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pigcowboys · 4 months

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secret santa !

pairing: percy jackson x female!reader

summary: camp half-blood decides to do secret santa this year.

warning(s): pre-established relationship and kissing but, none, mostly!

a/n: merry (late) christmas to everyone who celebrates it!! this was supposed to be out on christmas day but.. uh yeah. this is slightly self-indulgent.

“you’re doing it right?” you asked, adjusting your position on your bunk bed as you tried your best to scrub out the nasty maroon stain you’d spilled onto the fabric.

it was almost christmas day and with that important birthday coming up, it meant only one thing for you, gift shopping. not that you hated it — honestly. it was just the idea of somehow disappointing your friends.

the stakes were higher this year considering the fact chiron had brought up the idea of doing a secret santa with the rest of the camp. everyone voted in agreement the idea — well, except for clovis but, to be fair he wasn’t conscious when the announcement was made.

soon after it was set in stone that the camp would be hosting its very first secret santa and then following that, everyone was assigned a partner.

piper got annabeth, annabeth got leo, leo got piper and somehow travis stoll had gotten clarisse. that last part was going to be interesting. you even got someone as well, too. not that it made you anxious at all, you loved gifting people presents — great at it, dare you say.

well, it was a bit easier to gift people presents when you didn’t have to worry about whether or not your gift would somehow make the person hate you and question why they even started dating you in the first place.

so, it was safe to say you weren’t especially overjoyed when you got percy as your secret santa. your mind went blank as you shifted to the side, allowing percy to slide past you to reach for his paper with his santa.

you eyed him curiously as he stared at the words on the paper indifferently before a smile flashed onto his face. he turned the paper so your eyes had access to it clearly, completely missing the moment when your heart dropped.

"we got each other," percy said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "that's lucky, right?" you merely laughed nervously in response.

"yeah, totally." not lucky, not lucky at all.

“everyone is,” annabeth started “why? are you changing your mind?” annabeth asked, causing you to frown slightly.

“well, no..i think.” you trailed off, eyebrows furrowing as you flung your sponge to the side. gods, you seriously hoped this would wash out after a while.

“i wouldn’t wanna spoil the fun.”

“plus, you’re curious about what your secret santa might’ve gotten you.” annabeth chimed in.

“that too.” you replied. "any idea what percy might have in mind?"

annabeth merely hummed in response leaving you even more conflicted than before. what if he gets you an amazing gift and all you get him is some crap that he'll say he loves, a fake smile on his face before dumping it somewhere in his cabin 'till the next secret santa.

you didn't want to be that girlfriend. you actively rebuke any allegations that may have even brought that idea up.

“i am so screwed.” you sobbed out, pressing your fingers against your face as you sighed dramatically.

“you have time, use it.” annabeth reminded you. she was right, it was only 2 days till christmas day and even then, secret santa wasn’t going to happen till later into the evening.

“just don’t use too much, shopping places are never open for late minute gifts.”

“right, okay..” you murmured out. "i have time."

those 2 days came and went sooner than you expected it to and by christmas day morning, you were frantically wrapping up percy’s gift, thoughts racing as you tried to not think about whether or not the gift would be cool enough for him.

he’s be happy with anything you got him, you knew that. didn’t make ease your mind any less, though. you stumbled out of your cabin as you rushed towards the decorated tree that was out near the forest, courtesy of the demeter kids.

to be honest, even if you liked christmas or disliked it, everyone could appreciate the effort put into decorating the tree. especially with all the presents stacked under - it added to the scene. you bent down, carefully placing it underneath the tree, not too close so that it would obviously stick out, but not too far that people would forget it was there.

this was a big camp, after all.

you'd made your way over the mess hall, scanning over it for any signs of percy before taking a plate and shoving food onto it. you spared a part for your godly parent and then made your way toward the table to sit with everyone else.

even with percy missing, the mess hall was still lively - believe it or not. everyone seemed to be talking lively about their gifts and what they were expecting, something that didn't ease your anxieties about your own gift.

it didn't help at all when your eyes finally settled on percy's own across the room, a small smile pulling on his face as he tended to his plate. your mind had been so zeroed in on worrying you hadn't even clued in on the fact he was walking over to you, taking a seat beside you.

"thanks for saving me a seat." you fought back a smile at the sound of his tired voice. he must've been knocked out sometime after sword practice. you hummed in response, fiddling with your food as your mind raced.

your eyes drifted towards percy as you watched him silently from the corner of your eyes. between the bed hair and the disheveled state of his clothes, it was safe to say that he had just woken up. despite the anxieties that swirled in your mind and the ansty fidgeting of your legs, you couldn't deny that percy was gorgeous.

though, it just brought your mind back to your dilemma. secret santa would happen right after dinner and then would be campfire time. how could you sit and sing songs at the campfire knowing percy had hated your gift?

"you're being stranger than usual, y'know."

"hm?" you turned to look at percy who gave you a quizzical look. "i'm acting completely normal."

"you've barely touched your food."

you stared down at your plate, it looked like a ghost had gently floated over it - devoid of human ingestion.

"i'm not hungry." you lied, slapping yourself mentally when your stomach growled deeply.

"mhm.." percy nodded along, trying to suppress the smile on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, pushing his plate aside as he turned his whole body to face you, something that didn't go unnoticed by you as you locked eyes with him.

"just..thinking."

"about?"

you narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the tingling in your chest as you watched him carefully. you really hoped he hadn't caught onto the fact you were just checking him out at this point, turning your face away in embarrassment as you rested your head on your elbows,

"stuff."

"what kind of stuff?"

"important stuff."

"like what?"

"percy, will you leave me alone!" a laugh, followed by his hand brushing against your back soothingly. you titled your head up to look at him as your head rested on your elbows.

"sorry, sorry." he smiled. "just hang in there, okay?" was all he whispered in your ear before moving back to press a sloppy kiss to your head that made your face scrunch in disgust.

"gross...you're so disgusting, percy.." you murmur, wiping the wet blotch of spit that was left on your forehead from the kiss.

"i love you too."

"what'd you think you got?" piper asked, shifting in her seat slightly as she waited for annabeth to respond.

"you're asking me like you don't know what i got." annabeth replied with a small smile.

"can't hurt to imagine."

you zoned out the rest of the conversation as you suppressed the urge to scream out of frustration. the camp chatted lively around you, cueing you in on the fact that you'd been cuddled up beside percy without once offering a word to him.

not that he minded, he was aware you wanted to be with your thoughts and he respected it. just..didn't feel very..couple appropriate. it felt like you'd been talking to yourself way more than the guy who was supposed to be your boyfriend.

"quiet down," chiron's voice rang through all the chatter, reducing the crowd to silence. he'd somehow managed to shimmy matching ugly christmas sweaters onto him and mr. d respectively. the image alone made you want to pull out your phone and snap a picture.

though, you decided against it, taking notice of the death glares mr.d had sent your way.

chiron announced that secret santa would be happening in a bit, receiving a series of cheers from some campers in the crowd. you shifted slightly in percy's hold, prompting him to look at you - a curious look on his face.

"you okay?"

"yeah, it's just kind of cold, i guess."

percy hummed in response before pulling you into him so you were resting against his chest. he rested his chin on your head with a small smile.

“is this better?” he whispered, to which you merely hummed in response, snuggling yourself against him as you tried to get comfortable. now, you weren’t a fan of those overly lovely couples that couldn’t keep their hands off each other in public but, you had to admit that being in percy’s arms felt more than good with the day you’ve had.

chiron continued on with his announcements, listing out the series of activities tomorrow and also stating as well that the stables would be closed on account of an “accident” that had happened in there. that part was received with a small shiver.

“that’s all i’d like to say, furthermore, I’d like to wish everyone a merry christmas.” then, chiron and mr.d stepped to the side as the festivities continued on.

it was time.

“wonder what everyone got.” you murmured, watching quietly as the rest of the campers hurried towards the tree decked out with over the top presents. percy stood up, offering you his hand as he locked them.

“me too.” percy agreed, sighing slightly. “gods, all i hope is that someone doesn’t make the mistake of gifting travis firecrackers ever again.”

“or a megaphone.”

“oh, yeah, i totally remember that year.”

“I’m sure everyone else does too..”

percy cracked a grin, one that cause your stomach to flutter slightly as you smiled back at him. he squeezed your hand before making short strides towards the rest of the campers.

you should’ve been anxious — you were anxious. though, your concerns seemed to slip away the longer you stayed with percy. the way he looked at you, it made you realize just one thing that you were sure a crummy present wasn’t going to change.

he loved you.

camp activities were fun and all but, extremely loud.

you’d figured it’d only been amplified by the fact that everyone was opening their christmas gifts and comparing what they’d gotten from each of their respective partners.

you could respect that, secret santa was no joke.

yet, you’d still managed to slip away with percy while none of the adults were watching in favorite of opening your gifts in the company of one another rather than the rest of the camp. and judging by the sputters of stars in the night sky illuminating percy and your faces, it was a good call.

“you think they’ll be mad at us for ditching everyone else?” you asked, clutching your present to your chest as you adjusted your winter coat.

“we’ll be back before they know it,” percy replied, turning to face you with a smile. he was always smiling. “and anyways, everyone else would be too busy with their presents to care.”

you sighed, taking a seat next to percy as you rested his gift in-front of you. percy turned to look at you with an anxious look on his face as he cleared his throat, holing his hand out as he waited for you to take the gift from him.

you looked back at him, nerves set ablaze as well as you exchanged your gifts, resting the wrapped present in your lap as you ogled the festive paper.

“so, truth be told — i’m pretty nervous.” percy blurred out of the blue.

“gods, i’m so glad you said that cause, i so was too.” you sighed softly, your heartbeat stilling for the first time this night as you shifted your body so you were turned towards percy. “i really wanted my gift to special and.. i feel like if it isn’t you’d like hate me or something.”

“i could never hate you.”

you paused for a moment. it’d only be a few years since you’d started to date percy, you should’ve been more used to his personality. yet, it never seemed to catch you off guard when he said these kind of sentimental things.

“even if i got you like..a smelly sock for christmas?”

percy laughed before shaking his head. you bite the inside of your mouth, frowning slightly as your face grew hot.

“sorry, i’ve been so quiet tonight.” you averted percy’s gaze, picking at the clear taping of your present. “it’s just — I don’t know, i guess i was lost in my own head.”

percy watched you quietly, leaning forward to cup your cheek as he planted a soft kiss to your lips, pulling back to stare you head on in your eyes.

“don’t apologize for something like that, it’s fine — really.” percy replied, his voice soft and careful. it made your body feel warm.

“if you want, you could open my gift first,” he added, moving his hand to rest atop yours. “that way you won’t be so nervous.”

you smiled, a genuine one. “that or your gift will be so amazing that it makes mine look horrible.” percy grinned back at you.

“let’s see.”

you nodded, turning to stare down the gift in your lap before you started to unravel it. it wasn’t a particularly big present, not that you minded at all. anything from percy was something to treasure. you moved the packaging to the side carefully as you stared at the small box that hit behind it.

it wasn’t cardboard, more like.. leather? or silk. and it was blue — percy’s trademark. you looked to him with a curious look on your face before turning back to gaze at the small box. you let your finger glide over the material once more before you opened it.

“percy..?” you mumbled out, voice barely a whisper.

inside the box contained a small ring that looked to be just about the size of your ring finger. your heart dropped at the sight of it — in a good way. it was pretty, careful patterns etched into that showed that it was finely crafted. and at the center of it, a small gem that was the same shade of your favorite color.

the cherry on top.

your eyes started to water involuntarily as your lips trembled. you were at a loss for words, how could you say anything? you stared at percy in shock as you tried to grasp the right words to say, eventually coming up with the idea to not say any words at all, leaning forward as you pulled him into a tight hug.

percy hugged back immediately, burying his head into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you gently.

you pulled back to look at him, tears pooling down your face as he wiped them away with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your tear stained cheeks.

“you’re..you’re totally insane for being nervous.” you managed out, laughing slightly as you choked back a sob. “how did you get the money to pay for this?”

“i saved up!” he replied brightly, a proud smile flashing on his face. your shoulders trembled as a warm laugh broke through your lips, causing percy to flush slightly in your hold.

“thank you so much percy.” you whispered, moving your hand to rest on his cheek as you spoke. “you really didn’t have to get me something like this.”

“it’s all fine.” he replied calmly. “it’s you were talking about, y’know.” your face burned with embarrassment as you smiled uncontrollably, pulling percy in for a deeper kiss.

you pulled away from him, watching quietly as percy took the small blue box you’d placed on the floor beside you and opening it. he held the promise ring in his hand, gently taking your own as he slid the ring on carefully. you watched him quietly before press another kiss to his face.

then another, and another.

and before you knew it, you were peppering kisses all over his face, taking the small giggles he emitted from his lips as a sign to do even more than before. percy managed your name out though his giggles, fingers digging into your winter coat as he tried to pry you off of him.

“the — gift!” he giggled, shutting his eyes tightly as you pressed another kiss to the bridge of his nose. “what about — your gift?”

“another time.” was all you whispered as you slid the gift away, focusing in on making sure you’d filled every single spot off percy’s with the feeling of your lips.

safe to say percy hadn’t gotten to see what you’d gotten him till a little later into the night.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #x reader #x reader fluff #pjo fluff

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jazzisackerman · 1 year

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takemichi who gets guiltier every time he breaks his promise to not get into fights, but he knows you'll always be there to patch him up with a shake of your head and a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

mikey who steals bites of your snacks, laughing sweetly when you make a face at him. sometimes he'll leave you alone, but then he'll steal the taste of your treats off your lips later.

draken who flatly refuses all of your pleas to hitch a ride on his motorcycle, only for him to reveal one he'd been working on for months just for your birthday.

chifuyu who has established coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you and lift you up into the air as his default greeting, laughing as you squeal and kick your feet.

keisuke who let you name one of his cats, and now taiyaki is a very small and spoiled third-wheel on all of your dates, getting scooped into your arms as keisuke leans over to kiss the edge of your mouth.

mitsuya who didn't say much when you gave him a sweater you'd crocheted one day, but as he turned his face you could see a smile and a tint of pink in his cheeks.

kazutora who made a habit of coming into your apartment via the window at insane hours, but you reprimand him as he wraps you in his arms, smiling against the skin of your neck, saying "i missed you".

seishu who complains about being your "coffee boy", but he'll still show up outside the gates of your school with a cup every morning, huffing as you kiss him on the cheek, his hand ghosting your waist.

hajime who completely ignores your demands for him to stop getting you expensive gifts since you "can't match that, haji!", instead smirking and replying with, "that ass is my gift" and getting slapped.

wakasa who is often bored with most of the things around him, but finds himself perking up slightly when you approach him, a smile pulling at his lips as you slip to his side, where you fit so perfectly.

shinichiro who apologises when he has to decline dates to look after his siblings, but when you swing by things get much easier, and he can't imagine a future without you, laughing in his living room.

izana who was so used to discarding people, but then someone came into his life who pushed his hair behind his ear and rested her head on his shoulder, and he knew he could never get rid of you.

haruchiyo who is so unashamedly loud most of the time, but he quietens when it's just the two of you, your hands on his cheeks and gently brushing over the scars on his face, placing kisses on each on.

nahoya who is rarely seen without you by his side, both laughing madly at some game on your phones. souya who is so much kinder than everyone thinks, by your side with a snack every time you're sad.

hakkai who always makes you giggle by kissing your hand at every meeting, but he'll follow it up with a hug that's closer to a tackle, ending in both of you just laughing, probably too loudly.

rindou who would stop at very little to protect you, but he's always brought back to reality by your hand tugging at his wrist when he's gone too far. you're the only one who can pull an apology from him.

ran who is so used to a life of independence and supporting other people that he simply melts, lying in his room with his head in your lap, the safest he's ever been able to feel.

hinata who will outright refuse to take other people's shit, often leading to you having to drag her away from conflicts, laughing as she fights against your grip, scowling adorably.

emma who is so often called childish, but you allow to her bring out her true nature of playfulness instead of play-acting as an adult, your relationship one of hands joined, swinging in the space between you.

yuzuha who just needed someone to be there for her, but she's instead fallen so devastatingly in love, and she kisses you at the end of every date with desperate love, silently vowing to keep you safe.

senju who has a love language of spending time together, and could do anything at all with you, as long as it's with you. she doesn't care for your lectures about getting hurt, but she'll always listen.

tokyo revengers manga, happy ending day !! i'm fucking wrecked i'm not gonna lie but this manga has been a source of comfort for me for over eighteen months. i'm going to miss them sm sobs [and i'm sure i'll cry when i read it when i wake up]

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boybandposter · 2 months

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☾ “Paint me the Moon“ - Larry Johnson

prompt: It’s your seventeenth birthday, and Larry wants to give you a gift

warnings: none ! pure fluff ♥︎

word count: 1.6K

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

A gentle plume of smoke spilled from your lips as you leaned further back into the couch. After a full day of partying with Ashley, Sal, and Larry, you four finally got to unwind at your apartment. Sadly, your parents were still gone due to business— promising to make up for it once they returned. Just another common occurrence, but you didn’t mind. It made it easier to have everyone over to just hang out anyways.

You took another drag of your blunt before speaking, “Being seventeen is great and all, but it’s just another year of high school.” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling with a lax smile. You heard Ash and Larry chuckle, and Larry crossed his legs over your lap.

“Just drop out, dumbass. You could always do pole dancing like you joke around abo—“ Larry couldn’t even finish his sentence before you threw a decorative pillow at his face.

“Come on, you know those are jokes. Kinda. Maybe.” You kept changing your words and passed the rest of your joint to Sal, who sat quietly on the ottoman. He was more talkative earlier, but it was getting late and it had been a long day.

As if on queue, Ashley stood from the floor and stretched, a small crack coming from her back. You hadn’t noticed, but she shot Sally a look as if indicating some secret message. “Well, I dunno about you guys, but I’m beat.” She talked as she picked up a bit of the mess, which wasn’t too much of a hassle. Sal stood up as well and ran his hair through his blue locks.

“Same, and I gotta feed Gizmo. When we stopped at my apartment my dad was out, so I can only assume he still is.” His voice was slightly muffled by his prosthetic as he spoke, and he trudged over to where you sat. Sal grabbed your hands and pulled you up into a tight hug. He wished you happy birthday for the millionth time, telling you how grateful he was for you and that he wanted you to trip and eat grass (you had shoved him earlier at the lake and he nearly did the same).

You laughed and pulled away from his arms and was quickly met by Ashley’s embrace, where she nearly squished the life from your frame, spouting quick words of ‘I love you so much’ and ‘happy birthday’. Ash planted a quick kiss on your cheek and looked at Larry, who still sat on the couch lazily. Soon after, it was just you and Larry at your apartment. It wasn’t uncommon by any means— almost every other time all four of you hung out, Larry stayed behind to keep you company. Or you two would simply hang out with each other when the other two were busy.

You nestled back to your spot on the couch and put your own legs above Larry this time, his large palm resting on top of your shin. You could’ve sworn that for a split second, Larry ran his thumb back and forth, but you had smoked a little so you ignored it. But what really threw you off was that he was just… staring. His brown eyes reached into your soul, at least that’s what it felt like. After what felt like an hour, he chuckled and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“Sorry I had spaced out, I was just thinking.”

“You? Think? I don’t think so.” Your laugh was cut short as he pinched your ankle, making you squeal and flinch. “Sorry, sorry! It was too good to pass up. And you definitely set yourself up for that one.”

Larry rolled his eyes and sighed with a soft smile on his face. He almost looked ethereal in the dimly lit room, and you had to shake yourself mentally to avoid staring… again. “I was going to give you a little something for your big day, but maybe you don’t want it after all.” He admitted with a shrug and a simple tilt of his head.

“What?! C’mon, now I’m curious! You never give gifts, so please? I’ll be super nice this time!” You pleaded with him, but the grin on your face contradicted your words. Your hands mimicked a praying motion as you sat up on the couch. your mind raced with thoughts and ideas of what he could’ve brought. Whatever it was, you were bound to cherish it forever and you knew you were going to write this moment down in your journal later.

Larry stood up from the cushions and pulled his long hair into a loose bun that hung at the nape of his neck. “You better behave then. And close your eyes, y/n. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, would we now?”

You immediately complied and placed your hands over your eyes. All you could do was listen as he shuffled around the room, but you knew it was pointless. A comfortable silence filled the room, until Larry broke it with a heavy exhale. “Alright, I guess you can take a look now.”

“You guess? What do you…” You trailed off as you removed your hands, ad you were met face-to-face with the most gorgeous portrait of yourself. Your eyes scanned and admired every minuscule detail, from the way your hair had clung to your skin to the wrinkles of your smile. Not a single word escaped your tongue.

Tears slowly trailed down your cheeks unbeknownst to you as you turned to Larry, who looked anxious to his core. His hands opened and closed as he waited for something, anything— He wanted you to hurry and tell him that you hated it, or that he got your face wrong. God, this was making his heart pound like crazy.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping upwards to meet your gaze.

“Larry… it’s beautiful. I— God, I don’t even know what to say, I…” Your eyes flickered between the painting and the man in front of you.

Larry rubbed the back of his neck and shoved his other hand in his pocket. “Maybe a thank you would work for now?” He chuckled breathlessly and a weight was immediately lifted off his shoulders. But for him, he had one more thing planned out for you. A laugh escaped from your mouth as you wiped the salty tears from your cheeks, shaking your head to try and collect yourself.

The next thing Larry knew, you were wrapping your arms around his neck in a warm embrace. His brain stopped for a moment, any witty comments flying from his thoughts. Without too much waiting, you felt his arms slide around your waist. “I’m glad you like it y/n. I was actually pretty fucking nervous to give it to you.” Larry chuckled in your ear and pulled away just enough to see your face.

You quirked your eyebrow and cocked your head to the side in confusion. Normally Larry wouldn’t have any problem showing you his work. Every time he finished a piece he would invite you over to see it. “Why would you be nervous about it? It’s one of the most beautiful paintings I’ve ever seen from you.” You questioned him innocently, the evident curious tone taking place in your voice.

Larry’s gaze flickered away from yours for a brief moment, “That’s where the second part of my ‘gift’ comes in. That’s really the reason I’m nervous.” He explained with a deep exhale. You couldn’t help but notice how tense he suddenly felt.

“Y/n…. I know I’m not the best person around, that much is obvious. But… can I have the honor of being your boyfriend?” His cheeks flared pink at his quickly spoken question. Both of you sat in a shocked silence but what else were you supposed to do?

Larry couldn’t believe he had actually worked up the guts to ask, and you? You yet again found yourself staring at him with a slacked jaw. Your own cheeks burnt, but you couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that he asked to be your boyfriend. Emotions ran through your body, but the most prominent of them was the sheer and utter joy of it all. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have a crush on Larry, but you always thought it was a hopeless case. But everything is different now. “Are you being serious? Like, this isn’t a joke?”

Larry simply shook his head with a sheepish look plastered on his slender face. Were you that repulsed by the idea of dating him?

You shrieked and found yourself hugged him so hard that he nearly stumbled backwards onto the couch. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my God, I can’t believe this is actually happening right now!” You giggled and bounced on your toes, your hold on his body never once loosening. Every other gift paled in comparison (except for the painting, that was definitely the second favorite) to his words. “Fuck, I just wanna kiss you right now!” Your eyes widened at your own words and you blankly gazed at him to await his reaction.

Larry’s hands ghosted over your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. They stopped to cup your face, his own smile sending butterflies straight to your stomach. “Well, I am your boyfriend now. Go crazy. Please.” Larry whispered the last phrase and you couldn’t even stop yourself from kissing him senseless.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

author’s note: PLEASE I actually love Larry so much it makes my head hurt. I was going to make it a little longer but it didn’t happen🗿

#florence writes !#larry johnson #larry johnson x reader #larry johnson x you #sally face fanfics #larry johnson x fem!reader #fanfic #x reader #writing #requests open #reqs open #larry johnson x y/n

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mcdonaldsplayground · 1 year

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| actually the worst | part 5

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: it’s been a month and you’re still fuming over what ao’nung did to lo’ak. however, when kiri asks you to hear him out, you find it easier to forgive him than you thought. a trip to the cove of ancestors seems to solidify the newly restored friendship and also encourages a new aspect of your relationship that you weren’t expecting. when things inevitably go wrong at the spirit tree, ao’nung plays a surprisingly strong role in getting you through the traumatic events of the night.

includes: enemies to lovers, teasing, swearing, mildly suggestive remarks, mentions of seizure/death, ao'nung being... a sweetheart?🫢

word count: 4.3k

a/n: oh my god i am so sorry this took me forever to write! the past few days have just been so busy, but it's finally done😮‍💨 i'm thinking one, maaaaybe two more parts depending on what i can come up with for part 6:)

Okay, so maybe you did like him. A little. Like a minuscule amount. It was microscopic, really.

You had spent the past month fervently denying it anytime your siblings poked fun at you or when you found yourself thinking about it. However, a few days ago you were sitting on the beach, watching your siblings fool around with the Metkayina kids when you realized you had been staring at Ao’nung for an embarrassingly long time. You hadn’t spoken a word to him since the Lo’ak incident, but you’d been staring practically whenever you thought it was safe to do so. Sometimes you thought about everything you disliked about him and fantasized about punching him. Most of the time you were fantasizing about- well…

The point was that you finally decided you couldn’t deny your attraction to him any longer. But that didn’t mean you were about to let anyone else know that. Especially not him.

“[Y/N], are you coming?” Kiri’s head poked into the marui. You stopped braiding the bracelet you were working on, quickly hiding it behind your back as it was going to be a gift for Kiri’s birthday in a few days. Technically it would be your birthday too, but you preferred to celebrate her.

“Where are you going?” You asked excitedly, starting to ready yourself for what you assumed was going to be one of your nightly explorations of the island.

“Tsireya is taking us to the spirit tree!” Kiri exclaimed, clearly more than happy to be going.

“Oh…” You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. You certainly wanted a chance to finally see the spirit tree of the Metkayina, something you sorely missed about home. However, you knew who would be tagging along on the journey and it was not someone you wanted to be around. “Maybe just go without me.” You mumbled.

“Nonsense, you need to go. It is important!” Your mother stood from her spot next to your dad as they finished eating their dinner together. She squatted down next you, placing a comforting hand on your leg. “You have been sulking around for many days, [Y/N]. I think it will be good for you to go with your friends.” Her smile was kind, reassuring. It’s not like you could tell her why you really didn’t want to go.

“Alright.” You caved, mustering a small smile for Neytiri before you followed Kiri out the door. She was practically skipping.

“Maybe you should make up with Ao’nung, tonight.” She said airily, and you choked on your own spit.

“W-what?” Kiri barked out a laugh, shaking her head.

“Relax. I said make up. Not make out.” Her eyes danced with laughter as you tried to ignore your heated cheeks. Even she, your trusted twin, had not been able to resist teasing you about the bane of your existence.

“Either way, it’s not gonna happen, Ki.” You pursed your lips. She smiled, looping her arm through yours.

“He’s not so bad anymore.” She was no longer teasing, but you snorted out a laugh anyway. “I’m being serious! I still don’t like him much, but you have to admit that he’s been incredibly civil lately.” She was right, of course. The Metkayina boy was still a snarky moron, but he’d actually been getting along with everyone. He’d even attempted to apologize to you, but you were making it incredibly difficult by avoiding and outright ignoring him. “Just give him a chance to talk to you, okay? You don’t have to forgive him if you don’t want to.”

“Fine,” You sighed, wishing anyone but Kiri had asked you this favour. “Though I think cutting my own leg off would be preferable to listening to him speak.”

“Listening to who speak?” You shouldn’t have been surprised that he had snuck up on you yet again. It was becoming ritual at this point.

“Is nothing I say ever private to you?” You whipped around, meeting those shining blue eyes. It was the first time you had made real eye contact with him in weeks.

“I’m going to go meet the others. I’ll let them know you guys are on the way.” Kiri whispered, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before she took off in the direction of the beach. You swear you saw her grinning.

“So you’re talking to me now, forest girl?” Ao’nung’s deep voice was neutral, but his small smirk betrayed his satisfaction.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not exactly my choice.” You scoffed, finding a small bit of amusement in the fact that Ao’nung didn’t know what panties were. You could see him fighting the urge to ask.

“I suppose you’re expecting me to apologize.” He finally said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. It was clear that he didn’t make apologies often.

“I suppose I am.” You echoed, crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry.” He bit out. You blinked, waiting for him to continue. The soft chirping of insects and the distant rush of the shoreline were the only sounds as the two of you stood, awkwardly staring. When it became clear that he didn’t plan on saying anything else, you let out a short, bitter laugh.

“You can’t be serious.” You turned to go, thinking about what a waste of time that was. However, you only made it about two steps before a callused but incredibly gentle hand closed around your arm, tugging you back.

“Wait.” He breathed, sighing softly. You turned slowly back to face him.

“I really am sorry, [Y/N].” You stilled at the sound of your name passing his lips. You couldn’t think of a time when he had actually said it. It was always forest girl, or freak. The way your name sounded coming from him was intriguing. He said it like a prayer. Like you were something to be worshipped. It made it difficult to pay attention to the rest of his apology.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve it, honestly. But I just feel really desperate for you to know that I learned my lesson that night. I kept on imagining what could have happened, how it could have turned out. I- I have nightmares about it still,” He paused briefly, looking past you for a moment as if seeing something you weren’t. Your heart clenched. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to impress people. Trying to be funny and unbothered and worthy of being the future Olo’eyktan. I don’t know when that made me into a monster, but I don’t want to be that anymore.” He swallowed deeply, nervously shuffling from foot to foot while avoiding your eyes. The sight was unbearable.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. Startled, he looked up from the ground, meeting your gaze.

“I forgive you, Ao’nung.” Your words were almost inaudible, but you felt him shiver slightly beneath your touch. Slowly, his hand extended out to rest on your waist, inching the two of you closer than ever. His breathing was slow and methodic and you instinctively reached up, placing a hand over his rapid heartbeat, completely unable to look anywhere but his blown pupils. Your mind felt impossibly slow, barely registering anything other than Ao’nung’s grip on your waist and the fire it was spreading all along your body. It was when his lips brushed ever so lightly across yours- so excruciatingly close to being a kiss- that you came rushing back to reality.

“Jesus christ, I’m sorry…” You took a faltering step back, shivering at the loss of contact when Ao’nung’s hands fell away from you. “I- That-” You stumbled over your words, so utterly embarrassed that you couldn’t think properly.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…” He shook his head, stepping back a bit.

“I mean- I’m just- I need some, like, some time.” You finally got out the words, hoping you weren’t sounding like a jerk. “You did almost kill my brother, after all.” A breathy laugh escaped your lips, but you instantly regret your words when you realized how terrible they sounded. However, they rang somewhat true. It seemed ridiculous to be macking on the boy immediately after he apologized. You didn’t want to be that desperate.

“So… can we go back to how things were, then?” He asked, his signature smirk playing at his lips. Relief flooded you as you processed his words, glad to be offered a way out of the mess you had just created.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “Are you willing to go back to getting your ego demolished by me?” You quirked and eyebrow, earning a scoff from him.

“You wish, freak.” He suddenly turned, starting toward the beach. “Better catch up before everyone leaves without us!”

You huffed, jogging to match to his long strides. “Maybe I can convince them to leave you behind.”

No one said a thing when the two of you strolled up to the water together, looking what you assumed was at least somewhat amicable. Your friends and siblings just shared quick, knowing looks before you all mounted your ilus and started off for the cove of ancestors.

Ao’nung rode beside you throughout most of the journey, and the two of you traded sarcastic remarks and snide comments, seemingly making up for lost time. It felt good, almost normal again, and you found yourself thinking that maybe a friendship with the infuriating boy was actually possible.

"We're here!" Tsireya finally called out, slowing down to allow everyone else to catch up and take in the surroundings. It was truly an incredible sight, with the soft glow from the underwater bioluminescence and lush green vegetation, all surrounded by the jutting silhouette of large curved rocks and smaller suspended chunks of land. You glanced around at the faintly illuminated faces of your companions and a swell of contentment filled your chest. You missed your home in the forest deeply, but you felt that the ocean and its islands had rightfully won a place in your heart, and that gaping wound left by your grief was beginning to hurt a lot less.

"So beautiful." You breathed.

"Yes." Ao'nung agreed, and you turned to where he was floating, already staring at you. You flushed slightly under his gaze, wondering how long he had been focused on you.

"I think you have some drool on your chin." You quipped, and he quickly brought his hand up to his face, looking slightly alarmed. Seconds later, he caught on. His face twisted into that of annoyed amusement. The two of you had never entered this territory of playful flirting before, but he seemed game.

"Very funny, forest girl," He simpered. "And pretty bold coming from someone who's been eye-fucking me for the past month."

Your jaw slackened as everyone else burst out laughing, including Kiri, who you shot a betrayed look.

"What does that mean?" Tuk piped up from her spot on Neteyam's ilu, looking confused. It seemed most of you had forgotten she was there.

"Oh shit- I mean, it's nothing, Tuk." Ao'nung quickly backtracked, earning a threatening glare from Neteyam and another round of muffled laughs from everyone else. Even you could barely hold yourself together.

"Just don't repeat that to mom and dad." Neteyam sighed, shaking his head.

"Why don't we go to the spirit tree now?" Tsireya spoke up, still smiling. Thankfully, everyone nodded and started dismounting into the water. You swam closer to Ao'nung, lightly smacking his arm.

"Nice going, genius." You snickered and the colour in his cheeks deepened.

"Shut it." He rolled his eyes at your continued laughter, though a smile was creeping onto his lips. Eventually, he was full-on grinning, the look so genuine that it was almost shocking. The only two expressions he ever seemed to make were akin to scowling or smirking. This was something entirely new. You realized your gaze had become fixed on the curve of his lips and blushed.

"Who's drooling now?" Ao'nung laughed, settling back into his signature taunting smirk. You decided not to let an opportunity pass you by.

"Don't get any ideas, freak." You shrugged. "I was just thinking that I've never seen you smile like that." Your heart sped up as you finished your sentence.

"Like what?"

"Well... like you're actually happy. You usually just look like an asshole with a debilitating god complex." You had to round things out with an insult, thinking you were inflating his ego a little too much. He just smiled and shook his head, finally turning to swim after the others.

"If you didn't hate me so much I'd think you were in love with me." He said before he dove under the water, heading for the spirit tree.

"If you didn't act like such a skxawng then maybe I would be..." You mumbled, diving under too as you became consumed by your own thoughts. Less than an hour ago the two of you had been seconds away from kissing, but you couldn't seem to let yourself go through with it, like it was somehow offensive to the very core of your being, despite your growing feelings. So why, after such a rejection, were you unrelentingly teasing and flirting?

You had only been attempting to return to what was normal- known territory- between you and Ao'nung. Teasing each other was like breathing. But now that you understood your feelings for him, it was fun to flirt a little bit, especially because you had convinced yourself it was a harmless action, more of a game than anything else. Because you couldn't help but fear that's just what you were to him: a game to be played and won.

So that's how it would be, you decided. You would be happy to oblige in this self-indulgent game so long as it never became more. He was still the bane of your existence, after all.

Connecting to the tree brought you back home both figuratively and literally. The tree of souls flashed in your memory, and with it a thousand little reminders of the life you had left behind. The first time you went hunting with your father, exploring the forest as a child with Kiri, playfully fighting with Lo'ak and Spider, bonding with your ikran, sleeping next to your family and breathing as the forest breathed with you. All of these experiences were collected in your mind like beautiful, treasured shells. It was was wonderful to have them on display.

You eventually ended up in a memory that you didn't even know you had, blinking as you trekked along one of the thick vines that connected the hallelujah mountains together. You harbored many memories like this, certainly, but this specific one felt different somehow. You strained to think of when this had taken place.

"Hurry up, slow poke!" You found yourself calling out, a laugh bubbling from your chest when someone groaned behind you. You turned your head and struggled to make sense of your companion.

"When you said you were going to show me your home, this is not what I pictured us doing." Ao'nung frowned, glancing warily over the side of the vine you both walked upon.

"No? What exactly were you picturing, then, Nung?" You queried and Ao'nung's lips split into what you could only describe as a suggestive grin. Since when the hell did you call him that? Everything about this was so strange to you. It was clearly not one of your memories at all.

"Oh, you know, maybe a little less dangerous hiking and a little more finding a secluded spot to-"

"Oh my Eywa!" You- or at least this alternate version of you- yelped, shaking your head. "Just keep walking, you sick bastard."

"Just putting ideas out there.." He chuckled, suddenly pushing forward to catch up to you. He slung his arm around your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural action in the world. You tried to stop alternate you from leaning into his touch, to no avail.

You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "You're so desperate, Ao'nung." He shivered.

"Only for you, forest girl."

You ripped your queue away from the tree, breathing heavily as you desperately tried to work through whatever that was. You had never experienced anything like it before, even when you connected to the tree of souls back home. It scared you.

When you had calmed yourself a little, you looked around at the others, most of whom were still connected peacefully. Ironically, only Ao'nung seemed to be finished as well, his eyes settled on you through the layers of glowing fronds from the tree. He gave you a questioning look, sending you briefly back to your supposed trek through the mountains with him. Your cheeks burned, wishing you could just forget about it entirely. Ao'nung opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance when the fronds around you suddenly began flashing and pulsing.

You snapped your head around, trying to find the source of the change when your searching eyes landed on your twin. Her body was impossibly rigid, her neck bent back as she shook somewhat violently. You immediately dove toward her, disconnecting her queue from the tree as Neteyam swam up and grabbed her, pulling her upwards. You grasped onto her stiff hand, trying to still the tremors that had her fingers twitching. You briefly registered Ao'nung on the other side of her, helping Neteyam swim her to the surface.

When you all burst through the water, panting, you wasted no time in lifting Kiri onto the back of Neteyam's ilu.

"Is she breathing? Is she breathing?" Rotxo asked worriedly, and you mentally thanked him for saying what was on your mind. You couldn't seem to speak as your throat constricted with fear.

Neteyam hopped up beside Kiri and blew a few breaths into her lungs, thankfully getting her chest moving on its own again.

"Let's, go! We have to take her back!" Lo'ak yelled, urging Neteyam forward. As soon as he took off, your hand slipped out of Kiri's, leaving you even more afraid than before. Your own body was stiff, your mind running through a thousand thoughts a second. Everyone around you was mounting their ilus and taking off toward home, but you were panicking too much to even keep yourself properly afloat. Water entered your throat as you hyperventilated, your head beginning to feel extremely light.

"[Y/N]!" Ao'nung's voice sounded distant, but he was somehow directly beside you in the water, offering a hand. You grasped onto it and he pulled you quickly up next to him like you weighed nothing at all. "Just hold on, okay?" He said directly into your ear, his tone urgent but kind. Since you were in front of him, there was nothing much to grab onto except for the arm that was gripping the ilu's saddle. Evidently, that did not seem to be enough for him because as you went speeding along the water, he wrapped his free arm protectively around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

The ride back felt like mere minutes, thankfully, but Neteyam and Kiri were nowhere to be seen along the shoreline when you arrived. You hoped that meant they were already inside your marui and getting help.

You were so intent upon getting to Kiri quickly that you stumbled getting off of the ilu, your shaking legs nearly buckling before Ao'nung was there again, grasping onto your arm to steady you. When you found your balance once again, he let go, but stayed close behind as the two of you ran for your marui pod.

"Kiri!" You cried as you approached, catching a glimpse of her lying on the floor of the pod. There were many people scurrying around her, trying to figure out what was wrong, but they kindly made room for you to kneel beside her, taking her hand in yours once again.

"What is the matter?" You looked up frantically, searching the faces of anyone close by in hopes that they had an answer. Most of them looked just as clueless and frightened as you, including your parents. Only Ronal seemed somewhat calm, examining Kiri from her other side. You caught her eyes and a look of pity passed over her features.

"I do not know yet what is afflicting her, child." Ronal said calmly, but you grimaced at her words, your breaths once again starting to come out short and fast. "But she is stable, now. She is asleep. I believe it is her body trying to recover." You relaxed some upon hearing 'recover', but the incident was still fresh and playing over and over through your mind. You just wanted Kiri to open her eyes, to prove to you that you had not lost her.

"Just fix it!" You knew it was unfair to yell and get mad at everyone who was just trying to help, but you didn't know what else to do. You jumped a little when a warm hand rested on your shoulder from behind. Your mother's eyes were filled with worry, but she spoke gently.

"Leave us to help Kiri, [Y/N]. The Tsahìk needs space to work, my daughter." She urged kindly, gently tugging your elbow to pull you up. You reluctantly released Kiri's hand, still breathing hard. Not knowing where to go, you awkwardly spun on your heel, looking around for a better place to stand. Ao'nung caught your eye from where he stood in the doorway and gestured for you to follow him outside. You didn't really want to go far from Kiri, but the rational part of you knew it would be best, so you obliged. As soon as you stepped out the door, Ao'nung grabbed your hand, guiding you away from your marui and down the short path to the beach. You stopped when you reached the sand, the two of you just standing and staring out into the vast stretch of water. Something about it seemed to snap the last little bit of restraint in you, and you began to whimper, a fresh round of burning tears making their way down your cheeks. Your whimpers turned into loud cries mixed with hyperventilating as you lost all control of yourself. You were so far gone that you didn't even question it when Ao'nung suddenly pulled you into his arms, folding them loosely around you, as if unsure of himself. The comfort of it felt so insanely good that you pressed into him further, stretching a bit to wrap your arms around his neck. He took that as a good sign and pulled his arms tighter, forcing your head to rest on his chest as you cried.

"She will be alright. Eywa will protect her." He whispered to you, his thumbs drawing comforting circles along your back. He held you that way for a long time, not once loosening his grip on you even as you began to calm, sniffling for a bit before eventually growing silent. Your breathing fell into a slow, methodic rhythm that was somewhat in tune with the strong and steady heartbeat you could hear through Ao'nung's chest. Your eyes fluttered shut, just allowing yourself to feel the body against yours. The strength of the arms holding you in place. The smooth skin beneath your cheek. The pleasant warmth of the fingers trailing across your back. You sighed heavily, releasing any leftover tension that you had been holding in your chest.

"Don't think this means I like you." You finally said, wanting to distract yourself from thinking about your sister and spiraling again. A reprieve from the situation was necessary, at least for a little while.

Ao'nung chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Of course not." He said. "I would never be so bold."

"How come you're always so warm?" You questioned, enjoying as the heat of his touch bled into your skin.

"It's obviously because of my ridiculous good looks." You could hear the smirk in his words, and you took that as your signal to finally pull away from him, immediately regretting the loss of contact.

"What does that have to do with it?" You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but Ao'nung just shrugged.

"Nothing. But you just admitted that I'm good looking." His smile was infuriatingly wide. You scoffed.

"I most definitely did not, skxawng. You're delusional."

"Mm, I don't think so." He said, shifting to sit down in the sand, facing the water. You followed, sitting close enough that your leg was pressed against his. Neither of you seemed to care to move away to a more appropriate distance. "C'mon, just admit that you think I'm handsome!" He nudged you with his shoulder, earning a glare from you.

"Not gonna happen, fish lips."

He gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded!"

"Aw, poor baby." You mocked, jutting out your bottom lip into a pout.

"Well now you're just being rude." He deadpanned. You laughed.

"You really want me to give you a compliment?" You finally asked, and he perked up, eyes shining as he nodded.

"Alright," You sighed. "Your face is actually kind of handsome," Ao'nung opened his mouth to agree. "When your stupidity isn't screwing it up." You couldn't help but immediately burst out laughing, especially as the conceited smugness on his face twisted into a scowl.

"You're the meanest woman I've ever met." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"That's why you like me." You grinned.

"It's definitely not."

"Oh, but you admit that you do like me?"

"That's not what I said."

"Sounds like it."

"Sounds like you need to shut up."

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @donaldsmac @littlethingsinlife @kainari144 @thesheelfsworld @in-luvais @perseny @minkyungseokie @acrobatcheeks @theblaxkbird @sakura-onesan @gengarmylove

#ao'nung #ao'nung fanfiction #ao'nung fluff #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #ao'nung x y/n #aonung #aonung fanfiction #aonung fluff #aonung x reader #avatar 2 #avatar #atwow #atwow ao'nung

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wannabelife · 2 months

Note

b with vernon 😳😳

a little drabble for you under the cut :))

you were about to get ready, vernon invited your small group of friends to a dinner party at a restaurant to celebrate his birthday. you were just on a mini skirt in front of your closet, trying to pick something for tonight. and he's not helping, vernon is seated on the bed topless just watching you and waiting until you get ready.

"can you like at least help me?" you say.

"you look good on everything" he says, and you roll your eyes. he is never like this because he knows you dont like it. unless when he wants to tease you, and that's the case today.

he has that look on his eyes while he watches you deep on your thoughts. he suddenly gets up and you think that he will finally help you pick something but that's not the case. you realize once he's hugging you from behind, kissing the nap of your neck.

"vernon... we dont have time for this" you say.

"i dont really care, i've been staring at you for quite awhile and i need this pretty ass seated on me now" he says while kissing your shoulders and caressing your bare lower belly. before pushing you to the bed along with him, your ass sitting on his member when you two crash.

you turn around to sit facing him, both of your legs on each side of his body "is it all because you can't wait until dinner ends?" you say, running your hands through his torso.

"actually, you haven't given me a birthday gift yet" he says, giving you pleading eyes "i've been waiting all day"

you smile a little at his pouting face before starting to rock your hips on him. you feel his half hard member under you, he was really getting hooked up while watching you and your almost naked body.

sneakily, you guide your hands under his boxers, finally meeting his bare member, freeing it from the underwear. you spit on your palm so you can finally start to stroke his cock. him getting harder each second while he kisses your neck and envelopes your titties with his mouth, sucking and leaving love bites on the flesh.

you stop to get your skirt up, his eyes meeting your center seeing you wasn't wearing any underwear "were you thinking about going out like this?" he says staring at your bare wet core.

"yes" you hum "wanted to make it easier for you" you say, and he whimpers, going for a kiss.

you slowly get up, guiding his member to your entrance before you start to sit on him. your eyes going shut, a moan leaving your mouth as you ajust to his size. he grabs your ass and you start to ride him, slowly picking up the pace.

he bends back a little, you using his chest as a support as you start to go harsher on him. you're moaning nonstop as the pleasure builds more and more. he keeps staring at your bouncing titties and pretty nipples, he loves them. sometimes, his gaze alternates to your centers meeting, and he can't help moaning too.

you two crash on a kiss messily, your breath interrupting the way as your foreheads rests in one another as you both get closer. he feels you clenching around him, so he hugs your waist and starts to meet your trusts. you moan louder, your head going back "im getting close" you say and that encourages him to go faster.

"should i cum inside, hm? need pretty babies for my gift" he says, getting close too, and the thought of him filling you up with his seeds drives you insane and makes you tighter.

"please, cum on me. i want to be yours and carry your babies, vernonie" you say and he groans. a few more trusts and he's cumming inside you.

you keep riding him, it getting sloppier because of his release as you cum right after him. both of your faces close and lips slightly touching as you come down from your high. both of your cums slipping down as you slide easier on him.

once the overstimulation hits, you sleepy out of him, resting your head on his shoulders as you both start to calm down your breathing.

#218wannabelife #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt ff #svt scenarios #vernon fic #vernon smut #wannabelife inbox

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the-six-that-thrive-if · 4 months

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RO!!

The clock strikes midnight with a heavy toll and the distant sound of the church bells that drags your attention away from the screen of your phone and whatever task you were doing. You rise from your seat, making your way to the drawn curtains of your bedroom window.

There’s nothing that catches your eye besides a layer of thick white snow, the distant view of stars, and the moon, that shines unusually bright. You glide your eyes across the blanket of snow before stopping. Spotting the small outline of someone who knew well. Trotting through the thick snow with nothing but his usual black slacks and black button-up with boots and a black winter raincoat that was gifted to him rather recently. One he rarely wears due to him being unbothered by the cold. You stare for a moment before making the decision to follow him.

You leave the window, letting the heavy curtain settle back into place as you walk to your closet, pulling out your own thick winter coat, and putting it on with ease. Dressing warm as you pull on your winter boots, before leaving your room, phone, and keys in your pockets.

It doesn’t take long to get outside, nor to find the path which Ro had created. You follow his wide steps, pushing through the snow with your feet. The further you follow, the wider the path Ro created becomes, with snow being cleared and easier for you to simply follow. You look further ahead, finding Ro had slowed down significantly, manually making a path. A path for you.

"Ro!"

You call out to him, watching him move quickly, turning to you and smiling, waving you over. "Hello." He greets you when you come closer, a clear smile on his warm brown face, his blue eyes staring at you.

"How’d you know I was following you?"

He raises his brows with a smile, slightly tilting his head, before shrugging, holding back whatever it was he wanted to say. "I could hear you." He moves his gaze from you, swiping his hands across a stone bench, pushing off the snow, and clearing a spot to stand and sit.

"Why are you outside?" You ask and the man hums, before pointing to the stone bench that was hidden beneath the snow, and that he had cleared. "Come. Sit." He gently grabs your hand and guides you to the bench, sitting you down.

He stares with honest and smiling blue eyes. He moves his gaze to the sky and points. They’re far more visible and vibrant. Twinkling beyond the glass of District 48, "Today is the day when the earth is on its perfect tilt. It’s exciting. Even though many don’t realize it. A perfect day for rituals."

"Rituals?" You say and he glances at you, his smile never faltering. "Yes. The Winter solstice is today..." He lets out a puff of warm air, leaning forward, "when I was a child, my home believed that it meant the world was in perfect balance and that it was a time of hope and new beginnings. Or everyone. That’s what my mother said, anyway."

"What was she like?" You ask and he thinks for a moment, a quick moment, before staring at you with thoughtful eyes. "Beautiful." The words almost come out breathless and he looks back at the sky.

"She was a prophet, though what god she spoke for—I don’t know—yet she spoke many of their teachings to me and for me. She passed long ago." He glances at the ground. "You remind me of her." He lets out a breathless laugh. "In short glimpses—then again, I see her in everything. Everyone." He returns his gaze to you.

"Is that why you like the winter solstice?"

He snorts at this, "I like it because it’s my birthday."

"What!" You stare with wide eyes, and he laughs, "It’s my fault—I never told you my actual birthday, though it is on—well around the Winter Solstice in June." You shift your body to fully stare, scrunching your brows.

"Why?"

He thinks for a moment, casting his eyes aside, "I don’t know--" He answers with a shrug, and you hit his shoulder playfully. Which only makes him laugh. "You should have told me sooner. So that we could celebrate or get you a gift or something." Ro shakes his head at that, a smile still on his lips.

"I don’t need all of that. I am happy with what I have. All that I have. When you celebrate your birthday so much, eventually it becomes just another day." There is no anger, resentment, nor even sadness. He speaks content with it, with everything. You aren’t sure if you’ve seen him any less than content, maybe mad once or twice, like a month ago in District Six, but since seeing him again. He shows only happiness.

"You say that like you’re old." You mummer and Ro’s brows raise, letting out a muted laugh. "I am—I’m like 27—well 28. I’m pushing 30. Isn't that like the new 40? At this rate, I'll be 100 before I know it." He drops his head with a playful groan. "I’m so old."

"You don’t look old—you look a good 24."

"A good 24," Ro repeats with an amused tone, moving his head to stare at you, propping his elbows on his knees and cheek in his palm. Silence settles over you both.

"It’s cold." Ro breaks the silence, rising to his feet quickly. "You look cold." He rephrases. Taking your hand and pulling you up to your feet. Letting you walk in front of him. You both make your way back to the distant building of the H.E.A.V.E.N Facility, walking in silence until you reach the automatic doors that open on Ro’s command. Allowing you both to enter a warm, dimly lit hall.

"Someone turned on the heat." Ro mutters, while walking you back to your room, the two of you making small conversation. "Are you sure you don’t have any plans for your birthday?" You ask just one more time, the door to your room slides open as you turn to him.

He stares at you for a moment. "I have one thing I would like...." He speaks slowly, blue eyes dragging over your face, fluttering across your pretty eyes, your perfect nose, your cute face. He drops his gaze to your lips for a moment, only a quick moment.

"May I kiss you?"

CHECK OUT THE FULL BIRTHDAY EVENT!!

CHECK OUT THE IF BIRTHDAY EVENT!!

#interactive fiction #interactive fic #interactive fiction twine #twine interactive fiction #interactive fiction demos #itchio interactive fic #dating sim #horror interactive fic #dating sim characters #t.m.basement.ro.simeon #interactive fics #t.m.basement.stories #t.m.basement.sneak.peek

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

Text

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 4

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

PART 4.

When the night of your art show comes, you do not expect to see John Wick in the crowd. You had not heard from him since that night when he gave you the orgasm of your life, then disappeared from your apartment like he’d only ever been a dark dream.

Though your panties had disappeared too, and you strongly suspect he’d taken them with him.

The gallery is packed this night. It’s a group show, and you’re hardly the main act, but it’s a huge stepping stone for you as an artist. Gallery X is nothing to turn one’s nose up at, and you dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, things might get going from here. The art world is just as much politics as it is producing work, and you were never good at that part of it all.

Helen was, bless. She presented strong work, but she also knew how to read a room, and whose hand to shake, and how to tell someone to go to Hell with a polite smile. You know that her final gift to you was the cachet of her name in a collaboration, and maybe, just maybe, if you play your cards just fucking right, this could be your break.

You recognize the faces of people with big names in the art world here tonight. Critics, museum curators, journalists, and collectors. They’ve all come out to play, and your heart has not slowed its frantic pace in your chest for the past hour since opening.

You snag a glass of champagne from a passing tray, even though you hate the stuff, and that is when you see him through the crowd. He’s across the room, tall and forbidding in a dark suit, his long hair framing his angular face. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze upon you, through the crush of all these people. For a moment, time stands still, as your eyes meet his.

You have thought of him a thousand times since the night he left you sated yet ravenous in your bed. A hot flush blooms across your skin, a spear of desire shooting straight to your loins as you remember what he did to you with that perfect mouth, and those big hands, and those soulful eyes. God, but you would have given him anything, after one look from those yearning dark eyes.

He is dressed well, but he doesn’t exactly look well. There is an edge to his stare; an intensity.

A hunger.

An agonizing thrill runs down your spine; for a moment you have to look away. It’s just too much.

By the time you turn back, he is gone.

You continue to mingle, chatting with your friends and acquaintances, sipping some of the bubbly to try to calm your nerves. It doesn’t work; you feel as though you have a live wire under your skin, a thousand volts of raw emotion running rampant through your veins.

It would have been easier, had it only been lust, or even just pity. But there was something more to it, something substantial and heady and warm, and that made it a much harder beast to slay.

You slowly make your way around to look at the other pieces. It’s the polite thing to do, and interesting too. The theme of the show is Loss. Perfectly broad, and the subjects of the works vary wildly.

In front of a massive encaustic abstract a low voice in your ear stops you in your tracks. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

You turn your head slightly to find John standing ever so near, so close you can feel the warmth of the solid line of his body behind you. The room is packed and it’s almost necessary to stand this close just to be heard, but still, you get a dark thrill out of it.

“Oh?”

“I feel like I took advantage of you, last we met. I am sorry.”

You turn to face him, standing close enough to kiss. Thanks to the heels you’re wearing, you don’t have to crane your neck too far to look him in the eye.

“Actually, I was kind of thinking I took advantage of you.”

This clearly surprises him, his eyebrows rising. Ah, this dear, sweet, man. You didn’t take him for being naïve, but he is a little older, and the claws of traditional gender roles cling hard and deep.

“Helen wanted me to look after you, and I—”

“Gave me the most incredible pleasure of my life? Yeah, it was pretty terrible. You’re a selfish beast.”

He blinks at you, clearly stunned. Then his eyes narrow, the hunger from before sharpening to a cutting edge, and a scintillating thrill runs down your spine. You cannot shake the feeling that you’ve just pulled the tail of a tiger; a predator both magnificent and deadly. Mostly it’s excitement; but just the slightest hint might be fear. There is something brimming below the surface of this man that you know you don’t entirely understand. You aren’t sure yet if it is passion, or violence—or maybe a combination of the two. You wonder if Helen ever got to see behind the mask.

Somehow, you are certain she did, and she had not run from him. Perhaps that is what makes you brave tonight.

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“Helen was the tactful one.”

“I actually found her refreshingly direct.”

“But I'm just abrasive. I've been told, believe me. It's because I don't apologize before I tell men what I really think.”

“I don't want your apologies.”

“Either way... I'm a big girl, John. You don't have to be the responsible adult between us.”

The corner of his mouth ticks at that.

“I feel like I should at least try.”

You shrug, unable to stop yourself from fingering his tie, fighting the urge to wrap your fist in it and pull him to you again. You’ve missed him, and standing this close, what you really want to do is climb him like a tree, and the crowd be damned. “Suit yourself.” You force yourself to stop touching him, although he didn’t seem to mind, or intend to stop you. You sigh deeply, warring with yourself as ever.

This is all so very fucked.

Maybe the truth is the best way to go.

“I like you, John. Maybe I’m just lying to myself, thinking Helen wouldn’t be pissed, but…maybe she’d be happy we’ve found each other.”

You dare to look him in the eyes, and once again, he looks as though he is drowning.

Fuck. You have to go.

You force yourself to step away from him, because your skin feels like its on fire. “We’re all going to Bar Rosé later to celebrate. You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

You retreat to greet a friend who’d come all the way to Manhattan from upstate to support you, and you can feel John’s eyes boring into you as you walk away.

For the rest of the opening you follow him out the corner of your eye. As though he's a magnet, you simply cannot help it. You are achingly aware of his presence, even if it's from across the room.

He pauses before your piece of Helen for a very long time, letting the crowd mill around him like a rock in a stream. It’s heartbreaking, really, the way he stands there before her, transfixed. A part of you wants to go take his hand, support him in what you know is yet another painful moment for him. But in the end, you decide to let him process it alone. A little later, you notice him talking to the gallery owner. Chummily, almost like they know each other. Of course, Carol Banning had known Helen, so perhaps you shouldn’t be so surprised.

When the evening is winding down John Wick is nowhere to be found. You're a little disappointed, and a little bit relieved. You're not sure what you think you're playing at, but deep down, you know it's so fucking twisted.

You meet with your comrades from the show, some artists you knew before, and some new acquaintances too. You hail a van cab to go a few blocks to Rosé. Tonight was a success. Someone bought your painting for a massive amount of money. More than you’d ever dreamed you could charge for a piece of your soul put down on canvas with paint. Carol had assured you it was appropriate, and you guessed she knew her clientele. A part of you was distressed to part with the piece you’d created with blood and tears and Helen’s art, and a part of you was relieved to let it go. You completed the cycle. You were sending Helen out into the world, where she would be remembered, and celebrated, for the remarkable woman she was.

It should have felt like victory, but in truth it was bittersweet.

You are 98 percent sure you don't let it show. Your friends are giddy with the success of the exhibition, and the last thing you want is to bring them down. You are too, truth be told. You were interviewed by not one, but two journalists this evening. One who even worked for the Times. Maybe it’s just curiosity about Helen Morgan-Wick’s baby sister, but…Helen would have told you to stop overthinking and enjoy it.

So perhaps, you will.

True to its name, the neon lights that accent the room at Rosé are pink. The glassware is too. You’re sure it’s a play on seeing the world through rose tinted glasses…but the drinks are strong, and the ambiance is fun. After a round your friends want to dance. You agree, and the four of you have a great time until you pick up a bogey. A man keeps trying to dance up on you, not getting the hint when you sidle away, not engaging with him whatsoever. Finally, you get tired of dodging him, and decide to get another drink. He follows you, leaning on the bar while you wait for the bartender’s attention. “I'm Sasha,” he says in thickly accented English, looking you up and down. He’s not bad looking at all, but there is something in the way he looks at you that makes you uneasy.

“Hi,” you answer, not keen to give him your name.

“You come here often?”

“Not really.”

“What are you celebrating tonight?”

“Who said we're celebrating?”

Had this pushy creep overheard you? Had he followed you from the gallery?

Another voice cuts in from behind you, a string of Russian that almost sounds like a command.

Your unwelcome suitor frowns, answering in the same language.

You turn your head to find John standing close behind you. You hadn’t noticed him come in; it’s as though he materialized from the shadows. When he puts a hand on your waist you do not flinch, hoping the other guy will get the picture. He frowns, looking between you. He says something quick over your head, and the only word you catch is blyad.

You’re pretty sure it means fuck.

There is a heavy moment rife with tension between the two men with you stuck in the middle, before the Russian makes a hissing sound between his teeth and goes. He doesn’t just go to the other side of the bar, however. He leaves the premises, slinking out the door, and you turn to look at your savior.

“Wow. What did you say to him?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you know him?”

“Hmm. Sort of. From work.��

You tilt your head, staring up at him. He hasn’t removed his large hand from your hip, and even though its possessive and maybe it should bother you, you revel in his touch. You’re not usually one to get off on men fighting over you, but it’s hard not to feel a little glow of primal satisfaction at the exchange. It makes you feel bold, and maybe you run your mouth a little. “Yeah? So did Helen know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re an ex mafioso?”

You’re 99 percent sure you’re making a joke, but from the sharp way he looks at you, a trill of warning rolls down your spine. He leans down to speak in your ear, “You have quite the imagination, young lady.”

That warmth in your chest descends to pool between your thighs.

The bartender saves you from digging this hole even deeper.

“What can I get you, Mr. Wick?”

“Blanton’s on the rocks,” John answers, then looks to you.

“Vodka martini, please,” you answer.

“We have Smirnoff, Absolut, Grey Goose, Stoli…”

Before you can answer that Smirnoff is fine John answers, “Stoli.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as the bartender goes to pour your drinks. “Thanks.”

“Life is too short to drink bad vodka.”

You huff a laugh at that. “So, do you know every bartender in New York, or…”

“Probably just in Manhattan,” he jokes with a ghost of a smile.

You turn so that you are facing him completely. You have to stand close to hear each other, you reason. It has nothing to do with the fact that this man draws you like you are an asteroid caught in his gravity. If you collide…you have no doubt you’ll burn to pieces.

“Congratulations, on tonight,” he says, and you believe he means it. “Helen would be proud.”

“Thanks. Feels surreal, to be honest.”

“That’s fair.”

You find yourself looking at his tie again, fighting the urge to use it to tug him closer. My, but you are becoming a needy creature in this man’s presence. You have to remind yourself that you do not, in fact, know him that well. Even if it feels like…he could have always been yours. “It’s nice to see you again,” you dare venture, looking up from beneath your lashes.

“Likewise.” He touches you lightly, just below your chin. Your eyes meet, and you feel pinned by those dark orbs, somehow certain he can see right through you,

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…are you okay?” Like on Helen’s birthday, you imagine tonight must have dredged up plenty of emotions that just maybe this poor man would like to bury once and for all.

“I guess I deserve that, after how I behaved.” He is, undoubtedly, referring to the way he fled your apartment a month ago.

“I’m not mad, I just…genuinely want to know.”

He bites his lip as he’s thinking, and its all you can do just to watch him, wishing it was you with his lip between your teeth instead. Finally he answers, “I am as okay as it is possible for me to be.”

It is the most non-answer you’ve ever heard.

Sensing your dissatisfaction with this pointed evasion, he digs a little deeper, leaning in so that his words are only for you. “I didn’t exactly lead a happy life, before Helen. After she passed…I was certain I would never want anyone ever again. You kind of threw a wrench into that.”

“Sorry.”

He gives a little huff of self-deprecating laughter. “Don’t be. I…I like you, y/n. Please, forgive me, for…everything.”

You don’t believe he’s telling you all this to win sympathy, or using it as a line, like so many men would. It’s just facts, and you are moved to the bottom of your soul. Somehow you know that this is not something this man would casually admit to just anyone. “John…” With your heart in your throat you find yourself reaching for him, touching his fingertips with yours on the bar. “It’s ok. You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything.”

He tilts his head to look at you, his dark hair swinging into his face. You feel bold enough to reach out, brushing it behind his ear. His eyes close at your touch for the barest moment. It’s so easy to forget that you are in a crowded public venue, with him near. “I owe you my gratitude, at the very least.”

You shake your head, prepared to deny it, but then your drinks arrive, and the moment is somewhat shattered. “Want to sit with us?” you ask, indicating your merry band of artist misfits with your chin. He nods, following you, though his hand has found that place at the small of your back again that warms your blood to an agonizingly slow simmer. Carol has joined you, and you wonder if John will feel awkward, fraternizing here in unspecific but obviously friendly capacity with his sister in law.

Yikes. You do not like it, when you think of it that way.

However, Carol Banning is a veteran of the New York art scene, and she has seen much worse scandals than this. She doesn’t even bat an eyelash, greeting him warmly from behind her large black-rimmed glasses. They chat more about the show, and the state of the art world. Carol mourns that no photographers currently working quite have an eye like Helen did. Then she points a crimson painted claw your way, surprising you. “But this young lady. She’s going to do some interesting things, I have a feeling.”

John salutes you with his dwindling glass of amber liquid, a smirk on his lips you don’t entirely know how to read. “I have no doubts.”

After you finish your drink you find you are ready to go. It’s been a long day, and a big night. Tonight, you fulfilled Helen’s dying wish for you, and somehow you feel simultaneously accomplished and sore to the bone.

“Can I drive you home?” asks John quietly in your ear. It sends a bolt of heat straight to your center, warmth pooling in your loins as you remember what happened last time he made such an offer. You look at him, wondering if he wants an encore, or if he just wants to see you home safe. His face in that moment is so handsome it hurts, but utterly unreadable to you.

“Sure,” you answer, sensing that somehow you’ve just signed your fate over to him with your name on the dotted line.

You hit the street, the cool night air a relief after the close press of the bar. John offers you his left arm, and you take it gladly, leaning on his shoulder a little more than you really need to. Part of it is that last martini with what had been truly excellent vodka—and part of it was just a need to be close to him. A part of you thought you’d never see him again. The fact that he is here, solid in the flesh and you can touch him, kind of blows your mind.

“I’m not parked far,” he assures you, and you nod with a sleepy smile. At the end of the block you see his car parked on the street. It’s a little menacing, you think to yourself, looking at the dark paintjob and the sleek lines. Definitely a car designed to be a predator of the road; something that will run you down and eat you, no matter how fast you try to run.

As you near the vehicle three shadows separate themselves from an alley. John freezes in his tracks, pushing you behind him. You recognize the guy from earlier, Sasha, who is flanked by two intimidating henchmen. He speaks to John again in Russian, and John replies in kind. It pisses you off that you don’t know what’s being said.

“Speak English,” you demand, half-stepping out from behind John.

A low chuckle runs through the men before you that makes your blood run cold. “I said,” enunciates Sasha slowly, “That if he hands you over now I’ll let you both live. He’ll just have to watch as I fuck you like the whore you are.”

“Nice. Very original, fuck head.”

His self-satisfaction morphs to anger. You are scared, but you’re not showing it like you should, and it’s ruining his fun. You use John’s body to shield the fact that you are dipping into your purse for your pepper spray. Why the fuck can’t you ever find anything in your purse when you need it?

What comes next happens so fast you almost can’t register it. One of the toughs made the first move forward, but John is like a hurricane upon them, deflecting strikes and breaking arms, punching one guy in the throat and kicking another in the gut. He throws one with some kind of complicated grapple and flip ninja shit before hitting the other again in the knees. In the blink of an eye two of them are down on the ground, leaving John to take on Sasha, who has drawn a knife. You see that one of the grounded henchmen is fishing behind his back for something. Without thinking you surge forward, knowing it’s a matter of life and death. As his hand raises with the gun you goalie-kick it from his hand, dousing his face with mace.

“Motherfucker!”

The gun goes off before it skitters across the street and under a parked car. He howls with agony, clutching his face, trying to wipe the concentrated capsaicin out of his eyes. In the next moment there is an arm around your waist, pulling you towards the parked cars. You are so caught up in the adrenaline rush that you react without looking, but John catches your hand with the mace, keeping it pointed away from the both of you. “It’s me,” he says, taking the tube and slipping it into his pocket like he doesn’t trust you not to let loose again. “You did good, honey. Come on.”

As he is bundling you into the passenger seat of his car you look back to see Sasha is writhing on the sidewalk with his knife in his leg, shouting what undoubtedly are expletives in Russian. You vaguely wonder if he might bleed to death as the Mustang rumbles to life and you roar away.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, trembling with adrenaline and you guess, a bit of shock. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, deeming it the more pertinent question.

“No. I’m…fine,” you say, looking down at yourself. “Jesus, are you hurt?” You look over at him to see that he is bleeding from a cut on his brow. “Oh my god, let me see.” You reach for him but he holds up a hand. “I’m fine, believe me.”

You catch one more glimpse of the wreckage behind you as he makes a right turn, downshifting. The car surges forward, pressing you back into the seat.

“You totally laid those guys out!”

“Yeah.” You study him from the passenger’s seat, his hard expression highlighted by the passing headlights. His jaw is clenched so tight you think he might crack his teeth. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

You think about the three guys he leveled out like a human tornado.

“You've got some moves, Mr. Wick.”

He just sighs, sounding so very tired.

“Yeah.”

“Should we…call the cops?”

He looks over at you like you should know the answer to that question, but shit, this is the most violence you’ve seen up close in your entire life. Finally, he just shakes his head, seeming a decade older in that moment. “It wouldn’t do any good,” he assures you.

Except, maybe get him arrested, you reason. Because even though it had been self-defense…the carnage he’d left behind was unreal.

“Helen said you used to work in security?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “Hardly.”

“I still don’t fucking get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why…this even happened? Men don’t exactly brawl on the street over me.” For Helen? Maybe, more likely, but not you, the boho weirdo who is lucky enough to kind of resemble your model-beautiful older sister, but will never be half as lovely or charming. You suspect there is some other reason this went sideways, that has more to do with John’s professional life before he retired from security.

That job description is holding less and less water the more you think on it. Helen was always super cagey in talking about what John Wick did for a living. You’re starting to get a better idea as to why that might have been.

John surprises you when he holds out his hand to you across the center console. “I would fight an army for you,” he tells you softly, and goddamn if you don’t believe him. You take his hand, comforted by the strength in the long fingers wrapped around yours. You only let go in between him shifting gears, and you don’t really say anything else until you pull up in front of your building.

“Come on,” you say, swinging open the heavy door of the sportscar. “I’ll take care of you.” The look he pays you is somehow both raw and predatory. A thrill of anticipation runs down your spine, because at this point you’ve lost your mind, and you don’t have the sense to be afraid.

<<PART 3 PART 5>>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu x you #keanu reeves x reader

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xxstraymoonchildxx · 5 months

Text

This Couple is Unusual

Prologue / Next

Chapter 1: This Couple, negotiating

cw: none

As Charles Dickens once put it: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.

The both of you sat in a horse carriage, cars being still not too common around that day, and looked outside the busy street.

England in the nineteenth century was a sight to behold. In awe you watched the people walking down the streets, clad in Victorian fashion - the men in suits, top hats (hopefully without mercury), and walking canes; women in long modest dresses with hoop skirts or bustles underneath giving a distinct shape and various little hats on skillfully made hair. You fit in perfectly with the clothes Asmodeus provided you with. Satan was dressed to the nines, the striped pine green waistcoat over the pristine white, high-collared shirt hugged his muscular frame nicely; the dark coat he wore fluttered slightly behind him when he walked (he couldn’t help himself and only wore one sleeve, the other draped over his shoulder casually). The ascot around his neck matched his black pants and shiny dress shoes. You matched him well - the bodice underneath the dress - white with pine green stripes - emphasized your waist but wasn’t too tight; the long-sleeved waistcoat had frills in the front that opened under the bust like a curtain and ended in your back with a large bow. Around your neck was a necklace with a cat pendant Satan gifted you for your last birthday.

All that being said sadly didn't distract you from the fact that it smelled so bad.

Occasionally little boys ran onto the bumpy roads, scooping up what the horses left behind. (You hoped none of those children would get themselves hurt or worse.) Not only that, the industrial smoke carried over from the factories, and people still threw things into the Thames that didn’t belong there (mainly human and industrial waste, and unsurprisingly the occasional corpse)

“I am grateful we didn’t visit London during the summer of 1858,” Satan stated after he saw you wrinkle your nose in displeasure ”I've read about it recently, it was labeled the Great Stink. There were various artists depicting their idea of a shinigami riding along the Thames during that time.”

“Guess it was easier to drop everything into the river. I can’t believe the working class had to bathe in that polluted water, like, eww. Bet Barbatos would've gotten a heart attack from those rats running around if he was with us.”

Satan hummed in response, looking back outside the window.

You passed the central street that had various shops aligned next to each other. Somewhere had to be one of the subsidiaries of the sorcerer's society where you would meet one of your teacher’s acquaintances, Viscount Laurent Cavendish who was responsible for the finances there. He was the son of a vineyard owner who made business with high society and offered wine tastings, perfect for making strong connections.

Satan helped you out of the carriage, the strong grip he had on your waist made your cheeks turn pink. The coachman handed you your luggage and wished you a nice day.

The subsidiary looked like every other building in the business area, disguised as a bank (and also functioning like one for cover). You went inside, walking to the front desk of the entrance hall. An elderly gentleman sat behind the oak table.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” he asked politely. You took out the letter from Solomon stored inside your bag, handing it over while introducing Satan and yourself. The man’s eyes widened, looking at the demon in surprise, then back to you. “We need to speak to Viscount Cavendish as soon as possible.” He nodded and made a quick phone call with a hushed voice. Not even a minute later you were escorted to Cavendish’s office.

You expected Laurent Cavendish to be a middle-aged man but you were mildly surprised to have someone sitting in an office chair who can’t be older than thirty. Auburn hair framed his oval in a style that reminded you of Mephistopheles and dark blue eyes looked up from his paperwork to eye you thoroughly. Come to think of it, the way he looks at you, judgingly, reminds you a bit too much of the aristocrat demon. He signed you to take the two seats in front of his desk.

“I’ve never expected this shady man to get himself an apprentice. Say, is his cooking still as horrendous?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Nearly killed me once.”

Cavendish sent you a crooked smile, just for a split second, before leaning back in his armchair, folding his slender hands. Back to business. “So, what brings you here? I assume you aren’t interested in opening a bank account.”

“We are interested in the Whitechapel Murders. We plan on acting as reporters from a foreign country. Unfortunately, we don’t have the proper connections in the Londoner scene,” Satan answered and you continued “But my teacher recommended you, Viscount, saying you’re a powerful man in the Sorcerer’s Society and Londoner Underworld”

You hoped to tickle his ego to the best of your abilities. To drive it home, you opened your suitcase - enchanted so you can put as much as you want in it like in the RPGs Leviathan often plays with you; basically unlimited inventory space - and brought out a gift box, addressed towards the man in front of you and put it on his desk. “We can pay you for your troubles, of course”

Curiously Cavendish opened the present, hummed with a twinkle in his eyes, and closed it again.

“Very well. The murders are all over the newspapers but Scotland Yard is, unsurprisingly, still clueless. Our Society isn’t interested in the case per se, but of course, we are up to date about everything even if we don’t involve ourselves in such … events. The victims are brought to the funeral parlor Undertaker; the owner is involved with the underworld as well and is a reliable informant, despite his unique personality. I’m also acquaintances with one of the Yard’s chief staff, Sir Redcliff. Although I’d advise you strictly to be discrete with any valuable information.”

Satan looked at you and nodded. Cavendish took a sip of his tea after this long monologue. “I’ll provide you with the necessities and wish you all the best. Please wait in the entrance hall. My secretary will bring it to you once I am finished.”

After shaking hands with him, or rather with Satan, you were escorted outside. But not without his calling something out to you right before the door closes:

“Beware the Queens Watchdog, Earl Phantomhive!”

“Well, that went smoothly,” Satan said, guiding you inside the called carriage. The Viscount supplied you with a hotel reservation as well as various objects for bribing purposes - like a bottle of expensive wine for the Yard and credentials. “He must be quiet in debt with Solomon to go for such length. I wonder what was in the present you gave him” You thought about it for a moment “Eh, I guess some rare ingredients or magical items. I didn’t look inside.” The blond demon let out a laugh “I am surprised, by how noisy you usually are”

“Hey!”

Half an hour later, you arrived at the hotel. It was nothing too fancy from the outside, a two-star equivalent from your own time maybe? You stood before the entrance door when you suddenly heard a gentle meowing noise.

Satan was quick as always, crouching down to pet the little creature in front of him “Are you all alone?” he cooed, petting the few-month-old kitten. In the blink of an eye, not two, but three and four emerged around the corner. You watched it with a grin.

//What magnificent creatures. What an adorable little family~// Blushing, he played with the litter of cats. He didn’t hear the sound of protest from around the corner.

It wasn’t until another set of hands appeared in his line of sight. He looked up, staring into a pair of reddish-brown eyes.

Bonus:

Earlier that day: Y/N: Okay, we should change into more time period-appropriate clothes *takes off top* Satan: HOLD U-!

__________________________________________________

Finally done it. Had like no time to write last week thanks to being short-staffed.I might edit something in case I notice spelling mistakes. I usually use Grammarly but it doesn't catch everything.

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wingedcat13 · 2 years

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Synovus: Villains Never Retire (3)

[Another day, another installment, another piece of evidence I can't resist a good monologue. Warnings for this week include more graphic descriptions of drowning, 80s TV references, and Synovus putting their foot in it. Repeatedly. See you in part four!]

[New here? See the start of the series or a part you missed here. As per usual, this chapter is also up on Ao3.]

‘Moping’ is, in your opinion, a highly underrated art form.

There are those who prefer the drama of the romantics; sighing and draping themselves over surfaces in elegant dismay. There are the hermits: creating a den and retiring to it until someone is brave enough to drag them, kicking and screaming, from a pile of blankets and misery. There are the students of the tantrum, who follow the subject of their distress in a very not-purposeful-certainly-not way to be pointedly fine or vaguely annoyed in their periphery.

You ascribe to none of these three schools. No, when you are upset, you become a spider.

Not literally - shapeshifting has never been one of your gifts - but in nearly every other way. You scuttle away from interaction with others, create stashes of supplies in hidden spaces, and watch the world from a dark corner or rafter.

You’re usually willing to admit it’s a bit of a juvenile response, to go brood and watch your minions at work. It’s never stopped you, though.

Your minions are used to such behaviors - enough that even if one of them does manage to spot you perched twenty feet up on a steel beam, they don’t acknowledge it. If you don’t move for more than four hours, sometimes they’ll send someone to make sure you haven’t died.

(Usually, it’s Oflok. She throws snacks at you to make sure you’ve eaten something. If they get really worried, they send Doll to try and coax you down.)

(Doll is still on vacation, so you figure you can get away with this for two more days at least.)

At least you aren't vying for space - neither Alexandria nor Minerva seem to share your proclivities. You haven’t seen either often: it’s easier to move from one room to the next via the maintenance hatches than to risk an awkward confrontation when you do spot them.

(No, you aren’t hiding from your guests in your own home. That would be ridiculous. You have nothing to be ashamed of.)

Still, there are signs that neither has quite forgiven you for what they’d learned at the meeting, now three days ago.

You'd passed through the training room yesterday to find it absolutely trashed - the dummies shredded by a sharp point, and a spear lodged in one reinforced wall. Minerva, then.

Your birthday gift to Alexandria, a custom Lego model of the ancient library she’d named herself after, is still sitting partially constructed in your lair’s library - meaning she hadn’t worked on it in several days. You’d helped her with the early stages before getting sidetracked by explaining some of the various theories you’d heard over the years about potential relics recovered from it or supposed secrets it was burned to conceal.

Personally, you were considering taking up knitting again. Or perhaps embroidery? It would depend on how much you felt like stabbing something.

---

It was while you were trying to recall how to properly set a purl stitch, that you finally overheard something you shouldn’t’ve.

You’d settled into the cross of two support beams in the mess hall to work on it. Between your costume and the fact that you were up above the hanging lights, it wasn’t even necessary to use your shadows to hide. Even the yarn you were using - a very deep purple- wasn’t likely to give you away, unless you dropped the skein.

Below you, a few of your minions were gathered at one of the tables, talking again about the turmoil on the mainland while they played cards. None of them seemed worried, exactly, just… slightly unnerved. You weren’t really focused on following the conversation.

You did hear, however, when Rosie stood up from the table and called, “Doll!”

You paused in the process of carefully undoing your last failed stitch, and leaned forwards to get a better view. Yes, that was Doll, half-jogging up the steps. He wasn’t due back for a few more days. You had a sinking suspicion you knew why he was back early.

“Rosie!” He returned, spreading his arms wide for a hug. There were a few moments of overlapping greetings and welcomings, his nickname interspersed with his real first name, Andrei. Chairs were shuffled, cards were reshuffled, and then he was dealt into the game.

“So.” He asked, as the group finally settled, “What’s got all of you so worried, hm?”

There was a mass exchanging of glances. Some of them were directed upwards, but none of them spotted you. You couldn’t see Doll’s face now that he'd sat down, but you could hear the slight grimace when he said, “If you cannot speak of it, you should have called me back earlier.”

“It’s not that,” Heather murmured, shaking her head, “it’s… well, we’re not entirely sure either.”

Theo was stretched out on a bench, rather than playing. “Syn got called to another meeting.”

“They are retired.” Doll said, as though that were an answer.

Heather shrugged, “I don’t think they were expecting it either. Anyway - Menace went with them.”

“She’s okay.” Rosie clarified, before Doll could stand. You could see her lay a hand on his arm from here. “No one was hurt. But Athena went with them, too.”

“In the new costume Syn made.” Oflok was definitely grinning. You contemplated throwing a knitting needle at her.

“That sounds like a good thing, rather than a…” Doll trailed off, making a vague circling gesture with one hand.

Rosie sighed, “Well, it would’ve been. But none of them have talked to each other since they’ve been back.”

Heather shook her head, “I’m used to having Syn destroy a training room every so often - but if Athena keeps this up, I’m going to run out of training dummy materials.”

“And Alexandria’s been spending most of her time in the sky, too.” Rosie noted. “And that’s after she’s weeded the garden for me and dug a new irrigation channel.”

“And Syn?” Doll asked.

“Skulking.” One of them mutters.

Doll laid his cards down. “Angry-skulk or emotional-skulk.”

You aren’t sure which they would’ve answered (and were slightly mortified they talked about this enough to have a commonly understood difference), as, about that time, Alexandria drifted up over the railing of the stairway.

“Doll!” She cried, smiling broadly.

“Menace!” He returned, just as cheerfully as he had when greeting Rosie. He stood to go offer her a hug - and didn’t notice or care that Oflok swiped his cards as soon as he turned away.

“I didn’t think you would be back for a while.” Alexandria said, once she’d gingerly extricated herself from the hug.

Doll shrugged, “What can I say, hm? I missed the sun.”

Alexandria chuckled, but her heart wasn’t quite in it. She moved forward, towards the table, and out of your line of sight. “Doll, can I… talk to you?”

There must have been some exchanging of glances or other signal, because your minions abruptly dispersed.

Oflok stood first, dropping a hand onto Heather’s shoulder and declaring, “I need someone to cut things. You’re helping.”

Theo, eager to dodge the same fate, had swung upright, “Oh, hey, that update should be about finished.”

“Fair Lady, those carrots should be about ripe. Want me to see if I can find ten of them that are ready?” Rosie offered.

“Better be at least twelve or don’t bother.”

The three of them moved off towards the kitchen, bickering about how long a carrot needed to be to be useful for whatever Oflok was planning. Theo ambled out a side door, and caught two more who might’ve otherwise wandered in.

When the door had closed, and it was just Doll and Alexandria (and you hidden in the rafters), you heard Alexandria say quietly, “I didn’t mean to drive them away.”

“You didn’t.” Doll assured her, “I did. I just got back from traveling, and I don’t want to have to move from this chair.”

Alexandria made no response to that, but she did sit.

There was a beat of silence, while Doll gathered the cards everyone else had left behind, and reshuffled them again out of habit.

"Why did you kidnap me?" Alexandria asked.

Doll sounded relatively unruffled as he replied, "Because Syn asked me to."

"Asked?"

"Told, if you want to be specific, but I could have refused without much trouble. They don't force us to do things, to work for them."

"Why did Synovus want me kidnapped?" The corner of a light blocked her face, but you could see one hand curled into a fist, resting on the tabletop.

"Because we needed to keep your parents busy for a few hours." Doll continued shuffling the cards, occasionally fanning them or bridging them in tricks that you knew were a sign of anxiety. One of few tics and tells he had.

"Why did you need to keep Athena and Legionnaire busy?"

Doll hesitated, and Alexandria added, more heatedly, "And don't tell me you can't talk about it, I know about the deal with Gray Gangster."

"If you did, you would know why." Doll returned, sounding annoyed. His tone gentled as he continued, "You should really ask Synovus, if you want the full story."

"No thanks. I want the truth, not to be lied to." There was a bitterness there. You managed not to flinch.

Doll set the cards down, and folded his arms. "Alexandria. What is this really about?"

"What do you mean 'what is this about'? This is about why I was dragged out of my bed to an island in the middle of nowhere, essentially as bait!"

"You have had over a year to be upset about this." Doll remarked. "And while I do not mean that you cannot be upset about it - I would be, I think - I mean that I think there is a reason you bring this up now, when you haven't before. A reason it is eating at you."

There was another moment of silence, which you silently interpreted as a staring contest. Alexandria must've lost, because when she spoke again, it was quieter.

"Is all of this... did Synovus do this just to.. to get at my parents?"

Your grip tightened on the knitting needles until you could've snapped them in half. Of course that's what she would've assumed, but your own stupid promises -

"Fuck no." Doll said, and he sounded like he was trying to downplay how offended he actually was. "We kidnapped you to preserve the Right of Rivalry, sure, but after? That was never part of any plan."

"That you know of." Alexandria countered. "They could've -"

"Let me make one thing clear for you, Alexandria." Doll said firmly, "You are right. It is entirely possible that Synovus had plans none of us knew about. Half the time I don't even understand the plans they do explain. But if you ask me a question and then counter it with hypotheticals, I don't think you cared about how I answered at all."

Another silence.

Doll sighed, "Synovus is not a kind person." He said. "But they are not a monster. The difference is that their mercies are invisible - because they are almost always a matter of restraint."

That, at least, prods a bit of curiosity out of Alexandria, "What do you mean?"

Doll picked up the cards again, shuffled them one last time, and began to deal. "You went to a meeting. Who all was there?"

"Tallflawes, Gray Gangster, Dr. Wraith, Unwritten, Chanter, Galactic Prodigy, and two people with wings I didn't recognize."

"Ibis and Vulture." Doll supplied, "That's most of the usual set. You are an observant girl. Why would so many powerful villains gather in one place?"

"Mostly, it seemed like they wanted to argue about territory rights."

"And why would they do so, peacefully?"

Alexandria shrugged, "Because it's in their best interest to, I guess? That way they don't waste time fighting each other, and can better hold off any heroes who come for them?"

Doll hummed, "You are forgetting something. Every supervillain, and that is what all of those people are, has an ego larger than the moon."

Alexandria snorted.

"They don't make concessions well. At least, not publicly. Not to each other. And most of them are worried about getting stabbed in the back on a moment's notice."

"They seemed pretty well organized, from what I saw. Tallflawes must be pretty intimidating when she wants to be."

"Tallflawes?" Doll paused, in the way he normally did when raising an eyebrow and expecting you to reconsider your statement. "No. Tallflawes did not create that structure. Synovus did."

"Synovus?"

"I know - they seem so anti-authoritarian most days. And you'll notice there is no official leader to that group, only whoever winds up hosting. For a long time, that was here."

Alexandria seemed to turn that information over. "They said something... I asked about the rules, and what happened if someone broke them."

"Synovus happened." Doll agreed. "I've seen it, once or twice. It's not a pretty thing. But they were warned, and a threat isn't a threat if you never follow through."

"When we got there, Tallflawes said something about, about saying words and living them. Rosie said something like that, when I was here before?"

"'If you cannot hold yourself to your oaths, I will.'" Doll recited. He shivered, "I have never worried about Synovus turning on one of us. But I admit... I do sometimes still have dreams about that day. Dreams I'd rather forget."

"So then... all of the Rights, the meetings, all of it... was because they were scared of Synovus?"

"Not all of it - most of it just made sense, like you said about the not wasting effort. And not everything is ritualized either. Villains aren't big on rules, as a whole, you know?"

Alexandria confessed, "I was kinda surprised they had so many."

Doll shook his head, "There are only three. The Right of Parley, which is the agreement for a ceasefire at meetings. The Right of Privacy, which means that if you try to steal someone else's secrets, they can retaliate without consequence. And the Right of Rivalry."

"Which is... Supervillain dibs?"

"More or less. It keeps them from stepping on each others' toes. Imagine if more than one group had showed up at your house that night - chaos!"

Alexandria had a card in hand now, and was slowly turning it over, cycling it against the tabletop. "Doll." She said slowly, "Is that... almost what happened?"

Doll sighed, "If it had been Gray Gangster's men at your house that night, Menace, it would not have been to kidnap you."

"You mean they would've...?"

You had had enough of hiding in the rafters. "He had plans for a bomb."

Both Doll and Alexandria flinched and looked up. You took the time to stash your knitting where it wouldn't fall, then dropped down.

"He had plans for a bomb." You repeated, "And wanted to know if I thought it would work on Athena and Legionnaire. Because he had a prison break planned, and they couldn't be allowed to intervene."

Neither of them could see your expression behind the helmet, but you didn't bother trying to hide the weariness in your voice. "He had plans for a bomb, and he was only bothering to tell me, because they were my rivals."

Alexandria looked somewhat upset to see you - though that might've been because of your 'entrance' - but she wanted the answers more. Enough she didn't turn and leave, at least. "But he didn't use it."

"No." You agreed. "Because I told him that I had plans of my own for that day, and if he interfered with them, I would tear him apart. And when he left, I scrambled to find something that would make it true."

There was another moment of silence. Just as it would've stretched into uncomfortably long, Alexandria spoke again, "So, what you said about Rosie, before..."

"That part is true." You confirmed, "It was just happenstance that the doctor was in the same prison. But I had sworn not to talk about Rosie's cancer with anyone, and until she released me of that oath, I couldn't even tell you that."

“And now?” Alexandria challenged, raising her chin.

“In my more foolish youth, I swore never to disclose what happened at our meetings to anyone who had not attended one. And don’t start about my not saying something earlier, you’re the one who flew off without a word, to me or your mother.”

Alexandria made a frustrated noise, and a few hand gestures like she’d like to strangle you. That wasn’t an uncommon sentiment when people dealt with you. Call it a gift.

After another heavy sigh, she made a motion as though physically pushing something to one side. “Okay. Whatever. I’m still mad.”

“That’s fair.”

Alexandria regarded you suspiciously. “You never break your oaths?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“How many times has that happened?”

That was an unpleasant memory. “Once.”

“Will you swear an oath to me?”

In a way, this had been inevitable. “That depends on what you ask of me, Alexandria.”

She watched you for a moment. You almost wondered if she could see, somehow, past the helmet, to the mixture of despair and resignation on your face.

Carefully, as though each word was specifically selected, Alexandria asked, “Will you swear to always tell me the truth about your rivalry with my parents, and how it relates to me?”

On reflex, you ran through all of the potential outcomes of this situation, all of the things you might be forced to disclose, every oath you’d made that might conflict with it.

And, very softly, hating that you could not even offer her this, you said, “No.”

You tried not to see the hurt on her face as you turned away.

—-

A few hours later, it’s Rosie who finds you this time.

It’s a mark of your bad mood that you don’t come down to talk to her once she’s made it clear she’s looking for you. Resolute, she just finds a ladder, and joins you on one of the wide beams over the workshop.

You’d left your knitting in the mess hall, and hadn’t gone back to retrieve it - so you’d spent most of your time mentally rearranging work desks and plotting projects that you knew you’d never be able to pursue, now that you were retired.

Still, you don’t leave. And part of you keeps track of Rosie’s progress so she doesn’t fall.

“Stuck with the short straw?” You drawl as she finally settles.

“Synovus.” Rosie frowns, “What the fuck.”

“What?”

“What. The. Fuck.” Rosie repeats. “Are you doing.”

“Waxing philosophical about my own impotence.”

“I don’t give a crap about that.” Rosie says dismissively. “What are you doing about Alexandria and Minerva?”

“I -“

“Because whatever it is it isn’t working.”

“That’s-“

“I like them.” Rosie says defiantly. “Both of them. I’m upset that they’re hurt.”

“Well, that’s-“

“Fix it.”

And with that declaration, Rosie swings her leg back over the side, and makes her way down the ladder.

Groaning, you knock the back of your helmet against the wall.

—-

You find Minerva down by the water.

In an attempt to signal peaceful intentions, you made yourself dress in something other than your costume. You left your face uncovered, and ensured you were wearing something that could stand being dragged through the sand in case this conversation went poorly.

Minerva, it turned out, was in the Naiad suit - which you wanted to take as a good sign. It could also have just been that she still had few clothes of her own here, though.

(You’d offered to send someone to purchase clothing for her, or retrieve clothing from her house. She hadn’t wanted to tell you where she lived, now, and you didn’t want Alexandria to go alone into that chaos. Between the extensive closet you rarely used and your minions’ donations, she’d amassed a small pile of loans.)

You caught her coming in after a swim. She caught sight of you when she was still knee deep in the gentle surf of the inner bay, and froze, staring at where you stood on the beach.

You hold out one of the two drinks in your hands and called over the waves, “Smoothie?”

Minerva doesn’t respond. After a minute or two, in which neither of you move, you sigh.

You take a sip from one of the smoothies, bending the straw to claim it as yours. Then you place both of them on a disc of summoned shadow, solidified enough to hold them, and levitated off to one side.

“Alright.” You call to Minerva, “Go ahead, drown me or whatever.”

“Would anyone weep, if I did?” Came the icy reply, and you grin.

“I hope not.” You respond lightly, “My funeral is to be a strictly no-crying zone. Only celebrations, and dancing upon the coffin.”

“Is that how you live with yourself? Everything a joke?”

Your grin fades. “Only myself, dear Minerva.”

The waves stir, a new current introduced. You try not to react to it. Minerva’s warning is venomous, “I’m not your ‘dear’ anything.”

Slowly, you turn your hands so that the palms are facing up, showing that you are not gathering your shadows. “My mistake.”

“The only reason I have not killed you,” Minerva tells you steadily, “Is because you’ve been, somehow, good for Alexandria.”

The waves are rising now - little tiny whitecaps as they froth over, still no higher than her hips when they crest.

“You sound as though you are reconsidering.”

“Even too much medicine becomes poison.”

It is a struggle, not to bare your teeth at that and taunt her. You close your eyes, rather than risk letting her see them swirl black.

After a few heartbeats, Minerva demands, “Well?”

You open your eyes again, powers held tightly in check. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to ‘say’ anything.” She growls. “I want you to give up on this charade of civility. Of charity.”

You stiffen, “Have you a complaint about my conduct, Lady Athena?”

She hisses. Oh, you should not have used that name. But it is too late now.

The waters of the bay shiver, and part. Suddenly, there is a clear path of damp sand between you and Minerva, as the water rises at her urging, summoned into shapes.

You take a step back.

“Go on, Lord Synovus.” Minerva takes a step forwards, and you can see a glint in her eyes, even if you can’t decipher it.

Wary, you take another step back. “Minerva. I know my word doesn’t mean much for you-“

That’s as far as you get before the first torrent of water slams into you.

It’s strong enough to take you off your feet, but instead of simply flattening you to the sand, it drags you further into the water. You had the briefest moment to take a breath before being dragged under - only to have it knocked out of you.

The force of the current pulls you in a kind of desperate cartwheel, while you scrabble for purchase in the cursed-soft sand. Saltwater stings your eyes and your nose, and a small voice in the back of your mind remarks, quite calmly, that you probably deserve this.

You can’t really address that though, because the vast majority of your instincts are screaming at you to save yourself; either in a mix of frantic animal instinct to orient and kick and breathe or the trained instinct of a super, to orient and kick and hurt before you can be hurt further.

Luckily, Minerva doesn’t seem to be genuinely out to kill you. At least, not immediately: you surface before you’re forced to suck in water, sputtering and coughing, in water up to your waist.

Resigned, you drag one hand through your hair and use the other to wipe excess water from your face. You glance around, trying to find and track where Minerva is, where the next attack may come from-

The answer was your ankles, naturally.

A current as strong as any riptide twines around your ankles and shins, yanking fiercely and suddenly, and causing you to go face-first back into the water. You struggle, because you cannot help what you are, but you keep a death grip on your powers. If you reacted now, by instinct, you are not sure how much damage you would do.

Again, you are spun until you lose all sense of direction, and again, you surface with barely time to breathe. Now you are treading water, and the babbling fear in your heart insists that if you don’t do anything, Minerva will sweep you out to sea and leave you to drown.

The part of you that has always survived, the part that became the Scourge of the Western Seaboard, classifies things much more coolly. There are several things you could say or do to make this stop. Several ways to return the sense of fear or pain.

You choose none of them, and instead take another sharp breath before you are once again pulled under.

But you are beginning to fear that you will have no other option, if you want to come out of this alive.

The next time you are allowed to breathe, you realize Minerva is shouting at you. Probably has been, but you’ve been a bit busy drowning to notice.

“-you took my family from me!”

You open your mouth to try and respond - just as you slip beneath the surface again.

This time, there’s no helping it. You choke on saltwater and brine, and the automatic response of your body to try and force it out only makes you inhale more. You should be focused on trying to reach the surface, but the animal panic has only risen, and it’s taking everything you can muster to try and keep the energy inside of you from exploding - as shadows, as light, as something raw.

So instead, you sink. And another current grabs you. And you have just enough time to think that it’s a shame Minerva will only kill you now, when you are no longer rivals.

And then you are slammed into the shore, and the water leaves you alone.

You spend several moments coughing up or vomiting seawater. You are drenched, and everywhere you are drenched, the sand sticks to your skin, clothes, and hair, in a gritty paste that stings worse than the saltwater. And yet, you are alive. For now.

When your lungs feel as though they’ve been scraped raw, and you’ve had time to catalogue the deep ache that is already spreading through your body, you look up to see Minerva, still standing in the water. She looks imperious. Cold.

And maybe you’ve suppressed your survival instincts too much today, because when you force words out of your mouth, what you say is, “Are you done?”

Minerva’s expression takes on a sharper edge, and she might have killed you for real (and you wouldn’t have fucking blamed her at that point) except for the blur of movement that slams into the sand between you.

You throw up an arm to shield your eyes from the spray of sand. When you risk lowering it, you recognize the admittedly-blurry outline as Alexandria.

“Oh hi menace.” You mutter in a small voice that might not actually have made it to full words.

“What the fuck!” Alexandria yells, looking back and forth between you.

“Language.” Minerva says automatically, proving you aren’t the only one with a faulty autopilot.

“What the fuck.” Alexandria repeats, just as emphatically.

“We’re okay.” You wheeze, and this time you’re fairly confident those are audible sounds.

Judging by the incredulous look Alexandria gives you, you must not look okay.

Minerva must have come to the same conclusion, because she comments, “You look like a drowned rat.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alexandria demands, rounding on her mother.

“And here I got all dressed up just for you.” You half croak, half croon.

There’s a very brief pause of dead silence between the three of you, before Alexandria turns back to you again.

“Did you make a pass at my mom?”

“What-“ the force of your own outrage is enough to send you into another coughing fit.

“Because if she’s beating the stuffing out of you for hitting on her, I’m just going to fly away again.”

Minerva has one hand over her eyes, “No, that’s not- that’s not what's happening here.”

“Well then, what the fuck.” Alexandria repeats, but this time it’s more plaintive than anything else.

Intentionally or not, it breaks the worst of the tension.

She glances at where you’ve devolved into another round of dry heaving (not due to the implications, simply due to the near drowning) and sighs.

Kneeling next to you, she pulls a bottle of water out of the small pack you hadn’t noticed she was wearing, and offers it to you. After a few carefully measured sips, you feel like you can talk again. Not that that means you should, but since when has that stopped you?

“Thank you, Alexandria.” You say politely, and don’t bother trying to stand. You do manage to scrape yourself into a sitting position, however.

There has to be a way to resolve this. Something you can offer, a bridge between where you both currently stand. Some kind of reassurance?

“I swear.” You say quietly, “That I do not mean either of you any harm.”

Minerva snorts, but Alexandria sits back on her heels. She’s frowning as she watches you, her head tilted, as though there’s something she can almost see behind your eyes.

You hold her gaze long enough to underline the sincerity of your statement, then look to Minerva instead. “You don’t believe me?”

“No. I don’t.” Minerva answers, folding her arms. The waters around her have begun to return to their normal state, but there are still signs of agitation. “Why would an oath matter to someone who’s killed hundreds? What I believe is that it’s a feint. Tell someone over and over again that you never break your word, when it’s properly given, and they’ll eventually put their guard down.”

You can’t really fault her for that belief, it’s certainly the kind of trickery you’re capable of. Known for.

“Why do you put so much emphasis on oaths?” Alexandria asks.

You lift one hand helplessly, “Because, at a certain point, it becomes all that you have.”

Alexandria pointedly looks around at your island.

“I don’t mean like that - yes, I have plenty of material wealth.” You correct. “I mean in the… not quite moral sense. I am..” You hesitate again, choosing your words carefully.

“I am a liar. A traitor. A villain. I have no goal, no ultimate aim, but I don’t seek sensational pleasure or wealth either. I ascribe to no religion. I commit atrocities. And I have a considerable amount of power at my disposal.”

You take a sip of the water again, while Minerva sighs, “If you’re just going to brag, Synovus, you can skip to the point.”

“The point-“ you say with a glare, “is that it would be very, very easy for me to fall into an aimless chaotic melancholy. But a promise, an oath, those are things that are so very easy to break.”

“Restraints.” Alexandria murmurs.

You try to find the words to explain, “There isn’t a - a sign of some kind, a pop-up message that tells you if you’re about to betray someone’s confidence or break a promise. You have to know. And so yes, I am very careful about what I promise myself to, because if oaths stop mattering to me…” You shrug, “What will?”

“They make you stop and think.” Alexandria reasons, and you nod at her, grateful that one of them understands.

“And, of course, this leaves us only with your word, to take on faith.” Minerva notes sourly.

“Trust me or don’t.” You snap, because these are explanations you have never given anyone else, and you are raw on the inside and out. “You live in my house. I’ve spent years saving your life. I nearly let you drown me in a temper tantrum. I’ve never lied about who or what I am-“

You go to gesture, out of habit, but only succeed in jarring the arm holding Alexandria’s water bottle. It knocks you out of your tirade, at least.

You look down to avoid looking at Minerva, and focus on breathing. You grimace are the grime you’ve smeared on the bottle. In measured tones, you say to Alexandria, “I would offer to return this, Alexandria, but… allow me to make a suggestion? I’ll keep this, and you can have my smoothie.”

You gesture in the vague direction of the disc of shadow, still floating patiently. “Or your mother’s, if she’s still refusing my peace offerings.”

For a moment, you think Alexandria is going to refuse. She’s pursed her lips, and still seems unsatisfied with the whole endeavor.

“You sound like you’ve been gargling seashells.” Alexandria remarks, even as she stands to go retrieve the drinks.

Minerva is staring at where they’re levitating, perhaps remembering your offer, but - no, not the drinks, the disc. She’s staring at the slim oval of solidified shadow. The proof of your abilities, that you hadn’t lost hold of, even while drowning.

You… honestly are a bit surprised it's still there yourself. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but apparently in forcing yourself not to change how your powers were being used, you’d inadvertently preserved the disc too.

“I lose control of all sorts of things.” You tell her, hoarsely. “But never my powers. Never.”

You intend for it to be reassuring - that you will never use your abilities against her or Alexandria in anger, that you are willing to allow yourself to be drowned if it means a chance at reconciliation.

Instead, Minerva’s face closes off even more. You realize, much too late, that it could be taken as an accusation instead. Mockery, as she had seemed so afraid of before she told you about her name, her uncertainty.

There was the hero, who had nearly drowned someone who refused to fight back.

Here lay the villain, painted as the martyr.

You lunge to your feet, reaching out as though you could catch her by the wrist, find some way to explain - but she is gone, into the water where you cannot follow, before the second syllable of her name has even cleared your lips.

There’s a frustrated noise from beside you, and you turn long enough to see Alexandria’s glare.

“Even dad never made her that mad.” She accuses.

The depths of that blow must’ve shown on your face, because Alexandria takes a step back, and looks momentarily uncertain.

“Thanks for the smoothie.” She says, and walks down the beach before taking to the sky again.

Eventually, you trudge back up the hill to your lair alone.

—-

You pass Rosie in the hall. She stops to stare at you, in all your sand-encrusted glory.

“I’m working on it.” You growl at her.

She doesn’t say anything.

—-

The next morning, you are woken by the whumpf of a teenager with super strength flopping into your bed. This, due to the laws of ‘Synovus being startled’ if not the laws of physics, results in you briefly experiencing flight about a foot and a half off the mattress.

“Good morning.” Alexandria says cheerily.

“Augh.” You reply, through your pillow.

Merciless, she finds the remote necessary to start clicking through what you have available on streaming services. She’s been really into a murder mystery show from the 80s recently - sure enough, you recognize the distinctive pattern of its opener a few seconds later.

“I’ve forgiven you.” Alexandria informs you.

“Mmpf?”

“I still don’t like it, and I’m not saying you’ve got full license to do it again or anything, but like. I don’t know. You’re a supervillain, of course you have secrets. I just don’t like when they involve me and I don’t know about them, you know?”

“Mmm.” You concede.

“Anyway, I realized that I could also keep secrets now.”

You roll over enough to crack one eyelid at her. She grins. You shrug. It’s her life.

Her attention is rapidly absorbed by the plot of the episode, and you go back to dozing.

And for a little while, everything feels alright.

—-

When you wake up for real, Alexandria’s on a different episode, and has an empty glass on the table beside her that still bears marks of a smoothie.

“Decided you were a fan?” You ask, gesturing to it as you start the process to drag yourself out of bed.

“The fruit here is much fresher than I’m used to. And Oflok might be magic.”

“Oflok is definitely magic.” You agree, and go to scrape yourself into the shape of something presentable.

Once you’ve curried life into your limbs and brushed away the last vestiges of sleep, you return to find that Alexandria’s swapped away from her show. Instead, she’s now clicking through news feeds.

“Was it the doorman?”

“Nope - he was framed. It turned out to be the neighbor.”

“Hell of a way to lodge a noise complaint.” You muse. You nod at the screens, “So, what’s the damage?”

“Bad.” Alexandria answers frankly. “The group we met before - the one you put in the hospital and the other two who left? They’ve staked a pretty big claim on Southern California, and actually seem to be able to enforce it. A few capes have disappeared closer to Seattle, six different people have claimed to know why, but there’s no evidence.”

She clicks through to a different channel, “Oh, and it’s a free for all in Death Valley.”

“We do love our sense of irony.” You admit. You scan the displays for people you recognize, signs of actual trouble versus someone looking for fifteen minutes of fame.

Something at the bottom of the screen catches your eye. “What’s that about? An anti-retirement petition?”

Alexandria grins, “Apparently a lot of them want you to come back.”

You are aghast. “Why?”

She shrugs, “A single tyrant is better than a super powered gang war? One person they interviewed said that at least you had class.”

“Clearly, I should’ve blown up a few more buildings before I retired.”

You watch the newsreel for a few more minutes - that petition has over 3,000 signatures, which is frankly ridiculous - before Alexandria asks, “Did you know this would happen? When you retired?”

You sigh, and readjust the pillows you’re now leaning against. “I expected something like this.” You admit. “There’s always a power vacuum. My retiring left a fairly large one.”

You squint, “I did think it would be more resolved by now, instead of escalating. Maybe I should’ve faked my death instead.”

“Would that have really made a difference?”

“If someone had claimed to kill me, they could’ve pushed to inherit all of my territory by right of conquest.” You point out. “The trouble with my not actually being dead would’ve made it more difficult for anyone to make an unarguable claim though. Maybe not.”

“Why did you retire?”

You frown, and look at her with disapproval. Alexandria only shrugs, “Hey, I can ask. Didn’t say I expected an answer.”

“I… know what it’s like to have super powered parents. Guardians. Life administrators.” You concede reluctantly. “I didn’t want that for you.”

“Awww.” Alexandria says, one hand over her heart. “You think you’re my parent.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You made it weird by existing.”

“Touché.”

There’s a brief pause, as a commercial comes on that distracts both of you. In addition to its general absurdity, you have no idea what it’s for until the end, when it pivots to the intended product with a complete non-sequitur. You mock it together.

“You know, you don’t talk about them much.” Alexandria notes.

“My choice in toothpaste brands?” You ask, raising a brow.

Alexandria rolls her eyes. “Your parents.”

“Correct.”

“Sore subject?”

You rise, and stretch. “Just not much to talk about. They’re both dead now. Have been for a while.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and it’s more of a bark, “You might be the only one to say that about one of them. But I appreciate the sentiment, little menace.”

Alexandria makes a face at you. “By the way.” She says casually, “I’m going to fly to the mainland later. Want anything?”

You are, perhaps, too glad to change the subject to be appropriately suspicious. In hindsight, that will have been purposeful, and you will appreciate the maneuver as much as you are frustrated that it works.

“Some sort of non-chocolate candy, so it doesn’t melt in your pocket.” You poke her shoulder, and head past her into the hall.

“I’m going to bring you back a single jolly rancher.” She yells to your back.

—-

Later that day, after Alexandria’s left, you get a text message from an unknown phone number.

Not Unwritten, who does admittedly go through phone numbers at an alarming rate, but a genuine, never-texted-or-called-before number.

UKN: Hey, Syn? It’s Menace.

UKN: I uh. I may have dropped my phone on the flight over.

You stifle a snort.

Syn: Noted.

Syn: I will presume any further messages from your number are instead from a particularly enterprising cephalopod.

UKN: Why do you assume an octopus?

Syn: Octopuses are dope.

UKN: Sometimes talking to you is like talking to a thesaurus.

UKN: Sometimes you hit me with ‘Octopuses are dope’

Syn: I contain multitudes.

Syn: Pre-paid cell, I presume?

UKN: yep.

Syn: Don’t lose this one until you get back to the island.

Syn: … also Doll says hello.

UKN: hi Doll!

You wave Doll away before you can become an intermediary for a text conversation. He gives you a baleful look, but goes back to his current task: teaching you to play ‘the dungeon room game.’

He tells you it’s actual name several times, but you like yours better.

—-

“Doll. Doll. Andrei. I’m telling you, it doesn’t make sense.”

Your minion has his head on the table, as though not watching you will in any way spare him from listening to you.

“This economy - its terrible, Doll. In what - in what world is a custom made signet ring cheaper than a mass printed book?”

“In this one.” Doll says weakly.

“Bullshit. Two gold for a signet ring - you said one copper is the equivalent of one American dollar for vague estimations, and multiples of ten to class up, so that’s $200 for a signet ring, fine. But then -“

You recheck the book, and your math, just in case, “twenty-five gold for a book?!? If it was a spellbook or something maybe I’d understand but - Doll that’s two thousand dollars. That’s worse than textbooks.”

With disdain, you shuffle the papers in front of you, until you come back to the one with the ‘character goals’ box. You add ‘become bookstore mogul’ to the list.

Doll has rolled his head on his arms, enough to peer at you. “You’re going to be a rules lawyer player, aren’t you.” He says morosely.

“Not at all. I’m - what was it, neutral evil? Neutral evil. No law to be found.”

He sighs, and sits up, “Alright, if you are finished mocking the fictional economy, we can look at backstory-“

You are not, in fact, finished mocking the fictional economy, however you don’t get a chance to continue to dismantle it either. Instead, your phone vibrates.

At first, you assume it’s Alexandria, giving you a heads up call so she doesn’t set off the klaxons. But Doll frowns and reaches for his phone as well, and the screens in the room flip on.

Each screen - from the oversized one you used to play D.D.R. for Alexandria’s birthday, to the smaller screens still locked behind cabinets, to both of your cellphones - plays the same video. A live camera feed, depicting two figures you recognize for their insignias, if nothing else.

Dymania - you still think of them as 'ringleader.' The one with the white patterns, that's Jester. Clairvoyance and teleportation, with a side of potential emotional manipulation.

"Boss?" Doll asks. You hold up a hand, still taking in the details of the video.

"Someone wants to make sure I see this." You murmur. "Let's find out why."

They're against a wall, so you can't tell much about their surroundings (metal, large panels, industrial?) but the camera is steady and stays in focus (tripod, high quality capture and broadcast, no one holding it. Not completely amateur) as Jester steps forwards and declares,

"Citizens! It's been a while since you've heard from us direct, hasn't it? I'm terribly sorry about all of that, but it's only because we were waiting to have a proper show for you all."

Dymania, the calmer of the two, falls easily into pattern. (Rehearsed? Pre-recorded?) "The current upset must be such a burden for those of you who would prefer to return to life as normal. Nevertheless, rejoice - for we are closer to that calm prosperity you so desire."

"Not everyone agrees with that philosophy though." Jester chimes in, rocking on his feet. The energetic enforcer to the calm mastermind. "For example, try our visitors from earlier today. At first, we thought they were here to stir things up, but..."

"They've been kind enough to volunteer instead. To serve as examples, that we might sooner reach our goals."

"And to demonstrate that we do believe in equality..." Jester closes to the camera, and the view changes - not in the blurry motion of a camera spinning or the sharp cut of spliced footage, but in the blink-and-done of a transfer from one feed to another.

Your heart drops. You feel cold. You are conscious, barely, of Doll's sharp intake of breath, of a cry from further down the hall where this must be playing, of the shadows that are twining around your limbs and the humming of the light in your bones.

Jester's narration continues, cheery and jarring and signing a death sentence with every word, "We've got someone from all sides for you! Civilian, government, military..."

The three people kneeling with their hands bound do not interest you. But beside them, there are two more, one in white and gold, and the other in matte black.

"Villain... and Hero."

One of them is Athena, and that alone would hurt.

But the other?

The other is Menace.

You are going to end the world today.

#synovus #synoverse #Villains Never Retire #The ending will be happy I promise #Guess the TV show and I'll give you a shoutout in the next installment #which will be the last even if its 3 times as long as the rest #'brevity is the soul of wit'#fuck off I weave masterpieces with wit's extraneous bobbles and bits #and yes #I do still type most of these on my fucking phone.

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slashingdisneypasta · 10 months

Text

MultiVillains x AFAB!Reader || Smexcerpts

Plots & Warnings/Tags: This is a present for one @darlingpassion ! So these are some of their favourite characters! XD Happy (southern hemisphere) Birthday pal! ^^ This is kind of your Year of Smut, no? With the birth of your amazing smut blog? XD So I figured this was an apt gift! Haha XD I hope you enjoyyy! XDD ^^

Mr Scroop x Crewmate!Reader: Scroop will take you whenever he pleases. || Slightly Dubious Consent+Rough Sex+Use of 'Slut'.

Professor Ratigan x Inexperienced!Reader: Ratigan’s a very intelligent man and he is versed in a great many things… most of which, he can teach. Not least of all, the sensual arts~ || Dirty Talk+Grinding.

Russ (The Driller Killer) x Sleepy!Reader: You’re exhausted already from rounds 1 and 2- but Russ is full of energy. Don’t worry, he’s got this! || Marathon Sex+Overstimulation+Pussy eating.

Tags: @disney-android-foundation , @marinerainbow , and @ryantryan6969 . Thank you so much for reading! ^^

Mr Scroop:

You shouldn't have been doing this. Anyone could walk into the cabin and see you both; What you were doing. They could peak their head around the corner because they heard the sound of banging against wood, and very clearly get a view Mr Scroop's huge, terrifying alien cock slamming steadily into you. But the way Scroop had been watching you for the whole hour before this (Like he was mad at you, like he wanted to use you and break you) had gotten you so worked up- and you couldn't fight the way you felt when he grabbed you like this and growled at you and breathed on you- and-

"Ah- " The loud, breathy sound flies out of you when Scroop thrusts into you particularly deep and rough, dragging his thick, ridged cock against your hyper-sensitive clit. When he hears that sound he doesn't come out again immediately, staying there deep inside you for a moment, grinding his lap into your singing clit- before sliding out once again and, with a growl, starting to absolutely pound into you again. "Sc- Scroop!- " You shouldn't be doing this, though! You can hear the others outside!, you can clearly hear Silver's best Bar Fight story!-

He breathes in deep, out-of-breath from fucking you so rough. From needing you so badly. "Shut up, sslut."

That makes you keen, turning your head and squeezing both your eyes closed and the material of his vest . Your hips twitch, the overwhelming pleasure of this; Getting taken rough by a monster alien on the floor, with the door open for the whole crew to find you. Although your cunt squeezes him, and your clit cries each time that he has to pull out again in order to deliver another powerful thrust, and your precum is making a mess all over him, you take a deep breath in order to try and protest once more. "... - "

He beats you to it, leaning down toward your face and sneering. "Sslut, if you ssay another word... "

"I'm going to tie your mouth sshut... "

Professor Ratigan:

When Ratigan gave you that full, sharp smirk of his you immediately felt a heat begin to form in the pit of your belly. Letting go of that strand of your hair he was twirling around his finger, he moves away from your cold and nervous body, to his 'throne'. With a sigh, he takes his seat and a moment to gather himself - excitement evident in the tent in his nice pants, - , before turning his piercing and dangerous gaze back towards you. He gives you a smile that's almost warm. "Now, poppet, come over here."

Shyly you walk up to him, eyes widening when he wordlessly and daintily taps his knee with the tip of one sharp finger; That almost-kind smile turning smug.

"Um- "

"Pet, it will be easier for us all if you just... do as I say, hm?~"

... Right. Face warm, you step up and straddle both of Ratigan's thighs, his whole lap, but keep yourself a safe distance from his... 'friend'.., even though your core throbs and aches just to sit on it. After that, though? You have no clue. That's what you need him for; He'll tell you what to do.

"Good, now," He gives a dirty chuckle, beady eyes gliding all over your nervous form on his lap, "Don't be shy. you'll want to come a little closer, no? Heheh... Get comfortable, my pet~ "

"... Uh- " Swallowing, you nod. "Yes sir." This seems to make his grin broaden if possible, being called 'sir', like that, and you make a mental note of it. Carefully you inch down his broad thighs until you're sat squarely on his very, very hard 'friend'. He throbs underneath you, hot and heavy, and your mouth falls open at the feel; Ratigan's gaze slipping towards the motion.

"Perfect, dear Y/N. Next is truly the good part, I find, and I think you'll agree~ Begin to roll your lovely hips for me, hm?~" As soon as you start, he lets out a hot, guttural groan; Fully enjoying the feeling of your heated pussy lips grinding slowly up and down his shaft; Despite the clothes you both still wear. "Hmmm,"

And- it does feel good. It feels so good. And dirty (Again, despite your clothes still being on!). It feels hot, and fulfilling, but also teasing... like its not quite enough... You start to grind your hips with a little more pressure, feeling his twitching, bunched up cock thoroughly with your cunt. Ratigan loses his patience also very quickly, and puts his hands on your hips- using his strength to rock you roughly against each other.

When he starts to growl, his sharp teeth bared, you know he's close; Because so are you. You lay your hands carefully on his shoulders and use him for momentum- when- finally-

A feeling of absolute euphoria washes through you roughly and a substance fills up Ratigans pants.

He's panting, even as he smirks and watches you come down from your lovely high. "... now pet, we, "Huff. "move onto lesson two; The clean up. If you'll just... get down on your knees... "

Russ / Driller Killer:

"Wow!... " Russ pipes up, only moments after your second orgasms. Are you surprised? No. Well, you shouldn't be. You actually are, a little. How is not exhausted??

Oh, right. He's not human.

Anyway-

"Yea, yep, that was pretty... wow, haha." You giggle, rolling over onto your front in order to look down at him; His head just below now. "I know I'm asleep... I have to be, to see you, but... I'm wrecked. Can you sleep inside a dream??"

"I don't know, baby. But!- " Now he rolls over, pushes himself up off the mattress and hangs over you. He flashes you one of those devastating, wicked grins. "No time for that, anyway... I still got a few rounds in me- and I got my eye on you, doll~... "

... Immediately, you let out a laugh. "Ha! You think I can go anymore?? Russ- " Rolling over once again and plopping onto your back; Messy sex hair flying around your head on the lovely soft dream-pillows. "I can barely move."

With a slow, ridiculously sexy smirk, your boyfriend leans over you; His hands on either side of your head and his face just above yours. "I can do all the moving for us, wildcat!... I'm good at that."

"Goodluck pulling another orgasm out of me- I think my body has shut down."

At this, Russ looks thoughtful; Tilting his head. "... are you challengin me, sweet thing?"

This makes you laugh again, throwing an arm over your face and sighing. "No, just- " You're cut off by the sound of him shifting positions, and before you can even look, you feel his hands on your thighs and his breath on your poor, used folds and suddenly your eyes snap open wide. Oh!-

"Gimmie a sec here sweetness- I'm about to break a fucken record." After you've removed your arm from your face so you can look down and see him, he winks at you. "And don't be afraid to pull on my hair, eh?"

... In responce, you just go ahead and thread your fingers through his perfect black hair. Like, okay. Fine. Go ahead- but goodluck with that.

Russ doesn't start out slow. He doesn't have a 'slow' mode, not unless his cock is 9 inches deep and you're begging him (THEN he has a slow mode, of course), and quickly gets to it; Like he's absolutely ravenous for your sweet cunt. Like its his food source.

He wraps his lips around your soft, puffy folds, making your hips wriggle at the over-stimulation (After all he had already pounded you and ripped out an orgasm from you twice), and starts drawing thick, rough stripes up your pussy lips. He moans and you tug at his roots, feeling the tell-tale signs of an orgasm building already- somehow.

He continues to dine on your slick, and his cream still leaking out- even going so far as to use his thumbs and pull you open for him so he can delve in deeper, fuck you deep and dirty. His mouth is hot and makes you want to arch your hips up, and his tongue is strong; breaking your resolve.

It takes less than 2 minutes to draw a ringing orgasm out of your filthy, used cunt and then he's all worked up again.

He's shoving his cock back into you and wrapping your legs back around his waist before you've even come down from your high again.

#wow it feels like i haven't written actual smut in a while 😅#also about russ- no i havent seen spm yet 😅😅 i tried though!! XDD i hope he's in character 😅#MultiVillains x Reader Smexcerpts #MultiVillains x Reader #MultiVillains #Russ (Driller Killer) x Reader #Russ (Driller Killer)#Driller Killer Russ #Professor Ratigan x Reader #Professor Ratigan #Mr Scroop #Mr Scroop x Reader #Smut #Happy Early Birthday!

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