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pb-dot · 3 months ago

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Film Friday: No, Thanos is not Right, and did in fact, do Quite A lot Of Wrong

(Warning: This one is loooooooooong)

Another Essay this week, and I've chosen to go back in time a couple of years. The target year this time is the halcyon days of 2019, back when I still gave a shit about the MCU, when the ongoing energy of the Marvel movies still pushed engagement forward. You didn't have to watch all of the movies, but they were for the most part fairly well made and there were enough references and jokes that relied on them that you kinda wanted to anyway. Granted, they worked their CGI guys pretty hard, there was a certain cynical glibness to the humor, and their politics weren't great, but these problems had not metastasized into the massive fucksy-doos they are today yet. These were good days to like zoom punch action stories, and it was all leading up to something. The confrontation between Earth's Mightiest Heroes and the Objectively Scariest And Evilest Guy. The Mad Titan, Thanos who wants to kill half of the universe for... reasons.

Backstory and Adaptation, Or; You Can't Have a Big Titted Skeleton Nowadays

For the uninitiated, Thanos was a relatively big deal in Marvel Comic history. The Mad Titan, to put it plainly, LOVES Death. Now to be clear, when I say Thanos loves death, I don't mean that in the abstract "oh, motherfucker just loves killing" way. He is romantically attracted to the anthropomorphic representation of Death, who at the time was most often represented as a big-titted skeleton, although more conventionally attractive Goth Girl variants are available depending on who's illustrating.

Now how would a big purple demigod man from Saturn's moon Titan go about wooing a fundamental aspect of the universe like that? There's always dying an reincarnating a lot, but that seems risky even in a universe where the afterlife seemingly has revolving doors. No, Thanos decides that a way better way to get Death-Sempai to notice him is to kill a LOT of people. Now obviously you can't kill the entire universe because 1: that would include yourself which isn't ideal, and 2: if everyone's dead nobody will get born and thus nobody will ever die again, which one has to imagine Death would not be too chuffed about.

So, what grand gesture does the ube-colored kronian lad settle on? Why of course, gathering five artifacts of immense cosmic power, the Infinity Stones, and using their combined magic juice to kill half of the universe's population with a literal snap of his fingers, which he does. Now, thanks to some internal family politics and the appearance of one Adam Warlock this whole thing got undone, but it was a pretty big deal for the duration.

So, Thanos is one of those larger-than-life fuckers that's just hard to structure a modern story around because of the sheer byzantine bombast that surrounds him. To have a true-to-comics version, you have to introduce Mistress Death, as the big-titted skeleton is often called, and the worldbuilding implications of that, the thing that makes Thanos purple also makes him one of the Eternals so you have to introduce all of that business, the sheer cosmic vastness of the Infinity Gems (née Soul Gems) requires a bunch of explaining, and when it all comes down to it his plan is kind of shit.

Like, this isn't a joke. Thanos has one goal and one goal only and that's to clap some skeleton cheeks, and he doesn't even succeed. Notorious self-aware joke-man Deadpool starts developing a relationship to Mistress Death, which is a thing that can happen if characters meet up a lot, and few are as experienced with exploring dying and getting better than ol' Mr. Pool. Of course, Thanos curses Deadpool to never be able to truly die since he can't have this Undying Chucklefuck upstage him, but it only further underlines how entirely Thanos doesn't succeed. He's a bit of an incel, really, cooking up these grand romantic gestures for a person he isn't really in a relationship with.

Now, I don't know for a fact that there is some sort of editorial fiat in the MCU stating that villains have to be critical of one aspect of society but be Too Extreme About it as opposed to our Good Liberal Heroes Who are Just Right About Every Social Issue, but it certainly fits as an explanation for why that keeps happening. My point is, there isn't really a greater point about society being made with Thanos here, my heroic stretch to try to make it fit in the schemas of gender and sexuality politics in society as interpreted by the Profoundly Deranged notwithstanding. So, what do you do? Why, you make this lumpy space potato man an ecofascist, of course.

Ecofascism, Or; When All You Have Is A Hammer Everything is a Nail

Ecofascism is a relatively recent term, but the trend that it is built upon is as old as fascism itself. In essence, I would describe it as using enviromentalist rhetoric and buzzwords to further an agenda of authoritarian discriminatory and genocidal politics. You see this idea pop up a lot. There's too many people on earth, and just everyone can reproduce which is bad. We eat and we eat until everything is ruined. Humanity is the virus. We need a new plague, etc etc.

What's so insidious about these lines of thinking is that it exploits the hopelessness of attempting to fight for the climate and further habitability of this particular biosphere and boils it down to a very, very simple thought. There are people who are undesirable and if we could just remove them (somehow) then we would save our people the planet.

You see this most clearly here in the west when we discuss the weight of the various climate sins of various countries. China keeps popping up a lot, as the Chinese economy grows towards the point where it can supply its middle class with similar levels of excess that the middle class in the west can enjoy. Now, yes, that leads to growing un-sustainability as the excesses of conspicuous consumption are... well documented to say the least. Where the ecofascist plies his insidious trade is in framing this data in the terms of "there needs to stop being so many Chinese people because they are as bad for the environment as Western People and there's More Of Them," and not, say "the way the middle class in the west consumes is hella unsustainable and we should fucking stop it before this standard kills us all." I.E "The current System is fine as long as it only benefits the Right People" and not "The Current System is Bad And Unfair and balanced on a razor's edge over the abyss and Maybe We Should Change That Somewhat."

For further reading on the topic, I think Philosophy Tube's "Climate Grief" video covers things rather well (I should also warn that this video is from PT pre-coming out/ public transition, just in case you're unfamiliar with her earlier work.)

For a good and very relevant example of how ecofascism might be expressed in practice, look no further than the Malthusian Problem and it's originator Thomas Robert Malthus. Malthus had the idea that while humanity's ability to produce food scales linearly with population, population growth is exponential. This implies that at some point it is inevitable that population growth outstrips humanity's ability to feed its teeming masses, which, if prolonged by, you know, giving a shit whether poor people die of starvation, could lead to even greater disasters up to and including total collapse of society. Intense stuff, but also not really backed by data. Part of that, of course, is that we've learned some REALLY neat tricks in agriculture in the years since Malthus famous wrongness ended with his death in 1834, but even without that, the self-interested callousness of this analysis should be self-evident.

To bring this back to Marvel Land, Thanos in the MCU is motivated by the same kind of merciless quote-unqoute altruism that lay behind Malthus ideas. There's just too dang many people, according to Thanos, there's only so many Resources (nonspecific resources) available in a finite universe. It is an act of mercy, according to this grape Koolaid motherfucker, to kill half of all people, and things will be fixed (somehow, more on that later.) All it takes, no, all it requires is a big enough, bad enough, sad enough dad.

The Rad Bad Sad Dad, or; The New Masculinity in pop culture

There's been a shift in what being a man means in pop culture this last decade. You can most easily detect it in video games, in part, I would argue, because demographic trends have lined up in such a way to shift perspectives that inform the writing, and in part because video game writing being younger and less refined, thus the most open leaving its tropes in the open. Keep in mind, this is not a diss, just an observation, the genre of text for video games is younger than its closest comparisons by quite a lot, it stands to reason there's less generational knowledge and nuance to it as a result.

You can tell this shift, I would argue, because the standard male protagonist has stopped being a white brown haired man in his late 20s who navigates worlds of wild and untamed violence with smug detachment and every-man-like charm, the kind of character one might expect a 20-or 30-something who is single and ready to mingle to write, if I may be uncharacteristically judgy for a bit.

When we now imagine a stock-standard video game protagonist, though, things have changed. Not so much demographically, no, these characters are still written by the same 20- and 30-somethings, they're just pushing 40/50 and have a family now. So, instead, we get what I call the Rad Bad Sad Dad. You know this guy. He's good at violence, REALLY good at it, the Rad and the Bad, but he's disillusioned by a cold and uncaring world, that's the Sad part, and he is the father, or father-figure of some variant of Innocent, and he is willing to burn the world to the ground for their sake if it comes to that, that's the Dad part.

Now this isn't me criticizing this trend either for the record, just pointing out that the change reflects a perspective change in the average creator. It has led to some very good stories. The Last Of Us, for whatever other flaws that game had, squeezes a LOT of pathos out of a cynical, dangerous man growing to love a young girl like she was his daughter. Unfortunately, I would argue, it has also led to Earth's Mightiest Heroes staring slack-jawed at a genocidal madman rather than rebuking him with any of the MANY readily apparent counterarguments to his bullshit.

A truncated list of the ways in which Thanos 1: Is Wrong and 2: Does Wrong

Here, I would argue, we come to what is wrong with Thanos in the MCU. It isn't bad to have a villain with genocidal goals per se, punching nazis is as important today as it was in the 40s after all, but having a villain you're supposed to empathize with in his quest to preform a genocide is generally considered a bad move. A move so bad, in fact, that one of the funniest comedies in the world, is about exactly this.

And yet, the MCU can seemingly not help itself but make an unironic Springtime for Thanos. "Isn't he sad," says Infinity War, "this lumbering purple space dad, willing to do what nobody else can do, what needs to be done?" "Look! He cries because he had to kill his own daughter on Planet Fridge to get the requisite number of Magical Space Tic-Tacs with which he plans to kill half of all life in the universe." Oh, except she's his adopted daughter because he killed half her planet's population and enjoyed her 'tude. Also, she's the last survivor of her people now (feel free to fact check me on this, Guardians Of The Galaxy 1 refers to Gamora as the last survivor of her species in the lineup), turns out killing 50% of the population had the side effect of... killing the other half also over time. Great, huh?

Now this here is what kills me about these fucking movies. There are several Doylist reasons why Thanos and his so sad and serious genocide quest is unconscionable, but even from a Watsonian perspective his shit does not make sense. But OK, maybe the Gamora thing is a plot hole. James Gunn didn't read the Lore Notes all the way through and ended up introducing a near-ironclad counterargument to Thanos' bullshit by accident. These things happen, and the most readily available fix is to pretend they never happened and/or the character who said it was Just Wrong. It doesn't end there, though, not by a long shot.

Let's talk numbers for a second. If you, today, were to halve the population of the earth. Do you know how many years that would set back the population growth, provided, of course, that the trauma of such an event didn't kill off or cripple humanity outright of course? It'd bring us back to the population level of the mid-70's! After a genocide that'd outshine even the most horrid acts of violence against humanity in sheer scope, you'd have pushed earth's theoretical kill screen back about a man's age. Good job, you Malthusian fuck. Round of applause for the Difficult Man that makes the Hard Choices, everybody clap for the edgy clown.

There is, of course, also the ethical arguments against killing functionally incalculable masses for an ill-defined goal of a thankful (and somehow sustainable?????) universe, but I'm not going to say much on that, in part because this is one the Infinity War duology mostly covers on it's own. Say what you want about Captain America, he at least knows to on occasion say Good Guy shit.

Now to be clear, my issue here isn't that the primary movers and shakers in Infinity Wars doesn't read Thanos to filth on how shit his plan is. That's fine, the main protagonists of the MCU are Moral People first and Smart People second, but what kills me is that NOBODY, and I mean ABSOLUTELY nobody comes with a single question about the practical or mathematical realities involved here. Like Spider-Man wouldn't be web-slinging around the city bus Thanos threw at him going "You are aware that earth's population has more than doubled since the early 70's right?" and making some sort of crack on the math curriculum on Titan, or War Machine or one of the more practically-minded heroes wouldn't at least ask earnestly "wait, why can't you use your functionally infinite power to create ways for life to live sustainably?"

Mais non. Nobody questions a single of the extremely rickety axioms in Thanos' plan. Not once. Not a single time. There's more time dedicated to why the Avengers, now equipped with a time machine, don't just go back to murder baby Thanos in the crib than whether the big bad space man's plan makes any fucking sense.

Breaks in formula, Or; Why Endgame kind of cocks it up

So, what's the big issue. The villain is REALLY bad and his plan doesn't make sense, big woop, right? Well, I would argue that the Thanos problem doesn't arise from how bad and wrong Thanos is, but rather how the heroes of the Marvelverse react to him, or rather should I say, how they don't.

Superhero conflict in the MCU can, I would argue, be understood as dialectic. The hero has a Thesis about the world at the outset, T'chala considers himself a righteous king in a line of righteous kings tasked with upholding the world his forefathers created for him and is then confronted with an antithesis in the form of the play's villain, Killmonger views the previous rulers of Wakanda craven isolationists content with stacking up their utopia while the world burns and people suffer. While the hero and the base kindness that informs their actions win out in the end, their perspective on the conflict is a meld of their own and the villain's, a synthesis if you will, T'chala will reign as king, but he will do what he thinks is right for Wakanda, to take her out of isolation and seek to better the world through their superior technology.

In Infinity War this doesn't really happen, neither for the overarching story with the protagonists, nor for the Thanos-headed sub-story. There's no real meaningful compromise that can be made between "Killing half of the universe is good, actually :)" and "Killing people is wrong :(" after all. This isn't a problem on its own, I'd claim, but the fact that the movie low-key presents itself as an attempt of finding such a middle ground is... disappointingly evocative of modern political discourse, let's just say.

It is jarring, is the thing, to see Steve "Captain America" Rogers be unable to say anything of moral weight against a genocidal space ube. To see Tony "The only expert on Unlimited Free Energy" Stark not even question the axiom that there's no such thing as a sustainable universe without this barbarous culling. They oppose Thanos on account of all the killing, but when it comes to the ideals side of thing they let the man win on walk-over. Part of this probably arises from how Infinity War does the whole "penultimate part is dark as FUCK bit, as Thanos' quest to attain all the Infinity Stones succeed, and not even a Hail Mary attempted murder from Thor manages to save the day. What exacerbates the problem, though, is how much of a mess the follow-up finale Endgame is. Now don't get me wrong, it's a fanservice all you can eat buffet, and in terms of honoring the legacy of the MCU and all of that it does what it's supposed to. As an answer to Infinity War, though, it is a mess. Our heroes never get their footing back in the moral department, as timeline shenanigans see "our" Thanos dead within the first 15 minutes, and a separate, but functionally identical mad titan brought over from a parallel timeline.

Now time travel bullshit in superhero media is about as old as the genre itself, but let's just look at this choice for a moment. The "new" Thanos is from a diverging timeline before he gathered all of the infinity stones. "New Thanos'" big plot is essentially, upon seeing that the universe is indeed not thankful but gearing up to kick his periwinkle ass post-snap, decides that if that's how they want to play he'll just destroy the entire universe this time around and see how they like that. Now, this works as a response to Infinity Wars Thanos only in that it confirms the very "no duh" notion that nobody will be particularly grateful to someone who killed half of their friends pretty much regardless of the quote unqoute facts they cite to justify it. The fact that this new reality isn't a lick more sustainable than the old one? Not commented on. Any meaningful consequences of Thanos' action outside of the particular ways it has touched the lives of our heroes? I guess there are signs here and there, but largely not commented on.

See this is what kills me with the New Thanos and that time travel nonsense. It's a get out of plot consequence free card. The MCU wanted to have its cake and have a larger-than-life villain with conviction, and eat it too, have a villain audiences can in part sympathize with, and even think is cool. This process leads us to such farce as Endgame having Thanos musing "You couldn't live with your failure and where did it bring you? Back to me," like he isn't throwing a fucking omnicidal tantrum at not being worshiped for being willing to kill a truly staggering amount of people make the Hard Choices. And again, absolutely nobody calls him on this. For all the quips in the wold, not even iron man notes that this is the pot calling the kettle black, because Thanos is Beyond Quipping. He is a Serious Man with a Serious Plan (a Serious Plan, incidentally, plotted by a cabal of murderous clowns, but I digress.)

Love Me, I'm a Liberal, Or; The Limits of Superhero Storytelling

I think I have been a mite charitable when it comes to describing the typical MCU plot to be dialectic in nature. The better movies, like Black Panther, Iron Man 3, and Thor Ragnarok fits this description rather well, but a lot of the time the plot follows a more mealy-mouthed liberalism of sorts. The hero represents the status quo, and the villain comes in as a radical who Might Have Some Good Ideas but Goes Too Far, requiring the hero to come in to Save The Day! It is hard to not notice that a lot of MCU antagonists are motivated by real-life problems, but just decides, usually somewhere in act 2, to just become Dumb And So Goddamn Crazy about it to justify the hero fighting them. This way, the hero can fight to uphold the Status Quo without calling their opponent a radical freak, or put any focus on how they are, indeed, upholding the status quo, warts and all.

The thing about the Infinity War duology that's so frustrating to me is that the movie clearly wants to be perceived as a dialectic kind of thing, but so transparently is one of the latter. Just look at how Cap, when discussing the topic of whether it's morally justifiable to destroy the infinity gem that powers their friend Vision states "We don't trade lives," and then goes about starting a massive bloody ground war to attempt to stop Thanos' forces from seizing Vision and the infinity gem, only to fail and they have to kill Vision anyway, except Thanos can time travel now, so he just Ctrl-Zs the entire moral choice and takes what he needs. L for the good guys, there, but more importantly, I think, this is supposed to be support for Thanos' antithesis of "some time killing is Good Actually."

The problem here is that this is a ludicrously uneven playing field. Yes, killing your friend to stop someone else from killing him AND ending the world is one of those trolley problem moments, but they're also functionally useless in this case. Thanos can control time now, so who gives a shit? If he doesn't like the outcome he'll just "Oop" a skootch back in time and never mind that. Even if the amethyst asshole didn't have time travel, what were we supposed to take away from this thing? All violence is the same? A kill is a kill? How is this a moral failure for Team Cap exactly? Like yeah it is wacky that superhero violence somehow is only lethal when someone is Dangerous And On The Edge and possibly even Dumb And So Goddamn Crazy, but you're not going to make that point in the big ol' crossover event are you because that'd make the audience feel weird about enjoying the punchman action. Never mind, I suppose, that Disney and Co here are giving the thinly-veiled fascist the "agree with him or no you have to admire his gumption" treatment like you're a fucking human interest story about the Young Hip White Supermacist in a self-declared news publication ca 2016.

In Closing, or; It's Not Real To Me Any More

So what do I want to achieve with this little essay? Do I want to hashtag cancel hashtag disney? Not so much no. Hell, my own stopping paying attention to the MCU was more recent, and chiefly motivated by the absolute hash that they made out of that Falcon And Winter Soldier show on the villain side if I'm honest. Do I want to change the way we talk about Disney or the MCU? I don't think that's within my power nor something I'm all that fussed about, either.

No, what I wanted most of all is to vent. To let off some steam that's been brewing for literal years, only further added to every time I see one of those stupid fucking "Thanos Did Nothing Wrong" memes that redditors used to love, only turned sourer every time I wondered how many actual, unironic ecofascists use these memes to make their ideas palpable, how I'd even tell the difference, and whether it made any difference who was ironic and who was not.

As anyone who's done a bit of writing might be able to tell you, there's no concept so good it can't be read into something terrible with a bad faith reading. This, I hope you agree with me, is not what happened here. The actual text has these flaws, and if it didn't end up boosting a rather insidious con from the worst political philosophy currently extant, I'd probably let it slide. When you create a story, I do not think there are all that many moral obligations on you in the act itself, but if you can not at the very least be honest and (inasmuch as you can) tell no overt lies.

Lack of resources is not what causes suffering on this planet today, nor is it likely to do so in the foreseeable future. That they do is a lie that the story of MCU Thanos tells.

Capitalism, neo-colonialism, conspicious consumption, these things cause poverty, strife and suffering. These things causes ludicrous food waste in a world where people still starve. These things causes cheaply produced medicine sold at exorbitant prices. These things cause empty housing being passed from investor to investor in some hellish shell-game while people live on the streets. These things cause famines. These things cut rainforests at an unsustainable rate. These things bleach the coral. These things cause hilariously insufficient deep water subs. These things causes stupid fucking superhero movie sequels.

The truth? We are capable of feeding the world, more than capable. There is enough room on this earth to house its every inhabitant with room to spare. Ok, maybe not everyone can have a new iPad every year on account of rare earth minerals being, well, rare-ish, so that's one of those things we may have to be a bit cost-benefit about. My point is this: Thanos isn't out here saying everyone can't have an iPad or a new phone every year, the kind of restrictions resource scarcity could conceivably bring. He keeps harping on the shit ideas of a long-dead British upper class twit like they could be used to justify his mega-genocide, so in that regard I suppose he's fulfilling a proud fascist tradition. I just wish that the superheroes we're meant to admire didn't stand by and let him, is all.

#film friday #essay #Oh boy this one is a doozy #I've wanted to write this or something very much like it for many years at this point #but I could never bring it together to a coherent enough point to not have it be a furious rant #it's still a bit of a furious rant of course #I'm not made out of stone #next week: an actual movie I think #no bee movie rant right away unfortunately #gotta space these things out a little bit

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turquoizxe · 1 year ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I am back in my hometown! And I will do my best to release the remaining installations within the next week or so! So great to see you all again, and here is the third installment of ‘Just For You’. Please keep in mind that if you are apart of the ‘Mature’ audience (16+), this is considered the final part of ‘Just For You’, as the last two installments include adult themes. You’ll spend all your time with Hobie in this installment since I integrated so much plot into the series, I hope you enjoy :))

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (3/5) : ‘Chuffed’

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

Rating ― Mature (17+)

➝ After that night, you gave your situation a deep thought, but knowing Hobie best, he knew how to win you over. What better way to make up for lost time other than spending an entire day together?

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ― Fluff overload, college student and Spiderwoman duties!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― Some serious topics (mentions of death, reader opens up about her time in HQ *’friend’s name remains anonymous so you can insert a friend of your own), angst, small use of foul language, suggestive comments, finals week (uni students iykyk), kissing (nothing too spicy)

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 3.8k

Chuffed; pleased or happy

Deciphering your feelings was such a hard thing to do when it came to romance.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve felt this way about anybody, or if you have at all. Hobie Brown has always been such a stoic individual, but that seemed to fade away the more time he spent with you — and he welcomed it with open arms.

You adored one another, there was no doubts about it. After confessing, he didn’t give you a reason to doubt that, but there was a bigger problem that lingered when he confessed to you. He wasn’t from your world, and you weren’t sure how it would work. And as much as you wanted him around, you weren’t sure if it would be in a way that either of you wanted.

And here he is, staying at your place for the night after you trespassed into the University’s lab. Just moments earlier, sharing a rather heated moment before you realized you had to keep composure about yourself before you made that decision. Whether you think it was possible to be with him, and as much as you desired it — you weren’t sure if reality would prevail.

You had changed into pajamas, an obnoxiously oversized shirt, with shorts underneath, sitting on the couch as you awaited for his return. You already had your television set to your series you watched together, snacks waiting to be consumed on the coffee table in front of you. Hobie went back to his Earth to grab some of his belongings for the overnight stay, casually using his watch to transport back into your living room.

Hobie called your name for the third time, waving his hand in front of you to catch your attention, not realizing that you were lost in your thoughts.

“Oi, didn’ lose you did I?” The tall punk chuckled, taking a seat next to you, and his clothes also changed into something more comfortable. He grabbed the bucket of popcorn once you had pressed the play button. Shyly, you took a seat closer to him, he softly smiled down at you, but you weren’t able to see if due to your eyes being glued to the screen in front of you both. Don’t get it twisted, you were very happy that he was here with you. Only, considering the circumstances and the fact that you confessed to him just moments ago, you almost forgot how to behave normally. The atmosphere had visibly changed, and these new feelings that he was now fully aware of made it even more awkward. Mostly, for you.

Hobie has wanted you for a while now, but he always looked to you for confirmation. He didn’t want to scare you away. He could tell you wanted to come closer, but you seemed too anxious.

You looked down to where his hand was traveling— sneaking closer to where your back rested, and you looked up at him, his eyes searching for your permission. You wanted this so bad, but there were so many conflicts you weren’t sure of. Hobie was more than determined to rid of those in any way possible, starting small. You gave a small nod, but he tilted his head, signalling for verbal confirmation.

“Go..ahead.”

He smirked, gently wrapping his arm around you, and took it upon your self to cuddle closer into his side, letting your fears go away. You had thought about this for the past month; how could you work this out when you’re literally from two different planets?

But if he can teleport into your apartment at any given time, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad to manage.

For the next hour, you had watched your series in such a comfortable silence, and you could (unfortunately) count the times on your fingers how often you and Hobie shared your time together with no interruptions. Though, you still felt that small part of your brain, eagerly waiting for his monitor to beep or vibrate annoyingly as if he didn’t mute the device in front of you.

The man you dare to call your boyfriend is in the Spiderverse, saving the world, and you slightly felt bad for wanting to be selfish for once and spend time with him. The world could be ending at this very moment, but you wouldn’t feel bad if you died spending time with your—

Boyfriend? Would he even call you his girlfriend? He’s never been big on labels, and to no surprise, you are the opposite. Putting labels puts your mind at ease, knowing that you have confirmation of what you see and what you feel.

“You don’ have t’be so scared, [Name].”

You hadn’t realized how fidgety you happen to get when you get too intimate with your thoughts. You had long forgotten the plot of the episode that was playing on your screen, softly biting your lip. You could feel his eyes on you, so you looked up. His orbs were glossed over with love, his hand caressing your hips to soothe you. He leaned over to the coffee table, grabbing the remote to pause the show. You watched his every move, setting the snacks aside. He moved, his front facing yours.

He could tell you had a lot on your mind, and if you were going to be together, he always wants to make sure that his girl is heard.

“Let’s chat, yeah?”

“About what,” you scoffed, beginning to look away again, until you feel his hand softly guide your face to look back at him. You sighed, knowing that there wasn’t any way to escape this.

“What if...we don’t work?”

“I’m willin’ to take that chance w’you,” he quips, his hand placing over yours, giving it a soft squeeze to loosen your doubts, but you didn’t mean it in the way that he thinks.

“No Hobie ― we’re from two different worlds, you don’t think this is disrupting a canon somehow,” your voice is barely above a whisper, softly chuckling at what you thought was a weak attempt at a joke, but Hobie could see you shaking.

“Oh, come out of it.” He pulls you toward him like you’re weightless, gasping at his sudden movement. He held you, your legs resting on either side of him. You don’t remember being this close to him outside of his lips attached to you.

“If searchin’ outside of my world mean’ I ge’to meet a peng ting like you, then that’s my canon,” he exclaims, arms wrapped so tightly around you, as if he was scared to let you go. You felt his lips on you once more, softly whimpering as he suckled on your collarbone, traveling to your cheeks, the metal on his lips cooling your skin as Hobie plants a soft kiss on your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle at the gesture.

“You’re my girl, yeah?”

Oh, how you’ve longed to hear those words, nearly melting into his embrace once they spilled from his lips. You felt a smile spread across your face, and a smirk from him followed, his hands caressing your hips, awaiting for your the answer that he was confident in.

“As long as you’re my guy.”

Before you knew it, the asscrack of dawn made its appearance. The sun shined shamelessly from your window, nearly blinding you the moment you opened your eyes, quickly closing them back shut, turning in the opposite direction, feeling a warmth wash over you.

You didn’t think he’d still be here, Hobie’s arm hung over your waist, his fingertips softly grazing the skin under your shirt. He felt your movements, taking the opportunity to kiss tenderly along your neck. Your hand grabbed to where his were placed in your shirt, tempted to stay in bed when you knew you both had things to do.

“Mornin’,” he cooed, pulling you closer, continuing to smother you in kisses. You groaned in response, prying his hands off you, and sitting up on the bed.

“We gotta get up Hobs.” His back was turned to you when you looked back, and scoffed at you being responsible. Saturday mornings were your favorite, no classes, little to no responsibilities. If finals weren’t 48 hours away, you would’ve happily stayed in bed with your boyfriend. You superhero duties and other distractions left your notes unattended on your work desk.

You had tidied up your room a bit, not necessarily dirty, but not clean either― disheveled to say the least. Hobie used his arm as leverage, admiring you and he continued to lay in bed, watching you pick up the remaining clothing and tossing them into a hamper near your bedroom door. You glanced at him from time to time while you made your room look presentable, taking note that he was enamored with your ass. He was so glad you didn’t wear many clothes to bed.

You exit your bedroom to start freshening up for the day, your lover groaning and questioning why you couldn’t stay in bed for another hour at his expense. You were tempted beyond words to stay in for a while longer, but you needed to study. And you needed to keep those scholarships.

“I need to do well on my exams, Hobie. Our little adventure last night didn’t necessarily include me actually having time to study,” you huff out. The hours were beginning to weigh in on you again, having so much, yet so little time until you had to take a painfully long exam that determined the rest of your academic career. You felt so sure, but now that the walls are closing in, you feel the doubt creep its way in. Hobie sees the worry on your face when you come back into your room, and glances over at your poorly scribbled notes from last night where you were also looking.

He arose from the comfort of your bed, walking towards you as he placed his hands around your hips.

“I know how importan’ this is f’you, if you wan’, I can stay and help you study?”

Honestly, he could care less about you studying, he just wanted to spend more time with you. You could drop out right now and the man wouldn’t even bat an eye. But he knew where your heart lies, and your education was always first, he knew that almost better than anyone else [your parents]. His heart nearly melted at the twinkle in your eyes when he brought up the idea. That is until you brought up the Spot situation.

“I thought you’d be off at HQ by now?”

“I couldn’ give a rats ass what they do righ’ now, bu’ I promise they have everythin’ covered, love.”

Hobie’s overwhelming stature hovered over you as he placed his arms around you, and lifting you from the ground, your face now leveled with his.

“Let’s spend the day togetha’. Jus’ you and me.”

Never in a million years did you think that you would be granted to spend an entire day with your favorite person. Even as extreme as his beliefs when it comes to the education system, he was willing to spend an entire day to help you study for your exams. If that wasn’t true love, then you weren’t sure of anything else.

Hobie cooked you breakfast that morning, your favorite. Showering you with kisses when you began to get ready for the day, and packing your supplies. You knew for a fact that studying at home was not an option. You have tried, but there are way too many distractions in the comfort of your own home. Your television, your bed, your switch, your bed, literally anything else, your bed. You always made sure to study in your campus library, but not without grabbing your morning drink at the coffee shop before heading over. Being organized was a big part of your life, and it would fall apart if your agenda was not in your backpack at all times.

Hobie, being himself, made it his mission to make sure that you didn’t have to rely on transportation, masked up and ready to go, eager to carry you like a backpack, but you insisted on walking like you usually do (*you did not want to make national news that a college student was dating a Spiderman from another universe). He didn’t mind the decision much, he liked hearing how organized you were, and what you had planned for today.

You thanked the gods above that you somehow found a study room in your library, rarely being able to snag one, no matter what time of the day it was. You had set out your belongings so precisely, Hobie could tell within a heartbeat that you were serious about this. He could almost feel your determination when a stack of cards were in front of his face.

“After I review these lectures, I need you to recite every definition to me, and I have to state the term correctly,” you explain, powering your laptop, a concerning amount of tabs open the moment you log in. Just for a moment, he regretted offering to help you study.

“All 150 of them.”

Scratch that, he’d be overjoyed if you dropped out right now.

You spent what felt like an eternity reviewing presentation and lectures. And Hobie made it his mission to make sure you took breaks every hour, with hints of teasing here and there. He was astounded that your brain wasn’t fried from all the information you were forced to retain for a piece of paper that likely only had 30 questions on it. Oh, his innocent mind, you wanted nothing more than to go back to the comforts of your bed, with your boyfriend peppering you with kisses. Once it was time for you to review the terms, you were sure that Hobie was more stressed than you as he read the definitions out loud to you. You were anxious as he read them out to you, but you are determined to pass your finals. And Hobie believed you could.

Moments eerily passed by as he read out sentences to you, you responding with your terms that were placed out on a separate sheet. Some you answered confidently, and others, not so much. Otherwise, your ‘correct’ pile was significantly higher than the ‘incorrect’. You just had to be confident in what you knew, and there was no shame in that.

You nervously counted the ones you got correct, and calculating the accuracy while doing so.

“What do you need to pass, dove?”

“75.”

You placed the final cards aside, grinning at your final score, jumping up and down with such a joy you haven’t felt in a long time.

“90!” You exclaimed, jumping in Hobie’s arms, earning a chuckle from him, a kiss on the cheek, and more words of affirtmation, he knew that you could do it. But he wanted you to believe that more than anything.

After that review, you spent a little more time reviewing your incorrect answers before calling it a day for studying. You had agreed to let Hobie sling you back home to avoid the afternoon traffic, which gave you the idea to do some patrolling while he’s still here. You could probably knock out more crime in half the time with him here. You weren’t as on edge about this if you were both in your Spidersuits, and no one would have any ideas of your identity.

So, you fought off bad guys with your boyfriend, and you couldn’t remember the last time patrol was a fun experience for you. Tripping shoplifters with webbed traps, flying across town, civilians in awe of you and the other fellow that followed closely behind. You were more than sure that news outlets would ask about your relationship, the possibility of another Spiderman, and you also knew that Miguel was likely watching, pissed that Hobie was in another world making himself known, and boy did the proud punk love the thought of it.

You swung back to the top of your apartment after patrol, looking at the evening sky above you as the day began to slowly come to a close. Your feet dangled from the edge of the building, that deep feeling in the pit of your stomach growing stronger as Hobie held you close, deepening the kiss. Yes, you did in fact finish patrolling a little early so you two could makeout. The law enforcement were rather relieved that you both disappeared, as Hobie’s appearance awed hundreds of paparazzi’s and fans to follow you around on your patrol adventures, making traffic even more aggravating.

Hobie tugged on your lip, pratically begging for your permission, tongue making an effort to latch onto yours. It’s torture the way you tease him, but he also thought that maybe there was another catch here. Your passionate moment came to a halt after Hobie’s watch let out a chime, a feeling of dread flashing across your face, your boyfriend finding amusement in your pain.

“I fuckin’ love it when you get mad.”

You knew you couldn’t get too comfortable with his company. He sat up and chuckled, checking on whatever notification was sent. You propped up on your elbows, watching closely at his movements, but he never got up.

“No worries. We’ve still got time to kill.”

Your eyes were still glued to his watch, Hobie’s eyes following yours before opening his mouth.

“You never told me about your time in HQ.”

“I don’t think there’s any need to,” you quip, arising dramatically, and dropping from the building to web back into your bedroom, the tall Brit following right behind you, sensing the dramatic change in the mood. This wasn’t an easy topic for you, after the intervention with Miles, he had an idea that you time in the Spiderverse wasn’t the best, but he didn’t want you to hide from him.

You stood behind your kitchen counter, staring at him intensely, awaiting for a smart ass remark from him that never came.

“After what I told Miles, I thought you wouldn’t bring it up.”

“No one likes talking about their canon, but I thought that we could get past thi―“

“No, Hobie,” you were quick to cut off, becoming aggravated, but still speaking softly, trying to remain neutral. You didn’t like speaking about your canon.

You look away, determined to not let him see your small smile before beginning to speak again. If he knows everything else, why keep this a secret.

“I was in the Spiderverse HQ for a year.”

Hobie lets out a whistle, quickly understanding why this situation possibly weighed heavier on you. The man couldn’t give less of a fuck about HQ, only joining to look out for Gwen, and kept to himself if it wasn’t her, Pav, or other bandmates he was hanging with.

“I had a friend from my childhood...and I cared about them alot,” you started, feeling the tears already start to spill from your face as you reminiscence on the memories you shared together in the Spiderverse.

“When I joined the Spiderverse, I had been sent on a mission, where I found them in another world, where they were a Spiderperson and I was not. We got close really fast.”

“On of our missions, their canon event happened, and lost both of their parents in an accident.”

“One night, we snuck into Miguel’s lab and went to figure out how to travel to another dimension where their parents were alive.” You felt shivers travel down your spine, the more you began to explain to him, Hobie already aiding to you as you hid in his arms, softly sobbing, but willing to continue.

“The moment they were caught playing the role of their other self, they wanted to find a way to get out, but it was too late.” At this point, you were sobbing uncontrollably, Hobie finding your last few words unintelligible as you tried to ecth them out through your dry throat.

“I couldn’t get them out of the Universe in time, and in return, their original Universe also fell apart, and they went missing in mine. Miguel found out, and kicked me out of the league.”

Hobie quite literally had no response that was appropriate for the situation that occured. So he did what he did best, he held you close, whispering soft coos and telling you not to worry. It shocked you when Miguel disclosed to Miles that he also tried your method at one point, which is why he was so taken aback by your actions.

“You have such a big heart, [Name], you couldn’ have known the outcome.”

“But I did!” you exclaim, pulling away from him. You expressed how the entire situation gave you a queasy feeling, but because it was your friend, and you wanted them to have their family back. You saw how much it tore them apart, and you ignored your gut. Not a day goes by where you don’t blame yourself that you lost your bestfriend.

You were somewhat indifferent that you told Hobie your big secret, the day was so perfect; why did he have to ruin it by asking that fucking question.

“I know tha’ was rough to tell me, but I’m here for you, and anythin’ you may need.”

Hobie walked back up to your figure, begrudgingly staring down at your feet once more, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours, and making you look up at him like he always does.

For what felt like an eternity, the burdens and chains that held onto you were released. If there’s one thing Hobie knew how to do, it was to wash away your doubts. You were almost sure that he was in every right to call you a maniac for what happened to your best friend. You felt his arms wrap around you tenderly once more, embracing his stature with open arms.

Your moment, as always, was cut with a beep from his watch, but the emergency chime was going off. You knew for sure that Hobie had to leave you, you whined, squeezing him for more comfort. Hobie sighed softly, apologizing, but he had to go. For what it’s worth, you were glad you got to spend an entire day with him.

He opened a portal, looking back before stepping forward.

“Since I spen’ an entire day in your world, why not come in mine?”

You almost felt your heart explode into pieces. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bittersweet end to your day together.

“We’re performin’ after your finals week, I’ll come pick you up― I already have a seaprate section f’you.” Hobie loved the smile that plastered on your lips the more he kept talking. He’d would absolutely ignore the call if it wasn’t an emergency.

“For me, huh?”

“Jus’ for you.”

As always, please leave comments below on the series and if you’re enjoying it so far, god I’ve missed writing so much, all love to Sony and Hobie for breaking me out of my hiatus.

For the mature audience, I really hope you enjoyed my series, and don’t hesitate to leave any comments, and even requests if you have any!

For my adult audience; let the horniness begin

TAGLIST!

#atsv #hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown x reader #hobie my beloved #spider punk #spiderpunk #spider punk x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x you #spiderpunk fluff #hobie brown fluff #hobie x y/n #series #turquoizxe

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clicheantagonist · 2 months ago

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WiP Wednesday

(extremely late, like at least half a year lmao oops)

Thankies for continuing to include me in y'all's tags: @socially-awkward-skeleton @josephslittledeputy @aceghosts @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @derelictheretic

From Feel Good Drag ('The Boys' AU)

It feels like filler but I promise its not. I needed to post this before the bits I really wanna delve into for plot reasons.

"Can't bribe me with money, can't shower me with shame. Another killer from a broken home, until you come on me with manic fame. You wanna know about it? Well I'ma be fucking with you every time. Story broken, you're behind. Yeah, when you ask about it? You can rest assured I'll give you my best side. Seems we all have friends to find.” - Avenged Sevenfold, “Natural Born Killer”

“So, I’m sensing you’re havin’ some doubts. About me.” Alex decides to just say it, if she lets him sit and stew in his own thoughts that might lead to paranoia, and that may not be good for her. She’s noticed Butcher’s gotten quieter, and she’s caught him looking at her like she’s a puzzle to be solved, like she’s not what she seems.

‘Fair play to him, really. His instincts are very good.’

“That right?” Butcher asks, looking up and tipping his head against the wall, watching her from the opposite side of the room. Alex snorts an amused note and rolls her eyes.

“What’s on your mind? Think I’m workin for the other team?” Alex asks, unfolding her legs from underneath her and stretching, leaning back on her hands in the second bed. Alex was not about to live like someone on the run, so she didn’t really mind putting them up somewhere hospitable.

“D’you trust easy?” He asks her bluntly, and her lips twist up in a lopsided smirk.

“Oh God, no. But my inquiring mind wants to know. Maybe I can dispel some of your fears?” Alex offers, knowing if they have any chance at all of dethroning Homelander and Vought, they need to be on the same page and able to trust each other enough to not be preoccupied thinking about a betrayal. Alex is keenly aware of the dangers that come with seeds of distrust.

Butcher scoffs.

“Yer a ghost, love.” He tells her empathetically, as if trying to drive the point home with that single vague sentence. Alex tips her chin and raises her brows, inviting him to elaborate.

‘Humor me.’

“All yer official documents say Alex Shepherd died a U.S. Marshall, back in ‘99. But tha legend of ‘er haunts tha biochemical unda’ground. And Alice Sterling’s too borin’ ta be tha real you. ‘ow on Earth can I trust ya?” Butcher asks her, tone well controlled as he casts her a look that says he knows she’s too smart not to understand where he’s coming from.

“You did your homework. Very thoroughly. I’m impressed.” Alex praises, genuinely taken aback that Butcher had managed to find enough about her to reach the correct conclusion so quickly. She and Wesker had crafted her alias(es) (and death) very well, but Alex is attached to her identity – it was just paperwork to her, erasing her trail.

“But all of that’s just proof of how good I am at what I do. And we know that’s why you reached out. You needed a proven professional.” Alex replies, expression relaxing into an easier little smile, resting her head on her right shoulder.

Butcher makes a grumbling noise that sounds annoyed – perhaps he’d say ��chuffed’, in the negative sense – but he doesn’t seem angry. Alex finds his moods and their sudden shifts fascinating. He’s such a stark contrast to Wesker’s eerie controlled calm she’s so used to.

“However, if you’re as thorough as I think you are, you already know I’m very reliable – its hard to keep clients in my business if you fuck them over. I didn’t only do my husband’s dirty work.” Alex reminds knowingly; she is well aware of her reputation in her professional circles – she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of her ability to juggle Wesker’s daunting/dangerous requests and her own independent clients during their busiest years.

Butcher watches her thoughtfully, his expression largely remaining the same, save for a few twitching muscles in his neck and jaw.

“Yer good at that.” Butcher tells her with a knowing little smile, pointing in her direction.

“And I wasn’t even trying.” Alex replies, taking a little joy in the situation – while counterproductive, a little naughty part of her always enjoys when she makes people nervous/wary/uncomfortable.

“You know more about me than I know about you; surely that’s somewhat comforting?” Alex adds, filling in Butcher’s silence.

“Ya ‘avent asked.” Butcher shrugs her off, leaning back against the wall.

“Would you be honest if I did?”

“Depends.” He shrugs.

Alex smiles – that answer, at least, was honest.

“I’m not gonna put you on the spot, don’t worry. People tend to get comfortable tellin’ me weird shit. You’ll let me know eventually.” Alex tells him, amused by the quick confused expression on Butcher’s face.

‘Occasionally, dear heart, all you can do is be patient. So you must be patient.’ Wesker’s voice reminds Alex, from some distant, private corner of her mind.

#wip wednesday #au: feel good drag #alexandra shepherd #i like how they cant even speak normally. like you KNOW he doesn't trust her and shes just amused by him and his attitude like a parent #theyre so cute ignore me #i have a moodboard too but im meh about it #ship: i love you like an alcoholic

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wineaunt420 · 2 years ago

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im bored so im gonna write som shit about my favourite Dino charge villains because I can and I'll maybe draw them later if i feel like it.

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Wrench

Wrench is particularly clueless to anything that isn't mechanical engineering which means in his free time he likes to partake in non mechanical engineering hobbies without fully knowing the risks that come along with said hobby, like making back yard moonshine for instance. Wrench had been Extracting potato vodka for about 8 months and was quite chuffed to get his first batch of moonshine (Drinking it was probably the most and only fun he gets on that drab ship) so to say he fell in love with this hobby was abit of an understatement, but he still had no clue he was withholding a bomb strong enough to blow up half the ship boiling away snuggly in a side room somewhere. In fact it wasn't until Fury stumbled upon Wrench securing his second batch of Bomb juice and almost had a heart attack did Wrench learn that cooking potatoes and turning it into a delicious beverage in an inclosed and inhabited area was such a terrible idea. And you'd think he'd learn his lesson?

...

he did not.

He also loves sleep, Like its a chore to get him up in the morning. He could sleep for a millennia which makes sense because of how much work he does,the ship only runs because of him although to cheap out on work he has fixed a few vital panels with extreme stick glue. He's tired, cut him some slack

Also you bet he watches Romance movies, He's probably watched and cried over the Titanic 5 times now.

Singe

Where too start with Singe, well those markings on his face are actually traditional tattoos from his homeplanet he got when he turned 18. He was actually the epitome of a trouble making Teen British style when he was younger as He would always sneak out to drink Crap tonnes of Vodka on the dark streets until he passes out and somehow wakes up back at home bruised but not dead, He never actually grew out of his trouble making twat fase which is actually part of the reason why he gets headaches (he's hungover, probably from Wrenches home made moonshine) Most people also Don't know that he actually has an adopted sister called Fae and that they both lived and grew up with his Grandma. (Fae is the reason he wakes up at home in the morning and is just as bad as Singe, but more on her another time) Singe loves making fun of Fury, its actually his favourite past time until Fury decides hes had enough and slams Singes tail in a door. But he like Wrench doesn't learn his lesson (fury can't catch a break). The only person Singe doesn't bully is Wrench because he needs that special juice. (I actually love Singe he is such a bastard)

I also see Singe not only being an amazing cook but having such an incredible sweet tooth. Upon coming to earth for the first time he gained a slight addiction to pancakes and hot fudge brownies. Aside from being a totally unserious partial drunk most of the time, he does Enjoy cooking for everyone sometimes. its the only nice thing he does for them

Snide

Snide loves being a cunt in every aspect of life, he eat sleeps and breathes being an asshole. He can dish it out but can't take it back for the life of him, Like when Fury made a joke about his mum after he was absolutely slammed by Snide for a half hour. Snide lost his shit. Bastard was so upset he put himself back in solitary confinement for an hour just mumbling angrily to himself.

His favourite act of bastardry was when Archanon pulled up and started playing favourites with him, He abused that favouritism so much it was almost considered too much. He did this because playing "buddy buddy" with Archanon would get him what he wanted and He loved watching Singes face Cringe everytime the two got close.

Because Heckle obviously has a sweet tooth, it would only make sense for Snide to love Savoury foods, his favourite Savory foods being Sliced raw fish with soy sauce wrapped in Nori, you cant really call it Sashimi because Sashimi is beautifully cut and actually looks delicious, whatever Snide makes can only be considered as post death animal slaughter because its an actual fucking mess when he's finnished. Fish scales and tiny bones all over the kitchen table, it drives Singe fucking crazy and Poisandra can only describe Snide as "animalistic" and "carnivorous" whenever he enters the kitchen. Fyi Don't attempt to enter the kitchen while Snide's in there, just don't.

Archanon

Archanon had a wife at some point in life and they did actually love each other very much, until Archanon started wanting more and more, driven mad by the desire to acquire the dark energem that his wife began to see how much of a world destroying Tyrant he was and Divorced him. Its Rumoured that his wife was a goddess, The Goddess made of Seven condensed stars to be exact. But Archanon hates Talking about his Ex wife so only Singe and his sister really know, but its also rumoured that the two of them as a final order from Archanons Ex wife, to never speak of her name or her purpose and being to anyone. So yeah maybe she is maybe she isn't who knows.

Archanon is incredibly powerful with a large ass army, Half of his original army if the Divorce had anything to say about it, but still a powerful one that he fills with prisoners, hence why he paid Sledge to collect bounty prisoners, it was for the army.

He doesn't sleep, like straight up never. He runs off coffee its like the only thing keeping him alive anymore, if he were to stop drinking it he'd probably drop deader than Atmosphere of the room he's in when anyone mentions the words "marriage" and "Divorce" or "split it in half". Probably got ptsd from being single like the pathetic little man he is

#dino charge #power rangers dino charge #Dino super charge #Wrench Dino charge #Singe Dino charge #Snide Dino charge #Archanon Dino charge #Fury Dino charge #Poisandra Dino charge #Headcanons #now canon because I said so #fight me #Heckle Dino charge

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nvrcmplt · 2 years ago

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Yun doesn't want to admit it but he's worried about Sven. The climate was becoming colder and last he recalled, the poor LARGE serpent had trouble with it last year. "Hope I'm not too late..." Sometimes having a connection to the forest is the best because he asked it if it has seen the large serpent.

Lucky for him, the dragon was told where he could find the other. Upon finding him, he sighed softly. "Gave me a scare when I couldn't find you again..." He grumbled before chuffing at him.

"Hey, would you like to come home with me? I have a house large enough to house you, it's warmer and you won't be disturbed if you wish." Yun had some family there and Sven could cuddle if he felt comfortable.

Winter's grip was stronger than the other times, even at this size the snake was struggling to keep himself warm. Coiled into a tight ball, under fallen tree with frost all over himself and nature, he was shaking to the core. Though he tried his best to sleep, a meal did a little bit of help to his needs to digest and run warm but it was nigh impossible for it to really do much outside of that manner. He has tried weaving in a wander, to make his muscles move and warm up - but against, the Earth was already so cold with frost touch and colds claws.

No matter what he did, Sven couldn't get warm and now with his energy depleted and defeat on his tongue, he merely curled up to survive the best he could. Shivering to the bone and hissing out mild-warm breath from whatever warmth left inside of him.

Thus, when his frame was spoken towards - his gaze parted from being closed to stare with exhaustion until he clocked upon who his visitor was. Raising his crown with little strength - the serpent hissed with a wish to be taken from the snow. Reaching towards them with the tongue, almost eating the warmth upon his sensory tips with its consistent flickering.

Inhaling the best he could to ease his muscles alert, the beast shuddered and rippled, his scales shimmering in a delicate glow before finally parting aside. Scattering with the dying leaves from nature around them, so that instead - his hands could reach out to latch onto Yun's form. To hold him tight, to tug with nothing but the shakes and chattering teeth upon nuzzling himself into the dragon's chest. "P-please… pl-please." So cold.

#moonxsuncelestials #« ( Sven ) » Answers.#a v cold noodle

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britesparc · 7 months ago

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Weekend Top Ten #634

Top Ten Transformer Cities

I’m back on my bullshit, by not only doing a totally unnecessary continuation of last week’s list – bringing you the most disappointing sequel since every single Terminator movie released after 1991 – but also once more wanging on about bloody Transformers again.

Yes, after talking generically about fictional cities last week – ranking both Gotham and Metropolis as best in show, uniting the entire DC universe as the bestest at making make-believe towns and that – I’m now doubling down by picking one particular fictional universe (well, I guess, one particular franchise that’s full of broadly-similar but still somewhat different universes in a vast multiverse of toys what turn into stuff), and ranking the greatest cities therein. And this is especially fun with Transformers because a lot of their cities actually turn into stuff!

So there’s going to be two strings to this bow, really: the cities that are also people – your “Titans”, your Metroplex and Trypticon and the like – and then the cities that are just cities. These latter townships – all places on Cybertron, as it happens – are interesting because of their place in fiction. They could be prominent cities, the Transformers equivalent of Metropolis; or they could be, say, the birthplace of the War on Cybertron, or where the dead rose, or the place that gave its name to the leader of the Decepticon Justice Department.

And that’s all there is to it! Ten cities from the various wings of the Transformers franchise, ranked in order of how cool I think they are.

Autobot City: the Earth-based city that’s the star of 1986’s classic The Transformers: The Movie, it’s a beautiful piece of metallic engineering in a luxurious rocky setting, featuring cascading waterfalls and attractive foliage. Can be converted – with some difficulty – into a battle fortress with large guns, missiles, and multiple blast shields. Probably not quite as attractive in 2005 as it was in 2004.

Metroplex: now, is Metroplex actually Autobot City? Or does he sleep under it? Is he a part of it? Regardless, Metroplex is a city – the first real city-bot – but he’s also a person. This was a fantastic conceit in 1986, and the toy really did feel incredibly cool as both a base/battle station and as a frickin’ huge toy robot. The character’s stoicism, selflessness, and humbleness is a great counterpoint to his huge badassery too.

Trypticon: the Autobots have a bloke to be their city; so the Decepticons have a monster. Whilst Metroplex might have the “platonic ideal of robot city” conceit all sewed up, what could be as cool – cooler, even? A giant dinosaur. Yeah, he’s had some cool characterisations over the years; but basically, just being a kaiju-sized robot T-Rex is more than enough. Also: his toy could walk.

Iacon: the capital city of Cybertron (most of the time, I think), it’s one of the most-seen locations on the planet. It’s one of the only places that seems to have a distinct look. It’s got large domed buildings and several towers, and usually is home to important functions of state or Cybertronian culture. One of the few places that really does appear frequently across multiple versions of the franchise, and as such is often wrecked, too.

Scorponok: back to the city-bots, and if you can’t have a chuffing huge dinosaur, how about a frankly massive scorpion? Scorponok – and we’ll come back to this point I believe – occupies a funny place as he’s either a big city-sized person or he’s just an above-average Transformer with claws. As a city, he’s got a cool colour scheme and – depending on continuity – was rebuilt out of a secret, evil, underground Nebulon city. As a character, especially in the old Marvel G1, he was fantastic, a nuanced and multifaceted bad guy with doubts and morals. But let’s not take away: city with claws.

Polyhex: basically – traditionally – the Decepticon version of Iacon, it may lack the various elegiac governmental institutions and pretty architecture, but it does boast a sinister fortress called Darkmount, a Cybertronian slum called the Dead End, and – wonder of wonders – the smelting pools, home to one of the most tragic events in the original Marvel comic.

Tarn: I’m not really sure what Tarn is like; how pretty it is, how big, how many Starbucks. But it’s notable – historical – because it’s traditionally where Megatron is from. As such, it often has negative connotations; there’s more than one continuity where it’s destroyed or falls immediately to the Decepticons. It also gave its name to Tarn, the leader of the terrifying Decepticon Justice Division.

Kalis: again, this is a city more notable because of an event. Underneath Kalis, in one continuity at least, a renegade Autobot built a giant reactor, and a signal device that controlled the bodies of dead Transformers. That’s right – the dead walk the streets of Kalis.

Kaon: Kaon is usually a pretty bad town. In some continuities, it basically takes the place of Polyhex as the “Decepticon city”; often it’s still one of – if not the – first city to fall to Megatron. It’s the home of the (illegal?) gladiatorial games where Megatron himself, former miner, rose to power. Like Tarn, it gave its name to a member of the DJD: Kaon the Decepticon turns into, get this, an electric chair.

Fortress Maximus: ah, here we are again: is he a city, or is he a bloke? Fortress Maximus, in most Transformers fiction, is presented – like his Headmaster leader/city counterpart Scorponok – as being basically big and beefy for a bot, but not a base. And I love his character; whether it’s the war-weary pacifist of old Marvel, or the gung-ho cop with PTSD in the IDW comics. However, as a base, he’s great; massive (held the record for the biggest TF toy of all time for over twenty years!), cool-looking, complicated, with my favourite ever gimmick: his head turns into a robot whose head turns into a robot (well, a human). You can’t get better than that. Apart from maybe nine other cities.

#top ten #lists #movies #comics #cartoons #sci-fi #transformers #toys #action figures #transformers the movie #transformers 40

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scarletwidowsbaby · 2 years ago

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Yes, My Liege

Summary: After seeing the new caretaker for Syrax, Rhaenyra decides she wants her.

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: verbal fighting, blood, Rhaenyra tries to kill you in annoyance, light smut, groping, breast play. 18+ only, minors dni.

Genre: Fluff, bit of smut

A/N: can you tell I like a woman in charge?

*gif credits to owner*

Rhaenyra was stressed. The kingdom was in shambles after her brother’s short life, and she needed an escape. She didn’t turn to anyone, not even Lady Alicent or her father, a once wise man before being driven mad to find a male heir.

So, she did what anyone like her would do - she went to ride her dragon.

As she entered Syrax’s section of the Dragonpit, she heard soft mumbling. Coming closer, she heard her dragon chuffing happily beside it. Then, when she stepped around the corner, she was… surprised, to say the least.

You stood there, gently cleaning Syrax’s neck with scalding hot water the she-dragon would heat every few minutes, thick gloves made of shedded dragon scales keeping your hands safe. You turned at the sound of Syrax’s happy grumble and spotted Rhaenyra.

“Good evening, Princess Rhaenyra.” You bowed your head.

“Who are you?” She questioned, looking between her happily seated dragon and you.

“My name is Y/N, my liege. I’m the new caretaker of the Dragonpit your father asked for.” You replied.

Rhaenyra came closer and observed her dragon with you. Your eyes scanned over Syrax with genuine care, something she had not seen before. You kept asking Syrax if it was okay to touch her, placing your hand there gently before coming back with hot water.

By the end of the cleaning and health check of her neck, you bowed to the dragon, who then lifted you back up with her snout. You giggled softly, putting Rhaenyra off, and let Syrax lead you by the long rope in your hand.

Rhaenyra waited until you came back, not seeing how you kissed just under Syrax’s eye before she slept. When the princess came back into your vision, you walked up to her and smiled.

“Syrax will be ready for another ride in the morning, my liege. If that is what you wish for.” You reported before bowing to her too.

“You respect my dragon as if it is me.” Rhaenyra stated, cocking her head to the side as you rose.

“Why?”

“Dragons such as Syrax form bonds with those who care for them and interact with them, bonds stronger than even a mother and babe. By extension, Syrax is you, my liege.” You replied.

She began to walk away from you, but you did not follow. She turned to face you, perplexed by your behaviour. “Follow.”

You nodded your head, giving her a small grin before you caught up to her. The walk was mostly silent until you came to the castle, the guards letting you enter with Rhaenyra. She led you through the halls, some people greeting and smiling at you whilst others seemed deterred.

Eventually, you came to the throne room, to which Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne. She watched you stand still at the bottom of the stairs, your arms folded behind your back, before she beckoned you with a finger.

“I’m afraid I cannot, my liege. I am but a dragon caretaker-”

“Come, Lady Y/N.” Her eyes stared into your soul, the stare of a future queen, and you nodded, walking up the stairs to stand beside her.

“I feel it is important to remind you, my liege, that I am no lady.”

“Will you be attending the banquet tonight?”

“Princess-”

“Will you?” She asked you again in that same tone, the same stare.

You gulped down your protest. You were nothing but a caretaker - why on earth would you attend a banquet? You had nothing to make of yourself, no noble family or dragon to command respect.

“I will not.”

Rhaenyra’s lips thinned at your reply. “Why?”

Your mind searched through the thousands and thousands of reasons, annoyance falling into your tone. “Let me see, my liege. I have no nobility, I am no lady or lady-in-waiting, I have no formal clothing, I could not ever imagine speaking to your family without losing my tongue-”

Rhaenyra’s sudden stance shoved you into silence, her short stature becoming the opposite of cute. It was fierce, demanding respect with her braid and your respect she shall have.

“You will accompany me to the banquet tonight. I care not if you are a lady or lady-in-waiting, nor if you own a dress - I have plenty I have never worn before - and I would delight in being able to claim your tongue as mine.” She smirked, holding you by the collar of your shirt.

You looked away from her, your heart battling your mind. This was wrong; what your heart had yearned for from afar all these years was right in front of you, but it was wrong. You stepped away, Rhaenyra’s small hand not being able to do much but let go.

“I’m sorry, Princess Rhaenyra. I will not attend tonight’s banquet.” You muttered softly, making your way out of the throne room.

Rhaenyra was shocked. Nobody had ever even tried to defy her, and yet, you had just told her no. She walked out towards the doors, but when she stepped through, there was no sight of you.

She turned to the guards, all of whom immediately stood at attention. “Find the girl that just left this room. I want her to be brought to my bed chambers by moonrise.”

As the guards left, Rhaenyra went to her room to be dressed for the banquet, which was set for the moon to be at half-height.

---

The guards did find you. It wasn’t so hard. You had no desire to stamp out your footprints in the dust, which made you easy to track.

What was hard, however, was getting you to Rhaenyra’s bedroom. Why? Because you were asleep, leaning against Syrax with the dragon’s wide tail as a blanket. A dragon who, frankly, didn’t want you to be taken by these strange men she did not trust.

Eventually, Rhaenyra was called. Shuffling down in her banquet dress, fury held her heart in a tight grip as she spotted the sight before her.

“Syrax!” She scolded, coming up to her mighty dragon.

She glared at you, still asleep from the sound of the dragon’s purr consuming your mind. Her warmth was enough to lull you to the state of sleep, but her happiness was rare, and you relished in it.

Rhaenyra shooed away her guards before climbing over her dragon’s tail, spotting your resting form. She told Syrax to move her tail in Valyrian, which she did, exposing you to the harsh cold breeze.

Rhaenyra waited impatiently as you stirred, your hand subconsciously trying to find Syrax’s tail once more. When your eyes opened, however, you kept your eyes to the ground.

“Eyes up, caretaker.”

Evidently, not for long.

“Why do you rouse me at this time of night, my liege?” You questioned annoyedly.

Rhaenyra heard the distaste on your tongue. “I told you to come to the banquet.”

“And I told you that I wouldn’t be coming. My liege.” You growled, turning over to face away from Rhaenyra.

She glared at you before turning to her dragon. “Dracarys!” She snarled, but the whine that released from Syrax was enough to have you shoot up.

“No no no, it’s okay. Shh, shh, Syrax.” You ushered her back into a calm state, glaring at Rhaenyra.

“If you are mad at me, do not inflict your anger upon your dragon. Syrax is still a being, a powerful one at that, and I will not let you hurt her.”

Rhaenyra stepped back, watching you run your hand up and down Syrax’s snout, calming her gently. Gentle kisses dotted her nose whilst you chuckled when she blew hot air on you, giving her a hug by her chest which she then nudged your back with her chin.

“Such a beautiful dragon. Your name's origin speaks for itself.” You cooed, moving to step away but Syrax’s wing curled you back into her.

Rhaenyra sighed in defeat, looking between you and her dragon. “You are so… frustrating, Lady Y/N.”

“Not a lady.” You shortly reminded her.

She rolled her eyes, huffing at you. “Fine. If you do not wish to party, that is not my problem.”

You nodded, leaning against Syrax’s chest. “Parties are overrated. I wish to sleep away the days upon the heat of your dragon.”

Rhaenyra walked away soon afterwards, your words pondering in her mind - if Syrax was an extension of her, were those compliments also for her?

----

A few days passed where Rhaenyra didn’t see you at all. Not at the Dragonpit, not in the kingdom where she ventured. Soon enough, frustration built and she sent her guards to find you again.

Eventually, they came back with you in their grasp, a cut along your cheek.

“What is this?” Rhaenyra barked, coming towards you.

“Tried to escape, Your Highness.” The newest guard in front of her grunted.

“And why does she have a graze upon her cheek?” She glared.

None of them answered, so you spoke up for yourself. “Buddy over here shoved me onto the ground.”

Rhaenyra turned to you, a glare enough to shut you up, before she turned to the new guard you called Buddy. “Resign from guard duty.”

“But Your Highness-”

“I said, resign.” She growled.

“Guards, take him away.”

Her loyal guards, the ones who had gently picked you up and let you shuffle towards the castle, took him away as ordered. Rhaenyra gripped your hand and brought you through dozens of halls until you reached a large set of oak doors, two handmaidens on the other side when you stepped through.

“Fetch me some hot water and some towels.” Rhaenyra ordered, to which they scrambled to get.

“Sit.”

“My liege-”

Rhaenyra’s glare had enough power over you to have you sit on the end of her bed, a small embroidered chair of hers coming to rest by your knees.

“Spread them.” She ordered.

The door opened and the handmaidens came in, one with a boiling hot bowl of water whilst another had a tower of towels. Rhaenyra dismissed them with a wave after they set the items next to her chair.

“Look at me.”

You lifted your eyes to see Rhaenyra undressing in front of you, her smooth back and ass alluring whilst you spotted her chest in the mirror. She dressed into a simple night robe before coming over to you, seating herself in the chair.

“Be still.” She muttered, but you heard the commanding tone underneath.

“Of course, my liege.” You replied softly.

She smiled shortly at that before taking a towel and dipping the end in the hot water. She brought it to your cheek and when you flinched, even though it was small, Rhaenyra took your chin in her free hand.

“I said, be still.” She grumbled.

“It was involuntary.” You grumbled back.

She cleaned the small cut across your cheek, your eyes on her since she would scold you if you looked away. The way her eyes held a careful focus, the lightest hold on your chin that you knew would be like iron if you dared to move the wrong way.

“My liege…”

“Yes?” She answered whilst getting a new towel.

“Why do you wish for me to join you in your activities? Banquets, walks, meetings. Why?”

She sighed, looking down at your scuffed hand before beginning to clean it. “I admire you.”

You were stunned. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, next in line for the Iron Throne, admired you?

“Again, my liege, why?”

She looked up at you and a realisation came to her, a saddened smirk twisting her lips. “You do not see yourself as I do.”

“Unfortunately, I do not have abilities capable of such a feat.” You chuckled, Rhaenyra’s careful analysis hearing your saddened tone.

After cleaning both of your hands, she brought you to her mirror. After giving you an order to not move, she slowly undressed you. When she found the soft skin beneath your caretaker clothing, she held your hands in hers by interlocked fingers.

“So beautiful. This…” She groped your chest. “And this…” She traced your abs. “And these…” She danced her fingers over your lips.

“My princess-”

“Be silent.”

She stepped in front of you and placed kisses along your skin, starting at your neck before making her way down. She kissed each crevice and curve of your breasts, sucked at your left nipple before going to your right. You closed your eyes at her order and tried to analyse her touch, but it was nothing except admiring.

“If you do not see yourself as beautiful, then I will show it to you myself.” She smirked as she stood in front of you, pressing her lips to yours before pushing you onto the bed.

“I will show it to you over, and over, and over, until you finally realise that. I will keep you here until you realise it. Do you understand me, Lady Y/N?”

This time, you did not correct her. You watched as her hands took yours, placing them above your head, and she leaned down on top of your naked form.

“Answer me.” She husked as she nibbled at your earlobe.

“Yes, my liege.”

#baby writes #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen fluff

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avocado-writing · 2 years ago

Text

here you go! I enjoyed this one, it was sweet.

Tagging: @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway

Reblogs appreciated, Requests open - let me know if you want to be tagged for future works!

This is the last time he fights at a dentist.

Really, the pay isn’t worth it. Dentists have always set him on edge. Lemon has a vivid memory of being a child stuck in the chair which dwarfs him, taking in deep gulps of too-chemically-clean air. The whole place gives him the heebie-jeebies now.

So he wasn’t in the dental office when you and Tangerine were, meaning he didn’t notice the bullet clip the canister of nitrous oxide. He wasn’t there while the gas slowly filled the room. In fact, he only realises the fallout when he’s finished dealing with the guys in reception, leaving the place littered with unconscious bystanders.

His heart stops in his chest for a moment when he sees the two of you collapsed. His mind jumps to the worst. Both of you gone on one mission? That would be his hell. His hell on fucking earth.

But then he realises that, of the three bodies in the room, only one of them has any blood on it and it belongs to the mark you came here to get. He doesn’t know what the dentist did to piss off someone enough to take out a hit, but the contract’s definitely been fulfilled.

He checks to make sure your chest is rising and falling before walking into the room, holding his breath. He picks the gas canister up and throws it out the window into the alley below, letting it be the rats’ problem.

Then with a sigh he carries you both out to reception. Well, he carries you, drags Tangerine. Sits you down on a waiting bench. Checks over your vitals quickly and realises there’s nothing more sinister than anaesthetic in your system.

Right. Good. His initial panic is replaced by the very stark realisation he’s about to have to play babysitter.

Lemon groans.

He decides to get Tangerine out first. This isn’t the first time he’s carried his brother, he doubts it will be the last, but he’s never been such a dead weight before. In a fireman’s lift Lemon hauls him through the building, to the car park around the back. He feels Tangerine coming to as he opens the car door.

“Ge’r’off,” Tangerine groans, kicking ineffectually. Lemon dumps him into the backseat. Tangerine tries to lift his head and look around.

“Where’m I?”

“In the car, mate.”

“Wha’ car?”

“Our car.”

Lemon can tell from Tangerine’s surly expression he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. With one quick movement, he reaches over and grabs the seatbelt, clicking it into place over him. Tangerine tries to move but quickly finds himself restricted. Furious he starts to pull on the strap keeping him in place, only to find the safety harness activates and he can’t move it more than a couple of centimetres away from him.

Before he can cause any real trouble Lemon takes his gun away, shuts the door, and locks the car; leaving Tangerine in his one-on-one duel with his seatbelt.

When he gets back to reception, you’re awake enough to be looking around, dreadfully confused.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, gently taking your arms and pulling you to your feet. You sway a little and try to pull away.

“Noooo,” you stretch the word out to be about twelve syllables longer than it needs to be.

“Why ‘no’?”

He’s a little entertained at your reaction. He’ll be able to tease you about this for months.

“I can’t go home with you! My husband will kill you.”

At that, he does laugh. He holds up his left hand.

“Love, I’m your husband.”

“What?!” you gasp, slapping your hands to your cheeks in pure amazement. “You’re my husband?! You’re so handsome!”

He feels pretty chuffed with that to be fair, but that feeling is quickly overtaken when he sees tears form in your eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he says, soothingly, “what’s the matter?”

“I’m so happy,” you reply, caressing your own wedding ring, and bursting into tears. But you let Lemon put his arm around you and walk you to the car, where Tangerine is still fighting his seatbelt and losing.

“How long have we been married?” you ask as he straps you in.

“Three years.”

“Three years,” you repeat, awed. “Do we really love each other?”

He smiles.

“We do.”

#bullet train #lemon bullet train #lemon bullet train x reader #lemon x reader #lemon x you #bullet train fanfic #bullet train x reader #lemon fic #lemon and tangerine #request

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

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For the requests if you're game?

Four and Warriors dynamic since we don't see it much?

Also you're awesome and absolutely don't have to do this if you don't want haha

So, words aren't nice to me today, and your prompt really helped with that. I'm sorry I didn't get to it sooner! But I'm glad I did it today. The verb tenses are a bit off and all over, but I really like the pretense.

For context, this is something that used to happen with me and my dad when he was in pain. I have no clue why it works, but it does somehow? For him anyway. Anyway, as I am the shorty of my family, I figured Four could take my place here :)

“Four, how tall are you?”

Don’t kill him. Green whispered, whether to himself or to his brothers none of them knew.

Why would he even need to know that? The grouchier voice in his head huffed out as hazel eyes shot up to meet the captain’s blue.

Was that particularly necessary? Vio groaned, and if he’d had a physical form the color in question would likely have just flopped over tiredly.

“Four foot four.” They answered curtly, turning their gaze back down to the sword in their hand as they continued to work over its length.

Warriors chuffed out a strangled sort of noise across from them, whether it be from pain, surprise or laughter they didn’t know, and as long as the captain didn’t push, they’d give him a little grace. The poor man was in enough pain as it was, and it really would be a shame to have him writhing on the ground if they kicked him in some... painful places.

“Really?” The man wheezed. “Please tell me you’re joking?”

They rolled their eyes.

Permission to kick him in the nuts?

One minute, let me think about it.

Pities sakes you two, we are not kicking the captain! Vio scolded. We’ll dye his hair while he sleeps or sew a patch on his tunic while he walks or something, not...oy vey.

“I’m four-foot-five.” They corrected aloud. “Happy?”

Sharp eyes met the captain’s again, four voices fighting over whether to cause harm or not. “Huh.”

Guys, look at him! Red huffed. He’s not even able to sit up straight! Give him a break, this one time?

Agreement rang in their mind. Wars was in pretty awful shape. The man had pulled his back while trying to heft a wounded Twilight through the forest the other day, and while he’d insisted the entire time that he had it handled, he’d come to regret it the next day when he woke up nearly too sore to move. They all teased Time about being an Old Man, and it was well known that Legend’s arthritis gave him trouble on some days, but neither the vet not their leader had ever moved as slowly as the captain this morning when they’d been on the road, and Time had had to call an early halt simply because Wars was clearly in so much pain.

The man currently lay on his stomach on the ground at the edge of camp, trying to stretch out his strained back and staring as Four with an odd look in his eyes. “Could you do me a favor?”

Could you not mock our height?

I thought we liked our height?

We do, but we don’t need to be teased for it!!!

“What do you need?” They eventually settled on, setting their sword aside and giving the captain their full attention.

“Stand on my back.” Warriors answered.

They blinked, startled. Once, twice, thrice, four times at the man. “Pardon?”

“Stand on my back.” Warriors repeated himself, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But-”

Is he bonkers? Captain, we are not cracking your spine to put you out of your misery? Blue frowned, confused.

We’d hurt him doing that, why would he even ask?

This is Warriors, he’s not known for having all the lights on a good day.

“Aren’t you in pain?” Red managed to take the forefront, worry spilling into his voice as he stared down at where the captain lay on the ground.

The man smiled, shaking his head slightly only to wince and instead offer one of his charming smiles. “It helps. Just trust me, ‘kay?”

And what were they supposed to do? Even Legend had stepped up to offer help with the pain this afternoon, not that it would do much good for Warriors’ specific problem, but it had earned the vet a warm chuckle and a head ruffle, resulting in much squawking and insults as the vet protested the action. Wild had searched his slate for supplies to make a cure, and Time had called a halt for the day’s travels entirely. Sky had even offered what little help he could provide, but while offers of aid had come from everywhere, there hadn’t been anything that had worked.

But Wars was claiming that actively stepping on the injury would help it, and as absurd as it sounded, the captain seemed utterly confident in it, eyes almost pleading as they shifted where they sat.

“It won’t, I don’t know, mess up your back at all? Are you sure-”

“Goddesses, Four! It’ll be fine.” The captain huffed desperately, just do it, please?”

Now they understood why Warriors could charm discounts and special deals out of merchants and inn-keepers, his royal blue eyes looked utterly pitiful and almost tearful as they stared up at them, pleading and wide. The effect was ruined though when Wars added a tiny little pout that sent Vio reeling with laughter as Blue and Green stifled their own, Red cooing softly in their head.

“Alright.” The laughter of three of the four colors spilled over in a light chuckle as the smithy pulled themselves to their feet, stepping over hesitantly and setting one foot on Warriors’ stretched out back.

“Go on.” Wars prompted, chuckling fondly. “It won’t hurt me, I’ll tell you if it does, okay?”

That didn’t help at all. They weren’t big, they knew that, but they weren’t as slight as they looked, they were smithies after all, and they were a solid little brick of muscle mass. Warriors may be certain it would be okay, but they sure weren’t.

“Four, I’m literally begging you. Step on me.”

The smithy’s nose wrinkled and they pulled back. “That is incredibly weird sounding.”

“Step.” Warriors ordered.

“This is so weird!” A nervous laugh fell from their lips. “How does this even help?”

“Just do it!” The captain groaned. “It helps, I promise. I can’t explain it, but it does.”

One tentative foot pressed against the captain’s back again, only for the smithy to back off, earning a huff in annoyance from the captain. “Four-”

“Let me take my boots off first.” They murmured, shivering off the awkward feeling that came from stepping on of their brothers. But they could only avoid Wars’ pleading gaze for so long and once their shoes are properly put to the side, they had no valid excuse to not ‘help’ the man.

How does this even help him?

Do we care? We have an excuse to step on him!

Vio, I think you spent too much time around Shadow. Stepping on people isn’t funny.

It’s funny if it’s Warriors. Vio sounded particularly satisfied with himself at the moment, and the others could only sigh at that, finally giving in to the captain's request as Vio pushed the body forwards until they are standing, fully, on Warriors’ back.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” The captain’s voice comes out in a relieved sigh. “A bit lower if you could- that's the- yes, right there. Oh gosh.” Blonde hair met the dirt as their resident “pretty boy” let his face fall to rest on the ground. A satisfied sigh escaping him, albeit muffled by the earth. “That is so much better. Thank you, Four.”

“How does this help?” They frowned, staring down at where the man spread out on the ground, utterly limp and incredibly boney under their feet.

“No clue.” Comes the muffled reply, no attempt made to explain as the captain continued to let himself melt into the earth. “But it always works like a charm, so I don’t question it.”

Always?

“Who do you usually have step on you?” They ask, standing awkwardly on a boney spine any trying their hardest to keep their balance so they don’t slip and tumble onto Warriors’ head and give him a concussion on top of everything.

“My kids.” Comes the easy reply, as if the words don’t send them reeling enough that they almost do fall. “Mask jumped on top of e once to try and wake me up. I wasn’t asleep, but it was a tough battle the day before. Come to find out having a smallish person stand on you does wonders! My younger siblings used to do it too, but then they all hit growth-spurts.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” They chuckled easily, finding a comfortable placement for their feet as Warriors’ back rises and falls with soft laughter.

“Believe it or not,” The captain rumbles, the vibrations trailing up their legs and making them stifle a giggle. “I’m the short one in the family. The eldest, but the Hylia forsaken shortest.” There’s very nearly a pout in the man's voice and they failed to hold back their laughter as they look down at him.

”You’re the shortest?”

“To my eternal torment.” Comes the groaned reply, and all the colors can do in reaction is laugh.

Later, when the others finally look over and see what’s happening, there are shouts and concerned looks from the heroes when they see their shortest standing on the previously sore and aching back of their tallest, but for now, Four gets to tease the captain for being short; something they never thought would ever happen.

Vio cackled madly in the background the whole time, leaving his brothers concerned after the first ten minutes when the color’s mirth failed to fade.

#sorry I took so long!!!#vio is a member of #the warriors bullying squad #red is a member of #the warriors protection squad #lined universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu four #lu vio #lu red #lu green #lu blue #fluffics #linked universe fic requests #claybrownie7566 my beloved

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vukovich · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter Forty-eight

It was nearly midnight, and Harry was dead on his feet, and Tyler Malfoy - or whatever his last name was - was asleep in a pile of dogs on the Manor’s front stairs. The night was chilly, but he was dressed warmly and covered in a silken blanket of Salukis. A poodle lifted its shorn white muzzle from the back of Tyler’s neck and chuffed at Harry.

Tyler snorted himself awake immediately, and the dogs scattered around him as he sat up.

“What?” he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “Oh. Five-oh.”

“Uh, hi,” Harry muttered. He was too damned tired for pleasantries. Tired, but also still aroused, in a lazy kind of way. Wank-in-the-bath horny.

Tyler sat with his back to the big, wooden door. He didn’t move when Harry approached. The dogs all came to sit ranks alongside him in neat rows.

Tyler’s lip twitched.

“Get out…”

The hiss was so sharp, Harry flinched.

“Uhm,” Harry started, then fished the appointment card from his pocket, “I have an appointment. If that helps.”

It combusted as soon as it touched Tyler’s fingertips.

“Oopsie,” Tyler said. His eyes narrowed. “Get. Out.”

Harry tried to laugh it off, albeit nervously.

“Fine, I’ll just go around.”

He tried to side-step Tyler, but one of the Salukis growled at him. Her gold chain caught the moonlight. It was bulkier and duller than his chain. Hers was a working dog’s tether. His was gilding.

Still sitting on the stone step, Tyler said, not looking up, “You’re not wanted here, Five-Oh.”

His tone was as downcast as his face. The other Saluki nosed under Tyler’s curls to lick his cheek. Instead of pushing her away, he scratched her ear.

“What do you mean? He told me to come here tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. Why the fuck do you think I’m sitting out here on fuckin’ guard dog duty?”

“So then let me-”

“Nahhhhh,” Tyler drawled. “Fuckin’ homewreckin’ bootlick piece of shit. I should turn the dogs on you.”

Harry stared at him. Tyler acted as if Harry hadn’t heard him.

“Fuckin’ fatty-ass bacon. Probably give them the shits.”

Harry cleared his throat, tightened his lips, and hissed, “Bit lean, actually.”

Tyler’s eyes rolled up to meet Harry’s, a little extra white showing. “Oh. Right. Shit.”

“Can I please just go inside?” Harry reached for the door handle, but the Saluki growled at him again. Her teeth were like needles. “Wait. How am I a homewrecker?”

Tyler looked at him as if he’d asked the dumbest question on earth.

“Cuz whatever you did to piss him off, he lit his fucking bed on fire. I feel like torching a bed the size of a small home counts as home wrecking, huh?”

“What do you mean, ‘What I did’ to piss him off? I didn’t do anything to,” Harry stopped to doubt himself. Just a little. “To make him angry. I don’t think.”

He had sort of pinned him against an office door. And snogged the resistance out of him. Sort of. He’d still maybe been fighting a bit when Harry went down on him.

“All I know is, he came home, and you weren’t here. And he asked me when you left, and I told him, and then a while later, he came home and went Chernobyl on some furniture.”

Harry wished the appointment card hadn’t been turned to ashes. He’d have liked to inspect it more closely. Maybe there was fine print he’d missed. Something to explain to him whether or not Draco had made the appointment out of interest or not. Had he offered the cards as a way to get out of Harry’s office? Was it an escape tactic, not an offer? Was there some mark of sincerity hidden in the bordered margins?

“He told you not to let me in?” Harry said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“No,” Tyler said with a scoff. “But I figured it wouldn’t do him any good to see you.”

“So you stationed your self on guard duty?”

“And…” Tyler shook his head equivocally. “I’m kind of waiting on a delivery.”

“Pizza?”

“Uh, no.” Tyler looked at him askance.

Harry forgot he wasn’t wearing his Auror robes. “Drug dealer?”

Tyler’s lips twitched. “No. More illegal, I’m afraid.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Some kind of Dark magic?”

“The Darkest,” Tyler said, deadpan. “From the States.”

“Are you serious?”

Tyler nodded soberly. “I paid someone to smuggle it in tonight. Draco doesn’t know.”

“Great.”

The absolute last thing Harry needed was to clock back in, put on his robe, and cause a scene. He needed to find Draco. Maybe he was angry at Harry, but maybe he was angry at the Wizengamot. Maybe he’d stubbed his toe on the bed the very last time, and that’s why he’d burned it.

“You should probably fuck off before it gets here and maybe leave my brother alone.”

“Did he actually say he was cross with me?”

“No.” Tyler pursed his lips and looked to the dogs for confirmation. “I guess not.”

Harry was about to tell him to call Draco down to clear things up when a battered Honda Civic pulled into the drive. A woman in a fake vintage Beatles shirt got out, then took a white bakery box out of the back seat.

“Tyler Hypes?” she asked. The box had a crude drawing of a fortress on it and said ‘White Castle’.

He stood, nodding, and gave her a folded stack of American currency.

She counted it, muttered, “Cool” under her breath, and drove away.

Immediately, Tyler flipped the lid of the box open, and inside were many small, square buns. They smelled of grilled meat and onions.

“That’s your Dark magic delivery?” Harry asked sarcastically.

Tyler shoved a whole burger in his mouth and spoke around it. “Sliders.” He swallowed, winced, and swallowed again. “You don’t wanna know.”

He had the dogs’ rapt attention, but shook his head at them.

The little burgers smelled good, but looked like some kind of abominable toasted marshmallow chocolate bar. Like they’d just been broken off of a larger mass of perfectly square burgers.

“Can I just go in and talk to him?” Harry asked.

“Nnnno…” Tyler chewed and squinted at him, then eventually said, “But I’ll ask him.”

Harry nodded and expected Tyler to head off into the Manor, but instead, he stood there, and his eyes turned white.

Completely, utterly white. So white, they shone.

His skin bled glowing fog that settled around his feet, then climbed itself until it had four legs, a muzzle, and a tail.

It was like a direwolf, but smaller. A coyote, or a jackal, maybe. Some kind of wild dog with rangy, long legs and teeth like scythes.

“Gimme a sec,” the boy and the ethereal hound said with one voice. “Last time I saw him, he was headed towards the vineyards with a gun.”

“A gun?!”

Tyler blinked blind eyes. “A flintlock musket, actually. Brown Bess. Fuckin’ pretty.”

“He headed off angry, with a gun, alone in the woods, and that didn’t concern you?” Harry drummed his fingers against his thigh, a bit grateful Tyler couldn’t see him fidget.

Tyler shrugged. “He knows how to get to the vineyards without going clear north through the woods. And he’s just pissed.”

“And he’s been drinking?”

“No, he’s always sober when he’s this pissed.”

Harry stared at him. “What?”

“What what?” Tyler mocked. He groped in the White Castle box until he separated another slider from the herd. “He’s too pissed to drink.”

Harry pursed his lips and hissed, “You’re taking the fuckin’ piss, aren’t you?”

Tyler stopped chewing long enough to say, “What the fuck’s that mean? Takin’ the piss? Like there’s one piss, and you all share it?” He put on a ferocious Liverpudlian accent. “Oi, mate, my day to use the piss! Sorry, lads, better luck tomorrow!”

He capped it off with an over-the-top tip of his imaginary hat.

Harry crumpled his laugh up like a tissue and swallowed it. He should probably be offended, but he’d met old men who really did sound like that.

Suddenly, Tyler screamed, “Hey!”

Harry startled and looked around them. The dogs’ ears perked up, but they didn’t seem alarmed.

“Hey!” Tyler yelled, even louder. “Draco!”

Tyler’s chin wagged like he was silently mocking someone.

Harry waited and watched Tyler’s side of the conversation.

“No, I was just-”

“No.”

“Yes, actually. It sucked, and I don’t want to read-”

“No.”

“Fine.” Tyler sighed so hard, the eye roll was implied. “Oh, and your cop friend is here.”

Another eye roll. Another slider down the hatch, presumably during a short lecture.

“Whatever. Well, he’s just standing here.” Tyler chewed for a while. “Alright. I’m-”

“Ugh, seriously? It’s Friday night. Come on.”

“Thursday is the new Friday.”

“One hour. Come on. That book sucked, and you know it.”

Tyler victory-boxed air, briefly lost hold of his box of sliders, and fumbled it shut against his chest.

His eyes cleared, back to grey kaleidoscopes.

“He says to leave the gold on his office desk and go home.”

24K9

A daily(?) kinktober 2023 fic. Will post to AO3 on American Thanksgiving, 2023.

Harry is a K9 unit Auror. Draco is the Ministry Kennelmaster. How could that possibly lead to anything?

Tags: collaring, top Draco, sensual pet play, touch starved Harry, bathing, shaving, rescue dog feels, other tags TBA, maybe dark draco ending?, maybe werewolves?, definitely coming untouched though, just blasting rope man

Chapter One

“I assure you, Auror Potter,” drawled the Patronus, speaking even before it found its full form, “there is nothing wrong with your partner.”

Malfoy’s tone was patronising, as though he were telling Harry that the monsters under his bed weren’t real, and to go back to sleep.

Next to Harry’s desk, his ‘partner’ had managed to catch his tail and was currently gnawing on it with nothing short of ardour. K9 Auror Wurst, aka RottWurst, clamped down on his fluffy tail so hard, Harry swore he heard a crunch.

The bright fog condensed into a direwolf the size of a modest pony. It was the perfect symbol for Draco Malfoy. A pale, leggy, sharp-toothed relic of another time.

“And I assure you,” Harry spat, “Kennelmaster Malfoy, that this mutt’s fucking touched in the head.”

The mutt in question was eighty-plus pounds of Rottweiler-poodle abomination. He looked like a St Bernard had dug into an avalanche, missed the humans, and hit a thousand-volt power line instead. The curly white fur on his belly was caked with mud, and his brown muzzle still had bits of grass clippings on it. The rest of him was black, save his brown eyebrows and speckled ears.

“He keeps alerting to sex magic, not dark magic. It’s fucking embarrassing. Dragged me across Hyde Park. I had to use a Confundus on him to get him back to the office.”

The direwolf was so still that Harry blinked twice to make sure the shape wasn’t burned into his retinas. It was a bloody showboat of a Patronus.

It was so bright that it brought out the dinginess of Harry’s office. The yellow carpet had a pale brown trail between the door and Harry’s desk chair. The corners of the ceiling had cobwebs, and the baseboards held an unhealthy amount of dust.

The fresh dog piss on the floor didn’t help things.

“I mean, he’s not worthless,” Harry added. “But Robards said he can’t reassign him to Vice. That he doesn’t have that authority. So it must be you who has to do it.”

It was a little risky to bypass Robards the way he had, contacting Malfoy directly. He probably should have made an appointment with his assistant or something.

But he’d been angry, so he’d pulled an interdepartmental priority Howler out of his desk and sent it.

There was probably a DMLE protocol for contacting a member of the Wizengamot. There was a DMLE protocol for everything but wiping his arse. Actually, they probably had one for that, too.

Harry blinked again. His eyes were dry. He was on hour seven of a twelve-hour shift. After this, he’d get another coffee.

The direwolf shifted its weight, then leaned back, hindquarters high, in a deep stretch. Its paws spread out in front of it.

Harry wondered if Malfoy was actually stretching. And what that might look like.

It’d been years since he’d seen Malfoy in person. Just in the papers, and only in the background of Wizengamot photos. He’d been called to his Wizengamot seat the day after his thirtieth birthday, having met the minimum age. They hadn’t called Hermione to hers until she was thirty-two. She’d die mad about that.

The direwolf laid down, then yawned.

Harry yawned.

Wurst yawned. Then farted.

Harry thought to check the time. 2:30 AM, according to his wristwatch. He’d been on the clock for fourteen hours. Not seven.

“Shit,” Harry said.

He’d woken a member of the Wizengamot at 2:30 AM. And an important one.

The direwolf sighed and tucked its muzzle under its paw. Harry held his breath. Maybe Malfoy would fall asleep.

Maybe he’d doze off, and he’d think he dreamt he got a Howler in the middle of the night from a burnout beat cop at least six rungs below him. Maybe.

The direwolf sighed again, then drifted away like will-o'-the-wisps on the wind.

Maybe Malfoy wouldn’t report this.

Maybe.

Maybe Robards wouldn’t kill him.

He drummed his fingers on his desk. If he did get written up, it’d be his sixth this year. Two of them were for failing to meet dress code, but the shaving regulations were stupid, and the hygiene one was just weird.

Still.

Wurst looked at him. He looked at Wurst.

Nothing would happen. His talk with Malfoy had only lasted a few seconds. He’d think it was a dream.

It would be fine.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry told Wurst, ignoring the sweat on his palms.

Wurst’s nostrils flared, and then an ivory envelope slid under the door. It sat on the grimy carpet for a moment, then folded itself into a swan. With a few wingbeats, it landed on Harry’s desk and unfolded itself.

Inside was a business card.

Draco L Malfoy Wizengamot Member, Kennelmaster Warminster BA13 4SH UK

“Shit,” Harry said.

He flipped the card over. On the back was an appointment date and time. Tomorrow.

“Fuck.”

Robards was going to kill him.

#drarry #24k9 #coming up gasping #fuck december #holy shit

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redux-iterum · 3 years ago

Text

A Kindling: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Rusty jerked awake and banged his head on the bottom of the armchair he lay under.

His immediate reaction was to hiss and duck down again, silently bemoaning each residual wave of pain between his ears. The armchair, just tall enough to allow him space to crawl underneath, shifted above him. The top of his human’s head appeared upside-down to peer at him curiously, mane dragging on the floor. He blinked at them and they chuffed, eyes crinkled, before the head disappeared again.

Rusty waited for the last achy throb to fade away before he crawled out from underneath the armchair, stopping to stretch between his human’s feet and shake his fur out to the irritating dinging of the bell on his collar. He felt fingers gently scratch at his neck and between his shoulders, to which he responded with an obligatory purr. The fingers lifted away as the human trilled something in a high pitch. Rusty’s pelt brushed against one of their legs as he turned and headed for the next room.

His food was still there, in its bowl. Rusty ignored it completely, even as his stomach gave a hint of a growl. The stuff tasted terrible and never seemed to make him full. Not for the first time, he reminisced about his last home, where he had been given something soft and much more delicious.

His mind started wandering on the topic of new and old sensations, as it always did, and he distantly felt his feet carrying him through the overly-warm kitchen and to the flap in the door he’d learned to use on his first few days in this house. He barely paid attention to where he was going; he was in the throes of his dream, before he had been startled into the waking world.

It was always the same: he would be prowling through a place he had never been, yet felt right at home in. The place changed every time he dreamed. Sometimes the grass was tall enough that he had to rear up to see ahead, sometimes it was unending stone formations that curved oddly smoothly and arched above his path. Usually…

Rusty pushed through the flap into the night, walked across the yard with cut grass that irritated his pawpads, and leaped onto chairs and pots until he was at the top of the fence that separated him from the outside world.

Usually, it was what he saw ahead of him—a thick forest, so dense with trees and ferns and bushes that it was impossible to track any potential trails to follow, and rich with the scents of the wild. Even from this distance, through the dark and the petrichor from the rain, those scents seemed to find him at all times of the day and night.

Rusty breathed deep, enjoying the freshness of the damp earth and the many, many smells he could not identify from the forest. It was close. Very close—

“There you are!”

Rusty blinked in surprise and turned his head to see another kitten in the next yard, who did a much less graceful job of getting up onto his fence, scrabbling and puffing for air every time he had to heft his considerable weight to meet with his friend.

“I didn’t think you’d be out this late, Smudge,” Rusty said once he had finally sat down on the rail and was catching his breath.

“Well, I was looking for you all day,” Smudge said, letting out one final huff before sitting up straight. “Were you inside the entire time? What were you doing?”

“Ehm…” Rusty cocked his head sideways a little in thought. “Sleeping, I guess. I was having a lot of nice dreams. I suppose I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Very unlike you, bud.” Smudge gave him an amused look. “Even the old homebody down the way asked where you were today. He said you weren’t around to scare his prey off.”

Rusty snorted. “He’s never caught a thing in his life and we all know it.”

“Well, neither have we,” Smudge said. “Just a matter of time with you, though, I suppose.”

Rusty frowned. “You could catch something one day, too—”

Smudge blinked slowly, unimpressed, and motioned with a paw to his own chest and belly. He was quite different from Rusty—black-and-white and much softer and rounder. He looked like how he lived, never moving far from his bed and food bowl if he could help it.

Rusty, ginger and much wirier, persisted. “Still, you never know.”

“S’pose we don’t.” Smudge glanced out at the forest before them. “Though I wouldn’t dare try, myself. Not over there, anyway, since you keep looking that way.”

“There aren’t really any other places to hunt, though,” Rusty said. “Unless we wanted to go—”

“’We’,” Smudge muttered.

“’We’.” Rusty nodded. “Unless we wanted to go further into the neighborhood and try that park.”

“Eh.” Smudge rolled a shoulder like the very idea of walking that far pained his limbs. “There’re probably ferals out there too.”

Rusty did not respond to this. He was looking back into the forest, thinking. He’d heard stories of feral cats living in those woods—wild giants that lined their borders with the fur of trespassers and ate the bones of helpless kittens and house cats. He’d been warned many times by the adults in his neighborhood to stay away from them, and to run as soon as he saw a hint of their eyes or caught the scent of strange plants and cut wood (whatever that smelled like, he wasn’t sure). Apparently there were even more feral colonies far away, but he knew nothing about them. What everyone was concerned about was the group in the forest.

“Mind a nibble on your thoughts?” Smudge said, jerking Rusty back to the present.

“Just—” Rusty looked between his friend and the woods. “Just wondering what’s in there.”

“Probably nothing good.” Smudge wrinkled his nose distastefully. “A bunch of mud and bullies, I’ll bet.”

“Really?” Rusty looked at Smudge sideways, head tilted a little. “I’ll bet there’s a lot of prey and adventures waiting past those trees.”

“Ohhh,” Smudge said with a grand sarcasm. “Lots of good times in there?”

“All of the good times,” Rusty returned. “And if there are cats, I’ll bet they’re not as bad as everyone says.”

Smudge huffed an amused breath. “Tell you what, you bring one back for me to see myself, one that’s real nice and friendly, and I’ll personally take you to the park tomorrow.”

A spark of something lit up Rusty’s mind. “You know, I might take you up on that.”

All of Smudge’s snarky demeanor vanished in an instant. “Rusty, I was joking.”

“Well, I’m not.” Rusty bunched up and looked over the fence, eyeing the best place to land.

“Don’t—” Smudge puffed up out of the corner of his eye and his volume rose. “Rusty, don’t.”

“No, no, we have a bet.” Rusty jumped and landed with, he proudly noted, barely a stumble. “I’ve got to go find you a feral.”

“They’ll eat you alive!” Smudge protested, looking genuinely anxious. “Come back here! I wasn’t even serious!”

“See you in a while, Smudge!” Rusty called over his shoulder, and started off at a trot through the soft, uncut grass.

“Rusty!” Smudge shouted, but Rusty didn’t look back. He simply padded along, ignoring his friend’s yells, only pausing for an instant as he hit the treeline before pushing his way past a fern. The forest swallowed him and Smudge’s voice faded away.

Rusty stopped a few steps in, eyes wide. The trees, he knew, were always taller than the houses, but up close they seemed to scratch the sky—he wasn’t sure he was even able to see their peaks from here. Some smaller forms of them, much more delicate and thin, fought their way out of the brush that covered almost every bit of ground. The ferns, soft and broad and fringed, took up what the brush didn’t, and patches of incredibly soft grass soaked up what little moonlight they could catch. Everything was vibrant, fresh, alive.

More than that, though, were the scents, so numerous and strong that they threatened to knock Rusty off his feet. Even the trees clouded his nose, and he understood instantly what smells the adults were talking about. The ferns and grass were almost delicious, and the packed soil under his paws smelled not only of rain, but of something that made Rusty’s stomach growl. Something like what he had eaten in his old home.

He wanted to find it.

Without quite understanding what he was doing, Rusty lowered his body into a half-crouch and he tried to pinpoint the scent past all the others. Experimentally, he opened his mouth, and the air brought him a taste that seemed to be coming from his right. He sniffed, turning slowly, ears swiveling.

Something rustled in the ferns, and something else lit up in his head.

Very slowly, very carefully, Rusty moved forward, trying to track the scent as he went. His shoulders brushed against the fronds, but luckily, they made no sound (“Luckily?” What was he trying to sneak up on?). He cursed in his head when his feet shifted the soil and the rustling stopped. He paused, and the rustling eventually continued, as did he.

He closed in on this unknown target, until he ducked below a fern that was blocking his view. In a little clear patch of ground, he could see something tiny and brown scuttling back and forth, digging at the earth or chewing on grass. It had a long, naked tail and wide ears, and Rusty had a vague idea of what it was supposed to be, based on a toy he had at home that looked about the same, save being much more brightly colored.

Again, not having a clue why, Rusty crouched further, eyes focused on the animal. He kept as still as possible, waiting for an opportunity to… do something. The animal was entirely unaware of him. He lifted one paw and took a step, pulling himself closer.

The bush ahead of him violently shook and the animal darted into the undergrowth.

Rusty straightened up, greatly annoyed. He glared at the bush, now catching a scent of something else. Something that was also familiar, but still as new as the rest of this forest. And, going by the continued shaking, something quite large.

Rusty had a faint idea that he should probably run.

#warrior cats #warriors redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter one #book one #arc one #a kindling

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velvethopewrites · 4 years ago

Text

For Always

She is small. Sometimes, in the early years, I could forget about her. Although the older I grew, the harder that was to do (and believe). She’s always glowed like the setting sun. She’s always blushed to match her red, fiery hair. She’s always laughed loudly when she didn’t know I was around. (Most of the time though, she is the reason other people are laughing. She’s so funny and clever. Don’t know how I missed it, really)

She flies. She files really well. Almost as good as me. Sometimes, after watching her play, I think she might actually be better than me. And she laughs when I tell her that. Shrugs me off. She is always modest. Even with 1000 people shouting her name at a game, she always bows and waves and I see how happy she is in the air. She doesn’t do it for the cheers, she does it because she loves the game just that much.

She is often quiet, although most people would consider her a chatterbox, normally. And she is that too, but when we are alone, she is quiet when she knows I need her to be. And she knows when I need to be pulled out of my funk. When my mood has hit that low, there she is, bringing me back up. She never nags. She makes me want to be a better person. A better man.

She is stubborn. Like me, but different. She digs her heels in. She can be fierce. Good God, she can be fierce. Thankfully, our shared fierceness has differing calls. If we do ever fight or disagree, it never lasts long. I like making her laugh when she’s mad. She tells me it is my greatest talent. And I feel chuffed at that - no one would ever accuse me of being a burst of sunshine, but with her, I can be. In my own way. In a way that makes her happy.

She gets me. I asked her once, how she did that so often and so well, and she smiled in a mysterious way and kissed me instead of answering. Her eyes seemed amused at the question. Later, my best friend told me it’s because my love has spent a lifetime getting to know me and ‘my many moody quirks’. Yeah, I reckon she has at that.

She is still a mystery to me. The closer we have grown, the more I want to know her. All of her. There is so much to know. She doesn’t hide; she’s just that...full of life. Full of things that mesmerize me, I admit. Every day I learn something new to love about her. Every day I love her even more.

She is patient with me. Sometimes, I pull away, I can’t help it. I have experienced too many bad things in this life, even though I’m still young. When I need to be by myself, she understands. Mostly because she knows it is never for long. I spent a year away from her once. When I came back, I vowed never to do it again. I always make sure to come home to her. To our life together.

She is kind. She is loving. She is...passionate. I like to think I am those things too, in fact, I like to think that she brings them out of me. People still gawk at me, have questions for me, wonder about what I’m doing, even though it’s been years, and she is a wall of strength next me. She holds my hand when I have to make a speech or go to a function I dread. If it is a particularly bad night, I ask her why on earth she would ever want to be with me. And she shows me, time and again, sometimes all night, how worthy she thinks I am. I know I am not quite the man I see reflected back at me through her eyes, but I try. I try, I try, I try....

She loves me. This, above all else, is her secret weapon. I would move the world for her if she asked, but you know what? She never would. She’d find a way to do it herself and maybe ask me to help out. And I would, too, because everything she does is usually for the right reasons. She has a strong sense of right and wrong. And above all, she understands.

I’m asking her to marry me, tomorrow. And she doesn’t know. Or, perhaps, she does. She’s always known things about me before I even knew myself. She is my life, my love, my partner in crime, my constant star and she is my home. After too many years of feeling as though I never belonged anywhere, she is my family.

She is my Ginny. And I am her Harry. For always.

#Hinny #drabble #harry and ginny #fanfic #my writing #fics #harry potter #ginny weasley

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lokigayforhela · 4 years ago

Note

Heya. May I request an Hela x female reader where Hela falls in love with the reader whom is Loki's friend and decides to kidnapp the reader and reader being scared and angry at her at first, only getting along with Fenrir but reader falling in love with her as well after a while and Hela asking the reader to marry her?

WC: 2695

TW: this can kinda come off as Stockholm Syndrome-y I think? So tread lightly if that upsets you.

A/N: This is… a long one. Settle in with a snack. I wrote it in two sittings, so hopefully it flows. Enjoy!

You woke groggy and confused, unable to remember when youhad fallen asleep or why you were so cold and uncomfortable, and it took yousitting up to realize just how much of a predicament you were in.

You had shackles around your wrists, and while you weren’trestrained in any other way on the bed you had been laid on, it was still arather unsettling way to wake up.Trying desperately not to panic, you tried to take note of your surroundings,trying to figure out where you might be or who might have you, and you had justswung your legs over the edge of the bed to try to stand up when you heard acool, collected voice speak from somewhere in the shadows on the other side ofthe room, and you could just make out the figure of someone sitting in a chair.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re still too groggy.”

Your brow furrowed, and you squinted, trying to get aglimpse of who was speaking. “…who are you? What have you done with me?” Apause, as a bit more of your memory came back to you. “Where’s Loki?”

The voice laughed, and a few moments later, the figure stoodand crossed into the light, and you were more than a little surprised to seethat it was a woman who was holding you captive. Even if she did look extremelyintimidating. “I am Hela. And you’re-”

“Wait, Hela like Thor and Loki’s sister Hela?”

Hela hesitated, clearly a bit miffed that you hadinterrupted her, but eventually, she cleared her throat. “…yes. The very same.And I’ve brought you to somewhere they’ll never find you. You don’t need toworry about them anymore.”

Well, that didn’t sound threatening at all.

“…Why have you brought me here?”

“I intend to court you.”

Of all the thingsyou could have expected her to say, this wasn’t even on the list, and all youcould do was stare blankly at her in shock.

“I’ve been watching you for some time, and I think that wewould make a good match.”

Finally, you snapped out of it, and bit out a forced huff ofa laugh. “…so you kidnapped me, put me in shackles, and just think thateverything’s going to be peachy-keen? What, did you watch Beauty and the Beast one too many times as a kid?”

“….I don’t know what that is, but I only put the shackles onyou so you wouldn’t hurt yourself if you woke up.”

You scowled, still entirely unsure what to think about thisentire scenario. “…Loki will find me. As soon as they realized that you tookme, they’ll come with the rest of the Avengers, and whatever… this is will fall through.”

Hela looked at you, like she was trying to understand whyyou didn’t quite seem as onboard with the idea as she was, and after a longmoment of silence, she spoke again. “…you’ll come to like it here, in time.You’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll have your supper brought in soon. You must bestarving after sleeping all day.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say to that, too besideyourself in pure anger and confusion at Hela’s sheer audacity, and you onlyscowled, curling back up in the bed and glaring out of the small window by yourbed.

“…Fenris, keep watch over her. Good girl.” You heardmovement on the other side of the room, followed shortly afterward by the soundof a door closing and, having assumed Hela was leaving, you turned your headback in her direction, only to be greeted with the largest dog you had everseen towering over you, looking at you curiously.

“…..you must be Fenris.”

Fenris chuffed out a quiet little snort, and bowed her headslightly, and you watched in silence, still so unsure of what to think of yoursituation.

“…I don’t suppose you’ll help me get out of here?”

Fenris snorted, and in response laid her entire head on yourlap, effectively keeping you sitting right where you were, and you groaned inpure frustration. “….great. Just what I needed. A giant dog to keep me trappedin here, on top of some strange woman who thinks the best way to court someoneis to kidnap them.”

You heaved a sigh and looked back out the window.

“What fucking luck.”

——————–

You weren’t sure how long Hela had kept you wherever it wasthat she was keeping you.

The most you had gotten out of her was that you were on someplanet that wasn’t Midgard or Asgard,which had been destroyed, as Loki had told you before. You didn’t evenrecognize the planets you could see from the window, so you didn’t hold muchhope for being anywhere near Earth, but to your surprise, you were finding itless and less possible to care about it as much as you once had.

Hela somehow managed to spend both more and less time withyou than you thought she would, when she’d mentioned she was interested incourting you. She spent the mornings in the room with you, trying to get you totalk about yourself, but afternoons you had to yourself after Hela haddelivered your lunch, and the only company you had until dinner was yourselfand Fenris, who never left your side longer than it took for her to go outsidewhen she needed to.

In fact, Fenris, you reasoned, was the most, if only,bearable thing about being held captive for the foreseeable future until you,presumably, fell in love with Hela or were found by Loki and the rest of theAvengers. For all her towering height and scary, very large and sharp teeth,she was a sweetheart, and the more she hung around with you, the more fond youbecame of her. You would sneak her scraps from your meals, and scratch herbelly when she sprawled out on the floor.

Once, Hela had walked in and found you both asleep on thefloor, Fenris curled up in a ball, and you nestled against her side, and thesight had endeared her so much that she sat on the floor and watched you untilyou woke up, something that you couldn’t quite decide whether or not was endearingor a little unsettling.

Perhaps it was a little bit of both.

Hela herself was a puzzle that you couldn’t solve, for allyour trying.

She had kidnapped you, taken you from Loki and your otherfriends, and your home, but she was treating you the nicest anyone had evertreated you. Aside from keeping you shackled twenty-four/seven and refusing tolet you out of the room without supervision, and even that was only so youcould use the bathroom when you needed.

If you took away the fact that she’d literally committed acrime, and a creepy one at that, Hela just seemed like a girl in love, who didn’tquite know how to properly show it. Which was flattering, you supposed, andwould, in any other setting, be almost endearing.

Maybe she just didn’t know any better.

Thor and Loki hadn’t told you much about Hela, but that wasonly because they didn’t know thatmuch about her, but from what you’d understood, Hela had had a rougherchildhood than you could imagine, and had been locked up simply for being whatshe was trained to be. You couldn’t imagine what that would do to a person’spsyche.

Perhaps you had reacted too harshly.

One morning, you finally decided to at least try to talk to Hela. Maybe you couldhelp her understand that what she was doing was wrong and that there were muchbetter ways to go about courting someone.

So when you heard the keys Hela carried jingling, you satup, facing the door so that you were the first thing Hela saw when she came in.

“…you’re awake.” Hela seemed genuinely shocked to see youlooking at her, and when you smiled a little, she only seemed all the moresurprised. “…I brought you something different today. I know you must begetting tired of eating the same stuff every single day, and… there was amarket in the city nearby, so… I brought you some pastries.”

Hela’s nerves had seemingly gotten the better of her as shehanded you your plate, you figured you must have really thrown her for a loopby being so amenable today. You thanked her quietly, and when she moved to sitdown in her chair by the door, you caught her wrist without really thinkingabout it, and the both of you froze for a second, neither of you daring tomove.

“…sit down with me. We’ll share.”

Hela hesitated for a moment, even after you’d loosened yourgrip on her, and after a long moment she sat down on the very edge of the bed,and still at a distance from you. You picked out a pastry for yourself and heldthe plate out for her, but she shook her head.

“…I don’t need to eat. Not really.”

Your brow furrowed a bit as you looked at her. “…that’s notan Asgardian thing. Thor and Loki eat.”

Hela huffed out a tense laugh. “Thor and Loki weren’tbanished to Hel for centuries.”

You didn’t say anything to that; what were you supposed to say to something like that?But when it became clear Hela was still expecting you to say something, youcleared your throat a bit.

“…you could still eat, if you wanted to. I mean, I won’tmake you. But… you could. I don’t mind.”

Hela smiled, more of a grimace than anything else, but yousmiled a little in response, as well, and for a moment, you sat in silence,chewing on your breakfast in silence.

“…You can take the shackles off, you know. I’m not gonna goanywhere.” You laughed a bit. “I can’t. You don’t even let me out of the room.”

“…your door hasn’t been locked since you got here.”

That confused youto no end, and as you looked at her, absolutely bewildered, Hela actuallycracked a bit of a smile.

“I just jingle the keys so you think the door’s locked. You’ve always had free reign of the house.Did you really not even try the door?”

You were a little too embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t, so you just took another bite ofyour breakfast, hoping your flushed cheeks didn’t give you away.

“…you can look around today, if you want. I don’t mind. AndI’ll take the shackles off, too.”

“….I’d like that.” You looked back over at Hela, findingthat she was already looking at you with an expression far softer than youthought someone like her capable of making, it only made you blush all the moreas you smiled weakly.

Hela returned the smile much moregenuinely, and when she reached over to take one of the pastries from yourplate, you couldn’t help but to wonder if this might be a turning point in therelationship between you.

——————–

Days faded into weeks faded into months, and the longer youspent with Hela, the more you found yourself enjoying Hela’s company.

You would read together in the humble little library she hadmade for herself in the corner of the living room, you would play fetch withFenris together, and sometimes Hela would even let you go down with her to thevillage to go the market and run errands.

It was nice.

Much nicer than you had ever expected things to turn out.

Sometimes you felt a little guilty that you had just… stopped wondering if or when Loki andthe others would come, but then you would think about how much you were actually kind of enjoying being withHela and Fenris, and eventually you stopped wondering about it at altogether.

It was late one evening that you found yourself standingnext to Hela in the kitchen, drying dishes with a clean rag as Hela handed themto you, and you were overwhelmed with the pure domesticity of it all, and youstopped, tilting your head as you got lost in your thoughts.

“…Y/N…? Is everything alright?” Hela’s quiet voice broughtyou out of your silent revelry, and you turned to look at her, smiling a bit.

“…just thinking.” You shrugged a bit as you set down aplate.

“About?”

“…this, I guess. Us. Being here, together.”

You weren’t looking at Hela, but you heard her take a long,slow breath, anticipating what you were about to say next.

“…I’ve never connected with anyone like this before.” You glancedover at Hela then, and you saw that she had relaxed, but only just. “…it’snice.”

Hela nodded slowly, and finally turned her head to look atyou, expression unreadable. “…It is?”

“…it is.”

You weren’t entirely sure when the two of you had moved soclose, or which of you was the one to make the first move, but one moment youwere looking at Hela, and the next you were kissingher, and it was nice and warm and right, and by the time Hela pulled back, you were smiling softly.

“….I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” Hela started to apologize,but you shook your head.

“Don’t. It’s okay. Really.”

“…it is?”

You could only laugh softly as you nodded, smiling a littlemore. “In fact, I… I’d really like to do that again, if… if you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” Hela answered alittle too quickly, like she could hardly contain her eagerness, and it was soadorable and unlike her that you laughed, even as you leaned forward to kissher again, dishes completely forgotten on the counter.

——————–

“Y/N?”

You looked up from where you were sitting curled next toHela, book in hand and Fenris’ nose on your lap as you scratched herabsentmindedly. “Yes, darling?”

“…I’ve been thinking.”

Despite knowing that nothing was wrong, you couldn’t helpbut to feel your heart sink in preparation for hearing something that you mightnot want to, but you tried to smile and nod, hoping Hela didn’t catch the quiet“…oh no…” you muttered under your breath.

“…You’ve been here for quite some time now.”

It was true; you wagered it must have been close to a yearby now that you and Hela had been living in your secluded little cottage on theoutskirts of the village, and life there together with her just felt perfect, in a way that you’d neverexperienced before, and you nodded along as Hela continued to speak.

“And I like to think that we’re, that this… I mean, I canonly speak for myself, but… I’m just going to say it. It… It works.”

You laughed a bit, feeling relief when you realized Hela wasjust nervous and unsure how to say what she was saying. “It works. It does.”

Hela nodded again, looking at you for a long moment. “…marryme?”

You were so at a loss for words that you could do nothingbut stare blankly at her, trying to wrap your brain around what she’d said.

“I don’t… have any rings, like they do on Midgard, and we don’thave anyone to perform the magic rites that they did on Asgard, but… We canjust say that we’re married. And we’llknow. And that’s enough for me, if… if that’s enough for you.”

You laughed a bit, nodding as you reached for Hela’s hand,holding it tightly in your own. “Yeah. I think that would be enough for me.”

Hela smiled, and immediately leaned forward to kiss you, andit was easy to tell just how head over heels she was for you, and it even more amazingto know that you loved her exactly the same. Perhaps it wasn’t how you had everimagined falling in love would be like, but it was love and it was imperfect.

You’d never known you could be so happy.

#Hela x reader #Hela Odinsdottir x reader #Hela #Hela Odinsdottir #Marvel #purplewings12 #ask #answered #oneshot #drabble #feat Loki #but not Really #this got so Long im so Sorry #fluff #Tiny bit of angst

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yarbz · 4 years ago

Text

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

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