#characters that got caught up in a war they never wanted to be a part of in the first place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

em1i2a3 · 2 months ago

Note

Idk if you’re taking requests but can you do Bob x reader where the reader has powers like Rogue. Bob has the biggest fattest crush on reader, reader is oblivious (but the crush is mutual), and angst angst ANGST

Sailor Song

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Rogue Inspired!Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob is in love with you, but you can’t be what he wants.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts as Bob is the main character here. There is a whole boat of angst in here, and it’s a bit heartbreaking, and really frickin sad (don’t worry y’all not too sad…Hopefully lol) but I do like the character of Rogue, and this Inbox Request really sparked a lot of inspiration in me to write for an idea like this!

Author’s Note: I love where I got to go with these two characters and how it played out in the end. I added something to the reader's little arsenal of powers by the way, but it is for the plot. I hope it meets expectations. I kinda wrote this really late at night (01:49am over here lol)

Word Count: 5,477

Bob remembers the first night he saw you in his dreams.

Not when he first met you–no. That had been a tense mission briefing, it was your first introduction to the team. You had barely spoken, and Bob had sat two chairs away from you and tried not to stare. It was like he was enchanted by you– the way you held yourself, the way you stood and said your name, the little wave you gave to everyone with your gloved hands before sitting down. He remembered everything about that day.

But the dream–God the dream was so different.

It started with darkness. Not shadows, not dusk–just a smothering kind of black, like he was trapped in the deepest part of his mind. There was no floor beneath him. No air in his lungs. Just coldness. He was clawing at it. His fingers were raw and bleeding, his breath was ragged, and there was this panic that curled tight in his chest like he had swallowed barbed wire.

There was no sense of direction but all he knew was that he needed to get out, but the darkness fought back. It dragged him down, swallowed his screams, twisted his thoughts into screeching noises. It was his personal version of hell…Then…There was light.

It was just a sliver. A violent, beautiful tear right down the middle of the darkness, like someone had reached in and split the fabric with their bare hands.

Then suddenly the darkness was gone, and he found himself in the middle of a glowing field. The air was thick with warmth and the scent of something sweet–jasmine, maybe. Or lavender. He couldn’t tell. The grass around him was tall and pale, not green, but something softer–sun-bleached gold, silver at the tips like it had caught the moonlight. The sky above him was an endless stretch of colour, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night, but it was a bruised blue-purple, with streaks of rose and gold that bled through like watercolour.

It was quiet…For once it was quiet.

There was no wind. No movement. No screaming. Just breathing–his own, slow and steady. He could feel his pulse slowing down, and his skin didn’t hurt, and his hands weren’t bleeding anymore. There was no evidence of the fight he had put up in the darkness.

Confused, he turned in place slowly, trying to understand where he was–trying to find the edges of the dream. Nothing like this had ever come to him in his dreams, not when sleep was usually a war zone. A collapsing cathedral of his own mind.

Then he saw you.

You were standing a few yards away, at the center of the field, bathed in the low light. You weren’t wearing your gloves, you weren’t armored or distant, you looked happy, something he had never seen. You were smiling, and barefoot, your hair lifted slightly from the breeze that blew by you–something he hadn’t felt until that moment.

Bob froze in his spot, and your name left his mouth before he even realized he was speaking. You looked up at the sound, and turned towards it. Your eyes met him at that moment, and something in his chest cracked wide open. He was shocked that you heard him, let alone looked at him.

And then-just as his feet moved forward, just as his hand twitched at his side with the desperate, gut-deep urge to reach for you…He had woken up.

Ever since that night he would pray that he would see you again in the landscape of his dreams.

And he always did.

Each time he closed his eyes, you were there–waiting for him in that glowing field, barefoot and smiling. There was no fear or sharp intake of breath when he reached for you. It was just you, and him, in a version of the world that didn’t punish either of you for wanting something tender.

During the day, he kept his distance from you. He respected the rules you had– the ones that kept everyone safe. But in his mind he was hyper aware of everything you would do. He learned your habits, the way you avoided tight corridors, how you sat far away from people during movie night, how you always wore long sleeves no matter the weather, and how you pulled away when things became crowded.

But at night, in that field of light and silence, he didn’t have to pretend, even though he knew it wasn’t really you.

He could stand beside you without seeing you run off. He could sit close to you, close enough to touch your arm, close enough to feel your breath when you spoke. Sometimes, you would laugh and throw your head back like you weren’t scared of yourself. Sometimes you would lean into him, like it was easy…Like it was allowed.

In the dream, he wasn’t broken, and you weren’t dangerous, and that was all that mattered.

Then like always, Bob would wake up and land back in a body full of restraint. In a world full of barriers. In a life where the one person he wanted, didn’t truly want him.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Because you never looked at him the way you did in the dream. You never touched him, never lingered near him too long. You were careful with everyone–but with him, there was something more than just caution. It felt like avoidance to him, and he couldn’t figure out if it was because you felt something too, or if it was just the shape of his own delusion.

—————-

“Valentina has planned a retreat for all of us this weekend.” Bucky announced, his voice even but authoritative in the way that warned everyone that nobody was going to be getting out of this, “She says it’s for ‘team bonding,’ so there are no exceptions.”

An array of groans echoed through the common room, and everyone exchanged glances at one another. You were at the kitchen island eating cereal, picking around the marshmallows, leaving them floating in the milk. Your spoon clinked gently against the bowl as you did it, moving slowly and methodically, not looking up to the chaos that was going on around you.

Across from you, Bob sat with his own bowl–one hand wrapped loosely around the ceramic, while the other one rested on the counter beside it. It wasn’t on purpose that he sat across from you, he had just walked in–wearing a baggy hoodie and matching sweatpants–poured his cereal in a sleepy haze and plopped himself down, still rubbing the dreams of you out of his eyes.

”Well why the hell do we need to go on a retreat if we literally already live together? Isn’t doing that enough?” Walker asked loudly, half-laughing, half-serious, his tone teetering on the edge of defiance. Bucky didn’t even flinch at the question because he already knew it was coming.

”Because Val said so, and because you guys don’t know how to wait until after briefings to snap at one another.” Bucky replied, not even looking up from the papers in his hands, “Just a reminder you’re the one who almost got into a fight with Yelena because she accidentally handed you the wrong clip for your gun…So…Maybe that’ll give you another reason why they want us to go into the a cabin in the woods together.” Bucky finished, his tone flat but edged with exhaustion.

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Ava didn’t miss a beat.

”Yeah, it’s to make it easier to hide the bodies.” She said coolly, reaching for her coffee. Yelena grinned over her mug.

”I don’t need a cabin in the woods. I’d bury Walker deep enough that nobody would ever find him.” Laughter broke out, bouncing off the walls of the compound like someone had opened a valve and let the pressure spill. They all needed it, just to take the edge off the impending doom that was the forced retreat.

You glanced up at Bob who was staring down at his bowl, picking around at the contents like he was distracted. But you saw the way his jaw tensed slightly. The way his hand hovered just a second too long before plunging the spoon back into the milk. He looked up only when the laughter swelled again, and with the most practiced casualness, shoved a spoonful of soggy marshmallows into his mouth.

You glanced down at your own bowl, watching as the marshmallows drifted aimlessly, softening at the edges, bleeding their artificial colors into the milk in soft pinks and greens and blues. They didn’t look real. Like tiny ghosts of something sweet you’d never let yourself want.

A pang stirred in your chest.

Not because of the marshmallows. Not even because of the retreat. But because this was a rare moment–an opportunity to offer him something, anything, that didn’t come off as cold or standoffish. Something that didn’t feel like a wall.

You hadn’t meant for your past interactions with Bob to be sharp. But they had been. Unintentionally. A result of instinct, of fear, of that constant need to protect others from you, and maybe to protect yourself from what you knew you couldn’t have.

You let out a soft sigh, and reached out before you could talk yourself out of it, tapping on the counter in front of him. He had flinched, almost like you had reached out and smacked him. It was the smallest jerk in his shoulder but you saw it. His eyes flicked over to yours, wide and uncertain, like maybe he didn’t believe you were actually trying to get his attention.

“Do you want these?” You whispered, nodding towards your bowl. His eyebrows drew together, confused at your offer, and at the fact you were the one speaking first, when it had always been him to do that. Bob, stumbling through conversation starters. Bob, trying to make you smile. Bob, desperately trying to pretend that he wasn’t dreaming about you every night and waking up lonelier than the day before. His blue eyes glanced down at the bowl for a moment, then raised back to yours. You could see the way he was contemplating. There wasn’t calculation behind his eyes, there was conflict, like he couldn’t tell if this was real, or if he’d finally blurred the line between the waking world and the place where he only ever touched you in dreams.

You watched his mouth part–just barely, like he wanted to say really solid yes, but instead he gave a small nod.

And then–barely audible–he whispered, “Y-Yeah…I mean…If you don’t w-want them of course.” You shook your head at him, then without a word, you slid the bowl toward him. The motion was smooth and steady, but Bob noticed everything. He saw the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way your gloved fingers were barely touching the bowl, like you thought he was going to try to touch you, even the look on your face was telling him that you thought he was going to do something.

He swallowed, sitting up a little straighter, feeling his stomach twisting, as he met you halfway and dragged the bowl away from you, pulling it close to him.

Bob was going to say something, not anything huge, just something that could keep the interaction going.

But before he could get any words out–

”Wait, wait, wait, hold on–we’re all sleeping in the same room?!” Yelena's voice cut across the kitchen like a record scratch. That sentence alone made the both of you draw your attention back to what was happening, surprised by the new information.

”It’s a small cabin,” Bucky said flatly, “One open concept floor. Living room turns into a sleeping area, so bring your own blanket.”

“Oh, this is just great,” Walker muttered, “Can’t wait to wake up to Alexei’s snoring…”

”I do not snore.” Alexei replied.

Bob tuned out of the conversation after hearing the fact that you would all be shoved into one room together to sleep. He could feel a pit of dread settling in his stomach, because he knew what that meant for you. What it would feel like to be surrounded by everyone, pressed into a shared space with no safety net, and no room for distance. He could already see the cogs turning in your head, like the weekend was a minefield and you were the innocent person dropped in the middle of it to try and navigate around the impossible.

Even worse though–he knew what it would mean for him, if he had to fall asleep knowing you were just a few feet away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hear you breathe. Close enough that when he opened his eyes he would see you, after spending the entire night dreaming of you. It made him ill, and he didn’t know how the hell he was going to handle it when the time came.

———————

The night before the trip, everyone had gathered in the common room to sort out who was bringing what, how many bags were going to fit in the back of the van, who was on snack duty, and who was going to sit where. It had been a loud, chaotic and predictably annoying back and forth, and all you wanted to do was retreat and go to sleep, but you knew that you were going to be a subject that was going to be brought up, so it would be easier to be there.

Bob on the other hand had turned in early.

Said he wasn’t feeling great, a headache according to him. He mentioned he just needed rest.

You overheard him murmur it to Yelena when she passed him in the hallway, and she didn’t push for any information, she just gave him a nod and let him go. It was something that he was doing frequently these days, ducking out of night events to go to bed, and there was always a convenient excuse for him. It was either a headache, lack of sleep, or just not feeling good, and it got him out of everything, including this conversation.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky exclaimed, raising his voice just enough to cut through the arguing, “Even if everyone brings only one bag, we’re still going to be short on space in the van. So we need to figure out how to get everyone there safely without anything happening.” There was a pause in the chatter, the kind that signaled the shift that you were anticipating–the part where you became the logistical variable.

Nobody said your name though.

Instead, there was some fumbling. Alexei muttered something about using the roof racks to tie Walker up onto it. Ava agreed with the suggestion. And Yelena was looking at you out of the corner of her eye like she was waiting for you to offer a solution before anyone else tried to come up with one on your behalf.

”I can drive myself…I have my car,” You said, eyes glancing down at the laminated packing list in your lap, “I can just meet all of you there.” You added. There was a small shift in the atmosphere, like you had immediately taken the tension out of the room. Bucky looked up from the clipboard he was holding, his expression unreadable but focused.

“Thank you, Y/N. That helps more than you realize…But we still won’t have enough space to fit everyone comfortably, would you be able to take someone else with you?” Your eyes flicked up to him.

”Sure.” Bucky bit the inner side of his cheek, like he was contemplating who he was going to send with you. Knowing that you would have final say regardless of the suggestion he gave.

”Would you be able to take…Bob?”

For a moment, all you could think about was how Bob had looked that morning when you offered him your marshmallows. The way he hesitated, and flinched when you tapped the counter, the way his eyes lingered on your gloves.

You thought about how he didn’t look at you again after that, and it made your throat tighten slightly.

Not because you were offended…But because it hurt.

Because there was something about Bob Reynolds that made your chest ache in ways you didn’t know how to soothe. Something about his silence–gentle, tentative, never invasive–that made you feel seen even when you couldn’t be touched. And the worst part was knowing that he wanted to. Not just physically. Not just a hand on your wrist or a brush of fingers. But all of it. The closeness. The company. The conversation that didn’t come laced with protocols.

That’s why you tried to build walls around you as much as possible…Because you knew Bob would never try to scale them. He respected you too much to ignore the rules. Yet you still found yourself thinking that one day he would try to cross the line.

”That’s fine.” You said. It came out even, and controlled, but inside you were anything but.

Bucky gave you a small nod and marked it down with the click of his pen. The others went back to their tasks, but your fingers were stiff against your lap–your gloves creasing every so faintly from how tightly you were gripping the paper.

You left the room not long after, and nobody stopped you.

————-

The next morning came quickly.

Your bag was already packed, and your car was fully prepared for the ride up. You had checked yourself–the gas tank was full, the heat was working, and the backseat was empty. You even shifted the passenger seat back to accommodate Bob’s knees so he didn’t slam them into the glove compartment when he stepped in.

The sky was still a dull blue-gray when you stepped outside, and you could see your breath puffing out in front of you in soft white clouds. The compound behind you was buzzing faintly with the chaos of people double-checking their bags and fighting over seat assignment, but out here in the quietness of the early morning, it almost felt peaceful.

You stood by your car, leaning against the driver’s side door, gloved fingers curled around your thermos. You took slow sips of your coffee–not because you needed it, but because the warmth gave you something to focus on–a distraction from the impending drive. It was only going to be three hours, but you could tell it would be the longest three hours you had ever experienced.

Each passing second was a breath you didn’t want to admit you were holding. Part of you hoped Bob wouldn’t show up–that he would decide last-minute to ride in the van instead and send someone else, to spare you both the awkwardness of being locked in such a small space with nothing but music, the road, and the weight of every unspoken thing between you.

But the other part of you–the one buried deep beneath layers of self-preservation and fear–hoped he would. Hoped he would sit in your passenger seat and glance over at you, and maybe this time…He wouldn’t look away.

The front doors of the compound hissed open.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him. You felt it. The shift. That subtle pressure in your chest like gravity had tilted slightly in his direction. You turned your head just enough to catch him walking across the lot, backpack slung low over his shoulder and a tupperware container cradled in his arms. His hoodie was pulled over his head, and his coat was zipped all the way up, making him look smaller than usual despite the broadness of his shoulders.

He spotted you and slowed.

Bob always slowed when he saw you. Like he needed an extra second to brace himself.

He adjusted the container in his grip and gave a shy, uncertain wave. You lifted your thermos in return.

”Morning,” You said quietly.

”Morning,” He echoed, voice hoarse like he hadn’t spoken to anyone yet today, “I uh…I brought that banana bread that I made yesterday evening. It’s not…I mean. It’s not good, but Yelena tried it last night and didn’t die, so…” You let out a small breath, as a smirk slowly tugged up on your lips.

”Low bar, but I guess it’ll do.” That made him laugh a bit, like he was a little embarrassed, but it was something. He moved towards the passenger door, shifting from foot to foot. You reached into your pocket, clicked the fob and unlocked the doors.

”I adjusted the seat already for you,” You mentioned, opening your own door, slipping in and putting your thermos into the cup holder, while he did the same on his side, “Didn’t want you cramped the whole drive.” You added, when he was able to hear you.

”Oh…Uh…Thanks.” He said after a beat, sliding his backpack off his shoulder, before easing himself into the seat beside you, and shutting the door. The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it settled between you like mist–thick with things that neither of you wanted to say to one another. You didn’t look at him right away. You focused on adjusting the heat, on clicking your seatbelt into place, on the scrape of your thermos as you nudged it deeper into the cup holder. Anything to keep your hands busy.

But the air had already changed.

The moment he sat down, you could feel it. The warmth of his body chased out the cold that had lingered in the space all morning. He smelled like laundry soap and something sweet–vanilla, maybe. Cinnamon. The faintest trace of sleep still clung to him, and something about that undid you a little. He had clearly just rolled out of bed, eyes still rimmed with the softness of sleep, his hair slightly mussed beneath his hood.

And worse–there was a part of you that wanted to lean closer, just to breathe him in.

Bob didn’t move much, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. His shoulders were rigid, like he was afraid to take up too much space. His hands stayed clasped around the tupperware in his lap, like he needed something to hold onto–some anchor to keep him from saying something he shouldn’t. Like, I dreamt about you again last night. Like, You touched my face and nothing happened. Like, I don’t know how to sit next to you now without wanting things I can’t ask for.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked quietly, putting the car in drive, almost like you were asking for him to tell him about what he had been dreaming about, “I heard you mention to Yelena that you weren’t feeling too well.” Bob looked over at you fast, like he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him for the drive. He was thankful that the hoodie over his head hid his flushed ears, but his face wasn’t shielded from your gaze, and you could see the way the red creeped up on his cheeks.

”Uh…Yeah. Yeah I slept well…Feeling much better.” You nodded once, lips pressing together in a way that wasn’t quite a smile, nor a frown. You didn’t believe him, not fully at least. His voice was too soft, and too careful, like he was picking his words carefully. And maybe that’s what hurt you the most–how gentle he was even when he was lying.

“Oh. Good.” You said simply, eyes fixated on the road ahead as you pressed on the gas, pulling out of the parking lot. Bob sank into the passenger seat, still tasting the ghost of your name on his tongue from the dream he’d barely left behind.

The field had been brighter last night. You laughed at something he said. The kind of laugh that made him feel like the world wasn’t so sharp anymore. Like maybe it didn’t hurt to breathe when you were near. You’d touched his face in the dream–cupped his cheek like he was breakable and safe all at once–and he’d felt it linger long after his eyes opened. He was surprised you didn’t notice how red his eyes were from crying, but then again why would you be concerned with that.

Now he sat here, beside the real you, and he couldn’t even meet your eyes for more than a second.

You glanced at him, catching the way he clutched the tupperware container like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment, the way he fiddled with the edges, the nervous twitching he always did that you couldn’t help but notice. It was one of his many tells that something was bothering him, but you didn’t push, your eyes just returned to what was in front of you.

The highway stretched ahead like a ribbon of grey silk, unraveling beneath your tires. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, and the pale light bleeding through the windshield was casting a bluish tint over Bob’s face. You kept your eyes on the road, but you could feel his presence like heat on your skin.

“You really didn’t have to bring anything,” You murmured after a stretch of quiet, nodding toward the banana bread.

Bob looked over at you quickly, then back down at the container like it had surprised him to still be there. “I… I just thought it might be nice. For the cabin. It’s dumb, but I—uh—sometimes baking helps when I can’t sleep.”

Your grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “It’s not dumb to want to do something nice…I wasn’t saying it to be…Cold or anything. It’s just a nice thing to do.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Just for a moment. And for the first time in what felt like ages, you looked at him.

A breath passed between you. Heavy. Loaded.

But it didn’t last. Bob glanced back down at the container again and shifted in his seat. The tension in his shoulders softened marginally, and you could tell the lull of the ride was beginning to get to him. The rhythm of the road, the warmth of the heater. You caught the slow, unconscious twitch of his fingers against the plastic lid before he rested the tupperware gently on the floor by his feet and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“I think…I’m going to close my eyes for a bit,” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you alright?” You asked, concerned about the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Yeah…J-Just tired.” He murmured, his lashes fluttering once before settling. You didn’t push. You didn’t ask if he was sure. You just adjusted the heat a little higher and turned the radio down low, giving him the space he always gave you.

The car fell into a soft hush, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the distant thump of tires over uneven pavement. Bob’s breathing slowed next to you. Gradually. Unevenly at first. Then steadily.

And then it was silent.

Until.

“…Y/N.”

Your name. Whispered like a secret. Like a prayer.

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. Just clear enough to freeze your hands on the wheel.

You glanced over at him, and his face was tilted toward you now, not fully, but just enough to expose the vulnerability in his features. His brows were drawn slightly together, lips parted, and the softest tremble lingered on the edge of them–like he was mid-sentence in a conversation he couldn’t have while awake.

“…M-Miss y-you.” You didn’t mean to slam on the brakes.

Technically you didn’t–but your foot did twitch hard enough on the pedal to make the car lurch slightly, just enough that your coffee sloshed in the cupholder and Bob stirred in the passenger seat with a soft grunt. But he didn’t wake–not fully. He just shifted his head slightly against the seat, curling further toward the door like he was bracing himself for something, the way someone does when they expect to wake up heartbroken.

You stared at him for a long, stunned second. Your fingers had gone numb around the wheel. You weren’t even sure you were breathing. All you knew was you had to pull over to try and regain some sense of stability before continuing, because your thoughts were derailing and spinning out of control.

You pulled off to the shoulder as smoothly as you could, but your hands were trembling too much to hide it. The car dipped slightly as it slowed to a crawl, the crunch of gravel beneath your tires filling the sudden silence now that the radio had gone quiet. You didn’t turn the engine off. You didn’t unbuckle your seatbelt. You just sat there, staring at your own reflection in the faint gleam of the windshield, breathing like someone who’d just run a marathon.

Bob shifted again beside you in his sleep, brow creasing like he was trying to hold onto something—some fragile thread of whatever dream he was caught inside. But all you could hear was your name, still echoing softly in the air between you.

Y/N.

Miss you.

Your throat tightened so hard it hurt.

Because no one missed you. Not like that.

You didn’t let them.

You couldn’t.

Not when the cost of closeness was something you couldn’t afford. One wrong brush of skin, one slip in control, one heartbeat too fast, one lapse of judgment–and everything you cared about could shatter. You had spent years learning how to exist at arm’s length, how to keep every tender instinct buried beneath gloves, sleeves, distance, and detachment. You had become an expert at denial. At convincing yourself that loneliness was better than guilt.

But Bob Reynolds–quiet, sweet, trembling Bob–was dreaming about you like you were something he had lost. Like he’d had you once. Touched you once. Held you once.

And the worst part? You believed him.

Because deep in your bones, somewhere beneath the power that was humming like electricity in your bloodstream, you felt it. That dream wasn’t just a dream. You knew what it felt like when someone’s subconscious pressed into your atmosphere–when they wanted you so badly that even your powers couldn’t keep them out. And if he’d been dreaming of you enough, if he’d carried that version of you with him night after night…There was a chance his dreams had reached into yours too.

That would explain the phantom warmth you sometimes woke up with. The laughter you’d hear in your sleep and never understand. The way your chest had started to ache when he walked into a room.

“Oh my god…” You breathed, so softly it barely counted as sound.

Your gloved hand hovered, trembling slightly, before you set it down in your lap again. You couldn’t reach out. You wouldn’t. But your heart was thudding so violently in your chest now that you could feel it behind your eyes.

You turned to look at him again.

His lashes were still down, mouth parted slightly in sleep, but the edges of his expression were laced with pain. It wasn’t rest he was getting–it was longing. A quiet, desperate kind. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the tiniest whisper leave his mouth again–like a plea caught in the middle of a storm.

“…Don’t go…Please d-don’t go.”

And your heart broke into a million pieces, because as much as you wanted to reach out to comfort him, there would be no use. It would only draw you in deeper, and somehow you would end up losing him, and that was something you couldn’t risk, something you wouldn’t risk. Bob was part of your constant whether you liked it or not, but you couldn’t be what he needed, or what he wanted, not with the powers you held, and you knew that right from the start.

You just didn’t realize how hard it would be to suppress everything and bury it, but now was just the beginning of the pain.

1K notes · View notes

zomquette · 19 days ago

Text

Game's Night

Pairing: Dary Dixon x Redaer

Summary:

In Alexandria, bedtime gets competitive when thin walls and loud neighbors spark a challenge Daryl and his partner can’t resist. What begins as playful banter turns into a full-blown, no-holds-barred contest for the title of Loudest Couple in the Safe Zone. Between aching muscles, smug remarks, and Dog’s betrayed groans, one thing’s clear by morning: the scoreboard isn’t even close.

Genre: Fluffy fluff fluff / established relationship / Daryl and reader bantering like an old married couple / eventual smut.

Warnings:

Explicit sexual content (18+), graphic smut, light dominance, praise kink?, playful sexual teasing, strong language, domestic fluff, aftercare?, mention of other characters’ sexual activity, minor injury (Daryl’s shoulder), Dog is unfortunately present but emotionally resilient.

Era: post Saviour's War, pre-bridge

Author's note: Based on this idea by @dixondisease. Never written smut before but i've definetly read enough to like know what I am doing or at least i think i do anyway. This turned out to be wayy longer than i intented - i even had to put it in the smaller font hehe - so good luck finishing 💀. And before anyone bitches i know Dog isnt technically born yet but i wanted dog in this so shove it 🤭. This is just smut and fluff, very shameless. Enjoy 🙈

You closed the bathroom door with your hip, freshly brushed teeth still tingling, one hand dragging through your damp hair, the other tugging an oversized shirt down over your thighs. “You better not be getting crumbs in the bed again,” you mumbled through leftover toothpaste, the minty foam threatening to escape the corner of your mouth.

“Weren’t me,” Daryl called from the bed, already half-lounging, shirt open, one sock hanging on for dear life. He winced as he twisted to rub his shoulder.

You caught the motion immediately. “Mmm. Blame the dog all you want, but you were the one housing Carol’s cookies like you were in a hostage situation.”

He gave a soft, amused snort. “Least I ain’t the one leavin’ bobby pins in the sheets. Thought I got stabbed in the back last night.”

“Sounds like karma,” you said sweetly, coming to stand over him. “Karma for banning Dog from the bed when he’s clearly my emotional support animal.”

Dog, curled at the foot of the bed, lifted his head at his name and thumped his tail like he knew exactly which side he was on.

Daryl gave him a look. “He’s half a damn mattress. You’re the one always sayin’ you got no room.”

You crouched beside the bed, rummaging through a worn canvas bag until you found the tin Carol gave you. “Yeah, well, between him hogging the the bed and you flailing around like you’re in a bar fight with your dreams, it’s a miracle I get any sleep.”

You straightened and held the salve up. “And don’t even try that ‘I’m fine’ crap. I saw you breaking a sweat brushing your teeth earlier. Shirt off. Now.”

Daryl blinked at you. “Is this part where I get lucky, or the part where you put me in traction?”

“Both, if you play your cards right.”

He huffed and peeled the shirt off slowly. You stepped in and helped him when he winced, hands gentle but firm. The bruise was nasty, blooming purple over his shoulder.

You climbed up behind him on the bed, legs crossed, and dipped your fingers into the salve. The minty scent hit your nose first, sharp and clean. You worked it into the sore muscle, slow and steady. Daryl hissed, eyes slipping shut. “Told ya. Baby,” you teased.

“mkay this ain’t half bad”, he groaned, enjoying your touch.

You snorted. “That's right? Gonna start fake injuries now?”

He cracked one eye open. “Not if it means more of your talkin’.”

You softened, brushing your fingers gently over the angry bruise. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Only like me now?”

“I’m reserving love for when you stop dragging half the forest into the house with your boots.”

“That was one time. And it was your damn dog.”

“Blame the baby. Classic deflection.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple as you finished rubbing in the salve. “There. all better. Now maybe you’ll stop sighin’ every time you roll over like you just filed taxes.”

“I don’t sigh,” he muttered.

"You do. Like a single father of two, workin’ double shifts.”

That got his attention. He turned toward you, as gracefully as his bum shoulder allowed, and gave you a flat look. “What?”

He glanced down at your stomach and back up at you again. “You got somethin’ to tell me?”

“…Oh right, yeah. I totally forgot to mention that I’m pregnant with twins and planning on leaving you for a guy who runs a gas station so you can raise little Daisy and Cameron in a shack by the river. Surprise.”

He squinted at you, deadpan. “The hell is wrong with you… A gas station?”

“Real fancy too. Slushie machine and everything.”

He tried to give you his signature scowl but couldnt help cracking a smile “Jesus woman-“

You raised an accusatory finger, ready to burst out laughing, “Wait, wait, hold up, you actually believed me there for a sec, didn't you?”

He huffed and reached to wipe your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Yeah, well… you got toothpaste on your face, smartass. Ye done runnin’ yur mouth now? M’ tired.”

“Get in before Dog steals your spot.”

Daryl groaned as he eased under the covers, joints popping like bubble wrap. “If I throw my back out tryin’ to lie down, it’s your fault,” he muttered, pointing a finger at Dog who’d circled the bed twice and then parked himself at the very edge—smug, territorial, already snoring.

“You hear that?” Daryl told him. “No respect. Not from either of ya.”

“I respect you just fine,” you said, settling in beside him. “But only one of you farts under the covers.”

“Alrigh’, stop. Don’t gotta put up with this shit in ma own bed.”

You giggled. The room went still, soft and sleepy. He pulled you into him, arm curling tight around your waist, his nose brushing the curve of your neck.

“Better?”

“Much,” he murmured.

Perfect. Until the ceiling creaked. Loud.

You both froze.

Another noise followed. Rhythmic. Familiar.

“…Is that Michonne?” you whispered.

“And Rick,” Daryl muttered, glaring at the ceiling.

You blinked. “They are not—”

“Oh, they are.”

A beat of silence.

Then you grinned. “Wanna be louder?”

He groaned. “We’re not doin’ that.”

“Why?’ you teased, tuning your body to face him and leaning on your elbows to hover your face over his. “Scared you’ll lose?”

“I ain’t racin’ Rick.” He paused, deadpan. “Man sounds like he’s wrestlin’ a hog.”

You choked on a laugh. “Then prove it.” Oh god, he thought. You already had your crazy sex eyes on.

“You really wanna start that righ’ now?”

“Only if you’re gonna finish it.” You moved on top of him, straddling his torso, trying to read his expression for any sign of dismissal. You didn't find any. His hands flew to your waist like a reflex.

“You’re a damn menace.”

“And you’re stalling,” you hushed, brushing your lips against his

“Ain’t gonna be no damn competition,” he muttered. “Ain’t even gonna be close.”

Then his mouth was on yours.

It was the kind of kiss that knocked thoughts loose—hungry, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth. You didn’t remember moving, didn’t realise your hips were grinding down on him until you felt the solid heat under you and his fingers dug into your waist.

“Jesus,” he groaned, voice ragged against your lips. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You didn’t answer—just kissed him harder, messier, hands sliding up his chest to push him further into the mattress. He didn’t resist. He wouldn’t dare. Not with the way you were moving like you’d catch fire if you stopped.

His grip tightened as he bucked up against you, mouth dragging hot down your jaw. “Ain’t even been a minute and you’re already—”

“Yeah?” you gasped, rocking down with more purpose now, chasing friction. “You got a problem with that?”

“Hell no,” he growled, sliding one hand up under your shirt. “Just tryna keep up, woman—”

“Good,” you breathed, grinding harder now, needing more. “Then don’t fall behind.”

And just like that, the game was on.

He sat up to be parallel with you. His hands moved along your bare back from under your shirt, all while you moved deliciously against his crotch, your faces pressed together, lips moving in sync, and tongues crashing like tidal waves. You couldn't help but moan into his mouth pathetically.

He moved to take off his your shirt, and in one swift, powerful motion, he tore the flannel open, sending the buttons flying. Like a drowning man, he latched onto your bare chest as if it were his sole air supply.

“Christ Daryl…” you breathed, tilting back, enjoying the feeling of his hot mouth on your breasts. Well, more specifically, your rock-hard nipples. He leaned into his sloppy kisses, lowering you to your back while he climbed on top of you. Gradually, he moved lower and lower down your abdomen, making you so dizzy that the banging of the headboard upstairs was indistinguishable from your racing heart. Before you knew it, your underwear was gone, and its place was Daryl’s hand. Needless to say, you much preferred his hand there instead of your underwear.

His he moved up to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers rubbing your clit. Was this what hypnosis was like? He could tell you to do damn near anything and you would bark yes if it meant he wouldnt stop.

Your body had a mind of its own, grinding against his hand as you clawed at his boxers.

The short gruffs and ragged breathing in your ear sent electricity down your body and straight to where Daryl was apparently trying to summon a genie. You felt the heat pool there as the butterflies in your stomach failed to settle. It only made you even wetter. If you weren't so mind-numbingly turned on right now, you would shield yourself from the embarrassment that down there was like a Slip n’ Slide.

“You done makin’ a mess or you gonna keep humpin’ my hand like your tryna start a fire?”

Ugh, smug douchebag. You can practially see the stupid cocky face he has on now. It took a few tries, the breathe kept logdng in your throat as whimpers escaped your mouth, until you finally retorted. “oh screw you asshole.”

“Asshole, huh? Must be doin’ somethin’ right.” That earned a frustrated groan from you. Right now, you are sitting between cloud nine and hell with this teasing. You shoved his boxers down and wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in his place. “Either you fuck me now or im going upstairs to join Rick and Michonne.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Lining himself up, he plunged into you without any warning. You couldn't breathe. Your body went limp with the feeling of him. You gasped for air as your body drank him in. God, he felt like he was up in your stomach.

“shit baby…” he groaned. It took everything in him not to completely lose it a drill into you right there, but he knew you needed a second to get used to the stretching feeling.

“Daryl…. “ you squealed a moment later. Oblivious to him, if he didnt move within the next 5 seconds you woud just about combust. “please move”

It was practically spoken as a cry, your face scrunching up in need. He pressed his mouth to yours not a second later while he did what you asked, setting a steady pace, one that had you clawing at his back, his ass, his arms, hell, anything to ground you in the overwhelming pleasure he was spoon feeding you with a ladle. But you needed more. He needed to pick up the pace like you both wanted him to, or else you really were going to impale him with bobby pins.

“Ain’t even gonna be close,’ huh?” you bit out, breathless and flushed. “Then why the hell are we still playin’?”

Daryl just smirked, hand dragging slowly over the curve of your hip like he had all the time in the world. “‘Cause I like hearin’ you talk tough,” he rasped. “Makes it real sweet when I shut you up.”

“You talk big, Dixon,” you growled, rocking down against him. “Now back it up.”

His hands flexed around your hip, yanking, moving you down to meet his thrust, causing you to yelp at the sensation. “You sure?” he murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and hot. “‘Cause once I start, ain’t lettin’ you off easy.”

You glared, chest heaving. “Good. I don’t want easy.”

That did it. He moved his hand to your thigh and stretched it up to hook with his (good) shoulder, so you were completely sandwiched under him. The taster for what’s to come was one long, deep drag of his hips, which just about made your brain short-circuit. He chuckled at the fucked-out look on your face, “That mouth of yours’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“You promise?” you whispered, nails digging into his back. It didn't even sound like you when you said it, and yet you meant it.

He huffed a laugh against your throat. “You’re about to wish I was still stallin’.”

His hips began to pound into you, making you bounce with each unforgiving thrust. Your hair would be just short of a birds nest in the morning but all you could think about was daryls dick smacking into your pussy and making you feel like you had taken every recreational drug known to man.

“Fuck! Yes baby! Ohhh-“ The only way you could match the screams of pleasure that were coming from you was because after that, Daryl started muttering words of praise into your ears about how loud you were being. That’s great, buddy, just keep doing your thing, and ill gladly show this community the set of lungs I have on me.

The power with which he moved in and out of you, of course, had the headboard slamming against the wall so hard that Drayl would probably need to find some drywall tomorrow. The gross noises that your bodies made when joining together would have sounded like angels singing to you if it weren't for the noise of the headboard drowning it out… or your moans.

He dipped his head low, lips brushing your ear as your moan spilt out sharp and shameless.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, voice thick with approval. “Let ‘em hear it, baby. Let ‘em know who’s really winnin’ this little contest.”

You clenched around him. God, you were so not gonna last. You would have cringed from embarrassment, but all of your dignity had vacated your body when you started squirming like a fish out of water.

Daryl let out a groan in response, peering down at your chest to see your breast jiggle up and down from his movements. “Atta girl. Let 'em know who’s giving it to ye this good.”

You’d be lying if his words didn’t turn into mush, but who were you to take this lying down?

“Maybe I’m just fakin’ it so i dont hurt your ego—oh, GOD— Daryl right there!”

He delivered a particularly brutal thrust to the spot he knew would send you over the edge. His pace was relentless, like he fucking hated you. But that was far from the truth. The waves of pleasure he was single-handedly serving you said I love you better than any Valentine's note you had ever received in your opinion. The fricton between his pubic bone and your clit while he jammed himself into you repeatedly was a nice touch - to put it mildly.

“shit, shit, shit, baby your gonna make cum-“ it was so hard to speak full coherent sentences when he fucked you like this. The air from your lungs kept getting ejected every time he pounded into your cunt.

“That right?” Shit, you thought, he's using that voice he does when he speaks to judith. I'm done for. “Gonna come round this cock? Go ahead, baby, I gotcha”

“Ohhh fuck baby im cumming im cumming I’m- AH!”

Everything went white as every nerve in your body contorted with pleasure. It spread like a Mexican wave, starting from your lower abdomen and travelling all the way to your toes. The only thing reminding you that you hadn’t died and gone to heaven was Daryl’s erratic thrusts, which didn't falter; if anything, they sped up if that was even possible. He was chasing his own high. There were many things that turned you on in the world, but this was at the top of that list. Him going feral, using your body to guide him over the egde, hips stuttering and dick twitching inside of you. God, this was top-quality fuel for wet dreams.

He let out a few strangled moans before he came inside you, the feeling of him spilling inside of you made you grin with content, sighing like you were on a spa retreat. Except this retreat wasnt so much relaxing as it it was fucking mindblowing and would definitly reult in you walking funny.

His movements slowed, now just a soft rolling of his hips. You didn't want this to end. You wanted to stay like this forever. You were still breathless beneath him, and your heart was trying to remember how to beat in a rhythm that wasn’t wild. The weight of his body anchored you in place like gravity had finally done its job right.

Daryl was sprawled over you, chest heaving, forearm braced beside your head, trying not to crush you with the full weight of him, not that you minded. His skin was flushed and slick against yours, sweat cooling in the hollow between your breasts where his lips had been minutes ago.

He shifted slightly, lifting his head to look at you. Your skin was dewy, and you sported that after-sex glow that drove Daryl crazy. His hair hung down in damp, dishevelled strands, clinging to his temples. His eyes were heavy-lidded but alert, scanning your face.

“…You okay?” he asked, voice rough and warm, moving your hair from your face.

You couldn’t quite speak yet, so you gave a nod and a dopey smile. “Legs are noodles. Brain’s soup. So yeah. M’ great.”

That earned you the tiniest smirk, soft and crooked. “Good.”

His nose brushed yours before he leaned in to kiss you, slow and sweet this time. Nothing rushed. No competition. Just him, kissing you like he had all the time in the world. You melted into the kiss, humming contentedly, arms looping around his neck as he hugged you impossibly closer like you could disappear any second.

And above you, the ceiling had gone still. No more creaks. No more rhythmic thuds. No more Rick and Michonne ‘wrestling’ as they liked to call it.

You pulled back from the kiss with a dazed laugh. “Oh my god. They’re quiet now.”

Daryl blinked, then turned his head lazily to glare up at the ceiling like it had betrayed him. “Told ya. Ain’t even a contest.”

You giggled beneath him, threading your fingers through his hair. “Bet they heard us and got embarrassed.”

He huffed and rolled over you slowly, careful of your limbs as he settled at your side, immediately pulling you with him so you were nuzzled into his chest. You let him, splaying over him like it was instinct. His body was warm and solid and safe, the aftershocks of everything still tingling across your skin.

“I think I died for a minute,” you mumbled into his collarbone.

He chuckled against your hair. “Nah. Just blacked out. You’ll live.”

You swatted at him weakly. “Don’t be smug.”

“Too late,” he drawled. Then, quieter, brushing a thumb along your hip: “You’re real loud when you want somethin’.”

You grinned against his skin, your cheeks still flushed. “So are you.”

There was a moment of silence before you added, “Kinda proud of us.”

Daryl raised a brow. “Think we scared ‘em off?”

“Hell yeah, we did.”

You raised your arm in the air to gesture a fistbump, which he chuckled at, but nonetheless accepted. “Atta girl.”

You let out a happy sigh, his hand settling on your back again, moving slowly. Comforting. Claiming. Gentle in a way that made your heart grow a little.

From somewhere at the foot of the bed, Dog gave a low groan — the kind that sounded both scandalised and mildly betrayed.

You lifted your head, breath still uneven. “Oh Jesus, Dog, I’m so sorry—”

He was glaring. Or as much as a dog could glare. Ears flat, eyes narrowed, the judgment rolling off him in waves.

Daryl glanced down at him and snorted. “Don’t give me that look. You knew what this was.”

You buried your face in Daryl’s shoulder, laughing. “He’s mad ‘cause he’s not the favourite anymore.”

Daryl scoffed. “Was I even the favourite to begin with?”

You hummed, still grinning. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re both my good boys.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow, his voice low and smug. “Only one of us had you seein’ stars.”

You pulled back just far enough to give him a look. “Only one of you drools in his sleep.”

Daryl blinked, then smirked. “Says the woman who talks in her sleep.”

Your mouth dropped open in mock horror. “I do not.”

He shrugged, smug. “ I got woken up last week by you mutterin’ somethin’ about a peanut butter apocalypse.”

You chuckled, and Dog, ever the drama queen, flopped down with a heavy sigh, clearly done with both of you.

Daryl brushed your damp hair from your cheek, his thumb lingering at your jaw. “You alright?” he asked softly.

“Mhmm.” You leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time. “Better than alright.”

_______________________________________________________________

You sat at the table like someone recovering from a war injury. Every muscle in your body ached — wonderfully so, but they still hurt like a bitch — and breakfast was the last thing on your mind. Beside you, Daryl was the picture of serenity, casually sipping coffee like he hadn’t just destroyed your back six hours ago.

Rick gave you both a look. The kind that said he’d rather be literally anywhere else. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, poking at his eggs like they’d betrayed him. “Y’all don’t even try to be subtle, do you?”

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Daryl said, not looking up from his mug.

Michonne arched a brow, clearly amused. “You didn’t need one. The walls are thin, Dixon. Thin.”

You winced and nursed your coffee like it could fix your dignity. You gave Daryl a knowing look and smirked, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t apologise,” Michonne said, smirking. “Just… damn.”

Rick looked between the two of you again, brow furrowed. “That wasn’t a competition, right? Like — there was no actual scoreboard?”

You glanced sideways at Daryl, trying to hide your grin. “What do you think?”

Daryl gave a faint smirk, eyes fixed on his plate. “Told you it wasn’t gonna be close.”

God damn, you could go for round 5 right here on thid counter.

Rick groaned. “Oh, come on.”

Michonne laughed into her coffee. “That’s it. I’m sleeping on the couch from now on.”

From the hallway, Carl appeared, bleary-eyed and deeply unimpressed. “Why are you guys being weird?” he asked, grabbing a slice of toast.

Rick straightened. “We’re just having breakfast. Sit down.”

Carl shook his head. “Not today. Not when the house sounds like a zoo at night. I’m taking this to my room. And since when did we bring back rules from the old world?”

He walked off without waiting for a reply.

You, Daryl, Rick and Michonne all burst out laughing.

You leaned into Daryl’s shoulder and murmured just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess we won the gold, huh?”

He didn’t answer — just rested his hand on your thigh under the table and squeezed, smug as hell.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryldixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixion smut #daryl fanfiction

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beifong-brainrot · 7 months ago

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Actually I WILL talk about Mai's seeming 'radicalisation'. With the upcoming comic, I can see why a lot of people are confused/caught offguard by Mai suddenly having a vested interest in reforming the Fire Nation's school curriculum.

However, I don't think it's as much of a heelturn as one would believe at first glance.

Mai is a difficult character to pinpoint on some levels, particularly due to her upbringing which stripped her of a lot of her self expression. I think most of the fandom underestimates the trauma and effect of Mai's upbringing. I elaborate on it here.

However, the long and short of it is that Mai was not encouraged to question, criticise or, god forbid, rebel against her enviornment. To the point where her parents scared her with stories of spirits that would kidnap her if she misbehaved.

Ukano's involvement in politics and relatively high status should also be taken into account. Mai would have grown up being strongly encouraged to conform to her father's beliefs and go along with his politics.

Mai : My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about.

We've seen the propaganda and indoctrination of the Fire Nation school system, how it uses misinformation in its curriculum and how it punishes deviance.

Most fire nation children won't have the tools to find the cruelty and danger in the philosophy of the Fire Nation. Zuko had to get banished from the country to even start his deconstruction. And he had Iroh at his side to guide him.

It's not shocking that Mai would not be able to see the flaws of the Fire Nation. Despite this, she still shows no attachment to the Nation's cause, either. In fact, she actively refused to take part in the war effort when she thought she could get away with it.

I don't think Mai had much sympathy to the other nations, nor will I claim she secretly harboured anti imperialistic sentiment. I simply want to state the fact that Mai was, from a young age, forced to do things she didn't want to do and conditioned by multiple parties, to accept this. Mai has been trained to be passive, with only the method of passive aggressiveness and gloominess to defend herself.

I think after the fall of Ozai's rule and the slow restructuring of the Nation, Mai got more freedom in her life. Ukano's political role diminished, so Mai was allowed to think for herself. She gets to discover the world more and develop her own thoughts and ideals, rather than the ones she'd been forced to conform to.

This line in the upcoming comic seems to confirm my thoughts:

Mai's upbringing is the underground and darkness. She was never given an alternative or agency in her life. And thanks to Zuko, she was able to see and experience a different world than the one she was brought up with. She is able to help to try and achieve it.

Initially, Mai is angry at Zuko's joining of team Avatar. She feels betrayed and upset that he did not talk to her in person, even if it was to protect her. And yet, she saves him. While I believe that most of her motivation was genuinely out of love for Zuko. But she also, ekther inadvertently or deliberately made the choice between Azula and Zuko. Between the two potential duture leaders of the Nation.

And she chose Zuko. Who is not only the boy she loves, but also the boy who can heal her nation.

There is an argument to be made about how Mai represents the Fire Nation itself and its relationship to Zuko, but that is a topic for another day.

The theme of Mai caring for the future of the Fire Nation can be seen expanding in the comics. As 99% of the fandom will tell you, the comics have their flaws, but I do enjoy their handling of Mai for the most part.

I think it's interesting that we are shown that Mai not only wants Zuko to be Fire Lord, but for him to be a good Fire Lord.

We see her dissapointed in Zuko secretly meeting with Ozai. At first glance, what she says to Zuko is that she is dissapointed in him keeping secrets from her, which is understandable, since the last time he kept a secret from her led to him joining the opposite side of a war.

However, with her next appearance, we see that Mai may have had another concern relating to Zuko's communing with Ozai. When Ty Lee informs her of Zuko also enlisting Azula's help, Mai exclaims 'so he really is turning into his father', which seems to denote that Mai has a distaste for Ozai and his rule, whether that be from the begining, or recently acquired.

Mai also criticises Zuko's callous and controlling restrictions over the frightened townspeople. This serves to further cement the idea of Mai becoming disillusioned with the similarly inclined authority figures of her past. Authority figures who were a symptom of the Fire Nation's utilitarian and imperialistic system. We see this disdain manifesting in its full force in the teasers for the upcoming comic.

I think people tend to not realise how restricted in her self expression and thoughts Mai was, despite all the puzzle pieces being laid out for us in the show.

Mai has gone through a very quick and yet realistic episode of character growth in my opinion. Not unlike a lot of people raised in heavily Conservative and restrictive households who peel off later in life, she's settling into her own mindset and motivations.

Ans I don't think it's an unrealistic idea for Mai to want to help change the education system. The Fire Academy for girls is where she met Azula, and as an all girl school alumni, I can tell you first hand how toxic and confining these enviornments can be.

While Mai may not be seen as a particularly empathetic or kind person (though I think this interpretation is flawed), she can sympathise with the young girls who will be placed in the shoes of her younger self.

She can want to not see these kids go through what she, Ty Lee AND Azula did.

[The panels of Mai glancing between the stifling interior of the school and the open window and choosing to go outside and lead the Nation's youth outside... ugh]

Not only is this a rather logical progression for Mai's character, in my opinion, but it also feels like a very big 'healing your inner child' moment for Mai. Since she was not really seemingly allowed to be a child, as most children in the Fire Nation appeared to have such restrictions placed on them.

I don't think it's much of a stretch of the imagination that Mai would want to have at least a small part in dismantling the system that harmed her and so many other children of the nation.

She is a young woman now, she has grown from the oversheltered, apathetic teen she was in the show. She has been able to make her own informed opinions about the state of the nation, has been able to hone her trauma into determination. And it seems we're going to see the fruits of this development in "Ashes of the Academy".

I have very high hopes for the upcoming comic, since what we've seen of it appears to make a compelling story, one I relate to deeply, as well as a good study of Mai, a character I find often misinterpreted by the fandom.

#'this is out of character' my brother in raava let me tell you about this cool thing called character development #mai #atla mai #mai atla #zuko #azula #ty lee #ashes of the academy #pro mai #pro maiko #avatar #atla #avatar: the last airbender #the last airbender #avatar the last airbender

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pan-kojiwa · 5 months ago

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𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ➻ 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧?

[Characters] ➻ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 | ??? |

[CW] ➻ SFW, stranger to lovers, whipped Kaiser, a bit ooc.

Waffle’s note -> that was long… tbh I didn’t know where I was going with this at some point… I should’ve just made a boyfriend!kaiser *sigh* well anyway, it’s still about cute aggression but with a little bit of obsession??? Also, does it feel like I tried to headcanon my way out of an 2k OS? Yes? Yh me too… it happened twice.. anyways u_u’

❦ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫

✮ Michael Kaiser was used dealing with malice, to the point it became a second nature to him. After all, it was all he had ever known. Hurting people just came that easily. But everything changed when you showed up, and it’s still the case till this day. Michael Kaiser is mean, arrogant, and overly confident, yet all of that disappears in your presence. In fact, the first time he saw you, he couldn’t even speak. All you did was smile— yet he stood there, stunned. Your smile… so timid, but so bright… it almost blinded him. And your eyes… God. Those innocent sparkles in your eyes when you looked at him… he lost the war before it even began that day. You literally destroyed the thick walls he spent so long building around himself. Yes— the walls that hid the most ugliest parts in him, they got blown up. With just one look. And since then, he’s been craving your gaze— your attention. He’s drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

✮ Kaiser can be really selfish sometimes. From the first time he saw you, he knew he wanted you all for himself. He can’t help it, your entire being is calling to him. It's almost turning into an obsession at this point— and resisting the urge to be all up in your space is becoming hard. He wants to be the only person that you see, just as you're the only one he sees. Your smile when you're happy, your cries when you're sad, your rosie cheeks when you're being shy. Aah—He’s overwhelmed. Feeling so many emotions at once while picturing how cute you are— oh... he would love to have you all to himself.

✮ Kaiser never thought he would become a big, hopeless idiot when in love. Then again, it’s not surprising for someone who spent his life pushing people away and experiencing nothing but hate. But now, being hated, receiving or giving malice, manipulating people… he doesn’t care about any of that. Yeah— It doesn’t matter anymore. All he wants is you. You. The way his name rolls perfectly on your tongue like it was meant for it. The way your ears and nose turns a bright red when he tilts your chin up just to tease you. The way you always take a step back, completely flustered whenever he gets too close—he wants it. He needs it. God no— he craves it. He’s longing for a taste of your love, and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to have you by his side.

✮ Since you’re his first love, or more like the first person he’s allowed himself to love, sometimes he doesn’t quite understand his feelings. Well, he knows it’s love. What he doesn’t understand are the overwhelming urges to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingertips, to hold you in his arms, to grab you and kiss you all over, the urges to bite you just from looking at you smile… He just can’t seem to control himself around you. And he just can’t leave you alone either.

You’re passing by when someone suddenly yanks you into on of the meeting rooms. Luckily, the lights are on, so you could immediately see the face of the culprit.

“Kaiser?! What the fuck!? You scared the shit out of me!”

You quickly push the door closed, just in case someone passes by. You definitely don’t want to get caught in an empty room with one of the players.

Kaiser chuckles with a smirk as he leaned on the table behind him.

“ - Oh really, liebling? My apologies, I didn’t mean to.”

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical. Because from where you stand, he clearly did. Yet, you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“ - What are you doing here? Aren’t you gonna shower with the others?”

“ - Too crowded.” He replies, stepping closer to you with that playful smirk.

Your heart starts racing, and a faint blush creeps on your cheeks. You instinctively back away, your breath hitching. The door was behind you so you know you’re absolutely not trapped in the room. But with him so close, all up in your space feels like all your senses are being tickled. And not to mention how Kaiser had been acting strange lately. He’s always been a bit pretentious with everyone— even when he was alone— but now it seems like he’s paying extra attention to you. At first, you were thrown off, but the way he treats you like you were the most amazing person in the world makes you curious. Or flattered?

“ - Should I give you the key to the staff bathroom?”

“ - Oh my, I’d like that—only if you come with me.”

You blush furiously, your head dropping as you stare at your shoes, completely flustered.

“ - I—”

Kaiser grabs your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze. His gaze is intense yet soft on you. You could see his inner conflict swirling in those blue eyes, just like a storm.

“ - I know you were about to go take care of the team… He pauses. But… I wanted you all to myself.” He says bluntly freeing your chin, before taking one of your hand in his. He then gives it a light squeeze lifting towards his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

Your flustered look as well as your fluttering eyes makes him clench his jaw. Why are you making this so much harder for him? Why your little pout drives him mad like this? Why is it so hard— so impossible to resist you?

When he’s around you he can’t seem to control his emotions. So his only option left, is to let you go.

“ - If I make you stay here any longer, I might end up never letting you go.”

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear and then lets you out of the room, confused and heart pounding hard in your chest

✮ When he sees you, on the bench, wearing a jersey—a little too big for you— with his number and his name, his heart skips a beat. A warm feeling invading all his senses. He can’t see your expression completely from that distance, but he can definitively imagine your sweet lips silently cheering for him as well as your doe eyes, focused on him—full of anticipation for his goal. Suddenly, all he wants is to run to you— grab your head and kiss every inch on your adorable face. Yet he brushes off all this chaos of emotion it with a confident smirk, only sending a flying kiss towards you as he scores a goal for you. He was so close to ditch the whole match just to shower you with kisses.

✮ Kaiser is pretty much an open book once you get to know him. You’re completely aware of how whipped he is for you, even if he still tries to deny how much effect you have on him. The way you nervously play with your hair, or the way your fingers brush against his when you hand him his water battle during the team training— It’s almost ridiculous how it makes him go insane. So much that he can’t believe how much he just wants to hold you in his arms and hide you away.

✮ He likes to scoop you up in his arms. He always says that you look cuter that way but really, you both know it’s just an excuse to hold you in his arms. The way you circle your arms around his neck— pressing your chest tightly against his as your head rests on his shoulder. The way you hide your flushed face in the crook of his neck— oh… He swallows hard, an overwhelming warmth spreading through his entire body. He swallows again as the sensation began to migrate towards his heart. Fuck… it feels like it’s melting. He desperately wants to kiss you… to bite you… you’re so cute to the point he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. If you knew how much his heart is begging for your love right now… would you want him as much as he wants you?

✮ Kaiser always tries to mask what he truly feels with arrogance or confidence— because after all he’s “superior to all those plebeians.” So of course vulnerability isn’t something he comfortable with. He needs complete control over his emotion to feel secure. But it’s impossible with you around. And no matter how hard he tries to resist, he just can’t hide how much your cuteness affects him.

“ - Micheal!”

He turns around as he hears a very familiar voice calling him from afar—your voice. Your beautiful voice. The voice that could bring him down to his knees, even if he tried so hard not to fumble.

The cheerful tone you only use when you see him or when he smiles at you never fails to make his heart burst in flames. He can’t stay away from you, so that probably explains why his feet moved on their own, rushing toward you. And right there, you’re killing him— or more like your expression is. How can you be so cute? Your shy smile—your eyes shining with pure joy and affection— it’s making his heart swell with a softness that he sure isn’t used to—and it’s like a punch in the face.

But he can’t let you see this weak side of him. He can’t possibly let you know that he’s pathetic without you.

“ - Well, well, look who’s back to see this poor, miserable man.”

He stops right in front of you slightly leaning forward.

“ - You make it sound like I abandoned you.” You laugh softly hearing the dramatic tone dripping from his voice. But there’s something else in it—something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“ - Oh, but you did.” He grabs his chest like what you just said hurt him deeply.

“ - Without any pity for my poor soul, you left me all alone for an entire week.” You tilt your head at the tone in his voice. It was back. That sad tone—no, not sad. Sorrow? You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“ - I was sick… sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The way your voice softened to reassure him, how you’re actually scearching for his gaze to make sure he’s okay, it must have done something to his heart, because before you even know, one of his hand is on your chin, tilting your face toward him. But his touch feels hesitant—because in reality he knows that being so close to you, feeling you skin under his fingertips— this is a risky move—but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your hopeful gaze, the way your lips parts as if you wanted to say something but didn’t—

He’s down bad. He wants to hold you, to hug you and kiss you everywhere. You’re too cute for your own good. His heart is pounding in his chest as if it could burst any minute from now.

But Instead, he simply gives you an enigmatic smile, while his fingers slowly let go of your chin.

“ - It’s okay, mein liebling, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just happy you came back to me.”

And with that, he turns away, glancing at you one last before walking away.

“ - Wait—don’t go!” You grab his arm before he can get too far.

“ - Oh? Can’t live without me already?”

You look down, nervous and unsure, blushing slightly as you bite your inner lip. And something in Kaiser snaps. Something he’s been trying—desperately—to control. He can’t stand it anymore. You’re just too fucking cute, too precious.

“ - Fuck…”

He quickly grab your face, pressing a gentle kiss on one of your cheek, then the other. You then close your eyes as you feel him moving toward your left eye, then the right one.

“ - I need you… I need you so badly in my life. I can’t resist anymore… please…”

Your eyes went wide and you feel your heart swell in happiness— you even tear up from the emotions. Without wasting any more time, you wrap your arms around his head , pulling him into a tight hug with his head resting in the crook your neck, a relieved smile on his face.

Silently, you hug each other.

✮ The way you pout sometimes, when you’re looking for him silently scanning the room with your eyes. And the way they instantly light up when you finally spot him— god you’re so cute. It always makes him want to grab you, bite your shoulder or cover your face with kisses.

✮ The way you only look at him— like the other players don’t even matter. The way you massage his shoulders during breaks to help him relax, while you completely ignore the other players— giving him all your attention. It never fails making him feel like he’s special. Your favorite. God, the way you always run to him first with that sincere and genuine smile of yours, shining so brightly on your face. You’re just so perfect in his eyes. To the point, the only way he can manage to regain control is by nearly choking himself.

✮ He likes to tease you. He noticed how much his teasing fluster you and seeing you blush and whimper like that with your adorable doe eyes when he gets close to you makes his heart explode. And he’s addicted to this sensation.

✮ The way you get jealous is so endearing to him—you’re just like an angry little kitten when fans and random people try to flirt with him. He doesn’t even look at them—because they’re not you after— still, he can see how much it pisses you off. Well it’s fine by him. He gets to have you all for himself right?

You and Kaiser are heading toward the training ground entrance, chatting about you are in such a good mood. Well— until a sudden screech resonated in your ears. Of course it’s yet another fan trying to get his attention, screaming his name and saying all kinds of bullshit about how he can “get it.”

You turn around instantly, glaring daggers at whoever said that. Violence isn't an answer. It's a question— the answer is yes. Fully understanding this quote you prepare yourself to throw hands. But before you can even take a step, Kaiser stops you with a smirk. And, really, he doesn’t fucking know where he finds the strength not to pinch your puffed up— angry cheeks. So damn pretty.

With some convincing, you finally step inside the training ground holding in hand. However, the second you’re out of the public eye, you slam him against the nearest wall, gripping his collar.

“ - When are you going to ask me out?” You hiss, frowning and lips pressed into an adorable pout.

Kaiser smirks chuckling as he tilts his head slightly.

“ - Oh, but Liebling... He then slides his hands on your hips, pulling you closer while lowering his head in the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth faintly grazing your skin before pressing a soft kiss on the same spot. You're already mine.”

#⟢inking waffle⟣#blue lock michael kaiser #blue lock #bllk kaiser #kaiser michael #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser headcanons #blue lock headcanons #blue lock drabbles

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mehwmidklpe · 4 months ago

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Hey if you mind can you do a part two of 'a demi-what now?!' post of percy jackson x reader where reader is now targeted by monsters without percy knowing when he is away then one day he does find out but that only when reader ends up in the hospital with near death wounds

A DEMI-WHAT NOW?? PART 2

Percy Jackson x Mortal!Gf

A DEMI-WHAT NOW?? PART 1

Percy had been happier lately.

No monster.

No wars.

No secrets.

You, his amazing girlfriend knew about his godly side. And of course you were freaked out at first. Of coursre you couldn't possibly believe him.

But eventually you were there for him trough every up and down.

And he was greatful for that, cause there was no one who understood him like you did.

You weren't even a demigod and you still understood him better than all the campers!

Anyways, right now, Percy was sitting at camp with the seven– well actually the six, cause Jason is dead! –

(oh and let's not forget Percy's best friend Grover who was also with them right now)

but his mind was only on you.

That's unil he felt someone nudge his arm. "Hey, what got you so happy lately Seaweedbrain?" Leo Valdez grinned. "Nothing, just glad there are no monster and wars at the moment." Percy excused himself. "Okay, okay." But the grin never left the latino's lips.

Percy thought he had fooled everyone, but the look Piper gave him made him feel exposed. It was as if she could sense Percy's love for you.

Luckily Piper's intimitating look got snapped away from Percy once they heard a loud voice.

Only Leo's face lit up as he recognized the voice and turned around on his chair. "Connor!" He smiled at the sight of his good friend running. "He's probably running away from some kids after pranking them, nothing important." Annabeth assured the rest.

But that wasn't the case.

"I don't know.. It seems pretty serious." Grover said with a concered frown on his forehead. "Yeah, I agree." Frank states, trying to get a better look at the running boy.

"Yo! Someone get Chiron!" Connor exclaimed, running towards the group.

Being the son of Hermes, he was fast. And judging on the look on his face, he had a message to deliver.

Like father like son.

His (half)brother, Chris Rodriguez, who was origanally planning on going to see Clarisse train in the arena, quickly made his way towards the big house.

Leo jumped up from his chair, followed by Hazel. The rest followed. "Come on kelp head." Annabeth encouraged him.

By the time Percy got there, Chiron was already approaching with Chris on his back. "My child. Tell me what happened." He said to Connor.

"Alecto is at Halfblood Hill. She said she wouldn't do any harm in exchange for a converastion with Perseus Jackson." Connor informed them.

"Oh come on! Why is it always me? Screw main character aura." Percy cursed out.

As he arrived at the hill with his friends and mentor, Allecto was already waiting for him. "Ah.. Perseus Jackson. Long time no see." "Yeah, and I was happy with that long time." Percy said, a bit annoyed at her appearence.

Alecto only chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt anyone. I just thought you would like to know that Hades is savouring a nice spot in the underworld, so you don't have to worry."

The sea-color eyed boy had to frown. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Just that you might want to visit the hospital before your little girlfriend joins your friends in elysium."

Percy completely froze at the mention of you.

"Wha-what did you just say?" He question in shock. "Girlfriend?" He heard one of his friends ask, but he was to caught up in his thoughts to even register who's voice it was.

Percy was scared, anxious, concerned, but most of all, furious

Grover felt all of it.

The group felt the ground beneat them shaking. Poseidon was the earthshaker after all, so why couldn't his son do it too?

"Percy.." Hazel warned him, but he didn't care. It only became worse, Frank's gaze landed on the small lake nearby. "Percy." He repeated once the water started rising.

Piper saw the expression Percy wore, and it scared her a bit. "Perseus, think about what you're doing." Chrion warned him.

Allectro wore a smirk on her gross lips. "Whatever you're planning on doing, it isn't gonna bring your girlfriend back."

"NO!"

With that, Percy launched a gian wave of water at the furie, some of his friends falling down.

"PERCY!"

But he wasn't done. "What is he doing?" Chris wondered as he saw the hateful look on Percy's face and the motions he made with his hands. "B-bloodbending." The daughter of Athena responded.

When Chiron heard that, he couldn't believe it.

"That's enough!" He stopped the boy. Alecto took that as her chance to fly away.

"Perseus Jackson, what were you thinking?"

Percy's eyes flickered around, as if trying to process everything. "I need to go. Now." He responded, ignoring the centaur's question. "What?" "To the hospital. She's dying!" He panicked.

"You're girlfriend.. she's mortal, isn't she?" Annabeth realized.

Percy's silence spoke sentences. "And you told her about us?" Chiron asked in disbelief.

"I didn't have a choice! We were getting attacked, and she saved me, and how else do you explain a monster barging into your room?" The son of Poseidon defended himself.

"Percy–" "Please. I need to see her." He begged. The mentor shook his head. "There's no way you'll get there in time."

"I can take him."

The whole group turned around, their gazes landing on Connor Stoll.

"My dad is the god of travelers and time. I can get Percy to the hospital before he can even blink." He explained.

Percy's head shot up, rushing over to the boy's side. "Yes! Yes Connor please do! You'd do that?" "Of course. We're buddies, aren't we?"

Connor nudged him, and Percy had never been happier to be friends with a Stoll than he was now.

Chiron sighed deeply. "I really don't think it's a good idea to–" Percy cut Chiron off.

"Now."

Apperently, Connor liked listening to his friend way more than listening to Chiron, cause before evryone could blink– like he had said –the two boy's were gone.

"I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to visit her without a legal adult. Considering you only turn 18 after a few weeks, you can't go inside." The woman behind the counter aplogized.

Percy couldn't believe it. "No, no, she's my girlfriend, I need to see her." The woman shook her head. "I'm very sorry but–"

"I'm an adult."

Percy turned to lok at Connor. "Here, check it out, I turned 18 recently." He said, handing the woman his ID.

The son of Poseidon had to frown.

Connor was so silly that it never occured Perc that he was a few months older than himself.

The woman smiled in satisfiction, handing it back. "Very well then. You can go to room 8 at floor 4." She instructed.

Connor grinned. "Come on." Percy quickly followed.

In the elevator, Connor noticed how worried Percy was. "Hey, don't worry, your girl will be okay."

Percy nodded quickly before pulling his friend into a hug. "Thank you so much. For bringing me here and.. suprisingly being a few months older than me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

As he pulled away, Connor patted his shoulder. "No worries. You saved camp, this is the least I can do."

Eventually, when the elevator opened, the boys rushed towards room 8.

Only Percy froze, scared to open the door, scared of what he might see. "Hey.. You'll be fine." Connor assured him, tone soft.

One thing he knew about Connor– expect for that he's very silly, causes lots of trouble, cracks a lot of jokes and likes pulling pranks and stealinf –is that he was very understanding and actually really good at this stuff.

He figured that when he felt bad for Silena when he found out Beckendorf had die–

Percy sighed and opened the door.

He saw you on the bed. You were awake, but not in a good state at all. He could clearly see your beautiful face. And his heart broke when he saw your condintion.

Percy stood completly frozen in the doorway, not daring to move forward.

Connor, on the other hand, pushed Percy aside and rushed over to you.

What the Hermes?

"Y/n??"

"Connor..."

Percy couldn't believe what he was seeing. Connor was knelt next to the bed, his hands cupping your face, inspecting if you were okay. "Wh-How-Why?"

That's when Percy spoke up. "You two know each other?" Connor didn't even look at him. "Yeah, she helped me escape when I got chased for stealing. We kept in touch after, became best friends." He explained to your boyfriend.

"You're the best friend??"

"You're the boyfriend?"

"You're a demigod...?"

Your weak voice got both boy's their attention.

Connor gulped. "Yeah. Son of Hermes." A weak smile grew on your lips. "Makes so much sense." You breath out.

Percy quickly got to your side. "Y/n.. how.. I-" "Some monsters attacked." You tried to get out. "What do you mean? They just randomly decided to attack you?" The boy asked, panick all over his face.

"They know I'm your girlfriend.. they've been coming at me for a while now, trying to get to you trough me." You explained, eyes only half open.

Your boyfriend's breath hitched. "Why-why didn't you tell me?" You tried to catch your breath. "Didn't want you.. worried.. finally had rest." "I don't care if I finally had rest. You're hurt Y/n!" He said, voice full of pain.

A knock was heard from the door and a nurse walked in. "Can I talk to an adult, please?" She asked at which Connor stood up and walked over to the older woman, closing the door behind him, but not without one last look at you.

"Connor's an adult?" You questioned. Percy nodded. "I know, suprising. He turned 18 recently. But that's not the point, I don't want you hurt anymore."

"I don't care about being hurt as long as you're safe." You protested, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

"Same goes for me. I can't watch you lying in a hospital all the time. You shouldn't be involved in this, you're not a demigod, you didn't figth in the wars, you didn't do anything wrong."

"And you did?"

"I'm the son of Poseidon."

"That doesn't mean you have to risk your life to save everyone." You snap at him.

"You lost so much. You gave so much. You're risking so much... You're mother sits at home, worrying sick about you, wondering if you're still alive or not. And so do I. I can't help but think about what might happen to you if I just look away for once.. I know I don't understand, I know I'm not a demigod. But I love you, and I can't just go around, giving you more trouble than you already have. So yes, I didn't tell you."

Percy gulped, trying to blink away tears that threatned to fall. "You're so dam stubborn." "So are you." You state. "But you're just so amazing." He finished, his lips finally finding yours.

You were to weak to even let your hand rest on his cheek, but he made sure to be gentle with you.

Only the moment was ruined when Connor walked in on it. Percy pulled away, clearing his troath. "Oh uhm.. Sory.." But his brows furrowed when he saw that Connor's eyes were red, as if trying to fight the urge to cry.

"Connor?"

Connor couldn't fight the urge to 'deliver his message'. No matter how heartbreaking it might be.

"The nurse said she might not make it."

That was the moment Percy's world fell appart. Not when he fought in his first war, not when he got stuck in Tartarus, no, when he found out you could die.

"No. No, no, no. She's fine, you looks fine. See, she just spoke full sentences and-" "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." Connor states, pain in his tone.

"But..no.. Y/n." He turned to look at you, and he noticed to tired expression on your face. "You can't leave me. You can't die on me." Percy was basically begging at this point.

"I told you I'd do that for you." You remind him. "I thought it was metaphorically." He protests. "Was it metaphorically when you said it?"

He stayed silent before turning to look at Connor again. "Teleport to camp. You can get some nectar or embrosia. She'll be fine before we know it."

Connor sniffed. "She's human. She wouldn't be able to take it."

"Percy.." Your fingers intertwined with his. "I'm so sorry to do this to you again." "No. Y/n. You don't have any reason to apoligize. And she said you might not make it. It's not a 100% sure." He tried but you shook your head.

"I actually feel like I'm dying Percy.."

A sob could be heard from the other side of the room. "Sorry." Connor apoligized. "I just.. don't leave.. please." He begged you.

Percy wondered how long you and Connor had known each other for him to get this emotional over you.

"4 years ago. Winter break when you were on that quest to find Artemis." You informed as if you could read his mind.

That long??

That was before you even started dating.

Percy gulped. "But- he never mentioned you." "I did. I think you might have been to caught up with other things.. that's okay.." The curly haired boy said, standing by your side.

A soft sigh left your lips. "You okay?" Both demigods instantly asked you. "I just wanna sleep.." You say as if that was supposed to reassure them.

"What if you don't wake up?" Connor asked you, scared of the thought. "Well.. Than steal a nice boquette of flowers for my grave. Oh and Percy, I liked that moonlace you got from... 'Calypso'."

They both had to gulp at the thought. "I'll boy you flowers when you wake up. I'll take you on a proper date. No monster, no quests. That's a promise." Percy states at which you had to smile.

"You're making the urge to never close my eyes again so irresistable." You smiled. "Good." He decided. "BUt I need to close them.. just for a bit.." You breath out, eyes already beginning o flutter shut.

"Wake up for me?" You squeezed his hand. "I'll try."

The son of Hermes looked at you with big eyes before looking back at Percy, and Percy knew what he wanted, so he gave him a nod in approval.

Connor placed a soft, platonic kiss on your forehead, earning a smile of yours. Percy then placed one onto your soft lips. "I love you." He wishpered. "Love you more.." And with that, your eyes closed.

For the gods know how long.

Idk what this is, I don't like it tho

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ezdotjpg · 1 year ago

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Hi!!! Sorry if you've been asked this before but is it possible for you to summarize the Bonus Links' personalities? Just asking because I'd like to get a general idea, apologies if this is too much of a pain to answer 😭🫶🏻

hey! luckily I already wrote up character intros a while back that I never posted to tumblr lol, so I'll go ahead and post them now! under the cut since this is mega long lol

Loft

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Skyward Sword

Age: 22

Height: 5’3”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: World’s Nicest Man Pushed To His Limit. It’s his nature to be light-hearted and easy-going, but ever since the events of Skyward Sword he’s been unable to let the implications of Demise’s curse and Zelda’s connection to Hylia go. He’s usually mild, but he’s got a lot of suppressed anger in him that comes out at inopportune times. He tends towards being optimistic, but has lately been caught in a depressive spiral. As a result of all these conflicting emotions, he hasn’t felt like himself in a while. Before everything, he could have been described as a little bit lazy, but these days a better word would be lethargic. He’s got a mischievous and thrill-seeking streak that often surprises people. He knows he’s powerful, but he’s lost some confidence in the years since his quest. He’s wracked with guilt about the way everything ended.

Slate

Pronouns: tends to use he/him, but really any

Game: Breath of the Wild (ignoring TotK for now)

Age: 21

Height: 5’0”

Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally

Personality: The Reviews Are In: Friendly Guy, Vaguely Off-Putting. He knows he’s not pre-calamity Link, but he’s not exactly sure what he is instead. He’s accepted this about himself, and it grinds his gears that other people refuse to. He’s not sure what to do with all these memories inside him that aren’t his, and that he feels nothing for. He’s become more expressive, but when he’s upset his face goes entirely blank. He has a tendency to be distracted, blunt, intense, impulsive, somewhat abrasive. But he’s not unkind, and can even be outright friendly. He’d offer his help to anyone who asks, and he makes it a point to know everyone in Hyrule. He’s happiest out in nature, and doesn’t mind the solitude. He only ever lies by omission, and otherwise says exactly what he means. There’s something a little otherworldly about him.

Mask

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask

Age: 15

Height: 5’2½”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Local Teen Needs Hug So Bad, Will Bite If You Try. He’s prickly, hot-tempered, moody. He’ll pick verbal battles he probably shouldn’t. Everything is a touchy subject. But he’s developed this behavior as a coping mechanism. He’s kind by nature, and it takes effort to lash out. The person he is with Malon- gentle, more soft-spoken, with a good sense of humor and a love for harmless mischief- is a lot closer to the person he’s comfortable being. He’s a scared kid. He feels out of place, both mature and immature, of this world and not. Sometimes, he gets scrambled between Termina, the Hyrule he’s in now, the Hyrule he left behind, and the Hyrule of the war. He has a lot of resentment for both the gods and the royal family, and all he wants is to be left alone.

Wolf

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Twilight Princess

Age: 23

Height: 5’5”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Thank God I’m A Country Boy. He’s a gentle soul, probably the gentlest out of all of them. He likes to be useful, and he has made being the problem solver of Ordon Village part of his identity. He’s a bit of a mother hen and likes to take care of people. Midna was good at bringing out a little bit of attitude and snark in him. He’s got a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, but he’s not an angry person. However, he’s had a hard time adjusting to life back in Ordon. He’s usually even-tempered, but lately he’s been irritable and easier to anger. He feels isolated by his experiences, and has been avoiding most of the villagers, including his loved ones, even though it makes him lonely. Mostly he just doesn’t want to take it out on them, but it’s also about his pride. He enjoys the company of animals far more these days. He wants a quiet life, and has been avoiding Zelda's attempts to make "Hero" a political role for him to fill.

War

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Hyrule Warriors

Age: 25

Height: 5’7”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally, had Proxi speak for him at one point during the war

Personality: Link “This Is My Jaeger, I Make The Tactical Decisions” Faron. He comes across as a very charming young man, witty, helpful, pleasant in conversation, well-adjusted. In reality, he is constantly doing complicated political 4D chess in his mind at all times, even when it’s not necessary. Many years of being subject to the whims of the Royal Court and pressure to be a perfect symbol have poisoned him: he’s become calculating, manipulative, superficially polite, two-faced. He has to be the one holding all the cards, considering all the variables, fixing all of the problems, because he can’t trust anyone else. If you were to strip him of all pretense, he'd actually be a dry, resigned person, perpetually annoyed with everyone around him. He values status and reputation, and he wants more power than he has. His appearance is important to him because he knows his pretty face is an asset. He holds deep respect for the gods and the mantle of the hero. He has a strong sense of duty, but one that often leads him to justify terrible actions. The ends justify the means.

Mirror

Pronouns: he/they

Game: A Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes

Age: 22

Height: 5’1”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Local Link Doing Pretty Well Actually, All Things Considered. He’s just living his life, having a mostly pleasant time. He used to be quiet and reserved when he was younger, but has come out of his shell in a big way. He’s a bit vain, and fond of doing things with a dramatic flair. They like to have an audience, they like to make people laugh, they like to have your attention. Rather than being poisoned by court politics, he thrives in them. He doesn’t pretend to be charming, he just is. They can be on the arrogant side. He’s interested in fashion and art more than fighting these days, but still keeps his skills up to date. He pretends the scar on his face doesn’t bother him, but it does. He’s particularly obsessed with the legend of the hero before him.

Mage

Pronouns: he/him

Game: A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons

Age: 32

Height: 5’3”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Weird Uncle You Just Stopped Hearing From One Day. He’s a difficult guy to get a read on. He comes off as deeply serious, imposing, no-nonsense. He is actually full of nonsense. The fact that no one can tell what is and isn’t part of the bit is part of the bit. He mostly ignores his own problems by dedicating his life to solving other people’s problems. He wanders from place to place, helping people and becoming a bit of a larger than life folk legend in his own right in the process. He’s leaned into learning magic more than the sword, and has built up quite the arsenal of spells. He doesn’t speak often, and is content to let other Links lead despite being the oldest and the most experienced. He’s difficult to rile and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of.

Spirit

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Spirit Tracks

Age: 17

Height: 4’11”

Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally. He has a stutter when he speaks.

Personality: Wants To Be Anywhere But Here, Preferably On A Train. He’s fully given up swordfighting, and basically just wants to go back to being a Royal Engineer like nothing happened. He has no interest in gaining any kind of attention, authority, or power from the mantle of the hero, and would actually prefer that everyone stop looking at him. He’s quiet, sweet-natured and generally non-confrontational, but he’s not afraid to stand up for himself when pushed. It’s just that it’s easier to let Zelda stand up for him instead. He’s pretty mature and in-tune with his emotions for a 17 year old. Seeing spirits everywhere, he has a lot of private thoughts about grief and death that he doesn’t share with anyone. The gears in his brain are constantly turning, and once he’s stuck on an idea, it’s all he can focus on. He often doesn’t give himself enough credit for how capable he is. Please let him tell you about trains.

Mini

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Minish Cap

Age: 14

Height: 4’3”

Communication: Only signs, mute.

Personality: He’s Just A Little Guy, Only 2 Pixels Tall. Mini doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s not very expressive in the face, and it can be hard to tell what he’s thinking or feeling. Mostly, he’s a little rascal. He likes to root around in the garbage and build strange little machines from what he finds. He spends a lot of time hanging out with the Minish, moreso than humans. It’s a little bit of an escapism thing. He hasn’t really processed what it meant to become the hero so young, and is actively trying to avoid doing so. He’s very independent, and simply doesn’t compute attempts to coddle him.

Wake

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Wind Waker, Phantom hourglass

Age: 20

Height: 5’5”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Everyone’s Favorite Cousin At The Family Function. He’s a fun person to be around. Friendly, energetic, laid back, good-natured, outgoing. He is always up for a good shenanigan. But he can get serious when he needs to, and often plays the important role of mediator in group dynamics. He’s the glue that holds the team together! He seems to take everything in stride, and presents himself as unbothered by the things that have happened to him. Whether that’s actually true, or he’s just compartmentalized everything too well remains to be seen. He has a strange way of being very open, and yet a closed book at the same time. He’s sentimental, and family is important to him

#hope this helps #and that my summaries aren't too rambly #long post #astronomically so probably #all links #bonus lore #bonuslinksdotjpg

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ur-local-wizard · 6 months ago

Text

Eye of the Storm (Part 3)

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

Eeek the last part of this story! Had a blast writing it, and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it!

characters are college age, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, FLUFFFFFFFFF, kissing, characters are adults, pretty sure that's it

w/c: 1.2k

nav masterlist

°˖➶ part 1 part 2

As you passed him, the sketchbook gripped tightly in your hands, you noticed something foreign on his face. His expression was stripped of his usual confidence and sarcasm. He looked almost panicked as he closed the door behind you.

The room was in utter disarray. Drawers were thrown open, clothes and papers were scattered across the floor. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d been searching for something.

So, avoiding his gaze, you thrusted the book in front of you, practically ripping your hands away when he took it. “You left it in Divination,” was your only explanation. His eyes darted between your face and the object in his hands, surprise clear in his eyes. The tension in his room was so palpable, you felt you could hardly breathe. He seemed to flounder around for a second, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

“Did you look at it?” His voice was eerily calm, but the discomfort his body carried was clear as day. He set the book down on his desk, falling back into the chair beside it, and his eyes failed to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say awkwardly, standing in front of him. You felt guilty when his face fell, but there was no point in lying. “It fell out of my hands,” the words were tumbling from your mouth quickly as you tried to explain yourself. “When it landed on the ground, it was open. And I just got curious. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.” He carded a hand through his already messy hair, and finally he looked up at you.

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “You’re so talented, Mattheo. But I don’t understand. Why me? And how the hell do you know all that about me-” The words slipped out before you could stop them, disjointed and fast. But they conveyed the confusion and fear warring inside you; something that you couldn’t have said out loud.

He cut you off, his gaze softening. “I can’t help it. You confuse me. And God, you’re everywhere, in every fucking corner of my brain. The way you smile, your laugh. I’m reminded of you by almost everything I see.” His voice trailed off, and you stayed silent. You didn’t know what to say to that. “I tried ignoring it, I really did. But eventually, I just couldn’t. So I drew; it was the only way I knew how to deal with all these emotions.” His voice broke, and it was like a tangible thing – the rare moment of vulnerability he allowed you to see. You wanted to scoop it up and put it in your pocket. You wanted to be able to save it for later, to be able to pull it out and see it whenever you wanted.

“You know I’m not good with emotions. I’ve never felt these types of things before. But now that I do with you, I don’t understand it,” he whispered, head falling down to look at his lap. “It’s terrifying.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him wide-eyed and flushed as his words settled over you like a heavy blanket. Perhaps the blanket was made of fire, you didn’t quite know yet. Nor did you know what to say, or how to respond to something that raw and unexpected. All you could do was sit there, trying to connect the personified chaos known as Mattheo Riddle with the boy sitting before you now, one who was vulnerable, honest, and so very human.

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m flattered, Mattheo. But it’s all just so overwhelming,” you confessed, voice hushed. His head snapped up, his dark eyes searching yours, disbelief swimming in them. “It’s just—you're so unpredictable. There’s such a disconnect from what you say you feel and what you do. You act like you don’t care about anything, but then you do something like this,” you nodded to the sketchbook. “You notice things that I didn’t think anyone could. I don’t know how to handle that.”

His lips parted slightly, as if about to say something, but ultimately he decided against it. He stood up and made his way to you, sitting down beside you on the bed. His movements were cautious and measured, as if he was worried he would scare you off.

“I know I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” he started, his voice low and gentle. “At feelings. At being vulnerable with people who actually matter to me.” He stopped, taking a deep breath. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “But you matter to me, Y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

His words made your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his voice making you feel things it would be impossible to name. You liked this side of him, you wanted to know this side of him more ,and you just wished it weren’t so confusing.

So when you voiced that out loud, he nodded. “Of course. And I’m sorry. It was overwhelming for me, but I want you to know that side of me too. Here,” He said, grabbing the sketchbook from his desk and placing it in your hands. “You don’t have to give it back. If this is too much, you can keep it. Burn it if you want, even. I’ll understand.”

You closed your hands around the book, but blinked at him in confusion. “Why would I burn it?”

“You know… cause it’s weird,” he explained, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, who spends hours drawing a girl he doesn’t have the guts to talk to properly?”

“Mattheo…” His name fell from your lips like a sweet prayer as you chuckled. His eyes snapped to yours, filled with a mix of hope and fear. “It’s okay. It’s overwhelming, sure, but not weird.” You paused and smiled at him. “And honestly? It’s kind of endearing.”

“Really?” He asked you, and you nodded in response.

“You’re incredibly talented, Mattheo. The way you paint the world in this sketchbook of yours,” you placed it in his lap, “the way you paint me, is breathtaking.” With a flushed face, you offered him a smile.

He didn’t say anything for a long while. But eventually, he cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you. It was gentle, reverent almost, but fleeting – gone before you could process what was happening.

“Keep it,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your lips. “I want you to have it. You deserve to see yourself as beautiful as I see you .”

The tension in the air seemed to lift then, the weighted blanket from before dissipating. The air was now filled with something warmer, something quieter, more serene. You felt peaceful now, and the look in his eyes said he felt the same.

You grabbed the notebook from his lap and flipped to a specific page, showing it to him. “This was my favorite of the ones I saw. You even put my favorite flowers in the vase,” you said. He nodded in response, a wide smile on his lips. “I know. That’s why I included them.”

Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated, and thank you to everyone for all the wonderful support! It truly means the absolute world to me. And as always, let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

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fear-is-truth · 6 months ago

Note

What do you think would happen during a movie night with the Evans? I mean in a "what would you watch?" and "what would be the general reactions to the movie?" way, not a "would you fuck on the couch?" kind of way.

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans x movie date .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ james march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers ‧ luke cooper

a/n: thank you for the req !! i love movies (ty for clarifying too lol) warnings — murder mention

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate would definitely pick something horror-centric, like the blair witch project, pet sematary, night of the living dead, or the exorcist.

as the movie progresses, he’d be pretty quiet, watching you more than the screen.

won’t forget to drop morbid little comments that makes him sound like a complete sociopath.

the second you show the slightest sign of fear, tate is on full alert. it’s like a switch flips. he might still tease you a little, like “don’t tell me you’re scared of that,”

if you flinch or jump, it’s his cue to wrap you up in his arms, assuring you the scary stuff isn’t real. in some kind of fucked-up way, it’s almost like he enjoys seeing you vulnerable, but only bc he wants to protect you from the scary stuff.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would definitely lean toward the hopeful, heartwarming side of things. think shawshank redemption or green book that’s got that feel-good vibe, something that makes you believe in the good of people. he’d also want to watch something uplifting, like the pursuit of happiness or forrest gump—movies where the character fights through adversity and comes out on top.

you’d have a big bowl of popcorn to go with the movie. and a few blankets.

he would be super involved. probably a little emotional, especially with movies that tug at his heartstrings. “this part always gets me,” he’d admit, wiping his eyes discreetly if he got too caught up in the feels.

post-movie, he’d want to discuss the themes and characters. “you see how they never gave up hope? that’s the kind of message we all need.”

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

frat!kyle’s movie taste would likely be a mix of blockbuster sci-fi and superhero films. he likes action, adventure, the sort of movies you can quote with your friends or wear merch to.

i think he’d like franchises like star wars, indiana jones, jurassic park, the avengers, men in black etc.

lots of cuddling.

⟢ franken .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

something light and nostalgic like a studio ghibli movie. like ponyo or my neighbor totoro.

(because im the writer and i said so. )

he’d make it cozy with lots of blankets and snacks. the whole vibe would be super comfy. kyle would be super focused the movie, glancing over at you every now and then to make sure you’re having a good time as well.

when something cute or magical happens in the film, you’d hear his soft “aww” or “look at that,” because he gets genuinely excited.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james wouldn’t actively seek out movies, sneering about how they lack the depth and refinement of true art forms like poetry or opera.

he’d explicitly detest hollywood, finding it gaudy and tasteless, particularly because of his ex-wife elizabeth’s infatuation with rudolph valentino.

however, if you wanted to watch something, he’d grudgingly agree, more for your sake than his own. his curiosity would be piqued by gory horror films—saw, hostel, or the texas chainsaw massacre.

as the movie progressed and the gore got more creative, his interest would visibly pique. he’d lean forward, eyes narrowing, as if studying the screen like a scholar. might even occasionally pause the movie to dissect a particularly inventive murder, speculating about the tools used or admiring the “execution” (pun intended)

the intricate methods of destruction would catch his interest. he’d remark about the “artistry” of a scene involving a particularly gruesome demise and might even murmur under his breath about how the filmmakers had some semblance of vision after all.

“ah, see how the arterial spray creates that beautiful arc on the wall?” or “the creativity in dismemberment is… admirable,”

he’d almost certainly take mental notes, planning to incorporate some of these techniques into his own macabre masterpieces.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would pick something like the social network, the matrix, fight club, or american psycho. we’re talking straight-up incel film bro material.

kai wouldn’t just watch the movie—he’d analyse the hell out of it. he’s the guy who makes watching movies an intellectual exercise but secretly just wants you to agree with him.

would definitely test you during the film, asking, “do you get it?” or “what would you do in this situation?”

the matrix? he’s mansplaining about the red pill and how people are blind sheep in the “system.” the social network? he’s cackling when eduardo gets screwed over by zuckerberg, saying, “he deserved it for being soft.” american psycho? he’d call it a critique of society.

he’d be so obnoxious during fight club, quoting lines like, “the things you own, own you,” and trying to explain to you how it applies to your life.

he’d fw tyler durden HEAVY. unironically.

⟢ 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

the three-time tony award winner would gravitate toward films that scream high art—think something like the seventh seal by ingmar bergman or 8½ by fellini—stuff that almost feel like a performance or a commentary on cinema itself.

old-school classics, like citizen kane or the godfather—the ones that’ve stood the test of time. they’ve got that “cinematic art” thing that makes him feel like he’s part of some exclusive club.

if it’s a more recent flick, though, it’s gotta have substance. i think he’d enjoy black swan because it’s dark, intense, and shows true artistic struggle.

he’d admire the actors, the cinematography, whatever gives off that “artsy” vibe. if it’s too mainstream or shallow, though, forget about it. he’s not wasting his time on that.

even during the movie, he’d find ways to bring up the “black pill”. “this is why creative people—real artists—need something more than just hard work. black pill, that’s the real key to unlocking that next level of creativity.”

⟢ 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑.

luke would still call citizen kane his favourite movie, but not in a pretentious film snob way—he’s genuinely proud of himself for loving a “classic.” he’d talk about how his grandpa introduced it to him as a kid, and how it gave him the revelation that movies could be more than just entertainment.

his other favourite is the boondock saints, which he doesn’t try to justify with highbrow reasoning.

during movie nights, luke would occasionally point out a few obscure behind-the-scenes facts only because he couldn’t help himself, but otherwise let you watch in peace.

would 100% use the “resting his arm and casually drapes around your shoulder” tactic.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

Sum of All 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your legs feel empty, like there’s no blood flowing beneath your waist. You walk beside Rogers, feeling as if you might fall on your face at any time. That’s probably not a good idea seeing as you’ve already knocked out twice within the last hour or two.

He stops and steps ahead of you. He points to a door before he pushes it open, “in here.”

You enter as he waits. For a moment, you worry it could be a sinister trick. That he’ll slam the door and lock you in. But why would he do that? Well, why would he beat a man in the middle of the street?

Thinking of it again, you feel nauseous.

You look around the room. There’s a desk with folders stacked on it. The chair looks like it was manufactured during your great grandfather’s war and the rug can’t be much newer. The curtains are damask and the walls are real hardwood.

“It’s... nice,” you say, “vintage. Looks like the floor’s been refinished.”

“You’re not here to discuss the decor,” he retorts.

“Of course,” you agree as you twiddle your fingers. “What exactly am I here for, er, sir?”

“You’re an accountant.” He states.

“I am.”

He sighs and crosses to the desk. You cautiously follow. You could tip over all over again.

“Sir, do you mind if I sit?” You ask.

He just waves a hand toward the chair. You thank him and gratefully claim the seat. Who knew fainting was so exhausting?

“Man named Warren. I need you to tally it all up. Tell me what you find.” He explains.

“Alright, so I’m balancing his ledger,” you nod.

“Sure,” Rogers sniffs and tucks his hands into his pockets. He backs up and paces across the end of the rug. “You need some water? You gonna check out again?”

“Oh, I have some,” you put your briefcase on the desk and pull out your water bottle. “Thank you. That’s super kind. I can, uh, start on all this.”

He turns back to you, “fine.”

You smile as best you can as his hand runs up his lapel and draws your attention. Again, his knuckles fill you with queasiness. The bruises are the cherry on top of this whole messed up situation.

He pulls his hand back and looks at it. You realise he caught you staring. You clear your throat.

“Looks pretty bad,” he remarks.

“Um, yeah. Pretty bad,” you agree softly. “Look like they’re swelling. Could probably use some ice.”

He examines his hand further and clicks his tongue, “probably.” He drops his arm. “Well, get to work. Don’t got time to waste.”

“Got it,” you assure him and reach for a folder.

He goes and you glance up right as he disappears through the door. He might be gone but your anxiety lingers. These are dangerous men, this is a dangerous place.

While you wouldn’t want an old lady like Geraldine caught up in all of this, why did it have to be you? It’s just like Mr. Brenner to be tangled up with criminals. And now you’re looking through promissory letters and gum wrappers with scribbles on them. This isn’t going to be easy, especially without a computer.

Rogers returns. He sits in the leather armchair near the window. He holds a bundle wrapped in a cloth against his hand. It must be ice.

You pull out a receipt. Half of it is illegible beneath the crimson stain. Little droplets trail over the numbers you can kind of make out. Oh.

“Is that blood?” You ask out loud, then feel yourself plunging forward.

Your head hits the desk. You’re a bit foggy but still awake. You gurgle and push yourself up. You fall stiffly back against the chair and it lurches with your weight.

Rogers appears across the desk from you. You stare at him as you grip the armrest and blow out between your lips. He squints as he comes around to your side.

“Hey, sweetheart, stay with me,” he grabs your chin and you whimper. “Eh, don’t--”

He taps your cheek with his fingers. It’s a gentle gesture. His hand is cold from the ice.

“I’m good,” your murmur. “I just... I’m not a violent person.” You carefully touch his wrist and he lets you go. “Not that I’m saying anything about you. Or what happened earlier. I’m just... look at me, right? Just an accountant.”

He nods.

“You think I overreacted,” he intones.

“I didn’t say... it’s none of my business, right?” You move aside the bloody receipt and wheel closer to the desk. “Numbers are my business.”

He hums, “sure.”

You concentrate, or pretend to, on the folder before you. There’s a lot to sort out, and you mean, more than the clutter. Your mind is racing and you can’t quite decipher anything you’re reading with the fear coursing through you.

“I’ll be back,” he says abruptly as he backs away. “Don't leave this room.”

You don’t need him to give the command. You wouldn’t dare wander around this place on your own. You nod, “I won’t, sir.”

He spins on his heel and struts across the office. You only look up as he gets to the door. He leaves and you lean back in the chair. You can’t let your panic take over. The quicker you get through this, the quicker you can get out of here, and hopefully, never ever come back.

You set yourself straight, fixing your posture, and set to your mission. You might not have the most experience, but you’re determined and you do know what you’re doing. All those places that never replied or sent you those template rejections, they have no idea.

You hunker down, filling the margins in the ledger, row by row. You are enthralled the more you do. It’s like a story unfolding before you. Dates, amounts, locations. Huh, well, this might be some bad news. You really don’t want to be the one to deliver it.

Don’t be too eager. That’s only the first folder. You scratch down another number and flinch as something lands on the desk.

You sit up and stare at the paper bag. Rogers watches you across the desk. Your brows twitch in confusion. He huffs and opens the top of the bag.

“Figured you might not pass out if you eat something,” he takes out a wrapped bagel and holds it out. “Cream cheese, sesame seed.”

“Oh, yum, I mean, thanks,” you accept it. “That’s really... considerate.”

“I can be,” his eyes narrow.

“Of course, I wasn’t saying... anything. Just thank you,” you slowly unwrap the bagel.

He takes out his own and sits in the armchair. You peel back the paper and take a quarter of the bagel. You bite into it, careful not to get any crumbs on the desk.

It might not be the best day, very close to the worst, but you can’t complain for a free meal.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #au #mob au #sum of all #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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bones4thecats · 2 months ago

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❥· His My Treasure, Hephaestus × F! S/O

Character(s): Hephaestus (⚒️), Ares (⚔️) A/N: This was a piece I've wanted to write for such a long time. I had to make an outline of the story so I could fill in the bits and pieces to fit in with it. I hope you guys like this little love-piece for my favorite Greek deity; Hephaestus! (P.S.: This is by-far the longest part, consisting of 2,618 words and 14912 characters.). ╰┈⊳ " Being Ares' Ex and current spouse of Hephaestus. "

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⚒️⚔️ Relationships on Mt. Olympus are rocky to say the least. And there is no relationship more rocky than the one between parent and child; Hera, Zeus, and Hephaestus.

⚒️⚔️ Hephaestus, the second-born to both Hera and Zeus, was said to be disfigured shortly after birth. Zeus' violence, erupting at the audacity his son proposed by defending Hera from him, overtook him. He had gripped his son's leg; one hand on his ankle and another on his calf, and threw him off of the mountain and towards the mortal-land below.

⚒️⚔️ On the way down, the future God of the Forge would end up damaging his body. The first to break was his leg, bending backwards in a way that it shouldn't have been possible. Next was his wrist, then shoulder, and finally his hip. Due to the fractures in his body, he gained issues when functioning; his leg was to be replaced by a prosthetic made by his own hands later on, his wrist would pop anytime moved, his shoulder the same, while his hip was wrapped in a brace, gifted by his younger brother, Apollo.

⚒️⚔️ While Hephaestus landed on the island of Lemnos and was raised by his foster moms, the Oceanid Eurynome and the Nereid Thetis, the issue of marriage arose on Olympus. Aphrodite, the Goddess of Lust, was wanted by many Gods; both old and young.

⚒️⚔️ Because of the tension rising, Zeus was annoyed once again. He sat on his throne as he heard screaming. Standing up, he burst into the nearby room. There, soaring above all, was a golden throne. Inside of it was the Queen of the Gods, Hera herself. She yelled and damned her second son for his insolence while others laughed at the predicament.

⚒️⚔️ "You damned child! Let me out of this at once!" She screamed.

⚒️⚔️ "...Nah."

⚒️⚔️ Zeus sighed and rolled his eyes, walking up to the side of his son; the same side he had damaged from tossing him from Mt. Olympus years prior. "Son, what can I do to... assist in her release?" He asked.

⚒️⚔️ Hephaestus shrugged, asking what he had to give. Zeus offered many things, ranging from his own set of mountains to rule over and have to himself to even the replacement of his damaged limbs. "No," Hephaestus replied. "I'm used to using this now. Don't wanna mix up my senses."

⚒️⚔️ Zeus groaned, his long hair swaying as he looked around rapidly. It took him a mere few minutes before he caught the sight of three of his other sons arguing; Ares holding both Apollo and Dionysus in headlocks as they yelled. He knew what it was all about; Aphrodite.

⚒️⚔️ "I've got it!" He said, snapping his fingers as he looked into his son's stoic eyes. "How about I gift you something you'd never be able to get on your own; a wife! Specifically Aphrodite!"

⚒️⚔️ Hephaestus looked behind his father, catching sight of the Goddess of Beauty, and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure." He agreed. At the single-worded answer, the throne that glued Hera inside fell to the floor, sending the Goddess to the floor as well, but this time free from the chair's seating area.

⚒️⚔️ "Excellent. The wedding shall be held in four days time." Zeus cheered, patting Hephaestus' back as he groaned and looked away. "Good luck, son."

⚒️⚔️ It's been hundreds of years since the union on the two opposite deities. A mere fraction of that time belonged to the union of the God of War, Ares, and the Goddess of Womanhood, Music, and Healing, Y/N.

⚒️⚔️ Known for her kindness and gentle voice, she were beloved by many, especially the Queen of the Gods. She was the one who introduced her to her eldest son, and was also the one who had arranged for their marriage to the black-haired deity.

⚒️⚔️ And it was Hera who accidentally set the course for the day the polite, shy Goddess, would snap.

⚒️⚔️ Hephaestus was busy working away in his forge on Olympus, ignoring all around him. His mind was all focused on the weapons he was making for his half-sister, Athena. He needed to get the carvings in just right before putting the blade together with the handle.

⚒️⚔️ Because of the isolation that Hephaestus had neglected to see anything wrong going on his wife, not noticing how much more relaxed she seemed when he'd get home from the workshop to rest. Mainly because he was forced to by his dear youngest sister, Hebe.

⚒️⚔️ "You must get some rest." She'd say, a calming smile on her face as she would lightly pull his hand from his tools to bring him out of the sweltering room. Alongside her in these events was her husband, Heracles, who silently assisted his wife to bring the God of the Forge to his home for rest.

⚒️⚔️ When he was brought home the week prior, Hebe and Heracles were sent to handle some other political affairs with Hades, whom needed assistance with Pirithous and Theseus down in the Underworld. "They were being to noisy with their beliefs in wives again," he wrote. In the meanwhile, Hephaestus focused on his work, ignoring all attempts to push him out of the shop.

⚒️⚔️ Light covered the shop heavier than normal, alerting Hephaestus. He looked upwards and saw that a Titan God, specifically Helios, was standing behind him with a sly smile on his face.

⚒️⚔️ The second-born of Hera cocked an eyebrow and brushed his eye-guard away from his face and asked the deity what he needed. "Oh, I just found out something that is quite... interesting to say the least."

⚒️⚔️ "Spit it out. I don't have all day to listen to meaningless rumors." Hephaestus replied, laying his hammer and tongs to the side.

⚒️⚔️ "You are married to Aphrodite, correct?"

⚒️⚔️ "Yes."

⚒️⚔️ "Well, as the brother to Ares and husband to Aphrodite, you may take this terribly. Oh well! 'Honesty is the key', as Selene would say."

⚒️⚔️ "Again, spit it out."

⚒️⚔️ Helios laughed, floating in the air as he continued his words. "I witnessed a particular Goddess of Procreation and God of War accompanying one another in the bedroom, doing what only the married folks should."

⚒️⚔️ "...What?"

⚒️⚔️ "They were having intercourse. Quite vocally, might I add."

⚒️⚔️ Hephaestus' emotions froze, his blue eyes that came from his father were widened. After a moments time nothing moved, Helios cocked an eyebrows and waved his light-skin hands in front of his face.

⚒️⚔️ "You good-"

⚒️⚔️ "Get out."

⚒️⚔️ Fists were balled, and Helios caught sight of them. Instead of trying to calm the God down, he smiled and swiftly left, light following behind him like a cloak as he returned to his sky-high kingdom. Meanwhile, Hephaestus' mind began to wander. He grabbed a piece of paper and began to write down everything that came to his head; and a single plan hung high above the rest of the quick, anger-filled writings.

⚒️⚔️ Pushing his forge to the brink of breaking, he created a long, thin chain. It was invisible to the naked eyes unless someone were looking for it, and he smirked as he made sure it was unbreakable. From striking it with blades, hammers, and throwing it inside of the flames to melt.

⚒️⚔️ Step One: Make a trap. Check.

⚒️⚔️ Step Two: Catch the lovers in the act.

⚒️⚔️ Laying the chain's end down in the curtain, Hephaestus chuckled. He had finally gotten it all done. Each step to get to his goal done; successful. Now, all he had to do was step out and wait for his net of unbreakable chains to catch the affair-actors in the act.

⚒️⚔️ "Aphrodite!" He called, catching the attention of the self-interesting Goddess. "I'm going to Lemnos for a business trip; delivering creations and all. I'll be back in around a week."

⚒️⚔️ She nodded and said goodbye, still staring at herself in her mirror, adjusting her fluffy burnt umber hair. And Hephaestus left, going around the corner instead of heading to his chariot led by donkeys. He kept his ears open as he heard bushes rustle and a masculine voice mix with a feminine's.

⚒️⚔️ Before he even realized it, he heard the screams of both Ares and Aphrodite.

⚒️⚔️ Walking back inside his home, his wrist popped as he closed the door. His eyes looked up at the two deities wrapped up in the chains, anger on their expressions as they yelled at Hephaestus to let them go; much like how Hera did all those years ago.

⚒️⚔️ "What a predicament you both are in." He said, a smirk teasing his face as he called for Hermes to come to his home. Hermes did listen and cackled as he called the rest of the Olympian deities to see the lovers caught in the unbreakable chains made by Hephaestus himself.

⚒️⚔️ It was as some deities left that Poseidon finally spoke about what it would take to free his nephew and niece-in-law. Hephaestus scoffed, arms crossed as he rolled his eyes and spoke with anger tinting his voice. "I signed up for a loyal wife; one that would not have an affair, nonetheless with my own brother!"

⚒️⚔️ "I understand that part of you, nephew. I truly do. But, you must have some price to get the two out of the net."

⚒️⚔️ "I do; a refund."

⚒️⚔️ "A... refund?"

⚒️⚔️ "I want the marriage over, without any fault being put on my side. I want this to be something behind me. Father owes this to me."

⚒️⚔️ "This wasn't exactly your father's fault, more so your brother's. How about Ares pays while your father just eradicates the marriage?"

⚒️⚔️ Hephaestus scoffed once again, staring into his uncle's eyes as he bitterly disagreed. After all, what if Ares didn't end up paying him his dues?

⚒️⚔️ "If Ares doesn't pay, I will; straight from my pockets."

⚒️⚔️ "Fine."

⚒️⚔️ On the opposite side of Olympus, a woman cried in the arms of a brunette Goddess named Hestia. Two more females were beside her, one being the Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis, and the Goddess of Wisdom, Athena. Their eyes were filled with sympathy as the woman sobbed, face buried in the chest of the eldest Goddess.

⚒️⚔️ She hushed the younger female, patting her head a she asked what had happened to prompt such a sadness.

⚒️⚔️ "It was Ares..." She spoke. "He and Aphrodite... they're having an affair. I caught them in my own bed!"

⚒️⚔️ "What?!" Artemis yelled, eyes glowing a blinding white as her shoulder was grasped by her eldest sibling. Athena growled under her breath, scolding her brother before she sighed and relaxed her expression.

⚒️⚔️ "Do you know where he is now?" She asked. She nodded and pulled away from the motherly hold of her aunt-in-law, wiping her tears and she stood and spoke, telling the three Goddesses her husband was last seen by her heading towards Hephaestus and Aphrodite's residence.

⚒️⚔️ "Understood." Athena replied, looking at her aunt and telling her and her in-law to stay there for now, for her and her half-sister shall handle their half-brother. Hestia nodded, but the Goddess of Healing disagreed, saying she would help handle it. After all, he was her husband.

⚒️⚔️ "Fine." Artemis replied, "Just, stay next to us."

⚒️⚔️ "Ares." Athena said, hand gripping her spear tightly as she glared at her brother from behind. He stood, unwrapping the loosened chains from his arm and glared at his younger brothers with anger before turning around. Then he saw her standing there.

⚒️⚔️ His wife, the woman he called his, whom he took pride in being with, so much so that he had a child with; his son. Named after the pride he felt in his family, Aristotle, meaning "best purpose", was the perfect blend of the partners. Now, he saw his wife there, heartbroken, and anger flashing in her usually soft eyes.

⚒️⚔️ "How could you?" Athena continued.

⚒️⚔️ "W-what are you talking about?" He tried to avoid, feigning obliviousness, much to the upset of the remaining deities.

⚒️⚔️ "You know what she's talking about, wussy!" Artemis yelled.

⚒️⚔️ Y/N raised her hand, silencing all around her. Stepping up to her husband, her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth gritted. She then lifted her arm, opened her palm, and...

SMACK!

⚒️⚔️ Ares' head slammed to the opposite side as where his wife's hand came from. His eyes were wide as she began to tear up again, "I want a divorce."

⚒️⚔️ "W-what...?"

⚒️⚔️ "This. Is. Over. Goodbye, Ares."

⚒️⚔️ "But what about Aristotle?!" He yelled his question, glaring at his wife angrily.

⚒️⚔️ "He stays with me. I don't want a douche like you influencing my boy."

⚒️⚔️ Poseidon's eyes were wide, he had never expected one of his favorite deities to be so brutal with her words. While he knew she was strong, he had never seen it with his own eyes before this.

⚒️⚔️ "Good day, Ares."

⚒️⚔️ Sitting beside Hera, her eyes were filled with pity, much like her two step-daughters and sister. She couldn't help but feel guilty. She had pushed his in-law and Ares into the marriage, and she was the Goddess of the unions! How could she have not noticed the obvious issues between not only her and Ares, but Aphrodite and Hephaestus.

⚒️⚔️ "Again, I apologize for the forced event, Y/N." She said.

⚒️⚔️ "It's alright, Lady Hera. It wasn't your fault, it was more Ares and Aphrodite than anything."

⚒️⚔️ Hera breathed out a laugh and smiled, she then reached to her right, grabbing her paper with a letter from her second-born son. On the papers, it stated how close you two have grown; talking about the shared journeys away from your ex-lovers inspired the Queen to take one more risk.

⚒️⚔️ "Do you believe you can marry another?"

⚒️⚔️ "I'm not sure."

⚒️⚔️ "Well, if you were to marry another; who would it be?" She asked, lifting her glass to her small kylix filled with nectar to her lips.

⚒️⚔️ The Goddess of Womanhood flushed as she thought. "While I do enjoy the company of Hermes and Apollo, I wouldn't marry them. And when examining the other Gods, there is only one that I can even comprehend marrying..."

⚒️⚔️ "Hephaestus?"

⚒️⚔️ "...yes."

⚒️⚔️ Hera smiled, chuckling at the flustered face of her now-ex-daughter-in-law and planned future-daughter-in-law. She grasped the letter and her idea could finally come back into motion; marrying the two deities who unknowingly allied their emotions to one another's.

⚒️⚔️ Children's laughs echoed in the halls of Mt. Olympus; each coming from four children playing with one another. Two boys and two girls happily messed with the gifts their father had made for them just the day prior.

⚒️⚔️ "I see they like their gifts." A female voice said, her arms wrapping around her husband's arm.

⚒️⚔️ "Yes, I'm very happy they do. I worried they would dislike them. Sibling's influence and all."

⚒️⚔️ The woman giggled, lightly pulling her husband's head down to hers, allowing a kiss to occur. Their lips moved against one another's gently, love spiraling through their minds as the man wrapped his arms around her midsection while the woman's hands wrapped around her lover's head.

⚒️⚔️ "Ew!" Children's voices squealed, eyes staring at their parents while the eldest; the only half-sibling, smiled and chuckled alongside his own wife at their actions.

⚒️⚔️ The couple pulled away, laughing as they heard their children's reactions.

⚒️⚔️ "I love you, Hephaestus."

⚒️⚔️ "I love you too, my treasure."

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#Greek Mythology #Greek Myths #The 12 Olympians #Greek Mythology x Reader #Greek Myths x Reader #The 12 Olympians x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #God! Reader #Hephaestus #Hephaestus x Reader

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shaylogic · 2 years ago

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Queer Experience Watching Barbie - AFAB Masculinity

I started to go into this in tags on another post but I wanted to type this up separately and try to develop my thoughts a little more. . .

Ryan!Ken’s arc in Barbie (2023) has been buzzing in my head for days.

I got fixated on it for a couple of major reasons:

1) We rarely have seen a feminist movie take time to address men with compassion in how patriarchy harms them too.

2) As a trans masc person, I think it hits a specific part of my identity that I don’t consciously let myself think about for too long. Something about being raised in a female world with sisterhood and community. Then being isolated in adult manhood without the tools to prepare you for that. Conscientious of respecting women and being unbothered by feminimity around you, but not knowing your place in the world.

How do I put it?

I know it’s not the direct intention of the film itself, but I’ve seen other trans folks (especially transmasc), reacting similarly to the feeling we get from it.

Ken’s arc feels pretty reminicent of the struggle afab lgbt folks go through when considering masculinity in their identity (butch lesbians, afab nbs, trans men, etc.)

How to make peace with masculine aspects of yourself without losing the women in your life? (One can argue Kate McKinnon’s Weird Barbie has aspects of this as well.)

Of course, then Ken goes off on the adopting patriarchy ride, which IS the point of the movie, and may skew a bit from the transmasc read on it--though I have known a trans guy here and there who avoids being misgendered so hard that they can become somewhat sexist. To which I say: “You don’t need to have a dick to be a man, and you don’t need to BE a dick to be a man.” But I digress.

Something about Ken being comfortable in a woman’s world but not understanding why he’s being shut out from socially bonding with them (in any sense! Romantic, Familial, Platonic Friendship. . .)

The overall theme of the movie for both Barbie and Ken--in an allegory of heavy gender roles harming all--leading them each to have to figure out who they are in themselves, regardless of others. . .

Trans masc folx can relate to both Barbie and Ken’s arcs.

I don’t want to detract from Barbie’s arc being the main point of the movie.

I think the reason why we get hung up on Ryan!Ken’s character is because. . . we’ve related to the Barbie plot in other movies and shows before, thinking back to our “girlhoods” as children.

I have never seen the arc Ken has in this in any other story!!!!

There are some Man Movies that have attempted to discuss the struggle of Being a Man--but they often come off as too dismissive of feminine experiences, and are therefore as offputting to transmasc people as women.

Because of the nature of the two worlds exhibited in this movie, and Ken’s backround in his setting, personality, and purpose in relation to the Barbies, he’s a Man living with Female Socialization, in a Woman’s World; he’s a male character that inherently admires and respects women in his nature (until the real world influence distorts it).

This isn’t a perfect example of a transmasc experience either, but it’s a lot closer than most of us generally get to see! That’s why so many of us are getting caught up in this.

Please, other trans folx (transfems, too!), I really need us to have a discussion about this. What were your experiences and thoughts around this movie?

P.S. Yeah, we kinda get that nonbinary allegory from Allan (not a Ken, not a Barbie, siding with Feminism in the Gender War), but he wasn’t in significant focus of the plot the way Ryan!Ken was. If I try to read into Allan, I don’t have much to work with.

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commandershepardvasfuckit · 8 months ago

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An Arranged Marriage, part 13

M!troll x f!reader

1.6k words

Zen has been spending much more time at home over the last week. With all the extra time together you’ve had the chance to really start enjoying his company, and enjoying that he prefers to be shirtless a lot.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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Zen laid sprawled across the bed on his back mulling over reports. It was nice to see him like this, just taking up space finally after spending a month making himself smaller around you. You liked watching him, just seeing him at ease, just taking in all the little details about him.

“You’ve been home a lot recently” you remarked.

“I am sorry, I do not mean to crowd you” he said.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. It’s been nice having you home more”. Over the last week Zen had not been rushing right out after breakfast, he had been coming home for lunch, coming back earlier for dinner, and even on two days stayed home all day.

“That makes me happy to hear” he was looking over at you now, a soft smile on his face.

“So has there just not been much going on with the council recently?”

“It has been the same, there is always something to do”.

“Is it alright then that you’re home so much?”

“I have more than enough time for my duties, both to my people and to my wife”.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble, you used to spend all day at the hold with the council”.

“There was never a need for that. I just was trying to give you space. I just did my best to stay out and not bother you”.

“I’m sorry” you apologized, you had not realized he had been avoiding coming home for your sake.

“It is ok, it is what you needed to feel safe here”.

“Maybe, but it was lonely too. It’s nice to have you home though now”.

He reached out a hand towards you and you went to sit next to him, spending the rest of the evening just sitting together and chatting.

“What in the world happened to you!?” you demanded as Zen walked in the door. He was a bit bruised and scrapped up, and his lip was bleeding. You had just started running a bath for yourself as you had not expected him home for a while more.

“Ba wanted to spar, and I think I am out of practice” he shrugged, “I think I have become too lax with training since the war ended. I do not usually beat Ba, but he usually does not lay me out like that either. I am going to be sore tomorrow, but nothing a hot bath cannot help with tonight”.

“I was just running a bath but I think you need it more than me” you said.

“Oh no, that is fine. I can wait, I do not want to disrupt your plans” he said.

“Maybe, you could join me?” it took all your courage to say it out loud. It had been nice falling asleep and waking up cuddled up together over the last week, it was nice being close to him. You had also been enjoying the fact that Zen had been shirtless around the house for the most part over the last week quite a bit. Maybe seeing more of him would be nice.

“Oh!” he was clearly caught off guard and you saw the purple blush spread across his face, “I, um- are you certain?”

“Yeah, I think so”.

“You think? Or you know? I do not want anything more than you are willing to give”.

“I’d like you to join me” you said more firmly this time.

“I would like that” he smiled.

You quickly undressed with your back to him in the bathroom, not quite feeling that brave yet and quickly hopped in the tub. Zen however took his time and you could not help but watch. You watched the way he pulled his shirt up and over his head to carefully avoid his tusks and how he carefully folded it and set it aside. You watched him unlace the ties of his pants and slide them down, glancing over at you where shyly peered over the edge of the tub.

You nearly sank down under the water when you got an eyeful of him. Sure you had seen him bare from the back a week ago, but this was entirely different and you could not stop staring. Even half hard now he was an impressive size. He was lighter toned at his base with a darker tip and his lack of body hair meant nothing was hidden.

He smirked when he noticed you staring, which only made you blush harder and duck below the edge of the tub.

“My wife is allowed to look at me, and maybe like what she sees?” he raised an eyebrow in nervous question.

He settled into the tub with you, stretching his legs out in either side of you so you could sit in front of him and lean back against him. With your head against his chest you could hear his heart racing just as fast as yours.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah” you said. You did not know why exactly this made you so nervous, you had been with people many times before, but never did it make your heart race like this.

“May I touch you? Just your arms” he asked.

You nodded, unable to find words.

He gently gave your shoulders a squeeze and lightly ran his fingertips up and down your arms a few times. You also heard him humming the same song he did whenever he was trying to comfort you, though it seemed just as much for his benefit as yours. Slowly you relaxed more, fully leaning back against him and letting him wash your arms for you.

As you got your courage back you reached up to run your fingers along one of his tusks, the vibrations from his humming echoing through it and making your fingers buzz pleasantly.

“Ahh, so you will touch me when I am awake then” he teased, which only made you blush more. “You are not as sneaky as you think you are. I feel you in the morning touching my tusks when you think I am still asleep. Or playing with my ears or hair after you finish combing my hair and think I fell asleep”.

“Why not say anything then?” you asked.

“Because I know you will stop if I did say anything and I really enjoy it. If that is what it takes for you to be comfortable touching me then so be it”.

He was always so careful to never make you feel uncomfortable. Never touching you without your permission, waiting for you to initiate any cuddling, it was something you do not think you would have been afforded if you were married off to someone in your kingdom like you always assumed you would be. You had been with him for nearly a month and a half now and had only just started sleeping in the same bed, had only now started any sort of affection or intimacy, you knew you would have never gotten the luxury of going at your own pace in your kingdom.

You turned to the side a little to press your cheek to his chest and nuzzle against him, he always was so happy any time you returned his affection. His heart was still racing too, but you heard his soft, contented purr too.

“Thank you” you said.

“For what?” he asked.

“For always thinking about me, for never forcing anything, for just always making sure I’m ok. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have”.

“Of course” he hugged you tight against him, “What kind of husband would I be if I did not make sure my wife was comfortable?”

“A better husband than I expected to have”.

“Then I do not think I like what is expected in a human marriage”.

“Maybe it’s not like that if you marry for love, but that’s not what an arranged marriage is for. It’s political, help further your family and yourself, make sure you can keep living with your same standards, that’s what matters”.

“I do not like that” he said flatly.

“That’s just life”.

“Not here. Whether or not we got to choose each other does not matter, you are my wife and I will always treat you with love and respect. I will always make sure you feel safe, and comfortable, and loved regardless of how you feel towards me. Even if you do not ever feel the same, I will make sure you always feel loved”.

You wanted to cry. Anything resembling love was not something you ever expected. His words were not quite a confession of love exactly, but it was still more than you thought you would ever get.

“Hey, hey” his voice was soft in your ear, “I am sorry. I did not mean to make you cry”.

You had not noticed you had started to cry, “It’s ok, it’s not a bad cry, just feeling a lot right now”.

“That is ok, as long as I did not upset you” softly he nuzzled the top of your head.

“I think I’m just feeling vulnerable being naked” you joked, trying to push down any big feelings.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to spring anything on you” he apologized again.

“You apologize too much” you sniffled, trying to compose yourself.

“I am sorry” he laughed.

Part 14

#monster fucker #monster lover #teratophillia #terato #monster x reader #troll oc

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jp---v · 1 year ago

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I don't need to, but I'll explain my Bakugou hate because I want to.

Long post. Beware

When I started reading the series I was the same age as the characters. Looking at my interests you can probably guess that I was bullied, but instead of getting all sad, I got angry at the people treating me poorly.

So as soon as Bakugou was introduced, I didn't like him. Seeing someone my age verbally threaten and physically attacking people without being punished just really put me in a bad mood whenever he showed up.

Then certain parts of the fandom got incredibly toxic, and suddenly the author is pandering to the worst of them

But the problem keeps getting worse. The entire world warps to kiss his ass. He got everything he wanted at every turn. He deserved nothing and got everything.

Immediately established as a long-term bully. His bullying is then retroactively justified by the world itself saying that Midoriya is worth less than Bakugou as a person.

Why did Aizawa, who was famous for expelling students, not so much as give Bakugou detention for trying to attack Midoriya on the first day of school?

Why didn't All Might punish him for using that gauntlet in the Battle Trials?

Despite all of his actions so far, just since being accepted into UA, the other students still want to be friends with him. They actively choose to spend time near him.

Why is it never mentioned how him(and Kirishima) attacking Kurogiri and getting in Thirteen's way is a large part of why the USJ played out how it did?

His speech at the Sports Festival

Everyone wanting to be on his team, but he doesn't know any of their names or quirks.

Trying to make an unconscious Todoroki fight back in the finals

Aizawa constantly excusing all of his behavior, circling back to my point about the world itself justifying Bakugou's shitty behavior

Attacking Midoriya in the Final Exam.

How did Sero fail his exam by being carried out but Bakugou passed?

At the Training Camp, he actively tried to go fight the villains that have openly stated were trying to capture him. Making himself an easy target and hindering the people trying to protect him

During the Rescue Operation he somehow managed to hold his own against the majority of the League of Villains on his own? Really?

He forced Midoriya to break curfew and just starts attacking him until Midoriya fights back. It's caught on camera and Midoriya somehow gets in the same amount of trouble?

And for some reason he gets let in on the secret of One for All after being such a monumental asshole since forever, despite the fact that even Inko doesn't know? Or literally anyone who would be, like, supportive of Midoriya?

He failed the Provisional License Exam, but don't worry there's a special make-up class just for the people that made it into the second half. Everyone who failed in the first half will have to wait for the next exam.

Oh wow, flawless victory in the Joint Training Arc by displaying teamwork out of thin fucking air that was really just him barking orders at the others.

For a while we just get his usual brand of egotistical asshole-ery and now being needlessly shoved into places where Midoriya's actual friends should be. Or even any of the other side characters. Horikoshi, give them some screen time

But then the war arc and the vigilante Deku arc all just get down on their knees to suck his dick so hard that his quirk evolves and his heart explodes. And I finally get a glimmer of hope for the series to finally stop shoving him down our throats, but no.

Edgeshot decides that this one kid is so important that he will sacrifice his own life to save Bakugou specifically and no one else is on his level of importance.

Going back a step; That apology was pure fucking lip service. Not a single goddamn thing changed in the way he acted afterward. He had a couple of "soft" moments when he wasn't actively screaming and cursing, but that's it.

And Horikoshi keeps fucking doing it.

Somehow each and every thing has to include Bakugou or be about how it's effecting Bakugou or has to mention Bakugou.

The majority of the (much more interesting) cast has been completely forgotten, and Midoriya's characterization got taken out back, given three rounds to the head, skinned, washed in bleach, and hung out to dry, but Oh Wow! BAKUGOU'S HERE!

I said it before and I'll say it again, I'd throw a brick at him.

These are only the broadest strokes of what happened too. If I reread the entire series I could write a massive in-depth character analysis, but that's too much even for me.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #anti bakugou #bakugou kastuki #bakugo katsuki #anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakugo katsuki #dynamight #reblog to throw a brick #bnha critical #mha critical #kohei horikoshi #horikoshi critical

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urdreamydoodles · 10 months ago

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X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush (Part.2)

Your admiration for your crush causes you to trip, highlighting the awkward yet endearing dynamics between you two.

Characters: Emma Frost, Mystique, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Laura Kinney, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff

Emma Frost

Emma Frost had a presence that was impossible to ignore. She was confident, intelligent, and stunning—her beauty was undeniable, and she carried herself with an air of elegance that made heads turn wherever she went. But beyond her icy exterior and diamond-hard façade, there was something about Emma that intrigued you—something deeper, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, you had developed feelings for her. It was unexpected, given how she often kept people at arm’s length, but there was something about the way she looked at you, the subtle moments of vulnerability, that made your heart race.

You were heading toward the War Room, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming mission—and of Emma. You knew she would be there, and as much as you tried to focus on your responsibilities, you couldn’t shake the nervous energy building inside you.

As you turned the corner, your eyes immediately landed on her. Emma stood by the holographic projector, her posture regal and poised, dressed in her signature white attire that only emphasized her striking beauty. She glanced up, her piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, you forgot where you were going, too focused on the way she seemed to command the room with her mere presence. You didn’t notice the edge of the table in front of you until it was too late. You tripped, stumbling forward in a very ungraceful display.

Emma was at your side before you even had time to react. Her hand caught your arm, steadying you with a surprising amount of strength. She arched an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Careful, darling,” she purred, her voice smooth and teasing. “We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

You quickly straightened up, your face flushing with embarrassment as you tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Emma’s smirk widened slightly, and she leaned in just a little closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I noticed. What’s got you so distracted?”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her proximity made your pulse race. “Just… a lot on my mind,” you mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t press further.

But this was Emma Frost. She always knew more than she let on. Her hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer, her gaze piercing as if she could see right through you.

“You should be careful where you let your mind wander,” she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of something deeper. “It can be dangerous to lose focus… especially around me.”

There was something in her voice, something that made your breath catch. It wasn’t a threat, but rather a promise—a promise that she knew exactly what you were thinking, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself.

As she finally released your arm and stepped back, her smirk never faltering, you couldn’t help but wonder if Emma Frost knew exactly how you felt—and whether she was just waiting for you to admit it.

Mystique (Raven Darkhölme)

Being with Mystique was like standing at the edge of a storm. She was unpredictable, shifting from one form to another as easily as she changed her mind. But there was something about her that drew you in, even when you knew it could end in disaster. Mystique was a woman of many faces, both literally and figuratively, and it was easy to get lost in the allure of her mystery.

Today, she had chosen to appear as herself—Raven Darkhölme—her blue skin and yellow eyes giving her a fierce, otherworldly beauty. You were working together on an infiltration mission, and the tension between you two had been simmering for weeks. She was always close but distant, teasing but unattainable. You had learned to navigate the push and pull of your dynamic, but recently, your feelings for her had grown harder to ignore.

As you moved through the hideout, you found yourself distracted by her presence. It was hard not to stare at the way she moved with such grace, the way her sharp gaze seemed to take in everything. You tried to focus, but your eyes kept drifting back to her.

It happened too quickly—one moment you were walking, the next you were tripping over your own feet, your face heating with embarrassment as you stumbled forward. You managed to catch yourself on a nearby wall, but the damage was done.

Mystique turned, a smirk already forming on her lips. “Really, darling? I thought you were more coordinated than that.”

You straightened up, trying to brush off the awkwardness. “I was just—distracted.”

Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she stepped closer, her lithe form effortlessly closing the distance between you. “Distracted, hmm? By what, exactly?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close she was. Her gaze was intense, and you could feel the weight of her scrutiny as if she was trying to see right through you. “By… the mission, of course.”

Mystique chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Is that so? Because it seemed to me like your eyes were wandering a little.”

Your heart raced as she leaned in, her breath ghosting against your skin. “You should be more careful where you let your attention drift. I wouldn’t want you to get… distracted at the wrong moment.”

There was a teasing edge to her voice, but also a warning—a reminder that she was never someone you could afford to lose focus around. But despite the danger, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced when she was near. And from the glint in her eyes, Mystique knew exactly the effect she had on you.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

Warren Worthington III was the very definition of class and sophistication. He was the heir to a fortune, with a heart as golden as his wings. But despite his wealth, he never acted like someone who looked down on others, least of all you. Being around Warren always made you feel special, even though your worlds seemed so different.

You had developed feelings for him almost without realizing it. It was hard not to fall for someone like Warren—his kind heart, his easy smile, and of course, his breathtaking appearance. But you weren’t sure if he felt the same. He was always so poised, so in control, while you felt like a bundle of nerves whenever he was around.

Today, you were walking through the gardens together, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of how to confess your feelings without making a fool of yourself. Warren was talking about something—probably about one of his charity projects—but you were too distracted by the sight of his wings catching the sunlight to pay attention.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the uneven ground beneath you until it was too late. Your foot caught on a loose stone, and you stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on your face.

Warren was beside you in an instant, his strong arms catching you before you could hit the ground. His wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you protectively as he steadied you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your face flushing with embarrassment as you tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, just… didn’t see where I was going.”

Warren smiled, his grip on your arm gentle but firm. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he said, his tone light. “Can’t have you tripping over yourself.”

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his bright blue eyes seemed to shine with warmth. “I guess I was just… distracted.”

Warren tilted his head, his smile widening as he raised an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as you realized just how close you were. His wings still wrapped around you slightly, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Warren chuckled softly, his gaze softening. “Well, whatever it was, I hope it was worth almost falling on your face.”

You laughed, the sound shaky but genuine, and as Warren helped you back to your feet, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same way.

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

Being around Bobby Drake was always a good time. He was funny, quick-witted, and never took himself too seriously. He had a way of making you laugh even when you didn’t want to, and there was something about his carefree attitude that made him irresistible. You had developed a bit of a crush on him, though you tried to keep it under wraps. Bobby was your friend, after all, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

But it was hard to ignore the way your heart fluttered whenever he was around, or the way you found yourself staring at him more often than you should. Today was no different. You were both in the training room, working on some drills, but your mind wasn’t really on the task at hand.

Bobby was demonstrating some new ice move, his grin wide as he created intricate ice sculptures with a flick of his wrist. You tried to focus on your own training, but your eyes kept drifting back to him—his easy smile, the way he moved with such confidence.

You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the slick patch of ice beneath your feet until you were already slipping. Your arms flailed as you tried to catch yourself, but it was no use—you were going down.

Before you could hit the ground, Bobby was there, catching you in his arms with a laugh. “Whoa, easy there,” he said, his voice filled with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d have to save you from my own ice.”

You laughed, your face flushing with embarrassment as you looked up at him. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Bobby grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Were you too busy checking me out or something?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his teasing tone, and you quickly shook your head, trying to play it cool. “No, I was just—uh—distracted.”

“Uh-huh,” Bobby said, clearly not convinced. He still had his arms around you, and you could feel the coolness of his powers radiating off him. “Well, whatever it was, you’ve gotta be more careful. I might not always be here to catch you.”

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “Thanks for the save.”

Bobby winked, finally releasing you from his grip. “Anytime, beautiful.”

As you stood there, trying to get your bearings, you couldn’t help but wonder if Bobby’s teasing was more than just friendly banter. Maybe—just maybe—there was something more between you two than you realized.

Laura Kinney (X-23)

Being around Laura was always an intense experience. She was quiet, brooding, and kept most people at arm’s length, but somehow you had managed to get close to her. Laura wasn’t like most people—she didn’t trust easily, and her past was full of trauma and pain that weighed on her heavily. But with you, she seemed to let her guard down, even if only slightly. There was something between you, though neither of you had acknowledged it yet.

Today, you were sparring in the Danger Room, and as usual, Laura was hyper-focused on her movements, each strike sharp and precise. You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep up. Your mind kept wandering, distracted by the way Laura’s muscles flexed with every movement, the sheer grace and power she exuded.

You tried to shake it off, to focus on the fight, but your eyes kept trailing after her—until you tripped over your own feet. You went down hard, hitting the mat with a thud. Immediately, Laura was by your side, her expression hard but concerned as she extended a hand to help you up.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice clipped.

You nodded, your face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied you. “You’ve been distracted all day. What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to answer without giving yourself away. “It’s nothing, really.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it slide, pulling you back to your feet. As you brushed yourself off, you couldn’t help but glance at her, your heart racing in your chest. Laura’s gaze softened just a little, and for a moment, you thought you saw something more in her eyes—something deeper than just concern.

“You need to stay focused,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

There was an unspoken emotion in her words, something that made your pulse quicken. You nodded, your throat dry. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

But as you resumed sparring, your mind still wandered back to Laura, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—she felt the same way you did.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Wanda had always been something of an enigma. There was a warmth to her, a kindness that drew you in, but there was also a quiet sadness behind her eyes—a weight she carried from her past, from the mistakes she felt responsible for. You had been drawn to her from the moment you met, though you weren’t sure if she saw you as anything more than a friend. But lately, things between you had shifted, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

Today, you were helping Wanda in her room, going through old books on magic and sorcery. You weren’t much help, but she seemed to appreciate the company. As you sat beside her, flipping through the pages, you found yourself stealing glances at her—at the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the way her fingers delicately turned the pages. She was beautiful, and it was hard to focus on anything else.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the book slipping from your hands until it was too late. It fell with a loud thud, startling both of you. You scrambled to pick it up, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Wanda smiled softly, her eyes warm. “It’s okay. You’ve been a bit distracted today.”

You hesitated, not sure how to respond. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

Wanda’s smile faded slightly, her expression becoming more serious as she reached out to touch your hand. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. I’m here for you.”

Her touch was gentle, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. You looked up at her, your heart racing, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. There was something in her eyes—something that made you think that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

“I… it’s nothing,” you said, though your voice was shaky.

Wanda’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded, though you could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Alright,” she said softly. “But you know you can always talk to me, right?”

You nodded, your chest tight. As you went back to flipping through the book, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you finally admitted how you felt.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Pietro Maximoff was the living embodiment of chaos. He was fast—too fast sometimes—and always in a rush, always moving. But there was something about him that made your heart race, something about the way he looked at you that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who could keep up with him. Even if you weren’t sure if he felt the same way, the tension between you was undeniable.

You were walking together through the halls of the mansion, Pietro talking a mile a minute about something you could barely keep up with. You were trying to follow along, but honestly, you were more focused on the way his silver hair caught the light, the way his eyes seemed to gleam with excitement. It was hard not to get distracted when you were around him.

So distracted, in fact, that you didn’t notice the crack in the floor until you tripped over it. You stumbled forward, your heart leaping into your throat, but before you could even react, Pietro was there, catching you in his arms with lightning speed.

“Whoa there,” he said, his voice filled with amusement as he steadied you. “Didn’t think I’d have to rescue you from walking.”

You laughed, your face flushing with embarrassment as you looked up at him. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Pietro grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Were you distracted by something? Or someone?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the teasing tone in his voice, and you quickly shook your head, trying to play it off. “No, I just… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Uh-huh,” Pietro said, clearly not convinced. He still had his arm around you, and you could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the electricity in the air between you almost palpable.

For a moment, you thought about telling him the truth—about admitting that the reason you were distracted was because of him, because of the way he made your heart race every time he looked at you. But before you could say anything, Pietro flashed you a grin and let go of you, stepping back.

“Well, whatever it was, be careful next time,” he said with a wink. “I might not always be around to catch you.”

You smiled, your heart still racing as you watched him speed off, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his teasing than just friendly banter.

#marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #marvel #comics #x men x reader #x men headcanons #xmen imagine #imagine #headcanons #x reader #emma frost x reader #mystique x reader #warren worthington x reader #bobby drake x reader #laura kinney x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader

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