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dr4cking · 3 years

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I just came across your blog and I love your writing so much. Can I request where reader and draco are in a secret relationship so she likes to tease him in public by flirting with guys!? And he gets like so possessive and fucks the living shit out of her 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Consequences.

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draco malfoy x reader | smut | anon requested.

a/n : thank you for requesting! this was so fun to write! <3

this is one of the most excited things she got when she signed a deal to be in a relationship with the one and only, draco malfoy.

they have been secretly dating for 7 months and the fact that no one know about this, making the adrenaline of getting caught more exciting.

y/n loves how draco would treated her like she is the only girl for him, which is true. but she also likes how she would seek a chance of getting him worked up when she gets on his skin then she would get what she wanted.

like now, it was no different days but she decided she would add some fun today, she loves when he goes rough with her in bed and now she makes sure she would get it without having to look desperate.

y/n smirked as the brightest idea popped up in her mind. draco is the type of jealous and overprotective boyfriend, so why doesnt she proves it today?

she admit she was kinda scared when she saw the angry version of her boyfriend but she loved it at the same time. she likes to tease him, knowing he cant do anything.

and if this how she would get what she wanted then she would take it.

she walked out of her dorm and run downstairs, she knew draco already waiting for her in the great hall. it would be the perfect chance for her.

her eyes looking for the blonde haired guy as soon as she entered the great hall and she found him already looking at her, his eyes were telling her to sit near him,

but no, not today.

y/n took a seat beside theodore nott, a friend of draco who would always take his chance to flirt with all the girls who passed by him.

“hey nott, you’re looking good today” y/n raising her voice a little bit louder on purpose, draco who sat across them already fuming at her flirty voices.

“hey y/n its all you, looking hot as always.” she laughs although its not really funny, she cringed at the way her laugh sounds but play it along when she heard a thumped sounds from a fork dropped to the plate.

y/n continues her flirting with theo touching his arm and laughing about his jokes until it was time for their class. she looks at draco’s red face and give him a wink and a smirk.

“what the fuck is up with your bratty behavior today?” draco asked as he walks past her, he makes sure no one was looking in their direction.

“who are you calling brat? because i’m for sure not one.” y/n replied giving him her sly grin before she runs to the class not giving him the chance to answer her.

they were sitting next to each other in potions class, draco tried his best not to distracting the class by calling y/n’s name at any chance he got but she was still ignoring him and told him it was nothing.

“baby, did i do something wrong?” she swore she almost wanted to stop all her game when she heard the intonation in his voice but she decided to be stubborn.

“its nothing draco i promise” y/n shoots him a smile reassuring him, the least she could do right now.

professor snape called out and announce that they’re gonna make a new potion and have to partner up with someone and when he listed her name with harry potter, she couldnt get more excited as she look at draco and shot him an apologetic smile.

“hey y/n, could you bring the ingredients i’m still working on how to make this properly” she nodded at harry’s order and get the ingredients immediately but not before taking a look at draco and swaying her hips on her way making him glared at her.

“here, harry. so, what’s the first step?” y/n asked and do what harry instructed.

she keeps asking him not-so- important questions to keep their conversation going but to make it worse she touched his arm on purpose and twirling her hair.

draco behind her already watching every move she made.

but whats make draco more mad is when they finished the potion and y/n jumped happily as they successfully made the potion and give the chosen one a tight embrace.

draco stormed out of the class balling his fists up, anger radiates off of him making all people passed by him to back off a little. y/n noticed this right away feeling guilty and decided to follow him but he was nowhere at the sight.

she was still looking around for draco asking people if they’ve seen him but the answer is no.

until a cold hand grabbed her wrist harshly and pulling her in one of abandoned class. she yelped when the person lock the door and put his hand on her mouth to muffled her scream.

“you did that on purpose, dont you, brat?” y/n rubbed her thighs together as she recognized the deep voice behind her, its draco.

“now you gonna have to stay quiet and be a good girl for me while i teached you some lesson, yeah?” she only nodded at him cant speak as his hand still on her mouth.

“for the whole day i’ve been wondering what i did wrong to make you act like an ungrateful brat. but all i see now is that you just need to be tamed, right?” draco whispers into her ear guiding his free hand down to the bottom of her skirt after y/n gives him a nod of permission.

he sneaked his hand under her skirt and put it in her panties rubbing her cunt getting her aroused then he pushed in his fingers into her without warning making her body jolt out.

“you just wanted to be fucked braindead, yeah? what a dumb girl” his hand still remain on her mouth not trusting she would be able to keep her voice down.

y/n put her hand on his hand that were buried deep inside her and pushing his fingers deeper into her starting to fuck herself on his fingers making him chuckle.

“think you deserve to cum after what you did earlier, hm?” draco said taking all the control in his hand and starts to thrusting his fingers deeper and faster.

his long fingers abused her cunt just like the way she needed and when he curls them inside she screamed, luckily his other hand still covering her. she was squirming there and then under his touch.

y/n rolled her eyes back in pleasure when his fingers meet her spot and pumping into it over and over again.

draco feels her walls clenching around him and quickly pulled them out of her leaving the girl whining.

“think about the consequences next time, princess.” draco turns her around and pushes her chest against the wall, placing her ass right in front of his crotch.

“i’m sorry i’m sorry draco! please i need to cum.. fuck me please dray punish me!” y/n finally let her voice out as his hands are too busy roaming around her body.

a hard smack delivered to her ass making a loud sound causing her to whimpered at the sting.

“stay quiet princess or i will not consider about giving you the chance to cum” she shuts her mouth instantly as draco unbuckled his pants letting it falls to his ankle.

y/n cant help but letting out high pitched moan when his hand came in contact with her marked ass again and when he pushed her panties aside finally lining up his cock against her entrance.

“now you will remember who you belong to.” draco said as he slammed all of his cock inside her, pounding into her right away not giving her time to adjust.

“oh fuck! y-yes dray..” y/n moans out loud which earned her another slap on her sore ass.

“quiet, brat” she tried to hold her moan by biting her lips but it just slipped off of her especially when his tip hit her spot.

draco’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, groaning quietly as he let himself disappear inside her going in and out of her with snaps of his hips, each time it gets harder and faster.

he roughly squeezed her breasts through her shirt making her shirt ruffled and messy before letting his hand down to circling her clit.

“make yourself cum, y/n.” he slaps her sensitive clit a few times making her writhed, ripping her orgasm through her body, she doesnt care anymore when she moaned his name out loud.

“feels so fucking good” with the last thrust, draco stilled and shoots his thick cum into her non stop, painting her walls white with his liquids over and over again making the girl moaned when her panties became sticky.

draco pulls out and put his pants back on. he stared at her fucked out body before turning her around to face him and quickly pressing their lips together kissing her passionately.

“next time just ask me if you want your needy pussy to get pounded hard by me. dont you dare do that stunt ever again.” y/n nodded at his words giving him a cheeky grin. sweats running through their bodies.

and when they opened the door, all the students that passed by giving them a weird look, draco smirked at them before pulling y/n back into a deep kiss.

“mine.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

pls i love this one-

tagging : @dracoscum (unblock me hoe) @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @underappreciated-spoon-321 @youreso-golden @silverdelirium @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @famishedbeak @arzfia @starstruckgranger @lieswithoutfairytales @slut4dracoo @alexthealexthealex

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco oneshot #draco fanfiction #draco smut #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #harry potter

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lorei-writes · 3 years

Text

Lost Letters

Masamune x MC Fluff Parts of this work include suggestive content. [To avoid suggestive content, skip the following months: May, January.] Word Estimate: 2k

Honourable Customers,

We are pleased to inform You all the lost letters were successfully delivered.

Your trustworthy messengers, Azuchi-Kasugayama Postal Service Crew

Content Warnings: war mention, injury mention, suggestive content, food mention, anxiety mention

To my beloved Masamune. It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help. In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing. I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day. I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March now, and the frost has begun its retreat from the air. You are not here, and I do not expect to send this letter… Yet I miss you so much the words seem to be writing themselves without much help.

In this very moment, I wish I could ask how your day was. It is one of those rare instances where I miss modern technology – my helplessness is simply disarming me completely. I console myself with the thought that you will be back tonight. I missed seeing your face so bad. There are so many things I want to tell you, my heart is overflowing.

I don’t think I should let any of them spill, yet I cannot hold all either. So, even if just on this paper, I must confess: I love you, Masamune. I love you so much it hurts. I could not focus on anything but your return the entire day.

I cannot let you see this letter. You will never let me forget it. Although maybe... Maybe I should.

To my courageous Masamune.

It is April now, and you came back all beaten and tattered. Your muscles tensed whenever I touched your skin. The disinfectant seeping into your cuts did not help either, I suppose… But you hugged me tight all the same, and did not let go for long. Your breath tickled my neck as you held your ear pressed against my pulse. I wonder, how bad was it this time? But do not get me wrong. I do not mind, I can stay in your arms for however long you desire.

This time, however, it was different. I cannot describe the feeling that I felt when you looked up at me and simply said you feel terrible and need rest. You… Appeared so vulnerable? And I know it never comes easy to you to be in this state.

I love you so much. Thanks for coming back yet once again. I am writing this as you sleep only a few meters away. Please, rest well – and thank you for trusting me yet once again.

To my flirtatious Masamune.

It is May now, and the weather has got quite warm already. However, my dear tiger, treat this as a note of complaint! Although… You will never see it, hopefully. You would see all the other ones then.

Never mind that! How dare you! You big, unruly, sneaky…!!! You know my knees get weak when you kiss me, and yet…! In the middle of the crowd, at that! Truly, my “knees were not a problem” as you put it after lifting me up, but my face surely was! I was red like a crab, Masamune!

How dare you uphold that air of coolness! If it were not for what you whispered… Curse that too, argh! Surely, nobody realised, and you always walk this fast, but… But it is the next morning, and I still am a mess after all the things you did to me the last night!

How dare you stay on my mind even now. Well, you did leave some marks, so surely, it is hard not to think of it, but… ! I want to lay in your arms a little longer, but alas. You had to start work early today of all days…

To my caring Masamune.

It is June now, and somehow, I managed to catch a cold. It is nothing much, really, but you insist I don’t leave bed today… Honestly, I feel a little guilty, but I am enjoying myself. You’re spoiling me quite a lot, my love, and I can hardly oppose it…

You brought some of your work here, so that you could watch over me while I napped. You checked my fever, brought me more covers when I was cold, even got Shogetsu to cuddle me up. When I woke up, you cooked me porridge, and I don’t know what rituals you did in the kitchen, but it was beyond delicious. Or perhaps I’m getting better?

My eyelids are heavier and heavier… And you’re insisting I stop writing and cuddle with you now. You didn’t want to move to sleep in a separate bed either… How could I refuse? I swear, tiger, some may say you hardly care, but whenever I see you acting like this, my heart beats faster.

To my curious Masamune.

It is July now, and this is both a letter of praise, and of complaint. For somebody who learns so fast, you surely never learnt not to get taken away by challenges. However, here end my complaints, as it… Surely is quite entertaining.

We are still running away from our own allies now. We have just settled for the night, and you are calling for me to come eat and sit with you by the fire. Have I ever told you you are the most beautiful when you are free and wild? No? Because your eye sparkles so gorgeously now.

You’ve made me appreciate so many new sides of life. I love sharing it with you, both the good and the bad. I don’t know what you’ve made, but let’s be honest, there are only starts above us and I couldn’t care any less about food right now.

Yes, yes, I’m coming, you impatient cat…

To my hardworking Masamune.

It is August now, and you are swarmed with work. I do not know how you manage to stay on top of it… But truly, you seem tired now. You set off early, and come back late, and it takes little before you fall asleep.

You… You cannot know it, but each night, you return my embrace quite strongly, even if deep slumber has already claimed you. You are adorable – your nose crinkles slightly whenever I kiss your forehead. I started telling you I love you, and you usually mumble back that you love me too… Then you generally get a little upset and nuzzle into my neck, and sometimes scoff about some pillows or radishes, whichever one it is this time around.

I must never reveal the fact that you talk in your sleep if you are tired enough. What if you forbid me from ever indulging in it ever again? I don’t think I could live without it anymore.

Signed,

Your Beautiful Futon

To my joyous Masamune.

It is September now! I want to go celebrate with you, so this letter will be brief:

Thank you for having been born, Masamune.

Please, live a long life. I want to love you plenty more. I need to love you plenty more. To hear you laugh, to see your smile… Your happiness is infectious, and I want for it to last for as long as it can.

To my resilient Masamune.

It is October now, and it came in sour, as if to balance the joy of the previous month. This battle was harsh. You emerged victorious, but at what price? So many were lost… Although I think you would care even for a single person just as much. War is a dreadful thing, to say the least. You know it better than I will ever be able to. That is why you protect me from it, is it not? I wish I could carry half your burden...

When you returned, you only latched onto my wrist. Your hands were cold, and you looked almost lost. Were you scared that I would be gone too? My love, my heart… You held yourself together bravely the entire time, but I am glad you let yourself unwind once in our quarters. I needed to feel that you were alive too.

I helped you wash, and you seemed to relax when I ran my fingers through your wet hair. Perhaps the bath was a good idea in the end. I hope no nightmares come your way today – but if any do, I will do my best to chase them all away. I know you would do great by yourself… But I love you, so please, do share some of your concerns.

To my grumpy Masamune.

It is November now, and oh my, I got to pay you back for how sweetly you cared for me when I was ill. It appears it was your time, my love. I did not expect you to resist so much! “Sleep in a different room”?! As if I would even consider that much! But… You were quite sweet once you caved in. If we were in the future, I would give you a good patient badge!

Kojuro came in later too. You were so adorable when he started telling stories from your childhood! Ah, and you were locked in bed, so for once, I got a chance to actually listen to them too! A shy little Masamune… I wish cameras were a thing in this time.

It was a good day, but please, do not fall ill much. I will always care for you, it is only that… As much as your pouts were a sight to behold, I love your content smile even more. I will have to make some of today up to you.

To my thoughtful Masamune.

It is December now, and you surprised me yet once again. I do know we celebrated Christmas together once, but I did not expect for you to hold onto the idea. This time, you organised everything by yourself, with your own twists to everything.

The party was great – the music, the food, the gifts, I loved every single moment of it. You dressed well too, and I swear, you look even more handsome in the more so festive clothes. It was just cool enough for me to shamelessly cuddle into your side as well… Did you plan that as well?

I must thank you for the gift tomorrow. You must have had ordered this fabric months in advance. It… It really feels amazing knowing that you truly listen to what I say. I love you, Masamune. Somehow, you have this way of making me feel loved even without using any words.

To my adventurous Masamune.

It is January now, and winters in this part of the country tend to grow rather harsh. The snow is thick, and it seemingly keeps on falling, and falling… I did not expect for you to suggest taking a trip, much less one to the hot springs.

I do not know what heated me up more – your kisses or the water. Good thing we retreated to our room fast, otherwise we could be thrown out of the estate. I am quite relaxed after we have made love… Perhaps my initial fear of you suggesting doing it in the snow was completely unfounded. Well, you would not force me to go forward with it anyway, but your drive for novelty is infectious at times.

You went out to get some food for us to share, and I am still lying in bed. The pillow smells of you, and the covers are pleasantly warm from our shared heat. I think you will want to slide right next to me once you are back, will you not? I know you do better with cold than the heat, but is it not too tempting? Ah, I think I can hear your steps… I wonder, what are those plans for tomorrow you have made.

To my calm Masamune.

It is February now. You seem to be at home plenty, and I welcome the change. We cook together nearly everyday, and I am enjoying it a lot. At first, those were more of classes than anything else, but now… We recreated some of the future dishes I told you about. Is that not amazing? You truly could be a chef in my original time.

However! Today I shall take my revenge! Just you wait and see, Masamune Date! I will pay you back for all those hugs from behind, and “sampled dishes”, and for all those “you seem to have a bit of the sauce over your lips”! I prepared something you did not expect yourself, and you have made me this devil!

I hope I can get this surprised face out of you. It should be tasty enough for that? I should carry it to you before it gets cold…

To my beloved Masamune.

It is March again, and I love you all the same.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @ikesenfangirl @themysticalbeing If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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rookie-ramsey · 4 years

Text

Curveball, Chapter 5 (Ethan X MC)

Description: Two months after the ski lodge, life throws them a big surprise.

Preview: She felt movement in her stomach, stronger than she had before. Gasping softly, she grabbed Ethan’s hand and pressed it to her abdomen. “Wait a second. You may be able to feel them this time.”

Ethan held still. A few moments later, he could feel a little flutter against his palm. Unable to resist, his lips twisted into a smile. His eyes softened, more affectionate than she had ever seen before. Olivia grinned and rested her hand on top of his.

“If my phone wasn’t all the way over there, I’d take a picture of you right now because that’s the cutest facial expression I’ve ever seen on your face.”

Previous Chapter

At the halfway mark of her second trimester, Olivia was quite certain she doubled in size overnight.

Over time, Ethan’s spare bedroom turned into a storage space for nursery items. Once all of the furniture had been delivered, they picked out the paint for the walls. Ethan probably would have insisted on doing everything himself, but Olivia recruited help.

When there was a knock on the door, she opened it to let Bryce, Baz, and Zaid into the apartment. “Did you three carpool?”

Zaid sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. Certain occupants of the car felt the need to sing during the entire ride.”

Feigning offense, Bryce frowned. “What’s the point of driving anywhere if you’re not going to put on a concert?”

“You got a speeding ticket.”

“Which I’ll pay!” Bryce turned to Olivia. “Nursery Assistance Crew is here to help.”

“Good.” Olivia grinned and led the way to the spare room, where Ethan was opening the cans of light gray paint for the walls. Curious to see how things would play out, she leaned in the doorway to observe.

Bryce and Ethan carefully poured the paint into trays while Baz and Zaid spread drop cloths to protect the floor from spills. Once the floor was sufficiently protected, Ethan passed out paint brushes and rollers.

“If we each paint one wall, we’ll have the room painted quickly. We can paint the first layer and assemble the furniture while we wait for it to dry. It only takes a couple of hours.”

“Good delegation. Aye aye, Captain.” Bryce saluted with the paint roller, earning an eye roll in response. They each dipped their rollers in paint and started working on the walls. The first minute passed in silence before Bryce started a whistling. A moment later, Baz joined in.

Zaid let out a groan. “First the concert in the car and now this?”

Ethan rolled his eyes, focusing on painting. “If the two of you are going to whistle, could you not whistle Christmas music in August?”

“I could always whistle WAP,” Bryce suggested.

It only took a second for Ethan to shake his head. “No. Absolutely under no circumstances will you do that.”

Just as Ethan predicted, it didn’t take long for the four of them to place the first layer of paint. He wiped his hands on a towel and nodded in approval at their handiwork. “Not bad. We can put the furniture together while we wait.”

They opened the box that contained the first crib. Ethan spread the parts across the floor and eyed them, comparing them to the picture on the front of the box.

“Alright. I can handle this.”

Olivia pointed at the booklet lying on the floor. “There’s an instruction manual right there.”

“I don’t need it.”

Baz arched a brow. “Famous last words, boss.”

“You’ve read more books than the rest of us combined and you won’t read a manual? That’s a new level of stubborn.” Bryce smirked.

“The picture is guidance enough.” Ethan knelt down and sorted through the parts until he found the pieces that he presumed would compose the bottom frame. He linked them together, forming a crib-sized rectangle.

He then found the legs and attached them. So far, everything seemed to resemble the picture, so he reached for the screwdriver to tighten everything.

“And… crash.” Bryce laughed when his words timed almost perfectly with the collapse of the crib parts.

Ethan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t have the parts tight enough. Everything was correct.”

“I think this is why manuals are included in these things.”

“Those are always badly written with poor excuses of diagrams. They’re a waste of paper and time.” Ethan shook his head, picking up the fallen pieces.

“I bet you ten dollars I can build the other crib faster than you without looking at the instructions,” Bryce proposed.

“It’s a bet.”

Zaid rolled his eyes. “What are we supposed to do while you two participate in this competition? Just stand here and look pretty?”

Bryce nodded. “Got it in one, Dr. M! We need an audience.”

Ethan turned his head toward the door when the smell of warm butter permeated his senses. “When did you get popcorn?”

Olivia shrugged, scooping up a handful of the fluffy white kernels. “A few seconds after you decided not to look at the manual. I knew I was in for some entertainment.”

“It has been rather amusing.” Baz grinned, accepting a handful of popcorn when she offered him the bowl.

She sat on one of the furniture boxes and nestled the bowl on her lap. “I’m curious to see who actually builds a crib first without it collapsing.”

Bryce cracked his knuckles. “Ready?”

Olivia and Baz set timers on their phones. “Alright. The race is on in three… two… one… go!”

Rolling his eyes, Ethan started rummaging through the parts to determine which ones actually went together. After some careful matching, he successfully formed the base of the crib.

Working a little faster, Bryce fastened one of the crib legs. “I’m one move ahead of you, Ramsey. You’ll be eating my dust.”

Laughing, Olivia started dictating in her best impression of a sports announcer's voice. “Lahela is just ahead of Ramsey, but will the fast results hold up?”

Ethan glanced up. “When did we become an Olympic sport?”

“Just now,” Olivia confirmed. “Extreme Crib Assembly is officially my favorite part of the Olympics.”

A few minutes later, Bryce stepped back from the crib and threw his hands up. “Done!”

Baz hit the button on his timer. “Thirteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds,” he confirmed just as Ethan finished.

“Thirteen minutes and twenty seconds.” Olivia rubbed her hands together. “The true test is to make sure both cribs are put together correctly. Bryce may have finished first, but if his crib has a problem, he still loses.”

“Never.” Bryce shook his head and handed her one of the instruction manuals so she could check over their finished cribs.

Olivia glanced from the booklet to the cribs, nodding as she confirmed that the parts on both cribs were in their proper places. She tried to give each one a firm shake, pleased when they remained steady.

“And it looks like both cribs are a success! This means Lahela wins by a narrow six seconds!”

“What do I win?”

“Ethan’s ten dollars and… the rest of this popcorn, because I want pizza.”

“I’ll take it.” Bryce accepted the bowl and grinned. “Looks like all those hours in the OR do help with putting furniture together.”

Sighing in defeat, Ethan reached into his wallet and surrendered a ten dollar bill to him. Once they had the cribs settled into their places, they worked on the changing table. Olivia left the room to order some pizzas, but quickly returned so she wouldn’t miss out on the banter occurring in the soon-to-be nursery.

It didn’t take the four of them long to assemble the changing table and rocking chairs. When the pizzas arrived, they took a break and sat down at the kitchen table. Olivia bypassed the chair, opting instead to sit on Ethan’s lap. Instinctively, Ethan slipped his arm around her waist.

“How cute.” Baz grinned.

Bryce smiled mischievously. “Whipped.”

Zaid shrugged when Bryce and Baz turned to him as if they expected him to join in on the teasing. “No comment.”

“Oh, come on. Watching them is as fun as watching you and Ines.” Baz’s grin widened as his twin’s cheeks flushed.

Olivia chuckled, biting into a piece of pizza. “We are cute. I’ll accept your compliments.”

After lunch, she curled up on the couch to watch TV while everyone else finished the nursery. She dozed off, waking up when Ethan joined her on the couch.

“Hi. Did everyone go home?”

Ethan nodded and looped his arm around her. “We finished. I suppose that went faster than it would have if I’d tried to do it by myself.”

She felt movement in her stomach, stronger than she had before. Gasping softly, she grabbed Ethan’s hand and pressed it to her abdomen. “Wait a second. You may be able to feel them this time.”

“If my phone wasn’t all the way over there, I’d take a picture of you right now because that’s the cutest facial expression I’ve ever seen on your face.”

He let out a low chuckle. “And give you a chance to put ridiculous filters on my face for the world to see? I don’t think so.”

“The world loves your face, ridiculous filters or not.”

Ethan’s hand rubbed gently against her stomach, earning another tiny motion in response. His brow knitted in thought. “It’s a little strange, how…. different this makes me feel.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” Ethan assured her, smoothing his free hand over her hair. “It almost makes me wonder why I had worries about anything.”

“That’s good, because we’re halfway there.”

XXXXXX

Presents of every shape and size occupied their living room.

Between the balloons, streamers, and the huge banner, Olivia felt almost certain that an entire aisle of baby shower decorations had exploded in their apartment. She grinned and snagged a cookie from a platter.

“Sienna, everything looks delicious. It’s a good thing I’m eating for three, because I plan on eating at least one of everything,” she declared, licking icing from her fingers as Ethan joined them in the kitchen.

Sienna smiled as she put the finishing touches on a tower of cupcakes. “These were so much fun to make!”

“They look so cute. Every time I try to bake or cook, things go horribly wrong.”

“They really do, don’t they?” Ethan agreed, a teasing glint appearing in his eyes.

“It’s like the time she burnt Christmas cookies the day after Halloween.” Sienna grinned.

Ethan shook his head. “She beat that this year. She set off the smoke alarm making gingerbread men last week.”

Olivia feigned offense, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you two ganging up on me? Because I will get Naveen to help me taunt you, Ethan.”

“Don’t you already do that?”

“Well, yes. But I won’t hesitate.” Shaking her head, Olivia finished her cookie and watched as their guests finished piling presents on the table. “What kind of shenanigans are we getting into today?”

“You’ll see,” Sienna promised.

Note: The rest of the baby shower takes place in the next chapter! Stay tuned!

Next Chapter

#open heart #choices #choices: open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc

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wanna-b-poet31 · 5 years

Text

Aziraphale and Food

So, stick with me for a moment: Why do we almost universally essentialize Aziraphale into a glutton?

Like yes, he eats, and yes, to our knowledge he’s the only known celestial creature (Christs and Anti-Christs notwithstanding) to eat on screen, but he never really eats to excess. In fact, I don’t think he eats food because he’s a hedonist (I mean he is a hedonist, but maybe not for this), BUT rather because it provides him an excuse to be with Crowley.

Sounds ridiculous right? It shouldn’t be right, right? We see Aziraphale eat alot over the course of the show, we see him enjoy eating, and we never see Crowley eat ever. So, it can’t all just be a ploy to be with Crowley? Right?

I mean he certainly enjoys eating, I’m not fool enough to say he isn’t getting any pleasure from dining out. Just look at his face as he appreciates the sushi! Joy!

And this calm, happiness follows Aziraphale when later in Ep. 1, Crowley takes him to the Ritz in an attempt to persuade him to save the world. And, to celebrate surviving the end of the world with his boyfriend best friend, the first thing they do once they’re free, really free of Heaven and Hell and their abusers, is going to the Ritz.

So I’m not proposing that Aziraphale doesn’t eat, or that he doesn’t get any enjoyment from eating >I mean look at how his face falls he is When Gabriel asks why he’s eating food, proceeding to call it “gross matter”, and eating it “sullies” his heavenly temple. It’s straight-up heartbreak, as Aziraphale glances down at his spicy tuna roll. (and let’s not forget or excuse that what Gabriel is doing here is abusive) <

However, if Aziraphale’s interest in food is simply selfish or gluttonous, then we must have seen him eat plenty of times without Crowley or the expectation that eating would be a vehicle for their social interaction.

We don’t.

AZIRAPHALE + SUSHI

Just think back to the above scene that establishes Aziraphale’s character.

This is the only scene with Aziraphale and food that does not include Crowley. And sure, he is alone in a sushi place, before being rudely interrupted by Gabriel’s garbage attitude. Crowley doesn’t isn’t there now, he’s not ducking under the table, or jumping out the window, or materializing himself anywhere else but there to avoid being seen by Heaven. So, clearly, this must be proof of Aziraphale’s undying attachment to food.

Case Closed. Diagnosis: Gluttony plain and simple.

However, if this is true, how do we explain his peculiar behavior in this restaurant?

For starters, immediately after receiving his food, he’s striking a conversation with the chef -- a chef who knows his NAMEd, not Mr. Fell, not some pseudonym, not simply addressing him like another customer, but as a friend (at least an acquaintance). Perhaps even more telling is not that Aziraphale and the Chef know each other, but that Aziraphale -- I’m a bit out of Practice is French IN FRANCE -- has gone out of his way to learn Japanese to converse with this person, treating him with the respect of a friend, not someone who is here simply for food alone. This is social.

Then there is a small chime, indicating a supernatural presence has entered the building. (We hear the same chime when Crowley rescues his ass from a guillotine) And notice how unsurprised he is by the sudden supernatural presence. He’s expecting a guest.

Couple this information with Crowley’s behavior at the graveyard (he acts like he wants to get the hell out of Dodge even before he’s tasked with delivering the Anti-christ like he’s got a prior engagement) and the knowledge that the A40 goes straight through Soho.

I think it’s reasonable to conclude that he’s expecting Crowley.

Notice how he pointedly looks to his left upon hearing the magical chime. We see in the next (below) shot, that he’s not turning to the door, but to a mirror. So why look there if not because Crowley always is on his right?

His face instantly drops and an overjoyed expectant look turns to a terse, forced polite smile when he sees Gabriel, not Crowley, has joined him. And while he defends eating, we don’t see him eat (even after Gabriel leaves). I think, perhaps unintentionally, this is the scene that tells us why Aziraphale eats.

Pretext.

AZIRAPHALE’S SOCIAL CALL, CROWLEY’S BUSINESS DEAL

Let’s look at the first time (temporally) we see Aziraphale broach the idea of food. In the early years and in Heaven, Aziraphale doesn’t volunteer any interest in food or social interaction. However, in Rome, things are clearly different.

>check out where I purpose Aziraphale falls in love with Crowley in Rome here<.

Notice how in the opening shot, Aziraphale isn’t eating. There’s no drink in his hand, no grapes in his mouth, nothing to indicate that he has been eating, or socializing. When suddenly!! He hears a voice, and stops, his game piece hovering over the board as he realizes Crowley is nearby.

Only when after he approaches Crowley, does food enter the conversation Hearing Crowley order gives him the perfect in, the clearly acceptable, casual social relationship that no one could question. He can see that Crowley, like him, has changed and that the demon is giving him limited responses, barely joining the conversation.

Aziraphale tries-- he honest to God tries -- to start a conversation without pretext, without some kind of excuse to join in the welcome, and frankly comforting, company. He asks “still a demon” trying, oh so haphazardly, to make it about work, kind of like when someone is asking you about the weather, and it blows up in his face, earning him the wrath of his friend. He simply can’t be the one to initiate business conversations because it, as a pretext for their relationship, is always off the mark, and comes across as dismissive of Crowley’s demon identity.

Only when he talks about food does he manage to get Crowley to open up, and accept his presence. He gives Aziraphale the all-clear to continue talking to him, and Aziraphale fucking jumps on it. It’s extra fascinating how both parties leave this scene with two radically different uses for food. For Aziraphale, it is a safe pretext to get Crowley to open up, but for Crowley, it seems to be Aziraphale’s main interest, not him.

Crowley also doesn’t seem to get that Aziraphale is not equipped to talk shop, and needs the security in being in a sanctioned social interaction. Friendly talks like the ones they’d shared earlier were comforting to Aziraphale, getting him to open up in a way that no other character had successfully managed. He means for this, and more importantly, he NEEDS this to be social. To be a kind of friendship, partnership, that he doesn’t get from Heaven. There’s security in being casual, social, and nothing more than that.

However, Crowley can’t talk about himself in any meaningful way. He mentions he’s never had oysters before, his sarcasm missing Aziraphale only to have him be surprised when Aziraphale tries one last jab at the business talk. The “let me tempt you” gets his attention, but he doesn’t relax until Aziraphale, “no, I suppose that’s your job”, or when Aziraphale diverts the conversation back into their work.

Both walk away from this conversation thinking “yes, I know how to talk to him now” Except, they don’t. Aziraphale doesn’t recognize Crowley uses their work as a catalyst, and Crowley doesn’t recognize that for Aziraphale food is a catalyst, not the product, he desires.

A MISCOMMUNICATION

When Crowley asks for a “favor”, a work lunch, we can see how the two fundamentally misunderstand how food is being used, and how the other thinks food is being used.

The whole exchange about the crepes, boils down to Crowley opening the door with “remember that work favor?” and Aziraphale responding with “I don’t remember the work pretext, but I remember sharing crepes with you”.

Notice it’s not I had crepes, nor is it a focus on the food itself. It is Aziraphale emphasizing the shared part of the shared experience, not the details (which we get to see by the way) of being rescued or of accusing Crowley of starting the revolution, and Crowley explaining that neither side had started it, but the humans had. All Aziraphale cares about is their relationship, but can only safely use food as his point of reference because it allows him to share time with Crowley.

Contrast this with how Crowley’s perspective. Even just asking if it was one of Heaven’s or Hell’s is cementing the conversation as a work lunch, reminding Aziraphale (and perhaps himself) that they’re only allowed a professional relationship, not a social one, and he gives himself the pretext of work. Neither recognizes that there is a cross in the symbolism.

THE SHIFT

Things do shift, at least for Aziraphale, and food works a second role. Romance.

In the 60′s Aziraphale doubles down on using food to facilitate his relationship with Crowley because now he explicitly us that, “He can’t have [Crowley] risking [his] life, not even for something dangerous” which I think means “I’m afraid of our relationship without the pretext and safety that food has provided us me.” The danger is having their mutual feelings of love being discovered, so he’ll give Crowley the holy water as a symbol of that trust.

But when he continues as uses food to roadmap a relationship free of the pretext, “Maybe one day we’ll go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz” is indeed a literal example of what their relationship could be but it also acts as a promise that “Maybe, one day we can go on a picnic, or dine at the Ritz without the excuses, and simply be us enjoying food, not us using food as a safety net”. It’s a road map that he will continue with the pretext, and he’s alright if Crowley is tired of using it to be around each other, but he needs it, not always, not forever, but for now, it allows him the comfort that he is protecting Crowley’s safety (as well as himself).

Crowley counters this moment with, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go” which I argue translates into “I will dismiss the pretext now in a heartbeat, I’m not afraid of the consequences, I could ‘eat’ with you now”, but Aziraphale can’t risk it. “You Go too Fast for me Crowley” is a warning that he can’t have Crowley risking his life for him. We talk often about how Crowley has self-esteem issues, but so does Aziraphale, he does not see himself as being worthy of such a risk. So, he needs the pretense of food to function without (much) worry about what Hell would do to Crowley if they were discovered.

Unfortunately, they’re not speaking the same symbolic language, and as pointed out earlier, their wires are crossed.

CONCLUSION

In the beginning of the show, Crowley uses “no more fascinating little restaurants where everyone knows your name” specifically as a selling point, appealing to his presumption that Aziraphale’s love of food outweighs his love of the demon. He’s seen Aziraphale eat, and enjoy himself, clearly, at least Crowley thinks this tactic is reason enough to get Aziraphale to stay. Which points to the fatal flaw of Crowley’s reasoning. He only uses it because saying “we’ll never be able to talk to each other again” doesn’t even register as something he can say because he doesn’t value himself as enough for Aziraphale to consider saving the world. Food, however? Food has acted as a catalyst for understanding, but Crowley mistranslates “catalyst” for “produce” and presumes that because Aziraphale uses food to talk to him, he must love food, and not him. He’s wrong.

It’s not until they both throw out pretext and realize “shit, the song and dances we’ve been doing have not allowed us to rely on each other in the way we need” that they can move forward. And, after Armagedon’t they do just that, leaving the garden, and the remnants of their loyalties to other parties, and dropping all pretext, and just enjoying each other’s company as equals.

Ending the series at the Ritz, celebrating their closeness is likely not the last time they’ll ever share a meal, but it is likely the last time they will under the pretense that food is Aziraphale’s central desire and not Crowley. Sure, food is something Aziraphale mostly enjoys, but it no longer is an excuse. If he eats, it’s for enjoyment and personal choice, not a means for hiding or protecting Crowley anymore. And for Crowley, “tempting” Aziraphale to a bite of lunch without the expectation of a favor, or repaying a favor, removes his similar reservations about pretext. He no longer has to rely on work to simply “be” with Aziraphale.

TLDR: Aziraphale uses food as a social excuse to spend time with Crowley

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, next time I’ll write too much about Crowley and retraumatization

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amenomiko · 5 years

Text

Ikemen Sengoku Husbands and MC when she gave birth

1. Nobunaga

-Walks in front of the labor room back and forth

-For once, he didn't touch his Konpeito to calm himself

-Startled when MC suddenly screamed "I NEED MY HUSBAND!!!"

-Bursts into the room but only get a menacing glare from his wife with "I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IT IS NOT EASY TO GIVE BIRTH TO YOUR CHILD SO DON'T JUST PLAYFULLY POUNCE ME ON THE FUTON U SHIT!!!!!"

-Didn't say anything but kneel to MC's side and hold her hand, with silent gasp when MC squeeze it so painfully hard which he never expect it comes from MC

-"You can do it. You are my lucky charm and a lucky charm yourse-" MC: "I'M NOT A LEPRECHAUN DAMMIT!!!"

-At the end of the day, though his face is full of MC's handprint (from all the angry smack from her) he kissed his first born lovingly with single tear on his face

2. Hideyoshi

-Sit. Stand up. Sit. Stand up. Sit. And stand up.

-Ieyasu: "God sit down you are making us nervous too."

-Maid : NO HIDEYOSHI-SAMA YOU CAN'T COME INSIDE!!

-Hideyoshi nearly went pale as he "saw" it and froze at the door.

-MC's scream unfroze him.

-Eventually he stayed, holding himself from fainting.

-The colors came back to him when the cry of the baby fill the room.

-Non-stop kissing MC with "Thank you MC. Thank you..!"

3. Masamune

-"Ooof..!"

-He squirm from his wife's painful hand squeeze.

-"C-come on Lass..! Y-you can do it...!!" It took him one to two breath to hold back the pain in order to encourage his wife.

-"I think I'm the one who's giving birth here- ouch ouch MC- asgshshdhsjsklf and my right hand is going to burst like an explosive--!!"

-His painful expression turns soft when MC moans "Anata.. I can't...!"

-Kisses MC's temple, forehead, lips, many times to calm her down, until baby's cry fills the room.

-Since his right hand still crampy, he held his first born in his other arm. Smiling ear to ear at it. "I will tell you how limpy my hand were as a bedtime story when you grow up."

4. Ieyasu

-Requests to stay in the room when MC give birth.

-He specializes in medicine, yes he is. But labor? He wants to learn it so he can help MC in the future (wow he already plan that there's gonna be more child huh?)

-He didn't realized he had squeezed Wasabi so hard to the point it bites his arm (he didn't realize the pain too)

-Poor Wasabi to land so hard on the mat when Ieyasu let go of it out of panic when MC wants him by her side

-Maid: To request his presence with his beloved pet.. I don't know Ieyasu-sama can be this cute (*´﹀`*) *giggle to herself* oh how about..

-Maid: Ieyasu-sama, Please do the honor to hold the baby as it comes out. Yes, just like this. *giggles again when Ieyasu gulped when he saw the baby's head*

-The look on his face was priceless. Shocked and teary when he successfully pulls his first born out and to hear it cry. It's a melody to his ears.

5. Mitsunari

-Hideyoshi had to take his books away even though it will help him to reduce his panic

-He paces the waiting hall back and forth.

-Call it a pace, but then he didn't realize he has been running back and forth until Hideyoshi nag at him, and the maid sticks her head out to shout "STOP RUNNING MITSUNARI-SAMA! THE PRINCESS CAN'T FOCUS AS SHE WAS LAUGHING THE WHOLE TIME!!"

-Ieyasu: And you too. Be quiet, Masamune. Stop laughing.

-Suddenly the hall are echoed with baby's cry and before Hideyoshi could stop Mitsunari he already bursts inside the labor room, he himself teary when he saw his first born on MC's chest.

6. Mitsuhide

-Hideyoshi: Oi. Aren't you too calm when MC is giving birth?

-Nobunaga: He's not, Hideyoshi.

-Ieyasu: Despite his smile his hands has been trembling when he pour himself tea all the time.

-Masamune: And he just added soy sauce in his tea *bites his lips from laughing*

-Mitsunari: Wow I didn't know Mitsuhide-sama has a peculiar taste. *blinks innocently when Ieyasu gave him the "look"*

-Stands up in instant (and Hideyoshi jumps when the hot tea spilled on his lap) when MC screamed "Anata..! *gasp*"

-Bursts into the room, his fox mask cracked completely in front of all the maids when he saw MC's pale face.

-He immediately holds MC's hands and circle his other arm around her shoulder for support as she pushes, squeezing his other arm painfully.

-One first born had delivered, when suddenly MC screamed again to his surprise.

-Maid: Mitsuhide-sama!! It's a twin!!

-He was taken aback, but MC find his surprised face very adorable as he craddle both of his child in his arms as he smiled gently, kissing both of them lovingly.

-"Thank you, MC." He whispered and let out a soft chuckle from his heart.

7. Kenshin

-*SHRAKKK* *BAM!!*

-Maid: *peeks out her head from the labor room* KENSHIN-SAMA STOP CUTTING THE TREES IN THE GARDEN THE PRINCESS COULDN'T FOCUS!!

-Sasuke: No, no. It doesn't mean you can cut me next, Kenshin-sama. I bet Himezuru want you to calm down too.

-Yukimura: Sasuke, let him be.

-Shingen: And.. He's cutting the air. This is amusing I could watch him all day.

-MC: *from inside* DAMN YOU KENSHIN WHO TOLD YOU TO BE SO ROUGH YOU SEXY DRAGON!! UGHHHHHH!!!

-Maid: *from inside* Yes, yes, we will punish him later, but push more Princess! Put the anger into it..!

-Maid 2: That's not how to apply to it but put more anger into it!!!

-The baby cry fill the room and for the very first time Kenshin dropped his favorite sword to the ground and bursts into the labor room.

-Meanwhile, Shingen was patting the blushing Yukimura (From what MC said), while Sasuke already save his tik tok video in his phone.

8. Shingen

-Sasuke has to hold Kenshin back from attacking Shingen because he indulge on his plums instead of sweet stuffs to distract himself from panic.

-Yukimura didn't know how to say but only stare and twitch his eyes to his Lord's weird state.

-Accidentally dropped the plum jar when MC groans "Anata...!!! Nnnn-- SHINGEN!!! UGHH I CAN'T!!!"

-Bursts into the room "I'M HERE MY GODDESS!!" only to be shouted by the maids.

-"AHH- Ouch- Ouch..! G-goddess- calm down, D-don't bite me..! Ohoh you are into biting huh- OUCH I'mjustjoking- agshsjsjsjksf--!!!"

-His eyes widened when there's a baby cry fill the room and he immediately craddle his first born into his arms (despite there's a bite mark all over). With tears on his face and a chuckle, he kissed his first born many times.

-Meanwhile, Kenshin: The moment he walk out from that room I will slice his sweet food in front of him *mumbles as he pick up the scattered plums one by one*

9. Yukimura

-Clench on his knees, bites his lips and closes his eyes shut to endure MC's screamings from the labor room.

-Accidentally pinch on his bestfriend's arms whenever the scream has gotten louder, which Sasuke has no choice but to replace himself with a log (with drawn glasses on it of course + with a note saying "Please pinch me instead and get wood cut" on it)

-Startled as MC screamed "UNNNHHH ANATA!!!!"

-Maid: Yes, yes! It's almost there, Princess!!

-Bursts into the room with "MC I'M HERE!!!" Assuming that's the help cry from MC but instantly regrets it as he "saw" the coming baby and he fainted backwards (and Sasuke has to catch him)

-An hour later, he woke up with his firstborn in his arms, with sleeping MC on his chest.

-Whispered "Thank you" to MC and kissed her forehead.

-Sasuke: *writes in his diary: "The Unforgettable Story I'm going to tell Yukimura's children as they grow up. Titled: Me, When My Wife Gives Birth."

10. Sasuke

-Before MC gives birth, he already arrange with the maid for "Labor in the Water" plan.

-They find him weird, but goes along as their Princess request the same thing.

-When the time came, Sasuke sit inside the tub with MC in front of him. Kissing her everytime the contraction came into her like a wave. He holds her tighter to support everytime MC make a push.

-"You can do this." And MC can't help but to giggle when he gives his typical "Bli-Wink" to her.

-Maid: *gasp!!* The baby is born, Princess!!

-Maid2: This water birth is a miracle..! The Princess gave birth easily..!

-Sasuke adjusts his glasses, saying "So if we plan a football team, it will be easier in the future-- *pinched by MC* I'm just joking."

Hehehehehe hope you guys like it 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen mitsuhide #ikemen nobunaga #ikemen sengoku imagine #ikemen ieyasu #ikemen kenshin #ikemen masamune #ikemen mitsunari #ikemen sasuke #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen yukimura #ikemen shingen #birth

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five-hxrgreeves · 5 years

Text

Feeling My Way Through the Darkness

A/n: This is my first fic on Tumblr! I also have it posted on AO3, but I thought I’d post it here as well- I will try to keep them on the same schedule by updating once a week. This is a Five x OC series fic; I’m late to the TUA party on here, so I’m not sure how many people will read this, but if you feel like it, let me know what you think!

Here’s what you need to know:

The timeline: everything is basically the same (except Ben is alive), but this takes place after season 2, where I'm assuming the Umbrella Academy stops the apocalypse successfully. The year is an alternate 2019 from the one the show has. Everything else will be explained later.

Ages: all the main characters (except Jared, one of my OCs), are 15 in body. Five spends less time in the apocalypse than he does on the show, and the OC isn't exactly a normal 15-year old. Everyone else's minds are how old they are in the show (so 30.)

THERE WILL BE NO SMUT, we don’t stan pedophilia here!!!!

Summary: Due to unknown circumstances of the time anomaly caused by certain members of the Umbrella Academy in stopping the apocalypse, there was a ripple in the continuum that caused an unaccounted-for effect to happen. At midnight on January 1st, 2004, seven women gave birth unexpectedly; and the strangest thing of all was that none of them had been pregnant in the first place.

This time, though, there was no Umbrella Academy to mark these children's birth to the world. Many of them lived quiet-albeit unusual- lives in the homes of their biological families, who, by 2019 and the long-forgotten news of the Umbrella Academy, were mostly used to strange occurrences happening.

Or, the wheel of time continues to turn and, according to The Commission, the Apocalypse is inevitable; it doesn't matter to them what brings it. (Prologue below cut)

Prologue: In the Beginning...

Feeling my way through the darkness

Guided by a beating heart

I can't tell where the journey will end

But I know where to start

On this particular New Year’s Eve, Lola and Richard were celebrating at home with their four-year-old-son, Jared. While they considered themselves to be loving parents, they were often busy at work and travelled around a lot, which left little time for family bonding, so they took advantage of the holidays when they could.

Lola had blonde hair and blue eyes, which was mirrored in her son; she was a petite woman, but that didn’t detract from the power she could hold in a room. Richard had short, dirty-blonde hair and hazel eyes, and he was quieter and more easy-going than his wife.

They were currently celebrating New Year’s with Chinese takeout and watching old movies on the TV. The Christmas tree still stood in the corner of the living room, and colorful homemade streamers decorated the ceiling. The family of three sat on the couch in pajamas, with Jared being the slight exception; he was also still wearing his mother’s heels and had the sleeves of her bathrobe tied around his neck to make a cape from their earlier game of fashion-superheroes (while he thought superheroes were cool, he wouldn’t want to be one; he’d want to design their uniforms.)

As the clock counted down to the new year, nothing seemed out of place. By 11:45, they switched over the channel to watch the ball drop in New York, and surprisingly, Jared was still awake- a fact he was very proud of. And, fifteen minuets later, the countdown drew to a close:

“5!”

“4!”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!"

When the clock struck midnight, the people on the screen cheered as the ball dropped. Richard picked Jared up and swung him around the room in celebration, and Lola watched them amusedly. Suddenly, her expression dropped into one of horror and fear. Something wasn’t right. There wasn’t anything obviously wrong- until there was.

Afterwards, no one could say exactly what happened, but one moment, Lola was her usual slimness, and the next, she had ballooned out to nine weeks pregnant. Her father and son were startled by her scream and sudden change in appearance, but Richard was quick to react. He hastily shuffled Jared into the next room, ordering him to stay there. He grabbed the necessary items and rushed back to his wife’s side; having helped deliver his son, he knew the basic procedure for birth.

Her face was screwed up in pain and she was breathing heavily, “deep breaths, my love,” Richard said gently, stroking her hair. Despite the suddenness of the situation, he was able to remain calm, which had always been one of his gifts.

Lola tried to comply, but the pain was even greater than Jared’s birth, and she remembered that well. Surprisingly, however, the labor lasted only minutes, and soon there was a fourth member to the Quinn family.

Richard stared down at the baby girl who’d burst into life in the span of not even half an hour. Unlike Jared- and most babies-, she didn’t cry as she was born. Instead, she waved her tiny limbs around as she squirmed in his hands, opening vibrant blue eyes to take in the world around her.

“We have a baby girl, Lola,” Richard said, amazed. He knew he could immediately love their surprise child, no matter the unusual circumstances of her birth. He handed the baby to her mother who, despite her now-exhausted state, managed a small smile as she took her daughter in her arms. While she had every right to hate or fear the child by the surprise situation, having Jared first had helped ease the shock, and besides, they had the means to raise her.

Lola looked up at her husband, “we’re keeping her,” she said determinedly.

“Of course,” Richard said, surprised that his wife might think there was a different possibility.

"Will you get Jared? He should know everything's okay," Lola requested, and her husband went to find their son.

The blonde woman looked down at the baby girl, her expression soft, "everything's okay, baby. You should know that too. I don't know what happened, but we'll work through it. Supernatural things happen all the time in movies, after all. And you're special; I can feel it."

The baby's bright blue eyes blinked up at her as if to say yes, I know. Richard returned with Jared then, who was hiding behind his father's legs. After seeing that his mother was okay, he hesitantly moved to stand in front of her.

"You have a baby sister, Jer," Lola told him, "we haven't named her yet, but she'll be a wonderful part of our family."

He stared at the baby with wide eyes, "was she supposed to happen like that? Was that how I was born?" he asked, looking up at his mother, who looked faintly amused.

"No, you were very different," she answered, "none of us know quite what happened, but she's our little miracle. You're her big brother, Jared."

The four-year-old looked at the little child in his mother's arms and frowned. He was supposed to be the baby, not this strange creature. And besides, why did she stare so much? Those wide blue eyes were super creepy.

"I don't like her," he declared.

Richard laughed, much to Jared's irritation, "I'm afraid you'll have to get over that, son. I know this can't be easy, but she's our responsibility now. Go on, it's time for bed anyway. Your mother has to rest. Tomorrow, we'll get some new baby things."

Life settled into a new routine for the Quinns. The one good thing about the baby, Jared decided, was that it made his parents stay home more often; but even then, they were busy taking care of her. Jared tried to stay out of her room as much as possible to get away from those eyes. He really didn't like them. His mom had said that if her eyes were going to change color, they'd do so in a few days, since all babies were born with blue eyes. He didn't think that would help, to be honest. He wasn't able to put it in to words with his limited vocabulary, but the girl's eyes seemed to stare with a strange alertness that even his parents didn't have. And, if he looked too long, he could swear he saw something mysterious swirling in their depths.

When he tried to ask his mom and dad to "take her back" after explaining these very valid points, they merely laughed and said he had a great imagination. Eventually, they'd decided on a name: Elena Melany Quinn. He'd thought calling her "baby" was good enough, but apparently, that wouldn't do.

As Elena got older, she became very inquisitive, and was often found in some sort of mischief. In her quiet times, though, she loved it when people read books to her. One night, Elena and Jared were being watched by a sitter, who wasn't really paying attention to them. It was getting close to Elena's bedtime (Jared always made sure to make this distinction; he was older, after all, so he got to stay up later), and their caretaker was following the instructions their parents left. After getting his sister ready for bed, the babysitter placed her in the crib, turned off all lights but the lamp on the dresser, and left the door open a crack. There was only one thing missing; her bedtime story. Elena then did something she didn't often do- she began to cry. The sitter rolled her eyes and went to close the door, but Jared stopped her, "did you read a story?" he asked.

"No," the girl said with a slight question in her voice.

"Ellie always gets a story before bed," Jared explained importantly. While he wasn't fond of his sister, he never wanted her to cry.

She huffed, "well I'm not reading a story. She'll have to go without one tonight."

Jared knew that his sister wouldn't stop crying, so he said, "can I read her a story?"

The sitter looked at him with amusement, "I didn't know you could read."

"Of course I can!" he declared (in truth, he was just starting to, but she didn't need to know that.) He slipped past her into his sister's room, "don't worry, baby. I'm going to read you a story."

Almost like magic, Elena's cries stopped. Jared looked at her with wide eyes, "can you understand me?"

The baby's mouth opened and closed, as if she was trying to form words. Pulling herself up by the handlebar of the crib, she supported herself in a standing position to get a better look at him, but still didn't say anything; she just watched him with deep blue eyes. Jared sighed, he should've guessed she wasn't smart enough yet. He made his way to her bookshelf and picked out one of the thinnest books he could find before returning to the crib. As he struggled through the first page, Elena's baby mind was turning. She knew she knew this person, although she didn't think he liked her. She thought him name was easy though, she'd heard the taller people say it, and if she said it, would it make him like her more? Was it.... Germ? No. Jar? No. "Jer!" finally came out of her mouth.

The little boy looked up at the baby in surprise, stopping in the middle of the second page, "what?"

"Jer! Jer! Jer!" the baby turned it into a chant.

He couldn't believe it; his sister's first words were his name! Jared wished his parents were there to hear it. He couldn't help smiling, "yes, that's me," he said. Maybe his sister wasn't so bad after all.

"Jer!" came his name the final time, before, "bo?"

He nodded, "yes, book."

----------------

When Lola and Richard found out about the new understanding Jared had for his sister, they were surprised until they learned what her first word was. They exchanged amused smiles.

53 notes · View notes

rovvboat · 6 years

Text

Painted Flaws - Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x villian!Reader

Part 4

A/N: WOO all aboard some domestic-ish fluff in this part!! stay tuned for some p solid progression of the story - one you probably wouldn’t want to miss :x + a p cute NTWxYukio scene in this one ^-^

Let me know how you feel about this series!

Word count: 5k

Warnings: nothing too outlandish

Summary: You’re a villian with a moral grey area. You meet Piotr at an art exhibit, but both of you are there for completely different reasons. Though the attraction was inevitable, will it be enough? A growing passionate love wrought with secrecy, both of you try to move through this maze. But when the ball drops, what will you choose?

The thick layers of dry fallen leaves rustle furiously, crushed under your accelerating weight, as your feet bound across the uneven terrain of soil that gives in at even the slightest touch; where the swollen dark roots look like menacing anacondas – just waiting to curl around your legs in a triumphant downfall.

Your breathless lungs fight to keep you running, as you pull a 16-year-old lanky D.K. behind you.

Nightfall arrived much sooner than you had initially planned, and now everything was a race against time.

The sound of hounds bellow through the woods behind you; strobes of light sweeping rapidly through the nearby trees, as the heavy thundering steps of Demetrius’ goons track a ways behind you.

You reach into your pocket with your free hand, riddled with sweat, trying hard to make out the shape of the hard metal bolus – grasping it in your palm when you finally get the feel of it.

You bring it to your mouth, teeth biting hard against the cold release pin; and successfully pull it out, before hurling it behind you in a blind panic. And mere seconds later

BOOF

Puffs of strong, ashy smoke quickly surrounds the trees and rise tall towards the sky – and when you hear the frantic barking of the dogs and frustrated cries of ‘’Oh fuck’’, you know you’ve bought yourself just enough time to make your escape.

You pick up speed, but D.K starts to lag behind. You yank him closer to you.

As you reached the area of thick shrubbery, you slow down to let D.K catch his breath. You push aside the layers of vines and small branches where, and at the far edges of the forest could vaguely make out the cabin– which had been your place of refuge during the operation.

And that was where you knew escape was waiting, in the form of the land rover you managed to steal from the goons.

You look back to D.K. to make sure he was alright, but in his place stood the cold, sharp eyes of Demetrius – staring you down

Along with the barrel of his gun.

‘’I do not tolerate betrayal.’’ A demonic voice echoes around you, as your heart bangs repeatedly into your chest – like a locked up hostage; your legs now feel light, and ready to bolt from the sudden rush of blood.

You hear him cocking the gun, as resignation moves into the pit of your stomach; you abruptly shut your eyes, bracing for impact.

And when the gunshot – like the sharp explosion of thunder – cracks through the air –

Your body jolts up from the bed, struggling to find air in your lungs with rapid breaths. You bring a hand to your chest to calm yourself down, the cold sweat forming at your temples making themselves known to you.

You look out to your window, and hear the violent crashing of heavy rain drops against the pane. Thunder rumbling somewhere in the far distance.

Nightmares were part of your life ever since the day you decided to pull D.K. out of the operation. You’ve been on edge ever since. But there is nothing in the world you would’ve done differently.

The others kids were either caught, and sent to prison – or they were successfully bailed out by the proxies you had hired to get them out; against direct orders from the boss himself.

D.K., however, was a special case. They had found out he had a latent mutant gene, and wanted to begin experimentation.

No way in hell were you going to allow that.

You look at the time; 5:30am – the LED lights buzz through the dark, as you get up to prepare for the day ahead.

The first order of business was to find a replacement for the motorcycle you had to dump. You had to abandon quite a few in the past couple of years, but that one – it was a beauty. Extremely reliable, and gave good gas mileage – you got attached to it, and you feel a vague sense of loss from having had to abandon it.

As you walk out of the dealer, you hear the telltale rumblings of a jet overhead – the piercing speed ricocheting around you as it flew over towards the city center.

You’d recognize that jet anyway – it was the X-Jet. You recall how you slipped out of their hands – and then you remember the anti-mutant serum that you delivered to Demetrius.

That’s gonna be a problem for them, isn’t it? Why is Demetrius looking into meddling with mutants?

Your train of thought gets broken by the buzzing of your phone in your pocket. It was a text from Piotr.

Just the distraction you needed.

[Good morning. I hope you’ve had breakfast, and that you have a lovely day <3]

You beam at your phone like an idiot.

God what did I ever do to deserve you, Rasputin?

You type out a response.

[You know, it would be nicer with you in it. Would you be free for dinner? I know a place 😉]

You contemplate sending it for a moment.

Am I moving too fast?

And the thought makes you laugh – you’ve had sex with him for God’s sake! But it doesn’t taper down your insecurity any less.

Finally, you give in, and send the text anyway.

You couldn’t help the constant checking of your phone – and the utter disappointment you felt when the notification that buzzed through, just ended up being the weather app showing the forecast for the day.

You don’t receive a response for another hour – one debilitating, anxious hour. Your heart counts the seconds with restless thumps against your chest, as you make your way back to your apartment.

[I apologise for the delayed response. I was caught up with some work. But yes, dinner sounds lovely 😊 I will pick you up at 5?]

Though you didn’t want to seem like you were waiting for the text, you weren’t the kind of person to wait a few minutes to ensure that fact.

[Sounds like a plan, sweets.]

***

‘’And where are you off to in such a hurry?’’ Deadpool asks, perched on the banister at the top of the stairs, legs dangling carelessly in the air.

‘’Probably to visit his girlfriend.’’ NTW answers from the hallway, hands folded across her chest, smiling at Colossus in a knowing way.

Piotr continues up the stairs, his lips upturned – but not wanting to give himself away.

‘’Wow, someone’s been getting booty called every-fucking-day. Who’s the lucky gal? Or guy! Or person – whomsoever would be blessed with a virgin such as yourself.’’ Wade curtsies at Piotr as he walks past. ‘’And how the hell do they take you, huh? I mean you must be what? A good 8 inches? 10 on a good day? And your girth! It must be– ‘’

‘’I am very close to shoving you off the second floor.’’ Colossus warns, before heading for his room.

‘’Woah careful there buddy, your Russian mafia side is coming out. But I have to say, you have that special after-sex glow to you whenever you go off on your rendezvous.’’ Deadpool quips, before hopping off the banister.

Colossus rolls his eyes as he shuts the door behind him – focusing, rather, on getting ready for his dinner plans.

***

‘’This gal’s pretty quick on her feet.’’ Cable notes, entering NTW’s work station, tapping purposefully at his cybernetic arm. A hologram of a neighbourhood pops up – and he swipes at it, giving a better view of the surrounding buildings.

The view shows a junction, where a blinking red [X] marks the spot where the tracking device had disconnected.

‘’She knows what she’s doing. Probably disconnected the tracking device with an EM pulse.’’

‘’What street is that? We could tap into the traffic surveillance cams to get a better look.’’ NTW suggests, already pulling up her laptop and getting to work.

‘’She’s a sly kitten, I’ll give her that.’’ Deadpool jibes as he joins the two. ‘’Gave me and the Old Man a real good run around.’’

‘’Maybe you are just not good at what you do.’’ Colossus remarks nonchalantly, walking up to the doorway – dressed up and adjusting his watch straps, before smoothing down the vest over his stomach.

Deadpool looks up, making note to raise his brows to show his notice of Colossus’ outfit.

‘’Look who’s joined the party! It’s Big Russian Blue! You’re never in your human form in the house! Let me know if you need a third. I’d always be up to smack that tight ass of yours, metal or not.’’ He derails with a wink, before responding to Colossus’ snarky remark.

‘’BUT I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW, I have a pretty good track record.’’ He goes off with a name list. ‘’Francis! Juggernaut! Those Chinese guys in that tall building I couldn’t pronounce! and more that you guys don’t even know about!’’

‘’You did let Francis slip out of your hands the first time.’’ NTW counters.

‘’And let yourself be captured and detained in the icebox.’’ Cable adds.

‘’You didn’t even fight the Juggernaut. That was Colossus, Me and Yukio. All you did was get ripped in half.’’

Deadpool puts his hands on his cheeks, as his comically open mouth takes in a huff of air in a display of faux disbelief.

‘’I WILL NOT STAND HERE AND TAKE THIS LYING DOWN. That’s it. I’m taking a self-care day. All of you, think about what you’ve done. And as for you–‘’ he dramatically points at Colossus– ‘’I’ll give you another chance. My offer still stands.’’

Colossus bring a palm to his face in annoyance, before turning his attention to Cable.

‘’Please keep me updated of the progress. The sooner we find the culprit, the sooner we can confirm if this new mutant research laboratory truly is manufacturing those… anti-mutant serums. I will be back sometime around midnight.’’

‘’No problem. Have fun with your new… girlfriend?’’ Cable responds with a smirk and a raised brow, making Colossus smile sheepishly before heading off.

***

Time passed by quicker than you realized – running the never-ending errands of your boss was nothing short of exhausting – and by the time you set foot into your apartment, it hits you that it’s already 4:30.

You kick off your shoes and hurry into the shower.

Just as you come out of the bathroom, toweling off your dripping wet hair, you hear the doorbell ring.

You stumble into your room – ‘’Coming!’’ – throwing on an oversized hoodie and grabbing some panties from the drawer, hopping towards the front door as you put each leg into them.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the burly form belonging to the man you’ve been expecting, and your gaze trails up expectantly to his lovely eyes. He’s wearing a maroon long-sleeved vest, with the collar of a light grey button-down shirt popping out from the crew neck vest; paired nicely with casual denim jeans.

Boy, does he have taste.

‘’You’re never late, are you Piotr?’’ Your lips tip over in an impressed smile, hiding the breathless escapade behind it.

‘’Da, I had to rush over from my… work.’’ His eyeline shifts slightly to the, left then back to you.

‘’I know the feeling. I literally just set foot into the house. Come on in!’’

Piotr waits in your living room, taking in the minimalistic nature of your apartment. He settles down onto your sofa, but doesn’t let himself get too comfortable.

You sift through your wardrobe, trying to pick an outfit that would match with Piotr’s.

‘’Hey, Piotr?’’

His head perks up. ‘’Da?’’’

‘’Could you come here for a sec? I need some help picking out a dress.’’

You hear the sofa breathe out as he lifts himself off. He stands at your doorway and watches you, bent over from the waist, ass propped up as your search takes you deeper into your wardrobe.

His eyes run over the curves of your body, stopping at the hem of your shirt – now hiked up just enough that your red lacey panties were peeking out from underneath.

Piotr instinctively looks away, a light blush settling onto his cheeks.

He looks back as he hears you get up back to your feet, holding two dresses in each of your hands. One was a elegant knee-length maroon cocktail dress – made from a beautiful chiffon material that brought out the colour vibrantly.

The other was a light grey, open-back that fit snugly on your body – with pretty floral details at the waist.

‘’Okay, so it’s down to these two.’’ You showcase them over your body, switching them out as Piotr takes a good look. He tilts his head, considering them.

When he finally picks one out, you nod an affirmative – pleased with his choice of dress; and the one you were drawn to anyway.

He looms at the doorway as you get changed, unaware of the way he’s watching over you – the subtle ways your body moves – tossing the sweatshirt off your body before trying to get the dress up and over you – arms through the openings, smoothing it down as you check yourself out in the mirror.

When you turn back to look at him, he looks away immediately, like he’d been caught in the act – which causes a rumbling laughter from you.

‘’You can look as much as you want, handsome.’’

‘’I didn’t mean– I apologise for th–‘’

and as he stumbles over his words, you tread towards him, tiptoeing and pulling him into a light thoughtful kiss.

‘’Don’t apologise. I want your eyes on me. As much as you want.’’ You whisper into his ear, and you could feel him burn up.

You take to getting yourself ready – going onto to wear some makeup, paired with bold red lipstick.

Piotr regards you – completely transfixed with the way you get ready – as you apply your eyeliner; flinching when you almost poke yourself in the eye, then pout your lips as you slowly pull the lipstick across – your bottom lip gathering to one side from the downward pressure, then pulling back into place as you ease it into the other side.

It was all a treat to Piotr. To be able to see you, getting ready especially for him. He has his face resting on his hand – his hooded eyes observing with a gentle, enchanted gaze – as he leans his body against your door way.

You put the finishing touches onto your look – going for a stylishy messy look for your hair. When you look back at yourself in the mirror, you feel a sudden sense of fatigue engulf your body.

You sigh, a deep exhale that alerts Piotr; prompting him to get closer to you.

‘’Is everything alright, myshka?’’ He places a reassuring hand on your back.

‘’I don’t know, Petey. I suddenly feel… so exhausted.’’ Your tilt your head at him, your eyelids giving way, as you try to blink away the tiredness.

‘’You should rest then, myshka.’’ His low voice full of concern. ‘’We can always go for dinner another day – I know your work can sometimes take up the earliest of mornings, and I would rather you take a break if you need to.’’ He was sincere. No ounce of passive-aggressiveness you had experienced from previous loves.

‘’But I also want to be with you.’’ You grumble.

‘’And me as well.’’ His hand brushes away a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. ‘’We could have dinner right here, if you would prefer that?’’

A smile crosses your face at that. It was the perfect solution.

‘’Okay, but how about we stay dressed up long enough for a picture? You look like an absolute stud, Rasputin, and I’d hate for that to go to waste. I’d also like to look good for you too.’’

You tread towards him, your hands twisting around his waist – feeling the polite delicate wool of his vest gather back snugly behind him, as you pull yourself close to him; letting your head rest nicely against his comfortable chest.

A light woody musk fills your nostrils, one that takes place in your mind as your new favourite cologne.

‘‘Piotr… Thank you for understanding. It means so much to me.’’ You hum into his chest.

His lips graze your forehead, as he inhales your hair – in the way lovers do when they’re glad to be with you. ‘’Anything for you, my love.’’

You let yourself linger in the swirling warmth gathering in both your chests – eyes closed as you feel the slow relaxed beating of his heart. You pull back a little to look up at him – and let your fingers graze the side of his cheek.

He encases a hand around yours, bringing it from his cheek to his lips – placing a soft kiss on the inside of your palm – eliciting a light chuckle from you.

‘’What an absolute gentleman.’’

You grab your old Polaroid from the top shelf of your wardrobe. ‘’C’mon big guy, give me the good stuff.’’

You dial the Polaroid’s timer, clicking as you place it onto your dresser. You pull Piotr down onto one knee, with one propped up – letting yourself sit on his thigh as you held onto him with an arm over his shoulder.

‘’Smile for the camera!’’ You instruct joyously;

and as he looks into the lens with his million-dollar smile, you plant a big one on his cheek as you hold his face close to yours, and his lips grow wider.

CLICK

A flash illuminates your pose, and the camera whirrs out the picture as you giggle into Piotr’s ear.

‘’How was that for a candid?’’

Piotr turns to you smiling, eyes wide in request. ‘’If I may, could we have one more, where I am the one surprising you with a kiss?’’

You beam at his innocent request – posed as if there would ever be a universe where you’d have said no.

You take another picture, with Piotr’s soft lips on the side of your cheek. As the flash goes off and the camera whirrs out the polaroid, you shift to grab the picture – but something you holds you back, and before you realise, Piotr has you held close to him – your body arched as his hand supports the small of your back, your feet tittering backward like you were about to fall – as his lips hastily meets yours, his tongue getting the smallest of tastes – before pulling away.

Your raise an eyebrow, with a smirk that asks what was that all about?

‘’I just couldn’t help myself, myshka.’’ He shrugs, and you can’t help but chuckle.

In the next few hours, you manage to find the biggest pair of sweatpants you own, together with the biggest shirt you own –

a comfy cotton navy blue shirt with a pink cartoon cat shooting a party canon filled with rainbow streamers.

It was a sight to behold – and one you didn’t want to forget – which prompts you to take a polaroid of him holding onto a pillow under his arm; a hand trying to cover his face as he smiles against his palm.

That was one for the books for sure.

The rest of the evening was spent lounging around in the living room – you in your comfiest purple pyjamas; with a matching pyjama hat that Piotr insisted you wore as payback for the party cat polaroid, and snaps a picture of you when you weren’t looking.

You order some take-out. Chinese was always a pleasant and mostly risk-free cuisine – and Piotr didn’t seem to mind. You put on some cheesy rom-com movies, and when you get bored, Piotr suggests some classic Russian films.

You watch, asking him questions about the language, the customs and everything one needed to know – snuggling closer at every opportunity, as his voice articulates and corrects words that you try to mimic from the movies.

A few minutes pass, before he speaks again.

‘’You know so much about me, but I know very little of you.’’

His sudden interest makes you choke on your noodles, but you swallow it down in a gulp. But he, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.

‘’I would like to know more, if you do not mind speaking of it?’’ He requests, with that smile and twinkling eyes that you could never say no to.

You contemplate for a moment. There was no harm in telling him where you came from but there was going to be details you would need to omit – for the sake of safety; both his and yours.

Not to mention, the fact that you really weren’t one of the good guys made you question if it would be worth it.

He’d never accept what I am as I am.

You decide to tell him what you can – he deserved as much; the place you grew up, the schools you went to, the very many hobbies you had – all facts as true as can be.

He listens, completely invested and interested in the many details of your life. He interjects, with questions;

‘’Did you like that?’’

‘’That sounds wonderful!’’

‘’Bhoze! You really got away from the police?’’

It was clear in his captivated tone of voice, intermittent laughing at your anecdotes, that he was absolutely fascinated.

There was a feeling of adoration you haven’t felt in a long while. Your chest wells in the moment as he shares both stories similar to yours, as well as directly opposite.

The night moves on, as you lounge against him on the couch, both your legs stretched out on the sofa – caressing his large hands, fondly thumbing over the lines of his palm and fingers.

He does his own version of it – his other hand, warm and firm over your stomach, gently running circles around the soft skin of your belly – where you feel tiny sparks dispersing through with each skim of his touch.

‘’So, your job now is to handle artwork shipment for the gallery, Da?’’ He asks.

You do a mental double take, trying to come up with a solid cover story – you had loads of those tucked away in your brain, but you had to choose the right one.

‘’Well, I do mostly freelance work. My boss assigns me various jobs – and shipment is one of them. I did criminal law – so my main job is being a lawyer, though only if I’m needed.’’ The backstory flows out of you, and though it might all be there was to it, it was the closest description of what counted as "work" for you.

‘’That sounds very interesting, myshka. You must be very bright and reliable if you can handle that many jobs on your plate. Surely a person of great character.’’

The pride and admiration in his voice makes your chest swell with delight, but you realise that you aren’t showcasing the whole story - just the meagre edges of it. You swat away the doubts to the back of your mind. It was for the best after all.

You shift your body over, laying on your stomach, now facing Piotr.

‘’Now that we’re done with my history, what about yourself, Rasputin? Let me guess, you’re either still a farmer, a fitness coach or maybe even some kind of firefighter…? So which one is it?’’ You jokingly ask.

Piotr stops to think for a moment.

She couldn’t possibly be someone who was against mutants, could she?

He decides that, perhaps, it would be easier for the both of you if he were to keep his identity under wraps – he surely didn’t want to introduce you to the other X-Men either; all was much too risky. And having a place outside the mansion where he could be relaxed without worries or obligations was much too good to pass off – especially when all of it was with you.

‘’Da, I am a firefighter. My hours are a little bit… unconventional – but they pay bills.’’ He divulges, his voice wavering a little – like he was unsure. There’s a sense of guilt that moves into him, but one he’s willing to tolerate for the time being.

‘’I knew it! Those muscles are made for the best, aren’t they?’’ You feel up his chest, as he smiles at your satisfaction at being on the nose about his career.

Just imagining Piotr in the standard yellow firefighters’ uniform, running – determined – towards a burning building with a hose over his shoulder, or helping a kitten out a tree – felt like it was the perfect job for him.

Of course, you could easily do a database search with his name and figure out if he is who he says he is... But wasn’t the whole point of this to make sure you both had as normal of a relationship as you could bring to the table?

You throw out those thoughts from your head, not willing to build on the flaws of this relationship, and instead, accepting the present for what it was.

And besides, you knew just the thing to ease the sudden tension that had taken residence in the air.

You slip off of Piotr, your legs hitting the floor with a thud – "Where are yo–" he stops mid-sentence as you disappear into the kitchen.

He hears the abrupt suction releasing from the door of the refrigerator, followed by a marked skid of the ice cream tub under the shelf as your hand wraps around the chilled frost amassed around the tub – and before long you were back in the same room as him, cradling a big tub of your favourite ice cream under your left arm as your right holds up two spoons, clinking together as you offer one to Piotr.

He sits upright, but doesn't take the spoon, and instead continues looking up at you.

You nudge the spoon further toward him, thinking that he hadn't noticed.

But then, he gives you a smirk; before gently tugging you by the waist, and pulling you onto his lap – a position to which you happily obliged to, thanks to his more than generous thighs.

You feel a steady heat move up to your cheeks, as you nestle back into his chest – with the feel of his chin resting nicely against your collarbone as he turns his head – his lips purposely brushing across your neck as he spoke.

"Dessert so soon?"

The movement of his lips, and the feel of his hot breath sends a ticklish sensation against your neck – and in the giggling aftermath, you drop your spoon.

You share the tub of ice-cream - with the one clean spoon - finishing it just as the end credits roll for the third movie of the night. You decide that it was as good a time as any to head to bed.

‘’Hey… I was thinking… Why don’t you stay the night? If you don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow morning that is…’’ You ask, trying your best to sound casual.

Piotr checks his watch, then his phone – a light frown creasing his brows at the screen; you see there were no notifications – which probably meant he was expecting something.

He hums, a decision dancing around his head before he looks back to you.

‘’I would love to, myshka. And it is just my luck that I do not have any work in the morning.’’

‘’Well then, you can count us both lucky.’’ You wink, before pressing a kiss on his cheek. ‘’C’mon, I’ll find us some more pillows.’’ You hop off the couch and head towards your room – pulling Piotr behind you by the hand before shutting the door behind you.

***

‘’’For fuck’s sake…’’ Cable laments to the screen showing the traffic surveillance camera feed – zoomed into a very pixelated recording of a motorcyclist who wasn’t wearing a helmet; and when the feed tries to stabilize the view, another pulse disfigures the view into pixels again.

‘’Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Those EM pulses were strong. They messed with the feeds surrounding the area as well. But if we got further back from where she escaped, we could tap into some of the neighbourhood surveillance cam’s.’’ NTW taps swiftly onto the touchpad.

‘’A license plate might not cut it. Follow the pixelated view down to whichever street or neighbourhood she turns into. We can narrow our search from there.’’ Cable instructs, taking a swig out of his coffee mug. ‘’Where’s Colossus? Thought he’d be back by midnight.’’

‘’Well, he did say to contact him if there were developments. Maybe he’s spending the night. I think it’s good that he’s getting out.’’ NTW smiles at the thought of her mentor getting out of the house for once.

‘’Well, I think that it’s totally unfair that he wouldn’t let me join! I’d be the perfect third to any duo!’’ Wade calls out as he enters the workroom, carrying with him a plate full of warm cookies, as he chows down on one. Yukio appears behind, gently swatting at his hand – ‘’Wade, those are for the detectives!’’

NTW’s frown turns into a smile at the presence of Yukio – who presents a cup of coffee towards NTW, offering with it a sweet smile.

‘’Wow, looks like love is in the air, huh… TinMan and Mystery Lady… Justin Bieber and Pinky Pie….’’ Deadpool remarks, before giving Cable a suggestive look – who only rolls his eyes at him before stepping back to the desk to get a closer look at the neighbourhood that the motorcyclist turned into.

He zooms into the nearby signage – green with white letters, hanging plainly mid-way on the streetlamps. He sets down his cup, a smirk appearing against the stubble of his chin.

‘’Jackpot.’’

***

You both get comfortable in the darkness of the room, against the ambience of the street outside – cars driving past, the winds gently brushing past the leaves.

You gather Piotr into your arms as he settles down on the bed, pulling up the comforter as he cozies up next to you.

‘’This is nice.’’ You breathe, nuzzling close to him, as you stretch out your legs around his waist – bolstering him from the side, letting your arm snake around his stomach – as you give a good petting to the smooth graphic of the party canon cat on his shirt.

‘’Da, it always is, being with you.’’ He places a soft kiss on your temple.

You smile up close to his neck, eyes closed. The tugs of exhaustion from the day finally catches up with the both of you – as you’re lulled to sleep by the presence of one another.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of solace, and security – that all was right in the world.

Taglist! @emma-frxst @fluffymadamina

#colossus x reader #piotr rasputin x reader #piotr rasputin imagine #colossus imagine #painted flaws #marvel fanfiction #xmen fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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douxreviews · 5 years

Text

Shazam! (2019) Review

"You more of a Supes guy? Yeah, me too."

By nature I love brevity: Easily the best film I've seen so far this year, and far better than the vast majority of the DCEU. A very funny film that surprises at many turns, entertains the whole time, and has something meaningful to say.

SPOILER WARNING: I'll keep it spoiler-free for the first part, then I'll get down to the details for the rest.

The part every Shazam! review is apparently required to have: Yes, this is a DC movie. No, your friend who keeps calling it Captain Marvel by mistake is not just out-of-touch with the culture; this character used to be called Captain Marvel back before Marvel played some dirty tricks and stole the name, and it makes no sense for him to be called Shazam. Yes, there also used to be another Marvel character other than the one from the movie who was called Captain Marvel. Yes, it's confusing as heck to the average moviegoer. Google is your friend.

Apparently IMDB isn't, though, so don't look up the movie before you see it. Way too much spoilery information on that page. You were warned.

Spoiler-Free:

This movie is a refreshing approach to the superhero film. Its comedic roots give it the distance and the self-awareness to mock the genre's most tired and useless trappings, but its definitive place within the genre itself also allows it to take what works and then use that for its own purposes. The film leans heavily on its humor, which is great and works, but it simultaneously works just as well as a superhero movie and an action movie.

The cast is wonderful. Zachary Levi carries the film as Captain Marvel Shazam himself, and you can see so clearly the fun he's having at the same time as he delivers a good performance. The emotional parts of Billy Batson's story, though, are given to Asher Angel. Angel is quite strong, and definitely pulled it off, though in a few places he struggled slightly. Still, for such a young actor, he has talent. Mark Strong's villainous performance is good, too, providing what I would venture to say is the best villain of the DCEU so far. But the true stealers of the movie are Billy's foster family, particularly Jack Dylan Grazer, Grace Fulton, and Faithe Herman. Their characters ground the movie emotionally and thematically, and the reliance on them is deserved. They are also a large part of what kept the third act from slipping into the traditional superhero movie pitfalls.

One last thing I will say about Shazam! is the strength of its story and construction. Everywhere I expected it to zig, it zagged. Everywhere it could have given way to cliche and mindless slugfests, it didn't. The third act is one of the strongest I've seen from a superhero film in a long while, and I sat in the theater overjoyed at many of the fascinating and fun creative choices the film made. There were few places where they could have done something interesting and didn't, but without seeing what it would have become had they capitalized on that, I can't tell if it was a missed opportunity or a good avoidance of narrative clutter.

Final spoiler-free word on Shazam! is that you should absolutely go and see it. It is wildly entertaining and amusing, meaningful in a deep way, and a great time from beginning to end. Go enjoy the heck out of this one. Now, since in-depth analysis is the way I review things, I'll move on to discuss spoilers.

It's not an 'S.' It means 'Spoilers ahead.'

Many will call this film a sign of DC's return to the brighter side of things. But, though it is a less gloomy film than a Man of Steel or a Batman v. Superman, I would argue that Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Joss Whedon's parts of Justice League were the benchmarks of DC's return from the shadow of death. What this marks, more than anything else, is the best look at the joy and wonder of being a superhero since Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.

Shazam! also provides us with the best example of a focused standalone superhero movie since that movie. So many films nowadays put their connections to other planned, produced, or released projects first, and their stories and characters second. Shazam! does not do this, just as Spider-Verse did not do it. This is not to say that either film leaves no potential for sequels and spinoffs. This film is full of easter eggs and references that could very easily play into any related projects, and indeed they probably will in the announced Shazam 2 and Black Adam. But the goal of the filmmakers in this movie was clearly to tell a good story, and to let the connections and references come later. This is why they pulled out all the stops in this one rather than save things for the sequel unnecessarily.

This, of course, resulted in the ENTIRE MARVEL FAMILY! I cannot tell you how excited I was in the theater to see that. As they led up to it, I said to myself, 'There's no way. They wouldn't.' And then they did. A film that was focused on keeping the audience excited for the sequels would have teased Freddie Marvel and Mary Marvel and never given it to us, but it was necessary for the story this film wanted to tell, and so they did it.

See, that's the thing that I find most interesting about the character of Captain Marvel Shazam. The fact that he's a kid is an intriguing idea, and it's enough to carry the first half to two thirds of the movie. But once you get past that, Captain Marvel Shazam is just a Superman rehash... that is, until you bring in the Marvel Family. As soon as he's a superhero who's part of a family of superheroes, suddenly everything becomes interesting again. That's something we don't often see, and that's what makes Captain Marvel Shazam interesting to watch.

The casting of the Marvel Family is spot on, especially given the kids they started with. All of them seem to share completely in Zachary Levi's joy, and for the most part they are able to maintain the characters of the children in their performances. Especial props to Adam Brody and Meagan Good.

There were, however, several parts of the film that I felt were not used to their full potential. The first of these was the portrayal of the Seven Deadly Sins. Granted, Greed was put to good use in the boardroom, and Envy in the final battle, but it's telling that a film featuring the embodiments of the Sins that also has several scenes set outside a strip club cannot find the time to say anything about Lust. The other thing is that, while I'm certain I could figure out which Sin was which if shown clear, still photographs of them, I had a very difficult time telling most of them apart for the majority of the movie.

The second thing that Shazam! failed to deliver on was the resolution of Mary's character arc. The relatively few scenes we got in which she pondered her future and the possibility of leaving her family in order to secure it made me extremely sympathetic to her and her situation, but the movie never returned to her story to give us a decision or a conclusion. I didn't notice until I was reflecting on it later, but I found myself wondering what happened to her and whether or not she decided to go to CalTech.

One last thing I want to say is that I have a hard time imagining a sequel that is successfully able to balance all of its inherited elements, introduce and develop its new ones effectively, and still be a good story. The thing about having all of those kids be a part of the Marvel family is that having that many superheroes with that much power, and the same powers, for that matter, would be difficult to juggle. Not to mention that the villain couldn't just be one guy, like Black Adam, without the cliched army of faceless soldiers. That's why I'm glad they're keeping Black Adam separate in his own film. Go ahead and let that be terrible on its own. Perhaps they will surprise me, and turn out something that is fun and meaningful in its own right. It is the same creative team, after all.

Pensees:

-The phrase 'Holy moly' is a classic line that Captain Marvel Shazam loves to use.

-Little Billy wanted the tiger from the balloon pop game, and in the end, he gave it to a kid to calm her down. In the comics, Billy has a friend that is a sentient tiger animated from a stuffed toy.

-The talking caterpillar that shows up at the beginning and at the end is called Mr. Mind, and he's a classic Captain Marvel Shazam villain. So are the Crocodile-Men seen playing cards through the door in the Rock of Eternity. Why yes, those comics do seem to feature a lot of talking animals. It's a thing. Both the Crocs and Mr. Mind were voiced by director David Sandberg.

-Djimon Hounsou has had a busy time lately with comic book movies. He was in Aquaman last December, then Captain Marvel in March, and now Shazam!

-John Glover has now played the dads of two bald DC villains. First it was Lex Luthor in Smallville, and now it's Sivana here.

-Effective use of the magic 8-ball. I'm impressed.

-The scene with Superman is probably funnier because Henry Cavill wasn't available to film it.

-Loved the gag where Sivana yelled villain dialogue from way too far away and was completely inaudible.

-I enjoyed all of Freddie's t-shirts, and the dig at Aquaman in the end was glorious.

5 out of 6 pleasant surprises.

CoramDeo is more of a Supes guy.

#Shazam #Captain Marvel #Billy Batson #Zachary Levi #DCEU #DC Comics #Doux Reviews #Movie Reviews

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carryonmylovelies · 6 years

Text

#13, PITCH

Rating: T

Tags: Soccer/Football, Outsider POV, Simon Snow, Baz Pitch, My OC Michael Torres, Fluff, Humor

Word count: 4685

Summary: Michael Torres loves football. His favorite team is Watford F.C. and his favorite player is a clever, speedy center defender. He meets a weird, curly-haired Watford fan at a Sunday match and it gets super mental from there.

Read on AO3

AN: This is the first time I've written anything since a lot of stuff in my life happened and I am just so happy to be posting again!! :D I wrote this after going to my favorite soccer team's game and just focused on making it fun. Alsooooo hAPPY BIRTHDAY BAZ!!!!

I'm dedicating it to my BEST friend Theo @bazypitchandsimonsnow because she encouraged me and gave me so much confidence and affirmation about my writing and stuff in my life and I just love her so much and literally it's all on her for being such an inspiration. Love you <3

Michael Torres loved football. More specifically, he loved Watford F.C., the Premier League football team of Hertfordshire, England. He loved everything about them. They were the Hornets, the Golden Boys, standing 8th in the league but quickly gathering speed as they swallowed up wins left and right. They were a team full of young, enthusiastic men with a certain insatiable hunger for victory and they were only getting better. Michael had been watching them play for as long as he could remember; recognizing their striking black and yellow and red colors before he even recognized his own name. Match days were considered to be religious events. Season tickets were a necessity. He owned at least three different jerseys in their classic black and yellow stripes, two different jerseys in their away colors of forest green, and various jerseys with the numbers and last names of all his favorite players. He was obsessed, utterly in love with his home football team of Watford.

At four o’clock today Watford would be playing against Manchester City, the number 1 rated team in the League. It was going to be one hell of a match.

***

“DROP BACK, ROLDAN. LOOK UP AND SEE CARSON, COME ON! HE’S OPEN, HE’S OPEN . . . NO! NO! YOU HAVE NUMBER 23 UP YOUR ARSE, LOOK LEFT AND SEE . . . WAIT! YES! BRILLIANT RECOVERY! NOW TAKE IT, TAKE IT, UP THE SIDELINES, YES YES! CROSS TO HENDERSON AND . . . NOOOOOO!” Michael yelled, sumping back into his blue stadium chair as he miserably watched Manchester’s star midfielder sweep in and steal the ball right from under Watford’s rookie right forward, Ben Roldan, dribbling for a moment before rearing back and sending the ball flying back towards Watford’s half of the field.

Michael sighed and took a sip from the soda he had bought before the match had started. All around him, a sea of people were waving yellow and black and red flags frantically, the Watford badge as well as the Manchester badge rippling in the late afternoon wind. People were shouting and cheering at the top of their lungs and the sun shone brightly on the field, stark white lines of paint marking the green grass and aligning perfectly with the two large goals on either end of the field. Popcorn was spilled all over the cement ground and fans were munching on pretzels and nachos. Kids were giggling with their faces sticky and pink from the large cones of candy floss they were shoving into their mouths. There had to be at least twenty-thousand people filling the slightly uncomfortable stadium seats, maybe more, and there was a thrumming, tangible sort of energy hanging in the air that everyone appeared to be feeling.

It was about thirty minutes into the first half and Manchester was up 2 to 1, but Watford wasn’t far behind. They had been pushing the ball into Manchester’s half and taking more shots on goal, and Watford’s fans could feel the determination and perseverance rolling off of their players in waves. It was a strong match so far and Watford had been mostly attacking--that made sense since they had such an unstoppable team of forwards, but unfortunately Manchester wasn’t one to stay on the defense for very long.

Manchester’s up-and-coming forward, Number 42, was now streaking down the middle of the field, weaving through Watford’s midfielders and almost getting close enough for a scoring shot when a flash of black and yellow sprinted towards the attacking forward and neatly pulled away the ball in one smooth motion. The crowd of Watford fans were up on their feet in an instant screaming and cheering with all their might--Michael being one of them--as Watford’s wicked center defender, Basil Pitch, took two long strides up the sidelines and then delivered a devastating kick to the ball. It sailed over the heads of Manchester’s forwards and midfielders and completed its arc right above Jordy Benson, Watford’s left forward. Benson jumped up and trapped the ball with his chest, letting it roll to his feet and settle for a quarter of second before tapping the ball in front of him and taking off towards Manchester’s goal.

The crowd absolutely exploded as Benson lined up for the shot and then slammed the ball in the direction of the goal, everyone cheering and shouting as loudly as they could. Manchester’s goalie had adopted a wide stance and was shuffling back and forth as the ball came barreling towards him, and then made a spectacular dive a second later. The ball hit the goalie’s stomach and the goalie instantly curled around it, falling to the ground having successfully blocked the shot. Watford’s fans all groaned in disappointment but commented to one another that it had been an excellent save, even though Benson’s shot didn’t make it in.

Michael sat back down as the Manchester goalie threw the ball to his closest teammate and the back and forth between Manchester defenders and Watford forwards resumed, the ball being quickly passed and bounced from player to player.

Michael wasn’t happy about the missed shot, sure, but mostly he was still reeling from how skillfully Pitch had recovered the ball, at how Pitch had basically handed the ball to Benson in order for the shot to be made. It was unreal.

Michael looked down proudly at the black and yellow jersey he was wearing, feeling confident in the name and number that was on his back in white, block letters. ‘PITCH’ was curved across Michael’s shoulder blades and a large ‘13’ sat directly underneath it. He had bought the jersey after the first game of the season, after Pitch had made so many saves and recoveries for his team that Michael didn’t even think the ball or any of the opposing team’s players got anywhere near Watford’s goal.

They were about halfway through the season and Pitch had been continuously defending the everloving fuck out of Watford’s goal, catching the attention of not only the public and die hard football fans, but the other teams and players in the league as well. He was a force to be bloody reckoned with.

A burst of noise from the crowd around him and movement on the field took Michael back to his feet as he watched Pitch sprinting up the field, his long legs pumping furiously as he darted in and out of Manchester’s forwards, the ball dancing between his black cleats and a Manchester midfielder practically on his arse. The midfielder shoved himself up against Pitch’s shoulder, driving him towards the sidelines, but Pitch resisted, somehow managing to keep his speed and position despite the extra force working against him. The midfielder tried again and again to throw Pitch off but nothing was making him budge.

Michael cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “STAY ON HIM, PITCH. DON’T LET UP ON THE WANKER!”

The fans around him were shouting out similar comments and Michael couldn’t take his eyes off the two of them.

The midfielder seemed to be getting frustrated, and once again he reared back and slammed himself into Pitch. Or tried to, at least. At the very last minute, Pitch slid the ball behind him and gracefully stepped backwards, the midfielder missing him completely and falling roughly to the ground at Pitch’s feet. The crowd roared in approval, Michael pumping his fist in the air when suddenly he heard the shrill tweet of a whistle being blown, and anger rushed through him. A side referee was holding up the small, red and yellow checkered flag towards the sky, indicating a free kick.

The crowd exploded into yells and jeers.

“OI, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT, REF? WHAT’S THE FUCKING CALL?”

“NO! NO! WHAT A BLOODY TERRIBLE CALL. PITCH DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THE GIT HE JUST STEPPED BACK! THE GIT WAS PUSHING!”

“YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBARSE WHAT’S THE GODDAMN CALL? THAT WASN’T A BLOODY FOUL.”

A second later the announcer explained the call.

“Due to tripping and unnecessary roughness from number 13, a free kick will be awarded to Manchester.”

“BOOOOO,” Michael yelled, his face furrowed in frustration. “THAT WASN’T BLOODY FUCKING TRIPPING! ‘UNNECESSARY ROUGHNESS’ MY ARSE, PITCH WASN’T EVEN--”

But Michael was cut off by a much louder, more aggressive shout.

“OI, REF, GET OFF YOUR BLOODY KNEES AND STOP BLOWING THE MATCH! THAT WASN’T A FOUL AND YOU FUCKING KNOW IT!”

Michael snorted and looked to his left at the seat next to him, noticing a bloke around his age yelling at the field, his face bright red. The bloke looked over and Michael nodded back in agreement.

“The ref IS blowing the bloody match! Pitch didn’t even touch the dumbfuck, let alone TRIP him!” Michael exclaimed, shaking his head as he glanced back at the field, watching Manchester set up for their free kick.

“Christ, I know!” The bloke responded, throwing up his hands and groaning. “I swear to shit, it’s like these refs are TRYING to make the worst possible calls they can. They’ve been at it all season. It’s fucking mental out there.”

Michael nodded again and both of them looked out at the field in disgust as the free kick landed the ball right in front of Manchester’s star midfielder.

About two minutes later, another shrill whistle blow sounded, this time signaling the end of the first half. The players all exited the field through their respective corners and Michael and the bloke sat down next to him. The bloke then turned to Michael and extended his hand.

“Hey mate, I’m Simon. Nice to meet you.”

Michael clasped Simon’s hand and shook it. “Same here. I’m Michael.”

Simon smiled warmly at him and then turned his head distractedly at the sound of a woman’s voice shouting about the snacks and drinks she was selling from the tray she carried, and he quickly hailed her over and bought a large bag of kettle corn, a pretzel, and a bottle of soda.

Michael looked at him as he began to eat. Simon had a mess of curls on top of his head, loads of freckles and moles dotted all over his face and neck, and plain blue eyes. He was shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth at a fantastic rate and seemed quite unbothered by the many kernels that had escaped his grasp and were now gathering in his lap. But what really drew Michael’s attention was the jacket Simon was wearing. It was a black zip-up athletic jacket, the words “The Watford Hornets” written on the back in yellow lettering, and the red and yellow Watford badge on the front in the corner. Michael had seen the jacket being worn before, but only by the players, and usually during the colder months when the players needed something to cover up with before matches. Michael wondered where Simon had got it from. Maybe the team shop had started selling them and he just didn’t know about it yet? He doubted it; Michael knew everything the shop sold since he owned most of it himself.

“Hey, uh, Simon, where’d you get that coat, mate? Team shop?”

Simon looked down at the jacket and smiled, his cheeks turning slightly red as his eyes glittered.

“It’s my boyfriend’s. He gave it to me to wear for the match today,” Simon said fondly, rubbing his thumb over the sleeve.

“Oh nice,” Michael responded, noting that Simon still hadn’t answered his question as to where the jacket came from and was about to ask him again when Simon abruptly got up. He was clutching his phone with a huge grin on his face and then practically sprinted down the cement aisle, his hand flying over the metal railing. Michael watched as he stumbled over the last four steps and simply jumped straight to the ground. He then melted into the crowd of people who were getting up to go to the bathroom and to get food before the second half started.

Huh.

Michael didn’t really know what someone could possibly do for less than fifteen minutes during the halftime of a football match that would be exciting enough to literally fall down the stairs for but hey, more power to the bloke.

Michael already had his drink and he wasn’t really hungry so he was content to just sitting in his seat and watching other fans mill about. The goal posts were casting long shadows down the field as the sun began to slip from the sky, and the huge lights along the edges of the stadium clicked on, flooding the stands and the field with brightness as everything outside darkened.

When there were only about four minutes left until the second half, the players made their way back onto the field, stretching and getting set up in their positions, only now they were on the opposite side of the field they had started the match on. Michael briefly scanned Watford’s half and noticed that the center defender spot was strangely empty. A second later, Pitch could be seen jogging out from the sidelines and into position, his shoulder-length inky black hair flying around loosely for a moment before he seemed to realize it wasn’t tied in his usual low ponytail. Weird, Michael thought, as Pitch quickly tied his hair back up and began to stretch.

And even weirder still, Simon collapsed into the stadium seat next to Michael’s a minute later, completely out of breath, his face and neck a startling shade of scarlet. Michael couldn’t really tell if Simon’s curls had gotten neater or more messed up since the last time he had seen them, but they definitely looked different.

“Alright, mate?” Michael asked, raising his eyebrows at Simon’s completely disheveled state.

Simon looked at him in surprise, almost as if he had forgotten Michael was there at all. “Oh, er, yeah I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure I was back in time for the start of the match, is all.”

“Ah, well, not to worry. You made it with two minutes to spare.”

Simon nodded at him happily and then sank lower in his seat, rubbing his hands on his face as he exhaled loudly, his breaths quickly turning into low laughs. What a weird bloke.

Michael leaned forward to grab his drink from the cup holder in front of him when Simon gasped excitedly, smiling at him when he sat back up.

“Your jersey! Are you a Pitch fan?”

Michael looked at Simon as if he had just asked Michael if he liked breathing air. Was he a Pitch fan. The more appropriate question would be to ask who wasn’t a Pitch fan.

“Of course I am. He’s only the most brilliant defender of all the F.C.’s in England and the U.K.!”

Simon looked pleasantly amused. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh, yeah! He’s in the best season of his entire career and has one of the strongest defense records in League history! He plays every match like it’s his last and he never backs down from an opponent. He’s agile, ruthless, and shit, he’s fucking fast. What, are you a Pitch fan?”

Simon looked at him and promptly burst out laughing but Michael didn’t see what was so funny. When he calmed down, his huge grin had shrunk to a small smile in the corner of his mouth. Sort of . . . smirk-ish.

“Me, a Pitch fan? You could say that. He’s alright, I guess. Seems like a bit of a prick to me.”

Simon then turned his head to stare at the field with a soft expression on his face.

Michael spluttered, “A . . . a prick? Isn’t a bit rude of you to call him a prick? I mean, you don’t even know him.”

Simon laughed again. “I dunno; I think it’s the hair. Awfully pretentious, all black and silky and shit. And don’t even talk to me about that bloody ponytail he always puts it in. Makes him look like a git if you ask me.”

Michael didn’t know quite how to respond to that.

“And would you look at that face? Like he’s ten seconds away from biting you or cursing you out in front of your mum? That’s the face of a prick right there.”

Michael looked at Simon, dumbfounded, but Simon just kept on smiling and gazing out at the field as if his comments were completely meaningless. Coming out of his mouth the insults sounded mostly truthful, but that whole effect was kind of shattered when Simon looked like he was about to rest his hand against his cheek and sigh dreamily to himself. Michael thought that Simon was possibly a bit bonkers. Nice, of course, but still bonkers.

Just then a whistle was blown and Michael looked at the field in time to see Roldan start the kick-off. The ball was directly passed to Benson who in turn sent it spiraling towards Watford’s right midfielder, Terrance Kelly. Kelly quickly leaped up and slammed his forehead against the ball, sending it flying all the way back to Watford’s defensive line. Pitch quickly stepped up and settled the ball instantly with one of his thighs, peeled around a straggling Manchester forward, and then sped away up the sideline until he had a clear shot to one of his teammates.

For the next twenty minutes, Michael and Simon and all of the other Watford fans watched eagerly as forwards Roldan and Benson made multiple shots on Manchester’s goal, the crowd screaming their bloody heads off once one of the shots finally made it into the goal.

Everyone cheered and yelled as Pitch made another few spectacular recoveries and blocks, slick as an oil spill, and even though the bloke obviously seemed to have mixed feelings about the brilliant defender, Simon was always, always, the one cheering the loudest.

As the end of the second half drew nearer, another weird thing happened. One of the bigger blokes of Manchester’s forwards was charging through the defensive line on the way to Watford’s goal, Pitch sprinted towards him, prepared to smoothly slide the ball away from the forward and get it back to up his attacking teammates. However, when Pitch was in the process of stealing the ball, the forward shifted into a lower position and dug his shoulder into Pitch’s chest, shoving him back and causing him to fall to the ground at an odd angle.

Simon was the first one to jump to his feet, worry and concern etched into his twisted expression. His fists were clenched and his eyes were locked onto the spot where Pitch was lying on the green field. After another moment, Pitch visibly sat up and grabbed the hand of a nearby teammate, quickly standing and then brushing the grass off of his black shorts and football socks. Then, once everyone had shifted back into position, Pitch gave a brief thumbs up towards Michael’s side of the crowd, and Simon exhaled and sat back down.

Seriously, Michael just did not get Simon. At all. But at least Pitch was alright. Michael had to admit, it could have been a pretty nasty fall. Watford was incredibly lucky that their best defender wasn’t actually injured.

***

The match was two minutes from ending, Manchester and Watford tied 2 to 2, and Benson had made another shot on goal and missed, the ball hitting the crossbar and bouncing back into the chaos of defenders and forwards. The crowd was losing their goddamn minds as the ball flew from player to player, people screaming to clear it out of the penalty box, to make the shot, to block the ball, to pass it out of bounds. Everyone seemed to think that the command they shouted at the field was the one that should be followed.

But no one expected the ball to go rogue.

No one expected the ball to be kicked out of the cluster of players scrambling to make a play. And certainly no one expected a clever, speedy defender to take two steps, leap into the air, and slam his head into the spinning, spiraling ball.

Everyone watched in complete shock and surprise, Michael in utter joy, as the ball made its fantastic arc over the defenders of Manchester and the forwards of Watford, and then brushed over the Manchester’s goalie’s outstretched hands, the goalie’s fingers just a centimeter away. And then the ball punched deep into the net of the goal as the stadium erupted into total pandemonium.

Michael’s throat felt raw from screaming and his face felt as if it was about to split in two as he smiled.

It was insane. It was incredible. It was bloody fucking mental.

Basil Pitch, number 13, center defender, scored a winning goal in the last thirty seconds of the match against the number 1 rated team in the Premier League, with his fucking head.

It was a sight for the gods.

Michael felt as if history was being written right in front of his eyes. And he had been right there to see it.

Michael turned to Simon, a feeling of euphoria in his veins, to see Simon looking as if he was about to cry. Of course, his smile was so big Michael was afraid it was going to consume his whole face, but his blue eyes were wet, and his cheeks were crimson.

Michael watched Simon’s lips move, unable to hear what he was saying due to the deafening volume of the Watford fans around them, and then Simon threw himself out into the cement aisle, clutching onto the railing as he half-fell half-sprinted down the stairs, his curls bouncing wildly.

“Alright, bye!” Michael called after Simon, waving as though his best mate was leaving. He was just so happy . . .

Simon whipped right back around, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Oh, uh, wait! Wait! I, uh, I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but, uh, you’re really nice! And cool! And, uh, I have to go like, right now otherwise I’m going to die but, uh, I want to properly say goodbye! And you can meet my boyfriend! You would like him! Meet me down on the first level of the stadium, by the elevators! See you! ” Simon yelled, speaking so quickly Michael could barely understand him. And when Michael finally processed what Simon had said so he could politely decline, Simon was long gone. Fuck.

Michael sat back down in his slightly uncomfortable stadium chair and exhaled loudly, laughing shakily as he held his head in his hands. This had to be the best, weirdest, most fucking mental Watford F.C. match he had ever attended in his entire life. It felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. And now, after this huge, godly win, he was supposed to go meet some random stranger’s boyfriend? Fucking hell.

Then again, Michael figured he might as well go because how could things get any better or weirder than they already were? Plus, Michael could ask Simon’s boyfriend where he got that Watford athletic jacket! He really did want one of those jackets . . .

Michael resolutely decided to stay behind an extra twenty minutes. He waited until the crowds had mostly dispersed from the stands since there was always a flood of people trying to leave the stadium after matches ended. Michael got a refill on his soda, drank it, and browsed the team shop. The jacket definitely wasn’t in there. Now he was really curious as to where the jacket came from. He glanced at his phone and figured he had given Simon about twenty minutes.

Michael took the elevator down to the first level of the stadium and stepped out, looking around for Simon and his boyfriend. There was a coffee shop a few feet away and another couple places to get snacks, but no sign of the weird, curly haired bloke and his boyfriend.

Michael was about to get back into the elevator and go home, figuring Simon had just forgotten in his excitement, but then he heard a low sound coming from around the corner near the elevators, and stepped around to see what was there.

Oh fuck no.

Michael could tell it was Simon because Simon’s back was turned to him, and Michael recognized the jacket and the hair. But Simon wasn’t alone. There was one pale arm wrapped around Simon’s waist and one around his neck. Michael could see that two long legs were between Simon’s, and the sounds Michael had heard were . . . moans.

Michael cringed and averted his eyes to the ground, not wanting to disturb or invade their private moment more than he already had. He started to walk back around the corner, but something caught his eye. A pair of sleek, black cleats, attached to the legs between Simon’s.Cleats. Michael couldn’t help himself, he looked up farther and saw black football socks, shin guards, and a pair of black shorts. Michael looked to the side and spied a flash of black and yellow. The jacket, the comments, the weird looks on Simon's face during the match; they all made sense now to him now.

Simon’s boyfriend was a Watford football player.

Michael gasped loudly and then instantly cursed himself as Simon and his boyfriend quickly turned around, embarrassed at being caught and--

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh motherfucking bloody hell.

Simon gave Michael a small smile, blush high on his cheeks.

“Oh, hey! Hey, Michael. Glad you could, uh, make it. This is my boyfrien--”

“Basil Pitch,” Michael choked out, his face flushed.

Simon’s boyfriend wasn’t just a Watford football player he was . . . he was Basil Pitch. Number 13. Pitch. The brilliant center defender of Watford F.C.

So . . . yeah. Basil Pitch was in front of him. Still in his uniform. His hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face. His arm tightly wrapped around Simon’s waist.

The air was out of Michael’s lungs. Oh look, his stomach was on the floor. Just normal, regular things.

Pitch laughed coolly.

Michael stared, his eyes most likely obnoxiously wide, as Basil Pitch stepped up to him and offered Michael his hand.

“Well, you obviously already know me. But I haven’t had the pleasure. Your name is Michael?”

“Yes,” Michael squeaked as he put his shaking hand into Pitch’s and shook it. His hand was smooth and a little cold. It was definitely the best thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life.

Pitch smirked. “Nice to meet you, Michael. Thank you for keeping an eye on this bloody prat while I was busy scoring goals.”

Simon rounded on Pitch and pretended to be angry, kissing his cheek viciously as he growled. “Oh shut the fuck up, Baz, you pretentious arsehole. Michael was being cool and you don’t have to be a git every time I make a new friend.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

Michael then cleared his throat because he was a little terrified of the wicked way Pitch was looking at Simon and also of the way that Simon was moving his hands up Pitch’s chest . . . yeah he definitely needed to leave.

“So, uh I’m, uh, just gonna go . . .”

“Oh, sorry, Michael!” Simon exclaimed, quickly taking his hands off of Pitch and opting to hold his hand instead. “Uh, sometimes we forget--” he elbowed Pitch in the side and Pitch snapped his teeth at Simon “--where we are and we get a little carried away. So we’re gonna have to cut this a little short. But do you wanna come to our flat for dinner sometime? We can make it up to you!”

Michael blanched, “Oh, that’s okay, I--”

“Here!” Simon dug into his pocket, grabbed his phone, tapped it a few times, and then thrust it at Michael. “Put your number in.”

Michael took the phone and then gave it back a minute later. He did not remember actually typing in his number but he must have because Simon smiled at him, Pitch smirked, and they both waved goodbye, their arms around each other as they walked away.

And then Michael fainted.

(Just an fyi, Watford F.C. is an actual team in the Premier League and I could not pass up the opportunity of making Baz play for a team called Watford, I mean come on. So he's not playing for the school, he's playing for the Premier League team. All of the other players mentioned are either names I made up or names I pulled from other soccer players but then changed either the first or the last name)

#raegan writes a story #carry on fanfiction #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #fluff #soccer #football #fanfiction #fic recs

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mint-yooxgi · 6 years

Text

[3] - Belonging - Wolf!Junmyeon X Reader

Wolf AU - Part of the EXO Trails of Moonlight Series

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Mature

Pairing: Junmyeon X Reader

Words: 2,446

A/n: Next part, yay! I think this one is pretty cute. Shit will be starting to go down in the next few chapters, so stay tuned! Also, I'm super excited for you all to see what I have in store for this series! I hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Previous ~ Next

“So, when did you all arrive to town?” Junmyeon asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes as the two of you walk down the street.

“A few weeks ago,” you reply, hearing him hum in acknowledgment. “My uncle doesn’t like to follow the rules, though.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow raises, “and would you say you take after your uncle?”

“Sometimes,” you smirk, “think you can handle it?”

“Of course,” he smirks right back, a small rumble sounding in his chest at the challenge. Soon, a small silence is settling over the two of you as you continue to walk down the street. That is, until he breaks it once more, “was that your pack back at the meeting?”

You can hear the genuine curiosity in his voice, as well as a hint of tension, almost as if he doesn’t like the fact that there are more males in your pack than females. You can tell he’s getting jealous, but at the mention of your pack, you cannot keep the sigh from escaping your lips, “yes, it was.”

“They seem…” he pauses to find the right word, “nice.”

Immediately, you let out a snort, “the only two people in my pack that are actually tolerable are my uncle and Dani. Although, Dani can sometimes frustrate me with how passive he can be at times. The rest of my pack can’t stand me.”

“What?” He asks, disbelief clear in his voice. He can hardly believe that anyone would dislike you. You, his perfect, beautiful mate.

“Yeah, ever since I joined the pack the four of them seem to hate me,” you shrug, used to how they treat you already, but the way you act so nonchalant about it causes a frown to pull at Junmyeon’s face. “However, none of the seem to hate me as much as Yisung does.”

Junmyeon has to suppress the growl that wants to escape his lips. Whoever this Yisung guy is has another thing coming if he harms you in any way. Suddenly, Junmyeon remembers the wolf who body slammed you as you were leaving the clearing the other day, and his expression grows hard.

“Was he the one who tackled you as you were leaving the clearing?” He questions, despite already knowing the answer,

You hesitate slightly, not realizing he saw that happen the other day, “yeah.”

“That bastard,” this time, he cannot stop the growl from escaping his lips. Immediately, he’s stopping in his tracks and turning to look at you, hands coming up to cup your face, inspecting you for injuries. “Are you okay? He hurt you, didn’t he?”

He then realizes the position the two of you are in, and promptly removes his hands from your face. His wolf lets out a whine in protest, and he notices how your eyes follow the movement of his hands almost longingly once he removes them.

“Junmyeon, I’m fine,” you give him a reassuring smile, but with the look he’s giving you, a look so full of concern and a fondness you’ve never seen before, you find you cannot lie to him. “I had a bruised rib for about half a day, but it wasn’t that bad. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Bastard,” Junmyeon growls once more. “I can’t believe he would hurt you like that, harming his own pack member.”

“Believe me, I’ve had worse,” you reply without thinking, continuing to walk down the street, and immediately regret it.

“What?” You can feel the snarl that rips through his throat at your words.

“It’s nothing, forget I said anything,” you shake your head, but before you can take another step, he stops you.

“(Y/n),” his tone is now filled with worry, but you can still hear the undertone of anger lingering in his voice.

“Please just drop it for now,” you turn to look him in the eyes, and the look you give him is sorrowful, causing both your wolves to whine in your chests. “I really do not want to talk about it.”

“Alright,” he sighs, releasing the grip he has on your arm.

The two of you continue on walking for a little bit in silence. You can tell he’s still thinking about what you’ve just said, and despite the fact you’ve both just met, he’s already worrying about you. You think it’s sweet, but highly unnecessary. You know for a fact that you can take care of yourself, but he doesn’t. Looks like the two of you still have a lot to learn about each other.

“Are you hungry?” He asks after a few minutes, successfully breaking the growing silence around you. Before you can respond, your stomach answers for you, letting out a small rumble which causes him to chuckle, “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on.”

With that, he leads you a bit further down the street to a small diner located on the corner. The atmosphere of the place once you walk in is very comforting, giving you an almost nostalgic feeling that you can’t quite place your finger on.

The diner is retro themed with black and white checkered tiles and red booths, causing a smile to to tug at your lips. You quickly scan the area, and see two of the wait staff behind the bar, grabbing food and taking orders.

Junmyeon leads you over to a booth in the corner, the both of you sliding into your respective sides. Not even a minute later, one of the girls from behind the counter comes over to your table and places two menus down in front of you.

“Welcome to Ray’s Diner- oh, hey, Junmyeon,” the girl smiles at him, and immediately your eyes are narrowing at her. You can tell she’s also a wolf.

“Hey, Saeyoung,” he greets back with a smile. “How’s work been so far?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replies, shrugging slightly. “Can I get you two something to drink to start?”

You both tell her your drink orders and she walks away from your table, giving you both time to look over the menus. You open yours and skim through the different options, your wolf pacing restlessly.

“Who was that?” You do your best to make the question sound casual, but with your slightly raised eyebrow, and subtle irritation in your tone, Junmyeon can tell you’re jealous.

“Oh, Saeyoung?” He hums, amusement clear on his features. He’s loving the fact that you’re already feeling possessive over him. “She’s part of my pack.”

Immediately, you relax, a small blush rising up your neck from assuming things, “oh.”

“She works here on evenings and weekends to help pay for school,” he explains, watching you from across the table, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Here are your drinks,” her voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she places your drinks on the table with a polite smile on her face. “Did you know what you’d like to order, or would the both of you like more time to decide?”

Junmyeon looks at you, and you nod your head, “I think we’re ready.”

The two of you order your meals, Saeyoung writing them down on her pad before going off to deliver them to the kitchen.

You take a sip of your drink, and you can feel Junmyeon’s eyes on you, watching your every move. A soft look of adoration is on his face as he takes you in sitting across from him. He can still hardly believe you, his mate, are here, sitting with him at the local diner, about to share a meal with each other.

“What?” Your nervous giggle manages to pull him out of his thoughts.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he sighs, dreamily, resting his head on one of his hands.

Your wolf lets out a happy yip at his words as a faint blush dusts your cheeks.

“Wait, did I just say that out loud?” He asks, eyes wide as a blush spreads across his own face.

“Yes, you did” you giggle once more. He covers his face with both his hands, letting out a quiet ‘oh my god’ in the process. “It’s okay, now I don’t feel as nervous to tell you that I think you’re really handsome.”

He looks up at you from above his hands, noticing how you’re smiling softly at him now. Despite your words, a small blush is still visible on your neck, and he can’t help the happy yip his own wolf lets out, not only at your words, but seeing you react like this as well.

“Will you tell me more about your pack?” You ask him, curiosity reflected in your eyes.

“Of course,” he replies. After all, how can he say no to his mate, especially when you’re looking at him like that. “Well, I’m one of the alphas of the pack, along with Kris, who was the other wolf with me tonight. We were both alphas of separate packs until we decided it would benefit the both of us to join up together. We live about a kilometre and a half away from that clearing in a fairly large house, considering there’s twelve of us living there.”

“Wow, twelve?” You comment, eyebrow raised slightly. “Must not get a lot of privacy then.”

“Eh, it depends on where you are in the house. We have a few friends that are witches so they’ve cast a few spells so that at least all of our rooms are soundproof,” he replies with a shrug.

Your eyebrow twitches as your wolf hums in your chest. You can only assume the reasons why they soundproof their rooms, none of them at all innocent. Your heart skips a beat as your mind begins to wander, wondering how loud you can get Junmyeon to moan your name, or rather, how loud he can get you to scream his.

He clears his throat, sensing the spike of your arousal, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking about, for he’s thinking the exact same things. He bets you’d sound so beautiful moaning out his name for him as he takes you from behind. Your neck would look beautiful sporting his mark for everyone to see that you’re his.

Luckily, the both of you are snapped out of your thoughts as Saeyoung places your food in front of you, uttering a polite ‘enjoy your meal’ as she walks away.

“That’s… convenient,” you say, staring down at your food, and avoiding his eyes for the moment. Quickly, you change the subject, “so you mentioned you live with twelve others? I know Saeyoung is one of them, and Kris. I’m assuming the three wolves from the clearing also live with you then?”

“Yeah, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and Minseok,” he nods. “Minseok is actually the oldest of all of us, but sometimes he doesn’t act like it. Then there’s Yixing, Tao, Baekhyun, Jongin, Jongdae, and Sehun. Sehun is the youngest of the pack.”

“I see,” you reply, digging into your meal as he does the same. “Have any of them also found their mate yet?”

“No, not yet,” he smiles slightly, proud to be the first of his pack to find their mate.

You smile back at him, and for the rest of the meal, the two of you keep a pleasant conversation going. You both ask each other questions, getting to know each other better over the next hour and a half. This is the happiest and most relaxed you’ve been in a while, you never want this night to end.

Once the two of you are finished eating, Junmyeon offers to pay for your food, but you refuse, wanting to pay for the meal yourself. The two of you end up bickering about it for a minute before you finally win the argument.

“How about this, you pay for me the next time we go out,” you reason with him, and immediately a grin breaks out onto his face at the promise of a next time with you.

“That sounds good to me,” he answers, smile never leaving his face.

He walks you out of the diner after the two of you bid goodnight to Saeyoung, walking down the street back the way you came. He walks close enough to you now that your shoulders brush every now and then.

“Thanks for showing me around town,” you say once the two of you make it back to the front of the atrium. “I had a really good time.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to touch you. “Would you like me to drive you home? It’s pretty late.”

“No, that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” you smile. “My house isn’t too far anyways.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, reluctant to let you leave so quickly. He’s only known you for a short while, and already he loves being in your presence so much that the thought of you leaving him has his beast whining in discontent.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him. “Thank you, though.”

With that, you quickly place a kiss to the side of his cheek, turn around and begin to walk to the edge of the woods. To say Junmyeon is stunned would be an understatement, and he cannot help the content sigh that leaves his lips as he feels the spot on his cheek tingling where you kissed him.

“Wait!” He calls out to you, snapped out of his bliss in a short moment. His call has you turning around, seeing him jog slightly to catch up to your figure which is nearly at the tree line. You look at him expectantly. “When can I see you again?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you watch him wait for your response with bated breath.

“Meet me tomorrow night at the clearing,” you tell him, and once you see him nod in understanding, you’re turning around once more to face the trees. You begin to walk away from him once more, but not before calling from over your shoulder, “goodnight, Junmyeon.”

He watches your figure disappear behind the trees, staring longingly after you. A smile soon breaks out onto his face as he thinks about being able to see you, and spend more time with you tomorrow night.

Heading back to his car, he unlocks it, and slides into the drivers seat. Starting the engine, he looks at his eyes in his rearview mirror, and notices how golden they’ve become.

He lets out a content sigh, “until tomorrow.”

#part of the exo trails of moonlight series #wolf au #wolf exo #exo wolf au #exo werewolf au #kpop #Kpop au #kpop scenario #exo #exo au #exo scenario #Kim Junmyeon #junmyeon scenario #suho #suho scenario

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daggerzine · 5 years

Text

Tacocat, The Paranoyds and Princess Dewclaw on 6/15/19 at the Larimer Lounge in Denver, CO (by Dina Hornreich)

So on a fine and heated Saturday night in June, I hop on over to Larimer Lounge to see Seattle’s long-time celebrated glammy girl pop punk outfit Tacocat for the first time that I have been able to do in a really, really long time. A sold-out show, which we know often invites massive douchebag behavior among audience members just like because, y’know, they can... I was still pretty pumped. Also, I felt really, really lucky that I met some other rad rocker babes and one or two neat dudes who were standing next to me at the base of the stage -- as we were totally right there: front and center.

Up first was the uber-melodramatic locally-based Princess Dewclaw whom I tried to be patient with as I watched them posing repeatedly for the audience in their DIY hot pink satin chaps and pouting profusely right in front of my face - literally! The one time I did not back away, I was face-to-face with the girl singer as she tried some perplexing antics that I personally did not find appealing in any way. I mean, yeah, they were totally adorable (often a little silly) in their bratty demeanor as perhaps they were striving for the unhinged kinderwhore schtick that they are clearly lucky enough not to have experienced the requisite painful and disorienting madness to be as severely unhinged as dames like Courtney Love were back in the 90s. (And yes, I am old enough to remember those days in order to say that with some authenticity.) Their set got a little tiresome around the third song, and as much as I appreciate lyrics like “I don’t want to be a boy or a girl... I just want to be me,” they just couldn’t pull it off successfully; although not for lack of trying -- just perhaps putting their efforts into all the wrong things.

The second band, The Paranoyds, were a lot more successful in earning and maintaining my interest as a tight and energetic unit of girl-dominated punk rock. Their set flew by with each short song darting around the room in gleeful bursts of angst that honestly could have caught on fire. Catchy but driven, noisy but succinct, dark yet poignant... it was a pleasure to catch this act as they did total justice as openers for the widely celebrated Tacocat. I’m definitely going to watch out for them in the future.

Finally, along comes the headliners with a set that did not disappoint whatsoever. The fun night of danceable pop grooves was delivered to us hook, line, and sinker. Dazzling us with a smattering of older favorites like “Crimson Wave,” “Bridge to Hawaii,” “Dana Katherine Scully,” and “I Hate The Weekend,” the show was a fun ride. Although, to me, Tacocat completely hit the mark with the more current and totally hot, hot, hottt tracks like “Grains of Salt,” “Rose Colored Sky,” and “Hologram” off their stellar new album This Mess is a Place. It wasn’t gritty or dark whatsoever, and I am kind of grateful for the insistent and celebratory ways that they pointed out important things, especially: “Just remember who the fuck you are!” The best line ever and I wondered where they were when I seriously needed someone to tell me that many years ago. Regardless, we came, we danced, we sang along...and it was a blast which I certainly needed at that moment.

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subetei-noykin · 6 years

Note

Do ALL of the boss prompts.

I’m so sorry in advance. Credit to @clover-hawthorne for the inspiration for the majority of this.

What would the setting/arena look like?

The battlefield would initially start off in a closed-in building, tables and chairs scattered off to the sides against the walls to create a deliberately closed in arena. One large set of double doors the party enters from, behind Subetei the only doors to advance into the remainder of the building.

Four large columns support the room from inside, with small amenities. A fireplace, a thick fur carpet on the stone floor, no windows.

At the fight progresses, environmental damage from Subetei’s attacks would begin to open the arena up. Walls cave in, pillars collapse and fall over, chunks of the ceiling create hazards that must be dodged and piles of rubble form that cut off line of sight or escape routes, or must be used to dodge certain attacks.

When phase two begins, the entire room collapses onto both parties and creates a rubble-filled, open sky battlefield for the fight.

What would the music sound like?

Phase One Theme - Battlefield by (Megalobox OST)

youtube

Phase Two Theme - Power Worship (Extended)

youtube

What would the mechanic(s) of the fight be?

Phase One (Pre-Trance)

Primary mechanics are initially simple, dealing with Subetei’s rotation of Overpower > Cyclone > Upheaval which are, in order, a cone AoE pull-in, a point blank area of effect knockback and his tank buster. Cyclone applies a ten second duration slow to any hit by it and colliding with terrain inflicts a short duration stun as well. Upheaval is simply a damaging tank buster.

As Subetei rotates through this pattern, the arena is collapsing around the party. Pillars fall in random patterns creating obstacles that must be destroyed before the next Cyclone phase or the entire party risks being thrown into terrain and being stunned, in addition to the ceiling raining down from above creating area of effect nukes that apply stacking vulnerabilities.

At 75% health Subetei binds the tank via Holmgang, creating a target able effect, and then begins charging Onslaught. If the Holmgang isn’t destroyed before Onslaught finished charging, Onslaught is a high-damage party wide damage that’s going to wipe the party. If Holmgang is brought down it’s a line AoE charge that sends Subetei across the room, but can be dodged well enough and knocks back anyone hit, with vulnerability stacks.

Once Onslaught is over, Subetei’s rotation changes. His Overpower now also pulls in chunks of debris as well as players and his cyclone also creates multiple line AoEs that players must avoid. Players hit by Cyclone will have difficulty from the slow, and those who are slammed into terrain and stunned are always put in the same path as the lines, causing double stacks of vulnerability and longer stuns.

Phase Shift

At roughly 50% health or a set duration of the fight Subetei rushes into the center of the arena and begins charging Stormbringer. A gauge representing Subetei’s focus appears, and the room begins to collapse in earnest. Patterned AoEs will begin to fall and any player hit will be encased in Rubble, requiring them to be broken free before they can participate further. Subetei does not directly attack during this phase, but the debris and Rubble make it difficult to stay still and do damage.

If Subetei’s focus is at 100 when Stormbringer finishes charging, the party wipes as Subetei unleashes a Limit Break style Decimate that craters the entire room and buries the party in rubble, ending the fight.

If Subetei’s focus is under 100 when Stormbringer finishes, the room still collapses but the party takes a scaling amount of damage depending on how high the gauge was when he completed Stormbringer.

Subetei is likewise buried under the rubble when the dust clears, revealing the new open air arena and the music changes as Subetei bursts his way out of the rubble.

Phase Two (Post-Trance)

In this Phase Subetei has a permanent gauge marked Trance, which starts at 100% and ticks down rapidly as he takes damage. His mechanics remain mostly the same, but gain additional effects. Overpower always pulls in debris now and also sends out multiple additional aftershocks in wave patterns around the room. Getting hit by these waves causes the slow debuff to apply. Cyclone remains the same, with the line AoE effect afterwards, but now sends up piles of target-able debris that function as the pillars from Phase 1, in random positions.

Upheaval gains the biggest change, requiring both tank and off-tank to stack as it applies an Akh Morn-style repeating effect that lowers in damage as hits are delivered. He almost immediately follows this up by charging Uproar, which will knock up anyone hit by it. If the off-tank isn’t fast enough in getting out of range they will be hit too.

At 35% health the Onslaught phase repeats, except that Subetei also throws out Tomahawk, several line AoEs radiating out from him, that repeat in the opposite direction, usually aimed to hit around the tank. If the tank is not broken free in time the party wipes, as before. If the tank is successfully freed Subetei performs a similar line charge to before, with the added effect of knocking up and stunning anyone in the path instead of slowing them.

Any time Subetei’s trance gauge drops to 0 during this stage he stops attacking, dropping to one knee. He is especially vulnerable during this state, but damage must be dealt quickly as when he recovers Subetei will use Thrill of Battle, regaining a percentage of his HP and gaining a full Trance gauge once more.

At 10% health Subetei uses an immediate Cyclone that affects the entire party, knocking them back to the edges of the arena as he begins charging Stormbringer again, except without a Focus bar this time. It is a DPS race to finish him off before he completes the charge, else the party will wipe from the damage.

What would their Ultimate/Enrage attack be?

While Stormbringer is Subetei’s ultimate during multiple phases of the fight, including the end, his enrage timer would be marked by him gaining the Berserk status and executing Fell Cleave, a room-wide attack that visibly shatters the floor in multiple directions. The party dies.

What would the theme of their weapon drops be?

Honestly much like Subetei himself I like the idea of the weapons being very mixed in theme. Crude and hand-made with tribal or nautical elements. Prefix would be Scarred.

PLD: Scarred Cutlass + Scarred Mantlet (BIG SHIELD)

WAR: Scarred Ship Cleaver

DRK: Scarred Saber

WHM: Scarred Branch

SCH: Scarred Quarto

AST: Scarred Sextant

MNK: Scarred Punching Daggers

LNC: Scarred Trident

ROG: Scarred Dirks

SAM: Scarred Gunto

ARC: Scarred Longbow

MCH: Scarred Bombard

BLM: Scarred Cane

SMN: Scarred Octavo

RDM: Scarred Spardoon

Bonus: Voice Lines

Intro: “Well ah be out o’ m’ depth…But ah job be ah job, aye?”

“C’mon t’en, ‘ero. Let’s see where ye stand.”

Phase One Lines: “Harr! Ye sweatin’ yet?”

“Yer guard be down, salt!”

“Ah’d duck!”

“T’at look like ih ‘urt…”

Onslaught: “Yer lookin’ tired…”

“Sit ah spell, ah’ll ‘andle ter rest!”

Stormbringer: “Gettin’ cramped ihn ‘ere…”

“Time ter bring ihn ah little air!”

Phase Two Lines, pre combat: “Ah’m startin’ ter t’in…Ter job nah be worth ter coin…”

“Ah’ve got ter…make ih back…”

(Voice lines are replaced by grunting and growling sounds)

Onslaught, Phase Two: “Yer ah worthy fight…But ah canna die ‘ere!”

“Ah’ll rend ter lot o’ ye!”

Trance reaches zero: “Wha’? Ah shite…Ah can’t…”

Trance returns to full: “Ah’m nah done yet…!”

Stormbringer Phase 2: “No…Ah won’t stop till ah’m…!”

“Yer goin’ ter ‘ave ter pry m’ life from m’ ‘ands, hero!”

Upon Defeat: “…’yuki…Ah’m so…sorry…”

Focus 100 Stormbringer/Final Stormbringer/Fell Cleave Enrage: “Dodge t’is ye whelp!”

@whitemxge and @shard-kilamarii who also sent in asks on this!

Thanks for the ask! - OC As a Trial Asks

Holy crap this is so self-indulgent but I can’t not love this idea in my head.

Since I answered all the asks I’d received on this subject in one fell swoop, I’ma make a sort of reward for the folks who want to send in more asks on it; All asks I get from this meme from this point forward will be for one of Subetei’s AUs.

You can specify, or leave it up to me. Applicable AUs are; Magitek!Subetei, WoL!Subetei and ???!Subetei.

#ffxiv #subetei noykin #headcanons #game mechanics #answered asks #this was kind of uh #inspiration #I love this idea so much

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sweetimagines · 6 years

Text

We Could Be Dead Tomorrow - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Armitage Hux

Description: Even the force ships Gingerpilot.

Warnings: None I can think of.

Word Count: 1469

A/N: 3 months in the making and it’s finally here. For more context on how I imagine Hux’s childhood read this.

BB-8 chirps happily in his slot on Black One as Poe makes his descent into Yavin IV. The astromech couldn’t be happier to be away from the First Order.

“Come on, buddy, the Finalizer is not so bad.”

The droid answers sarcastically, questioning Poe’s habit to try and blow up the dreadnaught if they’re “not so bad”.

“Alight.” Poe chuckles. “You got me there.”

Dameron lands his X-Wing by the Great Tree, planted in his front yard from a fragment of an Uneti Tree his mother had helped recover, alongside Luke Skywalker himself. He used to tend to the branches and keep the force tree strong - after one time he accidentally crashed a speeder on it. Kes isn’t making as good a job on that, though.

Poe tries to visit as much as possible, but it’s war time and he’s doing his duty - how his family had before him - so it’s been quite some time since he last saw his father.

Kes is waiting for him by the threshold with a smile. Poe mimics his dad’s expression and they hug for several minutes before releasing one another.

The younger Dameron gazes back at the hangar and his father knows the reason for the visit.

“Go on. I’ll entertain BB-8.” Kes knows his son far too well. He can see Poe’s troubled face a mile away and sometimes only Shara can help.

Poe nods as his astromech, who rolls inside the house beeping rapidly after Kes. His father knows BB-8 likes to listen about stories of Poe as a youngling.

He opens the hangar door with strength, it has a lot of resistance to it. There’s rust on the edges so he makes mental note to fix that before leaving.

Poe’s old speeder bike is parked next to Kes’ landspeeder and, in the center, lies Shara’s RZ-1 A-Wing. It has been grounded since long before her death, but while she still flew, her son was right along with her, learning as much as he could, but mostly admiring the stars.

The strongest memories he has of her are inside that fighter, so, since she passed away, Poe uses it as a way to connect with her.

He’s not force sensitive but believes fully in the force and is certain his mother is a part of it now.

In the most important moments of his life, Poe feels Shara with him, as if she’s blessing his path - like when he graduated the academy with flying colors or joined the Resistance to fight the First Order when the New Republic refused to.

Poe’s hoping to get her help on what could be the biggest decision of his life so far. Until now, he has always been sure of himself, whatever path he walked. This time he has doubts.

He brushes his fingers over the cannons and feels the wrinkles on the durasteel from all the repairs. His eyes glance at the scorch marks from all the years of service.

Only after paying it’s due respect does he enter and takes a sit on the pilot’s chair, his finger running over the dashboard, remembering everything he learned in that A-Wing. A grin curls his lips as simultaneously a single hot tear runs down his cheek.

“Hey, mom!” Poe’s not expecting an answer - he never does - but he believes it’s polite to talk as if she could, like she’s right there, next to him.

He starts the conversation by updating her on the war, his droid’s mischievous adventures and sharing a new flying trick he successfully delivered in battle.

“But you probably know I’m not here for small talk.” Poe imagines her listening to him all that time, just patiently waiting for him to get to the point.

“I want to talk about Hugs... I mean, Armitage.” He leans back on the chair and instinctively reaches for his chain, closing his eyes so he can pretend Shara is just at arms reach.

“I didn’t mean to, but I kept a small piece of information regarding him.... He’s not JUST my boyfriend whom I brag about being incredibly foxy.” Poe chuckles, lightening up the mood before the conversation takes a serious tone. “He’s First Order, a General to be exact.”

Poe breathes in, wondering how Shara would react if he could see her, certain that it would be better than Kes did when he found out.

“I swear I’m not with him for shallow reasons, such as the thrill of sleeping with the enemy. My feelings for him are real.” Poe knows for sure after Finn. He thought that maybe developing a crush on the ex-trooper would help him get over the General, but all it did was make him want Hux even more.

“Hugs...” He laughs at how silly that must sound to her. “That’s just a nickname I use to tease him. His actual last name is Hux, but between you and me, Hugs suits him better.”

“Anyways, as I was saying. He’s not in the Order because he’s an Empire fanatic or a bad man. He’s with them by circumstance.” Hux might have done unspeakable things but most of the time he didn’t want to and only Poe knows how he feels remorse about it, even if he has to deny it in order to remain safe in his working environment.

Poe explains to his mother about Brendol Hux having him outside his marriage with a “kitchen woman” and how he killed Armitage’s mother and took him away from his home world.

“He was raised in a dreadnaught in the unknown regions, suffering even more abuse than while at Arkanis. At least then his mother protected him.” Poe holds back tears, speaking about it brings him pain.

“Hux grew up with a father who hated him, surrounded by people manipulating him to fit their regime. It was kill or be killed.” He sighs. “He was born Armitage and was shaped into General Hux. I see Armitage where everyone else only sees Hux.”

Poe opens his eyes again - a blind hope that somehow his mother might be standing in front of him. “Now that you know everything, I can tell you why I’m really here.” He removes the chain from around his neck and holds the wedding ring on his palm. “Dad trusted me with this. To give it to the person I choose to spend my life with.”

The little boy in Poe used to dream about the perfect man he would marry, childish, but it brought him comfort many nights he missed his mother. To know that someday someone he loves deeply would wear her ring.

“I choose Armitage Hux.” He lets silence take over the tight little fighter that’s more like an armed cockpit for a few seconds.

“I know dad will hate me, kriff, the whole galaxy will. But there’s no other man for me, mom.” Poe almost sobs, he could really use a hug right now. He still remembers the warm feeling of Shara’s arms around him. His father also has an incredibly tender embrace and Poe will certainly take advantage of it later.

He’s not even sure Hux will accept his proposal. They’ve had countless discussions about switching sides or running away, ran through endless possibilities but never one they are willing to follow.

“I don’t know what the future holds for us. I do know that if we keep going like this, the only future for us is death and I won’t accept that.” There’s simply no future without Armitage Hux.

“Should I risk losing him for the possibility of keeping him?” Poe will be the happiest man alive if Hux says yes. He smiles at the prospect.

“Thing is... I can’t propose if that would disappoint you.” He wouldn’t be able to give Shara’s ring to someone she doesn’t deem worthy.

“I need some kind of sign if this is the right choice.” Poe never asked for it before, but right now he’s begging. If the force really does exist, this is the moment he needs its help the most. All those years tending to the force tree must have earned him this one favor.

He waits, for what feels like forever, but it’s just a really long moment. Nothing, no sound, movement, not even a feeling. He usually senses his mother’s presence - right now, nothing.

Poe sighs in defeat, getting up to leave the ship when, out of nowhere, it hums to life and the dashboard blinks on and off for a brief moment.

Tears fill his eyes and fall through his smile. “Thank you.” He whispers. “I love you, mom.”

#Poe Dameron #Armitage Hux #Gingerpilot #Poe Dameron x Armitage Hux #Star Wars #Poe Dameron Imagine #Poe Dameron Imagines #Armitage Hux Imagine #Armitage Hux Imagines #Star Wars Imagine #Star Wars Imagines #Poe Dameron fanfic #Star Wars fanfic #Armitage Hux fanfic #Pux #Damerux #Gingerpilot fanfic #fanfic #imagine

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nebula-starlight · 6 years

Text

Virus (Part 5 - Destruction)

‘Please tell me you aren’t actually going to go through with it,’ Nether hissed in Geer’s ear as the drake walked down the main road, his companion lingering in his shadow to avoid being seen.

Passing by a small group of dragons standing around an already closed market stall, he self consciously lowered his head further into the neck of the thick cloak he wore, hoping no one would venture to speak. The letter he received days ago felt heavy against his scaled skin, each clawscripted letter burned into his mind from reading it so frequently. Narssia was currently laying unresponsive on a cot at the psych ward of the clinic she herself worked for as a part-time healer. He knew little of her past but suspected she had her fair share of demons to wrestle with if the local who found her had also seen fit to notify him of her state. All he knew was that he should get his affairs in order and quickly.

Keeping his voice low as his vision swept over the stone road before him for signs of passing dragons, he whispered back into the collar of his well-worn cloak with assurance Nether would hear him, “Of course I am. She deserves the right to scratch me in the face if she wants. You’d do it as well if you had the chance.”

The late afternoon sun felt good on his snout as he rounded a corner, hoisting the bag he carried slung across his back higher up against his shoulders to prevent it from slipping. Still the relative quiet left him with ample time to reflect, his thoughts returning once more to what he discovered in the message delivered to him. Apparently Narssia had suddenly fallen ill without warning and his supposed letter was the only thing on her bed when one of her co-workers found her unresponsive in her home the next day. He hated the thought of her being sick but strangely couldn’t remember writing her anything. Of course he had planned on doing it but...

Not that it particularly mattered really, but he wondered how busy her small mountainous village was now. The weather would be starting to warm up now but was his cloak enough protection from the cold? Due to his disability he couldn’t exactly regulate his internal body temperature quite as easily as most dragons.

‘Honestly no, I wouldn’t. To each is own however.’ Nether’s low, emotionless voice pulled him from his thoughts and he sighed, lifting his head now that he was assuredly alone.

“Aww, come on. Surely the last relationship you had didn’t end on a... oh.” Geer started to pick fun at the fallen spirit but a glance at the narrowed crimson eyes caused him to rethink the idea. He hadn’t actually agreed yet to the idea of being Nether’s chosen vessel, much to equal annoyance and irritation of the German-speaking soul.

‘Can we not discuss that now? There’s bigger problems...’ He suddenly stopped, eyes glowing brightly before snarling and untangling himself from the flightless drake’s shadow.

Geer recognized the sign easily, knowing even before Nether started to ask what the question would no doubt be as he dismissed him with a paw. “Go on, I’ll be fine for a bit.”

‘Danke.’

Nether’s response was pained, barely even a whisper as he took to the air and vanished from sight, leaving Geer standing alone as he watched the spirit until he could no longer see him. It was an effect of the poison no doubt, reeking havoc on his mind to the point that he felt unpredictable in public. He’d give him some time to get back in control but now he had to do one of the hardest things in his life. Receiving rejection hurt but never had he been forced to become the bearer of such bad news.

Finishing up the journey to the clinic alone, Geer sat his bag down by the door and knocked, silently hoping she wouldn’t be around. He didn’t want this but Nether was right. The longer they waited the greater chance someone would figure out he was chosen by the illusionist. Even though his cloak covered the mark, how long could they successfully hide?

“Geer, hi there. What are you...?” She looked so pretty when she appeared in the doorway, purple scales freshly washed as water droplets hung from the deep amethyst.

“Mel, I know I don’t usually come by this late but...”

She eyed the bag beside him in the grass suspiciously. “You’re leaving? How long will you be gone?”

“Uh, that’s why I came actually... Mind if we step inside?”

She seemed reluctant but held the door open for him as he grabbed his bag and walked in. The same old medical smell hit his nostrils, a scent he never thought he’d miss as his claws clicked against the brick flooring.

“Alright, what’s up?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping as he let the burlap sack fall at his feet. “My friend is sick. I got the letter this morning asking if I could come immediately to see her. Apparently I was the last one to have contact with her by a letter I didn’t even write.”

Melvise walked up behind him, unfurling a wing to lay it over his cloth-covered back. “The one you’ve told me about... Narssia, wasn’t it? How bad are things?”

“I’m not sure...” Slipping out of her reach, he started to pace, hoping the old coping methods he once used to shut down any overwhelming thoughts would be enough to get him through what needed to be said. “I... I can’t do this anymore. You, me, us - it won’t work.” Huffing, he circled around to face her and reached up, unfastening his cloak to let it slide off his shoulders and reveal the much darker patch of raised scales. Lifting a forepaw, he jabbed a talon into the center of the mark. “See this? That means you were right. I am Nether’s Chosen. He’s already come to me and said so himself.”

“Hold on... You personally met the Shadowling, again? Either you’re brave as balls or have no sense of self-preservation.” She stepped closer, tracing his mark with a clawtip as he let his raised foreleg back to the ground dejectedly. “But that doesn’t mean we have to end things between us.”

“Yes it does. Once he binds his soul to mine everything will change. There won’t be just one drake inside my head anymore. He- He still loves the spirit that was his soulmate and I have a suspicion she’s the glitch that was seen around town.”

Melvise snorted, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me you interacted with it too.”

“Not that I know of but Nether would know...” Geer trailed off, glancing down at the raised diamond mark. It started to burn slightly, reminding him of the dream he’d had where the illusionist first approached him. They were wasting time.

“He’s not here now, right? We could steal a kiss while ghosty can’t see.”

‘No luck there, healer. I watch him hawk-like.’ Even though Geer had sensed it was coming, he still chuckled when Melvise just about jumped out of her skin at the sudden loud, commanding voice before Nether made his appearance known much the same way he had in the drake’s kitchen.

Noticing the fallen’s crimson irises weren’t as bright as they had been earlier, he took advantage of Melvise having to calm herself down to ask, “Everything alright?”

‘We can no longer afford to stall. I managed to fight it off for now but fear another wave might push me back under. Mine offer still stands, Chosen.’

Glancing between Nether and Melvise, the flightless drake sighed before starting to pace once again. “I can’t choose. Honestly I can’t. I know what my heart says clashes with my head but don’t make me do this. Mel, I respect the work you’ve done but I never really felt any deep feelings stir up when I looked at you.” He circled around, shrinking back a step at her now steely glare. “Please don’t be mad at me for falling for a dragoness I’ve never actually met. It’s not Nether’s influence either.”

‘Agreed. I feel his mind but not alter his thoughts. What he says is true.’

Her stormy eyes narrowed, cutting over to the spirit as he dropped to the floor, wings wrapping around his slightly quivering frame. “Why should I trust you when you got inside my head without permission the first time we ever met? I’d be just as happy if Geer never saw you in the first place, Shadowling.”

‘Consider yourself fortunate then that I will not act on mine instinct.’

Geer watched the encounter, noticing himself how the returning tremors were starting to affect the spirit’s movement and even speech to a point. Concerned, he started to ask again but decided against it, glancing away sheepishly. He’d let the two fight it out if they wanted.

‘We need to...’ The blazing crimson glow returned, nearly blinding to look at as Nether hunched down and tried to shield himself under his wings. ‘Nein... I can’t... Another one...’

With a lurch, the spirit stumbled forward, coughing violently before he retched, spraying bright green slime across the floor right in front of him. Melvise was instantly at his side, steadying him as Nether barely remained standing. There was barely any glow to his eyes, looking almost dead as Geer glanced back at the front door in worry and paranoid fear. Things were only getting worse the longer they waited.

“Get over here!” She snapped, stumbling slightly as the fallen leaned heavier against her side. “I’ve got a bed in the back but I can’t exactly carry him myself.”

Geer sighed, approaching as he grabbed his cloak and laid it down beside the two. “Put him on it. We can drag him there.”

The trip to the back of the clinic was rough on the ailing spirit, each bump of the stone floor making him moan slightly as Geer tried to ignore it. Holding the cloth tight between his teeth, he followed Melvise’s lead as she started to turn into an empty room. There was no way he could know what the fallen soul was feeling but he was conflicted. He could obey the mark branded into his skin and become its Chosen or rebel and let needless agony continue.

The two dragons stopped once inside the room, dropping the edges of the cloak. Stepping back to let her work, Geer watched as Melvise gently lifted Nether into the air with a soft pulse of weak telekinetic magic. Most dragons had some innate magical ability, no doubt a trait passed down over time by ancient spirits.

Placing the dark wyvern on a soft pallet, she draped a wing over his body as her eyes flickered to Geer for an explanation. Their journey to the back had been in silence but now he knew she wanted answers. Should he say what little he knew? Nether had entrusted him with the knowledge after all. Surely he wouldn’t mind...

Melvise kept her wing still for a few moments before lifting it away as she turned to address Geer who stood just inside the room in silent internal debate. “He’s comfortable now with no sign of distress. Now then, any idea of what’s going on?”

“His soul is cracking. All I know is there’s some poison rotting away his core but it’s never shown up like this. Normally he just has to hide away for a while before he gets himself back under control and returns.” Geer approached, placing a paw on her shoulder in concern. “I know of only one way to stop it but you won’t be happy.”

“I’m never happy seeing dragons or any other creatures in pain. Do what you must.”

They briefly nuzzled each other before Melvise left the room, stating she didn’t want to watch what would happen. Geer understood her reluctance but knew now without a doubt what he had been chosen to do. As much as he hated the idea that a simple mark could dictate his life, there was no other option but to accept the offer Nether had suggested nearly a week ago.

Nudging him gently, he jumped back out of the way as the spirit stirred with a raspy cough, more of the green slime dripping onto the edge of the cot. With a low hiss the barely visible irises stared up at him, the last of his earlier hesitation falling away. It was the right thing to do.

“Nether, I...” He started, only to be hushed by a trembling wingtip brushing over his snout.

‘Nein, mine Chosen. Nethreis is what you need should you be doing what I hope.’

Geer nodded, ashamed that he never asked but another cough from the spirit reminded him how important it was to get things moving sooner rather than later. “Of course, Nethreis... I accept you. By the Ancients I allow you control so that the vile poison robbing away your vitality and life may be halted. Should there ever come a time where I no longer are connected to you, only then will the soul’s cracking start to plague you once more.”

Nether blinked, alertness coming back over him as the words started to take effect. ‘What are you doing? Don’t do this out of some pity for me! I deserve to pay for my sins.’ He tried to rise, voice cracking as the sound of rapid claw clicks echoed down the hall towards where they were. ‘Leave me to rot! Save yourself before they...’

“Geer, there’s guards... They’re coming this way!”

Both the fallen and its chosen heard the frantic cry of the healer, stress making Geer even more convinced he was doing the right thing. He shook his head, reaching out towards the spirit with a forepaw. “You can trust me. Now let go.”

There was still hesitation in the Shadowling’s dark eyes. ‘What if I... hurt you? That would never be mine intention.’

“Why don’t we find out then?”

The process was strange for Geer, suddenly finding his mental space practically cut in half to accommodate a being he truthfully didn’t even know much more about other than scarce basics. Other than the bright surge of light that consumed the room the minute Nether accepted and stopped trying to fight, there was no sound other than his own breathing which remained even and calm. It felt much like welcoming a part of his family back home after a long journey, warmth tingling through his limbs as he closed his eyes.

‘Together as one,’ Nether hummed as magic flowed strongly through the veins they now shared. ‘A spirit is - in essence - an extension of nature’s purest magic. Use it to your advantage, mine Chosen. Warp reality as you see fit.’

He opened his eyes, the room’s color returning back to normal as his now crimson gaze flickered around. The rush of energy he experienced was far stronger than expected given Nether’s earlier frail form. Guards had been on the way, hadn’t they? Shouldn’t they have arrived....?

“Geer!” Her terrified scream snapped him out of his thoughts, immediately stepping out of the room into the hallway that would lead him back to the main entrance.

The darker navy drake cracked his neck as he walked, two blades of crimson light shimmering into existence beside him as a precautionary measure. Never had he felt this powerful before and it slightly terrified him, however his desire to protect Melvise overrode any fear. He was a servant of Sol!

Stopping right before he entered into the main room, he saw four drakes in armor surrounding the healer threateningly as a fifth, a larger red drake grilled her for information. He said nothing at first, lifting the blades as he sank into a defensive crouch, teeth bared.

“Let her go.”

“Oh, did you come to save her? Think again buddy.” The captain scoffed, turning to face him as his tail smacked into Melvise’s snout. “We’re after a certain wayward soul and won’t stop until we get it. Important task from the higher-ups you understand.”

He needed to think rationally about the situation, relaxing to his natural height before stepping out into the room as the fading sunlight of day briefly shone through the blades he mentally flicked at two of the soldiers. A faint, almost teasing smile ghosted across his jaw as he stared down the so-called leader. “Of course, Monsieur.”

Neither saw the spears of energy coming, both getting impaled through the heart as he quietly summoned another pair and waited for the reaction. Apparently seeing two of his underlings dead caused the big brute to take a closer look at him. The bright crimson gaze that should have been yellow... even the way he had freely used French.

“Capture him! The monster has a host now.”

There it was, that look he knew all too well as the coward retreated, forcing the ones who served under him to act in his place. Gleefully he strode forward, bits of magenta energy flickering across his back before two full size wings unfurled around him. Three pesky intruders left... nothing he couldn’t handle easily.

The remaining two guards leapt for him, years of training allowing him to sidestep while also impaling one into the wall behind him with a dull thud. Its companion, a younger drake possibly, used its own wings to pull up and avoid the thrown blade aimed at its heart.

“Geer, dude, calm down. We don’t want to-“

He tuned out the pitiful plea, rising up and grabbing hold of the adolescent’s armored neck to shut him up. “I’m not him, boy. He’s taken a temporary leave of absence, I’m afraid. Surely you understand that all your begging is just ticking me off at this point.”

Shoving his enemy up against the ceiling, he summoned another blade of magic and took it in his free paw, tracing the tip over the cracks in the drake’s protective headwear mindlessly. The fear he saw gave him such delight, eliciting a deranged chuckle at the thought of what other carnage he could create now that he was free from the effects of the poison that had kept him weakened. Although... the eyes looked familiar for a reason.

“You’re Reath, aren’t you? The brat who first woke me with endless questions.” He received no reply but, then again, he didn’t need one as the drake’s now frantic struggling confirmed his thoughts. “Ah, yes, I remember you quite well. Out of curiosity, how’d you end up with that dim-wit captain?”

There was no audible reply to his question - something he had honestly expected would be the case. Jabbing the tip of the blade through one of the drake’s eyes, he continued emotionlessly, “No answer huh? Fine by me, I could use a chance to carve up something for the first time in a... long while.”

His slight smirk at hearing the pained screams from his tortured captive showed only a fraction of the joy he was experiencing. The thrill of being in control was intoxicating... and very much welcomed after what he had gone through. Deciding he had done enough for the moment, he jerked the weapon back minutes later before it slipped from his grasp.

“Geer-“

Her cut off cry seemed to stir his slumbering host, much to his irritation. Snarling under his breath, he reluctantly let go of Reath as the rousing consciousness clashed with his own. What had happened to wake Geer? All he did was drop the... His eyes went wide, glancing down at the limp body on the floor below. A pool of blood was slowly forming around it from the large gash across its open neck and although its scales were difficult to make out against the crimson he somehow knew.

Melvise had been hit.

It was an accident, he tried to reason as he circled around and dropped to the floor, unable to silence the frantic screeching of Geer from filling his head.

‘No, no, no... Please tell me I’m dreaming! This can’t be real...’

He barely regarded the stunned captain as he neared, noticing the red drake scramble away in fear. Putting the threat from his mind, he gently grabbed her bleeding body and held it close, letting Geer’s turbulent emotions batter him until he could stand it no longer.

She was dead. He killed an innocent. Let there be another bloody stain upon his tortured soul for her untimely end.

An accident... Just a slip of his paw. He didn’t mean to... to hurt anyone like what had happened with his dear beloved.

‘I want control,’ Geer hissed, the presence of his alert consciousness pressing down on Nether’s mind much like a headache would.

‘You aren’t safe,’ he tried to reason, eyeing the still present captain who stood by the closed front door. There wasn’t any point in trying to manipulate the brute’s memory of the incident, considering he’d likely only make things worse.

Geer ignored him, battering uselessly against the invisible barrier that prevented his escape. ‘You don’t deserve the mercy I gave when I saved you from the poison leaking from your cracking soul. Why’d you do it? Was it to hurt me? Make me break under your oppressive rule?’

Nether shook his head in a silent refusal, glancing down at the limp form he partially held. ‘Nein... Just let me-‘

‘No! Why should I? Every word out of your mouth is a lie anyway. Just twisting things to suit you alone.’ The brutal honesty rammed into him, intending to break him but Nether had become accustomed to hearing such things during his time spent as a member of Sol’s enforcers.

Still he let her body fall, turning his gaze to the captain who was now trying to silently usher a traumatized Reath out the front door without alerting him. Snorting in amusement, he started forward, twin crimson blades shimmering into existence. There were two witnesses left and he never had cared for leaving someone alive so they could tell others.

‘Nether! Nether please! What do I have to say- to do even to make you see reason?’

‘Hush and go back to the dreamless slumber you should have been unable to wake from. I know I have only begun to tap into the raw magic you possess...’ He trailed off, wincing as a sharp pain tore through his chest. Trying to shake the odd occurrence off, he took another step forward only to start coughing.

Unable to find his breath, he could only watch as the two drakes fled, leaving him to stumble blindly against the doorframe. What was going on? Why couldn’t he breathe? Each wheezing attempt at trying to inhale oxygen felt like it was only a matter of time before he would start spitting up blood...

‘You will give her a proper burial... or this will get worse.’

Nether could barely lift his head from where it rested against the wood of the doorframe, letting the weapons he had created fade away. ‘Jeder Tag ein kleiner Tod... I should have known you had something to do with it...’

‘And stop lapsing into German whenever you want! I’m afraid my knowledge of the tongue is rather limited.’

#tag list coming shortly #virus #virus/corrupt

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rose-of-pollux · 6 years

Text

A Family Affair (MFU fic), part 3/4

Title: A Family Affair Rating: PG Chapter summary: Napoleon’s parents reveal their past connections with the mission’s target as Napoleon and Illya attempt to figure out the next phase of their plan.

If you prefer reading on FFN, you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12950926/3/ If you prefer reading on AO3, you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780255/chapters/34687973

Act III: Family History

After a bit more trickery and subterfuge involving slipped keys, Illya and the three Solos had successfully snuck to the room that he and Napoleon had booked for themselves—under Illya’s favorite alias, Dr. Mallard. The four of them breathed a sigh of relief upon successfully making it here unobserved.

“Well, we can relax—for a little while,” Napoleon said. “Once Rex realizes that he’s lost you, he’ll start turning this place upside-down to try to find you.” He paused. “Was he always this obnoxious, Ma?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Ever since he found out I was a woman.”

Napoleon stared at his mother with an unreadable expression as Leopold just sighed and shook his head.

“I think more explanation is required, Mother,” Illya said, taking note of the look on his partner’s face.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Cora said. “Napoleon, Illya… I don’t want you to think I kept this from you on purpose. It was so long ago, and I never expected to see Rex ever again. If we’d only known that he owned this place, Leopold and I would not have come here; I had no desire to see him again.”

“It’s alright…” Napoleon said, though he still seemed stunned by everything. “But I’m still confused as to how he had to figure out you were a woman…”

“Well, that’s easy—I was disguised as a man,” Cora said. “I did the underground gambling circuit in disguise as ‘Corrin Stroller.’ It was difficult enough being taken seriously as someone as young as I was; they would never have let a woman in there.”

“…So when Father said that you took him for a ride when you first met…” Illya began. “You did so as a man?”

“Did I forget to mention that part?” Leopold asked.

“Yes,” Napoleon and Illya echoed.

“I only took him for a ride to stop him from being taken for a ride by others who would not have been as nice about it as I was,” Cora said. “I had every intention of returning the money to him, and I did…” She shrugged. “…Eventually…”

“To her credit, she did give the money back after a while—and that was before I found out she was a woman,” Leopold said.

“I finally told him who I really was after I’d known him for several months,” Cora said. “He kept my secret. And, eventually, we started a relationship—by day. By night, we hit the casinos together. Leopold came across as an easy mark; he’d rope people into a poker game, and I’d clean them out.”

Napoleon blinked.

“Huh…” he mused. “Now there’s an idea…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Illya deadpanned.

Napoleon shrugged and continued.

“And how does Rex fit into all of this?”

“Well, he owned a few underground casinos here in Las Vegas; Leopold and I must have caught his attention from all of our winnings,” Cora said.

“He must have seen me with Cora out in a restaurant or something one day and saw me with ‘Corrin’ that following night,” Leopold sighed. “Whatever it was, he put two and two together and realized she was a woman.”

“Getting kicked out of the casino circuit would have been a preferable fate as opposed to what happened,” Cora sighed.

“What happened?” Napoleon asked.

“Rex kept trying to get me to marry him,” Cora muttered. “Didn’t matter where I went in Las Vegas, even if it was a different casino that he didn’t own, he kept after me, proposing like he had every right to demand it. After turning him down for the umpteenth time, he started threatening me—threatened to let everyone know I was a woman, which would ensure that I would be kicked out of most casinos, if not all of them—this was after gambling was legalized in Las Vegas, but they still wouldn’t have been welcoming to a woman. Even so, that didn’t bother me; I figured he would have too much trouble trying to prove it, in any case. And after a few more months of this, he changed his tactics…” Her expression went cold. “He threatened Leopold. I told you that most of the casino owners were affiliated with the Mob; I assumed Rex was, too. Now you’re telling me it’s THRUSH, who probably weren’t much better…”

Napoleon muttered something under his breath.

“They are, indeed, much worse. I told you, Mother,” Illya added, casting a glance at Napoleon to make sure he was alright. “The Mob didn’t even want anything to do with THRUSH. If Rex had been threatening to use them, he would have most certainly delivered on that threat.”

“I didn’t want to call his bluff,” Cora admitted. “I couldn’t take a chance that they’d kill Leopold. I agreed to marry Rex.” She shuddered, and Leopold placed a hand on her shoulder, which she gently touched with her own hand. “I don’t think you boys could ever understand what it’s like to be held at gunpoint, facing the prospect of being eternally bound to someone you don’t love…”

“…Actually, Ma, I can…” Napoleon said. He made a face. “…Twice…”

“…What.”

“I got him out of it,” Illya assured her. “But, please, continue. How did you manage to escape Rex?”

“Well, Rex insisted we get married that evening—had his flunkies go with me everywhere to get a dress and then go to a wedding chapel. I didn’t even have a chance to find Leopold, let alone talk to him. So, I dropped the Queen of Hearts from the deck I always carried with me.”

“Cora always told me that the Queen of Hearts represented who she truly was,” Leopold said. “The hearts represented the love she had—love for life, love of adventure… and, of course, her love for me. And I also knew that Cora cared about her cards—they were everything to her. And when I saw the Queen of Hearts on the floor, from her deck… I knew she was in trouble.”

“It was the biggest gamble of my life,” Cora said. “I quite literally waged my very life on that card. But it paid off.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the old Queen of Hearts card. “I kept it with me all these years. Leopold followed my trail downtown and saw me with the wedding dress and followed me to the chapel. I was in the wedding dress, Rex’s goons guarding the door outside the changing room… And then I heard Leopold’s voice outside the room, saying that he was a photographer’s assistant, and that Rex had hired a photographer to take pictures of me in my wedding dress. And in he comes with the photographer.”

“I had to bribe him with a considerable amount of cash, but it was worth it,” Leopold said, kissing the back of Cora’s hand.

“Naturally, I explained what was going on,” Cora said. “And Leopold offered to help me escape—not just the wedding, but Las Vegas and Rex—no strings attached. We had a storage locker at the train station with things we would need for a quick getaway, in case we ever made any enemies with our casino escapades. The Depression had hit the country and the money wasn’t going to go as far as it would have, so Leopold offered me the entire thing if it meant I could escape Rex and be happy. And then I told him that there was one more thing I’d need to take with me in order to be truly happy—him.”

Napoleon and Illya both stared in interest.

“Ma, you mean you proposed to Dad?”

“My philosophy in life was that if there was something I wanted, I would attempt to pursue it,” Cora shrugged. “This was no different.”

“Of course, I said, yes,” Leopold said. “And, after bribing the photographer some more, we convinced Rex’s goons that Rex wanted some photos of Cora in her dress outside. And we ran the first chance we got—only to run into the priest who was supposed to have wedded Cora and Rex.”

“…And I had the idea to have the priest marry the two of us right then and there,” Cora said. “It was a two-minute ceremony, with the photographer as the witness. …And then he went and published the wedding photo in the paper the next day, but we were already on the train to Chicago by then.”

“We had another, more official ceremony performed there,” Leopold said. “We thought about staying in Chicago after we’d been there a few months.”

“Yes, the gambling circuit there was interesting, and I certainly would have loved to have played my way around it,” Cora mused. “But two things derailed that plan; first of all, we caught wind that Rex was coming to Chicago from Vegas. Secondly, what I thought was nausea brought about by the news of Rex’s arrival ended up being morning sickness.” She stared pointedly at Napoleon, who went slightly red. “At that point, we had done well for ourselves in spite of the Depression, and so, we decided it wasn’t worth the risk of Rex finding us. We slipped away to New York and decided to give up the gambling circuit and prepare for our new addition.”

Napoleon looked away.

“You gave up doing something you loved because of me?”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” Leopold insisted. “We had our thrills of youth, and we always knew that we would have to eventually turn to something steady and practical. I’d always intended to get into journalism; I was pleased to get the chance to do so. And your mother has enjoyed raising corgis…”

“We could have easily gone back on the circuit after you were born—Atlantic City wasn’t that far away,” Cora reminded him. “But after all of those crazy adventures, it was nice to relax and pursue other endeavors. I was very happy with my life, and you were a great part of that happiness, Napoleon—another heart for the Queen of Hearts.”

Napoleon managed a smile.

“I guess that makes me the King of Hearts now, huh?”

“Well…” Cora mused, taking a new, complete deck of cards from her purse. “Maybe I never went back on the circuit, but I would say that my consort and I did not formally abdicate yet…”

Napoleon gave his mother a long look.

“…I’m still the Jack, aren’t I?”

“Uh-huh.”

Leopold chuckled at them, but then noticed that Illya was deep in thought.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong,” Illya assured him. “I am just marveling at all of the happenstance that filled your lives over one playing card—it was by sheer chance that you found the card she dropped and knew what she was trying to convey, then being able to save Mother from marrying Rex, and then you two having Napoleon—and then him getting drafted at 18 and meeting Mark Slate after getting appendicitis in Korea, which would inspire him to join U.N.C.L.E. and lead to my eventually getting transferred to New York to work with him…. All four of us are together in this room now because of that card.” He indicated the Queen of Hearts still in Cora’s other hand. “Perhaps together, we can find a way out of this place and succeed in the mission Waverly assigned Napoleon and me.”

“Well, I have been thinking,” Cora said, her brown eyes deep in thought. “If you need proof that Rex is working with THRUSH… I’m sure I could set up a trap—pretend to agree to speak with him and get him to confess anything and everything to me with a bit of feminine wiles--”

“No!” all three men said at once.

“…Well it was just a thought…”

“It’s far too risky, Ma,” Napoleon said. “You tricked him once before by pretending to go along with him and then slipping out from under his nose. But maybe we can get evidence another way…”

“What are you thinking?” Illya asked.

“What Ma said about a trap has me thinking…. I’ll bet money that Rex booby-trapped their suite the moment he found out that Ma was coming here. If I can sweep the room and find any THRUSH devices in those traps, that will be the proof we need. Illya, can you watch over Ma and Dad while I’m up there?”

“Of course. But take care that you don’t end up tripping any of the traps yourself,” Illya warned.

“Naturally,” Napoleon said.

Knowing that his parents were as safe with Illya as they would have been with him, Napoleon borrowed their key and headed to their suite, beginning to look around. To his relief, there didn’t seem to be anything in the way of deadly traps—he hadn’t put anything past Rex where his father was concerned. But, after a thorough search, he uncovered several small jets of sleeping gas.

Napoleon removed two of the jets, picketing the cartridges of sleeping gas; if it matched the kind of gas that THRUSH was known to use, then that would be the proof that THRUSH supplied Rex with these. The remainder of the sweep uncovered a few listening devices, but nothing much else.

Still, the sleeping gas was more than enough cause for concern, but it was their first possible bit of condemning evidence. Napoleon now moved to leave the room, but paused as he heard footsteps from the corridor, rapidly approaching the room.

“You’re sure you saw someone go into Cora’s suite?” he heard Rex ask. “Did you see who it was?”

“No, Sir,” a guard was saying. “We saw someone go in, but it all happened so quickly; I assume it is either Ms. Stroller or her husband….”

Rex’s tone darkened at the mention of Leopold.

And Napoleon froze, wondering what to do. Left with no other options, he ducked into the washroom, hoping that he would be able to snag a chance to sneak out while Rex was occupied in searching the room.

#Napoleon Solo #Illya Kuryakin #the man from uncle #mfu fic #A Family Affair #napollya

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