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myonepiece · 3 years

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Hey! I love everything you do, its so good and i've read every single one :P ! I just want to know if you can do something with zoro, law and sanji with s/o who is scare of the dark please :D

Zoro, Law, Sanji reaction to their crush asking to sleep with them because they’re scared of the dark

description: the crew (of each character separately) is camping on an island because it was dangerous to go back to the boat now or something like that, and their crush asks to sleep with them because they’re afraid of the dark

warnings: none

a/n: I know you said s/o but I had this cute idea and I thought crush worked better than s/o so I hope thats okay 💕

wc: 1594

*Law and Sanji under the cut

♡ Zoro

the crew had set up camp in a clearing in the forest, making a campfire and setting out a few sleeping bags they had picked up. you were already dreading sleep on account of all of the trees surrounding, the way they already cast shadows around the ground and didn’t show what was lurking in the far branches.

Sanji cooked some barbeque and Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper danced around the fire for awhile. it was truly and enjoyable night, but when the sun began to descend you moved closer to the fire, trying to stay in the light as much as possible.

Zoro, who had been watching you throughout the night, noticed this but he thought it was because you were cold by the way you hugged your kees to your chest.

the crew eventually said goodnight and fell asleep, leaving you shaking by the fire and Zoro leaned against the tree behind you.

when you moved even closer to the fire Zoro got worried.

“oi ______, don’t get to close or you’ll burn yourself.”

you didn’t respond, or even look back- so Zoro got up and walked over to you, crouching beside you and poking your arm. you jumped at the contact, startled by Zoro’s sudden appearance next to you.

“ah Zoro you scared me, aren’t you going to bed?”

“mhm, are you?”

“I’m going to stay awake for a bit longer.”

Zoro stared at you for a moment, noticing the way you shivered in the heat of the flames, the way your eyes held waves of fear, clearly you were unsettled.

“what’s wrong?”

you glanced to you side at Zoro, the fire making shadows dance across his face.

“nothing really, I’m just kind of afraid of the dark.”

you chuckled half-heartedly but Zoro frowned. he wasn’t going to judge you or anything, he knows people have different fears and the dark is a common one.

“is there anything I can do?”

Zoro’s own cheeks heated at the suggestion, and yours soon followed with a soft smile towards the swordsman.

“no it’s okay, you can go to sleep.”

he stared at you for another second before humming in acceptance, rising to his full height and turning around as he walked back to the tree he was sleeping against, a flicker of movement in the trees caught your eye and made your heart beat spike.

“Zoro.”

the man looked over his shoulder at the call of his name, you were shaking more visibly and your eyes were wide trained on the dark between the plants on the other side of the clearing- the sight of you so scared pulled at his heart.

“can- can I sleep with you tonight?”

you looked over you shoulder at him with a deeper blush on your cheeks, but Zoro wouldn’t say anything because he had the same but even more so.

“sure.”

he didn’t even have to think about it, only needing a moment to comprehend that his crush asked to sleep with him- and this meant you felt safe with him right?

he dropped down against the tree and patted the spot next to him as he leaned his head back. you got up from your spot reluctantly, hurrying over to Zoro and sitting beside him, instantly curling into his side.

he had his arms crossed then, to flustered and shy to put one around you even though he knew you would probably appreciate it- but when you leaned your head on his shoulder he rested his cheek on top of it.

and further, when you woke up the next morning Zoro had arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you closer against his side, he had moved it in the night once he knew you were peacefully asleep meaning he could let himself sleep too.

♡ Law

the crew was sprawled out across the clearing a fire burning in the center.

the moment Law announced you wouldn’t be able to get to the ship at this time you started to feel anxious, worried about where you would be sleeping. and when you found out you would be camping, in the dark, your anxiety built up.

the change in your exterior and attitude was quickly noticed by Law. he kept an eye on you the whole time the crew was setting up, watching the way you were simultaneously paranoid but more distracted than usual. he saw you check around the surroundings but he didn’t know what for.

when the sun began to set and you took a spot close to the fire he still didn’t know exactly what was wrong but he was getting worried- there were no visible wounds on you and you didn’t seem to be in pain, just scared.

he couldn’t sleep when the rest of the crew did, and he didn’t want to either because you seemed to be even more afraid than earlier. when he saw you stay practically attached to the fire and glance worriedly at the enclosing darkness, he finally figured out the problem.

he got up from his seat leaning against sleeping Bepo, carefully moving around the bodies of his crew and towards you. he called your name before he reached so he wouldn’t scare you with an unexpected appearance. he saw you jump at the sound and your head whipped around.

Law came closer and dropped down beside you, staring intently at you before bluntly saying,

“you’re scared of the dark.”

your cheeks heated at the embarrassing fear that he had realized, you nodded and faced the flames again.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s silly.”

“no it’s not, it’s common.”

you looked at Law who was still watching you and you smiled softly giving him some relief that you were feelings even slightly better.

“is there anything I can do to help you sleep tonight?”

“can I... can I sleep you?”

you saw Law tense and his eyes widened, a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“it’s okay if you don’t want me to I can jus-”

“you can.”

Law stood up and outstretched his hand down to you, taking it gently and pulling you up to lead you back through the sleeping crewmembers and to Bepo’s side. he sat down against the bear and gestured to the spot next to him. you sat down and an awkward silence filled the air.

“you can put your head on my lap if that’s more comfortable...”

you barely heard Law’s mumbling but you moved over slightly so you could extend your legs and place your head on Law’s legs. it took a few minutes before he relaxed beneath you, his hand slowly going to rest on your head. he began to softly stroke you hair, lulling you to sleep while he kept an eye on your face to look for any sign of fear or discomfort.

♡ Sanji

the whole crew was excited for camping, having a few games already planned and Sanji had plenty of food to make barbecue- you were the only one on edge about sleeping in the forest surrounded by who knows what.

everyone was distracted by their excitement so no known noticed the change in your demeanor.

you partook in the games and the dancing and everything with the hope of tiring yourself out or at least distracting your self.

when the sun was setting and while everyone was eating the delicious food Sanji had made, the cook was watching you while you took your first bite, waiting for your opinion. you took a bite and smiled up at him, telling him it was delicious- this is when he noticed something was up because usually you were more enthusiastic about his cooking. he frowned slightly and crouched down beside you with a concerned expression.

“_____-swan is something wrong?”

you sent him a quick glance,

“I just have a... a small irrational fear of the dark.”

Sanji nearly fainted at your cute innocent fear, but he didn’t think that would make you feel very good.

“that’s not irrational, fear of the dark is very common it’s nothing you should be ashamed of.”

he smiled softly at you.

“is there anything I can do make you feel better?”

“do you think... do you think I could sleep with you tonight?”

the amount of self control nd willpower it took to not squeal was overwhelming. his grin widened greatly and he nodded happily.

“awh of course _____-swan! I’ll put the dishes away and then we can sleep!”

once he was done putting the ingredients and dishes away, making sure everyone was satisfied and Luffy couldn’t reach anything, and saying goodnight to everyone as they fell asleep, he pranced back over to where you sat against a fallen tree with your knees pulled to your chest and your head resting on your arms.

“oh ____-swan I’m sorry I took so long!”

he gently took your hands in his and took a seat beside you. you took your hands from Sanji and settled into his side, assuring him it’s okay. despite being in the edge of the fire’s light and beside Sanji, you were still visibly shaking. Sanji looked down and pouted at your scared form, feeling his heart clench.

“can I hold you _____-swan?

you looked up at the blushing cook, nodding at him and sitting forward momentarily so he could slip his arm behind you. he turned in his seat so that you were leaning your head against his chest- he slowly rocked back and forth while you drifted off to sleep, but not before he promised to protect you while you slept.

#one piece #one piece imagine #zoro x reader #zoro imagine #sanji x reader #sanji imagine #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law imagines #trafalgar law imagine

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one)

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to.

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you—

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible.

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here.

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction.

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.”

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning.

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.”

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either…

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow.

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are.

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?”

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it.

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you.

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air.

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter.

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more.

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.”

Touching.

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow.

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.”

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen.

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor.

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.”

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three.

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand.

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop.

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.

You scowl. “It’s fine.”

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose.

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums.

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel.

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face.

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep.

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.”

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin.

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward.

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.”

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you.

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw.

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers.

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not.

Whatever.

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare.

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need.

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp.

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet.

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides.

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away.

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off.

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no.

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head.

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat. Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts.

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter.

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise.

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans.

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world.

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

#well it aint that good but it honest work wkerkjehr #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #jangofctts

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rowansparrow · 3 years

Text

By Any Other Name: Chapter Three

Summary: Rex follows you to the back room of the bar to check on you, and you trade stories about what used to be.

Chapter Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: mild drinking and cursing, a bit of gambling?

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: It’s going to get much spicier after this chapter. Once again, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!

Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!

Chapter One Chapter Two

You had not expected to see him again.

Of course, a part of you had been hoping you would run into him at 79’s again. But what were the chances he would be there? Stars, what were the odds he’d have even remembered your name?

You entered the bar with measured caution knowing you didn’t have your girlfriends with you this time around. Although they didn’t really offer you much in the way of moral support the last time you’d been here for a night out, it still felt so strange to come alone. You hesitated, looking around for Rose, wrapping your arms around yourself and suddenly feeling incredibly anxious when he didn’t immediately appear.

This had been a stupid idea.

You shook your head. If you were already second guessing yourself maybe it was best to just leave and save yourself the embarrassment. You turned back towards the exit quickly, ready to get out. Whatever little gods out there must have been watching over you that night, because just before you stepped through the doors, somebody crashed into you.

“Ah, kriff, sorry ma’am!” The clone chirped, careful to steady the multiple glasses in his hands as he shifted quickly around you. You recognized the handprint on the trooper’s armor. He had been one of the two men who pulled Rose away from you the night you had met.

You stood on your tiptoes, eyes trailing him to a round table pushed into the back corner of the cantina. The trooper hurried over and slid into his seat, distributing drinks and then passing one of the amber drinks to the man on his right. You recognized him too. Even from a distance, the goatee and numeric tattoo on his temple were hard to miss.

The troopers appeared to have been waiting for the replenished drinks, because as soon as the soldier with the handprint on his armor took his seat, the tattooed one immediately began dealing out cards.

You inched closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the other players while not being too obvious about it. Maybe coming here was a good idea after all...

“No, no, you dealt last hand, di’kut.” A trooper with a Republic cog tattooed on his face swatted at the other man’s hands. “It’s my turn.”

“Did not!” He protested. “Echo had the last one. Then he got drinks so now it’s my turn!”

“The entire point of me getting drinks was so you could deal while I was gone.” The one named Echo drawled.

“Quit bickering and just deal the damn cards.” Another clone griped. “Force knows I’ve already lost enough hands to Rose. Let’s get this over with!”

Your heart skipped a beat. Rose. You tried to look inconspicuous as you shifted even closer to see the rest of the table.

“Ah, don’t be such a sore loser, ‘Case. You’d have better luck with your cards if you’d stop flashing them at me half the time.”

“That’s cheating!”

“Then hold your kriffin’ cards up, vod.”

Rose’s laugh was what finally made you turn fully to face the table. He was not in full armor this time. Instead he wore armor below the belt, but the upper half of his body was just the black bodysuit the clones wore beneath the plates. The top of the suit had been unzipped slightly, showing off a triangle of Rose’s chest and what appeared to be tattoos adorning the bronze skin. Something about the tease of flesh was enough to make your mouth go dry, a more tantalizing intimacy than if he had been naked to the waist.

You suspected Rose must have sensed your staring. As the trooper's gaze shifted from his cards, those beautiful eyes of his darted directly to you. Then for a moment you froze, jaw opening and closing in a panic as you tried to think of something to say, an explanation for why you had been lurking in the shadows, just watching them.

But Rose beamed at you.

“Hey! I know you!”

The men at the table turned and you felt heat creep up into your cheeks.

“I was just – I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to intrude -.”

“Nah, come here! We’ve got room.” He reached over his shoulder, grabbing an empty chair from a nearby table and swinging it over effortlessly. He placed it right at his side. “Y/N, right?”

You nodded in response; your voice gone for now. He remembered your name?

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Rose waved at the men around the table. “Over there, that’s Fives and Echo.”

Echo gave you a little wave and Fives smiled, offering a small, two fingered salute.

“This is Jesse, Kix, and -.”

“Hardcase,” The trooper immediately to your right introduced himself then offered you his hand. You took it and he shook it with vigor. “You know how to play Sabacc?”

“Er.. no.”

“You’ll pick it up fast. Rose can coach you! He’s a natural.”

“That’s because he’s a strategist and cheats at cards.” Jesse mumbled, taking a long swig of his drink. Rose scrunched up his nose and flashed Jesse a little smirk. Fives then dealt the cards out to everyone and when each man had a full desk, Rose handed his cards to you.

“This here is the hand pot,” Rose explained, gesturing to a little pile of what looked like junk in front of him. “And that bigger one is the Sabacc pot. Hand winners get the hand pot and whoever wins the game overall gets the Sabacc pot. Make sense?”

You nodded, trying to follow along. “What’re you betting?” You asked, picking up a small canvas bag off the pile closest to you. You risked a glance inside and were surprised to find two hard candies.

“Contraband.” Hardcase replied conspiratorially. “Or whatever else we’ve got. Not like we’ve got credits to bet.”

“Cards up, darlin’.” Rose told you, reaching around to the back of your hand to tilt your cards back up towards your chest. Even through his glove, you could feel the heat of his palm against your knuckles. You glanced up at him and he gave you a charming little smile.

“Alright, Fives dealt.. so Jesse should lead, yeah?” Kix nodded towards the table. Rose shifted so that he was sitting slightly behind you. His arm settled around the back of your chair and he looked at the cards over your shoulder. He moved his head low, his lips just barely brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“Your goal..” Rose murmured in a voice meant only for you. “Is to not break twenty-three. Each card has a different value.”

You felt a shiver run up your spine and tried to focus on the game as Rose coached you quietly from behind. Hardcase was the first to bomb out, theatrically tossing his cards on the table in a huff. Jesse, Kix, and Echo were eliminated when none of them broke twenty. Then it came down between you and Fives.

Fives studied you from across the table, cocking one eyebrow up. He drew a card and smirked, holding his deck close to his chest.

“You’re at twenty.” Rose whispered in your ear. “If you draw anything higher than a three, you’ll bomb out. You can choose to stand and hope your hand is higher than Fives’...or you can draw.”

“What do you think?” Fives grinned while tilting his head at you. “Do you feel lucky?”

You glanced up at Rose again for guidance but he just shrugged his shoulders. You smiled, turning back to Fives.

You drew a card.

You pushed your way into the back storage room, bracing your palms against the shelves while trying to steady your breathing. You simply couldn't catch your breath; your chest squeezing tighter with every raspy inhale you attempted.

You sank down to your knees, hands steepled behind your head and curled in on yourself as you fought for air.

You briefly registered the door opening and closing again behind you. The sound of rustling of armor properly caught your attention as Captain Rex knelt down in front of you. He gently guided your hands off the back of your head.

“Breathe.” He murmured. “C’mon. In with me, out with me.”

You tried to match his breathing, tears streaking your cheeks and ruining your makeup.

“In… out.” Rex repeated, reaching up with one hand to brush your tears away.

“Don’t!” You snapped, jerking away from his hands. Rex held them up in surrender, sitting back on his heels.

“Y/N, I need you to breathe or I’m going to have to find Kix.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself. Blood pounded in your ears, and you sucked in another sharp breath.

“In… out… in… out… that’s it.”

Slowly, your breathing relaxed and you leaned back against the wall, head thunking against the durasteel.

Rex sighed and sat cross-legged opposite you. “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have come.” He said softly. “I never wanted to upset you.”

“It’s not your fault.” You said finally while rubbing your hands down your face in exhaustion. “It’s just…” You took a deep breath. “Hard.”

You sat in silence together for a long time. The distant thrum of the music and shouting from the cantina was the only sound around you until Rex finally spoke.

“He was one of the few I could stand.”

You let your head loll over towards him and raised an eyebrow.

“Rose, I mean.” Rex said, looking at his hands. “I love all my brothers. But the boys in Torrent… they can be insufferable.”

You chuckled. “I can’t imagine. Fives is bad enough when he’s planet side and comes to bother me. You’re stuck with him all the time.”

“You have no idea.” Rex cracked a small smile and picked at the fabric of his glove. “Rose… he’d act like the others, sometimes. Get into mischief with Fives and Echo. Do something stupid on the field and wind up with Kix, sure. The usual stuff. But Rose…” Rex shook his head fondly, as if he was recalling some far-away memory. “Rose was kind.”

You pulled your knees up to your chest and closed your eyes. A wave of relaxation calming you as you listened to the clone Captain.

“He was the kind of soldier who the shinies would always flock to.” Rex’s voice carried through the little room and you hummed softly, picturing Rose talking to the younger bright-eyed vode fresh off Kamino.

“He’d take ‘em under his wing. Show ‘em the open bunks.. tell ‘em where to stash their gear. After their first battles, he’d be the one to sit up and talk until they fell asleep.”

You cracked an eye open upon hearing a dull thunk. Rex had shifted to lean against the wall beside you, his eyes closed too, his face relaxed as he spoke.

“He was a good kid.” Rex mumbled. “And stars... did he love you.”

“Don’t.” You whispered while shaking your head, giving him a small, sad smile. “Not… not right now.”

Rex understood and put his hand over yours in an affectionate gesture. He gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. Then he seemed to suddenly remember who he was talking to and quickly pulled his hand back. Rex cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

“So,” He grabbed his helmet off the floor then began awkwardly inching towards the door. “I’ll ah – I’ll leave you alone. Congratulations on the opening. You did good.”

He quickly left after that and you lingered in the back, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of the past.

TAG LIST: @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyace @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @crazygirlwithasword

#ro writes #ByAnyOtherName #BAON #star wars #star wars the clone wars #tcw #the clone wars #sw #rex #Captain Rex #Rex x Reader #Captain Rex x Reader #Fives #ARC Trooper Fives #Fives x Reader #ARC Trooper Fives x Reader #Reader insert #Clone OC #OC Rose

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vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END OF PART VI - Lucien learned how to fish from his brother, idk, no one can convince me otherwise. Just a warning that there are mentions of abuse and it is also implied. The next few parts are a little shorter, so hopefully they’ll be edited a little faster. I hope you enjoy it!!!

ahhhh so excited legoo!

Prince of Ashes. Part VI.

masterlist.

“I don’t like this,” Lucien mumbled as he stared into the waters of the river.

Rufus kicked water at him.

“I don’t like you,” Lucien grumbled as he made to splash back, his hand in midair when Eris growled at them.

Rufus kicked water at Eris.

Eris closed his eyes, standing straight, droplets of water dripped along his face and back into the river. He let out a long-suffering sigh. Lucien’s laugh could be heard above the sound of the water.

“I’ll remind the both of you that I was not the one that suggested we spend our day doing this.” Eris made a vague hand gesture in front of him. He opened his eyes and raised a wet, auburn brow at Rufus. Rufus waved a hand dismissively, something he seemed to have picked up from Eris. How annoying, Eris thought, and considered that perhaps he should wave people off less often.

“You’ve been holed away in that study of yours for far too long, it can’t be healthy. Touch some grass, Eris, smell some roses. I’m sure it will do you much good.”

Lucien smiled, his shoulder length hair tied back messily with a strap of leather, “Why don't we make it a game, then, that should make this exciting.” Now that Lucien had grown a bit, he looked a lot like Rufus. Eris supposed that meant Lucien looked like him as well, but there were more similarities to the two youngest brothers.

Both of them had easy grins and playful, russett eyes. The only small differences were their noses and the fact that Lucien’s skin was a light brown in comparison to the pale skin of the rest of his brothers. Eris couldn’t help but think they were all very fucking lucky that Lucien had the blood-red hair they’d all gotten from their mother. Sometimes, Eris wondered where in the fuck the Lady of Autumn had managed to find a secret lover from another court, but he wasn’t too keen on asking her.

“Hope you’re ready to lose, fox,” Rufus bared his teeth at Lucien, “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re little.”

Lucien stuck out his tongue. “First one to catch a fish wins,” he said, getting into position.

Eris smiled, something that was becoming quite rare, bending over with his hands hanging loosely in the water, “Prepare to learn from the best, I’m sure the couple centuries I have on you both should give me an advantage.”

“Doubtful,” Rufus snapped, “You’re shit at this kind of thing.”

Not true, Eris thought, but didn’t bother responding. Eris had been the one to teach Rufus how to do this in the first place, having learned from Micah and Widge from his time in the war camps. Eris was pretty sure that as princes, he and his brothers were very much above wading around in rivers trying to catch fish, but it was nice to get outside.

“Are you sure there are fish in this river?” Lucien muttered.

“There are fish in every river,” Rufus replied, moving closer to their youngest brother.

Eris was no longer paying attention to the water, he merely glanced up to look at Lucien. Lucien was biting his lip, a look of determination on his face as he stared intently into the running water. Eris guessed that Lucien could probably do anything he set his mind to with that kind of perseverance.

Eris had been spending less and less time at the Forest House, not just because of his father’s many orders, but because he felt as though the less attention he gave Lucien, Beron did the same. Lucien didn’t really understand why Eris was avoiding him, but at least he still had Rufus. Eris hated to admit that he missed the little runt, and he couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out on Lucien’s life.

Cato had just been born when Eris was sent to the war camps that bordered the Autumn Court, Owain had been born right before the War, and Maddox right after it. Eris had been busy then. Worst was when Priam was born and Eris had been dutifully kicked out of The Forest House to rule over a territory far away from the capital city of Calchas. Not being there for his brothers was one of the few things he’d regretted when he’d been younger, but he didn’t spend too much time dwelling on that now.

He had been around much more for Rufus. His mother had had a difficult pregnancy and Eris had worried for her. He’d worried even more when Rufus was born such a small and sickly thing, but that had only meant that Beron paid him no mind. It was evident in the way Rufus acted, in his mannerisms and the patterns of his speech, that Eris had been a big part of his brother’s life. Eris supposed they differed a lot in personality, but he didn’t mind.

He’d rather Rufus be wild and playful than whatever the hells had happened to him.

“Ha,” Rufus said, amusement glittering in his eyes, “Found one.”

With a small yelp, Lucien crashed into the waters.

“Cauldron, Rufus,” Eris snarled. Rufus had wrapped a hand around Lucien’s ankle, holding him so that he dangled upside down, water dripping into the river from Lucien’s soaked clothes and hair.

Lucien made a funny gasping sound, his mouth gaping as he sputtered water. Eris didn’t know why he had panicked so irrationally, he knew very well that nothing dangerous lurked in these rivers. Eris stood to his full height and watched as Rufus lifted Lucien so that they were almost facing each other.

“The rare fox fish, quite the catch, brothers,” Rufus grinned, “I’m sure Old Sae will be thrilled with this remarkable find.”

“Eris,” his youngest brother whined, and Eris sighed, reaching for Lucien.

“Honestly, Rufus,” he tried to send a reprimanding look to him, but Rufus just shrugged, a smile still gracing his face. Rufus liked this sort of thing - tricks and riddles and jokes. Lucien liked it as well, just when he wasn’t the one the tricks and jokes were directed at. Lucien wrapped his arms around Eris’s neck, leaning his head on Eris’s shoulder like he had done when he was much younger.

Eris could hardly believe that Lucien was already a decade old. Eris held onto Lucien with one hand, fixing the cuff of his pants so that it covered the gold tattoo on his ankle. His father still didn’t know he’d gotten one, probably would have cut off his foot if he ever found out, but it served as a reminder to Eris that Beron didn’t own him.

“That’s why Eris is my favourite,” Lucien mumbled as Eris straightened.

Eris couldn’t help the triumphant smile he flashed in Rufus’s direction. Rufus scowled, “You hardly ever see Eris! He’s always gone, and you constantly come crying to me when father makes you upset, and Eris is your favourite?”

“Yes.”

Eris spoke before they started arguing, something they had begun doing a lot. “I think we’re done enough fishing for today.” Eris took the leather strap out of Lucien’s hair and handed it to Rufus, warming his hands with some of his magic and raking his fingers through the wet strands of his brother’s damp hair. “I should be getting back.”

“Mother’s tits, next time you want something, Lucien, I’m going to tell you to bother Eris with it.” Rufus was smiling as he ruffled Lucien’s hair, so Eris guessed Rufus might not have been telling the truth. “If you can find him, that is.”

“You never come home anymore.” Lucien observed, leaning back in Eris’s arms as he gently moved the hair that had fallen into Eris’s face. Eris frowned, thinking how Lucien’s softness was going to get him into a whole lot of trouble in a few years time.

“He’s gotten tired of us,” Rufus flicked water from his wet hands at Lucien. While Eris was pretty sure Rufus had meant that as a joke, he couldn’t help feeling as though perhaps Rufus was hiding some truth in his statement, some complaint he had of his oldest brother.

Lucien looked to Rufus, scrunching his nose in annoyance, “I’m tired of you.”

Rufus snorted, “I sincerely doubt that.”

“I’m not tired of you,” Eris felt like he needed to reassure them both, “I’ve just been busy.”

Rufus seemed to recognize that Eris hadn’t liked what he’d said, so he threw his arm over Eris’s shoulders as they continued to walk along the cobblestone path. “I know, I know, you think we’re great fun.” Rufus grinned, “It’s everyone else you’re tired of.” Just as they walked up the stone steps of The Forest House, Owain threw open the large, carved doors. Eris wondered if he’d been sitting there the whole time, waiting for their return.

The guards stationed there didn’t flinch at the loud bang the doors made as they hit the walls. “Where the hells have you been?” He snarled, his teeth bared. The jewels in the hilt of his large sword glinted in the light of the setting sun.

“Watch your tone, Owain, I’m not in the mood,” Eris snapped.

Owain stood in front of Eris so that he couldn’t walk any further, his broad hand grabbing Eris’s shoulder roughly. “Father has returned from his trip to Spring a little early and he’s looking for you.”

“He’s not due back until next week.” Eris thought that he would have been able to spend time with Rufus and Lucien, and Beron wouldn’t have even gotten word that he’d been neglecting some of his duties for it.

“Well, there’s been a change of plans, and now he’s fucking pissed.” Owain ran his fingers through his short, messy hair, “He already beat Cato bloody, said it was for letting you leave the house when you have a million things to do.” Owain shook his head, “I told father I’d send you to him once you’d returned. Head to the throne room - immediately.”

Eris was debating whether he should ask Owain where their mother was when Lucien was wrenched from his arms.

“Fucking hurry,” Owain spat, holding Lucien a bit awkwardly.

Lucien shifted in Owain’s arms so that he was facing his oldest brother, “Eris, you said you’d read me a story, you promised.” Eris frowned. He’d gotten very good at breaking his promises lately.

“I’ll read you a story,” Rufus finally spoke, saving Eris from having to respond, “Maybe we can get Owain to join us, too.”

Eris didn’t think Owain had ever read to a child, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful to Owain as he shot Lucien a small smile before he said, “I suppose I could join you for a bit.” The tone of his voice was much softer than what Eris was used to hearing from him. As captain of the Royal Guard, Owain usually sounded like he was giving an order, snappish and abrupt.

Eris remembered a time when Owain was all smiles, and he often wondered what Owain would have become had Beron not been their father. “I’ll read to you another time.” Eris tugged once on a strand of Lucien’s hair, “Goodnight, fox.” Lucien’s russett eyes were wide as he looked at Eris, tears threatening to fall from them. With one last look at Rufus, who wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the fear he so obviously felt off his face, Eris jogged down the hall towards the throne room.

He would have to stop spoiling Lucien, Eris thought. He was making things worse than they had to be. By the time Eris finally made it to the doors of the throne room, he’d decided that he’d be spending even less time with Lucien, since that was what it meant to protect him. Eris took a deep breath, running a hand through his unbound hair. Eris regretted that he hadn’t thought to bring his boots when they’d gone fishing, and he muttered a low curse as he stared at his bare feet.

He felt a bit ridiculous, but there was no point in stalling, so Eris took another deep breath before he pushed the doors to the throne room open. Beron was already standing, the Lady of Autumn behind him and off to the side. She was gripping the skirts of her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

“How many times do I have to tell you, boy,” Beron growled, his voice thick with rage. “How many fucking times?”

The ash-tipped whip in his father’s hand was familiar and Eris nearly flinched just looking at it. Beron shook his head when Eris didn’t respond, “Insolent,” he snarled. “The disrespect you show your High Lord cannot go unpunished, you understand that?”

Eris watched as his mother took one small step forward.

Eris widened his eyes in silent warning, but she spoke despite it. “Beron—”

“Be quiet,” his father hissed. “I don’t want to hear your voice.” Addressing Eris, Beron asked, “Where were you?”

Despite being quite a bit taller than the High Lord of the Autumn Court, Eris usually felt very small in his presence. Eris lifted his chin, “Out.” He often found he sounded very young when his father questioned him - like a defiant child. Beron looked closely at his eldest son, eyes stopping on Eris’s bare feet.

“5 for disobedience and 5 because you should have known better.” It could have been so much worse, and Eris knew he should have been counting his blessings for such a simple punishment, counting his blessings that Rufus and Lucien weren’t there in his place, but he couldn’t help the feeling of hate that swelled in his chest.

“Beron, please,” his mother begged. Eris didn’t know why she bothered, at this point, Eris’s back was so scarred it hardly mattered.

Beron turned to face her, flames in his eyes as the temperature in the room raised. “Speak again, and I’ll add another five.”

Since Eris could remember, Beron had always been a High Lord before a father. As Eris undid the laces of his shirt, he vowed that he would be a father before a High Lord if he lived long enough to do both.

59 notes · View notes

joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

The Chase

Pairing: Satan x Reader

Word Count: 4,982

Preview: Despite the fact that you're supposed to have the House of Lamentation all to yourself, Satan shows up in your room with an all-too-familiar charm.

He wants a chase, and you're willing to give it to him.

(This is a follow up to my other Satan fic, “Feline Charms”, so please go read that first if you haven’t!)

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter is also being posted on 6/25/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3

Satan walks into your room one quiet day—a sparkle in his eyes.

You pause from where you’re sitting on your bed, surprised to see him. Last you’d heard, Diavolo had invited the brothers to the castle for dinner. You hadn’t been included in the invitation (something about discussing sensitive Devildom politics over the meal), but it hadn’t bothered you.

For once, you’d have the entire house to yourself, and that thought was exciting. But…

Here Satan is, standing in your doorway, and looking suspiciously happy.

“Did you…not go with your brothers?” you ask, pushing yourself into a seated position, with your legs crossed under you. You stare at him innocently, head cocked to the side.

“I told them I needed to catch up on homework first,” he says, waving his hand uncaringly. “The first hour or so is just mingling anyway. Dinner doesn’t start until late.”

“Ah,” you respond, but you’re still confused. It’s obvious to you that Satan doesn’t have any real homework to do, considering he’s standing in your doorway all mischievous-like. There’s got to be a reason why he’d stayed behind, and come to visit you in particular…

Sighing, you press to your feet and pose with a hand on your hip—eyebrow raising as you stare at him.

“What can I do for you, Satan?”

At that, he grins. Digging into the pocket of his jeans, Satan carefully tugs out what looks to be a small keychain. He only holds it only by the silken ribbon, and your eyes narrow in on the all too familiar golden charm dangling at the end.

Immediately, your body goes stiff—explicit memories flashing through your head.

Satan chuckles as he notices your obvious shift in demeanor.

This shouldn’t be a complete surprise to you. After all, you and Satan had spoken on the possibility of once again using the charm to make things a bit more…interesting.

It wasn’t like your normal sex wasn’t fun, or fulfilling, but…you and Satan both had admittedly gotten immense pleasure out of your first (albeit accidental) use of the charm, so why not try once again?

“I managed to adjust the spell so you won’t turn fully into a cat, like last time,” Satan speaks, his foot inching forward. His pace is slow as he approaches you, and you feel your breathing pick up—your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

You know that this time, you’re both looking for that bit of resistance you’d shown before—when Satan had been forced to wrestle you into the shower. Except, today, you won’t be running due to a fear of water—you’ll be running to feel the thrill of the chase.

Satan had expressed to you some while ago that he’d admittedly always loved being able to let go and indulge in his Wrath-born tenancies from time to time. And…part of those tendencies typically involved games of cat and mouse.

For as composed as Satan appears to be, he gets twisted pleasure out of stalking his prey—chasing them, letting them work themselves into a frenzy, until finally Satan puts them out of their misery.

…of course, Satan has no intention of killing you.

No, for you, a much more…pleasurable ending awaits.

“Of course, we don’t have to do this right now, if you’re not up for it.”

He lifts his free hand and cups your cheek, dragging you into a soft kiss. That mischievous glint in his eye is gone, replaced with a look of understanding and affection.

You and Satan have only grown closer over the last few weeks, and there’s no way he’ll jeopardize your relationship by forcing you into a scenario when you’re not on board.

A quiet moan builds in your throat, and you raise your hands—cradling his face between your palms. You steal another kiss from him, and your heart begins to race.

You love him so much that sometimes you think you may drown in your affections for him. How can one man make you want to melt, but manage to get you so sexually aroused in the same beat?

Lowering one of your hands from his cheek, you trail your fingers down his chest, and onto his arm. Within moments, your fingers skim against his own. You feel the soft silken fabric holding the charm, and without second thought, reach down to touch the spell-laden metal.

Immediately, your body tingles—and you can sense the magic changing your form. The sensation stops only after a few seconds, and true to his word, this time around you have not turned into a house cat. Instead, you remain human, but with feline characteristics—your ears twitching on your skull, and your tail waving behind you—showing the excitement you’ve been attempting to hide.

“Do I at least get a head start?” you whisper against his lips—smile overtaking you. The Avatar of Wrath chuckles, pressing one final kiss against your mouth.

“10 seconds,” he says.

In a flash, you’ve disappeared—your shoulders brushing together as you dart past him and exit your bedroom. He can hear your footsteps echoing down the hall as you run, and Satan grins to himself. It’s clear you don’t intend to make this easy for him.

As adrenaline begins to flood his veins, his power begins to seep. Horns appear on Satan’s head—his clothes transforming into his demonic outfit, and a green and black tail snakes around his leg.

“3,” he mumbles to himself, turning to face the open door to your room. He rolls his neck side to side—loosening his muscles.

“2.”

Satan takes a deep breath, his ears straining to hear you. You’ve traveled quite far in just a few seconds…perhaps the spell had granted you a tiny boost in speed, as well.

“1.”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Satan rushes after you.

You’ve already made it down the staircase and into the dining room by the time Satan is done counting.

While a part of you had admittedly debated slowing your pace so that Satan could find you more easily, that idea had quickly been chucked aside. Satan wants a chase, and, well…to be quite honest, the Avatar of Wrath is a bit scary. At least when he’s like this. (Although you know he would never actually hurt you.)

A wave of power extends throughout the house, and you feel your hair stand on end. Briefly pausing, your cat ears—with heightened senses—swerve around on your head. Somewhere behind you, a stair creaks.

You suck in a sharp breath, gaze quickly darting over your shoulder. How is he already this close??

Hurrying forward, you do your best to tread lightly as you round into the kitchen. You stay low behind the counter tops, a tiny smile tugging at your lips when you suddenly feel foolish for the way your heart is hammering against your ribs. You’re excited, and anxious, and aroused, and—

“Neko-chan~”

The voice is drawn-out—playful—but it still makes your hackles rise.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of the demon lurking behind you. You don’t even dare look—simply leap forward and out of Satan’s reach. He grins mirthfully as you turn your head to stare at him--shocked. It’s seriously unfair that he can move so silently.

“I found you,” he says, taking a step forward. In response, you take a step back. The doorway to the hall is still a few feet behind you, and Satan is blocking the entrance back into the dining room. Your best bet would be to stun him, and then run further into the house and hide.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see an apple sitting on the counter.

You swipe at it without warning, effectively sending it flying towards Satan’s head. The demon, luckily, is thrown off by the action.

He lifts an arm to save his face from being struck by the fruit, and by the time the apple has bounced off his arm and clattered to the floor, Satan’s eyes only manage to catch the sight of your tail disappearing from the doorframe.

A grin tugs at his lips, his eyes flashing dangerously.

You’re cute when you’re desperate. Too bad your efforts are in vain.

You only make it half way up the hall before a hand wraps around your tail. With a shriek, you tumble off your feet—landing ungracefully on your ass. There’s an amused snort behind you.

“And that’s why I keep my tail close to me.”

You scramble to your hands and knees—knowing that Satan is behind you—but he doesn’t allow you to get away again.

“It’s adorable when the prey doesn’t realize it’s time to give up.”

Satan’s warmth and weight are suddenly on your back. You feel his prominent hard-on against your ass, and pointedly rut back against it—hoping to loosen his hold. However, the action in turn causes him to grip you tighter—his sharp nails digging into one of your breasts through your shirt.

You whimper, but the sound quickly escalates into a pained gasp as Satan’s other hand roots in your hair. He tugs your head back—his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck as punishment for that last, pathetic escape attempt.

“Satan,” you breathe hotly, your tone pleading. Your ass wiggles against his crotch. Despite the small amount of distress you feel towards your current situation, it is vastly outweighed by the arousal pooling your gut. The Avatar of Wrath catching you and pinning you down like this is a huge turn-on.

“Wasn’t much of a chase, in the end,” he mumbles against your ear, and you blink in shock as the world spins. He easily flips you onto your back, and suddenly you’re staring at his devilishly handsome face—his lips pulled into a wide smile, and his blond hair disheveled.

“You should have just told me if you wanted my cock that badly, Y/N.”

You flush red, hand lifting to press against his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“You prick—I ran with all I had! Maybe if you wanted more of a chase, you should have given me a bigger head s—”

Your words are cut off as his palm presses against your neck—his fingers squeezing tightly around your throat. You’re very much reminded of the first time he’d fucked you--the same ears and tail adorning your body.

“I would watch your mouth, kitty.” You start to go light-headed, and Satan feels you become more pliable beneath him. He drags his knee between your thighs--grinding up against your pelvis, and you whine. “Is that any way for a pet to talk to their master?”

“I-I’m not--,” you attempt to deny his words, but you’re aware that this is a battle you won’t win. You’d said once before that you were the “Avatar of Wrath’s personal little pet”, and he’s taking that very seriously. Especially now that you’re pinned beneath him--cute, fuzzy ears flattened against your hair.

Satan leans in so your faces are mere centimeters apart, and his eyes flick to look at your lips.

“Want to try that again?”

Your body heats up with embarrassment. You will yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m your pet, Satan.”

He smiles at that, and you feel his grip on your neck loosen as he leans down to kiss you. You moan quietly into the kiss—your arms lifting to wrap around him—but the soft moment is over as soon as it begins. The Avatar of Wrath nips his canines against your bottom lip, drawing a bit of blood, and his fingers tighten against your throat once more.

“And as my pet, I can do whatever I please, yes?”

His knee is still rubbing up against your pussy, and even though the friction is lessened by your clothing, you’re so riled up at the moment that you swear if he keeps going, you’ll cum soon.

You nod weakly.

“Say it.”

“You can use me however you want.”

Your voice is frantic, and breathless. Satan can see the way your face has started to color from lack of blood flow, so he removes his hand from your neck. Instead, he places a finger at the collar of your shirt—his green nail extending into a point on command. The sharp nail catches the fabric of your shirt and tears it clean up the middle.

Because you’d been expecting to have the house to yourself tonight, you aren’t wearing a bra.

As your tits spill into the open air, Satan’s dick throbs. Immediately, his hand descends upon the soft mounds, giving them a rough squeeze. You whimper--your eyes straying to look at the crotch of Satan’s pants, and the pitched tent is quite obvious.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. Satan notices, his eyes narrowing. He removes his hand from your chest, and instead replaces it with his mouth. As he sucks your tit between his lips—his teeth gently nipping at your hardened nipple—his free hand sneaks beneath the hem of your pants.

His fingers slide between your wet folds, two digits curling into your pussy with little resistance. You writhe beneath him, your hips grinding down against his hand, and he sinks his teeth into your breast as a warning. You’re quick to cease your movements.

“Good girl.”

Satan laps his tongue against your tit—soothing over the indentation of his teeth. Acknowledgement of your good behavior.

You whine, unable to help the miniscule twitching of your body as Satan begins finger fucking you. His pace is frustratingly slow—serving only to rile you up—but you know that if you beg for more, you’ll be punished. Good pets learn to wait, and so shall you.

“Mmm--!” you mewl—your chest arching into Satan’s mouth. He’s taken to biting and sucking against your breasts—leaving you with a pretty pattern of soon-to-be hickies.

“You like it when you have marks, don’t you?” he speaks, voice deep. His emerald eyes flit up to you, and a grin pulls at his lips when he fucks his fingers into you particularly hard—making you gasp.

“That way, whenever you see them, you’ll be reminded of this—,” Satan drags his mouth upward to rest against your throat. His words are hot against your skin as he continues, and you shiver.

“—me, fucking you in the middle of the hallway after a pathetic game of cat and mouse. You’re quite literally the cat out of the two of us, and yet you were caught…”

“Not exactly a fair game when you’re running from a demon,” you shoot back. Satan breathes a laugh, and a moment later, you feel his canines against the column of your throat. He bites down—a cry falling from your lips—and Satan enjoys the way your pussy tightly grips his fingers. Despite the pain laced in your voice, he can feel your walls getting wetter.

“You’re quite mouthy for a pet,” he comments, sitting back a little. There’s a clear impression of his teeth against your neck. Your chest rises and falls quickly—eyes blown wide as you stare at him. Looks like your bratty remarks have finally given way to needy submission.

“How about…,” Satan pulls his fingers from inside of you, watching the way your bottom lip quivers in disappointment. “…you meow for me?”

His two digits—slick with your own arousal—press against your clit and begin rubbing slow, gentle circles. Your skull angles back into the carpet, lips parting in a silent moan, and after a moment your wanton gaze resettles on the demon.

You hesitate, your cheeks getting redder, and Satan grins. He rubs against your clit a bit harder, leaning down to press open mouth kisses to your sternum.

“If you be a good girl and meow, I’ll quit teasing and give you what you want. How’s that sound?”

He mumbles the words against your skin, smiling when he feels your thighs tighten around his hand. It takes a few seconds for you to work up to it, but eventually Satan hears you sigh—giving into your fate.

“N-nyaaa~,” you manage quietly, pitching your voice high, and attempting to come off cute. Your heart is racing against your ribs, embarrassment and arousal clashing as your body continues to heat up.

Satan’s fingers pause against your clit—the blond-haired demon leaning back, and giving you a curious look. It seems like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Despite his inner amusement at making you meow; his dick is throbbing.

He wants to fuck you into the floor.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he remarks, resting back on his knees as his hands fumble to undo his belt. You watch him with wide eyes, surprised at the desperation that is oozing off of him. A part of you wants to tease him for getting so turned-on from making you meow of all things, but you don’t want to jeopardize your chance at finally having his cock inside of you.

And you need this.

A gasp falls from your mouth as Satan grabs you—his fingers tugging at the waistband of your pants. Since you’re fairly desperate yourself, you lift your rear off the floor, making it easier for him to shuck the clothing off of you.

Now, with your lower half revealed to him, Satan wastes no time in settling between your legs. His pants are already shoved down his thighs—cock weeping and hard.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands a little breathily as his hands find your hips—guiding you against him. The head of his length rubs between your wet folds, flicking against your clit, before finally dragging down to your sopping hole.

You groan pleasantly as he seats himself between your walls—your legs curling around him as his cock stretches you open--filling you so deliciously. Despite the wrath in his nature telling him to be mean, a hint of fondness tugs at his heart--happy to see your satisfaction.

Leaning down, Satan cups your face. He kisses you hotly—his tongue dragging against your own as he swallows each and every pleasurable sound that threatens to escape you.

With his cock sheathed within your heat, he kisses you until your breath is completely stolen away.Then, he leans back--his eyes roaming you from head to toe. Hickies litter your chest, your lips are wet and swollen, and the bite mark on your neck is sure to be there for days. He grins with satisfaction at his work.

“What a good pet,” he comments. His hands find your hips once more, and the soft intimacy of the moment has ended. You’re once again his prey.

“Oh--!” you choke in surprise as Satan suddenly thrusts himself into you—his pace fast and rough right from the get-go. Your fingers tear into the carpet beneath you—desperate for something to hold onto. If it weren’t for the remnants of your torn shirt protecting your back, you’re sure you’d have carpet burn in minutes.

“Ah,” Satan bites out, his heart thundering in his chest as he continues fucking into you. With your legs tightly wrapped around him, it makes it so easy for him to grind your pussy onto his dick—his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your hips as he forces you to meet him in the middle.

Uncalled upon, little whines and pleas begin to drip off your tongue. The chase combined with all of Satan’s teasing has gotten you so worked up that you can already feel arousal pooling heavily in your gut. Each drag of the demon’s cock between your walls inches you closer to your release, and at this rate, you won’t last very long.

“S-Satan, I--,” you open your mouth to warn him, but that’s all you can manage. You can barely form a coherent thought, your eyes glazed over as you stare at him. And Satan loves seeing you like this—falling apart beneath him. All it would take is one final push, and he’s sure that you’d unravel.

“Oh? Are you close already?” he teases, despite full well knowing he’s nearing his breaking point as well. Sweat has started to bead on his brow—the ends of his messy blond hair sticking against his forehead. As much as he could poke fun at you for being so close already, he doesn’t have the right. At this rate, he’ll be pumping you full of his seed within the next few minutes.

You bite your lip at his question and manage to nod your head. Your pussy is throbbing around his length—gripping him tighter with each passing second. You’re drowning in your own arousal.

Whining a little, you lift your arms towards the demon—craving to feel him. He’s already fucked any remaining disobedience out of you, and now all you want is to keep him close as he drills you into the floor.

Luckily, Satan is feeling nice enough to give in. He wraps his arms behind you, hugging you tightly against him as he continues fucking his hips into yours. Wet slapping sounds echo down the hallway, and you moan--your fingers digging into his shoulder blades as you wrap yourself around him.

Satan’s breathing is heavy against your ear, quiet pants and curses puffing against your skin as the two of you rocket towards your climaxes. However—

Brrrring Brrrring~

Satan’s rhythm stutters as he feels his DDD begin vibrating against his lower thigh. He growls.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your head thumps back against the floor in disappointment as Satan untangles himself from around you and wrestles his phone out of his pocket. The screen reads Mammon, and Satan momentarily debates ignoring the call. However, knowing that he’s supposed to be at an important meeting with his brothers and Diavolo currently, he can’t justify doing so.

“What?” he bites in annoyance, connecting the line. Despite also being peeved at the interruption, you find yourself smiling—Mammon’s offended voice reaching your ears as he complains about the rude greeting.

As Satan seethes, you become aware of the fact that his cock is still inside of you. Even though he had picked up the call, he has made a point of keeping himself seated between your warm walls, and the realization has you feeling a little…devious.

“Lucifer is wonderin’ where the hell ya are,” Mammon states after airing his complaints at Satan’s cold greeting. The Avatar of Wrath sighs.

“I’ll be there soon, I’m nearly fin-ished--,” his voice wavers, pitching high in response to your pussy clenching around him.

“You okay, Satan?” Mammon asks curiously as Satan’s narrowed emerald eyes shift down to you. There’s a look of disbelief on his face—had you really just done something so ballsy?—but the anger in his eyes quickly melts into something much more devious.

He leans back a little more—his free hand moving between your legs. Before you can beg him not to, the Avatar of Wrath is quickly rubbing two of his fingers against your aching clit. His motions are swift and damning—a side to side motion that has your eyes rolling back, and your lips parting. A moan threatens to tear out of you, and you hurry to lift your hands and cover your mouth.

A grin tugs at Satan’s lips even as your pussy tightens around his cock once more.

“I’m fine,” he responds after a brief pause, his voice even and put together. It’s a stark contrast to you, who is quite literally writhing beneath him. You cry into your hands—your thighs pressing tightly against Satan’s hips as you attempt to close your legs, but it’s no use.

“…okay then,” Mammon relinquishes, still sounding a little suspicious. “Dinner starts in 30 minutes. Get here by then, alright?”

“I’m sure I’ll finish in time,” Satan replies, now full-out grinning as he watches you squirm. He can feel your pussy pulsating around his length. If he keeps going, there’s no doubt you’ll cum.

“Ya better, or Lucifer will have your ass. Get here soon.”

With that, Mammon ends the call, and Satan doesn’t hesitate in chucking his phone across the floor. It skids to a stop on the carpet a few feet away just as the demon reaches up and tears your hands away from your mouth.

“You bas--,” you start breathlessly, but Satan cuts you off. His mouth crashes against yours—his arms once more wrapping tightly around your torso as he picks up where you’d left off. And all you can do is moan around his tongue—a thick layer of need blotting out your anger and embarrassment.

Once again, the two of you are thrown into the depths of your pleasure. The world disappears from around you. All you know is Satan, and the way he’s making you feel.

“Please,” you beg, fingernails pressing crescents into the skin of his shoulders. You’re so, so close. You could snap at any second.

Satan notes the way your walls grip him—squeezing tighter with every thrust of his cock, and he bites out a curse. He can feel your breasts pressing against his chest—hear each of your breathless pleas and whines. You’re quite literally falling apart in his fingers, and he has never experienced anything more beautiful.

“Cum.”

Permission.

With a strained cry, you hug yourself to him as tight as you can, and cum. Your body convulses beneath him, your pussy milking around his cock, and you feel his muscles tense. He pants harshly—a near whine caught in his throat—and his rhythm finally falters.

Seating himself inside of you, Satan paints your walls with his seed. His chest heaves as he slumps against you—holding you near as your pussy forces every last drop of cum from his length. Taking a deep breath, you reach a hand up to pet through his blond hair.

“Good?” you question tiredly, turning your head to press a kiss to his ear. Satan hums in affirmation, and you shiver as he drags his hips backwards—his length disappearing from inside of you.

“Very,” he assures you, moving to kiss you.

You smile, happy to hear him say so, and then laugh a little. He cocks an eyebrow, leaning back onto his knees so he can fully look at you.

“What?”

“I think you just have a cat fetish,” you tell him, your ears twitching atop your head. “I mean…we could have sex like this without using the charm, you know?”

Satan turns a little red at that, sheepishly tugging a few strands of damp hair from his forehead.

“I just…think you look really cute like this, okay?”

It’s clear that now that the Avatar of Wrath has gotten his fill, he’s not feeling so mean anymore.

“Then I’ll be your kitty whenever you want,” you tell him, pressing your palms to the floor as you sit yourself up. Satan immediately reaches forward and cups your cheeks—a fond look in his eyes as he guides you into another kiss.

“That’s a dangerous offer,” he tells you, smiling against your lips. You laugh again, and Satan is sure to pepper you with a few more soft kisses before he grabs your hand and helps you to your feet. The two of you put yourselves back together best you can—Satan reassuring you that he’ll buy you a new shirt when he sees you motion to the now destroyed garment on your top half.

“Have fun at dinner,” you tell him as he bends down to retrieve his discarded phone. The demon rolls his eyes, his horns and tail disappearing into thin air.

“Of course.”

Pausing to hug you and kiss you one last time, Satan then makes his way up the hall and disappears from sight. Once he’s gone, you stretch your arms above your head and turn back towards your room. You could really use a shower.

Later than night—just past 1AM—you’re pulled from your sleep by a dip in your bed. An arm wraps around your waist—a nose nuzzling against your neck—and you murmur quietly.

“Satan?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” he shoots back, clearly tired himself. You shake your head “no”, and settle back against the pillow. You feel his fingers lift to pet against the furry ears still lingering atop your scalp, but you can’t be bothered to say anything. The sensation is nice, and it quickly lulls you back to sleep.

“Night,” you mumble, drifting off, and you hear him chuckle.

“Good night.”

In the morning, you wake up safely tucked into Satan’s embrace, and the two of you end up lounging in bed talking for a fair while. You only decide to start the day once your stomach growls, in need of some breakfast.

Exiting your room together (Satan being sure to remind you to cover the bite marks on your neck) the two of you make your way towards the kitchen, but are stopped by a frowning Leviathan.

“What’s up?” you ask, and the otaku motions over his shoulder down the hall.

“Lucifer found some weird stain on the carpet this morning. He’s currently patrolling and is trying to find the culprit.”

At his words, you and Satan freeze. You turn to look at each other—realization shining in your eyes.

You’d both left the scene of your love making without bothering to check if you’d…left a mess.

Well shit.

“Thanks for letting us know, Levi!” you say, grabbing Satan’s wrist and tugging him up the hall.

You need to clean up now.

After all, the last thing you need is Lucifer to start asking about how the stain happened.

#om!#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #satan smut #satan #obey me satan

533 notes · View notes

hyper-super-clover · 3 years

Text

Squeeze that bunny tail!

Part 3

Description: The RAD student council as well as the exchange students help out at a bar where, oops, the staff´s dress codes are those sweet bunny outfits that we all know and thirst for. The MCs, Violet and Clover, play a game of who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening without getting caught. Prepare for fluff, funny innuendos as well as my thirst over hot boys in bunny outfits.

Find the first parts on my masterlist.

Story continues under the cut. Enjoy the thirst!

[The amazing artwork belongs to @tokamiart, permission to post was granted, don´t repost!]

Clover and Simeon were giving out drinks at the bar.

The girl was handing over all sorts of bottles, glasses and ice cubes if needed. Simeon then put it all together with such grace and beauty that Clover often found herself gazing at him, until the brunet would turn to her with a smile and ask her to let go of whatever she had been wanting to hand him.

At one point, without any customers walking up to the bar, Clover sat down for a quick break.

"Tired?" Simeon asked, having decided to clean the counter in the meantime.

Clover chuckled at the sight. "Oh, is this going to be the classic 'I tell the bartender of my problems' scenario?"

The angel blinked in confusion. "I am afraid I don't know what you are talking about... But I'm always there to lend you an ear, if that's what you're aiming at."

"I'm fine", she laughed. "I was only joking... I must admit, though, you really suit this job. I'm sorry if I'm misjudging you, but how come an angel is looking so perfectly fit for serving drinks?"

Simeon blessed her with a chuckle. "Thank you for the compliment. As for your question... You might be surprised, but angels do know how to have some fun, too."

"Oooh" Clover grinned. "So the whole turning-water-into-wine thing wasn't just a myth?!"

At that, Simeon only put his finger close to his lips in a "shhh" sound, giving her a secretive little wink before both broke out in soft giggles.

A little while later, their attention got caught up by a situation at the tables.

Luke was cleaning dirty dishes off of an emptied table, when a demon approached him.

A little flustered, they exchanged a few words before Luke gestured towards the public toilets.

"He's doing so well" Simeon hummed, leaning on the counter as he watched his angel friend with a proud smile. "It had been very difficult for him to adjust to life in the Devildom... But I'm glad to see he is finally finding his own pace of things."

Clover's head jumped back and forth between the two celestial creatures.

"It's because he has a great friend who's watching over him" she smiled.

"Huh? Oh, no, I don't want to take any credit for that. It's all thanks to Luke's own strength that he's able to go through this so well."

Suddenly, Luke hurried over to them, a full tray of dishes in his hands.

He looked SO disgusted.

"Waaah... What's wrong with those demons...!" He let the tray slip onto the counter. "Has nobody here learned how to properly behave in a restaurant?! The tables are sticky, the food is all over the cutlery, or even worse...!"

He held up a fork.

... Or better, what was left of it. Which was only the handle. The upper spikes got bitten off almost completely.

"Who eats a fork?!?!", Luke cried out. "That's... That's... Ridiculous!"

Clover gave an awkward laugh, she got over the point of wondering long ago.

"I am pretty sure I know who would..." she mumbled.

And truly, stepping out of the kitchen, the culprit looked at the fork with a guilty expression.

"... Don't tell Lucifer" Beelzebub mumbled as he came closer. "He'll get mad if he sees that parts of the cutlery are missing..."

"... 'parts'?!" Luke repeated in disbelief. "You mean this isn't the only one?!"

"... Those were accidents..." Beel whined, holding his grumbling belly.

He let himself plonk down on a chair next to Clover, then huddled over the counter in a pout.

"Ugh... And what am I supposed to do with that now...?" Luke said.

"Hm..." Simeon thought. "Clover, Beel, could you watch the bar for a moment? Luke, let's go bring the dishes to the kitchen... And that thing into the trash."

They excused themselves after Clover gave her okay and Beel gave some kind of grumble.

The girl´s head drifted over to look at the demon...

And her heart skipped a beat.

She checked the situation.

His tail? Exposed.

His thoughts? In some far away land about food.

The others? Gone.

The perfect chance for a squeeze? Right fucking NOW.

Clover swallowed the raising anxiety in her stomach.

She had lurked around the angels in hope of squeezing one of their tails, but now that they were gone, she had missed that chance...

The more she thought about it, the more did Clover feel like hyperventilating. It was such a stupid thing to fuss over, but sadly, her habit of over-contemplating would always stress her out in unnecessary situations.

After what felt like eternity of convincing herself, she moved her arm.

Beel almost immediately turned his head.

"... You look like you want to eat me." He said.

"Wh-what?!"

His grumpy face mustered her.

"But I will eat you before you could possibly eat me, so don't even try."

Clover's already red face curled in confusion.

"I didn't want to..." she mumbled.

"Why were you staring at me, then?"

"I-I... Was thinking about how to help you with your hunger..." she lied.

"... Oh. Sorry for accusing you of something else, then."

"N-no, it's fine..."

Before Clover could talk herself into more bullshit, Simeon came back, and the holy boy was there to save her from her own misery.

"Beel" he called out. "Luke and I will soon return home for a bit. I can bring you some sandwiches, so stay strong, okay?"

"Simeon...!" Beel cheered as his euphoria made him stand up and engulf Simeon in a hug. "You're a true angel...!"

Clover felt quite shitty afterwards.

Beel hugging Simeon was an adorable sight, but she hated herself for being such a coward.

After dodging another encounter with Solomon, she had pulled back to help Belphie at the casino area, trying to get her mind off of the competition for a little...

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

Alright. I hope you´re not bored yet, because the chaos hasn´t even properly started yet.

Also, nearing ourselves to half-time, now is a good opportunity to sum up a few events as well as the overall squish-score so far.

Violet was leading with a total of 12 points. Besides the mentioned scenarios, she had also encountered Mammon a second time, and she was lucky enough to find Luke having a life crisis over another eaten fork.

Heck, Violet even managed to squeeze Clover's tail once, and her friend hasn't noticed!

Clover, on the other side, has had a great start, but did rather poorly the later it got.

With five points, she only had another chance with Asmo, who, tbh, had been begging for someone to pay attention to his booty. (But to be clear, he did not notice the squish.)

Over time, she got desperate, but that only fueled Clover's fears of getting caught.

It nearly let her to internally quitting, if not for Violet to pull her back into the game once more...

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

Most of the crew was busy working when the clock struck midnight.

A nearby bell tower announced the change of day -- and with that, also the change of clothes.

The customers as well as the staff looked up when a certain voice echoed through the speakers.

"Good evening, my sweethearts~!" Asmodeus cheered, sitting on the bar counter and waving at the crowd. "Or should I say good night? Good morning? I hope you are having a good one, to say the least!"

He gained a small round of laughter.

"Yes, yes, a cheery mood is what we want! And now that we passed midnight... It's time for a special surprise!"

He stood up onto the counter, striking a nice pose while smirking widely.

"Those with weak minds -- and weak ovaries -- should brace themselves, cause things are about to get hot~!"

The crowd applauded and cheered. A group of thirsty (asmodeHoes) fans threw in some... naughty exclamations, but Asmo had already jumped onto the floor again, gathering the staff members around him.

Barbatos at his side, he was handing out another set of clothing. "Please get dressed quickly", the butler said.

And so they went off...

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

"VioLET."

"Cloverrrr..."

"I CAN'T go out like his."

"But... But Clover... You know what must be awaiting us outside..."

"ARGH... I'm not ready for that either..."

Clover was sitting on the floor again.

This time, their outfit consisted of a classic black playbunny suit, ears and tail still included of course, arm sleeves as well as a shirt's collar that was held together by a bow tie.

"Come onnn, I don't wanna go without you..." Violet protested.

"But HOW am I supposed to face those frickin´ snacks” Clover cried out. “I'm a fucking potato compared to them, also Violeeet, the moment I see any of them my mind will SIN and I won't ever be able to look into Simeon's eyes ever agai-"

They heard voices on the other side of the door.

"Woohooo, is that Lucifer?! Shirtless?!" They heard Asmo go. "And and, kyaaaa, Beel, those ABS!!"

The girls exchanged a glance.

Then dashed out of the womens' toilet once again.

Stumbling out of the room, however, there was no one to be spotted at all.

A little confused, the girls noticed too late how a cheeky Asmodeus had been hiding behind the door, pushing the latter shut to have a perfect view on his girls.

"Got you~!" he hummed, leading the girls to turn around.

He had a camera in his hands and seemed to be already filming.

"What a view~", he continued. "Could you do me a favour and turn around as well?"

"Asmo!!" Violet hissed, her cheeks gaining a pink blush out of angered embarrassment.

Not as much as Clover's face was heating up, though, as she prompted the demon to put his phone down.

"Not going to happen, sweetie~" he chuckled. "Devilgram will love those bashful expressions...!"

"WhAt?!" Violet covered her body immediately. "You WON'T upload this anywhere!"

"Uhmmm... That's kind of not possible, you know? This is a live broadcast."

"WHAT."

Then, another person stepped out of the males' bathroom.

"What's all the noise about?"

Lucifer's annoyed voice echoed through the corridor.

When he stepped closer, however, his attention got caught up by the girls' appearance.

"Oh~?" he purred, inspecting the girls (but Violet in particular hehe) with a pleased smirk on his lips.

"L... Lu..." Violet's voice broke off.

She just... Died. Nothing more to say about this, really.

Because only now both, Violet and Clover, realised that not everything of Asmo's bait had been a lie...

The demons were actually shirtless, their chests bare as they were wearing only arm sleeves and, in Lucifer's case, a bow tie around his neck, while Asmo's neck was decorated with a ribbon. Rather tight-fitting black trousers and the bunny accessories completed the look that had left the girls speechless.

Lucifer's smirk grew wider.

"No, that's no good... I think I will have to speak to the manager. Those outfits are way too distracting... Isn't that so, Violet?"

"H-huh?!" The girl did a little hop.

Thankfully, Asmo jumped in to her aid.

"Fufu~! Lucifer, do you mean the girls are getting distracted by us, or is it that YOU are getting distracted, hm~?"

Lucifer crossed his arms in a contemplative manner.

"Well... I admit to a pleasant view when I see one, so..." He pinned Violet down with his eyes. "I guess I will have to be extra careful from now on... Then again, I might need a more detailed view, just to be sure..."

Asmo gave an excited giggle.

"Lucifer, you beast~!"

Then Asmo turned to Violet again.

"But judging from her red cheeks, I feel Violet might think the same... Isn't that so, darling~?"

"U-uhm...", Violet stammered, trying really hard to make her brain function again. "Well I... Think there's no point in denying that... Uhm..."

She glanced over at Lucifer, but every time she did, her head got dizzy all over again.

"Go on, please" Lucifer suddenly said. "There is no need to deny what, exactly?"

And her brain got stuck in an endless loop of not being able to cope.

Lucifer seemed to have plenty of fun with that, so he kept teasing her for the time being.

-----

We do remember, however, that there was another still girl left to completely destroy.

And Asmo took it upon himself to achieve exactly that.

"Don't worry, Clover!" He said as he tackled the girl into a hug, simultaneously dragging her away from the two lovebirds. "You're just as charming, of course."

"Th-thanks..." Clover mumbled.

"Hm? You don't seem to believe me."

Clover pulled away, now only holding hands with him, giving a shrug. "You know what I think of my looks, Asmo..."

The avatar of Lust gave a sigh.

"There we go again... If you're so self-conscious… why don't we go ask for some opinions?"

"Eeh?!"

And if the god of fateful anime encounters had planned it, the remaining demon brothers happened to have finished changing as well. The door to the men´s bathroom swung open…

"Oh!" Asmo smelled his chance. "Look, there comes our audien-"

He got cut off by the weird sound Clover made.

In a single movement, she had let out a squeal that a human throat should not be able to do, had completely destroyed Asmo's pretty hand by squeezing it in excitement, while in the end she was hiding behind Asmo, only peeking over his shoulder to glance at the mass of hotness coming out of the bathroom.

"Clover…?" Asmo sounded confused.

"Too much hotness", she mumbled into his shoulder. “I can´t-“

"Huh?" Asmo sounded genuinely confused for a second.

Then a smirk curled his face.

"What?!" he spoke extra loud, extra dramatically, so everyone could hear. "What did you say, Clover?! You think they're all sooo hot?!"

"A-asmo, be quiet...!" Clover mumbled.

But he continued.

"What? You love how much skin we are showing?!" he yelled.

"Stop...!"

"Whaaat?! You'd even pay them to strip down even more?! Clover, you wild animal!"

She punched the demon in embarrassment.

The next second, a certain scumbag stood beside them.

"DiD I hEaR 'P-p-p-PAy'?!" Mammon stuttered, literal cash-symbols in his eyes.

Asmo grinned at him, covering Clover's mouth so she couldn't protest.

"Our dear Clover here wants you to strip for her~"

Clover shook her blushy head.

"That's not trrngh..." she tried to press out between Asmo's fingers.

Mammon stared at her for a moment.

"… 10.000 Grimm."

Clover had freed herself again.

"... What?"

"15.000 and I'll do pole dance too."

"MAMMON WHAT THE HECK."

The second born looked almost disappointed when Clover declined his offer.

But Asmo was already moving on with his mischiefs.

"What? Clover?? You want to do WHAT with Beel's abs?!?!"

"ASMODEUS, I'LL KILL YOU-"

"No you won't~" Asmo grinned, turning to give his brothers a view on Clover. "Guuuys, I need your help! I dare you to give this little lady a rating in this sweet costume of hers."

Most of them looked confused at first,

but, seeing one, her outfit, and two, how much she was unable to cope, a few were ready to assist in Asmo's tease.

"I'd need a full view to judge" Satan grinned.

"Yeah" Belphie agreed. "Could you turn around slowly, Clover? Maybe do some poses as well?"

Clover shot them some angry glares.

"... You could do that pose were you form ears with your hands…" Levi dared to add in a mumble.

"Hrrrgh...!" Clover was fighting her embarrassment. "All of you are awful... Beel over here is the only nice guy, honestly...!"

She glanced at him in a pout, hoping he'd defend her... Or at least say something as well...

"... So you're not going to pose for us?" Beel said in a pout.

Clover.exe stopped working.

"Fufu..." Asmo grinned. "See, my dear? Even Beel demands a show... Now come on, we're waiting~!"

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

You can probably guess that Clover wasn't going to get out of this situation anytime soon.

While this part of the group enjoyed this mess of a person, let's switch back to the other girl whose brain was doing about as poorly.

Lucifer had kept Violet by his side, making sure she wasn't going to help Clover in her dilemma… Or going elsewhere in general.

However, one certain jealous bean soon couldn't bear that Lucifer was hogging Violet all for himself.

"Oi, Lucifer, back off of Violet already!"

And Mammon pressed himself in between them. "She's one of my humans after all!"

Visible displease grew on Lucifer's face as he got cockblocked yet again.

"And what would give you the right to claim her for yourself?" The eldest grumbled.

Mammon crossed his arms.

"... Because I just said so."

Lucifer pressed out a sigh, to then simply push Mammon's body away again.

"LUCIF-", Mammon hissed. "STOOP...!"

"You are distracting us, Mammon."

"B-but... That´s not fair…” he shouted. “M-maybe I want Violet to notice me as well!!"

Lucifer stopped, while most of the surrounding people went silent.

Then Levi gave a laugh.

"Oh my god MAMMON, that was so desperate lolol, SO uncool!"

Belphie spared him a pityful laugh. "Are you really that desperate for some attention, you idiot?"

The avatar of Greed was gritting his teeth.

"Hnngh... Shut up, all of you...!"

The situation around them escalated a little, even more so as Diavolo and Barbatos joined in on the chaos, having changed clothes as well.

But Violet felt bad, especially since she wouldn´t have expected Mammon to act like this. So, in a silent second where everyone seemed busy in their personal chaos, she sneaked over to Mammon.

After -- of course, what did you expect -- quickly poking his bunny tail, Violet also gave his shoulder a tap.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Mammon looked a little surprised, responding with a huff.

"...'s a wolf..."

"Huh?"

"Lucifer's a wolf!" Mammon repeated, awfully loud and both feared that the eldest brother had heard him.

A bit more timid, Mammon continued as Violet could only look at him in confusion.

"... Ya can't just go hop around in such an alluring outfit when there're guys like Lucifer around. He could go full beast mode and, dunno, do some weird stuff to ya."

Violet suppressed the nasty thoughts approaching her brain, her heart beating drastically as she mumbled a faint "I see".

"Ya human should better stick to the great Mammon! I'd treat you nicely, y'know."

Violet raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"... 'Treat me' how, exactly?" She asked in an almost teasing manner. "What were you planning to do, Mammon?"

And it landed a critical hit.

"I-I-I-I mean tr-treat as i-in... I'd protect you from all those beasts around you!" he stammered, his cheeks a blushing mess. "Nothin´ weird, I swear!! Its just… There's plenty of those beasts! Actually, maybe you should go home. If all the customers see you like this... Argh... I have to tell Clover, too...!”

He turned his head to search for the other girl, only to realise the group was about to return to their work. "Ahh... Oh no, she´s already been caught..." Mammon pressed out.

"Mammon" Violet called out again and treated him with a smile. "I assume you´re saying this because you´re worried about us, right? Thank you for that, you´re really a good friend. We're having a shift together later, right? So, until later, okay?"

He seemed confused again, but nodded in the end.

"Ugh... Fine... Just stay safe, ´kay? Promise!"

"I promise" she laughed, then Mammon finally seemed to have calmed down.

At least he was fine enough to turn around and go bother Levi with something.

Violet was watching them in amusement, then felt a presence behind her.

"Turning your eyes off of me already?" A deep voice purred almost right into her ear.

Ah, yes, there it was again, the drastic heart rate.

"Lucifer..." Violet turned around at the mellow voice. "I just wanted to tease Mammon a little. He seemed a little down."

"Sure, suit yourself..." Lucifer mumbled casually. "But I seem to be a little down as well... To think you'd end our conversation so quickly..."

Violet exploded into a puzzled blush.

"N-no... That's not... I ... You..."

Lucifer was pinning her down with his gaze, waiting for a coherent reaction. “Then how abou we pick up where we left? I think there´s something you wanted to tell me…”

"Y-you look... A-... Amazing..." she stammered.

"Hm? Could you say that again? Your voice appears to be awfully thin."

She breathed a heavily stressed breath. So Lucifer continued.

"Pardon me? Violet, you appear to be overheating. How come? I would assume your clothing is revealing enough skin to make that impossible..."

Aaand Violet's brain shut down as well.

"Should I help you?" he hummed, stepping even closer. "In comparison to you, I seem to maintain a way cooler head than you do..."

And, being the most flustered he has ever been, Lucifer continued to tease the shit out of Violet for as long as he felt the need to...

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

The group was about to dissolve and (finally) head back to work.

The girls, however, had stayed back for a strategy meeting.

"This is bad", Clover blabbered as she was trying to calm down. "I couldn't get up to them with shirts on, how am I supposed to even TALK to any of them when they're in maximum sexy mode?! And it's not only maximum hotness, but did all of them collectively agree to unlock their secret teasing-modes, too?!"

Violet gave a blushing shrug. "... Are you complaining, though?"

"Hnngh... No... But I'm so short on points... If I don't start playing risky, I'll loose..."

Violet smirked at that.

"Yeah" she agreed. "That's a good idea. Look, Solomon's over there all alone, why don't y-"

"Nope” lover interrupted her immediately. “Not going to happen. Nope. I'd rather go up to the demon prince himself. I'd rather get killed by Barbatos TBH."

"Oh, you would get killed..." Violet shivered, thinking back of what happened in the store room earlier.

"Don't care" Clover persisted. "Like, come, demon lord, if I was to touch Solomon's tail today, you may kill me right this instant...!"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me bunny event #i had short story as a tag too but thats one fat lie

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hoodedwing · 3 years

Text

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

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kitkatd7 · 4 years

Text

What You Do To Me

Summary: Training with Steve and Thor turns into a real workout with Loki

Warnings: Sexual tension? Maybe some mutual pining, maybe one or two minor swear words. implied smut, probably a little fluff

Pairing: Loki x Reader. Steve Rogers! platonic Thor Odinson! platonic Tony Stark! Platonic

Dialogue Prompt: #8. “Test my patience at your own peril.” Will be in bold.

Word Count: 1,267

Note: Bold italics are text messages.

This is for @trashmenofmarvel ‘s 2k trash party! congrats! and thank you for letting me join, I had so much fun writing this!

Masterlist

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

Opening your eyes, you rolled over to stare at your alarm clock. 6:12 a.m. ugh. You were gonna be late. Forcing yourself to move you shuffle towards the bathroom, grabbing your phone on the way and glancing down to see a text from Steve.

America’s Ass: Where are you? Training started over 10 minutes ago.

You: I’ll be there in 5.

America’s Ass: Hurry up.

You: Make me.

Tossing your phone on the counter with an eye roll, you brush your teeth and throw some black leggings and a grey sports bra on you rush out your door towards the training room, pulling your hair up on the way.

Practically skidding into the training room, you see Steve and Thor on the training mats, circling each other warily. Smirking, you decide to cause trouble. “Hey Thor!” you call out, knowing how easily distracted he is.

Turning around to face you he waves happily, “Lady Y/N! Goodmorn-” he starts before Steve tackles him from behind, effectively pinning him to the ground as you laugh hysterically. Pushing Steve off of him, Thor huffs in annoyance, sending you a glare even though you knew he wasn’t really mad at you. None of you noticing the figure lurking in the corner and watching the exchange with a smirk on his stupidly perfect face.

still laughing softly, you make your way to the treadmills to warm up.

After 20 minutes of running you get off the treadmill, sweat-slicked and thirsty. Grabbing a bottle of water, you make your way over to where Steve and Thor are taking a break, both sitting on the mat laughing.

Taking a drink, you smile down at them both. “So, who’s ready for a round?” you ask sweetly.

“Thor, I think you should take this one. I don’t think I can handle her right now.” Steve jokes, winking at you. “Oh, c’mon Rogers, surely you can handle a little girl like me, can’t you?” you sass him, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. Glancing over at Thor you offer, “How bout it, Sparkles?”

“thank you for the offer but I must politely decline, last time you beat me I had to hear about it for a week. But my brother, on the other hand, may find you a worthy opponent.” He declared, gesturing behind you.

Turning around you see the one and only God of Mischief standing behind you... shirtless. Very shirtless. Wearing only black sweatpants, his arms crossed over his chest, a signature smirk dancing on his lips. Oh god. He was going to be the death of you, no doubt. Trying to keep yourself together you set your water bottle down before turning back to Loki.

“Are you ready, Mortal?” Loki quips, feigning boredom.

“Are you?” you shoot back, circling him warily and trying to keep your gaze from trailing down his toned form. “I’m ready for anything you give me, darling,” he purrs.

Stupid attractive God with his sharp jawline and gorgeous eyes. To say you didn’t like him would be a lie; how could you not? Tall, dark and handsome; Every girl’s dream... But there was more to Loki than his appearance. His quick remarks and sharp wit giving him a somehow charming appearance, no matter how sarcastic he was. Not to mention he was well educated, sharing your love of literature and art. And underneath that mask... there was a man who craved affection and love. And maybe, just maybe, you could give it to him if he let you.

Ignoring the fluttering of your stomach and the heat blooming on your cheeks you lunge forward, sending several blows towards him which he deflects before swiping your legs from underneath you and using his weight to pin you beneath him.

Loki regards you with an amused smile as you feebly attempt to push him off. Pinning your arms above your head. “I quite enjoy it when you try to escape me, pet,” he whispers in your ear, sending flames licking low in your belly.

He stands up as you gasp, from lack of air or from the implication in his tone you don’t know. He offers you a hand that you begrudgingly accept, secretly enjoying the way his bicep flexes as he pulls you to your feet.

Focus, Y/N. You tell yourself, forcing your eyes back to his face from where they were on his chiseled abdomen and chest.

“See something you like?”

Fine, Loki. Two can play at that game. Scoffing, you roll your eyes before putting your plan into action. Faking a lunge, you wait until he moves forward before sliding his feet out from under him, laughing as he hits the ground with a groan of protest. “now I see something I like,” you tease, dancing just out of reach as he swipes at your ankles.

“Brother!” Thor boom from the other side of the gym, “I told you to be wary of her, did I not?” causing you to laugh as Loki shoots daggers at Thor with his eyes.

“Shall I help you up, your highness?” you tease as he drags himself to a standing position.

“Are you ready?” he huffs.

“Are you?”

Both of you spring into action, swiping at each other, parrying blows and occasionally aiming a few kicks. Lost in the rhythm of a dangerous dance.

“Darling, have I told you how I enjoy when you dress like that?” Loki purrs sensually, trying to distract you. Ignoring his attempts at sidetracking you, you start plan B.

Waiting until he throws another punch, you grab his outstretched arm, twisting your body so you stand with your back to him, his arm over your shoulder. Perfect. Using the momentum of his last blow you pull him forward so that he flies over your shoulder, landing not-so-gracefully on the mat, with you landing on top of him and pinning his arms down on either side of his head, both of you breathing heavily. “I guess you weren’t ready,” you whisper into the space between you.

Twisting a wrist out of your grip, he grasps the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “Or maybe I like it when you take control.”

Chuckling, you lean closer, brushing your lips against his gently, leaving him wanting more. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were losing your touch,” you tease, tugging softly at his raven strands, delighting in the look of pleasure that passes over his features at the ministrations of your lips and hand.

“Darling, do you know what you're doing to me?” he sighs as if fighting an internal battle.

“The same thing you’re doing to me,” you murmur tantalizingly, running your other hand along his jawline, watching his eyes flutter close as his body tenses slightly beneath you.

Leaning closer you nuzzle his neck, inhaling his scent; eucalyptus and amber with an underlying note of citrus, all deliciously mingled together in a scent that was so uniquely Loki.

“Test my patience at your own peril,” he growls into your ear, nipping at the soft flesh of your neck as you gasp lightly and your cheek’s flush scarlet.

Kissing your way down his jawline, you jerk away when a voice behind you breaks you out of your trance.

Tony shouts at you from the doorway, “Gee guys, get a room!” rolling his eyes before walking away.

“That’s a wonderful idea, don’t you think?” Loki murmurs, pulling you in for a searing kiss. “Mhm,” you murmur against his lips, unable to say more.

To say you got your exercise in for the rest of the day would be an understatement.

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

Taglists are OPEN!

Permanent Taglist: @lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed

Crackhead Fam: @mr-skyline-r34 @buckys-other-punk @salted-caramel-tea @hermionesalvatore84 @chaoticpete @cheeky-foxx @babygurlbarnes @msgreenverse

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overwhelmedbyskeletons · 3 years

Text

When Nothing Moves

I can’t sleep. The sun is too bright.

I started this job cleaning out fruit slicers all night a month ago and I haven’t had a good nights sleep since. Every night filled with tossing and turning, trying to find a way to comfortably shield my eyes from the suns blinding light. Working a graveyard hours job meant I was sleeping all day and working all night. The cruddy curtains in my room were doing fuck-all for blocking out sunlight. Some of the guys at my job that were friendly enough told me to buy some blackout curtains and it will make my room completely dark, even with the sun beating down and hopefully it will help me get some good rest. after my work week ended, in my car I ordered that highest-reviewed blackout curtains I could find online and they were due to arrive at my apartment the next morning, in seven hours.

I woke the next day to a knock on my door and a shine directly into my eyes. I could have rearranged my entire room several times and still wouldn’t be able find a way to not get work on my tan while I sleep. I hurried to the door to get the package and gave a wave to the delivery driver before they made it down the stairs out of view.

Putting up the curtains was smooth, even though they were quite heavy material. My biggest fear was that they would pull the curtain rod from the wall, but that worry didn’t last long as the void that my bedroom had become was a sight for sore and tired eyes. I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen before sitting down on my bed. Before I could take a sip, the comfort of my sheets began to sing symphonies to my tired muscles and lull me back to sleep.

I slept in, something that was unheard of even before I started my backwards sleep schedule. The clock on the bedside table read 9:23pm in red digital font, illuminating my wallet and phone that I had forgotten to plug in after last nights shift and was now most definitely dead. Still in a sleep state, I reached down to grab the charger and plug it into my phone when I heard a noise come from the other side of the bed. A tapping in a rhythmic matter, which would explain why i hadn’t noticed it sooner, but now it had gotten louder, almost annoyed at me paying it no mind and I froze leaning halfway off the bed. The jolt of fear that swarmed my body woke me up better than any instant java could ever wish. It knows that I know and its playing with me now. The tapping is getting faster and multiplies and I now that it is the sound of fingernails tapping on my wall.

(Did somebody break in am I really going to get murdered in my bed after the first night of decent sleep in my life?)

The tapping stopped suddenly, followed by a bang on the wall knocking out one of the nails holding up the curtains. My fists clenched among other things. I roll off the bed into a stance and with a sorry excuse of a warcry ready to fight whatever it was in my room to the death if need be. Nothing was there; I was sure of that. The curtains had fallen letting in the bright glow from the 7-11 across the street, revealing the only thing out of the ordinary in my room was that I needed to clean.

“Must’ve been a dream.” I said out loud, an attempt to calm myself after what I just experienced or just only imagined.

I flicked the flicked the lights on and fixed the curtains. Hammering in the nails all a little more for good measure before walking out of my room to start my day.

My apartment is in no meaning of the word interesting. I’ll state that I had, two chairs, a couch, some scattered goodwill tables of varying size, and a flatscreen TV on a small Swedish table decorated with a collection of games and movies. It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed what I had.

I prepared myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch to watch a show when I noticed movement down the hallway into my room. It wasn’t a natural movement in any sense and even now it is hard to explain. It was as if the world had lost focus of that specific spot in my bedroom doorway and it had grown hazy and distorted. It had the height of a man in a sheet ghost’s clothing and it was raising what I presumed to be its arms when an ad on the TV startled me back to reality. I started up a show and began eating my food quickly, doing my best to forget what might be lurking down the hall and failing as thoughts raced through my head.

(I didn’t check under the bed FUCK no one can fit under there anyways FUCK THE CLOSET FUCK it’s nothing probably just a reflection YOU HAVE NO MIRRORS IN THERE DUMBASS AND YOU CLOSED THE CURTAINS IT’S A GHOST YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED CONGRATULATIONS SHIRLEY FUCKING JACKSON WOULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT YOU CALLED THE IDIOT’S HAUNTING IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE)

Frustrated with myself I hopped up and marched down the hall to my room huffing and puffing with each authoritative stomp, making sure that whoever await beyond the door knew I meant the most serious of business, as well as sloshing my breakfast everywhere. As I pushed the door open fully I was rushed by what I can only describe as a shadow, knocking me on my back. spilling cereal and milk all over me and as I looked up I could see the shadow turn left at the end of the hallway into the TV room and out of my sight.

I was terrified. I tried to stand myself up while keeping my sights on where I last saw it. As I got to my knees and began to prop up, the shadow peaked around the corner with a featureless, translucent face starring at me with what I assumed was malicious intent. Frozen in fear, I could only muster up the breath to ask a single question.

“Who?”

To which, to my absolute horror it responded in a echoed whisper.

“Boo.”

And vanished.

With my pants shit and my legs like jello, it took me a moment to breath, let alone move. When Blood returned to my veins I hastily made my way to the bathroom to clean myself of spilled Golden Grahams and milk and to face the realization that what I had just witnessed was anything but normal. I spent a moment arguing with my thoughts, fighting the impulse to sleep in my car. My reflection in the bathroom mirror helped to ground me in reality, to remind me that I am fine and no harm was done. I convinced myself of a resident Casper The Friendly, albeit roughhousing ghost. I soon after left the bathroom.

I poured myself another, bigger bowl of cereal and sat down to watch anything the TV had to offer. I spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating and finding any excuse to not look down the hallway.

At around 2:51am I had had enough of wracking my brain, thinking that at any moment the shadow would reappear and attack me again, this time finishing the job. I bolted down the hallway to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out my apartment to go across the street to the 7-11 for a early morning slurpee. The cashier knew me and joked about my usual purchase of sugary drinks and snacks. I gave no response, paid my $6.23 and headed out the door.

As I was crossing the street back to my apartment, I looked up to my second floor bedroom window, half hoping to see nothing, other half expecting bloody Mary herself. After what I had been through that night, I’m not sure why I even went back into that apartment. The curtain rod had been torn out of the wall again and standing in my room were two of the shadow figures latched to the windowsill, with the distinct outline of hands pushed against the glass. They watched me as I continued crossing the street; my heart was almost bursting out of my chest. I was running on fear induced auto-pilot and my destination was my apartment door. When I reached my door I finally paused and reflected on what had happened tonight.

(If they wanted me dead, They could have done it already. They were playing games with me, but why?)

I stood in front of my door for a minute before realizing I had never locked it and walked right in ready to confront whatever was inside. I flicked the kitchen light on, set my drink and bag down, and looked down the dark hallway. Spilling out of my room were dozens of shadows piling over each other, all different shapes and heights of darkness, fading in and out as if there was a draft blowing through them. I began nervously pacing in my small kitchen, checking on the hallways inhabitants every few rounds. They never moved. After a while a voice moaned from my bedroom.

“Leave”

“No.” I spat out responded in annoyance.

“Leave or...”

“Or fucking what?” I shouted with such ferocity that my neighbors definitely heard me.

“Die.”

All the blood drained from my face and immediately the shadows in the hall began screaming and moaning, shifting from side to side,all while inching towards me. My legs turned gave out from under me. trying to catch myself from falling I had turned the kitchen light off which seemed to invite the shadows to come closer. As they got closer, their faces appeared mangled and distorted consisting of holes where a human features should be. As their shadows began to overtake my motionless body, I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt. Amidst the moaning I heard one last phrase.

“Sleep again now. We’ll do the rest.”

The next thing I know, i’m laying on the doormat outside of my apartment. I didn’t care how I got there. I quickly got on my feet and down the stairs to my car. I closed my eyes as I backed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to ever look at that window ever again.

I stayed at my friend Aiden’s place for a week. He lived alone, so he liked the company and he had the room for it, so he didn’t mind. I had told him a lie of how the landlord was spying on me when I showered and once tried to seduce me while fixing the sink. I think he believed it.

I only wanted to go back to the apartment once to get my stuff. After a week of staying with Aiden, the two of us drove to the apartment building and found that where my bedroom window used to be was blown out, stained black with burn marks. Aiden didn’t know what to say and I was beyond confused. We parked the car and I went to the landlord’s door alone and asked what had happened. He told me in detail that four days again my room had exploded from a gas leak and that I was lucky I went on vacation or else i’d be a deadman. There was nothing to be packed up that wasn’t ash. I apologized to him about his building, and said goodbye. I headed back to my friends car who was waiting with a drink for me from across the street. I got into the car without a word.

“What the fuck happened? Did he try to kill you? Tried to burn you alive cuz you weren’t turned on by his wrinkles?” Aiden said as he started the car.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened. Gas leak they think, he told me.” I said. “Let me take one last look.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, shutting the engine off. I rested my arms on the top of his car looking up to my once bedroom window now black from the fires, but somehow still intact. I thought I saw something and ran across the street to see it closer. There were two marks on the burnt windowsill; marks I could swear were burned in hands.

“You ok, Rick?” Aiden shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, no, I’m good. Just getting a closer look.” I said as I ran back to the car. “Just saying goodbye is all.”

“Well alrighty, you want to grab some burgers?”

I nodded and smiled.

I never asked him if he saw the handprints.

We pulled out of the parking lot, passing my old apartment building one last time. I instinctively waved to the window that used to be my bedroom. Nothing waved back.

#short story #ghosts #horror #short-story

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cadence-talle · 4 years

Text

Ink Blossoming Across Your Skin

Pairing: Keefe Sencen/Fitz Vacker

Wordcount: 2,295

Summary: “Have we even met the owner? How do we know they don’t, like, beat people up?”

“I think you’re reaching,” Biana says. “Besides, I’ve seen the owners.”

Fitz blinks, reaching up to move one of the soil bags over on the shelf. “You have? When?”

“They’re right behind you.”

Other notes: Based on the amazing au created by @queersofthelostcities and @enbies-and-felonies! It’s not completely like the prompt, but I hope it lives up to your original vision.

Fitz first notices the shop on a Monday morning, bright colors of the We Are Now OPEN! sign in the window catching his eye as he crosses the street. He frowns, unlocking the door of his flower shop and setting his bag down.

“Do you know what that is?” He asks Biana, who’s come in a few minutes after him. She shrugs, leaning out the doorway to glance at the store.

“Looks like a tattoo parlour,” she says. Fitz wrinkles his nose.

“Ugh. That’ll drive away business.”

Biana hums noncommittally and moves into the back to grab ice cubes for the orchids as their first customer of the day comes in. Fitz forces himself to focus and not think about the tattoo shop.

It doesn’t work very well.

“Look, I’m just saying, a lot of our customers are old ladies or moms with kids. Having a tattoo shop next door, with an entirely different vibe and clientele, is going to mess with us.” Fitz angrily stabs the salad he brought for lunch.

His sister raises an eyebrow, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Are you really talking about the ‘vibe’ of our flower shop?”

“Ugh. I just- who wants to get a tattoo anyway?”

Biana looks pointedly at him and then to her arm, which is covered in twisting vines and flowers. Fitz sighs.

“Point taken.”

He leans back against the front desk a few hours later, mentally counting the bags of soil they have stacked on the shelves behind the counter.

“Have we even met the owner? How do we know they don’t, like, beat people up?”

“I think you’re reaching,” Biana says. “Besides, I’ve seen the owners.”

Fitz blinks, reaching up to move one of the soil bags over on the shelf. “You have? When?”

“They’re right behind you.”

Fitz spins around, almost falling over, just in time to see two people enter the shop. One, a short, smiling woman with silver-tipped hair, immediately moves into the shelves of potted plants. Biana taps Fitz on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna go, uh, see if she needs anything.”

Fitz snorts but nods, and Biana disappears. The other owner, a man only a few inches taller than Fitz, leans against the countertop. Fitz gives him a once-over. Blond hair, blue eyes, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth- he’s hot.

Only if you pay attention to that sort of thing, of course, and Fitz most certainly does not. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he currently can’t talk that has nothing to do with the man in front of him.

“I’m Keefe,” he says. “You own this store, right?”

Fitz nods hurriedly. “Uh. Yeah. It was my mom’s- that’s where the name came from, her name’s Della- but now she’s retired, so now it’s mine and my sister’s, and- I’m rambling. Sorry.”

Keefe laughs. “It’s fine. I think it’s sweet.”

Face burning, Fitz glances down at the register. “So, what are you here to buy?”

“Nothing,” Keefe shrugs one shoulder. “Linh wanted to see if you guys had lilies, so we closed the shop and came over here.”

“You-” Fitz blinks at him- “You just… closed your store? Randomly?”

“I mean, what’s the point of owning a store if you can’t just close it at any moment?”

“I…”

The shorter woman- Linh, Fitz remembers- appears behind Keefe with a pot of Canada lilies. She sets them on the counter and smiles at Biana.

“Thanks for helping me find these,” she says. Biana flushes slightly.

“No problem. Have a good day.”

“You too!” Linh picks up her flowers and turns toward the door. Keefe shoots Fitz a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he calls. “See you around.”

Fitz nods slightly before they’re gone. As soon as the door closes, tiny bell at the front chiming merrily, he lets out a long breath. Biana’s still staring at the doorway.

“Uh.” She says.

“Yeah,” Fitz agrees. “Yeah.”

-/-

To be quite honest, Fitz isn’t expecting to see Keefe (or Linh) the next day. He’s not sure he wants to. A nervous, bubbly feeling rises in his gut each time he thinks about it, and he needs to work. He should just focus on the flowers and not think about anything else.

Unfortunately, flowers are incredibly boring. Fitz loves them, but they’re not exactly the best distraction material; he waters the peonies, rearranges the daisies, and moves one vase of tulips over to the counter for better visibility. And then he has nothing to do.

Not to mention that it’s Wednesday, which is always one of the lowest-traffic days in a week. Fitz has seen maybe three different customers by the time lunch rolls around, and he doesn’t even feel like moving into the back to eat. Might as well stay out here and watch people walk past the front window.

His head snaps up as someone opens the door.

“Keefe!”

“Hey,” Keefe says, flopping down onto the stool in front of the counter. “Business slow over here too?”

“Yeah. What’d you need?”

“Well-” Keefe waves a sketchbook in the air- “I have to practice art, for stencils and all that, and I figured, flowers are fun to draw. It’ll be a change of pace, at least.” He grins at Fitz. “So, can I lurk in the corner of your shop and sketch?”

“Uh, sure?” Fitz blinks. “Just don’t interrupt customers.”

Keefe pumps his fist and moves his stool against the wall, leaning his sketchbook on his lap. Fitz does his best to ignore him and moves back up to the register to help the tiny blond woman who’s purchased a huge bouquet of marigolds.

“Thank you,” she says as Fitz hands her back her credit card. “My girlfriend is going to love these.”

“No problem,” Fitz responds, smiling. “Have a nice day.”

He turns to look at Keefe after the woman’s gone, bent over his notebook furiously scribbling. Five minutes later, he slams the page down on the counter.

“Eh?”

Fitz picks it up, marvelling at the accuracy; it’s the marigold buyer, the teasing light in her eyes somehow captured even in a black-and-white sketch.

“Wow,” he says, handing the page back to Keefe. “This is amazing.”

“Psh.” Keefe waves a hand in the air. “It’s not that good.” Still, his cheeks have a definite tint to them as he snaps his sketchpad closed. “I should be getting back to the shop. My lunch break is definitely over.”

“All right,” Fitz says. He’s not sure why he feels so sad. “See you tomorrow?”

Keefe gives him a thumbs-up and ducks out of the store.

-/-

It’s a week after the first time Keefe comes into the shop on his lunch break that Fitz finally says something about it.

“Doesn’t Linh need you?”

Keefe looks up from his latest drawing- this one an inked recreation of the vase sitting in the front window. He’s been running his hand through his hair as he works, so it’s sticking up all over the place. Fitz chooses to ignore the warm feeling in his gut.

“Huh?”

“At the shop,” Fitz elaborates. “Don’t you two need to be doing, like tattoo stuff?”

“Nah. She’s on break right now too. Honestly, it’s just nice to get out of the store and away from her terrible attempts at flirting with Biana.”

“Wait, Biana’s over there?” Fitz blinks. “She usually goes to Starbucks for lunch. If she goes out at all.”

Keefe shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s been coming in to eat lunch with Linh for the past couple days now.” He cocks his head at Fitz. “Why? Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”

The question is teasing, but the underlying edge shows how much Keefe cares about the answer. Fitz hurries to backtrack.

“No! I was just- wondering.”

Shrugging again in a way that says it’s fine and also can we end this conversation, Keefe glances towards the door. “Today’s pretty low-traffic, huh?”

“Yeah,” Fitz says. “Wednesdays usually are.”

“Huh.” Keefe drums his fingers on the table, seemingly bored of sketching, before his eyes light up. “Do you know how to play Spit?”

“Do I know how to play what?”

“Spit! It’s a card game.” Out of nowhere, Keefe produces a deck of cards. Fitz looks around the empty shop and sighs.

“Sure, why not. Let’s play.”

Fifteen minutes later, Fitz slaps his hand down onto the smaller pile of cards, yelling triumphantly as he picks it up. Keefe groans.

“I win,” Fitz grins at him. This is the first game he’s won since they started playing, and he is probably far too excited. He slips off their stool, heading over to one of the tulip displays and picking out a wilting flower that had been bothering him. Behind him, he can hear Keefe get to his feet.

“I should probably be getting back,” he says. Fitz nods and turns around to face him, hand holding the tulip coming out almost automatically. Keefe looks at it quizzically. “Are you… giving me a flower?”

“Uh.” Fitz says, shrugging as nonchalantly as he can. “Yes? I mean, if you don’t want it, that’s okay, I wouldn’t be offended or anything- not that there’s anything to be offended by, it’s just a flower-”

Keefe plucks the tulip out of his hand, staring at it for a minute. “It’s pretty,” he says. “Thanks.”

Then he turns and leaves the shop.

-/-

Fitz is a little worried that the impromptu flower-giving is going to make things awkward, but when Keefe comes back the next day, there’s no sign that anything has changed. He still sets up in the corner, still jokes with Fitz between customers. They’ve settled into a peaceful rhythm; it’s simple, easy in a way things haven’t been in a long time.

And when, a few days later, Fitz hands Keefe another tulip on his way out, the smile he gets is genuine.

They start to hang out outside of work, just little trips; heading up to the Bronx Zoo to see the elephants (Keefe claims he’s not invested in them, but the way he gasps as soon as he sees one says otherwise), walking along the boardwalk at Coney Island with Biana and Linh. Fitz smiles and takes photos and tries to ignore the looks Biana sends his way- they’re friends, this is what friends do. It doesn’t mean anything.

It means so little that, when Keefe suggests they get matching ‘bros’ tattoos, Fitz agrees.

He’s pretty sure he’s drunk. No, scratch that; he’s definitely sure he’s drunk. It’s been a long week, and he’s drunk, and this is not a good idea.

But Keefe- drunker than him, that’s for sure- is holding tight to his hand, pulling him along the street. He turns back, grinning brightly under the soft light of a streetlamp, and Fitz feels warm all over.

So. They get the tattoos, and now Fitz has proof of his totally-platonic feelings inked along his collarbone.

This is fine.

-/-

“What do you think, lilies or asters?” Biana slides the tattoo book over to him, and Fitz examines the carefully-drawn designs.

“Asters,” he answers, thumbing through the pages. “Assuming you’re getting them in color. Purple looks nice on you.”

Biana nods, tracing patterns on her as-of-yet uninked arms. Fitz frowns. “You sure you want to get flowers on your other arm too?”

“Yes,” his sister says confidently. “I didn’t go for both arms the first time because I wasn’t sure how good they’d turn out, but Linh’s doing these, so I know they’ll be beautiful.”

Fitz raises an eyebrow. “Linh’s doing these, huh? So you two will be alone in a room together for hours?”

Biana glares at him and Fitz offers her an innocent smile. “Look, you should just get together already. Ask her out or something.”

Offering him her most you’re being an idiot look, Biana snorts. “Like you’re one to talk. How many not-dates have you been on with Keefe?”

“That-” Fitz sputters. “That’s completely different!”

“Is it? How?” Biana picks her bag up off the counter- it’s almost closing time. Fitz scowls, clenching his hands into fists.

“Because you have a chance!”

The store is silent for a moment before Biana sighs softly, giving him a quick hug. “Oh, hon.” She looks him straight in the eye, smiling a little. “You’ll figure it out.”

Then she shoulders her bag- “Gotta run!”- and leaves Fitz standing in the middle of the shop, completely and utterly confused.

-/-

He’s still confused the next day, trying to focus on customers and work. He completes his to-do list for the next week just in one morning, and is getting a head start on designing flower arrangements for a wedding- a wedding six months away- when Keefe walks in.

“Hey, dude,” he says mildly, dropping down beside Fitz. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Fitz responds, harsher than he means to. Keefe blinks.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Fitz says, and then, “No.” To hell with it, he thinks, turning to face Keefe head-on. “I’m annoyed at myself because I can’t control my feelings.”

Keefe tilts his head, a glimmer of something that might be hope in his eyes. “Control what feelings?”

“All of them,” Fitz laughs hollowly, “but especially the ones for you.”

He looks down at his lap, afraid to look at the other man. “We keep doing all this ‘friend stuff’ that feels like it should be a date, but it’s not, and I’m just- I just. I’m sorry, I’m rambling again-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fitz chances a glance upward to see Keefe grinning at him. “I think it’s sweet.”

-/-

They can’t, unfortunately, remove the misbegotten ‘bros’ tattoos. Instead, Linh carefully inks two images next to each one; a heart, and a flower.

#lynn rambles #keefitz #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #linh song #biana vacker #my writing #kotlc

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slime-smile · 3 years

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i accidentally left my phone at life drawing on saturday afternoon. i set it down on a dresser next to the bathroom as i walked in and thought “ok i need to remember that i set that there, i always forget when i set things there” and then of course i forgot about it by the time i walked out of the bathroom. probably in part because the timer that signifies the break has ended went off so i hurried back to my seat, for the final drawing of the day. then after the last drawing was done, a guy i have talked to a little bit the last few times i’ve gone asked me if i wanted to go get tacos. i said “i forgot my wallet today so are you okay with buying me the tacos” and he said “yea.” i wasnt wearing shorts with pockets and i had been leaving my phone in my backpack during the drawing sessions so i had a vague impression it was in there. we walked back to my car so i could set down my drawing pad and backpack, then we walked a few blocks to get The Best Fish Tacos in Ensenada. then we walked back together after we ate. he rides a motorcycle and parked directly across the street from the figure drawing place. we hung out on the steps of the house he’d parked in front of for a bit, then i walked two blocks back to my car. it was soooo hot when i got in, i turned the A/C all the way up, picked up my backpack to get out my phone, and it wasnt in there. i waited a minute to see if my car would tell me that it connected to my phone, in case the phone was lost somewhere in the car, and it didn’t, then i remembered what happened. so i get out of the car and hurry back to where the liffe drawing was. it’s hosted by these two artists in their personal studio, so i was like “ok they’re probably still there doing their own work now that the session has ended” but i walk up and the driveway is empty (the guy always parks his car in it) so i’m like oh nooo but i walk all the way to the door anyways and it’s closed and locked and they’re gone. the guy i got tacos with is still sitting across the street looking at his phone, so i walk back over to him and tell him what happened. he seems concerned and is like “i can try to message the guy on instagram? or we can see if one of the neighbors will let you in?” and i’m like oh no no it’s fine, i’ll just come back monday night to get it. (they do drawing monday and thursday nights and saturday mornings) plus i’ve been wanting to try going on a weeknight anyways. and earlier he had told me i should try coming on a weeknight some time and that he usually does, too. my main concern at that point was that i had a date planned for the night and i wasnt sure how not having my phone would affect it. but then i remembered my date had emailed me so i could email him, and then i remembered (duh) that i had imessage on my laptop so i could still text anyways but just in a more restricted capacity. the tacos guy really seems concerned for me and my phone though, like wonders how i will go two days without it. but i resign myself to it and walk back to my car to drive home. for some reason traffic is really bad, worse than usual -- dodgers game?? i dont know. while i’m driving home i see a fire from the freeway, and i start to scare myself that it’s my house that’s on fire, even though i’m pretty sure my house isnt visible from that freeway and i’m still too far north for it to feasibly be my house. i keep thinking “oh god all my art and my [most cherished personal item which holds no monetary value] and now i really wont be able to get in touch with [date] how would i let him know what happened and ugh i can’t even get my phone until Monday night, i wouldn’t be able to get in touch with anyone, what would i do if my house burned down??” but i go home and my house was not on fire, obviously. i send a message to my date to let him know what happened, and email the guy who runs life drawing about my lost phone. my date replies “so you’re gonna be phoneless tonight??” and i’m like “yea but let’s just meet out front at 8, i’ll even be early.” i go downtown to buy my date a bouquet in the flower district, it’s his birthday, but then i can’t conceive of a manageable way to have a bouquet at a bar, so after i bring the bouquet home i take out a single rose from it to give him. we both like roses, as a symbol and as an object, i know this isn’t especially unique, but it’s nice. he has a rose tattooed on his arm. later, before the date, my friend sends me an email subject line “bruh” body text “you left your phone at whatever repair shop you were at this morning.” which leads me to believe he called it and the life drawing guy answered it and told him he had it. which was nice because i hadn’t gotten an email back from the life drawing guy yet and was worried that maybe someone else in the class had snatched it even though that seems unlikely. and also kind of funny to imagine because obviously the life drawing guy’s perspective was that i was probably calling my phone from my friend’s phone trying to find it, when in reality my friend was just calling me not knowing that i didn’t have my phone and then some man answers it. anyways then i go to my date and i text him when i’m leaving that i’m heading over and will see him there soon. i look up the directions beforehand but then forget where exactly the bar is that we were supposed to meet and ask a guy on the street who i could tell was smiling at me even though he had a mask on where i needed to go and he told me the way. i walk up and my date is already there standing outside, i walk up to him and he says “you’re early!” and i don’t say this but in my mind i’m like “you’re even earlier!” and i hand him the rose and we go upstairs to the bar. the bartender is really friendly and asks about the rose and makes the date a free drink for his birthday. there’s a hottub and i’m like “why didn’t you tell me!” we find an uncomfortable bench and are eyeing a much cozier one where a woman is sitting, hoping it will open up. we’re quickly absorbed in conversation and at some point i happen to look over and notice the cozy bench is free, and we dart over to it. we’re able to sit there for an hour or so before a staff member comes up to us and informs us that we’re sitting where they plan to put the DJ booth, so we’ve got to move, but another couple is about to leave and they’re going to clear off their table for us. so we go lurk by the table, where the man is sitting, and he reveals that he’s been noticing us all night, because he and his wife were the ones who had been sitting on the bench earlier, and they themselves had been told that they were sitting where the DJ was going to be, and so they moved. i think it’s a funny coincidence that we’ve been following this couple around through the night, but i dont really know what else to say to the guy, so that’s sort of it for our conversation. the table is less fun because now we’re sitting across from each other in chairs, instead of next to each other on a bench. they set the DJ up as we’re finishing our drinks, and i propose that if the music is good, we dance. the DJ starts playing but his song selection is terrible so we bounce. date proposes we go back to his place, which i’m fine with, and i can sense that he wants to kiss, which we do, briefly, in the elevator. in addition to the Saturday night drinks date, we’d already planned a Sunday afternoon date earlier in the week, so sleeping over made sense. in the morning we walk to get coffee and i buy him a muffin for his birthday, and he says when we get back to his apartment he wants to teach me to play a Korean card game, one-card. i say ok and that if we can find two other people who are into it, later (in the future, not in the day), i can teach him a popular Ohio card game. i talk a lot of smack about how im going to beat him at one-card after we go over the rules, but then he wins 8 games and i only win 3. at some point i notice that the rose i brought him has been left lying on a table -- hmm? we go to brunch at a place i’d never been to before, near the movie theater (our pre-planned second date, seeing a movie), which is, i learn, known for their crispy french toast, but which i do not order, because i know it will make my stomach hurt. at some point i say that i wonder what’s going on on my phone. i feel kind of zoned out from the point in time after we stopped playing cards to go to brunch. it’s probably because i didn’t sleep well the previous night, because i have a hard time sleeping in new places, or when i share a bed, or when there’s no white noise, or when it’s too hot. he’s tired too, and dozes in the movie theater while we wait for the movie to start. after the movie is over i drop him off and go home, Sunday is supposed to be my chores day, but by the time i get home it’s already 430. i want to take a nap but i have to run an errand and water all my plants, which i kind of don’t end up doing. my errand was to go to the video store to return the movies i’d rented the previous week, of which i only was able to watch 1 out of 2. my favorite video store employee who i hadn’t seen in a long time (i was out of town, he was out of town) was there and we talked and caught up and i learned that he’s a triplet (but he said that the grammatically correct way to refer to both his other siblings was “twin,” he said “my twin” and i said “you’re a twin??’ and he said “well actually we’re triplets but blah blah blah” -- this seems wrong to me but what do i know) and then we were talking about a missing persons poster that someone had dropped off at the video store which was really sad but also that he, the employee, had googled the missing person, and that this missing guy had released music on bandcamp, and that the photo he used for the album cover was of the place that he, the employee, had lived previously and not only that but he, the employee, was actually in the photo that this missing person had used as an album cover on bandcamp. and then the employee said “do you wanna see?” and i said “yeah” and he let me come behind the counter to look at the computer and i hung out back there for a second and told him about a movie that the bartender had been recommending to a guy next to me at the bar the previous night, but which i had thought sounded interesting so i butted into their conversation about it, and since i still dont have my phone to write the name of the movie down, i’ve been telling people about it so i don’t forget. the bartender said it was a french movie called “hedgehog” about a little girl who has an existential crisis and decides she’s going to kill herself in two months. the guy he was recommending it to said, “that sounds really dark, man,” but i said “that sounds incredible and like directly up my alley” and the bartender insisted that the movie was both good and funny. and i was relaying this story to my video store friend and he looked it up and then said “we can probably see if we have it in the store” and he checks their system and they do, in the general “french” section, and i find it and pick it up. he asks me if i’m gonna rent it this week and i say “i can’t cause i’m going out of town this weekend! but next weekend.” and now it’s 11pm and i’m supposed to be finishing my zine but i spent an hour writing this, instead, but i’ve got to finish the zine and send to my friend for his final edits before i can go to bed

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chiaki-translation · 4 years

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A3! SSR Taichi [Soul Abandoned by Heaven]: Backstage Translation

Hello, I’m back and this time I’m translating the backstory from the newest SSR Taichi. It’s just so cute and Taichi is too precious~

Summary:

Because going to a Haunted House with Taichi is a good idea~

I’m referring to this card~

I actually don’t really know what should I translate next so in the meantime maybe I’ll just be doing short backstories like this, enjoy~

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber Entertainment

Escape from the Haunted House!

Taichi

Di, director sensei! I mean, Cindy! I will protect you from the devils!

O, of course, it’s, it’s going to be alright! No worries at all!

Director

(It doesn’t seems to be alright at all, I can’t help but to worry…

Taichi-kun, is he going to be alright… Ah, that’s not it, I mean, Jonathan.)

Taichi

Uwah! There’s a mysterious looking shadow over there…..!!

Director

Ca, calm down! It’s just a shadow from the torch you’re holding!

Taichi

A, ah, it is….

Director

(I really don’t expect things to go like this…)

Director

A pair ticket to a Haunted House?

Kazunari

Yep, it’s a puzzle-solving game with a limited time western horror theme. I’ve managed to get the invitation ticket~

I thought director-chan won’t have any interest in it, so I’ve already promised to go with my university friends.

Director

If it’s puzzle related, Banri-kun and Chikage-san might be interested.

Kazunari

They said they were too pro for this.

Director

Well, that’s true. I should have expected that.

Kazunari

As you expected from Veludo City, it seems that they added an etude element inside as well.

The participants were lost in the middle of the storm and they decided to take shelter in a mansion. The characters are carried into the settlement along with a group of travelers.

The characters will be evaluated based on their puzzle-solving performance.

Director

That sounds very interesting!

It really sounds like it can be a good practice for a play.

Taichi

I’m home.

Kazunari

Ah, welcome back~!

Taichi

What are you guys doing here?

Director

Just now, Kazunari-kun was giving me this pair ticket to a puzzle-solving event--

Taichi

A puzzle-solving event with director sensei? I want to go!

Director

Really? That’s great!

I can’t think of anyone who wants to join.

Taichi

Hehe, I’m looking forward to it~

Director

(Eh, but, Taichi-kun is not good with horror……)

Kazunari

Woah, Taichan I’ll leave it to you to protect her.

Taichi

Of course! I’ll be the one protecting director sensei!

Director

(Umm, no, most probably the one who needs protecting will be……)

Taichi

Uwah!

Director

(I was about to keep silence about the hint that Kazunari gave me beforehand, but I’m actually glad I listened to him before……)

Taichi

Fo, follow me, Cindy! I’ll definitely protect you!

Director

(I have a feeling Taichi is just getting pressured at this point, we actually got ‘lover’ as the scenario……)

But really, if we don’t have that torch, it will be pitch black here.

We have time limit, if we don’t move forward soon ……

Taichi

Uwaaaaah! A knife! I… I… I’m going to be killed!

Director

Ca, calm down! We’re just in the kitchen!

Taichi

Oh! Tha, that’s it, as expected of Cindy!

Director

What will be the hint and where is it?

Taichi

Wah! There’s a head on the plate!!!

Director

Yo, you’re wrong! It’s just a roasted dish!

Taichi

A, ah, you’re right……

Eh? There seems to be a letter there.

Director

Maybe, that’s the hint?

Taichi

The room that holds knowledge is connected to the outside and I have hidden the key within a book. Be careful, you should never be found by the devils of this mansion. Escape from their eyes. The devils are lurking in the shadow.

Director

What does that mean……?

The next room is…… a study I think.

Taichi

It, it seems that there’s nothing particular in this room.

Director

This is a great collection of books……

Taichi

Ah, I found a door!

It’s locked……

There should be a key around here somewhere.

Director

By the way, the letter just now mentioned ‘the room that holds knowledge’. So, is it about this room?

Taichi

Ah, that’s it! Then, this door should lead to the outside!

Director

Then the next will be the key within a book……

Taichi

Eh, with so many books around, we won’t know which book is the key!

Director

(There’s no helping it, it seems our character settings are already all around the place. It’s too difficult to keep calm and solve mystery at the same time in a horror setting like this……!)

Tachi

Actually, I’m also curious about the last sentence in this letter.

Be careful, you should never be found by the devils of this mansion. Escape from their eyes. The devils are lurking in the shadow.

Director

We have to be careful not to be found by the devils……

Taichi

But, there weren’t any devils around.

Director

Maybe it’s actually a hint to find the book……

Taichi

Ah! Over there, there’s a statue of devils!

Director

You’re right.

Taichi

It’s also on that shelf! Also, this shelf over here!

Cannot be found by the devils, maybe they are referring to the missing statues?

Director

I see! That means, the shelf without the statues will be, the one on top over there.

But, there are still so many books on that shelf alone……

It seems to be filled with books about devils.

Taichi

Ah! Only that book on that corner, it doesn’t have any ‘devils’ in its title.

Director

Then, that book is ----

Taichi

It’s such a high place……

Director

Ah, there’s a stool over there.

Taichi

I’ll go up!

Director

Taichi

Eh!? Wh, what!?

Director

That’s……! The devils!?

Taichi

We have to hide……!

Director

(Th, the skeletons are floating!?)

Taichi

!!!

Shh, hold down a bit.

Director

Taichi

Let’s hide here.

Be quiet over here and we should be alright…… It’s going to be alright.

Director

……

(The skeleton is, gone……?)

Taichi

Alright, let’s take the chance to get the book, Cindy.

I’m pretty sure, inside this book……

Director

There it is! The key!

Taichi

The remaining time limit is…. Let’s hurry, Cindy!

Director

Right!

Director

Ah, I’m so glad! We made it just barely!

Jonathan…… I mean, Taichi-kun, that was fun!

Taichi

Ugh……

Director

A, are you alright!?

Taichi

Th, that was so scary!

Director

Now of all times!?

Taichi

I was so scared, I couldn’t think of anything else, by the time I realized I was just so focused on playing as Jonathan.

And then, when I thought that I really need to protect my lover, Cindy, I could do everything somehow.

Director

(That, somehow sounds like Tasuku-san……)

But Jonathan just now, I mean Taichi-kun, was very cool and reliable.

My heart totally skips a beat as your lover.

Taichi

Really!

Ah, but, that’s not me, that’s Jonathan……

Director

Well, maybe that’s the case, but the one playing Jonathan was Taichi-kun right?

Taichi

That’s true……. Honestly, I was really scared, but Cindy, I mean Director-sensei, I tried to keep calm to protect you.

As I thought…… Director sensei is really a special existence!

#a3!#a3! translation #a3! backstory #nanao taichi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! backstage

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #219: ... BY DIVINE RIGHT!

May, 1982

I can just tell that this is going to be a Moondragontastic issue. Call it a hunch. Call it the caption that reads “By divine right, MOONDRAGON commands!” Or call it her enormous cosmic head lurking mastermind like over the action scene.

Who are the Avengers even beating up? Guess I’ll find out.

So previously on Avengers! ... Uh. Well Hank Pym’s life imploded and he wound up in jail. Molecule Man was going to eat Earth and then Tigra told him not to sternly and he changed his mind. Tigra quit the team, alas. And there was that weird filler thing with the immortal child who pratfell into the Sun.

This time, we have a much delayed thing. Back during Shooter’s first run, he had unfinished plans for Moondragon which were supposed to happen sometime after the Korvac Saga. But he had to leave the book because trying to write a title and EIC wasn’t happening.

So now here he is, trying to write a title and EIC at the same time.

Uh. Second time’s the charm?

The story starts with Janet Van Dyne, divorced and Feeling Fine, getting a ‘ducky’ new haircut.

Yeah. It looks decent. Not much like a duck. But who can say why language does anything.

But just as she’s examining her new ‘do, Janet is struck by a sudden irresistible impulse to run out the salon! Run out and flyyyyyyyy!

So not really sure why, she runs out, shrinks down, and flies away.

Unfortunately, her clothes weren’t treated with unstable molecules and the compulsion is strong enough that she shrinks out of her clothes and flies off into the snow naked.

The awkward life of being Janet Van Dyne.

When we eventually establish that of course this is Moondragon, Moondragon is going to have a lot to answer for.

Meanwhile, in Atlantic City, Tony Stark is counting cards and loudly announcing that’s what he’s doing to his lady companion.

I guess when you’re rich as Tony and also have access to a ‘bodyguard’ in a walking weapons platform, casinos don’t get so kneebreaky with you.

But just as Tony bet $50,000 at blackjack, his Tony sense are tingling. Or he’s hit by the same weird compulsion as Wasp, which I’ve just noticed looks like generic store brand spider-sense in how its portrayed.

So Tony gets up and runs, telling his date that the money he has on the table and his cards are hers.

She sits down in his seat, hits on a thirteen, goes over 21 and shrugs “Easy come, easy go!”

Meanwhile, Tony flies out of the casino as Iron Man. He muses to himself that he barely resisted changing into his armor right in front of everyone.

Oh, so I see how it is (Moondragon)! Wasp is in such a hurry that she ditches her clothes but Tony gets to put some more on? I see where your butter is breaded.

Meanwhile again, Captain America is beating up some armed robbers. One of the armed robbers is actually a huge fan.

Armed robber Stu: “SPLIT UP, GUYS! RUN! HE CAN’T GET US ALL -- OOF!”

Armed robber Squid: “Stu, you jerk! He’s Captain America! Of course he can get us all! If I wasn’t a two-time loser, I wouldn’t even bother runnin’!”

But right when Cap is punching a guy, he too feels the SUDDEN COMPULSION!

He gets on his motorcycle and goes.

Leaving mixed feelings amongst the conscious armed robbers.

Armed Robber Eliot: “Hah! We scared him off, Squid!”

Armed Robber Squid: “I -- I can’t believe that! Nothin’ scares Captain America! Durin’ World War II, he took on a whole company of Nazis once and saved my dad’s platoon from an ambush!”

Eliot: “Big deal! That has-been’s runnin’ from us, isn’t he?”

Squid: “He ain’t runnin’! He probably has more important stuff to do, that’s all! And he ain’t a has-been!”

Eliot: “Right, Squid -- ! He’s a coward!” -punched- “OW!”

Squid: “SHADDUP, ELIOT!”

They’re so busy punching each other over whether or not Cap rocks or sucks that they forget to run and are punching each other when the police arrive.

Womp womp.

But hey, people get emotional debating their favorite superheroes. It is understandable.

Meanwhile again again, Jarvis is shoveling snow at Avengers Mansion and bitterly muttering to himself that he talked Tony out of purchasing a snowblower.

Jarvis: “I should have listened to Mr. Stark! I should have purchased a snow-blower as he asked! ‘Nonsense, sir!’ I said! ‘We Jarvises are a hardy breed,’ I said! ‘The expenditure is quite unnecessary,’ I said! Bah!”

Oh, Jarvis. Never talk Tony out of spending money. He has too much of it. He just lost $50,000 gambling like it was nothing.

Anyway, Thor shows up and clears all the snow by just twirling his hammer around super fast. He’s considerate like that.

With his afternoon cleared up, Jarvis invites Thor to join him watching the knickerbockers game on TV. Which is apparently ‘basketball.’

Since Thor’s afternoon is also open, he’s happy to watch sports with Jarvis.

It starts snowing again. Jarvis, not wanting work to pile up, asks Thor if he can control the weather.

And Thor is like ‘yeah but I don’t want to tamper with the natural order too much but hey just this once, I’ll do it for you buddy’ but then the STRANGE COMPULSION LINES ATTACK and Thor flies off, Jarvis wondering if his question offended the thunder god.

Hmm. We really did just have four full pages of the Avengers individually reacting to the same thing.

That’s one way to fill out a script.

I mean, it’s probably padding but the Avengers are all engaged in their own downtime thing, except Cap who is the only one who is punching things at the moment.

And I do like to see the Avengers doing non-action things.

Anyway, the Avengers all end up at a Brooklyn scrapyard where Moondragon’s ship is hovering in wait and finally the Avengers put together the dots.

AH of course! The person that keeps messing with our minds has once again messed with our minds! Is so obvious in hindsight!

Iron Man: “Obviously! Who else would have been so arrogant as to invade our minds and manipulate us like toys -- ? Who else but the self-appointed ‘goddess of the mind’? She ought to be made the 1982 Chutzpah Poster Child for this stunt!”

The spaceship shoots down an elevator beam, which is like a tractor beam but it sounds less rural.

I’m not sure how we all settled on tractor beam anyway. Was it Star Wars? Probably.

So Thor and Iron Man want to march up into that ship and give Moondragon a piece of their minds. Thor would fain confront her for this impudence.

Team Leader Janet Van Dyne says belay. Now that they’re not being STRANGE COMPULSIONED she wants to go home and get some clothes.

She managed to salvage a handkerchief from her purse and tie it around herself in a makeshift costume but you know what’s nice? Underwear, sometimes.

Although, it probably speaks to Janet’s fashion sense that Cap sees her handkerchief costume and sincerely wonders if its her new costume. You just can’t tell with her!

Anyway, it also speaks to how hard the Avengers are to lead because Thor and Iron Man and even Cap all ignore Wasp and march right into the elevator beam.

Its like herding cats!

No wonder Cap was happy to give up the job to her.

Wasp also points out that this is possibly a trap and one of them should have stayed outside and Cap is like ‘oh shit you’re right’ but it is too late for any kind of tactical thinking.

Inside the ship though they find no trap and no body. They poke around the ship but can’t find Moondragon or anybody else.

And then when Cap decides they should leave before the ship takes off, Iron Man discovers that the ship has already taken off.

Its a very smooth ride, they didn’t notice at all.

With the Avengers going off on a begrudging space adventure, a hologram recording of Drax the Destroyer comes on and starts narrating about his life.

How he was made to destroy Thanos and then when someone else destroyed Thanos, Drax was kind of left purposeless so he bummed around space aimlessly for a while before meeting up with his adult daughter who was raised on Titan.

Aka Moondragon.

Hey, I don’t remember if I’ve mentioned it on Drax or Moondragon’s previous appearances but they’re family!

Anyway, Drax recording talks about how with Moondragon’s mind powers she opened his mind and helped him find a purpose in life.

Apparently, uh, “seeking knowledge and the bliss of ultimacy.”

Fun family activities, no doubt.

The two of them came upon a war-torn planet where tens of thousands would die in a single battle.

Hologram Drax: “Move to pity, Moondragon sought to help these beings end their strife using the awesome might of her mind! She succeeded! Peace reigns -- yet, there is danger beyond imagining unfolding here! I realize now, that -- wait! I sense someone drawing near! I must end this quickly, lest I am discovered! Hear me! Only the Avengers can prevent the evil to come! Find them! Bring them to this ship! Quickly!”

And then the hologram cuts out. Creepily.

Huh.

So Drax sent the ship to bring the Avengers to help Moondragon. But Moondragon is the one who STRANGE COMPULSED the Avengers to find the ship.

Which is impressive that she can do that from across light years.

I’ll adjust my personal ranking of how impressive she might be next to Jean Gray.

So the situation is dire enough to send an empty ship but also not time consuming enough that Moondragon can take some time out of her schedule to make the Avengers ditch their activities and go on a spaceship ride.

Kinda mysterious.

Wasp even points out how weird this is.

Iron Man: “The computers were programmed to begin the return flight as soon as the ship’s sensors ascertained that we Avengers were aboard!”

Wasp: “But it doesn’t make sense... I mean, the message sounded like it was meant for anybody who happened to find the ship -- yet, Moondragon obviously made sure we’d find it first!”

By the by, I have a random prog rock playlist playing while I’m working on this post AND I’LL TELL YOU! Random prog rock over random Avengers space adventure really works well together.

Anyway, the Avengers only know that whatever the mysterious threat, it must be great to worry someone of Drax’s power.

The ship drops out of hyperspace above an alien world.

Wasp: “Guys, all this is just beginning to sink in for me! We’re zillions of miles from Earth -- ! A-and we’re about to set foot on an alien world -- and I don’t have a thing to wear! Literally! Except this old tarp I found!”

Being Janet is suffering.

I mean, I see spacesuits in the background of that panel.

And its weird that Moondragon doesn’t have a closet aboard her own ship. Although it’d all be capes and plunging necklines.

HEY WAIT speaking of capes, why doesn’t Thor lend his?

He’ll let some little shit of an immortal child wrap up in his cape but he won’t lend it to his good pal and team leader, Janet Van Wasp??

Grow you some manners, Thor!

Anyway, couture misadventures of Janet van Dyne aside. Time to disembark.

The Avengers take the de-elevator beam down, gazing in wonder at an alien world.

Well, Jan does. The others are kind of blase. Fie and poo on them.

Wasp: “It’s beautiful, b-but so strange! Almost terrifyingly strange! I feel the way I felt the first time I shrunk down to insect size -- my lord, this is a whole, new world!”

Cap: “New world or not, this looks pretty much like the town squares do back home!”

Dammit, Cap! Eat some poetry for your soul!

Iron Man comments that being beamed down from a spaceship in the middle of a shopping day is not a subtle entrance but Thor wouldn’t know subtle if it bit him on his cape.

Thor: “Fie! The god of thunder cares little for subtlety! Would that I’d summoned a raging tempest to herald our arrival! I like this not! Why is there no greeting for us? Are we but serfs, left to wend our own way to--”

Thankfully, Jan cuts off his weird monologue (Thor is being particularly goddish right now) and asks a random shopper to take them to her leader.

The alien starts responding in some alien language but partway through the Avengers can suddenly understand her.

She didn’t start speaking English. She kept speaking her native tongue but the Avengers could suddenly understand it like it were English, almost exactly as if the text in the speech bubbles became English.

Because it did. Its a nice little effect.

But its like someone (probably Moondragon) flipped a switch inside the Avengers’ heads to turn the subtitles on.

The alien shopper points the Avengers towards the “temple of the peace goddess” and they head off to there.

Thor comments that if Moondragon is fiddling with the language settings of their brains, then she must be aware of their arrival.

Moondragon, coming down the stairs and looking fab: “Of course, I am aware of your arrival, Thor! There is precious little in this universe of which the goddess of the mind is not aware! Welcome to Ba-Bani!”

Its actually a really good look for Moondragon. She’s still in green and cape and plunging neckline but the style has changed. Its more sexy priestess than sexy space swimsuit and opera cape.

It goes well with the new role she’s apparently taken on Ba-Bani.

She thanks the Avengers for coming which Thor and Iron Man are only too keen to point out that she didn’t leave them a whole lot of choice.

Wasp again tells them that she’ll handle this and tries to tell Moondragon that she’s the chairwoman of the Avengers now. But Moondragon cuts her off to tell her she already knows.

But also, that her thoughts have been with her in the trying times she’s had of late.

This is a kinder Moondragon compared to the one from #211. Wonder whither the change of heart.

Moondragon: “Sometimes, I wish it were not my lot to see most clearly that which is hidden, Janet! I could not help but be aware of your husband’s tragic downfall and the resultant turmoil in your soul, which you hide so well! I have shared your agony, and his! Greater, though, is my pain, for I see that the tragedy is deeper and more ironic than you yet realize -- and I fear it shall only worsen!”

... This is why people hate psychics.

Janet herself can only hurriedly change the subject in the face of this overly comprehensive sympathy.

Wasp: “Um... Drax’s message sounded urgent! Why don’t we discuss that?”

Hah.

So Moondragon turns on main screen to show a hostile army - consisting of the last of Ba-Bani’s warmongers, cutthroats, mercenaries and ravagers banded together - headed towards the capital city which is the city that they are currently in.

Wasp questions if Moondragon really just dragged them halfway across the universe to quell a local uprising.

Iron Man further points out that UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE moondragon the Avengers don’t make a habit to interfere in the political affairs of others. Plus, why can’t Drax handle this? Or why doesn’t Moondragon just mindzap the bad guys?

Iron Man: “Or do you reserve that treatment for those people you claim are your friends -- like us!”

Zing.

Moondragon takes exception to this. For one, she denies having set herself up as a queen or anything. The people of Ba-Bani rule themselves. She merely quelled the global war through a bit of careful psychic prodding and suggestion among world leaders.

Moondragon: “In a sense, I merely improved communications among the world leaders and removed the need for war!”

Drax: “She has saved countless millions of lives already, Avengers!”

For another thing, the peace is still fragile. She has to maintain a constant rapport with said world leaders and influential people to preserve it.

Even as it relies on a careful, selective touch, she says the effort is staggering and she can’t ALSO psychically smack the invading army.

And point the last, she’s only just convinced him that his purpose in life doesn’t have to be destroying and it would be shitty to throw him at violence again and reawaken his destructive nature.

Thus, the need for outside help.

If the Avengers can’t or won’t stop the army, the global bloodshed may reignite and Moondragon won’t be able to stop it again. MILLIONS WILL DIE!

So since Wasp is the chairperson, it falls to her to decide what to do.

And I can’t help but notice that when it comes time to decide whether to intervene in a very foreign extraterrestial conflict, Iron Man finally defers to her instead of her having to yank him back from whatever impulsive thing he wants to do.

Being leader of the Avengers has gotta suck.

Anyway, Wasp decides they’ll stop the immediate threat to the city but after that... well.... they’ll see.

But its a decision Wasp feels weird about because her head is all weird, like her mind is in a fog. She’s sure there were some follow-up questions she wanted to ask Moondragon that she can’t remember anymore.

I’m sure that forgetting what you wanted to ask a psychic is a coincidence and forebodes nothing.

She’s probably just tired.

Scene cut to the aggressive army of aggressors peering at the horizon going ‘hey are those missiles? Can’t be, the peace goddess told them to abandon weapons.’

SURPRISE, ITS THE AVENGERS

Surprise to them, anyway. If I paused long enough to let you guess, I’m sure you would have guessed the Avengers.

Anyway. I’m pretty sure Wasp is still wearing the handkerchief, although she has managed to tailor it to being less obviously makeshift.

I was about to complain that they didn’t stop and let her get some clothes but. I mean, what are the odds that the local shop contains either clothing her size or clothing that can change size?

Anyway, Wasp still feels weird about the decision to get involved.

Wasp: “I can’t stop wondering whether or not we’re doing the right thing! Moony says she isn’t ruling this planet, yet, she is controlling the destinies of these people! Isn’t that the same thing? I-I’m so confused!”

But since the army does have guns and they are out for blood, she doesn’t have any hesitation to beat them up a little.

Some decent Wasp action, too.

And it’s not just Wasp who has misgivings.

Iron Man also has his doubts, as he picks up a guy in each hand and slams them together.

Iron Man: “I can’t help feeling sorry for these guys! They’re the underdogs! Something’s eating at me about what we’re doing here, but for the life of me -- I can’t quite put my finger on it!”

Cap too. In a specifically Cap way.

Cap: “These rebels are fighting for freedom -- but what they want is the freedom to make war! We’ve got to stop them -- I know that! Still, for some reason, my instinct are screaming that we shouldn’t!”

The only Avenger who isn’t having doubts is (by process of elimination) Thor who is throwing tanks around and doing his best divine smack talk.

Thor: “Beware, base scoundrels -- lest the wrath of the thunder god destroy thee!”

Anyway, misgivings aside, the Avengers aren’t having much trouble actually beating up this army. For the last of the warmongers, they’re not much of a match for a super-soldier, a guy in power armor, an actual god of actual thunder, and Janet goddamn van Dyne.

Like Iron Man said, the evil invading army just feels like the underdogs here.

From a distance, Drax spectates the battle. And notices a pair of rebels closing on Cap from behind. They’re planning to shoot Cap in the back and hopefully that act will let them rally the army against the remaining Avengers.

Drax realizes he could stop them. Or warn Cap. But he feels a strange contentment to just watch.

This must be what being Uatu is like.

The two rebels shoot Cap off his sky-sled. He barely managed to get his shield up to protect himself.

While Iron Man catches Cap from a fateful plummet, Wasp goes after the two who attacked Cap.

Wasp: “Hey! You on the sled -- ! I’m an Avenger, and I don’t think what you did was nice or fair, so I’m avenging it! So there!”

Hey! The team name has a meaning! You did it, Wasp! You named the team Avengers because it sounded cool and then you finally did some avenging 218 (plus annuals and crossovers) later!

Proud of you.

Anyway, Thor catches the two rebels from their own fateful plummet, declaring that they don’t deserve the honor of death in combat.

Then while sort of waving the two like visual aids at the army, Thor demands they surrender.

Thor: “Hear me, armies of the rebellion! Your leaders are my captives! Your cause is doomed! Lay down your arms -- now! I will warn you but this once!”

Army Guy: “We are undone!”

Another Guy: “We surrender!”

Soon, the Avengers return to the capital city, Thor carrying the apparent rebel leaders on a random piece of debris.

Moondragon thanks the Avengers for what they did. She also asks that the Avengers turn the rebel ringleaders over to the city’s civil authority so that they may, in time, be rehabilitated.

She also mentions that Drax has alerted the city’s police to take the other rebels into custody and to destroy their surrendered weapons.

And then she tries to hurry the Avengers along.

Moondragon: “Then, truly, it is over! You have done a magnificent and noble labor this day, Avengers! Father, please make ready my ship! They must be anxious to return to Earth!”

Cap interjects saying that they’d prefer to stay a day or two to take in the sights.

Wasp grouses at Cap speaking for the Avengers. Dangit, she’s supposed to speak for the Avengers!

With but an ellipses of hesitation, Moondragon agrees that the world is new to the Avengers and there’s a lot of stuff for them to see. And says that they’ll leave tomorrow instead.

Nice try, Moondragon. There’s five pages of plot left. Can’t wrap up early.

So then we have a twelve hour timeskip so the Avengers can nap and shower and its off to explore an alien world! With tour guide Drax!

The first thing they learn is that its never nighttime on Ba-Bani! I don’t know if thats a multiple suns thing or an orbit thing but its always daytime.

Janet does not approve.

Anyway, Thor ditches the group because he’s seen a lot of worlds and it just doesn’t interest him. He’s going to find something else to do.

And then the Avengers split up.

Cap wants to mix with the people a bit and Wasp wants to not wear a tarp so they’re headed to the market.

Iron Man spotted some high tech factories and dangit if he doesn’t love industry so he’s going to have Drax take him through one.

And then we skip ahead another hour. Which is a fairly reasonable amount of time to shop, probably.

Janet has obtained Actual Clothes That Aren’t A Tarp.

And because her money is no good here, even if she had any on her, she told the tailor to bill it to Moondragon.

Which is funny for at least two reasons.

The first of which is that I always find it funny when anyone on the Avengers foists their bills on someone else. The second of which will make sense when I cover next issue.

Anyway, mentioning Moondragon makes Cap remember that he wanted to bring her up. His thoughts have been so muddled about it but that’s the real reason why he wanted to stay longer.

Wasp: “Because you suspect that she’s manipulating us -- ? Because you think things aren’t quite kosher here on Ba-Bani? I was a bit slower on the uptake than you, but... I agree! Let’s just nose around a little, shall we?”

She’s not. Unsuspicious.

Cap even has a good idea where to start looking and takes Wasp on the sky-sled to the site of the battle from earlier.

Some guards or police or something have the area blocked off and tell the Avengers that nobody is to enter the area. Especially not the outworlders.

But since these guards aren’t armed thanks to Moondragon’s sensible gun control policies, Wasp tells them to screw off and Cap just flies around them.

Cap hopes to find an escaped rebel and ask them about their cause or maybe examine their abandoned equipment.

It’d take a long, exhaustive investigation to piece things together that way but it’ll be worth doing.

But he doesn’t have to.

Because when Cap and Wasp arrive at the battlefield, they find that two of the workers working to clear up debris are the rebel leaders from earlier.

Convenient!

Wasp: “Pardon me, fellas, but, did you, um, by any chance lead a rebellion yesterday?”

Rebel Leader: “What? Oh, that! Yes! I can’t understand what got into me! I was tending my shop in the city, when suddenly I felt compelled to seize a weapon and come out here! Thousands of others were similarly, mysteriously compelled! Out of the blue, my friend, here, and I became obsessed with the idea of leading this impromptu army in an attack upon the city! Thank the goddess you stopped us!”

So. Yeah.

Where have we heard SUDDEN COMPULSION before as a thing that makes people do things?

I mean, this isn’t exactly subtle.

Moondragon forced an army to form and then had the Avengers beat them up.

The plot thickens.

Meanwhile, Drax takes Iron Man on a tour of a communications center. Ba-Bani has low-orbit anti-grav satellites in the sky for communications and for monitoring the city and its surrounding environs.

Every public event is recorded. For historical and legal matters, surely.

You ever see a villain somehow monitoring something and thought ‘wait how did they have a camera there?’ WELL BA-BANI HAS YOU COVERED!

THEY HAVE EVERYTHING MONITORED!

For example, Iron Man punches up a video of the battle from yesterday and specifically to the moment when Cap was ambushed.

Iron Man: “Say... I hadn’t realized how close you were to us, Drax! You were right on top of us! You must have seen the ambush developing! Why didn’t you do something -- or even just yell ‘look out!’”

Drax: “I -- I don’t know...”

Iron Man: “I can’t believe you just stood there watching while Cap was almost cut in half! Drax, we’ve been in scrapes together before -- that isn’t like you! What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Drax: “Nothing! Nothing! I am fine!”

The hallmark of someone truly fine, shouting that they are fine.

Or just saying that they are fine.

Does ‘I’m fine’ even mean what its definition meaning means anymore? Does anyone use it sincerely?

Anyway, Iron Man decides that ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m not fine’ and that Moondragon has been messing with his head.

And by ‘his’ I could mean either Drax or Iron Man. Because Iron Man has felt his thoughts muddled lately too.

Its a bit of a trend.

But Drax refuses to believe it. Shouting that its not true; his daughter wouldn’t do that.

While one of the people manning the communications center just kind of stares at this argument.

Because. It does sort of draw attention. Drax is making all kinds of dramatic poses and Iron Man marched over to grab him by the shoulders.

(I think communication console woman is wikipediaing Drax because pictures of him are showing up on all the consoles)

Iron Man: “You ‘know’ what she wants you to know! She controls thoughts! How can anyone really be certain whether he’s thinking what he wants -- or what she wants? She can make us think, say, or do anything, and we wouldn’t even realize it! Even this could be her manipulating us -- but I don’t think so! I know there’s a limit to her power! She can’t have her attention everywhere at once! Pray it’s mostly elsewhere for now and listen to me while we have a chance!”

So maybe Moondragon is distracted and that’s why Iron Man is coherent enough to have this conversation. But what could she be distracted by?

Well, scene change to the temple of Moondragon and Thor arriving at it.

Moondragon: “Thor! I had hoped you might come!”

Thor: “Spare me your guile, woman! You knew I would come -- for ‘twas you did plant this ‘whim’ in my mind, was it not?”

Moondragon: “Yes... it was!”

Thor: “You are less subtle than I’d imagined, woman!”

Moondragon: “Deliberately! You are a god, Thor! I need practice no subtlety upon you!”

Thor accuses her of having taken total control of this world and to Thor, Moondragon admits it.

But she has a good excuse.

Moondragon: “Behold, Thor! This city is alive -- ! Fresh with gardens and music and the laughter of children! When I came here it was a blood-soaked battleground! I brought peace to Ba-Bani! I made this! Have I done wrong?”

Its a tough question. Because psychic mind control isn’t really real and moral philosophy is also probably made up.

On some level, a society is going to put restrictions on people for their own good. Like seat belt laws or food safety standards. But on the other hand, Moondragon is controlling people’s thoughts.

Is it right to do that for a good cause?

(X-Men sure as hell hopes so with all the psychics running around in those books. Sheesh.)

But Drax did not think it was right.

Per the hologram recording and also Moondragon’s confession here, Drax sent the ship to get the Avengers. She wasn’t able to stop it so she expedited the Avengers finding it so it seemed like she was in on it.

Then she staged a fake revolution for the Avengers to crush so they could leave satisfied that they had done a thing.

She also put Drax under her strict control after he sent the ship.

Moondragon: “There! You know now the sum of my ‘guile,’ Thor! I’m relieved to be confessed, for gods should have no secrets between them! We should be closer... It is the role of gods to set aright the paths of lesser beings! ‘Twas ever thus! My labor is difficult... and lonely! I need your help... and your comforting touch...”

Thor: “Moondragon... it is not good to tamper overmuch with the natural course of things...”

Moondragon: “But this once -- ? For my sake...”

Thor: “For... your... sake...”

Moondragon: “Love me, son of Odin! Be thou mine!”

Thor: “Aye... thine...”

Dammit, Moondragon! If you’re using mind control to make Thor love you, don’t be doing that! It happens to him far too much!

Every damn enchantress on Asgard for one!

So on the one hand, Wasp, Cap, and Iron Man are wise to Moondragon’s shit now.

On the other hand, Thor seems to have been seduced to her corner.

And on the third, ambiguous hand, Drax who seems like maybe he’s on the fence. Maybe Iron Man just needs to shake him some more.

Next time sure is going to be some kind of WAR AGAINST THE GODS!

According to the big pink words, anyway.

Hey. Psst. There’s a SUDDEN COMPULSION to follow @essential-avengers and to like and reblog this post. Weird, huh? Maybe if you listen to that SUDDEN COMPULSION you’ll get to go on a space ride to space. No promises.

#Avengers #Moondragon #drax the destroyer #the Wasp #Iron Man #Captain America #Thor #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #SUDDEN COMPULSIONS #a free spaceship ride #Wasp has clothing mishaps #but makes do #moondragon has a new better look #the job market for former violent rebels is pretty good

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

FFT: you jump, i jump jack; pete dunne

Notes:

This came to my main asks via @vonschweetz and it got me thinking... What if I redid Barbie and Pete entirely. And made Barbie a brattier little Omega, more resistant. I still might want to do this, we shall see... It was an interesting take.

Summary:

Bratty omega meets stubborn as fuck alpha. let the games begin.

Pairing:

Pete Dunne x OFC, Barbie

Warnings:

Uhh... flirtation and banter, bratty omegas and stubborn alphas. It’s cute. Seriously. I might actually try doing something with this.

Barbie looked from man to man, totally unimpressed. Folding her arms, she cleared her throat when they finally took a break from their whole territorial thing. “Will you two kindly knock it the fuck off? And get lost, your Alpha stink is probably what’s keeping my true Alpha from making himself known.”

“You don’t have an Alpha. You could have me, but you won’t stop being stubborn.”

“I’d clearly be better for you than that asshole. C’mon. Think about it. You and me, baby.”

“All you two idiots are doing is making me dryer than the Sahara desert. Fuck off.” Barbie practically spat the words at the two men and luckily, it was enough to send them away. This time.

… oh but those two twat waffles will be back. They always come back… if I could just hurry and figure out who back here is my true Alpha…

… but what if it’s somebody you don’t want to be mated to?…

… anyone has to be better than Oney Lorcan and fucking Matt Cross… anyone…

Almost as if she’d summoned it, the scent was back again and it was… So heavy. It dominated the air and Barbie breathed in deep. Fanning herself, she leaned back against the brick wall and let her eyes flit around the room, careful to not settle on any particular member of the roster.

It couldn’t be Tyler Bate or Trent Seven.

She knew it wasn’t any of the Undisputed Era, she’d gotten close enough to each man earlier in the week to realize that they were not only not the scent she’d been trying to find, but their scents all actually repulsed her.

None of them had that unique combination of Big Red chewing gum and freshly upturned earth like this scent. And while normally, the scent of dirt did literally nothing for her, in this case it was… Like the most erotic thing she’d ever smelled in her life.

It wasn’t Johnny Gargano, either.

So far, no one she’d tried to get close to matched this particular scent.

Distractedly, Barbie stepped away from the wall and gave in to the urge to follow her nose. As she started to walk down the hall, the scent got heavier and heavier, beckoning her. Turning a corner and entering catering, she managed to collide with Pete Dunne around the same time that the scent suddenly intensified. Pete gripped her arms, a gruff swear coming as he said something to her about watching where she walked, only to trail off in mid sentence.

“It’s you.”

They both said it at the same time, but Dakota called out to her and she bit her lip, staring up at her true Alpha a few seconds, trying to get a read on how the current situation affected him.

She couldn’t. He masked his thoughts on the matter heavily.

Barbie’s face fell and she turned abruptly, hurrying over to Dakota and one or two of the other girls.

Pete blinked and turned to scowl at Tyler, who’d just come up behind him and shoved him playfully. “What was ‘at about, Dunney?”

“I found ‘er.”

“And yer not over there with ‘er why? Who was it?”

“The blonde talkin t’ Dakota and the other girls. Th’ one with curly hair.”

Tyler followed his friends gaze and he gave a low and appreciative whistle as he muttered quietly, “Y’ lucky fuckin bastard. Well don’t let me stop y’. Go on, go to ‘er.”

Pete raised a brow and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Yer an idiot, Dunney.”

“Don’t think she was too happy with th’ realization I’m ‘er Alpha.”

“Or maybe, she took one look at yer grouchy mug and retreated because she thought she pissed y’ off. I mean if y’ gave ‘er the look y’ gave me just now, Dunney…” Tyler pointed out as helpfully as possible, but when Pete shook his head no, Tyler grumbled and shook his head.

“Well, I found him.”

“Seriously? Who? I need to know.”

“It’s Pete Dunne. But I don’t… I really don’t think he was thrilled when he realized what was happening… So.. That’s that.”

“What the hell do you mean that’s that? Pete’s always a grouch, that’s just who he is.”

“This was different. He looked annoyed. Maybe I should just give in to one of the other unmated douchebags who keep offering…” Barbie knew deep down that even as she said it, she’d never go through with it, because when she’d realized it was Pete… Something just clicked for her.

She sighed and shook her head, shoving it all out of her mind for the time being. “C’mon.. Someone in here is staring and it’s kinda creeping me out.” Barbie grabbed hold of Dakota’s arm, practically dragging her out of catering.

She collided with Roderick Strong in the hallway. Swallowing hard, she stared up at him, mumbling an apology. Roderick flashed her a grin and leaned against the doorway, pinning her in. “No need to apologize, darlin. You alright?”

“I’m fine, just.. In a hurry.” Barbie nodded to the doorway he was currently blocking and he chuckled, moving to the side. He caught hold of her wrist and held her there a few seconds the second he saw Pete Dunne staring at her from the doorway of catering.

“If any of these idiots mess with ya, Blondie.. Come find Roddy, alright?”

Barbie pried her wrist loose and gave him a thumbs up before rushing off.

Pete’s fists clenched and Tyler muttered to himself with an amused laugh, “And ‘ere we go.” before quickly grabbing hold of his best friend and starting the process of talking him down from whatever ‘punishment’ Pete was currently doling out to Strong in his head.

Pete growled and took a deep breath.

“What y’ need t’ do, Dunney, is go to ‘er and tell ‘er that whatever she thinks isn’t th’ truth.”

“What I need t’ do, Bate, is go down t’ the ring and call ‘im out. Maybe if I make an example out ‘f him, none of the others will even think about tryin it.”

“And when y’ scare th’ living hell out of ‘er Dunney… what then? Just wait til the next time y’ see Strong lurking around, go over and intervene. That proves yer point without anybody bein afraid or havin t’ die.” Tyler eyed his best friend as he said it.

For once, Pete seemed to agree. Tyler let out a breath and then, they made their way down to the ring for the match they had.

– ( LE TIME SKIPPE )

“Clearly, me staying at the hotel while everyone else went out was a stupid idea. I’m so freaking bored!” Barbie was pacing her hotel room, fingers tangled in blonde curls as she tried to keep the worst part of her heat starting at bay.

She eyed the door and then her phone and remembering the annoyed look on Pete’s face earlier, she swore and grabbed the phone, firing off a text.

→ Hey, I’m gonna meet you guys after all.

→ No sense in me locking myself away and saving myself for an Alpha who clearly couldn’t want me less if he tried.

→ It’s that club near the beach, right?

Without waiting on a response, she showered and got out, putting on makeup and digging through her closet. When she saw the skintight little red dress that one of her friends got her as a ‘joke’ she bit her lip and hesitated. She almost passed it over in favor of something casual, her favorite jeans and crop top, but then she thought about it.

She knew who her true Alpha was now. And given that he didn’t seem like he’d be beating down her door anytime soon, was there really any sense in waiting or getting her hopes up?

She tore the tag off the dress and took it into the bathroom, changing into it. Before she could talk herself out of going out and having a fun night, she walked down the stairs and through the lobby.

Just as she went to reach for the handle on the door out of the lobby, Pete stepped in.

“Where th’ hell are y’ going?” Pete blurted it out before he could stop himself from doing so, earning him snickering from both Tyler and Trent.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“Out. I’m supposed to be meeting someone. Can you kindly remove yourself, sir?” Barbie gazed up at Pete, tapping a stiletto against the floor impatiently.

“Not like ‘at.”

Barbie glanced down at her dress.. Before she could stop herself, she was glancing back up at him with a smirk. “Oh? And you’re gonna stop me how, sir?”

“My name is Pete. Not sir.” Pete was moving closer, Barbie was… beyond well aware of the difference in their height. She swallowed hard and fought to reign herself in because if she didn’t…

It wasn’t going to be pretty.

Self composure was harder than she’d always thought it’d be when she finally found her true Alpha.

She felt her thighs clench.

Pete was eyeing her up, almost as if he were in disbelief that she’d talk back to him.

The thought made her smirk a little, giggling quietly. She cleared her throat. “I’m running late. Either you’re going to do something about what I’m wearing, Alpha, or you’re going to move out of my fucking way.” she said it in her politest tone of voice. Pete edged closer, a hand hesitating before settling on her hip.

He stared her down intently.

Tyler and Trent cleared their throats, exchanging looks and Barbie raised her hand, resting it palm down against the front of Pete’s hoodie, staring at the door they currently blocked intently.

“It looks like I’m gonna have to be the one who walks away.” Barbie said it as she tried to side step Pete.

Pete stood there, watching her walk out of the lobby, his hand in his hair.

“ ‘at went well, Dunney.” Trent broke the silence. Pete’s response was to shove his gear bag at Trent and start to storm out the door. Trent and Tyler shared a look and grumbled. Tyler found a room service attendant and put the bags onto a trolly to be taken up and he caught up to Trent in the parking lot just in time to watch everything as it happened.

Pete caught up to her and tapped her shoulder. Barbie came to a stop and turned, staring up at him with a look of curious amusement in her eyes. “You? I thought we settled this in the lobby, sir.”

“It’s Pete. And we didn’t.” Pete’s tone was firm but quiet. She was migrating closer.. A quick scenting revealed everything and he groaned inwardly as soon as he realized that Tyler had been right back at the arena.

She’d gotten the wrong idea. She had no idea just how blown away he’d been to find out that the vanilla scent he’d been chasing for a while now was her.

Or that he’d noticed her around the time he started to smell mentioned scent and he’d been… attracted, to say the least.

His eyes darted down to the red dress and he cleared his throat. “ Maybe y’ thought I was makin a suggestion, but I was being serious, Omega.”

“My name is Barbie.”

“Barbie.” Pete repeated her name, still gazing down at her intently. Barbie tapped her feet impatiently again, her tongue gliding over her lips to moisten them. Pete’s eyes darted up, settling on her mouth and the attention that the gesture bought to it. He shrugged off his hoodie and thrust it at her.

Barbie eyed the hoodie and then him and she gave a quiet giggle.

“I’m not bein’ funny.”

“No, but… Do you think when you say jump, Alpha… that I’m just gonna ask you how high?”

“Not at all. I’d say it goes both ways.”

“I’m not putting on that hoodie. And why does it matter anyway? What I wear, I mean..” Barbie was moving closer, despite her best efforts to refrain from doing so. Pete gave a satisfied smirk when he felt her body tuck into his. He chuckled and rubbed his chin, trying to think about a response.

Barbie’s phone lit up and started to ring.

“One second.” Barbie answered the phone and she was in the midst of telling Dakota the situation when Pete took the phone and informed Dakota that Barbie wasn’t going to make it.

After ending the call, he held her phone out to her.

“Y’ weren’t in any shape t’ go out alone tonight anyway.”

“Who are you, my father?”

“No, but I am yer Alpha. We both know it.”

Barbie scoffed. “Now you want to claim it.”

“Wanted to earlier. Someone didn’t really give me much time t’ react.”

“The annoyed look on your face was reaction enough.” Barbie stepped away, turning and preparing herself to walk away. She’d never been the kind of girl to just fall in line, follow a rule or an order.

She would’ve kept walking too if Pete hadn’t called out calmly, “ Y’ can keep fighting it.. But y’ know what y’ really feel. I can smell it in yer scent. Fightin is only gonna make it worse on y’.”

“I’m not fighting anything, pal. If you want me, come and get me, Pete.”

Barbie started to slink away and for a split second, because no one was around to see him do it, a smile played on Pete’s lips as he took a deep breath to reign himself in and started to calmly walk after her.

She’d just stepped into the club and was waving at the girls when she felt him pressing into her from behind. “Okay, Barbie. I’ll play yer game. But know that when I play games, I play them t’ win.”

Barbie bit her lip to keep from whimpering and after a second, she managed to reply, “We’ll see, Pete. Think you can handle dancing with me or would that be too much?”

Pete turned her around, pulling her close.

“I don’t dance.”

“This works too..”

#pete dunne fanfiction #pete dunne fanfic #pete dunne fic #pete dunne oneshot #pete dunne imagine #// heavily implied alpha and omega dynamics #// retelling of barbie and pete

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weeping-petals · 4 years

Text

The One Behind the Mirror

Word Count - 2,316

They were at a stalemate. The King stood before the pawn, the Knights far out of reach of their commander. Within a series of moves, it would all be over. The fight would be glorious, but despairingly too short.

“Checkmate.” Pearl set the figure down. It was a good strategy, but ultimately she came through. “Your tactics are somewhat unorthodox, but their almost effective. Almost.”

Steven moaned and looked at the figurine of his King. “Can we play something else for a change? How ‘bout Gutters and Scaffolding?” He began clearing off the coffee table and gathering up the pieces from the game. “You’re too ruthless, and I’m no good at chess.”

“You always manage to beat Garnet.”

“She always lets me win, because she wants to build up my confidence.”

Pearl couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that’s the reason you never manage to defeat me.” Abruptly, she stood when the warp pad activated.

The light beam evaporated, revealing one Amethyst and the Garnet under scrutiny. Amethyst was coated in mud and stormed off the pad. Steven and Pearl beheld, wide eyed. “Uhh….”

“I hate that FOREST!”

“You’re tracking over my freshly waxed floor!” Pearl cringed when Amethyst zipped upward and crashed to her backside. “Why do I bother!”

“‘Coz your picky as plucky,” Amethyst grumbled. Only her narrowed eyes were visible.

“What happened!” Steven sprang over. “Are you hurt?”

“She’s annoyed, but otherwise unharmed,” Garnet spoke. She adjusted her shades, out of habit.

“A certain someone set a BOOBY TRAP!”

“Ah.” Steven croaked.

Garnet sighed. “I tried to warn you.”

“She insulted my honor!”

“You shapeshift into Pearl all the time. What’s the difference?” Garnet went over and plucked Amethyst up. She shook the smaller gem up and down, casting off the thicker folds of gunk.

“Yeah,” Amethyst gruffed, “but she hit a cord. Uncool.”

“You want me to hose you off? We can go to the carwash.” Steven offered. “I bet Dad wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Someone has to stay here, and I need Pearl to accompany me.” Garnet dropped Amethyst. Promptly, the small gem raced over to the couch – much to Pearl’s protest.

“At least let her hose off outside! Not on the furniture!” Pearl grabbed Amethyst by the boot, but Amethyst held onto the couch really digging her fingers in.

“It’s just mud! I’m not diseased!”

“On a good day, you’re a plague!”

Steven turned to Garnet, while the other two persisted to bicker and hiss. “Can’t I watch the pad? You just wanna know if she comes by, riiight?”

“Not quite. The warp pads connect across the globe, and that’s not the problem. The problem is, we don’t want her coming here for you.”

“Aw, guys. Can’t you lay off?”

“Steven,” Garnet chided, but gently.

“I think it’s impossible to find her, anyway,” Steven muttered, slyly. “She’s a master at hide-and-seek.” The argument shut down abruptly, and Pearl uttered,

“Have you gone back to the forest? Steven!”

Oops. Steven began sweating, looking from the stoic gem back to the ruffled Pearl, her arms stained in mud. “Er, uh… no! That would be irresponsible. Heh-heh.”

Pearl shook her hands of the muck and hurried to Steven. But Garnet stepped forward and raised a hand.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Garnet grated. “For now, Steven.” She looked to the child. “Please stay put.” Those orders delivered, she motioned to Pearl and moved to the warp pad. Pearl followed. In a blinding zip of light, the two vanished.

In the meantime, Amethyst still loafed on the couch, or, sat on the cushions leaning forward. She waited for Steven to join, swaying her boots in the air. Steven climbed onto the seat beside her and sat, deflated and glum.

“She used her ‘you’re so grounded’ tone.”

“How are you even able to sneak onto the warp pad?” Amethyst queried.

Steven clamped his lips together. It took some effort to draw forth a lie. “I haven’t then, have I? Case closed!”

“Or did she manage to get through?” Amethyst stroked her chin – it was hard to tell, due to all the muck. “You haven’t by chance seen her lurking around? Plotting something di’bolical?”

“No!” Steven burst. “I couldn’t ge—” Amethyst gawked at him.

“What have you been—” Amethyst didn’t finish. Steven sprang off the couch and raced to the doorway, screaming his head off. A go to solution, when things overwhelmed him. “Wait! Steve!” Amethyst made an effort to follow and drag him back, but Steven was much faster than she gave credit for. He was already stumbling down the steps and sprinting across the beach.

Amethyst would have gone after him and hauled him back, but the warp pad. It was typical of her to ignore orders, but this was different. In the case of Spinel, she wouldn’t risk it.

Out across the fields, Steven was still screaming as he raced across the border of Beach City, until he reached the It’s a Wash.

“Hey, sorry!” Greg called, from within the inner chamber of the carwash, “gimmie a sec, and I’ll grab the trusty bucket’o suds.”

“Dad! It’s me!” Steven hurried to the entrance of the carwash scrub chamber, and cautiously peered inside. It still gave him the creeps since his experience with the cat final form. Eek.

“Shtuball? Eeh!” Greg wobbled on the ladder. He worked with a wrench, adjusting the screw on one of the large brushes. “Come all the way over yonder to see your old man? I appreciate that.”

“Yeah. Kinda needed a break and some space.” Steven managed to catch his breath. He glanced back toward the rising gradient of the beach point, and the remaining arms of the temple guardian. “Not much going on, aside from a lot of board games. Oh, and Amethyst might come by for a deep scrub.”

“Eek,” Greg groaned. “Have her hose off first. It took ages to flush the grates after the blood blorp, whatever that was, yuck!”

“It won’t be that bad. She just fell into some mud.” He debated, twiddling his thumbs. “Some thick, magic mud.”

Greg gave Steven a no-nonsense look. “Yep. Have her hose off before I slot her in. Not gonna fool with that.” He banged around a bit, and wrestled around with the tool box set on the platform of the ladder. “Anything else on your mind? The Fryman mentioned you’ve missed swinging by for your daily quota of them bits.”

“I have, haven’t I?” He loved the bits. They were one of the best parts of his daily routine. “Homes been a lil weird with the gems. They’ve been ultra-protective, and I think I’ve messed things up again.”

“Uh-oh.” Greg ceased his work and carefully stepped off the ladder. He took a rag from the tool box and wiped some of the soap goo from his hands. “You need to spend the night with me? If you need space, I can sack it up in the office.”

“I don’t think so. They get a tiny bit upset if I’m out of sight for too long.”

Now Greg looked anxious. He tossed the rag aside and approached his son. “This sounds a little more serious than the usual, Sthu. You sure everything’s all right?”

Steven nodded. “Um… yeah. Pretty sure.” He looked up at his father, and the somewhat expectant but patient gaze offered. “Er, would you by chance know a gem called Spinel?” Now that look of adoration and apprehension flipped to utter panic. Oh, so he did know Spinel. She wasn’t lying.

“WHAT! Spinel’s loose? I thought they caught her! What gives?”

Steven blinked, alarmed but more upset by his father’s cold terror. “No…?” Greg hoisted Steven under arm and sprinted to the van, he leapt inside and slammed the doors. Shoot. “Are you okay?

“I should ask you that!” Greg stammered. “What happened? Did she hurt you? Talk to me, Steven! Why the heck would they get you involved with her?”

“They didn’t know!” Steven spat. He shrugged out of Greg’s grip and stood back. “They had no idea she was there!”

“But how could they not know?” Greg rebuked. “How’d she get out? They told me she was dealt with! That’s what they do with those monsters, they bubble them and lock ‘em away! Who let her out! Why?”

“She’s. Not! A. MONSTER!” Greg gawked, stunned and a little misty. Steven felt the same way. All these secrets, all the precaution. No one told him why. They said they were protecting him, but he was also scared. They made him scared of something he didn’t understand.

“They keep saying she’s horrible, and that she’s dangerous! She hasn’t done anything. Really!” Steven rubbed his eyes. “All I did was fall asleep. I was bored! But they won’t leave her alone, and I think… being lonely and chased around the forest is really messing with her. Dad! She said the knew me! She knew you! You knew her, right! What’s going on?!” He threw his arms high, panting. “Please.”

Greg softened and deflated a bit on his seat. “Aw, Steven. I’m sorry for wigging out on you. I… it’s just, she’s bad news. You gotta believe me.”

“Why? Garnet said, she was hurt and broken! Why can’t we try and help her! If we can, we should! She’s not all bad.” He clenched his fists and began quaking. “You were once friends. Why did that stop?”

“Ah… uh,” Greg dawdled, scratching the back of his neck. Steven got his directness and confidence from Rose, for certain. Sometimes, it ached a bit to see how much he was like her. “Did Garnet mention how bad losing Rose was, for all them?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Greg picked up a crumpled shirt, and used it to dry Steven’s eyes. “The truth is, they’re afraid of her.”

“That’s not a good reason!” Steven barked. “Why?”

“Let me finish. Blow.” Steven blew his nose, and Greg tossed the shirt. “They’re afraid of her, because when— well. Let me see. She was badly upset, let’s start there. Badly upset, okay. For a while, the gems lost track of her. She’s good at hiding, getting around, that sort. And when she did come back, she kinda… she came for me, and… well, she uh… she didn’t come for a visit.” He fumbled, looking anywhere but at Steven. “She was upset, and wound up… hurting me. Physically. All around, I was… it wasn’t good. Not good at all.”

Steven felt everything click into place. The distrust, the anger. Betrayal. Everyone believed and trusted his mother, but they were losing her. They accepted it. This crushed Spinel.

“Did she hurt you bad? Did you have to wear a full body cast!?” Steven sniffled.

“No-no,” Greg was quick to assure. “Mostly scared the pi— pants, off me.” He chuckled, but it was uneasy and dejected. “But, I could tell she was hurting something bad too. I don’t know why she did it, and I doubt she really knew either. They endured a lot, while Rose and I were waiting for you. And that’s why they’re afraid of her. I’m guessin’ they don’t know what she might do, or if it is safe to let this be. I’m sure they don’t want to fight Spinel, and to be honest, I don’t want her hurt either. I think it was worse seeing her that way… after all,eh….” Greg let his words escape.

“They could leave her alone,” Steven asserted. “She seemed… sad. I don’t know. I think she really wants to be left alone. If she’s really sorry, that means she doesn’t want to come back.” That meant, maybe she didn’t want to see him either.

Greg nodded. “The gems tried that. Once. Gave her space, gave her distance.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, I don’t get involved with their business, unless that business involves you.” He pulled Steven up onto his lap and gave him a tight hug. “Leave the danger and life-threatening missions to the pros. They know what they’re doing. They’re trying their best, for your sake.”

“I know,” Steven grumbled. “But Spinel seemed really nice.”

“Nice?” Greg squawked.

“And she must’ve really loved mom.” He returned Greg’s hug. “It wasn’t her fault she broke. It happens, right? People break. It made her do something bad, and that made everything worse. Now she’s all alone, with no friends. No home. It shouldn’t be that way.”

“I know, Sthuball. I know.” He pulled Steven back and looked him in the face. “If you want, I can tell you some stuff about her. She was… actually really on board with Rose and I. Totally shipped us.”

Steven mumbled, still gloomy but it felt good to talk. And cry. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“On one condition.” Greg held up a finger. “You leave the nope rope to the Crystal Gems. It sounds like she got ahold of you, somehow.” Steven nodded. “I’m glad she’s sort of cooled off. I wish they’d come here and given me a warning. At least, an update on how you’re holding together.”

“They’re freaked out, too.”

Greg grumbled something, which Steven didn’t catch. After a while, they opened the doors and let in some fresh air. Greg remained somewhat skittish, glancing around the roof buildings and patches of grass. For Steven, it felt good to know the reasons behind the Crystal Gems behavior, yet all along, he was hoping they’d been blowing the encounter out of proportion. Occasionally, they were known for that. It brought on new feelings of conflict for the gem, and her ill-begotten history with his family. He wanted to ask his dad more about this encounter, but recognized the uneasiness in Greg’s quick glances around the nearby field. It was kind of the same way he looked at Amethyst, but more on edge and spooked.

He felt bad for defending Spinel.

#steven universe #su #su the movie #spinel #steven fanfic #steven fanfiction #spinel fanfiction #greg fanfic #greg universe #greg fanfiction #garnet fanfic #pearl fanfic #amythest fanfic #amythest fanfiction #garnet fanfiction #pearl fanfiction

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