#it also crunched up the quality rip :')
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好きだから -- ぼ虹の日 edit
This is very self indulgent and I wasn't even expecting to finish it in time for boniji day. Maybe I just love the pairing so much I wanna make something for it also cuz I still haven't drawn anything about them lately cuz depression go brrrrr
This is initially from Nijika's POV towards Bocchi but some lyrics strayed from that especially the dog part and the last one. But this could also be from Bocchi's POV visualizing Nijika's feelings about her since the edit did start and end with Bocchi in it so...yeah that's how this edit is interpreted (also I kinda got stuck of not knowing what clips that could fit in some parts so ignore if most of the clips are from episode 8)
Btw at the 「またね」 and 「また明日」 part, I was originally going to put the same lines by both Nijika & Bocchi from the show but it sounds out of place so I scrapped it. Tho if I'm better at editing I could make it work and blend it along with the song without it sounding weird (but I'm not :P)
Another thing is that although the lyrics did say 授業 (class) / 放課後部 (after-school club) / LINE in some parts, I changed it to バイト (part time job or in this case I chose work) / 帰宅部 (go-home club) / LOINE to fit the terms in BTR
#boniji#bocchi x nijika#hitori x nijika#hitori gotoh#nijika ijichi#hitori gotou#ijichi nijika#yuri#my edit#anime edit#amv#edited with yt link for the amv and added more tags. but still too shy to tag the main tag lol >.<#apologies for the lyrics & translations covering half of the video#reason why it's there is to cover the embedded subs cuz that's the only Bocchi eps I have downloaded#also sorry if this looks laggy the thing is I can't export this video cuz my editing software doesn't let me#so the only solution I could think of is screen recording on my PC#idk if the recording or the editing software makes it laggy but it's the only way I could think of to 'export' the video#it also crunched up the quality rip :')#methinks this could be better especially with the font and template but this is what I could finish before I overthink#and decided to not upload it for months again. Also the 'export process' is driving me crazy so I figured this would be the best#And to anyone reading the tags… please ignore it. This is just my useless ramblings. Don't read it it's embarrassing =w=
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Overworked and Overstimulated
Synopsis: You take on every job Cecil hands you as his overachieving daughter, but what could be more relaxing after work than getting high with your friends?
Warnings: Edibles, smut, threesome! MDNI💓
You returned back to the guardian’s hq, exhaustedly ripping your mask off of your head. Your father called you on four missions back to back because he had already sent the new guardians and invincible to space. You wanted to go sooooo bad, but he found it better for you to sit this one out. Coincidentally upon returning back, you had found out that they all made it back a few days ago and Cecil wanted you to handle everything until most of them recovered. Easier said than done. Usually it was about six life threatening issues a day, but to tackle four of the worst ones in one day was just a little too much.
You showered, then went up to your room. Dimming the lights, you changed and turned on your music as you took out a pot brownie. You deserved this, you worked too damn hard not to. Stupid GDA invested father using you as a machine.. but he was your dad and sometimes it was your fault for biting off more than you could chew. Typical of you to not say something yet act out when you’re overstimulated. Just typical.
As you got comfortable in your little room, Mark and Rex knocked at your door. What a surprise, they never approach you unless they need help, so maybe now’s not a good time to get high.
“Yo, y/n! Good job holding down the fort until we came back. I see the world’s got a new favorite nepo baby.” Rex chuckled as he grabbed a chair.
“C’mon Rex you know she doesn’t like that.” Mark nudged his shoulder.
“Sorry.. sometimes the social awareness just doesn’t que up fast enough in my brain. Anyways, whatcha doin? Taking the night off?” Rex asked as he played with the items on your desk.
“Yeah, my dad gave me four of the worst missions today. Just figured I’d mellow out in my room for the rest of the day.” You sighed.
“With a pot brownie?” Mark asked sitting in the edge of your bed and holding the ziploc bag containing your brownies.
“Uh-y-yeah. Well I was gonna wait til you guys left in case you didn’t need me for anything but this seemed important so I couldn’t eat one right this second.” You said nervously.
“Fuck that, this is your free time.. Mark and I have been off for a while. Let’s say we make this a group trip huh? I’ll pay you back for it later.” Rex said taking the brownies from Mark.
“I’m down, you don’t have to pay me back though Sloan. I’m content with this. Just quality time with my friends.” You said relaxing back in your bed.
You, Mark and Rex all ate a brownie, waiting for the effects to kick in.
About an hour later you were all feeling the effects. You had put some dumb chick flick on and both men were entertained. It was quiet. Mark was shirtless, with an arm wrapped around you and Rex was also shirtless laying on your chest. Before the high had kicked in you guys gave mark money to get snacks and he delivered. As you guys watched the movie, all that could be heard was the crunching of chips. Both of their bodies were keeping you extremely warm. The movie ended and all three of you were wondering what to do next.
“Basketball?” Rex offered.
“Let’s go. Me and you Rex.” Mark smirked at him.
The three of you went down into the HQ training center. Both boys were shooting hoops.
“This is boring, can we find a way to make it interesting?” Mark asked.
“Ask and you shall recieve. First one to score five shots wins a kiss from the pretty lady over there— and don’t tell me you’re not dying for a taste of that. The best things in life are things that you aren’t allowed to have.” Rex winked.
“I can reason with that as long as it’s okay with y/n.” Mark asked.
“We’ll— I don’t wanna sound desperate but I mean it’s perfectly fine with me.” You blushed. You were in fact the most desperate for this. The past flirtations between you and Mark and then you and Rex throughout your time at the GDA always got to you. Your dad always steered them both away.. well not just them, everyone—away. Mark and Rex didn’t really care, they were friends to the end. They stood up to Cecil which finally allowed you to go on missions, but Cecil drew the line at space. The old man knew better than to get between you and your friends. Yes, you loved your dad but there’s always a battle to be fought with him.
“You’re on.” Mark smirked.
Both boys played away and suddenly the score went from one to four. It was the final point for each of them.
“This one’s for you!” They both shouted together. The anticipation guided you to insanity. If Rex scored and mark felt jealous? It would ruin you. If Mark scored and Rex feel jealous? God.. it’s too much to handle. It’s okay to change your mind and everything, the boys would understand. You don’t want one without the other.
“Well looks like we’re both getting kissed. Both our baskets were made.” Mark smiled smugly.
How did you miss it? Oh well. You weren’t kissing them in the middle of the guardians hq, that would be an awkward moment you couldn’t come back from. The boys held their excitement until you all made it back to your room. Now it was really awkward for you.
“I know I’ve only gotten high with you guys once before but holy shit you look like you’re in a real predicament right now y/n.” Mark laughed.
Rex joined in on laughing, both of them were laughing a bit too hard, it was a little too contagious.
“You’re right, she’s as red as a fucking ripe ass tomato!” Rex was wheezing at this point. The laughter coming from your room was intense and anybody coming by your room could tell you were having a fun time.
You started laughing along with them and soon the laughing turned to joyous tears from your stomachs hurting so bad. After all the laughing, you rested your head on Mark’s shoulder again as you all made it back to laying on your giant bed that took up most of the room in your little box. Mark scooted you, letting you in between his legs as your back touched his chest. Mark played with your hair and Rex was up to something mischevious. Rex snuck himself under the covers, pulling down your lace panties and your pajama pants. You would have been way more alarmed in any other circumstance but for this one? You felt so at peace with both of them doing what they wanted to you. It was the best stress relief you had in a while.
Mark’s hands reached for your shirt, lifting it up off your body and kissing the back of your neck. As Rex started to eat you out your body started to tingle with numbness. The high was really intensifying all your senses. Rex’s tongue lapped and licked your little bud under the covers. To ease you, Mark grabbed onto your breasts, kneading them and kissing your neck. Rex’s grip on your hips stayed firm.
“I thought you both wanted a kiss.” You whined.
“We did, the high just feels too nice to waste on a little kiss. You getting overstimulated? I can tell by the way you’re squirming. Quit acting out.” Mark said firmly as his hands shifted positions, as one arm was now around your neck.
You whined and groaned until you started getting close, both boys were naked at this point, the temperature in the room getting hotter, the feelings more intense.. both boys were slipping in and out of you roughly as you were still whining, eventually the three of you would finish at the same time. You all hit the showers and you went back to your room in silence. Your body was now tired.
“Hey- uh.. thanks for that. If you ever wanna use me I left my number on your board.” Rex winked at you before deciding to leave.
“Leaving so soon?” You asked.
“Yeah.. unfortunately you’re not the only girl on my roster sweet cheeks.” He whistled.
“Alright, see you around.” You waved.
Well at least Rex admitted to wanting a late night booty call.
Mark walked into your room timidly.
“You leaving too?” You pouted.
“Oh stop pouting. I got you flowers. I wanna stay and cuddle. I was in space for five days I thought you’d miss me a little more.” He said.
“Now look who’s pouting.” You smirked.
Mark came into your room placing the flowers on your nightstand and laying down on top of you, his body weight giving you the utmost relief.
“I don’t want to share you again. That was a one time deal.” He complained.
“I understand, thank you for letting me experience that.” You smiled at him.
The room seemed to go quiet, you eyes started to shut and mark had one last thing on his mind.
“When are you gonna tell your dad about us?”
“Mark— go to sleep.”
#mark grayson#invincible#invincible smut#mark grayson smut#rex splode#rex sloan#rex x reader#mark grayson x reader#invincible x reader#rex splode smut
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Tim anon here! Maybe he’s dealing with hayfever while he’s trying to patrol? Also very happy to read whatever you have already going !
HI SORRY I DUCKED OUT FOR TWO MONTHS I WAS. OCCUPIED
and yes ofc!! please forgive me if this is poor in quality; i haven't written any snz content in three months now sO im out of practice and i was falling asleep while i wrote this. here's 1.3K of sneezy t/im and annoyed but caring j/ason :D
(if you're still looking for whatever stories i have for d/c, you can look at my fic masterlist and check out the t/imber college au!!)
Tim always was a stubborn little son of a bitch, Jason'll give him that. And, out of every villain Red Robin had fought, he'd know that best; he'd tried to kill the Replacement enough times to say he's almost like a cockroach, refusing to die no matter what Jason did.
It shouldn't be surprising, then, for Jason to find Tim on patrol, crouching silently on a rooftop. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be an issue, except for the fact that the pollen's the highest it's been thus far, and Timmy has some of the worst pollen allergies Jason's ever seen.
"What're you doing out here, Red?"
His voice comes out low and distorted with fuzz, the warping effect of the modulator in his helmet. He alights next to Red Robin with little more than a soft crunch of his boots on the rooftop. It takes him a moment too long to react and look at him, and just by observing Tim's posture, Jason can tell he's not doing well. There's a slump to his shoulders, a slight tremor in his hands as he holds his bō out defensively. He relaxes the moment he clocks Jason, though, stumbling forward into the elder's arms.
"Woah, hey..." Jason trails off, catching the younger vigilante in a hug. Caught off-guard, he's unsure what to do, unsure what's going on. He'd expected to have to drag Tim back to his safehouse and then stuff him with antihistamines, but it seems like he's already giving up.
"Hood," Tim mumbles, his voice thick with congestion.
"Why're you out here?" Jason rephrases, and Tim clutches tighter to the sides of Jason's leather jacket.
Tim's breath hitches as his inhales, and it takes him a second to regain control. "Badtmband," he replies, nearly incomprehensibly.
"B sent you on patrol?" translates Jason.
He nods, wordless, then shudders with a quick series of sneezes. Tim's worryingly careful to avoid the leather, crushing a gloved fist against his nose and squeezing his eyes shut beneath the mask. "ngxt! n'xtt! h'ngt-tt! hih... hh'ngXxt!"
"Bless you, Red, jeez."
"Thaggs." Tim sniffles, blinking slowly, like he's barely staying awake. Jason casts a glance around the area, making sure there's no one near the two of them. Tim's in a dangerous position now, and while Jason's more than capable of knocking a couple of heads, he's not in the mood to deal with anyone tonight when Tim's already vulnerable. Moreover, how the hell could Bruce think it was a good idea to send Tim out on patrol tonight? Just look at him.
He makes an executive call. Tapping on the comm at his ear, Jason only halfway tunes into Dick's conversation with Damian, shamelessly interrupting to say, "You're going to want to cover the East end of the city, I'm taking the Replacement home for the night."
"Hood, wha—"
"I'll rip o—"
Turning off the comm amid Dick's confusion and the threat Damian was about to level, Jason then shifts his attention to Tim. He's small enough to carry, still, and Jason doesn't really see another way out of the situation they're currently in. Tim's simply too exhausted to move of his own accord, and if Jason weren't already so worried about exactly why that is, he'd be paying attention to the fact that B, despite having access to their medical files, chose to send Tim out tonight when Stephanie's in town as well as Cass.
Jason's gentle with Tim as he pulls him upright. "Red? Hey, c'mon, we're going home."
"Mm, ndo," Tim mutters. "Godda padtrol."
Jason scoffs. "You're barely functioning."
"I'mb fide."
"No, you're not. Look, Red," says Jason, hoisting Tim onto his back. He manages to grab on, helping Jason out the tiniest bit. "I dunno why the fuck B sent you out tonight, but that was a mistake."
Tim gives a wordless groan against Jason's back, one that could either be a protest or a resigned acceptance, before turning his neck to sneeze into his shoulder. "gk'tt! ng'xXt! h'kff!" He doesn't quite manage to stifle the last one, muffling it instead.
"Bless you."
"Nng."
"Hood?"
He startles. "Fuck, Oracle, don't just start talking in my ear."
"This is important. Red dropped off the comms ten minutes before you showed up. GPS was working, audio and camera were working, but Red just... stopped talking."
"Yeah, he's still not doing well. What's going on?"
He can hear the tapping of Barbara's keyboard over the line, underneath his breaths and the whirring of his grapple gun. "Red's working on a case."
"He told me Batman sent him on patrol. Bless you, Red."
"I try to stay out of their personal business. All I know is that Red was trying to get evidence for a case when he went out."
Jason sighs. "Alright. Thank you, O."
"Anytime, Hood. Get him inside."
"Already on it." He lands on the roof to his safehouse the second Oracle clicks off the comm, using the door to get Tim somewhere that he can lie down. The second he pulls the Red Robin cowl off of Tim's face, it becomes obvious just how allergically miserable he is; his nose is red and there's a thin sheen of moisture on his upper lip. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, his lips slightly parted to take in shallow breaths as his chest rises and falls with increasing rapidity.
Jason hurries over to the kitchen. "Hang on for eight seconds, Red," he calls over his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of Kleenex and then rushing back to the living room and thrusting them to Tim's face.
His reaction is immediate. Tim practically snatches the tissues from his hand, cupping his hands around his mouth and sneezing harshly into the tissues while still trying to remain as quiet as possible. "h'hH'hGXT! nGT! gxt-xxt-xtt!"
"Bless—"
"k'shtt! h'xt'shu!"
"Christ," Jason whispers. "Bruce let you out like this?"
Tim blows his nose softly, unproductively. "More like he ordered me oudt like this."
Well, Bruce always was a sadistic dick. "Elaborate."
Tim sighs, like the effort of telling Jason is too much for him. "I'm on like, seventeen Benadryl. Enough to see The Hat Man."
"That... is not what I wanted to hear."
Jason blinks at Tim. With the new information, Tim's current behavior makes a lot of sense. The exhaustion, the inability to focus, the lack of filter. Ordinarily, Tim wouldn't dare to call direct blame to Bruce, would smooth things over with his words to bring attention to his own poor decisions, because that's what Tim does.
But, apparently, Tim-on-seventeen-Benadryl doesn't.
He sighs. "I fucked up a case. I'm tired, I'm not thinking, I'm sneezing every six seconds. Obviously, I fucked up a case."
"How does that result in Bruce forcibly sending you on patrol?" demands Jason.
"He got mad that I fucked up the case, duh," Tim says. He lazily presses his elbow to his face and sneezes again. "h'Hhh! hk'sh! kshh! ng'tshh! ish! huhh..."
When he brings his arm down again, there's a small bit of mess running down his upper lip. Jason sighs inwardly at the thought of having to clean him up; Tim might not be close with him, but Jason does still consider him to be his brother. He feels a sense of responsibility toward him, especially when he's... fragile like this.
"And so, as punishment, he sent you out on patrol while you can't even see your own feet in front of you," summarizes Jason, using another tissue to wipe Tim's face. Tim nods, head lolling to rest against the back of the couch.
"Yep."
"Don't sneeze on me," Jason warns.
Tim just sighs.
"Alright. Fuck, the old man really is a prick." Tim only nods and sniffles again. "Just... sleep off the Benadryl, okay? We'll settle this in the morning."
"I'll say hi to The Hat Man for you," Tim slurs, already half asleep.
Jason closes his eyes for the solid four seconds he needs to regain his sanity. "Yeah, Tim. You do that."
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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #48
I did it!!! I finally did the thing!! I did it with help!!
Look!!!
I took a broken Dance Dance Revolution (DDR for short!) pad, which wasn't a very good pad to begin with for a variety of reasons, and turned it into a DDR pad that actually works!! I'll show you how!!
There were a lot of steps involved with this, but obviously, the very first step was to take the broken DDR pad apart and figure out how it works:
As it turns out, on the inside there are two sheets of plastic with conductive paint on the inside. When the conductive paint on the top sheet touches the conductive paint on the bottom sheet, a button press is recorded! A thin foam sheet with holes perforated in specific spots is put in between the two sheets of plastic, such that the conductive paint only touches if you step on certain parts of the pad.
The pad was broken because the plastic sheeting with the conductive paint ended up being crunched up in certain spots, which made it more difficult for the paint to conduct properly. After taking the pad apart, my husband and I used packing tape on the sides of the sheets without conductive paint to smooth out the wrinkles and reinforce it.
When the crunched-up sections were able to lie flat in a satisfactory fashion, I then used a staple gun to affix the bottom plastic sheet to a very sturdy piece of board. From there, it was time to reapply the foam in the correct orientation. That was also stapled down. Then finally, I aligned the top sheet of plastic with the bottom sheet (the foam was slightly translucent even in the parts without holes, so this was relatively easy), and stapled that down, too. Here was the result:
After that, you have to protect it with the sturdy plastic cover. I wanted a pad where the arrows were slightly raised, and I wasn't going to use the foam bottom of the pad for anything, so I cut little squares in the shape of the arrow buttons and applied them to the bottom of the plastic cover, like so:
And then I flipped it over, aligned it with the plastic sheeting, and stapled it down!
And do you want to know what??? IT WORKS!!! So far, it works better than any other pad I've ever owned, and that includes my old RedOctane that gave out after 10 years of heavy use (RIP, my trusty RedOctane; I miss you dearly).
DDR is a very old game at this point, so they don't make high quality pads like the ones RedOctane used to make anymore. RedOctane as a company no longer even exists. It's a real shame.
Anyhoot!! I went and played one of my favorite DDR songs on Stepmania, on Expert level difficulty! The timing of this pad couldn't be better (though I wish I could say the same for my stamina at this point, hahaha!), and despite the fact that I am very much not used to this kind of exercise anymore, I still managed to get an A!
And the best part about it is that it's HEAVY. The wood that the pad is stapled to is fairly weighty!! This means it doesn't slide around on the floor all crazy when I am using it, and that's a HUGE bonus!! I've sprained ankles in the past from mis-stepping on a thick foam pad that moved without me realizing it while I used it, and goodness me, such an occurrence is NOT a fun time!!
Now that I have a pad that works properly and a funky green half-oval that can stick my ribs back together after the fact, I'm hoping to be able to play more DDR in the very near future! Maybe if I can get my stamina back and start playing on Expert mode all the time again, I'll even record a little video for you of me derping around on my Frankenpad! It'll look ridiculous, but it'll be fun!! Hahaha!
I'm really pleased with how this turned out; it works a lot better than I expected for a first attempt at trying anything like this! I'm hoping to make another one! If I do this again in the near future, I should do a better job, because next time I'll have a better understanding of what to do and what to expect! Then I can play with multiple people at the same time!! And that would be amazing!
Have you ever built anything cool? Heck, have you built anything that you think is uncool? If you have, then I wish you could tell me about it! I suppose I'll have to settle just for asking without ever receiving any answer, hahaha... Oh well.
I think I'll end this letter here for now. As you might expect, my grip flexors are VERY angry with me right now because repetitive uses of the staple gun is not something that squishy noodle-arms like mine are accustomed to, hahaha! Also, I moved around a lot, both for the construction of this and for testing it, and so my ribs are pretty angry at me, too... Sheesh...
I'll work at getting my stamina back so that I can send you a neat video. Count on it, okay?
Please stay safe until then. Remember you are loved. Remember that you are human. Make good and kind choices. Take nice care of yourself. And if you can spare the time, maybe try to see what sorts of things you can build, even if it's something silly like a little person made of sticks and twine. Building things is good for humans; it doesn't have to have a use.
I gotta rest now. I promise I'll have a bunch of amazing pictures to share with you tomorrow (but I'm not gonna tell you what they are gonna be pictures of!! I'm gonna leave you in suspense!!! NEENER NEENER NEENER!!! Hahahaha!), so just you wait...
I'll write to you again tomorrow. So don't disappear anywhere, okay? Promise me.
Your friend, Lumine
#sephiroth#ThankYouFFVIIDevs#ThankYouFF7Devs#ThankYouSephiroth#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy vii crisis core#final fantasy 7 crisis core#final fantasy crisis core#ffvii crisis core#ff7 crisis core#crisis core#ff7r#final fantasy vii remake#final fantasy 7 remake#ffvii remake#ff7 remake#final fantasy vii rebirth#final fantasy 7 rebirth#ffvii rebirth#ff7 rebirth#final fantasy 7 ever crisis#ffvii ever crisis#ff7 ever crisis#ffvii first soldier#diy ddr pad#dance dance revolution#wholesome
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Xillia 2 Update: Not Much Happened!
Finally, it's time to get the last waymarker!! ...But first 2 hours of exploring and hunting elite monsters 😅
Apparently there's a skit about hunting elite monsters that somehow turns into Elize and Muzet calling Ludger's chromatus ugly 😂 RIP my dude, I think your magical girl transformation is sexy
My sister pointed out the weird cognitive dissonance between Jude finding battles "too easy," yet also regretting that he "should be helping, not hurting." Obviously the solution to this is to make the battles more challenging by healing our opponents 😂
Very important update: my dog, Pippin, has learned to not only recognize the sounds of cats meowing in the overworld but also can apparently recognize their shape now??? We're literally teaching her profiling when we go through our cat roster 😅

(A photo as proof of our weirdly clever corgi, there's also an adorable video of her barking at it too but I can't get the quality good on here :/)
Anyways now whenever we find a cat we have to shove it in Ludger's bag quickly before our actual dog starts freaking out 😂
My sister mishearing things continues, this session we had "Instacart" instead of me explaining "mystic artes," and "atheist crunch" instead of "igneous crush." Me: "That's my favorite breakfast cereal."
While sprinting after a golden bacura or whatever the spinny mattresses are called somehow Ludger ended up grabbing nearby vines and climbing instead 😂
I've been helping my sister with the geography so we can explore new locations, and explained that the area near Leronde has two different mine dungeons on it. Me: "It's a mine-field." Her: "That's about as funny as Alvin's joke." Me: "True, but at least I only said it once."
They removed the mining mechanic from X1, much to my relief. Sis: "Aw, but it was more realistic. It was like Minecraft." Me: "A very very slow Minecraft."
(Ten minutes later, exploring the Tatalian Abyss in Elympios) Sis: "Is this place a mine too??" Me: "It's a mine-field >:)"
FINALLY she decided to advance the plot, late at night -_- we quit early so we wouldn't get tired during the good parts
But it seems like the party members have all been killed right by the lake where Elle's dad supposedly lives. Sis: "Elle, I think your dad is a murderer." Yeah, I don't think my sister's going to be surprised by anything that happens 😅
I personally really liked the scene where they comfort Jude, who's worried that his death might be necessary for a future with improved spyrite technology. He ends the conversation on such a downer note though, like he decides he should stay alive 'cause Milla will have to go away anyway and he needs to carry on her work. Like Jude no you can have a degree of self-preservation too 😭
That's roughly where we stopped, we haven't gotten to Victor yet but we are basically on his doorstep. So NEXT time will be the exciting stuff! Not that this session wasn't fun, because it honestly is nice just spending time together 😁
[Masterpost link here when I edit it in]
#dolphin plays x2#tales of xillia 2 spoilers#the dog thing still cracks me up. pippin even recognizes Rollo as a cat even though he's round and voiced by a human 😂#i thought that this game was helping desensitize her to the word 'kitty' with how often we were saying it only for this to happen 😂
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I was always a big webp hater up until I was creating my own website and I realized that webps are basically the optimal way to retain image quality while not making your site load annoyingly slow. I had converted most of the pngs on my site to Jpegs and crunched them to be <5mbs and then later <2mbs, but even that was still too slow. Converted them all to webps and the site loaded in a snap, way faster way smoother
Rip to the webp haters but they are extremely useful. Also you can just use a file converter to convert them to jpeg/png
#not art related#it’s not about the formats Spider-Man it’s about the visuals#it’s a portfolio website so displaying images and making them not look shit is sort of it’s primary purpose
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Thoughts on the new Pokémon games? Any favorite Pokémon or characters?
They are pretty good! My favorite character is Nemona and my favorite Pokemon is Chi-Yu, who I have lovingly named "Splashy".
I do have some more in-depth thoughts if you want to keep reading.
Graphics (5/10)
Probably some of the worst I've seen in a mainline game, despite the character and Pokemon models being really high-quality.
The low-quality draw distance is to be expected, but it's still pretty jarring seeing NPCs without their hand animations fully rendered. Some hands would look like 🤚 when holding a Pokeball or even just a pencil.
The environments are really lackluster, and the weather can cause the frame rate to drop into the single digits.
Glitches are plentiful, but not in a good way. Pokemon spawning in walls, HP bars glitching in Tera Raids, environments glitch when camera is not at an optimal angle, etc.
However, the Pokemon's textures look absolutely fantastic. I love how shiny the Magnemite line looks. :3 I kinda wish the particle effects were better on Pokemon like Skeledirge and Chi-Yu, but that's ok.
Story (10/10)
I'm so glad the story ended up so much better in SV than in SwSh. I remember not being able to play through Shield after playing Sword because of how boring the story was. Not this time, though. SV continued to keep me engaged throughout the whole thing.
(SPOILER ALERT) I kinda wish they put more effort into making Scarlet and Violet different from each other regarding the AI Sada and Turo. I don't think it would have been too farfetched to have Sada a golem because of the existence of legendary titans.
Arven's story is fantastic, and although he is not a favorite character of mine, I've really warmed up to him after learning his goal in healing his Mabosstiff.
Gameplay (7/10)
I really thought Gym Leaders, Titans, and Team Star Battles would be scaled. That would have been really cool...
I was deeply saddened that they decided to remove the majority of the QoL features from PLA, and reverted to its traditional turn-based gameplay. It isn't bad by any means, but it makes the game slower than it should be.
Being able to sneak up on Pokemon and catching them off-guard was really fun, but I wish it can be applied to also catching them and not just battling them.
However, auto-battling is really cool and fun!! I love it! Being able to bring out my Pokemon and battle other wild Pokemon really sped things up.
Follower Pokemon are back!! Although I kinda wished they changed the speeds of some of the Pokemon when they're running/walking with you. Chien-Pao, I know you have a walking animation, please just relax and walk with me!!
RIP sparkling sounds when finding shiny Pokemon. I understand that it makes finding them more exciting, but I think it makes it harder for those who have difficulty telling colors apart to find them. I don't really get having to remove a feature that would otherwise make finding shiny Pokemon more accessible to others.
Characters (8/10)
Although no one really got me all "doki-doki" like Guzma has, the cast was absolutely fantastic this time around.
I love that almost all of the gym leaders have their gym challenges as something they do on the side. Their passion is something else that they're into and they bring it into their Pokemon battles, whether it's baking, creating art, streaming, cooking, etc.
The Elite Four is fantastic, too. It's great seeing another Gym Leader become another member of the Elite Four. :3
That said, I don't trust Geeta.
Please help Larry.
Overall Score (7.5/10)
Pretty good! It's a good start to an open-world Pokemon game, but kinda falls behind compared to other open-world games out there that have surpassed it by a long shot and were released earlier! I mean like. The franchise is nearing its 30th anniversary and it still doesn't have voice acting of any kind.
It's an obvious result of dev crunch, and I really hope they space out release dates if it means getting better games. However, I don't think this will happen anytime soon.
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happy birthday leviathan 🎉
LUVATORRRY! / Reol
click for better quality
last year I did Levi's birthday fanart based on hibikase, and someone said levi fits well with vocaloid. I 100% agree with that, so I thought "y'know what? this year's birthday fanart is also gonna be vocaloid"
I thought he'd probably go well with Giga or Reol's music. I remembered luvatory, listened to it and immediately thought "that's the one" and so this fanart was born. btw the little robot thingy he's holding is inspired by the robot dudes in the luvatory MV and made to look like the sheep icon MC has.
fun facts, since I always do it for my complete art:
I always spelled it as luvatory, I only realised it was actually luvoratory when I looked up the lyrics lol
I think this was 10h~ of work spread out over about a month. ibispaint tells me it takes up 25.3mb of space... rip
I originally wasn't going to do a birthday fanart for levi. after some thought I figured I might as well. I like levi, and I like the process of doing illustrations. plus if I didn't do a full illust every once in a while I'll get horribly rusty and that's not good
I made the canvas size larger so that it wouldn't get crunched..... but it still got crunched :( I guess my canvas wasn't big enough
I think the quality of my art has improved quite significantly since last year (compared to Levi's birthday fanart I did last year) in terms of anatomy and lineart. and being generally visually pleasing I guess
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The Guide to Homestuck Cosplay: Page 1 - Horns
Oh dear. If you've read Homestuck, then you know about the lovely horns. There are many different ways to acquire horns for a cosplay! These are some of the methods that have worked best for me.
1- Model Magic and Tinfoil
Not only are these sturdy, but they are lightweight and quite durable. These worked really well for me in the process of making my Serket horns. First, you shape tinfoil into the shape of the horn you are trying to replicate. Second, cover the tinfoil in a even layer of Model Magic. Don't make it too thick or it won't dry all the way, and if it's too thin, the Model Magic can rip and the tinfoil will shine through. Once your horns are adequately covered, let the Model Magic dry until hard. The clay may crack during the drying process, and that's totally normal! Fill in the cracks with little bits of Model Magic and let that dry. Sand down the horns to make the paint go on smoother and to provide a nice look. Paint your horns however you see fit! You can do the classic clean, solid stripes, or you can go for a gradient to give it a more natural effect. If you want to add even more texture to your horns, you can optionally add colored yarn to give it that ram horn look! Finally, attach your horns to a base. I use hot glue, but super glue also works very well! For smaller horns such as Sollux and Karkat, you can use hair clips to attach to wigs or your own hair. For larger horns such as Tavros and Eridan, it's advised to use something like a thick headband to decrease the risk of them falling off your head. And there you go! You've sucessfully made a pair of horns! But there are also many other methods!
2- Paper Mâche and Tinfoil
These are horns that are good for a time crunch! If you need a quick horn for a convention or a photoshoot, these would work just fine! But remember that quality goes down when quickness rises. These will not be as durable as the Model Magic horns and can break much easier. To start, tear off a large sheet of tinfoil. Like the Model Magic horns, shape them into your desired characters horn shape. Buff out the tinfoil as smooth as you can to make laying down the paper mâche easier. Apply a coat of mod podge on your horns, and take your colored pieces of paper mâche. Apply the paper to the horn, being careful to not let the dye bleed. Let it dry and apply another layer of paper if needed to brighten the color. Attach your horns to your base (hair clips, headband, etc) and you're done! Quick, simple horns.
3- Buying your horns online!
If you don't want to make horns for many different reasons, that's totally ok! There's always the option to buy horns online! I've done that a few times myself! Good places to look would be Depop, Ebay, and more! There's always someone selling them. And you get to pick and choose exactly what you want. A wonderful Etsy store by the name of RufflebuttCosplay sells wonderful homestuck horns that are extremely high quality for a good price! Go check them out! Online shopping can be very handy in this situation. : )
Extra Details-
For larger and heavier horns like Tavros or even the Condesce, you'll want a secure way to make sure your horns never fall off! Two-part screws are the key! You can find these at your local hardware store. CowbuttCrunchies on Tiktok has a full tutorial on attachable headpieces. Go check them out for more info!
Next, don't be afraid of the glue gun. Yes, they are hot and they can burn you, but if you hold it right and be careful of the fingers, you can minimize burns and a lot of tears! : 3
Final Info-
There are lots of different ways to make or buy horns, and the internet is full of different tutorials and webpages on what to do! Search up what you want, and go from there! I hope you enjoyed this post on horns! See you in the next one! : 3
- AlterniaMori
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Just as an aside; I’m on anon for Reasons:
I’m an animator who has a few contacts in Japan (acquaintances) and the general consensus there is that even sequel promises doesn’t make the audience’s reception towards Yashahime better than lukewarm. All demographics are mostly focused on Demon Slayer and Belle (the latter has serious Oscars buzz surrounding it). Sunrise has been asking Takahashi for the rights for some kind of Inuyasha spinoff for years but Takahashi typically is a one and done person who doesn’t like sequels and spinoffs because those require her author input and she does not like to reread or revisit her series after she finishes, preferring to instead immediately jump into the next work she wants to do.
Sunrise has not been very profitable for years and their only major bankable production at the moment is Gundam. Bandai Namco has began taking most of its profits from the properties it licenses to Sunrise (as Sunrise is a studio it partners frequently with) more than ever before. And yet as of March 2020 Bandai wrested control of Gundam from Sunrise and is now its sole owner and its animation licensed to Sunrise, which is sad because Gundam was created by Yoshiyuki Tomino as an original Sunrise production.
This is generally very sad because Sunrise’s issues with quality and ip is now the result of Bandai and other toy companies successfully wearing down Sunrise over the years and gutting it completely. Sunrise was started by animators who defected from Mushi Productions because they wanted to make original animation instead of being stuck animating adaptations of Tezuka manga forever. But animation is expensive and entertainment companies have money, so Bandai Namco essentially turned Sunrise into its adaptation farm just like the original animators from Mushi feared they were. Now all the profits from Love Live and Code Geass and Gintama and others go mostly to Bandai.
Worse still is that now to make up the deficit, they established a bunch of smaller substudios to help them crank out a bunch of anime at the same time in order to turn a bit of profit. But their quality has suffered extremely because of the insane workload, tight schedules, and constant crunch mode. Their previous substudios did not have these issues.
Worse still is that apparently Sunrise hasn’t taken a lot of steps to address casting couch practices and sexual harassment of female seiyuu like other studios have.
Enter Yashahime. This property, as a spinoff, would be entirely out of Bandai’s influence and a respectable amount of profits going to Sunrise. And Takahashi, seeing much lower sales numbers for Mao (which has a small but notable undercurrent of accusations of ripping off Demon Slayer due to its Taisho era setting and yokai vs ayakashi debate), doubtlessly encouraged by her editors and Shonen Jump, agrees to a spinoff in order to boost Mao’s profile.
This is also why her twitter account was set up (she typically does not like engaging with social media) and is run by an assistant. Takahashi herself only answers questions in official SJ q&a sessions.
Personally speaking as an animator, I could tell something was up when that famous “Sunrise smooth” was missing from Yashahime: the animatics and storyboards look fine but the finished cels look cheap, their coloring too artificial, and their tweens too deformed to be called tweens. Very common in rushed animation. I suspect the pandemic is also a very strong contributing factor. A higher reliance on computer generated fx and transitions but poor level of compositing and post supports this.
Hi, anon!! First off, that is so cool! Animation must be a cool field haha. I agree with you on several points, when studios like UFOtable and Sunrise are compared to each other, the latter is just very lacklustre, especially with committing to the canon material of the manga in InuYasha's case. They changed/swapped out several key moments and butchered alot of characters for no reason other than to spark an unpleasant reaction. But with Demon Slayer, the anime is far more faithful to the manga, which I'm sure alot of fans are happy about. The animation is second to none as well. OOF.
Rumiko designed the girls' character designs (Moroha is incredible and I'm forever grateful for her) and drew that horrendous sessrin family cover. She definitely did have a hand in allowing this spinoff to start (though Sumisawa kinda went behind her back) and that gross relationship to flourish despite her earlier statements of "Sesshomaru is hogosha". She may not be directly involved in the social media accounts but she still has to maintain PR. I honestly think she made these choices for clout because exposure = money and that's usually peoples' MO nowadays
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Getting It In
Based Off Of This Ask
A/N: Something short, sweet, and spicy with a sucky ending for ya! Enjoy🙃
Ever since quarantine began in March, you and Harry were constantly trying to get it in. Before the Styles family was confined to the house, the kids would be in school all day which meant that you and Harry had the entire house to yourselves. Furthermore, when you two weren’t insanely busy throughout the day, you and Harry were able to soak up every ounce of each other in any position and in any part of the house until 2:30 pm. But per usual, some good things must come to an end. Now neither of you were complaining about the family time with the little ones. You two loved your bubs to pieces and it was so great to be at home and spend quality time together as a family. It’s just that 24 hours, 7 days a week, for 7 months was a really long time. During the day when either Harry or yourself (mainly Harry of course) wanted to engage in one of you guys’ coveted sexscapades, there was a process involved. It couldn’t be at the drop of a dime when either of you were feeling frisky, there was a checklist in both of your minds that had to be completed before anything happened.
For starters, you and Harry had to find a way to preoccupy the two 5 year olds that were in your care. Since they were at home and you two were not only parents but now teachers as well, you and Harry were tasked with staying on top of their education and finding activities that could keep the twins preoccupied for a short amount of time. Once that was taken care of, you and Harry had to then sneak off to a part of they house that was secluded yet still in reach just in case there was an emergency. After that, the two of you had to rip off and undo each other’s clothes off in a quick and quiet manner. Luckily, the two of you had taken up sweats and T-shirts as your normal everyday attire, so it was pretty easy to get everything off and get down to business. And even though you two were enjoying every second of being together because those moments were few and far between at times, you and Harry were doing your best to be alert and ready to spring into action for the kids that were just around the corner.
In the beginning of quarantine, and all the way up until about June, you and Harry were practically glued to the two children. They were in their first year of school and needed the utmost attention at all times. And for the most part, the twins were never alone; there was always at least one of you with them to help out. The only times you two had the opportunity(if you could even call it that) to get some time alone in was during the block of time you guys let them watch tv, when they were playing with their toys or coloring, and when they took their naps. The prime times of early in the morning along with the time after they were put to bed was out of the question considering the fact that you both were exhausted after running around the house taking care of it and the small children that were running around in it. Once you and Harry hit the bed, it was lights out. And they stayed out until your alarms blared so that the two of you could get the kids up and get the day started.
Now from June to August, things were a bit better when it came to yours and Harry’s sex life. Even though the kids were on summer vacation and you two were completely in charge of their daily activities, you were able to give them more time to spend doing fun things that needed less supervision. You two were still actively spending time with them for the majority of the day but you still made sure to have activities in place just in case you and Harry were in the mood. Neither of you were complete fans of plopping them down in front of the television, but when you two were itching for some type of contact you and Harry did what you had to do. There were also little projects for them to do that would occupy their time and allow for you guys to sneak away. You and Harry even went as far as to tire them out early so that by midday they’d be ready for a nap and you two could hop into bed yourselves. And when you both still had a sliver energy left once the little ones were put to bed, you and Harry would wind the rest of the way down in each other. That is, if there weren’t two little bodies crammed between the two of you. Overall, the summer went pretty well for you and Harry in terms of getting it in. Cravings were satisfied and family memories were made.
Fast forward to now and things were still on this steady terrain. The new school year has begun and the twins were now in first grade which meant that you and Harry can step back a little bit and do other things. And other things meant each other. After getting the two children put together and seated in front of their computers that were in a room right off from the living room, you and Harry clean up the kitchen from breakfast before getting yourselves together one at a time just in case the kids needed a little help. Once you were done taking care of/getting a start on some chores around the house along with getting a little head start on lunch and Harry was done with a meeting he had over zoom, the both of you were in need of a little mommy and daddy time. The only thing you two had in the past week that was remotely close to that was a quick makeout session in the kitchen last night while the twins washed their hands before dinner. When the two of you meet in the kitchen, it’s like your minds are instantly synched and you both are on the exact same page. Harry wastes zero time coming over and sweeping you up off your feet and onto the counter behind you. He also wastes no time bringing his mouth to yours in a hurried manner. Your hands immediately gravitate to the sides of his face to pull him down closer to you, and his gravitate down to your hips so that he could tug you closer to the edge, bringing him further between your legs.
“Need you so bad baby.” Harry mumbles against your lips as he begins to bring them down to your neck.
“But what if they hear us?” You ask him through your soft moans. Despite wanting him more than ever right now, you were terrified at the thought of your children walking in on their parents. The last thing you wanted was to scar them for life.
“C’mon babe, they have their headphones on they won't hear me pounding into you.” He reassures through his kisses to your neck. “Plus i made sure i got the noise cancelling headphones for them." He continues, wanting to make sure you know that everything’s fine.
“Alright, but we have to be quick and quiet.” You oblige, giving in and letting Harry take the lead in making you both feel good.
Keeping you on the counter in front of him, Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of your sweats to pull them down from your waist. You urgently lift your hips up from the counter so that he could pull them off. Since the two of you were in a bit of a crunch, Harry doesn’t even bother pulling your shirt off and he goes right into shoving his own pants down his legs. He keeps his underwear and sweats pooled at his ankles just in case. Once you both are both undressed from the waist down, Harry hooks his fore finger into the bottom of your panties and pulls them to the side to expose your pussy. From where he was standing above you, he could see your glistening folds perfectly and he was even more in need of getting inside of you. Before he actually pushes in, he pulls himself back a bit before bending down and licking a wide stripe up your folds to collect some of your juices on his tongue. He then sucks on your clit a little and comes back up to push into you.
“Ready baby?”Harry asks softly to you, bringing his other hand down to tug at his stiff cock a bit.
“Please Harry!” You huff impatiently, needing him to push into you. Prompted by your urgent response, Harry moves in closer to you, lining his cock up with your damp entrance and beginning to push into your cunt. “Oh my- fuck” You breathe out, feeling his cock stretching your walls to fit his cock inside.
“So fucking tight” Harry grunts lowly, feeling himself being engulfed by your warmth. After about a week of not being inside you, this was absolute heaven. After continuing to push his cock as deep into you as possible, Harry gives you about a second or two to adjust before he’s quickly moving his hips back and forth into you. The way he rocked his hips into you was unmatched. He continuously pushed his cock into you again and again as you tired to keep your moans at bay. You were digging your nails into Harry’s wrist and biting into your lower lip as you took him all the way inside. You weren’t the only one who was fully immersed in the pleasure while trying their hardest not to moan out loud, Harry too was struggling. He could almost guarantee that your walls were lined in the softest and smoothest velvet. Nothing could top the feeling of your walls against his cock. You were squeezing him and whining about how good it felt while he did the same above you.
As he continued to pound into you, Harry could feel his release bubbling up inside of him. He was beginning to feel tingles all over his body and he could feel a warm tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach. To pull you closer to the edge with him, Harry extends his thumb out to circle it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. When he does this, you feel the sensations traveling through your body and you can feel your release nearing. When you begin to lift your hips a bit up into his thrusts along with clenching around him, Harry begins to go harder. He wanted to pound you both into your releases. And that he did. With only a few hard thrusts, Harry sends you both into the downward spiral of your releases. You both were shaking a little as you held back your moans as you two let go. Your walls were contacting heavily around Harry’s cock as you came and Harry was gushing into you as he let go. After riding the tidal waves of your releases, Harry lets go of your panties and lowers himself down onto your body that was lying on the counter, bringing his mouth down to smear a kiss onto yours. You don’t even hold back, you were a bit loopy from what just happened that you just went for it. Your lips and tongue languidly moved against his as the two of you continued to “cool down” after your releases. But as if it was right on time, you both hear a small voice calling out to your both for some assistance.
“At least we got a good round in.” Harry hums optimistically against your lips, giving you one last peck before lifting himself back up.
“Yeah, hopefully we can do it again sometime.” You joke, not even bothering to try and lift yourself up.
“Hopefully.” Harry whispers back with a smile as he slowly pulls his cock from you. “Now I’ll be right back to clean you up, alright?” Harry asks, bending down to pull his underwear and sweats back up.
“Mhm.” You reply simply.
“I love you.” Harry whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.
“Love you too.” You smile, continuing to lay back against the counter, hoping that you’d regain enough feeling to have yourself back to normal once Harry comes back.
Even though you and Harry were always horny and looked for ways to sneak away from your kids, neither of you could get enough of being together as a family 24/7.
Masterlist
#Harry Styles#harry styles smut#harry smut#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles one shot#harry styles one shots#harry styles blurb
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Question 2
I'm actually fine with a longer release date - it means more time for the artists and animators to make it as good as it can be, and also will prevent burnout or crunch, which in turn will increase the quality.
As for my hopes? I hope that they don't follow the manga too faithfully. They don't have to, so I'd like them to remove the unwilling marriage to Azuki from Louis' arc, and honestly just don't have romantic pairings at the end at all.
Just leave it open-ended and ambiguous as to who gets with who, so everyone can ship their favourites without people crying about how "it's not canon!"
Beyond that, just don't screw up Gosha's characterisation - sad grandpa who loves his grandson and tries to do right by him, and also reads to children at the library - and we'll be fine. Oh, and remove the whole "Legoshi rips out his fangs" bit, that was unnecessarily cruel.
I hope they tweak a bunch of stuff to make the story more satisfying, much like how Wolf's Rain's manga was messy, but the anime SLAPPED
I hope they don't cut Gosha out.
I agree the extra time could be good and leave lots of room for awesome animation/stories.
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as you wish | 3
your one true love was lost in a pirate accident five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)
pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader
warnings: fluff and angst (!!), reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, mentions of death, kidnapping, murder threats, mentions of monsters and fire, kissing, attempted murder, cursing
genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au
word count: 3.7k+
a/n: two more parts left eek (this is also kinda unedited; my apologies for any grammar mistakes :[ )
prev | next | m.list
“Looks like your darling Prince has caught up to us,” the masked man stated dryly, his arms crossed in obvious displeasure.
You furrowed your brows. “You’re not working for him?” you asked quickly.
He scoffed in response. “Why would I work for him,” he spat.
You rolled your eyes at his attitude, concern growing in your mind. You still had no idea who this man was, so going with him was a 50/50 chance of life or death, and you definitely knew that Prince Donghae would not be pleased if he got to you. The last thing you wanted was a repeat of your first night at the castle — it wasn’t unlikely that he would go further either.
However, you didn’t have much time to decide on or say something as the masked man harshly grabbed your arms and pulled you away. You sputtered as he practically dragged your body down the hill.
“What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice and body tired. “If it’s ransom, I promise that you can get it, no matter the amount.”
The man in black scoffed again. “And how much do you think you’re worth, your Highness? What are your words worth, the mere promise of a Princess?”
You sighed, your irritation growing with his stubbornness. “I was giving you a chance… It doesn’t matter where you take me, Prince Donghae is the greatest hunter in this kingdom. He will find you, and I can’t guarantee your fate for when he does.”
He laughed scornfully. “You think your dearest love, the Prince, will save you?” he questioned.
Your face screwed at his suggestion. “I never said that he was my dearest love and yes, he will save me, that I know.”
“You admit to me that you do not love your fiance?” the man asked you, shock evident in his tone.
“He knows I don’t love him,” you responded simply.
“Are not capable of love is what you mean,” he remarked snarkily.
His words stung and, outraged, you planted your feet on the ground above you and ripped yourself out of his grip. You looked at the masked man directly in the eyes, pain in your voice as you told him, “I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream.”
This man may have several physical similarities to Seokjin, but his words and attitude clearly showed otherwise. Perhaps your first impression based on his revealing attire was correct after all.
He was silent as you continued. “I know exactly who you are. Your cruelty revealed it all.” He remained silent as he simply looked at you.
“You’re the dread Pirate Joohyun; admit it!” you exclaimed, anger towards the man who killed the only man you ever truly loved overtaking you.
A mischievous smirk spread across the man’s face. “With pride,” he responded, causing you to breathe out in anger. “What can I do for you?” he asked teasingly.
“You can die slowly — burn and be fed to the sharks for all I care!” you answered, angry tears spilling down your face from his words.
He winced in faux pain. “Those words hurt, your Highness. What have I done to deserve such a cruel fate?”
You stepped closer to him, now staring him dead in the eyes. “You killed my love,” you said, your voice threateningly low.
The man faltered, and for a brief second you almost thought that he had remorse for you. “That’s possible. I’ve killed a lot of people,” he replied bluntly before immediately grabbing you again.
You scoffed, struggling against his strong arms as he dragged you further away.
“Who was this love of yours? Another prince? Was he ugly and rich like this one?” he remarked, contempt clear in his voice. You briefly wondered what exactly this man had against you and your fiance (who you don’t even like) before you responded.
“No,” you started, keeping your voice as level as possible as you reminisced about Seokjin. “A poor farm boy. Poor but perfect, with eyes like chocolate and the kindest soul I’ve ever met.” You stepped closer to the masked man, tears now slowly rolling down your face. “Your ship attacked, and we all know that you, dread Pirate Joohyun, don’t take any prisoners.”
He was slow to reply. “I can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word goes out that a pirate’s gone soft, people start to take risks and disobey you. Then it’s nothing but work and fighting from there,” he explained like a teacher would.
You breathed out in disbelief at his outward lack of contrition. “You mock my pain,” you spat.
“Life is pain, your Highness.” His grip on your arm tightened and his pace quickened. “Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.”
You didn’t get a chance to respond before he continued, “I think I remember your farm boy. That would have been what, two years ago?”
You remained silent, the past two days and sudden onslaught of this man’s harsh words and memories of Seokjin bringing tears to your eyes.
“Does that bother you to hear? To think about once again?” he persisted.
You ripped yourself out of his grip again and pushed his chest, sending him a few feet back. “Nothing you say now can upset me any more than you already have. My heart is used to harshness and disinterest.”
The masked man ignored your words and continued sharply, “He died well, that should please you. No bribe attempts or useless blubbering. He only said ‘Please. Please, I need to live.’ That’s what caught my memory. I asked him what was so important on this earth that he deserved to live for, and he said true love.” He paused to laugh bitterly. “Then he spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume he meant you. You should thank me for killing him before he found out who you truly are.”
“And who am I?” you countered, stepping closer to him in anger.
“Faithfulness, my lady. He mentioned your unwavering faithfulness,” he responded bitterly. “Now tell me, when you found out he died, did you get engaged to your prince that hour, or did you at least wait a week, out of respect for the dead?”
Your hands balled up by your sides. “Don’t mock me anymore! I died that day! You speak as if it was my choice!”
“Was it no-”
The masked man paused, and both of your heads turned towards the fields which he rushed you away from. There, Prince Donghae and his small army were making their way in your current direction.
Your eyes moved from the royal soldiers towards Seokjin towards the ravine that was lying below the hills on your right side; and with only a moment of thought, your hands moved up towards Seokjin’s chest.
“You too can die for all I care,” you said darkly before you pushed him down the hill.
You watched as he tumbled down the grassy hill, no emotions running through your tired body. It wasn’t until three words, three words which used to bring you great comfort and happiness, rang out, the voice behind them growing further and further away by the second.
“...As…you…wish…”
Your hand instantly flew to your mouth in horror. You were wrong - extremely wrong. “Oh my god, what have I done? My sweet Seokjin,” you whispered, your mind reeling at the sudden turn of events.
Without a second thought or consideration of the dangers ahead of you, you ran down the steep hill into the ravine. You barely made it a few meters before your foot got caught on a rock, sending you tumbling down the hill and into the ravine behind Seokjin.
You winced as you landed on the dirt, your body sore from the heavy impact.
“Can you move at all?” you heard Seokjin groan from a few feet away.
“Can I move?” you started, lifting your head up to look at him. His mask was off his face now, allowing you to perfectly see his beautiful face and know that it really was him. “Seokjin, you’re alive. I could fly if you asked me too.”
“Fly then.”
“You know I meant that figuratively, Jinnie,” you said with a sigh, a wave of relief crashing through you as you realized his sense of humor never changed even after all this time. “Oh, Seokjin,” you murmured, closing your eyes and laying your head down on the ground again.
The leaves and stones crunched beneath him as he stood up and walked towards you. “I told you that I would always come back to you,” he said, leaning down to gently caress your face before lifting you to your feet. You opened your eyes and looked up to meet his eyes, your hand instinctively reaching for his. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked softly.
You felt a knot in your chest as you answered. “You were dead. And I had no choice in following Prince Donghae’s orders of becoming his Princess if I wanted to live.”
He let go of your hand, much to your initial dismay, and moved it up to gently cup your cheek. “You should have had more faith in me. Death can’t stop true love, it can delay it at most,” he spoke earnestly.
You nodded, eyes glazing over as you said, “I’ll never doubt again.”
“You will never need to doubt,” Seokjin replied before he leaned down and closed the distance between your lips. His plump lips were slightly chapped yet still maintained their soft quality. You melted in the familiarity of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip and the way he pulled away only for a few seconds just to kiss you again. His large hands rested gently on your face before moving to your lower back and the back of your head as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled away. Breathless, you both took a few seconds to catch your breath.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for the past two years,” Seokjin admitted with a laugh as he massaged your hands lovingly.
“If you’d taken that mask off earlier we could’ve done that at least 20 hours ago.” You laughed.
Seokjin opened his mouth, ready to reply before an echo of a horse’s whine rang through the gorge. You and Seokjin looked up and saw the man whose appearance you’d been dreading this past journey. Prince Donghae had dismounted from his horse and was looking down into the gorge, an unrecognizable expression on his face.
Your breath caught in your throat. “Do you think… he can see us?” you whispered to Seokjin.
He shook his head. “Unlikely. Even if he does, he’s too late. There’s no way they can get around this gorge in less than at least three days.”
Seokjin’s confidence reassured you, although a small feeling of reassurance still gnawed at your stomach. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and gave you a kind smile. “I’m positive, my love. Even if he did, I would not let him take you from me again — I would rather die than let that happen.”
You sighed and shook your head. “Still dramatic, aren’t you?” you asked with a teasing smile.
He scoffed in offense. “It’s true! I really would!”
“I’ll take your word for it, Jin,” you said lightly.
He grinned and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your cheek. A blush spread across your face as he grabbed your hand and gently tugged you forward. “C’mon, let’s go.”
“How do you know where to go?” you asked curiously, examining the dense forest ahead of you.
“Do you think I’ve just been lazing around the past two years?” He reached his arm towards his back and unsheathed his sword, the silver barely shining in the low light that barely peeked into the gorge. “I’m not the same farm boy that I once was.”
“And what happened these past two years, Seokjin?” you asked as you followed him while he skillfully led you through the thick trees.
He sliced through a natural wall of tiny branches, a sharp slicing noise filling your ears. “Would you like the short story or the long story?”
You took his hand as you hopped over the pile of dead branches and leaves. “Well, I’m assuming that we have at least two or three to go through whatever this place is, so I suppose that you have time to tell the long story?”
“You’re absolutely correct,” he said cheekily, using his sword to cut through a wall of vines that hung from the trees. “Before I start, I would like to hear about you.”
You jumped as you heard a loud chirp from within the forest, instinctively moving closer to Seokjin, who moved his hand so he could wrap his arm securely around you. “What about me?” you asked, your voice still shaky in mild fear from the unexpected noise.
“You know what I mean, Y/N.” He took a deep breath as you sliced through another wall of built up branches. “How did you end up as Princess, engaged and to be married to Prince Donghae? What happened?”
“Not too long after you left us, father died—”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupted you, a sorrowful look on his face.
“It’s ok, I’ve already made my peace with his death.” You smiled at him gently before you continued. “Not too long after, news spread of the King’s deteriorating health and the subsequent search for a Princess since Prince Donghae was yet to court anyone. Prince Donghae began searching throughout the Kingdom for any princess he deemed suitable, and honestly I expected the search to end in the inner Kingdom with a wealthy daughter of the court.
But I guess none of them satisfied him, and one day he was in our village. All potential ladies were gathered together in the Church - trust me I wouldn’t have been there if I wasn’t forced - and subject to his scruitany. Prince Donghae examined each lady, sparing some only a quick glance and other a brief exchange in words,” you paused to laugh bitterly, old feelings of resentment awakening. “I suppose that’s how I sealed my poor fate.”
“Something about me must have caught his attention, and he tried to start a conversation with me. Like a fool, I thought I could get away with ignoring him.” You paused to breathe in deeply, the memory of that day bringing in a familiar feeling of deep regret. “And showing him I wasn’t interested. Evidently, my silence spurned his curiosity, and as of that evening, the search for the to-be Princess ended.”
“I’m sorry for assuming you left me on your own will,” Seokjin apologized with a pitiful expression. By now your walking pace had decreased to a leisurely stroll as he guided you through the dense trees. “I hope that life as a Princess has at least treated you well.”
“Treated me well?” You laughed indignantly. “While I may have not had to worry about finances and a sudan surplus of materialistic items, life in the palace has been everything but welcoming,” you began to rant. Seokjin, while trying to contain his anger, listened thoughtfully as you continued. “I don’t belong. They never fail to remind me of that very fact every single day.”
“Who’s they?”
“The royal court, the administrators — hell even Prince Donghae sometimes! I hear the whispers whenever I enter a room: the mutters of ‘why is the poor village girl still here?’ and ‘how could such a lowly maiden be the Princess?’ and more. It takes all my willpower to not scream at them and tell them that I didn’t want to be there in the first place. Prince Donghae chose me but I never chose him or this life.
Every moment of the day I’m surrounded by people and guards who monitor my every action. They wait by my chamber rooms, by the drawing room, by the garden, and by every single room I could ever be in. Anything suspicious or out-of-line is reported to the Queen, who hates that I wasn’t born into wealth or royalty. But out of everyone, Prince Donghae is the worst,” you muttered darkly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you averted your gaze to the dirt floor.
“Why? What has he done to you?” Seokjin rushed, red hot anger spreading across his body.
You laughed bitterly. “All the sentiments that everyone in the Palace shares about me, he hears and feels them. He knows how I’m constantly ridiculed by the court and his own mother, yet he says nothing to them or of them. He uses me like a toy; he forces jewels and fine dresses onto me as his partner at formal events but throws me to the side when I’m not needed. There is not an ounce of love or affection between us. And heaven forbid I ever talk back or defend myself, because if I do… I’ll regret it.” Your hand unconsciously reached up to your neck, fingers touching the same spots Donghae’s were.
Seokjin seemed to understand what your sudden change in hand placement meant and his grip on his sword tightened. “That bastard touched you? He hurt you?”
You nodded. “But all physical injuries pale in comparison to the emotional blows I’ve faced. Like all things, though, I’ve grown uncaring. Their words won’t stop, that much I know, and for a long time I felt hopeless and knew that there was little - or nothing at all - I could do to change my fate. For many months, I just relished in the fact that I wasn’t dead.”
“If I had known that he was hurting you, I would’ve done everything I could to come back sooner.”
You looked up at him, and Seokjin’s heart ached at the vulnerability of your body language. You kept your voice soft as you asked, “What were you doing the past two years, Seokjin? How did you survive the attack?”
He sighed and slightly increased your walking pace as you entered a clearer path. “I first ought to explain that the dread Pirate Joohyun isn’t really Joohyun,” he paused to chuckle at your bewildered expression before continuing. “The real Pirate Joohyun has been retired twenty years now after securing enough gold and jewels to last his family three lifetimes. The rest of us have been under the mere illusion of a name… When my ship was attacked that night, I pleaded just like I told you did. The then-Joohyun, named Sihyuk, pitied me and welcomed me onto his ship.
I was a simple crewmate for a few weeks. It wasn’t seamless, of course. Every night, Sihyuk would tell me that he might kill me the next morning, but he never did. Before I realized it, he started training me in all skills a pirate should have: sword fighting, strength, balance, combat, everything. After a short few months, he told me everything about his true identity and the others before him and his plans to hand the title of ‘Pirate Joohyun’ to me.
I accepted, obviously, and the next day, we stopped at a port in Europe and got a new crew. When we set sail again, I was the Captain and Sihyuk called me ‘Joohyun’ until everyone believed that I was truly Joohyun. Then Sihyuk retired from pirating forever, and during the months between then and now, I fulfilled my duties as the Pirate Joohyun.”
You nodded, absorbing his story. It seemed like both of you had a rather unconventional past two years. “Did you ever go back? Back to our village?” you wondered aloud.
He nodded sadly. “I did once a few months ago. I left disappointed when the bakery lady told me that you had moved to the castle as the new Princess.”
“I’m so -”
“No.” Seokjin shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he stated firmly. “You did not deserve what you’ve been through, and my words were unwarranted. I did not know your side of the story and I thought harshly of you because of that.”
“It’s ok, Seokjin. I understand the pain you must have felt,” you whispered, your heart twinging at the thought of Seokjin leaving your tiny village, undoubtedly heartbroken and furious, under the impression that you no longer loved him and moved on with a rich Prince.
He paused in his steps and turned so you were directly facing him. His arms wrapped around you gently and you followed his movements. “I promise you, Y/N. You will never have to see Donghae or step foot into that castle again,” he whispered as he clutched you to his chest. You breathed in his familiar scent and tightened your arms around him. Seokjin’s hugs were just as comforting as before - if not more - and you basked in the way one of his hands rubbed circles in your lower back while the other slowly inched its way up to the back of your head.
You lifted your head up and met his eyes before you leaned in to press your lips against his. Your lips molded together perfectly, and you both rejoiced in the perfect feeling of electricity coursing through your veins and heat spreading across your chest as your mouths moved, magnificently in sync.
After your kiss, you and Seokjin continued through the forest. Seokjin, just as he mentioned, led you through expertly. You watched in amazement as he weaved you through every trap and navigated the unclear forest paths. Even when faced with unexpected monsters, Seokjin maintained his cool and swiftly killed them as if it was second nature.
(Although, he did complain about getting blood on his brand new top and singing the bottom of his pants when he nearly missed a fire trap).
The next few hours passed wonderfully with Seokjin and his comedic commentary, and you imagine that the journey would have been miserable with anyone else. When he announced that you were almost at the end of the gorge’s forest, you felt a ray of hope shine within you. Perhaps this would be the moment you’d dreamt of for the past two years. Maybe this was your second chance at life with Jin. Your excitement grew as you walked towards the visible clearing ahead, eager to leave the gorge with Jin at your side.
But of course, the prospect of being able to flee with Seokjin was too good to be true. You were right in your words before after all — Prince Donghae had found you.
#kim seokjin#seokjin#bts seokjin#seokjin imagine#seokjin x reader#seokjin fanfic#kim seokjin x reader#kim seokjin fanfic#bts fanfic#bts x reader#seokjin fluff#seokjin angst#bts fluff#bts angst#seokjin smut#bts smut
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Hi! Can I please request a Demetri x mate!fem!reader where he finds her (when she’s still human) severely injured, and he can sense she’s his mate, and decides to immediately turn her because he doesn’t want to lose her (I’m sure he wouldn’t take the chance of taking her to the hospital) and when she wakes up, she’s in the Volturi castle. I’m sure it’d be really shocking for her because she didn’t know about the vampires (she thought they were fiction), and now she’s a vampire and has a mate,Demetri. He would be so sweet when he’s helping her adjust!! Ooo what if she woke up as a vampire near Christmas time,and she’s really sad because she was going to spend Christmas with family, but now she’s a vampire, so she can’t, so Dem finds out everything he can about this “human custom” (I feel like he’d call Christmas this lol), and he sets up their room all Christmas like and gets her presents, mistletoe 😘, a tree, etc, and ahhh he would be so sweet, if she could cry, she’d be bawling omg... Also she would so somehow convince him to wear matching Christmas pajamas... And then Felix would walk in to see this LOL
This Thing You Call Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, violence and trauma.
Words: 5391
Summary: When a wrong turn down a dreary alleyway spells disaster for the reader, she finds that Chrismas miracles come in all forms. (I swear despite the warning tags there are some fluffy bits in this.)
It wasn’t really clear to you what had happened for several moments after the event. One moment you had simply been jogging to reach the end of an alleyway that had creepier vibes than an abandoned psychiatric ward, and the next you were…hot. Too hot. Just for a moment. So hot in fact you could feel how cool the breeze was on your skin. Everything in that one brief moment was so heightened and yet so confusing, your blood roaring in your ears and your mouth spouting protest after protest with some not so lady-like words at the man that had shoved you against the wall.
Then an explosion of pain in your side had ricocheted through each and everyone one of your ribs, bursting outward like a small, red hot explosion, the lava leaking out and soaking your shirt, your hip bone. It wasn’t until you looked down and saw the knife embedded in your gut that you understood what had happened. In that brief, infinitesimal moment, the world just stopped. Your jaw dropped, disbelief flooding your system as your eyes met your attackers. He was a scrawny little boy, dirt smudged on his face and clothes utterly ruined, homeless most likely and in desperate enough need of cash he’d stuck you with whatever he could find to get it.
“Please…take the bag just don’t pull out the-“
“Shit!” he swore, yanking the knife free of your abdomen to cut through the leather of your bag handle and steal it away. You cried out, knees giving way beneath you the moment he let you go. Just like that, he’d drastically reduced your chances of escaping this alleyway alive. The ground was cold and wet beneath your knees, typical British weather not on your side to make anything better in this shitty scenario.
“Fuck…f-fuck,” you whimpered, hand pressed to your side as you rapidly lost blood, “H-help! Someone help me! Help me please!” you called out. The wound in your side throbbed, a fiery kind of ache that radiated outward from the focal point and shot through every nerve ending your body possessed purely to torment you as you tried to stand up straight. Blood was seeping through the gaps in your fingers, your shirt soaked with it as you collapsed sideways into the wall. Gritting your teeth, you used your other arm to try and lever yourself up, hobbling forward a few steps. Every step was agony and you could feel the colour draining form your face, your heart beating hard in your chest as adrenaline pounded through your veins.
No matter how loud you cried out nobody seemed to hear your desperation. No matter how many steps you took the mouth of the alleyway seemed to get further away, or maybe it was your vision starting to tunnel, who knew? Your legs gave out and you hit the floor hard, face crunching into the cement and nose shattering upon impact. More blood burst over your face, hot and fresh, and your vision began to blacken at the edges. Gasping for air, tears stung your eyes. This was not how your life was supposed to end. You were young, only 22, you had so much to live for yet that you hadn’t been able to achieve or see or do. Bleeding out in an alleyway because of a mugging gone wrong? Not your idea of a good way to go out. Christmas was just around the corner, you were supposed to go back home and spend it with family, instead they would have to come to London and peer inside a body bag to identify their daughter.
After that, time became a blur. You had no way of honestly telling what happened next, the world going dark as you descended further and further into the pits of hell. It had to be hell, didn’t it? That was where the pits of flame swallowed you whole to torture you for eternity, right? You hadn’t stopped burning since you closed your eyes, a red hot poker too big for your veins being forced through them at an agonisingly slow speed, splitting nerve endings and peeling away your flesh inch by inch. The screams in your own head were deafening and you were sure the devil must have enjoyed watching you writhe on his table. The raging inferno just didn’t go away either. You weren’t sure what was worse, the intensity of the burn or the fact you actually started to get used to it.
That relief was never going to last, not when the devil liked to torture his victims. The fire began receding from extremities first, the tips of your fingers going blissfully cool, tingling with numbness as the flames dissipated and feeling began to return. It was like being submerged in cold water and you welcomed the blissful feeling, but even that was accompanied by a worse kind of pine, a searing, blistering agony in your chest that was eating away at your rabbiting heart. It was gone as quickly as it came, and for a second you forgot how to breathe, the air stolen from your lungs at the sudden, intense relief. No more fire, no more burning. With a sigh you finally unscrewed your eyes, or at least, it felt like you had kept them clenched shut for a thousand years at that point. There was no ache in your jaw though you were sure you had screamed, no pain in your body lingering from the torment it had gone through.
The only problem was how sensitive you felt. After burning for so long your body was reacting to everything, senses heightened to the point the world seemed surreal. The air was ripe with a thousand smells, your tongue tingling with the taste of each one and your eyes were so laser-focused on everything all at once it was difficult to focus on any one thing. Beneath your fingers you could feel every strand of cotton that made up the dark sheets you were lying on. Where even were you? This was…it wasn’t a hospital bed, too plush and the colours to deep for the neutral tones of a sickroom. There was expensive looking wooden furniture with rich, dark tones and photographs and a fireplace made of stone.
“It is a relief to see you awake.”
One moment you were relishing in the softness of sheets and sinking into a heavenly mattress, and the next you were flat against the wall across from you, your spine crunching through the stone even though it should have been the other way around. Your wide eyes looked down at the chunks of stone near your feet, the dust settling on your shoulders, and then you tried to estimate the distance between you and the bed. It was easily four meters. How had you crossed four meters in such a short time span? Don’t even start on your posture right now. Since when did you crouch and bare your teeth at people like that? It was like a deep, animalistic urge had taken over, your senses still screaming danger as you tried to take in all the new information, the new man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the sharpest jawline you had ever seen on a man. The crystalline quality of his skin was equally as distracting, it was almost pearlescent he was so pale, and it distracted you just long enough that you didn’t notice the redness of his irises till after you had already become fascinated with starring at him. Chestnut brown hair looked soft enough to run your fingers through, golden strands interwoven and reflecting the minimal light coming in from the window. He wore a suit, the very definition of elegance as he sat back in a leather armchair and watched you carefully, like he was a talent-show judge maybe trying to decide if you were worth his time.
“Who are – oh.” You blinked, pulled out of your defensive stance by the sound of your voice. It was you but it…wasn’t. How could you sound so soprano sweet? It was almost like you had swallowed sugar and it was now sprinkled throughout your words. His head tilted, a smile pulling at full, pink lips to reveal the briefest flash of pearl white teeth.
“A man who means you no harm, I assure you. There are a lot of changes you need to be made aware of, things I do not expect you to fully believe right away but need you to know are true. Will you give me the time to explain once we have gotten you fed?” he asked. Fed? You wanted to ask what he meant because you weren’t honestly all that hungry, but his words reignited the fire in your body. Your throat was absolutely parched, ripping itself apart for any sort of relief. With a gasp you doubled over, hand flying to your throat like you might just be able to rip the pain out.
“I – w-what d-did you – gah!” you rasped. A large, warm hand found your shoulder, and though the touch of a stranger should have felt foreign and wrong it was relieving, soothing.
“You will focus much better once you have fed. Wait right here, I promise you it will be over soon.” He reassured you with a gentle rubbing motion on your shoulder. You weren’t too sure you could have moved even if you wanted to, your mind going haywire as the intense fire burned brighter, blazing through your throat. Water, you needed water. Stumbling towards the bright white porcelain of a bathroom, you threw the door open wider and gasped when the wood shattered against the tiles. It was difficult to think beyond the burning in your throat though as you forced the tap to turn on, trying to gulp down water in the hopes it might soothe your throat some. Gallons must have washed down your throat by the time the handsome stranger returned, and what came next was…a blur.
Everything was euphoric, and hazy, a fog slowly lifting from your mind. The sound of dripping water leaked into your consciousness, your nose smelling something incredibly rich and sweet that made your throat ache – the burn was thankfully gone. Though your ears and nose seemed to be working your eyes were not. All you could see was red, dark crimson coating the walls and, if your reflection was to be believed, you. It dripped from your chin, coating your lips a ruby red and staining the pretty black dress you had been wearing in large swatches. The handsome stranger was stood in the doorway, watching you with a hint of amusement in his irises. It took you a fraction of a second to understand where the red drenching had come from. A woman who might once have been pretty lay in your arms limp as a ragdoll, drained of all colour with her throat ripped out and trailing along her collarbone.
Her blood was quite literally on your hands.
With a gasp, you dropped her shattered body and almost slipped on the water blanketing the floor, your body righting itself at unnatural speed. You twisted, the horror on your face obvious as a sob ripped its way free of your chest, hands flying up to your mouth as a flurry of terror and guilt and horror washed through you. The tap had been warped, your fingerprints indented into the metal and the top twisted off. Water had flooded the entire bathroom, and as your panic grew more intense your eyes stung as though you wanted to cry, but no tears would come. You could barely breathe, yet you couldn’t feel your heart rabbiting in your chest as you knew it should. The tile shattered beneath your knees as you fell, not a scratch on you as you spotted the second body over the tips of your fingers. Splinters of wood had been soaked by the overflowing tap, the door almost as broken as the bodies at your knees.
“No. N- no, what happened to me?” you cried out, chest heaving as you buried your head in your hands. Within seconds you were enveloped by strong arms, a warm body moving in behind you until you were cradled close, shielded from the damage around you.
“Shhhh sh sh sh, everything is fine cara mia, you did well,” the smooth whisper was like the voice of the devil tempting you to sin further, “This is normal for our kind, this is how we survive, you have done no wrong.” He promised, whispering quiet reassurances while you struggled to calm. Whoever this man was, you should have been afraid of him. He had somehow made you blackout and murder two people, you’d cannibalised them actually, and whatever else he had done to you you were now abnormally strong to. He had made you into some sort of monster, and yet…
“Wh-why?” you sniffled. Why had this happened to you? Why had these two unfortunate souls had to die? Why had you burned so badly for so long? There was lots of questions and so little time to ask them, so many answers you weren’t actually sure you wanted. He was stroking your hair now, his embrace feeling safe and warm; while you were in his arms, you could almost forget about the scene surrounding you.
“Forgive me, I know this is overwhelming, but I could think of no other way to save you. I had to change you my love.” He whispered. Your sobbing had died to sniffles now, and you lifted your head to look up at him, feeling lost and desperate for anything that might make sense. It was all so confusing and the only thing grounding you right now was him, because you could just sense that he was the same as you, only he was much more sure of what he was and his place in the world.
“Change?”
“Yes, change. I had to change you from human, to vampire. The burning you felt was my venom. Please understand I had no choice,” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, eyes scrutinising your face. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk some more, yes?” The word vampire was ricocheting around your brain, your body moving whichever way he wanted to lead it. It was like you had blacked out again, suddenly standing in a much cleaner bathroom as the handsome stranger turned knobs to adjust water that came tumbling out of a luxurious looking waterfall spout above your head. You blinked, shocked to realise that despite not paying attention you could distinctly recall the way he had carefully moved you from room to room with the promise of a hot shower and fresh clothes.
For his part, Demetri was incredibly worried about you. At first he had simply feared his venom wouldn’t take, that he was too late when he found you that awful night, surrounded by your blood and struggling to use the last of the air in your lungs. He’d been attracted by the smell of your blood, not having smelt something quite that strong and alluring in a while. He thought it was his lucky day, a bloodsinger perhaps, but he found you instead, broken and abused, twitching in a pool of crimson – the scent was strong because so much of it had spilled onto the concrete.
Demetri had known from the moment he saw you that you were meant to be his, everything about you screaming to every instinct he had. Your scent teased his nose as one of the best he’d ever come across, your tenor irresistibly bright and warm, the curves of your broken body looking like they were physically molded for his hands to hold. He had never turned anyone before, but it was really the only option he had once he realised he couldn’t rouse you to so much as ask your name. His next worry had been trying to stop. Once his teeth had sunk into your flesh and the sublime taste of you hit his tongue it had been a race against time to hold his position long enough so enough venom could infiltrate your system, all while not draining anymore of the precious little blood you had left. He had almost lost it when he tried to seal your stab wound with his tongue.
You had taken four, agonisingly long days to open those vivid red eyes. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything else, so distracted that Aro had been forced to give him time off so he could sit by your side – and do a bit of hunting on your behalf. Now you were nearly comatose in Felix’s shower, his best friend busy cleaning up his bathroom as best he could so you wouldn’t return to that horror scene. Demetri had known you would be shocked, that it would be a lot to adjust to, you had been ripped from a safe world where monsters like him didn’t exist after all, forced to become one yourself without consent. How was he supposed to explain it all to you? How did he even begin to make you understand the bond that was set between you? You had calmed so quickly in his embrace, a sure sign you felt it to.
“Vampires aren’t real. I know they’re not, but the things I did…you can’t even tell I was stabbed. It shouldn’t be possible, none of it should be.” Your voice was as soft and melodic as windchimes, an addicting song he could listen to on repeat for hours. Demetri had sat as a silent sentry on Felix’s bed, listening for any sign you might be distressed again so he could swoop in and save you. Every little sob had torn at his heart, his arms aching to hold you until it all went away. He gave you a slow nod, patting the space beside him in a silent invitation, one he was glad you accepted. Your scent was unique, comforting, intoxicating. From the moment you sat beside him, it was all he could focus on.
“We are very real love. You are faster and stronger in this body, your senses keener. My venom has immortalised you as you are, unchanging from this day for the rest of eternity.” He informed you, his voice soft so as not to startle you. Newborns were unpredictable, driven by animalistic instinct. Vibrantly red eyes stared back at his for a brief moment before your gaze dipped to your hands. You were wearing one of his shirts, the premium cotton almost swamping you and landing at mid-thigh. The sleeves had covered your hands, and he moved to kneel in front of you to roll them up.
“Your venom?” you asked, eyes watching his every move. Demetri nodded.
“Yes, you have venom to. It coats our teeth to immobilise our prey, and our joints to allow us to move faster than anything else on earth.” He answered honestly. A slow exhale was the only response he got from you as he carefully brushed his fingertips against your arm, desperate for even the smallest amount of contact with you. Every time he touched you he felt his nerve-endings sing with relief, like he had been suffering for a thousand years without ever knowing he was till he had found you.
“So…vampires are fast…and strong.” You mumbled, pulling your hands back subconsciously. Demetri nodded, moving back to sit beside you.
“Some of us are gifted also. I, for example, can track anyone anywhere in the world. There is much to learn still, try not to overwhelm yourself learning it all in one go,” he advised, head tilting slightly, “Since I am answering so many of your questions perhaps you can answer one of mine?” You looked somewhat bewildered, as if you hadn’t actually considered he might have things he wanted to know to.
“Like what?” you sounded cautious and Demetri couldn’t help but laugh.
“Nothing too sinister I promise, but I was hoping I might learn your name.” he hinted. He was sure you would be blushing if you could, but you turned your body towards him and held out a hand anyway.
“Y/N, Y/N L/N.” your hand was small in his own, delicate, and yet when you gripped you gripped too tight. He winced slightly as the skin cracked and you withdrew immediately, looking horrified by what you’d done. Demetri cradled his broken hand to him with a light laugh.
“My apologies, I should have known better than to ask a newborn to shake my hand,” he dismissed it with ease even as the skin stung and knitted itself back together, “I am Demetri, Demetri Volturi. Welcome to our coven, tesoro.” You swallowed, looking nervous again.
“When can I go home? I…you’ve been really kind but I have to get back, my parents, they’re expecting me to come for Christmas.” Your teeth worried your lower lip and his heart ached a little, knowing you wouldn’t like the news he had to give you.
“Given the damage you have unwittingly caused today, would you think it wise of me to let you return home?” he asked gently. He watched your breathing pick up slightly, your expression twisting into disappointment and upset.
“But it’s Christmas, I have to get back, I always go home for Christmas.” You insisted, voice wavering. Christmas? Demetri couldn’t honestly comprehend what was so important about it that you had to go back for it every year. It was a time of year for human greed to rear its ugly head and nothing else, wasn’t it? He couldn’t very well say that to you, however.
“It will not be possible anymore Y/N. Please understand, to the rest of the world vampires do not exist for good reason, we remain hidden, from this moment forth, you no longer exist either, not as you used to.” He wished he’d never said anything when you began to cry once more, and even though he was sure part of you was angry at him for doing this to you, you still curled into his side to accept the comfort he offered. The days that followed were some of the strangest of his life, his mate so near and yet so far. He understood that everything was overwhelming, not at all what you were used to, but you were much shyer and more withdrawn than he had expected. There was little he could do to coax you out of your shell except give you time, though his saving grace was you seemed willing to be in his presence more so than anyone else’s.
It was a pattern he found he rather liked. You came to him when you had questions you wanted answers for, and curious little thing that you were you had lots of them to; only he was ever allowed to get close enough to touch you, and only he got to be near when you fed, you still needing the guidance and his grounding influence to move past the initial guilt till it was almost negligible. Once, when Felix had tried to hand you some spare clothes’ he had collected rather thoughtfully from town for you, he had accidentally brushed your hand with his own and you had flinched straight into Demetri, like you subconsciously were seeking his protection. Another time (he wasn’t quite sure you had known you were doing it) but one night, as he trawled the internet for more information on Christmas traditions in Britain on his tablet, you had simply been watching the flames dance in the hearth beside him when you scooted a little closer and rested your head on his shoulder. His hand had reached for your own and you hadn’t hesitated to slip your fingers between his own, squeezing lightly.
His favourite memory by far had to be the day you found out you glowed. At first you’d been utterly startled, flitting past his window so fast to show him something you hadn’t fully seen anything, but the glimpse of glitter was enough to slow you down, leaving you looking bewildered as you struggled to see exactly what had happened. With a chuckle, he’d pulled you back towards the window, keeping your hand in his and gently rolling up the sleeve of your jumper before slowly moving your arm into the light. The awe on your face was an expression he wouldn’t soon forget, wide red eyes looking between him and the diamonds encrusted in your skin before a laugh so sweet it could have been a baby’s coo rent the air.
“We sparkle?”
“We do. You are as precious as any rare gem love, the proof is in your skin.”
You had tilted your head just enough that he could have kissed you, if you’d both so desired it in that moment, but you’d barely known him a week and it didn’t seem appropriate. He’d let you pull away from him, averting your gaze in that shy way you had that he found so endearing. He wouldn’t let you pull away next time.
“Demetri? Where can I put this?” Felix brought him out of his reverie, and he turned his head from the fireplace to see what exactly he was holding. He had ordered a lot of things after all. His tree was currently a little lopsided, lacking ornaments on the right-hand side, so he hoped it was another box of baubles. You were currently in the training room with Alec and Jane, the twins agreeing to distract you while he set up his room with everything he had brought. He couldn’t do much about your general need to acclimate to the new life you had discovered, but he could soothe your grief by bringing Christmas to you, right?
It had taken him a few minutes to figure out how the stupid tree was supposed to go up and he was admittedly irritated with how many specks of glitter he could see in his carpet, but he figured it would all be worth it when everything was ready.
“Those are for the fireplace.” He informed the giant. Felix glanced about the place, much different to Demetri’s usual decoration. The Masters’ had been generous at first, giving you our own space to allow you to acclimate to your new senses in some peace and quiet, but since you were mated to him it was expected you would eventually share a room, and the Masters’ patience was running very thin. Demetri hoped you would accept the proposition soon given you spent most of your time in his room with him anyway. Felix knew better than to stick around, knowing he would get irritated by his friends fussing eventually. Demetri didn’t mind, he had a tree to trim after all, though it was quickly becoming more arduous by the minute as he tried to ensure a balance between tinsel and ornaments. With his speed, he had transformed his room in a little under two hours, and from the look on your face when you walked into the room it had well been worth it.
Your mouth parted, eyes alight with wonder and confusion, you took in an array of lights adorning the bookshelves, fireplace and tree. There was tinsel on almost every flat surface, and fake snowmen and santa’s sitting along a mantlepiece dripping with fake icicles.
“Metri…” you breathed. He hoped your lack of words was a good sign. Hesitant steps carried you about the room, your fingertips dancing over the ornaments scattered about.
“Are they to your liking?” he asked. His eyes dipped to the package in your grip but you seemingly had forgotten it. Your eyes were sparkling as you turned to face him.
“I – these are – we…their perfect.” You whispered, voice raw with unshed emotion. Demetri watched you come closer towards him, meeting you halfway to prevent you from going any further with a smile. His eyes flickered upward to the white berries of mistletoe he’d carefully hung from the chandelier – his plan was in motion. Your eyes followed his gaze, breath hitching slightly. Demetri had never wanted to kiss anyone more than he did in that moment, you and your wide-eyed stare was too tempting, the soft glow of multicoloured lights illuminating the planes of your face making you as picture perfect as any hallmark Christmas movie character he had forced himself to watch.
“I tried to read up on some Christmas traditions for you. Most seem to be very subjective but I chose a few I knew I could bring to Volterra,” He murmured, “I admit, this was one of my favourites…I was rather hoping you would indulge me, love.” He placed his hand on your waist as gently as possible, hoping not to scare you away. Timid thing that you were, he wasn’t sure you would agree, but he wanted to give you plenty of chance to choose for yourself. You didn’t need to know that your decision here could make or break him, that he wasn’t just asking you for permission to kiss you. What he really wanted to know was whether or not you accepted him as your mate. You bit your lip, eyes flickering away briefly.
“Only if you indulge me to,” you bargained, pulling your package up between you pair. Demetri raised his eyebrows slightly, curious to know what was in the squishy looking plastic envelope. “I…I didn’t know you were going to do all this for me but I was going to ask that…well, you see my family always get matching pyjamas to spend Christmas Day in and I just…since we both are free on Christmas day…you don’t have to but-“
“I would be honoured, love,” Demetri cut you off, “There is little I would not do for you.” Your grip on your pyjama package tightened, your breathing a little shaky now and eyes filled with trepidation. Demetri searched your expression, looking for anything that might warrant some hope, but your deer in the headlights expression remained and he was truly uncertain as to where you stood.
“I don’t understand,” You admitted quietly, “I’m nothing special. I don’t understand why you did all of this for me.” Demetri sighed, absent-mindedly brushing your hair back from your face. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so bloody frustrating. Why couldn’t you see how much you meant to him? He made himself readily available to your every whim and desire, never rejected you when you sought physical comfort from him despite quite obviously denying it to everyone else. Had you truly not noticed and understood you were everything to him? He quite literally couldn’t live without you.
“Truthfully? I care little for the tinsel and lights and all of the frivolity this holiday gives humans an excuse for, but I care for your enjoyment of it. This is important to you, and if I have not made it abundantly clear by now you are important to me.” Demetri said, moving the package from your grip so he could take your hands and squeeze them lightly.
“But-“
“But nothing, Y/N. I have known since the day I was forced to change you there was only one person meant for me. I would rather endure the change for the rest of eternity, drown over and over in the deepest and darkest parts of the ocean, have the devil himself rip whatever is left of my soul in two, than spend a day without my mate,” He swore, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest, “It may not beat, but if you will accept it, this heart is yours and yours only.” A small squeak of surprise escaped you and you almost seemed to flounder for a moment, clearly shocked by the bold declaration. He had said nothing he didn’t know deep in his heart to be true, and surrounded by the glow of Christmas lights, nestled in his arms beneath the mistletoe, you answered him the only way you knew how.
So long as you kept up a tradition of kissing him like this, Demetri could get used to celebrating Christmas.
#twilight#twilight fanfiction#volturi#demetri volturi#demetri volturi x reader#felix volturi#you know he is helping his homeboy win you over#x reader#request#christmas
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Absence Makes the Heart
04/17/2020
Pairing: Superman x Reader Word Count: 5,431
Warnings: language, lots of language, violence, blood, wounds, injuries, plenty of angst
DCEU Canon
A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this one down for a while. It’s based on a dream I had but I just went and added details and a little bit of backstory. Nothing too crazy. This will probably just be a one shot. The top half is heavily edited while the second half I just spat out because I was inspired and I went with it. Hopefully it’s good. This is my first foray into something other than Marvel, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo
Edit: I forgot to thank @babiiface95 @evansweaters and @sherrybaby14 for giving me some feedback on this! It helped tons!! xoxo
It hurts.
Everything hurts.
In this moment, all you can feel is the pain in your side.
You stumble forward, hitting the chestnut wood of your door hard. With nothing to brace yourself on, you slide along the length of it until you’re sitting, shoulder pressed against it.
“Ugh…” You groan, letting your hand trace the smooth grain until it can latch onto the handle. “Fuck this shit. I quit.”
You tell no one.
There hasn’t been anyone for months.
The door gives as you twist the knob sending you falling onto the small foyer of your apartment. You’re on the top floor, beside the penthouse. Your own place is small. Compact. Just three rooms, four if you count your bathroom.
You pull yourself along the dated ceramic tile and watch as you leave a smear of red behind you.
“Honey…” You begin, kicking the door shut while you stay flattered against the floor. “…I’m home.”
No one responds.
You exhale through your nose as annoyance rips through your chest.
“Fucker.” You say at no one, but obviously someone.
It takes every ounce of strength you have left to haul yourself into your bathroom. You peel off your suit, letting it drop to the floor in a whip of heavy fabric, space quality tech that was not fashioned on Earth but created for you.
To protect you.
Because he said he cared.
“Fucking…fucker.” You huff, yanking the first aid kit from the open shelf beneath your sink.
Your sports bra is drenched in sweat and blood, sticky against your skin as you plop yourself at the small kitchen table. You pull open the kit and reach for needle and thread.
It’s a messy stitch, clumsy and crooked from the angle you’re forced to work in. However sloppy, you do seal the wound to your ribs and the bleeding finally stops.
In your blood-soaked underwear, you make yourself a sandwich and stand at your counter, staring at the primary blue coffee cup sitting beside your own in teal.
You chew loudly, smacking your mouth as the bread sticks to the roof of your mouth. Eyes glaring at the cup, you bite down more fiercely. Tearing the food apart angrily.
“You’re a stupid bitch, Y/N. Get over it.” You sigh, then retreat to your bathroom to tidy up.
~~~~~~~~~~
Exhaustion is not your friend. It makes you cranky and irritable and sad because you can’t stand the silence in your home.
You groan, pressing your hand against your side gently, then reach for the remote and turn on the TV to war the silence.
It’s a cacophony of sound and for a moment, it grates your nerves. Some cartoon, loud and full of slapstick.
Next channel has people screaming at each other from opposite sides of a stage. Chairs begin to get thrown. A guy with a mullet takes off his shoe and chucks it at a man with one ear.
Next channel has an old black and white movie. The pretty woman with dark curls and a heart shaped face leans across a table, chin in her hand as she moons over the composed man who is smirking at her casually.
Nope. You think. No romance.
Next channel is the news.
“-sure what to make of what we’re seeing. It’s like nothing we have witnessed before. Veronica, can you tell us what’s happening?” The news anchor presses his hand to his ear, eyes squinted as he stares ahead.
The screen shifts and Veronica—a pretty woman with flowing red hair and deep blue eyes fills your screen.
“Miguel, it looks as if all of the ocean’s water is being pulled away from our coastline and out towards the ocean. Where the water is going, we aren’t sure. There is no way to know what this means or what can be causing it. And although we’ve seen this phenomenon happen in films, doomsday blockbusters where a tidal wave the height of a skyscraper builds up before the subsequent flood, experts are sure this is not at all what’s going on.
There are dozens of meteorologists, marine biologists, oceanographers, and astronomers still searching for the cause. The only thing that they all can agree on for certain is that the oceans are not withdrawing, but rather, they are draining, leaving sea life, coral reefs, and the ocean floor exposed.
“Something is pulling this water away. Whatever is causing this, is not natural.”
Sitting up, you place your elbows on your knees as the video changes to that of a helicopter shot as it circles the ever-decreasing ocean line. A humpback whale and her calf attempt to outswim the retreat, but they fail and as the water falls away, the creatures are beached between two sheer ocean cliffs.
“What the hell…” Reaching up, you cover your mouth, watching as the video moves back to Veronica.
“If we can’t figure out why the ocean is draining, we will have hundreds if not thousands of species left without chance of survival. This is not only a loss of a life for many endangered species, but also leaves us to face the consequences within our fishing industries and the millions of people it not only feeds but employs as well. If we cannot stop-”
Veronica suddenly stops speaking, holding her hand to her ear as she listens for a moment.
“Sorry, Miguel, it looks as if Doctor Rashda has found a source point for the draining. Doctor Rashda can you hear me?” Veronica asks, waiting for a moment before the video splits vertically.
The second frame of video sits empty, a sloping sandbank visible in the distance. It curves around in a semi-circle at the center of which is a growing swirl of dark blue water.
“Doctor Rashda?” Veronica asks again, her eyes frantic as they search a monitor out of view.
“Surrender.” A voice says, high pitched. Female. “Surrender and you will not suffer. Surrender your planet, and I shall make your end quick.”
Veronica is silent as the column of swirling water parts a little, just enough so that a pale face is visible.
“Surrender.” The voice says again, the pale face’s lips moving as it speaks. “And you will die quickly.”
Frowning, you move to the edge of your seat, your anger doubling.
“M-Miguel are you seeing this?” Veronica asks, voice small with fear.
Miguel doesn’t answer.
The figure in the water holds out its hand and from the swirl comes a smaller sphere. In this sphere something moves. As the camera zooms in, you can make out the distinct shape of a body, thrashing within its bubble.
Veronica screams just as you and everyone else that must be watching realizes that within the bubble is Doctor Rashda, struggling and gasping for breath.
You’re up on your feet, racing to pull your suit back on when a commotion pulls your eyes back to the TV, legs already in but with one shoulder exposed as you freeze mid-dress.
“He’s back!” Veronica is shouting gleefully. Relief and reverence painting her voice. “Superman is back!”
You move two steps closer to the TV, not intending to take the word of a panicked reporter. Until you can lay your own eyes on him then it isn’t real.
A few seconds pass. Then, a blur of blue and red streaks through the center of the bubble and when the water stops rippling, Doctor Rashda isn’t there.
“Motherfucker.”
You pull your suit on roughly, ignoring the way the movement tugs at your side as you zip up and launch out your open window.
You fall fast, plummeting towards the ground in a streak of teal and gray. When you’re only three feet away, you feel a surge of power as your arms, and legs burn with white hot energy.
It pushes you upwards and propels you higher and higher until you’re soaring across the sky at incredible speeds, leaving a silver trail of light behind you.
It only takes you minutes to reach the coast but sometime between you jumping out of your living room window and arriving here by the Golden Gate, the fight has moved cityside.
You hear a deafening crunch as blue and red goes slamming into black, gray, and brown ocean floor, disappearing into the subsequent rubble.
Heart pounding, you propel yourself towards a thin figure, long stringy black hair, sallow skin, arm still stretched out from her hit. She turns to look at you just as you reach her, but you throw your own fist out in a powerful uppercut. It throws the strange woman high into the air.
You follow for a few feet, hovering in there as you watch her skyrocket out of sight into dark clouds overhead.
Behind you the heap of ocean floor rubble begins to shift.
Coming to rest on the cliffside above, six feet below he breaks through the rock and it falls around him, a flurry of fine sediment saturating the air.
Chest heaving, side burning, heart clenched so tight you think it might truly be shredding, you watch as the fucker stands up and does a quick scan of the area looking just as perfect as he did when he left.
His eyes are focused, searching the sky for sight of his attacker but instead he finds you.
His eyes soften and you’re still so angry you glare. You turn on your heel and walk away, staring up at the sky as you wait for the woman to fall.
“Y/N…” You hear him say, but you don’t turn to look at him.
You can feel the swirling of wind as he flies up to you, the soft pats as his feet hit the ground. He circles around your right, leaning forward to get a better look at your face.
In your peripherals you can see the gentle curl of his dark hair, falling along his forehead and a hundred memories of your hand gently sweeping it aside make your body tremble.
The pleasure that the memory brings makes your blood boil and you roll your eyes, ignoring the puppy eyes he gives you.
“Let’s just get this over and done with. I’m tired.” You assert and watch as the strange woman careens towards the two of you, an inhuman screech growing louder as she falls.
Moving forward a few steps you aim yourself, bend your knees and launch yourself up towards her. As you collide, she grabs hold of your shoulders, and the two of you twist and spin in the air, struggling to get the upper hand.
Shifting quickly, you pull her over you, grab hold of her shirt front and with all the force in your body, you spin and chuck her down as Clark flies towards you to finish the job.
~~~~~~~~~~
A tattered white dress is all that remains of the ocean thief.
“Who was she?” Clark wonders, moving to stand beside you as you watch the stain of saltwater grow as her body dissolves to nothing.
“You don’t know?” You ask him, turning to look at him and hating how much it pleases you to finally see him again.
His broad body, thick with muscle and stupidly accentuated by his damn blue skintight suit, feels larger than before he left though you know that’s silly. He’s as God like as ever, though he’s only an alien. To the world, he’s a savior. Invincible.
Superman.
What really hurts to look at are his eyes.
It chokes you, those baby blues, full of unspoken questions and expectation. For you. For the future. For the present. He wants to know you again.
You tear your gaze back down to the woman as Clark shakes his head.
“No. I was flying home when I saw the ocean empty and followed the trail to the spout she was in.” Clark explains.
“Well, it’s too late to find out now.” You point out. “The water will come back soon. You’ll need to make sure people stay away from the coastline.”
Turning towards him, you wait, your rage evened out and layered with betrayal.
That painful gaze of his so piercing it nearly steals your breath away.
“Where were you, Clark?” You ask quietly, your anger outweighing the hurt.
The apologetic look he gives you, the tilt of his head, the step he takes towards you grates your nerves.
“Y/N-”
“It’s been months. Almost a year.” You sigh, unwilling to give in.
He takes your hand and the impulse to pull away nearly overwhelms you.
His hands are rough, only in that masculine way. His skin is unblemished. Perfect.
The strength of his movements are carefully calculated. A natural habit he’s developed after a lifetime of having to be gentle to keep from breaking those he touches. The heat from his hands is familiar and it envelops yours easily.
“I was coming home.” He tells you.
“Home? How do you know that it’s still your home? Maybe someone else has moved in.” You threaten and there’s a visible fall in his eyes.
It nearly breaks your icy exterior. But you have every right to be angry and hurt that he left you. Out of the blue, no word as to where he was going or when he’d come back.
“I have to go.” He’d said, and left you sitting on the couch, wondering when he’d come home.
He looks down at your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.
“You went to see her first, didn’t you?” You accuse and he quickly meets your gaze.
“No.” He assures you passionately, moving a little closer. “No, I was going straight home.”
“She’s been looking for you.” You tell him, tempted to confess how useless you’d been in those first few weeks he was gone. “All of them have been. Where is Superman? Is the million-dollar question. And now here you are.”
He’s back just as randomly as he’d left. Just as sudden. Just as quiet.
“There he is!” A familiar voice shouts. On the bank across the large ravine you both stand in Veronica appears looking dazzled and excited, her camera man hoisting up his camera to begin what will be the first clear footage of Superman finally back. Earth’s hero returned.
Quickly you pull your hand from his and turn to walk away.
“Where are you going?” He asks, following for a few steps.
“Home. I’ve been in Australia for the last month dismantling a new crime syndicate with Bruce. He and I are both very tired. He stayed behind.”
“Oh.” Clark says.
“Superman!” Someone calls. “Superman is back!”
Civilians have begun to gather along the empty waterway, all of them eager for a glance at the Man of Steel.
You know how you made it sound and maybe it’s your annoyance making you push him away now that he’s home, but all you can think about is getting back home and being alone.
“The water will be back, Kal.” You shift to his birthname with so many ears nearby. “Get these people away.”
You leave him standing there, watching you fly away, with those baby blues full of quiet yearning.
~~~~~~~~~~
The apartment…your home…it’s a void.
You sit on the arm of your sofa still in full uniform, hand gently resting on your thigh—palm up. You’re a mess again. Dirty with blood and dirt and sweat.
Needing a shower doesn’t do much to deter your silly brooding. Silly because you did this to yourself. You made it seem like you had someone new waiting for you here when really the bleak emptiness is in need of a six-foot, three-inch tall Kryptonian.
His presence is here. Loud and white hot. His coffee cup burns you from across the kitchen—asking where its owner is. His drawer still full of clothes. Comfy sweatshirts and crisp white t-shirts. Blues and grays and reds too.
There’s one you’d set aside. The last he’d worn. Only once. It had sat on the end of your bed night after night until you’d caved and pulled it on. Now it probably smells more like you than him.
The place is silent. Only the drip, drip, drip of the bathroom sink breaks the quiet.
Your gaze wanders to his shoes by the door, shoelaces left undone, a small speck of mud on the side of the left heel.
Shutting them, your eyes water.
No. You shake your head. I won’t cry.
You take a shaky breath and release it slowly, sighing as your body slumps forward.
The movement reminds you of your earlier wound and you gasp in pain as you sit up straight again, leaning to the side to look at the spot growing increasingly wet on your side.
“Shit.” Stitches are probably torn open. “Fuck.”
Maybe it’s your frustration with this whole situation or maybe your wound really just hurts a lot, but as you reach over to feel the bloody spot, your voice finally breaks. Though there are no tears, they really want to fall.
“Fucking, stupid, fucking…” You sigh again, this time faster, angry.
“That’s a lot of French.” Clark says, his voice smooth and even and excruciatingly beautiful to your ears.
You stand up, startled, and spin to watch him pull his left leg in through your open window, following his torso.
He’s still in his suit, cape and all. Once again, the sight of him reminds you of his Godlike status. His perfection unreachable and yet, here he is. In your home. Where he’d given himself to you openly and without reservation.
He stands there, his hands clenched into nervous fists. Skin just as dirty as yours but not sweaty. Not bloody. His hair is a little disheveled. The tresses normally so carefully tempered are free to curl and wave.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, voice still weak from your raw emotional outburst.
“I went to see Bruce.” He explains, and you might just kick yourself for implying Bruce would be waiting for you. “Why-?”
“Because I wanted to hurt you.” You admit, cutting him off before he can word the question. “Because I wanted you to regret leaving me the way you did.”
“I do regret it.” He sighs. “I-I only left because I thought I heard…”
He hesitates and you’re tempted to kick him out. You turn away from him and move into the kitchen, trying to ignore the wound that needs tending.
With your own coffee cup in hand, you pop a k-cup in your Keurig and punch the power button, waiting for it to power on before you select the largest cup option and listen to the whirr of the motors instead of Clark’s silence.
“I went to Krypton, or what’s left of it.” Clark finally says, this time from the mouth of your kitchen archway, hands still clamped tight.
You shut your eyes tight, hands clinging to the edge of your counter. Squeezing ever tighter until they begin to ache, and you still only keep squeezing.
“I wish I could be as impressed by that answer as I was the first time you told me that.” You shake your head.
“It was different this time, Y/N.” He shakes his head, then takes a step closer.
The movement draws your eyes and you watch the intense focus on his face, the uncertainty to speak.
“What is it?” You ask, still a little bitter.
Even though he looks as if he means it and this trip to Krypton is more serious, he’s not speaking. He’s keeping this from you. Holding it back.
“Jesus fucking Christ Clark, I guess you don’t trust me.”
“No.” He insists, moving another step closer which still leaves him a ways away from you in the kitchen. “It’s not that. I do trust you. More than anyone. But…”
You want to scream at him. You want to tell him to go to hell and to stay away from you and to shove his excuses up his ass, but your curiosity is growing.
There’s a small panic in his baby blue eyes. A fear.
So, you wait. You hold your tongue. You’re patient for now. You give him a familiar silence that tells him you will wait until he’s ready.
He recognizes it and meets your quizzical gaze as your coffee finishes brewing.
You don’t even realize it’s done as you stare into Clark’s eyes and he stares into yours.
The moment he decides, his shoulders relax. His jaw drops a fraction of an inch as he stops clenching his teeth.
As the weight on his shoulders is visibly lifted, you feel yourself relax too. Nearly a year of being without him and you’re still so attuned to his moods.
“I found someone.” He tells you. “On another planet, in a Kryptonian ship that had been sent only days after my own.”
“Another Kryptonian?” You ask, curious but also fearful.
You remember very clearly the last Kyrptonian that had come to Earth. Zod and his minions had torn Metropolis to shreds. They’d killed so many people and Clark had made the hardest decision in his life.
Not that you’d been there. She’d been there. But Clark had let you in on the weight of that moment. The choice that he hated to make but would gladly do so again.
He must see the fear in your eyes because he shakes his head and takes yet another step towards you.
“No. Don’t be scared. Really. She’s-”
She?!
“-she’s harmless.” You frown at him because that’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s said since getting back. Maybe the stupidest thing ever.
“Okay,” He amends. “Maybe not harmless, exactly. She’s my cousin, Y/N. And she needed help.”
“Your cousin?” You ask, voice low and full of questions.
“From what I can tell, she was sent here after me, but when her ship was knocked off course, she was trapped in form of hypersleep for a long time. She was older than me, but now she’s a lot younger.” Clark continues to explain, speaking with some gusto now that you’ve allowed him to pick up some momentum.
“Where is she?” You wonder.
“I left her with a family that can take care of her. Someone that I trust. Far away from me. She’s still very young and I think it would be best if she remained hidden for a while. Just until she learns how to control her abilities here on Earth and to give the world time to get used to the idea of another Kryptonian.” He takes one more step.
“After Zod, I don’t know that there is any amount of time that would prepare the world for a Supergirl.” You frown.
With your defenses lowered, Clark takes the opportunity to step even closer, finally stopping beside you.
He hesitates again, this time as he reaches to take hold of your elbow. His fingers press against your arm gently like he’s stroking piano keys. Testing to see if you’ll pull away.
You don’t.
He lifts your arm a little and doesn’t break eye contact with you until your arm is lifted enough that he can get a clear look at the red on your side. Head tilted to the right as he assess the injury.
Straightening his head, he slides his hand down to your hand, taking it before gently pulling you away from the kitchen, through your bedroom, and into your bathroom, switching on lights as he goes.
Watching him be like this has always been your favorite. He moves with a purpose, eyes trained on what he’s looking for without a glance spared your way.
You stand beside him as he holds your hand, hunched over to look under the sink for your first aid kit.
After he retrieves it, he pulls you back out into the kitchen. There’s more room there for both your bodies, especially with his taking up so much space.
He places the kit on the floor before he pulls you in front of him. Both of his hands find your waist and he lifts you up onto the edge of the counter to sit.
Slightly surprised, you gasp and place your hands on his shoulders, tracing the muscle while you can do so discreetly until you must remove them and place them at your sides.
Clark steps towards you, his hard abdomen pressed up against your legs as he wraps both arms around you, hands searching for the zipper on your back. Leaning over your shoulder to get a look at it, he’s almost hugging you.
And you can’t stand the tease of it.
The movement is quick, and he leans back again once he’s got the suit undone.
“What happened?” He asks as he hooks his thumbs into the top of your suit and pulls it down over your shoulders, your biceps—then holds the arms still as he waits for you to pull them out—then bunches it down along your waist to expose your injured side. “Lift your arm.”
You do as he ass, wincing as it tugs on the reopened cut.
“This is deep.” He disapproves.
“Bruce and I really were in Australia. One of the guys caught me with a knife just as we were getting them rounded up.” You explain.
“This is gonna hurt.” He tells you as he pulls the kit onto the counter beside you and pulls out a pair of small scissors and tweezers.
It takes him almost no time at all to snip away the broken threads and clean the wound again.
He waits, thinking for a moment, then meeting your gaze.
“Do you want something for the pain?” He checks, eyebrows raised in worry.
“Just do it, Clark.” You sigh, frustrated because this is all too familiar. This proximity, the smells, the heat, the way his hands poke and prod at the edges of your cut.
His eyebrows gather together as his jaw flexes with a frown, staring at the cut as he threads the needle quickly.
A proper needle this time, sanitized and threaded properly.
Taking your lifted arm, he pulls it over his head onto the opposite shoulder and places your hand there where his cape meets his suit.
“It’s gonna hurt.” He says again, and you realize he’s giving you something to squeeze.
And he’s right. Without the adrenaline from before, you feel every stitch and you’d thin you would get used to this sensation. But it hurts like fuck all and you squeeze his cape tight until you can’t help but give a small yell in annoyance.
“Why is it always the little wounds that hurt the most?” You sigh as he sips the thread and moves to clean his work area.
“You should go shower.” Clark says as he sanitizes the counter. “Be careful with your stitches.”
You don’t fight him on this because you desperately need another shower. Maybe if you’d been fine, you would have argued, but you’re dirty and aching.
When you emerge from the bathroom, you find that the sky outside has darkened. You dress quickly, just a pair of black old cutoff sweats and one of Clark’s gray hoodies.
You’re absolutely swimming in it, but it’s so soft and comfortable. Loose so that it doesn’t add any pressure to your stitches.
The apartment is so quiet you stand there, pulling the sweatshirt down as you listen intently for any kind of movement.
“Clark?” You call, just a little insecure after months of his absence.
You move out into the living room. The floorboards creak and moan as they settle beneath your feet. The large carpet in your living room silences your steps but you also stop walking, staring at the empty kitchen, then the empty living room.
Had you dreamt him?
Maybe he really isn’t back?
What if you’ve finally gone crazy?
What if he’s never coming back and you’d passed out after you got back from Australia and everything with the ocean had been a dream?
Are you really going nuts?
There’s a soft thud from your bedroom and with eager footsteps you rush back in.
Sitting on his side of the bed with his bare feet planted on the ground, Clark is hunched over. Elbows on his knees. Hands resting relaxed at the wrist while he stares at the floorboard underneath your bedroom window.
“Clark…” You sigh, not realizing how relieved you sound.
He’s changed, wearing a pair of gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt.
He looks good. Showered. His curls just barely damp.
“Am I welcome here?” He asks, staring ahead.
You move to the bed and climb on, walking on your knees towards him until you stop just a foot away and sit back on your legs.
It’s a good question. One you think on for a moment.
“You didn’t come back for ten months, Clark.” You sigh, hating that fact. “I didn’t know if something had happened to you or maybe you’d decided to leave me and Earth behind altogether? Mostly I just thought you were dead. I spent most of my time convincing myself that you’re so close to invincible that killing you might be impossible but-”
“I’ve died before.” Clark says, hating the idea that people think him a God. He turns towards you and frowns.
His words, however true they may be, send painful clenches into your chest.
Your face does something that makes his demeanor shift. Suddenly he’s sitting beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as he reaches up to push your hair back and away from your face.
His fingers graze the skin of your neck and he hooks it there, squeezing gently.
“I’m not dead.” He says, maybe guessing your thoughts of madness? “I’m right here.”
“But you weren’t.” You shake your head. “And I was so angry at you. I hated you. I cursed your name. Fuck that guy. Stupid fucker. I hate him.”
Clark simply watches you, his eyes moving side to side as he looks at your face and every expression that crosses your features.
The one thing that you’ve always loved about Clark, is the way that you can tell he’s really listening. Not once have you felt as if you weren’t being heard. Even if he doesn’t agree with whatever you’re saying, he listens so intently, trying to understand your point of view before he poses his own.
And you love him for it.
Shit. You still love him. Of course, you do. Of course, he’s always been yours.
Even in his absence, you were his and he was yours.
“I said that almost every night, hoping that you would hear me and come back. But you didn’t.”
“But I did.” Clark says. “I’m here. And I’m sorry I left without explanation. I’m sorry that I put you through that. And I know that you can’t forgive me for it. That I’ll be trying to earn your trust again every day that we’re together. But, please can I stay?”
He rubs your lower back, his large hand sending heat into every inch of your heart. Restarting it after he killed it ten months ago.
“Please?” He begs. “All I’ve thought about is getting back here. To you. To our home and our life together.”
You shut your eyes, relishing in the way his arms feel around you, his hands large and hot. His breath is sweet and warm. His scent is clean and so him that it makes your stomach flutter.
You won’t need that shirt of his anymore. Now you have him back, here with you. Where you can touch and feel and love and laugh and just be with him.
“Or should I leave?” He asks.
Your eyes pop open, red fury raging through them. “You do and I’ll hunt you down, Kent.”
He smiles, softly at first. But when your hand begins to trace the taut sinew of his muscly forearm, his smile grows wider. It grows and grows until it’s blinding and beautiful.
You trace the curve of his shoulder, tickle his neck before reaching up to smooth the curls that fall against his forehead gently.
He shuts his eyes, enjoying the affection before you push yourself forward between his legs and settle on your side.
You cuddle into the center of his chest, tucking yourself between his arms, head on his chest, under his chin, arms grabbing tight to the soft cotton of his shirt.
“I missed you.” He whispers against your hair.
You smile, shutting your eyes as you let yourself finally be at ease. Clark is home.
#superman x reader#superman x reader fanfiction#superman x you#superman x y/n#clark kent x reader#clark kent x you#clark kent x reader fanfiction#clark kent x y/n#dceu fanfiction#dceu#superman fanfiction#superman fanfic#superman fic#superman x reader fic#clark kent x reader fic#Absence Makes the Heart#shreddedparchment
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If you're serious about the kiss thing...... You should do trikey with 56? Mikey's getting irritated about all the shit in Trevor's house
yep I’m serious, thanks for the request! It was fun to play with it, especially the part of annoyed Michael :D I used some strong language here, just so you know.
Ok, here we go *cracks knuckles*
Apart from being an exceptional place to hide from all kinds of law enforcement and pissed off gang bosses, Sandy Shores provides another highly valued quality - it's fucking hot. And not that convenient 'oh look it's the first sunny day of spring' kind of wee warm, but the brutal, penetrative heat of working by deep fryer in McDonald's during summer.
Michael smacked his lips, belched and threw an empty bottle over the battered railing of the front porch. It clanked and landed on dusty ground with a satisfying crunch, and the sun dried it in an instant. He lost count on how many of them he has already downed and disposed of, but drinking didn't help no matter what style he tried. Slow, fast, cold, warm. He tried everything. Except feeling a bit sluggish, there was no effect the lukewarm pisswasser could ever have on him after years of self-taxidermy with whiskey and coke.
The street went gradually silent by the time he finished yet another bottle, shadows grew longer, and the sun grilled him from a slightly different angle. A chatter of people was replaced by an out-of-tune orchestra of crickets and the Eagles blasting from a radio somewhere in the neighbourhood, both flowing through the air with the flavour of barbecue.
Another day successfully wasted Michael thought and shifted on the couch. If only the TV would work, he could have spent it watching movies. Or not, because the tin can ramshackle got so hot during the day he could barely breathe there. Fucking Trevor. If it wasn't for him, he could be sitting by a pool full of ice, eating ice cream and slurping milkshakes from frozen tits. Maybe even pay the girl to ride him, so he didn't have to move a finger. Or better yet, tie Trevor up, throw him into his tailgater, lock him there and make him watch them fuck... But did he really want it? Wouldn’t he be the one who would instantly let him out and have a wild make up sex with him?
An annoyed grunt later, Michael lazily tugged on the hem of his, now very rural looking, tank top and dried his forehead with it. Something deep within knew he shouldn't have used the words Trevor and Fuck in one sentence because it awakened a part of him he should better let sleep. That part that supplied his tipsy brain with vivid images of long limbs locked around him, dark hair all over dirty pillows and amber eyes rolled back, set in a very flushed face... No, nope, it wasn't what he wanted to think about, in fact, he just wanted another beer. Yeah, another beer to make that awkward semi go away. And maybe strip off his top to make that damn heat go away? Yup, that was what he wanted. Aaaand a cigarette. Perfection.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"
Michael's half snore was interrupted by a sound of shutting the car door and heavy boots stomping through the cooling dust. A quick glance from the porch told him the Bodhi was back from where it took off in the morning, and there was a tall figure growling near it, shuffling some boxes in the back. For a second, Michael thought he actually moved back in time, because his back was killing him pretty much the same way it did in the morning with the same taste of beer on lips. The only detail that didn't quite match was that his torso was now naked and pearled with sweat, and there was quite a lot of bottles and cans right below the railing.
Slowly and carefully, Michael stood up and stretched like a fat cat after a good afternoon nap. Trevor was still caught up by the truck, which gave M enough time to step a bit closer to the stairs and lean on a post to regain stability while observing the sight right in front of him. Trevor never was the most ripped guy, but the way his arms bulged when he lifted a box made Michael weaker than he would admit, and the way his jeans perked up his ass when he squatted made his mouth dry. Why the hell did he have to wear that black sleeveless top? Michael thought. He knows whenever he does, we end up fucking...
Just as he lip his bit for thinking about T that way, his best friend turned around for the first time since he arrived and locked eyes with Michael. For a brief moment, he looked surprised, even taken aback by that idiotic drunk grin on Michael's face and the way he leaned against the only solid post of the house, but it soon was replaced by pure fury.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
That was actually an excellent question. Or it would be, if Michael knew the answer to it.
"What? What do you mean?"
"You SLUT!!!"
Trevor charged towards him full speed in a split second and made Michael jump a little harder than he thought it would and jammed his lower back against the table, and both M and table cried in pain.
"What the fuck, Trevor! What's your fucking problem... ouch..."
Trevor leapt up the stairs, grabbed one of Michael's wrists and yanked him towards the door he kicked open.
"You fucking whore, YOU are the problem!"
Michael's brain quit the chat altogether and bailed out on him, leaving him staring on Trevor with gaping mouth and slightly raised eyebrows. He stumbled through the door, unable to free himself from Trevor's grip, and when T shut the door and threw him back first on them only to grab his shoulders to keep him still, all he could do was to stare into his fiery eyes.
"What were you thinking, showing off your tits to all our neighbours, huh?"
Michael gulped when Trevor leaned closer. Over the past few weeks, he learned the smell of gasoline and tobacco meant sloppy fucks on the kitchen counter and hungry kisses with bitten lips. That night, it all was topped with a gun powder.
"you dirty bitch, I leave you home alone for one day and when I come back what do I see? A pair of your slutty knockers right in my face."
His hands suddenly decided to fight his stupor, and as he felt Trevor's breath on his neck, he tugged on T's top and hungrily squeezed waist found there. The only answer was a deep purr and wet tip of Trevor's tongue right where his pulse drummed against the fine skin. With a small moan, he yanked Trevor closer and collided their hips, but Trevor was faster and grabbed both his wrists and pinned them against the tin door.
"You horny bitch, did showing off make you hot and wet? Or are you just happy to see me?"
Trevor's anger was gone, now replaced with his usual horniness, as he ground his hips against Michael's to let him know the thought got him hot too. And god that shit-eating grin on his face when he leaned in and bit Michael's lip, but didn't go for a full kiss... That was the point of no return. That fucking tease! Michael trashed under him and actually managed to get both hands freed just to leap forward and literally throw them both trough the bathroom door, for Trevor to land on the toilet bowl.
Michael could barely hear the sound of boxes and bottles clacking, falling to the dirty ground as he straddled Trevor and grabbed his head to steal that kiss he wanted since he saw him outside. Trevor just did his best to balance them both on the tiny bowl and waved his arms around, trying to grab onto something solid. Just as Michael decided to nib on Trevor's lip lightly and open T up for a nice french action, something hit the back of his head with an annoying accuracy. Then it clanked on the ground, followed by choked laughter and sound of plastic rustling. Michael instinctively shot up and stumbled back, massaging the hit place.
"Ouch! T, what the fuck was that?!"
"That was a shower curtain, cupcake... I must have torn it when you tried to flush us both down the bowl..."
"and you won't even say sorry you prick?"
"hmmm, how about showing you how sorry I am?"
Trevor possessed this strange ability to appear out of nowhere and cover M with kisses and hugs. Michael noticed only then how much taller Trevor really was when he was pinned against the shower wall and two hot hands slid past the waist of his jeans, kissing his lower lip too gently for Michael's liking. At first, he went with the flow, burying his fingers to Trevor's stubble and hair on the back of his head just to push him closer. Still, he set his mind to he didn't want it there, slow and gentle with water running down his back, not that night. Michael knew well when he brushes his tongue against Trevor's, pull back and bite his lip, T would not only let out a needy whimper, so unlike his manly growls, but he would also become weak enough to be pushed back to the kitchen where they could have much more fun. What he didn't count with was a nasty crunch under his foot when Trevor stumbled back towards the sink which immediately broke their kiss. A small moan of frustration made Michael more anxious for a moment than he would ever admit.
"What is it, T? Are you ok?"
"Fuck, Michael, you stepped on my laxatives!"
"What?"
"How am I supposed to shit without them?"
"Screw them, you won't need them when I'm done with you tonight."
"Gee how hot..."
But there was no way Michael would let Trevor finish that sentence - all he wanted was to pin him to the kitchen counter, tear those sweatpants apart and fuck him. Now it was him who stomped around, holding Trevor's hand and throwing him to the counter. It took him another second to grab a fist full of his hair and yank Trevor's head backwards to relish absolutely delicious silhouette of his throat with adam's apple bobbing up and down in excitement. Trevor's moans only fired him up further and probed the hardened bud under the black shirt - to a promising whimper and a force pushing him aside to which he willingly succumbed and let a pair of lips suck onto his own so hard he hit his head against a tv stand which cried in pain and fell apart along with the tv.
"Fuck Trevor...."
"Not now, Mikey, don't stop."
Michael felt the telltale twitch under his belly that watered down the pain and gave him enough power to roll over a couple of times, french kissing the fuck out of those perfect full lips, drawing nails to Trevor's now naked back and push his head closer. He almost didn't mind when the radio hit the ground and when Trevor threw him onto the table which made their beer spill on the filthy floor. With Trevor on top, latched onto his nipple and running his hand down to his tightened jeans, nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. As he tried to kick his jeans off, there was a slight sensation on his foot, but nothing very clear. It could have been a cup or something - when suddenly Trevor bolted upwards, and Michael was forced to open his eyes and look into his horrified face.
"Trevor I swear this isn't funny, what is it this time..."
"Michael, we broke the Impotent Rage..."
"T are you trying to give me blue balls or what?"
"No, but you clearly want my home in shambles! Oh fuck look at that! This was a limited edition with a signature of the original cast!"
Trevor just emotionlessly bolted towards the couch, next to which lay a mass of broken blue plastic that might have been anything in Michael's opinion. And it was in the way of reaching destination orgasm which made him a tiny bit mad. Ok, maybe a lot.
"Pardon me, but it was you who put it to the wrong place! Why did you leave it on the shelf with all this trash? Why don't you just throw all this shit out?"
And with just one swing of the arm, he managed to throw the rest of Trevor's memorabilia to the floor where it shattered comfortably.
"And this whole place is a fucking dump! Have you ever heard about wall-mounted TV or glass shower door? When the fuck will you live somewhere normal? Jesus, what do I have to break to make this place look decent? And that stupid action figure? What's so special about it, anyway?"
He wouldn't regret it if Trevor didn't turn around with puppy eyes and didn't tell him in his hurt voice.
"Because it was a gift from you..."
Michael didn't quite know how he managed to pick Trevor up from the ground, bring him to the bed, plant gentle kisses to every inch of him and whisper he's so so sorry. He didn't even have to, because soon enough, Trevor pulled him closer again, rolled over on top of him and gave him a lesson from Canadian french that left Michael breathless. He just let it happen, running his hands all the way down from the back of Trevor's head, to feeling his stuble, chest hair, hard nipples and his raging boner, and his nails draw new tattoos on Trevor's back first and then drawing his fingers into soft inside of Trevor's tights enjoying the view of T riding him.
"Hey M..."
"Hm?"
Michael lit a cigarette, just relishing the sweaty and sticky afterglow with Trevor pressed close to his side.
"You broke my impotent rage, gimme that..."
And before he could say or do anything, Trevor snatched his last cigarette and inhaled so deep half of it was gone.
"Hey! Give it back!"
"Make me!"
Michael instantly shot up, determined to kiss that grin off Trevor's lips and lept forward only to bang his head against the headboard again. This time, Trevor didn't even try to hold back and let his bubbly laughter echo in Michael's aching head.
"Fuck you and fuck this damn trailer..."
"aww come on porkchop, you did both tonight - unless you are up for the round two?"
"Hmmm... Make me..."
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