#I see a pretty monster woman I immediately ask myself: how can I make her Worse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Double Vision

A/N: this is so self indulgent i should be ashamed of myself

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader, President Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You and your boyfriend, 2012 Loki, are trapped at the end of time. But you're not alone. President Loki just got two new toys to play with.

Warnings: threesome, DUBIOUS CONSENT, dom/sub, sub!Loki, bondage, name calling, rough sex, mild knife play

You had been pruned seconds after Loki had in the battle in the TVA’s headquarters. Strangely, it didn’t hurt like you had expected. Just a faint sensation of completely and utter emptiness, and then everything went dark. Just like falling asleep. When you came back to your senses, it was just as gentle. You awoke in a bed of grass, staring up at a cloudy sky. A wave of relief calmed the rising panic in your veins when you turned to see Loki lying next to you.

You took in your surroundings slowly. The clouds looming above you looked threatening, like an impending storm, and far off in the distance was what looked like a ruined city. Crumbling skyscrapers pierced the horizon like jagged teeth. Heart speeding up in fear, you quickly shook Loki awake. “Wake up,” you hissed. “I have no idea where the hell we are.”

Loki grumbled and raised a disoriented hand to bat yours away, but still cracked open his hazy eyes to squint at you. A smile lit up his face when he saw you staring back at him, and you’d have been touched if it wasn’t important that he wake up right now. Upon seeing the anxiety written clearly on your face, he furrowed his brows and sat up, shaking his head to chase away the lingering confusion. You could tell the moment he realized something was very...wrong with the realm you found yourselves in, as his eyes widened and he was instantly on guard.

A deafening roar shook the ground, alerting the both of you to a looming danger, and you turned around to see a purple mass bearing down on you. You’d seen your fair share of fucked up things to know that this was not something you wanted to stick around for. Around you, small, bird-like creatures fled from the shadowy monster. In a flash, you were on your feet, tugging on Loki’s arm to pull him up with you. “Come on,” you yelled, raising your voice to be heard over the wind that had suddenly picked up speed.

Loki whipped his head around, desperately searching for shelter, then pointed at the city. “There, run!” He took off in a sprint towards the buildings, with you stumbling along behind him. The head start you got seemed to be enough to out run whatever was chasing you, but you didn’t dare slow down as you ran full tilt to safety. As the city drew closer, a sense of dread crept into your limbs, but you pushed it down. Better to race towards the unknown when the known was actively trying to kill you.

Your legs burned and your lungs were screaming out in protest, but Loki’s panted encouragements kept you on your feet and moving long enough to reach what looked like a half-collapsed hotel. Loki rushed inside the dilapidated building, holding the door open for you to scramble inside before slamming it shut. Another roar made the building tremble, and you bit your lip. As the ceiling shook and spat dust into your hair, you prayed that it would hold. Out of the frying pan, you thought to yourself.

Fortunately, it seemed as if the monster had moved on in search of easier prey, and you took the moment of fragile peace to sink against the wall and finally catch your breath. You dropped your head into your hands, trying to force your breathing back into a normal rhythm and figure out what the hell was happening. You’d just about calmed down when you heard Loki chuckle. “What’s so fu-funny?” You asked, still panting.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Huh?” You looked up, then felt your newly regained breath leave your lungs as another Loki emerged from the darkened hallway. He was dressed in what looked like a suit tailored after your Loki’s Asgardian armor, and he wore his horns proudly. A “Vote Loki,” pin sat crooked on his suit jacket. The flickering lights above him illuminated his grin, making him look like, well, a villain.

“You’re a variant,” your Loki said, stepping in front of you and eyeing his twin warily. The only ever Loki variant you had encountered was Sylvie, and she was questionable at the best of times. Loki was right to be on guard.

“I suppose you could call me that,” President Loki drawled, tracing a finger along the dusty wall as he stalked towards you. It left tracks on the wallpaper. He leaned to the side to peer around you Loki, and you felt naked under his predatory gaze. You shrank further behind your boyfriend.

“My, what do you have here?” He asked, eyes lighting up in a way that made your hair stand on end. “What a pretty toy, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I had a turn?”

Your Loki groweld protectively, and he took a step forward. “Do not lay a finger on her.”

President Loki frowned. “That’s no way to treat the superior version of yourself.” He continued his march forward, then slowed to a stop inches from your Loki’s defensive frame. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a beautiful woman.”

You were horrified to find a confusing sort of arousal settling into your stomach. This was, after all, just another version of Loki, the man who’d spent so many nights taking you apart and putting you back together again. You’d seen those same hooded eyes so many times, seen that same smile as Loki made you squirm. Despite trying your hardest to fight it, you could feel a dampness soak into your panties, making you shift uncomfortably.

Just as perceptive as your own Loki, President Loki seemed to sense your growing interest. His frown broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, you want it, don’t you? Go on, tell your guard dog to back down, so we can play.” He nodded towards your Loki, who had turned around to look at you with perplexed, hurt eyes.

“Really?” He asked, flicking his gaze from the blush on your face towards your tensing thighs. He instantly recognized the arousal he’d seen so many times before, and his expression grew bewildered.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered, trying to defend yourself. “He looks just like you, I mean, he is you, and I…” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

This was all so fucked. Just minutes ago you were running for your life in a strange new world, and now all that adrenaline had shifted into a violent desire to be broken to pieces. Just so you didn’t have to think about the horror that was your current situation. President Loki was still staring at you, pupils now blown and tongue running across his bottom lip in blatant want.

“Oh, love. There’s nothing wrong with you,” the variant purred. His voice was a bit deeper than your Loki’s, but it still had that velvet smoothness that always made you weak in the knees. A bright flash of green shot out from his fingertips, ensnaring your Loki in glowing rope.

He gasped in surprise, and immediately began to struggle against the magic, but it was in vain. You cried out and reached for him, but President Loki was faster. He grabbed your Loki’s arm, then began to drag him away from you and down the hallway. With a sharp whistle, he motioned his head for you to follow, and found yourself standing and trailing behind the two Lokis like an obedient dog.

President Loki pulled yours into the depths of the hotel, you following anxiously. Your Loki shouted threats and harsh words, but the magic bonds kept him nearly immobile as he was guided by President Loki. You didn’t dare try anything stupid; you weren’t a fighter, and you suspected that this variant far outmatched both you and your lover in combat. All you could do was obey and hope he showed mercy.

You were led into a suite that seemed more put together than the rest of the hotel. Everything looked much cleaner, especially the bed, and most of the walls appeared to be stable. President Loki shoved your Loki into an armchair at the back wall of the room, and then positioned it so that it was facing the bed. “Well?” He asked, lazily gesturing towards the bed.

A gush of wetness seeped from your core at the same time as fear gripped your chest. Two conflicting emotions warred within you, and you felt hot tears stinging your eyes at the confusion of it all. On one hand, you loved your Loki. There was not telling how trustworthy this variant was, if he was going to hurt you or your boyfriend. On the other, this was the once in a lifetime chance to experience a threesome with only Loki. A fantasy that most likely no other person had gotten the chance to experience outside of their dreams.

You cast a helpless glance over at your Loki. When you weren’t looking, President Loki must have gagged him, because there was now an emerald piece of fabric stuffed between his lips. Your pussy throbbed in appreciation at the sight while your heart ached at the terror in his eyes.

President Loki rolled his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a version of me quite this soft,” he said, walking to his clone’s chair. “Let me help you relax.” President Loki straddled your Loki, chuckling at the muffled whimper that spilled from behind the gag. The variant brought his head down to bite at Loki's neck, and your mouth dropped open.

To your surprise--and hesitant delight--your Loki seemed to be almost enjoying the treatment. His head had fallen back against the chair, and he was breathing in that strained way that he did when he was turned on and trying to hide it. Kinky bastard, you thought to yourself.

President Loki paused his assault on your Loki’s neck to look back at you. “See? He likes it, dear. Now be a good girl and get on the bed,” he commanded. The growl in his voice let you know that he would not tolerate being disobeyed again, so you nodded and clambered on top of the bed.

Sliding off Loki’s lap, the variant gave him a quick pat on the head and then made his way over to you. “Mmmf!” Loki mumbled, earning a sharp look from President Loki.

“I won’t hurt her. If you stay quiet like a good boy, I may let you have a turn.”

That sent chills down your spine. The thought of both of the Lokis having their way with you was almost too much, and your shaking knees finally gave out to send you sprawling onto your back against the pillows. Seemingly amused, President Loki snickered and crawled onto the bed. He crept forward until he was hovering over you, dark blue eyes raking across your trembling form.

You squirmed under his piercing gaze. The shivers making their way up and down your spine were unrelenting, no matter how hard you tried to keep still and quiet. “What happens now?” You squeaked out.

President Loki’s mouth opened in a wide green, revealing stark white teeth that almost looked sharp. “Now, we play.” Green light appeared at his fingertips again, and your hands shot up uncontrollably. You yelped in surprise and tugged on the rope that had appeared on your wrists. You were bound to the headboard, completely at the mercy of this variant. And fuck, it was exciting and terrifying and arousing all at the same time. What a mess.

There was that green light again. This time, it revolved around itself until it took the shape of a jet black dagger. President Loki ran his thumb along the handle, eyes leaving you to gaze lovingly at the knife. Your breath quickened in fear. “Stay still,” he purred. With deft fingers, President Loki raked the tip of the dagger down your shirt, cutting it open at the front. You let out an embarrassingly high pitched squeal as cold metal came in contact with your bare skin. But, as he promised, the variant did not hurt you. He made quick work of your pants as well, abandoning the knife in favor of simply yanking them down your legs along with your panties.

The cold air hitting your bare skin made you gasp. You tugged uselessly at your wrists, wanting to cover yourself in embarrassment at your sudden nakedness. Your frantic squirming made President Loki chuckle, and he leaned down to nip at your ear. “Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll warm you up.” His hot breath against your ear sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress a soft moan.

Suddenly remembering your restrained boyfriend, you managed to peer around President Loki to make sure he was alright. Your Loki was still bound and gagged, but now his face was alight with a crimson blush. Your eyes drifted downwards to the prominent bulge in his pants. When he caught you staring, Loki dropped his gaze away from yours, ashamed.

President Loki watched the silent conversation, amused. He trailed a thin finger up your thigh, then sat back to straddle your hips. “He’s enjoying himself,” the variant said confidently. He grinned at you. “I know because he’s me, and he likes what I like.”

All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, naked and defenseless underneath his weight.

“Oh? Surprised, are we?” President Loki drawled as he waved his hand casually. His suit faded away with his gesture, leaving him bare as well. His long cock mirrored your boyfriend’s, and it was swollen and dripping. You licked your lips. “I’ll take it you two haven’t fully...explored his interests. Us Lokis crave dominance, to be left at the mercy of a pretty thing like you.”

“So why aren’t you-”

He cut you off with a gentle slap to your inner thigh. When you sucked in a harsh breath, he chuckled. “Because there’s something else we love. Power.” WIth that, President Loki moved to place his legs on either side of you. He grabbed your ankles roughly and pressed your legs back until they sat atop his shoulders. You groaned at the stretch, then sighed heavily as he titled his head to the side to mouth at your ankle. “Ready, slut?” He growled.

You didn’t get a chance to answer. The air was stolen from your lungs as the variant plunged his hard cock into you, the stretch burning. You screamed out in pleasure and pain, listening to what sounded like both Lokis moaning in unison. The version that was currently buried deep inside of your heat rolled his eyes back in pleasure at the feeling of your pussy flexing around him.

“Oh, it’s been so long,” the variant moaned. “I want to make this last.” He began thrusting his hips lazily, more grinding into you than anything. You whimpered as you got used to the size of him. It felt like you were dreaming with how overwhelming it all was. Your core throbbed again and again as new gushes of arousal spilled from your cunt, and your head was spinning with the knowledge that just feet from you, your boyfriend was being forced to watch another version of himself tear you apart. And he loved every second of it.

From behind President Loki, your Loki whined, and you could just barely see him twitching his hips up into nothing. “Please,” he begged, and you noticed that he had managed to slip the gag from his mouth. You weren’t sure what he was begging for. To be touched, to touch you. Probably both.

President Loki looked at you with lidded eyes, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he ground his cock deep inside of you. “Should we let him play, too?” He asked, voice ragged.

You nodded frantically. Words escaped you, but you desperately wanted your boyfriend here. You longed for his touch, wanting to feel them both. President Loki nodded and waved his hand back towards the chair. Loki’s bonds vanished, and he was scrambling onto the bed as soon as he was free.

He crawled up to the top of the bed, hands outstretched to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. Your Loki gasped desperately as President Loki grabbed him by the hair, pulling hard so that he stopped just short of reaching your lips. Your Loki whimpered and went nearly limp in submission.

The variant let go of Loki’s hair, tsking at him like he was scolding a child. “You may not touch her without my permission.” His voice was surprisingly even, given how he was still thrusting into you. “Are we clear?”

Your Loki opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and nodded obediently. President Loki grinned wolfishly. “Good boy. You may kiss her.”

In a flash, your lover was leaning over you, pressing his mouth clumsily to yours. His tongue sought entry, and you let him in enthusiastically. You could practically feel the desperation seeping from his every pore. You’d never seen him this worked up, and silently wished you had discovered this kink of his a little sooner. “You look beautiful like this,” he panted into your mouth.

When you began to reply, it was cut short by a yelp as President Loki’s hand dropped down to play with your clit. Your Loki kissed you again, drinking in all of your moans as his variant brought you higher and higher with those deft fingers. With a growl, President Loki snatched your Loki’s hair again and dragged him away from your lips. Loki’s pitiful whine matched yours as you both gasped for air.

“Fuck her mouth,” President Loki commanded, increasing the pace of his thrusts with a growl of pleasure. His fingers kept up their assault on your clit, and you fought to crane your neck up and open your mouth to be ready for your boyfriend’s cock.

Loki hastily yanked off his pants and pulled out his weeping dick. He shuffled over to you, then leaned forward until he was close enough to guide himself onto your tongue. This was familiar, the heavy weight of Loki’s erection stretching your jaw. You closed your lips around him and began to suck, gritting your teeth against the cries of pleasure that threatened to break free from your throat.

President Loki let go of the other Loki’s hair and instead gripped your hip roughly as he began fucking you an earnest. “So tight,” he hissed. “Cum for me, little slut. Cum for your god.”

Helpless to do anything but obey, you felt your back arch up as your entire body convulsed. Pleasure ripped through you and left you a whimpering mess, drooling around you Loki’s cock. Your boyfriend cursed at the sight of you cumming, and began to pump himself in and out of your mouth. “I-I can’t help, fuck, help myself, darling. Ah, oh gods.”

“Such a good girl,” President Loki praised. He groaned at the tightening of your walls, then removed his hand from your clit to wrap a long arm around your Loki’s neck. Your Loki was forced to lean back against President Loki’s chest, only able to keep his cock in your mouth because of his lanky body.

Your Loki cried out, the sound broken up by his variant cutting off his oxygen. His hips stuttered violently, and you felt thick cum spurt into your throat. Somehow, you were able to force it down instead of choking, and you heard Loki whimper at the feel of his sensitive length being constricted by your throat. “Love, fuck,” he keened.

Seeing the two of you cum proved to be too much for the variant. “Oh, Norns, I can’t,” he groaned out harshly, then slammed himself into you and held his hips there as his cock pulsed within you. As he came, the magic binding your wrists dissipated, and you brought your arms down to rub at the sore muscles. Hot seed spilled out of you, running down to your ass. President Loki watched his cum drip from your swollen pussy in appreciation, panting softly.

Your Loki had collapsed next to you, and was now snuggled up against your side. The variant frowned at the sight, and you could almost detect a rueful look on his face. You hissed in a pained breath as President Loki slowly lowered your aching legs from his shoulders. He sighed as he pulled out of you, a rush of liquid gushing out and wetting the bed. Most of the dominance gone from his demeanor, he shifted awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure where he fit in this dynamic.

His sudden insecurity didn’t surprise you. After all, he was a Loki, and they were notorious for their false confidence. It tracked. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached up and grabbed his arm to pull him to lay down next to you. He stared at you in slight confusion, but obliged, leaving you sandwiched between the two Lokis. You turned to your boyfriend, who was already drifting off, too fucked out to keep his eyes open. With a soft smile, you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

President Loki cleared his throat, catching your attention. “I, uh. It’s a bit sad. Seeing what I could’ve had. I can’t help but be envious.” He chewed on his bottom lip and looked away, bravado completely gone.

You rolled your eyes and threw a tired arm around him, feeling a rush of satisfaction when he purred happily and cuddled against you. “I think I have room in my life for more than one Loki,” you whispered. And it was true. If Loki was born to be a villain in every timeline, then you were born to love each one of them.

#loki x reader #loki smut #imagine #fanfic #my writing #president loki #loki series #mcu #marvel #tva

586 notes · View notes

thewebcomicsreview · 2 years

Photo

Feast For a King" Live Blog Chapter 1

(This was originally posted to my Patreon, but I’m slowly making this series public. I currently have a live blog out to FFAK Chapter 5, so check it out if you want to read more)

One of our several new patrons today (hello!) asked that I review the webcomic Feast For A King. I said no, because it's 6,500 pages and it would take me weeks, but we compromised and I'm going to live blog it instead.

We start off with a content warning that's fairly extensive. I think it's way better to have a big content page at the start of a a comic than have one in the middle of a chapter imminently before the content. It lets people know what they're in for right at the start and doesn't disrupt pacing. In that spirit, let be start by saying I'm not going to be sharing any upsetting imagery here. That'd be a shitty way to beta test a new Patreon idea. Also no NSFW things, since I don't want to get in trouble with the Patreon Police. This is a blind Let's Read, so I don't know how big a deal that'll be. I also don't intend to read all 6,500 pages, but we'll see how it goes as it goes.

We start with a sleeping woman waking up on a platform to find that she's tied up and being threatened by an Evangelion angel looking-thing that's eating a dude. That's definitely a gripping opening.

Our heroine attempts to escape the monster but her attempt does nothing...except indicate that this is perhaps going to be a horní comic with the way certain things are emphasized there. Is this woman wearing pants? I think so, but I honestly don't know and it's not outside the realm of possibility that she's not.

I do think there's an intentional artistic reason for the art quality becoming rapidly incomprehensible as the scene gets more chaotic. I'd go so far as to call it avant-garde and I can see myself coming around to defending this as genius. But I'm 20 pages in, and mostly I'm just having trouble following what's going on.

Our heroine - who is wearing pants, cool - is let go by the monsters. She's confused and so am I. Her neck started bleeding, and then her leg bindings turned into leg bracelets while her arms spawn normal bracelets. I'm starting to wonder if this is a dream sequence, but I think it's still just in medias res.

Our protagonist, who I hope gets a name soon, wanders into a mysterious labyrinth. She's thinking about how weird this is and how weird it is that she's not freaking out about it. Some of her thoughts are thought balloons, while some of her thoughts are square narration boxes. Something about this comic is giving off enough of an air of competence that I choose to believe this is galaxy brain genius foreshadowing and not an idiot creator being inconsistent for no reason. Anyway our protagonist is as annoyed as I am that she doesn't have a name, and throws up, not noticing that she vomited up a human finger. So...she's one of the monsters, then? Foreshadowed that a little hard, if so, but again I think this comic is going to be good so perhaps a double twist. She means a worm monster named Aeschylus. I suspect that's a reference and google it. Aeschylus was the ancient Greek dude who invented Tragedy. Cool.

Aeschylus pledges himself to the protagonist, claiming she is his savior, and then....gets shot? I think? This art is hard to follow. I'm told it gets better. Yeah, he's shot and killed by a man who "rescues" the protagonist. Pretty tragic. Maybe that's the joke that he's the father of tragedy by being friendly and immediately dying. I suspect he'll be back, though. End chapter one.

You know what? That was a pretty good first chapter. I'm hooked into the mystery. Let's see if the comic can keep that energy as it slows down and starts explaining things.

#Feast For A King #Let's Read

30 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 310: A Tale of Two Kacchans

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Deku was all, “hey, you know what sounds like a good decision? Abandoning my studies at the safest place in the country so that the bad guy who wants to find me and kill me has literally nothing standing in his way of doing that.” All Might was all, “I fucking knew you were going to say some bullshit like that so whatever, but I’M COMING WITH YOU and I’m also going to invite the Hawksquad to come with us, mostly so that I can steal Jeanist’s car.” Jeanist was all, “okay fine you can borrow my car, All Might, but only if you wear jeans.” All Might was all, “okay sure” and he wore jeans and also sunglasses and a leather jacket and it was pretty rad. Anyway so now they’re out there fighting crime and hunting down the LoV and stuff, and absolutely none of it is going to end well, I’m just letting you know now. But I guess we’ll let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “happy belated Kacchan’s Birthday makeste, here’s the flashback you really wanted at long last,” and proceeds to pull the old vestige flashback out of the kitchen drawer and upend its contents all over my Friday afternoon without the slightest bit of warning. OFA III is all “WHAT’S UP I’M JUST SOME GUY, HELLO,” and okay?? Hello yourself. OFA II, on the other hand, is all, “okay yeah I have different hair and stuff, but I’m like 98% sure I’m either Bakugou or his goddamn twin, I mean look at me.” Which, yeah. I looked, and he really is though you guys. Anyway though, so he and OFA II basically just showed up in the First (who goes by Yoichi now)’s prison cell one day all “HEY THERE, WE’RE HERE TO SAVE YOU, APPARENTLY, ALTHOUGH WE SEEM REAL CONFUSED ABOUT IT TBH BUT HEY.” And so they saved him, and Yoichi was all “hey nice to meet you do you want to join my super-exclusive Saving The World Club”, and so they did, and then the chapter ended lol. I would have said yes too.

oh my sweet lord?? I didn’t realize we were getting a color page this week, but LOOK AT THIS

this could have been a fucking volume cover. I’m almost mad that it wasn’t, lol but I mean fkldjslklk just look at it??! Horikoshi out here spoiling us and making sure we’re well fed since next week the manga is on break for Golden Week. well this will certainly help to tide me over. hot damn look at those colors

so now it’s raining on some dumb building in the middle of somewhere

is this where the Hawksquad has set up camp for the night? or are we actually cutting back to the League? that’d be unexpected (but not unwelcome)

ffff nevermind dammit it’s just more random citizens under attack

feels like this is the third or fourth scene we’ve had of civilians being Under Attack since this arc started. I mean no offense, but I think we get it by this point. it’s the end times, etc. etc. we’re well aware that things have gone to shit

so apparently these two guys are facing off against a girl with a mutant quirk. and she’s telling them that she’s not a monster and she was just scared, oh shit. I believe her btw, you can see it in her face

but these assholes don’t believe her at all and they’re pointing what looks to be some type of support item gun at her

you know what’s interesting, is that this kind of random quirk discrimination is the exact kind of thing PLF and the like were swearing up and down they’d put a stop to with their glorious revolution. it’s almost like those guys were completely full of shit. huh

so yeah, fortunately for this woman someone is stepping in and intervening before she can be blasted to bits by this trigger-happy asshole for absolutely no fucking reason

looks like a hero actually stepped in and saved her?? but no that can’t be, heroes are the ones that ruin everything and make everything worse, or so I understand. lol where did all of this sarcasm come from out of nowhere dlkdsjlk I’m sorry guys I just suddenly got swept up in the hypocrisy of certain people’s philosophies out of the blue idek

anyway so it is of course Deku saving her, and now he’s trying to talk thess jerks down all diplomatically instead of just kicking their asses, which is certainly a choice

MOTHERFUCKER I’M

fucking impossible to miss the real world parallels here. shit. this woman nearly died for her crime of Walking While Having A Mutant Quirk huh. and meanwhile Deku is just letting this guy scurry away and even letting him keep that fucking bazooka of his, like, ????

fucking hell she’s crying!!

lmao this chapter is actively trying to make me mad now huh. that’s some genuine righteous anger I’m feeling on behalf of this fictional ferret lady whom I only met two minutes ago. girl you are not the one who needs to explain herself here!! you didn’t do anything wrong holy fuck. everything about this situation sucks so much

fkKJKLMMMHFGH

“I’m sorry I made you upset, please enjoy this panel of tiny!floating!Deku hefting this lady’s massive beach umbrella up for her like the fucking gentleman he is” well okay then thank you sir

and JUST LIKE THAT the tension is broken and I’m entirely incapable of taking the rest of this conversation seriously because Deku’s trying to be all calming and authoritative, but now the illusion has been broken because I know he only comes up to like her knees

“well thanks again for saving me young man. I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do like protecting your Lucky Charms cereal from all those greedy children”

oh hey All Might

you wouldn’t have just let that guy with the bazooka just walk away to commit more attempted murders would you?? man

OH MY GOD DEKU IS IMMEDIATELY DITCHING HIM AGAIN

I ~CANNOT STAY HERE~ oh, well, sorry to keep you detained I know you’re busy

dfslkjlk oh my god

fucking told you Deku didn’t pack any food lol. it’s literally all notebooks in that bag you guys. he couldn’t just leave them all in his dorm room when he left, because what if someone tried to read them and came across one of the pages where he absentmindedly doodled Kacchan’s name surrounded by little tiny hearts oh gosh

AWWWWW

I needed this Horikoshi. thank you for this wholesome soul-cleansing interaction after all of that bullshit earlier

so now Deku’s climbing up this tall building to eat his lunchbox more dramatically. Tokoyami would be proud

and Banjou is saying that society right now is just like in The Good Old Days (read: bad old days) when quirk society was even more of a mess than it is now

which is exactly how AFO likes it, no doubt

so now Deku’s having a whole conversation with Banjou seemingly out loud lol, weird. and he’s basically saying that they don’t have any clues as to where TomurAFO and the League are hiding right now, and none of the Tartarus escapees they’ve found knew anything either

mmmmmfmhm, marge simpson noises

but you think you can?? you, alone, by yourself?? you think you stand a chance?? I just need you to think this all through a bit more kid

Deku it is NOT JUST YOUR RESPONSIBILITY ALONE, PLEASE REALIZE THIS ALREADY. YOU MAY BE THE CHOSEN ONE, BUT EVEN THE CHOSEN ONE NEEDS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS SIDE GODDAMMIT

and of course my pleading is all in vain, because he’s a fictional character who can’t fucking hear me, and also because I’m pretty sure there’s only one character who is going to actually be able to get him to hear reason here. I’ve been saying it, and I’ll keep saying it lol. so until then I guess I’ll just have to be patient

anyway so it appears we’re segueing into another flashback??? HORIKOSHI PLEASE GIVE ME SOME BAKUCRUMBS BEFORE THE TWO WEEK BREAK, I BEG YOU

dlKSDJLFKWJELKGHSLGKLEKJLFKHLGK

YES, THANK YOU, I KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING IS LOL, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE REST OF THIS SCENE OR ANYTHING LMAO. BUT ANYWAYS DON’T MIND ME, YOU WERE SAYING??

oh my god oh my god I’m not readyyyyy, but also FUCK YEAH I AM SO FUCKING READY LOL LET’S DO THIS

YOU GUYS

I’M ABOUT TO STEP IN THAT ROOM AND YEET ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CHAIRS AT YOU ALL

NOOOOO

I’M ABOUT TO GRAB BANJOU’S GOGGLES AND STRETCH THEM OUT AND SNAP THEM BACK SO THEY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD!!! IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES!!! I’M ABOUT TO MOVE TO JAPAN AND GET A JOB WITH DOORDASH AND FIND OUT WHAT HORIKOSHI LIKES TO ORDER FOR LUNCH SO I CAN BE THE ONE TO DELIVER IT SO THAT WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR I CAN FINALLY ASK HIM “HEY WHAT THE FUCK” IN PERSON

AHHH NO EVERYBODY SHHHHH STOP TALKING!!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THAT PERSON SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS IN THE BACKGROUND TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, OH WAIT, THAT’S ME

(」゜ロ゜)」 щ(゜ロ゜щ)

LOL THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! LOOK AT YOU!!! YOU’RE NOT KIRISHIMA OR SHINSOU OR IIDA IN A WIG OR ANYBODY LOL. YOU’RE JUST A DUDE. BROOOOO ABOUT FUCKING TIME, WHAT’S GOOD

I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN AHHHH BUT I HAVE TO BUT IT’S TOO INTENSE AHHHHHHH

I CAN SEE THE TOP OF HIS SPIKY HEAD, IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME AHHHHHHHH OKAY I’M GONNA DO IT HERE GOES

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S HIM. IT FUCKING REALLY FUCKIGN IS HIM OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. WHY AM I SO SHOCKED LMAO I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN SAYING THIS THE WHOLE DAMN TIME LMAO. OH GOD. O H MY FUCKING GOD

well okay then sir. so are you an ~ancestor~ or a Kacchan from another timeline or so what’s your deal then

YOICHI WHO IS YOICHI

YOICHI ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT’S UP. LMAO WHO IS YOICHI

(ETA: I’m going to punch myself in the face lmao. he’s Yoichi. he, the First. that’s his name. name reveal at long last what what!!)

MORE IMPORTANTLY SHOULD I BE IMAGINING NOBU’S VOICE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE LMAO I AM ANYWAY BUT YEAH

(ETA: I actually think he’s going to end up being voiced by Nobuhiko whether he ends up being Kacchan or not, just because it fits right in with the general “identical in almost every way” aesthetic he’s got going on.)

TUMBLR HOW WE LIKING OUR ANGSTY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN?? EVERYONE HATED YOU SO MUCH BEFORE THEY EVEN MET YOU, BUT THEY FORGOT TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MIGHT BE HOT LMAO WHAT A TWIST

“some bright-eyed brat” oh come on. IT’S GOTTA BE HIM LOL

oh my god you all are probably TIRED AS FUCK of all my screaming but I’M SORRY IMMA HAVE TO DO IT ONE LAST TIME BECAUSE...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that face. that expression!! THE FACT THAT HE’S OUT HERE OPENING DOORS WITH HIS FEET, LIKE HOLY SHIT!! JUST ADMIT THE JIG IS UP ALREADY

and so they really are the ones who busted First out of his jail cell huh

so how did they know you were in the room?? why did they come and break you out?? and how, pray tell, did they know to get you to transfer OFA to them?? hmmmMMMMMMMM

oh MY GOD

you guys. oh my god. it’s too much. every last bit of it lines up exactly with the Bakuverse theory sdkjfj I’m short-circuiting. it’s really fucking happening oh my lord

HELLO SEXY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN WITH HIS SEXY FUCKING SCAR, FUCK YEAH WE REALLY ARE EATING GOOD THIS CHAPTER

HELL YEAH WE’RE GOING. WE’RE GOING FULL SPEED YOU GUYS. LMAO I’M SO FUCKING HYPED RIGHT NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF WEFKJLDKFFFF

SO, EVERYONE, LET’S RECAP. -- ACTUALLY NO, I STARTED TO WRITE UP A LIST, BUT I IMMEDIATELY REALIZED IT REALLY JUST NEEDS TO GO IN ITS OWN THREAD. SO I MADE IT AND POSTED IT, AND NOW I’M FINISHING UP THIS HOT MESS OF A RECAP POST. SO NOW WE’RE BACK TO THIS ONE FINAL PANEL OF DEKU EATING HIS KATSU ALL SERIOUS

YES SIR. YES SIR, WE GOING, FULL SPEED AHEAD, WHATEVER, IDK WTF IS HAPPENING BUT YES!!

lol, anyways so as I said in my other post, mysterious sexy guys with tragic pasts are what bring us together as a fandom, so whatever your thoughts are on the rest of it, let’s just rejoice in that. it’s what we deserve

#bnha 310 #midoriya izuku #ofa prime #ofa ii #bakugou katsuki #MAYBE???#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

271 notes · View notes

therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible.

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested.

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning.

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all.

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No.

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden.

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka-#Anonymous #ask

285 notes · View notes

aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 3 years

Text

Everything Stays

Part Two: Of Bliss, Of Blood

(A/N) Okay WOW. I did not expect the response I got from part one! Thank you so much for all the feedback!! I’m glad you guys like it!! Everyone who asked to be tagged, I’m pretty sure I got all of you. If you wanna be tagged, lemme know! This is gonna be another one of my dark fics, full of existential dread. Guess who read a lot of Anne Rice as a Youth? The people have spoken, and the people want more Natasha and so I must provide! also the word ‘simp’ comes from the early 1900s / late 1890′s. ur welcome

♫ ♫ ♫ I really outdid myself with this one

Rating: M (Mature; Dark Content Ahead)

Warnings: Should be obvious but we have blood here; Fury/Romanoff Father/Daughter relationship bc I need it and i am selfish; Sexual Tension Babes!!; Foul Language; Existentialism; Overall Melancholy

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Vampire!Reader (F)

Chapter Word Count: 4,971

Total Word Count: 14,880

Synopsis: You adjust to your new second life; You and Natasha have a Moment; You reconnect with an old friend.

| i | ii | iii | iv | coming soon |

god i wish that straw were me

It’s been two weeks since you woke up from your magically-induced hibernation. You have much better control over your thirst for blood now that you can simply grab a bag from the ‘minifridge’ in your room. You don’t blame the others for not wanting to see you feed - it’s rather gross in your opinion, as well.

Natasha helped you decorate, particularly to cover the giant windows in your room with large, deep purple curtains. Your days are split between researching ancient demonic cults and catching up with all that lost time. The first time you see a television, you can’t stop gawking at it like a loon. While some of the others found it endearing, Steve was the supportive one for the most part. Turns out, he does know a thing or two about waking up in a different time.

Your nights, though, are spent in solitude. You don’t need to sleep, not really - and you’ve had plenty of sleep, anyway - so nights are what you’d consider your time to do whatever you want outside of prying eyes. You have too many questions and too few answers.

Tonight, you’re out on the balcony. The city below is a swath of lights, even this late into the evening. You wonder how many monsters are out there lurking, while you’re stuck up here. You haven’t tried leaving the Tower on your own yet, but you aren’t sure if you really want to.

It’s strange. You feel like a ghost of sorts. Here, in this time, in this world - but, at the same time, always stuck in the Then. You feel so different, but - you’re not exactly the monster you thought you would be. You still feel sad. You miss your father. You miss your brother. Your mother-

What had happened to her, you can’t help but wonder? She’s no doubt dead, but you didn’t tell her where you were going. That doesn’t make much difference, you suppose. After your brother’s death, she was a vacant husk of a woman. Lost in her own grief, gripped in the terror of What If.

You were all she had.

Then, there was the impending apocalypse. It was always an impending apocalypse.

The sliding glass door hisses as it opens, alerting you to another presence. You recognize it as Natasha almost immediately; she’s quieter than the others, and her scent is uniquely her own.

“I’m supposed to be the nocturnal one,” you joke lightly as she approaches you.

The redhead laughs softly, leaning her elbows on the railing. Her shoulders are tense, gaze a little distant. Even so, her posture is straight and stiff. “Do you not sleep?” She asks.

“No,” you look back out into the bustling city. “I can sleep, but my body doesn’t need it.”

Natasha is excellent at masking her expression into one of neutrality. Still, you can see the way her lips twitch every so often, as if struggling to keep a light smile. Something is bothering her. You’ve never been one for subtlety.

The wind picks up, sending waves of red into the air like flickering flames. Natasha suppresses a shiver, but you don’t miss it. You shrug off the jacket you bought during your first trip to the outside world with Natasha. She said you looked great in it, and though you don’t feel the temperature, it gave you some comfort to have something heavy and warm. You place the jacket on her shoulders, earning a teasing smirk from Natasha.

“So you are a gentlewoman,” she observes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I tell no lies, ma’am.” You watch her pull the jacket tighter around herself. “What are you doing up so late?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she looks down at the smooth metal of the balcony. Her fingers drum against it, her expression thoughtful and dazed.

“I don’t sleep well,” she says after a long silence. She says it in the way that people often say things when they’re just damned tired. Not physically, but mentally. She’s been through a lot, and while she can seem confident and in control most of the time, it’s only a mask for how she truly feels. You know a lot about that. It was how you lived your entire life.

“Back in my day,” you start, earning a snort and a groan from the redhead.

“You’re starting to sound like Steve,” she explains, a little breathless.

You roll your eyes. “This generation does not understand respect.”

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” She pouts teasingly.

You scoff. “Monsters don’t have feelings, remember?”

“Hey,” her tone hardens, just a little. “What did I say about calling yourself that?”

You meet her gaze with a half-smile. “Sorry, force of habit. Well, when I couldn’t sleep, my brother would take me out to the fields. He’d show me the stars, make up stories for them. Sometimes he would name them after the vampires he killed,” you can’t help but laugh a little at that. “He was always soft like that… father saw it as a weakness, but… maybe, in the end, he was the most human of us all.”

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. “There we go, back to sounding like a greeting card. Sounds like your brother was a good man.”

“He should have been the one with all this…” You gesture to the books with a sigh. “I was never meant to be the heir.”

“But you are.”

“But I am,” you agree. “What about you? Last I was around, Russia was a political minefield.”

“And here I thought you didn’t waste your time with politics when you were busy hunting monsters.” Natasha playfully nudges her shoulder against yours.

“Well, monarchies of over three centuries don’t typically fall apart silently. Revolution is never silent.” You shrug.

“True,” Natasha hums, tapping the counter. “I was a spy, of sorts. An assassin, really. Worked up quite the reputation before SHIELD got to me. Made me open my eyes to a hell of a lot.”

“But not vampires?”

“No, not vampires.” She chuckles. “Been here ever since.”

You hum, allowing yourself to look over her once again. She really is beautiful. A knockout dame like her would have been a primary target for vampires. Immortality wouldn’t change much about her, you think. She’s already so achingly gorgeous. Her heart picks up the pace, a lovely pink spreading across her cheeks the longer you look at her.

She clears her throat, stepping away from the railing. “I should really get back to bed.”

“You should,” you agree, though the thought of being without her saddens you a little.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promises.

“See you,” you watch her disappear back inside, feeling strangely warm as yo udo so. You turn back to the skyline, at the rays of gold and pink just starting to appear over the distance. This world is so strange, so new - but, maybe, you might find your place here.

- - - -

“And you’re sure they’ll have… valuable information?” Fury asks, sounding hesitant as he glances at you and Natasha.

“I’m not certain, but it’s a start. Your tech gobbledygook is taking too long, and I can’t stand being cooped up here all the time.” You admit honestly.

“And you think Agent Romanoff is the best choice for companionship?” He continues, and this time you really do understand the distrust in his tone. Going into a literal den of vampires doesn’t sound ideal, and though he knows Natasha is more than capable of handling herself, legends he’s read lately of vampires going after beautiful young women have him a little bit worried. (Not that he’ll admit it.)

“I’ll be alright,” you promise. “If they step out of line, I’ve taken down plenty of leeches in my day. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” he relents, though his look of worry doesn’t fade. “Romanoff, gather as much intel with (Y/N) as you can.”

She nods curtly, giving him a reassuring smile.

Hours later, you’re helping Natasha get ready for your late night excursion.

“Most Feeders wear red,” you explain. “Hides the, ah, blood.”

“Why do these places exist, exactly?” Natasha asks, searching her closet for something red. You’d also informed her about exposed necks (which, back in your day, were incredibly taboo) so it’s obvious she’s searching for a particular dress she has in mind.

“When a vampire bites you,” you explain slowly, “and their saliva mixes into the wound, it can cause a weird chemical reaction in your brain. It’s sort of like…”

“Getting high?” Natasha looks over her shoulder at you with surprise. “So… they’re taking advantage of people by getting them stoned?”

You cringe. “Well, sort of. To them, it’s like having a pet. The humans are well taken care of - obviously blood tastes better from a healthy human than an unhealthy one. They give consent, at least, which, in my day, was practically unheard of.”

She hums thoughtfully, pulling out a hanger with a grin. “Did you ever visit one before?”

You clear your throat, looking away from her as she steps behind a screen to change. “Once. I was captured by a Coven once and brought to one of the Dens to hold for ransom. They never bit me or anything, but father was never a man of mercy.”

“So if I’m in red, what are you going to wear?” Natasha pokes her head out.

“Black, if tradition still stands.”

“Naturally.” She huffs and steps out. “Can you help me zip up?”

If you still had blood, you know you’d be blushing. You stand on somewhat shaky legs and approach the redhead. She turns her back to you, the zipper all the way down to her waist. Did she even try to get it herself?

You hear her heart begin to race as you grip the metal and pull it up, the cold tips of your knuckles tracing along Natasha’s spine. Her breath hitches, and you find yourself drowning in the scent of her. She is unfairly beautiful.

You take a step back to clear your head. Natasha looks at you with an unreadable expression, her lips pursed. She studies you for a long moment, eyes roaming up and down your body.

You do the same, admiring how well she pulls off the color. Red suits her; you can only assume she’s going to paint her lips to match it. The long slit up the side and the scandalously low cut of it are enough to send your mind spinning.

“I might have something for you.” Natasha hums thoughtfully, breaking you out of your trance as she moves back to her closet to dig around.

You quickly pull on the long, black dress she’d picked out for you. It hugs your curves almost as perfectly as her dress hugs hers, but you think she’s just naturally that perfect. (It’s almost annoying, if it wasn’t so damn pleasant to the eyes.)

She even does your makeup for you, painting your face in ways that your father would have scorned. By the time you’re ready to leave, you look almost like a different person again.

“We look hot,” Natasha grins, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You snort. “What does temperature have to do with this?”

You can only laugh along with her, despite your confusion and her lack of an explanation. It’s odd, how easy it has become to be around her. Maybe it’s because it was her blood that woke you up, or maybe it’s just a natural sort of connection. You aren’t sure what to categorize it as.

She was flirtatious - far more daring than any woman when you were alive. In fact, your attraction to women was extremely secretive. The fact that she’s so open to flirting with you in front of anyone - even the men - is always surprising, but when she does so in privacy like this, it makes your head go all fuzzy.

Natasha Romanoff was a dangerous woman. (But, then again, danger has always been an inescapable mistress.)

- - - -

You aren’t sure what you expect when you step into the Feeder Den. You remember when you had been captured and your father came to save you, the place erupted into violence. Naturally, they all knew who he was and what he was there for. Back then, there wasn’t a vampire around that didn’t know who Van Helsing was. You’re sure that if you entered one yourself back then, it would have a similar result.

You certainly don’t expect the sudden silence. They’ve adapted to the modern day, with dark lighting and heavy music - the front of it appears to be some kind of bar for humans, but the back rooms are where the feeding takes place. The moment you slip into the back room, all eyes are on you, wide with wonder.

The atmosphere is tense; wary. Do they recognize you? Instinctively, you keep yourself a bit in front of Natasha with a dangerous expression on your features. You can sense Natasha’s own apprehension and confusion, but she doesn’t show it. (You doubt she’d ever show an ounce of fear in front of these monsters.)

You take careful strides through the small lounge. Sofas and loveseats made of black leather line the walls, occasionally separated by a half wall. The tables have a few drinks and snacks for the Feeders, but not many of them look touched. As you predicted, the Feeders are wearing red, and are blissed out at the sides of their vampiric companions, who watch over them with mixed, unreadable expressions.

It’s like they’re afraid of you. Like there’s an unspoken unease the second they see you. The smell of blood is everywhere, clouding your mind just a little as your thirst begins to burn at your throat. You’ve never fed from a human before - never considered the idea of it - but suddenly it’s too tantalizing not to think about. You try to hold your breath to fight the effects of it, but it does little to soothe the ache in your throat. Natasha’s arm loops through yours, her emerald eyes shining with concern.

You lead Natasha to a less populated cubicle, where a boy and his Feeder are sitting comfortably. The woman beside him looks half-conscious, a bit of blood drying at the edges of her dress. He wipes his lips with a napkin, almost delicately, before looking up as you approach. His eyes widen, his posture stiffening when you and Natasha take your places at the empty loveseat.

“Hello,” you greet, hoping you sound friendly despite your apprehension.

He swallows, licks his lips. His extended fangs glint just a little bit as he tries to flash a nervous smile in return. “I’ve never seen you ‘round these parts before,” he speaks in a light British accent, hardly noticeable. He’s been around a while, you assume. Long enough that his accent has begun to fade to an American one. “We don’t often get newcomers.”

“Well, I’ve only been in America for a few weeks,” you explain, releasing Natasha’s arm so you can wrap your own around her waist and pull her closer.

“And you’ve found yourself a Feeder already?” He looks at Natasha with interest. “A beauty, too.”

“I’m a dedicated sort of woman, I suppose,” you hope you’re conveying as much ownership as possible. If you aren’t careful, he might try and coerce Natasha into letting him feed and that is something you’re trying to avoid at all costs. “Tell me, who is the Overseer of this place?”

He looks nervous, suddenly. He looks away, towards a door further back into the lounge. “She doesn’t much like visitors.”

“I see…” You hum thoughtfully. That’s not good. “Well, it’s been quite a while since I was around others of my kind.”

“Yeah, I hear Europe has gone dry since that Helsing heir went crazy.” He snorts. You try to control your body from its natural reaction, to little avail.

“Helsing,” you remark curiously. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods, grinning fully now. “Legend says she fought the King Himself. But I don’t think she realized what she was doing,” he chuckles to himself. “She freed us from His grasp. We aren’t His servants anymore.”

You frown, interest sufficiently piqued. “Is that so?”

“Of course! Don’t you feel it? No darkness, no hate…” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Imagine that, a Helsing saving us? Can you believe it?”

“No,” you force a grin onto your face. “No, I can’t.” You glance at Natasha, who looks just as shocked as you. “That’s actually why I’m here. I’ve been… very interested in the disappearance of the King, and the odds of a reappearance.”

He looks disarmed, uncomfortable. He looks at his Feeder longingly. “Well, miss, I don't know about that. I think we’d all have felt it by now. But, I’m still young. Only turned in the forties.” He shrugs.

“Do you know anyone who might know more?” You press.

“Benjamin!” Someone scolds. You look up to find a stern-looking blonde, who’s glaring at the boy you’d been speaking with. “You didn’t tell me we had newcomers.” Her glare is dangerous, her tone sickeningly sweet. She wipes a bit of blood off the corner of her mouth. “What did I tell you about newcomers?”

“S-sorry, Thalia. This is- ah, I didn’t catch your name?” Benjamin eyes you with panic.

Shit. “Uh-”

“Willa. Her name is Willa and I’m Natasha,” Natasha quickly saves. You give her a grateful smile before the blonde named Thalia scoffs.

“She’s from Europe,” Benjamin adds, cringing at Thalia’s expression.

“Didn’t realize they let their bloodwhores talk.”

Uh oh. This is escalating quickly. Before Natasha can open her mouth again you interrupt sharply, “She’s my lover, actually.” Okay, not a good save judging by the gawking expressions on their faces.

“You can actually control yourself?” Benjamin inquires, a little in awe.

Why did I say that?? “Yeah, uh, can’t you?” Terrible save. Cover? Blown. Maybe you aren’t cut out for this new world, after all.

Thalia’s interest falls on you, at last. She studies you for a long moment, then turns to Natasha with open curiosity. The redhead doesn’t waver under those blood-red eyes, but you’re sure it’s making her uneasy.

“I don’t see any marks on her neck,” Thalia notes, though not nearly as scrutinizing as she has been since you met her.

“They’re… other places.” You excuse, rather lamely. To your relief, Natasha’s blush is enough to make it believable.

Benjamin and Thalia both exchange nervous looks before laughing.

“You are a strange one,” Thalia comments, looking over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “Come with me. Both of you.” Benjamin gets ready to stand, but quickly sinks back into his seat when Thalia gives him a warning look.

You grab Natasha’s hand, slotting your fingers together as you follow the woman through the rest of the lounge room. She leads you to what could have, at one point, been an office. Now, however, it’s some kind of small room full of comfortable chairs and numerous Feeders either napping or draped across the furniture with dazed expressions.

“You always keep them in here?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as the heavy door shuts behind you.

“Oh, you can drop the act,” Thalia crosses her arms and faces you with a wicked expression, lips curled into a smirk.

Your stomach drops. “W-what?”

“Please, I could sense you the moment you entered my Den.” She rolls her eyes, flashes her fangs. She looks hungrily at Natasha. “Nice touch, though; bringing the redhead.”

“Who are-”

“You don’t remember me?” Thalia tilts her head, jutting her bottom lip out in a pout. “And I thought I left quite the impression.”

You wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion. Come to think of it, yes, she does look rather familiar. But where have you seen her before? Your jaw goes slack as you recognize her. “Elizabet? Elizabet Petrikov?”

“In the flesh,” she motions towards her body with a sarcastic bark of laughter. “After you left to follow daddy, I got a little… mixed up in the wrong crowd.”

“Yeah, clearly.” You scoff, holding Natasha a bit closer to you.

“Who is she?” The redhead asks, confused.

“She was a witch.” You narrow your eyes at her. “Now, she isn’t.”

“I was more than a witch.” Her tone grows sour. “I helped you more than once, if I recall correctly - which I do.”

“Why are you here? In America?” You press.

She rolls her eyes with a noncommittal shrug. “After the death of the King, and your little path of death and destruction, most of the supernaturals in Europe retreated back to the Underworld.”

“You didn’t.”

“Death doesn’t suit me.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’m not the only one from the old days still around. I’m more interested in how you, a Helsing - no, the Helsing - are standing in front of me right here, right now, in the body of the creature you despise?”

“Long story.” You grumble.

“Oh, I know the story,” she grins. “It’s a legend among us, you know. You’re a legend.”

“I still don’t understand that.”

She tuts, approaches one of her more coherent Feeders with swaying hips. Her fingers cup his jaw, tilting his face up to look at her. He smiles, brightly, and she croons softly at him. “I know you don’t.”

“You sound like you do know.” You accuse.

She turns to you, holding up a palm. “You know I don’t give my information for free.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I want a taste of your friend,” she eyes Natasha hungrily again.

You step in front of her. “No.”

“You can’t take the high-and-mighty road anymore,” Elizabet snorts. “You’re one of us now, and it’s only custom to participate in the rules of the Den.”

You scowl at her. “I’m not letting you feed from her.”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “Then you will leave with nothing. It’s obvious you came here for something, and you won’t get it until I know you’re one of us.”

“I’m not-”

Natasha says your name softly. You look at her with panic. “Why don’t you do it instead?” She asks in a hushed tone, though Elizabet or Thalia or whatever she wants to be called now can hear her.

“Is- is that okay?” You ask, frowning. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to like… fuck your head up.”

“Trust me,” she gives an encouraging smile. “I trust you.”

You look back to Elizabet. “Fine. If I feed from her, will you tell me whatever bullshit you have to tell me?”

Elizabet grins. “Watching you commit the biggest sin your old man could think of? Absolutely.”

You turn to Natasha again, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be quick, and I’ll be gentle.” You remove your hand from hers to place it firmly at her waist, the other moving to thread through long, coppery locks. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yup, perfectly fine,” Natasha’s voice cracks just a little, her eyes meeting yours as she gently tilts her head to the side. The sight should not be as attractive as it is - especially given your current situation - but there’s no denying the thrilling buzz that rolls through you at the sight.

You lower your lips to her neck, hearing her breath hitch as you give a gentle tug at her hair to expose more. You feel her pulse thrumming beneath warm skin, effectively clouding your mind into a numb sort of haze. It’s difficult to control the way your breath picks up, your pupils dilating just as your fangs extend and pierce Natasha’s skin.

She sucks in a harsh breath before letting out an involuntary groan. You feel her fingers digging into your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as the first droplets of blood land on your tongue.

You almost moan at the feeling.

You almost have to force yourself to run your tongue over the puncture wounds before pulling away. You place a more gentle kiss on them before pulling away entirely, watching the redhead’s features for any sign of discomfort or pain. Instead, a smile is beginning to stretch across her red-painted lips.

Green eyes meet yours, and they’re cloudy. “Oh, wow,” she breathes, almost uneasily.

“Even a small dose can leave ‘em loopy,” Elizabet notes, still smirking. You release Natasha’s hair, but keep an arm around her waist when you turn back to the blonde. Natasha leans into you with a pleased hum. “Kind of neat, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t come here to chitchat.”

“You were always so focused on business,” Elizabet leans back down to the Feeder still in her grasp and feeds from him roughly. He grunts, then sighs, limbs going slack until she pulls away.

“When business involves myself becoming a revered legend among the creatures I spent my whole life killing, yes, I’m rather focused on it.” You hiss.

She rolls her eyes again. “I don’t know much about the legend itself. That is to say, I know approximately as much about it now as I did a century ago.”

Maybe it’s the rush of energy that had come to you by drinking Natasha’s blood, but you’re suddenly finding yourself far easier to anger. “You knew?” You snarl.

She waves her hand noncommittally. “I knew of a legend involving the Vampire King. I simply didn’t know who it involved.”

“And what was this legend?” It couldn’t have been the one he so vehemently believed in, could it? You never quite learned the entirety of it, though you wish you did, now. No doubt your father died knowing it like the back of his hand.

“I said I know of it,” she repeats, scoffing. “You haven’t changed, you know that? So impatient.” Before you open your mouth to retort, she speaks again: “But I do know someone who is well-versed in it. She’s quite famous in Paris, at the moment, but I know you have your ways.” She winks mischievously at you before moving to a nearby bookshelf. She tears off a piece of paper from a notebook, writes something down on it before handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you don’t hide your annoyance as you take it and stuff it into your bra.

“Consider it a favor for old times’ sake.” Elizabet eyes Natasha again, licking her lips. “If you come around again, be sure to bring her.”

You will definitely not be doing that. Ever.

You slip out of the room with Natasha in tow, still slow in her movements. You consider carrying her, but before you can do so, she bumps into a man’s shoulder. He turns to her with a wild anger in his gaze.

“Watch it, bloodwhore,” he spits.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve shoved the man to the ground and have your heel pressed sharply into his back. “Listen here, schmuck, I’ve had a hell of a night. I will not let you talk like that to my friend here.” You press harder into him. “Now, apologize.”

He looks absolutely scared shitless. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he knew who you are, but there’s no recognition in his gaze. Just fear. Like he’s pissed off the King of Vampires himself.

“S-sorry, miss,” he stammers, looking at Natasha with terror.

Natasha giggles, a sound that is so much unlike her that you can’t help staring at her in horror. “God, you’re strong,” the redhead practically purrs, returning to your side as if you hadn’t just thrown a man to the ground.

“Right,” you remove your heel. “Goodnight, then.”

Once you’re back out into the evening air, Natasha seems to clear her head a little. She looks at you with open curiosity, though when your eyes meet, she blushes and looks away. Her heart is hammering wildly in her chest.

“Okay,” you say once you’re a fair distance from the club. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing!” She clears her throat, blushing even harder. “It’s just- ah, I didn’t think… it would feel like that.”

“Yeah, well, you saw the people in there.” You suppress a shudder. “You don’t want to end up like that.”

“No, I know,” she looks away. “But, um… I mean, it felt… great, and I’m glad it was with you, and not… her.” She pauses. “How do you know her, anyway?”

“Why, are you jealous?”

“No!” Natasha rolls her eyes as you find your automobile. Er, car, as they call it these days. “I’m just curious.”

“We met through work,” you shrug. “Witches were open to more… sapphic activities, wherein others in society were not.” You leave it at that, opening the driver’s side door. “Are you alright to drive?”

She scoffs. “I’m fine. I just feel like I had an orgasm, though.”

You actually choke at that. “What?”

Her eyes widen. “I thought you knew what it felt like?”

“Harkon didn’t exactly consider giving me a dose of endorphins when he bit me. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to suffer.”

“Oh,” she starts the car once you get in. “Well, it feels really, really good. My arms and legs are still a little jelly-ish.”

You snort. “Well, next time I feel like giving a woman an unintentional orgasm, I’ll let you know.”

“Why don’t you make it intentional?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Romanoff. We’ve got a lead to follow up on.”

- - - - next chapter - - - -

♡ Tags ♡ @nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @blackxwidowsxwife @bebe404 @fayhar @darkangelxoxo

328 notes · View notes

drabsyo · 3 years

Note

Drabs, I know that you usually draw Fleur with slightly darker blonde hair than Narcissa. Was it a choice so that it’s easier to distinguish them from each other or was your Fleur maybe slightly influenced by the actress from the movie who had darker hair?

In the books Fleur didn’t seem to have much description other than having long silvery hair (waist length?) and having this glow around her. So like with Narcissa, what works have influenced your design of Fleur?

It’s fascinating sometimes to read the artist’s perspective and your previous reply to the anon about Narcissa has been very interesting.

Thank you!!! 🥺

I was actually pretty embarrassed over how enthusiastic I got over the whole hair thing, but I'm glad it made some sense at least 😂 And now that I've been given even more reason to talk about it... (Let's face it, I shouldn't even be allowed on this website to begin with, ya'll have been way too nice to me.)

Only click on keep reading if you want to read Some Nonsense.

I did consider Fleur's actress when I thought about her hair color. Though I pictured it to be something of a mix between movie Fleur and Elsa’s (from Frozen) hair. But the way I drew Fleur's hair, the way it falls across her shoulders, that was more of... well, I imagined Fleur to have effortlessly perfect hair, like she doesn't seem to need to style it so much because it's already whimsical as it is, what with her being part-Veela. There were a lot of fanfictions that helped me to sort of see a better image of Fleur in my head so really, I owe it to all the talented writers out there!

It's also the same with Narcissa's case. Though I decided to give her paler hair, compared to Fleur's, because I wanted to emphasize that air of vulnerability Narcissa has—this image she conjures, like she's this fragile thing made of glass, which typically in fanfiction is what Narcissa uses so that Voldemort would overlook her a lot, hence why she wasn't given any "missions" or "tasks" while Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor. Slytherin preservation. This "fragile" image was something Narcissa capitalized on and maintained perfectly, but in post-war Cissamione fanfictions, she no longer has to put on that façade—she starts living for herself, but the quiet sadness about her never really goes away.

I really did struggle at first, I had to find a way where I could draw them without confusing people and myself.

So, again, I sifted through a lot of canon and non canon material about these two characters which funnily enough made me see some kind of parallel going on between them. I know. Fleur Delacour and Narcissa Black. Parallels?! It's nuts. But again, this is only within Fleurmione and Cissamione fanfiction, and it really helped me to draw them better. (At least in a way that made them distinguishable from one other at first glance, I’d like to think.)

These 'hair scenes' are mostly the bits where Hermione "first" sees Fleur. Hermione is entranced, a little curious, sometimes she feels indifferent, but the general theme is Hermione immediately finds Fleur beautiful—which probably explains why Hermione in fanfiction sometimes thinks Narcissa could be part-Veela like Fleur. And as you can imagine, that's where my struggle began.

You'll see what I mean in a minute. And just like last time, remember that this part comes with spoilers.

🔹 In Fighting is our form of Flirting by InsomniacAndBi in Chapter 2 Hermione sees Fleur for the first time. This is the first Fleurmione fanfiction I've ever read, and also the first time I've encountered Fleur's character. Tall, bright blonde hair, won the genetic lottery, aristocratic features, face held in a scowl, floats into the room with effortless poise, immediately starts demanding things out of people... Sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it. Like some other blonde we know.

"Non!" A voice from the doorway said. "This is not what was agreed."

For a moment, Hermione thought about ignoring it but turned to glance over there if only to quell her curiosity. A girl stepped into the room and Hermione's phone call was forgotten in a moment. She knew that it wasn't nice to stare but Hermione couldn't help but do it because, in all honesty, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She was definitely taller than Hermione was, with bright blonde hair and...clearly she had won the genetic lottery.

Her skin practically glowed and it looked so smooth and soft. It made Hermione wonder if she used those fancy beautification charms or had a very lengthy skincare routine. Or maybe, just maybe, this is what being rich did to people's faces. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that this girl was rich - like extremely rich, like even rich people thought she was rich. That kind of rich. That was the type of rich that this girl was.

Also, only super rich people curled up their lip like this girl was doing.

She breezed into the room like she was floating and Hermione hastily ended her phone call and promised to call back later.

"This is not what was agreed," The girl said again and Hermione felt incredibly small sitting in front of her. Not to mention, the girl's clothes screamed 'I'm rich and I know it' and Hermione's screamed 'I'm so out of place that I might as well be a bull in a China shop'.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione managed to get out when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for her response.

"You are English." The girl looked shock for a moment at Hermione's accent before shaking her head angrily. "This is not what was agreed."

🔹 In Oath of Silver by i_shall_wear_midnight immediately in the first chapter, when Witcher Hermione first meets Fleur, it's something Hermione quickly notices. Vivid sapphire eyes. Silvery blonde hair that shimmered in the torchlight. And once again, right off the bat, Fleur is pushy. She wants things done her way. It’s just so cute how she doesn’t even let the fact that Hermione is a Witcher, an extremely dangerous outcast in society, get in the way of that.

(I'm sorry for this but I just have to gush about Oath of Silver. Hermione as a witcher is just so fitting for her character; she possesses that natural eye for detail that remarkable witchers have, witchers like Geralt and Vesimir (a skill that gets even more honed through the Witcher Trials). Hermione even has Geralt's dry sense of humor, a bit rough around the edges, brilliant, snippy without really meaning to (because she asks a lot of questions and would rather get to the point), but has a good heart.)

The witcher figured that would be the end of her human interactions for the evening, but only a few minutes later, the stunning newcomer from before appeared before her. Upon closer inspection, Hermione couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be conspicuous in any group of people she happened to find herself immersed in. The woman was looking back at her with vivid sapphire eyes, and silvery blonde hair that shimmered even in torchlight. Her attire was travel-ready, but elegant.

“Bonsoir. You are a witcher, oui? Or perhaps a ‘witcheress’ is more accurate? I am not familiar with all the terms…” She watched the beautiful stranger patiently while she fumbled through Hermione’s professional title. As if the distinctive, amber colored cat-eyes hadn’t given her away, the brunette mused wryly. Eventually, the blonde gave up and sat herself down at Hermione’s table, her medallion twitching faintly as the stranger got settled. Hermione filed that away for later. Her new dinner buddy seemed to be oblivious to the curious and concerned looks now being thrown her way at boldly taking a seat at a mutant’s table.

“I came from Ellander,” she began in a non sequitur. “The temple, and spoke to the priestess Nenneke, who told me about you.” Hermione continued eating her second serving of stew and waited for her to get to the point. “I would like to hire you as an escort as I travel back to Toussaint.” The witcher finally put her spoon down.

“Sounds like you ought to be asking some mercenaries to be your bodyguards,” she responded, eyeing the bow the woman was carrying on her pack meaningfully.

“A pair seems doable, and I’d prefer you.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Yes, technically, I am aware,” she replied, beginning to show signs of impatience.

“Then why are you soliciting a monster-slayer?”

🔹 Witnessed here in Time and Blood by whistle.the.silver is probably the most interesting one because it uses the concept of Veela hair as a wand core brilliantly. Again, this comes with huge 🛑spoilers🛑. Read the italicized words at your own risk. I can't add the entire clip here, as the topic of Fleur's hair is littered throughout several other chapters. But this story shows us a Fleur who is willing to do anything in order to protect Hermione during the course of the war.

My memory is a bit foggy, I haven't read this story in months, but here's what I remember:

This takes place during the time of Shell Cottage, where Fleur is married to Bill and takes care of Hermione. Fleur didn't expect to fall in love with the young brunette and, as the Golden Trio's time in Shell Cottage comes to an end, she worries over Hermione's safety. Fleur, using magic only known to the Veela tribes, does her best to offer Hermione protection in any way that she can--even going as far as to study what Lily Potter did so Harry could live. At one point, Fleur cuts her own hair with a length now roughly above her shoulders to give Hermione a new wand. But this isn't the only bridge Fleur is willing to cross to make sure Hermione survives the incoming battle. Fleur's grandmother, Ron, and even Bill himself, is a little sceptic over the propriety of Fleur's actions, but Fleur is determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione makes it out of the war safe and alive.

So that was a lot to wade through, I know.

But if you've skipped all those parts for the sake of missing spoilers then let me go ahead and explain why the parallel between Fleur and Narcissa are there. Sure, it's plain to see that they have similar physical characteristics, but they're also similar in other ways.

In Witnessed here in Time and Blood, Fleur is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Hermione during the war: sacrifice the secrets of the Veela, make Hermione a wand, make her marriage and friendship with Bill suffer, be scrutinized by her Veela tribe, etc. And didn't Narcissa do the exact same thing during the war to make sure Draco made it out alive? They both chose to 'betray' everyone else for the sake of this one person. Not to mention, in Extinction by rubikanon Narcissa even makes Hermione a wand. (I’m telling you, there are so many parallels between these two ships and I can probably list more but I'd rather not make this post longer.)

Here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it—it’s almost like Fleur and Narcissa in fanfiction have the same love language.

A glaringly obvious difference between them is their upbringing, and we could argue that this why Fleur tends to be more open with her emotions while Narcissa tends to be more carefully guarded with hers. And I don't know if writers realize these parallels but as someone who's a huge fan of both characters and as someone who makes the occasional fanart of them, it's a pretty difficult detail to ignore. This crazy conspiracy all started because I had to find a way to make both characters look distinct from one another... It's just so interesting that writers from two different ships unknowingly make these parallels with two completely separate characters who are often at the opposite ends of the seesaw.

But again, let's take a look at Extinction by rubikanon. (I know. Extinction?! AGAIN?! Always.)

Spoiler warning!

🔹 Extinction by rubikanon has a marvelous take on this, as it turns out Fleur and Narcissa are actually good friends, and if I remember correctly, occasionally exchange letters (I’m unsure about this bit, I might have read it in a different story). They just get along remarkably well; I imagine they both share a kind of mutual respect for each other, a quiet understanding for the way the other woman carries herself: poised, meticulous, they pride themselves in their work, they both know how to handle an Ocean Of Secrets™, they're both accustomed to being under the spotlight of the public eye, and they’re both dedicated to their loved ones. Needless to say, Fleur and Narcissa are both giddy over the prospect of being with someone they love and adore, and end up meticulously planning numerous (I think it was hinted) double dates (Fleur with Bill, and Narcissa with Hermione) with the same kind of endearing enthusiasm that leave Hermione and Bill with no choice but to agree to the whims of their respective lovers.

(Scene seen in Chapter 23: Build Up Your Defense 2 of 2)

Narcissa and (Hermione) I were sitting together on one of the couches when Bill and Fleur arrived later. They showered Teddy with kisses on his little cheeks. He'd gotten past his clingy phase and adored us all, struggling to walk around the room by bracing himself on everyone's knees.

Suddenly Narcissa reached up and grabbed onto someone's wrist behind her head. "Don't even think about it," she said.

"That's just scary. How did you know I was there?" George stood up from behind the couch, a toy spider dangling from his hand. Teddy shrieked with laughter.

"She has eyes in the back of her head," Draco said.

"Mothers," George grumbled, sitting down close to Angelina. "Dump her, Hermione. I need you to date someone more prankable."

Fleur looked in surprise at the two of us on the couch. "Oh, la vache! How did I not know zees? You are lovers?"

"We're dating," I said mildly, though we really were lovers. In every sense. I glanced at Narcissa and bit my lip as heat spread through me. My imagination started planning a middle-of-the-night rendezvous.

"No wonder she (Narcissa) was so adamant about healing that curse," Bill said thoughtfully.

"Adorable! Simply adorable!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down on Narcissa's other side. "We must go out for a double date next week, all four of us. We'll dine at L'Escargot!"

Narcissa's eyes lit up.

"Oh, no," I said.

"You won't have to eat snails," Narcissa said. "Please, mon amour?"

"French doesn't work on me."

"Please?" She kissed my cheek again and again. "Please? Please?"

Laughing now, I pulled her in for a kiss on the lips and said, "Yes, alright. But only because I have fond memories of trying new foods with you."

"As do I," she agreed.

Then we realized everyone was staring. Narcissa cleared her throat and straightened up, blushing. Draco made a face. Ginny looked a little more favorable. Harry held in laughter, and Andromeda hid her camera.

"Adorable!" Fleur declared again.

🔹 Also, I just have to add Sugar and Spice by waltzlikeits1698 because Chapter 4: Happy Birthday, Harry is absolutely hysterical. During Harry's birthday party, Hermione sulks in a corner because Fleur has apparently been avoiding her. Ginny decides to do something barking mad, something Hermione typically falls for.

“Ooh, someone’s grouchy,” Ginny teased, retracting her arm and facing Hermione fully. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione insisted, although even she could hear the pout in her voice.

“Sure seems like it,” she snarked, summoning two shots and offering one to Hermione with a waggle of her eyebrows. Hermione pulled a face and Ginny shrugged before downing both, one after the other. (...) “You know, I spotted a tall, blonde drink of water hanging around the stairs.”

“What!?” Hermione exclaimed, whirling around and leaning out of the room to look at the staircase. Sure enough, standing at the bottom and resting a slender hand on the bannister was a tall, blonde witch who made Hermione’s heart stop with her mere presence. She had started forward before she knew it, her heart taking up an even quicker beat as she crossed the few steps and reached out a hand to clasp her elbow. The woman turned, that beautiful blonde hair catching the candlelight as it moved in one long sheet.

Hermione retracted her hand in horror, her eyes widening. “Mrs Malfoy!?”

Narcissa Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the witch who had practically accosted her. “Miss Granger. Can I help?”

What was she even doing here?

“Uh,” Hermione said dumbly, “sorry, I just… need the loo. Can I-?”

She gestured lamely to the staircase. Both women stared at the perfectly reasonable gap that Hermione could easily pass through. The moment stretched on.

Slowly, Narcissa returned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione, who squirmed uncomfortably in response. She then took a small step to the side and gestured for Hermione to pass. She did so and, as she turned the corner of the staircase, sent a deadly glare at Ginny, who was practically pissing herself with laughter.

(...)

Fleur had arrived. Hermione couldn’t explain exactly how she could tell, considering she had been in the duplicated bathroom for the last ten minutes after humiliating herself in front of Narcissa, but she knew it like she knew that it was levi-O-sa.

(...) (Hermione) She tried to avoid eye contact with Narcissa on the way back down and was thoroughly unsuccessful: the witch had physically reached out and laid her own hand over Hermione’s on the bannister, forcing her to stop and look up. Then, with an intention behind her eyes that Hermione had neither the brain capacity nor the energy to delve into, she said “It’s Ms Black now.”

Then she had released Hermione’s hand and turned back to her conversation with Andromeda and two wizards Hermione didn’t recognise.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of people Hermione didn’t recognise.

Anyway, long story short, this is the result of reading both Fleurmione and Cissamione—

But RIGHT. At the end of the day, again, these are just some crazy little things I picked up on and I may or may not be right, no one has to agree with me, everyone can disagree with me. Actually, yes feel free to disagree with me. I need to get out of this damn site and you know, touch grass.

Okay. Well. I'm gonna stop here now. So. Bye. But thank you anon for this lovely ask!! I’m really touched that you wanted to know what inspired the way I drew Fleur 🥺💕💖 But still. So sorry for this massive word vomit!! 😂

#fleurmione #cissamione #fleur delacour #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #hermione granger #stupid rants #drabstuff #yall im telling you im the mad scientist but remove all the science

78 notes · View notes

bl--ankhaeji · 3 years

Text

Picture Perfect

Pairing ~ Johnny x reader

Genre ~ Smut,,some fluff but mostly smut

Warning ~ uhh unprotected sex,,creampie,,very vulgar probably the most i’ve been with a smut so far,,a sprinkle of degradation and praise here and there,,

A/N ~ I wrote this in a couple of hours after inspiration struck,,uhh if you ask me this probably the most graphic smut i’ve written so far,,i really should be focusing on finishing my other shit that I already started but what can ya do 🤷🏽‍♀️,,sorry to the people who are waiting on me to finish shit

W.Count ~ 2.2k

Pulling into the driveway you see the car’s headlights illuminate the quaint house. It’s as if you can feel your heart about to leap out of your chest, the anxiety from meeting his parents for the first time is almost overwhelming. That’s when you feel his hand grab yours tightening his grip a silent way of reassuring you that everything will be fine. “Babe, calm down I can practically hear the alarms going off in your head. Everything will be fine, I promise they’ll love you almost as much as I do.” his hand squeezes yours once more before you see the door to the house open a small kind looking Asian woman sticking her head to see who is outside.

“It's time.” you think to yourself taking in and releasing a deep breath. You see out of the corner of your eye your boyfriend of 2 years stepping out of the car, making his way to your side. The crisp night air that hits your exposed skin brings a chill before you see his hand reach into the car and his loving gaze sets on you. You both make your way to the still open door hand in hand and it’s like your soul leaves your body as the older woman takes you into her arms immediately.

“Y/n, oh my gosh it’s so nice to finally meet the girl I can’t stop hearing about.” You feel safe and at home in her loving arms and suddenly you’re not so scared anymore. She loosens her grip on your body standing back a little to survey your face. “You’re just as beautiful as I’ve been told.” she says and the smile on her face anything but malicious.

“Wow mom I can’t believe you just skipped over me like that. It’s not like I’m your son or anything.” you can practically hear the eye roll in his words as they leave his mouth.

“Ohhh my John-ah you know I love you my big baby.” and you feel the warmth from Johnny’s mom’s hug evaporate as she wraps her arms around her son. “Oh my god why are we still outside. Come in, come in.”

Inside you meet Johnny’s father and the apparent creator of coffee. Having to stifle a laugh when you are reminded of the time Johnny told you about that. Safe to say after meeting both of his parents you come to the conclusion that you had no reason to believe they wouldn’t like you. Throughout the night you even believed at some points Johnny’s parents were more excited to see you than their own son. Which also did not go unnoticed by Johnny who made sure to voice his discontent.

“Babe I told you, you didn’t have anything to worry about.” You both were on the way back to your shared apartment. It being late and the exhaustion that came from stressing over meeting Johnny’s parents made you pretty tired. “They loved you, I think even more than me.” he quips, his jovial laugh filling the expanse of the car.

“Yea, your mom wouldn’t stop complimenting me, I was starting to get flustered. At least now I can see where you get all of your charisma.” you chuckle placing your hand on his that sat on top of the gear shifter.

A pout makes its way onto his handsome face as you notice yourselves about to pull into your apartment complex, “I was a little salty to see my mom take my job for the night. I didn’t get to flirt with you nearly as much as I would’ve liked.” Squeezing his hand you reach into your purse grabbing the keys to the door.

“It’s ok, you have me for the rest of your life so you can make it up to me.” you say not fully hearing what you just implied, but Johnny heard you, loud and clear. Making your way into your apartment you instantly kick off your shoes at the door, happy that you can finally change into something more comfortable.

You and Johnny both walk into your bedroom Johnny making his way to the bathroom whilst you stand in front of your vanity taking off the clothes and jewelry you had put on for tonight. After stripping down to nothing but your bra and panties you’re in the process of taking off your necklace when Johnny walks out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear. “God Bless Calvin Klein.” you think as he walks across the room to the closet as if it was nothing, and it usually is but tonight it wasn’t.

You lower your upper half onto your forearms, bent over the vanity, “My, what a,” you gesture to his lower regions, “Nice sized bulge you have there.” looking into his eyes through the mirror with hopefully all the lust you currently feel. Johnny stops mid stride and looks at you, his face twisted in confusion before he sees the look in your eyes and you watch as a cocky smirk makes its way onto his face.

“Why thank you, I work it out to make sure that when it grows it’s all nice and strong.” The words fall from his lips like its second nature, playing along with what you started. You step closer to male, so close that you can feel his body heat radiate from his skin.

“You wouldn’t mind if I,” Leaning towards his ear you make sure to lower your voice to the most seductive tone you can imagine , “Take a look.” the breath from your words ghost over his ear and you slowly run your tongue up the expanse of his outer ear before landing a kiss on his neck.

You can feel the low rumble in his chest before you hear it. His hands grip your sides before they make their way to your shoulders and he makes you stand face to face with him, “Be my guest.”

Your body lowers itself before you can even realize what’s happening. Once on your knees you pull Johnny’s underwear down in one fell swoop. “You have one, lovely cock here if I do say so myself.” you drag on,“I have the burning urge to put it in my mouth,” licking your lips you look at the man standing over you, “Can I?”

A grin etches itself onto Johnny’s face and you can see in his eyes that he is having too much fun with this. “Well that is why I work it out ma’am so please do.” Johnny’s words are like fine wine and they are most definitely getting you drunk. You take the hardening cock into your hands guiding it into your mouth. Even when not at full mass Johnny still has a monster of a dick and you feel that at times like these when he stretched your mouth to its limit. Working your tongue down his cock you make sure to not leave one spot untouched.

Your hands find a home on his thighs gripping to steady yourself. Knowing Johnny’s cock like the back of your hand you instantly flick one of his sweet spots under the head. You can feel the wetness building up in your panties and when you massage Johnny’s balls pulling a delicious groan from him you feel like you can’t get any wetter. “Shit miss, you sure know how to suck cock. I think it’s my lucky day to have stumbled upon a slut like you, huh?” He caresses the bulge in your cheek from his dick.

All you can give is a Mhmm taking him deeper into your mouth whilst sucking harder you hear him moan and his hand travels from your cheek to your throat cupping it where his dick bulges. “Fuck, you love my dick in your throat huh? You were so hungry for cock that you have to ask the first man you see if you could suck it.” He takes you off of his dick as you watch the line of saliva connecting you and the head of his dick.

Johnny pulls you up and gives your face a once over, no doubt he’s looking at your swollen lips envisioning them still around cock. He picks you up sitting you on top of your vanity, his forehead rests on yours, “I have to get a taste of you.” he all but forces out of his mouth.

Your hands make their way to his shoulders gripping them in desperation, “No, w-we can do that later. But now I just want you to fuck me, please.” you speak, lips grazing against his. Johnny takes a rough kiss from your lips pulling your underwear down and taking your bra off. He slides a finger into your dripping hole before working in two more. A moan drips off of your lips like honey followed by a whine, frustrated that it’s his fingers and not something else.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get my dick in here.” and although his mouth said one thing his actions said another, removing his fingers he grabs his cock rubbing it up and down your slit before positioning it at your entrance, but instead of pushing in fully he only pushes the tip in before taking it back out again. He keeps doing that, making you restless.

“Sir, mmm please. Stick it in, please.” your legs wrap around his waist as your hips start moving trying to figure out any way it can get his cock in your cunt. He lowers his head to your neck, biting and sucking fully knowing of the marks that’ll be left behind. Against your neck you feel his tongue lick under your jawbone.

“Mmm at least this slut knows how to beg. Maybe I’ll grant your wish but I’ll need clearer instructions first, what exactly do you want me to do.” His warm breath ghosts across your skin and you have to find every bit of patience in you.

“I want your cock.”

“That’s good baby now tell me where.” All the while he never stops rubbing the tip of his dick up and down your slit and slightly pushing it into your wet cavern.

“F-fuck in,” taking a deep breath only being able to focus on the movement of his cock your mind goes blank, “Uh-uh fuck, I want your cock in mmm in my dirty cunt.”

“Ohh I like the way you worded that. You do have a dirty cunt don’t you baby, just letting whoever wherever use it. I could make you my personal cock sleeve and you wouldn’t mind would you?” You probably resemble a bobble head the way you vigorously nod your head. A chuckle leaves his lips and he delivers a cool kiss to your neck, “That’s my little cocksleeve.”

Like an itch being scratched you feel him push his way into your wet snatch as a moan involuntarily leaves your body and you feel him groan into your neck. His hips snap into yours at a steady pace as he delivers slow deep thrusts. “Damn, you’re like a vice. Gripping me and sucking me in,” he moves his face to be level with yours. A cocky smirk sits on his lips as he looks into your eyes, “Best damn cocksleeve out there.”

His thrusts speed up, reaching deeper every time he enters. Your moans quickly turn into babbles as he moves his hand to your clit rubbing it just the way you like. “Look at you, barely able to form coherent words just from my cock, and to think earlier tonight you portrayed the picture perfect image of a sweet girl to my parents. When in reality you’re just a picture perfect cock hungry slut.” Dropping the role he had taken on his words continue, “But no you’re not just any cock hungry slut, you’re my cock hungry slut aren’t you baby.” his unoccupied hand comes up to wrap around your throat applying just enough pressure to cut off your airways as he lays another kiss this time on your cheek.

“You’re my good little cocksleeve aren’t you?” your eyes practically roll into the bad of your head as all of the sensations come together at once, overwhelming you pushing you to the brink. You didn’t even feel your orgasmn coming, it just took over you by storm. Your body convulses and you’re so focused on the pleasure of your lower region that you don’t even feel the tears roll down your cheeks Johnny lovingly kissing the salty beads of water away. “That’s it baby, cum for me. You’re doing so good.”

“Shit, you’re so tight. I-I’m about to cum.” He alerts you of his impending orgasmn, “Take it baby, take my cum.” His arm comes up to the wall behind you supporting himself as his sentence is punctuated with a moan as he forcefully cums in you creating another mini orgasm to kick off for you. You both revel in post coiatal bliss as Johnny lets you down, and your legs almost instantly give out having been turned to jello. You walk against the wall in order to make it to the bathroom so you can pee.

Walking back in you see that Johnny has moved towards the bed the post nut clarity still in the forefront of his mind. You crawl under the covers and onto Johnny. You almost doze off to sleep until you hear his voice, “You want to get married?”.

#nct #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #johnny smut #nct smut #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #johnny suh #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #johnny imagines #MY STORIES #nct imagines #nct scenarios

325 notes · View notes

failedskillcheck · 3 years

Text

Change with the Tides (Part 1/??)

A/N: Hiya! This is a little thing that I wanted to write, where the reader is a changeling wizard/rouge working for the Gentleman and joins the Mighty Nein! This takes place around 2x14-2x16. I’ll probably write it for the whole campaign.

You grew up in the various orphanages of Wildemont, starting in Port Damali, then Alfeild, Nogvurot, Trostenwald, Rexxentrum, and Deastock, eventually ending up in Zadash.

Due to your race, people found it hard to trust you. You didn’t really blame them, you had been picking pockets since you were seven. In Alfeild, you managed to steal a few spellbooks off of a traveller and began teaching yourself magic. Mostly Illusion spells, but you got your hand on some water-based magic as well.

When you grew out of the system, you were in Zadash, so you went about looking for the Gentleman. By the time you were 23, you had a secure career with him.

That is until a group barged into the underground bar, a strange collection of individuals calling themselves the Mighty Nein… but there were only seven.

From your seat at the bar, you couldn’t see them. You subtly put up your usual disguise, a human woman with brown hair and dark eyes, except you keep the hair a platinum blonde, the closest colour to your true form.

Cree noted one of the adventurers, a purple teifling she called Lucien. The man was a literal peacock. In fact, you’re pretty sure you saw a peacock tattoo creeping up his neck. You noted the others. An aloof half-orc, an energetic blue teifling, a massive woman who could probably crush you, a human woman in Cobalt Soul blue, and a human man in dirty brown clothing, sticking close to a small goblin. The goblin surprised you. You were all too aware of what people thought of monstrous races like hers.

The group went to the Gentlemans’ table, and you snickered, sipping on your drink. Then, Clive comes over and leans over the bar, “He needs you.” You sigh, down the rest of your drink, and walk over to the table, knowing that the drink will be paid off later.

“What’s up Boss?” You say as you reach the table, grabbing the chair closest to him. You’re his best employee. He knows that, everyone here knows that. There’s very little you can’t get away with.

“Ah, Y/N. Meet the Mighty Nein. You may recognize those two,” he gestures to the purple teifling and the monk, “as the two who murdered the High-Rictor. They’ve agreed to do me a favour, in exchange for me clearing their names.”

“So you’re the sorry sods he’s making go to that blasted facility,” you turned your head to the Gentleman, “Let me guess, I’m going with them?”

“You are the one who found it.”

“So when do we leave?” You asked, looking back at the group, who all seemed to be talking to one another. All of them except for the half-orc, who was instead watching you.

“Tomorrow, we need to prepare first.”

The Gentleman waved you off, and you went to your bed in the upper part of the Evening Nip, then preparing some things for your mission tomorrow. You went down to the bar, waiting for the Mighty Nein.

They finally arrived, and they were blindfolded and escorted to a dock, where you parted ways with you’re colleagues and rowed down the river with the Mighty Nein. You led them down the river, not talking and very aware that the half-orc and the monk were watching you. The Nein then decides to pull a race, and the goblin uses her ring of water walking. Until she hits a rock.

As she’s being pulled into the boat, you see a dark mantle drop, wrapping around her head, as well as the man and the half-orc. Luckily, you’re able to defeat them with almost no injuries.

“Those weren’t there before, I swear.” You say as the monk woman accuses you of trying to kill them. As she’s yelling at you, she stops and urges everyone to go faster due to rock monsters.

You drift downward before docking and sitting on the gravel beach as the large woman and blue teifling clear the rockslide.

“Mind telling us your name?” the half-orc asks, sitting beside you,

“Y/N,” you say, looking over, “And no, no last name. What about you?”

“I’m Fjord,” he says, then points to his party, “That there’s Beauregard and Jester. Then Mollymauk and Yasha. Those two are Caleb and Nott.” He pointed to where the goblin was braiding flowers into the man’s hair.

“Right. Apologies for the cave-in, when I first discovered this place, my group got attacked, one of them decide to destroy the wall.”

“Not a problem Y/N!” says Jester, clearing away the last rocks, “See, already cleared”

Mollymauk walks over and offers you his hand to helo you get up, as he does, he pulls you close to whisper in your ear, “Do you have any clue who I was?”

Was. Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mollymauk. “No, Cree seemed to though. So whatever little gang you two were in, I certainly wasn’t a member.”

“Something tells me there’s more to you than meets the eye Y/N, and I for one, am interested to find out what.”

Mollymauk back off at my shocked expression, walking away before saying over his shoulder, “And it’s just Molly, dear.”

We go down the stairs, through many trapped rooms (which Nott kept forgetting to check, leaving you to pick up her slack), Fjord almost falls down a pit, before finally reaching a large chamber.

The first thing you notice in the room is a teleportation circle, though it’s broken. You tell this to the Nein, which makes Caleb give you a quizzical look “And how do you know what a broken teleportation circle looks like?”

“I may be nothing more than a thief, but I am somewhat educated.”

You all begin searching around, and eventually, Caleb finds a journal written in Draconic. As you discuss it, the temperature drops and a skeletal form stretches from the group, ghastly skin stretched over its face.

“My secrets are yours.”

After that, you and the Nein launch into battle, and shockingly, you all fight very well together, working in sync.

You watched Jester sink to the ground, your own head pounding from the mental attacks. Molly charged at the undead Siff Dunder, and you shouted “Finish this Mollymauk!” as you ran towards Jester, giving her a healing potion you kept in your pocket.

The temperature drops again, cold energy emerging from a bookshelf. You can physically see Caleb remembering something, his eyes lighting. He mentions a physical form, like will o’ wisps and you swear under your breath as a series of attacks knocks Yasha unconscious. Jester is by her side instantly, healing her, before she and Beauregard pull down the bookshelf.

A large urn stands amongst pots and small cases, and Molly reaches through and destroys the urn. Siff, who was just attacking you and Fjord as you tried to distract it, disintegrates, and you both breathe a sigh of relief.

You all take a bit of time to collect yourself, and Fjord once again sits beside you, “Alright, I need to know. Why no last name?”

“Never got one.” You said, drinking from your waterskin and checking for any injuries.

“Orphan?”

“Yeah”

You notice a flash of something like sympathy on his face, and but in “I don’t need your pity. I’m perfectly fine without parents.”

“I was gonna say me too.”

You look at Fjord, “Right, sorry.”

Fjord looks like he’s about to ask another question, but you’re interrupted by Nott rubbing oil on herself and squeezing through the hole. Yasha just breaks the wall.

Why was that hot? You think to yourself

You see Nott bent over a case with her thieves tools out, trying to open a lock. Two minutes pass and you hear a gas leak and repeated coughing. “Poison,” she croaks, handing out the jewelry she found, even handing you a piece.

Beauregard searches through the urns, finding a spellbook, which she gives to Caleb. He traces some pattern in the air and finishes the spell, looking around the room. Your back is turned, but he gives you a look, nodding at Beau. You’re definitely hiding abilities other than the rouge ones you’ve displayed.

He points out a sword called the Magicians Judge, which Yasha takes. Molly, Jester, Fjord, and Beau leave to investigate further down the river, while you make camp with Caleb and Nott.

“You know magic,” Caleb says after a long stretch of silence. “How?”

A simple question, but you were reluctant to answer, Fjord already knows too much about you. “I stole some books off of a travelling wizard when I was 15. I was going to sell them, but they seemed interesting, so I taught myself.”

“How old are you?” Nott asked in between sips of her flask.

“23.” You answer, resting your head on your bag.

“What spells do you know?”

“Just a few illusions. Makes thievin’ easier.”

The interrogation seemed to stop then, and a few minutes later, the others return, and you all fall asleep.

You dream of being chased through Alfeild after stealing the books. You ran and ran, jumping on carriages until you deemed yourself far enough away. Late nights of learning magic, trying to get a hold on precious components with no money. Slowly learning.

When you woke up, you realized you shouldn’t have slept around strangers, your true form peeking through. You shift slowly back, keeping your cloak wrapped around you.

“Fjord, you have a little something right here.” Jester says, pointing out the dried blood on the corner of his mouth.”

“Oh, yeah, I grind my teeth,” Fjord explains blushing slightly as he wipes it. As he does you notice his tusks are shorter than other half-orcs you’ve seen.

Jester notices it too and starts questioning him about them. Fjord gets nervous and says “When I was younger, they used to make fun of my teeth, so I got rid of the target.”

“The kids at the orphanage?” You ground out, all too familiar with asshole kids

“Yeah, it just kinda became a habit.”

“Did you ever kill them?” Yasha asked, looking very serious,

Nott quickly became concerned “Yasha. Have you ever killed a kid?”

No answer.

Immediately, the Mighty Nein promised that if he grew them out they’d support him. You had a moment then. These people hadn’t known each other long, minus a couple of obvious pairings, but you could tell they were good people. Certainly better than the Gentleman’s goons.

You all make your way up to the Gentleman’s lair, keeping quiet. You’re lost in thought, right up until you take the blindfold off of the Nein. You pull Fjord aside before he gets to the Gentleman.

“I still have to talk to the Boss about it, but would it be alright if I maybe tagged along with you guys for a bit? You seem like good people, and I think I need a change of company.”

“I’d have to talk to the other, but I don’t have a problem with it. You’re a good fighter Y/N, we could definitely use you.”

You nod and wait for the Mighty Nein to finish the meeting with the Gentleman before you sit down with him.

“Hey, Boss?” You say, waiting for permission to speak, “I was thinking, I might try travelling around a bit. I’ve never been good at staying in one place, you know my past. And those Migh-”

The Gentleman held up a hand, and you felt the entire bar fall silent. He was going to say no, you knew it.

“Y/N, you’ve been my best employee for the last several years. Your talents are unmatchable, and I don’t think I’ll ever find a replacement. But I get it. A change of pace is always needed. Go pack up your things, and don’t worry about your bar tab, I’ll pay.” He slid a pouch of gold across the table, “Here’s a little something to start you off.”

Holy shit.

“Thank you, sir.”

The Gentleman nodded, and you ran to pack your things. Fjord said something about the Leaky Tap, so you headed over. Right away, Jester threw her arms around you.

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein!”

#mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #jester lavorre #fjord stone #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #nott the brave #Change With The Tides #fanfiction #Critical role #this wasn't supposed to be so long

49 notes · View notes

psychdelia · 3 years

Text

max showed up on his doorstep with blotchy red cheeks and puffy wet eyes, board discarded on his lawn as she pounded on the door with her free hand, holding a shoebox in the other.

“okay, okay!” steve called out as he rushed downstairs. “i’m coming! jeez.” he huffed as he opened the door, ready to bark out a what, shithead? because who else would show up to his place and pound on his door for a minute straight?

except his mouth snaps shut when he sees her shivering in the winter cold and cheeks still damp. it’s been about 4 months since billy died and he hadn’t seen max in this state for a couple months now. he thought things were getting better.

maybe not.

“max.” he frowned. “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay? are you hurt?” he asked, the panic in his tone increasing with each question.

she just shoved the box into his hands, giving him a determined look. so similar to billy’s. too similar.

“i found this in his room.” he can hear the suppressed tremble in her voice as she fights the urge to cry again. “i never gave it you because i thought maybe,” she frowns, looking down. “maybe he-“ she lets out a shaky breath. “but he never came back so it’s yours now.”

then a switch is flipped and she’s suddenly glaring up at him, yet another expression too similar to billy’s.

“you can’t tell anyone.” she clenches her shaking fists. “if you tell anyone what you find in there i swear to god steve i’ll hurt you.” her upper lip is twitching into a snarl and steve is genuinely scared of this little fiery teenager.

“jesus, max,” he sighs. “first of all, you two are way too goddamn similar for not being blood related.” he ruffles her hair with a free hand. “second of all, you can’t just tell me what’s in here?”

“no.” she shakes her head as she bats his hand away. “just,” she plays with the hem of her jacket nervously. “just keep an open mind.” she frowns. “we’re not from here. things are... different back home.” her shoulders sag a little and he can tell she misses home. misses life before hawkins. “promise you won’t tell anyone?” she looks back up at him.

he frowns as he stares at the box in his hand before nodding. “promise.”

“good.” she nods. she rubs harshly at her face with her sleeve before turning away to walk to the lawn.

“you need a ride?” he calls as she grabs her board. chuckles when she rolls her eyes, tosses back an i can get myself around, steve. then a quick thanks, though. see you around. then she’s taking off.

steve practically sprints up to his room after that. sets this mystery converse box down in front of him on the bed as he sits, unsure of what to expect. maybe porn mags? weed stash? who knows.

so, naturally, he dumps it all out on the bed. stares at the pile of magazines, books, seashells, pictures, papers. the first thing he grabs are the magazines, expecting to see a half naked chick on the cover. he freezes when he finds a half naked man instead, clad in leather.

drummer. drummer. drummer. all of these are the same magazines, different issues with different men. he wonders if they’re targeted towards women, but then he’s opening them up and finding men... with other men. figures maybe hargrove had been holding onto them for someone else because there’s no way in hell these are his. no, no, no. that boy was straight as hell. loved to show off a different girl hanging off his arm every week, made shows of flirting with both girls and women.

but then he’s grabbing a polaroid dated 1983 and it’s billy with shorter hair and fuller cheeks kissing another boy with a big smile and lovesick dopey look on his face.

holy shit. this can’t be real. billy hargrove wasn’t gay. he couldn’t be. he was the womanizer, ladykiller, heartbreaker of hawkins. he loved women and they loved him 10 times more. none of this makes sense.

he grabs the journal next, the leather on the cover worn and threadbare. the first entry is dated from 1983 and the last just a couple weeks before starcourt. right before he got possessed.

steve sets the journal aside, opts to look at the other pictures and items billy had stashed away before he reads about the last three years of the guy’s life. there are a couple pictures of a blonde woman with striking resemblance to billy, the same saint christopher pendant and thick silver ring billy wore present around her neck and finger. some of them feature billy when he was a baby, toddler, kid. he finds jewelry that seems feminine, womanly. figures they must’ve been his mom’s.

there are also some california souvenirs. he finds seashells and movie, concert tickets that read “san diego” on the top. there are also some books steve remembers he was supposed to have read or heard about in school, but also some more he never heard of.

at the very bottom of the box he finds expired makeup and empty hair product. there’s black and dark blue eyeliner and mascara, baby pink lip gloss. nail polish in black, dark red and a deep purple. in some polaroids, the slight sheen of the gloss and his dark, thick lashes are barely visible, but he still catches it.

steve can’t help but chuckle when he finds some candy wrappers and leftover weed grinds at the bottom of the box alongside the butts of joints and empty cigarette packs. marlboro reds. there’s scrunchies, too. shimmery and purple, probably stolen from max.

once’s he’s finished digging through hargrove’s secret belongings, he leans back and sticks his nose in the journal. it takes him the rest of the day and all night to read it from cover to cover.

the beginning is mostly about missing his mom and hating his father, documenting his abuse. there are a few pages about his crushes and boyfriends, allowing him to figure out that the boy he was kissing in the polaroid is named santiago, but billy calls him santi. once he reaches the end of san diego and beginning of hawkins, billy’s tone and messy scrawl is full of hurt, anger, and melancholy.

and then steve’s name pops up. KING STEVE in all caps, taking up nearly half the page. there are hearts around his name, alongside a big drawing of a dick. below, billy writes about feeling like a foolish schoolboy with some stupid crush on some guy with a huge dick he saw in the showers. steve’s already blushing and it only deepens when he gets to the part about billy wanting to feel said dick in his hand, his mouth, inside of him.

he has to take a break after that. doesn’t realize things only get spicier until he gets back to reading and finds out billy’s jerked off and fingered himself open to the thought of none other than king steve. his eyes immediately flick to the half empty jar of vaseline, finger-shaped holes indenting the jelly.

he spends the rest of the night reading about billy’s remorse and guilt towards him and lucas after that night, how billy still wants to hop on his dick and kiss him stupid, his and max’s relationship and how it’s gotten better even though they still blame each other for the move.

it’s both of their faults, steve realizes. billy missed his curfew for a boy and max had no choice but to lead neil to him.

along the way to the end, a couple pictures of steve fall out of the journal. pictures that steve has no idea how billy acquired. some are from school yearbooks, others just random polaroids that might’ve been taken by tommy or carol or jonathan. when he finally reaches the end, he reads about billy’s pool job and plans fo move back to california for college as soon as he graduates.

i know it’s stupid but i’m gonna miss him. his stupid hair and big brown eyes and pretty face and pink lips. i didn’t know anything about the guy but i wish i could drag him out of this shithole and take him home with me. i still haven’t apologized to him. maybe kidnapping him and showing him the ocean would count. but i can’t fall for a straight boy, no matter how big his cock is. i don’t get to fall for someone i hurt. it’s not fair. none of this is fair.

that’s the very last entry. it’s 1am and steve is wide awake. too awake. before he thinks too hard about what he’s doing, he’s shoving everything back into the box and flooring it to robin’s house. he knocks on her window incessantly until she opens it with a glare and he’s pushing his way inside before she can greet him with a snarl.

“billy hargrove was gay and in love with me and-and and jerked off to me and,,, pretended his fingers were mine and his dad was hurting him and his mom left and he was alone, robin.” he’s rambling, eyes wide as he paces the room with the box in his hands.

“he was s-so hurt and alone and no one paid any attention and now he’s dead because of a monster in some town he got dragged to as punishment for being gay and,” his voice cracks. “he’s gone.” he whispers brokenly as he shoves the box into her hands.

robin is very confused and surprised but all she knows is that her best friend is in distress, so she sets the box down and grabs his hands.

“steve. look at me.” she only continues when he does. “sit down and talk to me. let’s go through everything together, okay? just calm down and breathe.”

by 3am robin’s looked through the box and the majority of the journal - steve dog-eared the important pages and she’s a fast reader - and she’s just as shocked as steve, apparently, if her bewildered expression and silence is anything to go by.

“robin? rob, say something.” he urges. “please. i need you to talk to me.”

“holy shit.” she finally raps. “steve, i’m gonna ask you a question and i don’t want you to freak out, okay?”

he nods.

“do you think you could’ve... reciprocated billy’s feelings?”

he opens his mouth to answer but halts, eyes wide and crazy as he stares at her.

“i-“ he gulps. “maybe?” he croaks out. “i-i think so? maybe yeah. yeah.” he nods.

“so you’re bisexual.”

and that’s throwing him on a whole other whirlwind. steve’s had too much thrown at him for the night and he doesn’t have it in him to deal with a sexuality crisis on top of everything.

but billy’s pretty. so fucking beautiful and steve can’t admit it just yet but he wishes he were still here. he wishes he could travel back in time and reach out to billy and save him from the horrors of hawkins but also kiss and fuck and love him properly but now it’s too late and steve and billy have one thing in common.

they’re both alone. lonely. so much love to give but no one to receive or give back.

“bisexual?” he chokes out.

“you like both. boys and girls. like david bowie. and david bowie’s awesome. you’re kinda awesome too, i guess. for a dingus.” she playfully punches his arm and it makes him feel better for all of 2 seconds until it’s hitting him again that the person who wanted to love him is dead. died right in front of him.

“do you have hot chocolate?” she nods. “with marshmallows?” she nods again. “can i have some?”

he feels like he’s about to faint. completely black out. wonders if he looks pale to robin. he needs something warm and comforting and hot coco will do the trick.

———————————

billy comes back in february. hopper and joyce gathered everyone up in joyce’s living room early february. sat everyone down to announce that hop had gotten... a call. a call from some doctor named owens who hop has a history with, the same doctor who helped will.

owens was nursing billy back to health in some secret lab in indianapolis, hence the funeral with no body. apparently billy was in comatose, then a medically induced coma when his brain woke up but he wasn’t strong enough to just yet. then, when he did wake up, he had to relearn how to eat, write, walk in physical therapy, alongside the heavy emotional therapy.

owens hid billy from the world until he was ready to be exposed to it again. then he called hopper one afternoon and told him to come pick the boy up.

max was angry. screamed and yelled until she was reduced to tears in joyce’s arms. the other kids were shocked and confused. didn’t know if they should be happy or scared. will and el were the only positive ones. nancy and jonathan were mostly shocked and indifferent, numb to these crazy surprises the shithole town throws at them. steve and robin just stared at each other knowingly, a million thoughts racing their minds.

a week later they were all in joyce’s living room again, nervously anticipating hopper and billy’s arrival. everyone looked up when the doorknob began to jerk and the lock turned, their eyes trained on the door as it opened to reveal hopper standing beside billy.

billy. clad in a big hoodie, gray sweats and converse. the same ones that were once in the box steve has hidden under his bed. his hair is long now, flowing freely and curling wildly at the ends, looking so soft with the lack of product. he looked tired, fading blue bags under his eyes. he hadn’t lost his tan, steve noted, and looked a little softer around the stomach and legs. for someone who went through all the shit he did, billy looked good. healthy.

max got to him the second he stepped inside, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. he immediately clung to max, holding her tight and whispering a shaky, wet hey, shitbird, only audible to her, resulting in her wet laugh. the siblings stayed like that for a few moments before pulling away to let billy see and greet everyone.

joyce had demanded they all not coddle billy because it would be suffocating and he probably couldn’t deal with that. except now she was serving and feeding him a million things, coddling him just like any other mother would. billy was hesitant and tense at first, but slowly relaxed, especially when he was given cookies.

sweet tooth, steve distantly remembered. billy has a sweet tooth, if the candy wrappers and lollipop sticks in the box were anything to go by.

everyone takes turns greeting and talking to billy. steve’s last in line to have his quick one-on-one with the guy and by the time they’re face to face, everyone’s sitting together, talking and laughing and eating.

“hey,” steve greets with a small smile. he can feel robin’s eyes on him and not-so-slyly flips her the bird, his eyes trained on billy and only billy. “it’s good to have you back.”

“you know you don’t have to say that, harrington, especially if you don’t mean it.” billy tries to joke but his eyes and smile are sad. “i only died for, like, two minutes. not a big deal.”

“shut up, man.” steve rolls his eyes and chuckles. “i do mean it.” he chews on his bottom lip nervously, doing a quick scan of the room to make sure there are no eyes on them before he looks back to billy.

then he’s reaching out and grabbing billy’s hand. running his thumbs over the scars along his palm and knuckles. he looks up to find billy confused and blushing. he smiles before pulling billy into a tight hug.

“you look good. so good.” steve whispers in his ear, getting a whiff of generic coconut shampoo. he has one arm wrapped tight around billy’s waist, holding him close with their bodies flush. he slides his free hand down and rests it on billy’s ass, barely squeezing. he chuckles when billy jumps a little.

“harrington.” billy chokes out, voice wrecked. “what’s your hand doing on my ass?” steve can feel billy’s lips moving on his neck and it makes him shudder.

“just doing what i should’ve done a while ago.” he sighs, content, just holding billy’s warm, very much alive body close to his.

“if you wanted to get in my pants, pretty boy, all you had to do was ask.” billy flirts with a smirk steve can feel on his neck. then he pauses. “you’re not fucking with me?” he asks, tone serious.

“nuh uh.” steve shakes his head. “actually, uh,” he pulls away just enough to meet billy’s eyes. “max gave me your shoebox.” he watches as billy’s eyes widen and go fiery. “hey, no, don’t get mad at her. it’s not her fault. she didn’t know you were comms back.” steve reasons. “plus, now i know big bad heartbreaker billy hargrove has a crush on little ole me.”

“who says i still do?” billy raises his eyebrows, as if his hands aren’t tightly holding onto steve’s shoulders and he’s not blushing and making heart eyes at the guy.

steve’s not too bright, but he knows when people have a crush on him. he’s always been bright in the language of love. and sex, for that matter, as billy will eventually find out when he inevitably get lovingly and romantically railed and fucked into steve’s mattress later that week.

“just have a feeling.” he shrugs, giving billy’s ass one last squeeze before he rests his hands on his hips with a grin.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my writing

198 notes · View notes

whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 27: Untangling

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Relaxing(?) with Chen and taking some time for yourself... and things are uh... interesting, to say the least.

The choice is like 3-4 posts away- and I just wanted to give you a heads up that it won't be an overt "i choose so and so" choice. It will be a... seemingly monotonous choice that will lead you, dear reader, down a path to end up with one or the other! Do you guys want me to label which choice goes where? I mean it'll be obvious after the next parts are up which one is which SO I guess it doesn't matter?? Just figured I'd ask! Smooches.

Part 26 Part 28 Chapter Index

You left Kung Lao to rest and decided afterward to relax in the hot springs. Your body was sore, even more so after having gone toe to toe with a second monster. At least the second monster hadn’t tossed you around like a ragdoll the way the first one had. Still, you were sore. You made your way to the springs, rinsed off in the changing room, found a towel, and then walked inside. It was peaceful and there were only a handful of other people there.

You explored the pools a bit further back in hopes of finding some peace and quiet. Thankfully, your time in the springs in Huangshan hadn’t ruined this for you. They were so drastically different.

Peace and quiet were exactly what you’d been granted for a time.

Resting your head back against the natural stone formations, you let your sore body bask in the warmth of the water. It was enough to clear your thoughts of the word ‘monster’ being so frequent in your vocabulary and both the men that you’d left with fevers in their respective rooms.

It was no wonder that you drifted to sleep so quickly. Your sleep wasn’t restful though. You kept seeing flashes of the nightmare you’d had before you’d crawled into Liu’s bed that night. Then you saw the man with the horns, his white eyes staring into yours, and you felt the pain of his hand in your chest.

There was a splash next to you and you sat upright quickly, fists clenched at the ready for a fight. Chen was looking at you in surprise. You sighed with relief and relaxed. Chen and a few of the other women from the infirmary, as well as two of the cooks that you’d met a handful of times were getting into the water alongside you. You had tried to get to know the people you interacted with every day if not just a little bit. They worked hard and you wanted them to feel appreciated.

“It’s good to see you back, Y/N!” One of the younger girls chimed in and then went about chatting to the woman next to her animatedly. You greeted them politely and then rested your head back against the stone. Chen sat close to you. So much for peace. Even so, you smiled. Chen pestered you sure, but she was also a delight to talk to. Your smile faded quickly as you remembered the last conversation you had.

“How are you feeling?” Chen asked discreetly. You sat upright and covered your bruised neck as Chen made to poke at it. It was still sore. “I’m guessing that’s not from anything fun, huh?”

“Definitely not something fun.” You sunk down so that your neck was in the water, to hide, and Chen giggled. “I’m fine, by the way. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well the past few nights.” You hadn’t, you supposed. There had been nightmares and then you and Kung Lao had gotten about four hours of sleep before you’d had to roll out of bed to go and meet Raiden. The women stared at you with rapt attention as if expecting an exciting reason for you to have not been sleeping.

“Because…?” Chen urged you onward hopefully and you splashed at them.

“I am so not in the mood, Chen.”

Chen and the other women laughed. “It’s all in good fun, Y/N. I know that things were crazy for you in Japan. I’ve heard you had quite the adventure.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! One of Raiden’s scribes overheard Kung Lao recounting your adventure with that tar thing.”

“Are you all gossips?”

“Look, it can be really boring here sometimes while those with the marks are off going on adventures and protecting the world. We’re here to protect you so I feel like in return we get to live vicariously through you. Is that so much to ask?” Chen had her chest puffed out proudly and you bowed your head and gestured toward her friends.

“My apologies, gossip away.”

“I was promised more information after you’d ditched Liu Kang. Define complicated please.”

The eyes of the other monks were on you, as curious but less forward than Chen. You bet it was so they could all update their little betting pool appropriately and you narrowed your eyes at them. “I will no gossip about myself. Especially not in front of everyone. No offense, guys.”

“Boo! You’re no fun, Y/N! There must be something steamy you’re not sharing with me. I swear that I interrupted something that morning with Liu Kang. I’ve thought about it on repeat since you left.” Chen poked your shoulder and the other women agreed with her, so you held your face in your hands to hide your embarrassment. Your skin was officially hotter than the spring water. They were whispering about what Chen had seen and it was much more dramatic than what had actually happened.

If they only knew that Chen hadn’t been completely wrong with her assumptions. Liu had asked you to stay in bed with him. Ugh, you wished that you had.

“Oh, stop picking on Y/N, guys. We have plenty to gossip about and she deserves to relax. She’s all bruised up, look at her.” One of the younger girls came to your defense and you were relieved.

They seemed eager to talk about whatever other gossip they’d picked up in the temple. You tuned most of it out as much as you could. You’d always struggled with gossip. Most of your life you’d been gossiped about, and it had never been in a good way. You didn’t like making other people feel like they were being talked about behind their back. You supposed it made you bottle everything inside which wasn’t exactly healthy either. No one was perfect. The kind of gossip that these monks were involved in didn’t bother you as much. It seemed harmless. No one’s feelings were getting hurt.

You listened to the hum of conversation. Apparently, one of the groups of monks who had gone into the closest town to pick up goods had gotten themselves into a bit of trouble with one of the women there. The story was ridiculous, and you wondered if this was how they talked about you when you weren’t around. It probably sounded just as absurd. It was funny. At least the gossip seemed distant from the truth. Unless this was the truth and, in that case, you felt terribly sorry for the woman and the monk who had gotten into trouble with her husband.

They were terrible monks.

The group drifted in the water until they were out of earshot, and you were grateful for the peace. You almost managed to fall asleep again but instead you felt Chen lifting your arm out of the water to check your pulse. You peeked one eye open and found Chen smiling at you.

“Still feeling okay? You’re pretty pale.”

“You can relax, Chen. You don’t always have to be on call. I’m fine. Really.”

“I work extra hard to make up for all the gossip.”

“I’m really okay. Just tired. I’m probably going to go back to my room and sleep soon. Less risk of drowning if I pass out there.” Only marginally less, you thought. You’d almost drowned yourself in ink the other night.

“Aww, not going to regale me with any stories of danger and romance?”

“I don’t know if I’m emotionally up to discussing the danger and romance, as you call it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… a lot. It’s escalated in complication. I’m mixed up right now. I think my discussion needs to be more… mental.” You realized, suddenly, that Chen had weaseled you into talking about it.

“Oh? Going to make a decision soon?”

“You’re such a sneak. You know that, right?”

“Do go on.” Chen batted her eyelashes happily, resting her elbow against the stone.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s time to make a choice. I’ve got to… sort it out. I have to talk to them about it or just… make an honest move. It scared me for a while, but it needs to happen. No matter what happens next? I have to stop kissing both of them but there’s so much conflict in my heart…”

“Oh, hold on, excuse me? You’ve kissed them both? Y/N! You have been holding out on me!��

“Could you please lower your voice.” You sat up higher in alarm. “You’re completely missing the point that I was making.” You scooted further back from the other monks and Chen followed you. Your face was on fire again and the water was too hot.

“I need details immediately.” Chen’s eyes were filled with glee. “Which one of them kisses better? Are they good kisses? When did this happen? Has this happened more than once? Was there tongue? Did you do more than kissing?”

“Oh, for the love of all that you believe in, please stop!” You laughed and held your hands out in a panic to try and silence Chen. “I’m begging you to lower your voice.”

Chen cackled with laughter and pointed at your red face in amusement. You waited for Chen to get herself together. It took an awkwardly long amount of time. Chen cleared her throat and then straightened her posture as if she had to prepare herself to have a conversation. “Okay. Sorry. Yes, continue. That was delightful. What is it that has you so mixed up?” Besides the fact that they were both gorgeous? Besides the fact that their kisses and their touches literally took your breath away? That they both filled you with a deep and desperate longing that made you want to rip your insides out and offer them as sacrifice?

Liu Kang was the proverbial spark. You’d never once been drawn to another human being the way that you were drawn to him. It was like your bodies called to one another and as silly as you felt for thinking it, it was also true. Kung Lao, however, was your childhood love, but all grown up and while he was a complete mess, he was also romantic as hell. It wasn’t the same attraction you shared with Liu, but your attraction was different and just as wonderful.

“You’re just going to make fun of me.”

“You were quiet for a long time there. Getting lost in memories of kisses?”

“See?”

“Of course I’m going to make fun of you, Y/N, but I will also try to be a good friend.”

“You’re also going to just tell everyone else about it.”

“…true.”

“Ugh.”

“You could still tell me. I promise I’ll twist it enough that no one will quite believe me.”

“I’m… I just…” You sighed in frustration, mussed your hair, and then decided to just go for it. It would make Chen happy to get something of substance from you and maybe putting it out into the universe would offer you some reflection. Chen was hanging on your every word. “I have this crazy attraction to Liu. Plus, he’s so sweet and funny and smart. He holds me in such reverence and it’s going to sound so crazy cheesy but he’s made of fire in just about every way and… ugh he calls me beautiful and…” You whined and leaned your head back against the stone and felt your insides tighten up just at the thought. This hadn’t helped.

Chen was fanning herself.

“Hard to beat that. When was this steamy, fiery kiss…?”

“You are fishing for more information than I’m willing to give you.”

“You can’t blame me for trying. So, what’s the hang up with Lao then? I’ve seen you with Liu. You two are natural together.”

“Like I said, it’s complicated. I… ugh, I am bad at this. I hate this, Chen. I hate talking about it.”

“I know. It’s the worst. I wish you were drunk. You’d go on about it.”

“I kind of wish I was drunk too.”

“Raiden said no liquor for now.” Chen was disappointed. “Focus. Lao. Tell me.”

“We… it’s complicated, okay? We butt heads but he’s so damn nostalgic and surprisingly sweet when he’s not… trying to be. It’s hard to explain why I’m hung up on it because it’s… emotional? When he kissed me? The world disappeared. It makes me think that maybe if we hadn’t lost touch, if he hadn’t disappeared, then we probably would have been together from the beginning. It’s not any less magnetic, just different. Lao and I are very alike. Liu balances me out.” You sighed and briefly forgot that you were talking to the biggest gossip that you had ever met. “I care deeply for them both. I don’t want to hurt either of them, but I can’t take the emotional turmoil of bouncing back and forth between them anymore. And it’s not fair to any of us.”

“Wow, this is actually eating you up inside. I thought you were just being ridiculous to avoid telling me dirty details.” Chen seemed impressed and you turned your attention to her in surprise. Of course, it was eating you up inside! How could it not? “You’re really not going to just get them super drunk and then get spit roasted by both and have a wild night none of you will remember?”

You choked on your own spit and then coughed, leaning out of the water and onto the stone to escape the heat of the springs. Chen patted you on the back but laughed. “I have to look at and talk to them every day, Chen!”

“Have fun picturing that for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, I hate you right now.” You laughed, but the mental image was there, and Chen was right. It would live in your brain rent free for the rest of your life.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. Just follow your heart and please get laid. Then get drunk and give me all those dirty details.”

“I’m so glad that I’m asking you for advice.” You managed to clear your windpipe, finally. “That was sarcasm. Sorry, choked up.” You shook the mental image away again. Your morning with Liu Kang hadn’t helped that mental image at all. “I’ll figure it out. I’m at a point where I’m ready to figure it out. But I think you’ve teased me enough. I’m going upstairs to get some rest because I am hotter than the springs now.”

“Good. Rest. You’re still pale when you’re not as red as I made you.”

“I plan too.”

“I hope you run into one of them and you can’t shake the mental image!” Chen called to you as you started out of the water, and you nearly slipped and fell back in.

“Goodbye, Chen.” You waved back to her and then bowed to the other monks before returning to the changing room, getting back into your clothes, and heading back to your room. Thankfully, you didn’t run into Liu Kang or Kung Lao. You hoped that they were still resting.

You threw yourself into bed and laid face down for a while, contemplating your options. It was kind of nice to think of how it might wind up. What were you complaining about? There were two incredibly attractive men chasing after your heart. Even so, it filled your stomach with anxiety and dread. You didn’t want to hurt either of them. You wished there were a reality where you could have them both but knew that would end messy too.

After changing into a nightshirt, you went to bed. You really were exhausted but your sleep wasn’t restful. You tossed and turned throughout the night, plagued with nightmares. When you opened your eyes, there was a silhouette of a horned man standing at the side of your bed. You struggled to move, to blink, but you were paralyzed by fear. Breathing was difficult and he leaned over you and reached for your throat. His face was shadow with the exception of a wicked white smile. You felt like he held you down, pinned to your bed, pushing you further into it.

Your body ached.

You were seeing spots, unable to breathe. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t fight it. It was like sleep paralysis. You’d read about it, but it also felt real. He was closer to you, inches from your face, and his clawed hand rested over your cheek.

Then suddenly you were free of the grip that held you prisoner, that had trapped you in bed. You were alone and gasped for struggled breaths. Panicked, you crawled out of bed, collapsing onto the floor and bursting into sobs. Ink spilled from your hands, staining the floor. You struggled to stop shaking and push yourself up, catching your breath.

Then you froze in horror.

Strands of ink were spread across your room from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, creating an elaborate and dangerous web.

What the actual hell?

What had you done?

How had you done it?

Reaching out with a shaky hand, you brushed your fingers over the thick web of ink and pulled your hand back immediately. It had been solid and sharp, slicing the tip of your finger.

You trembled with fear and leaned as far against the bed as you could press your body. You tried to get up, to will yourself to move, but instead it felt like your lungs were being squeezed by invisible hands. Your fingers were curling up and you pulled them close to your chest. Closing your eyes, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down but you could barely exhale.

You’d filled your room with ink in your sleep.

That had to have been a vision, but it hadn’t been the future or the past. It had been of that thing in your room with you, hovering over you. What, was this some Catholic-style possession? Maybe finding the artifacts had been a mistake.

You laid on the floor, stretching out into child’s pose to try and help yourself calm down, to breathe. This moment mattered. Not the nightmare. Not the vision. Not the fear.

Just the moment.

You would be okay.

After an agonizingly long time, you felt your heart finally slowing down. Your fingers uncurled and you were able to sit upright. Your head was spinning but you could at least think without the screaming adrenaline of panic.

You couldn’t get out of your room with the ink like this.

The strands were too closely knit together. Pushing your hair back, still shaking, you held it away from your face and tried to think. You’d trapped yourself in the room. But you’d made the ink so maybe you could unmake it too. Holding your palm close to the nearest strand of ink, you closed your eyes and focused. It wouldn’t move and your whole body was shaking.

Your brain was buzzing with panic still. You tried again and were thrown back against the bed, but the ink was gone in a blink. Your hands were aching like you’d been punched right in the palms. They were dark and bruised. But you’d done it. The ink was gone.

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you pressed yourself against the bed.

You had to get a hold of yourself.

What the fuck had just happened?

There was a knock at your door, and you whined, buried your face against your knees, and then took a deep breath. You felt like you could vomit but you managed to get yourself up, vomit free, and made your way to the door. Shaky on your feet, you recognized the monk on the other side. He kept guard outside of Raiden’s chambers. He bowed to you politely as the monks often did.

“Lord Raiden requests your presence.”

“I-I’ll be there in a few… few minutes. I just… I need to get dressed.” You tried not to sound like you had been hysterically sobbing only a few minutes ago. The monk didn’t seem to notice. He bowed and walked away to deliver your message. You leaned against the door after he’d left, taking shaky breaths. You had to calm down.

Liu Kang would have had you meditate so you decided to do just that. You sat on your prayer mat and closed your eyes. Deep breaths. Grounding exercises. You could hear his comforting voice in your head, guiding you along.

In truth, you just wanted to be held.

60 notes · View notes

idreamtofmanderleyagain · 4 years

Text

Five years ago, the women on this site who treated me like trash over loving Labyrinth and shipping Jareth/Sarah were almost always obliviously consuming Radfem propaganda, or were out and out Radfems/Terfs themselves.

They were the types of people who casually threw the word “pedophile” around against grown women who shipped an adult Sarah with Jareth, aka literally one of the most popular ships for women in fandom for 30 years.

Pretty much invariably, these women had serious sex-negative anxieties, which included a severe paranoia about any and all kink and fetish, and porn in general. I saw a lot of shocking, fear-mongering propaganda surrounding sexual expression. Pretty much invariably, their method of approach involved immediate personal shock-value attacks on anyone they perceived to be “bad.”

Today, you can look at the way some people react to other popular so-called “problematic” ships and recognize the same toxic, fear-mongering rhetoric coming from women who consider themselves regular, trans-inclusive feminists. Sometimes it even manifests in the words of very well-meaning people (including myself here), who feel the need to talk about specific issues that pertain to their own experiences of trauma and oppression.

The people who shit on Labyrinth often seem to not really be able to comprehend that the Goblin King, like the film itself, is canonically a representation of a teen girl’s psyche, a soup of fears and anxieties and desires and dreams. He’s not a literal human adult preying on a literal child, and to read the film that way seriously undermines the entire point of the film.

When I (and people of many fandoms) say “This is fiction, calm down,” I’m not just saying it’s not real so it cant hurt you and you can’t criticize me. I’m trying to call attention to what fiction actually is - artistic representations of feelings and experiences. The Goblin King is Sarah’s fiction. Therefore, he can be anything she or any woman who identifies with her wants him to be, including her lover when she’s grown and ready for such a thing.

I once took an alarming dive into Beetlejuice fandom to see what content was there (the cartoon was a favorite when I was little). Chillingly, what you’ll find is an extremely wounded fanbase, with a sharp divide between the older women who had long been shipping BJ/Lydia because of their love for the cartoon series (and whom were previously the vast majority of the Beetlejuice fandom), and a massive amount of young people riding the wave of the musical fad who had decided that the entire old school Beetlejuice fandom was populated by literal pedophiles.

I saw death threats. Suicide baiting. Constant, constant toxic discourse. It did not matter how the BJ/Lydia fandom dealt with any particular issues that would exist in their ship, in fact I’m certain that the people abusing them cared very little to even consider if they were trying to handle it at all. The only thing that mattered was that they were disgusting subhuman scum asking for abuse. If you have at any time reblogged recent Beetlejuice fan art or content from fans of the musical, you have more than likely been engaging positively with the content of someone participating in toxic fandom behavior.

Nobody is really sticking up for them, either, as far as I saw. It’s really hard to imagine how painful it must be to have such a large group of people explode into into your relatively private fandom space to tell you that you are evil, vile, and deserve constant abuse, and also you are no longer allowed into the fandom space to engage in it’s content. But I think there’s something very alarming indeed about this happening specifically to the BJ fandom, and I’ll explain why.

The pop-culture characterization of Beetlejuice, which is heavily influenced by the cartoon series to be clear, has always in my mind been a vaguely ageless being who matches with the psychological maturity of whatever age Lydia is supposed to be. He’s more or less like an imaginary friend, a manifestation of Lydia’s psyche. In fact, I would argue that i think most of us who grew up with the cartoon or it’s subsequent merchandizing before the musical ever existed probably internalized the idea as BJ and Lydia as this ageless, salt-and-pepper-shaker couple beloved by the goth community, similar to Gomez and Morticia. In each version of canon he may be a creepy ghost in the literal sense, but any adult who is capable of identifying literary tropes (even just subconciously) would read cartoon!BJ as an artistic representation of a socially awkward outcast girl’s inner world. Lydia’s darker dispositions and interests, which alienate her from most others, are freely accepted and embraced by her spooky magical friend. BJ/Lydia in the cartoon were depicted as best friends, but to my memory there was always an underlying sense that they had secret feelings for each other, which I identified easily even as a small child. In fact, their dynamic and behavior perfectly reflected the psychological development of the show’s target demographic. They are best friends who get into adventures and learning experiences together, who have delicate feelings for each other but lack any true adult romantic/sexual understanding to acknowledge those feelings, let alone pursue them.

Though I haven’t seen the Musical yet, I’ve read the wiki and I would argue that it embodies this exact same concept even more so for it’s own version of the characters, in that Beetlejuice specifically exists to help Lydia process her mother’s death.

This is not a complicated thing to recognize and comprehend whatsoever. In fact, it looks downright blatant. It’s also a clear indicator of what BJ/Lydia means to the women who have long loved it. It was a story about a spooky wierd girl being loved and accepted and understood for who she was, and it gave them a sense of solidarity. It makes perfect sense why those women would stick with those characters, and create a safe little space for themselves to and imagine their beloved characters growing and having adult lives and experiencing adult drama, in just the same ways that the women of the Labyrinth fandom do. That’s all these women were doing. And now, they can’t do it without facing intense verbal violence. That safe space is poisoned now.

Having grown up with the cartoon as one of my favorites and been around goth subculture stuff for decades, I was actually shocked and squicked at the original Beetlejuice film’s narrative once I actually saw it, because it was extremely divorced from what these two characters had evolved into for goth subculture and what they meant to me. It’s not telling the same story, and is in fact about the Maitland's specifically. In pretty much exactly the same way two different versions of Little Red Riding Hood can be extremely different from each other, the film is a different animal. While I imagine that the film version has been at the heart of a lot of this confused fear-mongering around all other versions of the characters, I would no more judge different adaptations of these characters any more than I would condemn a version of Little Red in which Red and the Wolf are best friends or lovers just because the very first iteration of LRRH was about protecting yourself from predators.

I would even argue that the people who have engaged in Anti-shipper behavior over BJ/Lydia are in intense denial over the fact that BJ being interested in Lydia, either as blatant predatory behavior a la the film or on a peer level as in the cartoon (and musical?) is an inextricable part of canon. Beetlejuice was always attracted to Lydia, and it was not always cute or amusing. Beetlejuice was not always a beloved buddy character, an in fact was originally written as a gross scumbag. That’s just what he was. Even people engaging with him now by writing OC girlfriends for him (as stand-ins for the salt-and-pepper-shaker space Lydia used to take up, because obviously that was part of the core fun of the characters), or just loving him as a character, are erasing parts of his character’s history in order to do so. They are actively refusing to be held responsible for being fans of new version of him despite the fact that he engaged in overt predatory behavior in the original film. In fact, I would venture to say that they are actively erasing the fact that Musical Beetliejuice tried to marry a teenager and as far as I’m aware, seemed to like the idea (because he’s probably a fucking figment of her imagination but go off I guess). The only reason they can have a version of this character who could be perceived as “buddy” material is because...the cartoon had an impact on our pop cultural perception of what the character and his dynamic with Lydia is.

We can have a version of the Big Bad Wolf who’s a creepy monster. We can have a version who’s sweet and lovable. We can have a version that lives in the middle. We can have a version who’s a hybrid between Red and the Wolf (a la Ruby in OUAT). All of these things can exist in the same world, and can even be loved for different reasons by the same people.

I’ve been using Beetlejuice as an example here because it’s kind of perfect for my overall point regarding the toxic ideologies in fandom right now across many different spaces, including ones for progressive and queer media, and how much so many people don’t recognize how deeply they’ve been radicalized into literalist and sex-negative radfem rhetoric, to the point where we aren’t allowed to have difficult, messy explorations of imperfect, flawed humans, and that art is never going to be 100% pure and without flaw in it’s ability to convey what it wants to convey.

This includes the rhetoric I’ve seen across the board, from She-Ra to A:TLA to Star Wars to Lovecraft Country. We don’t talk about the inherent malleable, subjective, or charmingly imperfect nature of fiction any more. Transformation and reclamation are myths in this space. Everything is in rigid categories. It is seemingly very difficult for some of these people to engage with anything that is not able to be clearly labeled as one thing or another (see the inherent transphobic and biphobic elements of the most intense rhetoric). They destroy anything they cannot filter through their ideology. When women act in a way that breaks from their narrative of womanhood (like...not having a vagina), then those women must be condemned instead of understood. Anything that challenges them or makes them uncomfortable is a mortal sin. There is an extraordinary level of both hypocrisy and repressive denial that is underlying the behavior I’m seeing now. Much like toxic Christian conservatism, these people often are discovered engaging in the same behaviors and interests that they condemn behind closed doors (or just out of sheer cognitive dissonance). As an example, one of the people who talked shit to me about Labyrinth was a huge fan of Kill La Kill, which to my knowledge was an anime about a teenage girl in like, superpowered lingere (hence why I stayed the fuck away from that shit myself). Indeed, they even allow themselves plenty of leeway for behavior far worse than they condemn others for, and create support systems for the worst of their own abusers.

Quite frankly, I’m tired. Instead of talking about theoretical problematic shit, we need to start talking about quantifiable harm. Because as far as I can tell, the most real, immediate, and quantifiable harm done because of anybody’s favorite ships or pieces of media seems to consistently be the kind that’s done to the people who experience verbal violence and abuse and manipulation and suicide baiting and death threats from the people who have a problem.

#Beetlejuice #Labyrinth #toxic fandom

398 notes · View notes

victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

The Long Way Home

Chapter Two: Professor?

AN: It’s my birthday and I’m feeling great so I decided to post today rather than tomorrow. Thank you to everyone that has taken an interest in this story and thank you for the support!

Trigger Warnings: drug use/abuse, mentions of verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09, @eiferundruhe

Chapter Three: What the Hell Happened to Him?

Hank put his head down, "Told you there was no ‘Professor’ here," he remarked with a shrug, starting to clean up a table that was covered in things.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, shocked to see his old mentor in such a state.

Hank stood in silence for a moment deliberating whether he should explain or not. With a sigh he placed a bottle down and looked at the desk below him.

"He lost everything. Raven, Erik, his legs..." Hank trailed off, thinking of someone else that he lost, but he decided it was best not to mention it. "He built the school, the labs...this whole place," he continued, pouring himself a drink. "Then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted...and it broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help do something so I designed a serum that treated his spine. Derived from the second formula, that was for me, that controls my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back but he just couldn't take the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs but its not enough...he's just lost too much," Hank looked back up at Logan, and smiled distantly before taking a sip from his glass.

Upstairs, Charles was pouring himself a drink, in an attempt to forget the memories he didn't wish to think of. As he downed a good portion of the alcohol, suddenly, it all came rushing back, the buzzing of hushed tones he so terribly wanted to push away was beginning to torment him.

Charles' arm immediately shot out to reach for a cloth to wrap around his arm. After struggling briefly to tie it around his arm, he pulled it tight with his teeth as his hand shakily reached out to a small table where a syringe and a small vial rested upon. Charles grabbed the needle and the vial of serum before filling the needle with liquid and pressed it into his skin, letting the solution take its effects.

He laid back in his chair and looked over to his nightstand, but he had to look past the countless bottles to see it. There under the only source of light in the dark, musky room was a small, untouched framed photo of Raven. The Raven he knew. The memory of when they first met had rolled through his mind. His mind then drifted to Erik and how he stole Raven from his life. He stole Raven, made her into a completely different person.

But Erik also gave him Claudia. Charles would have probably never met her if it weren't for Erik's vendetta against Sebastian Shaw. But alas she was another loss. Charles remembered the shine in her eyes, the way her lips curved when she smiled, and how strong she seemed the way she carried herself. She was a friend to everyone she met.

Charles closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears and the memories of the two people he loved most. Raven and Claudia. He knew he couldn't save Raven on that beach in Cuba, but Claudia, she could've stayed.

Back downstairs, Logan couldn't but feel that Charles and Hank were tiptoeing around someone and he didn't understand why. Logan glanced down at Charles' desk noticing something that he hadn't before. A picture frame lying face down on the desk, reaching his hand out Logan grabbed the silver frame and flipped it to face him. In the picture was a young, African-American woman who couldn't have been no older than twenty-four.

She had neck length black hair that was styled in a windblown look, her bangs parted to the side. She was looking back at the camera with a wide grin, holding an ornament as she decorated a Christmas tree that was in the picture as well. The Charles he knew mentioned a woman he knew long ago before Logan made this journey, a woman who Charles cared for deeply. Claudia. That was the woman's name if Logan remembered correctly, he wondered if they were one and the same.

"So, this is Claudia," Logan commented, looking up from the picture. Hank froze. He hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in years. By the looks of Hank's expression and his reaction, Logan's suspicions were confirmed. "Heh, I didn't know the professor liked them young," he quipped, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hank snatched the frame away from Logan.,"God, It wasn't like that," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Yes, there was an age gap, but they were very much in love with each other," Hank explained, looking down at the photo briefly and sighing. "They truly made each other happy," he added softly, before placing the photo face down on the desk again.

"What happened between them?"

"Remember that depression I told you that Charles fell into?" Hank asked, resuming his cleaning.

"Yeah,"

"Claudia was there, she was there for all of it. She tried to stick by him, she really did, but she just couldn't take it anymore," Hank paused, as he exchanged a brief look with Logan. "They fought a lot, she was sick of Charles' behavior of being a drunkard. She was tired of feeling more like a maid to Charles than the woman he claimed to love. And well Charles, one moment he's the loving man Claudia fell in love with and in the next he's a mean drunk," Hank explained, picking up empty bottles. "As tough as a woman Claudia is, I knew that some of the things that Charles said got under her skin. She was miserable here, but it all came to a tipping point in 1967," Hank continued, throwing the bottles into a trash bin.

"She left him, didn't she?"

"Yes, by the end of '67 she was gone," Hank answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The night she had left, it felt strangely peaceful. The atmosphere in the mansion didn't feel so heavy. That was until I heard Charles' bedroom door slam open and the both of them shouting. Claudia was done, she was over it. She told Charles that she couldn't keep pretending that they were this happy couple, so for her own sake she was leaving him. She said, if he wanted to remain on his path to self-destruction then be her guest, but she wasn't going to be apart of it. She wasted years of her life trying to help a man who doesn't want it," he recalled, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk in behind of him.

Logan frowned, "And how did Charles take that?" he questioned, feeling like he already knew the answer.

"Not well, not well at all," Hank replied, shaking his head again. "He said some pretty hurtful things to her. He told her to go ahead and leave, he didn't need her. Charles called Claudia a 'useless woman' and claimed that maybe he'd be happier if she wasn't here. I...I’ve never seen Claudia look so hurt, so betrayed in all the years I've known her," Hank looked down sadly, now crossing his arms against his chest. "She actually began to tear up and responded quietly saying 'that makes two of us' before she reached down to her finger and slid off her ring and threw it at Charles," Hank sighed, his mind replaying that night.

"Claudia, Claudia, wait! Please, Claudia, just slow down! Please, just listen-" Hank begged.

"Wait! Charles and Claudia were married?" Logan asked, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"No, just engaged," Hank explained. "They dated for three years, and then Charles proposed to her in '66. As you can tell now, it didn't work out," he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "The last thing Claudia said when she left the mansion was 'this whole thing was a mistake'," Hank added, with a frown as he folded his arms against his chest.

Logan sighed looking at Hank and shook his head. He was sent here for a reason, and now he can't seem to get the job done. He was risking many people's lives if he didn't change this now.

"I'll help you get her," he heard a voice from behind. He smirked and turned around, "Not for any of your future shite, but for her," Charles announced, coming down the stairs.

Logan mused over this and nodded, "Fair enough," he agreed.

"But I'll tell you this. You don't know Erik. That man is a monster. A murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles questioned, his tone growing bitter.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together," Charles stared at him, surprised at the unexpected words. Logan scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arms together. "You are not going to like this, but you told me, practically begged me to get Claudia as well," Logan added, waiting for Charles' reaction.

He scoffed and shook his head, "That, I cannot do,"

That was a pain he had buried away and didn't wish to dredge back up anytime soon, he felt the same for Raven and that old wound was most definitely raw now. He had managed to control his emotions now whenever Raven was mentioned, to a point. But Claudia? That was something else entirely. She was his first love, the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he almost married.

"Charles, listen to me," Logan told him, looking down. "You are going to regret this just as you did when you told me to get her. If you want to save her, this is your only chance,"

Hank frowned at his words and Charles' angry expression dropped, forming into a sad and confused expression.

"Save her?" Hank asked, asking what Charles was not able to.

Logan nodded turning to look at him, "Claudia didn't make it, she's dead," he informed, shaking his head.

"Dead?" Charles repeated, sounding suddenly breathless from this revelation.

Charles clutched at his chest and inhaled deeply, suddenly not feeling too well. Like the world around him was spinning and he was stationary, Charles closed his eyes, guilt swarming inside him.

"Claudia is dead because of me,"

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

68 notes · View notes

spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years

Text

Scum of the Earth (Spencer Reid x fem!MC)

Summary: After a prison interview gone wrong, MC is left to recover from the disgusting things the prisoner said (with Spencer’s help, of course)

Content: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of violence related to crime, including rape and torture, as well as swearing

MC’s name and pronouns: no name mentioned, she/her

Word Count: 2420

A/N: Can you tell I watched Mindhunter right before I wrote this one? lmao

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

“Pretty girl,” the man in front of me clicked his tongue, observing me from his position across the interview table, “The things I’d do to you…”

My hands trembled, but I forced myself to appear calm as I leaned in, a challenge in my eyes. “Would you do to me what you did to those girls?”

He let out a harsh laugh, one that sent a shock of fear straight through my body. He leaned back in his chair, giving me a shameless once over before he spoke again.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re better than any of those whores.”

“Whores? So you mean to tell me you weren’t attracted to them?”

“Of course I was attracted to them,” He scoffs, as if it was obvious, “How could I not be? No, I was attracted to them; I just didn’t respect them.”

“And you respect me?”

“Well you are an FBI agent, are you not?”

“People like you have a tendency to resent us more than respect us, if I’m honest with you.”

“People like me? You mean monsters. Is that how you see me, Agent? A monster?”

“Not monsters. I merely mean people in prison. We are the reason you’re in this hellhole, after all.”

“Dirty mouth,” He laughed, “Wonder what else you could do with that.”

“I -”

“You asked me if I’d do to you what I did to the other girls,” He leaned in now, his face inches from mine, his voice barely above a whisper, “The girls I raped. The ones that I tortured, that I murdered. Would you like to hear what’s running through my mind right now, honey?”

I couldn’t breathe, my throat tightening as cold fear coursed through my body. But my entire job was to figure out how this man thought. For research.

Nothing in my research could’ve prepared me for what he was about to say, though.

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? To hear what’s running through your mind?” I replied. His mouth curled into a haunting grin, and he lowered his voice even more, as if he was trying to keep the people he knew were monitoring this interview from outside the room from hearing him.

“I’d take my time on you,” He started, his voice making every inch of my skin crawl, “Too good to waste…”

I had to force myself not to pull away as he began to detail exactly what he was thinking, his voice still too low for Hotch to hear him through the weak security camera microphones.

Never in my entire career did I imagine I’d be sitting across from vermin like him, listening as he described, in painstakingly visual imagery, how he’d force himself on me, how he’d torture me until I craved the sweet relief of death. How he’d finally murder me. My entire body was shaking, and I couldn’t do anything but bite back the nausea at the scenes he detailed for me.

I had half a mind to thank god that I remembered to turn on the recorder in my front pocket. There was no way that the mics on the security cameras were picking this up - there was a reason no one had pulled me out of the room yet - and the things he was saying were incredibly revealing, from a behavioral standpoint. But I couldn’t be excited about the new information when he was describing my own death in front of me.

It wasn’t until he reached up and ran his finger along the curve of my jaw that Hotch stormed back in. I hadn’t realized I was close enough to him for him to touch me, but I flinched away from his touch, making him laugh as guards returned to the room, pulling his arms behind his back and escorting him from the room as he laughed.

“Hope you got the information that you needed, sweetheart!” He called as he was removed from the area. I heard his laughter echo up and down the hall, and I immediately rose from the table, my hands still shaking.

“Can it, Lewis!” One of the guards demanded, but it was quiet as the sounds faded down the hall.

Hotch’s expression of anger turned to one of concern when he saw my expression, my face paled, my eyes far away.

“What was he saying to you?” He asked. I just pulled my recorder out of my pocket with trembling hands, holding it out to him and fumbling with the button to turn it off so I didn’t waste space.

“You can listen for yourself. I can’t -” I shook my head, trying to clear it.

“Ok,” He took it from me, slipping it into the pocket of his suit as he regarded me carefully, “Ok. Are you good to walk back out of here?”

I attempted to steady my breathing before nodding and grabbing my blazer off the back of the chair, slipping it on and following Hotch out of the prison. I felt a bit better with every step away from the prison we took, but his voice bounced around my mind, the scenes that my imagination created so vivid that I couldn’t seem to push them away.

Somehow, he knew exactly how to play on my history to get under my skin. He knew exactly what to say to make my skin crawl, and it made another wave of nausea wash over me just thinking about it. Because as bad as the horrors I’d just heard were, they brought about an even more terrifying question.

How did he know?

I had half a mind to ask, but there was a chance it was just a coincidence. I knew that if Hotch had any concerns after listening to the recording I’d made, he’d come to me about it. For the moment, I merely stared out the window, watching the scenery rush by on our way back to the jet. When we finally arrived at the airstrip, I wanted nothing more than to be alone.

Or at least, alone with one other person.

Spencer greeted us when we got back on the jet, and immediately he could tell that something was wrong. I was pretty sure my hands were still shaking, and he pulled me into a tight hug.

“How’d the interview go?” He asked. I wasn’t sure if the question was directed at me or Hotch, but I replied before he could.

“It was incredibly informative,” I broke the hug, pulling back to talk to the both of them, “His conversation directly with me revealed a lot about his thought process when doing what he did.”

“Directly with - you were in there by yourself?” Spencer immediately snapped his gaze to Hotch.

“Calm down, Spence, I volunteered to talk to him alone. You really think our resident Unit Dad here would just ditch me?” I joked, to which Hotch rolled his eyes as I continued explaining, “I thought that I might be able to elicit a more honest response from him if I was talking to him one on one.”

“Because you’re a pretty young woman,” Spencer stated, showing he understood my thought process. I just faked a scandalized gasp, one shaky hand on my chest.

“Dr. Reid, are you calling me pretty? You know, that’s very unprofessional behavior for the workplace.”

“I can think of some behavior that’s a bit more unprofessional,” He teased before pulling me in for a quick kiss. I heard Emily’s voice from behind us.

“Ugh, sit down!” She called. I offered her a choice gesture before moving away from Spencer, moving to sit in the corner near the back of the plane. Hotch held up my recorder as he walked by, signaling that he was going to listen to it and bringing the nausea back in full force.

I felt the color drain from my face again, though he didn’t notice. He’d already taken his seat, pulling out a laptop and headphones from his bag.

Spencer noticed though, from his seat across from me.

“Hey,” He grabbed my hands. I hadn’t even noticed they’d started trembling again. “What happened in there?”

“I - he’s a disgusting person, Spence. Like, scum of the earth disgusting.”

“Lewis?”

I nodded, and he moved from sitting across from me to sitting next to me, pulling me into a hug. I just buried my head against his chest, trying to distract my mind from the sound of George Lewis’s voice, and the images that came flooding back to me.

“What did he do to you?” Spencer asked. I shook my head.

“He didn’t do anything. It’s just what he said that shook me up.”

He was quiet, clearly waiting for me to continue. I drew in a shaky breath, not moving from his arms as I spoke.

“I… I was trying to get inside his head. I wanted to hear his thought process during the crimes the way that he viewed it, and I knew that using my femininity against him was the best way to do it. I was trying to get him to open up to me because he thought I was attractive…” I trailed off for a moment, the feeling of his hand on my face so real that I almost reached up to smack it away. I fought back the bubble of nausea rising in my stomach as I continued, going into as little detail as possible. “It worked, I guess. What he said was very telling.”

“Babe?” Spencer said after I fell into another lapse of silence. I pulled back to meet his eyes, and the concern in them stopped my heart, “What did he say?”

“...He described exactly what he would do to me if I were one of his victims. In painstaking detail, how he would rape me, torture me, kill me -” My whole body was shaking at this point, and I ducked my head back into his chest, feeling his arms tighten around me. “- I just can’t get his voice out of my head. Can’t get those images out of my head.”

“Reid?” I expected to hear Spencer respond, but instead I heard Hotch. I looked up to see him standing in the aisle, a dark look in his eyes, “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

“I -” He looked between me and Hotch, and I gave him a small smile.

“Go,” I assured him. I had a feeling that this little meeting was because Hotch had listened to the recording, anyway.

Spencer reluctantly got up, following Hotch over near the back of the cabin, where he’d set his computer on the counter. I watched as Spencer put the headphones in his ears, pressing play on the recording and listening. I couldn’t see his face, I could only see Hotch’s reaction as the clip went on, but Hotch looked pissed.

I mean, more than his resting pissed face, of course.

Spencer took the headphones out of his ears after a moment, slowly placing them back on the computer, his body language illustrating a state of shock. He glanced back at me, and I saw a dozen emotions raging across his expression. Of course, there were three that were the strongest.

Anger.

Shock.

And worry.

He immediately crossed the plane back to me, pulling me into a tight hug before moving to sit back down, still keeping me in his arms. He placed a kiss on the top of my head without speaking, one hand splayed on my back to keep me close to him.

“You listened to the interview?” I phrased it as a question, even though it was more of a statement.

“He never should’ve been allowed to say that stuff to you,” He said. I just shook my head.

“I provoked it. I wanted him to reveal what he was really thinking.”

“It still should never have gotten that far.”

“It worked though.”

“It worked at your expense,” He argued, “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to do anything. I chose to.”

“Are you ok?” He asked, the question catching me off guard. He pulled a bit back from the hug, prompting me to look up at him. “I heard the shit he said, baby. Are you ok?”

“I… I’ll be fine. It just really shook me up.”

“You're trembling - you have been since we got on the plane. You’ve been trying to hide it, but I noticed. And I can tell you’re trying not to be sick -"

“... Maybe a better way to phrase it is ‘scared the living shit out of me.’”

He laughed softly, leaning back against the arm of the chair before pulling me close again so I could rest my head against his chest. “That’s closer to what I’ve observed.”

We laid there silently for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around me, one hand softly tracing indistinct patterns up and down my back as I felt his chest rise and fall against me. George Lewis’s voice echoed inside my mind, and I buried my head deeper into his chest, prompting him to hold me closer.

I was still shaking, and I wrapped my arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt to try to steady my hands. He placed a soft kiss on my forehead, and continued to run his hands along my back. The gentle motion was comforting as I forced the memories of the interview to the side, allowing myself to drift off into what I prayed would be a dreamless sleep.

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

“How is she doing?” Hotch asked. Spencer sighed, looking down at me now asleep in his arms.

“She was trembling, Hotch - I don’t know if I’ve seen something as simple as an interview affect her this badly before.”

“I know… is there any other reason you can think of that what Lewis said would have such an effect on her?”

He reflected for a moment, biting his lip and looking back down at me with indecision in his eyes. Finally, he looked back up at Hotch. “There could be. But it’s something you might want to talk to her about directly… it’s not really my business to share.”

“Is she in any danger?”

Spencer shook his head. “Just something that happened when she was younger. With her sister.”

Hotch nodded, giving Spencer’s shoulder a squeeze in a gesture of comfort before returning to his seat. Spencer returned to his soft touches around my body, his hands smoothing down my hair as I slept in a cold slumber.

63 notes · View notes

fuckyouquiznak · 3 years

Text

Dream's past

(pretty long but this is Tumblr, am I right?)

Puffy is the captain of a pirate ship and has two children, Cornelius and Tobias (yes Dream with horns is my kink + I am not over the name Cornelius Dream used during one of Karl’s tale).

Cornelius is the elder one, around six years older than Toby, and he loves the sea and the pirate life. He is a sunny kid, always smiling and telling jokes. Everybody in the crew loves him.

He and his mother are really close. They share the same kindness and curiosity, which makes them always ready go on adventures. Cornelius also loves his little brother, Toby. They haven't a dad, so he acts very protective and defensive around him. They are an happy family.

Until one day everything changes.

***

The ship docks at a strange place. A creepy island maybe, dark and mysterious.

Cornelius is told to stay on the ship because it might be dangerous, but he is too curious to stay still. He is grown up after all, he can handle an adventure. Moreover he is sure the island is hiding a secret. A treasure? A temple? He needs to know.

When nobody is watching he sneaks out of the ship and goes exploring on his own. But then he'll eventually find something there, something wicked and scary. Maybe it is just a cage... something Cornelius is not supposed to open. But again how could he know? And there are voices... they tell him to free them... (dreamons or maybe even DreamXD?)

And you know what they say... "curiosity killed the cat". Excepts Cornelius doesn't die. As soon as he opens the cage he hears a loud and shrill scream and then everything goes black. He wakes up a little after, but nothing has changed. Or at least it seems so.

He grabs his things and quickly comes back to the ship, pretending nothing happened.

***

However after a couple of days things get worse. Now the voices keep visiting him, especially during night. And he doesn't feel alright.

His mother thinks it might be just fatigue or scurvy. But Cornelius doesn't tell her about the voices and the cage. He stays silent even when he sees a white stain growing on his hand.

It can't be that bad, can it?

***

After a week or two Cornelius is not getting better: his head spins, his heart hurts and the voices keep being louder and louder in his mind, till he passes out.

When he wakes up the ship is burning. He has a lighter in his right hand. Fire starts spreading everywhere and the crew panic, trying to stop it with water. But it doesn't work. It's too late.

Cornelius stares at this hands horrified. He doesn't remember anything. Why is he in the middle of the fire? What happened? He cannot breath and closes his eyes. "Let it be just a dream" he prays "He can't be me". His voice cracks, noticing the white stain has grown all over his arm. (imagine it like Ranboo’s left side... these two are connected)

Puffy quickly reaches him and helps him get out of the cabin. They are both burned and covered in ash. Toby cries and squirms in his mother's hands. "It'll be ok" she says culling the baby too calmly to be in a middle of a fire. "Cornelius, you two will take the lifeboat". Cornelius hesitates. "What about you?" Puffy smiles back at him, her cheeks buried in tears: "A captain never leaves her own ship, duckling.. I've got responsibilities here".

"What about us? Mom you don't have to this" he prays, his voice broken. He doesn't want to leave his mother...

But she doesn't listen.

"Take your brother away from here. Row till you find a coast, then ask for help, ok? I'll find you both eventually. I swear" Her smile is weak and tired. They both know it's a lie. They will never meet again.

Puffy gives Cornelius a compass. "Will be together again" she promises. "Do it for Toby".

Cornelius grabs his little brother and finally leaves. He doesn't have the bravery to hold his mother one last time.

(Puffy will actually survive, but she'll forget everything)

The rest is like a memory.

He manages to reach a little beach a couple of days after the accident. When they touch the ground Cornelius collapses. (Tubbo, Puffy and Dream would have scars and marks after the ship break)

***

The following months are horrifying.

It's cold and desolate where they landed. Nobody is willing to help, mainly because they're scared of Cornelius' white mark.

He can't blame them anyway. There's something wrong and scary inside him. They had found a village at some point, but Cornelius had one of his episode and burned down the place.

Toby cries all the time. He is hungry and, most of all, he misses mom.

The voices are not helping.

Cornelius can't keep him anymore. It's already difficult being alone out there. He can't... he can't let his brother live in misery like this. And what if has an episode close to him?

When they reach a wooden house in the middle of the snow (SBI house of course), Cornelius is sure it's time.

He leaves Toby out of the house, with a letter that says: "Save Toby". He has seen a woman doing that with a blonde hair baby a couple of months before (Tommy’s mother y’all).

The owners seem fine. Cornelius had watched them laughing and eating all together next to the fireplace a couple of times. He is sure they could give Toby the love and the warmth he can't provide him. He'll be safe there.

He gives the compass to Toby, just in case he'll need it one day to find him. It's hard, but it's the only choice. They can't be together.

As soon as his brother walks away, Toby starts crying louder. Cornelius does the same. For a moment he even thinks about turning around and take him back. He doesn't want to leave him: he is the only family he has left. But he is doing the right thing, he tells himself. He needs to be strong. For Toby's sake.

The first one to notice the screams is Wilbur, who jumps out of the door worried and scared. He looks at the baby on the top of the stairs and then looks directly at the tree Cornelius is hidden behind.

Philza exits a few moments later. He grabs the baby softly and he looks up to the sky where is crawls are flying. "There's someone" Wilbur whispers, pointing at the tree. Philza stops him and gives him the card. "Whoever left this baby here has a reason, Will".

Cornelius keeps crying. He wishes he could be there too. But the thing that is growing inside him... he is not sure he can handle it.

Techno is out in the forest eventually. He sees Cornelius. "Have some food, nerd", he says, before leaving him with a potato.

***

Cornelius stays close to that house anyway. At least he can keep an eye on Toby from there. He has found a nice spot, next to a cage. It's not that much, but he can't complain.

Toby is growing fast, even if his horns haven't shown up yet. Cornelius likes to watch him play outside with the other blonde kid, Tommy. They seem to get along well. He is as happy and carefree as a child his age should be.

Cornelius instead is sicker than ever. The white stain is growing on his skin day by day. His left arm, part of the chest and even his eye, now red, are surrounded by that. He doesn't know what to do. The voices keep him awake almost every night. They whisper something about "Dream".

Sometimes he wishes he could think about his mother, but the voices are louder than his thoughts. He can't remember her, nor his past life.

The stain is slowly erasing his memory. He is afraid one day he'll even forget Toby.

***

He meets Sapnap when he most needs a friend.

He hasn't talked with someone for ages (except for Techno who sometimes leave him food), so he is not sure he can remember how to do it, but with Sapnap is easy and comfortable.

He saves him from a spider.

Sapnap is scared and lost in the forest. Cornelius happens to be right next to him when the monster comes out. He grabs his sword and kills it.

"Woah, dude you saved me!" Sapnap says, jumping around. "What's your name?" Cornelius hesitates. It's been so long since someone called with his name. He can't really remember it. Was it something with a C? Maybe. Why can't he remember?

"I think it's Dream" he lies, feeling his skin burning. The other one however doesn't seem to notice it. "That's nice, mine is Sapnap! Do you live here? All alone?"

Dream nods, still unsure he should trust or not this new guy. He stays in the shadow. Sapnap smiles. "Dope! I wish I could have an house just for myself" then the smiles runs away from his face "I actually came here to do that... I got into a fight with my dad. Do you have parents?"

"I don't"

Sapnap laughs a bit. "Me neither actually.. Bad is my guardian to be honest. But he is a great guy, really. It's just... I needed space, you know?" Dream is sure he hasn't understood a word of what this kid has said. Bad? Guardian? Space?

"Not really" he answers, lighting a fire. Sapnap immediately steps back, and Dream realises he has finally seen his face. Now he'll go away too, he reckons. I'll be alone forever.

However Sapnap's smile grows bigger then ever. "Whoa that's sick" he screams "I mean in a cool way, dude. Loving your style".

Dream blushes. "I... don't really like it"

Sapnap raises his eyebrows, sighing. "Maybe my dad could fix it"

***

Bad has never been so worried in his entire life - which is a looooong life.

Sapnap wasn't in his bed this morning. He really thought he lost him for good after their last fight, but he luckily came back safe and sound.

He even made a friend.

Bad was so angry, but the happiness of holding his child again was bigger then every other feeling.

"Does it grow?" he asks, touching Dream's face. The kid nods uncomfortably. "Your left eye.. was it green before?" He nods again. "Do you have memory loss?" Dream hesitates. Bad writes something down.

"Well, Dream, I can't erase the stain. What I can do is preventing it from growing bigger. Your memory is damaged, so I can't fix it, but form now on you should remember things more clearly"

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can't give you back your memories, but you can make new ones"

Dream stares at his feet. He is sure there was someone important in his life before worth to remember.

"It'll hurt a bit"

***

"You can stay here if you want" Bad says.

The "operation" went pretty well. Bad and Sapnap offered him to stay with them as long as he wants. Dream is glad. He likes it here. It feels like... family. The voices are gone. Is he really free?

Sapnap enters the room with a big smile. "Dream, I made you something! I know you have to wear bandages everyday, because the mark is still there – Dream touches is face - so my dad and I came up with this little idea" Sapnap hands him a mask.

"It's easier to take off. I drew the smile"

Dream feels his eyes burning. No one has ever done something like that for him. A gift! "I like it. Thank you Sapnap"

“Don’t worry! That’s what friends do”

55 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the Meet Ugly Prompts-38, NSFW Danbrey?

Here you go! Note: there are mentions of blood in this.

38: overhear you ordering your coffee in a coffee shop and I’m trying to place your voice when I realize that you’re the phone sex operator I’ve been calling on and off for the last few months but the realization startles me so much that I accidentally spill my drink on you and you’re pissed

“One spiced mocha, one oatmilk latte!”

Aubrey reaches for her mocha just as a painfully cute blonde in overalls grabs the latte.

“Oh, excuse me” the blonde calls over the counter, “could I get a lid, it looks like you’re all out at the station. Thanks, you’re the best.” She smiles at the teenager who hands he the lid while Aubrey tries to figure out where she’s heard “thanks, you’re the best” said that exact way before.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

She’s heard that voice every Tuesday and Friday when she calls LoveBites, the premiere service for people who really like vampires. Really, really, like vampires.

Honeysuckle, as the woman on the other end of the line calls herself, probably isn’t a vampire. Aubrey figures most of the people who work that line are just very good at pretending to be fictional monsters. She is, however, incredibly good at getting Aubrey to cum with vivid descriptions of where she’s going to sink her teeth.

“AH! Hey, watch what you’re doing.”

Aubrey snaps back to the coffee shop to discover her drink is now all over Honeysuckles shoes.

“Ohmygod, I’m, I’m so sorry.” She grabs a fistful of napkins, drops down to clean the mess of coffee and chocolate syrup from the floor. She reaches to help clean off the other woman's shoes only for her to wave her away.

“It’s fine, I got itshit” she glares as Aubrey, in her attempt to get out of her space, stands too quickly, bumping her head into Honeysuckle’s cup and sending it all over both of them.

Okay, she can totally salvage this. Right?

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

“...then I just ran away.”

Duck laughs so hard on the other end of the phone that he startles Dr. Harris Bonkers.

“Oh come on, like you’ve never done something embarrassing in front of someone cute.”

“Dunno, you might have just beaten my ‘six Freudian slips in a row trying to ask ‘Dird how his weekend was.’”

“Ugggggggggggggggh.”

“It’s okay, Lady Flame” he manages to sound genuinely sympathetic through his giggles, “lots of cute folks out in the world who you ain’t spilled two cups of coffee on.”

“Yeah.” She checks the neon orange clock on the wall, “I gotta go practice my tricks for this weekend. Thanks for listening to me whine.”

“Any time, Aubrey. See you at the show.”

She gets through two tricks, including the one where Dr. Harris Bonkers disappears from a box, but she can’t focus. It’s not nerves; instead, she feels like if she got off just once, she’d stop feeling so tense and be able to run through the rest of her act without issues.

It’d be a very bad idea to call LoveBites when she spilled a drink on her favorite operator. She doesn’t feel like talking someone new through her preferences, and she knows with Honeysuckle she’s guaranteed to get off, which wasn’t always the case with previous operators. Besides, the length of her calls must be enough to pay for a replacement drink.

She grabs her phone and dials. Soon a familiar voice purrs down the line.

“Hi, Aubrey. How’s my favorite human tonight?”

“Good?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that, fireblossom.” It’s a new pet name; ever since she mentioned her stage name, Honeysuckle likes to give her ones woven through with flames.

“I, um, I'm fine?”

“Did something happen today, hot stuff?”

“Uhhhhh. Um. I, uh, I made a fool of myself in a coffee shop. I, um, I spilled my drink on a cute girl. Also hers.”

Honeysuckle goes quiet.

“I, um, I think the person I spilled them on was you.”

“..............spiced mocha?”

“Yeeeeah” Aubrey curls inwards, trying to cringe away from her phone, “I’m really sorry about your shoes. And your overalls. And your drink. I, um, I wasn’t gonna mention it but it feels, like, weird not to and I really was going to offer to replace your coffee except I was kinda worried I’d somehow spill that too. I’m, I’m sorry. I just really like talking with you.” She smiles shyly, “you’re my favorite vampire.”

Dead air, then “you really want to make it up to me with another drink?”

“Yes!” Aubrey sits up, hopeful.

“Even if the drink isn’t coffee?”

“Sure it, it can be whatever you want.”

A hungry purr that makes Aubrey reach for her trusty vibrating wand, “In that case, don’t go anywhere.”

“What? But you’re-”

The line goes dead. Aubrey stares at it, frowning. What is she supposed to do now? Did they get disconnected accidentally? Should she just call back?

She shoves the toy back in the drawer, paces back and forth between the kitchen counter and the table where her cards and flashpaper are strewn about, unsure whether she should make dinner, practice, try to get off, or just give up on everything and go to bed.

From his hutch in the corner, Dr. Harris Bonkers honks, thumps his feet in alarm, then turns his bugged-out eyes on Aubrey and thumps again as if to say, “what the fuck, why aren’t you heeding my warning?”

“Aww, it’s okay buddy. Is that cat on the fire escape again?” She looks out the window, finds nothing but some mist. Mist that’s hovering on her tiny balcony and no one elses. She blinks.

Honeysuckle is standing on the other side of the glass; she’s wearing a loose green tank top and grey yoga pants, golden hair taking on the tint of the nearby streetlights. She gives a demure wave as Aubrey throws the back door open.

“Holy fuck I thought the vampire thing was just, like, a gimmick.”

A shrug, “There’s more humans than vampires working the line, but some of us are the real deal. I know a few vampires who do it because it lets them work nights and keep an actually nocturnal schedule. But some of us do it as a side job and go out during the day. Which means we see cute girls in coffee shops who we think we might ask out who then spill drinks on us.”

“Aw beans. Wait, were you checking me out for real.”

“Uh huh. You must have been doing something super interesting on your phone to not notice.”

Aubrey resolves to delete Candy Crush immediately.

“Um, so, not that I’m not happy to see you again, but like how did you find my house?”

“We can trace numbers on our end. It’s a security thing; back when the line started some hunters kept trying to use it to go after vampires, so we needed to know where calls were coming from.”

“Blegh, that sucks.”

“Yeah, not my favorite.” She flutters her eyelashes, “any chance I could come in?”

“Absolutely, uh, here” she holds the door--which has no risk of closing without a lot of force--so the vampire can step into the apartment.

“Do I, um, should I still just call you what I always have?”

Golden eyes look her up and down hungrily, “Dani is fine.” Then she squeaks, “ooooh, hi there little guy, can I say hi? Oop, okay, some other time.” Dani smiles as the rabbit ducks into his covered box, “animals can be kind of skittish around me at first. Which makes sense.” When she turns to look at Aubrey, her fangs are visible.

“Hooboy that’s, that’s, uh-”

Dani steps back, “I can back off. I just, um, I thought since we’re both into each other and you were, um, already in the mood for some lovebites maybe we could -”

“NoItotallywantto!” Aubrey grabs her hand, pulling her towards the bedroom, “sorry, the fangs are apparently an insta-horny button in my brain.”

“Good to know” Dani spins her by her shoulders and pushes her back onto the bed, fangs now on full display, “take your clothes off, fireblossom.”

Aubrey thanks herself from two hours ago for changing into her pajamas so she doesn’t have much to rid herself of. When she gets her shirt off, Dani is down to her underwear, green boyshorts showing off her legs and completely distracting Aubrey from any unwelcome self-consciousness.

“Mmmmmm” Dani crawls onto the bed with her, “I thought you were cute before but fuck, you look incredible like this.”

“Thanks” Aubrey’s breath catches as Dani bumps their noses together, “can, can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

She raises up on her elbows, mapping Dani’s mouth with her own. Aubrey’s kissed plenty of people in her life, and there have only been a few where the gesture felt like coming home, like she was slotting against a body that was meant to be with hers. All of those pale in comparison to the way Dani’s body seems to meld with hers. She gasps when the vampire cups her right breast, teasing the nipple with her thumb as she eases Aubrey all the way down. Her other hand finds her face, traces from there to the base of her neck, touches moving from light to sharp as she curves her nails down her skin.

When the fangs scrape her sternum she moans. Dani snickers against her, kisses and nuzzles her way down her chest, sighing when Aubrey threads her fingers into her hair.

“So, my pretty snack, what were you going to ask me for when you called?”

“I, I was kinda hoping we’d talk about you eating me out.”

A kiss above her belly button, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“OhgoodOH, ohfuck” she opens her legs wider as Dani dips her head between them, “ahhhn, please, a little higher, ohfuck, god.” Her hips twitch as Dani sucks her clit. There’s a muffled laugh as two fingers tease her cunt.

“Wow, you really do like the fangs.”

“I mean yeah, but that’s more because you’re really hotOH, ohyesfuckthat’sgood.” She moans as Dani presses two fingers in, stroking and rubbing in time with the vampire’s increasingly wanton groans.

“Fuck, Aubrey, that’s it, you look so pretty like this, be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Trying” Aubrey squeaks as Dani laves her tongue across her clit and curls her fingers inside her, “fuck, right there, yeah, ohyes, that, just like that.” She squeezes her eyes shut, clinging to Dani’s head and to the hand gripping her thigh. When she cums it’s intense enough that she’s terrified she’s going to kick Dani accidentally, but the vampire simply holds her thighs down, lapping at her until her moans die down.

“Fireblossom?”

“Uh huh?”

“You still owe me a drink. Whatever I want, remember?”

“Yeah? Oh, oh fuck yeah.” She squirms in excitement as Dani drops to the floor and pulls Aubrey towards her until she’s able to hook her knees over her shoulders.

Dani pushes stray hairs from her face, “If you start feeling lightheaded, tell me okay?”

Aubrey gives a thumbs up, winces at how dorky it is, then giggles when Dani cranes forward to kiss it.

The vampire kisses a line from her right knee to her inner thigh, sighing loudly when she noses a certain patch of skin.

“Perfect.”

Fangs sink into her skin and Aubrey clamps her hands over her mouth to avoid waking the neighbors. It’s a sharp, precise pain, flooding her body with the urge to lay back and let Dani take her fill. Then the teeth retreat and Dani’s tongue takes their place, licking the red rivulets and moaning as she sucks at the punctured skin.

“Such a perfect snack.” Dani looks up at her, heavy-lidded and scarlet-mouthed.

“Dani” Aubrey reaches for her, not sure what she’s even asking for.

The vampire takes her hand, rubs it against her cheek, “Does it still feel okay?”

“It feels so good.”

Dani smiles, turns her head to pierce the left thigh, Aubrey moaning weakly as she drinks from her. The moan is echoed, and when she manages to lift her head she sees Dani’s hand is not between her own legs.

“Oh god that’s hot.”

The vampire grins at her, “I get dinner, you get a show. It’s perfect.”

Aubrey watches her lick the bites until they cease bleeding, her moans pitching higher as she fucks herself, getting off on the taste of Aubrey’s blood-tinted skin. Then she tenses, tipping her head back, fangs glinting in the light from the windows, and gasps Aubrey’s name as she cums.

Then a blonde head rests on her knee. Aubrey sits up, Dani’s hair as they catch their breath.

“I, um, I should clean you up. Do you have band-aids?”

“Bathroom.”

Dani stands, cheeks much pinker than before, and returns a minute later with the Pokemon band-aids that Aubrey bought solely for the Charizard ones. She wipes her legs with a warm hand towel, gently pats the bandages into place, stealing giddy glances at Aubrey the entire time.

“You know that fucking ruled, right?” Aubrey rests her head on her shoulder when Dani joins her on the bed.

“Glad you liked it, fireblossom. Can’t believe I’m lucky enough that the hottest human I’ve met in years has a thing for vampires.

“Pretty sure I just have a thing for you. Which, um, I mean this can totally stay casual but, um, do you want to go out sometime?”

Dani nods, leans in for another kiss. She must have borrowed Aubrey’s mouthwash, since she tastes of mint instead of iron.

“I’d love to, Aubrey. But, um, let’s avoid coffee shops for awhile?”

“Good plan.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty #meet ugly #vampire girlfriend

23 notes · View notes