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leclsrc · 2 years ago

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reciprocate ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, pwp, very very filthy, fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together. (part 1 here)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because… sexual tension like tons, dirty talk, masturbating, descriptions of sex, kissing, SEXUAL TENSION.

hope you like it everyone! :) req’d and i was gonna make this a drabble, but it kinda grew. kind of gives way for a part 3, so lmk if u would wanna read thaaat...?

You’re bored more than several times over the dry, chilly stretch of winter break.

With not much to do, you’ve taken to traveling before you settle back into reporting on what different teams are doing to prepare for March. It’s all car prep, helmet design, new advancements, some drama on budget breaches. But that all comes in the condensed end of February, so now you’re wandering around, aimless.

The invite comes after Christmas and before New Year’s. It’s also last minute, and you would’ve normally rejected it, but Lissie had managed to convince you despite yourself, so you text Daniel a thumbs-up, greenlighting his proposition to jet off to Monaco.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve just said no,” you mutter, dumping a bundle of clothes into your suitcase. Across you, equally busy, Lissie scoffs.

She looks up from where she’s busy folding something, then, “In what universe would anybody want to pass up on a free Monaco trip where we can spend the entire week drinking our body weight in cocktails and swimming it off?”

You laugh, nodding in semi-agreement. It’s not Monaco, you want to tell her. It’s because everybody’s going, even Max. “You’re right,” you say instead, making a show of being excited.

It didn’t seem the slighest bit sane to be going on a non-work trip where Max was going to be around. Your first tryst, barely a month ago, before the grand prix in Abu Dhabi, had given way to three days straight of retiring to his room, foregoing afterparties, and then, after deciding to go to one, sneaking back off and fucking in his room after just an hour of dancing.

Max is just as insatiable as you are, and it scares you—because it took every ounce of resistance from you to sit him down and affirm the statement that the constant sex was a bad idea. Outside of his room, outside his bed, you two still maintained the same caustic relationship, but the sex became like clockwork, and you could tell it wasn’t the best idea.

“We need to stop the sex,” you’d said, setting it down firmly. “It’s—it’s getting in the way of work.”

“It really isn’t. You still have no problem calling me out after races and then getting fucked less than an hour later,” he said.

“I’m serious, it is. And if not now, it will.”

He’d shrugged. “Fine.”

“It’ll be easy,” you’d said sharply. “For me, at least.”

It feels like cosmic karma, then, when you’re told by Lissie that Max’s room is beside yours.

—

Almost funnily, Max’s is the first face you see after you’ve settled in your hotel room. You see him first, and then notice he’s joined by Daniel and Lando, at the bar near the beach where everyone else in your little group is hanging out. You make eye contact that you tear away from instantly, willing yourself to ignore him.

Daniel notices you first when you show up to order yourself a drink. “Swam yet?”

“Nope,” you say. “Think I’ll join the girls and tan today.”

“Just glad you finally accepted the invite,” Daniel comments. “Lissie told me you almost bailed for some weird reason.”

Your eyes dart over to Max, who’s drinking whiskey. He’s already looking at you, gaze cutting. You clear your throat and look away. “I thought it wouldn’t be the best idea, but I’m about three drinks away from loving it here.”

The small talk continues, and you even get your drink, but eventually Daniel and Lando are too enticed by the sunset water, running off and yanking their shirts off on the way. You shuffle nervously on the barstool, just two seats apart from Max.

“You’re here the whole week?” He asks, not looking at you.

“I am,” you say, leveling his tone of nonchalance.

He makes a noise of petty disapproval, leaning back. From where you sit, you get fleeting glimpses of how he looks, and it isn’t helping your vow of celibacy. He’s big, which, while you knew this, still sends a throb of arousal through you. The tight tee he wears does nothing to hide what’s underneath, and his arms give you the impression that he could just throw you onto a bed or slam you against a wall like it’s nothing.

(Two things you could personally attest to, but that’s besides the point.) You’ve only just begun to get used to not having sex with him, but you’re starting to think you should get on the next flight off, because the thoughts creeping into your head of his hands, his tongue—

A cry of your name grabs your attention, and you blink, turning your head. Farther up the beach, Lissie and Lily are waving their hands around, calling you. “Let’s swim!” Lissie orders. “Now!”

“Bit busy there, were you?” Max asks, smirking.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, downing the rest of your cocktail and jogging over to your friends. Absently, you hear him chirp another teasing remark behind you—hope you drown. The abrasive remark lets the remainder of your scandalous thoughts filter out for the time being. You’re positive, though, that they won’t be gone for the whole two weeks.

You stop in front of Lissie to undo the clip in your hair when Lily asks nonchalantly: “Why’s Max staring at your ass?”

“Lil, oh m—” You swat her playfully. “Don’t just say things like that!”

“Sorry! Jesus. It was a serious inquiry. Guy’s eyes are glued. Don’t you hate each other?”

You resist the urge to turn around and maybe get in a dig of your own, but clear your throat and shrug. “You’re hallucinating. I’m sure he’ll have some random girl in his hotel room later tonight, anyway.”

You don’t miss the way Lily’s face is still etched with lack of conviction, but you tug her toward the beach anyway, splashing around and playing frisbee with the Daniel, Charles, and Lando. At some point, talk of clubbing arises through the six of you, and at Lando’s insistence, you all agree to meet up somewhere to get hammered later. A warm Monegasque welcome, Charles had dubbed it.

A sluice of nerves slide across you when you hear Charles relay the idea to Max, and the latter reply with a fuck yes count me in.

You learn a few short hours later that Monaco lives up to its predestined reputation as a nightlife beast, greeting you with vigor and sophistication. You’d been here before, but mostly for work—the immense drinking, dancing, and occasional drug is still a novel experience. Evidently, though, the drivers have little trouble settling into it, accepting and ordering shots and extravagant bottles like they’re nothing.

You’re off work, you figure, and you have no concrete responsibilites tied you as of the moment, so why not join in?

Lissie is drunkenly slurring something into your ear, about how some guy is flirting with her but he’s a 6 at best and maybe I should just make out with him to make him feel better hey wait maybe he’s an 8 actually no 9, maybe 9.5 max—no he’s a 10 I’m fucking him bye, and Lily is pissed, likely being taken care of by Alex.

Charles had upheld a promise to remain sober, but said nothing of bringing a girl home, which he’d successfully pulled off just twenty minutes ago. Lando’s obviously busy spinning the tunes at the DJ booth behind you, howling with excitement every time he plays something he likes. Which, you realize, leaves you with Daniel.

You fix the hem of your tiny dress, throwing back another shot. Your tolerance doesn’t allow for alcohol to permeate fast; it goes slowly, and never results in too much of a headache, thank the Lord. You’re pleasantly buzzed, but you want more courage, more gravitas. A timely wish, considering you haven’t quite learned how much of a party monster Daniel is.

He leans in closer. “I bet you three shots of vodka you’re not kissing someone tonight.”

“I’ll take the opposing side,” you say, laughing. “Nobody here is doing it for me.”

“A gentleman’s agreement!” He hollers, waving a passing waiter over and ordering shots for people to share.

Although you’re in a roped off area of the club, there are still people walking around and crowding the area, including a girl who’s seated on Daniel’s lap. She whispers something mumbled and low into his ear, and you roll your eyes at his equally flirty response, pinching her thigh and kissing her neck.

He turns back to you after, like it’s a casual conversation. “How can nobody ‘do it for you’ in a Monaco nightclub, man?”

There’s a question you can answer, but woefully won’t. You change the subject instead, cupping two shots. “How about you and I just do three shots each?”

“Make it four,” he says challengingly. “And take a hit.”

“Already did, Danny,” you refute. You’d smoked half a joint before drinking anything, not wanting to get too caught up in the crossfade. You’re half sure somebody in the group took molly, but your mouth is zipped all the same. “Come on, four shots.”

“Up, up,” he pauses, thinking. “Two shots of Patron vodka—and two of Clase Azul.”

Agreeing, you search for the liquor on the lit-up table, throwing the vodka back with relative ease and then standing up to do the last two. You stumble when you place the glasses back on the table, shaking hands with Daniel and moving about to shake off the alcoholic taste in your mouth.

You pass by Lando, and he flips you off from his place at the DJ booth, but eventually you meander your way to the bar instead, wedging yourself into an empty alcove that only houses a storage room door. It’s quieter, and here you can start to feel the alcohol in your system. You lean back against the wall, and just as you wished, a guy eventually approaches you.

He’s cute(ish), tall(ish), and charming(ish), and even in your hazy mind he registers as passable and definitely way too drunk and overconfident to be approaching somebody as hot as you. His arm wraps around you, toys with the flimsy strap of the minidress you’d worn today. His accent is clearly touristy and American when he asks, “What, bored tonight?”

“Little bit,” you say lowly, leaning back and letting your lips curl up into a smile. “Nothing is really exciting.”

He hums drunkenly. “I could be exciting. Show you something exciting.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say, playing into him. “Tell me more.”

“I could tell you lots of things in my hotel room.” He smiles. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“She’s had plenty, mate,” a voice unmistakably Dutch says, and pride wells up in you for having had your plan succeed so beautifully. You blink, reaching an arm out to gently push the guy out of the way—and meet eyes with the one behind him. Taller, broader, and evidently more sober than either of you, Max looks pissed (more than usual, at least.) “Piss off.”

“Christ, had I known she had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t’ve approached, man. Let’s all be calm.”

Max waves him off dismissively and approaches you, a glint of concern shadowing the irritance in his eyes. “This some kind of plan of yours?”

The alcohol has begun to rush through you. You’re hot, flushed all over, thinking of all the times you’d been in this position, purposely testing Max’s limits so he could test yours, albeit differently.

“Dunno what you mean,” you say. Your gaze slips downward, to the big, rough hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey. You want them on you. Then they meet his again.

“Sure,” he says, unconvinced. “You’re having a lot of fun prancing around like you’ve no responsibilities.”

“Lighten up,” you insist boredly. “It’s called a vacation. It’s for letting loose.”

“Are you letting loose enough?” He asks, suggestive.

“Max.” You lean forward, and the movement lets him see more of your chest, or what your dress allows. He coughs.

“No.” But despite himself, he’s leaning downward, too, his gaze stuck on your lips. “You told me yourself. It gets in the way of work.”

“This isn’t work,” you say, nerves hammering through you.

“Been looking after you all night, it might as well be.” His voice is cold and serious. He steps forward, effectively caging you against the wall with how bulky his frame is. “You need to be careful. I had to pry that asshole off of you.”

“What if…” You trail off, tilting your head back so you’re making searing, unbreaking eye contact. “That’s exactly what I wanted?”

You’re both frozen in place, staring up at him with the kind of coy you only get when you’re tipsy like this. Wide eyed, lip bitten, and dress riding up—this is exactly how Max likes you. Ready for him to wreck. One jerk of his knee in between your legs and you’re his. He considers other options: a light grip around your neck, or even just a hand on your waist would render you weak, too.

“You test me too much, Y/L/N.” You feel hazy from the way he says your name, in the way he always does—formal, professional, like you’re in the paddock interviewing him again. You can feel yourself growing wet.

But you’d gotten yourself into this mess. You wore this dress, took those shots, let that guy flirt with you in hopes that Max would come over and give you his time of day. Deny as you might, you know deep down this is exactly what you were waiting for. You press a palm to his stomach, feeling the hard surface there, fisting it in his shirt.

He grunts, lets his hand cover yours. “Schatz,” he says, guttural.

He lets your lips meet, but when you lean in for a proper kiss, he stands back up to his full height. One look in your eyes lets him realize you’re sufficiently sober, and he turns and walks away.

—

A volleyball hits your shoulder for the third time today.

Prior to that, it’d hit your forehead twice, putting an effective end to your beach volleyball winning streak. Beside you, Lando lets out a strangled cry of defeat.

“The volleyball legend is tapping out!” Daniel hoots from a nearby lawn chair, mimicking the racing commentators you’re all familiar with.

“Piss off,” you say. “I’m off my game, too tired.”

You wave a dismissive hand to Lily and Alex and they flash thumbs up signs. You squeeze a bottle of water into your mouth, needing release from the thoughts plaguing your mind. The events of two nights ago weigh terribly heavy, annoyingly so, on your mind.

Not Max himself, you argue. His voice. His touch. They’re so irresistible to you. The way he’d grunted out the pet name he reserved for sex, the way his hand was so much rougher, bigger than yours.

Absently, you wonder, if he hadn’t stopped it—what would’ve happened then? He must’ve been resisting his strongest demons to put an end to the flirting like that. Any other time, you think, it would’ve gone differently.

He’d crowd you against the wall, press hot, whiskey-flavored kisses to your neck. He’d drop his glass, uncaring if it shattered; he could pay for fifty of those and then some. You picture his big hands roughly feeling you up, pressing against your panties, asking if you wore them just for him. Mumbling about wanting to taste you, get on his knees and have your pussy right here, for his tongue only. You picture his fingers, nimble, yanking away the lace and pushing into your cunt, kissing your jaw, moving, moving, until you’re fully in an open-mouthed kiss, messy and dirty, just how he likes you. He’d say something mean. Do you enjoy being a slut, letting all these people watch me take care of you? You’d nod. It’s true, you do, humping his fingers and chasing release. You picture his dick, hard and thick, big like the rest of him, pressed against your bare thigh, and—

“Your gelato!” Lissie hollers crankily, waving a cone of coffee ice cream in front of you that’s begun to melt and stick to her fingers.

“Thinking of sum’in, mate?” Lando’s amused, sunglasses-clad face comes into view.

You flip him off and apologize to Lissie, attempting to enjoy your ice cream before you descend into a state of craziness. The beach day passes with additional moments of blank stares, though none to a worrying degree. Most of your friends chalk it up to you waking up late or spacing out thinking of work, thankfully.

But, at least, you think. At least this just proves that you and Max can stick to your vow of celibacy. Right?

—

Max is never usually one to eavesdrop, but when he learned from Lily earlier in the week that your room was adjacent to his, he couldn’t help but become more conscious of it. Two days of silence, the occasional TV noise, and some stumbling provide nothing, so he’s since stopped paying attention. Between you two, you’re the one always out on the shore anyway, so there’s nothing much for him to listen to.

Tonight is different.

You don’t usually make noise—and he’s generally speaking here. You’re not a loud person. Even with the aid of a mic, your voice is composed, on the edge of quiet, during paddock reports. So why can he hear you so clearly now? The walls are a bit thin, sure, but something else contributes to it.

Something else, like maybe you’re doing all this on purpose.

The shuffling on the other side of the wall grows louder, then he hears your faint, breathy whimpers. He pauses, sitting a bit more upright on his bed, curiosity piqued, anticipates something else. Your whimpers grow louder, passing through the walls with relative ease.

He could totally tune this out, maybe put on a movie, hell, leave the room for a late night walk or a drink somewhere.

But he’s rooted to his spot, listening intently, wanting to hear more of you. He hears it then, so breathy at first he almost doesn’t. Max.

Your moan. He blinks, feeling himself grow hard. Maybe he didn’t hear it right, but then he hears it again: Oh, Max. Please. Wanna, wanna—

He palms at his dick through his sweats, swearing under his breath. You sound exactly like you do when you’re underneath him, two lithe hands wrapped around his wrist, begging for release, for his tongue, for his fingers. You’d been so sure, so high and mighty when you sat him down and demanded the sex stop, but here you are fucking yourself on your fingers, moaning his name.

Barely even ashamed, he tugs his dick out, already drooling with precum. He uses it to ease the glide of jerking off. Max, you say again, louder this time, higher. He remembers your conversation clearly, your solemn voice when you told him you couldn’t ever have sex again with the way it interfered with your jobs. The way you slid in a snide remark about how it’d be an easy challenge for you.

He can’t help but be amused, fucking his fist and listening to your moans, growing in volume as you near your climax. He wants to ask if your fingers are as good as his, as his tongue, his cock. He knows you’ll say yes but think the opposite. You’ve always grown so weak around him.

Gonna cum, he hears again.

He pictures you writhing on your bed, eyes rolling back, fist half-bitten to try and silence yourself. Your thighs are probably shaking, brows knitted together, tongue lolling out—he jerks himself faster, panting, chest sweaty. It’s your last, loud moans that send him over the edge.

I’m cumming, Maxie, fuck—! He swears under his breath, cum spurting out all over his fist. He catches his breath, pursing his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Tries to purge himself of his thoughts of how you might look right now and retreats into his bathroom.

It doesn’t work.

—

Lando personal phone 30s ago

Lissie wants her own bacardi and could you get doritos too x

And a box of condoms pls mate xx

“One more Bacardi and a bag of Doritos,” you dictate boredly. Who knew a high profile, all expenses paid vacation in one of the richest countries in the world would still entail the mandatory grocery run? ��…And condoms.”

Max turns from where he’d retrieved the rum, a brow raised in question. “Sorry?”

“Lando, not me,” you defend, holding two hands up. You two had been the unlucky pair who drew short straws and were thus stuck with a long list of niche items in an empty convenience store not far from your hotel. Outside, the sun’s already gone, leaving behind traces of orange in an otherwise dark sky. The group had decided to stay nearby and drink instead of going out tonight, since you’d all been at a club basically every other night anyway.

You review each of your baskets. “Seems like this is all,” you conclude, “except the condoms, which we’ll get at the counter.”

“Did Lando specify a… brand?” Max asks, pacing to the cashier. There are already some on display, with varying features and sizes.

You recheck your phone. “Nope. Just get anything.”

“Alright, then.” Max picks up an XXL condom box and waves it around. “For Little Lando.”

Irritated, you roll your eyes. “Be reasonable, Max.”

“You said get anything!”

“You’re so annoying,” you fume. You catch sight of the cashier looking uncomfortable with the tension between you and Max and figure the situation needs to deescalate. “Okay. Fine. Whatever, just get something reasonable. Put that back.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘reasonable,’” he says teasingly, clearly trying to push your buttons.

“Just get a standard condom box.”

“What is a standard co—”

“Get the ones you normally use,” you say, realizing the words after they leave your mouth.

The cashier coughs.

Shrugging, Max grabs the familiar box off the shelf and tosses it, emptying both your baskets right after. His face is amused when he turns and you see him again, but you’re both wordless while the payment goes through and you exit together. The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, stuffy, and tense, your arms crossed over your chest and Max’s occupied with both of the plastic bags.

“I’m surprised you remember what condoms I use.” He says with a smug smile when you’re both in the elevator. He’s parked his car on the basement floor, so you need to get to the lobby. You watch the lights signify what floor you’re on, waiting desperately for the ground floor button to glow yellow.

Still annoyed, you humor him despite yourself. “Why’s that?”

It dings yellow right as he responds. “You’re always begging for me to cum inside you, anyway.”

The doors open but neither of you move. Max watches you grow flustered and take a deep breath. “You’re a sicko,” you declare, walking out. He follows you with a laugh, knowing he’s right.

You meet the group outside the lobby, where they’re already piling onto a yacht, big enough for everyone. It’s ridiculously huge and expensive-looking, bobbing softly by the dark water. Charles emerges from the upper tier and waves to you and Max with a goofy grin.

After you help spread and deposit the groceries on the table, you walk around, finally detaching yourself from Max’s side. Eventually drinks ebb around the group, shots and crude cocktails that are fed to you like water. Buzzed with warmth and courage, you move to the back of the boat where there’s a ladder to swim, grunting when you find Max already there.

You clench your cocktail. “What’re you doing?”

“Preparing to swim, what’s it look like?”

“Oh.” You pause. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

You down the rest of your drink, leaning against the side of the boat and watching as he sheds his shirt and jumps into the ocean. Some of the water splashes onto you, and it’s cold, sending goosebumps throughout your body. He surfaces, hair darkened from being wet and smile dopey. A few strands of hair stick up.

“Wanna join?”

“Over my dead body,” you say, taking a seat and dripping your legs instead.

“The water’s nice.”

“It’s frigid,” you counter. “You should be wearing a snowsuit, dumbass.”

“How mean,” he says, diving underneath and surfacing again. “You’re too chicken, is all.”

Emboldened, by the buzz of alcohol maybe, the music, or—most likely of all—Max’s teasing, you nod. “Chicken?”

You get up, legs dripping, and pull your shorts down, tugging your tiny tank top off right after. You’re left in your bathing suit, and watch as Max’s eyes lock onto your tits, spilling out of your bikini top. His gaze is slow on you, like it’s his first time seeing you like this.

You step onto the cool ladder to avoid jumping, your back turned to Max’s as you feel more and more of your body submerge into the freezing water. You turn, taking a seat on one of the rungs. Max swims toward you, wiping a hand over his face.

“Not a chicken. But I’m not going any lower,” you say firmly, in the water from the waist down. “It’s too cold.”

“I’m fine having you like this,” he says lowly, his voice thick with desire. He cages you in, two big hands on either side of the ladder. For leverage, your legs wrap around him. You’re so close together. After days, weeks, of resisting.

You release a shaky breath, staring at him, his shoulders, his hands.

“How’s your vacation been?” He asks, lips near your ear.

“Fine,” you say. “Fun.”

“Bring anyone to your room?” You shake your head; he persists. “So you’ve had no luck there, then?”

“None at all,” you say blatantly.

“S’that why you’ve been…” A hand leaves the ladder to squeeze your thigh. “Moaning my name while fucking yourself?”

Your eyes widen, blinking, undeniably caught. You open your mouth to formulate a defense but you can’t. “What are you talking about?”

“Aw, don’t be shy, schatz. You were the one who kept insisting we swear off sex, but I think you’re starting to miss me.”

He presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms, rubbing softly. It’s enough to let you whimper. “Max—”

“You keep prancing around in tiny bikinis, skirts, tops. Is it on purpose, hmm? I can’t stop thinking about claiming you. On my bed, my balcony, over any surface.”

He quickens his fingers, and you whine. It feels so good, reminiscent of how wicked he is in bed. You picture it—being bent over the side of the boat, his hands big on your waist, cock sliding in and out of you.

“Feels s’good, Max,” you breathe.

“Does it?” He asks, egging you on. You nod, gripping his wrist—your hand’s still circled around it when he yanks it away.

“But remember what you told me? Before the break?”

“I—fuck,” you mutter, frustrated. “Please.”

“They were your words, not mine, schatz,” he says, easygoing as he dives back underwater, leaving you alone and sexually frustrated. You curse lowly. It’s going to be a long rest-of-the-week.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year ago

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Amy Santiago x sibling!reader - people suck

Amy Santiago having a Sibling who struggles with social cues, and her being protective when people make fun of them for it? - Anon💜

Amy knew you didn’t enjoy going outside much, she knew you worked, and you worked somewhere quiet where you could stay by yourself.

What she didn’t understand was why.

Even now after all these years she never understood why you didn’t like interacting with other people.

But she also knew you struggled with social cues, you always had and when you were young you relied on her to help you because the rest of your family wouldn’t.

Standing next to you at the takeaway, she was messaging Jake while you read from the screens above the counter to decide what you want.

“Does he want something to eat?” You asked.

“I’m trying to ask him but he’s making it impossible to get an answer.”

You turned to your sister.

“Do you know what he eats?”

Amy shrugged a little, putting her phone in her pocket.

“Not from here, he’s not answering me now so I’ll just get him something from somewhere else.”

You shrugged a little, turning back to the bored.

You carried on reading the items while the teenager behind the counter stood there, arms crossed while watching you.

While you were choosing what you wanted, Amy noticed how the teenager behind the counter began to mock what you were doing, but you didn’t seem to notice.

When you did, you furrowed your brows a little bit.

“Is there something on my jacket?” You asked.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with your jacket.” Amy said.

She narrowed her eyes at the teenager who snickered a little, going to talk to some of the other workers while waiting.

You went back to browsing the menu.

The whole interaction while order went the same way, and it was something you picked up on.

“I’m going to wait in the car…”

Amy gently grabbed your arm.

“No, you’re going to wait here.”

She turned around, walking to the counter.

“Do you think it’s funny to make fun of people?” She asked.

“Come on, it was a joke, no need to get shitty about it.”

“A joke is something everyone can laugh at. Making fun of someone, mocking them and copying them because they struggle with things isn’t a joke, that’s harassment.”

The teenager scoffed.

“Don’t like it go somewhere else then. What are you a cop or some shit?”

Amy reached into her pocket, pulling out her badge and slammed it on the counter.

“Actually I am, and I want to speak to whoever is in charge right now.”

The teenager immediately went quiet, and you walked over.

“Don’t, it’s not worth it Ames please.”

“No, it is worth it. I’m fed up of watching people mock you, it needs to stop.”

You looked at her, and she smiled at you.

“It’s going to be alright, I promise.”

She turned back to the teenager who was awkwardly standing there talking to someone before leading them over.

Standing behind your sister, you let her do all the talking, and she had a lot to say.

Amy was smart, she knew a lot, so she knew everything that this place was doing wrong and all the laws they were breaking, and she brought them all up.

She went deep into everything, leaving no room for argument from anybody, and when she was done the place fell silent.

“Let’s go (Y/N), and I’ll make sure this place is black listed by every single police officer in this city.”

While everybody protested and begged for you both to come back and see reason, Amy just took your hand and led you from the takeaway.

“There’s a place across the street, so you want to try there?”

“Can I just wait in the car this time?”

Amy gave you a little smile, hugging you before she nodded, handed you the keys.

“Of course, I know what you want.”

“What about our food from that place?”

“I already told them to cancel the order, we’ll be refunded.”

You nodded, heading to the car so you could just sit there and wait for your sister to come back.

This was why you hated going outside, because people were horrible, but at least you had Amy

#Brooklyn nine nine #Brooklyn nine nine x reader #Brooklyn nine nine x you #Brooklyn nine nine imagine #b99 #b99 x reader #b99 x you #b99 imagine #Amy Santiago #Amy Santiago x reader #Amy Santiago x you #Amy Santiago imagine

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amostimprobabledream · 2 years ago

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When your head's in the clouds (keep your feet on the ground) - Ranpo Edogawa x Reader

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45151330 Getting anything done in the Armed Detective Agency was a struggle sometimes. Case in point. Across the room where you were meant to be typing up a report on a case the agents had recently finished, Kunikida was yelling at Dazai for a slew of complaints that had been lobbied at him recently, apparently for trying to jump off a statue of a historical figure downtown, breaking it and coming out totally unscathed. Naomi was attached to Junichiro's back, cooing as he squirmed in embarrassment and tried in vain to shush her. Atsushi was flailing his hands and protesting some edgy comment Kyoka had probably made (you weren't really listening, you tended to zone out whenever she spoke). With all of it combined, you could barely hear yourself think, let alone write the damn report. Just hang on a bit longer til lunch. you thought, rubbing your temples, the beginnings of a headache blooming. You probably shouldn't have skipped breakfast, but Kunikida was a real stickler for punctuality and you couldn't always guarantee he'd be distracted by Dazai's antics to sneak in without him noticing. And you were running late that day after somehow sleeping in, breaking your favourite bag on the way in and a bunch of other stupid little mishaps, so you weren't in the best of moods.

As you waited for the noise to die down a bit so you could concentrate, your mind drifted to your current obsession - the crime thriller novel you've been reading. You were about halfway through it now and the urge to just whip it out and start reading it in the midst of all this chaos was all too tempting. You'd even brought it with you because you'd taken to wandering around with it in one hand. You were planning to get through more of it on your lunch break.

"You know, my snack drawer is looking pretty empty right about now...”

Your eyes flicked in the direction of the singsong voice. Ranpo perched himself on the edge of your desk and you hastily grabbed it before he ended up knocking it off like a cat would. You wouldn't put it past him.

"Somebody really needs to put a bell on you," you said, rolling your eyes. For somebody who spent most of his time either inhaling candy and never putting on an ounce of weight or sleeping all day, he could be sneaky when he wanted to. "You don't look busy," Ranpo continued, and there was that famous lack of tact of his. "Why don't you take over Kunikida's shopping? He's gonna be busy yelling at Dazai for a while so you might as well." You sighed, which you'd been doing a lot lately. If anybody else had walked up to you and said that, you would have asked them who the hell they thought they were, but it's Ranpo so you let it go because you know he doesn't mean anything by it.

“I’m busy, actually. I’m finishing up a report that’s due by the end of the week.” You told him, then smirked. “Last time I checked, you have working legs. Why don’t you go if your snacks are so important?” “No way! I’d get lost if I tried to find the supermarket all by myself!” Ranpo protested loudly and you marvelled that a twenty-six-year-old man could announce that so freely and confidently. “And anyway, you’re not busy at all – you haven’t typed anything for the last fifteen minutes. Either you’re already finished and just don’t feel like going or you aren’t done and don’t know what to write next so you’re stalling for time.” You’ve seen him do it many times, but you still couldn’t help but marvel at Ranpo’s galaxy brain. He got all that from merely listening for your typing? “I- wow.” You said, closing your mouth. “Okay, fine, you’re right, I am stuck.” “See?” Ranpo smirked. “If you go on a supply run, you’ll get to stretch your legs and can come back to your silly report later. Maybe it’ll give you some fresh ideas of what to write.” It’s sound logic, if a tad bit manipulative given Ranpo made it sound like such a chore a couple of seconds ago, but Yosano, who had also evidently grown weary of all the racket, chimes in. “You might as well go,” she said, shaking her head. “You know Ranpo won’t leave it alone until he gets his own way.” “Nope!” Ranpo admitted with a cheeky little smile that made Yosano smile in response. “If you hurry you can even get back in time to finish that dumb book you’ve been carting around everywhere, even if it’s so obvious who the killer is.” “Wha-?” you blurted out, glancing reflexively at your bag you’d dumped on your desk earlier, where sure enough, a corner of your book is poking out. “You haven’t read it, have you? So how could you-?” “I skimmed the back of it when you went to get a drink earlier,” Ranpo shrugged, and a bubble of relief welled up in your chest. So, he hadn’t actually read it, he was just being dismissive like he usually was when something didn’t interest him. And then he added, “But even so it’s pretty obvious the best friend has to be the killer.” Your mouth fell open. “What?!” you spluttered in disbelief. “That’s- you haven’t even read it! You just admitted as much!” “But the summary says the main character gets the phonecall when the best friend leaves the room to talk to someone on her phone, right?” Ranpo replied, pointing at you. “That gives her the perfect opportunity to overheard everything being said and rush back in when the main character sees what’s in the garden and screams. She has a watertight alibi because she didn’t leave the house the whole time, she was with the main character. Why else would the book even mention when the friend was doing at all?” You’re speechless. As much as you wanted to ignore him, throw his deductions to one side because there’s no way he could know that – the problem is that he can. And it all clicked into place. Every scene from the book was suddenly thrown into a completely different, sinister perspective. Every time the friend offered a shoulder to cry on or was mysteriously absent from the goings-on.

Mystery solved.

Anger boiled up in you, so fast it was like a geyser erupting. Perhaps it wasn’t just Ranpo’s words, maybe it was a culmination of things – stress, frustration, whatever, but it was just so…unfair. You’d been so exhausted the past couple of weeks, that book, the now ruined story, was one of the only things keeping you going. Reading it was your escape from all the annoyances of daily life and occasional dangerous threat that came part and parcel with working for the Armed Detective Agency. Being able to observe a world as a neutral third party, up close and personal with the problems but only as a puzzle to be solved? It’s a luxury that your job, your life, rarely afforded you.

And Ranpo, because he didn’t care, because he never thought about what he said before he just blurted out whatever he felt like, had ruined all of it in one fell swoop. All he cared about was waving his vast intellect around, careless as a madman with a gun. “What the fuck, Ranpo?!” you yelled at him. He had the nerve to look shocked, as well he might – nobody in the Armed Detective Agency ever yelled at Ranpo and the only person who ever scolded him was the president. Even Kunikida deferred to his intelligence and had given up trying to reign in any of his other behaviours. You’ve certainly never so much as raised your voice at him before, no matter how much of a brat he can be. But… “What?” Ranpo said, like he honestly had no idea why you were angry, like your rage had come in as quickly and inexplicably as a bolt of lightning in a clear sky. “I was – I was looking forward to finishing that!” you shouted, hating yourself for how ridiculous you sounded – it was just a book, for god’s sake, but somehow you felt like something had been torn away from you and you couldn’t control yourself. “And you fucking ruined it, you had to spoil it and you don’t even care! All you care about is your fucking candy! You just-“ You broke off just as abruptly, suddenly aware that if you kept yelling like this, you’d start crying and that’s the last thing you wanted. Instead, you just grabbed your bag and ran out of the office with an inarticulate, “Ugh!” of sheer frustration. Ranpo stared after you, his mouth slightly agape. Slowly he shut his mouth, and stood up from your desk, arms limp by his sides. “…I didn’t mean anything by it.” He muttered; more to himself than anyone else. “Was it really not obvious?” Yosano sighed. Your reaction had surprised her, true, and she had no doubt that once you had a little time to cool off, you’d come back and apologise for blowing up at Ranpo like that. It simply wasn’t done in the Armed Detective Agency – Ranpo was the reason it existed at all and everybody knew that. And she knew how fond you were of Ranpo, it was hard to stay angry with him for very long. But even so, she felt for you too. It may have seemed like a small thing, but sometimes it’s the small things that felt the biggest in that exact moment. “She’ll be back.” Yosano assured Ranpo, and he looked up at her. “But in the meantime, I have an idea…” ~ Your walk and subway ride to the supermarket was something of a fog to you – namely because you were so busy fuming to really concentrate on anything else. Arrogant, inconsiderate…manchild! You knew you were being ridiculous – it was just a book and your reaction was out of proportion to the situation. It was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back. But now you knew you’d go through the day feeling flat and defeated. Now you’d just go scrolling idly through your phone or something and curl up on your sofa once you got home, without anything to look forward to. You could watch TV or play games or something, but…it wasn’t quite the same. And you felt kind of stupid for not realising such an obvious twist that Ranpo had discerned merely from glancing at the fucking summary, for god’s sake. It's not his fault he’s a genius. You reminded yourself, arms wrapped around your middle in some fruitless attempt at self-soothing. But he still didn’t have to say anything. He could have just let me enjoy it. Arguing with yourself proved to be a waste of time, of course. As you walked around grabbing things you were pretty sure the Agency was running low on (it wasn’t a perfectly ordered list like Kunikida would have had, of course, but that was too damn bad), you knew you’d already lost most of your initial outrage. You’d have to go back to the Agency with your tail between your legs and apologise to Ranpo. You knew you wouldn’t get one back, because he likely didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, but you did still bad for hurting his feelings. When you got back to the Armed Detective Agency, you were surprised to see it mostly empty. Maybe a job had come up, or people had gone to lunch after you stormed off. You sighed. If that’s the case you wouldn’t be surprised On your desk was a parcel, wrapped in brown paper. Puzzled, you picked it up – you hadn’t expected any mail today and you didn’t usually get anything delivered to the Armed Detective Agency offices anyway, Dazai was horribly nosy and would badger you to tell him everything about any item you got. A brief thought flashed through your mind that it could be something dangerous, maybe sent from somebody in the Port Mafia, but you dismissed it just as quickly – why would they bother targeting you over someone who is a genuine threat to them? It made no sense, and you didn’t think it likely anybody would be able to sneak past both the CCTV, Dazai and Ranpo. Slowly, you tugged off the paper. It was a book. A gorgeous, sleek, heavy paperback book. The pages were so new they were almost blindingly white under the office lighting and the cover had pretty silver filigree around the border. Smoothing your fingertips over the cover, which depicted a woman standing under a street lamp, her profile in shadow, like she’d heard a noise and turned her head to look at it just as the photo was taken. You turned it over and read the synopsis. A crime thriller? Realisation dawned on you and your eyes widened. The door opened and the Tanizaki siblings, Yosano, Kenji and Ranpo all came in, chattering amongst themselves. Yosano and Kenji saw the shopping bags and approached you with a smile. “Hey! Sorry, did you just get back? We wanted to wait for you, but you were gone a little longer than expected. Here, we got you a bento,” Yosano said, rooting around in a bag of her own and handing it to you – it was still warm to the touch. “Thanks,” you said, smiling as you handed Kenji the bags, knowing he’d insist on taking them to the kitchen, and he went off with a happy grin to restock the cupboards. “Where’s Dazai and the others?” “They got a call about a disturbance downtown. They’ll be back later, I’d imagine,” Yosano said, wryly. “Assume this doesn’t have the Port Mafia’s dirty fingerprints on it.” “Right,” you said, but your eyes drifted over to Ranpo, who was already tearing open a bag of gummy bears Kenji must have passed him on his way to the kitchen. Yosano got the hint and excused herself to her clinic, saying she’d better have it ready for when Atsushi inevitably came back with some life-threatening injury. You picked up the book and, taking a deep breath, approached Ranpo at his desk. He pretended not to notice your footsteps until the last second, even though you could practically see his ears pricking up. “Ranpo?” “What is it?” Ranpo said, and though his tone was dismissive, there was a catch in his voice when he spoke. You wondered if it made you a pushover, but his studied attempt to appear unaffected by what happened earlier tugged at your heartstrings all the same. You smiled and leaned down, pressing a quick peck to his cheek, which was pleasantly warm against your lips. Ranpo’s head whipped around so he could stare at you, the sun catching his open eyes and making the green of his irises sparkle like broken glass. “Thank you.” You said, softly, the words only meant for him. You held out the book. “This looks amazing.” “Yeah, well, it should do. I’m the one who picked it out!” he said proudly, trying to play off the faint hint of a blush on his cheeks. “That’s a way better mystery, even I had to look at the first few chapters before I had it all worked out.” You stifled a laugh, imagining Ranpo standing around in a bookshop, holding a giant paperback in his hands and flipping casually through it like it was his own personal library. No doubt he inhaled a few muffins from the coffee shop upstairs while he was at it. “And I’m sorry about-“ you began, hurriedly, since you figured it’d be more awkward for you both to apologise with a room full of people earwigging, but Ranpo waved you off. “Nevermind that. Hey, come look at this new case I’m working on!” You smiled, knowing he’d already forgiven you – he didn’t show his own personal missions to just anyone, and sometimes when he did he’d abruptly dismiss you again once something occurred to him or he just decided he’d told you everything you needed to know. But listening to him talk about them was always fascinating, so, still clutching your new book, you sat down in a free chair and scooched closer. “Tell me all about it.”

#Ranpo Edogawa x Reader #reader-insert #Ranpo x You #Blogging #Fanfiction #This is just stupid fluff honestly #I don't know why I wrote this

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hannahssimblr · 11 months ago

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Chapter Fifteen

Dean immediately throws his hands up in the air as if he thinks I’m about to whip out a gun on him. “Woah woah hey, wait a second…”

“What are you doing here?” I demand, shocked by the invasion of my personal space. “You can’t just come to my house.”

“Okay, look, you weren’t texting back, I wanted to check that you were okay.”

I stand across from him with my arms crossed. “Well, here I am, I’m fine. What do you want?”

He gives me this loping smile that I’m sure he thinks is very charming and no doubt has practised in the mirror. He leans back against the iron railings. “I thought your housemate was lying when she said you weren’t home.”

“You rang the bell?”

“Yeah and she told me to go away.”

“I’m telling you to go away too.” I snip. “Don’t come to my house.”

He adopts a very concerned expression, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Evie, am I after doing something wrong? You just stopped talking to me after last weekend.”

“You got thrown out of my birthday party for being so fucked up, I didn’t feel comfortable texting you after seeing you like that.”

He sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I know, I know, I messed up, I’ve just been going through a lot lately. I shouldn’t have gone to the party, I just really wanted to be there for you.”

I arch my eyebrow. “Did you.”

“Yes of course! And I know, I know that the present I got you was shite, in fact, it was an insult of a present and like, I got in trouble for stealing it from work and all, it just really wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Well you can have the whiskey back if you want it. I never drank it.”

“Nah you can keep it. I deserved the trouble I got into.” His eyes get really big and soulful. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to put up with me, or with anybody, who acts like that around you.”

I shift from one foot to the other and try to keep my chin up, hoping that I have the kind of look in my eye that might turn him into stone.

“I have your real present with me, if it’s any consolation.” He says, and I watch him dig through his backpack to produce something flat and square, wrapped in paper. He holds it out to me. “I should have given you this instead of the whiskey, and also, I should have come to the party sober. I won’t ever be like that around you again.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not really, you can tell me I’m a dickhead if you want.”

I don’t want to tell him that. Reluctantly I take the present. It’s heavy. “Will I open it in front of you or should I do it later?”

“Whatever suits you.”

So I flip it over and peel the sellotape at the back. He’s done a very neat job of it, like, it’s as though he actually sat down at a table and spent time cutting the paper straight, folding all of the corners into neat, perfect little points. “I have no idea what this might be” I admit.

“Well I hope that you like it.”

I fold open the paper to reveal a large, square book. “The Art of Mulan.” I read aloud, and then my eyes flick to his. “This is my favourite movie.”

“I know, you told me before.”

“I did tell you… but it must have been ages ago.”

“Yeah it was but I remembered.” His eyes are steady on my face, watchful, even.

I smooth my hand over the cover, bright red with Mulan and her horse Khan in the centre painted in striking black ink, the letters of the title beautifully embossed with gold. Despite myself, I feel my animosity toward Dean begin to thaw, I’ve never been very good at staying angry with anybody. “Thank you.” I say. “This was really nice of you.”

He shrugs and looks away bashfully. “Ah, well, you know, it was nothing really. When I saw it in the bookshop I thought of you straight away.”

His words strike an immediate chord with me. He thought of me… But still, I’m on edge around him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this. I tuck the book under my arm and start throwing glances at the door. “Well.” I begin. “I suppose I should go-”

“So I don’t suppose you want to talk more.” He interjects. “I feel like I have some serious explaining to do.”

I hesitate. “Well, Claire, my housemate and her boyfriend are upstairs. I don’t think they’d be very pleased if I showed up with you.”

A sigh. “Why? Did I make a fool out of myself in front of them too?”

I shrug and he puts his face in his hands. “Oh Christ. I’m actually such a bloody mess sometimes, that’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s alright, it wasn’t that bad, they’re just… a bit protective of me.” He keeps his face buried and I reach out to touch his arm in a stilted gesture of comfort. “Don’t worry about it Dean, honestly, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No, like not at all. It’s whatever. I was probably just being too sensitive.”

He drops his hands and makes a sad face. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“Really. We can hang out, I just can’t really let you come in. Why don’t we go to the park instead?”

“Okay.” He says. “As long as you don’t mind the cold too much.”

“I don’t mind.” I promise. “Let’s do that, come on.” As we head down the snowy streets together I steal a quick glance up at the windows of the apartment, just in case somebody might be watching us go.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #romance #fiction #sims4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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bardspeak · 10 months ago

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And if you lost it all, and you lost it | ao3 link

(Some of) Hawke's letters to Fenris during dragon age inquisition. Hawke was left in the fade here.

Fenris -

I’m sorry for leaving, and I’m sorrier for getting angry that you didn’t want me to. I know you want to be with me, to protect me from what’s to come. I also know that what you could most protect me from is also what could most hurt you. I can’t have that. We protect each other, right?

I’d have you with me if it wouldn’t kill me to see you hurt.

The Inquisition has been looking for me, and Varric has held them off long enough. I guess I’ll find out why it was so important for them soon, but I know for me it’s Corypheus. We were both there – and I’ll never feel safer than when you have my back – but this is a burden of my own. It was my father’s blood that locked him away and mine that set him free. I feel I should be able to know him, understand at least the little my father must have, but I’m just as clueless as anybody else. I just know I can’t sit by and watch him happen to someone else. I hope you can forgive me.

You haven’t said, but I know I’ve been hurting you. I’m not sure why I don’t know how to live without something like this to turn to, to throw myself at. But I won’t drag you into it with me. It doesn’t mean I love you any less, and it doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t ache to be away from you. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it some of the time. When you’re just gone for the day I’ll turn to tell you when you’re not there. I love your humor, even when you’re laughing at me. I love your anger, even if you’re angry with me now. I love your happiness, and I can’t be sorry enough that it’s not what I’m leaving you with.

You’re with me, even if I didn’t let you be. I’ll be thinking about you all the time. I’ll be dumb enough to forget I left you behind. But I’m leaving my heart there with you.

Make sure nothing happens to it, if it’s not too much trouble.

- Hawke

Fenris -

Varric hasn’t gotten anything from you, but I hope you’re reading this anyhow. I know you hate letters going through him (the nosy rat), so maybe you’re waiting to say whatever it is when I get home. I hope I’m not too long to hear it.

Everything here reminds me of you, even the Inquisitor! She’s not much like you, but I suppose I see an elf glow and I get misty in the eyes. In all seriousness, she’s kind of lovely once you get past the weight of the world on her shoulders. She even got me talking – I told her a couple stories from when it was all of us, and even about that hawk I brought home once. I still have the scar from where he bit me and you didn’t even appreciate the likeness. Still sore about it!

She got me to talk about you, too. But that’s not particularly difficult. What’s the opposite of a sore subject?

Varric’s the same as always, but he seems to feel the weight of Corypheus too. I know I shouldn’t tell him to back off, but come on. That’s my burden! The blood of my father trumps being the guy who came along, in my most expert of books. He’s also in trouble with a seeker here for hiding me for so long. Well. I suppose I’ll take a punch for him, if it comes down to it. Even though he didn’t tell me that CULLEN is a COMMANDER in the INQUISITION!

I couldn’t believe it either! They let him within an egg’s throw of command again? But alas. It’s just like old times, only instead of staring in judgment across the gallows it’s across fields of burly men, or a particularly robust table.

There hasn’t been much action yet, though we’ve gone to see our warden friend. I suppose there’s more than corruption in the ranks, if Corypheus has anything to say about it. I can only be glad Carver’s still in Highever.

Blood magic’s abound, there’s a Tevinter altus (as he so insists) trouncing about the library, and I can’t step three times in any direction without knocking into a templar. But as much as I’m glad you aren’t having to deal with this, I do wish you were here. I miss you more than I can say. Maybe that’s selfish of me. Sorry. You can be cross with me about it when I get back.

I love you! I hope you’re doing well. I always hope you’re doing well.

Don’t forget to walk the dog! I wouldn’t mind if you killed a couple of snakes in my honor, if you’re already at it.

All my love

-Hawke

Fenris,

I’d have given anything to not have to send you this letter. I’d have given anything to send him back home to you. But there was no fighting this. Fighting him.

Hawke is gone.

We were fighting something impossible. The fight had dragged us into the Fade, and that’s where we left him. We couldn’t go back. You know I would have if I could. I’d have been lost right along with him if the rift hadn’t closed behind us.

He slipped from my grasp, gone before I could do anything. The Inquisitor says he stayed behind to save her, shoved her through so she couldn’t even look back, and stayed to fight on his own. He liked her well enough. They got on like a house on fire. Maybe he thought it was something we would have been proud of him for. I’d just have wanted him alive. I know you do too.

He was staying in one of the rooms and I found a note on top of the mess he’d made of his desk. It doesn’t say it, but I know it’s for you. He was wearing his token, though, so I can’t send it with you.

I’m sorry.

Varric.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to throw this away, or it might be some sort of something I bring with me when I come back home. A reminder, maybe, of how much I wish I was there with you. Something to knock me over the head with if I ever decide to leave again. I still hope you never have to read it.

I’ll do anything I can to make it back, I’m not giving up. It just seems like this gets bigger and bigger in my head every day I’m here. You know I’ll throw my lot in with anything I believe in even if it gets me nowhere good. It got me you, though, so it can’t all turn out bad.

This might be the most important thing I’ve ever done, but right now all I can think of is you. I’m still sorry for leaving you, for hurting you and not letting you be with me. I’m also sorry for being glad you’re not here. That feels like the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I know I wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye to you to your face. And you deserve that, if you can’t have a promise kept.

I’m not sure I’ve ever told you how proud I am of you. You’ve been the strongest person I've known since I met you, and you knew my mother. It’s a pretty high bar. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. You can hate me, never want to think of me again, and I’ll still love you. My heart is still there with you whether you choose to bury it or not. I’m not sure I’ll ever live up to how I wish I could love you, but I love you all the same. I still turn to tell you when you’re not here.

-Hawke

#fenhawke #da2 #dragon age #dragon age fic #fenris #hawke #dragon age 2 #writing #i love them a lot. unfortunately me and my friend are planning on leaving hawke in the fade in our thing GNSDLFHD #and my hawke really is so.. he knows he should stay for fenris. that they basically only have each other right now #but he cant help fall on that sword. learned instinct

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navibluebees · 2 years ago

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Someone to be Proud of (Recom Quaritch x Human Female Reader) - Part 7

Please read before interacting.

Rolling onto your side, you looked up at him, light so bright you gave up and forced your eyes shut. “What the hell?”

“You had a hard hit on the train. They thought it was just supplies, but you guys were inside. Couldn’t find any of the others, but it seems like they took pity on you and brought you in.”

A deep sigh exited your nose. You clapped a hand over your face to shield the light. “They should have just left me there. I was fine. I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

Max had moved closer, a sympathetic look on his face. “Look, I get it. I’ve had low points before, too. But you’re here now, so just let us take care of you.”

As you rested there, he chattered eagerly, excited to have a new person to talk to. You had told him about your job and how you were being sent to plot out a design for a new area. “Wait, where is my bag?”

“Right here. What do you need from it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to make sure I had it. I don’t know where exactly they’re at, but I had something for Spider in there.”

“You know who Spider is?”

“Do you??”

You eyed each other a bit, trying to read the other person. Finally you broke. “Yeah, his dad, the blue one, and I had a thing going on. It’s off now, but I met him a while back.”

Max had spun in his chair, staring at you. “Do you know how bad that guy is? .. Or do you just not care?”

Your eyes welled up with tears. Through sobs you said, “I.. he was never that way with me.. not even a clue. I..I think *sniff* that he’s different in this body.. or I thought that. I don’t even know anymore. The last I saw of him, he had a gun to a Sully kid’s head.”

“…He what?”

You jumped into the story of how you’d come across the body cam live footage and what you’d seen so far. In a panic, Max reached for a walkie talkie and radioed out. “Norm you have to come back. It’s urgent.”

A few minutes later, a pod against the wall hissed open. The man assumed to be Norm came up out of and said, “What’s up? Can’t be gone too long. The kids might paint on my face if I’m out too long.”

Max turned to you and said, “Tell him what you told me.”

You recounted what you could remember from the body cam footage, their faces become more distressed by the second. “I can’t believe they thought it was a good idea to bring him back. Especially in a Na’vi body. Makes him more deadly,” said Norm.

You pulled your knees to your chest and put your chin on them, pulling a blanket around you in the cold lab. “Was he really that bad?”

Max looked at you somberly. “I know it may be hard to believe with you having seen a kinder side of him.. but we didn’t even know that side existed. He hurt so many of the Na’vi. Has killed people. He doesn’t hesitate if it gets in the way of his mission.”

~~~

It was strange the first time you had stepped out from the portable pod. So many blue faces turned to look at you and it was like a first day of school as the new kid. Suspicion and curiosity in even measures across the crowd. A lone man stepped forward and kneeled down. “My name is Ka’ani. I brought you here.”

“Oh. Thank you for saving me.”

He nodded and gave a friendly smile before walking away. Max showed you around the camp, explaining that it was hidden in the Hallelujah Mountains and that the other humans hadn’t been able to find a way up here. They had moved when the humans came back around a year ago. That Jake Sully had left after Quaritch had held the kids hostage right after he got here. That’s also when Spider had been kidnapped.

You stopped in your tracks. What he was saying made sense. Spider hadn’t looked willing when he first arrived at Bridgehead. But.. “This wasn’t the first time he’s held the children hostage?”

“Yeah, absolutely not. He’s someone who does whatever he has to for whatever goal he’s trying to achieve.” Max’s tablet started to ring and he accepted the call, stepping a few feet away. “Hey, Jake. Everything okay with you guys? We heard that Quaritch had some of the kids.”

“What, where did you hear that?”

Max turned the camera to you and you gave a shy wave, eyes widening at the person Miles had been hunting for months. “Hi, um. My name is Y/N. I was at Bridgehead and saw some of the body cam footage. I was.. I was seeing Miles for a bit before he left on the mission. I’m sorry he put you and your kids through that. I had no idea he was really like that.”

Jake gave a sad smile. “I get it. He fooled me too at one time. We also had some news to share with you, Max. Neteyam… He.. he didn’t make it.”

Max bowed his head, face twisted in sadness. “Dammit! I just… I am so sorry, Jake. What happened?”

“The boys went to rescue Spider and one of the recoms was shooting at them. There was an exit wound. We just weren’t able to save him. But I got that bastard. Quaritch is dead.”

Your body recoiled and you walked away until you couldn’t hear the call anymore. Tears seeped from your eyes. A simmering anger bubbled in your blood. Your love for him would never be simple. You closed your eyes, waiting while they finished their conversation. When Max was done, he moved to where you were sitting and sat beside you. “You okay?”

“Not particularly.. Can I ask? Who is Neteyam?”

Max looked devastated. “He is- was Jake and Neytiri’s oldest son. Such a good kid. I’ve seen him grow up and he just.. He always took on more than his share of responsibility but he never made anyone feel badly about it. Just took it upon himself to take care of everybody. He was too young for this.”

~~~

The Omaticaya mourned Neteyam deeply. His grandmother proposed a ceremony at the tree of souls for him to be mourned in their way. You flew down on banshees. Ka’ani let you ride with him. Most of the other members of the clan did not want to be anywhere near new sky people. The wounds were becoming to deep for any trust to form in the future. Ka’ani’s English was limited, but he was pleasant to sit in silence with.

When you arrived for the ceremony, you didn’t feel right mourning for someone you didn’t know and intruding on their grief. Max and Norm warned you not to go too far but that the immediate area was fairly safe to be in.They had left you with a hunting knife. You had never used a knife for defense in your life before. You hadn’t come here with any expectation of combat being involved in your day to day. You turned in a circle, waving it around, attacking unseen enemies.

“You’re holding that wrong.”

***

Taglist:

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @mechformers @nuttyrebelflower

#recom quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar way of water #avatar movie

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mattnben-bennmatt · 4 months ago

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"For Wema, water was life" | The Worth of Water excerpt

[Note: This is an excerpt from Gary White and Matt Damon's book The Worth of Water: Our Story of Chasing Solutions to the World's Greatest Challenge (March 2022), published by Penguin. This excerpt was retrieved from the sample provided for the Kindle Edition (Loc. 22 - 90).]

1. WHAT THE HELL IS THE “WATER ISSUE”?

POV: Matt Damon

I’ve spent most of my life telling stories on-screen, not on the page—so as I was thinking about how to begin this book, I thought about how I’d start the movie. We’d fade in on a hut I visited in rural Zambia in 2006. I can still see it clearly in my mind: earthen brick walls, dirt floor, thatched roof. The landscape around it was usually dry, but because this was April, the end of the rainy season, the ground was covered, in parts, with a thin blanket of green. I was sitting outside the hut, waiting for a teenager to get home from school.

I was in Zambia because Bono—the rock star who spends his spare time fighting to end extreme poverty—had been pestering me to go. “Pest” is Bono’s word. He wears it like a badge of honor. He takes pride in getting people—politicians especially, but others, too—to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do, if he wasn’t pestering them. The guy is really good at it. Bono believes that seeing poverty up close can change a person’s priorities, can compel them to go out and do something about it. So he and his colleagues at the organization he started, DATA—which would eventually become the ONE Campaign—had been pressuring me to join them on a trip to Africa. He’d been pressuring me with the zeal of a telemarketer. He was not going to take no for an answer.

My answer wasn’t no, exactly. I just had a lot going on in my life. My wife would be seven months pregnant at the time of the trip, and I had only a small window of time before my next movie. So I told Bono it just wasn’t a good time. He looked at me and said, “It’s never going to be a good time.” Which, of course, was totally right.

I had no grand illusions about the point of going on this trip. It’s not like I’d be changing anybody’s life. Bono likes to say that there’s nothing worse than a rock star with a cause, but an actor with a cause is a close second. I winced at the mental image of me walking through the bush or an urban slum somewhere, looking concerned, and then flying home to my comfortable life. But then I thought: that’s an even dumber excuse for not going than “I’m busy.” The more I thought about the trip, the more I realized that I wanted to go and meet some of the people who live in these extremely poor places, to see firsthand the challenges they face, and to figure out whether there was something something I could be doing to help. So I told Bono I’d go, and my older brother, Kyle, agreed to come along, too.

The trip was about two weeks long. It took us to slums and rural villages across South Africa and Zambia. DATA had set it up like a college mini course. Each day, we learned about a different challenge that kept people from breaking the cycle of poverty: underfunded health systems, the challenges of life in a slum, the HIV/AIDS crisis. We read briefing books about each issue, visited organizations that were trying to tackle them, and, most important, talked with the people.

On one of our last days in Zambia, we were going to learn about water. It wasn’t clear to me why. I understood why we had been focusing on HIV/AIDS and education—these were issues that you read about in the news, issues that people talked about or signed petitions about or donated in support of. But when I heard we’d be spending the day on the “water issue,” I wasn’t sure what issue that was, exactly. I guessed the water was contaminated.

Then I read my issue brief. It said, yes, the water was contaminated—so much so that waterborne diseases were killing a child about every twenty seconds. But the water was also hard to access. There were no water pipes in these villages, no water taps in people’s homes. Somebody had to go get the water and bring it back, and that somebody was almost always a woman or a girl. This was their responsibility: to walk as far as necessary to whatever water source they could find and fill their plastic jerrican, a five-gallon water jug that weighs more than forty pounds when full. Then they turn around and carry it home. And the next day they wake up and do it again.

To see what that was like, we drove four hours from Zambia’s capital, Lusaka, to a village with a well that a partner of DATA’s helped build. The staff knew of a family who lived close to the road. Their daughter Wema was fourteen, and every day after school she walked to the well to get water for her family. She’d agreed to let us walk with her, but when we arrived at her home, it was empty. Not just the home, but the whole area. There was no village center that I could see; all the huts were spread out. It was very still, very quiet, and we just sat there for a while, waiting.

Eventually we saw Wema coming toward us down the path. She was carrying books and wearing a simple blue dress that looked like a school uniform. She greeted us shyly, then put down her books and went to fetch her family’s jerrican.

At first, as we started walking to the well, the conversation was awkward. Which wasn’t really a surprise. Wema, who walked alone to this well every day, suddenly had an entourage of trip coordinators and village officials, plus an overeager movie actor. She and I didn’t speak the same language, so we had to rely on an interpreter. Still, as we walked, everybody else hung back a bit, giving us some space. Her responses to my questions were pretty short, but after a while we both relaxed a little, and even the silences felt natural enough. It was a peaceful walk down a country road.

After half an hour or so, we arrived at the well. Somebody suggested I try my hand at it. I had just finished filming one of the Jason Bourne movies, so I thought I was in pretty good shape. But pumping water from this well was harder than it looked. Wema and I laughed as I struggled with it. She had this incredibly practiced way of working the pump and then hefting this big, heavy yellow can up onto her head, where she kept it balanced with the help of one hand. This was easy to admire until you remembered (if you’d let yourself forget) that this was work for her: an inescapable, essential chore.

On our way back, it started to rain. Nobody said anything about it; we just kept walking. There’s something about succumbing to the rain and accepting you’re going to get soaked that loosens people up. The conversation got easier. I asked the girl if she wanted to live in the same village when she grew up. She smiled at me, a little shy again—as if she was debating whether or not to answer. After a moment, she did. “I want to go to Lusaka,” she said, “and become a nurse.”

I had this feeling that she mostly kept this ambition to herself. I wondered if her parents even knew, and if she’d hesitated to tell me because I might tell them. It was no small thing for her to have this dream—to think about leaving the place she’d always known, to head out on her own and show what she could do. It really resonated with me. And look, I know it’s a cliché to meet someone halfway across the world whose life is dramatically different from your own, and suddenly see yourself in them—but I did. She brought to mind that feeling of restlessness, that eagerness to get out and do something new, somewhere new. I knew exactly what it felt like to be a teenager with a dream. I spent my teenage years pooling the money from my summer jobs in a joint bank account with Ben Affleck so we could move to New York and become actors. Not the same thing, obviously. But not so different that we couldn’t connect. As I talked with her, it seemed clear to me that she was going to do it. She had a spark, a kind of self-possession that made it easy for me to imagine that one day, she’d work up the courage to tell her parents she was going to chase her dream to Lusaka. Maybe they’d be angry about that, or sad about losing her, or proud that she was thinking big. Maybe all three. But she’d study, and she’d work, and she’d meet her goal. More than fifteen years later I’m still convinced she’s made it. That she’s not still walking that path and carrying that jerrican. I hope I’m right.

The main reason I’m optimistic—actually, the only reason I can be optimistic—is that Wema was able to go to school. It took half an hour to walk to the well we visited, but an hour of walking every day left her enough time to attend school and do her homework before the sun set—the village had no electricity, so after dark it was impossible to read a book. DATA introduced me to her because she was, in relative terms, a success story—a girl lucky enough to have a well close by so she could spend a good part of her days learning. Millions of girls aren’t so lucky. For them, getting water doesn’t take one hour; it takes three or four or six. It’s what they do: they walk for water. That necessity keeps them from going to school, or working in the fields to earn money for their families, or creating something they can sell at a market. In fact, in some regions of India, water is so scarce that men take “water wives”—second and even third wives who spend all day, every day, gathering water for the family.

I kept coming back to that old adage: “Water is life.” How many hours of that fourteen-year-old’s life had already been saved because someone thought to dig a well a mile away from her house instead of four or five? That decision was the reason she could spend her days doing more than walking to and from the well. It was the reason she was able to pursue a dream that felt so big and audacious she hesitated even to say it out loud. For Wema, water was life; it was also a shot at a better life.

#matt damon #water.org #bono #kyle damon #ben affleck #on activism #on appearance #teenage years #2006 #2022 #the worth of water #book #originals

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bellewintersroe · 2 years ago

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Can I get a BoB ship please? Love your writing btw.

I’m 5’9 broad shoulders, Im plus size but with an athletic build. I have curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a ruddy skin tone. I’ve been told that I have an intimidating resting rbf.

Personality wise I’m pretty shy and anxious until you get to know me then I will talk your ear off. I have a bit of a temper, especially when it comes to someone doing me or the people I care about wrong. I’m super loyal and family oriented.

I work at a daycare as a teacher but I went to school for welding technology. I also help my dad do demos for his contracting business.I do a lot of things that would be considered men’s work. I love going on hikes and going camping. I also play the bass. I also love history especially history about the working class. Im super pro union and blue collar worker. Sorry I suck at writing this kinda stuff. Thanks so much!!!!

thank you so much for your request!

I ship you with… Dick Winters!

Wooohoooo the man himself. I immediately thought of Winters when I read your info!

I think Dick would immediately be taken back by your beauty, he’s kinda go all quiet and get a little smile on his face when he hears you talking.

this is a daily occurance, even if you two are good friends/ know each other well he’d smile to himself every single time you walk into the room. Without fail.

of course if you’re a little shy and anxious at first, plus if you have a resting bitch face at times (relatable) Winters might be a little taken a back? Maybe he’s a little worried you don’t like him? But I highly doubt that would last for long, Winters is sooo gentle and kind, that I can imagine you’d open up to him super quick.

loves listening to you talk, he’s definitely a listener, and adds into the conversation when necessary.

I think he’d ask lots of questions about you, he’s so interested in what you do as work and it’s so fitting because he thinks you’re so lovely and patient.

You come across very family orientated and this is what really draws Dick to you. He loves hearing about all the times you work with your dad and you two sound like you have a close bond. Just like he does with his parents.

he’s sooo respectful, and blushes a lot because I think he can be a little shy- but being in the army has really built up his confidence, so I think he’d initiate your first kiss- but only after taking you out for a date first.

I think he’d be very traditional, you know with the whole dating thing. He’s not huge on PDA but overtime he grows to become more affectionate.

I think he likes the idea of marriage and settling down with you, after the war he’s experienced so much chaos and trauma that you’re his safe haven. You with children and pets (if wanted) on a plot of land in a peaceful part of the world would be Dick’s dream.

like you he’s very loyal, to you, his friends and his family. He won’t take anyyyyy shit from anybody, whereas you’ve got more of a temper, he’s so cool and straight to the point. I think he outsmarts anybody who says anything negative towards you.

would enjoy taking long walks with you, or just chilling in bed together whilst you’re both reading your books. I think spending time with you after work or on his days off is such a good way for him to unwind.

I think he’d be soooo good at calming you down if you’ve got heated. Let’s say somebody’s said something rude to you at work or something, and you come home vexed, he’s immediately settling you down on the couch, keeping an arm around you or a hand on your lap to soothe you.

gets upset when you’re upset.

finds it super sexy that you do things that’s considered ‘mens work’ he knows your worth, he’d NEVER doubt it for a second, so he’s super proud to be like ‘yeah that’s my girl doing that’.

admires you. You’d turn over and he’d have a hazy gaze lingering over your face, and then he’d kiss you so gently omfg he’s so soft.

never raises his voice, never really does much to make you angry. I think he’d bring out such a peaceful side of you.

I think your hikes would turn into games, like you’re quite athletic and you do it often, but he’s run frickin’ Currahee, so he’d be able to outrun anybody.

races you to the top but let’s you win on purpose just he likes seeing the smile on your face.

#Band of brothers ships

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watching-pictures-move · 1 year ago

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Movie Review | God of Gamblers (Wong, 1989)

I remember hearing about this one back when I first started getting into Hong Kong cinema. I remember watching The Killer, thinking how cool Chow Yun Fat was in that one, and assuming he’d be similarly cool in this one. I remember reading the piece on David Bordwell’s site where he lists some titles he considers essential introductory viewing for Hong Kong cinema, and setting on the A Better Tomorrow, which also stars Chow Yun Fat and features him in the single coolest shot in movie history, and this one right after, and getting more confidence that this would offer similar pleasures. I remember seeing all these gifs of Chow in a tuxedo doing all these crazy moves presumably befitting of the God of Gamblers, and of all these crazy action scenes, and forming an idea in my head of how impossibly cool this movie must have been. I suspect others approaching this movie without reading any actual reviews may have formed a similar idea in their heads.

What Bordwell conveniently left out, and what was likely harder to distill into gif format, was that Chow is really only cool for the first and last half hours of this movie, and is in a very different mode for the middle hour. You see, Chow is the God of Gamblers, and you see him put his amazing gambling powers to use as he gambles better and harder than anybody he comes across. I personally don’t gamble and have little personal interest in card games and the like, but Wong Jing directs the hell out of these sequences, serving up ample style to compensate for the supposedly meager budget. (I was a little disappointed that Michiko Nishiwaki, who appears in one of these scenes and, as in My Lucky Stars, elicits some well deserved gasps when she reveals her muscles, doesn’t appear in more of the movie.) And you get a pretty sweet action scene on a train with triad member Charles Heung, who’s another person you’re gonna have to separate the art from the artist with.

But then Chow gets bonked on the head multiple times and reverts to a childlike state, retaining only his love of chocolate and his godlike gambling powers while falling under the care of low level criminal Andy Lau and his friends, a turn which suggests Wong watched Rain Man and decided he needed to fit that in with all the other movies he was cribbing from. What’s shocking is how well this works, in large part because of the total commitment Chow shows in the role. No, it’s not sensitive, and the scene where Lau watches a kid being yelled at by her mother on a bus and feels bad about yelling at Chow, only to run back to him and find him eating ice cream and holding balloons will elicit unintentional laughs more than anything else, but I respect the commitment to the bit. I guess scenes like this, or the one where Chow threatens to cut off Wong’s dick after being told men aren’t allowed to scream during sex, or the one where he chops up Ng Man-Tat’s tie are harder to distill into gif format, but they’re entertaining none the less.

So as long as you don’t expect the movie to flow together at all, there’s something to keep you entertained during the two hour runtime, especially as all the goofy stuff is interspersed with the usual acrobative and squib-heavy set pieces you can expect from classic Hong Kong action cinema. (Wong’s most distinct directorial flourish is the use of slow motion to emphasize particularly impressive or painful-looking stunts.) That being said, I’m still a little baffled that this was a big enough hit to have spawned as many sequels and spin-offs as it did, but I guess people just loved watching Chow gamble.

#film #movie review #god of gamblers #wong jing

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onewomancitadel · 2 years ago

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I’m the anon who’s planning to read your fic—I’d like to apologize, because I garbled the idea I was trying to express regarding your analysis; it’s not that I sometimes don’t agree, it’s that often you’re looking at the same things I do from a different perspective and that gets you to a reading that isn’t necessarily the exact same as mine but always rings true. Like seeing a sculpture from a new angle, and appreciating it more fully as a result. It’s an “ohhh, I didn’t think to look in that way but now that you’ve pointed it out, I can see it and it’s beautiful” kind of different. That’s what makes me excited to read Skimming Eye—I’m sorry it came across as more negging. I was thinking “people are being mean because her writing doesn’t pander to fanon expectations; the strength of her argumentation and engagement with canon is why I have her fic bookmarked; maybe I should say that.” I really should have considered how the sentiment would land in context.

I hope you have a better morning. Thank you for the well-wishes. If you don’t feel up to responding to this, please don’t stress about it, I’m not expecting any sort of answer, just wanted to apologize to you for the foot in my mouth.

Thank you for what you've said here, it's very kind. It probably wasn't a great of me to be having a tantrum at like 3am where I was reading the worst into everything, to be totally fair. I just didn't want you going into my fic with a false assumption if it were the case, because people make it my problem. I've also had people recently and in the past say they browse my blog despite disagreeing with a lot of what I have to say, which is pretty demoralising in general. I don't read many other RWBY blogs just out of simple and pure respect, so I'm not sure why that's not afforded to me lol.

(This isn't because I don't think different ideas aren't important, but more to do with the fact that I think if you have fundamentally different starting positions, you're not likely going to meet in the middle through kind debate. I don't want to talk to people who think Cinder isn't on a redemption arc. Do I want to talk to people who think that Cinder's redemption arc will end in death? Not by choice, but the topic comes up in asks nevertheless. I'm not against entertaining contrasting ideas, in case anybody thinks I've created an insulated hugbox for myself. In fact, I really enjoy it and often do it of my own accord).

It's totally fine, you haven't done anything wrong lol. Don't worry. Honestly, what's pretty galling about this whole thing is that I am otherwise pretty easygoing especially provided with enough context. I mean, I don't suffer idiocy, but even recently I've had a ton of spam asks from someone I've given five different chances to change his behaviour, I'm still not overly annoyed with him and given the opportunity I think he can probably reform his behaviour with enough incentive. Lol. I'm sensitive and my feelings get hurt sharing something creative and private, so really I'm the crybaby here. I've been told recently that apparently I'm very intimidating.

You haven't put your foot in your mouth so don't worry. Hope you're getting on alright, and again you're not under any obligation to read my fanfic lol. That's the last thing I'd want to pressure anybody into, which is why I even feel weird making reference to it in Tumblr asks etc. when someone asks me a question - because my fanfic does also sort of operate as a way to realise my thematic and narrative analysis, and sometimes - ironically enough - I think it does a better job of articulating it than what I've got to say here. But it's not for everyone. Then again, neither are my Tumblr posts themselves.

I guess there's also that issue with fandom where I'm here for Jaune/Cinder, but I'm also here because this is my blog where I talk about stuff I care about, and sometimes people are only expecting the former, but the reason I care about Jaune/Cinder is because of those personal, textual, thematic, emotional related reasons... it's hard to parse where one ends and one begins.

Anyway, thanks again for your asks. I'm sorry everyone for all that nasty whiny trouble last night, it's something I've bottled up for almost two years and every now and then I have a temper tantrum about it. Lol.

Take care. (:

#seraphina's asks #user: anonymouse #negative nancy hour #debating whether to dirty delete but people left some nice comments so thank you

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terranoctis · 2 years ago

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Stories of 2022

It’s been a year that’s kept me quite busy, so truth be told, I’ve gone through less stories this year than I would’ve wanted to. That being said, perhaps I’ve made stories of my own moreso, and that’s not a bad thing. Time changes your circumstances and I’m proud of what I’ve done this year.

However, there’s been a few standout stories I’ve experienced/read/watched. Here’s a few thoughts on those, in no particular order:

MOVIES

1. Everything Everywhere All At Once

I would be highly remiss to not include this whatsoever, because it’s the one movie I can easily recall as my favorite of the year. I had a conversation earlier this week with two friends who I always talk movies with and all three of us unanimously agreed that it was our standout film of the year. As someone who is a daughter of an immigrant and has countless tales of being an Asian-American, it touches my heart all the more with its portrayal of generational trauma and the tension that arises when those generational differences are at odds.

It’s one of those rare stories that touches on multiverses in a way that is its own--and in what a glorious way it does. It’s less about the multiverse and handles beautifully the personal aspects of a woman who could’ve been anybody--and was everybody in countless other universes, but understands the implication of being just the one person that they are and knowing that it’s worth so much. It’s a film that loves cinema, which is my favorite kind of film, in the way the cinematography is shot, in the messiness of all the wardrobes and costuming of this film, in its homages to films before it, and in the way there are key lines that are so heartfelt you cannot help but remember them for a long time.

The cast for this film has been one of my favorite. No one is surprised at Michelle Yeoh’s acting chops if they’ve paid attention to cinema, but it’s the first film that’s allowed Ke Huy Quan to fully shine as an adult actor and introduced me to the wonderfully talented Stephanie Hsu. This deeply moving script allowed all three main actors and their ensemble cast to really show off that talent and I’m all the more grateful for it. It’s one of the rare films that is both a visual marvel (due to its wonderfully frenetic editing) and wonderfully well-written. It might not be for everyone, but I, for one, will sing praises for this film for a long time.

2. Belle

The first film I saw in theaters this year was actually this film and I’m so wonderfully pleased that I did. It’s a story that is not without its flaws, and it’s not even the best animated film I’ve seen... but it’s a story that I can’t help but love because of how earnestly it is portrayed. It’s a story of love through grief and perhaps that’s why it hit closer to home for me. The animation is stunningly beautiful, merging various styles from across the world into a film that is held largely together with its core Japanese animation style from Mamoru Hosoda and his team. The main character Belle, or at least her avatar form in the virtual reality world ‘U’, is drawn by one of the lead character animators at Disney, and the design of her character reflects beautifully the retold Belle from Beauty and the Beast in this world.

Even though the film is a retelling of the classic fairytale behind Beauty and the Beast, it’s surprisingly less about romantic love than it is about love in all its forms, particularly the kind of love can have when someone is at their lowest and scarred. That love can be for someone else--and it can also be for yourself. You do have a love between “Beauty” and the “Beast,” but that love is hardly portrayed in a romantic light. It’s the kind of love that someone has when they see someone in need and they want to help... and it’s a story that comes full-circle beautifully with the main character.

I’m also a sucker for good music and Belle had some of the best music I’ve heard in any film this year. I literally had chills when the main character started singing for the first time as Belle, when she’s testing out her voice again in the reality of the virtual world--despite being unable to sing loud in real life. The songs all tie in beautifully to the overall themes of the film as well.

GAMES

3. Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker

If last year was a story of my love for Shadowbringers in Final Fantasy XIV, this year was a story of my love for Endwalker. I unfortunately did not get to finish Endwalker during its release month as most others did, but I did get to finish it earlier this year. I can’t say that I loved it as much as Shadowbringers as an independent story, but as the culmination of every tale you’ve experienced as the Warrior of Light from A Realm Reborn to Shadowbringers, it’s a mastercraft in storytelling. For being able to resolve that tale in a way that hinges on some time-travel (which I’m a sucker for) and do it in such a heartfelt way and make you feel as the main character for all the people you’ve fought against and fought for in the past--Endwalker masterfully did so with amazing trials and cutscenes to boot.

It isn’t to say the expansion didn’t have its poor moments. The pacing had some issues, but for an expansion finished in the pandemic, I understand why. I loved the overall story nonetheless and could deal with the pacing. The culmination of the whole Elpis arc and seeing how we became to be the Warrior of Light has been some of my favorite moments in the entire series. Not just in Final Fantasy XIV, but in all the Final Fantasy games I’ve played.

Two of my favorite characters are also fleshed out in such wonderful ways this expansion. Venat and Hythlodaeus are easily two of my favorites of the game so far and it’s no wonder I loved the Elpis parts of the game so much. The end of the Hydaelyn-Zodiark saga with Endwalker was masterfully done and it makes me all the more excited to strike on a new adventure with the world. There’s also so many tales that I haven’t gotten to experience yet and I’ve been having a wonderful time jumping through all those tales as well as I wait for the next huge patch in the upcoming year.

4. Stray

I played this rather late in the year, and it made my heart soft in all the good ways. I should state first I love cats, so I have some bias there. The game has you play as a cat wandering about a strange city filled with only robots. From the get-go, you even when you’re not yet in the city, you see that this world is devoid of all humans, wandering with a stray pack of cats. The city reflects this yet again, as you seem to be the only living being aside from Zurks, who are largely your antagonists in the game, as mutated bacteria life-forms.

At a basic level, the game is you wandering as a cat. On a larger scale, it’s a game about what constitutes life and how simple things like friendship and companionship are emblematic of what make us living beings. The journey is played largely with you as the stray cat and your companionship with a small robot. I can’t say too much without spoiling the story, but it’s a beautiful, lovely little tale of friendship between a robot and a cat in a dystopian cyberpunk world. It’s worth a play if anyone ever gets a chance to do so.

BOOKS

5. Nona the Ninth

This was one of my most anticipated books this year and I think one of the rare novels I actually binge-read within a few days even with school work and whatnot. I should say that I did love Harrow the Ninth more, but I loved this book in its own way. It’s a portrayal of a character who has made herself forget who she truly is and the horrendous things that have happened to her (and I mean, world-shattering, world-ending horrible things), perhaps because she wanted to save the girl whose body she inhabits and perhaps because she loved these people with her. It’s about love, for good or bad, and the kind of resurrections we put ourselves and others through in a testament to that love. The whole series of the Locked Tomb is love in its revenant forms, which I highly appreciate the more I occasionally re-read the novels and random passages.

What makes the Locked Tomb series so humanely interesting to me is the way the narrator does not have the complete picture, by nature of their fragmented perspectives, but you as the reader do because you’re privy to the prior stories and other tales told through dreams or flashbacks. Nona is especially such a character because she is a “new” character, or rather a character who is seemingly unaware of her own true identity. The story leads you at first to believe she is perhaps one of the two previous main characters (Gideon or Harrow) in amnesiac form, but it becomes quite obvious she is a little bit of both in personality and perhaps neither of them at all. The more you read the story though, the more you begin to understand that perhaps she’s more aware than she lets on, but it’s because she’s so in love with the people around her that she doesn’t want to remember the trauma that made her something else. Thematic focuses aside, the writing is as fun as ever and where the Locked Tomb truly shines is with the personalities and dialogues of its characters.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about Nona at first, but the more I read, the more I adored her and her love for the people around her. And the more I felt that trauma that all three protagonists of this series so far have felt and still found some semblance of love despite it.

6. Babel, Or the Necessity of Violence

I should clarify I am still reading this at the moment, but it is already one of my favorite books of the year as I near the end of it. Translation as a magical weapon, translation as a means of colonialism--translation as a manifestation of something else... all these means of translation as not just a text-form thing, but something intrinsically cultural and used as a cultural weapon against its own people is utterly beautiful and devastating all at once. R.F. Kuang does an amazing job yet again with characterization of characters and that personal dilemma within the protagonist. I quite love the world-building in this one, having jumped from her previous works to this new world in Babel in the U.K. with silverworking and translation as a weapon. Since I’m still reading this novel, I won’t go into as much depth with it as I did the previous novel. For all I know, I might be missing a key piece of what makes this novel even greater.

#personal #readings and ramblings

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wpdarlingpan · 3 years ago

Note

Hey I just read the yandere Jason's todd and I was thinking about how you said Dami was still looking for his darling/soulmate. What if yan damian found his darling at his Schools art room and she has a service dog? Like she loves painting and I saw on TikTok that a dog can paint to so there is a little set up for her dog and another for her. Can I request a story about this? Hope you are having a good day/night!

Thank you so much for this request! I love the idea.

Y/N= Your Name

Y/L/N= Your Last Name

Y/E/C= your eye color

Warning: Major Fluff

~*~

Damian Wayne had been stopped after school but a group of squealing girls he had not interest in talking to. They all wanted the same thing, his last name and his money. They didn’t understand he had no interest in any of them.

“Damian! want to go get ice cream with me?”

“Damian! will you help me study for the math test?”

“Damian! Will you be my boyfriend?”

All he heard was them just shouting his name, if those insufferable people wanted to talk so badly why couldn’t they even just talk like normal people? But he had to admit even then he wouldn’t give them the time of day. But he knew with his name he had to seem polite even if he wanted to run away, so he decided to combine the two.

“Sorry, I must go. I need to go get something from one of the classrooms.”

A chorus of shouts started up again with every one of them saying they would go with him.

“Alone.” He stressed before quickly walked or more so ran back inside the school building. He heard them rush after him so he quickly darted into the nearest classroom and shut the door behind him, which happened to be the art room.Damian had his back to the door and he heard the footsteps rush past the door in search of him.

“Hello?” He heard, at first he was worried it was another fan girl that one bombard him but when he looked up and stared into beautiful Y/E/C eyes, it felt as if time had stopped. He admired the girl who was standing in front of an easel in the center of the room. She had on a white shirt with denim overall and a pair of converse. But she was covered in paint, blue in her hair, white on her hands, even more colors covered her legs, shoes, face, pants, and even her white shirt.

After he gained some awareness of how it would come across as creepy if he kept staring he looked down to the smaller easel that was on the floor next to her and saw an adorable dog with their own painting in front of them. There was a plastic sheet on the floor so they didn’t get paw prints all over the floor as their paws were covered in purple paint.

“Hello?” The girl questioned again before he looked back up at her and he finally moved from the door, closer to the girl.

“Hi, sorry to barge in like that.” Damian apologized in a apologetic manner.

“Oh! No worries. It just startled me a bit but then I heard all the foot steps pass the door, too which I assume you were running from people.” She spoke very analytically. Damian feel even more in love. She had a dog, she wasn’t squealing, she was very aware, and she was also very adorable as he saw the paint on her.

“You are very clever.” He replied smoothly making her blush to which Damian smirked.

“Thank you.” She spoke shyly. Damian could tell she was rather anxious so he kept talking to try and ease her nerves. Damian knew he wanted her to be his soulmate as the other bats. But he preferred the term beloved.

“May i see your paintings?”

“Sure.” She spoke nervously. Y/N wasn’t too confident as a person do showing her art to someone was very nerves racking, that was why she was there after school so she could finish her painting and not worry about the people around her, also because her teacher said she could try and see if her dog could paint like she saw others do on Tik tok.

Damian walked over to the girl and he dog and stood rather close to her, looking at the painting quite closely as to have ma excuse to stand next to her.

He looked at the painting and saw a silhouette of Gotham at night, he knew this because there was a image of the bat signal painted towards the night sky.

“This is amazing.” Damian complimented making her blush. She really wasn’t blushing because it was Damian Wayne making the comments but just because someone was making the comments in the first place. Damian then crouched down on the side closest to the dog and let the dog sniff his hand before he pet them while he looked at the dogs painting.

“This is a very cute idea, I might have to try this with my dog Titus, whats your dogs name?” He spoke as he looked at the purple paw prints at were on the canvas.

“His name is Padfoot, after the-“

“Harry Potter series? Sirius black right?” Y/N glowed at the thought of him knowing where her dogs name came from. She was really expecting him to be mean like some of the other people at school when they asked her dogs name. They thought the name padfoot was stupid and she should have named her dog like shadow or something based off the dark fur.

Damian saw her change in demeanor and smirked before continuing.

“I love the Harry Potter series.”

“Me too! Well you probably already knew that because of the name but-“

“Hey, it’s fine.” Damian reassured as she started to rant and stumble on her words. Damian loved Y/N’s shyness. It meant he had to worry about a lot less people being in the way. Then he realized he didn’t even know her name yet.

“What’s your name?” He questioned in subtle flirty tone.

“I’m y/n! What’s yours?” She did already know his name but she assumed that he would like to introduce himself. He liked that.

“Wayne, Damian Wayne.” He held out a hand for her to shake and she went to do so before noticing all the paint of her hands.

“Nice to meet you, I’d shake your hand but I’d feel bad getting paint on you.” Damian smiled slightly at her kind nature and proceeded to shake her hand anyway that seemed to fit perfectly in his. He didn’t even hardly pay attention to the white paint that was in his hands.

“It’s alright.” He said as he saw her looking alarmed at the paint on his hands.

Damian wanted to move quickly. He wanted to make her his as soon as possible. So he began another conversation and asked her about her life such as her friends, family, what area of Gotham she lived in, if she was single; to which she blushed brightly at as she replied with a quick yes as she never even held hands with a boy before. Damian was pleased with all the answers, and he felt very protective over her as she told him her address. He had to keep her safe if she was just waking around telling her address to anybody. Of course he wouldn’t be just anybody to her but it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t go telling other people who he knew didn’t deserve it know.

Damian didn’t want to go the route Timothy Drake did. He didn’t want to immediately force her to be his. He wanted something that made him feel the love that he was neglected of for years. He found his beloved and he knew that he had to be gentle in a way. But he could tell she was perfect for him.

She had finished her painting and put it over but the others from class the day and Padfoots had dried so she picked up the small easel and put it in her bag.

“I should probably head home now.” She spoke after she put Padfoot back on his leash and washed most of the paint off his paws. Damian panicked slightly as he didn’t want their time to end but, he also knew he could go home and search up everything he could find on the bat computer.

They walked out to the front together and saw Alfred patiently waiting in the car while reading a book. He looked up and saw Damian walking out alongside Y/N and smiled to himself slightly. He knew the boy deserved love, and it seemed that he had found his.

Y/N was tempted to ask for his number, but she didn’t want to come across as clingy or pushy. She had deeply enjoyed talking to him and she wanted to further.

“Pass me your phone.” Damian said with a slight demanding tone. Y/N did so without hesitation making Damian smirk as he typed in his number and put his name in the contact. He sent a messages to himself after and discreetly changed her contact name to ‘My Beloved ❥’ and handed back her phone.

“There, I texted myself from your phoen so we have each other’s numbers. Text me whenever you want.” Y/N smiled brightly at him making him smile back.

She began to wave goodbye and make the walk back home but he stopped her once he saw her start walking.

“Wait you’re walk home? Alone? But you live so far.”

“Yeah, my parents are always working so they can’t come get me. But it’s okay, I’m used to walking home .” But Damian immediately begins shaking his head. He knew the dangers of being in Gotham as he has seen many first hand. He wouldn’t allow his beloved to be so unprotected.

“I’ll give you a ride home from now on okay?” He spoke decidedly. She began to shake her head no.

“I couldn’t ask to do do that-“

“You didn’t ask, I told you. I’m going to give you a ride home, it’s too dangerous out there by yourself.”

“But I got Padfoot to protect me!” She spoke innocently while holding up the shaggy black dog.

Damian looked at her with a look that left no room for argument.

“Fine… but just this once.” Y/N said before following him over to the sleek black car.

“Definitely not only once, but believe what you want to believe. I can be quite… persuasive.”

Damian opened the door for her to get it and he helped her inside before getting in on the other side while Alfred glanced in the mirror every so often.

“Hello. Nice to meet you, what’s your name sir?” She spoke politely looking at Alfred as he looked up in the mirror.

“I’m Alfred Pennyworth. And you are?”

“Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you as well Miss L/N.”

She smiled at him as he saw in the mirror and he slightly smiled back and could already tell she was a kind person. Perfect for Damian and the Wayne family.

Her and Damian talked the whole ride to her house after she gave Alfred her address. Once they arrived Damian tried not to look to disappointed and continued to reassure himself that he would see her the next day for sure. He would also look her up on the bat computer.

They pulled up in front of a nice house that resided in a sketchy area, well all of Gotham was sketchy but Damian remembered one of the warehouse down the street was one of Jokers hold hideouts and he stopped a drug sale a few houses down and not to even mention the-

Before he continue she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

“Thank you for the ride Mr.Pennyworth. Bye Dami!” She said happily as she set Padfoot out of the car as well and made her way into the house. As the door shut behind her he snapped out of his trance of thinking of all the dangers and the fact she already gave him a nickname.

“Beat that Todd.” Damian thought to himself as he was already making more progress in a day than Todd and Grayson had in weeks with their soulmates.

“I presume that’s her Master Wayne?”

“Definitely Pennyworth. She’s My Beloved.”

~*~

I hope you liked it ♡

#yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #batboys #batman #Damian Wayne #x reader #dc universe #yandere #soulmate

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sserpente · 4 years ago

Text

Raw Desire

Synopsis: Something is wrong with him. Something none of the Avengers, including Thor, understand. When Loki turns into his Jötun form unwillingly and begins to act in a very primal and aggressive way, their solution for the problem is to lock him up in a cell below the compound until it’s all over. It’s a disease, perhaps, one which only Frost Giants can develop. Only Loki is not sick. Loki is in heat--and his Jötun body will not rest until his most carnal desires have been satisfied...

Words: 9176 Warnings: Jötun!Loki, smut, fluff, symptoms of addiction

A/N: You wanted some Jötun!Loki, I wanted some Jötun!Loki... so here we go. Enjoy, everyone! 😏

Additional NSFW Warnings: breeding kink (a little bit, anyway), Loki is in heat (kind of, duh), lack of aftercare (at first...)

His antagonising scream tore through the entire compound. You flinched, alarmed. Loki. The heart-breaking sound of pain tugging at your nerves was followed by a loud thump—like a heavy metal door falling shut, locked for good. It had come from the cellar, where the Avengers stored weaponry and ammunition; along with provisory but secure prison cells of Wakandan technology for criminals until they could be handed over to the authorities.

When you reached the source of the rousing noise, you almost knocked straight into Thor. His muscly back resembled a thick fleshy wall that would break your bones if you collided with him with too much force and speed.

“What happened?” Out of breath, you moved around him—facing the culprit of the commotion. The eerie flickering camera right outside the cell door showed Loki knocking his fists repeatedly against the metal door. His knuckles were already bloody from the repeated impact, yet the door would not budge. Much more concerning, however, was his appearance. Loki’s skin—every inch revealed to the naked eye anyway—was blue, his otherwise enchanting blue eyes sparkling with mischief of a deep blood-red. Countless, unique and fleshy lines formed a complex pattern on his arms and the back of his hands, even his face and neck. Your lips parted, both in shock and surprise at what your eyesight had revealed to you.

“He’s losing his fucking mind.” Tony responded for Thor before the Thunderer could even open his mouth in defence. He came tramping into the room as mad as you had never experienced him, tapping away on a tablet in the process. “I told you it was bad idea to bring him back here, Point Break! What were you thinking?”

“Can anybody tell me what is going on?! Why is he… like this? Is he in pain?”

“In pain?! He almost killed Nat. If Wanda hadn’t interfered…” Tony did not finish the sentence—regardless, the threat of what consequences there would have been for the God of Mischief was clearly audible.

“This was unlike him. He had no reason to…”

“No? He pounced on her like a… like a…”

“Beast?” Bruce added matter-of-factly. His hands were in his pocket when he approached the scene and patted Thor on the back in an attempt of providing comfort.

“Maybe… maybe this isn’t his fault, Stark. I know my brother, he’s never acted like this before!” The God of Thunder roared in defence, his arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Tony retorted sarcastically. “You know your brother so well he even tried to kill us all. Three times. No. This man is evil. Look at him!”

Petrified, you risked another peek. Loki was downright animalistic, his fists still working the metal cell door. He was getting weaker, worn out—like the fire in his red eyes was slowly being extinguished to make way for weariness. There was something primal in his behaviour; something raw. You would be ignorant to deny it scared you.

“Tony,” you began, forcing your voice to cease the shaking, “What happened? Why did he attack Natasha? Was he hurt?” Your sudden concern for him was going to give you away. No, not sudden. It had always been there, hidden just beneath the surface of your heart. You had only kept it a secret because… because what?

Loki did not know you had been harbouring romantic feelings for him for a significant amount of time now. Dark, tall and mysterious, he matched not only your type but had hopelessly captured you with his melancholic and lonely nature, the grief in his stunning blue eyes. You refused to believe that Loki was evil, that he had ever truly wanted to harm his brother; and you were desperate to be his friend… and even more than that. But the God of Mischief had hidden his heart behind such a hard shell that you were worried you might never get him to open up to you.

You would by no means describe yourself as an altruistic person—but there was a both enamoured and depraved part of you which desired, longed, for him to like you back.

“Talk to me.” You stated, tilting your head when he flung his dagger at one of the battered punching bags in the training room.

“What?” He sounded almost scornful when he spun around to gift you an incredulous look.

“Talk to me, Loki. I want to know what’s going on in your mind. I thought I was… you are always so distant. You disappear in here every other night, you snap at everyone trying to speak to you. You look nervous, like something is trying to break out of you.” Like you are trying to get rid of monstrous amounts of bottled up energy, you added silently. “You seem so restless. What’s wrong?”

“What concern is that of yours?” He spat.

“See! That is exactly what I meant.”

Loki growled. “What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” You flinched when he used your full name as opposed to the nickname everyone called you by.

“Why? Why are you screaming at me, I’m just trying to help! Don’t you get it, Loki? I care about you. And I care about what you think, even if I am probably the only one in this bloody compound who does.” Now that was unfair. But it was also the truth. “Why are you pushing me away? Let me in…”

Desperately, you moved forward in an attempt to reach up and cup his face, only for him to grab your wrists and pull them away harshly.

“Let you in? All I have ever received in return for ‘letting someone in’ was hurt and hatred. Give me one good reason for why I should open up to you,” he mocked, releasing your hands as if they would burn his fingers if they lingered on your skin for too long. “Tell you about my sorrows.” Sorrows. He had sorrows.

“I am not them.” You simply said. “Not any of them. I am not Odin, not Thor, none of the Avengers.”

Blinking, you snapped out of your memory. You had had this tragic conversation only two nights ago. No matter what you had said, he would not tell you what was on his mind. Now you knew.

“Something is wrong with him.” You interrupted the discussion, one you had not paid any attention to, by silencing them with a loud and determined voice.

“You don’t say?”

“No, Tony, you don’t understand… Loki is… he is Jötun. Thor, has he ever voluntarily turned into his Jötun form?”

The God of Thunder thought about it for a moment—then, he shook his head. “No.” You gave him a meaningful look. “So… you think it has something to do with his species?”

You nodded slowly and swallowed.

“Then we keep him in here until he is better.” He concluded. Your eyes widened.

“What? Thor, no… you can’t keep him locked up in there! What if he doesn’t get better on his own? Are you going to incarcerate him forever?”

“That would be an improvement.” Tony tossed in bitterly.

“We have to help him.”

“We? (Y/N)…” Bruce remarked almost tauntingly.

“You’ll find us upstairs. We need to let the others know about… whatever this is.” Tony added. You gnashed your teeth when he and Bruce turned to leave. For an awkward moment, it was eerily still—right until another one of Loki’s screams tore through the uncomfortable silence. You flinched once more. He was howling in pain.

“You think it might be a disease only Frost Giants can get?” Thor asked with concern in his deep voice at last.

You shrugged apologetically. “Maybe…”

“Loki and I were going to return to Asgard next week. I shall ask around, one of the healers should be familiar with Jötun diseases.”

“Go as soon as you can. Your brother is in pain, Thor, can’t you hear that?”

The God of Thunder nodded absentmindedly. But if no one was going to do something about Loki’s suffering—whatever it was—immediately, you would do it alone. So you did what Loki would do first. You dug up his books.

Loki’s room was neat, tidy. The green bed had been made—there was not a single wrinkle in the fabric and the desk was all clean, not giving thin layers of dust only visible in the direct sunlight a chance. The books he had brought from Asgard, old, thick, yellowed and heavy, he had stored on a bookshelf higher than you could reach.

Sucking in a determined breath, you moved the desk chair in front of it. The polished wooden floor to your feet complained with an ear-piercing shriek as you did. Determined, you climbed up to study the titles. All of them were written in Nordic Runes, making you realise that your research would end up being a lot harder than you had initially assumed. You could not speak a word of Old Norse, let alone read those Runes. Never mind that… you needed answers—and Loki needed your help.

It took you two hours to go through the titles and have them translated via a website you had had to pay for (using Tony’s credit card details—desperate times called for desperate measures) to use its allegedly reliable services.

Then, finally, after what felt like half an eternity, you found a suitable page-turner. It was titled Mythical Creatures and Species across Yggdrasil—at least, that was what the website you used told you.

Eagerly, you opened the book searching frantically for the chapter on Frost Giants and began sucking up all the information you could get. The more you read… and the more you compared Loki’s symptoms to the described behaviour of Jötuns in the book, the more aghast you became. One thing was for sure. Loki was not sick. Loki was aroused.

Terror-stricken, you bookmarked the page, grabbed your phone and jumped to your feet, abandoning the pile of books on Loki’s floor. You needed to speak to Thor right now.

He was about to enter the bathroom when you found him, once again almost knocking into his broad form.

“I… I found something.” You choked out.

“What?”

“I found something… about Loki. Thor… he is not ill, not really, he is…” Biting your lower lip, you pushed the God of Thunder into the bathroom, shut the door behind you and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “He is… aroused.”

“What?” He roared, blushing. “What do you mean he is aroused?”

“Look… I found this book, I…”

“You speak Old Norse?”

“No! I used… I used a translator. Thor, listen, please. It says here that to ensure their continued existence, male Frost Giants, every one-thousand years, experience the primal urge to copulate with females of their kind. Much like wolves or elves, this ‘heat’ usually begins with restlessness, extremely aggressive and possessive behaviour, unusual amounts of pent-up energy as well as an extreme hunger and loss of appetite at the very same time. Loki hasn’t showed up for lunch, dinner or breakfast and… he has been spending extraordinary times in the training room downstairs in the middle of the night lately. He barely sleeps, it seems.”

“Go on…”

“How old is Loki, Thor?”

“He is a little over one-thousand years… old.” He looked up in shock when he realised.

“That’s why he is in his Jötun form, Thor. He can’t control it, it’s not his fault, it’s… in his nature. God…” You had read it all, yet you were still working on processing it.

“This… it would explain why he tried to attack Nat. So… he is not in danger then?” Thor probed.

“No, not necessarily but—“

“So we can just wait until it is over.”

You frowned. “Until what is over?”

“His heat! If what you are saying is true and Loki’s behaviour derives from his heritage… if he cannot control his reactions, we have to keep him locked up and wait. We can’t have him ravish all the females in the compound.”

“But… he is in pain.”

An urgent knock on the bathroom door interrupted you.

“Hey, are you having a soap party in there? Other people need to use the bathroom too!” Closing the heavy book shut again, you rolled your eyes.

“There are at least three other bathrooms in this compound, Tony!”

“What are you two doing in here anyway?” He asked as he opened the door and leaned against the threshold when he spotted you two sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“(Y/N) found out that Loki is… uh… in heat.”

“In heat?!” Tony repeated. “Like a cat?”

“No! It… has something to do with the procreation cycle of Jötuns. It… is in his nature.”

“Fuck…”

“Hey… language.” If you hadn’t recognised his voice, you would know it was Steve who joined your heated discussion. “What’s going on here?”

“Loki is in heat, like a cat.” Steve frowned.

“No, he isn’t! Not like a cat, this is…” Thor stood again before you could finish your sentence.

“It’s for the best, (Y/N). Down there, he’ll be save from getting himself into trouble.”

“Thor, wait! Loki is suffering! Soon, he will…”

“We can’t risk it, (Y/N)! He almost raped Natasha!” Tony barked. “And if you go near him, I’ll lock you up too. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, (Y/N). I will not let him hurt you.”

“He… he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.” You chirped. No. Loki would never deliberately take a woman against her will. If he did… no! Loki had in incredible amount of self-control and composure; and you knew how much he despised his own heritage. He would fight this—for as long as he could.

“Besides…” Tony added. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he got a taste of his own medicine.”

“Stop blaming Loki for your PTSD, Tony. That was Thanos’ doing and you know that.” You growled darkly. The billionaire paused for a moment.

“He is staying where he is,” he concluded then. “Until he’s gone back to normal.”

But you did not want to wait. You couldn’t. You had read about the symptoms in detail. In the book it said that moodiness and aggression were only the beginning. If Loki did not act on what his Jötun body demanded from him and… released, then soon, excruciating pain would torment his loins. Masturbation appeared to be out of the picture. You nibbled on your lower lip. This thought of yours invaded his privacy on a truly shameful level, yet you were certain that if sexual arousal had already been plaguing him for a significant amount of time before this outbreak of his, he would have tried to lay hand on himself already and learned it did not provide the necessary relief.

Sooner or later, he would no longer be able to suppress his erection—and it would not disappear until he… sheathed himself inside a female to fill her with his seed. Under different circumstances, the idea of him claiming a woman… you, in such a possessive manner would have aroused you tremendously yourself. As of right now, however, Loki was in agony. The pain, if ignored for too long, would only get worse—it could last up to months and even then the denial of sexual release could result in permanent damage to his loins and even his potency.

But there was no cure either. No potion or spell to contain a male Jötun’s heat which Thor could have forwarded to Asgardian healers.

It was past midnight when you stopped reading and translating—too appalled by how much more Loki would have to suffer if nothing was done about his… condition. The only way to make it stop… was to act on it.

Your lips parted in realisation. You liked him, very much so—and you found Loki incredibly attractive, dreaming of his hands on your body, even. Perhaps you could help him after all. You were not Jötun but… would his body really make a difference? This most primal part of him wished to mate with a female—and although you had never seen a female Jötun, you doubted they looked much different than you did down there.

You had to wait another thirty minutes until the lights in Tony’s lab finally went out and you could sneak through the compound and downstairs to the cells—and once you had made sure that Vision was nowhere to be found, you switched off the security camera for Loki’s cell and approached the thick metal door.

It was quiet. He had stopped screaming. There was no banging against the walls either. Yet when you unlocked the door and slipped inside, his appearance, cowering on the floor and leaning against the cool wall with bare feet, startled you to the core. Loki’s raven hair was completely dishevelled, his knuckles bruised and covered in dry blood. His Jötun appearance was downright intimidating and close up, even more fascinating. He was breathing heavily, the thin shirt he had been wearing underneath all of his armour torn in several places, revealing blue skin and in his dark leather trousers… there was a remarkable bulge.

You shivered slightly when his red eyes met yours. Slowly, he tilted his head. “What are you doing here?” He growled hoarsely but weakly.

“I… I want to help you.”

The God of Mischief snorted. “You cannot help me.”

Mutely, you shook your head. “I can. Loki… I… I know what’s happening with you.”

He snorted once more. “So do I.”

“Let me help you.” Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to him. He reacted immediately. Loki jerked, greedily, as if to grab you and pull you on his lap. He could barely stop himself. Yet you were convinced that he would not hurt you in this state… much. A wave of courage rolled over you—you were doing this for him; and you wouldn’t be doing it if you did not like him in this way. Regardless of what he thought of you after, if he could even imagine being with a mortal like that… you longed to stop his pain.

“Leave.” He said quickly when you kneeled down next to him, timidly resting your palms on his thighs. “No… I said… leave… while you still can.” You did not. In fact, you ignored his rather sincere warning. Slowly, to not tickle the sleeping dragon, you reached for the buttons of his leather trousers and began undoing them until he grabbed a hold of your wrists to stop you. He was ice cold.

“Have you… lost your mind?” Loki was cut off by a loud hiss escaping his lips when your fingertips brushed against his erection. He was large—much larger than he would be in his Aesir form, you presumed, and his cock too was blue and covered in dozens of ridges.

“It won’t go away on its own,” you whispered. “You know it won’t. It’s okay.”

Braver this time, you stroked him again, creating more skin on skin contact. Loki was still holding on to you tightly but made no move to stop you. The touch of a female… it must have been bringing some sort of relief already. Coming here had been the right decision.

“Loki…” You murmured. Finally, your hand closed around his incredibly hard cock entirely and you began to jerk him off—gently at first, only to pick up speed when his breathing grew even heavier than it already was. Defeated, he dropped his head against the wall, revealing his blue neck to you. “Please let me help you.” You repeated. “It’s okay. I trust you.” Upon those words, Loki’s eyes widened barely noticeably. Perhaps it was all he had needed to hear to lose his self-control and composure entirely.

Growling like a wild animal, he suddenly started at you, pushing you back firmly so you lost your balance like a beetle on its back, wrapped his ice cold hands around your ankles and pulled you into him. Your back collided with the floor, knocking all air out of your lungs. You gasped for air all the while Loki busied himself with your clothes. Any layer of fabric was too much. He wanted you naked for him. His sheer strength petrified you when he tore at your pyjamas and ripped them to pieces until they were scattered all over the cell. You trembled—but it wasn’t the icy temperature of his blue skin that made your limbs shake so much. It was, so you realised when your widened eyes fell on his massive erection, now fully springing free from his tight trousers, your own arousal growing into dizzying heights. This, whatever it was, excited you—maybe even way more than it should.

Once more, the God of Mischief grabbed your ankles, forcing your legs open. Your heart skipped a beat when he laid his blood-red eyes upon your bare pussy. Your lower lips must have been glistening with your juices in the artificial light of the cell. Loki growled, his long and cold fingers gripping your ankles so tightly you could already feel the bruises forming. Eagerly, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his hard and ice cold cock teasing your clit. A moan escaped your lips, urging him on. The fire in his eyes had returned, like your body had set his ablaze.

He spread you even further for him, your nails digging into the metal floor beneath you—and then he claimed you for his own. Inch by antagonising inch, he split you apart, sheathing himself so deep inside of you all air was knocked from your lungs yet again. He was ice cold and he was much larger than the average man; and you were beginning to understand that yes, female Jötuns were anatomically different than humans. Human women were not made for taking such long cocks… so why did every single powerful thrust of his feel so good?

Loki pulled out almost completely, with only the tip remaining inside of you, only to plunge back inside only the fraction of a second later, fucking you furiously. Your tight and wet walls appeared to mould around his manhood, gripping him tightly, asking for more despite the almost unbearable coldness against your most intimate parts. No longer were you in control of your arms. They reached up, palms gliding over his bare chest and enjoying the coldness under your fingertips. Fascinated and aroused at the very same time, you traced every single ridge on Loki’s body while he was fucking you senseless, until your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to take the pleasure. His long manhood his spots inside of you which you had never known even existed. He leaned down, at last letting go of your ankles, instead taking a hold of your wrists to pin them both down right above your head and pressing his body so tightly against yours that your clit kept rubbing against his pelvis with every single stroke. You moaned, stricken by ecstasy, and arched your back as you kept moving your hips up to meet his thrusts.

Aroused, you looked down, watching how his blue cock kept sliding in and out of you, spreading your lips as they enveloped him welcomingly.

Loki groaned, his attention steering towards your breasts as they bounced with each of his rough thrusts. Hungrily, he lowered his face, his cold breath ghosting over your mounts, and sucked your right nipple into his mouth—hard. He nibbled, suckled pulled and bit until the already hardened nub was throbbing with pleasure and need and he repeated the same blissful procedure with your left nipple all the while he kept rutting into you uncontrollably.

“Loki…” You wondered if, in his current state, he would be able to speak. As of right now, he indeed reminded you of a wolf who would annihilate anything standing between him and his subject of desire, his prey—you.

Your toes curled, the promising and numbing sensation growing in your lower abdomen having you scream his name over and over again. You could already feel yourself clenching around him, your body urging him on to mark you with his seed and impregnate you and when he finally released himself into you, burying his cock as deep inside of you as was physically possible and coating your walls with his load, he triggered your own release.

You came with a loud moan, feeling him twitch against you as your pussy contracted around him again and again until you collapsed underneath him, spent and tired from his vigorous fucking. Loki, on the other hand, didn’t even think about letting you be. Unceremoniously, he pulled you on his lap so you came to snuggle up against his cold and naked chest, your face hidden in his neck. He supported himself by leaning against the metal wall, his cock still resting deep inside of you.

“How… are you… feeling?” You breathed out, barely able to keep your eyes open. Being taken thoroughly by a Frost Giant had been a lot more exhausting than you had initially assumed.

He was panting, his eyes almost shut. His erection inside you, however, was still very prominent and nowhere near ebbing down.

“Better… soon.” He growled into your ear. Soon? A high-pitched scream escaped your lips when he sank his teeth into your neck and bit down hard enough to make you squirm on his lap. You could still feel his ice cold sperm dribbling out of you and coating his own cock when he grabbed your arse and began moving you up and down his cold rut, forcing you to ride him.

“Oh… fuck…” You choked out. You were tender already, sensitive to the touch. This was too much, too soon. Yet Loki was too caught up in his pleasure and urges to give you a break. He took you several more times that night, eliciting orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you—until you were on the verge of passing out.

You awoke with a hunger unlike one you had never experienced before. Irritated, you crawled out of bed—using the toilet but skipping your morning routine to get to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. It was only seven. Loki had not… released you until half past six. There was no way your body could have drawn enough rest from this meagre hour of sleep.

Be that as it may—for now, you were hungry. Quietly, you tiptoed into the kitchen, ignoring the sweet ache and tenderness between your legs and resisting the urge to cup yourself through your pyjama bottoms. The white and bright light of the fridge blinded you when you opened it and reached for a package of juice and one of those pre-packed turkey sandwiches Tony kept buying. Unceremoniously, you then closed the fridge with your butt and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. And you kept returning to the fridge until Steve joined you in the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and then go for a run. When had you ever been this hungry before? Was it because of the aggressive sex you had had with Loki? Jesus…

You blushed when Steve asked you how you had slept—and you were rather grateful you had been smart enough to switch off the security cameras before… helping Loki out. He had still been in his Jötun form when you left at long last but he had looked content and… satisfied, in the most carnal manner possible. You would wait until the rest of the Avengers were up to check on him, to not raise any suspicion.

So when Thor staggered into the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face, you nearly jumped from your seat.

“Good morning!” He yelled—clearly in a very good mood. He managed to scarf down an entire package of fruit loops before you couldn’t take it anymore and aggressively scratched your fork over your empty plate until the room went awkwardly quiet.

“Didn’t you forget something?” You asked him heatedly. The God of Thunder frowned.

“No! I did flush the toilet this morning, (Y/N).”

Rolling your eyes, you stood.

“Loki. Loki is still one level below you, locked up in a cell, in pain, while you are enjoying your breakfast.” You hoped though, sincerely, that he was no longer in pain.

“(Y/N)… we spoke about this, there is nothing we can do. Down there, he can’t hurt himself or anyone else. I told you I’m going to Asgard soon, I will speak to—”

It was in this moment that your plate broke in half. You had, subconsciously, used your fork to stab it so forcefully it fell apart like a rotten apple. Eyes widening, you mumbled an apology.

“Sorry… I just… no one should be suffering like this. You all heard him last night.”

Bruce gave you a gentle smile. “You’ve always had a big heart for everyone, huh?” You nodded quickly. They did not need to know about your feelings… or the arousing ache between your legs. Your heart was racing. You took a deep breath, hurrying out of the kitchen without cleaning up behind you. Instead, you immediately locked yourself in the bathroom and turned on the tap to splash some cold water on your face. The icy temperature calmed you once it came in contact with your skin, reminding you of him—if only for a moment.

You were shaking. What on Earth was wrong with you? You took a quick shower to wind down, threw on an oversized sweater and then headed downstairs to the prison cells. A glance at the monitor of the security camera made you let out a relieved breath. Loki had indeed gone back to his Aesir form—and he did no longer seem to be in pain. It was, so you wondered, very unusual, however, to not complain and wreak havoc so the Avengers would let him out but then again… would they truly believe him if he told them he had overcome his heat?

With another deep breath, you opened the cell door and slipped inside.

“You were not supposed to see me like this last night. No one was.” He said quietly before you could even open your mouth, not bothering to make eye contact with you.

“Did you know? What was happening to you?”

“Yes.” He snorted, a bitter smile spreading on his thin lips. “I believed I would be able to control it.” Finally, he looked up, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Did I hurt you?” Your lips parted in surprise. Slowly, you shook your head.

“No… I mean… it was quite pleasurable… for me as well… actually.” You choked out sheepishly.

“Hmm… that I could tell,” Loki gave you a light smirk. “Thank you.” He said then—and for the first time since you had met him, you sensed true honesty and sincerity in his smooth voice.

“I’ll leave the door open.” You returned his smile; the planes in your belly flying loops.

“We are… keeping this between us, are we not?” He hastened to ask when you turned around.

“Of course.” After all, no one needed to know you had let Loki mate with you to regain control over his loins.

It was five days after your intimate encounter with Loki when your constant shaking became worse enough for him to notice—and if that wasn’t bad enough already, your body had begun to sweat; a lot. Day in and out, you had to change your sheets as if your bed was your personal sauna—or your personal hell.

You felt like you had been hit by a bus, like an extremely nasty form of the flu had you in its steel grip tightly, unwilling to let you go. Sleep, however, to get some rest and recover, would not come either. Two hours per night at most, three if you got lucky. And instead of getting better, it became worse.

He had been restless ever since. It could not be. After all, it had also never… or had it? Growling to himself, he locked the door to his room, enjoying the quietness and most of all, utter privacy.

Not a soul in the nine realms was aware he was still in the possession of the Tesseract. So when he produced it out of thin air—his large hand momentarily surrounded by a green mist—he made sure to hurry and quickly teleported himself back to Asgard. Heimdall would never open the Bifrost for him if he wasn’t accompanied by Thor.

He was worried about you and his surprise about these particular circumstances was remarkably low. When he closed his eyes, he could still taste your hard nipples on his tongue from when he had suckled on them. He remembered how warm your body felt against his when he had cradled you in his lap and the thought of your tight cunt around his throbbing cock stirred arousal in his leather trousers if only he indulged in reminiscences for too long. Most of all, however, he was unable to forget the sincere smile on your face when you had freed him from the cell the next day… and the mesmerised gaze you had met him with when he had ravished your sweet quim over and over again.

With another deep breath, he disappeared in an ice cold cloud of smoke.

Sneaking past the guards and into the palace library—the one place he had spent hours on end in growing up here, hiding away from Thor, his friends and the world, reading and hoarding knowledge—was pathetically easy. He knew exactly what to look for, what lecture would confirm his worrying suspicions. Once he found what he had been searching, he sat down on the windowsill—another usual spot he found comfort in—and began his research. He had known about the impact of a male Jötun’s seed on his female counterpart, of course; for even though he despised his own race, he, as opposed to Thor, had paid attention during their private tutoring lessons as children. The heavy book in his hands, however, made him, the God of Mischief and Trickery, hold his breath. What Loki had not known was that the repercussion of a male Jötun’s seed did not just occur in Jötun females. It applied to any species—including humans. However, the chances of survival for weaker lifeforms were alarmingly low.

Abandoning the book, he hurried out of the library and into the city. There was someone he needed to speak to.

“With all due respect, my prince but you are not welcome here.” Loki rolled his eyes. He knew it would not be fun, exactly, to seek out his ex-partners and ask about their well-being long after he had left them. The man opening him when he knocked on Sigyn’s door, a woman he had been engaged with for several years in his youth, was about as tall as Thor—his right hand decorated with a golden ring. Husband. Just great. And, judging by his obvious dismay of finding him on his doorstep, she must have told him about their shared past.

“I need to speak to your wife. Urgently. That is an order.” Sigyn’s husband growled, clenching his fists but stepped aside regardless. Loki made sure not to pay any attention to the furniture and his surroundings. Toys were scattered all across the living room, hinting that Sigyn had become both wife and mother in his absence. Her face fell when she spotted Loki standing in the middle of the small room—truly like he would even have preferred Helheim over being here of all places—as pale as a ghost.

“Loki… I mean… your highness. What… brings you here?”

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Um… by all means. Sit down. Would you like some ale?”

“No.” Sigyn pointed at the rectangular kitchen table and then sat down opposite of him. Her hands were folded on the surface of the polished wood.

“It is good to see you.”

“Likewise… Now this will sound odd,” he began unceremoniously, ignoring her husband towering above him with his arms crossed. “But I have to know how you fared after we separated. Not… emotionally. Physically.” He emphasised.

“Physically? That is indeed odd. Oh, I… um… let me see, it’s been such a long time. I had quite an appetite after you left,” she laughed, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. Loki sighed.

“An appetite. What more than that?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Except… yes, of course! I fell ill a few days after. The healers never found out what my body was rebelling against. It lasted for a few months. Tiredness, insomnia, attacks of sweat and I could not stop shaking. Why do you ask? Did you… did you experience it too?”

“No,” he replied quickly, a nauseous feeling spreading in his guts. You were showing the exact same symptoms. Symptoms of addiction. “You said it lasted for a few months?”

“I am sorry, your highness but is there a point to this interrogation? My wife has to feed the baby.”

“We’re almost done.” He barked, glaring at Sigyn’s husband from the corner of his eye.

“It did,” Sigyn confirmed. “But then it never returned.”

“Thank you. That will be all.” Loki took a deep breath and stood, resisting the urge to massage the bridge of his nose to clear his thoughts. It was only when he turned on his heel to leave this way too harmonic place that he noticed Sigyn’s husband had left the door open for him. He rolled his eyes.

“Loki! I-I mean, your highness…”

“Loki is fine, Sigyn. We have seen each other naked, after all.” Beside him, he could practically hear her husband gnashing his teeth. He smirked.

“I understand you do not wish to share with me what troubles you but whatever it is, I hope everything will turn out to be alright.”

Loki gave her a smile. It was as honest as he could muster in this tense situation. Sigyn had always known when he was being plagued by dark sorrows, even before he learned about his true parentage. Much like you. You too had been able to tell he had been unwell, both physically and mentally. He swallowed thickly.

“Thank you, Sigyn.”

He had to see Amora, too. They had not exactly gone separate ways peacefully but if she had experienced the same symptoms as Sigyn after their break-up, he had to get back to you immediately. And he had to tell you. The truth, a luxury given his nature, was the very least you deserved.

“Where have you been?” Thor roared as soon as he entered the kitchen to pick up one of those cold drinking chocolates you had introduced him to a while back—the ridiculous amount of sugar would help you, if only for a moment. The presence of Tony, Nat, Bucky, Steve and Thor, leaning against the counter or sitting at the kitchen table, he ignored as best as he could. He would have preferred to be alone now.

Loki quirked his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Asgard, given that you were unwilling to get help yourself.”

“How? Heimdall wouldn’t…”

“There is a lot Heimdall does not know, brother.” Thor grumbled something he did not understand but it sounded awfully like a curse word in Old Norse.

“Whatever. Have you seen (Y/N)? Her room is down the same hallways as yours, has she left her room lately?” Tony barked at him.

“As far as I am concerned, she has Vision bring her excessive amounts of food, for she is too weak to come to the kitchen herself. No. I have not seen her around.” He replied nonchalantly, with false disinterest. This time, so it seemed, however, his choice of tone, equalled shooting himself in the foot.

“We need to get her to the hospital. None of the medicines I gave her worked even a little bit—and I contacted the best doctors I know.” Loki suppressed a scoff. As if a hospital full of human ‘doctors’ would be able to help you. The only one who could… was he.

“For Fuck’s sake, she has been feeling ill ever since…” Tony’s face fell. “Ever since we locked up your brother.” Belligerently, his gaze wandered over to Loki again. “Okay, Reindeer Games, what did you do to her and don’t even try to lie to me!”

“You do assume, automatically, that I have something to do with it?” He mocked. Tony clenched his fists.

“Loki,” Thor added calmly. “Do you… know something?” The God of Mischief sighed. If he told them, what little trust they had in his capabilities as an Avenger would vaporise like smoke. It mattered not. In fact, he could not care less if any of those self-proclaimed heroes even liked him. Yet if he spoke the truth… surely they would do anything in their power to keep you away from him—which was exactly what they could not do if they wanted you to survive and feel better again as much as he did. He could just take care of the problem on his own… sooner or later, however, they were bound to find out about their intimate encounters, and he was beyond keeping secrets like that. If he wanted to make love to you, then he would, may the Norns help him.

“It is… my seed.” He choked out reluctantly.

“Your… what!? Your… yeah, no, I can’t say that out loud without throwing up… is making her sick!?”

“The seed of a male Jötun is causing… an addiction. Withdrawal will make her weak and ill.” Loki looked up grimly. “Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships.”

“What, like penguins? How did she even come in contact with… did you… did you rape her? I swear to God, I will kill you.”

“I did not lay a finger on her.” Loki replied darkly.

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “So how did your happy juice get inside of her in the first place then!? How did that happen, I wonder?”

“She came to me voluntarily, Stark!”

“But you knew? If you knew it would make her sick, why didn’t you stop her, you selfish asshole!?”

“How!? How, Stark!? Resisting the urge to mate in heat is like attempting to suppress a sneeze. It’s impossible. Don’t bother your pathetic human mind with things you do not understand.”

“Loki…” Thor began warningly. The God of Mischief ignored him with a hostile growl.

“(Y/N) would never do that.” Tony said then.

“Perhaps you do not know her as well as you thought you do.”

“You little shit, I will…” Tony jumped from his chair as if stung by an adder, prompting Loki to draw one of his daggers seemingly out of nowhere when he started at him. Both Natasha and Steve barely managed to hold him back.

“Leave it, Tony. This is Loki. He is just trying to provoke you.” Nat appeased.

Just this one time, however, they were wrong. Loki did, in fact, care about you. It was just he had not realised that until you had willingly offered your body to him when he had been in pain. Glaring at them darkly, he rose from his chair.

“I am going to fix this.” He spat. It almost sounded like a threat. “Not for you. I could watch you drop dead to my feet without so much as blinking. But for her.” Fuming, he stormed out, his right fist still clutching at his dagger in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. And as of right now, Thor knew better than to stop him.

He needed to see you. Remorse and guilt were eating him up from the inside out—and it wasn’t just the fact you had helped him in spite of everything he had done to Midgard only a few years back. It was… you were… Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. You were his.

When he knocked on your door, there was no response. Now there was a chance you were asleep, yet he somehow knew better than to leave and try again later as to not startle you. After all… he was going to make you feel better.

He slipped inside, locking the door behind him with magic so you would not be disturbed. The sight of you almost broke his heart. You were trembling, buried under a pile of blankets, pale and weak.

“(Y/N)…” He spoke with a quiet voice, approaching you slowly. Your eyes opened when you heard his voice, your weak body barely managing to turn over to look at him. A cough escaped your lips before you could answer him.

“Hey…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” You tried for a laugh but could only manage another cough. With a straight face, he sat down on the edge of the bed so he was able to bring his palm to your forehead. You were incredibly warm, yet the sweat made your skin cold to the touch. His heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he was worried you only had a few weeks left until your body gave up fighting the withdrawal. He would not, ever let this happen.

“I brought you some cold drinking chocolate.”

“Oh…” You chuckled weakly. “Thank you. Is that the only reason you came?”

“No,” he laughed. “I came to check on you.”

“An eye for an eye, huh?” Your eyes fell shut when you smiled.

“Hmm… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated than that.” He purred. You never noticed how his eyes fell on your crotch, even if it was covered by a bunch of blankets. Slowly but determined, he slid his left hand under the layers of fabric until he found what he was searching for. With skilled fingers, he began to massage your clit until he felt you responding to his attentive touches. You arched your back, your sex growing wetter and wetter fast—like your body knew exactly what would follow. Licking his lips, he scooped some of it up to spread all over your quim and create even more friction. You were squirming by the time he removed the blankets entirely and positioned himself between your legs, careful not to shift all of his body weight onto you.

Was he going to… did he… could he possibly… reciprocate your feelings? Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies awakening in your belly. If only you could…

“Loki… Loki, I… I really want to do this again too but… not now, I’m… I really don’t feel well.”

“Shhh…” He would ponder over your words later. You wanted to do this again too? Had it not just be compassion and pity that had driven you to offer him your most intimate parts for relief? And what if you refused him now? You had to trust him. So he shut you up by pressing his lips against yours, capturing them in a passionate kiss and then, once again slowly but determined, removed the blankets and peeled your pyjama from you until he had you naked—fine, he had helped with magic; and he was certainly too impatient to remove his own clothes, so instead contented himself with freeing his growing erection from his trousers only.

A whimper escaped your lips when you caught sight of his arousal, his tip—not blue but the colour of flesh this time—pressing against your entrance. He slid inside you to the hilt with almost no resistance, your warm pussy welcoming him in. Loki moaned when your walls gripped him tightly; it was like your body already knew his release would make it feel better. Only this time, he was in control. This time, he would take his time and make gentle love to you—right until you began to tremble underneath him for entirely different reasons.

Your eyes fell shut when Loki started moving, retreating almost completely only to plunge back deep inside of you fast and passionately. You were too weak to buck your hips, as much as you would have loved to. And despite your weariness, he felt incredible. You were unable to decide which form of his you liked better.

You kissed him again when his nose brushed against yours and his breath tickled your lips, bathing in the intimacy between you. But when he slid his hand down to where your bodies were united to pamper your clit all the while speeding up, hungry for his release, you stopped him, albeit gently.

“I… I don’t think I can, I’m too… but I… it’s okay.” You murmured. “Cum.”

It was a request he could not resist, not any longer. Thrusting forward a few more times, his release was beginning to overwhelm him. He groaned into your ear, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, and let his climax consume him. He was throbbing against your walls, his seed—surprisingly warm and not as cold as it had been the first time—filling you to the brim and until you could feel it dribbling out of you again. Loki stilled, turning you over so you both rested on the mattress on your sides, with his slowly softening cock still inside of you and one of your legs draped over his hips. One heartbeat passed, then another and another. And just like that… you felt like you had been reborn.

“How… I feel so much better.” Loki kept silent. Remorse was sparkling in his blue eyes. Avoiding your curious gaze, he looked down, with a start fascinated with the blue roses on your bed sheets.

“Loki?”

“You did fail to read all of it, did you not?” He stated quietly.

“What… what do you mean?”

“The book you took from my shelf. I looked it up when you got worse. It wasn’t until I left for Asgard that I realised why our… sexual encounter is making you ill.”

“I… wait… Does that mean you believe it has something to do with you? I mean… what we did? Is it… I’m not pregnant, am I!?”

“No. You are not.” He smirked at you weakly. “That, I would have sensed already. No… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated. Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships. They never… switch their partners once they mated during their first heat. If they do…” Loki took a deep breath. “It appears that the seed of a Frost Giant triggers some sort of… addiction for their female partner. They develop a carnal craving for their seed which forces them to keep returning for… more.”

Biologically speaking, this was a downright bulletproof way of ensuring the survival of a species—the Jötuns’ own bodies turning against them and demanding sex. The gravity of his words, however, hit you only a moment later. So this was why you had been feeling so sick lately. You were showing signs of… addiction. Your body had become addicted to Loki’s seed. You swallowed thickly.

“I-is there… is there a way to stop this?”

“I went to speak to my former partners back on Asgard—which, to be frank, does not just sound like a disaster. But I needed to know if they experienced any symptoms similar to yours when we… separated.” You ignored the painful sting in your heart when he said ‘former partners’. Of course Loki had had sex before, had perhaps even been in love. He did not strike you as the type of Norse God who was unexperienced in the art of love making. After all, he had more than just proved this to you. It mattered not, not now.

“And… did they?” You probed nervously.

Loki nodded seriously. “They were both bedridden for months, plagued by uncontrollable trembling and sweating. Their appetite increased, they ate twice as much than they usually would without ever feeling truly full… and they barely slept anymore, tossing and turning for most of the night. Amora added she became increasingly violent as well. They, of course, believed it was a virus which would pass, eventually.” Terrified, you remembered how you had broken your plate in the kitchen the night after your lovemaking. It all made sense now.

But you did not dare ask what this meant. When dreaming of having a relationship with Loki, you had not imaged a partnership out of physical and sexual necessity which would feel like a chore to him; like an obligation now that you had helped him out, after all.

“But they were Asgardian.” He suddenly said, pausing to let his words sink in. “You are human. You are mortal. I am uncertain you would survive…” If I stopped having sex with you. Is that what he had meant to say before he stopped himself abruptly?

Taking a deep and shaky breath, you gathered all of your courage, as weak as it may be.

“This is all my own fault, Loki.”

“It is not—“

“N-no, let me speak. It’s my fault. You couldn’t help it. And I came to you on my own accord. But…” You swallowed. “Even if I had known, I still would have helped you.”

The God of Mischief frowned when you reached for his hand and held it—but it was a downright vulnerable expression.

“Loki… I’m not going to expect you to keep having sex with me if you don’t… I mean…” It was then he began to smirk cheekily.

“And if I do?” Loki had truthfully speaking always been a puzzle—always keeping his deepest thoughts and feelings all to himself. Until now. So he did reciprocate your feelings.

“Y-you do?” His smirk widened.

“It… does get better after a while, once the pair is more acquainted to each other’s bodies,” he continued. “And they are then able to spend more time apart without any signs of withdrawal showing. Ultimately, however, once the male Jötun claimed her, the female is bound to him… if he decides to keep her.”

Despite your weakness, you raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty sexist, Lokes.” Loki looked up. His heart jumped when you gave him a nickname.

“Sexist? No. Dominant? Yes.” He growled darkly.

“You’re right. It’s probably not sexist given that male Frost Giants go into heat.” You giggled in response. Loki tickled your sides for that remark, making you wriggle around on the bed. If your hunch was not deceiving your love-drunken mind, then the God of Mischief had just begun to court you.

“Loki?” You mused, raising your voice in a shy manner.

“Hmm?”

“I think I feel fit enough now to have an orgasm.”

The God of Mischief laughed—as heartily as you had never heard him laugh before. “Do you now?”

Next thing you knew he was already on top of you again, covering your naked body with tender kisses.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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stariwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Part One

Red: An Underground Hero Deku x Crime lord fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI or else I’ll revoke your kneecaps

Author’s Note: All characters are aged up and this fic is a monstrosity so I figured I’d split it up into two parts this is part one and I’ll link part 2 as well when I post it

Tw: fem dom, corruption kink, praise kink, biting/marking, club setting, dry humping, slight choking, alcohol is mentioned (Izuku doesn’t drink it) use of the pet name baby boy, semi public sex

Thank you to @chaos-night for beta reading, I appreciate it!!

For @yixxes I hope you like it!!

Do not repost or share

“None are known to be good, till they have an opportunity to be bad”-Benjamin Whichcote

Summary: From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him.

From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him. There was something about the way the college student stood in front of you with his arms drawn into himself as if he shrank far enough he would disappear. You couldn’t help but smile softly at him.

The man in front of you was impressive to say the least even though he didn’t look it. He was able to track your group for days without your people even knowing. He documented everything in notebooks he carried with him. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed the more he stared at you. He was trembling slightly, but his eyes never wavered. They held a fire behind them, one that you couldn’t even begin to describe.

“Midoriya, right?” you asked, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“What do you want with me.”

It wasn’t a question. Part of you grinned at the challenge. You had to give him credit, his voice only shook a small amount. Anybody else wouldn’t have been able to have the courage to do so, much less to you.

Standing up from your chair, you signaled to the guards on either side of the door to stand down when they tried to move closer, weapons raised.

“Do you know who we are?” you asked peering down at the streets below you. All Might was battling a water quirk user. You scowled at the scene before you, it was only a matter of time before he beat them to a pulp.

“I know,” he said slowly in an attempt to keep his voice level, “that you’re an organization dedicated to uprooting false heroes.”

Without turning around you gestured for him to continue. You watched his reflection in the window, he took a deep breath almost willing himself to talk once more.

“You took Endeavor down and made a deal with Stain.”

“Very good,” you clapped, turning back around to face him. He was focused entirely on you. ”Now do you know who I am?”

He didn’t hesitate, “The Woman in Red, heroes and villains alike haven’t been able to catch you. Nobody knows what your quirk is or if you even have one.”

You nodded to yourself, he showed promise. If you could use it to your advantage there would be no way your plan would fail. With his help you could uproot the fakest hero of them all.

“Tell me, what do you think of us Midoriya?”

It took him a couple of seconds to register what you said judging by the way his green eyes were transfixed on the destroyed All Might poster off to the side of the room.

“A reminder,” he jumped at the sound of your voice while his eyes fixed themselves onto you. “All Might isn’t the hero that everybody believes he is,” you watched his eyes widen at your words. Part you assumed it was from shock at the way you said them so carelessly, but there was something else there. It was swimming under the surface almost begging to be unleashed.

Before you could place it, he coughed and straightened his posture. He could’ve looked confident when he stood like that if he didn’t shrink into himself at the last moment. With the proper training he’d stand to his full size without feeling insecure.

“Why am I here?” his voice was softer than before, concealed. It made a vicious smirk cross onto your face. You couldn’t wait to help him unlock his true potential. The thought alone almost had you pouncing on him, but you refrained. You wouldn’t scare him away just yet.

You moved closer to him, allowing your nails to drift across the wood over your desk before using one of them to tilt Midoriya’s face closer to yours. He didn’t pull away.

“Because, Izuku Midoriya,” you refused to leave his gaze, “I want you to join Chimera.”

He gulped at the proximity, “And if I refuse?”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped your lips. He was too cute for his own good. You flicked your eyes to his before locking them on his lips.

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to persuade you,” you emphasized the words by moving closer until your lips brushed against his. You watched as he unconsciously closed his eyes and leaned into it, but before your lips fully touched you turned towards the door.

You didn’t miss the pout that crossed onto his face when you broke away, but he missed the sadistic smile you wore as you gestured for the guards to file out. All you received in return was a nod from them until they headed out the door.

When it was your turn you held the door open, but before leaving you met his gaze one last time.

“I’ll give you two weeks to make a decision, until then I look forward to our next meeting,” you purred and leaned against the open door in a way that rivaled Jessica Rabbit, “Izuku Midoriya.”

After you spoke those final words you left with a laugh while he stood in the dark room wondering what just happened.

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“She wants you to join, huh?” Aizawa said from where he was perched on the rooftop. His eyes were scanning below, from the lights of the buildings Midoriya could make out the bags under the man’s eyes. It had to be a late night that was for sure.

Part of Izuku felt guilty pulling the man away from much needed sleep, but being an underground hero he needed allies and the only one with enough experience was Aizawa.

“What should I do?” he asked, moving out of the darkness and closer to the man. He watched the capture scarf blow in the wind slightly while he shivered. It was becoming colder even in Spring, he’d have to get warmer gear.

Out of the corner of his eye Aizawa seemed to notice because a soft smile slid onto his face, “I told you to bundle up problem child, but you never listen.”

Before Midoriya could say anything a jacket was flung his way, he jumbled it until he was able to hold it steady. Peering down his eyes widened with disbelief.

“Are you just going to stand there or put it on?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Stumbling out a yes, he wrapped the jacket around him and zipped it up. It was sleek, light fitting but also warm. Izuku couldn’t help but sink into the feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, but wearing that coat he felt like he received the biggest embrace in the world.

A peaceful silence fell over the two of them while they stared out at the streets below. It was a quiet night, the only sounds were of the cars driving by and an occasional group of friends walking past. Their voices echoed off the buildings and were burned into Izuku’s ears.

He wondered what that was like, having friends. He knew going down the path he was on would be dangerous. He couldn’t have time for them if he was going to save people, especially since there was a chance they could become targets.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his life would’ve been different if he’d had them when he was younger.

“I think,” Aizawa began, causing Izuku to fix his eyes onto his mentor. “That you should do it. You can get into their organization and gain intel, be a double agent of sorts.”

Izuku’s heart stopped. “Me?” he sputtered, “Do you really think I could pull something like that off? Half of the pro heroes have tried to take Chimera down and they’ve come up empty handed everytime! And besides the only reason I followed them was to bring the information to you!

How do you know I won’t end up like the others?”

“I don’t,” came the response. Izuku expected that to be it and for Aizawa to leave, but instead he turned to Midoriya and placed his fist on his protege’s chest, “But if there’s one thing I know it’s that if anybody could take down Chimera it would be you.”

Izuku focused his gaze onto the ground until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa shot him a look of genuine faith. “She went out of her way to try and recruit you. I doubt she’ll want to hurt you, but keep your guard up.”

With a nod of understanding followed by an “I will”, the man took that as his cue and began to walk towards the edge of the building.

“You don’t have to of course, but if you do, don't try to do everything on your own kid. You’ve got me. And it’s about time you actually started working on the front lines rather than behind the scenes.”

With that he was off, a sigh left Midoriya’s lips. He’d been told time and time again that he wasn’t cut out for field work. Not with college he was juggling as well as the fact that his lack of a quirk was always taken into account. He stared up at the sky, he couldn’t remember when he became like this.

He thought back to the earlier times where he constantly believed he could be a hero. He still believed, but it was subdued. Sad even, but he’d try. If he could take them down it would mean helping more people.

“I wish you were here, mom,” he said to the stars while tears began to slide down his face, “I’m a little lost right now.”

————————————————————————------------------------------

The two weeks seemed to crawl by. Izuku was getting restless. He knew his decision, but he couldn’t find Chimera anywhere. He checked every back alley, store, restaurant that the members usually went in and came up empty handed. Even when he did find the members and tried to follow them shouting wait or slow down it was like they’d disappear at the last second.

After running around for nearly three hours he found a bench next to a nearby park and took a seat. He tossed his head back, attempting to get all of the air he lost back. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably while his forehead was making his hair stick to it.

They sure can run when they really want to, he thought in between puffs of air. He didn’t know how he’d make it through patrolling, especially now. He dreaded the thought, clutching his side at the reminder. He managed to take Muscular down but not without the villain getting a few hits in. It was worth it though, considering Koda’s smile once he was discharged from the hospital.

Yeah, he thought looking up at the sky with a serene smile. It had been worth it.

After catching his breath, he was about to get up from the bench until a person sat down next to him with a note. They didn’t look at Midoriya, instead they were focused straight ahead. The shades made it difficult to see their eyes, while their hoodie and jeans made them look like an ordinary person.

“An invitation,” the person grumbled out, “Don’t be late.”

Izuku didn’t watch them go, flipping the envelope over he noticed neatly scrawled out cursive. The envelope itself was red with a wax gold stamp. A chimera was in the center while the cursive was in gold. He didn’t open it until he was safe in his apartment.

His breath hitched as he read the words over and over again to make sure he had them right. Once he realized he did, he texted Aizawa on the burner phone they used specifically for underground work and buried his head in his hands.

“What am I getting myself into?”

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The neon lights bathed everybody into an ocean of colors. People were swarmed into the center of the room, dancing and grinding on anybody close to them. The bass caught in Midoryia’s chest as he navigated through the crowd. He glanced around, taking all the strobing lights in. The letter said to meet at The Tavern, but it never specified where.

After bumping into several people and almost being roped into dancing, he finally found the bar. He took a seat and checked his phone as he waited for his nerves to calm down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to one of these. He thought back to freshman year when he first started out he’d gone to a local club to see what it was like only to realize he wasn’t really fond of it.

“Not exactly your scene is it?” a bartender asked, sliding him a drink. Midoriya looked up at the woman with a sheepish smile. She looked to be about his age, her short hair framing her face. Earphones were dangling from ears. Must be her quirk, Izuku thought with excitement. Her pierced brow was raised as she stared at Midoriya.

“Is it that obvious?”

She hummed for a moment, studying him before she nodded, “Nobody wears a shirt that says ‘Club Shirt’ on it. It’s an interesting pick.”

He flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he should’ve gone with something different.

“Yeah,” he said trailing off until his eyes landed on the drink.

“I don’t—”

Before he continued the woman stopped him, “It’s on the house, you’re waiting for her aren’t you?”

He was about to ask how she knew when you sat down next to him with a smile, “I see you’ve met Jirou, my most trusted friend.”

Izuku watched as the woman, Jirou’s face turned bright red. He almost thought he heard a don’t mention it before she went off to serve more drinks, leaving him with you.

He was nervous, that much was easy to tell with the way his eyes kept jumping from corner to corner. Poor thing you thought while his leg bounced up and down. Part of you cringed, he felt out of place.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

The sound of your voice over the music snapped his attention back to you. Taking his blank stare and furrowed eyebrows as a sign, you huffed out a laugh and repeated yourself. He joined in albeit nervously.

“It’s okay,” he said, stirring his drink with the straw, “You planned to meet here. I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he took a deep breath, “Boss.”

You turned to him with wide eyes before waving him off as you leaned closer to the table, “You don’t have to call me boss you know,” you said nonchalantly, “Not even the guards call me that.”

He couldn’t help but stare at you in awe. How you were able to be so calm in a place like this was beyond him, but it helped him relax. With furrowed brows he focused back on his straw. The ice clanked against the glass, but he couldn’t hear it over the song playing.

“What should I call you then?”

Just like the first time you met, you used one of your fingers to tilt his head up, he could feel your breath mingle with his while his face turned a vibrant shade of red. He silently thanked the lights for making it almost impossible for you to see it. He watched as your eyes clouded over while a sinister smile fell onto your face. It made him feel small underneath it.

Before he could say anything, you leaned in close to his ear.

“I have a couple ideas,” your words sent goosebumps to ripple against his skin while his mouth felt dry. He wanted to know what they were, wanted to ask. What was going on with him?!

He didn’t have much time to dwell once he felt your breath ghost against his neck. It was warm and sent shivers down his spine. He briefly felt the touch of your lips against him, part of him hoped you wouldn’t pull away.

“Please,” he rasped before he could stop himself. Your lips curled into a grin, one of your hands snaked from the table to bury itself in his green hair.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

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The cool air of the outside clashed with the warmth from the club. Izuku barely processed your lips meeting only to find that in the next minute he was up against the brick wall behind the club. Your hands tangled themselves into his green curls causing him to whimper against your lips.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pussy clenching at the sound he made. You wanted to hear more, wanted him to scream. You placed your knee in between his legs, he instantly started to grind down on your thigh. He tried to pull away from you, but that only made you hold his curls tighter before letting him go. A string of saliva was all that left the connection until you wiped it away with the back of your sleeve.

Izuku’s face was flushed as he tried to catch his breath. Everything about you was intoxicating, especially the way you looked him up and down like he was your prey. He was still grinding against you, his puffs of air were visible in the night. It wasn’t until you touched his side that he flinched.

You pulled your hand away in concern, but he was quick to shush you with the way his lips latched back onto yours. He could tell you about the wound later, you thought. His lips were soft against yours, when you met for another kiss you opened your mouth. Catching the hint, he opened his mouth enough for you to snake your tongue into his mouth. Judging from the way he was grinding faster against you with broken moans you could tell he was enjoying himself.

You pushed him further into the wall, it was surely digging into his back by now, but he made no sound of pain. You made sure to avoid his waist, instead you grabbed a hold of his belt loops and yanked his lower body into an arch.

“Oh my god,” Midoriya groaned, tossing his head back against the wall. He needed more, you were everywhere, breathing into his neck, sucking and biting the skin there. Weakly he went to push you off.

“No marks-can’t ah-can’t ngh cover them.”

A grin casted onto your face. He was so cute like this, all sprawled out under you just as you knew he’d be. You kissed the skin close to his pressure point before staring directly into Izuku’s eyes. Your lips brushed against each other. His eyelashes fluttered as he went to close the space, but you held his neck with one hand and pressed him back.

“I don’t think so baby,” you whispered. Your voice lower in pitch. You didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped under your fingers. Your eyes widened in shock until you gained back control. This was more interesting than you thought. “Does the little hero like this, hm? You like being helpless?” To emphasize your words, you guided his hips with one hand and ground him against your thigh once more.

A high whine escaped his mouth before he could prevent it. He knew this was wrong, that he should stop this but the way your hand made him dizzy around him and the pressure against his cock caused his mind to become fuzzy. What Aizawa didn’t know didn’t hurt him anyway.

“Please,” he whimpered, meeting your leg. He wanted more--no he needed more. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything just please.”

“Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” With a huff you slowly stop moving. Tears sprang into the corners of Midoriya’s eyes as he thrashed in an attempt to bring some of the pleasure back, but you only moved your leg away. Broken no’s spilled from his lips and into the cracks of the brick wall. He’s a mess of babbles and pleas. You wait a second longer until you lick a tear from his face, starting at his chin and stopping just below his cheek bone.

He’s about to thank you when you send him a devilish smirk and drop to your knees in front of him. The sight alone causes him to reach his high. You let him calm down, rubbing his thighs through his jeans. You whisper soft encouragements that he can barely decipher.

Looking up at him you can see that his pupils are still blown wide while his chest is heaving up and down. Under the neon red light he looks perfect. You want to devour him, but you hold back. Soon he’d learn how to get hard just by your words alone, but first you’d have to train him.

It isn’t until he comes down from his high that he realizes what he’s done. Mortification falls over him faster than you thought from the way his face flushes even further. You wished he wasn’t in so many clothes, you could almost bet that the same would be found on his neck leading to his chest.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to, I tried holding it in but-”

Slowly, you rose to your feet and before he could stumble over more excuses you kissed his cheek whispering “Good boy,” into his ear. If Midoriya hadn’t just cum he would’ve from those words alone.

You laughed softly at his body’s reaction before breaking away from him fully. You don’t miss the pout that formed on his face when you stepped away. At first it was cute, but now seeing it after this made something snap. You quickly grabbed him by the jaw and traced your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Such a sweet little mouth, making all those pretty sounds earlier, but I think I have more uses for it rather than just pouting,” you locked onto his wide eyes. “Wouldn’t you say, Midoriya?”

He could only nod against you, completely trapped under your gaze. You had him right where you wanted him. “Well then baby boy,” you said detaching yourself once more. “Get to work.”

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Midoriya woke up in a cold sweat for the umpteenth time that week. He fell back into the pillow with a groan. It had been weeks since that encounter and he was desperate to do it again. He couldn’t escape the sound of your moans echoing in the night or the way your nails dug into his hair just right to send waves of pleasure zipping down his back. And the way you tasted, he craved feeling you against his tongue, drowning in you.

However now that he was officially part of Chimera after being tested the night after he was able to taste you, it had been pretty standard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the organization ran just like how any other underground facility would. Midoriya had his own jobs that he had to handle such as keeping track of shipments and making sure nobody was caught. He didn’t have much to report back to Aizawa which caused the older man to worry.

Izuku huffed at the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. Speak of the devil. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone? He knew what he was doing and what he went there to do. Even if his mind was preoccupied with you, he would still put Chimera down first and besides you weren’t serious about him either.

Without looking at the contact he put the phone up to his ear. “Look Aizawa I’m fine I don’t need you checking up on me every second of every day so please just this once don’t contact me on my day off.”

Izuku expected to hear the gruff voice sigh into the other line and promptly begin telling Izuku why checking in is important because it could mean the difference between life and death which, being an underground hero, the lines tend to blur.

Instead, there was a delayed pause followed by a low whistle, “And he lets you talk to him like that? I’m impressed.”

At the sound of your voice, he instantly shot up from the futon. “Boss, hey um why are you calling?” His blood froze for a second. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?!” He tossed the covers off of him and was about to head to his dresser to change when his foot got caught in the sheets causing him to crash to the ground.

You heard the loud bang on the other line causing you to snort. There was a heavy sound of stomping followed by another brief crash that caused you to look out into the city with a smile. You were reminded in that moment that he was still a college student, so full of life.

“Nope, I was just calling to check in.”

Midoriya scowled on the other end of the phone. “You and Aizawa both. I’m fine if that’s what you’re wondering. I have all my body parts intact and none of them are broken,” he even wiggled his hands and sat back on the futon to swing his feet even though you couldn’t see him. “Thank you very much,” he said dryly.

You hummed, mulling over his response. Ever since he joined he’s been more sure of himself, capable. It was an accepted change, after all he needed to be strong. Especially if your plan was going to work. After all, the stronger they are the more fun to break.

“He and I are alike then. You do realize that there’s a very fine line between life and death, right? People like us have to stick together.”

“How are you both the same person?”

That question alone had you laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Midoriya, but I do have something you can do for me.”

He perked up at that. “What is it?”

“I’ll pick you up, how does noon sound?”

“Yes-” he said all too fast before coughing. “I mean yeah sure, whatever works for you.”

“Good, be sure you’re ready early, I always come on time.”

With that you hung up the phone and spun back to face your office desk. Phase one was complete, now you could move on to phase two. Leaning your head on the desk, you could feel rather than see Jirou’s eyes boring holes into your forehead.

“Why aren’t you worried about Midoriya?”

You cocked you head to the side. “Why would I need to be worried?”

“He’s working with Aizawa.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t need to be. You knew Izuku was working with the man for years before he even discovered your group, but that didn’t matter. You thought back to his confidence, how he was able to give orders and stand up for himself now, but still looked at you to make sure he wasn’t speaking out of turn. It caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach.

“Rest assured, Midoriya won’t be a problem. After all,” you said interlocking your hands on top of the desk. “I have him wrapped around my finger.”

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