I."

"That's ridiculous," defiantly, refusedly, you protest, "No one can replace you."

Zhongli laughs sadly as the white halo outlines his whole figure, signaling that there wasn't much time left. He wonders if there was anything he could do in his last moments, a small token, something, it could even be as small as a single star in the sky, "If it is fated...we will meet again."

You watch him turn transparent until he slipped from your grasp. No longer was the man, only the dust being one with the sky. They shone brilliantly but you were left in the darkness.

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undermattsun-archive · 4 years ago

Text

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii + @sugardaddykenma for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on.

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest.

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course.

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost.

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone.

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes.

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward.

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort.

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him.

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck.

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door. You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat.

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him.

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine.

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you.

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut.

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit.

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.”

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air.

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you.

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back.

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?”

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin.

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you.

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.”

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt.

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.”

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man.

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

511 notes · View notes

sugadaily · 3 years ago

Link

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

#yoongi #suga #bangtan #bts #210730 #interview

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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

Text

(gif from Jason Passaro’s youtube edit here)

Title: One Shitty Friday Night (Part 1)

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Colossus x Shadowcat

Summary: Set after the events of Deadpool 2, you and your boyfriend Peter are on a double date downtown with your fellow X-Men Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) and Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) when Deadpool and Russell arrive unexpectedly. Chaos and violence naturally ensues, including taking down mafia henchmen, dealing with news media and paparazzi who circle in with the action, and a jealous Peter. This will be concluded in Part 2 with the mixed reactions of Logan, Charles, and Erik when you all bring Wade and Russell back home, etc. 😄

Notes: For simplicity’s sake as Piotr R. is normally called “Peter” as well, he’ll just be referred to as Colossus here.

Warnings: Some alcohol use. And it’s Deadpool, so a lot of cursing and irreverent jokes of course. This started out as just crack!fic that became actual fic that had to be split into two parts because it hit post limit. Holy cow.

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

Kitty all but snorted, trying to put her drink back down on the table before it could end up fully sideways instead as her laughter left her trembling.

Colossus sighed quietly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her before helping dab up some of her errant wine off the table with a thick cloth napkin.

It was late Friday night, and save for your semi disapproving, large and very Russian designated driver, the other three of you were now several drinks deep and a bit too loudly enjoying Peter’s retelling of the Led Zeppelin cover band debacle. You’d been there with him that night, but it never got old the way Peter told it.

“I shit you not, and this guy still keeps hitting on Jean.” Peter continued, his third nearly empty glass of craft beer still in hand. “Scott’s about to fry the dude. They’re playing Immigrant Song, and these lasers start up. All dudebros in the club go wild, and Scott tries to sneak off a warning shot. Freaking air balls it! I have to move like forty people and it still blows a damn hole in the wall. But nobody even noticed! Fake Robert Plant is screaming his heart out and everybody is just eating it up. I swear my Dad could have flown in there, cape billowing and they still would have thought it was part of the show!”

You were at risk of being elbowed in this small restaurant booth, with how animated Peter was as he spoke beside you. But you didn’t mind. The lighting was dim, possibly verging on romantic, the smell of good food from the kitchen reminded you of what was to come, and you were just enjoying time with some of your favorite people.

When Peter did finally drop his hand again though, the not so subtle movements of it then up your thigh also promised something much more personal later tonight. Maybe it was the warmth from the mixed drinks you were also nursing, but you shifted your leg a little, pushing even more into his touch under the table. Your movement just signaled your silent agreement to him that tonight would be a perfect night to be throwing clothes on the floor as soon as you got back to your shared room at the mansion.

It’d been a long, tiring week after all. Helping teach classes during the day and training your ass off in the danger room every night, you didn’t think it was unreasonable to cut loose a bit now.

Even Colossus was chuckling a little at last, but the big guy was always softest around Kitty. You in particular had been one of her biggest supporters when she’d first confessed her attraction towards him. You’d noticed his bashfulness with her as well, and all the little glances he’d given her long before she’d ever worked up the courage to ask him out.

But that seemed so long ago now, it was hard to really remember a time when they weren’t together. Almost as long as you and Peter really.

You glanced up as the waiter came back by to check on you all, saying your food would be out in a few more minutes and asking if anyone needed more drinks.

“Oh gosh, we’re really running up the tab right?” Kitty smiled.

You could see the little bit of relief in Colossus’ expression as she waved the waiter off though, her current wine glass still nearly full. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Peter glanced at you and you nodded as well. A buzz was fine, but you didn’t want to be climbing the mansion stairs full on drunk tonight. “I’m good.”

As the waiter left, your conversation got a little more subdued. You leaned into Peter somewhat, hip to hip in the booth as he put his arm around your waist.

Kitty was now talking about a movie she thought you should all go see next weekend if you could. You were just in the process of agreeing as you’d wanted to see it too, when Colossus suddenly went stock still, a look of real surprise on his face.

Kitty evidently noticed as soon as you did, you both staring up at him in unison.

“Do not turn around,” He instructed to you and Peter, eyes locked on something behind you.

Of course when told to do one thing, it would take everything in Peter’s willpower to not do the opposite. But to his credit he actually did hesitate. “Do we need to be dodging something? I mean, I can move us if I need to, man. You just gotta let me know.” Peter stated.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Please do not draw attention.” Colossus responded, still frustratingly vague to the rest of you.

But he hadn’t metaled up yet, his skin still entirely human looking. So on the plus side, it couldn’t be someone he thought an immediate physical threat.

You glanced to Kitty for some hope of explanation as she was seated beside Colossus and facing the same direction. But she was too short in comparison to him, and couldn’t see all the way across the booth dividers as easily as he could. “Well who is it?” Kitty demanded quietly.

But you heard an impatient voice carry over clearly from the nearby restaurant entrance.

“Look, you know he’s here. I know he’s here. Don’t make me leave you guys a bad Yelp review. I will totally Karen that shit up. I’m just here for him.” A pause. “...And some of the cannolis. God, I love those things. You went a little scarce on the filling last time though. Don’t make me add that to the Yelp review.”

You heard the hostess stutter, fear evidently building. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in this restaurant. The owner, he, I...I can’t.”

There was a loud sigh from the man, the distinct sound of a gun cocking, and then all hell broke loose.

“WADE!” Colossus screamed, your entire table flipping as he stood up, metal now encasing him in this even larger form.

Abruptly you were now standing back by the entrance yourself. Peter had one arm around you, and the other around Kitty as he let you both go just as instantly, having just brought you there before he disappeared again.

That little flare up of vertigo from the speed and sudden stop didn’t mix well with the alcohol, and she and you both stood there another moment, queasy as Peter appeared again with an armful of guns.

It would have been comical as he clearly had no idea where to put them now, but everyone else that had still been in the restaurant was already screaming and running for the doors in a panic.

The owner of the multiple guns couldn’t care less about the crowd however, only turning his full focus to the lot of you then in exasperation.

“Oh my God, you anti second amendment, mother fuckers. I’m in the middle of a job here!”

“You can’t just point guns at innocent people, Wade! We have talked about this many times!” Colossus retorted, all seven foot of him now standing over Deadpool with paternal like annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s called a threat. I wasn’t going to kill her you overprotective, asshat! Now Giovanni is probably holed up in some pussy ass panic room, or he’s already ghosted me out the back door! And yes, I know that is such a stereotypical mob boss name and totally sounds like the Pokemon villain. Fuck him and his always trying to take Pikachu! He had a talking cat the whole time who just wanted his love, but no, got to have the electric rat. Fuck!”

“Language, Wade!” Colossus scolded. “There is still a child present!”

And honestly in all this insanity, that was the first time you actually noticed Russell also still standing there. Everyone else in the room had now fled out into the street.

“I’m fucking fourteen,” The boy replied defiantly. “And yeah, we were working!”

“Daddy and angrier metal daddy are just talking, hon.” Deadpool commented, waving a hand.

There was a small gust of air beside you and you looked to Peter knowingly. Wade’s guns were now all on a table, though intentionally still distant from your current position. “So I just made a couple laps.” Peter spoke up. “The cops are already coming, and there’s still a bunch of guys in the basement. They were opening some crates, probably getting weapons? I didn’t know if we were taking them out yet though. I didn’t touch anything. But is Giovanni like a big dude with gold rings and all?”

“I’m telling you besides the drug and human trafficking, it’s practically more criminal how much he sets back Italian-American stereotypes. They are an honest, manicotti making people goddamn it.” Deadpool answered.

You really were starting to regret the amount of drinks you’d had. If you’d known tonight was going to be anything like this, you would have gladly stuck to water. Your head was already trying to throb a little as you finally spoke. “So, does this guy actually have warrants out on him? If the cops come, they’re all going to end up shooting each other most likely. Can we just defuse this by giving him up to them?”

“I would say we assist to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, if that is the case, yes. I’m sure the Professor would prefer that.” Colossus agreed.

“Freaking goody two shoes, all of you.” Wade sighed. “But he has to get arrested or dead okay? I don’t get paid otherwise.” He paused though, then looking back up to Colossus before suddenly elbowing him. As if he’d even really feel that. “And hello rudeness, are you not going to introduce me to your little girls night out club here before we go bust some heads in a gratuitous X-Force/X-Men hotties crossover?”

“X-Force?” Kitty asked, sounding as already over this as could be.

“Well, we are a little empty on the roster at the moment. Some...unfortunate parachuting incidents. Wind advisory that day. You know how it goes.” Deadpool shrugged.

By her expression, no. She did not know how it went.

But the sooner you started, the sooner this could be over. Colossus motioned to each of you in turn, “Peter, (Y/N), and Kitty. These are my teammates and friends.” He nodded back to Deadpool, “And this is Wade.” And then to the boy. “And Russell.”

Of course you already knew who they both were. It’d been a bit of a scandal really, with the whole Essex House fiasco and the deaths that had occurred there. Fair or not, a lot of the blame had ended up on Juggernaut the second time around though you thought. Which is why Charles hadn’t had to deal with too much bad press in the aftermath.

You could not let this become another Essex House situation for the X-Men though. You were about to speak up about heading to the basement together and Deadpool staying out of your way so you all could neutralize everyone without any fatal hits, when he gasped dramatically, making you freeze again.

“Kitty!? Like an actual girl named Kitty? Oh my God, this whole time I thought you were his cat!” He hit his own leg, laughing. “I’m thinking, holy shit this guy loves his goddamn cat, but who am I to judge you know? I had a dog named Mr. Shuggums. Cutest little fucker.” He took a breath. “I miss him.”

“Wade.” Colossus groaned. “We do not have all night.”

Okay, so there was still something sweet about Colossus gushing about his girlfriend even to this manic mercenary. But no kidding, this show really needed to get on the road here.

“Guys, why don’t we just let Peter disarm them all, Colossus, you grab Giovanni, and Kitty and I deal with anyone who still resists? No one has to get hurt, and then it’s all done, easy.”

“And then we go find somewhere else to eat. Killing me here. I wanted that damn calzone and tiramisu.” Peter sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again. “More guns coming up.”

He disappeared at once, but when he didn’t return immediately as you were so accustomed to, you and Kitty exchanged a nervous look.

And after only another few seconds, your instincts told you something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the basement directly beneath us?” You asked Deadpool sharply, already reaching out a hand to Kitty. Your adrenaline was starting, all good feelings gone as it was now time to act.

But you’d worked together long enough now, you didn’t have to explain your plan to her or Colossus.

Yet when the previously mouthy merc had no instant response, just staring at you in thought, it was clear he hadn’t done any recon beforehand at all. He’d literally just walked in here and expected everything to work out.

“Perfect.” Kitty said sarcastically, glancing quickly to Colossus as she took your hand. “You’re our backup, dear, in case our vertical entrance doesn’t work out. Come find us.”

“Always.” He said, already turning, his weight shaking the floor as he ran to look for any stairway downward while you and Kitty dropped straight through the floor.

It was surely a risk of its own to use her phasing ability so blindly as this. You could end up in a too small crawlspace, in underground piping, a sewer system, anything really. She’d make sure not to go solid until it was safe, as to not impale or bury you alive of course. But if Peter were in trouble, there was no time to waste by ending up at a dead end and having to go back up and try again.

You’d held your breath, as there was no way for you to process oxygen either as your lungs and every other part of you shifted through the other matter. It was darkness and insulation, pipes, and conduit that flashed by at first. But in the fractions of seconds that it took to fall, you had already powered up. The white light of your energy field overtaking your body, shielding you both as you did fall into a larger open area.

It was even darker than the restaurant above, all concrete and dampness. The glow from your body was the brightest thing there as much more men than you’d expected all turned in surprise. You saw the glint of multiple gun barrels now, but the thing you wanted to see most was Peter’s silver hair as you’d scanned the area for him instantly.

There was a stairwell in the distance. He was laying near the bottom of it. But you had no time to be shocked or afraid, only anger swelled as you released Kitty’s hand, making you solid again. “I’ll get him.” Was all you said. Letting her know to protect herself as you flew to him. Bullets couldn’t hurt her if she was ready for them. But Peter would be defenseless without one of you now, and by means of your power of flight you were the faster of you and her.

The man closest to Peter had a different kind of gun though you realized. Something you didn’t recognize at all as he aimed at you. You splayed your palms to create an energy shield in front of you as he pulled the trigger.

It didn’t make a sound though. But everything around you instantly distorted as pain exploded through you. You saw five or six of him now, as your feet hit the ground, unable to concentrate enough to fly then. But even as you stumbled, realizing your shielding wasn’t fully stopping whatever that weapon was doing, you were still able to expand your shield rapidly, hitting the man with the force of a car in your pain and sending him flying into a nearby wall, the weapon clattering to the ground lightly against his now limp body.

But you still felt like you were going to puke.

“Kill them you idiots!” Someone screamed.

You dropped yourself, laying over Peter just as quickly, grateful to feel him breathing as you focused through the pain to extend a shield around you both as the gunfire started.

“Bitch!” Another man yelled as Kitty just walked unharmed through all the flying bullets towards you.

“Shadowcat actually,” She said, skilled enough in her powers to choose what was solid and what wasn’t. Just the outside of her fist being all she needed to crush his nose in one punch with a squirt of blood, and only the end of her foot used as she swept her leg after to knock his own right out from under him.

Even among your own team, sometimes people could forget that that petite Jewish girl was about as skilled a martial artist as anyone could be.

“Babe?” You heard against your ear though, glancing back down to Peter. There was real relief even in the chaos as you saw him smile up at you.

He talked back against your ear in the noise as Kitty continued to utterly wreck the guys around you. “I fucked up a little, right? That gun...they already had it going, aimed at the door when I came back, a trap...I think I hit every stair on the way down...I still see like three of you right now.”

“Ditto.” You breathed.

And then there was another even louder noise as the remnants of a door also came flying down the stairs. Colossus barreled in behind it like a stampeding elephant, Deadpool right behind him as they leapt over the both of you and joined the fray.

“We found the basement!” Deadpool announced gleefully, swords swinging. “Don’t think they’d even locked the door back actually, but fuck if big Russki doesn’t love a dramatic entrance!”

For a moment you thought all your words about at least trying not to kill had been for nothing, thinking Deadpool was going to chop these men into literal pieces. But even as blood sprayed left and right, you realized he was just cutting tendons. The men then unable to hold their guns, unable to stand at all as he crippled each he reached in succession.

It was still completely horrific, but hell, how much could you really ask for from someone like him? Especially when you yourself had slammed that one man into a concrete wall as if he were a ragdoll. You glanced over anxiously for a moment, glad to see him shifting a little, but still crumpled exactly where you’d thrown him. He was alive, a small relief at least.

——————————

Obviously the other gunmen hadn’t had a prayer either though once you’d all been down there together.

Colossus already had a still cursing Giovanni slung over one shoulder as you were now helping Peter back up and trying not to step in all the blood as you all walked over to Kitty.

“What a mess...very interesting weapon though,” She spoke of that odd gun that’d been used on you and Peter, it now in her hands as she turned it one way and then another examining it. “I’m bringing this back with us. The police don’t need anything like this. Hank and I can figure out how it works. And how to defend against it hopefully before we run into another one of these out in the field.”

“It seems this Giovanni was more a threat than expected,” Colossus said, giving the still squirming man an unhappy look, before looking back to you all. “Are you alright, Peter?”

“I’m still hungry.” Peter grumbled, an arm over your shoulder to still help stabilize him as his other hand went to his head as if it were pounding. He also had some bruising starting on his face, no doubt from his tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have drank so damn much if I’d known we weren’t going to eat...”

With the speed of his metabolism, that alcohol likely was hitting him pretty hard now on his already empty stomach.

“We should turn this guy over and get out of here.” You agreed. Though you didn’t feel so hot yourself. Still a little nauseous from whatever that weapon did to your senses. But at least you weren’t seeing triple of everything anymore.

“Hold it, girl scouts!” Deadpool piped up, chipper as ever as he grabbed something at Giovanni’s neck before any of you could think to stop him.

The man choked just a moment though, before a piece of metal snapped off into Wade’s hands. It was a necklace, with a symbol of some sort. You saw just a glimpse of it before Deadpool pocketed it. “No proof of finishing the job, no payday for DP. No payday, then no liquor, no coke, no hookers. Am I right?”

It was too difficult to tell when if ever he was serious, and you all chose to ignore his comment, starting back up the stairs. The odd sounds of bullet fragments falling back down the stairwell caught Peter’s attention though as he gave a grossed out look to Wade for a moment.

The now impact deformed bullets were starting to work themselves back out of all the bloody holes in Deadpool’s costume. You knew where you’d seen that before of course, but Peter was the only one that actually said it aloud.

“Damn, you and Logan would be a pair.”

There was a pause, and you could swear even with the mask, you thought you saw Wade’s cheekbones move in a way that signaled he was outright grinning from ear to ear. “At least someone gets it. He still won’t return my calls though. Such a diva lately.”

Once you did get to the top of the stairs, you only found a very agitated Russell standing there, Wade’s guns in his arms. “You took long enough, the cops are outside you know. I’m not going back to jail for you!”

“Cool your tater tots, kid.” Deadpool responded lazily, in no hurry, but grabbing the weapons back to holster them all regardless.

“I could have finished this faster! I would have fried their asses!” Russell argued.

“You would have been shot. Fire does not stop bullets.” Colossus only answered matter of factly.

Russell made a face, but Wade cut him off before he could say any more.

“Now now, listen to metal daddy. No sass. And actually, I think there’s something we should talk about, champ. X-Force is way more badass and all, but we don’t exactly have a training and junior member tier yet. Maybe later. You might want to think about riding home with these guys and checking their setup out. I don’t have any powers myself to relate to you like that, except me being very shootable, devastatingly charming, sexy, smart, and a competitive level Skee-Ball player...”

Deadpool sighed, continuing. “But these guys have a Danger Room. Which is totally not a sex dungeon, yeah I was bummed about that too. But they could let you unleash that school shooter level teenage angst and burn all the shit you wanted until you really figure out your powers.��

Russel bristled. “I’m not a school shooter you prick! And you always said the X-Men were neutered dweebs and-”

Wade coughed loudly, ushering Russell forward suddenly as you all continued to walk. “Hah, kids. Such darlings. Mishear everything don’t they?”

Colossus only answered without offense though. “The offer is still open, Russell. Though you have said no before. The Professor would never turn down a young mutant in need.”

It was Peter who surprised you a little, a smirk on his face as he contributed. “Freaking sweet house too, man. Xavier’s loaded. Big screen TV, a pool, basketball court, your own room, supersonic jet. Bunch of cute girls as well, or cute boys, you know whatever you’re into.”

“I’m not gay.” Russell huffed, but actually looked to be listening now as he didn’t immediately spit back with a sarcastic retort.

Though you gave Peter a weird look and he just grinned. “What? I stayed for you didn’t I, babe? Just saying. I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole team thing before that either. I know where he’s coming from is all.”

“It’s up to you, Russell.” Kitty said more diplomatically, before returning to the matter at hand. “We’re parked at that parking garage two blocks south. Everyone meet back there, Colossus and I will hand this guy over to the cops out front. The rest of you, I’m sure there’s got to be some emergency exit you can sneak out of. Probably better to split up actually. Less attention.”

—————————

Just as Kitty had suggested, Deadpool and Russell went out one way, and you and Peter another. You came out onto another street behind the restaurant. And you’d just finally started to relax again, Peter taking your hand in his own and walking away like an honest to God normal couple for once, just out on the town together before you noticed an oddly placed white van with distinct lettering on it.

Peter saw it too just as the light from a camera hit you both.

“Hell,” You breathed.

“Want to run?” He asked seriously.

“Too late, they’d just film us ditching, and say we had something to hide.”

Your headache was returning in full force you thought as you steeled yourself, seeing the reporter now in a full sprint towards you.

“It’s Quicksilver! And (your codename)! The X-Men are here!” A woman shouted.

As you walked closer to the news van, the camera flashes only increased. It looked like a small group of paparazzi had also camped out here, hoping for this exact result. How did word travel so damn fast?

“Marcia Fletcher, WAFN nightly news!” She introduced herself at once, her camera man there just as quickly, huffing a little from the run as he got you both in focus.

You could see the lights on on his camera as she shoved her microphone in front of you and Peter. “You’re on live coverage of the Ruffiano’s restaurant shootings with WAFN. Is it true that Giovani Marcello was apprehended here tonight by the X-Men? And how did you know he was here when he’s been on Interpol’s most wanted list for four years?”

You knew without looking at him that Peter was happily deferring the speaking role to you now as you tried not to look rattled. You attempted to think of what Charles would and wouldn’t want you to say, even with the pain in your head and lingering nausea. “We didn’t know who was here. We were in the area and saw people running and went to help, that’s all.” You lied.

“But the reports of gunshots, witnesses also said Deadpool had drawn a gun on a restaurant employee and Colossus was seen inside. Is Deadpool now affiliated with the X-Men again? Did he shoot anyone?”

“Deadpool is not affiliated with the X-Men. Colossus was here tonight, but he only would have been defending anyone he thought in danger. Deadpool did not shoot anyone.” You tried to keep to short truths that time.

“But then why was Deadpool there? Should people really believe it would be a coincidence that the X-Men and Deadpool would be at the same incidence at one time if not working together?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? Are you affiliated with us?” You replied before you could stop yourself, though still restraining the annoyance you really wanted to put into that statement. “Trouble attracts a crowd.”

Peter made a sound, a restrained laugh you knew. But before the reporter could blurt out another question, one of the now growing number of paparazzi called out, “(Your codename), hey look here! Is it true you and Quicksilver are still dating!?”

You knew better than to be baited, humoring any of them just made it worse. They were like piranhas. But Peter couldn’t help it, turning to look as so many cameras flashed. His arm slid around you protectively. “Why wouldn’t we be, dude?” He called back.

“Are you saying the photos of (your codename) and Gambit were before you two reconciling?”

It took every ounce of your self control to not respond, but oh God did you want to. It was the mission in Tanzania. You knew it. You, Storm, and Gambit. Peter had stayed in the U.S. for that one as it’d been the holidays and his Mom had wanted both he and Wanda over for some time together.

After the mission was over, the three of you had ended up on one of the beautiful Tanzanian beaches for a single day. Just a single day to yourselves.

You’d had the audacity to wear a revealing bathing suit though and you and Remy had been photographed together, him shirtless of course because it was a goddamn beach. And laughing and smiling because, surprise, you were friends! And they’d cropped Ororo out in all the closeups for complete loss of context.

It’d been a thing in some of the tabloids for a while, but you really thought that had finally blown over. Of course if anyone asked Remy, he liked to play coy on the whole subject to keep up his God’s gift to all men and women sex symbol status.

“Peter, let’s just go,” You whispered in his ear, sure anything else said would only make things worse.

But you could read him all too well, and when he turned his face to look back at you, you already knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him, because never would you humiliate him on live television with any type of rejection, but oh, you would never live this one down. Never.

He kissed you hard. And there was nothing fake about it, honestly the kind of kiss usually reserved for your bedroom as you felt heat rising up in you. The camera flashes clicking over and over as you could still taste the alcohol he’d drank before.

When he finally released you again, you gasped a little. He gave the photographers a ‘fuck you’ look, before speaking just to you. “Now we can go.”

“Fly or run?” You breathed.

“Fly please. I’m still about half out of it.” He admitted.

You powered up to some surprised and excited sounds from the crowd. Your whole body glowing white again in the energy you emitted.

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay and talk to the police!?” The reporter shouted.

“They know where to find us if they need us.” You answered, extending your energy field around Peter, before you took off vertically, making sure to get sideways over the rooftops as soon as you could though to breakup their camera angles and finally give you privacy again at last.

You landed gently atop the parking garage only a few moments later, letting him go again as you powered back down.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, just taking your hand again though.

“No.” You said truthfully. “But, I have no idea what we’ve really just done. We still have to go home...home where the Professor always watches the 10:00 news with his late night tea.”

Peter sighed, only half joking. “We could always go stay with my Mom for a while?”

You just moved in closer, pulling him against you as you laid your head on his shoulder. “We’ll survive, babe. Somehow we always do.”

“I think that says more about you than me though. Pretty sure I’d be face down in a ditch somewhere already if it weren’t for you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck then before raising your head back up to kiss him once more. Much softer this time, and even longer than his jealous little display a few minutes ago.

He made one of his little noises of contentment, hands sliding down to squeeze your butt through the thin pants you were wearing. As he pulled your hips tighter against him, he broke the kiss enough to speak regretfully. “I really was hoping to get lucky tonight...”

“Same.” You smiled. It had been a while. Mostly from you both being so tired by the time you finally got in bed. Passing out on each other had more been the norm the past couple weeks. “We get some food in you, and see where things go?”

“Gross! Get a room!”

You startled at the sudden shouting, having wholly thought yourselves alone up here in the moonlight.

Peter rolled his eyes, yelling back at Russell, “Kid, we have one! And we’d already be back there by now if it wasn’t for your little mafia hunting shenanigans!”

You looked over to see Deadpool and Russell both standing in the doorway to the parking garage stairs.

Wade whistled, leaning back against the doorframe. “Way to take down that Marcia Fletcher a notch! I always found her too uppity to be honest. I think she’s still butt hurt that they didn’t give her the lead anchor spot when Carl Sanderson moved to the early bird morning show. Tanya Meyer on the 5:00 news though, that’s my girl.”

You blinked. “How...how do you know-” It was literally minutes ago, it would have taken them just this long to walk here.

Deadpool lifted up his cell phone. “Facebook live, bitches. Don’t you follow WAFN? The recipes they post from Saturday morning cooking with Pat are always delish.” He looked back down at the phone though, happily reading. “Hah! Peggy Fredrickson from Brewster, New York thinks Marcia’s contouring and drawn on eyebrows are getting worse. Fire your makeup person, Marcia.” He tapped something on the screen. “Like comment! Oh, and Michael Morris from Ridgefield says who wouldn’t do Remy LeBeau. Damn, Michael, all out and proud on main.”

Peter let go of you, taking an annoyed breath. But then looking back to you. “Please let me at least prank Remy, something, anything.”

“But he didn’t do anything.” You replied, though only more stressed now that this was already blowing up on social media.

“Exactly! He should have at least denied it! But no, Mr. cool Cajun can’t admit that you’d actually choose me over him.”

“Hey now, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Quickie.” Deadpool interjected. “There’s always the ménage à trois option. I mean he’s French right? And Michael from Ridgefield is just spitting truth. Who wouldn’t want to do Remy LeBeau? He could shuffle my cards anytime.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Russell groaned. “Can we go find your damn car now?”

But you didn’t move yet, still looking fully at Peter. “Wade’s just trying to get under your skin. We all know how Remy is. He’d flirt with a piece of cardboard if it suited him. It doesn’t mean anything to him.” You recognized that Gambit was physically attractive of course, you had eyes too after all. But that was the only extent of it. You loved Peter. Not to mention you wouldn’t at all want to get on Rogue’s bad side. She and Gambit were tumultuous enough without someone else being added to the mix.

“This is adorable, really. But I did bring ‘good job team for sending a little girl selling, gentrification funding, pencil dick mob boss to butt fucking federal prison’ cannolis. Want some?” Deadpool offered, lifting up a large takeout box you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, still heavily annoyed though eyeing the box. “So does this mean you’re coming back with us too?”

Wade shrugged, “The kid doesn’t know you guys. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t at least go and make sure he actually wanted to stay in your little mutant commune before I ditch him there?”

“You aren’t my damned dad.” Russell said, though almost sounding too tired to argue further at this point. He reached up, taking a cannoli from the box and biting into it as he started to walk back down the stairwell. “What floor is the car on?”

“Just one down from here, you already passed it. Black SUV,” you answered. Colossus and Kitty must not have been here yet if Wade and Russell had made it all the way to the top deck without finding them.

Peter grabbed your hand again, walking with you to the doorway as he grabbed three cannolis out the box begrudgingly with his other hand. He passed one off to you, before biting into the other two in quick succession.

And you only had a moment to see all the thick scarring under Wade’s mask as he lifted it just enough to start eating one himself, before turning to follow you both out and down the stairwell.

———————————

(Concluded in Part 2 here)

175 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

In Name Only - Part 5

A/N: Hello, my sunshines! Here is the re-write of the original part 5. Hopefully it’s as good as the original, and if it’s your first time reading this, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: language, period typical sexism and misogyny

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn groaned as he sat up, rubbing away the bits of sleep that were still clinging on from his tired eyes. It was before first light and his rooms were shrouded in darkness, but he knew he needed to get up in order to prepare for his journey. He needed to leave soon in order to make it out of Sunspear before day broke in order to make the long trek that would consist of several long days.

He hadn’t slept much the evening before, his head swimming with a mixture of different thoughts, but more anything else, he had been all consumed by you. After he had kissed you, he wasn’t sure he had made the right decision, or if he had possibly ruined everything that was building between the two of you. But when you had kissed him, unsure and hesitant at first, but then melted into his touch, he realized that maybe you had wanted this too. You had looked back at him with the absolute sweetest eyes and took it everything in his power not to grab you and pull you back into his rooms then and there.

But no. This wasn’t going to be like that. This wasn’t going to be anything like that. If you wanted this, as he was beginning to think he might as well, he needed to know for sure. He wanted everything to be crystal clear, and at no point would he want to take advantage of you.

He stood up, letting his feet hit the floor with a dull thud, finding himself reluctant to leave again. Something was calling to him, encouraging him to stay, but he knew he couldn’t. There was a job to be done and he needed to do it before addressing whatever was going on within his heart and his mind. Oberyn’s gait was heavy, a sharp contrast to how light his tread normally was, as he crossed the room to his wardrobe and lazily pulled out some clothes to wear. His morning routine was simple, but today it felt overwhelming, most likely because he was unenthusiastic to leave and would rather have stayed. Stayed and spent the time with you.

But a knock came at his door and told him that everyone was waiting on him to come down so they could all leave. Grumbling his acquiescence, he grabbed the few things he planned on taking before exiting his chambers and leaving his bag in front of his door. When he stepped into the hallway, straightening his tunic with a yawn, his tired gaze fell on your door. He slowly walked over, resting his large hand on the wooden door as he debated whether or not to come in. His curiosity got the better of him and he opened the heavy door, slowly, as to not make a sound and disturb your sleep.

Once there was enough of a gap for him, he slipped inside and walked over to your bed. You were bundled up in your blankets, only your head poking out of them, a peaceful, serene expression on your face. A smile crossed his own face as he leaned down, unable to stop himself, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. A small sound escaped your lips and he worried for a moment that he had woken you, but your eyes remained closed, and you shifted slightly as your hand appeared moved to rest on top of the blankets. He looked at it closely, finding it hard to fight a smile when he saw the wedding band on your finger, the one that matched his.

“I’ll see you soon, sweet girl,” he whispered, gently touching your face, before straightening back up and slowly retreating out of the room and closing your door again. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he grew even more hesitant to leave. This pull, this strange sensation that was washing over and drawing him towards you was getting even stronger. With one last longing look at your door, he started walking down the stairs and out of the palace. He really hoped that this wouldn’t take a whole week and it would be an easy there and back job.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Yronwood was an interesting one; it required travel from his home through many different parts of Dorne, all varied and different in cultures and customs. One thing that seemed to be ever present however was the warm, welcoming feeling that was ever present wherever he went. People stopped what they were doing, coming out of their homes and shops to see their prince and greet him. Oberyn was beloved by his people and he loved them in turn.

Many stopped for even a mere glimpse of the handsome prince, waving and shouting well wishes at him. Wishes of good fortune, health, and a long and happy marriage. He had no doubt many had been eager to see a glimpse of his new bride, but that would all come in time. For now, he was happy to keep you safe and at home, while he handled whatever troubles were brewing in Yronwood.

The various states of Dorne were something to behold; each boasted a different look and atmosphere and yet it was all harmonic and came together beautifully. Despite having traveled the world, this would always be his favorite place to be - his home. He hoped one that day you would consider it yours too. But that was another thought for another day, when he had time to show you more. Now he needed to focus on weeding out the problem, although he was sure he had an inkling of what was going on.

As soon as Yronwood came into view, an odd sensation settled in his stomach. It was still beautiful, in its own way, but a sharp contrast to the rest of the region. Instead of the vibrancy and openness of many Dornish holds and cities, Yronwood more closely resembled the Northern parts of Westeros. A slight shudder ran down his spine at the thought. While people, namely women, retained the same liberties here as they did throughout Dorne, the reality was vastly different. No one said anything, but it was...a known fact. And as it turned out, every once in a while Doran or Oberyn had to remind them of that little detail.

“Uncle!” Oberyn was pulled back into attention from the sound of the young man’s voice. He turned and saw his nephew, Quentyn running towards him, flanking by a few others from the castle. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stopped in front of Oberyn’s horse and took the reins while Oberyn slid off.

“My boy,” he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around his nephew, clutching him tightly to his chest. The young boy was almost the spitting image of Oberyn at his; tan and lithe, with a mop of dark curls and soft eyes, and a smile that matched his own. He’d always had a soft spot for his nephew, the only boy that was ever-present in his life; in some ways regarded him as a son rather than a nephew. He pressed a kiss to the top of head, “I’ve missed you. Look at you, you’re practically a man grown.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Quentyn grinned at him; he looked up this father, naturally, but there was no denying that Oberyn was his hero. They’d always shared a special bond, “I am glad to see you again. And what of your new wife? Are you hiding her away?”

“You will meet her soon enough,” Oberyn promised, “she’s remaining in Sunspear for the time being until I can show her more of Dorne. I figured that would be best for now, and that her first introduction to Dorne should not be with Yronwood. She’ll quite like you - and you’ll like her. She’s very kind.”

“I should be glad to meet her as well,” he grinned as the men started heading towards the castle, “perhaps I can come back home soon for a visit - or better yet, for good. I know Papa thinks I should remain here but I’d like to be home with everyone else…”

“I know,” Oberyn offered his shoulder a firm squeeze, “but for now you must remain here. It’s only for a few more years; I know it seems harsh, but your fostering is almost complete. Besides - you are a Martell. You must not bow to them, you must keep them in line too. What are your words, Quentyn?”

“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.”

“Exactly,” Oberyn grinned, “never let them take that from you. Have they been treating you well?”

“Yes,” he said as they headed into the dreary keep, “the arms master and maester are kind and knowledgeable. It’s mainly the Yronwoods themselves, Uncle. They’re…”

“Oberyn Martell!” the booming voice was commanding and Oberyn turned on his heel to find its owner.

“Anders Yronwood,” he acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. Anders Yronwood was a tall, portly man with a scarred visage and a receding hairline. He’d seen many battles throughout his lifetime, which left him hardened in looks and personality. Oberyn had always felt there was something off about him, but he never had quite even evidence of anything to prove his claims. Instead he made sure his visits were not too infrequent. The man extended his hand and Oberyn shook it, refusing to be the first to break eye contact, “a pleasure as always. I hope things have been well.”

“Well enough to cause me to wonder why you’ve made your presence known,” he laughed, a loud boisterous thing that caused Oberyn’s skin to crawl, “shouldn’t you be enjoying the company of your new bride?”

“My nephew here informed me that there were some rumors going around,” Oberyn’s hands went to his hips as he made sure to display his trusty dagger, “merchants not getting paid enough and taxes being raised and levied against the poor. All rumors of course, but I just decided to come and make sure everything is in order. There won’t be a problem, will there?”

“Of course not, your highness,” the man’s face pulled into a worried expression for a moment before he laughed and clapped Oberyn on the back, “I’ll have chambers readied for you and your men at once but for now, we’ll get a drink and celebrate the famed Dornish Prince. Now, tell me more about this Northern whore of yours. I know they’re not good for much-”

“I would choose your next words wisely, my lord,” Oberyn’s expression shifted to one of calculated anger as he raised his eyebrows, “I will not hear you refer to my wife as such again.”

“It’s a joke!” Oberyn knew it was anything but a joke, “you know how warm and giving our women are here. The ones from the North just lie there and expect you to do all the work. But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it, as long as you can find release and they can produce a few heirs.”

“I would cease to speak if I were you,” Oberyn stopped dead in tracks as he was almost trembling with anger. Such foul, vile words from a man who called himself fair and just. He was anything but, “I’m not sure if you’re aware that women are people as well? Equal, if not better, no matter where they’re from. They do not exist solely for our pleasure or for the purpose of bearing heirs. Have you forgotten that?”

“I’m just saying,” he held his hands up in mock surrender as Oberyn glared daggers at him, “my second wife was Northern - wasn’t good for much, but managed to give me some sons. Other than that it was-”

“Listen here and listen well,” Oberyn grabbed the lapels of his robe and pulled him close. For once, Anders Yronwood appeared nervous, “you will learn to treat women, and everyone else with some decency and respect, regardless of their station. My nephew will be watching you closely - everything he sees and hears, so do I. Don’t forget where your loyalties lie - House Martell. One word and you will find yourself without a name, a title, or anything you deem so important. I am your Prince, as Quentyn. Remember that.”

His mouth pulled into a thin, tight line as he nodded in silence. He knew better than to tread on the Red Viper; even he wasn’t that foolish. Oberyn let him go before shoving him out of the way; he could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on him, “of course, your highness.”

“Good,” he stated simply, motioning for Quentyn and a few of his men to follow, “I’ll see you around.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next few days were spent with Oberyn traveling throughout the region, along with some of his most trusted advisors and Quentyn. He'd always tried to instill in him the importance of being there for his people, and taking care of them. Much to his relief, Quentyn had no arguments following in his Uncle's footsteps.

As it turned out, rumors that the Yronwoods were participating in salacious activities turned out to just be rumors. It didn't mean however, that the people were happy with their rule. Oberyn would make it a point to bring up the peoples' apprehensions; he knew he had to deal with what was going on within the castle walls first and foremost. He noticed more and more that things were off as the days had passed and they had left him with an uneasy feeling.

More than anything, he'd gotten to the conclusion that he was missing you. It had started off as a slow, underlying feeling, but with more and more time passing, he understood what it was. He still had so much to learn about you, and vice versa, but gods, he already missed your smile and that kind hearted spirit you openly displayed. He couldn't wait to be back in Sunspear.

On this particular evening, the prince had retired to his temporary chambers early, leaving the grand hall before the sun had even set. He was feeling restless and growing listless the longer his stay in Yronwood grew. He'd gone for a walk earlier that day, and spoken with some townspeople, but that had only taken up so much of his time.

A heavy sigh passed his lips as he stoked the fire in the corner to provide some light and warmth. It was almost laughable; this was the only part of his kingdom that wasn't light and airy. This was cold and dreary and the lack of light and life made his heart heavy. But it was no matter, he reminded himself, he would be home soon enough.

He settled into the small, uncomfortable and uninviting bed and grabbed his book. If nothing else he'd have something to occupy his mind.

And for a while, it worked. At first his thoughts had kept drifting back to you and Sunspear. He wondered what you were up to, if you'd had full, happy days. He couldn't imagine you shut away and hidden like he currently was. Maybe you liked to read too - maybe at night he could read to you or you to him. Still so many mysteries that would need answers. He hoped one day that he would get them all.

As he allowed himself to concentrate on his book, a quiet, almost timid knock came at his door. Raising a brow, he decided against answering it, thinking that perhaps it wasn't intended for him after all. But then it came again, but less timid this time, followed by a quiet, "y-your highness?"

A look of confusion crossed his features as he got up from the bed and made his way to the door. He opened it with slight hesitation as he spied a young girl on the other side. She wore a thick, dark robe and a nervous expression as she met his eyes. He stepped to the side as he let her in and cast a glance down the hall.

"What is your name?" he asked, shutting the door as she looked at him with wide doe eyes, "how can I help you?"

"I don't have a name," she answered softly, "and it doesn't matter. I am a gift...from Lord Anders for your pleasure. Whatever you like, My Prince, I will do to you or for you."

"Why would he send you?" Oberyn ran a hand over tired face as he internally groaned. He knew exactly what Yronwood was up to. He shook his head to himself, "did he force you? Threaten you if you didn't come?"

"O-of course not, my prince," her face faltered for a moment as she reached up and ran her hands over his broad chest. She looked young, so young, and despite her assertion that she wanted to be there. He had a feeling that while she might not have been averse to him, she was nervous, "it is an honor and privilege to pleasure the famous Prince of Dorne."

He sucked in a breath as she pushed his robe off of his shoulders. He couldn't feel the inner turmoil within him start to rear up. While he wasn’t normally one to pass up such an offer, he couldn’t in good conscience have the young woman. She clearly wasn’t up to this on her own merits and he would never take advantage of another; Oberyn would be in his grave before he did that. He took a step back and shook his head. He wasn’t going to do this anymore; he was, in some odd sense, already committed to you. You’d never even told him that you wanted more than a friendly relationship, but he couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to you.

“Please do not feel obligated to do anything of the sort,” he insisted, swallowing the lump in his throat. She pushed the woolen robe from her shoulders and let it fall into a small heap on the cold stone. Oberyn couldn’t help but look her over, immediately surprised by the fact that she was bare underneath. He knew it didn’t matter what he did with her, technically, since you’d both agreed that either of you could do whatever you wanted with whomever. She took a step closed and put a delicate hand on his cheek.

“Please,” she insisted with an odd glint in her eyes. Part of him was conflicted but before knew what was happening, something came over him and his hands found her hips as he pushed her towards the bed. She easily complied and laid on her back as Oberyn loomed over. His hands were on her sides as he bent down and kissed with a deep hunger. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her, nervously kissing him back.

Before it could go too far, to the point of no return, Oberyn caught himself and looked down at her. That’s when it hit him - she wasn't you. He stopped immediately and moved off the bed, shaking his head furiously. The young girl was so startled by his sudden actions that a flush of warmth crossed her features as she worried she had committed some wrong.

"My Prince," she stammered nervously, grabbing the blanket and covered herself up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I-I…"

"No," he held up his hand and picked up the discarded robe, gently handing it back to her, "you've done nothing wrong. I'm afraid the fault is on me."

“Is everything alright?” she made quick work of dressing herself before offering him a timid smile, “I can...send someone else, if I did not please you…”

“No,” he insisted as he gently brushed back her hair, helping her tie the robe, “I won’t take advantage of this situation...besides that, it appears my heart seems to lie with my wife at this time.”

“Your wife,” she smiled slightly at the thought, “she must be very lucky to call you her husband. You’re a good man, my Prince. Much better than the pigs around here-”

As soon as her last words left her lips, a look of surprise crossed her features. Clearly, she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts out loud.

“I believe I am the lucky one,” did you feel the same? He hoped you did, “tell me one thing. Did Anders Yronwood threaten you if you did not come here? What did he say?”

“He…” she looked at him, searching his eyes to make sure it was safe to confide in him. He answered with a small nod and encouraged her to go on, “he has several women he favors...women that are not his wife. He considers it a gift to share them with visitors. If we do not...if we do not do as we are told...we can be punished.”

“Punished?” his brows shot straight up.

“I’ve seen it a few times,” she whispered, “they’ll get beaten until they are left a mess. I-I can’t go back, please, don’t let me go back. Not tonight. He’ll hurt me too if he thinks I've displeased you or we haven't done anything."

"Its alright," Oberyn promised her, his blood already boiling with anger. He was glad he came - apparently his little message to Yronwood hadn't quite gotten through to him. Oberyn would make sure that he received it. He must have been extremely stupid or brash in order to think he could get away with sending his gift in such a manner, "go to your chambers, and remain there. I'll make sure you're safe - now and always. If anything ever happens again you or anyone in this castle, you are to let my nephew Quentyn know. He'll get word to me and I'll be here to help however I can. You mustn't be afraid, you've got me as a friend now."

"I don't know how I could ever thank you," her eyes were closed with tears as she couldn't help but her arms around him. He hugged her tightly and offered her a few more well wishes before opening the door to her, "you really are as they say. A good, kind, and just Prince. And handsome at that. Thank you again. I hope our paths again, and that I can meet your wife, preferably under better circumstances."

"As do I," he agreed, "until our paths cross again."

He watched her go, making sure she was safe and out of sight before closing the door and locking it behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed and let out a long, wary sigh. He couldn't help himself from wondering what it would be like to kiss you in such a manner. Would you be receptive? Would you be eager and happy? Or perhaps you wanted to keep him at bay. Whatever life decided to throw at you both, he supposed he would discover your true desires soon enough.

For now, he had more pressing matters to attend. He was going to make sure Anders Yronwood knew exactly who he was dealing with. He grabbed the book he had been reading and tossed it onto the table before sliding back into bed and pulling the covers up and bundling up.

He quickly fell into a deep, restless slumber. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, all of his thoughts drifting back to you. He wondered if you could feel it, all his warm and tender thoughts all the way back home in Sunspear. It was a comforting thought to know that you were both looking at the same moon and falling asleep under the same stars. It made the world seem that much smaller. It almost felt like you were there with him, at his side where he wished you were.

The thought alone of seeing you again, that sweet smile and lovely face, was enough to finally get him off to sleep.

»»————-　♡　————-««

If Anders Yronwood was a gruesome and horrible overlord, his son Cletus was his mirror in every worse and still worse. It was a small solace that Cletus was not the heir to Yronwood, but rather that fell to his sister, Gwyneth. Oberyn had only met her on a few occasions, but he knew she was miles above the rest of her family. It was fortunate that Dorne did not follow the traditional customs of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and only allowed male heirs.

The Great Hall was bustling and loaded with rowdy people, causing an uneasy feeling to well up in Oberyn's stomach. It might have seemed lively, but once he looked closer, he could see that the only people having any semblance of a good time were the men of the keep.

He rolled his eyes to himself as he grabbed a quiet seat at the end of the hall, attempting to keep hidden in the shadows. But it was no use - it continually proved to be a challenge when tried to pretend he was not the Prince when he was so easily recognizable.

"Oberyn Martell," he was starting to hate the sound of his own name as Cletus took a seat next to him. He grimaced slightly as he turned to face the sudden interruption, "a pleasure as always."

"Cletus," he acknowledged, attempting to cut off the situation as quickly as he could. Cletus looked around and quickly flagged down one of the servants, waving her over obnoxiously as a nervous, vacant expression crossed her gestures.

"Go and get the biggest and best plates of food for myself and the Prince," he commanded as she refused to meet his eyes and nodded in understanding, "now."

"Are you always like this with people, Cletus?"

"Only with people that deserve it," he leaned back in his chair and shrugged, clearly disinterested, "she's a kitchen wench. There's really not much to it."

"She's a person," a frown graced his features as he shook his head internally, "all people deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. What if she'd spoken to you in such a manner?"

"She wouldn't dare. I am her Lord-

"And yet still just a person," Oberyn snapped, "one who can be made to bend the knee with a single word from me."

Cletus remained silent as he stared anywhere but Oberyn's face. The silence was awkward and tense, easily cut with the dullest of knives. The Princes' fingers danced around the hilt of his dagger but he managed to stay his hand. One wrong move and it would cause an uproar. If it wouldn't have been such a risky move, he was half tempted to eradicate the problem then and there.

"Here you are my Lord, my Prince," the young woman had made a nervous return as she put two full plates of food in front of the men. They were overflowing with food that looked dry and sad and bland. There was so much flavor and spice available, yet this looked anything but. Oberyn thanked her gently while Cletus remained silent, "if there's nothing else, I'll attend to my other duties."

Before she could make her escape, Cletus grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his level. She yelped in surprise as she tried to pull out of his clutches on instinct, "I'll see you in my chambers this evening. Don't be late like the last time or I'll have to punish you again. You don't want that, do you?"

"N-no, my Lord," she stammered nervously as he let go of her and she stumbled backwards from his tight grip. Oberyn's rage flared up when he spotted what appeared to be fading bruises along her shoulders and neck, "I will be there and on time.”

“Good,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand while Oberyn pushed his plate away. His already meager appetite had all but diminished. Cletus took a large bite, ignorantly unaware of the wrath that he had just brought upon himself, “you have to teach them...they’re not good for much else.”

“You’ve laid your hands on her,” it wasn’t so much a question as it was a direct statement. Cletus nodded lightly but kept shoving his mouth full of food, “you require her to warm your bed as well? How many others are there?”

“Maybe a dozen or so,” he shrugged, “we like to rotate through them. The one you were sent last night was one of the newest. A special treat.”

Unable to control himself any longer, Oberyn quickly pulled his dagger out and stabbed into the table between the two men, right near Cletus’ left hand. His mouth hung open at the action as he nervously looked at his Prince.

“If I ever hear again of you touching any man, woman, or child in this castle, or anywhere, it will be the last time you do anything. You will not harm them, or require them to sleep with you,” he spat out as he grabbed his collar and pulled him close, “you will treat everybody, regardless of their position or station in life with respect. This is the Dornish way - the only way. I will have eyes on you and your family and your entire family. Do you understand me, boy?”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Oh,” Oberyn’s lips curled up in a devilish smile, “I would. Do you really want to find out what I will do? They call me the Red Viper for a reason - but I’m not afraid to resort to calling in the Boltons to flay you alive. My word is law around here and it’s time you and your filthy father learned to respect it.”

“You have no power,” he hissed nervously, casting a glance at the dagger that could have easily ended his life. The Great Hall had grown silent as all eyes were trained on the two men, “your brother rules.”

“Aye,” Oberyn nodded, “but it just so happens I rule too. I am the Prince of Dorne, boy, and Doran’s most trusted advisor. But again, if you want to take your chances…”

“Let me go,” he insisted in panic.

“Remember where your loyalties lie,” Oberyn’s voice was quiet and dangerously low as he leaned in so only Cletus could hear him, “House Martell. We are your power - you will do as well say or your entire family can go off to the North...maybe even the wall. This is Dorne, and you will respect our way of life. A name and a title doesn’t keep you safe; not here. I will personally come and dole out justice if I need to. My nephew will be watching closely - one wrong move and I will hear it. You even think about touching as much as a hair on his head, you will have not just my wrath to fear, but all of Dorne’s. If I ever hear of anything like this again, you will rue the day. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Yes," he whispered quietly as Oberyn grabbed his dagger and held it to the man's throat. Be pressed just enough to make an ident into his skin but not hard enough to draw blood, "crystal clear, your highness."

"Good," he insisted before pulling away and shoving Cletus away. Oberyn sighed heavily as he got up and started to storm away. Before he left the Hall, he turned around and held up his arms. Every eye in the house was still on him, "and let this be a lesson and warning to everyone here. If I so much hear a whisper or breath of anything happening that goes against the laws set forth by House Martell, you will face our justice. Here in Dorne everyone is equal and will be treated with respect and dignity. If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave or you will personally face my blade."

There was small murmuring of acknowledgement as Oberyn left the hall, standing tall and proud. As much as he hated flaunting rule or power over anyone, sometimes he knew it needed to be done; equality for all was something he was extremely passionate about. They were lucky in some ways, to have him as their Prince. While he could be firm and violent, he was tame compared to some of the other Lords and rulers throughout the Kingdoms. He might have been the Red Viper, deadly and dangerous, but he was also fair and just as long as no one tread on him.

As soon as he reached an empty spot in the hall, he leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh, hiding his tired face in his hands. He’d seen more than enough and was ready to be gone from this foul place. All he could think about was making it back home to Sunspear, back home to you.

“Uncle!” Quentyn ran up to him, barely able to contain the little smirk on his face, “is everything okay? I heard the last bit of your little speech.”

“This place is dreadful,” he sighed as Quentyn nodded in agreement, “of all the places your father had to choose to sequester you, it had to be here. I understand his reasoning, and yet the idea still makes me ill. We’ll have you home soon, I promise. For now, I want you to be our eyes and ears here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you can handle it?”

“Of course,” he grinned and nodded eagerly, “I’m always excited to help however I can.”

“Good boy,” he pulled him into a tight hug before kissing the top of his head, “you make us all very proud.”

“My Prince,” one of Oberyn’s men found him, a concerned look on his face, “Anders Yronwood has heard of your little outburst and he’s not happy…”

“I don’t care,” Oberyn insisted, “if he has a problem with our rules, he can leave. My word is law. Now, let us pack up and be rid of this horrid place. I want to get home and back to my wife."

"I can have everyone ready to leave within a few hours," Oberyn gave him a thankful squeeze on his shoulder, "and we'll get you back home to Sunspear as quickly as possible, your highness."

"I am forever in your debt," the idea of you waiting at home for him was enough to cast a warm feeling all over his body. He was more than ready to see you again - to kiss you again - everything. If nothing else, his time in Yronwood had been enough to give him a sense of clarity and peace. He really did want to try with you, he wanted to see you. The revelation was enough to send him in a tale spin.

"Aye," he grinned at his Prince, "we'll get you back to her post haste. Besides, the Lady made us swear to bring you back home safely. She's eager to have you back, no doubt."

"I am eager to be back with her as well," Oberyn's grin threatened to break his face in half, "and back with some decent company. Until later then."

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ino #in name only #part 5 re-write because ya girl is a clown

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riversofmars · 3 years ago

Note

I have a prompt. Thirteen's vain attempt to get that fez to Eleven because she runs into River+Amy.. who are like NOPE no way.

Ohh I love this so much, that was a lot of fun! I really hope you like this, just a bit of fun! <3

Rating: G

Word Count: 1300

Read on AO3 or below

Delayed Delivery

“I don't know about you but I’m glad that’s over.“ Yaz sighed once they had returned to the TARDIS. Their excursion to Kablam! had been quite something.

“Same,“ Ryan agreed and Graham nodded as well:

“Me too.“

“Not quite over yet.“ The Doctor grinned when she spotted the fez she had ordered, still sitting on top of the TARDIS console. “The fez!“ She skipped over to it and sat it on top of her head with incredible joy.

“Yeah I did wonder about that, why a fez?“ Yaz asked, as its origin remained a mystery.

“I ordered it,“ the Doctor declared, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You ordered a fez?“ Graham repeated, trying to figure out what in the world could have possibly possessed her to do so.

“Why?“ Ryan asked bewildered.

“Why does anyone order a fez? Because fezes are cool.“ The Doctor grinned and put her hands on her hips, holding her head - and the fez - high with pride.

“They’re really not…“ Yaz shook her head slowly, wondering how she could possibly have come to that conclusion.

“Only, this one arrived too late.“ The Doctor paid no heed to her comment, instead she went looking for the box and the shipping receipt to make sure her memory was correct. “Ah yes, see, I ordered it like… two lifetimes ago?“ She shrugged and looked back to her friends. “The wedding night of my best friends. Had little else to do, just sitting around the TARDIS while they were busy.“ She gestured quotation marks in the air and grimaced. “I should probably drop it off with my past self, that would have made me so happy.“ She placed the box on the console, took the fez off, quite reluctantly too, and placed it back in the box. She almost took it back out again, thinking better of it, but she managed to stop herself and quickly closed the box to resist the temptation.

“If you had… wouldn’t you remember it?“ Yaz frowned.

“Nah, memories blur when I cross my own time stream.“ The Doctor shrugged.

“Aren’t there like… rules against that sort of thing?“ Ryan asked and they all gathered around the console as the Doctor was beginning to set coordinates.

“All we’re doing is dropping off a fez, won’t even need to interact, just got to find a good time where I know where I am and that I won’t run into any trouble… here we go.“ Content with her choice, the Doctor grinned and launched the TARDIS into the time vortex. It only took a moment for them to land again.

“Where are we?“ Graham asked as the Doctor marched to the door, full of purpose, box in hand.

“Moon made of actual honey. Part of the honeymoon tour. Get it honey… moon…?“ She awaited a reaction to her pun but no-one responded. “Never mind,“ she huffed and opened the door. The Fam followed her and as advertised, they found themselves on a yellow moon, surrounded by little else than beeswax and honey. The landscape was magnificent and the vegetation extraordinary. No words appeared adequate to describe the wondrous place.

“Wow…“ All three of them were at a loss for words as they looked around, it certainly appeared a magnificent honeymoon destination. The air was impossible sweet and warm and there was a humming and buzzing in the air originating from the native bee population.

While the Fam were in awe, the Doctor skipped ahead and found the other TARDIS, her TARDIS but much older, just over a ridge.

“There we go…“ she called the Fam who hurried after her. “See, all we need to do is put this box here and…“

“Don’t move,“ a sharp voice interrupted her. “What are you doing over there?“

“Probably setting down a bomb, who are you?“ Another voice added and the Doctor grinned to herself before turning around, she knew both these voices very well indeed.

“River!“ The Doctor turned to look at her wife who - of course - was pointing a gun at her. “Amy!“ Her mother was right next to her, crossing her arms in front of her chest, with an almighty and very Scottish scowl.

“How do you…?“ Amy’s face fell upon hearing both their names and River raised her eyebrows curiously.

“Who are they, Doctor?“ Yaz asked, a little worried at the presence of a gun and the fact that the Doctor didn’t seem bothered about it at all. In fact she was grinning!

“Oh just… my wife and my mother-in-law…“ She answered joyfully.

“What?“ Amy stared at her for a moment, trying to compute the information.

“Doctor?“ River echoed and as the realisation set in, a wide grin spread across her features, mirroring her wife’s expression.

“Oh no…“ Amy groaned.

“Oh yes!“ River smirked as she put her gun away.

“Hang on, you’re married?“ Graham interrupted, flabbergasted, as were Yaz and Ryan.

“Oh most definitely.“ River grinned and was by her wife’s side in an instant, she grabbed her by the collar and kissed her with great enthusiasm. Amy, for her part, just gave an exaggerated sigh, looking anywhere but to her daughter making out with her wife.

“Okay, I sort of expected this to be the other way around…“ Ryan hummed to Yaz and Graham who nodded.

“What are you doing here, Doctor?“ Amy asked, clearing her throat loudly to interrupt them.

“Oh just… wanted to drop something off… for myself… am I around?“ The Doctor gave an awkward grin, trying not to draw too much attention to the box, as she half hid it behind her back.

“Rory fell in the honey lake and the Doctor is defending him against the bees, we were popping back for a change of clothes.“ Amy explained, rolling her eyes at her husband’s clumsiness.

“Oh I remember this!“ Her explanation jogged the Doctor’s memory.

“Do you get your fez at the end of it?“ Yaz asked curiously and the Doctor winced. She had ruined it.

“Don’t tell me…“ Amy sighed, exasperated.

“What’s in the box, Sweetie?“ River asked, trying to snatch the box away but the Doctor pulled away quickly.

“Nothing…“ She retorted, hugging it protectively.

“Doctor?“ Amy crossed her arms in front of her chest and the Doctor found herself cornered by the two women, she bumped into the TARDIS behind her, having nowhere to go.

“Oh come on, please, I’ve had to wait for this for millennia, that’s how long delivery took, let me have this,“ she pleaded.

“Let’s see if it’s any better on you now than it was then,“ River suggested with a playful smirk.

“River?“ Amy shot her daughter a look as if she couldn’t believe she had really just suggested that.

“Come on, just let us see,“ River repeated and a grin spread across the Doctor’s face. She opened the box, pulled the fez out and sat it on top of her head.

“Look, it’s great, it’s red and hey-!“ Before she could even properly showcase the hat, Amy had snatched it off of her head and chucked it into the air. River’s reflexes were sharp as ever as she drew her gun and shot it. The fez exploded mid-air in a laser blast.

“That was incredible,“ Ryan exclaimed and shaking their heads in disbelief, Graham and Yaz had to agree.

“Yeah, well, we have the practice,“ River smirked, holstering her gun and before she pressed a kiss to her wife’s cheek. The Doctor was thoroughly put out as she was left holding the empty box.

“I’m gonna order another one…“ She huffed, somewhat genuinely upset.

“Hey! OI! What’s going on over there?“ A voice carried across the plain. The Doctor, much younger, taller and bow-tied, was waving at them with Rory in tow.

“NOTHING!“ River and Amy called back, laughing, sharing a high five, as the blonde Doctor was left, huffing, and holding her empty box with great disappointment.

#Doctor Who #river x the doctor #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #space wives #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #fluff #banter #prompt #fanfiction #yowzah #amy pond

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nim-lock · 4 years ago

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Art Career Tips, 2021 Edition

Here’s an edited version of my 2019 answered ask, because... this feels relevant.

It is a problem of capitalism that folks equate their income as a judgement of their value as people; and let me preface. You are worth so much. You have inherent value in this world. Your income is not a judgement on who you are (plenty of billionaires are actively making the world worse). LARPing self-confidence will go a long way to helping you get paid more for your work, because clients will believe that you know what you are doing, and are a professional.

& real quick—my own background is that I’ve been living off my art since 2018. I went to art school (Pratt Institute). I work in a publishing/educational materials sphere, and a quarter of my income is my shop. Not all of this information may apply to you, so it is up to you to look through everything with a critical eye, and spot pick what is relevant.

So there are multiple ways of getting income as an artist;

Working freelance or full-time on projects

Selling your stuff on a shop

Licensing (charging other companies to use your designs)

This post primarily covers the freelance part; if you’re interested in the other bits there is absolutely info out there on the internet.

IF you are just starting (skip to next section if not applicable) dream big, draw often (practice helps you get better/more efficient), do your best to take "a bad piece” lightly. You’re gonna RNG this shit. At some point your rate of “good” works will get higher. Watch tutorial videos & read books. A base understanding of “the rules”; anatomy, perspective, composition, color helps you know what the rules are to break them. This adds sophistication to your work. One way you can learn this stuff is by doing “studies”—you’re picking apart things from life, or things other people have done, to see what works, and how it works.

Trying to turn your interests into a viable career means that you are now a SMALL BUSINESS; it really helps to learn some basic marketing, graphic design, figure out how to write polite customer service emails; etc. You can learn some of this by looking it up, or taking skillshare (not sponsored) classes by qualified folks. Eventually some people may get agents to take care of this for them—however, I do recommend y’all get a basic understanding of what it takes to do it on your own, just so you can know if your agent is doing a good job.

Making sure your portfolio fits the work you want to get

Here is a beginner portfolio post.

Research the field you’d like to get into. The amount people work, the time commitment, the process of making the thing, the companies & people who work for them.

Create work that could fit in to the industry you’re breaking into. For example, if you want to do book cover illustration, you draw a bunch of mockup book covers, that can either be stuff you make up, or redesigns of existing books. If you’re not 100% sure what sort of work is needed for the industry, loop back into the portfolios of artists in a similar line of work as whatever you’re interested in, and analyze the things they have in common. If something looks to be a common project (like a sequence of action images for storyboard artists), then it’s probably something useful for the job.

CLIENTS HIRE BASED ON HOW WELL THEY THINK YOUR WORK FITS WHAT THEY WANT. If they’re hiring for picture books, they’re gonna want to see picture book art in your portfolio, otherwise they may not want to risk hiring you. Doesn’t have to be 100% the project, but stuff similar enough. If you aren’t hired, it doesn’t mean your work is bad, it just wasn’t the right fit for that specific client.

If you have many interests, make a different section of your portfolio for each!

Making sure you’re relevant

Have a social media that’s a little more public-facing, and follow people in the career field you’re interested in. Fellow artists, art directors, editors, social media managers; whoever. Post on your own schedule.

Interact with their posts every so often, in a non-creepy way.

If you’ve made any contacts, great! Email these artists, art directors, editors, former professors, etc occasional updates on your work to stay in touch AND make sure that they think about you every so often.

Show up to general art events every once in a while! If you keep showing up to ones in your area (when... not dying from a sneeze is a thing), folks will eventually start to remember you.

Industry events & conferences can be pricey, so attend/save up for what makes sense for you. Industry meetups are important for networking in person! In addition to meeting people with hiring power, you also connect with your peers in the community. Always bring a portfolio & hand out business cards like candy.

Active job hunting

Apply to job postings online.

If interested in working with specific people at specific companies, you could send an email “I’d love to work with you, here’s my portfolio/relevant experience”, even if they aren’t actively looking for new hires. Be concise, and include a link to your work AND attached images so the person reading the email can get a quick preview before clicking for more.

Twitter job postings can be pretty underpaid! Get a copy of the Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines to know your rate. I once had a twitter post job listing email me back saying that other illustrators were charging less, and I quote, “primarily because they’re less experienced and looking for their first commission”. This was not okay! For reference, this was a 64-illustration book. The industry rate of a children’s book (~36 pages) is $10k+, and this company’s budget was apparently $1k. For all of it.

Congrats you got a job! Now what?

Ask for like, 10% more than they initially offer and see if they say yes. If they do, great! If not, and the price is still OK, great! Often company budgets are slightly higher than they first tell you, and if you get this extra secret money, all the better for you.

Make sure you sign a contract and the terms aren’t terrible (re: GO GET THE Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines)

Be pleasant and easy to work with (Think ‘do no harm but take no shit’)

Communicate with them as much as needed! If something’s going to be late, tell them as soon as you know so they aren’t left wondering or worse, reaching out to ask what’s up.

And if all goes well, they’ll contact you about more jobs down the line, or refer you to other folks who may need an artist, etc.

Quick note about online shops/licensing and why they’re so good

It’s work that you do once, that you continuously make money off of. Different products do well in different situations (conventions vs. online, and then further, based on how you market/the specific groups you are marketing to), so products that may not do well initially may get a surge later on.

Start with things that have low minimum order quantity and are relatively cheap to produce, like prints and stickers.

If you are not breaking even, go back to some of the earlier portions of this and think about how you could tweak things as a small business. Ease of access is also very important with this; for example, if you only take orders through direct messages, that immediately shuts off all customers who don’t like talking to strangers.

Quick resource that you could look through; it’s the spreadsheet of project organizing that I made a while back

Licensing is when people pay you for the right to use your work on stuff they need to make, like textbooks or greeting cards. This is generally work you’ve already made that they are paying the right to use for a specified time or limited run of products. This is great because you’ve already done the work. I am not the expert on this. Go find someone else’s info.

“I am not physically capable of working much”/ “I need to pay the bills”

Guess who got a hand injury Sept 2020 that messed me up that entire month! I had a couple jobs going at the time that I was terrified of losing, but they were quite understanding when I told them I needed to heal. So: Express your needs as early as you know you need them. Also do lots of stretches and rest your hands whenever you feel anything off; this will save your health later. Like, the potential of a couple months of no income was preferable over losing use of my hands for the rest of my life.

This continues to apply if you have any other life situation. Ask for extra time. Ask for clarification. If you tell people ahead of time, folks are often quite understanding. Know how much you are capable of working and do your best not to overdo it. (I am.. bad at this)

Do what MAKES SENSE for your situation. If doing art currently earns you less money than organizing spreadsheets, then do that for now, and whenever you have the energy, break down some of the tips above into actionable tiny chunks, and slowly work at em.

The original ask I got in 2019 mentioned ‘knowing you’re not good enough yet’. Most artists experience imposter syndrome & self-doubt—the important thing is to do your best, and if anything, attempt to channel the confidence of a mediocre white man. If he can apply to this job/charge hella money for Not Much, then so can you!

Check out this Art Director tumblr for more advice!

Danichuatico’s Literary Agent guide

Kikidoodle’s Shop Shipping Tutorial

Best of luck!

–

Once again disclaimer this post is just the ramblings of a man procrastinating on other things that need to be done. I’ve Long Posted my own post so that it turns into mush in my brain if I try to read it, but I wrote this so I should know this content. If you got down here, congrats. Here’s a shrimp drawing.

Yee Ha.

My reference post tag My tip jar

#reference #artist information #UHHHHH I don't know man

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thran-duils · 3 years ago

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Total Eclipse (P.1)

Title: Total Eclipse (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Sherlock Holmes (RDJ). Sherlock had an impression on the reader from a formative age but he was always so busy running with cases. Their moments of passions were coveted between the two but they were few and far between. He left with Watson on a case and in that time, her parents found her a suitable man to give her to. Wealthy and accomplished. Sherlock and her have not been able to let go of each other though. Words: 1,816 Warnings (for the whole fic): Angst, infidelity, smut, swearing, substance abuse, non liner storyline, character death, 18+ as always Author’s Note: more warnings may be added for other chapters. As always, 18+. Also, the song inspo is def Total Eclipse of the Heart but its the Blvck Ceiling remix!

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The carriage came to a stop outside the glove shop in front of you. It matched the description on the note that had mysteriously found its way into your cosmetics bag at home last night. And as the note had said, the gloves you picked up were already paid for. A practical gift from an absurdly practical man. One you could easily explain away to your husband as a gift he had simply given to you that he had forgotten that he had. He gifted items to you so often, it would not be hard to have this small token pass under his radar. Small to him but it was a symbol of a large wedge in your marriage, and it would always be.

The door opened and Sherlock was leaning out, smiling coyly. “May I offer you a ride, ma’am?”

“Do you even know where I am going?”

“Well, no. But if you would tell me…” You kept your face neutral at his toying and told him the address. He smiled broadly and said, “What a coincidence. I am heading that way and it looks like it might rain…” He turned his eyes skyward. It was cloudy. What a coincidence indeed. There was playfulness in his eyes as he pressed, “Ma’am?”

Sighing, you took his hand and let him help you into the carriage. He swung the door closed and tapped the wall behind him. The carriage took off.

“My, I’m pleased I was able to assist you,” Sherlock started cordially. “That is quite a lovely gown. Persian silk, is it not?”

“It is,” you answered stiffly.

You hated the games he played. He was going to pick you apart just for his own amusement now. Comment on all your riches simply because he had such a keen eye for everything with his travels and his intellect. And also because he liked you to remember how intelligent he was; it was something about him that had drawn you in in the first place. It still impressed you but now you knew it was him simply being petty more than anything. He wanted you and he wanted it badly. He was superior to your husband intellectually and always would be, something that would eat away at you. And besides intellect… Sherlock knew how to work your body like a well-tuned clock. This was foreplay for him. Assessing everything that had been going on with you in his absence since your last tussle in the sheets.

“Hmm. What lengths your family or husband must have gone to to acquire that fabric. You must really be special. Or they’re just woefully arrogant about their wealth.”

You shot him a disapproving look and he merely smirked briefly.

“I think it’s the latter personally. But what do I know? I haven’t seen you for four months.”

“Yes. What do you know?” you quipped.

“How is your son?” he returned quickly.

“With the nanny.”

“How aristocratic.”

“You never wanted children,” you told him tightly, getting tired of his questioning.

You knew why you were here. He was jealous still, even more so that you had had a child. And especially a child that was not his. He had been on a case across Europe at the time of conception… leaving no doubt about the father. But he was here now, wanting what he always wanted. A piece of you.

The two of you grasped at whatever pieces of the other you could get to hold close.

“Presumptive. We don’t know each other,” Sherlock replied, shooting you a look. You glared back and he merely simpered in response. “You look tired of the games.”

“I can’t even begin to describe how tired I am.”

The shades were drawn immediately by him, leaving the two of you in almost total darkness.

He was on you in a second and he pulled you close. “And how lonely?”

“Did you really shut yourself inside for four months?” you hissed back at him, as his hands played with the buttons of your bodice. “You are one to talk about loneliness! Watson told me!”

“I was only inside for two,” Sherlock responded lightly, as if that made it any better. “I had a case I did. But… two months inside was nothing. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? And why is Watson tattling to you?”

His hands were running up your sides, holding you close. His breath was hot, and he was coming in quickly. He claimed your mouth with his, the kiss deep and passionate. His tongue slipped past your lips, swirling and you responded in like. The two of you were panting with the intensity, hands grasping tightly on each other.

Sherlock managed to pull you down to the floor of the carriage and you hit him in protest. “My skirts! The dirty floor!”

“Say you fell. Make up a story of a heroic war hero – think of Watson for inspiration – helped you up off the cobble stone. It’ll make a great dinner story,” Sherlock spoke in hushed tones as he turned you around.

Your hands hit the opposite seat, chest planted firmly against it. Your heart was beating loudly in anticipation of the pleasure you were about to engage in. And the excitement that you truly could be caught at any moment if the carriage stopped for any reason.

Sherlock’s lips were at your neck, kissing up earnestly. He sucked deeply and you knew to let him; he knew the rules. He would never suck hard enough to leave a mark. No matter how much he wanted to. He nipped at your ear before circling back down; you turned your head to let him pull you back into a kiss.

He took this distracted opportunity to pull away, leaving you in a haze as he pushed your skirts up. You had done specifically as he liked and he was impressed.

“No undergarments,” Sherlock commented quietly his hands gripping the sides of your ass. “That’s very inappropriate and screams hussy in society. But… it’s very appropriate for me. I’m just delighted.”

“Will you get on with it?” You said impatiently. He always spoke so much and at the most inopportune time.

He chortled at you. “Always rushing. It’s what got you into your marriage in the first place, my love.”

His fingers traced. Running down between your thighs and pressing your legs open as you huffed indignantly at his rude comment. He always had to talk down about the situation you had found yourself in as a woman, no less. He knew why you had given in and still!

“And the fact—oh!” You gasped loudly at the last.

Sherlock’s fingers had dipped into your folds. He laughed quietly and warned you.

“Quiet now, dear. I paid the driver for discretion about who was in the carriage. Not discretion about any gossip he might hear. We should hurry it up though. We’ve taken three turns which means there are only four left. About fifteen minutes.”

Sometimes it paid off how perceptive he was but it still annoyed you right now when all you wanted to do was get off.

“How I wish I could turn around and sink onto you. That would ensure this would be done quickly,” you hissed at him.

You felt him at your entrance immediately and he pushed in. You groaned and he did in turn too. He filled you to the brim and sat stationary for just a moment, seeming to cherish the feeling before pulling out and setting himself a good pace. You pressed back onto him and one of his arms came to hold you tight across your chest. He still laid sloppy kisses along your exposed skin at your neck as he fucked you.

“Another turn,” you said sarcastically, just to rile him up.

And it worked.

He increased his pace in response, driving deeper. You lost your breath, fingers digging into the carriage seat as his teeth sunk in slightly. Bastard. He was pressing the rules just to teach you a lesson to be quiet and let him work.

His hand slipped back down to toy at your nub and your breath quickened.

Sherlock’s hand slapped across your mouth in anticipation. You hated he could read you so damn well. You moaned against his hand, your cunt clenching around his cock. His fingers dug in on your cheek, struggling to hold your pleasure in as you came undone as you were drawing it out of him with your tightness. He grunted loudly, sputtering. And then he was spasming just like you.

The third turn. The two of you felt and you were away from each other in a messy way. You pulled yourself back up onto the seat, touching at your hair. No, that was fine. He was always careful to not mess that up unless you two were spending the night together.

Across from you, Sherlock straightened at his waist coat. “The ball two days from now—” he started to say.

“It’s a masquerade.” You straightened your skirts out and sad back down on the carriage seat opposite him. You pressed them down further and did not miss the amused expression on his face.

“I’m quite aware, darling. Perfect opportunity.”

“For you to greet everyone? Come out of your shell?” you returned.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Watson told me I should.”

“I’m telling you that you should.”

“And that is enough.”

He had a sincere look in his eyes.

In your tryst, the rain truly had started to fall, a steady beat on the top of the carriage.

You had only been married for less than two years. And god, how you wished it was to him. But that was never to be.

The carriage came to its final turn and your house was so close. Your big… big house. It was so empty. The two of you were locked in a gaze just as the carriage came to a stop.

Swallowing sharply, you grabbed your purse off the bench beside you and said loudly, “Thank you for your courtesy. My husband would have been angry if this silk had been ruined in the rain.”

“You better run quick since there’s no butler here to greet you.”

“Ass,” you snapped, and he smiled again. You hated his smug smile so much, but you cherished seeing it too all the same. You climbed out, reluctantly taking his hand to help.

“You didn’t even say ‘welcome back’.”

He was actually pouting.

“You’ve already made yourself at home, dear,” you quipped.

You slammed the carriage door in his face and heard him chuckle from inside.

Turning, you went up the pathway quickly to the gate and threw it open, not bothering to look back. You knew you would see him again at the ball. The light rain was no bother.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

also @mcnegan if you are interested haha!

(THIS IS THE ONLY TIME I’LL USE THE MARVEL TAG, OTHERWISE I’LL TAG SPECIFIC PEOPLE AFTER THIS SINCE IT IS NOT MARVEL, AND JUST AN RDJ CHARACTER! If you wanna be tagged, let me know! :D)

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes x ofc #rdj sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #my shit

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ficforce · 4 years ago

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NSFW Alphabet Extended

Joker/52 x Female Reader NSFW / Mentions of past abuse No established timeline Established relationship

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

“Uh, JJ?” Y/N watched the man practically run out of the room not even a minute after they had both finished up. Had she said or done something? Y/N pulled the blanket up to her chest after sitting up and worried that he wasn’t going to come back… This wasn’t the first time he’d done something strange after they had had sex but it was the first time he’d left; she brought her knees up and couldn’t help the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes. “I got water, alcohol, juice and I put the kettle on in case you want something hot, I also grabbed some snacks in case you were hungry - oh and I grabbed some body wipes too!” Joker had piled everything he had mentioned onto a tray and brought it to the side of the bed, placing everything down before then grinning at her like he had done something really innovative. The grin dropped quickly as he noticed her watery eyes and the slight quiver of her lip. The man sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug, holding her tight in his slight panic, “What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I push you?” Joker had had a shitty childhood that had followed into his young adult life, he remembered all the times he was forced to do something or it was forced on him, he remembered being left cold and in pain with no-one giving two shits; it terrified him that he might have inflicted the same kind of pain on her. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Y/N pushed against him just enough to be able to look at his worried face, “You didn’t do anything… I definitely wanted that but it’s just… you left, right after and…” she realised now he had run out to get her food and drink, things to take care of her if she needed it. He had asked her last time about aftercare and how he wasn’t sure how to best provide it for her. She had told him that a bottle of water might be appreciated and hadn’t expected him to take it so far as snacks. “I thought you’d just left me.” “No way,” he kissed her cheeks as he squished her face a little between his hands, “Now, you want water, juice, vodka or tea?” The man was completely oblivious as to his awkward after sex etiquette.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

‘They’re like stilts.” Joker chuckled as she poked at his leg, “I like being taller than everyone else.” He likes his legs; he liked that he could move ridiculously fast, that he was flexible and able to kick someone in the face without having to get too close. “You love it when I lean over you like a big creep.” “That’s because I love creeps, apparently.” Y/N grabbed the collar of his top and pulled him down for a kiss, “What do you love about me? Physically?” “Hmm,” Joker gave it a little thought, straightening back up and lighting another cigarette, “Physically… that’s a tricky one. What do I love about my queen of hearts?” He liked everything, it was hard to pick just one thing; he turned his grin on her all of a sudden and smacked her backside, “I like your ass.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Running his fingertips through the cum leaking out of his lover, Joker slowly pushed it back inside her entrance, gently fingering her and relishing in the wet, warm feeling of her freshly fucked hole. “T-thats gross…” Y/N blushed and looked away from his fascinated expression. “I think it’s pretty.” He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean, “We’re all mixed together, impossible to separate.” Only he could make something like this sound almost romantic.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Y/N watched as Joker played with his deck of cards, shuffling them more expertly than any dealer in the big casinos, he then began to hum as he set out a game of solitaire. Sometimes he snuck into her apartment just to be there with her; it wasn’t always a booty call. There was something she noticed when he opened a brand new pack of cards though, something she wasn’t sure he was entirely conscious of doing. The long haired man would always pull out and burn one of the cards to ash before replacing it with the joker card. Last time Y/N had mentioned it he had packed everything up and told her he had business to attend to before leaving.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

“What’s this thing?” Y/N looked over at him from where she was putting away her clothes, her cheeks became a little warm as she saw he was playing with a vibrating cock ring. “It goes at the base of your dick… makes you last longer and the vibration gives me a little something when you push all the way in.” Joker snorted at it and tossed it back in the draw. He was sat cross legged on her bed in nothing but a towel and hair turban to keep him from getting the pillows damp; of course he had to snoop around in her bedside table whilst she was busy. “Why would someone need to last longer, you’d get sore, right? And why the hell aren’t they paying attention to your clit personally?’ He made little circular motions with his thumbs, “That’s just lazy, Y/N.” She often wondered how someone so tall and sexy could be so inexperienced, sure, he was a little odd but women should have been throwing themselves at him. “I’ll show you later, okay.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Joker liked all kinds of positions, he especially liked when Y/N was on top. So when she suggested reverse cowgirl he was curious and eagerly agreed to trying it out. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any position where he couldn’t see her face; it made him uncomfortable and it didn’t feel as good as he knew it should. His hands fell onto her hips and applied a little pressure to slow her down to a stop, “T-turn back around.” He panted out and when she did as he asked, Joker felt better, he thrust up into her more eagerly than before and his purple eye watched her expressions as they headed toward orgasm. Afterwards, as they lay in a heap of sweaty limbs, Y/N kissed his jaw and asked him if it was the angle he hadn’t liked, he shook his head and told her that it just felt better if he knew she was enjoying it.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

“JJ, stop messing around with that and get over here.” She had told him he could pick one toy for them to try out from her collection but so far he was just playing with everything. He was taking particular joy in trying to secure a strap on to his head. “Look, Y/N, I’m an actual dickhead now!” He heard her groan at his joke but he definitely heard a giggle too, “Or ‘fuckface’… I heard you call someone that the other day.” Joker liked to make her laugh, he found it put him at ease before they had sex; somehow he was still nervous he was going to make her hate him or that he would somehow hurt her.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Her fingers felt soothing as they ran through his long hair, she had practically begged him to let her practice a french braid on him and he didn’t actually mind it. Y/N had always liked playing with his hair - even before they became a proper couple. “How do you get it so soft?” She asked as she brushed it out to start her braid again, “You never have any split ends either.” He really did take good care of it, it wasn’t something she ever expected from him but she couldn’t deny how much attention he paid to his hair - even his pubic hair was kept trimmed and oddly perfect. He glanced over her shoulder at her and gave a soft smile, “I wasn’t allowed long hair when I was younger, so I like to keep it nice.”

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Something had upset him, something had happened and Y/N hadn’t really known what to do when she found him huddled up in the corner of her bedroom. He was always good at sneaking in but this was the first time she had ever woken up and found him hiding in the dark rather than invading her bed. “JJ?” She called out her pet name for him as she got out of bed and padded over to him, kneeling between his outstretched legs before reaching out to touch his face. He flinched. “Joker, what’s wrong?” She tried again to touch him and this time he allowed her to rest her hands on his cheeks. Y/N checked him over, he didn’t seem to be hurt in anyway, he was just… not quite right. “Can I take off your hat?” He gave a nod and she removed the item quickly, her fingers ran over his hair to neaten it out a little and then she asked if she could take off his eyepatch. This time he shook his head no. “Okay, will you come to bed? We can cuddle…” It hadn’t been hard to figure out, once she had seen all the evidence, that Joker had had bad experiences with people - that someone had likely abused him in his past. One of her biggest clues had been the way he never got too rough with her, how he always had to be able to see her face. Joker cherished her when they were together, he always made sure she knew that he wanted her to feel good and loved. It was moments like this, when he was emotionally bare and vulnerable that she felt most intimate with him, that he let her in and trusted her not to hurt him. “I’ll be big spoon, okay, JJ?” Taking his hand she coaxed him toward the bed and wrapped herself around his tall frame; trying her best to make him feel safe.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

The first time Joker masturbated he had been a little scared that he was going to be struck by lightning. He may have been raised an assassin but they were still a religious order that frowned upon that kind of thing… unless you were some sort of twisted pervert. At first he had ignored the feeling, not wanting to touch himself because he didn’t want to feel sick afterwards; sex had always made him feel disgusting before. But as his vision blurred white and his muscles spasmed, his fist moving on its own along his length as he milked every last drop out of it, he felt weightless afterward. The tension melted out of his body and he wanted to take a nap. He didn’t feel bad, he didn’t feel disgusting - he felt good. He doesn’t masturbate half as much now that he had Y/N. His right arm didn’t ache as much either…

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

“Is this okay?” Y/N asked as she straddled the backs of his thighs and placed her hands on his back. She had set up a large mirror at the end of the bed for this and she hoped it would work for Joker. She had wanted to give him a massage for the longest time but he could never really relax because he disliked having people behind him, touching his bare skin. She figured that if he could see what she was doing in the mirror it might help him. Joker hugged the pillow under his chin and watched her reflection intently, she pulled out a bottle of oil and began warming it in her hands, “I’d like it more if you were naked too.” He saw her look back at his reflection and rolled her eyes, “Maybe in a little while then.” Feeling her slick hands stroke over his bare back made the man let out a low moan; he loved being touched. Stroked, pet, cuddled, caressed - it didn’t matter as long as it was a positive touch. His kink wasn’t being choked or hit or even just tied up. His kink was being treated sweetly by his lover.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

“Excuse me, ma’am.” The shop assistant sounded a little panicked from outside the changing room door. “Ma’am, you… you can’t have your boyfriend in there with you. I’m sorry but please stop having -‘relations’.” Y/N glared at Joker as he held in his laughter, she had told him to get out the second he had materialised in her changing room but he had said he wanted to play. “Anywhere isn’t an acceptable location for this kind of thing, Joker!”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It didn’t take much to turn her boyfriend on, sometimes just looking in his general direction was enough motivation for him to pull her into long, lovely kisses and feel his hands sneaking under her clothes to caress her body. So as she finished paying for her new lingerie and took the bag from the cashier, she had to wonder how he was going to react to her intentionally teasing him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Going through her sex toys seemed to be one of his favourite hobbies, mostly because it would make her stutter and feel flushed. This time Joker held up a pretty chain with a clamp either end, “Those are nipple clamps, JJ.” “They look like they hurt…” He tossed them aside in distain then found a pair of handcuffs next, “Why… would you intentionally want to be hurt?” Joker put those back too, his expression unhappy. Y/N came to sit down beside him, “Sometimes a little pain feels good-“ “Sex and pain shouldn’t go together. I’m never going to use any of this shit on you.” She gave a little shrug, embarrassed that he didn’t approve of her little kinks but understanding all the same, “And that’s okay… I’ll never mix the two together when I’m with you. I promise I’d never try to hurt you.”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

His hands gripped her shoulders a little too hard and Joker quickly moved them to the edge of the kitchen counter behind him so he wouldn’t bruise her. Her mouth was so warm and the way she was sucking him felt so good that his legs were starting to shake. As much as he loved having his mouth on her and his tongue inside - this was always his favourite treat. It took all his willpower not to thrust into Y/N’s mouth; one look down and he felt his balls tighten at the way her lips stretched around him and how damn pretty she looked like this. “I-I’m gonna… Fuck, Y/N, I’m - !!” P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

The headboard of her bed thumped rhythmically against the wall as Joker plowed into her, his hands holding her thighs up and open so that he could go deeper. “J-Jo-ker! Ah, I… P-please!” He felt her walls tightening around him, heard how wet she was and knew she wouldn’t last much longer. The man slowed his pace, still filling her to the very hilt but almost dragging out how quickly he pulled out to the tip and then dived in deep again. Unable to process the mixture of slow and fast, hard and gentle, Y/N’s body began to shake and tremble, her eyes squeezing shut as his name filled the room loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

The endearing problem with her odd boyfriend, other than not knowing where he came from or even where he would come from next, was that he was able to go - sexually - at a moments notice. He loved a quickie, he loved it slow, sideways and once he had loved it upside down. Y/N had taken to carrying extra underwear with her just in case.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Y/N loved Joker, she adored him and she knew he cared about her deeply too… she just wished he would try new things with her that were not so safe. She liked a little breathplay every now and then but Joker wouldn’t risk choking her. He was a strong man and he knew he could get carried away. Then again, she thought as she looked at how high they were on the roof of a skyscraper, he liked to have sex in some pretty scary places.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

“I… actually can’t…” Y/N rolled onto her side panting heavily, everything ached a good way, the sheets were wet under her and every time Joked touched her she felt her body spasm. She was over sensitive and even though she knew he could make her orgasm again - she ws certain she would probably die. “I need a break.” “Okay, then we can go for round six?”

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Joker loved toys. His favourite thing was to go through hers and then try them out if they interested him enough. There were many times he would bring new ones home for Y/N and then look at her with an excited purple eye. Y/N looked at the new toy he had brought home and blinked, “Is that a fucking tentacle dildo?!”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes Joker wasn’t aware that he was actually teasing her, he just liked to touch her. Y/N bit her bottom lip as his thumb brushed over her clothed nipple again, it was hard and aching from his absent minded touch - she had no doubt he was only messing with her nipple because it was erect. It was the same for his other touch on her body. His other hand was on her inner thigh, his fingers tracing up and down the seam of her bottoms. “You’re driving me crazy!” “I haven’t even done anything?” Joker let out a surprised yelp as Y/N pinned him down to the sofa and climbed on top of him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

“I’m calling the police!” Y/N hid her face in Joker’s neck as they listened to her neighbour yell through the wall - they were kind of loud on a regular basis. “I could go and have a word with him?” “Don’t you dare, Joker! We’re already in trouble because you did the…. Thing!” He grinned and blew a few heart shaped smoke rings for her, “You love it when I do the Thing.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The bouquet of flowers she found on her table when she got home were a wonderful surprise. She noticed they were mostly purple with her favourite colour splashed in here and there; she didn’t need a note to know Joker had left them for her. Putting her bag down and kicking off her shoes Y/N picked up the flowers and smelled them, appreciating the gesture more than the aroma. Looking around the small apartment for him she realised that she must have just missed him… or he was hiding. Joker was surprisingly shy when it came to romantic gestures. X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) The first time she saw him naked, Y/N had been a little intimidated because, like most things about him, his cock was long. There was no way all of him would fit inside her without tickling her tonsils. Trying to calm her nerves she had turned her gaze onto his body, ran her hands over his lean muscles and pressed kisses to the scars she found. “One day, you’ll share your story with me, JJ.”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

“Are you done?” Joker asked as he hovered over Licht, the young man was testing some new formula and he had said he needed Joker’s help. Watching the vial turn a different colour the scientist smirked to himself, “Have you got a date?” “I’m just horny. I miss Y/N and you’re being so boring!” He knew he had a problem, he knew he probably had too much sex but who could blame him when he had such a wonderful woman waiting for him?

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His head rested on Y/N’s shoulder as they lay in bed; he couldn’t sleep and she was trying to help soothe him to sleep. She massaged his scalp between running her fingers through his hair and she had even tried making him a hot drink. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep, even after the euphoric release of a good orgasm to melt his troubles away. Feeling her hand brush over one of his scars Joker let out a sign, “Remember when you said one day I’d share my story?” Her hands paused for a second, the weight of his words causing her breath to stutter, “…Yes.” “Would you still love me, even if I wasn’t a good man?” “No matter what you were in the past,” She kissed the side of his head, “You’re my Joker and I’ll love you for who you are now.”

#joker/52 #reader #fire force #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai #alphabet

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izzyfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

Like Lipstick Stains On His Skin

SHIPS: Remile

CHARACTERS: Emile Picani, Remy Sanders

WARNING: Anxiety, references to heartbreak

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Emile Picani had been in love with his best friend for as long as he could remember.

The moment he had first laid eyes on Remy Sanders, his initial thought had been that that was the most attractive person he’d ever seen. And, after getting to know him better, Emile’s thoughts only solidified; Remy was funny and sarcastic, smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and casually flirty in a way that made Emile’s heart stop and pound and ache all at once.

And Emile’s feelings had only strengthened as they grew up together.

From awkward teenagers still figuring out their sexualities to adults with their own homes and jobs and independent lives, Remy and Emile had stayed friends through it all, sticking together like glue since they’d first met in middle school. They knew almost everything about each other, and they were best friends.

But that was just it – they were friends. Nothing more.

And Emile was... fine with that. He was fine.

He loved Remy. Loved, loved, loved Remy.

And, sure, it hurt when he was with Remy, but not really with Remy, not in the way Emile always wanted to be. It hurt to be around him and know that it would only ever be platonic, that his best friend would never love him back in quite the same he loved him.

But time spent with Remy was better than time spent with anyone or anything else. And Emile knew that Remy cared deeply for him, too.

Emile could take the heartache if it meant he never lost his best friend.

When Emile heard the knock on his front door, he immediately recognised it as Remy’s. He jumped up – perhaps a little too enthusiastically and excitedly, but the only person that could see him right now was himself, so there was nobody around to judge. He rushed over to the door and pulled it open. Remy’s eyes lit up when he saw Emile, and he grinned.

Emile would never admit aloud to the tremble of his heart in his chest at the expression on his best friend’s face, but he did immediately squish down the traitorous hope that emerged every time Remy looked at him like that. Which happened almost every time they saw each other.

“Hey, Remy! You’re here early,” Emile said.

“Hope that’s chill, babe. I was not watching the time.”

(Emile did his best to ignore the feelings that the use of the nickname ‘babe’ stirred up.)

Remy’s sunglasses were propped up on his head, as they often were, and his warm brown eyes were on display. He was wearing his signature black leather jacket, too, as he usually was, with a white crop-top – with the word ‘bitch’ across the front in block capitals – underneath, exposing his midriff.

It took effort for Emile to keep his eyes from drifting downwards.

“It’s fine, Remy,” Emile smiled, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on his best friend’s face. “You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Remy laughed. “If you keep saying that, I’ll end up showing up here at 4am when I’m drunk.”

“Well, I would rather you came here than go somewhere else and get yourself hurt.”

“Even if that means I wake you up from whatever candy-coloured, cartoon-filled dreams you’re having?”

“Mhm!”

“Damn, gurl, you really are sweeter than sugar, huh? How the hell did someone like you end up being besties with someone like me?”

“Aww, Remy, I think you give yourself too little credit.”

Remy laughed again. “Nah, babes, I love myself. I’m just kinda an asshole sometimes.”

“Isn’t everyone sometimes?” Emile said.

“Not you, apparently. Come on, you’re basically an angel, like, 24/7 and I have legit no idea how you do it. You’ve got the patience of a saint and a smile that literally gives me toothache just looking at it. You’re downright adorable.”

Elation bubbled up in Emile’s heart, and those bubbles filled his chest and spilled over in the forms of happy giggles. He covered his smile with his hand, and practically melted on the spot at the soft, fond look that crossed Remy’s face for just a moment – almost unnoticeable, but Emile paid enough attention that he saw it – before being replaced with Remy’s usual grin.

“Do you want to come in?” Emile asked, still smiling.

“Sure.”

Emile stepped to the side, and Remy’s arm brushed against his own as he walked past him. He hoped the stuttered breath at the contact wasn’t obvious.

“I like the new tie,” Remy commented as Emile shut the door and turned to face him.

Emile perked up. “Oh, you noticed!”

“Course I did,” Remy said. “I’ve seen every tie you’ve got like a million times. I could tell that one was new basically as soon as you opened the door.”

“Aww, Remy... you’re great. The best friend a guy could have!”

Emile’s smile was soft, fond, and so, so caring, and – for just a moment – he could have sworn that Remy looked flustered to be the recipient of it: wide-eyed and as still as a statue. But then, the moment passed, and Remy’s expression smoothed over and returned to normal, and Emile was sure that he’d only imagined it.

“It’s nothing, babe,” Remy said, waving his hand dismissively. “You noticed when I got that new skirt last week, even though it’s identical to my old one-”

“Your old one had a big hole in it! The new one didn’t.”

“Yeah, so I had to get a new one ‘cos it made my ass look great and I wasn’t ‘bout to give that shit up, you know? Ooh, and I especially love it paired with those heels that get everyone looking at my legs, ‘cos that combo makes me look fab AF.” Remy paused. “You know what, I think that’s kinda beside the point. Any-gay, you noticed ‘cos you’re cool like that, so me noticing your tie is, like, nothing.”

“Aww, Remy,” Emile reached forward, and poked Remy’s arm. “It’s not nothing, most people wouldn’t even be able to tell! You’re my best friend, and it makes me really, really happy that you notice these kinds of things.”

Remy’s expression softened. “Well, then I guess it makes it pretty special then, huh?”

Emile felt like screaming. Or kissing Remy. Or kissing Remy and then screaming.

(Though, really, if Emile ever got the chance to kiss Remy, he’d be too busy savouring it to even think of doing anything else. Too busy savouring the feeling of warm lips against his own, of Remy’s gentle hand against his cheek, of a chest pressed against his own, of being so close to the one person he wanted to be close to more than anything else in the world. But he never thought he’d ever get the chance.)

Emile stumbled over his words, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as he fiddled with his hands. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that, and wasn’t sure if he even could without losing control of his mouth and accidentally confessing his undying love for his best friend.

“Um...” he trailed off.

Remy laughed awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair and glancing away.

“So, uh... what did- what did your patients think of your new tie?”

“Oh!” Emile perked up again, at once both disappointed and relieved by the return to the original topic of conversation. “Yeah, two of them complimented it. And someone said the red was a nice change from the usual pastels, so I think it was a big hit!”

He smiled, and Remy immediately smiled back.

“Nice.”

“I think the pink tie’s still my favourite, though.”

“Mine, too. It’s a classic Emile colour.”

Emile laughed. “There are classic Emile colours?”

“Sure, there are! You’ve got your baby pink, baby blue and, you know,” Remy reached out, tugging gently on Emile’s cardigan sleeve. “You’ve got your cardigan-colour. I’ve, like, barely ever seen you without this thing. How many of these do you have? Like, a hundred?”

Emile giggled again, covering his mouth with his hand. “I have two. And they’re both a little different!”

“Right, right,” Remy nodded. “One’s, like, a little bigger.”

“Mhm! And this one’s a bit softer.”

Remy nodded again, slowly and with an amused tint to his smile. “So, are we gonna, like, move, or are we gonna stand in your hallway forever?”

“Oh, right!” Emile said, like he’d only just remembered that they were still stood at his front door.

He moved past Remy, gesturing for his friend to follow as he went into the next room and sat down on the couch. Remy immediately flopped onto it beside him, getting comfortable on the soft, squishy cushions. He leant back lazily and stretched.

“Ooh,” Remy finally said, straightening up. “I bought a new lipstick yesterday!”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“It’s, like, pink. It matches the shoes I bought last week, and it makes me look killer. I’m gonna get all the guys’ eyes on me, so it sucks that I can’t wear it when I’m, like, actually looking to kiss strangers, you know?”

Emile ignored the pang of pain in his heart, and did his best to smile encouragingly.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” he said. “I- I bet you look great in it. And it- it's a shame you can’t wear it when you want to.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda tempted to, you know, but, like, if I’m wearing lipstick, then I won’t know if any marks my lips make are ‘cos of my lipstick or ‘cos of soulmate shit, right?” Remy continued, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “And, like, what’s the pointing of making out with people if I can’t also know if they’re my soulmate?”

“Right.”

“So, I can only wear lipstick when I’m not looking for people to kiss. Sucks, but it’s gotta be done.”

Emile nodded slowly. Then, he paused, and his brow creased in thought.

“You don’t usually wear lipstick when you’re with me,” he said. “Even when we’re going out and it’s just us, no- no kissing strangers involved. How come?”

Remy froze in place.

“Uh...”

Emile blinked at him. He tilted his head questioningly. “Hmm?”

He could practically see the cogs turning in Remy’s head, while he searched for an answer that he obviously did not have or did not want to share. He looked... flustered, in a way that Emile had almost never seen him before – opening and closing his mouth a few times – and Emile just couldn’t seem to figure out why.

Remy and Emile just stared at each other, neither knowing quite what to say to the other. Emile was confused, not wanting to speak up at the risk of interrupting whatever Remy wanted to say. He also absolutely would not let his mind wander to the any possibilities that would fill him with hope.

A crushed hope was definitely not something Emile wanted to deal with, not right now.

Remy cleared his throat. He swallowed.

“Um- there’s...” he then huffed, looking down at his lap and running his fingers through his hair. He let out an awkward laugh, and then looked back up at Emile. “I... okay,” he sighed. “There’s something I think I should probs tell you.”

Emile stared at him, blinking. “What is it?” He asked.

“It, uh...” Remy sighed again. “I have no idea how you’d react to this. The thing I want to tell you... it could probs mess up our friendship.”

“Remy...” Emile said softly. “You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything, and I promise you this won’t mess anything up, okay?”

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“I don’t need to. I know you.” Emile leant forward slightly, giving Remy his best attempt at a soft, reassuring smile.

Remy stared at Emile for a second. Then he laughed again, a strange mix of awkwardness and nervousness and with a hint of slight joy, too – with a confusing, even a little alarming, effect. His eyes never left Emile’s smile.

“Jeez, babe. How are you making this so much harder but so much easier at, like, the same time?”

Emile blinked. “Um... is that good?”

“Dunno. But...” Remy took a deep breath. He clenched his hands into fists, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before he turned back to Emile. “Okay... wow, I’ve wanted to tell you this for forever, but, like, fuck, this is terrifying.”

Emile’s expression creased with concern. He reached forward, looking him over worriedly, and rested his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

“Remy, are you okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he frowned slightly.

“No, I- I want to tell you. God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about telling you about my feelings.”

Feelings. Feelings, feelings, feelings.

Did that mean what Emile thought it meant?

The hope rose up, though he tried so hard to squash it down, but it was like trying to fit something large in a container too small and he could hardly keep it from filling up and overwhelming him. His breath stuttered, and he was sure he tensed up and froze in place for a moment, before he finally regained his composure and physically relaxed.

“Feelings?” He asked, in a voice slightly more strangled than before. “What feelings?”

Remy let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s- that’s what I’ve gotta talk to you about. My- my feelings... for you.” He took another deep breath. “I... I love you, Em.”

“I love you, too,” Emile answered back immediately. “Haven’t we said this before?”

They had. The two best friends had been friends for so long: exchanging ‘I love you’s was practically part of their routine, by now.

But it had always been platonic, at least from Remy’s side.

Right?

“We- we have...” Remy said slowly. “But that’s not what I meant. I love you. Like, love love. Like the head over heels in love kind. The- the I can never stop thinking ‘bout you kind. The, fuck, you’re so gorgeous kind. The kind that means I’m, like, basically always thinking about you and about kissing you and about how, wow, you’re- you’re just amazing. I mean, damn, I know last week when I told you that you’re my favourite person, I kinda said it like a joke, but I meant it. I like really, really meant it.”

When Remy realised that he was rambling, he clamped his hand over his mouth, like it was the only way to get the words – the pretty, pretty words that had set Emile’s heart aflutter – to stop tumbling out.

Emile was frozen.

He stared, wide-eyed at his best friend.

“Oh,” was the only thing he could say, in a strangled voice.

He was sure that his face was already bright red.

“Great.” Remy sighed, removing his palm from his mouth and burying his face in his hands. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?” He mumbled just loud enough to be audible. “I- I know you don’t feel the same way, babe, and it’s fine. It’s totally, totally fine. I’m happy just being friends with you, ‘kay? You- you don’t have to return anything. It’s- it’s whatever. It’s chill.”

Emile’s brain had broken. He could hardly think anything other than the words ‘Remy’ and ‘love’ just over and over on repeat.

Instead of saying anything in response to that – as he wasn’t even sure if he could – he just suddenly burst into nervous, delighted laugher. Emile was sure he sounded like he was crazy, especially when Remy turned to him with a bewildered expression.

“Did- did you really mean that?” Emile asked when he could finally collect his thoughts enough to speak, which took slightly longer than he would have liked it to.

Remy blinked. Then, his expression softened.

“Of course, I did,” he said. “I’d never lie to you about something like this, Em.”

“So, you... you really mean it?” Emile asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Remy said. He hesitated for a moment, before nervously adding: “Do you- I mean, is it-”

“I love you, too.”

There was a beat.

Remy stared back at him, wide-eyed. The moment of silence was somehow simultaneously nerve-racking and also soft and so, so exciting, because, oh my gosh, Remy loved him. Remy loved him, he loved him, he loved him!

Love! Love! Love!

And, oh, heavens above, Emile was about to start wiggling excitedly because, gosh, he really, really just had to kiss Remy, right now. And maybe – maybe, maybe, maybe – Remy would say yes if he asked.

Emile let out another giggle, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You... you do?” Remy asked, eyes wide and hopeful, and Emile was suddenly glad that the sunglasses were propped up on his head, as his expression was always much easier to read that way.

“Yeah,” Emile responded, equally soft. “I really, really do.”

“Wow. Just- just wow.”

Emile reached forward, impulsively cupping Remy’s cheek with his hand, and Remy froze. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Oh, gosh- sorry,” Emile apologised. “I should’ve asked-”

He moved to take his hand away, but was stopped by Remy covering Emile’s hand with his own.

“You’re good- you're- yes. Yes.”

And, well, that was exactly the answer that Emile had wanted to hear.

He leant forward, and finally – finally! – did the thing he’d most wanted to do for years. Years. Since the moment he’d first laid eyes on Remy, he’d thought about it.

He kissed Remy.

Softly. Carefully. Holding Remy’s face so delicately like he was holding something precious.

And the way Remy was kissing him back...

Emile had seen Remy kiss people before – strangers, friends – and he’d always kissed them like he was doing it for fun, not love. He’d never seen Remy kiss anyone as gently as Remy was kissing him, right now.

Bubbles of delight and fireworks of excitement were going off in Emile’s heart and his mind.

He sighed happily into the kiss, and he could suddenly feel Remy smile against his lips.

Emile broke the kiss with another delighted giggle and Remy couldn’t help but just start laughing with him, too. And, of course, that just made Emile’s giggles louder and more enthusiastic.

He was so focused on the laughing and the delighted feeling in his chest from the fact that he had just kissed Remy, that Emile didn’t immediately notice that Remy’s lips were suddenly pink – a light, pastel pink that certainly hadn’t been there before.

And, in fact, it was Remy who halted the laughter first, by freezing in place and staring – yet again wide-eyed – at Emile’s own lips.

Emile paused, and tilted his head in confusion.

“Remy?”

Remy opened and closed his mouth a few times, never taking his eyes off of Emile’s lips.

“Em... your- your lips.”

Emile blinked. He reached a hand up to his own lips, and swiped a finger across them. He then looked back down at his hand, and found nothing – no blood, no anything.

He paused, and then turned his head to look at the mirror that hung on an opposite wall.

His eyes landed on his reflection, and he finally noticed that there was a smear of shiny silver across his lips that definitely, definitely hadn’t been there before.

Emile sucked in a breath as Remy turned his head to look into the mirror, and he realised that Remy’s lips were now a lipstick-like pink, when he certainly hadn’t been wearing any just before the pair had kissed.

“We’re-” Remy started.

“Oh,” Emile breathed.

“Oh,” Remy echoed.

They turned their heads to stare at each other, equally wide-eyed and shocked and excited.

Soulmates.

They were soulmates.

And then Remy surged forward, and kissed Emile again.

#me #writing #remile #sanders shorts #cartoon therapy #emile picani #remy sanders #sleep sanders #fluff #human au #soulmate au #first kiss

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morgana-ren · 4 years ago

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Just Business

Summary: You’re a loan shark looking to expand your enterprise to the League of Villains. Lucky for you, Dabi might just be willing to hear you out. As long as you can prove your loyalty to him, that is.

Rating: E for not everyone. Explicit. Do I release anything else?

Baby’s first Dabi fic. Just testing the waters, folks. I know nothing about this man. Literally nothing.

Money lending is such a nasty business.

Some poor sap shuffles in nervously shifting his fingers and recites some rehearsed script about why he needs the cash and how he’s good for it, and then you throw him a wad and pretend to make up some important deadline. He thanks you profusely and thumbs through the cash as he leaves, and you’ve still got your heels kicked up on your desk as you tell a goon to keep an eye on him.

Sometimes their reaction to your ‘charity’ varies, but one thing always stays the same. They can never pay it back.

Some run. Some try to hide. Some bolt the second the cash hits their fists, boarding the first train out of town. Some genuinely try to do the right thing. The result is the same.

You track them down. Your boot, their neck. They cry, you extort.

It’s not about the money. It never is. Wealth is fine and good but no amount of monetary fortune can amount to having another thread in the network web you’re building. You’ll let them off the hook and they’ll spy for you, lie for you, even put their neck on the line because they have no other choice. Info is worth infinitely more than a petty loan, and what you invest in their short sighted schemes is repaid tenfold.

You knew something was up with the shifty little prick the second he walked in the door. He asked for an exorbitant amount and could never meet your eyes when he told you just what he planned to do with it. It sounded too rehearsed, even for your usual clientele. Almost like someone told him what to say and just how to say it.

In this business, you learn to call a spade a spade, but even as he sat on his knees with his gaze shifted away from you and practically screaming tells, you felt there was something deeper. A truth buried deep within his lies. Something interesting. Something you wanted to know.

You give the poor bastard the money.

Sending a runner to watch his schedule confirms your beliefs. He walks into a dilapidated abandoned building not long after leaving the meeting with your thick wad of cash in hand and leaves with only a few bills, though he looks relieved for his trouble. You have his face, his name, a dossier on his entire life. He’s far too unguarded for someone into something so nefarious. Someone sent this little gnat into your domain and didn’t expect you to follow the thread. They were mistaken. Whoever this man works for, he’s the only lead into something deeper.

Your little flies swarm the building only to find it empty. No trace of who you had been dealing with, no clues to lead you to the heart of your curiosity. Only dust splayed across concrete and a fire with the ashes still warm.

All your contacts and all your pull only give you one lead: the League of Villains.

A down-on-their-luck outfit of outcasts and outlaws. Their leader had been making some big moves with a large financier some months ago, but things turned disastrous and no one had heard a peep since. It doesn’t surprise you to hear they’re rebuilding, but what intrigues you is that they’re making such risky pulls to do it. Borrowing money they clearly cannot pay back from a loan shark with a reputation of ruthlessness.

It should make you mad, being ripped off and deceived like that.

It doesn’t.

If anything, it tickles you. You didn’t even have to put out any feelers and they had loitered into your web. You’d had your eyes on them for some time, curious about their leader and their members. They could prove a worthy investment, if given the chance. You never had an in with them since they never needed your services, but it seems that they hand delivered one in desperation.

It becomes a matter of baiting and trapping.

You wait and you listen. The debt date approaches and it’s only a matter of time. It doesn’t surprise you when the same man wanders back into your office and hands you a thick stack of bills, more than twice what you had offered him. You most definitely are surprised to find him returning but you accept his offering with a smile, running your finger along the bills to keep up appearances.

“It seems you find yourself quite wealthy! You simply must tell me how you’ve made such a grand turn around!”

He swallows hard at your compliment, raising a hand to the back of his head and scratching nervously. “Luck, Ma’am. Nothing more. I find myself in fortune and simply wish to repay your great kindness.”

“Of course.” You smile at him, allowing him to take his leave. Now the real game begins.

Your little spies follow him as he weaves through the streets into the industrial part of town. He ducks into another decrepit building, closing the door firmly behind him. He emerges a few moments later only to tuck a receipt of payment and a few more bills into his shirt. The pace he has is slower now, more relaxed. He believes he’s free, shaken clean of your webbing and can breathe without fear now.

How wrong he is.

The look of terror on his face as you block his exit from the alley almost makes you feel sorry for him. He immediately becomes defensive, backing up several feet despite the absence of your body guards. He’s not afraid of you. He’s afraid of who is watching.

“What are you doing here? I paid you!”

“You have.” You acknowledge, bowing your head. “I’m not here for money. I simply ask for information. That’s not so terrible, is it? This doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”

“I don’t know anything!”

“But of course you do!” You draw closer and he trips over his own feet, falling flat to the alley floor. “That money wasn’t for you, was it? You have no prospects, no family or land or investments of your own. Only a crippling gambling debt, yes? Paying debt doesn’t accumulate currency, so clearly you must have had some grand scheme. I’m very interested in your process.”

You bend down, venom gathering behind your fangs as you stroke his petrified face with a cool finger. “From one brilliant mind to another. I’ll keep it a secret. I promise.”

“I- Well-” He looks around anxiously, stumbling over words but so close to breaking. It won’t take much on your part to get him to crack.

Or it wouldn’t have, anyway.

A bolt of vibrant blue flame speeds toward you from around a corner almost quicker than you can process and it’s only barely that you manage to dodge it by shoving yourself clumsily backward. The unbelievable heat from the blast doesn’t escape you, and you cover your face as the alleyway erupts in fire, engulfing your only lead in flames and incinerating him before you could make a move to save him and whatever it is he had to say. The smell of charred flesh is overwhelming and despite the obvious threat, you can’t help but smile.

A tall figure walks fearlessly through the inferno, hands in his pockets and seeming almost bored as he kicks over the ashen figure that was human only seconds ago. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted this idiot.”

You stay silent, face shielded from the encompassing heat by your palm as he approaches. Inky black hair and a pale body covered in muldering skin, maroon scars stapled together with metal and sheer force of will. His threadbare coat billows around his feet as he trudges down the alleyway toward you. His eyes are a striking shade of blue, focused on you with an empty expression.

The ends of your hair have singed and your face itches, but it’s nothing compared to the accomplishment you feel. You had a feeling that toying with some strings might bring the cat out to play.

“So you’re one of the League.”

You stand up, brushing the dirt off your knees and stabilizing yourself on the wall despite the overwhelming heat.

“Sure. You’re that babe that lent us the money, right? That was nice of you.” He stops just short of you, arms withdrawing from his pockets and igniting with indigo flame. “Now why don’t you scram? You got your money, what happens from here isn’t your business.”

“Oh, it’s not all business.” You coyly tell him, running him once over with your eyes. “Sometimes it’s just pleasure. Are there other fine, strapping young lads like you in the League or am I just one lucky girl?”

“That depends.” He scoffs, puffing air out of his stapled cheeks. “Do you get any better at prying for information or is this the best you can do?”

“Oh!” A dramatic gesture and you cross your hands over your heart, already coating your hands in sticky, silken thread. “You wound me!”

“I’ll wound you a hell of a lot worse if you don’t get out of here.” His fist clenches, and a burst of ever increasing heat emanates from the fire engulfing his hand. “Last I checked, fire still kills spiders.”

“You’d burn down your own home to kill a single little spider? I’m flattered.”

Before he can retort, you kick one of your feet out behind you, jumping toward him and latching your legs around his midsection. Your hands are quick to wrap around his own as he tumbles to the ground, burning through the layers of webbing drooling from your fingers. The viscous cobweb coats his palms and successfully extinguishes his flames, if only for a moment. It won’t be long, but hopefully it will give you the time you need. You slather the mixture onto the ground next to his head, immobilizing his arms and trapping him beneath you.

He looks panicked for a moment, trying desperately to activate his quirk, but it can’t get the air his fire needs to breathe through your gossamer web. You keep steady on his bucking hips, as chuckling he tries to pry his hands free of your thick, durable weave. Once he realizes it’s not going to happen and you haven’t killed him yet, he seems to relax, if only slightly.

“So, it’s not just a nickname.” He muses, teal eyes focused on your fangs through your grinning lips. “You know, I kill spiders when they’re in my house.”

You throw him a faux pout, grabbing his jaw with your middle finger and thumb and holding him steady as you inspect the staples that line his jaw. “You’re so cruel. I’m just trying to protect my web. You can’t truly blame me, can you? You’d do the same.”

His hips thrash again and this time you don’t hold back the little moan it coaxes from you, His pupils dilate and for a brief second he seems frozen. At least before a smarmy smirk tugs at his upper lip. “You got your money, doll. I’m starting to think this isn’t business after all.”

“Maybe it’s not.” You lean down, running your tongue across the textured expanse of his neck and stifling a giggle when he stiffens. “Maybe I see potential in your little group and I want in.”

“That’s nice of you.” He juts his face toward you only for you to pull back. “But it’s really not up to me.”

You withdraw your hand from his jaw and run it down his chest instead, fingertips slowly stimulating the rough, scarred skin beneath his neck. “Then who is it up to?”

“That would be the boss.” He grins, one hand breaking free of your web and immediately finding purchase in your hair. You go to grab his wrist but he tuts you, threatening you with a familiar warmth on your scalp. Long, skinny fingers coil around your roots and yank your head back, and eventually his other hand breaks free, coming up to grip at your waist. “And he’s going to want nothing to do with you.”

He pulls you down closer to him, the moist heat from his breath collecting on the side of your neck as he keeps you steady on top of him. You can feel him hardening between your legs and you can’t help but wiggle your hips to bolster the sensation.

“What do I need to do, then?”

“I’d be willing to put in a good word for you,” The hand on your waist slides down to grip your ass, clenching the fatty skin and slowly moving you back and forth atop his hips. “If you’re okay with working for it.”

“You’d be so generous, yeah?” You gyrate your lower body against him, feeling the head of his cock poking your clit through his rough jeans.

“You’d be surprised what I’ll do if you make it worth it.”

“I guess I have no choice then.” Your tongue runs over the point of your fangs, swallowing back all the venom you’d had so ready. Sometimes it’s easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar, and you had the sweetest honey of all right between your thighs.

“Say the word and I’ll let you walk away, babe.” His fingers loosen their hold on your body but don’t relinquish entirely. “But if you don’t, I’m going to need you to prove your loyalty.”

You push his body down with your chest until the back of his head meets the gravel, allowing him to keep his hold on you. “I’m very loyal.”

Your tits squish against his pecs and he sneaks a less than inconspicuous peak at them, cock throbbing against your apex. “Prove it.”

You don’t need any further prompting. He almost protests as you shake his hand free and scoot back farther down his legs, at least until he realizes what you’re doing. Your deft fingers work at the buttons of his jeans, yanking them down to his thighs before resituating yourself and working on your own buttons, pulling at them painfully slowly. Once you’ve both exposed yourself to the open air, you can’t help but look at his cock, thick and bobbing against his stomach. It’s one of the only parts of him that isn’t scarred and latched with metal, but the weeping tip looks so inviting. Every bone in your body wants to take him in your mouth and make him see God through sheer force of tongue, but you’ve got a job to do and there’s no time for play. Not this time anyway.

You sit up on your knees until he’s aligned with your hole, sinking down just enough to tease him with your tightness. He groans, trying to pull you down further, but you’re not having it. You arch your back, keeping your knees steady and allowing only the very tip of his cock to enter you.

“Fuck- hurry it up, would you?”

You grab his hands and push them down by his head again, sinking down on him as slow as you possibly can. His eyes roll back in his head, and he hisses all manner of curses as you situate him nice and snug between your suffocating walls. The head of his cock prods at your cervix as you sit on top of him but the fullness stuffed between your thighs forces a breathy moan from you.

He gives you no time to adjust to his girth, pumping his hips up into you as you’re still catching your breath. “Shit! You’re pretty fuckin tight, babe!” A shiver rolls down his back as his hands move to your hips and try to force you harder up and down against him

“So impatient.” You croon, licking up his neck again before sinking your fangs deep into the rough tissue.

“Fuck!”

He’s almost ready to shove you off of him before you start rolling your hips, letting his cock burrow deep into your silken cunt again and again, running your tongue along the column of his throat and nipping softly to gain his trust. You’re not trying to poison him, not now. Your job right now is to gift him pleasure, and so you will.

“Risky-” He huffs in your ear, one hand smacking down hard enough on your ass that you yelp. “Toying with me like that. I can guess what those fangs can do.”

“If only you knew everything.” You sigh, letting his hands go in favor of pulling back, your palms finding his knees behind you as your back arches and puts your tits on display for him.

He can’t resist. The only thing separating him from your chest is a flimsy shirt which he quickly disposes of, heating his fingers enough that the fabric begins to shred before he swiftly pulls it apart. He quickly takes advantage of the fact that your milky tits are within reaching distance, latching on to a nipple and sucking almost painfully.

A high pitched keen escapes your throat as he puffs and hollows his cheeks, slobbering on your chest with one hand on the crook of your shoulder to keep you anchored close. His cock pummels your insides, pelvis stimulating your clit as you ride him. You’re clinging to control but you can feel it slipping with every sloppy lick of his tongue and every brutal thrust of his hips. His heaving becomes more and more erratic, moist breath practically burning your chest on the odd second he pulls away to watch your face. Your eyes close and you lose yourself in the euphoria of his cock, letting him hit you deep and hard just where you need it. Eventually, he releases your nipple from his mouth and you figure you’re both about to cum.

That comes to a screeching halt when he slows his pistoning, grabbing your waist with both hands and keeping you from riding him either.

“What the hell!” You whine, trying and failing to chase your rapidly disappearing orgasm.

“Dabi.” He hisses, bringing a hand up and kneading your breast with fingers that are too hot to handle, squeezing your nipple and sending another jolt of hot pleasure between your legs.

“What?”

Your teeth are clenching, active frustration boiling in your gut. You were so close. Somehow he knows, but he knocks you off of him, watching with mirthful eyes as you land on your butt beside him. Instead of mocking you, he sits up and quickly pulls off his coat, throwing to the ground behind him and spreading it around haphazardly. Before you have time to question, he lurches forward, grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the fabric beneath him.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He says, maneuvering your legs open and placing his thick cock back at your drooling cunt. “When you cum on my dick, I wanna hear you say my name.”

He refuses to move until you acknowledge him, so you do.

“P-please? Dabi?”

“Good girl” He purrs, plunging inside you again so fast you hardly have time to recover. The hand around your neck heats and you scream, at least until a pair of charred lips forces themselves against your open ones. He pounds into you with renewed energy, slamming with a force that jerks your head back with every thrust. The hand that isn’t firmly clasped around your throat finds its way between your legs and rubs in tight, calculated circles. His slick tongue worms into your throat, licking the front of your teeth.

“You’re cute-” he huffs into your open mouth. “I might keep you around. You’re more useful to me as a whore than a loan shark. Is that what you want, doll? To take my loads in your warm little holes? I’ll take real good care of you.”

You want to tell him no. You have a business, a mission. But as he drills deeper inside you, you’re so close to saying whatever he wants so long as he doesn’t stop. The electric warmth between your thighs is rapidly building, coiling up and ready to burst and you’ll say whatever he wants as long as he keeps fucking you.

Some part of him must sense this, because he pulls away from your throat, weaving his fingers up through the crown of your head again and pulling you up to face him. His eyes are glazed, sweat dripping down his temple and he huffs breath through his nostrils that’s practically steam at this point.

“Beg me to cum.”

“Please-”

His fingers work against your clit but just enough to keep the pleasure from fading. You need it faster. You need it harder.

“More!”

He hums and licks up your lips, slipping his tongue between your teeth again for a brief second. “What’s the magic word?”

The fingers on your pussy heat slightly as he applies more pressure, watching you through heavily lidded eyes as you writhe and squirm.

“D-Dabi!”

“Such a good girl. Say ‘Dabi please let me cum!”

It’s degrading and filthy but fuck you want it. Plus, remember, this is just business. Right?

“Dabi! P-Please let me cum on your cock! Please! I-I need-!”

He bites down on your bottom lip before the words can leave your swollen tongue. Your body wiggles restlessly as you wait for him to give you what he promised.

“Good girls get rewards.”

His hips pull back and shove almost impossibly deep inside, forcing a loud cry from you before he slams mouth down onto yours. His fingers work overtime on your engorged clit, utilizing the wetness seeping from your hole as his cock thrusts in and out. His tongue worms past your lips again and explores every inch he can reach, chuckling as you moan shamelessly into his mouth.

Though he starts off with a precise rhythm, it quickly becomes erratic as he chases his own pleasure while delivering yours. The hand at your apex is working overtime and the one in your hair is warm enough that you’d likely be a bit worried if you had the mental capacity. He uses both of them to maneuver you to his precise liking, fucking into you like you’re a pliable little doll built solely for his pleasure.

He’s mumbling incoherently, breathing hot and heavy against your cheek. Your needy moans and whimpers only drive him to move faster and harder as your own hips work double time to meet his powerful pulsating. If you weren’t the one making the noises, you never would have believed it was you.

“Fuck- shit! Gunna cum nice and deep in your pretty little cunt! Gunna make sure you’re dripping for days-“ He cuts off partway through to let out a heafy groan as you clench your muscles tighter to milk him. “God, so fucking tight-“

Your orgasm is approaching quickly, pain from his bony hips digging into the fleshy fat of your thighs barely a whisper compared to the white hot pressure building at the base of your spine. You can feel his cock twitch against your cervix with every punch against it and you know he’s close too.

You dig your nails in, fingers clamped against his shoulders and using his movements to build your own momentum. The cacophony of moans between you two becomes louder and more unhinged, him whispering depraved fantasies in your ear that only drive you further to completion. Your head falls back down to the ground as you lose the ability to keep it up any longer, cord finally snapping and unraveling as he throws you over the edge.

You practically scream as he continues fucking you through your orgasm, legs constricting ever tighter around his narrow hips as you push yourself up harder to chase every ounce of sensation he has to offer you. Stars dance behind your shut eyes and your entire body buzzes with prickling bliss that radiates from your core. You can’t feel the pain in your knees from the asphalt before he flipped you or the localized ache from him ripping at your hair; only the overwhelming, pulsing euphoria as he continues to hit that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you as you ride out your peak.

His animalistic grunts turn even more primal as your walls flutter around his thick cock, clenching and pulsing around him until he can’t hold back the tide of cresting pleasure anymore. Hot cum floods your insides, so warm you swear it nearly burns you. He continues pumping as it begins to leak from inside you, obscene squelching echoing from the point of entry. He turns his head, finding the crook of your neck and biting down hard enough you cry out, marking you one last time as he continues to stroke himself with your cunt until every last drop has been drained.

His cock throbs for a moment before slowly softening inside you as he tries to see straight. You’ve yet to open your eyes, only twitching in overstimulation as he withdraws his hand from between your slippery thighs. He allows you to catch your breath for a moment before lightly pushing himself up off of you, careful not to hurt you.

You slowly regain the ability to move your body and rollout from underneath him, wobbling legs dropping you back onto the cement instead of allowing you to stand when you try. It’s a struggle to pull up your pants since your legs have decided they no longer want to work, but somehow you manage to get them pulled up and buttoned, Dabi’s cum seeping from between your thighs and staining onto the fabric. Dabi himself hoists himself to his feet, using the wall as support. He’s trying desperately to seem unaffected but you don’t miss the falter of his legs like a newborn fawn when he first rises to his feet.

“Thanks doll, that was fun.” He somehow manages to bend over and grab his coat from the floor, snaking his arms through the armholes and readjusting it over his chest. “I think I’ll be in touch.”

You raise your head, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You think?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, beginning his walk back down the alleyway where he came from. He turns to look at you one last time, sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I might need some more convincing.”

#Dabi x Reader #nsft #Baby's first dabi fic #do not be too hard on me this is low effort and just to test out Dabi lmao #I edited sorta kinda I swear #Not a whole lot but you know #Reader has a spider quirk that gives her fangs and lovely webbing she can make from her pores #ahaha I’m a fucking pathetic failure.

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years ago

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SUGA: “This is the only thing I know how to really do”

#bangtan #suga #m:weverse magazine #210731

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

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Villian-Sicle | Part 5

I feel like now would be a pertinent time to mention that this is my first attempt at writing a sort of drabble series. The majority of my work is 50k-100k word nerd ass novels, and I think that this part will make that unfortunately abundantly apparent. I’m sorry for just how long it is, but I’ve absolutely loved writing these characters, and I got a little bit carried away with fleshing out the world a bit more ^^

Also, I feel I should probably mention that, though characters in this story speak Latin, I do not know any Latin. I wrote this using dictionaries and very basic grammar guides, and I sincerely hope I did not mess up too bad.

Thank you for reading! It’s a long one, but I hope you’ll enjoy.

CW//Superhero whump, villain whumpee, hypothermia, military setting (kinda), pet whump, dehumanization, past trauma, muzzles, restraints, conditioned whumpee, depiction of an implied panic attack, denial of water

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

Villain couldn’t help but shake and buck their head as a corrugation of metal and leather was slipped over their face, securing their jaw in its current position and forcing them to bite down against the pressure. It had been fitted since last time, they noted rather hollowly-- with a piece of padding now standing between the bridge of their noise and the harsh metal wires. Regardless of how many adjustments were made to the piece, however, making it comfortable seemed beyond their ability.

They, in this specific circumstance, referred mainly to the two soldiers before Villain. Trainer was the only one of the two that they knew the name of-- though they were nearly unrecognizable beneath the layers of gear shrouding their appearance.

The helmet they wore resembled more so that of a motorcyclist rather than that of an armed combatant, but the rest of their kit was far more military. Beneath their uniform bulged the clear outlines of a tac-vest, with their hands shielded by Kevlar gloves, constructed of an intricate mesh of triangular pieces, in a similar manner to chain-mail.

The other soldier was dressed in nearly identical kit, just without the gloves-- those were for handlers, which this other soldier must’ve surely not been. They turned to Trainer, noises in an odd language curling off their tongue. Trainer replied with a laugh.

With practiced hands, Trainer took the muzzle’s straps and secured them behind Villain’s head, tightening the metal until it dug into their skin, tearing at old sores created by the same device. Their leash was quickly hooked to a ring protruding from the muzzle’s wires.

“Manibus.” Trainer’s voice spoke. They nearly flinched at the sheer speed at which Villain offered their hands. Momentarily, Trainer ghosted their fingers over the leather mitten restraints that kept Villain’s fine motor abilities under control. They checked the wrist straps, ensuring their tautness, nodding their approval.

“Abeamus?” The other soldier suggested, to which Trainer gave another nod. They wrapped Villain’s leash around their wrist, halving its length, until there was negligible slack in the line.

Another group of soldiers, all dressed in military-style garments of their own, loitered together by the door to the staging room. They looked to Trainer, marginally straightening their postures, and, presumably, minimizing the amount of swearing in their speech.

With a few words and a flick of the wrist, the squadron was off.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Leader couldn’t stop looking at Villain’s eyes.

They weren’t quite certain what had pulled them into such an odd trance. It was nothing about color, certainly, nor anything else physical or inherent-- they were unremarkable, in such respects. No, it was certainly something about the expression they portrayed.

A moment ago, they’d seen shattering fear turn to fury in these eyes. Now, they seemed blank, as though constructed of glass and merely painted upon. There was no expression beyond them, no recognition, no indication that Villain’s mind was occupied by anything at all. Their gaze stared straight through Leader, through the ceiling above as well.

Leader was torn from their daze by a commotion from behind them as the door was thrown open. Medic was nearly knocked over as Hero burst in, followed more ploddingly by Counselor.

“Be careful.” Leader warned, looking up and turning to the group. “There’s broken shit everywhere.”

Hero’s eyes darted around the room, seemingly taking in the mess. Broken glass coated the tile floor in a thin dusting of shards, while various mechanical parts still smoked in whatever place they had happened to end up. The lights had been blown out completely, leaving the lighting in the room to be provided by a flashlight laid on a countertop, as well as, now, the light soaking in from the hallway.

After their panicked scan, Hero settled their gaze on Villain.

“Are they...”

“They’re fine.” Medic interrupted.

“They’re not moving.”

“Well... I’m going to hazard to say that that’s a good thing. If I had to guess, it seems like a shock response. It’s not exactly my biggest concern, right about now.”

“What about the, uh, bleeding hole in their chest?”

“That would be my biggest concern.”

Medic grabbed a variety of, miraculously undamaged, medical supplies from a cupboard, setting to work at Villain’s wound. It was small, deliberate, having been incised to be used as an access point for the dialysis machine, but Leader had a feeling that even minor blood loss could be a death sentence, at this point.

Hero and Counselor hovered, for a moment, at Villain’s bedside, while Medic did their work. Leader stood back, nearly having to forcibly tear their gaze from that of Villain.

That odd sort of silence remained for several moments, if not minutes, as Medic’s deft hands worked to close the wound. It was only when the last suture was tied that Counselor spoke up-- one of the only times they had done so for the whole mission.

“Leader?”

“Hm?”

“What’s our plan, exactly? What are our orders?”

They raised a brow. Counselor was never that direct-- nor that military.

“Um...” It felt quite stupid, being caught unprepared like this, but in their defense, they had nearly just been killed by an exploding air conditioner. “I... I don’t want to hazard doing anything until Villain is stable.”

“That was your plan before.” Medic muttered as they pried latex gloves from their hands. “It almost got us killed.”

“Right. Yeah, um, are they stable enough? For transport?”

“They’re not going to bleed out, if that’s your concern. Physically, I’d say they’re stable. Mentally? I think we need to get them to a secure location before they snap out of this fugue state.”

“Alright.” Leader chewed their tongue. “Let’s get the van ready, then.”

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The ship’s deck was notably busy, despite the fact that it was relatively late at night. The vessel’s skeleton crew hurried about, keeping it afloat and on track, while outdated Humvees drove in chaotic paths. What the commotion was about was beyond Villain’s knowledge, or their capacity to care. All that mattered was fighting their instinct to cover their ears, and ensuring that they were keeping up with Trainer.

They could feel it-- the boat-- beneath them. The millions of systems and circuits and electrons, thrumming and being jolted about by a swaying sea.

The small company that Trainer had gathered made their way to the far end of the deck, where a VTOL plane was already humming, waiting for its crew to board. They did so, clustering themselves into the compact cabin. There was, notably, no room the vessel for a pilot-- all steering operations would be handled by an artificial intelligence of sorts. Villain greeted the computer program, but it did not respond.

Trainer settled themself into a middle seat at the front of the cabin. Villain sat obediently at their side, at which point their leash was secured to a handrail sticking out of the wall. They rested their head against the window. Though the cabin was crowded, at the very least, Villain was no longer forced to make the trip in the K9 compartment.

Once every member of the company was settled and seated, the VTOL’s doors slid shut, and the engine thwapp-thwapp-thwapped until the aircraft was off the ground. It shot upwards for a second, traveling several hundred feet in the time, before entering a linear dive and settling for a position around fifty feet above the choppy waters.

Villain closed their eyes, allowing their mind to wander to the creature around them. The VTOL contained what was likely the most complex computer program that the Organization had. Despite all its bells and whistles, however, it paid no mind to Villain’s prodding and wandering.

The plane’s route was not awfully complex. The vehicle was designed, surtout, for water-based travel. Though it could move over land, it struggled to rise above three hundred or so feet, making it useless for far-inland routes. Wherever it was going today was, luckily, on the coast-- somewhere in the forests of Washington state.

If they so wished, Villain could alter the route in any way they so pleased. They could send the aircraft into the ocean below, or back into the ship, or into the first land they saw. It would be simple-- all their problems gone in a moment.

Once the plane’s angle had leveled out, Trainer stood, moving to the front of the plane. Villain gnashed their teeth, attempting to rise from their seat, but finding themself limited by the taut leather line on their muzzle. They were too far, they were on mission, they shouldn’t have been so far, come on, come on. The leash refused to give way, however, leaving them firmly affixed in position.

Trainer cleared their throat, drawing the attention of the gathered company. They began to speak, words taking on quite a commanding air, though Villain only understand a few choice phrases.

“Incursus” was the one that made them prick their ears. They had heard it only a few times before. In conversation, once or twice, but more notably during mission briefings. The last time they had heard it... several missions ago, before they had been briefly confined to the medical wing.

The word itself was meaningless-- its implications less so.

Villain gulped, their jaw straining against the wires of their muzzle.

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Leader walked at the side of the gurney, ghosting a hand over one of the siderails all the while. A pair of doctors pushed the gurney itself, with Medic trailing close behind, and Hero and Counselor at their sides.

In contrast with the upper floors, the hospital’s lobby floor was brightly lit, almost overwhelmingly so, with expanses of floor-to-ceiling windows. The beige carpeting was bathed with the last remnants of sunrise orange-- it had been a long night.

The few patients in the hospital at such as hour were hurried out of the way as the gurney moved through. A scattering of nurses and varied hospital personnel were littered about, watching the Heroes’ procession, but staying several yards away, unwilling to even be in Villain’s vicinity.

Leader looked down at the gurney. A blanket had been draped over Villain, working to keep them at a stable temperature. Their fabric and webbing restraints had been replaced by those made of metal.

Their eyes were open. They had been the whole time. Despite, they had yet to struggle in any form.

The automatic doors at the front of the lobby rumbled open, allowing the gurney to be pushed through. A team of doctors and Leader’s own personnel stood outside, gathered around an ambulance with its back doors hanging open. The doctors pushing the gurney passed it off to some of the stronger personnel, who lifted the contraption into the vehicle’s back, securing it.

Leader nodded their thanks, and moved to get behind the vehicle’s wheel.

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The ship hadn’t been too far off of the East coast to begin with, making the trip to Washington a relatively short one. It took one hour, thirty-six minutes, and eighty-two seconds, to be exact-- far more amicable than the 16-hour trips they had endured in the past.

The VTOL had made a measured descent into a forest clearing, shredding the grass below with its landing gear. With the doors open, the company had scrambled out; Trainer taking Villain’s leash in hand once more.

In the clearing, there had been no sign of life besides a scurrying songbird or two. Villain had only then realized a far more unpleasant aspect of the mission.

They were going to be marching.

Not marching, exactly, they supposed. There was no regimented order to it, it was more like hiking. Just... hiking for hours. The VTOL couldn’t go too far inland, and landing it close to a target was often impossible.

So, they marched.

Sometimes, heaven would be merciful, and the trek would be short, of only a mile or so. On crueler days, though, they would move for hours-- breaking only for water, which Villain would watch the soldiers drink with a parched throat.

Even just from the look of the clearing, and its location, however, Villain had been able to tell that today was not one of those more merciful occasions.

When the plane had landed, the moon at been at its highest point--signifying that midnight had struck. For the first few hours, they walked in darkness, until dawn slowly began to creep up.

All in all, the trek had taken four hours, most of which were spent walking. By the time the group stopped and crouched down, Villain felt their legs were about to snap. It had been far too many hours and far too many miles since they had cared to look at their surroundings. All that mattered was Trainer, and staying awake.

The company made themselves small among an area of heavy undergrowth. Trainer let Villain’s leash loosely hang around their wrist. Even if the technopath had any desire to flee, they doubted they could even get their legs back under them.

One of the soldiers spoke up, somehow sounding hardly winded. Though most of their words served as nonsense to Villain’s ears, one did stick out: Scopum. It was one of the words Trainer had used, back when they were teaching Villain how to search and retrieve objects.

Trainer nodded, took a drink of water from a canteen, and got to their knees. They pointed to something behind the bushes-- Villain got on their knees to look at well.

Over the wall of undergrowth, a building could be seen. It wasn’t particularly notable-- it would be best described as a cabin, with rustic architecture and an array of out-of-season Christmas lights. It seemed to be a vacation home of sorts; large enough to fit a family, certainly, but not a place anyone would live permanently.

Was this their Scopum? Their goal?

Trainer took hold again of Villain’s leash and stood. The real mission was just about to begin, and Villain could hardly stand.

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The drive from the hospital to their base was longer than Leader would have preferred, enough to make them nervously request updates every few minutes, much to Medic’s distaste.

The base stood at the edge of one of Washington’s denser forests, about half an hour out from the city proper. The location provided security, and in their group’s early days, secrecy, but it made transport difficult.

“Hey, Medic?” Leader started.

“Villain is fine. They’re still out of it. Cabin temperature is staying steady at 70, their body temperature is just about where it should be. Keep your damn eyes on the road.”

Leader nodded, biting the inside of their cheek. City traffic had been left behind a few miles ago, leaving only empty back roads. Seven minutes to go, the GPS diligently reported.

“We’re close now, then.” Medic spoke, starting the conversation for once. They weren’t usually the one to do such a thing, but Hero and Counselor were in the ambulance’s back. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking?”

“Your plans. Please don’t forget that you’re the leader around here, you give the orders. What do we do, when we get back to base?”

Leader bit their tongue to prevent themself from snapping at that passive insult. They were glad for the change in topic, at least.

“Our first priority is keeping ourselves safe. Villain’s safety is second priority-- I’m not sacrificing anything to keep their wellbeing. But I wouldn’t consider them a threat, right now. I assume you would like to keep them in the med bay?”

“For now, at least. They’re stable, but the fact that they’re still breathing is a miracle. I want to have my equipment nearby if they crash.”

“As long as it’s safe, then.”

“And then what?”

“Then... they’re still a prisoner, injured or not. Then we put them in the cells.”

“We don’t have any cells?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

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The company moved swiftly, forcing Villain’s legs to wake up to the horrible feeling of pins and needles. Trainer remained at the group’s head, leading them forth to the cabin.

It must have looked quite ridiculous, to an outsider. Villain would have laughed if they were able.

The group stopped before the quaint structure.

“Aperire.” Trainer ordered. Villain gnashed their teeth.

The command was a simple one, generally. It meant that they were to open something-- usually a door, or a box, or an encrypted device. The wooden door before them, however, had no electric component; it didn’t even seem to have a lock at all.

Still, they dove into the few electronics that the building did host. The Christmas lights seemed to be meaningless noise-- they tore through those, searching instead through the inner electronics. They were uncomplicated, so much so that their purpose couldn’t be so much as guessed.

Villain panicked, gnashing their teeth, shaking their head against the muzzle. They didn’t know what to do. They could feel their heartbeat, pounding in their head, throbbing.

“Aperire.” Trainer repeated. It only increased Villain’s heartrate-- what were hey doing wrong? Please, what were they doing wrong? They dove back into the systems. There was no door to be seen, just the lights, just some random system. They decided on the latter, tripping the system, just as they drew blood from biting down on their own tongue.

The house rumbled.

Instead of opening as a door should, the rustic home’s door slid into the wall, revealing a brightly-lit interior-- devoid of both furniture and interest.

The only point of interest was at the very center of the floor: A ramp, leading downwards.

Villain gulped. With rougher hands than before, Trainer yanked at their leash, forcing them forth. Together, the two descended, the company right on their heels.

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The base-- it had no real name, it was simply “the base”-- was an uncomplicated corrugation of concrete walls and sparse entranceways. It had been constructed as the shell of a factory, years ago, a factory which eventually fell through. Since then, Leader had organized quite a renovation of the property.

They drove the ambulance to the base’s parking lot, backing up to the curb as near to the entrance as they could.

“You worried?” Medic asked.

“Mhm.” Leader nodded, hopping out of the cockpit and to the asphalt below. The ambulance’s rear doors had already been swung open, with Hero and Counselor working to guide the gurney from it.

Villain still laid on the bed, shrouded with blankets, nearly comatose.

Their eyes moved.

Leader did a double-take, looking back to the figure on the gurney. Villain’s gaze had moved, now directing itself straight at Leader. Whatever expression they were portraying... it looked like fear.

Leader frowned. They moved to the transport bed’s side, placing their hands on the rails.

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The ramp descended at least a story into the earth.

With every step they took, Villain could feel their mind become more and more cluttered. At first, they could only hear the simple lighting and ventilation systems, but as they grew deeper, more noises joined the cacophony. Computers and servers, medical equipment and weaponry, it all blended together, all humming, all whirring, all chanting until it made Villain’s head hurt.

At the base of the ramp, which they only reached after what felt like an eternity, stood a simple door. Nothing more than a steel barrier.

“Perdere.”

That command was about as simple as they came. Within a split second, the door, and half of the wall, before Villain had been decimated to rubble.

On the other side of the newly-torn door, a figure moved. Villain flinched, gnawing again on their bloodied tongue. Trainer forced them forward.

The room was empty, devoid, as the past one had been. There was no furniture, no weaponry, no defense. Only a person, standing squarely before the door at the far end.

Their wings brushed the room’s walls.

Leader glared.

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As they leaned over Villain’s bedside, Leader smiled-- an expression as gentle as they could make it. They weren’t sure what had suddenly turned them so soft. Pity, maybe? Somehow, though, it tugged at them in the same way as nostalgia.

They brushed a hand over Villain’s shoulder.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay.”

The next part was the stupid one. The soft one, the one that would have made anyone in any faction laugh. One that, if anyone had heard it, Leader surely never would have lived down. Even they were not sure why they spoke it.

Five simple words. Five words without meaning.

“Welcome to your new home.”

#whump #villain whumpee #whump community #whumpblr #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #whump trope #whump prompt #hero villain whump

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fanfic-she-wrote · 4 years ago

Text

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

"Aren't you eating?" You ask upon entering the dining room, noticing that there was only one place made up at the table.

"I'm afraid not my dear. But please don't let me stop you." Dracula said, pulling out your chair. You felt kind of awkward and guilty that he had to make these kind of accomodations for you. You thought back to the conversation you overheard earlier. Maybe if you were a vampire like Dracula this wouldn't be necessary?

"I'll be fine." He assured you, taking the seat across from you.

You looked down at the plate in front of you. Then you looked at Dracula, who didn't have anything, "What's wrong?" He asked.

You rose up from the table, walking over to him, rolling up your sleeve as you went. Dracula watched you curiously, not sure what you were doing.

"Here." You said, holding out your wrist.

"What?" He scoffed.

"You can have some...if you want?" Realizing what you meant, he refused.

"Y/N, no I couldn't."

"I know you need it." You insisted. He licked his lips, secretly wishing he could just have a taste...He couldn't deny that he craved it. He looked away and shut his eyes, practically hearing the blood coursing through your veins.

"Vlad, don't make me force you." You said.

"What do you mean?" He asked turning his head back to look at you. You picked up a knife holding it just above your wrist.

"No!" Before he had a chance to stop you, you cut a small slit in your wrist making you wince in pain. You watched as Dracula's face began to change. It was almost instantaneous. His eyes glowed a bright red becoming wild with hunger. He watched with a pained expression as your blood trickled slowly down your wrist. He licked his lips again, fangs sticking out from behind them.

"You shouldn't have done that..." He told you shakily.

"I wanted to. " You told him, holding your wrist closer to him. He swallowed hard. How delicious your blood smelled. Perhaps just a little taste wouldn't hurt... He reached out and gently grabbing your hand, hovering it just below his lips, hesitating for a moment.

"Do it." You said, taking a deep breath preparing yourself. He ran his tongue over the opening in your wrist, making you shiver. Then he pressed his mouth against it, and began sucking at it. Slowly you could feel your life source being drained away. You started to feel light headed the more he drank. It was so good....so delicious.....

"Vlad, I don't feel so well..." You said in a faint voice. Unable to stand any longer you fell to your knees.

"Vlad stop." You pleaded trying to pull your wrist away, but he held you firmly in his grasp. He watched you in horror knowing that he was slowly killing you, but he just couldnt stop.

Suddenly, the doors flung open and Henry and Van Helsing ran in. "Dracula!" Lawrence shouted pulling him away from you and shoving him into a wall while Henry caught you, preventing you from falling the rest of the way to the floor.

"What happened?!" Van Helsing asked, running to your side. He looked at your wrist and saw the fresh cut, shocked that there were no bite marks. "I cut myself. I didn't want him to go without not when I can provide what he needs." You said, your voice faint as you strained to breathe.

"You foolish girl!" Van Helsing yelled. "He could have killed you...He was killing you."

Henry picked you up and helped you into a chair. He handed you a napkin and told you, "Put that on it and I'll be right back."

"Good thing I came when I did." Van Helsing said.

"Or who knows what might have happened."

"And for that I am grateful." Dracula said, walking towards you.

"What?" Lawrence asked, not sure he heard the Count right. Dracula was just as surprised. Never in his immortal life did he think would be grateful to see Van Helsing.

Henry returned a few moments later with some bandages and a basin of water. "You're going to look like a mummy if you keep this up." He joked, trying to lighten the mood. You let out a faint laugh.

"I'll take care of it." Lawrence said, taking off his coat, tossing it on a chair. He pushed Henry aside, bending down in front of you, and started cleaning your wound.

"What are you doing here Lawrence?" You ask, trying to remain conscious.

"I came to see you. I had to see if you were...safe." Dracula flinched, knowing what he meant. He had every reason to, but it still stung.

"I'm fine Lawrence." He looked at you an eyebrow slightly raised.

"Well I was fine until now...but this was my fault not Vlad's." You said, defending Dracula. Van Helsing sighed. After what just happened you were still in love with him.

After a few minutes, Van Helsing finished cleaning up your wound and bandaging it. Dracula gently picked up your wrist and placed a quick kiss on it. "I'm sorry." He spoke.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'm sorry." You apologized, pressing your forehead against his.

"Don't do that again. I don't want to lose you." Dracula said, holding you close.

"Alright. I promise." You agreed, sealing it with a kiss.

Lawrence watched the two of you quietly, trying to determine how he felt about this. Dracula looked over his shoulder at him, still holding you. "Thank you Doctor Van Helsing." He said, sounding genuinely grateful. "Oh um..." He didn't know what to say.

"I guess I should be going." Van Helsing said, backing out of the room.

"Lawrence?" You looked over at him, confused.

"I can see that what you two share is true." He told you. "I just didn't believe it until now." He glanced at Dracula, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He turned to leave when suddenly, shouting and screams could be heard emanating from outside.

"What's that?" You ask, looking around. Dracula let you go, and he and Van Helsing ran over the window. Below hundreds of towns people approached the castle with torches ablaze and wooden stakes.

"You brought them here didn't you?!" Dracula hissed at Van Helsing.

Lawrence shook his head and backed away." No I didn't! I don't know why--" He stopped himself suddenly remembering the man from the bar. "Oh no..."

"What do we do?" You asked, reaching out for Dracula. He held you in his arms, trying to comfort you as Van Helsing ran out the door and approached the crowd, holding his hands up. "Stop! Don't do this!" He shouted.

"We have to! We're not going to put up with this anymore!" The drunken man from earlier shouted.

"No, no! Listen! He's changed. I've seen it for myself."

"Get out of the way, mister!" Another man ordered. "We came here to kill the monster and that's what we're gonna do!" The crowd cheered from behind him.

"You're making a mistake!" Van Helsing insisted, but they didn't listen. They shoved him aside and charged forward.

You turned to Dracula. "We've got to get you out of here." You said, your voice panicked.

"I'm not leaving without you." He said, holding your hands tightly within his own.

"Vlad, listen to me. If they catch you they'll kill you." You told him. You could hear the mob getting closer.

"Go now!" You urged him. Dracula pulled you close and placed a hard quick kiss upon your lips, never wanting to let you go.

"I'll find you." He promised.

"I know." Tears streamed down your face. The shouts were getting even louder now.

"Go!" You cried, pushing him away. Dracula looked at you one last time, not sure when he'd be able to see you again, before taking off. He ran through the entryway just as the crowd pushed through. "There he is!" One of them shouted. He ran up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. "Get him!" Another shouted.

You ran out of the dining room. "Stop! You don't know what you're doing!" You screamed, but they didn't seem to hear you. You chased after them, trying to stop them. When you realized there was no reasoning with them you started flinging furniture at them. You still felt weak, but you weren't going to give up.

"Stop her!" Earl, the man from the pub ordered. Just as you were about to hurl a vase at someone, hands grabbed you from behind.

"I've got the girl!" He shouted as you struggled to get away.

"Let me go!" You demanded, lashing out at your captor as he dragged you outside.

"I'll take her." Van Helsing said. The man nodded and shoved you into his arms before going back inside.

"How could you do this?! They're going to kill him! I thought you were my friend..." You sobbed.

"Y/N, please. I never intended for this to happen. Please believe me." He pleaded.

Over your shoulder he saw flames emanating from one of the rooms. You turned around to see what he was looking at and gasped.

"I've got to go help him." You said, turning back towards the castle.

"No don't go in there!" Van Helsing said, grabbing your arm.

"I'm not just going to stand around while they try to kill him!" Van Helsing tried to discourage you but you paid him no mind as you bolted back inside.

Most of the mob had already moved upstairs while some stragglers ransacked the drawing room and dining room. You ran up the stairs quickly catching up to them. You realized that they had already been to the armory and had taken several of the weapons. With no other alternative, you charged at one of them knocking him to the ground, kicking him in the head rendering him unconscious, and taking the sword he was carrying.

You pushed past the mob, swiping at as many as you could trying to get to Dracula.

Finally when you reached the roof and your eyes fell upon Dracula standing there, the mob pushing him closer to the edge. "Vlad!" You called out. He found you in the crowd and locked eyes with you.

"We got him now!" Earl hollered, enciting roars from the mob behind him. You ran to Dracula's side, holding you sword before you ready to fight.

"She's under his spell." Earl told the crowd. "Kill her too!" The crowd advanced upon you and Dracula. Dracula stood in front of you, protecting you. He hissed at the mob, his eyes a deathly blood red.

Suddenly, you heard something strange. At first you couldn't tell what it was but as the sound got closer you realized it sounded like wings flapping, several wings flapping. Just as the crowd was about to attack you saw a black mass swoop down over your head. The mob screamed in horror as several large bats attacked them, pulling at their eyes and flesh.

"C'mon!" You said, grabbing Dracula's hand and pulling him through the crowd. They were so busy fighting of the army of bats that they hadn't even noticed you and Dracula escape. As you ran back down the stairs, you saw the flames had practically engulfed most of the entryway. From behind you, you heard a couple of men chasing after you somehow managing to get away from the bats.

One of them lunged at Dracula but he grabbed them by the wrist and flung him off the side of the stairs into the flames below.

The last one, held a large wooden cross before him in one hand and carried a stake in the other. Dracula backed away, covering his eyes trying not to look at the cross, but you weren't affected. You leapt at the man, knocking him backwards on the steps wrestling the cross from him. It all happened so fast. You almost didn't realize what had happened if it had not been for the sharp searing pain you felt in your chest. You looked down and saw that the stake had pierced right through you.

"No!!" Dracula cried. With every last bit of strength you had left, you pried the cross from his grasp and tossed it away.

Dracula approached the man, his eyes angrier than you had ever seen them before. He lifted him up by his throat, holding him high in the air. He gasped for breath as Dracula choked every ounce of life from his body. He wanted to tear this man to shreds for what he had done. Finally when the man became limp Dracula threw him into the fire.

Then he turned around and picked you up, carrying you out of the castle. Everything was silent, except for the fire crackling in the distance as it slowly destroyed the castle. There were no screams, just silence.

He gently placed you down on the lawn, holding you in his arms. Blood dripped down the side of your mouth. "No, no, no." Dracula whimpered. Van Helsing ran over, his heart skipping a beat once he caught sight of you. "Oh no."

"I'm sorry, Vlad..." You breathed.

"No, don't be sorry. Everything will be alright. We're safe now" Dracula stammered, pushing the hair out of your face. You were struggling for breath and your body was slowly becoming numb. You were dying.

"I love you." You said in barely more than a whisper, placing your hand on his cheek. "Don't leave me...please." Dracula begged, tears falling from his eyes. He couldn't believe this was happening again.

"Do something!" Van Helsing shouted desperately. Dracula looked up at him. "You can save her. Do it!" He looked back at you, the life slowly fading from your eyes.

"I can't." He refused.

"You must! Dracula, please! She's going to die!" Van Helsing implored. He didn't want to lose you either and if that meant you would become a vampire then so be it.

"Forgive me." Dracula said, giving you a quick kiss. He pulled the stake from you chest. You were so close to death, you barely even flinched. Van Helsing held his breath. Then suddenly Dracula plunged his fangs deep into your neck. Van Helsing just hoped that this would work...

#part 9 coming soon #almost done now #dracula x reader #hammer dracula #x reader #reader inserts #possible character death #some violence #hope you like it

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