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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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Maybe This Time

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You often work through the night at the Sunny-Side Up Diner just off of I-80, but sometimes during your long shifts your favorite drifter stops in for a meal. Even if nothing has ever actually happened between you two, there's certainly been plenty of flirting. But one morning he stops in before your shift ends and you wonder if maybe this time things will be different.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; smut and soft Frank, need I say more?

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: This one is long and it got a bit away from me because I just had to add plot, but there's a lot of smut at the end! Normally I'd edit a lot more as well, but hopefully you enjoy my first Frank Castle smut (though certainly not my first time writing smut in the slightest if you know me). Feedback is always appreciated--especially since this is my first smutty Frank one-shot!

Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @mattmurdocksstarlight @thepunisherfrankcastle

Hoisting the clean stack of plates up high, you set them on the shelf in the kitchen, standing on your toes just to reach it. Lowering back down to the flat of your feet, you grabbed a couple of clean glasses you’d just finished washing and drying from off of the countertop and stepped to your left just past the large sink. Rising up onto your toes once again, you neatly placed them on the shelf beside the one with the plates. As you turned to grab another couple of clean glasses to put away, you heard Jimmy calling your name from behind you. Hands hovering over the line of clean cups on the countertop, you looked back over your shoulder at him.

"What's up, Jimmy?" you asked.

"Can you take out the garbage?" he asked, flipping a pancake in the pan. “Before it starts overflowing from the morning crowd? I'd get it but–”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as he gestured his hand at the food he was making on the stovetop. Usually Jimmy tried to take the trash out before the morning rush came along; he knew it was often a bit of a struggle for you trying to toss the heavy bag up into the dumpster out back, but you knew he’d been a bit distracted tonight, too. Maria and him were in another fight and whenever that happened, Jimmy was only ever half-present at the diner.

"Yeah, yeah," you said, wiping your damp hands on your apron. "I got it."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, Jimmy, I can handle it," you assured him.

He focused back on the eggs in the frying pan as you headed over to the garbage bin. With a sigh you began to tie the bag into a knot, cringing when something wet touched the side of your hand. Once the bag was tied, you managed to pull it up and out of the bin, grunting at the effort. Struggling with the bag now in both of your hands, you shuffled your way over to the door just to Jimmy’s right. Pressing your shoulder against it, you pushed it open and stepped out into the early morning, both of your hands hefting the bag of garbage outside with you.

Blissful silence met your ears the moment the door shut with a click behind you. If you hadn’t been toting a very full bag of disgusting garbage to a dumpster right now, you’d have enjoyed the brief break from the noise of the diner. But as you awkwardly shuffled your way over to the dumpster, carrying the garbage in both of your hands, you felt the bag beginning to tear beneath your fingers.

“Come on,” you groaned. “Don’t break open on me. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

Huffing in irritation, you set the bag down, leaning it up against the dumpster. You took a moment to rearrange your grip along it, examining the hole that had torn open from your nails as you did. You didn’t want to hoist the bag up overhead only to be doused in garbage if the hole just tore wider open on you. That was also the last thing you needed.

Bending down, you got a better grip on the bag and were mentally preparing yourself to heft it up and toss it into the dumpster, but before you could even attempt to pick it back up again, you heard a voice call out your name. You froze at the sound, head spinning over your shoulder towards the direction it had come from as your pulse sped up in excitement and recognition.

“You need some help there, darlin’?”

A smile gradually broke wide across your face when your eyes landed on Frank standing there at the corner of the building, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black jacket. He eyed you with a grin on his own face, the sight immediately turning your entire shitty third shift around.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you released your grip on the bag and turned towards him, straightening back up as you took in his appearance. There were no bruises or cuts on his face this time. It also looked like his beard had grown out just a bit more in the past almost week and a half since you'd last seen him. You secretly always liked when he showed up unshaven like this; there were many a night or early morning where your fingers itched just to feel the scratch of that darkened stubble beneath them. Though of course, you never had touched him like that.

But he looked good–not that he didn't always.

Frank was your favorite customer at the Sunny-Side Up Diner. He always came in sporadically at varying hours, but he always came in during your shifts which ran through the night until you finished at seven in the morning. Generally after a few days had passed since his last visit to the diner, you found yourself working through your shifts and always perking up when you heard the bell over the diner door ring. Every time it did, your head darted up at the noise, hoping you'd see Frank making his way towards a table with his eyes searching the diner just for you.

It had been almost six months now of Frank’s random visits to Sunny-Side Up. From the very first time you'd served him breakfast at almost one in the morning–pancakes and scrambled eggs with a side of bacon–Frank had flirted with you. Not quite so bold and openly at first; initially it had been the way his eyes had lingered on you along with the little smiles he sent you. The jokes he’d made just to make you laugh. It had actually been you who had begun to make the more brazen comments to him, enjoying the way his deep brown eyes had lit up each and every time. Soon he’d started calling you pet names–darling or sweetheart. You’d loved it every single time he said it in that deep, rumbling voice of his with the way the corner of his lips would always quirk up in a smile. For months now you’d been dying to know what it would sound like to hear him whisper one of those terms of endearment in your ear.

And that had quickly become the norm between the pair of you. Frank would come into the diner during your shift and you would seat him in the booth that you’d come to associate with him. He’d order one of the handful of things he usually ordered, and then for the duration of his time at the diner, the pair of you would openly flirt with each other until he inevitably finished his meal. He would always generously tip you before making his way across the parking lot towards his van, leaving you to watch it pull out towards the interstate again. And each time he left, you were left wondering if that time was the last time you'd ever see him again.

Admittedly Frank’s last visit to Sunny-Side Up had been a bit more eventful than usual, though. An older man had been dining in on that early morning and he had been frustrating and incredibly rude to you while you'd waited on him. A handful of times Frank had actually paused eating his meal, shooting the man a look that could’ve certainly killed as he repeatedly warned the man to be respectful. But the moment the man had slapped your ass as you'd turn to leave the table, Frank had risen to his feet and latched onto that man's arm so damn fast that you hadn’t even seen it coming. He nearly broke the man's wrist when he forced him to apologize to you.

You'd truly thought that time might have been the time that things would’ve been different. That maybe that time something more than just flirting might finally happen between you both. But no. Frank had lingered for a bit longer than usual after that man had left, making sure you were alright. But as usual, he'd inevitably gotten into his van and headed back on I-80 like every other time he'd stopped at the diner. After that, you had completely lost all hope that you'd ever do anything more than flirt with him.

"I'm good, Frank," you called back, waving a hand at him. "Why don't you grab a seat and I'll be right in to get your order?"

"And leave you out here struggling?" he asked back.

Shaking his head, he began to saunter his way towards you. There was always a sort of confidence to the way Frank walked, you’d noticed; his gait alone had turned you on many times before as you’d watched him make his way through the parking lot to the diner door. And right now was no different as your gaze openly surveyed him with each step.

"Tell you what, sweetheart,” Frank continued, an almost cocky grin on his face. “You let me take care of this for you, and then I'll grab a seat. Alright?"

"Well now I hardly think that's fair," you pointed out, watching as he quickly closed the distance between you both. "You shouldn’t be doing my work for me, Frank."

He came to a stop just in front of you, his deep brown eyes locked on yours. Loosing an amused chuckle, he bent down and grabbed the garbage bag with one hand. Effortlessly he lifted the bag up, tossing it into the dumpster beside the pair of you. His lips soon curled into a smirk, his eyes never having left yours.

"Hardly call that work," he teased. "Don't worry 'bout it. Just means I get more time having you grace me with your presence, darlin’."

You laughed lightly, the usual flood of elation you always had around Frank flooding you once again. Despite how much you’d tried to force yourself to believe nothing more would ever happen between you two, you always fell fast and hard back into your feelings whenever he was right there in front of you. It was impossible to ignore just how bad you wanted him and how much you’d grown to care for your favorite drifter when that handsome smile was on his face and directed at you.

"You know you almost missed me entirely this time," you teased back. "Cutting it real close with the end of my shift, Frank."

His head tilted to the side, his tongue darting out between his lips as he eyed you for a second. You fought the shudder that threatened to race down your spine under the weight of his stare.

"Is that right?" he murmured, the deep rumble of his voice raising goosebumps along your arms. "Glad I didn't get held up any longer then. Would have been a damn shame showin' up here without you brightenin' my day."

"Ever the smooth talker," you replied, nudging his solid arm with your elbow as you stepped past him and towards the kitchen door.

"Just being honest, sweetheart," he called after you.

Biting back the smile on your face, you pulled open the door and stepped back inside the diner. Kim stopped mid-sentence in her conversation with Jimmy the moment the door opened, her eyes shifting towards you. When she saw the look on your face, her own face lit up into something mischievous.

"Your man finally back in?" she asked, gesturing a hand to your face. "That why you're smiling so wide?"

"He's not my man," you corrected her, cheeks burning. "But yeah. He's here."

Making your way over to the sink, you turned on the faucet and began washing your hands. Kim made her way over, bumping her hip into yours as you lathered your hands with soap. Glancing over at her, you shot her a questioning brow.

“When are you going to actually do something about him always coming in here for you?” she asked.

“I don’t think he wants me to do anything about it,” you replied, rinsing your hands under the faucet. “It’s been how many months of constant flirting. He’s never done anything more than that. And he’s not here for me, he’s here for the food.”

“Nearly broke that asshole's arm the other week for you,” Jimmy called out from beside the stove.

“Okay,” you agreed, grabbing a nearby towel and drying your hands along it. “But that guy was an asshole and he had it coming. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“He only ever comes in during your shift,” Kim pointed out. “He’s never come in during mine. Only times I’ve seen him here is when you’re working. But,” she continued, that mischievous glint returning to her eyes, “I can always play matchmaker.”

Removing your hand from the towel you’d been drying it on, you pointed a firm finger at Kim. She cocked an eyebrow in a challenge at you in return.

“Don’t go making things weird,” you warned her. “I have no idea what the hell is or isn’t going on between us, but I don’t want you scaring him off before I ever have a chance to find out.”

You hung the towel back up on the hook on the wall before turning, heading towards the door that led out to the diner. From behind you, you heard Kim calling out after you.

“Better make a move before I do then!”

You flipped her off as you made your way out of the kitchen, the sound of her laughter following after you. Though the moment you spotted Frank sitting in his usual booth, you lowered your hand back to your side and hesitated. He’d turned towards you a bit in the seat the moment his eyes caught yours, his teeth biting at his bottom lip as that sexy smile of his pulled the corners of his mouth upwards. It took you a few seconds to manage to stop staring at him, blinking rapidly a few times as your feet finally carried you over towards his booth. Frank’s grin only seemed to spread wider, having noticed you staring at him. That had your face burning as you approached him.

“What can I get you this time, Frank?” you asked when you reached his table.

He leaned back in the booth, his thumbnail slipping between his teeth as he grinned back at you. Eyes dropping down to those lips of his, you felt something stirring within you. What would that mouth feel like on yours? Trailing kisses down your neck? Making their way towards the place that was currently aching for him as he sat there?

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you did your best to focus back on his eyes. You needed to stop thinking about that. At least until your shift finished and you could go home and deal with that growing heat between your thighs.

“Besides your company?” he asked, one dark brow rising up onto his forehead. “How ‘bout a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon.”

“Always with the pancakes,” you teased.

“What can I say?” he replied, shooting you a wink. “I like what I like.”

You couldn’t fight the grin that slipped across your lips at his words–and goddamn was he always good with them.

“I’ll go put in the order,” you told him. Gesturing your hand at his empty coffee mug you asked, “You want me to fill that?”

He nodded once, his eyes never leaving you. “Yes ma’am,” he answered. “Been a long night, I could certainly use some.”

“I’ll get right on that,” you told him, turning back towards the kitchen.

You managed to take one step before you heard Frank behind you. At the sound of one of those pet names of his for you coming out in that near purr of a voice of his, you nearly died on the spot.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

That voice of his did something to you every damn time he came in here.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Eyes focused on your feet, you headed over towards your car, entirely aware of Frank’s presence just at your side. He was admittedly impossible to ignore to begin with, but with the way he was walking so close to you, his hand kept occasionally brushing against yours. It had become an actual struggle for you to refrain from trying to just grab it each time it did.

“First time you’ve walked me to my car,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Well usually you’re still workin’ when I leave,” he pointed out. “Otherwise I would’ve. Gladly.”

His hand bumped up against yours again and your eyes briefly closed, that urge to just grab it washing over you again. Exhaling a breath, you opened your eyes and saw that you were just beside your car. Coming to a stop, Frank came to one with you.

“This is me,” you said lamely, gesturing a hand at the car.

He nodded back at you, his hands returning to the pockets of his coat. Another little silence fell between the pair of you and you awkwardly hugged your arms over your chest. Did you just say goodbye now? Except Frank hadn’t made an attempt to leave. Instead, his eyes narrowed at you as his brows pinched together in what looked like thought. Nerves began to shake loose in your stomach, causing it to knot together. Normally Frank wasn’t so quiet and pensive around you.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” he asked suddenly.

Your heart nearly skipped a beat in your chest at his question. “Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “Of course.”

Frank ducked his head, shuffling his boots along the pavement. He almost looked nervous right now which only made you more curious.

“I knew you were finishing your shift soon when I showed up,” he admitted. “Truth is, I came here hoping you’d…maybe want to grab a cup of coffee somewhere afterwards?”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise at his question. You had not been expecting it despite the months of flirting. Frank glanced back up at you, his head still partially ducked down as something almost timid and nervous overtook his expression. You’d never seen him quite like this.

And did he really just ask you out?

Before you even had a just to respond he pulled a face, shaking his head. A frown settled on your lips, your brows partially drawing together in confusion at the abrupt shift in his mood.

“You know what? Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked,” he said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you’re tired and don’t want to grab coffee with some–some strange guy that shows up every few days at your diner.”

“Or you could come have coffee at my place,” you blurted.

Frank stiffened in front of you, his eyes landing back on yours. He stood there staring at you for such a long time that you’d almost backpedaled the offer, thinking you’d gone too far. Should you not have offered that? Was that not what he wanted?

“Yeah?” he asked curiously, his brows briefly drawing together.

Nodding quickly, you hummed out an affirmative. “Yeah,” you answered. “You uh, you can just follow my car?” You gestured a hand down the road. “I’m in a duplex just a few streets over. It’s–it’s not far. If you want, I mean. You certainly don’t–”

“I’d like that,” he said, cutting you off.

“Okay,” you breathed out, nervous excitement coursing through you. Gesturing your thumb at your car you said, “I’ll just…lead the way?”

The grin slowly returned to Frank’s face as he nodded his head once. “Lead the way, darlin’,” he said.

Mouth suddenly feeling dry, you made your way over to the driver’s side of your car. As you began to get in, you could hear Frank opening the door to his van nearby. Another wash of nerves shot through you. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Frank was actually coming over to your place. And you were pretty certain he was coming over for the same reason you’d invited him, which only had you feeling even more nervous. It had been months of you wondering if this time would either be the last time you saw him, or the time something more happened.

Apparently today was the day something more happened.

Starting up your car, you waited for Frank to start up his van before you’d finally pulled out of the diner’s lot. The drive back to your place was short, just as you’d told him it would be. It had taken only a few minutes for the both of you to get there, and by the time you were trying to unlock your front door with Frank just at your back, your hands were already shaking.

Opening the door, you stepped inside and quickly surveyed the state of your place. The blanket was neatly folded on the back of your couch, your books mostly picked up and put away on the bookshelves. Thankfully your place wasn’t in disarray and you were grateful for having recently done the dishes so your sink wasn’t currently piled embarrassingly high.

“So this is your place, huh?” Frank asked, stepping inside.

Closing the front door after him, you glanced over to where he had stopped. He was standing in your living room, scanning the framed photos on the wall with a smile on his face. It was in that moment that the reality of the situation was beginning to really settle in on you with the sight of him standing here in your space. You’d only ever seen him in the diner before.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, slipping your shoes off your aching feet. “It’s nothing extravagant. Don’t really make that much being a waitress, after all.”

Frank’s attention shifted from the photos, his eyes scanning the living room and what he could see of the kitchen with an approving nod. “I like it,” he said, glancing back at you with a smile. “Suits you.”

“Thanks,” you muttered. Clearing your throat, you gestured a hand towards the kitchen. “Do you, uh, want me to get a pot of coffee brewing?”

“If you’d like,” he replied.

You nodded, your hands fidgeting together as you took a step towards the kitchen, but you stopped a second later, hesitating. Looking back over your shoulder at his curious face, you nervously chewed your lip.

“Sorry, I–I don’t usually do this,” you confessed.

“Neither do I,” Frank told you.

You laughed nervously, eyes dropping down to the worn and faded wood floor of your living room. Soon Frank’s black boots came into your line of sight, your eyes immediately drawn towards them. And then you felt Frank’s fingers lightly gripping your chin, tilting your face back up towards his. You nearly stopped breathing when your eyes met his.

“Can I tell you somethin’ else?” Frank asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed back.

His eyes searched back and forth between yours for a moment, his fingers still gently gripping your chin. Your breath was starting to come in faster the longer he remained touching you, your own gaze dropping down towards his lips. They were currently pressed together as if he was struggling to just say what he wanted to.

"I only ever stop into that diner for you," Frank finally admitted. "Sometimes I–I even go outta my way just to stop in and see you."

A soft, surprised gasp fell out of you in response. You'd always assumed he came for the food and because he was often on the interstate nearby. You figured the flirting was just something he did because he was there and you returned it. You'd had no idea you were the only reason he kept showing up for months on end.

“Never thought you’d want something more,” Frank continued. “With me, I mean. Always figured you probably had someone.”

“I don’t,” you breathed out instantly, shaking your head.

The corner of his lip briefly twitched upwards. Readjusting his grip on your chin, you felt the calloused pad of his thumb brush your bottom lip. Almost immediately you took a step towards him, breath still coming in faster. The way he was just staring at you had you feeling lightheaded.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he asked, thumb sliding across your bottom lip. “We don’t have to.”

“I’ve barely thought about anything else for months,” you whispered.

The muscles jumped along his cheeks at your admission, his thumb pausing its movement across your bottom lip. Something like surprise glinted back at you in his eyes for just a brief second. But then his fingers released your chin, his large hand instead cupping your cheek and tilting your face further towards his as he stepped into you, closing the remaining space between your bodies. You could feel the heat of him warming up the front of you, the edge of his jacket brushing against your stomach.

Nervously your hands rose from your sides, landing on his firm chest just over that thick jacket of his. Your gaze held his, noticing the way the corners of his eyes twitched ever so slightly at your touch. A sharp exhale fell out of him next, his nostrils flaring, and your hands soon balled into fists against his chest. The anticipation of what happened next was killing you right now.

Almost as if in slow motion, you watched his focus gradually shift down towards your lips. Your heart was racing as if you’d run a marathon, pounding erratically in your chest as you silently begged him to just kiss you. Slowly, Frank finally leaned forward towards you and your eyes fluttered shut. The moment his lips touched yours, you melted into him.

The kiss was gentle and hesitant; you could feel the way Frank was holding back. And his lips–fuck, his lips–they were as soft and warm as you’d always imagined. He tasted sweet like the syrup and pancakes he’d just been eating at the diner. But he pulled away from you far too soon.

Eyes flying back open, you saw Frank’s face just inches from yours. His eyes were on you, searching your face as if he was looking for further permission. Knowing that he wanted this, too, that last bit of nerves quickly faded from you. Hands sliding their way up his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him straight into you, pressing yourself to the front of him before you connected your mouths again. This time, Frank wasn’t so hesitant.

His tongue sensually slid along the length of your lower lip, warm and wet. You moaned at the feel of it, unable to fight the sound down. Taking the opportunity, he slipped his tongue inside your mouth, languidly lapping against yours. A burst of pleasure raced through you, your hands sliding up the back of his neck, fingers desperately trying to grasp at his short hair.

As he kissed you, his tongue still taking its time exploring your mouth, his hand made its way to cradle the back of your head as he held you more firmly to him. You were struggling to breathe with the assault he had on your mouth, your nails lightly scratching along his scalp as your thighs pressed together in search of friction. That warm, wet heat was building between them the longer he kissed you like this.

And you needed more.

Reluctantly breaking away from his mouth, you were nearly gasping for air. Frank’s chest heaved as he glanced down at you questioningly, his own breath coming in hard and fast. Wordlessly you unwrapped your arms from his neck, one of your hands undoing the zipper of his jacket. Then you reached up, pushing the coat from off of him as he stood there, watching you.

You threw his jacket across the room towards your couch, and when you glanced back up to meet his eyes again, that questioning look had vanished from them. Reaching down, your hand clasped onto one of his large ones before you turned, heading through your living room and down the hall towards your bedroom. Frank willingly and silently followed after you.

When you’d led him to your bedroom, you released his hand and took a few steps backwards from him. Frank stood there, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched you slip out of your jacket before tossing it onto the floor. You grabbed the hem of your shirt afterwards, pulling it up and over your head before discarding it on the floor beside your jacket, your eyes still locked on Frank’s. Silently, his own hands grabbed the hem of his black long sleeve shirt, effortlessly pulling it up and removing it in one swift motion before he tossed it aside.

As he began to kick off his boots, each one landing with a gentle thud along your floor, your eyes traveled across the expanse of his muscled torso. He was thicker and more defined than your imagination had ever pictured him being. Undoing the button of your jeans, your tongue ran along the back of your teeth as you itched to touch all of his bare skin. Sliding your jeans down your legs, Frank began to unbuckle his belt, the clink of metal causing your jaw to tighten.

Undoing your bra next, you watched as Frank’s eyes dropped down to your breasts the moment they were no longer covered, his fingers unzipping his jeans before he pushed them down his own legs. Breath coming in shallow, you could feel that dampness in your underwear before you even reached down to remove them. The pair of you had barely done more than kiss, yet you were completely aroused. You wanted him. And judging by the large bulge in his dark boxers, he felt the same.

You couldn’t help but to stare when he’d slipped his boxers from off of himself, either. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, a soft whine left you at the sight of him. He was so thick and long, your cunt throbbed in desperation at the sight. Taking a step forward, your eyes still focused on his erect cock, you had every intention of falling to your knees and taking him into your mouth, but Frank’s voice broke the silence.

“On the bed, sweetheart,” he ordered.

Eyes rising up to his face, you stopped mid-step. There was a grin on his lips as he gestured his head towards your bed.

“Go on,” he urged. “You been takin’ care of me all these months. ‘Bout time I repay the favor.”

Legs trembling slightly at the prospect of what he meant by that, you turned and made your way over to your bed. Climbing up onto it, you made your way towards the top of it before you turned back around. Frank was already kneeling just behind you on the mattress, watching as you laid down along it. His large hands landed on your thighs, sensually dragging their way up the length of them. Goosebumps rippled across your skin at the touch of his warm, rough hands on you, the heat of them lingering long after he’d touched you.

“Gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart,” Frank murmured.

A ripple of excitement shot through you at his words as he lowered down to the bed before you, his eyes locked on yours. One of his large hands slipped underneath your left knee, raising your leg from the bed just a bit. A second later Frank’s face turned and he began trailing open-mouthed kisses up the length of your inner thigh. It felt so damn good that you couldn’t resist the resulting moan that slipped out between your lips as you watched him. His other hand slid over your stomach, holding you to the bed when your hips began to buck the higher up his mouth went.

Lowering your leg back to the bed, he turned his attention to your other thigh. Your hips struggled beneath his strong arm that was holding you still as he began to trail those same delicious open-mouthed kisses up the length of that thigh next. Your hands gripped the bedsheets, curling them into your fists when he finally reached your cunt. The tip of his tongue just ever so lightly grazed the length of you and you lost it.

“Fuck, Frank,” you whined, voice so high and needy you didn’t even recognize it.

Frank chuckled, his hot breath washing over your aching cunt as he did. You squirmed along the bed at the feel of it, your eyes snapping shut as an overwhelming need for him took over you.

“We’re gettin’ to that, sweetheart,” he teased. “Just gimme a minute.”

You felt one of his fingers slip between your dampened folds, his hot breath still washing over you as he gradually ran his fingertip back and forth through your slick. Eyes opening, you focused on him between your thighs. He looked content positioned there, naked and relaxed as he began to tease your entrance with his finger. You sucked in a sharp breath the moment the tip of it dipped inside of you, the sound drawing his eyes up to your face. He smiled back at you, gradually plunging the entire digit into your cunt as he did. You groaned out, head dropping back onto the pillow behind you.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice sending a shudder through you. “Just like that. Already so wet for me.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

He slowly fucked you with his middle finger, his eyes on you for a few moments as he watched you pant and gasp above him. But after a few pumps of his finger into you, he gradually lowered his mouth to your clit and began gently circling the tip of his tongue along the sensitive bud. A jolt of pleasure raced up your spine the second his tongue touched you and your back arched along the bed. His arm was still slung low over your stomach, keeping you firmly pressed to the bed and allowing him to continue the delicate ministrations of his tongue. Though the moment he slipped another of his thick fingers inside of you, picking up the pace of them as they continued to pump in and out over and over, you cried out. Everything he was doing felt so fucking good that you could already feel your climax nearing. Releasing your hold on the bedsheets, one of your hands flew to the longer dark hairs on the top of his head, gripping a handful of it in your fist.

“Thatta girl,” Frank murmured against you, his lips brushing your clit as he spoke. “I got you. Go on.”

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. “So close, Frank.”

“That’s it, good girl,” he murmured.

Clamping your eyes shut tighter, you felt that crest of your climax about to wash over you. His fucking voice saying things like that in that husky tone of his, while his fingers were deliciously curling deep inside of you with each and every thrust, was about to send you straight over the edge. And when he’d returned his mouth to you, he’d begun to suck your clit into those plump lips of his so perfectly that your eyes rolled back behind your closed lids, the rough scratch of his stubble against your skin pushing you closer to your peak.

“Oh, fuck, Frank–yes,” you breathed out.

Hand fisting his dark hair tighter in your grip, your head rolled back along the pillow. You felt that knot in your gut about to loosen as your back steadily arched off of the bed, breath coming in harder. When he abruptly thrust those two thick fingers of his inside of you so sharply he hit that spot deep inside of you just right, you cried his name out through your bedroom. A warm wash of pleasure flooded your body as Frank continued to work you through your release, his fingers still pumping into you while his mouth continued to eagerly suck your fast-becoming overly sensitive clit.

It was a moment before his lips released you, your body feeling weightless as you sunk into the mattress. Frank gradually slipped his fingers out from inside of you with a soft, wet sound. Your eyes shot open a second later when you felt his tongue lapping up everything that had spilled out of you. A pleased hum vibrated in your throat as you watched him between your thighs, your hand loosening its grip on his hair as you carded your fingers through the short strands.

Eventually he pulled away from you, sitting back on the bed as his tongue ran along his lips. You could see them glistening from your slick in the morning light sneaking in through your closed blinds. Inevitably your eyes dropped down to his still erect cock as he sat between your damp thighs; the tip of it was wet with pre-cum. Your cunt clenched at the sight, desperate to feel him inside of you already.

Pushing yourself upright on the bed, unable to wait any longer, you rose up onto your knees. Frank chuckled when your hands landed on his shoulders and gently pushed him towards the mattress. You grinned at the warm sound but were pleased when he allowed you to push him down to the bed on his back.

“Someone’s eager,” Frank muttered.

“Mmm, someone made me wait almost six months for this,” you replied, throwing a leg over his hips as you straddled his waist. “And now I’m tired of waiting. Aren’t you?”

Frank’s teeth clamped down on his lip, both of his hands landing on your hips as he gave them a squeeze. His eyes were on yours, a warm glint in them that had your heart stuttering at the sight.

“S’pose it has been that long, huh?” he mused, his head playfully cocking to the side. “Want me to grab a condom first, though, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, eyes still on his. “Not unless you want to,” you answered. “I’m on the pill. Haven’t been with anyone in a bit, either,” you admitted.

“Neither have I,” Frank told you.

You gripped the hard length of him, your hand stroking up and down him once while reveling at the soft hiss of pleasure he emitted when you did. Humming out a pleased noise yourself, you lined him up with your entrance and very slowly sunk down onto him. But he was so thick that your eyes immediately snapped shut and both of your hands flew forward, landing on his chest with your nails biting into his skin. You’d just barely managed to get the head of him inside of you before you’d needed to pause, giving your cunt a moment to adjust to the pleasant stretch of him filling you. You weren’t sure if he was just that big or if it had just been that long since you’d last been with someone.

Frank’s hands slipped around to your back, both of his large, warm palms gliding up and down your bare skin. The hairs along your forearms rose at the sensation and the tenderness of his touch.

“Take your time,” he urged. “Feels so goddamn good already, sweetheart.”

Something like a moan vibrated in your throat at his praise, your eyelids fluttering open. Frank was gazing up at you from the bed, a warmth in his eyes again. His hands were still running soothingly along your back, steadily drawing more goosebumps along your skin with each pass.

Slowly, you sunk just a bit further down on his cock, your gaze holding his. A soft gasp fell out of you as you continued to lower onto him until the entirety of Frank was sheathed inside of you. Nails still biting into his chest, you couldn’t fight the pleased groan rolling up and out of your mouth at the feel of him so wholly filling you. You swore you could almost feel him up to your ribcage even though you knew that wasn’t logical.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmured, pulling you down towards him with the hands he had on your back. “That’s my girl.”

A faint whine slipped from your lips just before Frank connected his mouth to yours. Your mind quickly grew blank as your lips met his over and over. It wasn’t until your cunt tightened in need that you remembered he was still inside of you. Gradually rolling your hips back until only the tip of him was inside of you, you carefully thrust your hips forward again until he’d once again filled you. A pleasant sting shot its way up your spine and you broke away from his mouth, crying out at the unexpected jolt of pleasure when he hit just the right spot. Frank’s fingers roughly dug into your back, his blunt nails scratching along the expanse of it as he urged you on. Obliging his silent request, you began to move your hips.

At first your pace started slow as you adjusted to the position and the stretch of him inside of you. Though it wasn’t long before your pace began to speed up, Frank’s grunts beneath you reaching your ears and further encouraging your movements. Soon his own hips began to eagerly fuck up into you, matching your pace as you continued to sensually rock into him repeatedly.

Frank’s mouth was at your ear, his tongue swirling around your earlobe as your breasts pressed into his chest. Your fingers were digging into his broad, muscular shoulders as you tried to keep yourself steady while you continued to ride him on your bed, your breath becoming loud and sharp as it mingled with his in the bedroom. When Frank’s mouth lowered to the pulse point on your neck, sucking a patch of skin into his mouth and running his tongue along it, your cunt tightened around his cock as your hips jerked against his.

“Frank,” you moaned. “So good. Feels so good.”

One of his large hands made its slow descent all the way towards your ass, his fingertips dragging down the length of your spine as they went. He palmed your ass roughly when he reached it, a whimper slipping out of you. Soon after he was gipping it firmly and using it to guide your hips a bit faster as he continued to thrust himself up into you. With the way both of your hips were moving now, Frank’s cock continually hit that delicious spot inside of you that repeatedly sent a shockwave of pleasure racing up your spine every single time he bottomed out inside of you. You were so close to cumming again that your mouth lowered to his left pectoral and your teeth clamped down on it, not a single other thought in your mind but how close you were to your release.

“Yeah, there you go, sweetheart,” Frank breathed out beside your ear, his voice strained as he spoke. “Let go for me again. That’s it. Just like that.”

You whined at the sound of his soothing voice beside your ear, your cunt tightening around his cock. With his heavy grunts and panting breaths filling your bedroom, his hard body flush to the front of yours, and his cock continually barreling right on into you, you inevitably hit your peak once more. Teeth releasing the bit of muscle you’d bit along his chest, your head rolled back over your shoulders as a long moan loosed itself from inside of you.

The sound of it only caused Frank’s hand to grip your ass even more firmly, his other arm wrapping around your back like a vice as he held you to himself. And then he began roughly thrusting up into you, loud grunts further filling your bedroom as he chased after his own peak. Your eyes had rolled back yet again behind your closed eyelids, your hips struggling to match his pace until you’d finally felt his own stuttering beneath you. A moment later you felt his warm release inside of you, a deep, gravelly moan falling from between his lips and sending a shudder down your spine as Frank came inside of you. He thrust up into you a handful more times before his hips finally stilled beneath you.

As you both slowly came back to yourselves, you slipped his cock out from inside of you before collapsing on top of him, spent and flushed as your cheek rested on his chest. Frank’s hands began affectionately running along the naked expanse of your back, the feel of his fingertips dancing along your skin almost tickling you as they moved. For a few minutes both of you lay there, breathing hard and trying to catch your breath without a word.

“‘Bout damn time that happened,” you said, breaking the silence.

Beneath you, Frank laughed lightly, the sound drawing a smile to your lips. You rocked a little at the movement from your place along his chest, never having felt more content than you did in that moment.

“Not wrong there, sweetheart,” he agreed.

One of your hands began absently tracing patterns along his bare skin just beside your face. Bottom lip slipping between your teeth, you gathered the courage to ask him what was quickly becoming the focus on your mind.

“So…what’s this mean now?” you asked carefully. “Are you…going to just disappear on me again in a few minutes?”

“You want me to?” Frank asked.

Shifting your head on his chest, you turned until you could glance up at his face, your chin resting against him. “No,” you whispered. “I don’t.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he gazed down at you, his hands still roaming along your back.

“Then I won’t disappear on you in a few minutes,” he promised you.

“Do you–” you paused, eyes nervously dropping down to where your fingers were still tracing patterns on his chest, “–you maybe want to stay for a bit? Clean up and–and get some sleep? And maybe I could…make us some dinner later? Unless you can’t stay that long.”

“I can stay,” Frank stated, that smile still on his face.

“Yeah?” you asked hopefully, brows rising onto your forehead.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’d like that.”

You grinned, lowering your head back to his chest. Turning just a bit, you pressed a lingering kiss to the skin beside your mouth. Frank hummed out a contented noise above you, the sound only growing your grin.

“You know,” you whispered coyly, “now that you know where I live, you don’t have to always stop by the diner just to see me.”

“That right?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Maybe you could actually stop by to see me here. On purpose.” Your tongue ran along your bottom lip, your eyes still focused on the absent movements of your fingers on his chest. “And maybe you could actually call me first because you have my number.”

Frank chuckled beneath you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. A moment later you felt his lips placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Think I like the sound of that, sweetheart,” he told you, glancing back down at you.

“Is that right?” you said, shooting him a teasing grin.

A bark of laughter flew out of Frank, the sound causing you to join in with him. He looked more handsome with the way his face was lit up right now, the largest smile you’d ever seen on his face seemingly permanently residing on it right now. And in that moment, lying in your bed laughing with him, your eyes locked on each other’s, one thought ran through your mind.

All those months of waiting for this moment with him had been worth it.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fluff

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sojournerstales · 15 days ago

Text

WF1999: Summer Heat ch.3

fem!drifter x eleanor

hey there. I think everybody has one of those hump chapters, but I figured some broader stuff out in writing this one. we're on loop 1, the year before the good end, btw.

03. I Like To Be Here

I can feel her breathing. It's through a layer of separation. That sensation of touch fed through the transference link. Eleanor's body against Mesa's. Mesa's hands on Eleanor's hips. Still it's there, body heat and a heart beating.

The last stretch home is made unscathed. We go down into the familiar underground, easily gliding by wrecks we have passed a dozen times before. Down here the soundscape changes. Everything feels closer and the roar of Eleanor's tomi echoes loud enough to drown anything else out.

Except there is that link between us. That psychic line kept open.

"Earlier. Back at the Zoo." I still sometimes worry that my thoughts projected would be seen as an intrusion, but I'm brave enough to start conversation.

"Mm?" Eleanor pulls back on the acceleration. The tomi reduces to a cruising speed and its roar pitches into a prolonged thrum.

"Something happened. I saw it. When you helped me up."

"Oh. That." Smooth turn. Eleanor and Mesa's body weight shift in sync to keep balance. We're almost home.

"Don't gotta tell me," I assure her, "But you can."

"You were being cute," Eleanor says eventually. She slows the tomi further. "I just wanted to eat you right up, my dear."

I feel a shiver and that gives me something to think about. It's my cheeks that feel hot, not Mesa's facial shell. I miss my chance to pick at it.

"Right-o. Last chance to brace yourself. I can feel the brooding tension of brother-dearest from here."

"So no chance of us just sneaking right through?"

No chance at all.

Mesa highlights two figures as Eleanor and I pull into the makeshift garage space. Arthur posted up by the task-board, his skana balanced with its tip on the ground and the hilt snug against the heel of his hand. Aoi sat cross-legged on the workbench next to Arthur.

"Lettie must be busy," Eleanor tells me. Her voice feels narrowed. I've learned this is the sensation of a private line. "There is no way she would miss this particular show."

We ride into center stage and Eleanor cuts the engine. Its final rumble echoes alone for a full second.

"You're missing a bike!" Aoi calls out at us, grinning.

Arthur grunts. It's a suitably dark and broody sound. He spins the skana once and then catches it. As far as I can tell, he's got all kinds of feelings about Eleanor and I getting close and I don't think all of them are good.

I have Mesa climb off the bike. She registers for my benefit Arthur's skana and Aoi's complete lack of conventional weaponry - highlighting then the metallic coils around Aoi's wrists. Before more detail starts to filter through I emerge from the frame. Mesa is rendered inert and I stand before her to begin explaining myself, "I wiped out. It's my bad, I --"

"While we appreciated the heads-up, I do not think you understood the sheer number that came after us. Or how fast." Eleanor's voice cuts through what I was going to say inside all of our heads. There is a brief, intentional pause for effect before she continues, "Personally I bless our lucky stars we got back here in one piece ourselves."

Arthur finally steps forward, "Maybe if at least one of you had stayed on communications --"

"Do you have any idea how far I have to go just for some peace and quiet? Apologies, brother, if I did not want one of you lot nattering away in my ear."

Aoi is about to say something, but she clocks the same thing that I do. Eleanor and Arthur coming face-to-face and a certain intensity about them. So Aoi gives me a look between the middle of them. I don't get the specifics of what she's trying to impart. I come from a world where thoughts and feelings are plainly spoken and Aoi just has so many expressions.

What I do get is out-of-signal radio static from Eleanor as her bickering with Arthur remains loud, but obfuscated.

"Listen!" I pipe up, trying to cut through whatever noise Arthur and Eleanor are immersed in. "Important part is that we made it, yeah? And lesson learned for next time. So why don't we just cool off?"

Aoi winces, but I think it's sympathetic.

Arthur scoffs and shoots me a look that could mean anything.

And Eleanor looks downright smug. I feel a small sensation in the back of my mind. A psychic nudge. Pat on the back? Soft elbow to my ribs?

"All I ask is next time you two decide to go walk-about, give one of us a heads up and stay. On. The. Line." He wipes sweat from his forward with the crook between thumb and finger, then addresses me specifically, "We're not on holiday here."

I hold my hands up in surrender. I'm not about to talk back to Arthur, not when he's worked up like this. I know how well Eleanor can needle him. We'll touch base later. He's already heading back into the mall proper anyway.

Eleanor is too, not turning to look at either Aoi or I. "Well I need a lie down. Ta-ta, lovely. And you, Aoi."

It leaves Aoi and I in the garage and she's looking at me. Really looking at me. And unfolding from her seated position and getting to her feet and coming up close.

"What?"

She smiles.

"What?" I whine.

"She left in a strop and came back in a good mood," Aoi muses, she shrugs her shoulders high and walks a meandering circle around me before coming back to my side and leaning on my shoulder, "You're good with her. Or..."

"Or..?"

"You are good... With each-other?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" I groan outwardly and slap my palms against my face.

Aoi takes my hands and pulls me forward a step. "Oh it's just so cute! You fixed the fumble, then?"

"I fixed the fumble." Why did I have to tell Aoi everything?

"Yay! We did not fix the AC!" Aoi delivers that like it shouldn't be bad news. It does soften the blow. "It's like a heatwave in there. Really makes me wish we had a pool. Or wish more than just my face and palms could sweat." Aoi looks down at her hands in mine, "Sorry," and her expression wrinkles. "Clammy."

"You're good." We let go of each other and side-by-side make our way into the mall.

Aoi wasn't kidding. Between the civilian population we had let in, the veins of infestation binding certain walls together, the sky lights, and everything else, it's a heatwave. "... I could have Yareli hose us down," I muse out loud.

"Is that the magical girl?" Aoi gasps, I can practically hear the sparkle-eyes emoticon.

"Yeah," I snort, "Criminal I haven't introduced you two yet."

"You will do that. One hundred percent. Once I am less busy. I might need to convince Amir that one of the arcade cabinets is to be sacrificed to the AC Gods. Or we find scrap parts from somewhere else."

"Anything I can do?"

"Ohh, you could hand out water bottles? You could..."

Work in the Central Mall never really ends. Even before we let refugees in. It's a place held together by spit, duct tape, and techrot. It's a home, too. I walk with Aoi to the arcade and see Amir challenging two kids at once on a pair of arcade cabinets. And in a similar vein there is a trio of young girls thinking they are being sneaky behind a planter as they all watch Eleanor walk by - fear and excitement. Arthur looks to be having an important conversation with Lettie. It's terse, until she puts a hand on his shoulder and I watch as both of them relax.

Finally - as I'm making my way back to my room - Quincy catches me walking by. Things are tense there too. He's still trying to figure me out. He nods before turning back to the pair of lads he was talking with. They've a box of merchandise between them. I doubt Arthur approves.

In some ways it reminds me of the camp Kahl had set up. Or even before then the underground networks of the last free people in Narmer space. And even before then I realize maybe this - this right here - is what Duviri's market square always failed to emulate.

Nothing here is so clean and tidy.

part 3 of 4?

#warframe 1999 #fanfic #drifter #aoi #arthur nightingale #eleanor nightingale

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drabblesandimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Syrup

From an anon request - thanks anon! :) Pairings: Rei x reader Fluffy fluff

You’re sat up on the counter, cross-legged, staring up at the television screen suspended from the ceiling, mashing X as if that would make a difference. It’s a slow afternoon in your workplace of four years – Mr Kyoshi’s Joypad – a shop purely dedicated to video games and consoles. It’s a great place to work, combining your love of video games and recently you’d entered into repairs as a side hobby. In quieter periods, Mr Kyoshi had no issues with you passing the time by gaming yourself, as long as you still attended to the customers, of course. There were sample consoles dotted around the place with recent demos installed, but the one above the counter is where you’d mainly play to show off the most recent games.

The bell dings as you reach a critical part of the fight. If you pause, you’re going to lose momentum and you always die at this point. “Welcome to Kyoshi’s Joypad where we cater to all your gaming needs!” You say almost robotically, before adding, “I’ll be with you in just a second…”

You mash X again, hoping maybe you’ll get another attack in before the boss’ big attack but it’s not to be – your character’s HP drops down to 0 and the screen displays game over.

“Ugh!” You put down the controller and hop off the counter, before spinning round. “Sorry about that, I’ve been trying to beat him since yesterday…” You trail off at the sight of the man before you. He’s tall and lean, shaggy black hair and he looks like he didn’t sleep the night before, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit he was attractive. He’s dressed in tight black jeans and has a blue hoodie zipped up, with a tote bag in hand.

You realise you’ve trailed off and you’re just staring at each other, so you laugh before starting over. “Er, hi! What can I do for you?” You smile, warmly. You’ve had your experience with a lot of socially awkward boys and men in your time working here – some more painful than others – so you’re aware when you might need to lead the conversation some more.

“You need to buff up your defence with iron heart when he powers up.”

“Huh?”

He points to the screen behind you.

“Oh! I’m so bad at remembering that’s a thing, you know? I just like to hit everyone with the big sword.” You scratch the back of your head – a habit when you’re nervous – and grin. “But thanks! I’ll try that next time – I’ve been stuck at this bit for ages.”

He nods and then there’s another pause.

“So, er, can I help you with anything in particular, or did you just want to browse, or…?” You could ramble enough for two.

He puts down the tote on the counter, hesitating before retrieving the contents. “I read online that you do repairs?”

“Yeah! Of course, this voids any warranty on the product, so if it’s still in that period we’d always advise going to the manufacturer first.”

“Mm. No, they’re out of warranty.” He pulls out two controllers. One looks crusted with a questionable substance and the other seems fine, albeit worn.

“Lemme guess – drift?” You point at the battered one.

“Yep.”

It’s a known problem with these controllers – just the amount of use over time wears them out and as a consequence your accuracy takes a hit as the joystick takes on a life of its own. It’s annoying for first person shooter games, as well as racing games – both genres you suspect this guy is into.

“And, er, what happened to this one?” You point, not quite daring to touch it yet until the mystery substance is identified.

“My daughter gave it a bath in syrup.”

“Ah.” You nod, and poke at it cautiously and find it to be horrendously sticky. The thought crosses your mind that this man looks a little young to have a daughter and there’s no wedding ring… You mentally smack yourself for prejudices.

“The other one has been drifting for a while, so I was mainly using this one until…” He shrugs.

“So, I can definitely fix this one for you.” You tap on the drifter. “Syrup one… Well, I can give it a go but I can’t make any guarantees on its survival.”

“That’s fine.”

You grab a repair form from under the counter and note down the make, model and status of the controllers. “I can do the both for 10,000 yen, if that sounds okay?”

The man nods. “Sure. How long will it take?”

“So, I do all the repair work from home where I have the proper set-up as there wasn’t any room in the store.” Mr Kyoshi was not an organized man – he loved retro games and consoles and the back room was overflowing with boxes. It wasn’t good to perform any repairs back there with all the dust, so you’d set up a dedicated space in your bedroom. “I can usually get the drift fixed in an evening, but I think I’ll need some extra time on the syrup, so it might end up being Friday. I’m probably going to have to use a combination of things to see what works…”

He frowns at the mention of Friday – probably the only controllers he owns.

“However, since we don’t want you to be without…” You crouch down below the counter and retrieve a controller from the box you keep back there for such occasions. “You can borrow this. It’s one I’ve refurbished for the shop and you can tell it’s seen a lot, but it still works great.” You slide it over to him. “And you can just bring it back when you come to collect yours.”

“Thanks.” He feels it in his hands. “Could tell I can’t wait that long, huh?”

“Hm, well, I know there’s a Morio Kart online championship coming up and that a lot of people are practicing… I might be way off here, though.”

A smile creeps up on the man’s face. “Hm. Maybe.”

You slide over the form with a pen and tap at the bottom. “Haven’t lost my touch! So, if you want to just write your name and phone number down there for me.” You grab a zip-lock bag to stick the sticky controller in – you don’t want to put that in your backpack.

“My phone number?” His face looks quizzical.

“Yeah…” You smile. “You know, so I can let you know when to pick it up?”

“Ah.” He scribbles down the two bits of information quickly.

“Great! Is there anything else I can help you with today?” He shakes his head as he puts the loaned controller in the tote bag. “Okay, have a good day.” You grin as he heads towards the door.

“Good luck,” he nods up towards the ‘game over’ screen.

Through extensive research (aka browsing numerous forums and checking videos), by late Thursday night you’d got the syrupy controller back to its best. It was a bit of trial and error with rubbing alcohol, a tiny toothbrush and a scraper to try and dislodge the sticky residue from every nook and cranny - the payment was probably not worth the amount of time you’d spent on the thing but you were a sucker for a cute guy. The other controller was an easy enough fix at least, one you’d done a number of times already for other clients.

You were covering the 12-8 shift in the shop on Friday – Mr Kyoshi liked to keep it open a little later ahead of the weekends, so as soon as you got in you dug out the form and rang the number the customer – one Rei Suwa – had left you.

It rang for a little too long and you were now expecting it to go to voicemail when suddenly the ringing stopped.

“Hi.” A curt greeting.

“Hi!” You answered cheerfully. “It’s Kyoshi’s Joypad here…”

A loud bang cuts you off. It sounded like a gunshot in the background. He must have one hell of a surround sound system.

“Yeah?”

“So, good news! Both the controllers are working, so if you wanna drop by…”

“What the hell, Rei?! Are you seriously on the phone right now?!” A voice screeches, before there’s another burst of gunfire. “Get to cover!”

You roll your eyes – you must’ve disturbed a Call Of Duty session with his buds.

“Thanks. I’ll be there later on today.”

“Dude!” The other voice hisses.

“Okay, bye.” But the dial tones tells you he’s already hung up. You place the phone back on the receiver, before and putting the fixed controllers underneath the desk along with the form to be collected later and get on with your shift.

It’s half three and you’ve been kept pretty busy. You’re sat behind the counter, finishing off the last of the stock audit when the bell rings again and you look up with your automatic greeting.

“Welcome to Kyoshi’s Joypad where we… Whoa.” You wished you hadn’t said that last part out loud.

The man standing the other side of the counter from you is in an incredibly well-fitted suit, waistcoat and red tie. His dark-hair is tied up on top of his head, revealing an undercut. His face seems similar but you can’t quite place it.

You manage to stop yourself gawking. “I mean, whoa-t can I help you with today?” You know as soon as it comes out of your mouth that it was not the smoothest save and the slight smile on the man’s face just seems to confirm it.

“I’m here to pick up the controllers…” He mumbles, and then you put two and two together. This is the same guy from the other day?! You found him attractive then, sure, but this look… Ooft.

“Oh, Rei! I’m so sorry, the suit threw me off.”

“You don’t like it?” He looks down at the fit with a frown.

“No, no! I just… It’s not what the average clientele wears in here, so I just didn’t put the two and two together. It looks good, really good…”

“I had a meeting.” That doesn’t really blend with what you heard on the phone earlier, but maybe that was a lunchbreak thing? You shouldn’t judge, you spend a good deal of your working day gaming and get away with it.

“Oh, cool. What do you do for work? I mean, you know I work here, so…”

“I guess you could say I clean up the city.”

“Ah…” You nod as if you get what he means, but you don’t. There’s an awkward silence and then you remember what he came in for. “Right, your controllers!” You bend down and retrieve them �� they’re in a paper bag with the shop’s logo on. You slide the bag across the counter. “Should be as good as new.”

“Wow,” he peeks in the bag and retrieves one, then the other, looking closely. “I can’t even tell which one was the syrupy one.”

“Thanks!” You smiled. “I was pretty pleased with how it turned out too. I’ve tested them both out with a couple of games, but if something doesn’t seem right just bring them back and I’ll take a look, free of charge, of course. I like happy customers.”

“Thank you.” He retrieves the store’s controller from his suit pocket – you’re not sure how it fit in there. “And this is yours. I kept Miri away from it to make sure it didn’t come back in syrup.”

“Miri - is that your daughter’s name?” He nods. “That’s cute. How old is she?”

“Four.”

“She must be a handful.”

“Mm.” There’s a pause. “Did you beat the boss from the other day?”

“I did – thank you. Your tip did the trick. I promise I’ll remember about my status boosts from now on, or at least try.”

Someone stands behind Rei with a game in hand, ready to check out. You want to keep the conversation going, but Mr Kyoshi doesn’t pay you to flirt with handsome men – though he does bemoan why a nice young lady such as yourself is single…

Rei notices the person too. “How much do I owe you again?”

“Oh, yeah. 10,000 yen, please.” You enter the amount into the register as he passes over his card and you slide it through the machine. “Thank you. Here’s your receipt. Hope to see you again soon!”

“Thanks. Me too.” He picks up the paper bag and gives you a small wave as he leaves.

It’s Monday when you’re next back in the shop. The morning is very quiet and after you’ve taken the usual deliveries, you’re sat back upon the counter playing another quest when the bell rings. You immediately pause and slide off the counter, ready to greet the customer. “Welcome to… Oh, Rei. Hi!” You smile and he smiles back almost sheepishly. He’s in casual attire today and has a bag in his hand.

“Morning.”

“How can I help you today?”

“Er, I’m afraid Miri had another accident.” He places the bag on the counter and you peek inside. It’s soaked in syrup again.

“What – how?!” Your eyes widen at the sight of it.

“Blame Kazuki, he’s always giving her pancakes…”

“Kazuki, huh?” You try and ask casually.

“Yeah, my room-mate. We, er, co-parent. It’s a long story. Can you salvage it?”

“I think so. Leave it with me. It might be another two-day job, if that’s okay? I can lend you a controller again if you need two…” You grab another form and jot down the details.

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want her to drench yours either. She can just watch me.”

“It’s sweet that you guys play together.” You smile. “Can you write your number down again for me?” You’ve already filled in his name.

“Sure.” He notes it down. “How are you getting on?” He points up to the screen.

“Mm, better! It’s my own fault – I’ll admit I like playing for the storyline more than the combos.”

“No, I can understand that.” His phone chimes with an alarm from his pocket. “Ah, sorry. I need to head. You’ll ring when it’s ready?”

“Mm-hm. Speak soon.” You watch him leave, disappointed the conversation was so short today. You let out a sigh and hop back up onto the counter, resuming your game.

You call Rei Wednesday morning after you’ve successfully eliminated all traces of syrup again – this time it’s quiet in the background on his side. He says he’ll be by in the afternoon and, true to his word, he appears with a little girl holding his hand.

“Hi, Rei!” You smile brightly as he heads over to the counter. Miri, you presume, is bouncing on her heels and looking around the shop in wonder, squealing as she recognizes different video game characters.

You bend down and retrieve Rei’s controller, placing it on the counter before leaning over it and grin down at Miri.

“So, syrup bandit, we meet at last, huh?”

Miri grins back up at you. “Oh, you’re the pretty lady that fixes them!” Rei’s face flushes red and he stutters, but you can’t help but find it adorable. Miri’s attention span drifts and lands on the Morio Kart display demo to the side. “Do you get to play all these games all day?!”

“I sure do! Sadly, I have to let the customers have a go too otherwise my boss gets kinda mad.” You wink. “Speaking of which, you can play Morio Kart if you like.”

“Oh, can I? Can I, Papa Rei?” She tugs at Rei’s arm again with a pleading look.

“Sorry, Miri. Papa Kazuki said we needed to be back by 4 today. How about we swing by another time, and we can play when we get home, okay?”

“Okay, Papa Rei.” She nods, though her eyes stare longingly at the demo machine.

“How much do I owe you today?”

“5,000, please.” He slides over cash this time and you ring it through the register.

“Now, young lady, please can you promise me not to cover this in syrup again?”

She frowns. “But Papa Rei told me to do it so he could come see you again!” Rei looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up in that moment.

“Oh, did he?” You laugh, feeling your own cheeks flush. “Well, here’s your receipt and…” You grab a pen and write along the bottom. “..my gamer tag.”

He nods his head frantically, grabs the receipt, the controller and Miri and speedwalks to the door. “Thank you! Bye.”

“Bye, pretty lady!” Miri beams and Rei yanks her out of there.

When you get home later that night, you make a quick dinner before collapsing on your bed as you boot up your games console. You logged into the network, and a notification beeped. One new request from ReiSuwa1.

You hit accept and see he’s still online, playing the game you’d struggled on the other day. Coincidence or deliberate, you muse. A few minutes later, another notification comes up. ReiSuwa1 is inviting you to voice chat.

Your stomach flips as you grab your headset and put it on, before hitting accept.

There’s a beep to show you’ve been connected.

“Don’t tell me there’s been another syrup incident.”

A chuckle fills your ears.

#ghostdogwrites #reader requests #buddy daddies x you #fluff writing #buddy daddies #buddy daddies fanfic #buddy daddies fluff #miri unasaka #rei suwa fluff #rei suwa x reader #suwa rei x you #rei x reader #suwa rei x reader

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 2 years ago

Note

Hi I hope this isn't too much trouble but

Can you do a child rocky x child reader? (The reader has a younger sister in this) fluff to angst to fluff It's basically how rocky met reader and their sister as kids and then one day reader and their sister have to move (you can decide why if you want) and rocky gets sad by this but they meet again as adults working together at lackadaisy

(Hope this isn't too much)

I probably fudged a few things from canon here, so forgive me if anything is put in the wrong place in his timeline.

So imagine you’re Rocky for a moment. You’re bouncing between two households because your mom’s in and out of someplace you can’t go and your dad couldn’t be fucked to look after you. Aunt Nina’s great and all, Freckle’s swell, but you’re getting the wires crossed on what’s home and what’s temporary lodging. And then a kitten your age and her sister (Freckle’s age) move in next door.

Y/N and her family expected a welcoming party and boy did they get it. Aunt Nina baked a little something, dressed up her boy and her sister’s unfortunate little drifter and brought them over. Rocky kept up a “prim and proper” facade until Y/N peered out from behind their parent’s leg and it was torn down in favour of talking at a mile a minute. Before Y/N likely knew what was happening they were invited outside and listening to Rocky lay the foundation for a pretend adventure story while his cousin looked sheepish and their sister was utterly enraptured.

His Designated Second Best Friend (second Only to Freckle, his Platonic Soulmate) having moved in, things started to become a little more solid for Rocky. Which is a good thing, because about as soon as he and Y/N declared each other best friends Nina got the news that his mother was gone, his father had vanished into thin air and custody of Rocky had gone to her.

So he was both uprooted and barely moved. Y/N and their sister sat with him at the wake held at Nina’s house, but he was a little confused and ashamed of himself because he hardly remembered his mother. She got sick when he was about four years old. Now seven, the only memories he had were foggy at best.

That was the start of a tough time for him. He acted out more often yet couldn’t understand why. He had anger outbursts that ended in grounding and forgot about them. Since whatever was going on upstairs couldn’t be diagnosed at the time, nobody had any idea what was going on in his furry little head. Yet Freckle and Y/N stuck by him through it, even after he shaved Freckle’s face and deliberately slammed Y/N’s tail in a door to see if he could break it. (They forgave him, but they also tucked in their tail or wore it in a belt for a little while after.)

Idle curiosity turning deadly aside, he was wonky but stable. Y/N’s family suddenly having to move away after a house fire was a hit to his morale, but he was fine. Yep, perfectly fine. Until he got kicked out. But that was fine too, because he could share letters with Freckle.

After spending a few years doing whatever the Hell he felt like and bouncing around from place to place (his favourite stint being at a circus), he was back in Saint Louis. Home sweet home.

He wound up in a speakeasy band as the violinist (and rum running part time). It wasn’t a bad gig, all things considered. It was nice to be able to improvise and not set everything on fire because of it, Zib gave him the leeway to go wild if he saw fit, it was nice to see the place fill up every night and the people liked tolerated noticed

Well, it was nice to see the place fill up. He even started picking out a familiar face here or there after a few months.

When Ivy started bringing a newly-of-college-age queen in with her, Rocky took notice. Something about the girl felt strangely familiar. Was it the bold glint in her eye that commanded adventure or the strange little lisp in her voice? Maybe she never grew out of it.

Ivy caught on to Rocky’s notice of her and dragged her over to meet him after a set…Along with a genderless feline whom Rocky would recognize anywhere. The rest of the pieces fell into place then and there.

The reunion between Y/N and Rocky was unfortunately cut short due to a silly little shootout over a few bottles, but the two got away safely so there’s no harm done. They’ll be back.

The thought of seeing Y/N and their sister again gives Rocky new appreciation for Lackadaisy. The place gave him a safe space, some friends acquaintances and even brought his best friend back to him.

#🖋 mod ille #Headcanon Home Brew #Rocky Rickaby #headcanon #lackadaisy reader insert #lackadaisy & reader

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cocogrrrl · 1 year ago

Text

drifters

you're willing to put yourself through hell for him, but a freak accident causes the situation to make him the one near death's row instead.

Kenny McCormick x gn!reader (Killjoys AU) cw: injury, mentions of drugs, usage of alcohol, themes of war wc: 4228 (minus the references in the beginning)

an: although its relatively easy to infer the lore and slang, I've provided a glossary n a bit of lore for those unfamiliar :D hope u enjoy this cause i sure did!

After the Fire Wars of 2012, California has been under a tyrannical rule lead by the quasi-governmental corporation named Better Living Industries. The company promises eternal happiness through "the sanctity of monocromaticism." Better Living Industries subjects the people of Battery City to brainwashing, heavily through the use of drugs to negate all emotions and possibly even memories. They keep an eye on every single one of the people under their control, prohibiting them from anything that can make them experience sort of feelings Killjoys are the people who live in the zones outside of Battery City. They oppose the ways of Better Living Industries and work to survive outside of their rule as well as to take them down. KN - Killjoy Name (Separate from YN) Zones - Area outside Battery City. Cordial - Slang for moonshine. BLi - Better Living Industries, can be abbreviated to BL/ind as well Dracs - (Short for Draculoids) Members of BLi’s SCARECROW unit that are ordered to kill (Usually anything that hold emotional attachment, such as relationships). Cloud - A group, and sometimes encampment, of dracs. Pangea - Culmination of three or more groups. Dusted - To die/be dead. Ghosted - See dusted Route Guano - The main road through the zones. Drifting - A relationship that is not platonic, romantic or sexual, but a combination or something outside of it. Often usually portrayed as go-with-the-flow thing. Ray gun - Shoots lasers! Pew, pew, pew! Used by killjoys and draculoids Phoenix Witch - A mystical creature that resides in the zones, guiding departed souls of killjoys. Ember Bridge - To abandon your team. Clap - A fight (not limited to, but usually) between a killjoy and a drac. Costa Rica - to go downhill. ** Very well aware they are from Colorado 😨 It’s just that the setting is in California. ** Tommy Chow Mein is a major supplier of a multitude of products in the zones. I changed it to Timmy Chow Mein in reference to Timmy Burch from South Park. ** The Trans AM is the car that the fab four killjoys drive.

—————

(I refer to the main four here by their hero names, since creating Killjoy names for them would cause a hell lot of confusion.)

“KN,” you heard Mysterion mumble your name with a slurred tongue against your hair, bodies flush against each other. You only hummed in reply. “So fuckin’ pretty. My eyes are only for you.”

“You’re absolutely shitfaced right now, aren’t you?” You laughed, turning your body to look at him and caress his face.

“I didn’t even have that much.” He rolled his eyes, playfully pouting. “Even if I wasn’t jacked on cordial right now, I’d still tell you that.”

“You’re funny.” You hummed, brushing a hair off his face to lean in and kiss him. Kissing him gently and savoring the quiet you two had together.

“Hell yeah, I am.” He started giggling, giddiness radiating from the smile on his face because of your show of affection.

“You ever think this is gonna end? Like, one day, BLI’s finally overthrown, and we’re left to build a new society?” You mused, playing with the flyaway hair spread all over the pillows.

“God, I hope so.” He sighed, his happy smile turning into one of a melancholic grin.

“Yeah? Do you think you’ll be excited if it happens?”

“When it happens, sugar,” he corrected, bringing a finger up to your face. ”But, I think so. I’m not sure what I’ll do after. I’ll definitely be with my family, but I don’t know what comes next.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, burying your face into the warm flesh of his chest. “It seems like war is all we know at this point.”

“I’m gonna have to unlearn it at some point once this is all over.” He murmured, a hand of his finding itself brushing your hair. ”As fun as it is sometimes, hell isn’t worth kicking ass. I’d rather be elderly on a porch than worry if I’ll live to see the next day.”

“You’ll get there one day.” You hummed.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll make sure of it.” You were just spewing bullshit out of your mouth. These were promises you knew damn well you couldn’t keep. Even if it was a mere stretch away from you, that reality was covered in thorns. Despite your unfaithful oath, it was your personal mission to keep him safe.

You felt a kiss laid on the top of your head. “Such a darling, sugar.”

“I know.”

———

“Wait, wait, wait,” you sighed, shaking your head in confusion. “There’s a cloud nearby, and we’re gonna storm them?”

“Yeah,” The Coon, promptly replied.

“Just the five of us are going to attack them?”

“Mhm,” this time Toolshed nodded.

“Aren’t we gonna die?! Unless a Pangea’s gonna happen, it sounds like we’re actually asking to get dusted!” You burst, jaw agape in shock.

“KN, we have no other choice. It’s either that or we wait for them to ambush the diner.” Human Kite sighed, parking a little off Route Guano. You all could see the encampment the dracs had set up not too far away.

“I guess you have a point.”

You felt a hand place itself on top of yours. It was Mysterion’s. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It gonna be okay, KN.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“...Thanks, Mysterion.” You couldn’t help but smile at him, knowing his words were tainted in falsehood anyway. There was no way telling of how this was gonna end.

This lifestyle was not one for the romantics. This life was not for the optimist.

Hell sunk itself in the modern day and, as a result, many people of all ages, sizes, and hearts are left to fight for their life depended on it.

You took a deep breath as you five exited the vehicle, finding a few large stones to hide behind. You waited for Human Kite’s lead. At one, you’ll jump in and get in a clap with the dracs.

You could either end up living or be killed, yet both outcomes scared you fiercely. If you survive, then that means you’d have to relive this experience again. If you get ghosted, then it’s game over.

But those two were just mere bad thoughts to the grand nightmare that was losing Mysterion.

You two weren’t together. You two were just drifters, existing outside of the space of platonic, romantic, and sexual desires. You joked with each other like best friends, kissed like lovers, and persevere like partners—although any sort of action you guys had were few and far between.

You cherished those moments, though. You cherished him. Every single goddamn inch of whatever he had to offer. His touch, his brightness, his smile, his kindness, his scars that littered his body, his heart full of gold that was fueled out of retribution.

Losing him was your greatest fear, even if you knew he wasn’t yours to begin with.

However, there was no turning back now. You guys were here. For all you know, you could’ve been spotted already.

Human Kite started to count down as soon as you knew it.

“Five,” he whispered.

“Four,” you held your breath, looking over to the group of unsuspecting Dracs.

“Three,” you tightened your grip on your ray gun you bought years ago at a vending machine—back when you still lived in the city.

“Two,” you swiftly glanced at Mysterion, savoring his beauty with the fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second you had left.

“One.”

All five of you jumped into the scene and started to blast the Dracs—dust from the ground quickly flying everywhere and blinding everyone. Amidst the cloud of sand, you could make out faint, white silhouettes. That’s how you knew where to shoot.

Both hands tight on your ray gun, you shot every Drac you saw, inching closer towards the center of their camp—where it was most dangerous. You had to wipe the dracs out for the safety of not just your friends but even the other gangs that settled near here.

One of them came flying at you, and by the Phoenix Witch’s grace, you were briskly able to dodge it. They barely missed you and instead landed face-first into the sand. Putting one foot on their back to hold them down, you shot them in the head. One zap to kill him, and then another to rid your frustrations.

“KN! Be careful!” A name called out. It was Mysterion, signaling to look behind you. You could see him run towards you.

As you turned to face whatever he was warning you about, you were met with the burning sensation of a ray piercing itself through your arm. “Fuck!” You cursed, nearly tumbling over from the pain. You had to hold yourself up, though, and continue fighting.

The moment you were hunched over, Mysterion was right by your side to help you. As you seethed through the pain, rebuilding the strength to stand back up, he acted as your human shield.

Once you were alright, your injured arm held your ray gun up high, the other hoisting it up by the forearm. You two needed to get out of the center quick. Back to back with your ray guns out, you two made a beeline out of the heart of the camp shooting back at the dracs that sent a hail of lasers and bullets toward the two of you.

When you were merely out of their reach, you felt Mysterion lose balance and fall on you. Adrenaline kicked in and, despite the state of your arm, you were able to hold him up. This would all be great if it weren’t for the red you spotted soaking through the grey fabric of his clothes.

“Mysterion, are you okay?” You only got a groan in reply. “Answer me!” You yelled, shaking his body. He was limp, though.

Only one thought had bore itself in your mind: you are not going to let him let go like this. He’d be ashamed of you, and you’d be ashamed of yourself.

You peeked from behind a rock you two were hiding behind, checking to see Toolshed, Coon, and Human Kite. They seemed alright, none of them sustaining any injury yet. You had to act fast right now.

It seemed like the adrenaline in your body was the only thing keeping you alive since you mustered up the will to grab Mysterion and quickly get into the Trans AM, setting him in the back.

You took off the jacket around you and wrapped it tight against his torso to apply pressure. You shrugged his jacket off to wrap it around his leg for the same reason as well. You lifted the signature helmet he wore, giving him more air to breathe.

“Mysterion. You stay there, okay? I’m gonna tell Human Kite and the others to go.” You said, doubtful that he could hear you. You shut the door, though, and ran back to the field to find the rest of your group.

You spotted Human Kite, cornered by a bunch of Dracs. He looked like he knew he was fucked. Luckily, since you were from a distance, you were able to shoot a few of the dracs from behind. An easiness was now settling on the redhead’s face. You helped him fend off the rest of the Dracs there. After which, you leaned in close to him to whisper something.

“Kite,” you said, pants breaking up your speech.

“Yeah?”

“Mysterion’s in the Trans. He got shot in the chest, side, and thigh.”

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, worry evident in his eyes.

“We gotta either dust these guys right now or book it.”

“Well,” he scanned the area, checking how many more Dracs are left. “There’s not that much left. You think we can take them down?”

“If you wanna go through it, we have to do it as fast as we can, or else we got a dead body on our hands.”

“I know.” He nodded, running to Toolshed and Coon to give them the news, you following behind. In an instant, they all started to shoot, and you did too. It didn’t long before each and every single one of them was ghosted.

Human Kite was in the driver’s, the Coon called shotgun, and so you and Toolshed were left to take care of Mysterion as the Coon asked the Chef for places with medical supplies.

All you could hear was your own heartbeat. Coon’s incessant yelling on the phone, the sputtering engine of the Trans Am, worried back and forths between Toolshed and Human Kite, and the faint sound of the radio in the back were white noise to your ears. All you stop and think about right now was Mysterion.

The sole reason why Mysterion continued to keep on going was his sister, Karen, who still lived in Battery City. The two were separated after the Fires a few years ago. Ever since then, it's been his sole mission to find her and protect her. God knows if she’s been drugged by Better Living Industries or not, but he was sure of one thing: he was not going to BL/ind make an orphan out of her.

What about you? Did you have any reason to fight? You were stripped of your freedom and innocence at a young age, sure, but so was everyone else. You had no one and nothing in particular to live for, so really you didn’t have any reason to truly fight at first.

However, when you learned why Mysterion worked relentlessly hard to take down BLi, you couldn’t help but admire him. From the day when you learned about his motivations, you made it your sole duty to protect him. Though you had nothing distinctly notable enough to live for, Mysterion did, and so you found your new purpose.

It didn’t take a genius to realize how your worries consumed you. Guilt was not a word big enough to describe the insurmountable feeling of responsibility you had bubbling in your gut. You were embarrassed, ashamed to your very core for your carelessness and stupidity. Had you kept a better eye on Mysterion, he wouldn’t be halfway through Death’s front garden by now.

Once you five had arrived in the diner, Toolshed and Coon immediately rushed Mysterion to a small booth to patch him up. Human Kite, on the other hand, assisted the hole in your arm in the comfort of your room.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” He mused, fixing up the burn hole that pierced your arm. You were lucky that it didn’t go through the bone, only piercing your skin, flesh, and muscle.

Human Kite knew about the two of you—or at least had an idea. Neither of you hadn’t told anyone about anything, but you were sure it would be easy to spot if they looked close enough.

Were you two open about your ‘relationship’? Yes. Were you two obvious about it? No, but you’re certain he would be if he could. You two were always preoccupied with taking down dracs and scheming ways to overthrow BL/ind, so you barely had the time for each other.

You could only love him in unpredictable, small doses, even if you wanted more than that. That made loving difficult, especially when you desperately longed for any sense of stability in your life.

“Oh, don’t small talk me like that.” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“It’s true, though, right?” He hummed, tongue sticking out as he redirected his focus on your arm.

“Yeah.”

“Are you two together anyways?”

“No.” You answered hesitantly, a vague image of a pout on your lips.

“Drifters?”

“You know, you’re really chatty right now. Wonder where that came from.” Despite your rather harsh reply, you did appreciate the conversation you were having with Human Kite. It served as a good distraction for the burning cold sensation that was the after sting of the laser.

Human Kite didn’t seem to take your comment to heart, though. “You’re not denying it, though.”

“So? I’m not confirming it either.”

“Tell him that you like him.” You sucked in a breath, partially out of your discontentment with the idea and partially because of the raw sensation of a needle and thread being woven into your flesh.

“Kite, he’s literally nearing his deathbed as we’re talking. I don’t think I can tell him that I like him currently.” You humorously replied, a dry look on your face as you spoke.

He shrugged. “If he makes it, then.”

“When he makes it.” You corrected.

“You’re so confusing.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Thank you. I pride myself on it.”

———

The next day passes by and Human Kite, Toolshed, and Coon had gone to the Kitchen, where Chef’s base resided, and also did his radio concerts. They went to report the outcome of yesterday’s mission and receive their next one. After that, they would pass by Timmy Chow Mein to grab some more power pups and extra supplies.

That meant you were left alone with the recovering body of Mysterion, which was resting on the booth where he was fixed up the previous day. All you had to do was check if he was breathing and alive—which he was.

However, he’s been unconscious since yesterday, so even if blood pumped through his veins, it still meant he was under unstable conditions. You watched over his rather frail and pale body, shirtless and bandages wrapped everywhere.

His poor state made you worried. It didn’t seem like you guys would be getting out of your current predicament any time soon. Hell, you’ve been going at it for years now, the term ‘soon’ just seemed like a hopeless promise to you.

The dead can be many things. The dead can win, find peace, and be freed from the chains that have held them down, but the one thing they’ll never be are survivors.

But, of course, eventually, most things will come to an end, which meant BL/ind would face its inevitable downfall. The question is if you’ll be able to watch and savor the souls (or lack thereof) crashing down.

Maybe Kyle was right. Maybe you should tell him about your feelings.

What do you have to lose? Definitely your god-knows-what of a relationship with Mysterion, but it’s not like you were going to ember bridge your gang. That would be reckless, and even then you were sure neither of you wanted to see the other leave the troupe and get themselves ghosted (or worse, drugged by BL/ind).

You sat on the seat across the booth, watching Mysterion's features shine from the sun that hit his face, adorning his features further. Mindlessly, you grazed your fingers on his exposed skin. You wondered just when he’ll wake up.

The question of yours did not take too long to be answered.

You heard a groan spill out of his lips, words you couldn’t make out being mumbled by him. Like instinct, you bolted up from your hunch-over position and observed him with a deeper focus in your eyes. “...Mysterion? Are you awake?”

“KN…” He murmured, eyes slowly opening and meeting yours.

“Mysterion!” You called out, leaping across the table.

“Ugh, what happened?” His voice was beyond coarse because of his lack of use.

You stood up and headed to the dirty kitchen behind the counter to grab a glass of water for him. “Things went Costa Rica during the clap, and you almost died—that’s what happened!”

“Mmf, thank you.” He said, finishing the drink in an instant, setting the glass on the table with a light slam. A heave exited his lips as he collected his breaths.

You knew he just woke up but had he no regard for himself? You’ve just broken the news to him that he almost got ghosted, completely dusted. He seemed to not care at all.

“Of course.” You huffed, brushing off your thoughts and rolling your eyes. You’ll probably get back to that later—when he’s more clearheaded.

“How long was I out for?”

“A whole day.” You sighed, looking at him as your head rested on your arm propped on the table. ”The gang is out to report the mission to Chef and grab some stuff at Timmy’s.”

“Alright.” He nodded.

“You shouldn’t have come back to save me.” You spoke out mindlessly, voice barely above a whisper. You meant it in a way that you regret what you’d caused because of your recklessness.

He might have taken that differently, though. “I shouldn’t have? KN, if I helped Kite and the others out instead of you, you would be totally dusted right now. That’s for sure.”

He was right, though. You couldn’t get mad at that. You were all alone back there, and the cloud of dracs would’ve ganged up on you. With Mysterion, less damage was observed, yet the injuries all targeted him.

Then again, his life mattered more than yours. He had Karen. You had no one.

“Mysterion, you matter more in the grand scheme of things. You have a family to find. I got fucking nothing!”

“Don’t say that, KN. You’re worth a lot more than you think.” He fumed, but his voice did not raise. Not at all. The look of anger on his face was clear, though.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shook your head, taking a deep breath before continuing. ”I know I matter or whatever, but you have something worth fighting for.”

“You’re worth fighting for, though.” He assured, taking both of his hands to hold your empty one.

You snapped. Words fell out of your mouth quicker than you could process the rate of them going. “And you are too! What you want is so much larger than who I’ll ever be. That’s why I’ve been hellbent on saving you!”

“You have?” He mouthed, horror melting on his face.

Hesitant to answer, you paused, body frozen. “Yeah...”

“I’m sure that’s not just why.” He continued—the terror once present now turning into an upset one.

Strike you confused since you didn’t know or understand what he was talking about. “The fuck you mean?”

“Do you like me?”

“Duh.” You bluntly answered, furrowing your brows.

“No, you don’t get it. Do you like like me?”

“Mysterion, you sound childish.”

“Answer my question.” He demanded, his eyes dark and piercing through you.

Well, you were backed into a corner now.

In the end, though, you had already thought about telling him. This was bound to be found out about at some point. Kite likely knew already, so what’s holding you back from telling Mysterion?

Fear, that is—even if it dissolved into nothing when you were with him.

You took a deep breath before you answer. “Yeah. I am in love with you.

“And so what?” You scoffed, finally straightening your posture to shoot him a look of scornfulness. ”I know I shouldn’t want you this way, especially if our lives are on the line every second of the day, but I can’t help it. I’m so hopelessly in love with you that I’m willing to sacrifice myself to get hurt in the process just so I can hold you for longer.

At this point, even if you weren’t even thinking of what you were saying, you couldn’t care less. You were finally able to set the record straight and tell him the truth. Although, you began to falter and crumble with every word you spoke.

“I want time to fast forward to a future where we’re together, and everything is normal. I can’t, though. That’s why I settle for second best—which is protecting you and waiting for that day to come.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” You spat.

You couldn’t read his reaction. You were helpless at that very moment. “Sugar…” He mumbled.

You didn’t want him to call you that name for the longest time. You didn’t deserve a name that praised you to be sweet, to be caring because, when all is said and done, you were a monster.

You only went with the name because he seemed to love calling you that, and you loved him too dearly to stop him from doing so.

Yet, despite the head you held high, you started to crumble. Your words felt selfish and how was he supposed to take you seriously? You’re nothing more than a means to an end. What if he found your confession embarrassing? What if he didn’t want to be with you anymore?

“Shit, I know it’s stupid, but I ju-”

You were cut off by the sensation of Mysterion’s lips on yours.

This was nothing new, though. You two kissed all the time, so why did this one feel so different?

Maybe it was the way it felt like it lasted forever. Maybe it was how your arms were all over each other—clinging desperately as if the other would disappear into thin air if one of you let go. Maybe it was because you could read the desperation and longing on his tongue. The petals of his lips on yours felt like a confession that did not need any words—something holy.

Whatever it was, you didn’t want this to end.

In your mind, the moment you two pulled away from each other with breaths crooked and awry, you knew one thing in that instant: you must’ve been breathing him.

“Mysterion…” You mumbled, forehead beading with sweat pressing against his.

“Kenny. It’s Kenny. Say my name. You already know it’s the real one.”

“Kenny,” you breathed, his name feeling like a cool breeze on your tongue. It’s been years since you’ve last spoken his name.

You felt his lips form into a smile on yours. “YN, YN, YN.” He chanted your name like it was his favorite hymn.

Everything felt like it was in its right place, even for a split moment. It felt that a fraction of a second was all you needed to know everything was alright. To know that everything is, in fact, here. You and Kenny against the world.

“What is it?”

Pulling apart from each other’s bodies, his hands found themselves resting on the space of your shoulders. “I need, no, want you. I’ve wanted you for so fucking long now.”

“Why are you only telling me this right now?” You cooed.

“I was terrified,” he professed. ”I didn’t know if you wanted me as much as I did with you. That’s why I never pursued anything with you. I settled to be needed. It felt more comfortable that way anyway

“Besides, romance isn’t for the zones. If I was with you, my fear of losing you would be too amplified that might even kill me.”

With every word he spoke, you could feel your heart break a little more. He didn’t deserve to think this way, and you didn't deserve him to believe in you like this.

“At least you don’t have to be scared anymore.” You said reassuringly, taking the sides of his face into your hands, thumb caressing his cheek. ”I’ll be scared with you. Two negatives is a positive, right? We’ll find a way to work this out.”

“Please hold my hand as we work things through. Please,” he paused, hesitant to continue his next words. “Be with me.”

You nodded, finding your hand intertwined with his as you laid a soft kiss on it. “For as long as time allows us.”

(You thought to yourself, ‘Perhaps I’m a romantic as well.’)

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mccormick x you #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny x reader

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soundcrusher · 2 years ago

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The super secret thing that's definitely Hot Rod x Overlord

Okay, so, it might have taken me three days to finsish this, but it's done now. Here's the "Secret Option that's definitely not Hot Rod x Overlord" that you guys voten on here.

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As a small sumary:

In this little story, Hot Rod never joined a faction after Nyon burned. Instead he became a drifter before becoming a mercenary who works for both factions from time to time.

(Please keep in mind that I'm working with whatever I can gather from TFWiki about the characters and their stories from the IDW contenuity.)

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With that being said, please enjoy a roughly 11 pages long fanfic with a pairing that should (probably) have never happened.

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Nyon burned, and no-one cared.

His people died, and no-one cared.

He was the only one left, and no-one seemed to care about that. They only wanted to claim one of the last known survivors of Nyon as their own. Not because of what he could offer to their cause, but rather as a symbol of how cruel their enemy could be.

It was sickening, because neither side didn’t think about what their claim would mean to Hot Rod. The Autobots saw it as a duty to take in a stranded mech without a home as a sign of good will, while the Decepticons only wanted him as a symbol of what a corrupted government could do to you. And call him selfish, headstrong or stupid, but Hot Rod did not want to become either. He, like every Nyonian buried under the ashes of their home and burned by the flames of their deathly freedom, would never join a faction that failed to help those in need.

The leaders only saw their goal after all. They could have helped, but neither did. No-one came when they called for help, and no-one tried to save them. They were pushed to the end. They fought till the end, and only now are the Autobots and Decepticons coming. Trying to claim the last remains of Nyon as their own.

And Hot Rod wouldn’t stand for that. No matter how much they tried to convince him, the young speedster only looked at them, before turning his back on everything. Walking away in search of a new home and purpose, far away from everything that provided a stark reminder of what he has lost, but Nyon’s downfall always found him.

At first, it was a single Autobot caught up in a trap set by Decepticons. And despite his burning hate for either faction, Hot Rod couldn’t turn his back on someone who was in need. So, he helped the Autobot out. Bringing them to safety, before leaving them alone. He couldn’t risk getting on their radar and getting another ‘Recruitment Speech’. He’s gotten sick of them the first time around. Especially those made by Optimus.

‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’, what a load of robo-bullcrap. If it truly was the right of all, why were they fighting and destroying life and freedom across the galaxy. Yes, the Decepticons are also to blame, but still, the Prime should be more self-conscious about his own decisions. And that comes from a known hot head”

Either way, this whole mess he found himself in started with one Autobot, and then it just spiraled. Everywhere he went, everywhere he tried to run to Nyon followed him. And then, when he thought about all he had lost, there was always someone in desperate need of help.

And Hot Rod always ended up helping whoever needed him. Be it Autobot, Decepticon, Neutral, or a poor organic caught up in the middle of Megatron’s and Optimus’ spike measuring contest. He was always there to help out, and despite his late friends' wishes, despite everything they hoped for him, Hot Rod took up arms and learned how to shoot, to fight, take on and dismantle ‘bots and ‘cons bigger than him, stronger than him. And when the factions learned about it, Hot Rod found himself facing them again. Over and over, like an endless song stuck in your head.

“Join us!”

“We could need a mech like you.”

“Why are you throwing away your skills, when you could use them for something greater?”

Those were just a few of the phrases Hot Rod heard while helping out, and he hated them. His skills weren’t supposed to be used by one of the sides. They were supposed to help whoever needed him. Whoever was faced with a situation like his own, like Nyonians, where the only way out was death.

So what if he sometimes helped out Autobots, only to face them on the other side in the next battle? This was war, and he was a drifter turned mercenary, Hot Rod had no obligations to anyone. No matter how many of those he fought with called him a traitor for taking on jobs offered to him. Let them think what they want, Hot Rod knows who he is. The last Nyonian he knows, and one who wouldn’t bow before anyone.

Not before the senate, not before Optimus Prime and not before Megatron, even if he was currently working for the latter one.

At least working for Megatron was easier than the Prime. Yes, he might get the occasional question as to why he isn’t joining his quest, but at least none of those questions were ‘Recruitment Speeches’. Not anymore at least.

But then again, working with the Decepticons also had its down-sides. Especially when it came to the mechs and femmes in the faction. Some were okay, some were annoying, and then there were those who seemed to have it out for him. And with ‘out for him’, Hot Rod meant that they were either trying to pick a fight with, or kill him.

Although, it was mostly the bigger ‘cons asking for a fight, because they never truly believe him that he can take them down. And yet, he always proves them wrong. Right now, he was sitting on the downed Decepticon he just fought while cleaning his rifle. It wasn’t his fault that the big lug got knocked out while fighting him. Also, Hot Rod was quick to notice how others seemed to avoid him whenever he was perching on one of his defeated opponents. So, this quickly became a habit. Not only because it kept others away, but also because it added to his image of a menacing mercenary. And such an image is always good.

But, much to Hot Rod’s disdain, one ‘con seemed to not take the hint. Or at least, he chose to ignore the hostile field the speedster let seep through his cracks, whenever he wanted to make sure others knew not to talk with him. Thus why he internally gagged, as he heard all too familiar footsteps come his way.

Great, as if he didn’t have anything better to do.

“Look what the cyber-cat dragged in…” Muttered Hot Rod quietly to himself, as he looked over at the mech. “Overlord, didn’t expect you to come back so soon. I would offer you a chair, but… yeeaaah. There’s none around.”

Overlord only smirked, as he waved one of his hands in a dismissive way, while the other was placed on his hip. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been sitting most of the day either way. That little mission was over in nothing more than a second.”

“Sounds like Megatron didn’t give you the interesting one. Heh, but you’re not the only one who’s been pushed to the side lines.” Hot Rod said and finished cleaning his rifle. Storing the cleaning rag in his subspace, before getting down from his perch and walking away. “But hey, I don’t mind it. Just means work is easier for me and I’ll be gone sooner than later.”

“So, you’re leaving again? Didn’t think you would abandone a fight that easily, Hot Rod.”

The speedster only laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Hiding his annoyance when he suddenly noticed that he had company when walking down the hall towards his temporary hab-suite. “Oh, I’m not abandoning a fight. I’m merely doing my job, while hoping to get an opportunity to finally see the… let’s say ‘fulfillment of my dream’.”

“And what would that entail?”

Overlord sure didn’t take social cues, or he opted to ignore them. Hot Rod was betting on the latter, while praying to Primus that his hab-suit would finally show up. He couldn’t stand the company of others, especially when they were nothing more than murderers who killed just for the sake of killing.

Hypocritic, he knows, but what else can he say? Everyone’s going to become a killer sooner or later when getting involved in this war. Doesn’t mean that Hot Rod had to enjoy it, even if there was a small part deep down that somehow relished in the fact that the mechs who didn’t help his people found their end at his hands. It’s poetic, in a way.

"Many things. Nyon being rebuilt would be a part of it, but… I would say seeing Megatron’s and Optimus’ grayed out form would be the biggest part. I wouldn’t even care who did it, as long as it happens.” That seemed to shut Overlord up for a second, and Hot Rod reveled in the silence. Until the bigger mech decided to speak up again.

“Would you try to kill Megatron on your own?” Asked Overlord, and this time, Hot Rod wasn’t sure what to think of the bigger mech. He didn’t like his tone. It was too flat and lacked his usual dramatic tendencies. Making him feel like prey, and Hot Rod hated that feeling.

“No, I’m not stupid.” Was the speedster's answer, before he let out a sigh. “Everyone knows he’s your kill. And frankly, I wouldn’t take your chance away to fight him.” He said with a laugh. “As I said, seeing his grayed out form is enough for me… Just… may I have one request?”

“And that would be?”

“A front seat when you get your re-match. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes that he can’t win.”

A smirk was all Hot Rod got as an answer, before entering his temporary hab-suit. And as he sat down on his berth, rifle stored away next to it and a knife placed in an easy to grab spot, did Hot Rod think about what exactly he said. Hopefully he didn’t make himself interesting for the big-lipped psycho. He didn’t need the attention of someone who’s known for his obsession over bloodshed and killing. It would only lead to problems. And Hot Rod didn’t need even more problems.

But those fears seemed unfounded, because when he awoke from recharge the next day, Overlord was long gone. Send to a mission which Hot Rod found out was far enough away from him. And so, the Nyonian continued his work for the Decepticons, before going his own way again. Leaving as soon as he got his payment and deciding to keep away from the war for a while.

And a while became a long time, because, as the war dragged on and he had to fight and kill more than before, Hot Rod found himself constantly confronted with the darkest part of his spark. A part that constantly tried to justify his killing by saying it was vengeance for his fallen people, but who was he kidding? War turns everyone into a killer, and Hot Rod was fighting with his urge to just go wild. Thus why he distanced himself from both factions from time to time. He didn’t need a longer list of victims, although he would always keep two spots open. Just in case.

His struggle to keep his darkest part at bay is also why he joined many ships and crews not as a killer but as a security guard. Traveling from place to place, until his latest crew crash landed on a planet he didn’t bother to learn the name of. Although, maybe he should have, because a group of Decepticons herded together the remaining survivors of the crash and him, and led them all back to a prison. An Autobot looking prison that was entirely run by Decepticons.

Great, this was just what Hot Rod needed. A place where he’ll probably rot until the end of his days, or die a lot sooner. Hopefully it’s the last, he’s always hated being trapped in one place. It reminds him too much of Nyon and how many of his people must have died trapped underneath rubble or in a room forced to slowly die.

But alas, fate seemed to make his life a cruel joke, because when his temporary crew was brought before the warden… it was Overlord. And Hot Rod found himself regretting his life choices, because out of all the planets he could have crash landed on, it was the one where Overlord was running a prison.

He really needs to have a long talk with Primus after this, because why must he torture him with having to face the one mech he didn’t want to see? But hey, at least Overlord didn’t recognize him when they were in front of him, and didn’t say anything when they were all herded towards the nearest cells. And as long as he kept his head and spoilers low, he should be able to-

“Hot Rod?”

Primus damn it! His luck was never here to stay, was it? So, with a deep inhale, Hot Rod put on his most charismatic smirk, before turning around. “Howdy Overlord, long time no see.” He said, while awkwardly finger gunning at the bigger mech. “Eeeeeeither way, I’m pretty sure your guys are supposed to bring me to a nice cell. Sooooo, see ya later?”

“No. I would rather see you now. We have… a lot of catching up to do.” And with that, Hot Rod was whisked away by Overlord. Separated from his temporary crew and led to another part of the prison. One that looked more like mechs were supposed to live there, rather than being imprisoned. Which means, there’s only one way how this is going to end, and Hot Rod wasn’t ready for that. Not even when Overlord simply pushed him into the biggest hab-suit he’s ever seen and locked the door behind them.

Great, just great, he was locked in with a mech known for killing anyone he pleases. And who was currently lounging on something that looked like a mix between a berth and a plush chair from earth. Weird choice of furniture, but who was he to judge. Hot Rod didn’t have the greatest taste either.

Still, with Overlord ‘seated’, the speedster remained standing. His hands fidgeted by his side, as his eyes roamed around the room. Mapping out possible escape routes, while he was already preparing a strategy in case this encounter would end in a fight.

“Well, well, well, look what the cyber-cat dragged in.” Said Overlord with the most self-serving smirk Hot Rod has ever seen. “I didn’t expect to see you this soon, Hot Rod. And this time, there are even enough chairs that I can offer you one to sit on.”

“Very clever, Lordy. Using my own words against me. Didn’t think you would remember them.” Was the answer Hot Rod gave, while walking around the room. Noting some energon stains littering either the floor, walls or ceiling. “And it looks like you’ve been… busy in here…”

“Of course. A gladiatorial pit doesn’t run itself after all and, well, you could say my sense of decor is quite… explicit.” Said Overlord, as he watched Hot Rod walk around. Observing how the speedster’s hands would sometimes form into fists, while his spoiler shook from something the Phase Sixer couldn’t quite place yet. “But it seems I’m not the only one who’s been busy, ‘Flaming Death’.” A hitch of the spoilers. One that made Overlord smirk even wider. “It seems you’ve made yourself quite the name, Roddy.”

“… A name I hate, but it seems to stick with me.” Was all Hot Rod said, before sitting down on a chair. “Either way, why am I not in a cell? Because I doubt this is only a way for us to ‘reconnect’, Overlord. If you want news about the Decepticons, I don’t know much. Haven’t worked with them for quite some time.”

“Oh no, that’s not why I invited you in here.” He didn’t like Overlord’s smile. Nor did he like how the Phase Sixer was sitting up, arms propped up on his legs and hands clasped together as he leaned forward. A smirk similar to that of the cheshire cat stretching across his face. “I was hoping you would stay here for a while. You see, the fights have become somewhat repetitive. No-one seems to know how to properly entertain my me-”

“You.” Hot Rod cut in. Barely containing his shit eating grin, as he saw one of Overlord’s eyes twitch in annoyance. “No-one seems to know how to properly entertain you. And let me guess, you’re hoping that I could breathe some fresh air into the fights by participating myself. Sorry Lordy, but I’m trying not to fight or kill anyone currently.”

Overlord looked deeply into Hot Rod’s eyes. Trying to find something that would or could indicate that the speedster was lying, but it seemed that his ‘friend’ was speaking the truth. But alas, he could see something simmering underneath the surface of the truth. And that was enough for him. “What a pity then. I know how much you hate recruitment speeches, but my proposition surely will interest you.”

“And what would that be?” Hot Rod didn’t like this. Hearing a speech from Optimus or Megatron was one thing, but Overlord played in a different kind of league. And he was never sure if Overlord didn’t know about the darker part of his spark. The one that liked killing.

“No need to be so tense, Roddy. It’s quite simple. Stay for a few days and join me during some of the matches. You don’t have to fight, only watch. And if you happen to want to join, I won’t stop you.”

This sounded like a good deal. One Hot Rod could do, but he was still unsure. There surely was a catch. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“There’s always a nice cell waiting for you and then you will have no choice but to fight.”

Damn it, that was a good point. And considering how he was currently at Overlord’s mercy, if that mech even knew the meaning of that word, his hands were tied. So, Hot Rod heaved a deep sigh, before nodding. “Alright, but I’ll be allowed to decide when I go. You know why I don’t like sticking around one place for a long time. I get too twitchy whenever I can’t move on.”

“Of course, of course. But I would still advise you to, at least, stay for some stellar cycles. You can’t really get the full experience otherwise.”

And so, Hot Rod stayed. Joining Overlord whenever there was a fight happening and watching the poor mechs dying for a chance of freedom, but the speedster knew that it was a lie. Overlord never lets anyone live, and he only needed to witness one winner getting annihilated by the Phase Sixer after their hard earned winning streak, for him to get into the arena himself.

At first, he made sure the deaths would be quick. Hot Rod hated dragging them out. No-one was supposed to suffer when he fought them. Not when there was already enough suffering across the galaxy, but then he was confronted with his next opponent. And Hot Rod’s blood started to boil.

He remembered the mech from when Optimus came to gaze upon the burned remains of Nyon. That mech dared to insult his city, his people. Calling them cowards for destroying their home and not finding another way out. And for once, Hot Rod didn’t hold back, nor did he let the Autobot die a quick death.

No, Hot Rod took his time with killing this mech

At first, he made the mech stagger and fall by weaving between his punches. His opponent was taller than him, but this wasn’t the first time Hot Rod faced off against someone that was bigger and stronger. And neither was it his first time fighting a mech who had an ego bigger than what was healthy. So, it didn’t take him long until the Autobot was tired out, and with one quick punch between his chest plates, the big fella fell. With Hot Rod quickly descending upon him. Ribbing through cables and painting the ground of the arena with his opponents energon, until the Autobot could no-longer move. The speedster hard removed every cable needed for that.

However, Hot Rod didn’t finish him off yet. Rather, he took one look at the mech, before igniting his fire. Coating his right arm with flames burning hotter than they should while he slowly pressed it against his opponents chest. Melting his chest plating as Hot Rod’s hand steadily buried its way closer and closer to the mech’s spark. And when he reached his destiny, Hot Rod stared into the Autobots eyes. Tilting his head slightly to the side while smiling sweetly, before plunging his hand deeper. Burning him from the inside.

And only when it was done, did Hot Rod look up. Staring Overlord straight in the eyes, as he slowly got up. Energon that wasn’t his own dripping from his frame, before he turned around and left the arena.

He had given them a spectacle. He had given Overlord exactly what he wanted, and now, he was tired. Primus, was he tired. Using his flames freely without restriction was one thing, but using them in a concentrated way that made it able for him to burn through another Cybertronian’s plating was another thing. There were many things he had to consider after all. The spot where he was concentrating all his flames to, the intensity of the heat used and the willpower to pull through.

And that alone made Hot Rod tired. Tired enough to not notice the looming presence following him.

“That was quite the show you put on, Roddy.” Great, Overlord coming after him was the last thing he needed. Especially when he was low on fuel and his frame was screaming at him to rest.

“Can we not do this now Overlord? I’m not really… in the right mood for whatever this is going to be.” Hot Rod sighed, as he felt his body slowly shutting down. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone all out, but pit be damned, it was worth it. Even if it was just to shut up the dark part of his spark and, in a twisted way, protect his fallen city and people's honor.

“I can see that. Using those flames of yours must have really tired you out.” Overlord grinned, as he scooped up the exhausted speedster and started to carry him down the halls. “I can’t recall ever seeing them. Nor have you ever said anything about them. How come?”

Hot Rod didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but lean against Overlord, before answering the big lug. “I just didn’t think it would interest anyone. Flames aren’t really that special after all. There are far cooler abilities out there.”

“And yet, I must admit that they fascinate me. Seeing you burn through your twelfth opponent with such ferocity, such bloodlust, one could start to think that you relish in the pain of those you kill.”

Hot Rod knew that Overlord was toying with him, but frankly, he was too tired to indulge him. So, he simply shrugged his shoulders as best as he could, before closing his eyes. Thinking more about the fact that he’s killed twelve mechs so far, with only the last one being a brutal death. Seems like he still has his self-control in check. Good.

"Twelfth… huh? So, did you come to pick up the scraps and finish me off? Don’t think that that would be satisfying for you.”

“Oh no. I’m not here to fight you. I’m just here to make sure you’re taken care of, before your ‘final fight’. I want you to be presentable and at full strength after all.” That didn’t sound good. The final fight, from what Hot Rod has seen, was one between Overlord and whoever the unfortunate Cybertronian was that got so far.

“Sorry… but that won’t happen. The second I can, I’m calling in our deal and leaving this place. And you can’t really do anything against it, Lordy.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything against it?” Asked Overlord with that degradingly silky tone of voice that caused Hot Rod’s internals to churn in hate. And, maybe, something else. But he didn’t say so. Instead, the speedster online his optics and glared up at the smug looking bastard towering over him. Growling lowly, as he hurled a small blast of fire at Overlord’s face. But considering his state, it didn’t reach its target. Dissipating the second the blast left his outstretched arm.

Causing Overlord to let out a chuckle, as he readjusted his hold on the weakened speedster. Holding Hot Rod’s arm, while gently squeezing it. “I take this as a ‘No’, Roddy. And if I were you, I wouldn’t try to argue with me. Not when you like your arm.”

“Suck my exhaust pipe.”

“Maybe later.”

Later came all too soon for Hot Rod and, turns out, Overlord didn’t really mean an actual fight when he told him he had to be ready for his ‘final fight’. It was a proposition. One he wasn’t sure if he should accept, but considering everything else, he said yes. And ended up with more than just Overlord sucking his exhaust pipe. Because it turns out that Overlord doesn’t just have very kissable lips, he’s also very good with them… and with everything else too…

That’s also why Hot Rod finds himself fighting back a deep blush whenever he remembers that night. Even as he moved on, leaving the prison and planet, the memory of that night never truly left him. It was something else, and to be honest, it was probably the first time Hot Rod felt understood or even heard out. And the only part that caused some sort of anger to rise whenever he thought about that was, that it’s Overlord.

That guy’s supposed to be a dangerous but charming mass murderer who kills only for the fun of it. Not someone Hot Rod feels comfortable around… and yet, the spark wants what the spark wants. And so, the speedster did the only thing he could think of.

Run as far as he could and wait until the war was over, before going back to Cybertron. He wanted a new start, something that could give him a chance to break out of the circle of violence he found himself in, and yet, the only jobs he got were those that caused others pain. And those only caused the dark part of Hot Rod’s spark to grow, no matter how deep he tried to push it back down. It always rose up, just like Overlord said.

Maybe that’s why he joined that weird crew when they were looking for Cybertronians who wanted to join their quest in finding the Knights of Cybertron. Maybe he thought that the Knights could help him with his problem. They were Knights after all, they surely fought some mechs. They should know how to deal with the urge to kill, right? They could help him, right?

Either way, joining the crew might have been the wrong call. Not because it wasn’t fun, oh no, despite him being surrounded by Autobots, Hot Rod had a blast. He even found a friend in the swordmech named Drift. His problems were more with the crew members who knew him from his time as mercenary. Especially that Whirl fella always tried to pick a fight with him, and Hot Rod always obliged. Whipping that mech’s aft over and over, and always landing in the brig for it. If he didn’t know it better, he would say that that big blue mech was after him. Then again, he did kind of steal his version of the Autobot Codex and vandalize it, so, yea. It’s kinda deserved.

But still, no matter how many adventures they got into, or how often he fought with Whirl, Hot Rod couldn’t escape his urges. They always came back to haunt him, especially after he visited Rung to talk about Nyon. It was turning into a problem, one his new and only friend always seemed to notice. And then, Hot Rod would find himself seated next to the swordmech. Trying his best to meditate with him, but it was harder than he thought.

Things have only gotten harder for Hod Rod since the peace time started, and they seemed to only get worse when it was discovered that none other than Overlord was held on the ship. Like, wasn’t his life already hard enough? Did Primus really have to make him face the one mech he loathes and maybe loves the most?

Primus was probably using him as nothing more than a joke, but at least he got to fight the Phase Sixer. And this time, Hot Rod didn’t hold back like the other times the crew got into a fight. Oh no, he went into the fight with fists raised and fire blazing. Taking some of his new crew members by surprise, because they only knew him as a neutral mech who, sometimes, got into fights with Whirl. Not as someone who would willingly go up against someone like Overlord and flirt while doing so. It sure was fun.

“Well, well, well, look what the cyber-cat let loose. Haven’t seen you since Garrus-9, Lordy.” Chuckled Hot Rod, as he dodged one of Overlord’s strikes by ducking and rolling to the side. “Don’t tell me you’ve been… hey!… Waiting for me in that cell.” Another dodge, before he sent a blast of fire into the Phase Sixers direction. Successfully distracting him from stepping on poor Pipes and probably killing him. “If I had known, I would have visited you sooner.”

“You left so soon after our special night and never came back, I thought you'd forgotten about me.” Chuckled the big mech, before driving his fist into the ship’s wall and ripping out a pipe. Which he hurled after poor Pipes. Knocking him off his feets but not killing him. “But had I known that you were here, I would have broken out sooner.”

“Awww, sounds like I’m your new favorite mech! Heh, I bet it’s my charm that won you over.” Hot Rod quickly struck a pose, before jumping to the side and doing a somersault to dodge another one of Overlord’s punches. Doing his trademark finger guns as soon as he stood up-right again. “Come one, admit it, ya missed me!”

“Of course I’ve missed you, Roddy. None of the mechs I’ve met after your departure have screamed like you have.”

That seemed to shut Hod Rod up, because the flamboyant mech couldn’t quite figure out what Overlord meant. And so, he put his hands together and two fingers against his lips, before moving everything forwards and pointing at the mech in front of him. “You’ve interfaced with someone else? You don’t really strike me as someone who would do something like that.”

“Oh no. I actually meant your screams when you burned the hole into that Autobot’s chest.” Answered Overlord, before quickly smacking away the pipe Hot Rod picked up and threw at him. “But now that you mention it, I also missed those screams.” And with each word, Overlord walked closer and closer to Hot Rod, until the small speedster was literally trapped between a wall and the Phase Sixer. And as soon as he was sure Hot Rod couldn’t escape the situation, Overlord leaned down to whisper straight into his audials. Purring softly. “And I’ve been itching for another ‘fight’, little flame.”

But before Hot Rod could say anything, they got interrupted by some of the crew. Much to Overlord’s dislike. “Can’t you see we’re having a moment!?” He yelled, before noticing exactly who interrupted them. “Ah. Why hello Maximus. I haven’t seen you since Garrus-9 either.”

And then, everything turned into chaos.

Hod Rod still can’t remember how he managed to somehow slip past the two the second Maximus bounced on Overlord like a rapid turbofox ready to tear out someone’s spark, but hey. When he was still a mercenary he didn’t really question things like this either. So, he simply stood there. Watching, taking notes on the fighting styles of both mechs and waving at those of the crew who decided to join the fight. And when asked why he was standing to the side, Hot Rod simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Would you get in between this?” Which was met with understanding nods, until things got even messier.

And now, Hot Rod found himself sitting in that one cell together with Overlord and that poor minicon Rewind. Or at least with whatever remained of Rewind. It was a shame, not only because of Chromedone, but also because Hot Rod kind of liked the witty minicon. He was fun to talk to, even though he often had to pretend to be someone else in front of him. Just like with everyone else.

“You seem unhappy to be stuck with me.” Said Overlord, after the silence between them grew too large. “And here I thought our reunion would be a lot better.”

“Well…” Started Hot Rod with a rather annoyed tone. “ You just killed some of my crew members and poor Rewind over there, I think ‘unhappy’ is underselling it a little bit.”

“Since when did you care about other mechs? As far as I can remember, you never cared about anyone else but you.” He scoffed while waving a hand around. “But it seems like a few years apart can change even the most interesting mechs. What happened to the Hot Rod who fought bigger mechs than him and then used them as his perch? What happened to the Hot Rod that killed mechs with a single shot, and then joked about it? Where is he?”

“Gone! He’s gone, Lordy. Gone, buried and never coming back.” Growled Hot Rod, before smacking his hands against his face. “And honestly, I was happy with that, but then you had to come back! Just walked right into my life and dug him up again… Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What!? Nevermind, listen. It would have been better if he-” Hot Rod was about to explain why exactly it was better for him to have that part of his life buried, but Overlord stopped him with a quick kiss.

“It’s a shame to see you bury such a lovely part of yourself, little flame.” Purred the bigger mech, before sitting back up and pulling Hot Rod onto his lap. “Do you know how thrilling it is to watch you tear through one mech after the other? To see you turn them into grayed out husks of their former selves? I loved seeing you take out all that buried anger on mechs who deserved nothing else but death.” Overlord chuckled, before his smile turned into a frown as he saw how Hot Rod was avoiding his gaze. So, he softly placed a finger underneath the smaller mech’s chin and tilted it upwards. Giving him no other choice than to look into his smug face. “Why are you so scared of a part that’s so beautiful?”

“Maybe because if I… if I show it, others won’t want to be with me? Because it reminds me too much of Nyon? I don’t know…”

“And even if others would avoid you if they knew about it, what does it matter? You still got me, Roddy. I would never turn away from someone as beautiful as you.”

Hot Rod couldn’t help himself not to laugh. This was cheesy, while also sounding impossible. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

But Overlord only smiled, before leaning down to press another kiss onto Hot Rod’s lips. “If I were, you would be dead.”

And then, it was their ‘final fight’ all over again.

#transformers #hot rod #overlord #hot rod x overlord #idw #you people wanted it; I'm just the littel guy who wrote this #if someone got some criticism; let me know #I know that I'm not really good at writing #or portraying certain characters ^^'#valveplug #<- even though it's just hinted at #tw violence #tw minor character death #tw character death #tw mention of death

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sailorsenshishitposter · 1 year ago

Text

Trish x Reader

You had recently been going out with a friend of a mutual friend. Her name was Trish and you found out that she lived a lavish lifestyle that she sustained while working as a dominatrix. You had no issues with that and only wondered why she chose to date someone as lame as you. Tonight was special because she was going to introduce you to her infant son. You always wanted to have a family so you were ecstatic and couldn't wait to meet the young boy.

"All right, we're here. I'll be back in a minute." she said as she winked. You were waiting outside of the local day care while sitting inside her luxury car. You weren't sure how you got so lucky but you only hoped it would stay like this. You saw you girlfriend return only to be greeted with a strange man.

"Hey babe, this is my son I told you about. He's two days old but he has a bit of a growth problem so he looks a lot older than he really is. The doctors aren't sure why he's going through puberty so young but I love him just as he is. His name is Vergil but he particularly likes it when you call him V." She introduced you and you stared dumbfounded while she ruffled his hair and placed her son in the booster seat (you swore she must be a witch because there was no way you could get a lanky drifter into a children's car seat.

"How was daycare sweetheart?" The man's face grew uncomfortable and his eyes shifted downward. "Did you make any new friends?" He cringed in disgust. "I don't need friends momma, I have Shadow, Griffon and Nightmare." For someone that was supposedly a baby he could speak remarkably well for his age. "Honey, it's fine to have imaginary friends but you should try to make real ones too." Her son got defensive. "THEY ARE REAL MOMMA, I SAW THEM!"

"Alright..., is there anything you would like for dinner?" V crossed his arms. "Fried chicken." She drove the three of you to her home which happened to be a large mansion. You weren't sure if this or seeing her son was more shocking. Trish ordered takeout and you grabbed some crayons and watched V draw. "This is Griffon, he's a birdie. That's Shadow, she's a kitty cat and that's Nightmare. I don't know what he is but he visits me in my dreams and I wake up screaming every night." You were mortified. "Why don't we go watch a movie instead?"

The boy quickly popped in ones if his favorites, mumbling something about it being a classic. A Clockwork Orange. You had never seen this movie but you were desperate to get away from those drawings. Only a few minutes into the movie and you had shut it off. Your face was pale. "Does your mother really let you watch such things...?" V proudly lifted his head. "Of course! Mommy says I'm very mature for my age." Before you could protest Trish had finally came by with the food.

You were now in the dining hall. You noticed that V had taken his napkin and had fastened it to his neck in an attempt to make a bib perhaps? Maybe an ascot? Either way it was ridiculous. You were talking with Trish when you heard glass shatter. "V what did I tell you?" You know noticed that the boy had replaced his knife with a large sword. "I'm sorry momma. I was just trying to make smaller bites." Trish sighed. "Its alright little one. You know the rules though, no using Force Edge at the table." She went to the kitchen and returned with a samurai sword. "Use this. It will be much easier on your wrists."

You were now helping with the dishes while V ran outside to play. You went to join him only to stumble once you realized the boy was trying to hit you with a wooden sword. "V, what did I tell you about playing with our guests!" He started to stomp his foot. "I CRAVE VIOLENCE MOTHER!" You took a few steps back only to bump into Trish. "I'm so sorry about this. He tends to be cranky when he hasn't had his nap."

Trish picked up her son and said "I think it's time for bed huh?" V gave no protest and went limp in her arms. "Good boy. You need to save your strength. How about I read to you?" He nodded. You were now in the upstairs bedroom. V had just finished brushing his teeth and putting his pajamas on. His mother helped apply lotion for his badly cracked, dry skin and then tucked him under the covers. It was now time to read. You expected a simple children's story or fairy tail such as sleeping beauty or the very hungry catapillar but to your horror she pulled out a large tome. The compete works of William Blake. This wasn't going to end anytime soon would it?

Several hours later and Trish began to nudge you awake. To be fair you always thought poetry was boring. She drove you back home and kissed you on the cheek. "I had a wonderful time. And I think my son is really enjoying your company. I'll see you soon." Trish drove off. You immediately took your phone out and changed your number and just to be safe, moved several countries away. You knew it was to good to be true.

#devil may cry #dmc trish #trish x reader #v dmcv #v dmc5 #Feral two day old child V #crack fic #He draws his nightmares for you with crayons and gets violent after watching a clockwork orange

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munsster · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Could you write a Robin x Fem! Reader? Where the reader does not feel pretty enough to be with Robin, especially considering that Robin spends her time talking about Vickie. Let it all end with a fluffy ending, Robin confesses her feelings to the reader, and for her to tell her that she is beautiful 🥺✨

come up short

A/N: i want this to happen to ME. when is it my turn to have a pretty and nervous girl confess her undying love for me and then we fall in love????? is it so much to ask

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Robin is stunned you don’t see yourself the way she always has. 1.6k words.

Warnings: fluff, angst, miscommunication, jealousy, major insecurity, body issues, a kiss, cursing

Robin’s spread out across your duvet, limbs wild and stretching as she exhausts her ample knack for storytelling. Only you've grown to hate this story. You've heard it too many times before. Always the same girl with cropped orange hair and freckles like flakes of fairy dust and a smile like a movie star.

So you stand in front of your full-length mirror, leaned over and poking at the skin of your cheeks while she blinks up at the ceiling and tells you about her crush.

"And before I could catch it, the stack of tapes crashed to the floor. I mean, I'd spent hours inputting and organizing them, and suddenly, it was all ruined, and I just..." she sighs, "I didn't care. It was amazing. Besides, she helped me pick them up anyways, so..."

You know you should be happy for her. Robin's not the type to just not care. But apparently Vickie's baby blue eyes and elf nose and wicked taste in earrings do that to her. Change her. Make her into someone else. Someone other than your best friend and favorite girl. Turns her into a drifter that skips out on weekly movie-nights and cuts phone calls short because she's waiting for someone else. Someone other than you.

So you're stuck listening and fixing your eyeliner, trying not to engage, knowing it'll break your heart. "Oh. Yeah. That's cool," you huff, "hey, uh... forgot I have a thing due for Anderson tomorrow, and I should probably get started on it—"

She sits up and watches your reflection with furrowed brow. You're chewing at your bottom lip, fussing your hair about and tugging at your sleeves. You meet her perplexity with a shrug. But in that moment, she's hyper aware of what you want. You want her out. She just doesn't see why.

"Stats? But… we don't have anything due tomorrow."

"Late work. My extension ends next class, and you know how he gets," you say, devoid of the usual melody, falling from your mouth like bricks. Like you're reading it off a page. A script.

"Oh. Makes sense," she hums, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching you turn away to change your shirt. But she can't even remember the last time you did that. Deliberately hid from her. Tucked yourself away into the open face of your closet and tugged on a Sex Pistols shirt, scratching your elbow because you know it was an unusual thing to do. "I just have to call Steve and let him know I need a ride."

You nod. "Phone's all yours." And your voice cracks. On yours, you break and flinch, wrapping your arms around your own torso and feeling like you haven't slept in days. Like you've just kicked your person out after lying to her face.

She dials slow, glancing back at you pacing in a circle while she holds your pale yellow handset to her ear.

"Hey, Steve... could you… yep... perfect, thanks."

And the phone clunks back into place alongside the dread ebbing in your ears. Pounding when she looks at you. Because it feels like a test. Smile the wrong way, and she'll dock your grade. Smudge your mascara a little bit, and you've failed. Maybe she'll suspend you for not looking like Vickie. For not being good enough or pretty enough.

And now, she's looking at you, doe-eyed.

"You okay, honey? Look a little—"

"I'm fine," you bark, "don't worry about it. I'm fine."

She holds her breath, "just checking. You've been kinda quiet all night."

"Worried about the assignment."

"Right."

The assignment. Some assignment. Numbers and fractions and percentages and standard deviations are easier to handle than your own body. Tugging at the back of your shirt so it’s not touching your skin.

“What’s wrong?” she mumbles.

And you snap, “why do you care?”

“Because clearly something’s bothering you.”

“It’s not. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, so you’ve mentioned.”

This is one stupid chess match, smacking the timer until someone lays the king down. Ending in a stalemate, needlessly drawn out and glaring at each other. You’re seething like a lion, lungs working furiously with your arms limp at your sides.

“Well. That’s because I am. I’m fine,” you huff.

“Say it again, maybe I’ll believe you this time”—she softens when you tilt your head back and your breathing gets a little shaky—"I just wanna make sure you’re okay. You know you can talk to me about anything—"

"Except I can't, can I, Robin? Why don’t you just go home and… and call your girlfriend and have movie-night with her and tell her she’s gorgeous and awesome and special in every goddamn way, especially the ones… that I could never be even okay in,” you pant, eyes dropping to the floor when her mouth closes, tight-lipped and stunned. Appalled, shocked. Disgusted, you think.

But she knows she’s worried. Over everything else, she feels the worry molding over in her guts, filling her with stuffing and cotton because she’s worried she should have asked before. Ages before. And now, even if it’s too late to salvage any of it, she’d die trying.

“Don’t you think that’s a little… I dunno—harsh?”

You scoff.

“So, I’m a bitch, and I’m not even pretty. Right? That’s why she’s so much better than I am, and why you talk about her for hours on end. I mean, I don’t know what you want from me, Robin—I listen and I listen while you gush on and on about her, and I never even got the chance to tell you—”

A horn blares from the street. She ducks to look out the window with a sigh.

"That's Steve." She grimaces at the sound of her own voice. Then she blinks at you, and you’ve gone blank, thumbing the sleeve of your shirt and itching at your knuckles.

"Okay,” you say with a shrug.

"I should go."

"Fine."

You still walk her to the door and wave at Steve from the porch, but your smile never reaches your eyes, and you prepare yourself to spend the rest of the night dry heaving over the way she says:

"I'll see you in class tomorrow."

And you just nod.

She trips down the sidewalk, deciding it’s best not looking back. Best to let it go until the morning. Apologize with a coffee in hand and the reassurance of rest. But she’d only be reassured knowing you got some. And right now it doesn’t seem that way.

You shut the door. It snaps into place. Her jacket lurches from it’s place on the rack. You stand with your back to the door, looking forward but not ahead. Watching the glassy shadows bend across the tile as the light outside shifts, and there’s a stinging screech of tires. Shoes bettering the pavement. A knock in the door.

You wipe the bleariness from your eyes, smudging the heels of your palms with gritty streaks of eyeshadow. And you open the door anyway.

"I left my jacket."

"I know," you whisper, holding the windbreaker with both hands. She looks down at it. Then at you. And she smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek when she flops it over her forearm and fiddles with its stretch collar.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know," she sighs, "I never felt that way for Vickie. I thought maybe if I talked about her enough, that shit would eventually come true and I could finally stop being obsessed with this... my girl. I mean, so obsessed it's kinda gross because she's definitely too nice to me—"

You duck your head, frowning at your bare feet and picking at your shirt.

"—even though she teases me all the time and makes fun of my pathetic flirting attempts... I swear I love her even more. She's perfect."

She shuffles closer in her boots, stepping onto your scratchy welcome mat and tapping your chin to get you to look at her. You lift your head, but you glance just past her, sniffling softly when a fat tear rolls down your chin.

"And beautiful."

Your shoulders lift with the promise of a deep breath, eyes flicking to hers, head falling to your collar with a sigh.

“Even if she doesn’t wanna see it. It’s always been her. Like the world didn’t matter whenever she was away from me, couldn’t focus ‘cause her laugh was so distracting. Thought about her all the time. She’d call me a creep for it. Definitely”—she laughs—“But… I think I’d rather be a creep than forget how much I love her…”

“… how much I love you.”

“But I’m not Vickie. I’m not her.”

“Exactly. I never loved Vickie,” she says, shaking her head, “I loved you. Still do.” She cups your face in her hands, jacket slumping to the brick of your doorstep because it doesn’t matter. It can collect dust or turn to it for all she care. As long as it’s you. As long as you curl your fingers into hers and lean in and let her breath the same air as you. As long as you kiss her. Like this.

With her lips soft and yours softer, a little wet and salty from the tears, but good with her eager tongue swiping against them. Your fingers weave across her scalp, and she hums, sliding her hand down your arm and pulling herself away.

“Me?” you whisper. She nods.

“You.”

“Me. All that time?”

“Mhm.”

“Wow,” you tease, “I think we might be the real dinguses.”

“I think you’re right.”

masterlist

#robin buckley fic #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley #x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #*

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momolady · 3 years ago

Text

The Mask he Wore: Part Two

The long empty Prowd manor suddenly has lights on inside. Everyone is whispering about the new master of the home and his plans for the decades long dead vineyard. Blythe has just gotten a job within the walls of this strange place, but she feels like she is being constantly watched.

Part One

Female Main Character x Male Monster

////////////////////////////////////////////////

A man moved into our town. This should not have been the news that it was, except for the fact he came with very little notice. He bought the old winemaker’s manor along with its vineyard. The place had been abandoned for years as the previous owners had lost everything during the drought. It would have sold long ago had they not killed themselves inside those walls. The man who moved in did not seem to mind such things.

What alerted us to his arrival was not his entrance into town, in fact that seemed to go unnoticed. No one could recall having seen anyone come through the gates, or up to the manor itself. Instead it was a light in one of the windows. It shone like a star amongst the sky, flickering and glowing brighter the longer it was looked upon. Rumors began spreading as quickly as a fire would. Soon, it was all anyone could talk about.

I heard many ideas and whispers about who could have possibly moved into that old place. Some said it was the ghost of the previous family who reawakened now that the drought had ended. Some said it was drifters who came in and were now squatting on the abandoned property. Many tales came from wagging tongues, yet no one had an answer as to why there was a light in the manor every night.

Several days passed before there was an answer, and it came in the form of a decree looking for staff to fill the manor. It was then we knew someone had moved in and bought the place. His name was written out upon that decree as Edmund Prowd.

“Prowd, isn’t that the name of the family who was there before?” My father asked. “Perhaps it’s a distant relative.”

“Perhaps he’s come to claim his inheritance now that it shows signs of promise and fortune again.” My mother replied with a chipper tone.

“I doubt there is any money there now,” my father scoffed. “There’s too much darkness there. Too much blood on the ground. No one is going to want to buy wine from such a cursed place.”

My mother laughed. “How would you know?”

“You can feel it when you pass by that property, don’t lie to me and tell me that place doesn’t vegive you chills.” My father looked up as I came to the table. He went silent as I sat down.

“What is it?” I asked. “Why go quiet now?”

“It isn’t proper for a young lady to hear,” he grumbled.

My mother rolled her eyes. “There may be blood in the ground at that place, but tell me what ground hasn’t had blood spilt upon it!”

“The girl!” My father hissed.

“The dead stay dead,” my mother tutted. “There is nothing cursed about that place. Believing in such things is the real curse. The only foul happenings up in that manor are the young folk who sneak up there to fornicate in secret!”

“The girl!” My father shouted.

I believed my mother over my father. For one, I knew she was right when she said the young folk went to the manor. I had gone a few times myself. And while the abandoned manor was creepy, I would not call it cursed.

Despite people like my father and their fear of the manor, there were others who went to Prowd for a position. Although some were going out of sheer curiosity. I had not talked to many who had been to the place, but as always I heard stories through others who had heard tales about it. They said the place was full now, as if Prowd had lived there for years.

I was curious, how could I not be? But I was used to keeping my head down. This place had no effect on me, there was no reason for me to be concerned with it. And yet, the allure of this mysterious man crept into my thoughts. I had known most of the men in this town since I was small, none of them held any intrigue for me. This stranger, with all these rumors surrounding him, was very appealing. I did not know him, nor did I know anything at all about him, so my mind was free to wonder. I could daydream about his complexion, about the feeling of his hands upon me, and the way he spoke to me without being encumbered by reality.

In my mind he remained in shadows, only that single light to illuminate the dark room, its light only falling upon me. From darkness he would reach out, removing my clothes in such haste. Sometimes he had claws and fur on his hands like a beast, other times they were misshapen and long to suit my imagination. But his voice was always the same, deep and rich with a slight hoarse snarl at the back of his throat. It would whisper to me, commanding me, and I loved to obey it. In my head I let him do unspeakable things to me, so long as I never saw him. It created a deep lust within me, one I knew that I couldn’t satisfy alone. I grew wet with the very idea of him slipping a blindfold around my eyes and I would force my mind to quit while it could.

All of this was purely mine, Edmund Prowd was simply an imaginary friend who kept me company in the dark. That was until my father became ill. He had to stop working and was confined to bed with my mother taking care of him. I was the eldest child, and since my family had no male heirs left, it was my responsibility to look for a job. That was when I turned to Prowd.

I was hired right away, given a position as soon as I walked through the door. There was already a small staff there, mostly women who, like me, had no other choice in the matter. Since the staff was so small, I was trained to be prepared for anything and was expected to change on a whim. I was given a room which was meant to be shared, but due to the lack of staff, I had the room alone until more came.

I was given a uniform to wear each day. It was blood red in color while the apron and hat were pitch black. I felt like a garrish drop of blood spilled amongst the halls as I walked through them. Walking with some of the other girls, I likened us to blood pumping through the veins, leading to the heart which was the manor itself.

I did not see nor even hear speak of Prowd my first few days in the manor. For a moment, I forgot about him completely. But then there came a day when I was by myself in the parlor. That day it was my job to clean the hearths on the ground floor, sweeping away the ashes and carrying them to a wheelbarrow which, once filled, would be used in the vineyard. While the weather was still warm, the hearths needed to be cleaned and prepped, and then the chimneys would be swept and freed of unwanted guests and creosote. All of this is to say I was busy and inattentive of my surroundings.

I stood up from the hearth, balancing myself upon the cool marble as my knees felt shaky from so much kneeling. When I turned myself back into the room, I saw him. I gasped and held it within my chest which I clutched as well. He stood there behind the sofa, his hands upon the back, and his shoulders stooped forward. But it was not his presence that alarmed me. Had he just been a person standing there, I wouldn’t have reacted so. But I believe his appearance would alarm anyone as his head was wrapped in a bright red scarf. The scarf bubbled around his head then coiled and swooped around his neck like a snake.

“Did I frighten you?” He laughed as he stood, stroking his hand around his neck where the scarf wrapped.

“I’m sorry.” I could barely get my voice to rise above a whisper. I bowed my head down. “I did not expect someone to be watching me.”

He walked around the sofa, displaying more grace in his body than I had ever seen from a human. He moved like an animal, not to say in a violent or strange way. More as though he knew where he belonged, he knew how to move without being bothered by the thought of existing.

“What is your name?” Prowd came before me and I pressed my back further into the cold marble. It felt rigid against my spine, and the chill spread through my limbs while my face remained hot.

“Blythe, sir.” I bowed my head to him and his gloved hand reached out to me. His fingers slipped under my chin, propping my head back up to look at him. I could see the shape of his head through the scarf, but there was not much else. His fingers felt strong as he held my chin, and he made me feel so small in comparison.

“I once knew a woman by that name.” He murmured this so low and so gently, I thought perhaps he may have loved her once. “That was a long time ago. Hearing it again…” He drifted off and I was uncertain where he meant to go.

“Sir?”

Prowd’s head tilted to the side and I heard him breathe low. “Don’t be afraid of me, Blythe. I only meant to watch you.” His fingers slipped away then curled around his neck again.

“Look at me.” It was that command that made me stand frozen, but turn my eyes so willingly to him. It was that voice, that slightly hoarse sound that had me obey while a drop of dew formed in my loins. It was just like my imaginary version of him. I held his gaze, at least I assumed I did, and I waited for his next command.

I averted my eyes. “I am sorry, sir.”

“There’s no reason to apologize. What is your job today?”

I swallowed and caught my breath again. “I have to clean the hearths for the chimney sweeps, sir. And I am to take the ash outside so it can be scattered through the vineyard.”

Prowd took a seat and turned his attention back to me. “Just you? There are several hearths on the ground floor alone.”

“There aren’t many of us, sir.” That first stirring in my loins wasn’t going away. All my daydreams and fantasies about this man came to play, ones I thought would vanish as soon as I met him and he became real. But because of the scarf around his head and the fact none of his skin showed, my fantasy remained intact.

“I know. I had hoped to fill this place, bring some life back into it.” He tilted his head to the side as his fingers tightened around his neck. “And yet, my home still feels lonely.”

I looked him up and down, trying to picture him in a way that grounded him in reality. Yet my mind still turned to fantasy, as his mouth held sharp teeth and tusks, his hands were rough and hairy once he removed the gloves. I wanted those vicious teeth upon my skin while his hands found me wet and willing.

“It is a beautiful home.” I instantly regretted my words as they sounded lame upon my tongue. “I did not expect it to be so inviting when I first arrived.” This was partially a lie, I had been frightened arriving, but the staff had been warm and inviting. The home held a dark edge with its decor, but it had softened over the days.

“Thank you, Blythe.” I bit my lip as he said my name with that husky voice.

I started to go back to cleaning but I looked back at Prowd. “Is there anything I can do for you before I get back to work?” I asked hopefully, not to escape my chore, but if only to have him offer me a command. “A drink perhaps?”

A soft moan escaped his lips. “I would hate to disturb you.”

“I work for you,” I breathed. “It will not bother me should you need anything.”

Prowd’s hand slowly came down from his throat and landed upon his thigh. “Come here,” he murmured. “Come close to me.”

I kept my smile small as I approached him. I stood before him and his hand rose as an offering. I took it and he pulled me down to sit upon his lap. He then held me in his strong arms, placing his head upon my shoulder. His embrace tightened and there was not an inch of me that was not touching him. It felt strange at first, unexpected and a touch uncomfortable. But then I put my arms around him, holding him in return. He moaned again and a trill of excitement washed through my body. He felt so strong and warm my imagination was going wild.

Prowd did not hold me as long as I had hoped. He let go of me all too soon and pushed me aside onto the couch. He told me a simple thank you and left. Although this would not be the first of these encounters.

A few days later, I had been given the task of dusting in the library. I was alone there, going around and dusting the spines and tops of the books. It was boring, so I had hoped for something to happen to break up the mundanity of this process. First I felt his fingers at the back of my neck, brushing my hair aside as I faced the wall of books.

“Don’t move,” he beckoned. His voice was so close to my ear I could almost feel his breath. I obeyed him happily, biting my lip as I felt his body move behind me.

I placed the book I was dusting back upon the shelf. “Yes, sir.”

“Stand right there,” he breathed. His fingers captured a loose lock of hair that had fallen from the bun tucked under my cap. “I promise, I won’t do anything to you.” I heard an intake of breath, as if he were smelling my hair.

I hated how much I enjoyed it. “I’m fine, sir.”

An arm wrapped around my waist and my back touched his chest. “Put your hands on the shelf,” he commanded. I willfully and happily obeyed. “Good.” His hand squeezed the side of my waist. “Stay like that.” His other arm wrapped around me and I felt his face press against my back.

“Are you alright, sir?” I asked.

“I'm trying to remember.” He spoke against my shoulder. “Just stay still. Don’t look back.”

I bit my lip, tensing at the feeling of pleasure that rippled through my body. Yet I felt cold as well, a chill that bled through the air and tainted the joints of my fingers.

Once he left, I caught my breath and tried to return to work. But after such an experience it was difficult. I was heading back when I caught sight of something in the corner of my eye. I thought I saw a woman in the looking glass above the fireplace. It looked as if a woman in a red gown was right beside me. When I looked directly into the mirror, I only saw myself. But from the corner of my eye, I saw her. She stood beside me, her hand around my waist. I walked quickly from the room as I began to feel her hand even though there was nothing there.

That evening, I was in bed alone. The room was empty and cold, and I began to dream of having Prowd there with me. His warm, heavy body laying on top of mine, his gloved hand sneaking up my clothes. I smiled until I felt something upon my leg. Looking down, I saw a shadow at the foot of the bed. I sat up with a slight smile.

“Is that you?” I asked excitedly.

The hand moved up and the figure came closer.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” I asked eagerly.

The hand wrapped around my throat, forcing me down upon the bed and choking me. I grabbed at the arm, clawing at the flesh. My fingers sunk in far too easily. Fresh, damp earth fell from the arm, and if the hand was not choking me, I would have screamed.

The second hand joined it, coming down upon my throat and shaking me. I choked and wheezed, still clawing at the arm. I then heard the scream of a woman, perhaps it was my soul leaving my body, and the hands left me. I laid there, trying to breathe, crying and wiped the wet earth from my face.

When I woke in the morning I saw muddy footprints coming into my room, but none beyond the door. My voice was hoarse the rest of the day, but I feared speaking aloud my nightmare to anyone else. All I wanted was to see Prowd.

I did not have to wait long, as he found me while I was sweeping the foyer. He pulled me back into the parlor, hugging me tight for longer than before. Each day he held me, embracing me with more passion each time. I imagined that he loved me, that he needed me.

At night, though, I felt as if someone was watching me from the shadows in my room. I could feel their breath in the air, and I would lay awake trying to find them. Sometimes, there was a heavy presence there, as if there was more than one. I tried to convince myself it was all in my mind, that my last nightmare affected me. But no matter how much I talked myself down, there were still those eyes upon me.

I was outside fetching water one afternoon and when I turned, I saw Prowd standing at one of the windows on the third floor. I had never been up to the third floor before, none of us were allowed. Prowd was looking down upon me and I knew he was beckoning me. I followed his silent command, going up the stairs when no one was watching me. At the top, he stood there waiting.

“Is something the matter, sir?” I was breathless not just from the climb, but also from my own anticipation. Prowd silently extended his gloved hand to me and, when I took it, he pulled me close. He held me tightly, cupping the back of my head in his strong hand so my face leaned against his chest. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing my hand against his back where I felt him shudder.

“I need you to do a favor for me.” Prowd stepped back from me, holding his hands upon my shoulders. “Though I will understand if it frightens you.”

I lifted my chin up and waited for his command.

“Undress for me,” that hoarse growl beckoned. “Take down your hair and stand naked before me.”

I licked my lips, horribly aroused by his words. “Sir,” I breathed.

“I know,” his voice trembled. “It is awfully forward of me. It is...depraved. I will understand if you think I am vile.”

I thought no such thing. In fact, it excited me. I took off my cap and let down my hair. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched me untie the apron then work down the row of buttons on my uniform. He stepped back, almost touching the wall as I removed the dress, letting it drop around my feet. I then pulled the slip up over my head and Prowd’s back fully pressed against the wall.

I could feel my lust dripping down my thigh. I had never been this aroused before. Once I stood naked before him he removed himself from the wall. Prowd stood there, one hand around his throat while the other hovered in the air.

“Is this what you wanted, sir?” I stroked my hand down my chest to my belly.

“Yes, Blythe.” He took a step closer. “This is exactly what I wanted.” His gloved hand reached out and petted my cheek.

I bit back a smile of pride. “Is there anything else?” Coldness floated around me, it touched my skin, almost dripping down along my flesh. I shuddered and waited for him to touch me, to make me warm again. My teeth began to chatter and the cold started to feel like fingers upon me.

Prowd’s breath shuddered. His hand slid down the side of my neck and quickly moved to grasp my shoulder. He squeezed tightly then moved to my arm. He guided my hand and placed it upon his neck. He made the other hand do the same and he held them there in his grasp. Out of impulse I wrapped my fingers around his neck and squeezed. He wheezed and moaned, keeping my hands firmly in place. I choked him and he seemed pleased by it.

“Sir?” I breathed and he finally let go. I slid my hands down his chest and stepped closer to him.

“Very good, Blythe,” he coughed. “This will do.”

“I can do more!” I was practically begging.

Prowd let out a low breath. “You are a strange woman, Blythe. I cannot tell how you think. It frightens me to a degree.” He placed his hand upon my arm. “But it is that which calls out to me. You need not do anything more for me, but I will reward you.”

“I don’t mind if you tell me what to do.” I was still very much pleading. “It’s alright, sir.” I placed my hands back upon his waist. “It does not bother me at all.”

“I am learning that.” He then slipped his fingers under my chin. “Is that what you desire?”

I nodded silently.

“Then from now on, you shall be my attendant. You will be given the room beside mine, but under no reason are you allowed into my room. You are forbidden from entering any room beside your own on this floor. And you are only to go into rooms on the second under my order. Do you understand, Blythe?”

I nodded with excitement. “Yes! Perfectly, sir.”

Edmund put his arm around me and led me to what would be my new room. The room wasn’t much bigger than the one I had now, but there was a window and a wardrobe for my things, as well as a bigger bed. He sat me down upon the bed then stood away from me. It felt like there were cold hands upon my shoulders, but I ignored the sensation.

“As I said before, all but your room is off limits on the third floor. The second floor you can only go where I tell you. At night you are not allowed near me unless the room is completely dark and the windows shuttered. You are never to see my face, and should I come to you in the dark you are not allowed to touch me.”

“When does that start?” I asked eagerly. The cold squeezed tight around me and I thought I heard a laugh upon the breeze outside.

Edmund chuckled. “You really are a strange girl, Blythe.” He went to the window and pulled the curtains closed. He turned back to me. “I need you to bring in some more staff. Do you think you can accomplish that?”

I nodded. “It should not be too hard.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Prowd stood before me. “Once there are souls in this manor again, I will give you a reward.”

I was given clothes to wear when I went into town. They were still the same blood red as my old uniform, but they were much more elegant and refined. I went out, searching for young and eligible people to come and work at the manor. It took time, but eventually they started to come. The staff filled out, and word spread of the good money that Prowd offered.

At night, I sometimes heard knocking from the floor below me. I was able to ignore it, but some nights the knocking became a pounding, a beating. It struck hard against the floor, even though I knew there was no one below me.

The more staff I brought into the manor, the more I felt a presence about me. Much like the eyes had watched me in my room, I felt as if my shadow had taken on a pulse and breath. Something followed me in the manor, breathing against my ear and holding my hand.

“You’ve worked very hard, Blythe.” Prowd complimented me.

“Once more people came, it was not hard,” I told him. “We will have a full staff soon.” I smiled up at him, placing my hand about his neck.

Prowd captured my hand and rubbed his thumb into the center. “You’ll receive your reward tonight as promised.”

I held my breath from excitement. “My room will be dark for you.”

That evening I waited for him. I lay naked on the covers, touching myself from the excitement. I heard footsteps in the hall and I moved my hands to the headboard and held the iron bars there. As I waited, I heard the footsteps continue, but they stopped. I heard murmurs from Prowd’s room, which was strange. I heard a thumping and the sound of something falling over. It was quiet and I stood, going over to the wall and pressing my ear to it. Inside there was weeping and then a quick muffled scream that became silenced in a moment.

I waited, but I heard nothing else. My door opened and I quickly sat down upon the bed. Prowd approached, slipping his fingers under my chin. “You’re so good, Blythe.”

“Sir, I thought I heard something,” I murmured.

Prowd’s hand moved down my naked body. “Just the wind, I assure you.”

A hand cupped around my breast, but it did not feel like Prowd’s. It felt soft and silky, the fingers felt long and thin. “Lay down now, Blythe.” Something about his voice sounded strange.

My desire won out over my concern. I laid back and followed his commands. I thought I heard a whisper in the darkness, a woman’s voice saying: “She’s perfect.”

I turned and saw her grinning down upon me.

#monsterxhuman #monster fudger #monster lover #monster boyfriend #horror romance #dark romance #momolady monsters

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alteredsilicone · 1 year ago

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Hey! I hope you don't mind the ask but I was curious how you came up with the lore for your Operator/Drifter separate from the game's story stuff. Like, how did you decide x did y outside of what the story provides us? A lot of my struggle is deciding what mine did without breaking canon/deviating too much?

Hi, I don't mind this type of ask at all, in fact this gives me an opportunity to ramble. :D Obviously, this will be my own personal approach to the story so feel free to take inspiration or try to change things in your favor.

My solution to the canon problem is this - I have 3 "main" Tenno OCs, and I designated one of them to be the "canon" Tenno so that their lore mirrors the main questline (Second Dream up to The New War), and that is also a philosophy I use for my other Tenno OCs. Basically, I have an idea of a character and what they do and then I apply quests and story lines that would be fit for that particular character.

Artemis is my "main" Tenno, she also doesn't have any strong allegiances (maybe except the Lotus), which in turn makes her more plastic so I can change and adjust her story as fits, while still keeping basics like her personality (she is brash, she is a fighter, she likes to let her emotions take hold of her and rush into situations, guns blazing). She does have a backstory that is unique to her, but all of that happened pre-current timeline so regardless of what DE throws at us her backstory can stay the same (unless we get a flashback type quest of the Orokin era/Old War but I'll cross that bridge if it appears before me).

Eir is the creator of Duviri, but I also allowed myself to bend the canon that there is more than one Drifter and that Duviri may have more islands that we just never saw (and since Conceptual Embodiment is a thing, technically anyone exposed to the Void long enough could dream up world, people, anything really). That way Artemis can be the "main" character who is hunted by Dominus Thrax, whereas Eir is somewhere to the side as a sort of secret protagonist.

This leaves Virgo completely independent of the main plot, so she can be a "gag character" who fits into all sorts of situations. She also has her unique story and background but other OCs take the burden of being part of the "main" story.

I hope this explains. I tried not to get too much into the details of each character, just give an overview of how to develop OCs for a live-service game.

I am also of the opinion that you can just ignore canon or pretend there is a mysterious Tenno doing heroic deeds while your Tenno is doing their own thing - maybe they're pals with the Solaris, maybe they're working at a Grineer junkyard, maybe they JUST woke up and think the Old War is still going. Warframe is very sandbox-y even if some of the quests try to give us a definitive "lore" for us.

#ask #avengersorbust #answered #wf tag #i hope this was a halfway decent answer

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one-winged-dreams · 2 years ago

Text

The Flock of God

ship: my cathedral is the badlands (adriel x joshua graham) source: Fallout: New Vegas words: 971

a first meeting fic that i couldn’t get out of my head, enjoy, i guess

The first time Joshua had met him, he had been escorted to the camp for a singular but notable request - was there a graveyard he could have access to?

Joshua did ask not his name, nor did he, his. He asked if the drifter knew what territory he had wandered into, and he replied in turn, "A bit." The way he shifted the weight of the rifle at his back told him that he was a man who had the capability to handle himself and possibly had been for a long while. Still, Joshua warned him of the dangers of the valley, informed him that the situation was tense, more dangerous than the drifter might be used to.

Still, the drifter insisted, claimed he wouldn't be able to come back this way for a while, if at all. And so, Joshua turned him towards any ruins that might prove fruitful for his search.

The way he had thanked him for the information felt like it had been but a couple hours ago, not the three days it had been in reality. Joshua had been keeping him at the back of his mind for that time, the thought of the White Legs setting upon him was worrisome. So caught up in that possibility was he, that he hadn't considered the idea that one unfamiliar with the territory wouldn't know how to handle the threat of the yao guai that was singular to this area.

The Dead Horses happened upon him bleeding and gasping for breath. The shells and casings littered about him were as proof of his struggle as the deep wounds carved into his abdomen. A struggle that he had been lucky enough to get out of with his life.

They had carried him back to the camp, where the memory of his departure left off inside Joshua's mind.

Three days.

He kneeled down beside the drifter, he had to stabilize him, keep him from bleeding to death. The drifter's attempt to resist was so weak, Joshua hadn't even noticed as he tore the shirt from his chest.

The claw marks weren't the only thing present that came to him as a shock. As he looked to the drifter's face, he swore the expression of agony had twisted into shame.

"Don't... look... Please... don't look... at me..." the pain in his voice was beyond that of what the wounds could bring.

It had been another day since then, Joshua came as soon as he had been told the drifter had awoken.

Now he sat beside him, the mysterious stranger's bandaged chest heaving, covered now to allow him a modicum amount of dignity.

"Why hide it?"

They had been sitting in silence for a good while before Joshua had spoken. He was almost convinced the drifter was asleep, the way he hadn't opened his eyes since he had initially awoken.

But the way he swallowed thickly and sighed proved otherwise.

"Hide... what?" he asked, his voice weak and hoarse.

"Were you so afraid you wouldn't be taken seriously as a woman that you felt the need to hide it?" Joshua pressed.

Another sigh, less of an expression, more of a way to warm this throat up enough to speak.

"Not a woman..." came his reply, so factual despite his weariness.

"What, then?"

The drifter cleared his throat now.

"Just a man... born into an opposing cirumstance..."

"God doesn't make mistakes."

Silence ticked on for a few seconds, and then the drifter cracked an eye open, studying the burned man for a moment.

"Didn't... say that," he eventually replied.

Now it was Joshua's turn to study, peering at the stranger curiously.

"What ARE you saying then?"

The drifter closed his eye again, still for a few moments, before opening both to stare at the cave ceiling.

"I figure... If there's a higher power... Something bigger than me... I guess there's a reason I was put here this way.... Something... To figure out for myself..."

Joshua was taken aback by this.

"A God-fearing man, then."

The drifter tilted his head to the side and screwed his mouth askew.

"Eh. Maybe something... like that... Never.... sure."

The further this conversation went, the longer the stints of silence between.

"What is your name?" Joshua finally asked the increasingly important question.

The drifter tilted his head the other way now, giving Joshua a direct gaze.

"Adriel."

"Biblical. Like an angel. Chosen by yourself, I assume?"

Adriel loudly cleared his throat, as if trying to dislodge something. Speaking was becoming more difficult the further he spoke, Joshua knew this. But his curiosity was insatiable now.

"Yep... Right from... My mom's good book... Didn't give it... too deep of a read... Just thought it... was interesting...."

Joshua digested this for a moment.

"Does it have anything to do with your questing?"

Adriel's eyebrows furrowed.

"The... graveyard thing?"

He received but a nod from Joshua, a good enough answer.

A strangled 'heh', preluded his words.

"It's... complicated..."

Joshua sighed, wrung his hands, and then stood.

"You can tell me when you have the strength."

Adriel gave him a weak smirk.

"Payment for... letting me pass...? Already... paid the price for that."

"Not a transaction, a request. From one man of god to another."

This got a short, wheezing laugh out of Adriel, and then a cough.

"Very... presumptuous of you... Or is that... a play on words...? From my name...? Ah... Doesn't... matter..."

Joshua didn't laugh, but he did hum in a fashion Adriel could discern for himself.

"Rest now, Adriel. We'll speak again soon," the burned man spoke, looking down at the drifter and realizing he had passed out not a moment after he had finished his own sentence. He studied him again for a moment before leaving him to himself.

What had God brought to his doorstep?

#self ship #self shipping #dream fics #my cathedral is the badlands

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Chthonian

Part 17

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

A/N: It is here! So sorry for the late update lovelies! I’ve been having really bad writers block lately and my job keeps switching my hours up so now my sleep schedule is all fucked up. And after writing this part I want to go stargazing so bad but the light pollution kind of sucks where I live. 🥲 Also this is my first time writing a steamy scene so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. Feedback is much appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 😊

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appears at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, angst, some foreplay and making out

You had still been wrapped in Zemo’s arms, the two of you indulging in each other’s presence in a silence, which combined with the faint beating of his heart, you only found to be comforting. The meteors still swept by the earth’s atmosphere above you in flashes that lit up the sky, leaving behind trails of white that resembled the strokes of a brush, as if your mother Asteria had painted the celestial bodies using diamonds onto a canvas that was the night sky. You could only make out the few stars and constellations that were scarcely scattered across the vastness above you, caused by the light pollution that unfortunately managed to mantle the wonders and beauty that settled just beyond, separating humanity from the marvels of the universe. The stars flickered like the diminishing of the flame of a candle, a farewell to the billions of years lived by the remnants of those enormous spheres of hot plasma, thus leaving behind the birth of other stars to fulfill their legacy. However, there was a certain star that did not flicker like the ones around it, a certain spectacle distant in time and space that still managed to burn bright despite the innumerable amount of light-years that separated Earth from it. The remaining light of your planet Olympus. You stared at that particular star, your brows knit together and your face etched with this certain melancholy that one could not explain. How could one thing be so near, within the reach of your fingertips, and yet be entirely outside the capacity of reach.

“Draga.” You heard Zemo softly speak, his chest slightly wavering beneath your cheek from his words.

“Hm?”

“Something troubles you.”

“What makes you say that?” You stared off, your eyes still fixated to the fading existence of your world.

“Your eyes draga.” Zemo looked down at you, his eyes scanning over the troubled creases that masked your features. “I have seen this shadow in your eyes that has seemed to occupy them as of recently. What troubles you?”

“…………You see that star there, right between those two constellations?” You pointed above you.

“Mhm.” Zemo nodded as he followed the line of your finger, his eyes now focused on the same exact star yours have not yet left.

“That’s my planet………Olympus.”

“You’re welcome to tell me about it if you’d like.”

“Well, when I was little, I used to live with my mother in this quaint cottage by the sea, similar to the one I live in now with my daughter. She used to bring me out most nights for stargazing. She had built this outdoor platform with bedding and blankets and we would have a small fire going to keep us warm as we watched the stars and constellations while she told me different tales and epic poetries. As silly as it sounds, she would make shooting stars appear in the sky for me knowing how much I loved them. Gods, I wish you could’ve seen my home back in its days, back when everything still remained. Everything was so…..beautiful, and the skies, gods the skies, you could see the different planets and galaxies as if they were only miles away. To this day, I have yet to see anything in my travels that compares.”

“I would have loved to seen it Schatzi. Your mother sounded like a wonderful person.”

“She was the kindest soul I knew.” You turned your body so that you could look up at him, resting your chin on your hand.

“You miss her.”

“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my family and planet.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to them Schatzi. I wish you never went through what you did.”

“If only I could bring them back. I’d do anything to be able to just see them again.”

Zemo was silent, believing that no amount of words could have provided you comfort, no matter how deep the meaning or how significant. He could not imagine what you went through. He had lost his country and his family, and you had lost your family as well, but you lost your world, your entire race, leaving you to be the last remaining entity of your people, the last Olympian and the last Chthonian. Words could not bring your family back, just as they could not with his. So he only did what he was able, making a silent unspoken promise within the abyss of his damaged heart to be there for you as he held you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A sudden feeling of guilt crawled up your spine like a venomous scorpion ready to sink its stinger in your skin with means to cause nothing but pain and suffering. You felt guilty for being here, lying next to Zemo wrapped in his arms like a pair of star-crossed lovers from the pages of a novel. A part of you felt selfish for what you did, undeserving of the affection that was bestowed upon you from a man who had suffered enough from the loss of his family. How much longer did you think you could give in to your mindless emotions without a single thought of the consequences it might bring about. Did you really think you could go on as if nothing is happening? As if you can conceal your true form from him forever. No. You could not. You did not have the heart to keep such knowledge from him. If you wanted to pursue what you had with him, you would have to tell him the truth when the time came.

“We should probably get back before Sam and Bucky notice.” You mumbled, blinking back the tears, your heart aching to go back to the way things used to be, wishing you could leave all of this and just be able to go back home. You didn’t belong here on earth, an immortal amongst mortals. At least on Olympus, if your titaness form had been revealed, many would not have bat an eye. They had already seen the likes of Titans before and the locals had become accustomed to you. But here on earth, you were nothing but a stranger, a drifter.

The two of you walked back to his place in silence, the only sounds being the whistling of the wind, the chirping of crickets, the voices of the few pedestrians and the humming of the cars that drove by. Your hands brushed against each other, craving to intertwine your fingers with his as you walked down the stone paved streets lit by the lamps that lined it, the two of you still withdrawn despite what occurred between you both. You felt it would have been silly, holding his hand like a couple of teenagers, though a century ago, you wouldn’t have gave it a second thought.

You arrived at his place, standing at the bottom of the steps in front of the double doors with Zemo opposite you, illuminated by the street lamp that stood just behind. Feelings of conflict washed over you, drowning you in waves of despair. As much as you wanted to be with him, a small part in the back of your mind kept telling you that it was wrong. Neither of you wanted to go through those doors just yet, wishing you could have spent the night under the stars. But life seems to have a way of working against your favor. The Wakandans would be here to collect him possibly tomorrow, and you would have to bid him farewell, separated from each other for what could be forever. As much as you did not look forward to that moment in having to turn him in and never see him again, you wouldn’t stop the Wakandans from what they were promised. And though you hadn’t said a word, Zemo had already knew what your decisions were regarding it, and he could not blame you for it. You were a woman of justice and you followed a code, and he respected that.

“Zemo.” A frown appeared on your face.

“Please,” Zemo whispered to you as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Call me Helmut.”

You looked at Zemo once more, a look of longing hidden behind your eyes as you unconsciously swiped your tongue across your mouth, watching how his eyes followed the movement before lingering on the wetness of your lips that resembled the petals of a rose after the pouring of cold rain in the midst of spring. Oh how he wished to be the drops of rain that were gifted the pleasure of grazing upon the velvety petals that belonged to such beauty of a flower, a symbol of union between the two domains in which the heavens came down to declare its love for the earth. A pulling sensation filled within your core, drawing yourself to Zemo as if he were the sweet berries of deadly nightshade that have lured many unfortunate souls. Banishing the thoughts of doubt that clouded your mind, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Zemo was initially shocked by your bold gesture and stiffened from the way your mouth moved against his, surprised you would pull something like this when just a wall away Sam and Bucky were awaiting your arrival, before loosing himself into your embrace.

Your fingers clenched the collar of his sweater and your fingers grazed across the exposed skin of his neck while his hands went to your waist in a desperate attempt, fumbling to grab at anything and bunching up the bottom fabric of your sweater as he pulled you against him. The tips of his fingers brushed against the skin of your waist that was exposed below the hem of your sweater, leaving behind goosebumps in its trail. You smiled into the kiss from the way he completely melted under your touch, a part of you amused from the affect you held over him as you managed to elicit a moan from deep within his throat. Zemo’s brows were furrowed in the passionate moment, something you have noticed when you first kissed him, a small crease in the muscles of his face that showed just how lost he was when encased in this moment with you, and it absolutely melted you. He was addicted from the warm numbness, the ecstasy he felt from kissing you. Your lips were like heroin to him, leaving him yearning for more, and it didn’t ameliorate the fact that his years spent in a German prison had left him somewhat inexperienced and filled with a chasmic longing for touch and intimacy from the lack thereof. Deep within him, masked by his ideas and objectives, Zemo wanted to be able to love someone again, a chance at a new life and a family, and perhaps, he saw that possibility with you. But, behind the passion of the kiss you shared with him, there was something else, a poison that laced your lips with feelings of despair and forbidding that consumed you as if you had tasted those sweet berries of nightshade, slowly loosing yourself to its malice. His lips which were at first warm to the touch, now felt cold like ice and sent shivers of dread through your veins, as if this would be the last kiss you shared with him.

You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, your teeth softly grazing against his bottom lip as you did so. Both of you were left breathless as you rested your foreheads against each other, panting as your breaths fanned each other’s face as if you had just been trapped in the depths of the ocean before breaking through the surface to allow oxygen to fill your lungs.

“If you keep doing that Draga.” Zemo rasped between breaths, “I won’t be able to compose myself.”

“Good. Maybe I don’t want you too.” You smirked before placing a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. “But I really should go back inside, and you should do the same. Just make sure you go unnoticed.” You slipped his coat off your shoulders, his cologne that lingered on his fur collar leaving your senses with discontent as you returned his coat to him before going over to the doors, stopping to turn back to him with a smile before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Gods, what the hell did you do that for???? You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you wanted to slap yourself for pulling a move like that.

“Gods I’m stupid.” You muttered to yourself.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled once he spotted you, his voice soft as if he were afraid you would shatter at any moment from the discussion that took place earlier. “How was your walk?”

“It was nice, relaxing. I went to the park to stargaze.”

“That’s good. As long as you feel better.”

“I do, actually. Thanks Bucky.”

“You look flushed. You okay?” Sam noted as he stepped over to you.

“Huh?” You stopped short. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just had to kind of uh power walk back here so you guys wouldn’t get worried. But I’m fine, yeah. Anyways, I’m going to hit the sack since I’m feeling a bit tired. Goodnight you guys.” You waved them off before going to your assigned room, making Sam and Bucky give each other questioning looks before they both shrugged it off.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a breath of relief that they had not caught on to anything and praying that Zemo had managed to sneak in. You had just gotten off the phone with Maze and your daughter, catching up on their activities after cleaning yourself up and changing into your nightgown. You had pulled up a chair next to the window that was in your room, your feet tucked underneath you and a warm cup of rose and blackberry tea in your hands. Your robe hung loosely off your shoulders as your index finger twirled above the small silver spoon that swirled in your cup, mists of violet wrapping around the handle of the spoon as you used your powers to stir the contents of the tea. You stared out the window onto the old streets of Latvia before glancing down at the teacup that was nestled in your hands, the glow of your eyes reflected off the window pane along with the tiny stars that swirled through the small globe of your necklace your mother gave you. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the moments that passed and the ones that have yet to come.

There was a knock on your door, interrupting you from the thoughts that had resided in your mind. “Come in.” You spoke as you looked through the reflection of the window and saw a figure step in. “Zemo?” You stopped using your powers, the clinking of the spoon scraping against the sides of the porcelain cup coming to a stop. “You know, you gotta stop sneaking into my room.” You teased before frowning, seeing the expression that sat on his face. “What’s wrong?” You got up from the chair, setting your cup down on the table before walking over to him.

“The Wakandans will…….be here for me tomorrow.” His eyes were lowered to the floor, the browns of his irises which reminded you of the dunes of the Sahara desert were whirling in thought, resembling the dunes caught in the midst of the fury of a sandstorm, as if searching for an answer to his troubles.

“Ze-Helmut, I………” You sighed, your tongue and mind lacking the ability to compose any words that might have provided some solace. “I’m sorry………..I don’t know what to say.”

“Y/n, schatzi” Zemo grabbed your hand, tracing his thumb over the bumps of your knuckles. “You don’t have to say a word. My actions………must be accounted for.”

You were silent, your brows knit together and your lips sealed as if your voice was ripped from your throat. Your heart wanted to tear itself from your chest, begging to be released from its cage so that it could be free to lament, so that it may be able to express the words that held it captive. But your tongue was tied, held back between the prison that was your teeth as you clenched your jaw. Zemo’s hand still held yours, stroking the soft skin on the back of your hand which were a contrast to the small rough patches on your palm, before you heard him speak again. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise that he would even ask such a question when you were honestly willing to kiss him any time of the day. The Zemo you had come to know was far different than the one you had heard about, his cold demeanor seemed to completely fade when he was around you, like a fog that dissipated with the coming of daylight. A part of you pondered whether this was how he used to be, before the events that happened. Though he hadn’t had a chance to share such affection with anyone and lost practice, you still found him to be great kisser and it always managed to leave you breathless. “Yes, please.” You whispered, your voice barely audible before you felt his lips brush against yours. What was sweet at first became more feverish and filled with hunger as an unfamiliar spirit seemed to possess your body, darkening the amethysts and golds of your eyes that resembled the galaxies, into the blackness of the abyss that swallowed the outer edges of space where not even the slightest bit of light could reach, almost as if you were sinking your claws into your prey.

A heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filling your body with an electrifying warmth as his mouth moved against yours more confidently this time, catching you utterly by surprise and leaving your knees weak, a feeling similar to the stillness in the air a mere second before lightning strikes the ground beneath your feet. His hands slipped down to grab the flesh of your waist, dehydrated, and filled with an intense thirst that could only be quenched by your body that was the ocean, your skin separated by the silk fabric of your nightgown. Your hands went up to grip his shoulders as a gasp escaped your lips upon feeling him move down to your jaw and neck. Gods, since when was the last time you were touched like that?

“Helmut.” You rasped, struggling to hold back a moan as his lips sucked on the skin where your collarbone met your neck, making you lean your head back to allow him better access. Your robe had fell to the floor, leaving your arms completely bare while Zemo’s hands caressed the skin that lined them before resting on the dorsal part of your upper arms, the combination of the frigid air and his fingertips that felt like the touch of fire sending shivers through your body. “What if they hear?”

“Let them.”

“No……….I’m…….serious.”

“Well if you’re that worried Draga.” Zemo stopped to look at you. “The walls are thick enough.”

Gods that completely sent you over the edge. It felt as if you were on a high, your mind was not even within this dimension as Zemo met your lips again. You had to throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from collapsing as the two of you shifted in the room, Zemo guiding your body before the back of your knees came in contact with the side of your bed. You let yourself fall back into the soft mattress, bringing Zemo down with you. You both were a mess, your hair disarray, the thin straps of your nightgown fallen past your shoulders had almost left your breasts exposed, and the skirt of your nightgown had ridden up to your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Zemo squeezed at the soft flesh of your thigh before attacking your neck again. He didn’t know how to describe it but you tasted absolutely divine. Perhaps being a goddess made you taste of ambrosia; the golden, honey-flavored fruit that grew on the trees of Olympus. You were in absolute bliss and thanked the gods he wouldn’t be able to leave a mark, at least you hoped not.

“Helmut.” You moaned, your nails digging into his biceps as his warm lips made a trail down your collarbone and lower to where the lace trim of your nightgown met just above the curve of your breasts, lingering on the space between, filling your mind with thoughts of a certain region you desired those lips to be. “Fuck.” You hissed from the contact, your hand moving its way to his head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, your nails raking across the back of his scalp as the heat between your thighs only grew. You unconsciously pressed your heel to the lower part of his back, beckoning him closer to that heat between your thighs as you bucked your hips up. Zemo growled at the movement, slightly nipping at the skin where your breast had started to form, causing you to gasp and your eyes to fly open from the sensation.

“Apologies draga.” You heard him mutter before tenderly kissing the spot where his teeth had been.

Seeing Zemo in a close proximity above you in such a position had you dazed, wanting him to take you right then and there and not caring if the others heard you or not. And as your eyes wandered lazily over the sight of him, they widened in horror once they glimpsed at the image of your hands. Your nails became sharp, claw-like, and that deathly color had returned once again, slowly making its way up your arm like the tendrils of a shadow belonging to a demonic spirit.

“Helmut.” You whispered, your voice becoming panicked as you loosened your grip on his arms, being careful not to pierce his skin. “Helmut wait.”

Zemo stopped, pushing himself up to meet your eyes as his concern grew from seeing the frightened look that filled them. “Schatzi, what’s wrong?” He brought his hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair. “If you’re uncomfortable let me know.”

“No, gods no. If anything I don’t want you to stop.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just that………….”

“What is it schatzi?” His voice was soft as his fingers caressed your cheek, afraid that he might have offended you in some way, afraid that he might have been too forward.

“I’m sorry Helmut. I want to, I really do, but not like this.” You shook your head as you got up, shifting over to where the dark shadows of the room fell on the bed to hide your arms, afraid to meet his eyes as if you had made a fool of yourself. “Not like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me y/n.” Zemo smiled at you. “If you’re not ready, than I’m not ready.”

“Thank you Helmut.” You smiled back before giving him a delicate kiss. “I’d………uh like to think some things through.” You prayed that he didn’t see your hands, hoping that the darkness of the room managed to disguise it.

“Of course draga.” Zemo placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before leaving your room, stopping at the door to give you a comforting smile as he carefully shut it behind him.

Your eyes still lingered on the door, waiting to make sure he didn’t come back before turning on the bedside lamp and staring down at your hands. You had managed to stop the color from spreading up your arm, yet it strangely still remained, stopping halfway up your forearm. This wasn’t good.

“What the hell?” You scrunched your nose, trying to use your powers once again to remove it but to no avail. Fear coursed through your veins as you attempted to remove the color, spell after spell, hoping those vine like tendrils would crawl back down your hands and disappear. You cursed under your breath as each attempt proved to be as futile as the one before. What the hell was going on? Why were your spells not working? It vanished before from your magic, why wasn’t it doing so now? You were struck with a sudden realization that perhaps this change would become permanent, that maybe suppressing your true form for all those years had caused it to spiral out of control and in turn try to overpower you as if it had a mind of its own. You growled through gritted teeth, the furniture around you shaking as your fists were clenched in frustration, the violet mists of your powers encompassing your hands and sparking with small bolts that corresponded with the vexation that overwhelmed you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the mist around your hands disappearing and the shaking of the furniture coming to a stop. You had to work something out. You were left no choice but to keep your hands covered from now on until you found a solution. If any of them questioned it, you had to have a damn good lie. Getting up from the bed, you walked over to the double doors that led to the small balcony and opened them, your hands gripping the cold iron rail as you stared out at the view of the Latvian streets and buildings before you. Oh how you wished your sister Athena were here. She knew everything.

“Oh Athena.” You stifled a sob as you stared up at the stars, focusing on the light of your planet as if she could have heard you, a tear cascading down your cheek and dropping to the streets below. “Gods I wish you were here. I really need your help.”

Despite your pleas, you knew she wasn’t there, her existence only an artifact of the past. You were praying to nothing but a memory. It was extremely urgent that you got information on this matter of your form and the words of the prophecy that still threatened and echoed within the depths of your mind. And since you couldn’t obtain such knowledge from another Olympian, you would have to gather it from the old texts. Muttering a few words in Ancient Greek, you waited, searching, until a small white moth came into view, fluttering in your direction. You held out your finger, letting the tiny creature come to rest upon it.

“Hello little one.” You smiled at the moth as you gently stroked it in greeting, bringing it closer to your face so that you could speak to it in your language. “Please send word to my familiar and tell him to gather as much information he can on Titans and the prophecy. And tell him to come find me when he is done. Thank you.” The moth looked at you with understanding behind his tiny black eyes, it’s antennaes twitching before fluttering away into the moon. You sighed, watching it disappear into the night before giving your distant planet one last glance before shutting the doors and going back over to the bed. You laid down under the covers, your hands rested on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, dreading the day to come. How could you face Zemo? And however were you going to keep your hands a secret? Surely the three are bound to find out sooner or later? You just prayed that the message you sent would be returned in a short time. You needed to fix this before it would be considered too late. And the sooner you found Karli the better. Your mind was racing with thoughts, but you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest and forcing those thoughts away. Gods help you from this moment on.

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