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namjooningelsewhere · 4 years ago

Text

Striptease.

Pairing : Kim Taehyung x reader

Rating : Strictly 18+

Word Count : 1934

Warnings : Pure Smut, Strip Tease, Unprotective sex, Blowjobs, Straddling, Blindfolding, Handcuffs.

Summary: Its your second anniversary and you want to make it extremely special to your boyfriend Kim Taehyung, And also you may have been cooking a little surprise and a revenge to get back at your boyfriend for edging you the n number of times and endless teasing that drives you nuts. Its all a long planned night, endlessly sexy and you will make sure that he will learn his lesson today;)

It was a special morning that day as you woke up next to your butt naked boyfriend, It was your anniversary today marking 2 years with this goregous devil Kim Taehyung. This man was the human form of a sin and made you crazy in ways no one ever did.

But today you were going to redefine the term crazy between you and him. This man had you by the nerve for the past two years and now you were going to play with that soul of his today and let him taste his own medicine.

You smirked as you made your way to him lying naked on his back, you trailed soft kisses' off his ears slowly towards his neck and licking your way to his neck leaving a hot trail behind as you moved towards his chest marking little purple marks that looked too pretty.

You slowly suck his nipples and earn a moan from him, good the tiger was venturing out about and you slowly moved between his legs and positioned right at that semi hard member that was practically begging to be touched.

You lightly took his dick in your mouth and he shifted in his place and you licked the tip which was oozing precum by now and he woke up at your mouth latched at his dick right the first time in the morning.

He sounded too groggy and cute but you were just going to ignore cute for the moment and concentrate on all the times the devil had sucked your soul out of you. You worked your way up and down his length and felt him growing right in your palm. "Baby what are you--- Even before he could finish you took him by surprise by taking the entire length in your mouth. "Mother fucking hell!!! Was just one of the short curses he managed to utter in a record time.

You swirled your tongue up and down on his length and licking long stripes which made him pull your hair in pleasure. You started alternating between placing him your mouth and gagging on him. You could swear you watched his eyes roll back in his skull. You were by no means going to let him loose today.

"Baby i swear i am not letting you walk straight for the next few days if you don't stop edging me, He groaned in frustration as you edged him again. This time you were letting him get his way as he had to rush to work for a meeting with his manager at the studio, But you made sure he begged for it as you furiously deep throated him and palming him at the same time and he was going mad with pleasure, until you let his entire length touch the back of your throat thrice. You gagged but his reaction was worth it. He nearly screamed the place down your name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

You felt hot spurts of cum gush down of your throat and it took minute for him to stop cumming. Literally one fucking minute to stop shivering and think straight. Now that was a one of the great start to the days. "I knew i had goddess in my arms when i moved in with you he chuckled. He pulled you on the bed but you stopped him saying knowing he had to rush and besides you were saving yourself for the finale at night.

He rushed to take a shower and you left to make breakfast but this wasn't going to be as simple as just making a good meal for your boyfriend, it was a twist a pleasant surprise actually. He had been dressing up humming something chirpy when he came to the kitchen and literally froze in his steps when his eyes landed on you.

You were right in the middle of the kitchen making his fav pancakes but stark naked, Not even a apron covering that body which he was drooling the fuck for. "Baby you are playing a dangerous game was all he could mange before you pulled him into a kiss. "Save yourself baby, you might want all the save up for tonight. You said with a smirk of a devil in your eyes.

You nearly drove him out of his mind when he continued for the rest of the day in the studio with you sending him sneak peeks in between which left him wanting for more. But it hit different when he was going on and on about how bad he needed you and you said you had placed a little something in his pocket- His favorite lace underwear all reeking of your arousal, You had sweared when he almost let the phone fall down in the toilet.

You knew you were riling him up but that was going super fun when he would be home tonight for the last surprise. You decorated your bedroom with candles rose petals and the nice comfortable chair that you had placed in the middle. you were proud of the arrangement, Taehyung was going to loose his mind today and you were absolutely ready to help him do that. A Strip tease was what you had planned for him but with a little modification.

You made sure to do your extra skincare routine before he came making an extra effort to look good but equally sexxy, You used his t-shirt to wear on a skirt making it look like a cold shoulder and wore the sexiest pair of lace you had.

You heard the door open to an impatient thud and the sound of bag, and some more stuff falling down there and until the steps became louder you positioned yourself in the chair you had for him.

His jaw dropped to the ground the moment he saw you and stumbled for support, while you looked at him with best sexy ass smirk you could ever have. "Happy Anniversary Baby" You kissed at his lips. "Baby something tells me this anniversary is going to be more than happy" You smirked in agreement and pushed him in the chair.

He sat there mostly realizing what you were up to dumbfounded because you weren't the generally the one with the brain of the devil and he would always make you see stars by his gesture but looked like today he was going to get it all back.

You played the song in the behind and you started to move sensually infront him, touching his face and his ears in the least, rather stroking them. He twitched a little in the place but the grin that he had in his face was now replaced by the sheer dangerous glint in his eyes.

You started moving around him and slowly running your fingers on his arms and neck making him quiver, you followed the beats thanks to your dancer days. The beat increased and so did your level of teasing. You didn't know at the moment whether it was you or him that earned it, but here you were right in this moment grinding on your boyfriend like your life depended on it.

You swayed his arms reached them to the knot and lifted the edge of the t-shirt with just his hands running on your bare waist while you used his hands to your benefit. It seemed like have taken to the que and he did what you wanted him to do. You could clearly see the growing boner in his basketball shorts and you continued to straddle him.

You swayed your hips with his hands still roaming around your waist and pulled your skirt down earning a hiss form his throat. Bang on it was working. You rested your legs on both the sides of the armrests and let him just feel the contact barely with your panties on. You let his hands move a more your upper body and let him do the honors of taking off the t-shirt off your body.

You could see him riling up and the song only added to it. You ran your hands through his hair making him moan while your half naked body straddled him to the beat of earned it. You pulled him bit up and venturing your hands on his body you got rid of his shirt and began feathering light kisses on his neck.

This was the most fun part you were waiting for, You gave him an another surprise by getting two handcuffs and a blindfold which you hid intentionally nearby. He hissed at sight but he allowed you to take control over him just tonight and hed be back to making you his little slut again tomorrow.

You chained him to the armrest and blindfolded him while you were still grinding against his rock hard dick right under your opening, teasing him had got you all riled up as well and all you wanted is to feel him right inside you.

He shivered under your breath as you rubbed your tits in his face and he struggled to bite them to his content. You let your bra loose and started slowly rubbing those tits on his lips which he deviously licked making you go crazy. You managed to go down on him and tried to free his basketball shorts which you thanked the heavens for, because it was quite easy to get rid of. you could see his shiny member all ready with a tip swollen red.

You adjusted it to the entrance and moving slowly as the last of the song played and you kept the movement alternating between slow to fast to dead slow which was getting him over the edge again and again and you could feel the growls in his throat as he sat there blindfolded. For the first time ever Kim Taehyung begged you to let him cum, "Baby I'm going to burst soon, Let me cum please!!!! He panted.

You took that a hint and started moving up his length furiously and your walls clenched against him making him growl loudly, He kept chanting your name which felt music to your ears and you started bouncing on his dick to the extent of you feeling your world go upside down by pleasure and him roaring your name as you furiously rode him like your entire life hung on to that dick.

It was all a blur since he and you climaxed together and you could still feel him spurting inside you as you freed him and falling back on his sweaty body. You could hear your heartbeat loud and clear and his as well. It was sight sitting on his lap fucked out, cum dripping down your pussy on to his thighs.

"Happy Anniversary baby u said" Tired. "Happy Anniversary baby, It was the best surprise and please remind me never to tease you again. "He said as he buried himself in the crook of your neck before he picked you up to clean and shower together.

#bts smut #bts imagine #bts x reader #taehyung #bts scenarios #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #stripdance #v smut #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #straddle #lap sitting #v x reader #v x you

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iamanartichoke · 4 years ago

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I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons.

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length.

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could.

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’ is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it).

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.)

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here.

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1.

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions.

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.)

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already.

Ragnarok

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me).

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things.

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown.

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end.

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother,

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers)

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence)

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person.

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]).

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned.

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself.

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.)

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative.

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore,

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here).

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.)

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions?

What about all the loose threads in his story?

For example, how did he get from:

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc)

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.)

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory.

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary.

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled.

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue.

This could have been accomplished with -

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?"

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place).

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever.

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want.

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield.

But, I mean

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.)

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3

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killingitreservoirdogsstyle · 3 years ago

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worthy/a self indulgent reservoir dogs fanfiction

This is my first full length fanfiction on this blog, and on Tumblr, in fact. It’s self indulgent which I apologize for ( a real niche fic, lol ), but I made it so that you can insert yourself into it.

Quick note for trigger warnings: child kidnapping, violence, blood, swearing, and stressful situations! Please don’t read if these things offend or trigger you.

Here’s a legend of terms to help you understand it better: Y/N=your name, H/C=hair colour, F/B= favourite band, and it includes he/him pronouns, but its flexible for readers who identify with other sets so everybody is included! Okay, now that I got that boring stuff out of the way, I’ll give you a quick rundown of the plot. You ( Y/N ), are the adopted child of the Reservoir Dogs and Eddie Cabot, in a scenario in which they have been working together since you were a baby. It isn’t a gay relationship, more of a co-parenting kind of situation, but you can totally read it that way if you’d like! You were kidnapped by a duo of hitmen meant to kill your dads, and you think you’re going to die. I created this with a trans boy reader in mind, because I myself am fluid. Go right ahead and change it to fit you though, however you can make it personal! Sorry if the formatting in the post is messed up, Tumblr has been nothing but a pain in my butt all week. Please enjoy, and let me know if you want requests or headcanons done!

Y/N screamed as the shots rung out in the warehouse, his back pressed against the wall with turtled shoulders and neck.

The cry that escaped his lips shook his whole body, lungs and vocal cords violently quivering within his chest.

Darkness filled his sight when he snapped his eyes shut. But the image of his assailants, the rogue hitmen meant to take his fathers’ lives over his, was burned into his brain like he was cattle that had just met the branding iron. Though he didn’t see them with his physical eyes, he saw their faces anyways. Grizzled, stubbled brutes riddled with silver scars from past jobs, savage grins yellowed; a harkening back to the primitive times when man and beast were one, and had only one thing in mind--carnage.

Meaty hands pointed cocked revolvers at him, dead set on making sure that Y/N Vega-Cabot did not survive after today. He braced himself for the bullets. For the sharp steel to tear open his insides. Poison his blood, of which would pool around him in a gruesome halo of crimson. Agonize him with pain, pain that would ultimately be his demise. For the assassins to leave him for dead, his frigid corpse to be found by the people he had sacrificed himself for to save. The Dogs and Eddie would do everything in their power, going against divine supremacy itself to keep the boy alive. It would all be futile, as he was rolled into the intensive care unit. Unnatural gazes of worry would plaster the expressions of the six men, running alongside the stretcher, hands gripping the rails, turning knuckles pallid. There was nothing left inside Y/N anymore that could be revived. He was dead, gone for good. His dads would mourn for years to come, and he knew it was quite possible that they would never recover. His death would push them into unaltered, pure madness. Driven crazy by the fact that they had not kept their promise to him, vowing for constant of their sweet son.

He wanted to fight back against the attack. Every fibre in his very being was urging him to. Screaming at him to move, dodge, do something. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to from the very beginning of his kidnapping. He would have if he had the chance, absolutely. It seemed fate thought differently, though. An apology formed in his words, an inaudible murmur that only Y/N could feel. He inhaled, centring himself for the onset of death.

I’m so sorry, Eddie, Johnny ( Brown ), Jeremy ( Pink ), Freddy, Vic, Larry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be a better son for you...

“ No! Not him! “ the voice shouted, making him open his eyes. In that moment, all of time came to a grinding halt for him. He could only watch in silent horror as Pink leapt in front of him. His suit clad body shielded the teenager, hunched over him in a protective position. He saw with wide eyes the bullets pierce Pink’s back, pass through his chest, and lodge themselves in the wall beside his head. The excruciation on Jeremy’s face was unmistakable, his cheeks ashen and eyes flashing. Y/N’s blood boiled in his veins, effervesced with sudden dread and fury. How could he have let this happen?

The weaselly Brooklyn con artist coughed, spitting up a mouthful of guts onto the front of his button up shirt. Mr. Pink crumpled at his son’s side, head smashing into the linoleum floor. He screamed out, hugging his ribs. Already his breathing was heavy, strained, worn thin, and it worried Y/N. Exposed, an even more torturous sight awaited the boy. The hitmen lay dead, no longer a threat to him. He wasn’t sure if it had been a quick death or not, but judging by the state their bodies were in--carved by bullets like Swiss Cheese--he assumed it was the latter. That fortuity had come with a price. His heart wrenched, pangs of guilt stabbing him with brutal precision. Blonde, Eddie, and White had been hit in the conflict, and were sprawled out bleeding near him.

“ Eddie, Vic, Larry,” he whimpered, unsure if they had survived.

This is all my fault... I killed them, and it’s all my fault...

To his immense relief, White’s head shot up the moment he spoke. The words caught in his throat, like an invisible hand clamped around his neck. He didn’t know how to react, just gawking. White wasn’t able to hold back a gasp. He forced himself to his hands and knees, scrambling towards his son. Each movement forward was terribly painful for the older criminal, only clouded by alleviation. The knowledge that nothing had befallen the teenage boy. Y/N had no time to speak, Larry tackling him in a tight hug. Holding him close to his battered chest, hands cupping his head of H/C hair to his heart, which was pounding at breakneck speed.

“ Y/N! Y/N, oh my god, Y/N!” White cried, and Y/N following suit. It was too much to take. Too much to keep bottled inside. All of the tension in his body released, a weight lifted off his shoulders. He hugged White back, letting his Dad sway with him in his arms. He hushed him, kissing his head gently in a way only a father could. But Y/N was worried, though, deathly worried. Worried for White, for Blonde, for Pink, and for Eddie, who had put themselves in danger to rescue him. There was no time to waste. He had to get them to the hospital, somehow. He had to find Bonnie, who would be sympathetic to his case. She was always there to help, as far back as he could remember. They needed a doctor, A.S.A.P.

But how? How was the question. And he needed an answer, fast.

Y/N couldn’t drive, at least not completely legally or on the highway. If he had his motorcycle he could, but that would only work in the context of one of them being hurt. And he had no car or motorcycle on hand anyways that he owned. Then there was the issue of bringing all four of them there in one trip, not multiple. Pink would be dead in half an hour, the others not having much hope either. The horrible reality was sinking in, a gaping hole in Y/N’s chest opening. What was their cover story? How would he pay the bills, if Eddie didn’t make it? And how would he be able to look after them when he would be parted from the men in the ICU? He’d have no input, no say, no chance to be at their sides. If one, or two, or three, or all of them were to pass, they would go out without Y/N there. That made him shudder, more tears pricking his eyes. Sometimes he hated how fate seemed to like turning his life into a living hell.

“ My baby boy, oh, Y/N... We were so scared, kid, so scared wouldn’t get here in time... I... I’m sorry, Y/N. This is all my fault, I shoulda never let you go off by yourself like that...” he trailed off, interrupted by Pink’s hoarse laughter.

“ No shit, dumb-ass,” classic sarcastic Jeremy, Y/N thought. “ God, at least you’re okay, Y/N,” a cough racked him, paining both father and son--Pink in literal pain, and Y/N at seeing him in such a miserable state. He nodded, biting back another cry. Again, Pink grinned, calling out:

“ Alright, who’s alive here in this dump? Or are you dicks all dead n’ shit?”

The collective groans of the other criminals came, the most vocal of them being Blonde. “ I’m gonna kill you after this, Dimmick. Hey Y/N, son, how ya doin’ aside from almost being shot and all?” For the first time in the past few chaotic hours, he laughed. An undisguised, genuine, real laugh at Blonde’s gentle teasing and barely checked anger.

“ I’m hanging in there, Dad, just chilling. Don’t worry, I’ll get you all medical attention,” he resolved, pulling out of White’s steel-like grip. He got to his feet in a flash, and helped the curled up Pink into a better position propped against the wall of the warehouse. He assessed the damage, which was significant. The entry wound was black, the once pristine fabric of his shirt sodden with blood. His breaths were more laboured than before, a sickly tinge tinting his skin. This man was dying right before Y/N.

“ Shit.” he cursed, the harsh obscenity out of place in his normally jubilant terminology. The bloodflow was bad, spilling out of Pink’s front in slow trickling streams. The time frame Y/N had was slipping between his fingers, like the golden sand of an hourglass. A very narrow window that he’d have to get in very fast. Very, very fast. He knew what he’d have to do, the prospects slim, but he had to try. For their sake. What kind of a son would he be if he didn’t pay them the debts he owed? He was useless, doing nothing but causing the entire situation, and he had to try to make it right. He tore off his F/B t-shirt, his bound torso bared for all to see. It made Eddie and Vic wince, Jeremy’s eyes widen, and Larry’s jaw drop open in shock. Never would he walk around in public without a shirt, but he didn’t care too occupied to do so.

“ Y/N M/N Cabot-Vega, what in the actual hell are you doing, young man?” Eddie hissed, his shoulder and thigh searing with hot agony.

“ Finally being a worthy kid, Dad. So please, let me fucking work.” he retorted, pressurizing Pink’s wounds with his shirt. Jeremy flinched at it, both in discomfort and half-effort chagrin. “ Y/N, that was your favourite shirt...”

“ Your point?” he replies, silencing his dad. He pushed down on the injury, his hair falling above his eyes. He blew it out of his face, chewing his lip in concentration. Time slowed again in that ten minute span. Y/N dragged White and Pink to the doors of the warehouse, dashing outside into the warm California afternoon. The sounds of children playing nearby and a stereo inside a bungalow hit him, an unsettling change of scene. Life really went on without you, he thought. He was able to think clearly now, his senses sharpened beyond compare to any other moment in his life. It was a blur to him, but not simultaneously, a strange feeling for someone like him. Hotwiring a decent condition retro Station-Wagon, he backed the car up into the main loading area. As the car idled, one by one he brought the injured Dogs out. Hoisting Pink and Eddie up with their arms around his neck. Steadying Blonde. Pulling White across the concrete. Shoving them into the vehicle. Then, he floored it, racing through red lights, barely dodging pedestrians.

“ Hear my prayer, whoever is up there.” he muttered, merging onto the highway. He gripped the wheel, speeding down the pavement. In retrospect when he looked back, it seemed that the gods had bestowed their blessing on Y/N. He had made it in the nick of time, screaming for help in the parking lot. An off duty paramedic had helped him bring the Dogs in, and get them to proper care. Joe had arrived shortly after he called from the hospital phone. After an elaborate lie, one surgery, and a week of recovery, Blonde, Eddie, Pink, and White were on their feet again. Everything had been taken care of, as promised to Y/N.

The day they went home, Y/N hastily went to go to his room. He had to come down from the climax of the past few days--he was overtired, starved, and in the midst of sickness brought on by anxiety.

“ Y/N? Hold on a second,” Pink stopped him. Y/N halted in his tracks, one brow arched. In one swoop, his dad squeezed him in a hug. He melted under his touch, perplexed but relieved. He knew his dad must have been shaken up, to the point where his aversion to physical touch had been pushed aside. Pink sighed, patting his son on the back.

“ You’ve always been a worthy kid to me.” he turned, and walked away, leaving Y/N in the living room to head out to the balcony. In the next room, White was busy cooking lunch while he talked on the phone. To whom, he had no idea. Blonde lounged shirtless outside with Pink and Eddie, sipping a Coors. The three men played poker, laughing together. Brown and Orange had gone out for groceries, and Joe was working upstairs. The sounds of his home warmed his heart, putting all his nerves at ease. Everything was and would be fine for Y/N. He smiled, moving towards the balcony. The sun beamed down on him, catching his locket in the light. The white of his F/B muscle shirt shone bright. Eddie grinned, waving him over.

“ Hey, Y/N! C’mere and have a game with your pops! Deal ‘em in, will ya, Blondie?” Y/N gave a laugh, sitting down between Pink and Eddie. The latter ruffled his hair affectionately, putting one arm around the kid.

#killingitreservoirdogsstyle #Reservoir dogs #Mr White #Mr Brown #Mr Orange #mr pink #Mr Blonde #nice guy eddie #Quentin Tarantino #movies #lgbtq #fanfic #parenting #coparenting #dysfunctional family #trans reader #reservoir dogs x reader #fanfiction #self insert

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refriedweeb · 4 years ago

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LET ME SANCTIFY YOUR BODY (SHINSOU + PLUS SIZED READER 18+)

A/N: refriedweeb here my little chickadees. Here’s another plus size reader one for all my beautiful thick babes out there. I’ve started hardcore sipping over everyone’s fave emo boy (who I always thought would prefer a thicker girl bc it just screams at you he would be) not responsible for any emotional trauma caused. ALSO, I used the same quirk from the Hawks’ series I have going on don’t judge me it’s honestly my favorite quirk I’ve thought up (and totally not bc I'm self-inserting) also if anyone draws y/n/me/yourself in this hero costume y/n chooses I'd die bc I think it’s so incredible

Prompt: Your hero agency has been pressuring you into a more scant, sexually appealing hero costume. Though you’re a hero, you’re still coming to accept your body and feel that the new costume they’ve put you in is anything but. Your boyfriend has other thoughts.

Tags/Warnings: body worship, oral, sex, spanking, shinsou being an absolute god

Word Count: 6,009

You stared at yourself in the reflection of the mirror in your bedroom. It’d been a long, exhausting past couple of weeks between you and the hero agency you worked for. They were insistent on changing up your hero costume, eager to add some sex appeal and tighter material around the assets that made you such a ‘feast’ as they called it. You were fuller figured, plump in spots that other female heroes weren’t. Your curves had caught the eye of the media surrounding the hero discourse, and you’d become something of a source of body positivity for the public. It wasn’t about your health, rather, but that strength and power came at any size, and a hero didn’t need to look like the heroes of the past in order to do good and be worthy of everything you had in your life. At first you’d been a little skeptical, sure that the other shoe was going to drop and you were going to be shunned for the tummy you had, the thickness of thighs that made you look ‘more beautiful than Venus being born’ according to one of the magazines that had commented on your body.

However, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with the hero costume you’d been rocking prior to the media’s public obsession with you. It hid the insecurities that you wished to conceal, like that very tummy so many people had started to praise. The dimples in your thighs that showed through in the latex and skin tight material that made up so much of hero costumes. Many designers of said hero costumes had been scrambling to get their designs to your hero agency, practically groveling for you to pick theirs. You’d left that day after your seemingly endless patrol (thankful that nothing out of the ordinary outside of small, petty crimes) had come to an end. But...that didn’t mean the work was over just yet. The agency you worked in had been persistent that you needed to pick a new costume by the end of the week, and it was already Thursday.

Your eyes moved from the mirror to the laid out costumes on the bed. The hero alias you went by was that of Nightmare. Your quirk was an Emitter quirk, and worked in a way that many people had been careful to get within your reach of. Once you activated your quirk, you could raise your target’s worst nightmare into a warped physical reality around them, or at least they perceived it to be a physical reality. What it really was, was a field of false reality with layers so thick it was hard to look through in order to see that it wasn’t real at all. A hallucination of the worst kind. You, much like your boyfriend Shinsou, had been people that your fellow classmates had thought would be best as villains, rather than heroes. People didn’t trust you, didn’t want to get to close to you lest you reach out a hand to their forehead and bring forth their own personal hell.

They wanted to make someone they had once demanded be too dangerous to be a trustworthy hero into a sex symbol. The fleeting thought caused you to snort, your eyes moving back over the costume layout once more. Shinsou hadn't popped around to yours yet, likely still finishing out his own patrol. His opinions might have helped, but you weren’t sure when he’d get to yours and you’d rather get the uncomfortable trial and error of why your body didn’t look right in any of the costumes that had been sent to you over with. That way you could curl up in bed under the sheets and wait for Shinsou’s warm embrace. It’d always managed to make you feel better when you were sure the world hated everything about you. That very reason had been one of the reasons you and Shinsou had bonded so quickly. The world was determined to make you a villain before you’d even had a chance to prove them otherwise. You were each other’s biggest support system, the team cheerleader while you raced to make the world a better place.

What would Nightmare wear? What would the unstoppable, dangerous Nightmare wear? The first costume was definitely not your speed, a deep plum color that was beautiful on its own. Yet, it was cut deep in the back with a half-peplum tiered skirt at the back of your waist. To you, it made you feel like a joke of a circus ring leader, feeling more like an overripe raspberry than a hero worth going toe to toe with. You didn’t have a body like Midnight or Mt. Lady. You were fuller all around, a pooch of a stomach that stuck out more than theirs, thighs that were thicker in muscle and fat then theirs. An ass, that as Shinsou had once said when he was drunk on sake, wouldn’t quit. Once again, you didn’t see anything wrong with the hero costume you had now. It was baggier, yes, allowing you to obscure a body you hadn’t fully come to terms with despite the years of progress you’d made with self-acceptance. Sure, the trench jacket did nothing to show off much of the body you’d worked hard to maintain and love, but it hadn’t been about how good you looked. It’d been about being able to do good and save people from villains. If you’d wanted to be judged for your looks, you would have signed up to be a model. But hero politics were the same politics that existed in every aspect of reality, and you had gotten used to it. It was really only a matter of time that you’d be up next in the line of speculation. The first costume was a hard no, and you peeled yourself out of it already feeling the sinking feeling of defeat as it crawled up into your spine.

The second costume was better in some aspects, worse in others. It was black in color which was much more your speed, with a black mask to match that shielded the top half of your face. Yet, over your bust and over the widest part of your hips ran horizontal white lines, giving the effect of making them appear wider than they were. It wasn’t as if they just ran the front of the costume, either. Traced around your back and your butt, you only felt that sinking feeling grow. You looked wrong, and felt worse. There was no way people actually thought this was going to look good on you, did they? An annoyed sigh passed through your nose, doing one last turn around in the mirror confirmed your thoughts. These people had no idea what would look good on you. The cynical part of you was sure that this was the other shoe dropping. This was some grand joke that you were the punch line of. If you picked any of these costumes you’d be ridiculed for your body just like you’d been when you were a kid. That mere thought sparked tears in your eyes, but you pushed them down. There was one costume left. Though you didn’t have much hope for it.

You were so in your negative thoughts at the moment as you stripped down from the second costume, you hadn’t heard the front door of your place open and close. Nor the sound of shoes being kicked off.

The third costume was by far the most aesthetically pleasing to your tastes. Like Goldilocks and the three bears, it’d been the one you thought would be best. It was a one piece jumpsuit as the rest had been, cut deep in the front and back, low plunges that exposed everything to your naval in the front, and the small curve of your lower back. Though where freshly exposed skin would have been free, black mesh was laid overtop to give the graft appearance. There were winding slits down the long sleeves of the costume, making the mesh look like ropes winding down the length of strong arms and deliciously thick thighs. The mesh at the lower back connected to the beginnings of the mesh at the back of your thighs, lining up with the mesh that curved down from your naval and over your hips to meet up with the front mesh of your thighs. The mesh of the costume was one continuous running line, and you had to admit you liked how it shaped your body. It was tight as the other costumes, and certainly left nothing to the imagination of anyone who’d see you. If you picked this costume, everyone would know what it was you were working with. And that was what they wanted, right? The final costume was by far your favorite, opening and closing the fingerless gloves that had come with it. But were you okay with the world seeing the rest of your body? You didn’t think you were ugly by any means, and hadn’t felt ugly since you were a teenager. But...that didn’t mean the world wouldn’t take that chance to pick you apart if they thought you’d gotten too confident.

You leaned up on your toes, angling to this way and that so you could get a full view of how you’d be seen from all angles. Your hand rolled over the little pooch of your belly, over the curve of your backside into that meshed lower back of the costume. The way your thighs blossomed against the costume, looking strong as hell. In the platformed boots you wore to do hero work, it’d look good. You thought. But was it too risky? Would you look like a joke? Your shoulders sagged in defeat, not sure you had the confidence to pull this off like the world seemed to think you did.

“Well, well...” came that deep drawl of the man you cared so deeply for. You jumped, completely unaware that for the last five minutes you’d been examining yourself in the mirror, that Shinsou had been eyeing you up from his position. Leaned against the frame of the door, hands tucked into his pockets with a shameless look on his face. “These those new hero costumes you were talking about?”

Once you were sure you wouldn’t about faint from the racing of your heart, you nodded. “Yeah, they weren’t that great,” you said and jutted your chin to the ones you’d hung back up on their hangers to be sent back. “Those were the first two options, and they looked...gross on me.” you said, voice dropping as the negative term against yourself left your throat. Shinsou angled a brow upwards question, violet eyes moving over to look at them. He doubted that they looked bad on you, almost disappointed he hadn’t gotten to see your skin slip under that tight material, the way it ran so flush over that body of yours he’d worshipped for so long. For all Shinsou cared, you could be running around in a trash bag and he’d find a way to think you were the most beautiful person in the world. But, one thought he shared in common with you on the first two hero costumes, was that they didn’t speak Nightmare. Your quirk was exceptional, like his in a way. It needed something as equally daring, as enticing as you were.

“I doubt that...” Shinsou strolled over to look at them, running the fabric of the raspberry suit between thumb and forefinger. “But they’re not you. They’re too tame for you.” the comment was innocent enough, but your mouth dried up at it. Sunken eyes moved over to look at you once more in that black suit number, one that he found himself to be a growing fan of. “What about that one?” His expression was hungry as he dragged his gaze up and down your body, over the curves showed off so freely.

Shinsou had never had an issue with your body. Rather, he preferred a partner that was on the thicker side to begin with. He liked being able to feel you in his hands without worry about hurting you too much. Your skin was a comfort to him, the way you were soft and plush drove him up a fucking wall. He might not have been the biggest fan of public affection, but when it was just the two of you he couldn’t keep his greedy hands off you. And how could he? Even in that moment, his fingers twitched with the carnal need to have your flesh under the pads of his fingers.

“It’s definitely the best of the bunch.” You shrugged, hand running down the shape of your belly once more, your mind still stuck on whether or not it was going to get you ridiculed. “I just don’t...I think it’s too much. I don’t think...” you trailed off. “I don’t know if I look good in it.”

The sound of a snort from behind you had you meeting Shinsou’s gaze through the mirror. He wore an incredulous expression as if you’d just claimed that there was no such thing as gravity. He shook his head and approached you slowly. “You’re kidding, right?” Shinsou stood behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head. His body was pressed flush against yours, and you could feel the half-hard length of him pressed against your backside. “You don’t think you look amazing in this, (Y/N)?”

A blush hit your cheeks as his hands rested on your shoulders. “It’s not that, Shi. I just don’t...I guess...I don’t think people will want to see me like this. So...exposed.” Being sexy wasn’t the problem here. It was how others would see you and if they’d take the same thought away that the agency had, that Shinsou had, that some of the media had about you. You could take being ridiculed for your ability to act as an hero, if you messed up on the job or anything like that. Those criticisms pertained to your ability to help and change the world, and nothing to do with your physical appearance. Changing your hero costume would open up that path to criticisms about your appearance that had never been there before.

“Ah...so that’s it.” Without having to say much, Shinsou understood where your mindset was. He sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. Had he not shown you how beautiful you were each time he settled his mouth or his cock between your thighs? Had he not told you how you were the only person who was ever going to have his eye whether you were dolled up in a face full of makeup or drooling while you slept? The last thing he wanted for you to feel about yourself was inadequate because of how much you weighed or what your body looked like. He knew it wasn’t for him to decide, that only you could determine your self-worth, but you were perfect for him. And if he was selfless enough to let the world see you how he saw you, he would in a heartbeat. But just because he wanted the world to see it, didn’t mean he was a fan of sharing. Timidly, you met his indigo gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “Here’s what I think, kitten.”

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers started to ghost over your shoulders. “I think...” He slowed his movements, tracing the seam where mesh met spandex, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed as they followed where his fingers met. They ended at the inner point of the V that formed the front of a potentially new costume. Goosebumps erupted over your skin wherever his fingers trailed, and all you could do was watch in the mirror as his head came to rest on your shoulder, doing the same. “This looks downright sinful...” his fingers moved back up the V of the spandex material, only to pause as his fingers cupped the fullness of your breasts, thumbs whispering over piqued nipples. He hovered there for a moment, tracing circles around them as you shivered against the well defined muscle of his chest. “Not a thing left to the imagination...” Shinsou murmured, taking as his hands swept over the top of your chest to your shoulders, slowly down your arms. The winding tightness between your thighs had started, and he’d only been gentle with you so far. His thumbs moved along your inner forearm, traced circles along the sensitive part of your inner wrist before they flowed back up the length of your arms, returning to your breasts where he pulled and teased once more. “You’re telling me I might have to share this with the public...”

Shinsou’s eyes, a beautiful shade of setting sun, were narrowed as his hands traveled down the mesh material of your stomach once more. His fingers spread as he traced your belly, fingers bent just slightly so you felt the drag of his fingertips through the material of the suit. It was just a prototype, after all. The real work effectiveness of the suit would be put in place if you agreed to have it. At the sensation of his nails scratching along your stomach, your thighs turned inwards, backside pressing in against a growing erection. It only caused Shinsou to smile that smarmy smirk that had caught your attention all those years ago at UA. “You’re telling me everyone’s going to get to see this goddess body I get to claim night after night...” Shinsou continued, pulling the soft pudge of your skin in his hands as he raked them to the side to grip your hips. Those fucking hips. His fingers dug in sharper there, knowing your skin could handle it. So full, so fucking lush. “Hell, kitty, you might just raise the crime rate because everyone wants to see you in this costume...” He released his iron grip on your hips, hands sweeping towards your backside to grab at the bountiful ass you had. How it drove him up a fucking wall to see how it bounced against his hips when he took you from behind. “You have no idea...” Shinsou paused to pull up the legs of his pants before he squatted down to his knees, his hands still on your ass.

“How fucking good you look in this...” You were speechless as he continued to knead at your ass, giving that plump backside of yours a soft slap that sounded through the room. He worshipped your body day in and day out, and had simply no problem letting you know how much he loved every square inch of it. Shinsou let out a low hum. His hands continued their march, coming to cup the lower part of your ass in his hands. He was greedy when it came to this, the best fucking handful and then some any god could have given him. “Your ass looks so fucking good...” he whispered, side of his face nuzzled up against the curve of your thigh. One hand slipped from the grip it has on your backside, slipping between your thighs. An idle thumb swept through your lips, so thick and full that when he ate you out he simply rested his head there. A sharp gasp escaped you, rolling into the touch that ended before it’d even begin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Shinsou, that devilish smile there once more. “And these fucking thighs...” he whispered, his second hand repeated that sinful sweeping motion between your legs, his hands gripping your inner thighs, slowing pulling them apart. All the while, you watched through the mirror, his eyes zeroed in on the puffy mound of your pussy that seemed particularly swollen in that jumpsuit. “These fucking thighs that I love to have wrapped around my head...” Shinsou turned in so his nose was pressed against your left thigh, his teeth soon enough caught the material of the jumpsuit between them and pulled it back from your supple skin. A moment later, a sharp snap hit the air as it slapped back against your skin, causing you to squirm. “You’re telling me the world is gonna know how fucking delicious these thighs are...”

He wasn’t the jealous sort, Shinsou. He knew that you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t want to be. That you came home to every night because you wanted to. In that sense he was secure in his relationship with you. But he wanted to make it astoundingly clear to you just how beautiful your body was, and how everyone else in the world who had their head screwed on tight enough was going to see it too. He was hungry to devour you in that suit right there, to fuck you and mark you so greedily so that the world would know his mark on you, but this wasn’t about him or his selfish wants. This was about making you feel like the strongest, sexiest, most powerful woman on the entire earth. And based off the heat he was feeling so close to his hands that gripped your thighs, his mission was working. He hummed, digging his fingers into your skin. “I could spend hours on your skin, kitten.” he murmured, his nose inching up the length of your thigh to where it curved, the crease of hip into thigh his goal. “Kissing it all over, tasting all of you...” you squirmed as Shinsou shifted on the ground slightly, so that he knelt in front of you. The sight of him looking up at you, sunken eyes dark with lust, made your waver on your knees. It was next to holy imagery, his legs spread wide, hands gripping your thighs for purchase as if he didn’t, he’d disappear entirely. “You gonna let me taste you, kitten?”

Shinsou didn’t wait for your answer, moving on his own agenda. He leaned forward into that sweet, tantalizing mound of yours. His nose burrowed in, hands moving up to grip your hips as he pulled you in against him. The flat of his tongue slipped over the clothed length of your cunt, warmth radiating against the sweetness of your pussy as he pulled your thighs apart for him. You moaned out his name, the action he took so simple but enough to threaten you over the cliff. Shinsou had only touched you, slow and measured at that, and this was the first he’d put a hand or tongue where you needed him most. The fabric that had been between your legs was in his mouth, Shinsou sucking on the fabric there to get as much of you in his mouth that had already escaped you while he’d been busy touching you. The fabric fell from his mouth when he was done, slapping against your heat and causing you to jolt forward. Your fingers found themselves wound through the thick tendrils of indigo hair, balancing as he smiled up at you with his head tipped to the side. The look was downright bastardly, and you tugged on his hair. “Don’t tease me,” you said, breathless.

“No teasing here, baby...” Shinsou breathed, pausing to blow hot air against your sex. “I want to make my girl feel good,” while he spoke, he stroked his middle and index finger up and down the slit of your cunt, pushing in slightly so the fabric dipped in your glaze. “I want to make you feel good about this fucking body I intend to destroy...” He sounded so bored as he played with your pussy that it only drove you crazier. You knew from the bulge in his pants that he was far from bored, but how nonchalant he could be while he was winding that coil of an orgasm tighter and tighter inside of you could have pushed you over the edge. “I want to take my time getting you there...”

You mewled, rocking against his fingers as they slipped back and forth, agonizingly slow in their rhythm. Shinsou had never been a fan of when you doubted yourself or your abilities, your worth and your beauty. This wasn’t exactly what he would have called a punishment, rather a reminder that there wasn’t a single part of you that he would want to change about you, and that you should have felt the same. He worshipped you, every second of every day. Frankly, in his eyes, there wasn’t enough hours in the day to give thanks to whatever deities were out there that created the fucking perfect version of yourself that was stood over him currently. “Sit on my face, kitten.” he drawled, eyes raking upwards over those delicious curves of your body, the thickness of your skin so plump, until he was looking into your eyes. “Let me taste you.”

With the way he’s looking at you, you know you don’t stand a chance of saying no. “Yes,” you rasped out, Shinsou’s hands soothing you as they smoothed up and down your thighs. You took a step back from him, Shinsou staying where he was, frozen as he watched you pull down the suit.

It was like a work of art, his cock hardening as you pulled the front of it down, exposing your mounds of flesh, nipples piqued and flushed from when he’d been teasing them earlier. As the black material folded over your arms, exposing soft skin he ached to get his hands on. Down over your midsection, exposing the little roll over your belly that had his mouth watering. “You look so fucking beautiful,” his voice had hollowed out, thick with need to have your thighs practically suffocating him. He watched the blush deepen on your cheeks, only serving to make him grow harder. His eyes snapped back as the skintight material rolled over your hips and his cock twitched. The way your skin pushed out, full and so fucking desirable from the spandex material sent him over the edge. And then there it was. That glistening pussy with the softest patch of hair extending up towards your naval, a landing strip you’d called it once. Shinsou couldn’t help himself as he reached up to his mouth and ran his index finger over the swell of his bottom lip. He could see how wet you were already from the teasing he’d put you through, how your glaze seeped onto the thighs you’d pushed together. He was motionless as you slowly rolled the jumpsuit the rest of the way, over the curve of thighs into calves, finally at those fucking ankles he rather enjoyed having up by his face when he drove into you like a man starved for your fluids.

“You look so fucking tasty, kitten.” he whispered, settled onto his back. Not once had his eyes left yours. “Let me have you, please.” The please and desperation in his voice caused you to squeeze your thighs together again, and he moaned. But you indulged him once he’d taken his shirt off, your eyes directly tracing the spattering of indigo chest hair that lead a thin trail to his naval, the patch at his waist thickening as it disappeared below his pants. Slowly, you lowered yourself until you were sat on his chest. The slickness that spread on his chest from your cunt caused Shinsou to moan as his hands wrapped around your thighs once more, spreading you so he was face to face with that precious cunt he called his. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby.” he said and pulled you forward so that your thighs were pressed in against either side of his head. When he spoke next, the breath he exhaled was right against your heat. “The world’s prettiest cunt, all mine...” Shinsou’s chuckle had you fisting your hands. “One thing I won’t share...”

And then he dived in, having dessert before he’d even had dinner. He’d been aching to get his mouth on your cunt since he’d seen that swollen mound of the hero suit you’d tried on. Now that he had it, he was going to ravage you until you were begging him to stop. His nose pressed in against your mouth, hands spreading your legs further as he lapped noisily against your wet pussy. You were so wet for him already, his tongue lapping up those juices only spurred you to drip more. He was always sloppy when he ate you out, simply because Shinsou wanted to have as much of you on him as possible. You tasted like honey, like a lazy Sunday morning, like the feeling of victory. He slurped and suckled, his teeth grazing over your clit as you found the rhythm of his tongue and started rocking against him. Soon enough the sounds that filled your bedroom were the wet, sloppy noises of Shinsou eating you out, and you whispering his name like a prayer as he suckled on your clit with feral need. His face was slick with your silk glaze, running down his chin and onto his neck, the floor underneath him. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. Your thighs had done what he’d hoped they would, squeezing and flexing against his head as he played with and teased your clit. Shinsou could hardly breathe, but if this was how he was supposed to go, he certainly didn’t mind.

He’d started to flick and circle, traced his tongue around your bundle of nerves faster, and you started to ride his face harder. It was a chase to your orgasm, and just before you reached that finish line, he stopped. A desperate whine escaped you, writhing in an attempt to get back on his tongue and finish out your eye. Except, Shinsou was hiking one leg over his shoulder so that you were off his chest entirely. You whined once more, your core throbbing at how wet his face was. “You taste like fucking heaven...” he groaned as he wiped his fingers over his face, coating his hand in all your silk. Then, he undid the button of his pants, the zipper. And as you adjusted yourself with legs spread, you saw the brilliant pink tip of his cock, dripping pre-cum as he sprung free. You whimpered, desperate to be full once more and to reach your orgasm. Shinsou eyed you up, taking the wetness of your slick from his face in his hand and pumping himself as he came to rest between your thighs once more.

“I want to cum,” you groaned as you reached out, fingers ghosting through the curls of the violet hair around the base of his cock. Shinsou pried your fingers away, returning it to where it’d been beside your head.

“I’m gonna let you, kitten.” he said, as he continued to coat himself in your silken drip. First, he wanted to take a mental picture of how fucking good you looked on the floor. Hair fanned out around your head, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The rapid rise and fall of your chest, your divine breasts moving with each movement. On your back, you were subject to his mercy. The only plan Shinsou had was to make you cum, to make you realize how fucking incredible you were. “You feel good for me?” he asked as he pulled you close to him by the legs, leaning over so that he could hike them up over his shoulders.

You nodded, any of the previous doubts about your body and how you looked quieted as you watched Shinsou turn his head to the side and nip at your ankle. “You’re so fucking perfect. These fucking legs drive me wild every time, kitten.” You felt Shinsou pressed up against the entrance of your cunt, feeling him leak onto your slip. “I don’t ever want you to feel bad about yourself when you look so good.” He was slow as he pushed into you, feeling the stretch around his cock as you moaned out his name. “Your body is fucking perfect,” he said through gritted teeth as he propped himself up on his forearms, leaned in over you so that violet hair hung over your face. Once he started thrusting, he was slow, hitting deep against your walls.

“This tummy is so fucking beautiful,” he groaned as your walls clamped around him once he picked up pace. “Feels so fuckin-nngh,” he sputtered, your feet locked behind his neck. “So good to rest on.” His pace quickened again, purple shaded eyes dropping to your breasts as they bounced in time with his thrusts. “These fucking breasts,” he grunted. You whimpered as you felt that mounting wave of your high start to climb again. “So fucking hypnotizing to watch while I fuck you,” he hissed, your hands braced against his muscled biceps as his pace started to turn sloppy. Your nails dug in, and Shinsou tossed his head back as he hit the final turn.

When he looked back down at you, there was carnal need in his eyes. “These fucking lips,” he moaned, leaning down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss that left behind traces of your cunt. “I can’t get enough, kitten...” His tongue ravaged the rows of your teeth, lapped against your tongue as he fought to taste every part of you could. You were at the climax of that wave mounted in your heat, and you moaned his name, the only indicator he needed of to hurry the fuck up. He started to fuck harder into you to the point where bruises were likely to blossom against where his skin slapped against yours. “That’s it, kitten, that’s it.” he cooed, listening to the mewls falling past your lips as you started to spill over, the wet sound of sex filling the room louder than it had been.

Shinsou leaned back just slightly and returned his hand to your clit, the final push you needed as he paid it loving attention. You came undone around his cock and thumb, the shuddering orgasm ripping through you as you cried out his name. Your legs spasmed, squeezing against once more as he followed after you moments later, spilling hot ribbons of cum inside you. He continued to thrust after he’d come, emptying whatever remains he had until he was empty and spent. Breathless, Shinsou flopped against your chest. His head rested against your breast, moving in time with your rapid breaths that mirrored his own. His thumbs traced loving circles over your hips, his cock soft inside you but Shinsou not wanting to leave you aching and empty of him just yet. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped, swallowing heavily.

Your hands raked through the thick wave of indigo hair, gentle as you combed through it. Words and thoughts were out of your functionality for a passage of time, but when you finally remembered how to do both, you asked a simple question. One that you really already knew the answer to, no longer abashed about how it hugged the curves of your body, just another indicator that you were human. After how much attention Shinsou had dedicated to your body, you almost felt silly for having felt insecure to begin with. “The black suit?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the breast opposite the one he was slumped on. Shinsou turned his head slightly so that he could look at you, admire all that you were. And what you were to him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life making feel that good about herself, about her place in the world. However he had to do that, he would. It was only right because you had supported him through so much and had never asked for anything in return. You were the only person who had ever looked at him like he was normal, like he wasn’t some type of freak. And he’d done the same for you when you’d both attended UA. As far as he was concerned, the only forever he needed was right there, pressed up against his naked body. Shinsou’s grin was lopsided and he nodded. “The black one.”

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buckybarnesdollface · 5 years ago

Text

The Beach House

Summary: Reader is insecure about her body on a vacation with the Avengers, but a certain supersoldier shows her he thinks she’s stunning.

Warnings: Smut

When Tony had said he was taking the team on a retreat, a private beach house in Malibu certainly hadn’t been what I’d expected. The place was enormous, with over a dozen bedrooms, a home theatre, a pool, and access to its own private beach. After what the team had been through in the past year, Tony had insisted we all deserved to spend a little time relaxing and being pampered.

In all honesty, I felt a little out of place being here with the rest of the Avengers. I’d only been recruited six months ago, and on tenuous terms – I’d originally worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. as a Level 6 agent, although I’d started in Level 5 as a biomechanical engineer. It was my knowledge of biomechanics that landed me at the Avengers compound. The Avengers had been in need of someone familiar with the subject, and Maria Hill – who had been my commander at S.H.I.E.L.D. and whom I’d remained close with after – had recommended me to Tony Stark. He had been reluctant considering him and Maria had been on unsteady terms since he’d fired her from Stark Industries, but when I created an implant for Rhodey that meant he didn’t have to wear the braces to walk I had been eagerly welcomed onto the team.

Since then I had assisted with things such as successfully allowing Vision to hold his human appearance even without the mind stone, helping Dr. Banner control when he changes into the Hulk, and repairing/upgrading the tech in Sergeant Barnes’ arm. My place had initially been strictly in the compound, but when Tony found out I was also trained in espionage I was sent out on a few recon missions. And although in the last six months I had created friendships with the other Avengers, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t really belong here.

“You do know that the whole point of bringing the team here was so that we could enjoy the sunshine, right, (Y/N)?” Tony said wryly as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of scotch. With a glass of lemonade in hand and a book tucked under my arm I had just been about to head to the den to curl up and read, which I explained to Tony. He shook his head.

“You can read outside,” he said. “At least go sit by the pool and be around the rest of the team and act like you want to be here.”

“I do want to be here,” I protested.

“Then get your butt out there. I didn’t spend a fortune on this place for people to sit inside by themselves.”

With a sigh, I allowed Tony to usher me out the patio door. Most of the team was either at the beach or in the city, but Steve and Bucky were in the pool tossing a football back and forth. I took a seat on the wicker rocking chair under the cover of a large umbrella and had just cracked open my book when I noticed that Tony was leaving.

“Where are you going?” I accused, and he grinned.

“Pepper is waiting for me on the beach.”

I glared at him. “Then why did you drag me out here?”

“Because some sun would do you good,” he replied, “and because you have to stop spending so much time alone. Now I gotta go, enjoy!”

He waved as he disappeared down the path that led to the beach, and I was so annoyed I contemplated going back inside just out of spite. It was a beautiful day, though, and I had already settled in so I turned my attention back to my book.

For awhile, it was nice – I read my book while in the background the guys continued their game of catch. It wasn’t as peaceful as being alone, but Steve and Bucky were the two least rowdy members of the team and I’d be lying if I said it bothered me having the two shirtless supersoldiers there. If I was going to be forced into company, at least theirs was unobtrusive and pleasant.

It didn’t take long before more of the team returned, though. Sam came out of the house, having woken from a nap, and Natasha and Wanda had returned from shopping and had decided to come sunbathe by the pool. Suddenly I was feeling less than relaxed. With Sam thrown into the mix, Steve and Bucky’s game of catch was much louder and more aggressive. And with Nat and Wanda, who both looked like poster girls for a Playboy magazine, laying by the pool in the new bikinis they had bought I was feeling even more out of place than usual. I glanced down at the denim shorts and baggy t-shirt I wore and suddenly felt like a whale next to a couple of mermaids.

“Sam, god dammit!” I heard Nat shout and I looked up to see that the football had landed in her lap, spraying her with water. Sam had the decency to look apologetic only for a moment before he snickered.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sit so close to the pool if you don’t want to get wet,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you should learn to throw a football,” Natasha retorted, tossing it back at him with a perfect spiral.

“Those are fighting words,” Bucky taunted, and Sam grinned.

“I propose a match. Guys against girls,” he said. “Losers cook dinner for the winners.”

Wanda shook her head. “There’s only two of us and three of you. That’s unfair.”

“(Y/N)!”

Steve’s voice startled me, and I cursed internally as I looked up to see the five of them looking expectantly at me. I shook my head.

“I’ll pass,” I said. “Football’s not really my thing, and I’m not in the mood for swimming.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Nat said. “It’ll be fun! We can show these boneheads how it’s done.”

“You wish,” Bucky snorted. I shook my head again.

“Really, guys, I’m good. Maybe some other time.”

I was hoping they’d drop it, but of course it was never that easy. “Is it that you can’t swim?” Sam asked.

“I can swim,” I defended. In fact, I normally loved swimming. But with both Natasha and Wanda looking like goddesses in their skimpy bikinis and the three very fit guys, there was no way I was going to go put on my basic one-piece bathing suit and come back down just to feel insecure.

“You haven’t been in the pool once since we got here, (Y/N),” Steve pointed out gently. “There’s got to be a reason.”

“Tony said the retreat was for relaxing,” I replied, a slight bite to my tone. “Your idea of relaxing may be playing games in the pool, but mine is not.”

Steve held up his hands in surrender and I felt bad. He truly was one of the nicest people on the team and I hadn’t meant to snap at him, but my patience had expired and I was starting to resent Tony for forcing me to be more social.

Not knowing what else to say and feeling awkward, I got up and headed inside. I looked out the kitchen window to see that Nat and Wanda had jumped in the pool and the five of them were laughing and having fun. With a pang of jealousy, I retreated to the den with my book.

The next day, I stood in the full-length mirror in my room and stared at my reflection. I’d put on my bathing suit – a black one-piece with a corseted neckline that showed a modest bit of cleavage. Although it did make my breasts look good, I couldn’t help but take note of everything I hated – the less-than-flat tummy, the cellulite on my thighs, the rolls that even the black material couldn’t hide…I thought of how Natasha and Wanda had looked in their bikinis, and a noise of disgust pushed its way from my throat. I peeled the bathing suit off and threw on some shorts and my old Star Wars t-shirt before making my way downstairs and out the patio door to the deck.

It was still fairly early, the morning sun warm and the birds chirping. Most of the team was still asleep or watching TV in their pyjamas so I had the backyard to myself. I walked over to the pool and sat down on the edge, letting my bare feet dangle in the water. It was cool but not cold, just enough to feel refreshing in the Malibu heat. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my face.

“I…I don’t mean to intrude,” a soft voice said behind me, and I turned to find Bucky standing there with an apologetic look on his face. “Steve made breakfast; he saw you were awake and was wondering if you wanted some.”

I blushed and ducked my head, embarrassed that he’d caught me in a vulnerable moment. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I said. “I’ll be right in.”

Bucky nodded and then headed back inside. I waited a moment and then followed.

Later that night, we decided to throw a party on the beach to celebrate our last night in Malibu before returning to New York and to work. A big bonfire roared on the beach, and some of the team had started a game of beach volleyball. Clint and Scott were manning the barbecue, and the guys were pounding back hamburgers and hot dogs as quickly as they could make them. I had to admit it was nice seeing the whole team so carefree and having fun. I even convinced myself to join in on a game of volleyball with Peter, Wanda and Thor, and found myself laughing as Thor tried to rein in his strength to make it a more even playing field.

As it got dark the party only intensified, but I found myself growing tired of the prolonged social interaction. Waiting until I was sure no one would notice, I slipped away from the party and made my way back up to the house.

At night the back deck was lit with thousands of fairy lights. I once again sat down on the edge of the pool, contemplating going for a swim while everyone else was down on the beach, but before I could get up to change into my bathing suit a shadowy figure appeared on the path. I stiffened, but when he stepped into the light and I saw it was Bucky I relaxed slightly.

“This feels like deja-vu,” he chuckled, and I gave him a small, shy smile.

�� “How come you aren’t at the party?”

“I saw you leave. I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

I flushed as a weird feeling blossomed in my stomach. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just needed some air. I love the team, but sometimes these parties can be…”

“A little too much?” Bucky finished for me and I nodded. He gave me a small smile before coming to sit next to me, dipping his own feet in the water. He stared down towards the beach as he spoke. “I know better than most how it feels to be overwhelmed around people,” he murmured. “I know how easy it is to isolate yourself when you’re the newest team member and you feel out of place, but trust me when I say that everyone wants nothing more than to make you feel like a part of the family. Speaking from experience, they will keep trying to include you in things until you cave and just go with it.”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “I don’t isolate myself –”

“(Y/N), c’mon. If you aren’t on a mission or in your lab working, you’re off somewhere alone with your nose buried in a book.” Bucky chuckled. “I get it, it’s tough when everyone else already has a history with each other. But the team thinks you’re great. Trust me.”

I finally turned my head towards him to find he was already looking at me. I bit my lip, my cheeks still warm.

“When I was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” I explained, “I felt like I was on an even playing field with everyone else. Sure, there were those with higher clearances than me, but we were all just human. But now…” I trailed off. “I’m surrounded by highly trained assassins and the world’s smartest people and superhumans and a god. Of course I’m going to feel out of place, I’m the least qualified to be here.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “If you were unqualified to be a part of the team, (Y/N), then Maria would have never suggested you for the job and Tony would have never recruited you. The team is lucky to have you.” He grinned and flexed his metal arm. “Besides, if it weren’t for you, I would have to go all the way to Wakanda whenever I needed maintenance on this thing. You certainly give Shuri a run for her money.”

For what felt like the hundredth time that night I blushed. Bucky and I had been alone together on a few occasions when I was working on his arm, but this felt different. It was personal, and if I was being honest, I’d had a small crush on the supersoldier since I’d met him six months ago. I was suddenly highly aware of the fact that we were alone.

“So this is the second time I’ve found you out here by the pool,” he pointed out after a moment of silence. “I know you like to swim, (Y/N); you use the pool at the compound all the time.”

I shot him a confused look. “How did you –”

“You aren’t the only one awake at ungodly hours,” he chuckled. “I have a hard time sleeping. Nightmares. I’ve seen you sneak to or from the pool on a few occasions.” He shook his head. “So why were you so reluctant to swim here? The pool here is so much nicer than the one at the compound.”

Suddenly my throat was dry and I turned my head away from him. “If I tell you, you’ll think it’s stupid,” I mumbled.

“I promise I won’t. Tell me, (Y/N).”

“I just…I don’t feel comfortable around the team,” I admitted, my eyes trained on my lap. “Everyone is all so in shape. Hell, Nat and Wanda look like frigging supermodels walking around here in their bikinis. And then there’s me. I already feel like an outsider, but if I was next to them in their bikinis, I just…I couldn’t do it. It’d just make me feel worse about myself.”

For a moment we sat in silence, but I could feel Bucky’s eyes on me. I had never told anyone about my insecurities like that before, especially not to a man as gorgeous as Bucky Barnes. When he still hadn’t spoken I began to panic, worried I’d made a mistake in opening up, but finally his soft voice broke through the silence.

“(Y/N)…(Y/N), look at me.”

When I didn’t move, he shifted his body towards me and then lifted his flesh hand to take my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger to direct my gaze to his. His blue eyes were soft as he looked at me.

“Are you kidding me?” he breathed. “You wouldn’t join us in the pool because you were scared of what people would think of you in a swimsuit?”

I frowned and pulled away from him. “You don’t get it,” I snapped. “You’re just as in shape as the rest of them, if not more so. I’m the only one on the team without abs.”

Bucky shook his head. “Do you think you’re the only one with insecurities, doll? We’ve all got ‘em,” he said to me. “You seem to think that Natasha is so perfect, for example, but you know how much she hates that scar on her abdomen from the time I shot her.”

I shook my head. “It’s a little scar, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to her.”

“And what about me? Do you know how long it took me to feel even somewhat comfortable wearing short-sleeved shirts, let alone no shirt at all, around the team? I was ashamed of my arm and I hated the scarring on my shoulder from it. A year ago, I wouldn’t have been in this pool because I always felt like everyone was staring. But you know what? I was tired of missing out on things because of my anxiety and I quickly found out that everyone on the team had better things to do than judge me about a metal arm and some scarring.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I groaned. “But it’s the way I feel. Whenever I’m around the two of them I feel like a boulder next to diamonds.”

Bucky snorted, and I glared at him. He shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you think you’re any less beautiful than Natasha or Wanda.”

“I’m not blind,” I retorted. “They have supermodel bodies. I can’t compete with that.”

“Why do you feel like you have to? This isn’t a competition, (Y/N). Your size doesn’t determine your worth as an Avenger or as a person, so it shouldn’t matter.” He grinned before standing and tugging his t-shirt over his head. “And for what it’s worth,” he said as he tossed the shirt onto the deck, “back in my day, a woman with a body like yours drove men wild.”

My eyes widened as I felt the blood rush to my face. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Going for a swim. You gonna join me?”

I shook my head in protest. “I’m not wearing a bathing suit…”

“Neither am I,” he laughed. “That’s what underwear are for.” Bucky slid his shorts from his hips, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He grinned mischievously at me before jumping into the pool. “C’mon!” he called when he resurfaced.

“Bucky, I don’t…I can’t…” I stammered, but he was already swimming over to me. He stood, his hands on the concrete on either side of my thighs as he looked up at me.

“Come on, (Y/N),” he murmured. “Please? Just let yourself be carefree for once. If it makes you feel better, I won’t look until you’re in the pool.”

I pursed my lips, but there was no way I could say no to him, not when he was looking at me like that with those impossibly blue eyes. Finally, I rolled my eyes and groaned.

“Fine.” I said. “But turn around. Don’t move until I say.”

Bucky obeyed, a grin on his face, and I stood up to yank the t-shirt over my shoulders before shimmying out of my shorts. For a minute I stood there with my arms crossed over my chest, feeling terrifyingly exposed. At least I had thought to put on my matching black lace bra and panties earlier that night. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the water quietly, making sure the water was deep enough to come up past my chest before I spoke.

“Okay,” I said softly, and Bucky turned. He grinned at me.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Harder than it should have been,” I admitted, and Bucky’s grin turned into a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t want you to ever feel insecure or uncomfortable around me, (Y/N). I’ve always got your back, okay?”

I could only nod, at a loss for words. Hesitating, I let myself step deeper into the pool until my feet no longer reached the bottom and I had no choice but to swim. I had to admit it felt good; swimming had always been my favourite way to relax.

“So, are you sure you don’t mind missing the party?” I asked Bucky as I swam a lap around the pool. He shook his head.

“Nah, I’m happy where I’m at right now.”

Warmth spread through my body, and I smiled to myself. We swam in comfortable silence for a little bit, just enjoying the peace and quiet. At one point I came up for air, pushing the hair back from my face and not realizing I’d come up in the shallow end and the water barely reached my hips. I opened my eyes and found Bucky standing a few feet away, his eyes locked on me and his jaw slack.

Cheeks burning, I quickly dropped to my knees in the water and wrapped my arms around myself tightly, horrified. “You’re staring,” I accused in a shaky voice, and Bucky’s eyes widened as if he’d just realized what he’d done.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to, (Y/N). It’s just…you’re…”

He was rambling, clearly uncomfortable, and I frowned as tears stung the backs of my eyes. “I get it,” I muttered, but Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t think you do get it, doll,” he murmured, his voice huskier than it had been before. When my brow furrowed, he took a couple of steps towards me, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It blows my mind just how much you don’t get it.”

“Do you have a point to make,” I snapped weakly, “or are you just going to keep making me feel shitty about myself?”

“You have no reason to feel shitty about yourself, (Y/N); especially not with me.” He took another step closer, then another. “You’re perfect.”

“Wait…what?” I shook my head, confused. “Bucky, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You, silly girl. I’m talking about you,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful. I’ve thought so since the first time I laid eyes on you, and it kills me that you don’t see it. If you could see what I see, see how absolutely stunning you are…”

At this point my head was swimming. This was a joke; he was messing with me, knowing that I was at my most vulnerable right now.

But Bucky wouldn’t do that – He was one of the kindest people I knew. And all I had to do was look at his eyes to know he was being sincere.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why me? You could have any girl you wanted…”

“I want you, (Y/N),” he insisted. By now he was standing in front of me, and when I wouldn’t stand he sank to his knees so we were more at eye level. “I don’t know how to say it to make you believe me, but I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and god, I would spend every day of my life making sure you knew it if you’d let me.”

For a minute I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, shocked as a lump formed in my throat, and then tears were spilling down my cheeks. Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Don’t cry, doll, shit. Did I say something wrong?” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No,” I said, shaking my head as I swiped at my tears in embarrassment. “You did nothing wrong, Bucky. I just…I keep waiting to find out this is all a joke but you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Bucky’s face softened. “Of course I’m serious! I’ve been wanting to tell you this for months but I just never knew how.” He chuckled, his cheeks tinted a light pink. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, doll. Walking around the compound in those leggings and your loose t-shirts, hinting at what’s underneath. You’re sexier all covered up than those other girls are in their bikinis.” He bit his lip. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to leave the gym while you’re training because of what you do to me?”

Heat flooded my body, and if I weren’t already on my knees those words certainly would have brought me to them.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t want you to think I got you into the pool just so I could get you to take your clothes off,” he said quickly, looking suddenly embarrassed. “I truly did just want to help you move past your insecurities. But then I saw you and honest to god, doll, you took my breath away.”

I ducked my head. “Not even a part of you wished I was thinner?” I asked in a quiet voice. Bucky reached out to cup my cheeks in his hands.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I grew up in a different time, doll. One where women had curves and were desired even more for it.” His hands slid from my face to my shoulders, then down my back to rest on my waist. The contrast between the warmth of his flesh and the chill of the vibranium sent shivers through me, and he grinned. “Besides,” he murmured, “I like having something to grab onto when I’m with a woman.”

Bucky’s fingers dug gently into the flesh of my waist and I inhaled sharply. He held my eyes and I could feel heat pooling in my stomach as I watched the blue in his eyes slowly turn black as the reflection of the fairy lights made them glitter.

“Bucky?” I whispered breathlessly.

“Mmm, doll?”

“Kiss me.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on my waist as he pulled me closer, and then he inclined his head until his lips just barely brushed over mine. He waited a few seconds, uncertain, but when my hands reached up to clasp behind his neck and pull him back to me his lips pressed against mine with more pressure. My fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently, and Bucky groaned into my mouth, giving my tongue access to explore. I dragged it lightly over his bottom lip before touching it to his, and suddenly we were no longer on our knees. Bucky had pulled me up and lifted me into his arms, my legs straddling his waist as he carried me over to the edge of the pool. He sat me down, his body still between my legs, and kissed me with fresh vigor as his hands roamed over my thighs.

I broke the kiss, ducking my head. Suddenly I felt too exposed and Bucky could tell because he took his hands from my thighs to instead intertwine them with my own hands.

“(Y/N), hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay, if you don’t want to do this…”

I shook my head. “It’s not that, I just…” I trailed off, biting my lip. The next thing I knew, Bucky was lifting my hand to lay it flat against his chest, right where flesh met metal. My eyes widened slightly and he gave me a small smile.

“Bucky…” I whispered. I had touched the arm countless times when I was doing maintenance on it, but he had made it very clear from the beginning that no one was to touch the scars. And now here he was, encouraging me to do so.

“It’s okay, doll,” he murmured, his voice husky. Hesitating, I ran my fingertips lightly over the puckered skin, still an angry pink even all these years later. I could feel him shiver underneath me but he didn’t move, his eyes trained on my face as I traced the jagged lines.

“Do they still hurt?” I asked quietly, and Bucky shook his head.

“Not really. Once in awhile I’ll get a ghost pain as a reminder of how it happened, but more than anything it’s just ugly.”

I leaned in to press my lips softly to the scars. “Nothing about you is ugly.”

Bucky pulled my lips back to his as his hands slid back to my thighs. “That’s the point I’m trying to make, doll,” he murmured. “I could say the same thing about you.” He slid his hands further up my thighs and I could feel my body reacting to his touch. The heat in my stomach had returned and my body shifted until I was pressed against him, my legs wrapping around his torso while he deepened the kiss. His hands moved from my thighs to my hips, fingertips gliding over my flesh and sending shivers up and down my spine.

When his fingers reached the clasp of my bra I froze, and he pulled back from me to meet my eyes. “If you want me to stop…”

“No, I don’t, but…right here? Bucky, we could get caught…”

He shook his head. “Everyone’s too wrapped up in the party, no one will bother us for awhile.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

With a noise that could only be described as a growl, Bucky was climbing out of the pool and pulling me to my feet. Before I knew it his hands slid under my thighs and he lifted me up as if I weighed no more than a bag of flour, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me towards the house. Shifting my weight to one arm to open the door, his lips attacked mine as soon as we were inside. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips fought each other for dominance, and when my legs tightened around Bucky’s waist he backed into a table and knocked a vase of flowers to the floor. It shattered and Bucky disconnected his lips from mine in annoyance.

“Shit,” he swore as I giggled.

“You might wanna be more careful, Sergeant,” I teased. “Tony’s probably gonna get charged for that.”

Bucky’s eyes met mine, blue irises nearly swallowed whole by his pupils. “Call me that again,” he growled, and I arched an eyebrow.

“Sergeant?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs as my back hit a wall. His mouth was all over me and his touch was dizzying, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders. I could feel my control fading, more quickly than it ever had with anyone else. I pulled my lips away from him with a gasp.

“If we don’t get to a bedroom right now,” I said to him, “then someone’s gonna walk into this kitchen and get a show they aren’t expecting.”

With a wicked smirk, Bucky made for the stairs and took them two at a time. His room was closer and we crashed through the door, lips still locked together and hands exploring hot, damp skin. Bucky kicked the door closed behind us and then set me on my feet, hands still lingering at my waist.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured huskily, and my cheeks burned. Suddenly I was shy again and my legs felt weak. I set a hand on his arm to steady myself and his grip on my waist tightened. “(Y/N), if you don’t want to do this we can stop right now,” he said in a quiet voice, his tone gentle and sincere. “I would never ask you to do something you don’t want to do.” He lifted one hand to brush a wet strand of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “All I want is for you to know how stunning I think you are.”

My breath hitched and I looked up to meet his ocean-blue eyes. “I do want this,” I whispered. “I want you, Buck. More than anything.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Bucky murmured, and then he was leaning in to kiss me. It wasn’t like the other kisses, that had been all passion and lust; no, this one was soft and sweet and fueled by pure emotion. When he slowly pulled away, he nuzzled his nose against mine affectionately before meeting my eyes.

“It would be so easy to just ravage you right now,” he said in a low, even voice that sent shivers through my body, “but shit, doll, I want to do this right. I wanna take it slow and memorize every inch of you, have you squirming underneath me till you’re beggin’ me to stop and I’ve ruined you for all other men.”

As he spoke his Brooklyn accent came through and that, paired with his words, sent a wave of heat crashing through my body. I couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping my mouth, and Bucky’s lips curved into a smirk.

“That sound good, baby doll? You want it nice and slow? Want me to ruin you so I’ll be the only one to ever be able to satisfy you again?”

I had never heard Bucky talk like this; I hadn’t even known this side of Bucky existed. He was usually so reserved, and on the occasion that he did let his guard down he was still the early twentieth-century gentleman he had been raised to be. But this…Now I was starting to understand why Steve was always saying that Bucky had been such a ladies’ man back in the day. If he’d talked like this to any woman, she would’ve been lifting her skirts for him in seconds.

I wanted to say something witty, something along the lines of “Why don’t you use that talented tongue of yours for something else,” but in that moment my wits had completely escaped me and I was a hot, flustered mess. Instead, I barely managed to muster a breathless “Yes” as I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. He lifted his flesh hand to run a calloused thumb over my lips. In a brief moment of bravery, I grazed his thumb with my teeth and then sucked it into my mouth, my eyes not leaving his.

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Shit, doll,” he swore softly, and then his hands were tugging me closer until my body was flush with his. His hands moved to grip the flesh of my backside, one cold and one hot on my skin, and I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me. I could feel the outline of his manhood against my hip, solid and large, and when I shifted against it his hands on me tightened.

He backed me up until my legs hit the bed and then he was lowering me onto the mattress, crawling up after me until his body hovered above mine. He held my eyes for the briefest of moments and then I was pulling him back into a kiss. He pressed his hips down into mine and in return I bucked up into him, craving the friction I needed to relieve the pressure building inside me.

Bucky slid a hand underneath me to undo the clasp of my bra with deft fingers, and then he broke our kiss to trail his lips down my throat to my collarbone as he slid the damp garment from my shoulders. My nipples, hard from a combination of the cool dampness of my bra and my arousal, stood erect as my chest heaved with ragged breaths. Bucky’s eyes were pools of black in the dark room, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he drank in the sight before him.

“Touch me,” I begged in a raspy whisper, and then his hands were on me – one cool and smooth and the other hot and rough – roaming over my curves but purposely avoiding my breasts. He finally cupped them softly, fingers kneading flesh, and when his thumbs brushed over my nipples, I arched up into him with a soft moan.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “Promise I’ll take real good care of you, doll.”

His hands slid down my body at an agonizing pace, and with them so did his mouth. He latched onto a nipple and sucked it gently into his mouth and his name left my lips in a breathless plea. He moved onto the other nipple, his hands slowly sliding further down my body. When the fingertips of his metal hand reached the waistband of my underwear he hesitated, his eyes meeting mine.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” he murmured.

“I want you…” I whined, but Bucky shook his head.

“That could mean anything. I need you to tell me exactly what you want; I’m not doing anything until you do.”

I was so strung out already and he’d barely even touched me – I wasn’t even sure I could form coherent sentences at the moment. “Your hand,” I managed to rasp, and when his flesh hand inched up my thigh I shook my head and reached out to grasp his wrist. “No. The metal one.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “(Y/N), I –” he choked, but I cut him off.

“You asked what I wanted,” I pointed out, and then in a softer voice I added, “Please.”

Blue eyes burned as his left hand slid up my thigh slowly, pushing the black lace aside and exposing the heat between my legs. He let out an almost-silent groan at the sight.

“Already so wet for me, doll,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. His metal digits swiped through my wetness, spreading it over my folds, and I let out a shuddering whimper at the contrast of his cool fingers on my aching heat. He continued to run his fingertips through my folds, and once he was satisfied he sank one and then two fingers into me, drawing out an obscenely embarrassing moan from my lips.

“Don’t hold back, doll,” he murmured. “I wanna hear every pretty little noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth.”

As he spoke, Bucky flexed his fingers inside me and I cried out, back arching off the mattress. He smirked.

“So tight, doll,” he praised. “Gonna feel so good around me when I’m inside you.”

“Bucky…” I whimpered, and when he pulled his fingers out of me I let out an exasperated whine that set him to chuckling.

“Don’t worry, doll, it’s only for a second,” he assured me, and then he was on his knees between my legs and tugging my damp panties from my hips. “I gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, you’re so tight I wanna make sure I don’t hurt you.”

I didn’t have time to respond before two thick metal digits were once again filling me up and his tongue left a hot, wet stripe up my folds to my clit. I let out a strangled gasp, hips bucking up into his face as my hands instinctively tangled in his damp hair. I tugged on the dark locks and Bucky groaned against my folds, sending vibrations through me that freshly slickened his fingers and tongue. He began to slide his metal fingers in and out of me at a steady pace, not rough but not exactly gentle either, and the feel of his fingers curling against my inner walls combined with the way his tongue drank down everything I had to offer him and his lips wrapped around my clit had me on the edge in no time. With one last hard suck my moan evolved into a strangled scream, his name falling from my lips in heated ecstasy. He brought me down with kitten licks as his fingers slowed, and then his teeth nipped the inside of my thigh affectionately before he slid up my body to kiss me languorously.

I could taste myself on Bucky’s lips and it fueled my desire. I locked my legs around his waist, grinding my still-sensitive wet heat against the bulge in his boxer briefs. He let out a grunt and rolled his hips into mine, teeth grazing the skin of my throat.

“No more teasing,” I said breathily. “Need you inside me…Now. Please, Buck, I can’t wait another second…”

Not needing to be told twice, Bucky shed his boxer briefs and then his body was over mine again. I could feel his length, hot, heavy and solid against my hip, and I reached down between us to take him into my hand. Bucky let out a small hiss, and butterflies filled my stomach when I realized how large he was. Now I understood his comment about getting me ready had been more than just dirty talk. As I slid his length through my slick folds to coat it in my juices, though, I concluded that he would have no trouble; the feel of his hard cock against me was enough to have me dripping with fresh arousal.

“(Y/N), fuck,” he said through clenched teeth, and with a demure smile I lined him up with my entrance and let go of him.

“Ruin me, Sergeant,” I murmured, and with a purely animalistic growl Bucky sheathed himself fully in me in one slow thrust.

We both let out long, low groans, and Bucky held himself still as I squeezed my eyes shut and adjusted to his size. The stretch of my walls around him bordered on painful, but it was overshadowed by the deliciously satisfying feeling of being so completely full of such a beautiful man. A beautiful man who was looking down at me with both undeniable adoration and feverish restraint.

“Just tell me…just tell me when,” Bucky grunted, and I realized he had been holding his breath. Wickedly, I squeezed my walls around him and he gasped, blue eyes wide as he let out a string of curses from his kiss-swollen lips. He fixed a glare on me and shook his head. “Do that again, doll, and this is gonna be over before we’ve even had a chance to start.”

“So start, then,” I said in exasperation, and with a glint in his eyes Bucky pulled out almost all the way only to thrust back into me with force, knocking the breath out of me. In a few thrusts I was matching Bucky’s rhythm, hands on his back pulling him as close as humanly possible to me as nails dug into flesh.

The room quickly filled with the grunts and moans of passion, accompanied by the sound of skin on skin. Bucky’s hands slid under my thighs to lift my legs and wrap them around his waist – This new angle not only let him hit that elusive spot in me that even I often had a hard time finding, but it also had his pubic bone grinding against my clit every time he pounded into me. Within seconds this new position had me keening, and Bucky grinned down at me before nuzzling his face against my neck.

“That feel good does it, baby girl?” he panted into my ear, every word punctuated by a calculated thrust of his unforgiving length into my yielding heat. “You got me so fucking hard, seein’ how wrecked you are underneath me. Wanna draw those pretty noises from you all night long till everyone knows how good I make you feel.”

“Bucky…” I whined, nails biting deeper into the taut flesh of his back as he drove into me fiercely. “Buck, I’m…”

As quick as he started, his movements stopped. I opened my mouth to protest, breathless and hopelessly strung out, but with his length still inside me he flipped us over so I was straddling his hips. In this position I could feel him even deeper inside me, something I hadn’t thought possible, and with a moan my head fell back. I could feel him chuckle beneath me, and then his hands were on my hips and he was rocking me against him slowly.

I took over the movements, grinding my hips against his until we were both groaning in pleasure. Bucky’s hands slid up my thighs, over every curve and up to my breasts. He took them into his large hands and brushed his thumbs over my nipples, bringing a breathless moan from my lips as I arched into his touch.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and the softness of his tone had me opening my eyes to see that he was looking up at me with absolute adoration shining in his eyes as his thumbs traced across my breasts, still cupped in his hands. It was in that moment that I realized this had not been a heat-of-the-moment thing, nor did he intend for it to be a casual thing. This man – this beautiful, remarkable, supersoldier of a man – was as infatuated with me as I was with him. Dizzy with this revelation, I placed my palms flat on his hard chest to steady myself.

Bucky rolled his hips up into mine gently, and then with more vigor as the seconds passed. It took no time at all for me to find myself on the edge of release. I could tell Bucky was close, too; his thrusts, which had been delivered with precision up until now, were sloppier and more erratic. I leaned down to capture his lips in a fiery kiss.

“Come for me,” I panted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Come for me, Buck, I wanna feel you.”

He let out a soft curse in what sounded like Romanian, and then one hand was on my waist pulling me onto him while he drove up into me, while his flesh hand snaked between us so he could press his thumb onto my still-sensitive bud. That did it, and with a cry I came undone. Bucky was only a few seconds longer, spilling into me with a quiet groan that sent a small wave of heat through my spent body.

Exhausted in the best way possible, I collapsed on Bucky’s chest, and his arms wound around me to hold me closer to himself. He rolled us over so that I was more comfortably snuggled into his side, smoothing my damp hair away from my face and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. It was like that that I fell asleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest lulling me into a peaceful slumber.

A sharp knock on the door woke me up the next morning. Sometime through the night Bucky must have pulled the covers over us, but now I poked my head anxiously out from under the cocoon he had created. Another knock sounded, and this time I sat up and elbowed Bucky in the side. He let out a grunt in annoyance, still half-asleep, when Steve’s voice followed the knock.

“Buck, are you awake in there? C’mon, Tony’s rounding everyone up. He wants to leave by eleven.”

At this Bucky’s eyes opened, and he glared at the door. “I’ll be on time,” he snapped. “Worry about yourself, punk. I just have to pack.”

Steve muttered an indistinguishable response. When Bucky was sure he was gone he rolled over to nuzzle his face against my neck, arms pulling me tight to him.

“Mornin’, doll,” he murmured into my skin, sending a shiver through me.

“Morning,” I replied, the feel of his lips on me temporarily making me forget we had just almost been caught. I wanted to continue where we had left off the night before, but I knew that Tony was very strict in his scheduling and the clock on Bucky’s nightstand said it was already ten-thirty. Reluctantly, I went to pull away from Bucky, but his arms around me tightened.

“Not yet,” he mumbled, metal hand skimming over the skin of my hip and raising goosebumps. “We still have time.”

“Buck, I still have to pack,” I protested unconvincingly. “Besides, Steve almost caught us…”

As if on cue, more voices sounded out in the hallway. “Has anyone seen (Y/N)?” Wanda asked. “She isn’t in her room.”

“She left the party early last night, haven’t seen her since,” Peter replied, and I cursed under my breath. As I went to sit up, Bucky’s door swung open and Steve’s large form filled the door frame. His eyes widened as he took in Bucky and I together in bed, me holding the blankets up to hide my nakedness, and then our underwear discarded on the floor. Shock quickly dissipated into a mischievous smirk, but he at least had the decency to blush. Before anyone could say anything, Sam’s voice was yelling up the stairs.

“Yo, I think I know where (Y/N) is!” he said, glee underlining his tone as he jogged up the stairs. When he caught Steve standing in the doorway and Bucky and I in the bed with flushed cheeks, a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

He tossed something onto the bed, and I realized it was the clothes we’d left by the pool the night before. “I figured you’d need those before you snuck back to your own room,” he said to me with a wink, and then he turned to Steve. “C’mon, Cap, let’s leave these two to get dressed.”

Both of them fixing us with one more smirk, they shut the door and we were alone again. I buried my face in my hands with a groan, but all of a sudden I was on my back and Bucky was on top of me.

“Well,” he murmured, “since everyone knows we might as well make a good impression.”

I grinned up at him. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before Tony storms in here and drags us onto that quinjet by our ears,” I teased. “Think you can manage that?”

“Oh, doll, fifteen minutes is plenty of time to let everyone know you belong to me.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes #bucky reader smut #smut #avengers #mcu #beach house

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entomancy · 3 years ago

Text

(Fic) One thing we can agree on

Title: One thing we can agree on (Wattpad)

Setting: The vampire nonsense / Vegas Masquerade

Warnings: Gore. I am having fun with my crayons.

Words: 1401

Summary: Flashback into the 'Moonlight Flush' part of the timeline. Which is the framing of the events of ~twenty years ago in the Vegas Masq. setting (which set up the current ‘rules’) as an urban fantasy police procedural; where Joplin would have been the secondary main / intro to the supernatural world and Belton the Season One antagonist who ended up Sort Of Befriended(ish).

This would have been in approx. Season Three, when bits from Joplin's past come back to bite him (er, again, I guess), and involves the first time he'd actually had to team up with Belton against a larger problem.

The larger problem being: more werebears, but asshole ones.

Indulgent, but I enjoy Belton being a dramatic irritation, and ~27yr old Joplin's permanent state of exasperation. And I wanted to explore an important (?) difference in the way the vampires and were(s) of this setting work.

(Also neither tumblr nor Wattpad has any sensible way to use footnotes, so there's one just... there, in the middle. Like this is FFN cira 2003 or something.)

---

The real difference between vampires and werewolves is how they bleed.

Clearly it isn't the only difference. There are the big, obvious - hairy - ones; and you could spend lifetimes comparing technicalities of characteristic amongst the supernatural set, searching for links or diversions or even a root cause. How magic plays in. How inheritances work, or the fundamental incompatibility of cross-siring. How sunlight, direct or orbitally reflected, could possibly trigger the different effects that it does.

But for Denis Joplin, as he'd scrambled to make sense of the extraordinary left turn his last decade had careened into, somehow the thing that really seemed to underline it all was the way they bled. Maybe because he'd always had such a damn knack for getting into situations that showcased it.

That last round of gunfire had really screwed up his right arm. He'd wedged himself in place against the thick struts of a heavy-duty shipping container - splattered almost as much now with crimson as it was with spraypainted Cyrillic – and tried to breathe quietly. The enormous bastard wielding a goddamn helicopter canon had fucked off to yell 'roided nonsense into a different part of the warehouse, so they probably had a few minutes pause before he realised his targets had dodged.

Not dodged as well as Joplin'd have liked, but there y'go. You worked with what you got.

Most of the bullets had gone straight through – since he wasn't an armour-plated van – but he could feel a few wedged points of pain even within the jellied miasma of broken flesh that hung unpleasantly from his torn shirt.

"Jesustapdancing-" he bit down on the mismatched curse as he grabbed his messed-up limb with his other hand and twisted, pushing it up against himself and the steel wall behind, and tried not to go blind.

It squelched.

"Don't like that," he muttered, then glanced up at the wet snort of amusement from just down the container row. "Hey, he nailed you to the fuckin' wall about as well as I've seen; don't get lippy."

Not that his extremely temporary partner was in much shape to be more actively sarcastic. The brunt of the recent salvo had hit taken Belton pointy-ear to hip, ripping the big grey fuck open like a side character in chainsaw splatter, which – somehow – made the look of dazed amusement on the bits of his face that weren't hanging off even more aggravating than usual. He shifted position, bringing his torn-up arms out in front of him as if holding something narrow and invisible in both hands, and –

Joplin blinked.

Pull... yourself...

"Oh fuck off," he growled – and it was a growl, a sound that started deeper than his chest actually went and brought the pull along with it; a bestial reverb that went beneath his bones. Joplin gritted his teeth – which felt about ready to start moving in his jaw as it was, aching with something beyond nerves – and had another unpleasant feel around where his elbow used to be. It helped if everything was in the right place. Last thing he needed right now was having to rebreak a limb because he'd managed to shift over all wonky.

That'd have to do. Very pointedly not making eye contact with Belton as he did so, Joplin Changed.

There have been a lot of renditions of a lycanthropic* transformations over the years, and there have even been some that have come close to the actual reality of seeing it happen. The exact visuals tend to vary person to person, but however it looks, the world bends – just a little, at the seams – as something that was only ever the thickness of breath away steps forward. Joplin always thought it felt like stretching should do – an all-over, unfurling release of physicality, like every fibre of you stopped hunching its shoulders all at once.

________________________________________________________________

* There's an argument that 'ursanthropic' might be a more technically correct term when the reader is considering Denis Joplin himself – or even the bellowing figure currently firing 30mm rounds into what will turn out to be a container of tinned garlic pallets – but the linguistic side of paraphylogeny isn't a popular field. 'Actually, it's wereBEAR' is only a helpful correction under certain circumstances, and this isn't one of them.**

** Yet. ________________________________________________________________

The arm took a bit more effort. A transformation that added several feet in height, width, and summed-up hair length didn't exactly have a problem fixing a half-mulched limb, but there was clearly an additional process going on. He wondered how people had explained what it looked like before timelapse film had been developed.

It... healed. Torn vessels sealed over; bone shards scraped and swelled together within muscles that bulged crimson-purple as they knitted close. Tissue bloomed, bruise-blossom hues racing through tattered skin and dragging raw pallor behind them; black-bloody tears welled up pink and grey and pink again, threaded with ribbons of tendon herded into place by a lightning flash of sudden scars, gone as fast as they appeared. Then the fur broke surface like desert flowering, and a heartbeat later there was nothing to show for the damage that a slight extra paleness in the iron-grey pelt, as Joplin flexed his bulked-out fingers carefully.

Belton clapped. Just once, with a softness that hands tipped with inch-long claws shouldn't be able to achieve, and it was the most sarcastic fucking sound Joplin had ever heard. He bared his considerable teeth in a silent snarl and waved his own padded hands towards the old bat.

Hurry. Up.

Belton's black eyes crinkled at the edges, and then he pulled himself back together.

The real difference between vampires and werewolves is how they bleed.

Belton's blood was dark, with a strangeness to its consistency that would have baffled splatter analysts on a fundamental level, but it also didn't tend to stay where it landed. None of him did. Metal gleamed naked against the pitted concrete as pools of inky crimson pulled away from the bullets that had torn them loose, flowing back along their own path like a retreating tide - rivulets of reversing gore that snaked and whipped back up their origin form, trailing back into ruptures that folded seamlessly shut around them. Belton stood up, even as his chest cavity was still closing, and gently pushed his hanging jaw back into place, smoothed like fresh clay.

Vampires don't heal – you see – so much as 'rewind'.

He held Joplin's gaze, half a heartbeat longer than he needed to, and grinned.

There was a spotless bullet held between his rows of teeth.

"Oh, fuck off," Joplin repeated – before he was drowned out by a guttural roaring, and the sound of a minigun barrel being smashed through something unfortune enough to be inside its turning circle.

"Little pigs, little pigs! I hear you!"

Both men visibly winced.

"See, someone with that little self-awareness just shouldn't be this much of a problem," Belton muttered, flicking the bullet aside like a cigarette butt. "It's genuinely a bit embarrassing."

"Yeah, well," Joplin whispered back, as he scanned the roof, taking in the environment with an eye to traversal options he hadn't had five minutes ago. "I won't tell if you don't."

Another roar burst the air, and Belton started edging down the row again, clearly doing his own version of the calculations.

"Pity he doesn't take after your side of the family, really."

"This isn't a family situation," Joplin snapped back, readying himself to move when the oncoming footsteps got a bit closer. If he could get around, then maybe he could deke out the...

He glanced back, about to signal a go, and realised the old vampire was still looking at him, one of those impossible-to-read expressions on his weird bat face for a second, before he spoke softly.

"See, that's the thing with monsters. It's always going to come back to blood, one way or another."

A shiver danced down Joplin's extended spine, strong enough to stir the fur. That was a bit close for comfort – and from sodding Belton? He shrugged dismissively, only partly to himself.

"Yeah, well, this ain't gonna be the worst it gets. Try not t'get cut in half again."

Then the shipping container exploded in a nightmare of burning metal. Belton went right; Joplin went up; and everything else went on from there.

----

#Entofic #urban fantasy #The Vegas Masquerade #Knockoff Manbat lookin' bastard #first team up is a bitch #Denis Joplin

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mischiefandspirits · 5 years ago

Text

The Third Path

Some new ghost hunters have come to town, but are they really ghost hunters, or something else?

When a human dies, there are three paths the freed soul can take. Most are sent straight to the After. However, some stay behind.

“Excuse me, dear girl, but may I have a moment of your time!”

Valerie frowned at the shout and turned her board around to see a Latina woman staring at her with a curious smile. She had knee-length black hair that, alongside her long white dress, swirled around her from her spot on the edge of a skyscraper’s roof.

The ghost hunter immediately dove down towards the woman, holding up her hands. “Woah, hey now. There’s no need for that. Come down from there and we can talk about this.”

The woman frowned, then smiled again as she climbed down and stepped back until there were a good five feet between her and the edge. “Apologies, I did not mean to frighten you. I simply wished to gain your attention. I did not anticipate you taking my position in such a way.”

“Right,” Valerie said slowly dropping down to the roof and banishing her board. “How can I help you?”

The woman hummed, staring at where her board had been before looking up at her.

A shiver went up Valerie’s spine at the neon blue color of the woman’s eyes, but it was washed away a second later by a wave of contentment that filled her.

“My name is Adelaida. I and my people have come to this town to assist with the demonic presence that plagues you.”

Valerie’s eyes widened. “Demonic? You mean the ghosts?”

“Yes, that is the term you use for them, isn’t it?”

“You’re ghost hunters?” she asked cautiously. More ghost hunters wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but only if they were actually helpful. Most of the ghost hunters Valerie has met were absolutely useless while the G.I.W. did more damage than the ghosts. The Fenton’s at least knew what they were doing, even if they tended to be a little trigger happy and often late to the party.

“In a sense. We hoped to gain information on the demons -- or ghosts -- that most commonly plague you. We have already sought out the matriarch and patriarch of the Fenton family as our research painted them as your town’s best hunters and they spoke well of you. As such, we wished to see if you would have any information that might assist us.”

Valerie straightened up with Pride. It was nice that some people appreciated her efforts. She’d never really spoken to the Fentons in her hunting persona -- too worried they’d recognize her -- and everyone else either opposed her because of her fights with Phantom or was Masters, and Masters was one wrong move away from a face full of ecto-ray.

“They did not inform us that you use demonic relics to fight with, however.”

She flinched. She wasn’t exactly happy to be using ghost-made weapons, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her suit was far and away the best of the best and let her keep up with ghosts in ways no other human could. “Well, fight fire with fire and all that.”

“I suppose.”

She frowned at the disgust in Adelaida’s voice. “It’s not that different from the ecto-weapons the Fentons have created.”

“No, but those are distasteful as well.”

“Well, what do you use?” If Adelaida was another one of those people who thought you could fight ghosts with sage and horseshoes, Valerie was taking off without another word. Where did people even get ideas like that?

“My people have access to an energy that is the polar opposite of the energy used by demons, the matter to their antimatter so to speak. It can be quite painful to ghosts and does not burden us with using such horrific devices.”

Valerie felt her annoyance with the woman’s haughtiness growing, but shoved it down in curiosity at the idea of some sort of anti-ectoplasm. “Really? How did you get your hands on something like that? Did your people develop it?”

“In a way. But that is not why I’m here. Tell me, what do you know of the demons that plague this town?”

She shrugged. “Too much to tell. There’s a ghost for every day of the year and they all show up at random. The short of it though is one ghost. Well, two, but Box Ghost is more a nuisance than a threat.”

Adelaida nodded. “The Fenton’s mentioned the box obsessed demon. I suppose the other you referenced is the one who refers to itself as Danny Phantom.”

“Yeah, him.” Valerie scowled. She still wasn’t sure how to feel about the ghost-boy. Every time she considered going back to hunting him, all she could think about was him pleading for her to let him save Dani and him holding out his hands after so she could capture him once more. She thought about the times they’d worked together and how he’d only ever betrayed her by telling her father her secret to keep her from what she knew was a suicide mission.

The woman must have misread her scowl as she said, “Yes, I understand your frustration. The Fenton’s told us much about the hero act the demon uses to gain favor in the town and we agree that its tie to this plane is likely its need for attention. Given its age, it was likely either an unwanted or neglected child or one who hoarded such attention in life, such as a prince or celebrity. It has clearly come to find that displays of kindness are its best bet to gain this attention and should the attention ever wane, it will undoubtedly return to its early acts of vandalism and violence to satisfy its obsession once more.”

Even though she nodded along, Valerie couldn’t help but disagree as she’d done before when she’d heard such things from the Fenton’s. Phantom didn’t like attention, he had run away from his phans and hidden from news copters enough for that to be obvious. Sure, he was a showboat, but he never stuck around after a fight. If Phantom had an obsession -- which Valerie didn’t buy -- it was probably fighting. Or maybe just Amity Park in general. He’d certainly claimed it as his territory, judging by the fact that a few of the ghosts that could be found skulking about often complained about how “Phantom said we could stay!” and would go cry to him if she tried to capture them.

“Is there anything else you could tell us?”

Valerie considered saying something about Masters, but she was hesitant to reveal the human-ghost hybrid. If someone discovered him, how long until they discovered Dani? She wouldn’t be the reason the girl was in danger again. “Careful with Phantom. He’s a lot more powerful than most of the ghosts we see around here and he’s got allies.”

“Allies?”

“Most don’t know it, but Phantom lets some ghosts stick around. He’ll protect them if we come after them, so I wouldn’t put it past them to return the favor if he needed it.”

“Vassals then,” Adelaida hummed. “That could be promising. The Fenton’s did not mention that. Thank you for your assistance. I will inform my people.” She gave a curtsey and turned to leave.

“Would you like some help?”

The woman looked back at her with a smile as she opened to the door to the rooftop entrance. “We have this under control, young one.”

With that, she was gone.

Valerie frowned as she took back to the air. She briefly wondered if she should reach out to Phantom about this before shoving the thought aside. Even if she wasn’t sure about hunting the ghost-boy, she wasn’t going to help him either. And the woman didn’t give her the same creeps as the G.I.W., so it was probably fine. In fact, the woman had felt warm and comforting.

Although it was admittedly kind of weird that she’d called Valerie young when Adelaida looked like she was maybe in her early twenties at best and the suit made people think Valerie was older than her actual sixteen years. Also, there’d been something off with her eyes. Valerie couldn’t place it, but they’d just felt… uncanny.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It’s not funny,” Danny muttered, rubbing at his back and scowling at his laughing friend.

“How long until the paint wears off?” Sam chuckled.

“I don’t even know! Young-butt wouldn’t say.”

“What’s going on?” Tucker said, glancing between them as he joined them for their walk home.

“Apparently, Danny forgot to mention that he got ambushed on his way home from his weekend in Olympus,” Sam said, laughter still tinting her voice.

At Tucker’s worried look, Danny elaborated. “Youngblood decided we were going to have a water balloon fight.”

“But instead of water, he filled them with ectoplasmic paint. And now his ghost half is covered in the stuff, even if he transforms.”

“Only my face and hair. Thankfully I was wearing that ceremonial outfit Pandora gave me. I hope she doesn’t want it back before I can figure out how to get the stains out.”

“Ghost OxiClean,” Sam suggested over Tucker’s laughter.

“What color… are… you now?” Tucker asked between chortles.

“A dark purple,” Danny sighed.

Sam pat his head. “Could be worse. You could be red. We’d be forced to make Christmas jokes and then we’d be back to square one with you, Mr. Grinch.”

Danny rolled his eyes and knocked their shoulder together, only to hiss at the pain that shot up his back.

“You okay, dude?” Tucker asked, wiping away tears.

“Yeah, my back just started hurting last night. I thought I’d just pulled something in the fight, but it was even worse this morning. I took some of the pain meds Frostbite gave me, but they wore off.”

“Does your ghost form even have muscles to pull?” Tucker wondered.

“We can head to your house first so we can pick up your pills,” Sam suggested. “It really must be hurting if you actually took them instead of deciding to wait it out.”

It was. It felt like growing pains crossed with the ghost gauntlets, but worse. A throbbing ache that took his breath away with random spikes.

“Thanks.”

They were halfway to his house when Danny’s ghost sense went off and a grey-green arm shot out of an alleyway to drag him in. He braced for a fight, but relaxed slightly when he saw it was Kitty.

She looked rumpled, her hair messed up and her jacket singed with burns littering her skin.

“What’s wrong? Valerie again?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who attacked us. I couldn’t see them, but I think they were after you. When they captured Johnny and Shadow in a net, I heard one of them say they’d gotten one of Phantom’s vassals, whatever that means.”

“A vassal is someone who is granted land by nobility in return for loyalty, respect, and wartime support,” Sam explained. “It kind of describes the deal you and the others have with Danny, in an archaic way.”

“If you ignore the fact Danny’s not nobility and substitute the loyalty stuff for you guys just not attacking people,” Tucker added.

Kitty’s nose scrunched up at the information, but otherwise ignored it. “Please, you have to help them! We weren’t even doing anything this time!”

Danny gave her an unimpressed look.

“Okay, maybe Johnny destroyed some guy’s car because he was checking me out, but can you blame him.”

“Yes,” Danny said, then sighed. “Fine, but you need to head back to the Ghost Zone as soon as I get your boyfriend out. Try to warn anyone you can on your way. Might be best for everyone to get clear until I figure out what these guys want.”

She agreed immediately and he turned to his friends.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Sam said and Tucker nodded.

“Alright, I’m going ghost!”

Kitty and Danny shot into the air, Danny holding onto Kitty since he was faster while she led him to where she’d last seen Johnny.

They found him on a side street, pinned beneath a net that glowed silver. It certainly didn’t look like anything he was used to. His parents’ tech was all green since it used pure ectoplasm straight from the ghost zone. Valerie’s was a reddish-pink thanks to Technus keeping her aesthetic the same as Vlad’s tech, which was powered by his own energy. The G.I.W.’s was blue due to the purification they did on all the ectoplasm they got their hands on.

Danny looked around as they got closer to the street, but didn’t see anyone. Knowing it was a trap, but with no other choice, they turned invisible and dropped down next to the net.

“Johnny,” Kitty whispered, kneeling next to him.

“Hey Kitten,” he groaned. He looked up at Danny and smirked. “What happened to your face?”

“Shut up.” Seeing the way the net was hurting Johnny, Danny reached out with his energy to pull it off him that way.

The net went flying. Thank you, Pandora! Telekinesis was the best!

“Thanks, kid,” Johnny huffed.

“You know, I’m the same age as you guys now,” Danny said as Kitty helped him stand and Shadow peeled off the ground, looking worse for wear.

“Sure, give or take a few decades,” Johnny snorted.

“Just get out of here befo-” Danny was cut off by a blast to the side that sent him flying. He shrieked as his back hit the asphalt.

“Kid!”

“Go!” he ordered, fighting through the pain to sit up.

Johnny looked conflicted for a moment, then summoned his bike.

As the two rode off, Danny turned to face the direction the blast had come from.

“So you are the one called Danny Phantom?” a man said as he walked out of the shadows.

Danny’s first impression was that the man didn’t look like a hunter. He was taller and thinner than Danny and probably in his late twenties. He wore a tank top and athletic shorts, but no shoes. His dark brown skin was offset by pale gold hair and silver eyes.

Glowing silver eyes.

“You’re a ghost,” Danny groaned. Great, just what he needed: Infighting.

The ghost laughed. “You date yourself, demon. If you can’t recognize me, you must be less than two hundred years.”

“Pretty sure the suit says the same thing, but go off I guess,” Danny snorted as he stood. “Wait, did you just call me a demon?”

The man raised his hand and Danny took to the air to dodge a blast of silver energy.

“What? Not even going to start in on your evil plan. What kind of villain doesn’t monologue?”

“The only evil villain here is you,” the ghost hissed as he shot blast after blast at the flying halfa. “We are here to cleanse this town of you and your demonic vassals.”

“First of all, they're not my vassals, I just don’t bother kicking them back to the Ghost Zone as long as they don’t cause trouble,” Danny said, creating a shield to absorb the blasts. “And second, what’s with all the dem-Wait, we?”

A blast hit him in the back and ANCIENTS! OW! THAT HURT! THAT VERY MUCH HURT!

He barely caught himself before he hit the ground and quickly summoned another shield, this time creating a sphere to wrap around him. He glanced back to take in his new opponent.

For half a second, he thought it was Dani. Then he realized the short, white-haired woman actually looked like she was in her mid-forties, had vivid yellow eyes, and was Asian.

He blamed the pain. The excruciating pain.

“Oh goody, two for one special, must be my lu-”

Something slammed into his shield from above just as the two’s blasts hit it and it shattered.

His back hit the pavement and he must have blacked out because the next thing he knows he’s being held aloft by an angel.

“Maybe next time you fall from heaven, get better aim,” he whimpered.

The black-haired, blue-eyed, winged ghost gave him an unimpressed look and opened her mouth, but was cut off by Goldilocks.

“Adelaida, humans.”

His captor glanced to the side and her raven-like wings turned invisible.

Danny turned to look as well and saw Sam and Tucker running up, looking nervous.

“Divya, take care of them.”

Oh hell no!

“Phantom!” Valerie snarled, flying in to hover over his friends.

Good, she’d protect them.

“Have you really moved on to attacking unarmed civilians?”

Or not.

“Unar-They’re ghosts!”

Valerie looked at her wrist. “My tracker says otherwise.”

“Your tracker doesn’t pick me up half the time!”

“You think they’re overshadowed?” Sam asked.

“They’re glowing!” Danny huffed, gesturing towards Adelaida.

“I don’t see it,” Tucker said.

“It’s alright,” the Asian woman — Divya supposedly — said, walking towards his friends.

To his surprise, all three humans started to relax.

“No.” The halfa scowled. “No. No, we are not having another mayor incident.” He raised his hand and fired.

Adelaida shrieked as he hit her wing and they flickered into visibility.

He kicked her away then fired at Goldilocks and Divya, revealing their pale gold and white wings respectively. “See, ghosts! Now get those two out of here.”

Valerie hesitated, then swooped down to grab Sam and Tucker.

“What? Hey!”

“Put me down!”

Danny turned to the ghosts to see them regrouping.

Adelaida looked furious as she stepped forward. “I am ending this.”

“Adelaida,” Goldilocks warned.

“The humans already know of us, Buhle. It is time to put the demon down.”

He nodded and stepped behind her, Divya following his lead.

Adelaida braced herself with her wings and feet and took a deep breath.

Danny only just had enough time to realize what was about to happen and throw up a shield before her ghostly wail hit. Hers looked much like his own, though neon blue instead of his own toxic green. It also didn’t seem as powerful as his considering he was still standing, even if cracks were quickly forming on his shield. He wasn’t sure if it was a power thing or just that she was holding back.

He hoped it was a power thing as he braced his feet. He let the shield fall just as his own wail rang out.

Green sonic waves clashed with blue, pressing back and forth against each other with the green slowly gaining ground. Then the blue faltered, a bit of shock lacing her voice, and the green waves steamrolled through.

Adelaida, Buhle, and Divya went flying and Danny cut off the wail. He fell to his hands and knees, using every bit of his willpower to hold onto his ghost form.

“Phantom!” Sam shouted.

“Well, that’s one way to remove ghost paint,” Tucker chuckled nervously.

Danny gave a panting laugh, spotting his once more white hair falling into his face.

He tried to look up at the ghosts, but he was exhausted and his back was hurting more than ever before as the adrenalin ran out. He was a sitting duck, just barely holding onto his ghost form.

Wonderful.

He felt something come near and Sam shouted, “Get away from him!”

A hand settled gently on his back and… Oh. Oh! Oh, that felt good. He looked up and was surprised to see Divya standing over him, her eyes glowing the same color as his own.

“So young,” she cooed.

“Impossible!” Adelaida gasped.

Danny turned to see Buhle supporting her, both staring at him with shock.

“None have been born in three hundred years,” the silver-eyed ghost said. “He does not even have his wings.”

“They’re growing in now,” Divya replied. “That is probably our fault. We invaded his territory.”

“He can not be,” Adelaida said, shaking her head. “He works with demons, allows them to harm humans.”

“I don’t let anyone hurt anyone,” Danny huffed. “The others are only allowed to stay if they behave themselves.”

“Demons are selfish creatures. They can not be trusted,” Divya said softly.

“Says you,” Danny huffed. “Johnny and Kitty are fine as long as they’re not fighting since only the tourists are stupid enough to flirt with one of them by this point. Ember likes playing open mic night, Youngblood just wants a playmate, the Casper High shades just like to get egg creams at the old-school diner, and Boxy is harmless usually. Seriously, you guys are ghosts, what’s with the delusional ghost hunter rhetoric?”

“Excuse me,” Valerie growled.

“It’s okay, I know you’ve got your reasons. I still love you,” he said cheekily, winking at her.

She and Sam pretended to gag.

“We are not demons.”

Danny turned to Buhle with a snort. “You glow and have wings.”

“Precisely,” he huffed, stretching out his wings.

“Humans don’t have wings.”

“We are not humans, but we are not demons.”

Divya rubbed the hand on his back up and down. “We are like you, hun.”

“I’m a ghost.” Half-ghost, but details.

Unless…

She shook her head. “Poor thing, so lost and confused.”

“Okay, time to go back to the fighting,” he groaned, but didn’t try to get up. Whatever she was doing to his back was worth the baby talk.

“We are not demons, ” Adelaida spat. “We are angels.”

Danny stared at her blankly. “And I’m an atheist.”

“We are the souls of those who have passed who remain tied to this world by selfless reasons,” Buhle said in a calm voice. “We are the equal and opposites of those who reside in the darker realm, who linger due to selfish desires. We work to protect life from such creatures and bring joy to the humans of this plane.”

“So… a good ghost.”

“There is no such thing as a good demon!” Adelaida snapped. “Are you always this frustrating?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely.”

“Constantly.”

“It’s a gift.”

She turned to Buhle. “He can not possibly be an angel.”

“I told you, I’m an atheist. Pretty sure Tu-my friend told me that’s a big no-no in heaven. Speaking of…” Danny turned to Sam. “S-Goth human, aren’t real angels supposed to be eldritch abominations? Six wings and seven heads or something? Constantly on fire? I swear someone once told me that.”

“That-that’s not entirely accurate,” Sam chuckled as Tucker laughed. “But you’ve got the right idea. They’re actually pretty terrifying. That’s why people tend to freak out when they see them in the stories. It’s awesome.”

“Cool.” He turned back to the two angel ghosts to see Adelaida pinching the bridge of her nose and Buhle looking very done. “So where’s the rest of your wings and heads.”

Divya laughed and patted his head. “You young ones are always so entertaining.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This is based on an old story of mine. And by old, I mean really old. I don't think I was even on this site when I wrote it since I can’t find it on my blog. I started getting into some new Danny Phantom stuff and felt compelled to write something along the same lines. This is just a one-shot so I doubt I'll write more for this, but I've got a bunch of ideas for this world so I needed to get some of it out.

#danny phantom #valerie gray #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley

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makeste · 5 years ago

Text

some rambling about legacies, and opening up, and All Might has two sons more at 11

can I offer you an essay about All Might and his children in these trying times.

so back before he got swept up in the great tides of character development, Bakugou used to think that in order for him to succeed at becoming the best hero, it meant that Deku could not succeed. he thought it was a zero sum game; he could only be strong if Deku stayed weak. if Deku grew strong, then that would mean he was the weak one. there wasn’t room for the two of them to reach the top together. it could only be one or the other.

this is of course patently false, and we’ve since seen it disproven beyond a shadow of a doubt, and Katsuki has learned that it’s okay for them to work together. not just okay, but correct; the only way, the best way. it doesn’t make him weak; working with Deku improves them both and helps them both to succeed.

so given that, I think it stands to reason that if this holds true for success and power levels, it should also hold true for their character development, and their personal relationships -- such as their relationship with All Might.

oddly enough, this is something that’s come under a fair amount of criticism. and interestingly, these criticisms have come from two very different perspectives. All Might spent too much time with Deku and focused too much on him and ignored Katsuki in his favoritism, which did a great deal of harm to Katsuki’s mental health. or the reverse: All Might’s bond with Deku is special and important, and there’s a closeness there that should never have been encroached on by Bakugou, and him sitting in on all of the OFA Club meetings now is unfair to Deku and takes away the one special thing that he had, and for once Kacchan should not make it about him and should butt out.

there isn’t room for both. or so both of these standpoints would seem to imply. All Might cannot be a close mentor to both Katsuki and Izuku; if he gets closer to one, it must necessarily be at the expense of the other.

pardon my very blunt take, but... bullshit.

let’s start by talking about something which I don’t often see discussed: All Might’s similarities to Bakugou. yes, Bakugou. not Izuku, the little green Might Jr., but Bakugou Katsuki, whose hostile and volcanic personality would at first glance seem to clash with All Might’s in almost every way possible. All Might is kind and altruistic and empathetic and burdened with a soul-deep need to help and protect others. All Might was born quirkless. All Might is the mirror image of Deku. All Might chose Deku as his successor specifically because he sees himself in Deku. all of this is absolutely true.

but All Might also keeps to himself. All Might goes to great lengths to avoid being seen as weak. All Might doesn’t let people close to him. All Might rarely works as part of a team. All Might is a natural talent. All Might smiles when he’s up against a wall. All Might is synonymous with determination. and All Might takes responsibility far beyond what he should, and burdens himself and blames himself when things go wrong, even when the outcome is out of his control. and at those times, All Might blames himself for not being stronger.

do you see?? All Might is like Deku, yes, but not only Deku. the truth is that All Might and Katsuki are alike as well. not only are they alike, they’re far too alike, in ways that All Might probably wishes they were not. where Deku is a mirror of All Might’s goodness and selflessness and optimism, Katsuki is a mirror of All Might’s strength and resolve and determination. but he is also a mirror of what is possibly All Might’s greatest weakness: his isolation.

this, perhaps, is a natural consequence that comes from having the sort of physical talent that both he and Katsuki possess. All Might grew up quirkless just as Deku did, yes, but once he received One for All from Nana in his teens, he took to it just as instinctively and intuitively as Katsuki has taken to his quirk. there was none of the steep learning curve that Deku experienced; OFA came to All Might easily, and he was by all accounts a force of nature during his school years.

the downside of this, however, is that when everything comes easily to you, you start to feel like everything always should. that because you are capable, you need to be capable. you start to build up expectations of yourself that don’t take into account the simple truth that no matter how gifted you are, everybody fails at some point or another. and because you are strong, because you never fail, you never learn how to let yourself rely on other people. you never learn how to ask for help.

and needless to say, this is a terrible, even fatal weakness to have. and what makes it all the more destructive is that this particular weakness is self-perpetuating and feeds into itself. you don’t know how to admit when you need help, and so you never get the help you need. it’s a brutal fucking cycle, and so it’s no wonder that All Might spent years and years and years trying to do everything all alone.

and he lost Nana. his mentor, the woman who was like a mother to him. and that only made matters worse. he lost the person who believed in him and encouraged him, and who understood the burden he was carrying better than anyone else, because she herself had struggled with that same burden. and so the one person he might have been able to reach out to, he ended up losing in the most devastating way possible. and so not only was he heartbroken and traumatized and likely blaming himself, but it also left him more alone than ever before, with the pain of that loss basically ensuring he wouldn’t ever open himself up and let anyone else in again.

and it’s easy to look at the impact of All Might’s downfall at Kamino, and the many shortcomings and vulnerabilities it exposed, and wonder what the hell he was thinking, and to blame him for not recognizing the fragility of the society he helped to build, and for the arrogance of thinking that a lone pillar could support an entire country all on its own and not inevitably come crumbling down. and yes; for all of his goodness and optimism, the notion that All Might had of a lone Symbol of Peace was deeply flawed.

but we learn from our failures. and after decades of struggling to support the world all on his own, All Might finally did fail. and after years of stubbornly trying to fight on anyway in spite of his injuries, he was finally forced to accept that his time was coming to an end, and that he needed to pass on his legacy. and in many ways, his mentoring of Izuku has been as much of a learning process for him as it has been for his protege.

because for all of the similarities I discussed earlier, there are also ways in which Deku is not like him at all. Deku is used to failure. Deku is not afraid to ask for help. and Deku does naturally what All Might has always struggled to do: he reaches out.

and who does he reach out to? first and foremost, to another boy with whom, as I mentioned, All Might shares all too many similarities.

another boy who’s isolated. another boy who doesn’t know how to ask for help, who is afraid to fail.

All Might understands Katsuki remarkably well right from the start. of course he does; how could he not? and because he is all too aware of the effect that kind of stubborn self-reliance has on a person, he is hesitant at first to reach out to Katsuki in the same way that he does to Izuku. not because of a lack of care or concern, but because he knows -- all too well -- that Katsuki will not accept it. and so instead he takes a different approach with him, trying to guide him while still respecting his pride and stubbornness.

so this is kind of the status quo for them for a while. but now here’s where things finally get interesting. because as All Might’s powers continue to wane, and he’s forced to come to terms with his own weaknesses and to rely more and more on others, he finally begins to see where it was that he went wrong. and as he grows to care more about Izuku, he realizes that he doesn’t want him to have to suffer in the same way that he did.

and during this same time, Katsuki is also starting to go through his own personal journey which includes so many of the same struggles that All Might came up against. everything that comes along with the mindset of thinking you only need to rely on yourself. so here, again, is someone who is so much like All Might was. who is putting the same kind of pressure on himself of thinking that it’s not okay to fail. and who, eventually, also comes to experience the same pain of feeling responsible for the “loss” of someone he admired more than anyone.

and it’s one thing for All Might not to acknowledge his own pain, but it’s quite another to recognize that same pain in someone else. and I think that once he did, he came to the same realization he did with Izuku: that he doesn’t want Katsuki to suffer like he did. see, that’s the thing about being selfless. you’re numb to it while it only affects you. it’s not until you see that same pain affecting someone else that you finally start to realize how fucked up it actually is.

and so this, fittingly, is what prompts All Might to finally reach out to Katsuki. the realization that Katsuki has been struggling alone, the same as himself. and at the same time, the long-overdue and crucial recognition that the past doesn’t have to be repeated. that he can be there for him, even if he’s still trying to figure out the best way how, and even if he still hasn’t come to terms with the near-identical burdens that he bears himself.

and so Katsuki has now officially gained one (1) Dadmight as well. and so here we have two boys, each a reflection of their beloved hero in their own way. two boys, and one legacy. a legacy which All Might carried proudly, but which nearly ended up destroying him in the end. two boys whose strengths and weaknesses seamlessly complement each other’s. two boys who already share a bond the likes of which All Might himself never had growing up.

the solution is obvious. but more than that, it’s necessary. so that neither of these boys has to go through what he went through. so that neither of them will ever have to fight alone. so that if they fall -- when they fall -- the other one will be there to help them get back up.

Deku has the quirk, but One for All is more than just a quirk. pardon me for getting all sappy, but it’s right there in the name -- One for All. it’s more than a power; it’s the legacy of working together to fight evil. a legacy of inspiring hope in others. and a legacy of never, ever giving up.

that legacy is both of theirs to share. that will is both of theirs to inherit. both Izuku and Katsuki are All Might’s successors. and he takes pride in them both.

and All Might doesn’t love Izuku any less because he is also a mentor to Katsuki. and All Might doesn’t care about Katsuki any less because he also has a close bond with Izuku. and All Might mentoring the one will always also be in the other one’s best interests. because the stronger they become, the stronger they can be for each other.

and they’ll need to be. because one thing All Might does understand all too well is that regardless of whether he lives or dies, he won’t always be able to be there for them.

so do you see? the reason why it’s so important for All Might to mentor them both. to mentor them together. because Katsuki can inspire and support Izuku in ways that All Might can’t. Izuku can reach Katsuki to an extent which All Might cannot. and All Might knows this, and has understood it almost from the start.

in conclusion, there really isn’t and never has been a war for All Might’s affections. Katsuki becoming a part of the squad isn’t forced; it’s foreshadowed. it doesn’t take away from what All Might has with Deku; it’s proof that All Might cares deeply about Deku and is taking steps to secure his future. and for All Might himself, it gives him a new purpose: to be there for these kids, to guide them and continue to support them.

and them coming together shows their growth. it shows how far they’ve come as characters. it’s the culmination of something that has been in the works since the start. All Might has two sons, plain and simple, and debating which one is the favorite child is really missing the entire point. that this is the story of two boys, who grew up admiring the same person.

and the story of how the two of them take that legacy, and make it their own.

together.

anyway that’s my post! if anyone needs me I’ll be sitting here thinking about these boys and how much I love them and their dad, and pondering other comforting topics to write therapeutic essays about.

#bnha #all might #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this post brought to you by residual feelings about heroes rising which I still have a whole month later #and by my conflicting need to take some time to recover from the current events of the manga but also still wanting to post about bnha #and by the letter k #bakugou meta

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Two: Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Rated: PG

~ Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long And wouldn't it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong? ~

It was 7:00 AM and the sun was up and out, and so too were the people. True to the fashion of only the grumpiest of bears, the bleary-eyed citizens of Copper Harbor were up and sleepwalking to work, falling asleep at red lights, and glaring into the black depths of their coffee as they tried to find a will to wake up or a reason to keep existing. Or both. Horns blared, children cried, people cursed, and that one guy slammed his head into a pole as he stared at a dude dressed as Batman who was directing traffic. (I don't think he had the authority to do that, but I wasn't going to challenge him.) All and all it was a fairly normal morning. At least in this town.

Like the entire population of Copper Harbor, a grand total of 100 or so permanent residents, I too hated mornings. But not for the same reason everyone else did. Sensory overload is my constant companion, but it's never worse than it is from 7:00 to 9:00 AM. That’s another reason I was staying in Copper Harbor. You could probably fit the town's entire population in the auditorium of the local high school. But even here, I could hardly stand the headache the morning rush gave me. I don't think I could bear living in a big city.

Although this time, things weren't as bad as they normally were because this time, I had a distraction. Engrossed in my conversation with my new friend, I managed to block out some of the noise. I found it rather strange that someone would be willing to keep chatting for so long, it had been hours and hours. I kept waiting for Jack to tell me that he had to go or something, but he never did. When I asked about it, he just said he couldn't sleep. Eventually, I knew it was me who was going to have to end the conversation. I had things to do, and I knew that, but I didn't want to be the one to say goodbye.

"Are you gonna get moving, or are you gonna keep talking to your new boyfriend?" A voice asked from above me. I looked up.

Perched atop a large green dumpster to my left, sat a boy who looked around the age of 18. He had fair skin and auburn hair that was long enough to show off its gorgeous natural curls while not being long enough to be annoying. (I was absolutely jealous of his hair. The guy's locks were heavenly!) He wore a playful smirk on his face and his hazel eyes flashed as they crinkled up at the corners, alight with mischief. He held his face between his hands and tried to flutter his eyelashes in an attempt to mock me. "Do you wuv him, Marty? Do you wuv your wittole Jack? Tell me how much you wuv him!" He teased. I rolled my eyes. I knew this boy well. His name was Isaac, and he was a royal pain in my behind.

"Isaac?" I addressed him, sweetly. Swiveling my head to peer up at him, I smiled the fakest smile I could muster.

"Yes, Marty?" Isaac asked, matching my level of false sincerity.

"Do the world a favor, sweetie, and shut your mouth," I told him. Isaac just grinned at me.

"No!"

I rolled my eyes.

"If I could throw a rock at you right now, I would," I huffed.

"But, alas, you cannot!" Isaac smirked and slid off of the dumpster. He landed on his feet before coming to stand over me. I didn't look up at him.

"One of these days I'm gonna find a way," I muttered.

"You've been saying that for five years and yet you've never made good on that threat. Are you ever going to put your money where your mouth is?" He taunted. I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed.

Using the wall behind me as support, I pulled myself onto shaking feet. Despite every part of my body screaming for me to stop, I stretched myself out. Now, I looked up at the boy in front of me.

Isaac was just a little under six feet tall and scrawny like a twig. His good looks would have had all the girls chasing him. Isaac looked like most other boys his age in terms of physique. That is, if you excluded the massive gaping wound, red and raw, that decorated most of the right side of his neck.

The wound remained there, frozen, as fresh as the day he received it. It remained as fresh as the day it killed him. His pale, ashen skin and the purple rings surrounding his young, hopeful eyes bore the tell-tale signs of death by blood loss.

Isaac was a ghost.

"Don't you have something, anything, better to do?" I asked, glaring at him.

"Nope!" He replied, popping the 'P'. "But you do! So, tell your boyfriend bye-bye and get going!" I huffed at him but did as I was told.

Sent: 9:19 AM

Sorry, Jack but I have to go now. Thanks for talking to me!

Received: 9:20 AM

Okay, I guess I'll talk to you later. Have a great day and stay safe!

I smiled at Jack's simple kindness and tucked my phone into my back pocket. When I looked up, Isaac was standing there and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Ya done, lovebird?" He sighed dramatically. I gave him a prim little nod.

"I am indeed─" I used my arm to motion to the mouth of the alleyway with a dramatic bow─ "Shall we be off then, my liege?" Isaac grinned and rolled his eyes.

"Forsooth! Onward my fair servant!" He began marching dramatically to the mouth of the alley and continued out onto the sidewalk. I shook my head and followed after him, without the marching. I guess that was one of the advantages of being a ghost, if nobody could see you, you could do any of the weird crap you wanted to do, and nobody would ever stare.

When I caught up to my cadaverous companion, I pulled my phone from my pocket and pretended to be calling someone. That was the only way I could talk to Isaac in front of the public eye without seeming insane. I didn't think I was insane. But if I was, would I really know it?

"Isaac, I swear if you call me 'servant' again, I will kill myself just so I can beat your sorry, spectral rear end into whatever is after the after-life. Savvy?" I threatened. Isaac turned and started walking backwards, passing through several people that I then very-quickly had to dodge. Isaac could be a bit of a butt that way.

"Yes, Sir! I mean, Ma'am!" He exclaimed, sending me a mocking salute. I just groaned.

"Where were you last night anyway?"

"Watching the Lord of the Rings marathon in the theater, Sir! I mean, Ma'am!"

"Remind me, why do I let you hang around again?" I muttered, quieter than before. "Excuse me." I had to shove my way past a rather beefy guy who was smoking and blocking the entrance to the town's minimart. Isaac just walked through him. He waited until I got inside to answer the question that I had intended to be rhetorical.

"Because I'm adorable, cheerful, and useful to your criminal lifestyle. So, what are we stealing today?" I grimaced at his comment.

"First of all, it's not criminal for me to survive. Second, is it really stealing if I have no way to get money? And third, I need a hairbrush, some hair ties and a jacket because this cardigan is definitely not enough," I said through clenched teeth as I smiled and nodded at the teenage girl behind the counter. She was tall, blond, and I would bet 10 bucks that her name was Tiffany. She nodded back and resumed whatever it was she was doing on her phone. Isaac however was not done talking to me and ticked his reactions to my comments off on his fingers.

"One, true. Two, yup. And three, cool, but that last one's gonna be hard."

"Well in that case, I guess you better do your job really well. See, ya on the other side, mate."

Isaac grinned lopsidedly at me and I pretended to hang up the phone.

I walked further into the store and pretended to look at the hair care section. I gave Isaac the signal, scratching the back of my head. Isaac swept his hand along the length of a shelf, knocking all the containers of peanut butter to the floor. The girl behind the counter whipped her head around to look at me with wide eyes. She looked from me to the peanut butter and back to me. Gaping at the good 15 feet of distance between me and the fallen peanut butter.

"What was that?" She asked, apprehensively. I gazed back at her with wide eyes of my own.

"I have no idea. They just fell off. All by themselves!" I lied. Isaac snickered. The cashier raked a hand through her hair and hopped over the counter to pick up the fallen peanut butter.

While she was paying attention that, I scooped up some hair ties and tucked them into the hidden pocket I had sewed into the inside of my cardigan. Snatching up a brush, I stuffed it into one of my too-big, black, knee-high boots I wear specifically for this purpose. Then, I moved to help the girl with the peanut butter situation. I ducked down and grasped one of the jars that had rolled underneath the shelving unit and handed it to her with a smile. She then put it back on the shelf.

"Thanks for your help, sweetie!" She said, talking down to me. I struggled to hold my smile. I didn't like being talked down to. I don't care what I look like. Even taking that thing into account, she wasn't that much older than me!

"It's no problem, miss!" I raised the pitch of my voice to sound more chipper and innocent, adding in the 'miss' part to feed into her clear superiority complex. I then moved over to the section that held a bunch of jackets and coats hanging from hooks attached to the walls. I waved Isaac over to me with a quick movement of my head that most others would mistake for me flipping my hair. Isaac meandered his way through a few shelving racks and over to me. I pulled out my phone and started typing, letting Isaac read over my shoulder.

Big distraction this time. Make it mean. She called me 'sweetie'.

Isaac nodded.

"Aye, aye! ... Sweetie."

I shot him a scowl and went back to perusing the jackets.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac push against one of the free-standing shelving units. It teetered and groaned before toppling to the linoleum floor with an ear-splitting bang. The head if the cashier girl shot up and she gasped before letting out a rather un-lady like stream of cuss words. Sprinting over to the fallen shelf, she desperately tried to get it back upright.

I took my chance.

I seized a fluffy black coat from one of the racks and booked my butt out of the mini-mart. The girl looked up as I pushed my way out the door.

"Hey! Stop! THEF! THEF!" She shrieked. I grinned and dashed down the sidewalk. When I reached the end of the street, I looked back and saw that cashier chasing me. I decided to show off a little. Scampering down a back alley, I boosted onto a convenient dumpster and sprung upward. The distance from the top of the dumpster to the first wrung of the ladder that led to the rooftop, was an impossible height for any normal person to jump.

My hands latched onto the freezing second wrung.

The cashier stumbled into the alleyway, gasping when she saw me hanging from the ladder. Like I said, it should have been an impossible distance to jump. I smirked at her disbelief and giggled, flicking my wrist in a wave before clambering up the ladder and to the top of the roof.

Sprinting across the roof top, I skipped to the edge and bounded over. I closed my eyes and pushed off with all my might. The wind rushed through my hair and past my face and then...

My feet crunched onto the gravel as I landed on the next rooftop.

The rooftop that had previously been twenty feet away.

An impossible distance for any normal person. Key-word normal. But that was just it. I wasn't normal.

I heard someone cheer from across the street and I looked up. Dan the Dope Man, our little town's resident dealer, was shaking his fist, hooting and hollering. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to me.

"You go, Marty! Woo hoo!" He applauded me. I waved at him as I rushed to this roof's end. Reaching the edge, I did a parkour flip and touched down firmly on the next one.

The cashier girl was determined, I had to give her that. She chased me from the ground for about three more blocks before she collapsed, exhausted, onto a bench. I kept running along the rooftops, getting the occasional holler of encouragement from some enthused passerby. I leapt one last time onto the roof of Copper Harbor's town hall.

It was one of those really old town hall buildings. Like the ones in the movies. It was made of brick had a clock tower and everything. The whole old-timey shebang. Scaling onto the top of the clock tower, I grasped the spire and leaned outward over my little paradise town.

"GOOD MORNING COPPER HARBOR!" I shouted into the crisp morning breeze.

Even though it wasn't exactly pleasant, I let the few rays of sun light shine on my face as they peaked through the thick, gray winter sky. I could only take a few minutes of the direct sunshine, even as weak as it was, before I had to make my way back down the tower. I missed the days when I could lie in the sun for hours without feeling any sort of sting. Those days were now long past. When I got back to the flat part of the building's roof, Isaac was there, waiting on me.

"That was corny as Hell. You don't live in a frickin' movie." He criticized, smirking at me. I shook my hair out and brushed it back, securing it with one of my freshly nicked hair ties.

"Yeah, I know!" I replied cheerfully, feeling in a much better mood than I had been in earlier that morning. I always felt better after a run.

"One of these days I should push you off that tower just to see your face," Isaac said. I smirked at him.

"Well, if I fall, I might crush this." Reaching into my cardigan's secret pocket I extracted a five-inch Darth Vader figurine. Isaac glared at me, shaking his finger.

"If you so much as scratch Lord Vader, I swear I'll strangle you." Isaac was very protective if that figurine. Probably because his soul was tied to it. Yes, that's right. Isaac's soul was tied to a Darth Vader action figure.

"5 years you've been saying that. Are you ever you gonna put your money where your mouth is?" I jeered, quoting him from earlier that morning. Isaac frowned.

"You're not funny you know," he said.

"What are you talking about? I'm hilarious!" I scoffed with a wave of my hand.

"Let's just go home. We'll do the other thing later," Isaac sighed. I grinned at him and ran to the edge of the roof, gesturing to the snow-covered hills leading away from the town.

"And our hero sauntered off into the snow beside her trusty, albeit annoying, cadaverous compatriot!"

"Shut up."

"No!"

So the two of us left the main town and trudged over hills blanketed with almost a foot of snow. Isaac of course had no problems with the snow, walking easily over it, he made no footprints. When we came to the forest on the edge of the town, I quickly spotted the treehouse nestled between three trees about 20 feet from the start of the woods. We were home.

The tree house was built about 18 feet or so from the ground and the ladder that had once led into it was now long gone. It still laid where it had the day we’d found it, splintered and rotting under a foot of snow. Though we didn't know who had built it, Isaac and I both thanked them every day. Striding over to the thickest of the three trees the tree house was built into, I reached up and snagged the bundle of rope, thick and a little frayed we kept hidden inside a hallow knot in the wood. The other end of the rope was tied to a hook inside the tree house and I used it to climb my way inside.

I dragged the heavy wooden cover over the tree houses entrance hole then stood and surveyed my little home. It was fairly large, about 7 feet high, 20 feet long and 8 feet wide. There were blankets and pillows strewn about a mattress on the floor, a violin in the far-left corner, and a small table with a sketchbook and chess set sitting on it and two chairs set up to play. It wasn't much, but it was home now.

I walked to the shelf that lined the wall on my right and tugged this morning's spoils from their various places on my body, tossing them on the shelf. Carefully fingering Isaac's Darth Vader, I placed it gently next to my beautiful snow globe. A sudden feeling of longing washed over me, and I ached for the life I used to live. The life that I could never have back.

A silent tear slid down my cheek.

"It wasn't your fault, Marty," Isaac reminded me gently, appearing from thin air just behind me.

"I know." I turned back to him. "But that doesn't make it hurt any less."

"I know you wish you could go back and change things. I do too. But we can't, we just have to keep going. You'll find your place in this world, I know it!" He said, trying to be encouraging. I smiled at him weakly.

"Isaac, we're not supposed to be here. Neither of us belong in this world, and I wish we did. There's just no room for us. And I wish there was, that would be nice, but there's not. Not anymore. I'm gonna be stuck right here in this same moment forever. Just like I have been for the last 5 years. Deep down you know that. But at least you can move on."

"I'm not gonna move on until I can take you with me. I'm not gonna break my promise. We're going to heaven together, remember?" He tried. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand but more just streamed down to take their place.

"Even when I do die eventually, I won't be going to heaven."

"Don't lose hope, Marty. Please?"

"I already lost it, Isaac. I lost it a long time ago. Thinking about it only makes things worse."

***

When Dean Winchester opened his eyes, he found that he was no longer in bed. Which was strange because he distinctly remembered falling asleep in the aforementioned place. He flicked his eyes about to try to determine where exactly he was. After just a few minutes, his foggy and sleep doused brain finally made sense of the information his body was feeding him.

Dean came to the unfortunate conclusion that he had fallen out of bed. Despite how unhappy he was with the results of his deduction; Dean was amazed that he had only woken up quite a while after the minor tragedy and not during the action of falling out of bed.

He must have been very tired.

But that was remedied now, and Dean felt ready to take on anything... In a few minutes. He'd have to get some coffee first. Peeling himself off the floor, he stumbled to the door and into the hall, making his way toward the smell of food wafting from the kitchen.

Now, whatever thoughts Dean had about his coherency when he walked into the kitchen and stuffed a bagel in his mouth, were not shared by the other two people in the room. If they hadn't known any better, Jack and Sam would have thought Dean was a zombie. A zombie who was hungry for bagels instead of a certain cognitive organ.

"Good morning Dean! Did you sleep well?" Jack greeted, chipper as usual. Dean frowned, snatching the entire pot of coffee, and sitting down with it at the table across from Jack.

"Mmmnhhaamuuuvggh."

"Understandable. Enjoy your coffee," Jack replied to whatever it was Dean had been trying to say. Sam raised his eyebrows at his older brother's lack of cognitive function but said nothing. It amazed Sam that he and his brother could be so different.

After a few silent minutes of nursing his coffee, the smallest bit of light began to shine through Dean's eyes. The waking process had begun. Just like the Windows 8 operating system, Dean's waking process was extremely and notoriously slow. But now Sam knew that if he were to begin a conversation with his brother, Dean would at least be able to understand it, if not participate.

"It's 10:45 Dean, just so you know, you slept for twenty-two hours," Sam informed. Dean's eyebrows flinched upward just a fraction of an inch. He clearly was yet to regain control over his facial muscles.

"Mumnnafubnna," He groaned. Jack held back a chuckle for Dean's morning state, he knew laughing out loud wouldn't go well for him. Dean wasn't someone you wanted to laugh at because Dean knew how to get revenge. A prank war was not something you wanted to entice Dean into. He would always win.

"Oh, and uh, Cas is back," Sam said. Dean looked up.

"Hm?"

"Woah, there. Careful Dean, that was almost a word!" Sam teased. Dean swallowed a piece of bagel he'd been gnawing on.

"Where?" He croaked out. Sam was about to answer but never got the chance.

"I'm right behind you, Dean." Dean jumped and spat some bagel out onto the table. Whipping his head around he glared at Cas. Jack couldn't help but snicker.

"Mmhn. Nah. Funny. Cas," Dean managed to grid out of his morning stupor. Castiel only shrugged and sat down at the table beside Dean.

"So, uh, Cas, how'd that thing go with the twenty bucks or whatever it was?" Sam asked their resident angel. Castiel frowned.

"The twenty tailed buck," He corrected.

"Yeah, that." Castiel sighed.

"No luck."

"Sorry to hear that." Cas nodded and shrugged again. Jack patted his arm.

"I'm sure you'll have better luck next time!" Jack encouraged.

"Next time is in seven hundred and eighty-two years," Cas sighed.

"Who's counting!" Jack tried to joke. Cas didn't laugh. Sometimes it could be very hard talking to Castiel.

"But I did find us a lead," The angel said, leaning forward and placing his hands on the table. The rest at the table looked up. "A very interesting one."

"Spill," Dean commanded, grumbling. Cas glanced at the bagel-eating zombie on his left and briefly wondered how Dean Winchester could be one of the best hunters in the world.

"There appears to be some extremely powerful ghost activity going on in northern Michigan. I was passing by a store and saw it on the news," Castiel told them, nodding seriously.

"You saw it on the news?" Sam asked, skeptical.

"Yes. The anchor woman said the video recording was 'going viral' or something like that," Cas answered, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Huh."

Sam pulled out his lap-top and began typing away. Jack briefly wondered how it was that Sam's laptop was always nearby when he needed it, but he quickly decided that he didn't want to dwell on that question and went back to his cereal.

"Cas, do you know where in Michigan this was?" Sam asked, looking up. Castiel nodded.

"Yes, I believe it was a Bronze Port- wait no. It was-"

"Was it Copper Harbor?"

Cas blinked before nodding again.

"Yes, I think that was it."

"Well, I think I found the video." Sam turned the laptop around for the rest to see.

Displayed on the screen was a video of the security footage of a minimart. Though it wasn't very mini for a mart. The footage was taken in black and white and although it was somewhat grainy, it was still clear enough to see the subjects. A young woman walked into the store, talking to someone on her phone. She nodded at the cashier and went to look for something in the hair care isle. Everything seemed normal, before a shelf full of peanut butter flew off the rack and crashed to the floor. Like someone had dragged their hand along the shelf and knocked everything off. But the young woman had been the only one in the store and she hadn't been anywhere near the peanut butter.

"Hey! Did you see that?" Jack exclaimed.

"What? See what?" Sam asked pausing the video.

"That woman stole something right when the peanut butter when flying. Watch it again!"

Sure enough, Jack was right. The woman had snatched some hair ties and a brush, stuffing them in a pocket and her boot, the second after the peanut butter tumbled to the floor. The four hunters kept watching. The girl who had stolen the brush and hair ties walked over to the cashier, who was picking up the fallen peanut butter. The camera never caught a glimpse of the thief's face as she ducked down and picked up one of the peanut butter jars and handed it to the cashier. Then the thief walked over to look at the jackets. She whipped out her phone and started typing something.

"What is she doing?" Castiel wondered aloud.

On the screen, the woman flipped her hair and leaned her phone outward, as if showing it to someone looking over her shoulder. But of course, there was nobody there. Then the woman tucked her phone away and went back to looking at the jackets hanging on the wall.

"Look, look, look! Right there! Did you see that?" Jack hastily pointed at a spot on the screen.

"I didn't see anything," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Rewind it and slow it down."

Sam did as Jack said. Rewinding a few seconds.

The thief on the screen went back to examining the jackets again. Jack pointed to that same spot as last time.

"Right there!"

This time Sam, Cas and Dean all saw what Jack was talking about. A face flickered into view by one of the shelves. Then, for a split second an entire ghostly form could be seen making a rude gesture at the camera, just before that shelf crashed to the floor. The thief grabbed a jacket off the rack and dashed out of the mini-mart just slightly faster than humanly possible. But the Winchesters and their two angelic companions didn't notice that part. They were too focused on the ghost. Sam sat back in his chair.

"Looks, legit. Should we check it out?"

"Yes." Jack and Cas said at the same time.

"No," Said Dean. The rest of the merry troop looked at him. "It looks legit. Doesn't mean it is." He shrugged, finishing the rest of his coffee.

"We've done more on less," Sam argued. "Besides," He continued scrolling on the laptop, "from what it says here, this isn't the only case in Copper Harbor. Crap like this has happened all over the town! Crazy, unexplainable disturbances followed by missing items. Reports go back for the last five years!"

"So that thief is using a ghost to help her steal stuff?" Jack asked, clearly exited.

"Yeah, and not just material items. Most of these reports come from the local hospital. She's stealing blood." Sam looked up at Dean who nodded.

"Sounds good enough for me."

***

"And that's checkmate, again!" Isaac shouted triumphantly. I moaned and slammed my head against the table.

"How?! How are you so good at chess?!" I shouted, my frustration at being beaten for the eighth time in a row was reaching critical mass.

"I have two words for you," Isaac smirked, counting the words off on his fingers, "Chess. Club."

"Uuuuggghhhaaa!!!"

"Wanna rematch?" I snapped my head to look back up at him.

"No!" I hurriedly shoved the chess pieces out of the way and brought out the checkers. "We're doing checkers! Lets see who's king now!" Isaac just shrugged.

"More humiliation for you, I guess."

"We'll see about that, pretty boy!"

"Mommy, mommy! She called me pretty!"

"I didn't mean it."

"I know."

"You're dead so it doesn't count."

"Well, that's just hurtful," Isaac pouted.

I smirked and pulled out my phone. Scrolling through the news and memes as I waited for Isaac to take his turn. He was always slow at checkers. As I scrolled passed a rather painful dad joke, I saw something that first caught my eye and then made my blood run cold.

"Your turn!" Isaac said. I didn't reply. I couldn't.

"Honestly, I don't know what makes you think you can beat me."

I tried to speak up.

"Isaac?"

He wasn't paying attention.

"I mean when have you ever beaten me?"

"Isaac."

"And don't say that one time with the ping-pong because we both know that doesn't count!"

"ISAAC!"

Now he looked up.

"What?"

I swallowed.

"You know how you said you always wanted to be famous?" I asked him weakly. I felt sick.

"No, no! I never said I wanted to be famous. I said I wanted to be a meme. There's a difference," Isaac said, smiling.

"Isaac?"

"Yeah, that’s my name. Why do you sound like you're gonna barf?" I turned my phone to let him see what was displayed on my screen and apparently millions of others. The footage of me and Isaac in the mini-mart.

"I think we just hit the prime time..." I said. Isaac looked up at me, if his pale, dead face could have gotten paler, I'm sure it would.

"Well, crap."

~ Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long And wouldn't it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong?

You know it seems the more we talk about it It only makes it worse to live without it But let's talk about it

Oh, wouldn't it be nice? ~

Lyrics from: Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys

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thesharondefenseleague · 4 years ago

Note

mlm imo werent sexualized to the degree that wlw were in most canon media mostly because of the male gaze. Gay and Lesbian relationships or moments got very limited representation. One was probably more sympathetic but also heart breaking like say brokeback mountain. One was explicit but depicted as grotesque or twisted or perverted or immoral in some way. And the last version was the titillating version. In western media because of the assumed straight male gaze lesbians making out to titlate guys was a common thing like say in Jennifer's body. The equivalent of that with guys wasnt really that common not in western media. Not that wlw couldn't like that content but it was made to be fanservice for men .

So thats what I kind of mean by wlw were sexualized at least in western media. This equivalent with mlm in fandom never really existed they never made out for girls to find hot in the same way. It was never marketed like oh look hot guys making out. Fandom did that but not canon.

As for comic book men being sexualized kind of. There is definitely the unrealistic beauty standards but theres that debate of was it for the purpose of titillating women? Or a result of toxic masculinity putting this unattainable unsustainable goal for men. Maybe both? But both in comics and the movies they are based on the posing and clothing and moments with women get made to clearly sexualize them . It especially ovbious with comics with them twisting their bodies so their boobs and butts are jutting out. Or like movie moments like Bruce landing in Natasha's clevage. Or angles where you are staring down a female character's shirt or she has a boob window for some contrived reason. Or just reasons to give full page spreads of them in skimpy clothing.

Its rare men get depicted like this or posed like this. And when they do it often stands out because its not the norm. It's something unique. Not true with men. Even in form fitting spandex they are often posed and framed to make to make them look powerful or intelligent or to reveal things about their character.

Again not that men never get sexualized or that fanservice is always bad. Or that its not a concern that men are having these terrible body image issues. But just that for women for the sexualization its so pervasive and constant was my point.

Its just as bad in wlw in canon as it is for women in relationships with men in canon when it comes to that sexualization but i hear so much more about the problems about the wlw ship than the mlw ship. Like to use DC as a example i hear so much about how people sexualized or mishandle harleyivy but compared to that i hear very little about batcat in comparison even though Catwoman is often just as sexualized in that ship.

As for misogyny in shipping wars yes it definetly exists and is a problem as is racism and homophobia. But my issue is mostly that the problem isnt because the main popular ships are mlm. But so often I see the argument framed that way.

Like shipping wars existed between m/w ships and still do today. And they are still often pretty misogynistic towards the woman in the other ship. I don't even have to look at other fandoms I remember Steggy vs Starton getting real ugly.

Mysogny in fandom doesn't uniquely pop up when mlm are the more popular ship. Its often just as bad in fandoms where m/w is the popular ship. But people just bring it up alot more they make it bout valuing the men over the women .

Well i mean that goes both ways you could say its homophobic for valuing the straight ship as better than the gay one or liking it more. But either way its stupid they dont care bout sexism or homophobia only that their ship is more popular.

Thats the sentiment of all ship wars the gender dynamics and racial make up change nothing. Nothing except the bullshit you use for the ship war.

The problem is that people are being homophobic and mysogynistic and racist not just in regards to fictional characters but towards real people just to win a ship war. It comes out so easily. Thats the problem imo.

Mysogny for example i think isnt discussed as much when its a m/w vs m/w ship war or drama because as both ships have women it can't be used to slander the other ship. But when its drama between fans of a m/m and m/w it comes out alot again not because anyone really cares but because now because one ship lacks a woman it can be used as fodder for what people actually care about. Tearing down the other ship.

Again not that mlm fandom doesnt have mysogny. They definetly do. But they aren't mysogynistic because they ship two guys together. Thats not proof they hate women. Having a ship with women isnt proof that you aren't sexist towards women. There might be homophobia in fandoms of mlm ships and mysogny in fandoms of m/w ships.

But in the drama between a m/w and m/m ships that doesn't get brought up because no one cares if that problem can't be used to show that someone only doesn't ship your ship if they are bigoted against it. Who cares about misogyny if your ship is two guys? Who cares about homophobia if your ship is straight?

No one because they cared about the popularity of their ship not the actual issues.

Gonna under under the cut for length again.

This is a lot to read so I'm gonna respond paragraph by paragraph and hope for the best in terms of comprehension.

When it comes to media made about the LGBTQ+ community, you have to keep in mind when it was made, who made it, and who was it made for. And that it's been shown that straight women have had the same reactions to mlm content as straight men to wlw content. QaF was dumbfounded to find that the majority of their audience was straight women when the show's sex scenes were 95% between two or more men and yet that's what they ran with because hey, it got the views. The views of mlm and wlw content in the mainstream media before then was minimized, despite how fucked a lot of the other content could be. If by "most canon media" being directed at the male gaze being summer blockbusters, and more specifically comic book movies, then sure. If we step out of that box, then not really. The film examples you chose are interesting because BB is portrayed exactly how the author of the original short story wrote it which was meant to be heartbreaking since it was a tragic dramatic piece while JB has a woman who wrote and another woman who directed it while purposefully trying to allow to actress to have a level of sexuality without exploiting her as past directors have (also neither of the main characters are lesbians - one is bi, the other I think is straight but maybe questioning?).

The sexualization of wlw in modern western media is definitely a thing. I mean, the first Iron Man film has stewardesses on the private jet pole dancing if I remember correctly. It took until 2016 to stop sexualizing Scarlett in every movie: the changing scene in IM2, the lowered zipper in A1, the ass shot in Cap 2, the boob faceplant in AoU (in your third paragraph, but mentioning it here anyway). It's a joke that you know when a man directs a wlw indie film during the sex scenes. But the mlm equivalent did exist alongside it, and it's what kicked off the century.

Comics and their movies were always for men. The male bodies are male wish fulfilment for their physical appearance. The women are male wish fulfilment for their dream girls. Funnily enough, one of the least sexualized women in comics I've ever read is Sharon. She's rarely, if ever, drawn to be sexualized for the audience. I'm not even sure she's even been in those swimsuit issues Marvel did years ago. And it shows heavily that Marvel struggles to know how to appeal to women without being aggressively in your face about it. The best example of them appealing without pandering is WV, and the worst is the group shots the Russos did in IW and Endgame, especially the latter.

But the men get those poses in the movies too. Thor bathed shirtless for no reason in TDW. There's a scene in Endgame dedicated to talking about Steve's ass. Pratt in GotG. Rudd in Ant-Man. Most actors are expected to look good shirtless and put themselves through intense shit to look that way. So do the women, but they aren't doing it to have the glamor shots of their muscles. And the MCU is not the only film franchise like this. Most, if not all, franchises with majority or entirely male leads expects them all to look like bodybuilders. And I'm gonna take back that it's just for the male audience, because these bodies are meant to appeal to women who are intended to thirst for these actors too. They think these bodies is what will bring women to the theaters.

None of this will change, as you say, that women's sexualization is "constant and pervasive". The film industry is just a part of the larger whole of media. Television and advertising have a treatment of women that's beyond whatever you or I say because there are decades worth of shit to go through that would take dozens of essays worth of writing to fully divulge beyond "please stop it's gross".

Now DC is a whole other ballgame. They're pretty infamous for their artists' sexualization of heroines and villainesses. Harley, Ivy, and Selina are definitely pretty bad, but when I remember what I've seen drawn of Kara, Kori, or sometimes Barbara... But outside of one artist, I think Harley and Ivy as a couple have been drawn tamely. Can't say the same for Selina, because they just can't not draw every part of her body even when she's fully clothed.

I think it's hard not to talk about fandom misogyny outside of m/m ships because of how often popular m/m shippers have rooted their shipping into misogyny. And even with m/f ship wars, a lot of the time the "faulted" character is always the woman when majority of the time it's the man who sucks. I don't get why everyone is fighting for who should kiss Steve because Steve sucks and they'd be better off without him. But because Steve is the object of affection for our fave, we have to fight off everyone else.

Don't look at other fandoms for m/f ship wars. We don't appreciate how tame we were, even at our worst. I'm serious, I've seen so much worse.

I think why the topic of misogyny comes up more with m/m ships is because they follow a similar principle of the male characters being more developed in canon and fanon so it's who people gravitate towards.

There is definitely layers of homophobia in fandom, but there's many versions of how we see it. Homophobes who won't ship anything that's not m/f. Homophobes who ship m/m but won't support IRL rights. People who love m/m but abhor f/f, and vice-versa. The shippers who use them for personal fodder. But the sexism is more prevalent than the homophobia. And the racism way more than both combined.

And it does cause a lot of ammo, and much of it severely unjustified, in ship wars. Literally the bullshit I've seen pulled out of thin air to accuse Sharon of not being worthy because someone said she's a racist for [they literally had no reason just called her one because we said Sam and Sharon are friends because they are] and other nonsense.

The real world repercussions of the homophobia, the sexism, and the racism in fandom... there's just so much. Like we are all still people, and yet we decide because we hide behind screens to be antagonistic, and use homophobic, sexist, and racist shit to attack each other over ships just because we want to paint the other person as crazy, I guess? If you can't see that there are no enemies in ship wars and that the other side is still people, maybe you need to sit out and log off. It's baffling how often it still happens to people. Then it's no longer about ships, it's about who is an asshole.

I will say that Steve and Peggy vs Steve and Sharon is probably the only m/f ship war I've seen where misogyny is talked about. Is, not was, because it still is. Both sides call the others misogynistic. I don't think either side is, but you can see in individuals. Those who tweeted at a certain actress that she was a slut for kissing her costar certainly are though.

You are right that shipping m/m isn't inherently sexist. But tearing down women in those ships to prop up m/m has made me stop shipping certain characters altogether. People, seriously, we don't have to justify why we like them! We can just like them! And other characters can still exist! It's never been that deep.

And you're right, the popularity of the ship helps people ignore any deeper issues within them and this is a power used to silence valid criticism if it pops up.

(I hope I answered everything well for you.)

~Mod R

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syndianites · 4 years ago

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter Three

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 [Here] - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: A good handful of these first chapters are going to be set up and exposition for later. I wanted to put some worldbuilding and character buildup with more than just Wag and Jordan because it’s nice and feels more fleshed out that way. This is more or less my version of a post-S2, maybe S3 fic, so I wanted to go ham on it.

——————————————————————————————

The trek home was much more light hearted. More dramatacisms about the flower, a joke about Wag’s weed quest here, and easy banter shared back and forth. Wag would like to think that Sonja looked more relaxed on the way back, like a weight fell off her shoulders.

But that was an ongoing battle. It would be some time before it really fell away.

Of course, halfway home Sonja dropped another bombshell.

“I think I’m going to break up with Tucker.” Sonja spoke up.

Wag tried not to visibly startle. No, he didn’t see this coming. Should he have? Maybe. Actually, he expected Tucker to be the one to end it, after the whole Shadow’s business.

And here Wag was, staring at her like a fish struggling to breathe.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s going to happen whether I bring it up or not.”

“Are you breaking up with him because you’re afraid he’s going to break up with you?” He was still trying to pick his jaw off the floor.

“Hmm.” Sonja considered this for a moment. “Yes, but also no. I’m not afraid he’s going to, I just have a strong feeling he will. At the very least, we’d need to take a break since all of-,” she gestures to herself vaguely, “-this happened. And, honestly?” Her head tilted to the side. “It’s probably for the best. I do love Tucker, and it will take some time to let those feelings simmer and fade if we do break up, but I think we’ve been… drifting from each other for a while.”

“What?” His eyes snapped back to hers. “Really?”

Sonja nodded. “This wasn’t our first fight. Or, well, falling out. Things were fine before we jumped into the void, but we didn’t agree with how to handle the new world. How to handle Ruxomar’s Mianite.”

Wag nodded slowly. He wouldn’t know the difference. If he was being honest, he didn’t really know the other heroes that well before Ruxomar happened. He was a wizard, tasked with building, magical in every sense, and he had his own squad. The most he had thought of Tucker and Sonja’s relationship was when he helped build their home.

She sighed. “Tucker was very intent on following that Mianite. Ever the devotee. Granted, Tom and Jordan were the same with their gods but theirs were… different? I guess? Ianite wasn’t around, to start, and Dianite was dead. But we always had an idea on Mianite.”

Her tail swished behind her and she grabbed it for a moment, running her hand down its length before letting go. “He was who all of Dagrun worshipped.” Her voice took on a darker tone. “Or were supposed to worship. Tucker only wanted to believe the best of Mianite. I wasn’t quite with it. We would fight, sometimes, about Mianite, or something he did, or what his effect on the town was. Then there was the Ianitas, there was Inertia, there was-” She took a breath. “There was a lot.”

Turning to look at Wag, she gave him a smile and a shrug. “It got a bit tense between us, for a while. Well, it has been tense. Things didn’t really cool off until we were floating aimlessly in the void, again, and we had time to think and talk it out.”

“So you think that with your whole Shadows business coming out you guys need some time apart? To let the tension simmer down?” It was starting to make some sense. Let time and distance see if the heart will grow fonder or if the mind will let go.

Or something like that.

“Kind of.” Sonja turned back towards their destination. “I just. I don’t know if after this we’ll be able to make it work anymore. And if we can’t I’d rather end it on good terms than, I don’t know, explosive, world shattering, terrible terms?”

“Basically, you still want to be friends if things don’t work out.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

They walked in silence after that. A comfortable one, but heavy nonetheless. Wag had a lot to think about. He was about to go through a break-up too. Should he say something? Ask her about it? Martha and him didn’t really have any rough, tense things that were breaking them apart. They hadn’t fought, or brought up dark, hard secrets. It was just a falling apart. They still loved each other.

There was just someone missing.

And there was nothing Wag could do to make up for that hole Steve had left.

He looked back at Sonja, who was casually thumbing one of the petals of the cornflower they’d picked out for Mianite. She was lost in thought, but there was a determined look in her eyes. She was moving in the right direction. Growing, letting change come through.

Wag wanted nothing more than to plant his feet in the ground and stay where everything was easy. Easier. But the world had other plans.

In the end, when they made it back home, Wag hadn’t said anything. There was a place inside him that was afraid of speaking his decision into words. Afraid that if he said he was going to break up with Martha that things would start to fall apart.

He sure hoped not.

---

Wag spent the rest of the day sorting out the flowers they’d found and parsing through potion orders. Most of what they’d picked were more natural- flowers, some vines, and a butt load of four leaf clovers. Which so happened to grow more frequently in the area they’d gone to.

He knew from experience.

The potion orders were easy enough to set up. He’d finished boxing and tagging all the luck potions- there were only three left to do- and scheduled a shipment time, which meant going to his mail cart and placing in a whole crate of them for the post office to deliver for them.

This area had a post office now, freshly installed around the time the town popped up. Convenient for wizards who didn’t get out much.

Then he organized the rest of his current potions in terms of difficulty- easy ones go first- and picked up any new orders from the mail.

Boring, boring, boring.

Once he’d set all of that up he took to his greenhouse. Tended to his plants. Checked on his latest crossbreeding project. It was still developing, but he checked each stage for weed-adjacent properties. None yet.

And then, silence. Nothing to do. He could eat, he could sleep, he could read until his eyes bled. Oh, wait. Scratch that. He could read until his eyes dried out.

He rolled said eyes at that train of thought. In reality, he was just going to go to sleep. The sun had just set, which was excuse enough for him. Sure, he could research his magic related issues, or his weed related quest, or something, but he’d done enough thinking today. Had enough problem sorting.

But as he laid down to sleep, clad in sweatpants and a simple gray shirt this time, he was wide awake.

There was an unsettled buzz humming beneath his skin. Something restless and worried. Things were changing faster than he wanted them to.

Sure, he could take a town forming, he could take new people showing up, he could take the Ruxomar people living here, all of that was fine. New things weren’t as hard to keep up with.

But the old things changing?

Seeing Sonja’s and Tucker’s relationship crumble, seeing Jerry’s Tree change, Mianite’s Temple change, being left behind by his fellow wizards. Everything to do with Martha. It was like life was starting to move on without him, and Wag was still left knee deep in everything that had happened. The past was clinging to him, dragging him down, stopping him from reaching into the future, practically tearing him from the present.

How long until he didn’t recognize the people around him? How long until they grew so far from him that he really became just some random guy making potions in a tower? Would people care? Would they think back and wonder what happened to him?

It hurt to think about. If Wag had his way, he’d banish the thoughts from his head forever, but things have a strange way of crawling back when you don’t want to think about them. Still, it was a struggle. Everything felt like it was moving too fast, like Wag was too far behind to catch up.

He really should try to get out more.

But why? So he can watch things change? So he can look on helplessly as the world around him becomes something new? What’s worse, seeing change happen and being unable to keep up, or stepping out of your house one day to see that nothing was the same?

Wag rolled over.

Dear Athar this is not what I want to be thinking about.

He’d just have to do his best to keep up. To claw his way back to the present when the past tries to drag him down. If he can at least stay with it, change won’t feel so bad. If he’s in the thick of it, surely he, too, will feel it? Will change for the better.

Wag sure hoped so.

The distant sound of bells broke his thoughts. His doorbell, to be exact.

By now it was the dead of night and any right-minded person was sleeping right now. Or trying to. Wag considered whether it would be better to stay in bed, wallowing, or get up and see what’s what.

Another ring urged him to rise.

He spiralled down, and down, and down his stairs, his room being at the top of the tower. Wag missed elevators so much. Maybe he could be the man to pioneer the elevator. Start with a simple pulley system, like they use in mines, and work up from there.

Letting go of that train of thought, he finally reached the bottom floor and strode over to yank the front door open.

It was Tom.

“Bought time you showed up mate, I thought I was gonna hafta walk up there to get you myself,” Tom chirped. “Oh!” He leaned in. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Wag gave him a deadpan look. “Didn’t you just say you would have gotten me up if I hadn’t answered?” Tom grinned at him cheekily. “Thought so. And, for the record, no. I was pondering life’s mysteries like one normally does at,” He squinted into the outdoors. “Whatever fucking time it is.”

“Wonderful! May I come in?” Tom asked, already walking in.

“Be my guest.” Wag made an aborted movement to complain about the fact he walked in anyway, but thought better of it.

Tom wandered the foyer for a moment, trying to get out extra energy, before he flopped onto Wag’s mediocre couch. Wag knew he ought to offer food and drink, but it was too late at night for him to care. Instead, he took a seat beside Tom, whose head was leaning over the back of the couch.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Tom’s face was lacking his normal energy. Like the act of sitting let it all out. His hands, however, fluttered nervously, fingers drumming, palms smoothing down his pants.

“We saw each other yesterday.” Wag regretted not getting a drink. He was feeling Tom’s restlessness. It would be nice to have something to do with his hands. “Not that long ago.”

Drawing his shoulders up, Tom released a sigh. “Long enough.”

Silence again.

“Have.” Tom stopped. He was mulling over his words, a rare occasion for someone who prefered to think on the fly. “Have you been doing alright recently?”

A strange question.

“Define recently.” Wag wasn’t about to open up another heart to heart discussion. One per day was enough.

“Y’know. Recently! Like, the past few days.”

Try since we fell back into the world.

“I guess? I haven’t felt any different than before.”

This is where Tom’s eyes sharpened. He appraised Wag, took him in. Surely, what Tom saw was a tired, weary man. A Waglington far from his best. Hair messy, eyes dark, the strain of life held deep in his shoulders.

Except, none of his keener friends had noticed. Why would Tom?

“You haven’t been doing well for a while, huh?”

Or, rather, why wouldn’t Tom?

Still, Tom being the one to notice was a shock.

Wag looked him in the eyes, held them for a moment, then looked away. That was answer enough, in his opinion.

“Shit,” Tom softened up, curling forward to rest his elbows on his knees, face pillowed in his fists. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Why? Well, there were a number of reasons. They bounced in his mind every time he thought to himself, ‘Would anyone care?’

Feeling insignificant, feeling useless, hopeless, like after everything he’d done it didn’t mean anything.

Maybe he was depressed.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how- I,” Wag couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t want to bring everyone else down with my problems when they all have their own.”

Tom straightened up and turned towards him. Leaned in. Got close to his ear. “Wag.” His voice was breathy, light.

“That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

And loud. Fuck, did he have to get that close.

“It’s not dumb! It’s just how I felt. Feel.” Tom didn’t have to be a dick about it. “You guys do have shit going on, though! Everyone is trying to deal with their own crap, why would I add mine like a sour little cherry on top?”

Said asshole flopped on top of him, forcing Wag to lean back to accommodate Tom on his lap. “That’s not what I meant. How you feel is how you feel. What I meant is that we don’t give a shit about what all we have on our plates, we care about you.”

Wag moved to hold his head in his hands, making sure to dig his elbows into Tom’s back. “And I care about you enough to not want to worry you.”

“Wag.”

“Yes.”

“That’s-”

“Bullshit?”

“Bullshit.”

Tom wrapped his arms around Wag’s waist and snuggled in. Wag fell back into the couch. “Still. I don’t want to drag you down.”

“If we can’t deal with your problems, we’d let you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“I would, at least.”

Wag huffed. “I know you would. You like to let everyone know what’s on your mind.”

“Sometimes.” Tom’s voice was flat. It was unsettling.

“Do,” Wag rubbed soft circles into Tom’s back. “Do you have a problem you want to talk about.”

Tom buried his face into Wag’s stomach. “Yes,” his voice was muffled, but audible. “But not now. I’m here because I felt like you were thinking too hard and needed someone to talk to.”

That was interesting. He ‘felt’ like it?

“I appreciate it. But how-?” Tom squeezed his waist. It was a clear not now.

“Did you want to talk about what’s up with you?”

Wag shook his head, then realized Tom couldn’t see him. “No. I’ve had enough heart dumping today.”

They sat in silence again.

“Are we gonna just lay here?” Tom said nothing. “Did you just wanna snuggle on the couch until one of us decides to get up?”

Wag received a non-committal hum.

“Alright then, but if someone walks in on us here I’m going to have to tell them they we’re involved in a long standing affair.” Wag moved to lay alongside Tom on the couch, comfortably curling an arm around him. Tom responded with a quiet chuckle.

An easy silence washed back over them. Having Tom as a warm weight next to him was helping, surprisingly. Or maybe not surprisingly. It was harder to think about all the things that made you feel like shit when you had someone else holding your waist in a death grip. Was it a little painful? Yes. Did it help nonetheless? Also yes.

In the end, he was grateful Tom showed up.

---

Wag woke up with a pain in his back and a groan. Which wasn’t terribly unusual, except he couldn’t remember what he did to get his back right to the point of aching without being downright horrible. Or why his neck would feel stiff.

Then, of course, there was the weight settled on his chest. Tom. Tom drooling on his chest.

Ever the good friend, Wag decided to help him wake up. By lovingly pushing Tom off him. Only to go crashing down to the floor as well when Tom, sensing movement, latched on tight.

“Aw, fuck,” were Tom’s first words of the morning, followed by a, “What the fuck.”

Wag shoved at Tom. “Let go. I love you too, but I would rather not sit on my couch all day.”

“Well, why not? That’s as good a way to spend a day as any.” Tom held on with an impish grin, still groggy from his sudden awakening.

“Aw, you guys looked so cute up there.” A voice from the stairs drew their attention. Martha. “And here I thought you guys were such good friends, cozying up to each other. I’d come down to give you a blanket, but I suppose you won’t be needing it now.”

True to word, a blanket was held in her arms. Wag flopped onto Tom, squishing him into the floor. “Oh, Martha dear, you are just a little off. You see, Tom and I here are not friends, we are-”

Tom jumped in, “Lovers. Have been since we met in our early teens. Sorry to break it to you, but Wag was mine first and I want him back.”

Martha’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?” There was a teasing note in her voice. “Does that make me the rebound? Waggles, I can’t believe you would disgrace me so.”

If anyone was the rebound, Wag thought, it’s me.

“Yep!” Tom popped the ‘p’. “And now that we are well and fully together again, what shall we do with you.”

Wag rolled his eyes and sent Martha a wink. She hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Well, Tomothy, I have bad news for you.” Wag looked down into Tom’s eyes, giving his cheek a mock caress. “Martha is way cooler than you. She’s got purple hair, to start, and some spectacular magic tricks. I don’t know if you can compete with that.”

There was a flash of something in his eyes, and for a moment Wag saw Tom's mouth open only to be replaced by a dark, pained look. Then it was gone, replaced by Tom’s usual mischief.

“I can’t believe you!” Tom let go, finally, to push Wag away and roll to the side clutching his heart. “After all we’ve been through! That one time I gave you my meat! When we did drugs together! And you’re leaving me because my hair isn’t purple!”

He got up, dusting his legs off, and sashayed to the front door. “That’s fine, I’m too much of a boss ass bitch for you anyway. Ta ta, my not dearest. Until we never meet again!”

Then he was gone.

Martha piped up again, having moved to place the blanket on the couch. “As dramatic as always.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I only stopped by to pick something up for Dad. I’ll be leaving as well.”

Wag pulled himself off the floor as she passed, giving her a smile. She hesitated before returning it.

She opened the door with a look over her shoulder. “Goodbye, love.”

And, just as she started to walk out, she muttered to herself, “Did Tom already make it down the mountain? Strange.”

Then Wag was alone. Again.

---

It was midday when Wag found himself back at the bakery, quietly eating an apple tart while Gretchen eyed him from over the counter. There were a few customers here and there, though most of the village inhabitants out fishing for the day or working their craft. Wag, of course, ran on whatever schedule suited his needs per day.

Gretchen, who was preparing dough for tomorrow, was clearly waiting for him to say what was on his mind. He ducked his head farther into his hood.

He was that obvious, huh?

“So, how has your da-” Gretchen cut off his attempt at light conversation. “You asked when you came in. Try again.”

Stunned, he reconsidered his words. “What do you think of-” She cut him off with a click of her tongue.

Clearly, she was not taking any bullshit today. Which was unfortunate. Wag wanted nothing more than to fill his days with insignificant bullshit if that meant he never had to face his problems.

Fuck.

Why was asking for advice so hard?

Gretchen hummed quietly to herself. Wag finished the tart. Slowly licked his fingers clean. And came up with nothing to say.

A customer came and went. The door closed with a soft jingle of the bell at the top.

He broke.

“I need to break up with Martha and I don’t know how.”

Gretchen turned to him with a surprised and considering look. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What?” He scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She paused in her ministrations. Wiped her hands off on her apron. Turning to him, she leaned against the counter. “I didn’t think you’d consider that you weren’t happy with your relationship. It’s clear as day that you two aren’t much of a couple. Whether you were before you got here aint none of my business, but as you are now? I coulda mistaken you for friends, at best.”

Oh.

Ouch.

“Yeah,” Wag trailed off. “I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure how much of a couple we were either. Back then. Do you mind if I,” he waved his hands half-heartedly, “vent a little?”

Gretchen gave him a fond head shake. “I already put the dough down, I’m all ears.”

“So, um.” He wasn’t sure where to start. When they first met? When he started thinking that he might like her? When he realized he loved her? When they got together?

Steve?

“Martha was already in a relationship when we met.” Gretchen raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. “The guy she was with was the farmer type, rough, could fix anything with a little elbow grease and a stern look. Followed Dianite, the new one.”

Wag took a second to figure out where he was going with this. “They were engaged, actually. And then broke it off later. Martha and I grew close after that. But the thing was- is- Martha still loves Steve. Misses him. But he’s-” He broke off, lost again.

“Dead?” His head snapped to her. She held her hands up. “Hey, you were talking about him all past tense, and from what I heard about whatever happened to that other place, if someone didn’t show up here after all that calamity, they aren’t going to show up ever. They’re gone.”

Yeah, he was. Steve was six feet under. Farther than that. He was lost to the void with Ruxomar. Lost to Dianite’s soul. Claimed by the acts of the past for a better future.

And look where that got them.

“Yeah, he’s dead now. It killed her, I think. She lost her mother, had all this power, yet she could do nothing to stop Steve from dying, too.” Wag was beginning to connect some dots, the kind of dots you look at and roll your eyes and claim are just things that happen in shitty romance novels.

Gretchen had her head on her fist now, invested. “Why did they split?”

“Uh,” Wag struggled to recall the information. “Because... I think it was because Steve ‘moved around too much’.” He made air quotes. “Or went on too many missions for Dianite? I don’t know the details.”

“Oh, that’s no good.” When she saw Wag’s confused face, Gretchen continued. “If they split over something like that, there’s always a good chance they still loved each other. I’m afraid to say it, but you may have been the rebound.”

Wag hated to hear that. “Hey, she flirted with me before their relationship was over. It was a mutual flirting thing, too!”

Gretchen groaned. “You guys flirted, while she was in a relationship, that you knew about, and when it was over she came to you? That sounds suspiciously like needed comfort after leaving the love of her life and knew you could give her that.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but deflated like a two weeks old balloon.

Taking a breath, a wheeze at best, he tried again. “You don’t understand. Martha is, she’s amazing. She’s dedicated, and smart, and talented, and she’s always trying her best even under the pressure of being a demigod and having everyone look to you expecting greatness out of you.”

His heart was beating faster.

“And she’s polyamorous! She has room in her heart for more than one love, and we both knew that! Steve knew that! Martha didn’t rebound on me, exactly, but Steve and I had a mutual understanding that we both had places in Martha’s life and that was that.”

“She was kind, and caring, and only wanted the best for the people around her. There are so many amazing things about her.” His words were sweet but his voice was desperate.

“There’s no way she would be able to use someone- to use,” Wag grew quieter, “me, like that.”

Would she?

A hand on his arm startled him. Gretchen looked at him with soft eyes. “Hun, I don’t think she was truly ready for another relationship. She definitely didn’t go into it looking to use you. In fact, I’m sure she was in it because she loved you.”

She let go to move around the counter and lead him to a seat. “You can see it, sometimes, when she’s with you. The gentle fondness in her gaze, the warmth in the smiles she directs at you.”

“But you can’t build a solid relationship without hashing through the issues and problems you have.” Gretchen rubbed up and down his arm. “And Martha being caught up on this Steve, that’s something you have to address. It’s no issue to love more than one person, but to let the love you feel for another get in the way of the love you feel for another is.”

“I just feel awful letting it go like this. I should have put in more effort, tried to bridge the gap more, done something.” Wag was trying to keep his breathing steady. It was working, somewhat. “I’ve let myself get into such a fuckin’ rut that I can’t even keep track of everything.”

Gretchen pursed her lips. “If I may be so crass, you’ve let yourself get so hard focused on everything about you that you haven’t given the time to look at the people around you. Before yesterday, when was the last time you’d taken the time to catch up with your friends? How much of their lives do you know about?”

He wanted to say something, give a date, but he came up blank. “I’m trying my best.”

“You are, and I see that. But you can’t blame yourself all the way through. You’ve got to consider Martha’s view as well. Neither of you are the villain here, neither of you tried to sabotage or destroy your relationship. Both of you were just trying to feel like things were going alright while other pieces of your life fell apart.” Taking the seat next to him, she shook her head.

Again, he moved to say something, but she cut him off. “If you don’t think that those of us ‘round town don’t notice that you heroes have some shit going on, you’re wrong. We may be the more common around here, but we have eyes. Whatever happened to you, you can’t let it be the reason you get stuck in something that makes you more upset or hurt. Got it?”

Hesitant, he nodded. She didn’t know much about him, yet she could see right through him, huh? How obvious had he gotten in all his time spent away from people?

“You know, I didn’t come here to have a heart to heart about my emotional issues.” Wag tried for a teasing tone but fell a little off.

Gretchen took the bait. “No sir, you came here because you’re too much of a wuss to just go up to Martha and say ‘Love, I’m afraid this ain’t gonna to work out. Can we just be friends?”

“Ok, but she could literally electrocute me.”

“Ain’t gonna be any more painful then the dance you two are doing right now.”

He had no answer for that.

“That’s what I thought. And, if she’s as nice and amazing as you say she is, would she electrocute you?”

“No. But her uncle might.”

Gretchen laughed. “Ah yes, the new Dianite. That’d be a sight to see. ‘This man we’re all suspicious and wary of smiting a local and apparent hero! Is this man actually the second coming of an evil and villainous Dianite?’ That’d go over well.”

“Ok, so maybe I don’t need to worry about getting my ass cooked by a god. I’m still nervous.” Wag was, however, feeling a little better about the situation.

“Now, now. You shouldn’t get too comfortable.” A smile grew in her face, a devious look in her eye.

“Why?”

“Spark, you know, her father? The man who built this village, who we all respect and acknowledge as a good man? If he were to come around and to, I don’t know, teach you a lesson for hurting his daughter, none of us would bat an eye.”

“Gee, thanks. If you find me dead in a ditch you’ll know what happened.”

“Are you all ready then?” She stood, smoothing her apron. “Because I’m going to kick you out regardless if you say yes or no. If I let you stay here you might not leave.”

“I was going to say no, but I suppose I’ll wander off, then.” Wag stood as well. He shuffled in place for a moment while Gretchen returned to the other side of the counter. “Thanks. For, you know. All of that.”

She shook her head. “You better keep coming in and buying my goods. Call it an even deal.”

As he begun to walk out, he heard her call, “You’re welcome to come back if you need another talk!”

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to.

---

“Martha, I need to talk to you. About our relationship. I think it’s time to end it.”

Wag was back in his tower, pacing back and forth. No, he wasn’t running from the issue, he just had no fucking idea where Martha was. At all. He should have asked.

Oh well. Too late now.

Instead he had to make the choice of: wait for her at home or attempt to track her down. His decision was fairly obvious. The only issue with said decision was that he had was that there was no way to know when Martha would show up next.

It also occurred to him that Martha preferred not to come around. Shit.

Where would she be? She’d been talking to Jordan, at his request. Maybe they were still talking? But she’d come ho- come to the tower this morning. Why had she come over? What had she said?

Oh!

She was picking up something for Spark! That meant she was probably with him. Or, he’d know where she was.

…

He didn’t know where Spark was either.

“Damn, I wish I’d paid more attention to when Martha talked about Spark,” Wag muttered to himself, starting towards the door.

Then stopped.

First, Spark was intensely boring in his routine and life. Second, he still didn’t know where to find him.

He missed being able to teleport to people.

Alright, so maybe he should have shown interest in his potential father-in-law, but it was too late for that. He had to find Martha, and finding Spark might be easier.

Who would know where he was? The townspeople might like him, but they all had their own lives. Still, he could ask around. Who had seen him more recently, other than Martha?

A thought struck him.

He face palmed.

Jordan. Not only had Jordan and Martha been talking, which meant he might know where she went, but Jordan complained about Spark lecturing him all the time. If he didn’t know where Martha was, he’d likely know where Spark was. Even if it was to make sure he could avoid him.

Alright, easy. Jordan was probably at his house. Tree. Tree house? He had a pretty good track record of keeping close to home, at least.

So off to Jordan’s it was.

---

Today, Jerry’s Tree made him feel small. It was like it was looming over him as he ascended the hill. Grand and regal. It had seen death and destruction and met the challenge to come back better.

Wag did not feel like he was rising to a challenge so much as descending into a pit of pain. Sliding into a sweet embrace with death. Rolling into the grave.

Maybe he was being dramatic, but the thought of breaking up with Martha created more dread than he felt before in his life.

In any case, it was as he pondered the looming nature that he wondered what it would be like to live there. Then promptly remembered what he’d noticed the day before.

He looked over to the Casa de Sparklez. It looked homey and modest against the sprawl of branches and bark. Sure, it seemed insignificant at first glance, but it was simple. Nice.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Hadn’t it also been destroyed? Now that Wag thought about it, the last he’d seen of it before Ruxomar was a pile of ash and suspended ruins. How was it in this condition? Fixed?

Was it Ianite, again?

How many of Jordan’s homes ended in ash?

This was definitely not the reason he was making his way up. He had to focus. Focus! Ask Jordan about Martha and Spark. Easy.

Instead of making his way to the Tree right away, Wag stopped to knock on the de Sparklez door. There was a beat of silence. Did he assume wrong? Was Jordan actually living in the Tree?

Then he heard footsteps. Quiet and uncertain, but there. A flash of movement through the windows. Then the lock was turned and the door swung open.

One Mr. Captain Sparklez in the flesh.

“Hey, Wag,” Jordan drew the words out. “What brings you to the good ol’ Casa de Sparklez and not-” He looked over to Jerry’s Tree. “-my house.”

Wag offered him a smile. “I had a hunch you’d be here.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow but motioned him in regardless. The interior looked the same from the few times he’d been inside. Birch and quartz, sleek and stylish.

“How have you been, Wag?” As Jordan spoke up Wag turned to look at him. He seemed like he was in good health.

“I’ve been... better. But I’m doing better than I was, I think.” Wag could be honest with Jordan. He was pretty sure. Jordan, among all the heroes, was least likely to judge him for having issues. Ianitee and preserving balance and all.

They wandered over to Jordan’s couches where Wag declined any food or drink. “That’s good. Always good to be better, y’know, since we’re all finally getting a chance to relax.”

“Now,” Wag put his arm on the back of the couch, “I wouldn’t say that. Say it too much and things will turn south again.”

“Oh, believe me, it’ll turn south again. It always does.”

“Well that’s quite the vote of confidence in us.”

Jordan snorted. “It’s not a lack of confidence in us, it's a lack of confidence in the universe! Who’s to say that we won’t have another World Historian show up? Or another Shadows?”

Wow, speaking of Shadows.

“Gee, and here I thought I was the downer.”

Jordan laughed, shaking his head. “Only a little,” He rubbed his legs. “I’ve been using our downtime to get myself resettled, re-setup. To get back to,” A wave of his hands. “Normal? How things used to be? I’m not sure, yet.”

“Is that why you’re living here?” Wag bit back the ‘because it feels more like home, here?’.

He received a shrug in response. “It’s easier to get in here than to wander through the tree.”

Either that was a flimsy excuse or Wag was reading too deep into this. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was. All he’d done recently was think and talk deep. Better catch himself now before he gets ahead of himself.

“So,” He pushed his thoughts to the side, “Ignoring the fact that there’s elevators in the tree, how’d you manage to get this place back in shape?”

Jordan looked away for a moment. “It took a lot of time and resources. Needed to get all that wood and quartz back, y'know? But it gave me a reason to avoid Spark, and it gave me time to… think.”

“About?”

He turned his gaze towards Jerry’s Tree, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “About how much things have really changed, and how much they haven’t.”

Well, Wag was no stranger to this topic. He was a little tired of it. “How haven’t they changed? Seems like more and more things are growing and becoming different. Nothing feels the same.”

Jordan was quiet for a minute. He was steadily getting out of his comfort zone here. “Well, there’s a lot of constants. We’re in the same world, with the same people, with the same ideas of who we are. I know I follow Ianite, I know I stand for balance, and no matter how much Spark tries to tell me I’m doing it wrong, I know what my role is as Ianite’s champion.”

“Sure, the,” he waves a hand towards the window, to the tree, to the countryside, “everything, has changed. The tree got bigger and better and less like I remember, and there's new people and a whole, real village here, rather than the strange village-folk from before. And, yeah, it’s weird having the people from the last world among us, but we know them. We know us. Even when things change it's still-”

Jordan locked eyes with Wag.

“Us.”

Yeah. He was right. Everything was changing, as everything would. But in the end, after everything has evolved and adapted and become something new, what’s left?

Us.

#sparklington #the after series #waglington #james hayes #captain sparklez #jordan maron #martha the mystic #martha conway #tom syndicate #tom cassell #ii_jeriicho_ii #tucker b0ner #jericho #omgitsfirefoxx #sonja reid #mianite #mianitefa

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