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yourneighborhoodporg · 5 months

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The Guardian

Chapter 7: Master

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, banter, humor, fluff, the appearance of a sneaky b (see gif), some developing thoughts about obi 👀

Summary: With your short spar with Anakin nearing completion, the moment is suddenly interrupted by a passing caucus of politicians, one of whom you'd been long hoping to meet. Just as quickly, however, you're dragged away, instead needed at a long-awaited appointment that may reveal new aspects of your being and the immediate path ahead.

Song Inspo: Little Willow — Paul McCartney

Words: 7.5k (just put me in jail)

A/n: He has finally arrived. The one we all hate 😂😭 Let me know what y'all think about his character in this :)

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Series Masterlist

For now we see through a glass, darkly — 1 Corinthians 13:12

“Well done.”

You glanced over at the affected voice with radiant auburn hair, still cognizant enough of your lower back’s recent meeting with the dojo’s pearl-tinted floor to gently press two knuckles against it, hoping to alleviate a sliver of its steadying ache. At the far end of that same three-rowed, dark wood viewing bench, Obi-Wan rose meaningfully, soon strolling toward you both. The Master Jedi leisurely folded each arm while making a point to center his gaze with yours as expressive words fell from his mouth.

“To the both of you.”

Smiling appreciatively at the bearded Jedi, you relaxed your senses, encouraging them to cool like a morning stretch while your stare shifted toward Anakin’s focused gaze and knowing grin. Evidently, he took this shift in your posture as a cue to officially end the duel, directing his saber away from your neck and flicking off its blue, incandescent heat before clipping the weapon to his belt with a clink. You welcomed the invitation to purloin this new space, crunching upwards and gently fluffing your robe of the ground’s remnants. It didn’t take long to recover from the unexpected fall enough to rise to your feet, reattaching your own saber as Obi-Wan continued his approach out of your peripheral.

You faced Anakin with an impassive stance. Tightening your spine, you encouraged the young Jedi to emulate a parallel bearing, prompting his eyes to relax in recognition as both rather slacked expressions linked, signaling each other to dip into a hand-clasped bow in respect of the spar’s end.

“Eh, I think I did most of the work,” Anakin shrugged nonchalantly mid-bob, a poking grin wrestling at ungiving lips as he raised from his inclination.

Your eyes rolled while similarly straightening, an amused smile fighting to the surface. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Either way,” Obi-Wan spoke up, motioning toward you with an earnest stare as he drew into a restive stance beside the younger Jedi. “You really should rest now.”

You raised your hands in surrender in your stroll up toward the duo. “Okay, okay,” you theatricalized, tickled expression never faltering. “I yield to the Master.”

Obi-Wan’s features lifted warmly at your words. It only lasted mere seconds, however, before the wiser Jedi angled toward his left, gesticulating toward the outwardly gratified companion beside him while speaking ironically.

“At least someone has a respect for rank.”

Anakin scoffed, crossing his arms as he addressed the elder Jedi who’d long ago mastered the art of concealed entertainment. “I respect rank!”

It was clear from his expression alone that Obi-Wan had his most sensible retort fueled and aimed, akin to an incredibly quick-witted pirate with a blaster. His mouth opened to speak while raising a finger in dissent. But before any vocalizations could escape his parted lips, a sudden commotion in the form of resonant, overlapping conversationalists and a clamor of heavy, discordant footsteps rippled through the Force, cutting the brief cessation between the three of you like Bantha butter as you all honed into the interference to the Force’s eternal flow.

Despite the muffled nature of the disturbance, dampened by the training room’s separation from the outer walkway, the atmosphere’s sudden uptick in unregulated activity certainly gave you, Obi-Wan, and Anakin brief pause. For you especially, the unexpected shift from the pacified movements you were becoming accustomed to at the Temple to a progressively incongruous bustle beyond the dojo’s walls drenched you in wonderment.

Who could be walking down that hall? No Jedi, you were certain of that. Yet to the best of your knowledge, only Jedi were welcome within the Temple’s walls.

But before you could consider these sensations further, your inner reflection was cut short, namely by the distraction of a pivoting Anakin as he speedily traipsed toward the training room’s gray double doors. You nearly giggled when taking in his movements as you couldn’t help but notice how they resembled the unassertive dash of a youngling having already been told by an exasperated Master to slow down.

“Where are you going?” You asked as Obi-Wan too, followed the retreating Jedi’s movements with discerning eyes.

You spied his head tilt back, that steady, transitional pace never relenting as the young Jedi spoke pointedly at you.

“You can’t say you’re not just as curious as me.”

Inwardly, you sighed.

He certainly wasn’t wrong.

Maybe that’s why without giving it a second thought, you quickly jogged after him in your own indefinite skip.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to be excited about,” Obi-Wan remarked from behind as he started to amble after you both.

But even Master Kenobi’s uniform words did nothing to assuage your interest. There was something new and exciting beyond those walls, and you were intending to discover it.

You continued behind the young Jedi as he attempted to temper his outward eagerness as well, enough to hear a quiet admittance escape from under his breath.

“At this point, anything will be exciting.”

You caught up to Anakin once he reached for the entryway's left control panel, tapping it in stimulated quick succession before the double doors’ thin seam whooshed into an aperture, pulling you both by the power of inquisitiveness alone into the lofty hall’s cooler chill.

Tracing the vibrant, overlay of several life forces’ buzzing ambulation like latent breadcrumbs, your head swiveled to the left. You caught sight of the clatter’s spirited source before swiftly moving with Anakin toward the walkway’s immediate inner wall, hoping to make room for the approaching turbulence just fifteen meters ahead. It was a rather large entourage, composed of eight individuals engaged in a stifled tread down the lilac path toward you.

You analyzed the diverse group, noting that of the beings you could place, two were definitely human. One was a middle-aged gentleman with dark features and olive-shaped eyes, his expression emulating stoic patience and preoccupation. The other, a senior, pale-haired man with sunken eyes and aged creases radiating from the bridge of his nose as he spoke faintly to the olive-orbed fellow beside him. Another was a Rodian, with his attentive eyes, green-tinted form, and impatient expression. And behind him, a being with a tanned eye-stalk trio, protruding snout, and relaxed antennas— a Gran, and a peaceful one at that. To their rear strolled a reserved Ishi Tib, whose x-shaped, emerald countenance, and rounded beak gazed around in awe at the Temple’s steep architecture. The most notable, however, was the towering four-horned Chagrian whose framed sky-blue face stared on with barely restrained severity on the opposite flank of the elderly human. In hand, a long bronzed staff with a sculpted hooded figure as its head.

Soon, you sensed Obi-Wan slow to join you and Anakin from behind, enabling you all to uniformly observe the scene before you.

As the three of you stood in silent regard, you happened to realize that these strangers moved with greater elegance than the masses you’d encountered in the Uscru and Entertainment Districts, remembering how their lumbered gates and sudden skitters added to the atmosphere’s dynamic yet whimsical glow. But despite their upraised grace, each footfall still landed like desensitized raps while their darkened robes of velvety black and currant whipped about legs now leniently treading eight meters away.

Their modulated sophistication and elaborate attire seemed to contribute to that overall air of importance, you considered. These qualities could potentially explain their presence, and suggest their current permissions to be on Temple grounds, you mused. Though it was soon clear that your companions had the answers you were eagerly searching for.

“That, is the Senate Security Council,” Obi-Wan divulged lowly from just above your shoulder, feeling the subtle fluctuation of temperature as his warmed breath passed by your neck.

“And that,” you glanced at Anakin as he continued for him, nodding at the leader of the pack. “Is Chancellor Palpatine.”

You turned back toward the promptly approaching political leader and his cortège, surveying him with resolute focus. If your studies on Hoth and short time in the Jedi Archives revealed anything, it was that the Chancellor was essential to the Republic’s hope of enduring peace. In fact, it was one of the first things you realized in your preparatory studies for the Guardian role— that it would be important to understand this vital figure, appreciating it as another task that aligned with your duty.

But almost immediately, you concluded that he wasn’t exactly what you thought the grand political leader of a Galactic Republic would look like. Now that you were focusing on his comparably slower pace, it seemed that the Chancellor was directing the constant pull and push of their pacified yet hurried tread that would stagger as often as their footsteps echoed against the expansive hall’s soaring ceilings. He was weakened, his climbing age apparent with each labored breath and strained glance at the next political aid. This wasn’t the leader that your imagination conjured during those many daydreaming years on Hoth.

But then again, you were sure the stresses of advising an inter-world union through a war threatening the very harmony of the galaxy would be as exhausting and fermenting as he seemed to be. It was quite possible, that this recent conflict had merely quickened time’s aging disease.

Nevertheless, despite these reasonable explanations, there was still some discrepancy with his title and appearance that you were trying to place. Yes, you had a certain biased image of political leaders from your exposure to Republic lore. Powerful, commanding, unrelenting, which this matured individual could very well be. Yet, still, some incongruity invaded your senses as a modest helping of puzzlement etched its way across the forefront of your mind.

And apparently, across your brows, as Obi-Wan seemed to notice your confusion in his effort to skirt around the two bodies in front of him to stand securely by your vacant side.

“What it is?” He asked, sending you a subtle but curious glance as he continued to maintain a formal pose for the approaching posse’s field of vision.

This comment seemed to garner Anakin’s attention as well as, he too, peeked at your searching expression out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s just…” you paused, trying to find the words.

You dissected the Chancellor once more for a few seconds longer, taking in his entire figure as a tenuous realization washed over your thoughts before retreating back into the depths of your mind.

“He’s shorter than I expected.”

You caught Obi-Wan raising an amused brow as he glanced across you. Following his line of sight, you were met with Anakin’s pursed lips and cheeks that had reddened ever so slightly. The waver was brief as he swiftly hushed you with great enthusiasm, adding a moderate, yet covert, elbow to the arm

“He’s going to hear you,” the Chosen One whispered through gritted teeth while leaning behind your ear.

You lightly swatted away his protruding arm, but it was virtually redundant. Instead, by his own volition, Anakin quickly adopted an almost ritualistic posture for the Council’s slowing stride when he noticed the Chancellor’s features lift in recognition, a gentle smile creasing the older gentleman’s dried lips as he gazed at the young Jedi.

“Master Skywalker!” He exclaimed happily with a weary voice as he halted, stalling the pace of each being who loyally heeded his movements.

The three of you stepped forward toward the welcoming politician.

“It’s good to see you, Your Excellency,” Anakin announced in ceremonious continuity as he bowed respectfully toward the fatigued Chancellor.

“And you as well,” he spoke warmly, cheeks crinkled.

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan politely nodded toward him. “I trust your trip to the Temple was as fruitful as you hoped?”

Palpatine breathily chuckled. “Yes, Master Kenobi. Thank you for your diligence in asking.”

The other human, with jet black, combed-over hair, striking brows, and a goatee, humbly stepped in, seemingly hoping to save the Chancellor’s energy as he spoke on his behalf.

“Master Yoda and Master Windu have informed us about the temporary communications blackout.”

“Yes,” Palpatine agreed, nodding toward the man stood beside him. “Senator Organa, the rest of the Security Council, and I are all very comforted to know that the system wasn’t damaged in some way. I was concerned when my colleagues and I were not able to get through to The Council using our holocomms. Thankfully, the Jedi have been as proactive as always in addressing these kinds of threats.”

Just as he finished, you noticed an air of curiosity lining the Chancellor’s faded brows once his peripheral caught your figure between the two Jedi. His tender expression turned toward you as he offered a kind greeting. Only in that second, had you noticed that his good-natured countenance began to loosen spinal muscles you didn’t realize were tense.

Politics, and all those who commanded that world, were foreign to you. Having lived on an ungoverned, albeit forsaken, planet, it was not something you came in much contact with. Well, besides your holobooks. So it wasn’t surprising that your senses were confused by their presence, you excused inwardly. You were always trained to be cautious in the face of the unknown, and that included the complicated world of diplomacy. You had known a Jedi all your life, but never a politician.

Yet Palpatine didn’t seem much like a politician to you. He was more akin to a kind old man. And that presence was probably what finally eased worries you didn’t even recognize you had.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he acknowledged.

Your cheeks brightened. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Chancellor,” you affably offered, presenting him with a bow gradual enough to quench any pockets of arid formalities. “My name is Silvey.”

“It is a joy to meet you, Silvey,” he exclaimed gently as you rose. “Are you a Jedi? Forgive me, but I’m not sure if I’ve seen your face before.”

Your smile remained genial, having become more comfortable with your assigned name and story in the face of questioning.

“I am, Chancellor. I have been on a years-long mission away from the Temple until recently.”

“Ah,” he vocalized. “Well, it’s marvelous to know that we have another Jedi here to support our Great Republic through this tragic conflict,” he sighed wearily, allowing his eyes to linger in melancholy.

You sympathized with the tender-hearted politician, offering him a sympathetic expression as his dutiful eyes raised to meet yours suddenly.

“Well,” he began with a greater punch. “I’m glad you’re using this time to socialize with Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi. Two of the best the Galaxy has to offer. Did you know each other before your mission?”

“In passing,” Obi-Wan piped up. “Though I’m sure we will all have the opportunity to learn more of each other as the war continues. Efforts to support the Republic often overlap.”

The Chancellor hummed sensibly. “Right as always, Master Kenobi,” Palpatine nodded toward him just before taking a brief yet lingering instant to rake his charming eyes over your complexion.

But soon, his gaze opened back up to the three of you.

“Well, I always wish to talk more with our galaxy’s greatest peacekeepers, but I must be going now. The Senate must be told to refrain from using the Temple’s communications system as soon as possible.”

The Chancellor angled back toward you more fully this time.

“I hope we will be able to speak more sometime soon. Any friend of Master Skywalker’s is a friend of mine, and I would enjoy hearing more about that mission of yours.”

You lightened further at his thoughtful words. “I would be honored, Chancellor.”

The elder gentlemen blinked at you kindly.

“And that goes for you too,” he extended toward the young Jedi beside you. “I’m looking forward to hearing about your adventures these past few months. Please, come by my office, anytime.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Anakin stated in a reverent monotone. “I will be sure to visit soon.”

“Good, good,” he proclaimed. “I will see you then.”

As he released those final mutterings, the Chancellor carefully began his shuffle forward, encouraging the three of you to step aside so that his band of politicians could once again reinstate their gradual progression back down the walkway. You watched them for a moment, their darkened robes catching the wind of each mercurial movement in a fashion similar to earlier as overlapping conversations and knocking footsteps prodded the hall’s previously calmed atmosphere.

“Silvey?” Obi-Wan prodded from behind.

You tilted toward the bearded Jedi, noticing his stitched brows aimed at the Council’s ancient wrist comm while you gazed at him expectantly.

“What time were you supposed to meet with Master Yoda?”

Your nose scrunched in thought as he rolled his arm toward you, revealing the barely perceptible, flickering green glow of the chronometer installed on the device. And as soon as you registered the numbers before you, your face dropped in realization.

“Oh, kriff,” you mumbled.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened incredulously. “Where did you learn that language?” He questioned, disbelief raining from his voice.

The gears turned behind his stare for only a moment before his expression dropped into a sharp gape toward his former Padawan.

“It wasn’t me!” Anakin whined, waiving his hand in rebuttal.

“We had the same Master, Obi-Wan,” you reminded as your focus shifted to the task at hand. Quickly, you began your short expedition away from the duo, down the same path from which Palpatine emerged, before deliberately pivoting on your heel and continuing your trek backward so to address the flummoxed Jedi.

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth lay agape as Anakin barely hid a chuckle from your sight.

Barely.

“And you’re not off the hook, Smarty,” you called back at him while picking up the pace of your inverse jog. “Being the reason I’m late and all.” A smirk scurried across your mouth. “Better train hard to prepare for the consequences.”

You narrowly caught the giddy lilt sparkling behind his eyes before spinning on your heel to now hasten into a run, assuaged and nimble enough to be accepted within your tranquil surroundings.

That was, until Anakin yelled his response toward your departing figure with a levity so tangible, that you could feel it through his voice nearly twenty meters away.

“I’ll be waiting, patiently!”

You grinned.

—

Your dimmed umber cloak thrashed like a land-fairing scalefish as you swiveled down another one of The Temple’s many outstretched and interconnected walkways. Only after a few more seconds and additional turns on that emerald green mezzanine did you finally allow your long-hurried pace to stifle when you discerned a memorable sight.

Just a dozen meters away, at the end of the hall’s extensively columned aerial vaults, reigned a gap in the upper back wall through which the afternoon’s blazing sun of Coruscant Prime flared with greeting. The sparkling golden light encircled two large gray pillars that supported the downward ceiling’s pitch, weaved past the hanging sage-tinted signs strung from gutters to announce your location, and poured over the gray stone edging fence that guided travelers toward the bifurcated staircase entryways leading to the training ground’s lower level.

You had learned quickly from your first mistake, when in search of the Sparring Arena to meet with Master Windu, you became quite immediately, and hopelessly, lost. Plunged into the labyrinth that was the Temple among a sea of occupied Jedi who further muddled the path.

But this time, you didn’t need Obi-Wan’s help. You appreciated his assistance, but knew that if you had any hope of being the best Guardian you could be, you needed to become self-sufficient. So this time, you chose to use the Jedi Archive’s resources and your own free time to search out the training grounds as soon as you learned of your impending appointment with the Grand Master on this very acreage.

Luckily, your short detour from the day before wasn’t in vain, having shaved off a few extra minutes from your reliably inflating tardiness.

Once the end of the outstretched walkway was reached, you were free to follow the creational illumination’s natural path, swiftly swerving about the garden wall and jogging down the L-shaped stairway to the foundation’s vast cream surface in hopes of making this important meeting somewhat on time.

Instantly, were plunged into Coruscant’s afternoon heat the moment your nimble toes met the smooth masonry, temporarily overcharging your senses as you acclimated to the strange sensation that penetrated each burnished boot. With eyes squinted and cheeks burning, you gazed up at the Coruscant sky, a cupped hand elevated for shade as you took in the baby blue and blanketed snow-like clouds that did little to shelter you from the giant star’s omnipresent intensity.

Having spent most of your life on a desolate, ice planet, you hadn’t had the opportunity to feel the blazing passion of such a powerfully dense sun directly on your prickling skin. It was a rather refreshing surprise, but still something that was quite foreign to you. You were sure that prolonged exposure would drain your physical energy far more fervently than your former asylum, yet you found the sight to be particularly bewitching, and undeniably beautiful.

Dragging your captivated eyes from the fresh encounter, you strolled toward the training ground’s center, observing the outdoor setting as you simultaneously searched for Master Yoda somewhere on the grounds.

Having not seen the nine hundred-year-old Jedi in your immediate scan of the alabaster-tinted array, you instead chose to use this brief opportunity to absorb your surroundings with greater care. Praying that you had not missed the gathering entirely as you did so.

Sauntering forward, you noticed that the arena was rather spacious, split into three graphed sectors with either end acting as a reflection to the other. Glancing to your left, you noticed a segmented instructional zone of sorts, comprised of three rectangular cedar murals of varying size. One was in use by a small batch of Initiates, engaged in a synchronized drill of dexterity. An assemblage of blue and green training sabers pigmented each of their whirling hands as they moved seamlessly before their instructor— an older Cosian, if you had to guess, recognizable by his tufted tail and leafy protruding beak. Beneath them, each depiction was etched with smearings of white powdered chalk, delineating circular footing guides, you assumed, as the younglings followed each curve with precise gradation.

You glimpsed ahead, wandering further as you perceived two protrusions on either side of the training ground’s back wall. They were elevated by at least four meters and adorned with switchback staircases, enabling the structures to prevail as alternative methods for exiting the faded grounds. You imagined they led to additional gated walkways that snaked into the Temple’s belly.

Altogether, the expanse’s high-walled design manufactured a basin of sorts, accented by the flushed blocky jade lamps that dotted every hallow crevice and drew attention to the surrounding orotund panels.

As you tugged your line of sight away from the surrounding architecture to the patch before you, you couldn’t help but become enthralled by the figure ahead. At the arena's nucleus stood a markedly enchanting presence. One which pulled at the very core of your inner current.

A twisting tree, its thick trunk dancing into each curved branch, loomed expansively from a patio that unfurled below. It stretched outwards, each branch seizing the sun’s parting energies far beyond your reach. Gold veins with ringed motifs winded up its quiet body, seemingly powering the amber, oblong leaves that adorned each ligneous finger in calm bundles.

Nearly instantaneously, it felt as if the rooted being was beckoning you forward from its home just beyond the set paltry stairs beneath you. Even the steps themselves appeared designed to usher in all who desired to know its secrets, with the apical sill acting as a lure mere inches from your feet. Soon, the faint aroma of Cardamom swirled past your nostrils from his intoxicating figure, further drawing your attention.

In those brief instances you took to descry the blossomed flora, you couldn’t help but feel the need to approach the botanical feat, feeling a strange yet embracing wrest toward its sparkling striped markings in particular. It was before your mind could fully register the action, when a sudden yet gradually vitalizing string, tied from your collarbone to the trunk's base, finally commanded your legs to assuredly promenade forward.

As you neared the colossal energy, treading beyond the staircase’s final step, your tie to each neighboring aura swelled exponentially. You could feel the fluxing vivacity of the younglings far behind you, and the compelling yet subdued strength of their instructor. Another step nourished the stream, empowering you to pinpoint wandering bodies in the nearest Temple halls, including the assembly of politicians still making their way through its winding pathways.

Promptly, your ceaseless strides brought your face within inches of the powerful beacon, its surging vigor drawing your eyelids to flutter closed while you extended a gentle hand to rest on its glossy bark. As your fingertips met its silky texture, you sensed an instant surge of breath in the form of thousands of tiny little life forms, binding into the nexus. Even ones as small as the avian creatures resting on distant rooftops, or the fleck-sized insects that trotted along a portion of the far wall in perfect harmony.

You delved deeper, exploring these fervently fluid impressions with greater absorption when a new, striking and formidable spirit gradually entered the fold, their pace sedated though consequential as they approached from behind. But despite sensing this new presence, you encountered pronounced difficulty in separating from the strength before you.

That was, until you heard their familiar voice. One that you had not heard since the Temple-wide meeting yesterday morning.

“Discovered The Great Tree, you have.”

Opening your eyes abruptly, you severed your interlaced connection with the tree’s amplifying flow before spinning toward the raspy voice. Your eyes instantly met the shorter, long-eared Jedi, elevated by his relaxed stance against a curved cane on the ground’s main platform above. The moment you steadied, you were quick to offer him a reflexive bow while inwardly chiding yourself for delaying him further.

“Yes,” you rapidly acknowledged before just as soon faltering, like a misstep in your footing.

You internally cycled through how to respond to the 900-year-old being for a moment too long as you fought the steadily rising panic. This was not the first impression you wanted to make. But you still needed to say something.

Relenting, you finally settled on a phrase you used way too often with Qui-Gon in your younger years. And something you had not planned to say ever again once your journey began.

“I apologize for my belatedness, Master Yoda,” you offered evenly. “I assure you, it will not happen again.”

The pepper-green Jedi hummed in thought, offering the environment a brief silence before leisurely idling down the stairway toward your figure. “Believe you, I do. Works in mysterious ways, the Force does. Led you to this tree, it has.”

Master Yoda ambled to a slow halt beside you, giving himself scope to gaze up at the natural wonder. He must have relished in the presence of the Great Tree many thousands of times in his long years at the Temple. Yet his reverent appearance gleamed with the radiance of discovering its pure artistry for the very first time. You admired that insight, so, hoping to see what his sagacious eyes discerned, you reproduced his venture into the tree’s depths.

“I feel a strong link to the Force when I’m near it,” you acknowledged aloud.

“An Uneti tree, you see before you. Imbued with the living Force, it is.”

Yes, of course. How could you have forgotten? Qui-Gon had told you that story many times. Of how all his life, he had never seen a real tree before, having spent his entire existence in the industrial world of Coruscant up to that point. That was, until his Master Dooku brought him to see one right here on these training grounds for the very first time. The famed golden tree that shone from the sheer will of the Force alone.

That was this Great Tree. The Uneti tree.

And much like Qui-Gon, this was your very first time seeing one too.

“Yet your connection feel, scarcely I did.”

A nervous pang brushed against your ribs as you absorbed his meaning. You continued to trace the monument’s golden veins with a penetrating stare, hoping to hide the resurgence of this particular doubt that had been clouding your mind since your session with Master Windu.

Why could no one truly sense your mental grapplings of the Force? It was possible that the Grand Master had answers to this persistent query.

“I don’t understand,” you stated earnestly.

The Master acknowledged your confession with an esophageal grunt. “Powerful, your mind is. Protected, it is, against searching powers. Taught you well, Qui-Gon has.”

Though, despite Master Yoda’s gentle praise, you couldn’t help the new flurry of numerous questions that knocked at the back of your mind like nosy neighbors.

This marked the second time a Master could only limitedly sense your signature, even when you weren’t attempting to bury your presence. In fact, after many years engaging in Force Stealth in an abundance of caution, you had finally taken a moment, an opportunity, to reach deeply into the Force when you felt its swirling openness around this tree. It was just as you did a few days prior, when you attempted to open your mind to the stern Master Windu. Yet again, despite the Force’s overwhelming circulation throughout these grounds, a Grand Master only a few meters away could barely sense your interaction with its rushing stream?

It didn’t make sense.

What stowed further disquiet, was his phrasing. Did he sense only the minimum zeal that all beings had within them? Would he not have believed you a Jedi without already knowing your mission?

What you did know, was that whichever readings were emanating off your life force, they were completely unintentional. How such a muted perception could be possible without purpose, you didn’t understand. But you were sure that, like always, you could rely on your meditation at a point later on to guide you through this mystery.

“Thank you, Master.”

Too entrenched in his own viewing of the Great Tree to respond, the wise Jedi steered purposefully toward its unwavering trunk, cane pecking a few times at the stone below as he maneuvered to flatten his palm and brawny three fingers against its satiny skin. His eyes drifted shut, brows creasing while he connected to the flow around him as you had just done moments ago.

As seconds elapsed, a slight breeze wheezed past the region, exciting the Great Tree’s leaves and tickling its twigs as a few golden flakes loosened and snapped from the cooling gust, sending them vacillating down to the feet of each idler.

“Powerful, as well, your sensitivity is,” he continued while his bridge with the atmosphere persisted. “22,300 Midichlorians, you have.”

You spun toward the Master, jaw slackened. Somewhat attempting to temper your stupefaction, you spoke quickly to the powerful Jedi entranced with the golden tree before you.

“Are you sure, Master? That seems way too high. From what I’ve read, most Jedi have around 10,000. That would be just over double the average.”

The senior Jedi gradually nurtured a thin smile, choosing this moment to disengage with the powerful being as he retracted his arm and feebly circled around, extending his now-opened eyes toward you.

“Checked three times, we did. Positive that you’re The Guardian, we are.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, not just due to the skewed essence of your skills and your sensitivity, but by his locution.

“Is my role as The Guardian tied to my Midichlorian count?”

The Master vocalized his consideration through a guttural sigh as he shook his head at his own being.

“Measured your connection, I did, many years ago. The same it is now, as it was then.”

You nodded, remembering Obi-Wan mentioning the Master’s awareness of your existence prior to your parents’ deaths. Counting your Midichlorian count would certainly explain how you were discovered by both Yoda and your former Master, however separate their independent discoveries may have been.

But even after decades, after hearing again of his encounter with you as a very small youngling and when your parents were still alive, you couldn’t help the long-suppressed questions that still lingered infinitely. They were starting to bubble to the surface.

Who were your parents? What were they like? Did they look like you?

And what really happened to them? Were they from your native planet? And where was that? Was it nearby?

But deep down, you knew that these were questions ill-suited for a Grand Master who held non-attachment in such high esteem. Qui-Gon had warned you of that.

Though despite being devoid of the occasion for which to ask these questions, there was still one, relevant and nagging inquiry that ached behind your eyes.

“I hope to inquire, Master, but how did you know? That I was The Guardian and not The Chosen One, I mean.”

The Grand Master rested both hands atop his cane as he addressed you. “First the Defender and then the Chosen, the hidden prophecy says. Found you first, I had. As had Qui-Gon, we must assume. And born of a father, you were. Has not one, Anakin and The Chosen One.”

You tracked as the slope-eared Jedi angled to his left while finishing the last sentence, determinedly deciding to saunter back up the cursory steps behind you both. Interpreting this as an invitation to follow, you briskly moved, veering to stroll beside him and the hallow pricks of his intervallically pattering cane.

“I understand,” you confirmed while maintaining a measured gate. “I want to assure you, Master, that I will do my best to fulfill the needs of that role.”

An approving murmur escaped his gruff throat. “And as a member of The Order, you will.”

You casually glanced down at the Master, hope tingling at the tips of your fingers as you tried to maintain an impartial complexion.

“Gone through your Trials, you have already,” he recognized while his ambling progressed. “The nine steps, you have faced in those ten years on Hoth. Well-versed in control and sense, Master Windu says you are.”

Master Yoda nodded deliberately, a whirl of justifications seemed to flutter behind his rational eyes as he appraised some grand notion internally. It must have been something he was already considering, you decided, as those thoughts rapidly settled across his countenance, soon converging into one, adamant verdict,

“Grant you the rank of Knight, I will. Though no ceremony, may you have. Secret, your past must remain.”

You nodded, allowing that shred of disappointment to whither back into the trail of Force shimmering behind your walking figure. In turn, you endeavored to focus on the honor of your new title.

Sacrificing was part of the job description. You knew that. But it didn’t mean that missing out on the same milestones that every other Jedi experienced couldn’t still affect you.

But, as always, you projected objectivity.

“I understand, Master. Thank you.”

His head bobbed faintly. “A Master, you must still have. Extended his services, Master Windu has.”

You chewed over his words in the pregnant lull that followed, filled only with the light taps of his cane, your gentle footfalls, and the distant, echoing maneuvers of the younglings following their muttering instructor’s guidance.

It was impossible to ignore the surprise that bounced around your skull. From what you recalled of your short time together, Master Windu didn’t seem to be that fond of your presence. Sure, it was clear that he appreciated your professionalism and attentiveness, and you likewise admired his dedication. But you believed from his austerity and Obi-Wan’s warnings, that you weren’t exactly the one person he wanted to spend more time with.

This was, of course, in addition to the downright fact that no one, not even a Jedi as powerful as Mace Windu, could replace your late Master. He would always be your guide. Your own protector. And you were certainly not ready to give away that title.

Not yet.

Especially when you were no longer the Padawan that needed to be assigned a Master.

Especially, when his death still felt so fresh.

“I’m honored by the offer,” you began. “But I am already a Knight, and Qui-Gon was already my Master. I’m not certain if it would be…”

You gave your next uttering careful thought.

“Appropriate.”

An appreciative, gravelly hum escaped the wise man’s throat. “Understand this, I do. Loyal to your past Master, you are,” he remarked thoughtfully. “But maintain appearances, we must.”

The wise Jedi peered at you, injecting a sense of submerged understanding into the drifting Force that encircled you both.

“Always your Master, Qui-Gon will be. Act only as an advisor, Master Windu will, while you adapt to The Order and the war. But be your Master to others, he shall be. Your connection to Qui-Gon a secret, it must remain. Tied to The Chosen One in death, he was.”

Again, the Grand Master repeated that private affirmation of his head to his innermost musings.

“And distance from Anakin, you should temporarily keep.”

Your brows furrowed marginally as you inquisitively studied the peppered green Jedi.

“Master?”

How were you supposed to protect The Chosen One if you weren’t allowed to be near him?

“Interact in the Temple, you may. But important, a short separation on the battlefield, is.”

The Jedi faltered mid-step, prompting you to halt as he tottered to face your taller form with a pensive dip in the brows.

“Hidden, your true nature, must remain, from Separatist and darker forces alike. A weakness in war, the Republic cannot have.”

“But they must know of Anakin’s identity,” You pointed out.

The elder Jedi ostensibly agreed. “Right, you are. But clear to both sides, The Chosen One prophecy is. Dark the looking glass, The Guardian’s role makes.”

You observed Master Yoda’s eyes gently wander beyond your figure as he sketched some ambiance of lively motion to your rear. Tracing his line of sight, you rotated toward the youngling drill that had continued through your conversation.

A moment of calm entered the space, briefly interrupted by another crisp puff of breeze against your tingling arms as the two of you looked on. A distant bird of some delineation poured out an eddy of melodies, painting the heavens with peppy pleadings known only to its innermost heart.

As minutes slipped by, and the two of you stood in subsisted temporary reticence, Master Yoda’s trained vision endured on the premeditative, processional aerobatics before him. However, no matter his concentration, one fleeting glance to your lower right was quick to reveal that the Grand Master was still transfixed by his innermost ruminations, ingrained deep within his ceaseless exploration of the Force.

“Still, learn about Anakin you must,” he breathed heavily while both of you monitored the younglings lunge through an underhand swipe, followed by a summersault parry as they twirled around invisible, sprightly opponents.

“Assign you to Master Kenobi’s missions once the Jedi are deployed again, we will. Learn about The Chosen One through his former Master’s teachings, you may. Understand his past, you must. Know him well, he does.”

Your longstanding grasp of The Guardian’s journey was dictated by the obligation to always be by his side. To always be there to protect him from the dark forces he is meant to destroy. It was something you felt cavernously in each one of your bones.

But in this moment, you were beginning to agree with the Master; finding it just as necessary to dedicate yourself to comprehending his history. The past that molded him into the Jedi he is today.

It was quite possible, that you would have failed to reach this conclusion had it not been for this morning’s experience in conjunction with the past few days’ interactions. Compared to all the other Jedi you’d read about, Anakin would certainly be classified as an enigma. His past was far more sullied than the greats of recent history. And while you were beginning to understand him more than you originally expected, you knew that there was still much to learn of that realm.

Hopefully, Obi-Wan would have the insight you lacked. You could already think of a few questions that you wanted to ask him, namely why occurrences like this morning’s were not quite properly addressed by his former Master.

But with all that aside, you couldn’t deny the more personal reason for finding hope in this arrangement. A few weeks or months working side-by-side with one of Qui-Gon’s past Padawans was sure to aid you in your own loitering convalescence from his death.

Besides, you were beginning to enjoy Master Kenobi’s company.

You recalled the past week. How you felt heartened by the gentleness of his guidance in the club the night before. And how you were beginning to value that again and again, Obi-Wan never failed to lend you a helping hand when you needed it most.

You wanted to explore these sensibilities further, first noting how open you’d become to appreciating his humor, and how he maintained it in even the most dire or upbeat of circumstances together. Despite the frequency with which it was at Anakin’s expense. But you could easily tell, in those snapshot moments, that it was all the more evidence of Obi-Wan’s fondness for his former Padawan. And you were certainly amused, at times, by how he showed it.

Most importantly, you were utterly convinced that you could count on him in a pinch. He’d saved your life once, and you knew you could trust him to be by your side again. Enough to put his own life on the line to defend yours.

Just as he did on Hoth, when Obi-Wan precariously dangled from the shuttle’s jagged doorway to grab your desperate, nearly lost hand.

And that warmed you.

“I appreciate the opportunity, Master Yoda. I will learn as much as I can.”

The two of you swayed tranquilly as another gust of cooling wind tickled a loose hair strand against your ear. You embraced this moment to study the younglings who maintained a neutral stance, training sabers in various arrays of readiness while they listened carefully to the Cosian Master as he explained their next activity in a faint voice. He was quick in finishing his elucidation, however, as the younglings readied to lean into their dominant foot, setting up for the impending motion.

Suddenly, a moderately sharp throb cautiously nudged at your forehead, mildly tapping like a pesky, repetitive din.

You brushed it off, deciding to instead anchor yourself on the drill ahead. It fascinated you, the absolute coexistence of their movements, which flowered between them through their complete connectivity to the environment. The troop rolled into their dominant side, following through as the back of their shoulder blade met the floor and propelled them once again into a standing, lunged position, all while maneuvering their sabers around each wheeling youngling. It was quite impressive, for Initiates so young. It was a move whose complication…

Another piercing spear at your forehead’s center, this time radiated out toward your sinuses like lightning desperately squeezed to ground itself. Your skull brimmed with pressure at each subsequent twinge. Somehow, the once insignificant throbs were quite rapidly transforming into an unpleasant nuisance. So much so, that you couldn’t help but massage your temples in stiff circles as you strived to lessen the distinct sting in your observance of the drill.

“Well, are you not?” Master Yoda inquired as he seemed to sense your discomfort.

You lowered your hands. “I’m alright, Master. I think I overexerted myself earlier, and I’m probably not yet quite used to this heat,” you gesticulated toward the beaming sun that still, surprisingly, felt like a comforting brush to your exposed skin.

“Rest, young Silvey,” he advised while pivoting toward your figure, motivating you to turn on your heel and face his center-held staff. “Strong in the coming weeks, you must be. Sense a shift in the Force, I do.”

You acknowledged the Jedi’s wise words before tilting into a gentle bow, permitting your body to salvage any extra energy in its small battle against your pervasive migraine.

“Thank you, Master,” you rose evenly. “Your guidance is much appreciated.”

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sashacolbylesbian · 1 year

Text

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

a small au sashnetra drabble, very loosely (get loose) inspired by the wigloose rusical (original inspo here x) , a very very big thank you to @purplejan for her notes and kind words 💕

The faint sound of children laughing outside carried on the breeze into the near empty classroom, specks of chalk dust shimmered in Sasha's peripheral vision as they flittered through the golden rays of the afternoon sun. Her eyes cast down, a rapturous audience to the dance taking place between the fingertips that delicately glide across her skin and her own as they seamlessly weave together. She couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the edge of her lips as she marveled at the sight, felt the way sparks trailed in the wake of Anetra’s touch as her thumb traced slow concentric circles along hers.

The chalkboard at her back, cool and solid, was the only thing keeping her grounded amidst the heady warmth that seemed to cloud her senses whenever Anetra was near. Her smile grows wider as her confession fills the small distance between them that their hands had been determined to bridge.

“I think my daughter's in love with you.”

The low chuckle that reverberates in Sasha’s ear in response does nothing to fan the warmth that seems to seep into her skin just by being in proximity to the other woman. Neither does the way Anetra’s free hand ghost along the curve of her jaw, tilting it upright to bring those rich brown eyes back to center focus, they’re alight with impish mirth and Sasha’s quickly succumbing to their gravitational pull.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm” she can all but nod, her nose brushing Anetra’s, hopelessly distracted. Their faces are close enough now Sasha's eyes can trace the lines of the faint scar that runs down Anetra’s right eye, fights the urge to follow that same path with her fingertips, her lips.

Sasha feels like spring has finally begun to bloom all around her since Anetra crashed into her life. All of a sudden, the colors that had seemed muted found their vibrancy once more, and Sasha felt as if her heart was working overtime to make up for all the time it had lain dormant.

“You're almost all she talks about now, how you're very smart and nice and pretty-" Sasha's cheeks bloom crimson as Anetra’s rich laugh envelops her once more and it's like she knows Kerri isn't the only Colby who's smitten with the new school teacher.

“Well, I'm very flattered, but I don't think it's going to work out between us," Anetra murmurs, her voice low and hushed as if sharing a secret, her attention's caught in the way the pink that now sits high on Sasha's cheeks compliments the curve of her bottom lip as she traces it with her thumb.

“No?" Head tilting coquettishly, it’s not a question but an invitation, making space for Anetra to fill.

“No.” Anetra can’t resist her smile, can’t resist Sasha. “Unfortunately for her I think I’ve already fallen for someone else, happened the first day we met actually, and now I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to think of anyone else,” her words are all but a whisper, they brush against Sasha’s mouth they’re so close now.

“Anetra,” the teacher's name falls from her lips like honey, it’s a plea, a hymn, it’s the sweetest thing Sasha's ever known.

Finally, Anetra's lips capture her own. Spots of color dance behind Sasha's eyelids, her hands sift through soft auburn locks, and she finds herself craning up to pull Anetra in even closer, like a flower reaching for the sun.

They’re pulled apart by the distant ring of a bell. Sasha’s eyes blink open and find center again in those warm brown eyes already focused so intently on hers, and even though they know their time is up Anetra’s forehead still comes to rest against her own, savoring a few more stolen seconds. It’s Sasha who finally finds it in herself to step away from the bubble they’ve built, knowing Kerri will be eager to return from recess and she doesn’t have a good excuse as to why she’s still here after dropping her lunch off thirty minutes ago.

“You know, you could always stay if you like, we’ve got shapes and colors at two.” Sasha’s responding laugh is light and melodious, it cements itself in Anetra’s chest.

“As tempting as that offer may be I really should go, but I’ll see you at three?”

“You know where to find me.”

“I do.” With a final smile over her shoulder Sasha’s gone, and Anetra’s already looking forward to the final bell at the end of the day.

#sashnetra #sasha colby #anetra #drag race fic

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boxwinebaddie · 9 months

Note

Wsg queen, I have a slightly nsfw question (I’m ashamed this is why it’s anon) sooo, I need to know what the situation with the hickeys is, like a scenario where Sheila sees Kyle with one!! Or a AU where Stan and Kyle have to keep their relationship a secret

Anyways love u Nina!!!

wsg queen ( or whatever monarch your gender expression suits, i was just mirroring you ) i have a slightly nsfw answer, lmaoooo! just kidding, it is very tame and nothing i wouldn't write into pep, tbh. they like...lightly elude to things...but i am a woman of class, i swear!

side note: i think it's really funny that you guys are worried about your identities and sending in anons because...if i am honest...i have almost no idea who each of you are just based on your tumblr urls. like, i can kind of guess, but i'm still convinced i will be wrong haha!

anyways, i am a show not tell writer girlie, so *collective surprised gasp* i wrote something...which really is just dialogue and occasionally some written action because i got too lazy to finish it...again * second surprised collective gasp* SHOCKER!

i kind of fused both together for you. i swear to god it's not risque, tumblr leave me alone, bitch! they are just a little spicy and make out a little in the beginning and flirt a lot! but mostly they are just bickering like an old married because they are! young and not married but also old and married when they are dating!!!!

like if anything it got sad for a minute there...yeesh! lighten up, nina!

but here you go, i hope this answers your morally and sexually dubious ask message. please...again...laugh. help. *jazz hands*

( also no none of this is spelled right, who do u think i am?!

edit: please be nice to me, i forgot to mention i wrote half of this on my bathroom floor, alternating k.pedialyte, apple sauce and crackers fighting food poisoning...always make sure to check your burgers are cooked all the way through my darlings! if they are half baked like my brain...you will be sick! and not in the cool way, i fear! xoxo - nina )

Any exit through the passenger side door of Stan’s steel blue Toyota Prius had been rendered inoperable by a tall, lanky redhead that had been pushed up against the inside of it by the boy that owned the vehicle, but belonged endlessly to the other boy…whose cherry-flavored chapstick he was now wearing and spreading quite liberally and lasciviously across hungrily boy-bitten lips. It had been a ‘Good Luck’ kiss which, of course, had turned into several, resulting in a Good Luck M a k e o u t session, that was progressing as quickly as the faux blonde's hands and mouth were, up the slope of Kyle’s cheek, down the slant of his jaw, before landing with great care…

…wear and tear…on…

“Mmmmmmmm. I—St—Stan, my neck! My neck! MY N E C K!”

Once the heavenly mint-scented mist that was clouding his sound, future lawyer judgment and the dirty window behind his wild auburn hair, which Stan was whispering sweet-spicy nothings into, Kyle swerved hard, taking a rigid right into the front of the dash before all Hell broke loose, nearly breaking said neck in the process.

“Hmmmm…Your neck, your neck, your ne~”

Stan had worshiped against supple, spotted skin before being disengaged from his place of prayer with a loud POP! and sailing straight into the seatbelt, now smeared with spearmint.

As he got his bearings, the breathless boy had made a disappointed and surprised sound somewhere near the sharp shoulder blade of his super best boyfriend -- who was currently being super lame -- and sassed with exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest -- across which were the dark green and white emboldened letters of Kyle’s last name and jersey number.

And while Kyle constantly reprimanded Stan for stealing his clothes…Stan constantly countered that he would return his best friend’s clothes if his boyfriend returned his stolen heart to him…

…No such luck.

“Excuse me! I wasn’t done!”

Stan had tried to argue ( complained, really ), attempting to resume his passionate, very handsome, very angry, personal art project, which earned him a swift, punitive pinch from the other boy’s hand which Kyle had flattened over the empty place where Stan’s alleged ‘stolen heart’ used to be as he banished him back to the driver’s seat ( and Super Best Boyfriend Jail ) for his indecency and insolence with steam practically billowing out of his ears and his jaw twitching aggressively.

Kyle Broflovski spoke slowly and sternly, if only to keep his breathing even enough to speak.

“...If you just did what I THINK you just did: you are v e r y done.

Done for.”

Then, reaching up towards the rearview mirror, Kyle tilted it towards him with a flinch, screwing his eyes harshly shut in silent, stalking fear, before mustering up the courage and constitution to look at his reflection with his eyes…which fell wide open with his jaw at the sore sight. Literally.

“Ohhhhh my FUCKING—“

Suddenly flooded with dread and horror, Kyle suctioned a hand over his mouth to trap the rest of that scream…and several obscenities as he turned his head towards Stan with a pained, robotic stiffness and a voice so frighteningly hospital sterile that was ten times scarier than him yelling.

“S t a n.”

The 'Stan' in mention…and trouble…( **again )…gulped loudly before smiling nervously over at his boyfriend, who looked particularly murderous ( and ravishing, unfortunately ) at that heated moment, before resting his chin on his hands…which he formed into a heart shape. Oops.

“...Yes, baby?”

Stan’s parked car SHOOK with the intensity of Kyle Broflovski’s crescendoing anger and disbelief.

“YOU GAVE ME A FUCKING HICKEY!?”

Stan played with the rings on his left hand. And dumb.

“Oh, myyyyy bad! Did you want another one? I know symmetry is good for your OCD.”

Flirting, however, did not work the way it usually did in this situation and actually ended up hurting him as Kyle slammed the lever of Stan’s leaned back driver’s seat forward and watched as it WHACKED! him right in the back of his head.

Served him right.

“OW! KYLE!” Stan whined morosely, cradling the back of his head like he hadn’t nearly cracked it several times in the mosh pit carelessly last weekend.

“STANLEY MARSH.” Kyle pronounced with spine-chilling severity, as for one minute of mercy, Kyle tore his glare off of Stan, who he would certainly tear to shreds soon, as he examined his once pale neck where a large purple bruise now swirled like a giant kiss-swollen black hole.

“Whaaaaat?!” He protested with a pronounced, pepperminty pout, acting angelic and gesturing to Kyle demonstratively as he relayed the crass, cheeky claim of: “I had to sign my masterpiece!”

Then, fashioning his hands into a sectioned square, like he was talking a polaroid picture, Stan framed his 'signature' with a smirk.

“Pretty good, right? Think I should apply to some art schools?”

Kyle…did not return his jest.

Kyle was livid at best as he wiped his sweaty, shaking hands on his freshly-dry cleaned slacks and toyed with the collar of his dress shirt, as the universe and Stanley Marsh toyed with his emotions…and the fate of his academic future with no remorse.

“YOU — I don’t — I don’t even have TIME to strangle you right now! My HARVARD INTERVIEW is in TEN minutes!”

He scathed behind his bared teeth, with his eyes darting between him and the building that bore his fate. Which…someone…had sealed with a kiss.

“Was that today? Ohhhhh nooooo~…” Stan scratched the top of his head and seemed very busy suddenly studying one of millions of rips in his ripped jeans, whistling innocently.

Kyle turned the key into the ignition just to lay on the horn for thirty whole seconds. Stan winced.

“Don’t even TRY IT, bitch! You literally drove me here!”

Kyle took the key out of the ignition, but still made sure to look his boyfriend dead in the eye as he said, with an anger that was sizzling off his skin,

“…But you know what you’re driving me right now?”

Stan fluttered his eyelashes frivolously and flirtatiously.

“…Absolutely wild with desire?”

“CRAZY! IN-FUCKING-SANE!”

“But in a, like, ‘You can’t stop thinking about me and want to kiss me so bad’ way, right?...Riiiight?”

Then, mirroring the prior comedic timing of Kyle yanking the lever to Stan’s seat forward, just as he leaned back, Kyle pulled it, instead, backwards and Stan crashed backwards. Again. He snorted.

“OW! FUCK. OFF! QUIT IT, DUDE!”

“I will when you quit S t a n - b o t a g i n g my COLLEGE INTERVIEWS!”

“I did NOT!” “If I was going to Stanbotage your college interview…I would have given you waaaaay more.” “Which there is still time for, by the way! I can get a lot done in ten minut—“

Stan tried to lean over the center console to finish what he had started, but Kyle deflected him with his long arms and a sheet…well, a brick really…of printed papers that had 170 possible interview questions and possible answers on it…that Kyle had researched religiously.

“Ah, ah, AH! Nice try! Stay back, you succubus!” He raised his nerdy script like it was a lit torch. “You have done more than e n o u g h.”

Then…Kyle hit the panic button, hypothesizing hyper-pathetically, vibrating with stress and anxiety.

“OhmygodOhmygodOhmyGOD! What am I going to tell them?! Sorry, Harvard! I was just minding my own business when I was tonsil-tackled by our hormonal high school football captain! Or—or that I was viciously ATTACKED by a really hot, fake blonde part-time record store employee, who also happens to be my full-time secret boyfriend who also decided to BRAND ME LIKE CATTLE BEFORE MY EXTREMELY IMPORTANT COLLEGE INTERVIE—“

Stan chimed in for…what would possibly be his last time. Ever. On Earth. He held up a pretty boy peace sign, hoping it would deter the violence that his words were about to incur upon him.

“…Sorry, ADHD. I only caught the part in the middle about you thinking I’m really hot.” “But will you say it again, anyways?”

Kyle h i s s e d and Stan blew a kiss in his direction. It was their regular call and response.

“You could always…put me down as a reference…for an extracurricular activity.” He offered generously.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at his super best friend turned super worst boyfriend suspiciously.

“You…an extracurricular activity?”

“Yeah, y-you know!”

Stan snapped his fingers with false confidence, rattling off as many large, impressive vocabulary words as he could remember…with…strange but surprising accuracy.

“O-One that requires…dedicated…t-team building, s-sometiiiimes…arduous…pun…punctilious! Uh! T-Time management…The…the bolstering of efficacious intrapersonal…relationships…vigorous cardiovascular exercise and…uh...Flexibility?”

Kyle studied Stan, dream boy, nightmare boy, in stunned silence for a while…somewhere between deep adoration and admonition.

“Okay…Very…good word choice, but very poorly timed execution.”

“That is noooooot what you said last ni—“

“If you value your l i f e, you will NOT finish that sentence.”

Stan smiled, winding right up.

Oh, he had been ready for this one.

“Good thing I don’t!”

Stan shot Kyle a shameless finger gun and wink combo which Kyle re-directed towards his own head, taking off the safety and emptying the imaginary bullets rapidly into his OWN skull, which he looked like he wanted to smash open with the car door.

“You know what? Forget Harvard. What am I going to tell my MOM!?”

“Tell her your ‘really hot’ boyfriend did it.”

Kyle’s eye twitched and his nostril flared as he glared unblinkingly.

“Okaaaaaaaaay, ouch. Tell her your really ugly, hideous boyfriend who you hate did it!”

“Can you please be SERIOUS about this!?”

“Oh, you want me to be serious? Okay: you got it! I think it’s seriously fucking ANNONYING that you are grilling me for ONE hickey when you’ve given me…You like MATH, Kyle! Let’s c o u n t."

Stan's voice took on the excruciating elementary snail pace and nauseating faux-sweetness that would probably be used by Steve on Blues Clues.

"One, twooooo, three…”

“Oh my GOOOOD, St—“

“Four, five —ooh, big fan of five — six…”

“Look, I—“

“Yeah, Let’s L O O K! Let’s take a good, long look because that’s seven, eight….wow, NI…You know we're getting pretty close to Double Digits, are you sure you want me to keep going?”

“Stan…it’s different.”

“Different how? Because you’re smart and I’m not?”

There was a beat of silence just long enough for Stan to beat himself up.

“It’s okay. You can say it. Everyone else already does.”

Kyle’s instinctive overprotectiveness of his SBF gave way to his blind anger.

“NO, it’s NOT! And I told you not to talk about yourself like that! You are Very Smart…B-Bro.”

Stan winced and Kyle felt the full brunt of that ‘Bro’ hit him in the chest. The…B word. The nice, affectionate one was…very easy for Stan to say and rolled off his tongue effortlessly, but felt impossible for Kyle to say, causing him to freeze up and switch every time at the last second.

Ironically, Kyle Broflovski could say words with seventeen syllables in five different languages, but try as he might, he could not gather the courage or vulnerability to call his boyfriend ‘B a b y.’

“ — And also a massive fucking pain in my ass!” He continued, deflecting. “No, it’s different because you can just say they're from Wendy and I…”

Stan exploded, but it was almost all self destructive. His voice was raw and tender like a wound. It made Kyle physically ache to hear it.

“I don’t WANT to say they’re from Wendy! I want to say they’re from Y O U !”

Silence spanned between them and it was worse than p o i s o n.

“The hiding, the sneaking around, the lying…I HATE this shit, Kyle! I fucking hate this!”

“And you think I DON’T?!” He snapped, feeling all his sanity and resolve crumble to ash with it.

“Like I haven’t waited my entire l i f e to date you! Like this isn’t the best thing that has ever happened to me — that you aren’t the best thing that ever happened to me — and I can’t tell anyone? I just have to keep being in love with you a secret like I’ve had to for my ENTIRE LIFE!? You think I want that!?”

The idea was so fucking twisted it made Kyle sick. He had to endure the horrible suffering that was being quietly in love with your best friend since Kindergarten and even though his best friend had finally returned his furtive feelings...he still couldn't be loud about it. But Kyle told himself that holding his tongue was worth holding Stanley Marsh. That holding him in his arms for hours in private was okay even if he couldn't even hold his hand in public for more than a couple seconds.

“It’s just — it’s too complicated right now! Do you know how much harder it’s going to be for you to get football scholarships if…If you and I…If we…People will TALK. Most of my FAMILY will talk! And they have big, stupid, CONSERVATIVE mouths that they will run on Facebook and…”

Stan was not a fighter, but if he was going to fight for something it would be L o v e.

Or, in this case, the love of his life…who was trying to put them six feet in the ground not even six months out the gate.

“...And you don’t think pissing off some of your family members and me losing a couple of dumb football scholarships is worth this?…US?!”

“You KNOW that’s not what I meant! And…AND!”

He huffed, out of breath and out his m i n d as he watched his boyfriend, soon to be ex-boyfriend ( not because they were going to break up but because he was going to be broken up into tiny, indiscernible smithereens by Kyle’s wrath ) rifle through his glove box to procure a small black bag resembling a pencil case, ignoring him.

Oh, he was really going to get it this time.

“And you know WHAT, Stan? This is just LIKE you! You would rile me up and pick a fight with me on The Most Important Day of My Life just to SPITE me and get back at me for something I can’t even fucking CONTROL! You are so CHILDISH! And IRRESPONSIB — And…And on…on top of me, v-very close to my…my face. W-What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing.” He breezed without a note of explanation as he adjusted his position, which at present was practically straddling his best friend-boyfriend, as he stationed his steady hands over his slender, shaking shoulders to try and lock him into place.

“Just stay still.”

Kyle was incredulous…and also extremely flustered.

At that moment it was very hard for his brain to discern whether he wanted to kiss Stanley Marsh or kill him. But his body was leaning towards that first one. He scoffed, now scarlet.

“No I — I think I will be Very Worried about what you’re doing! Stan, why…why are you…in my LAP!?”

“So I can get the best angle, obviously.”

He rattled off carelessly as he carefully inspected Kyle’s face and neck with the utmost collection and calm.

Which was…hilarious because Kyle was so nervous he thought he might be having a stroke.

“The best angle for WHAT? More s l u t t y, scandalous lip laceration of the skin above my larynx?...Stan, I only have FIVE minutes to salvage what I have left of the raging dumpster fire that is about to be my interview, you cannot SERIOUSLY BE—“

“K.P?”

Stan cooed, stilling Kyle’s body and breathing with his hand as it cupped the side of his face preciously. Reaching up, Stan languidly tucked a ginger curl behind Kyle’s freckled ear and rouge trailed down every blessed spot that Stan’s fingertips had kissed.

“You know I l o v e when you verbally eviscerate me…”

He quipped, using a new vocabulary word, but with a familiar friendly-fire taunt, half teasing, half tender.

“But will you please shut the f u c k up and let me do my thing?”

To which Kyle, did, in fact, shut the fuck up, but mostly because he couldn’t breathe as Stan did his thing…

Which Kyle had learned that day was m a k e u p. Trying to remain staunch in his irritation and not sway or swoon at the gentle, loving ministrations of Stan’s fingers against his skin, or how terribly cute he looked when he was biting his cheek in concentration, humming beautifully under his breath as he worked.

Then, with a snap! of a makeup pallet shut and a zip of his bag closed, Stan had announced…

“There. All done.”

Kyle studied his neck…that now hadn’t had even the whisper of a mark on it, completely shocked as he gawked at his boyfriend, secret best makeup artist and hickey obscurer.

“...Wow. You are freakishly good at that. Like…you can’t even t e l l. Maybe you SHOULD apply to some art schools…”

Stan took a deep breath...solemn and serious and...sorry. He looked up at Kyle sheepishly, stumbling through his apology.

“Ky…” “I’m sorry for…’Stanbotaging’ your college interview.”

“And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. You can be right…just this once.” “..But let’s not do this right now, okay? Maybe…after my interview, over lunch? When you’re not *nervous kyle throat clearing noise*…over me? Because…I’m not sure if you’re aware but…”

He allowed himself a rare moment of humility and humanity he saved solely for Stan who, Kyle looked up and down indulgently and deliberately.

“You can be a little d i s t r a c t i n g.”

“Been told once or twice. By a credible, red-head-able source.” He winked playfully before hopping off with a frisky lick of mint chip lips.

Stan seemed pretty pleased with that one.

But it was the calm before the storm because, in a flash, Kyle looked like he was going to pull out his hair, literally as he spiraled and backpedaled, head in his hands, fingers knotted into follicles.

“Fuck…I am second guessing this whole thing. I — Stan? What if they don’t LIKE me? What if I’m too awkward…and curly…and mean and…Orange!?”

Stan laughed ( it was a beautiful laugh and smiled it was a beautiful smile, yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up Nina, we know slkhdad )

“It’s true…you are awkward, curly, mean and so, so ‘Orange’.”

He reassured, straightening out Kyle’s tie and massaging his shoulders soothingly.

His voice bore this same low, healing light and gentle, loving lull.

“But you’re also…super funny, ambitious, put-together, independent, awesome and…P e r f e c t. You’re frustratingly perfect at everything you do…Be it…acing college interviews or picking secret super best boyfriends.”

Stan nudged him suggestively with his elbow and wiggled his eyebrow at him -- recently pierced by Kenny, lovely, but a little crooked -- which, bless him, made Kyle laugh and relax a little.

“Harvard…They’d be lucky to have you….South Park is lucky to have you…I’m…lucky to have you.” “I’m usually pretty good at sharing but…Not You.” “You’ve just always been My Kyle Pile, you know? I guess…it just pissed me off that you were going to be Harvard’s Matthew comma, Broflovski, c o m m a Kyle.”

The warmth of Stan’s precious nickname for his super best boyfriend and the cold, stiffness of Kyle’s name as it appeared on his government documents was extremely stark and drastic.

Patting his shoulders once, Stan grasped Kyle’s hand with a soft sigh, squeezing slightly.

“But it was stupid and crazy of me to try and fuck with your college interview…because I could give you one hickey or one million from the top of your head down to your toes…and it wouldn’t matter. They’d still love you.”

He dropped Kyle’s hands …and his expression at the idea, voice quiet, shivering stupidly. “They’d…”

“Hey…H e y.”

Before Kyle lost Stan to his dark, depressing thoughts, he caught his SBF's face gently in his hands, rubbing circles into his cheeks with his index fingers fondly. “I love you, okay? So much.” Kyle pressed a kiss to his forehead, as easy as breathing.

That was not the difficult part. “I love you, B—”

This was.

He took a deep breath and focused hard like the small utterance of these four little letters was more nerve wracking to Kyle than his entire twenty page dossier of interview preparations.

“...B a b y.”

Kyle whipped his head away with his heart pounding, knowing that his face ‘looked like his hair’ when he got furious or flustered, as Stan had one time drunkenly, pointed out, but before he could undo the child lock and roll out the car window, the two excited hands of said Stan were excitedly thwarting and tickling Kyle’s shoulders as he peppered his flushed face with a tiny armada of happy kisses.

“AAAAAAAAAAH! YOU SAID IT!!!!!!” “That was so cuuuuuuute!~ MwahmwahmwamhmWAAAAAA”

Kyle squirmed in embarrassment like a feral cat caught in a rainstorm, completely crimson.

“Once, o n e time! ONE! I — Off, off, O F F ! Quit Stan-handling me!”

He protested poorly, attempting to cling to the mere vestiges of his aloof, unfeeling evil boy persona which was dissolving with every slight skate of Stan's sweet lips against his now salty, stress-induced, sweat-dampened skin.

But then...Stan didn't really care for dessert.

“And you know…”

Kyle mused, beneath his breath, whose sweetened undercurrent Stan's was now caught in...along with his attention. Which was nothing short of a miracle.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t give me a hickey…” He started with a purr.

“Just not up here.” Kyle ran Stan's fingertip over his neck lightly.

“Not…up…t-then…Wh--Where should I?” He looked…genuinely puzzled and eager to please.

Kyle attempted to elaborate.

“You know…Lower.”

Stan squinted. Bless him, again. And in several awkward motions, tried to fix the angle of his face.

“Low…Er? L-Lower like...an-angling my head further down like thi--this? L-Like…”

“Nooo. Like…” Kyle leaned in and every sugared, honeyed word tasted like delicious cherry candy to Stan.

“You can give me as many hickies as you want…just go…”

As Kyle’s lips ghosted over Stan’s temple, his hot breath chilling the myriad of metallic piercings in his ear, which was an echo chamber for Kyle’s beautiful voice, he took Stan’s rough hand and ran it softly down over the slender side of his own ribcage with a seductive slowness before finally settling his super best boyfriend's hand on his hip, which he held like it was his God Given Purpose in life.

“L o w e r.”

“OH.” Stan coughed so loudly and violently that he almost reached for Kyle’s inhaler. “O-Okie dokie!”

Thumbs up. Oh my god. Fucks sake. Could he be more desperate and pathetic?

Apparently he could as bargained ( badly ),

“Are…Are you sure you don’t want to re-reschedule your interview? I think that extra-curricular activity might need some rekiss, I-I mean, revis—“

Kyle laughed, shaking his head. But...if you looked closely enough, and Stan often did, you could see the oft scowling, misanthropic, miserable boy smile an equally rare and ravishing Kyle S m i l e.

“GoodBYE, Stan!”

“Byeeeeee, Kyle!”

“HYH.”

Kyle held up half a stolen heart…

...And before he drove away, Stan r e t u r n e d it.

“H Y H.”

#dont laugh at me i wrote this in like a couple hours #also i should start a TW on my account for 'stan being annoying'#tw stan being annoying #tw pep style dating and being a little spicy i guess #but mostly bc theyre abt to kill eachother all the time or kyle is #but also UR HONOR UR HONOR UR HONOOOOOR THEY ARE IN LOOOOOOVE #the hyh being their ily is very important to me #anyways they are very precious to me rip i hope u laugh hyh i think theyre so funny like smh boys embarrasing me!#also ALSO YES I THINK KYLE IS RORY GILMORE AND IS OBSESSED W GETTING INTO AN IVY #BECAUSE HE THINKS HE HAS TO AND HAS NO PURPOSE IF HE DOESNT #AND IT SCARES THE ACTUAL FUCK OUT OF STAN SO HE IS A MENACE TO SOCIETY ABT IT #BY SOCIETY I MEAN KYLE #kyles rizz at the bottom...ridiculous...help...like bestie u dont have to kill him oh my god #also kyle making stan use this english vocab...iconic behavior i luv them #stan vc Okie Dokie!#tears in my eyes #no rizz no ass no game

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cloudcountry · 8 months

Note

on the content creator post: SO TRUE ABOUT THE CHEATING JOKES BEING HORRIBLE. ESPECIALLY IN SELF-SHIP SPACES!!

There are jokes about people saying they'll steal someone's F/O (its even worse if the character has a rabid following of insane fans)

Sometimes people will be commenting on a self-ship post to pair themselves with the same character as OP- like, please make a new post

-And then some people say some boundary pushing things about sharing F/O's (sometimes even treating it as if they're in a poly relationship with them and OP sharing the F/O which can be so uncomfortable???-)

LITERALLY THIS OMGGG THANK YOU FOR THIS

i have a lot of thoughts about this so i will try to organize them. and a LOT of personal experiences.

when i first started out and was really fixated on twst, i didnt really mind that everyone only knew me for azul. i loved him a lot and i still do, so i was okay with it!! but then i started getting into other fandoms and immediately became worried because i was the azul kisser and if i stepped outside that role i thought i'd be met with resistance. it was like azul was my whole personality.

and yk what i wasnt wrong!!! because when i first started talking isaac the immediate reaction wasnt "oh hey thats cool," it was "AUBURN YOURE CHEATING ON AZUL???" and that just. Oh that made me feel really bad.

NOW I WILL SAY i kept telling people i didnt like the cheating jokes and everyone stopped immediately. so thank you guys for that ^^ but it still doesnt erase the fact that azul and me are like a set that cant be separated on here, and while thats very endearing and sweet, it also made me feel very confined.

ANOTEHR THING. ive had people tell me they'd steal azul away from me before and back then i tried my best not to let it show how much that hurt my feelings. but WOW did it hurt. it made me feel like i had to compete to earn the affection of a guy that doesnt even exist, even though we all could have just been normal and liked him together. thats why "fighting over azul" has been added to my icky boundaries list. you cant steal him away from me, just like i cant steal him away from you. other people like azul. im just one person in a crowd. "stealing" is pointless and childish and just hurts other people's feelings.

im getting so many emotional releases today. but you're 100% correct rubia. its exhausting.

#rubia <3

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fics-n-stuff-n-stuff · 8 months

Text

Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia Gray Fullbuster/Juvia Lockser Levy McGarden/Gajeel Redfox /

all fairy tail characters basically - CharacterAlternate Universe - Modern with Magic / Fluff and Angst / Romance / Friendship / developing feelings / Lucy has new spirits I checked constellations and gave her ones I thought were cool

Summary

Lucy is thrown into a world she didn’t know existed. Join her as she unravels this new world full of magic that brings adventure, romance and destruction along with it.

———

Just a modern re-telling of Fairy tail following its arcs with a few twists and turns along the way💞

You can also read it here -

———————————————

Chapter 8

Lucy woke up in a cold, dark cell. Her head was pounding, her lungs aching.

Shaking off the confusion she struggled to remember what happened and how she got there.

Looking around, she tried to focus and figure out where the hell she was, but it was dark and she could barely see past the bars in her cell.

Turning her thoughts over, the last thing Lucy remembered was disconnecting her call with Natsu, and the next thing she knew she was swallowed by a vortex of water.

The mage seemed to have snuck up on her, catching her off guard. It was a woman with blue hair who was able to manipulate water.

And turn into water, if what she remembers is correct, she was losing oxygen fast.

She tried to fight her way through the water and tried to get free, but it was no use.

Her keys were in a bowl by her bedside, her whip in one of the drawers. She hadn't planned on doing anything but relaxing for the day after her rambunctious night out.

Shuffling around, Lucy stood up and started pacing back and forth in her small cell.

Who had abducted her? And why did they take her? Natsu said something about a rival guild being the one to hurt Levy and the guys, but she'd just joined Fairy Tail.

Why would they take her of all people?

If they were even the ones behind this, it could be someone else entirely.

The sudden sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls turned Lucy's attention back to the cell door. A few moments later a tall man, dressed like he'd just got off set filming for Harry Potter, appeared on the other side of the bars. Smirking at her.

He had a menacing aura surrounding him, auburn hair was hidden underneath a ridiculously purple pointed hat, and he was also wearing a purple cape, with fake bat-like wings attached to it.

'Seriously, he looks like a stereotypical bad guy, how drab.' Lucy thought as she looked at the man, waiting for him to speak.

"Ah Miss Heartfilia, you are awake. Good, Welcome to my guild." He spread his arms "Or rather my guild's prison cell."

The man stopped in front of her cell and leered at her. "My name is Jose Porla, I am the master of Phantom Lord. Apologies for your accommodations, but we had to take the necessary precautions, considering you are a Fairy Tail Mage."

Lucy was petrified, frozen in place the moment her last name passed his lips. She tried to school her features and show no fear. But she was petrified.

What was happening here?

"What do you want from me?" She managed to grit out, hands clenching at her sides as she tried to compose herself.

Because that's what it always came down to, he wouldn't have used her last name if he didn't want something from her, or rather, the benefits her title could provide.

The man let out a laugh at her question

"My, my, where are your manners Lady Heartfilia? What would your father think, if he saw you." The man taunted her.

"I am no lady, I can assure you. And my father can go rot in hell, as far as I'm concerned." She spat out at him, her anger coming out at the mention of Jude Heartfilia.

"Oh, well then aren't you a lucky one? It's a good thing, that I have no intention of handing you over to him like I was hired to do." He said as he unlocked and opened the door of her cell before coming in.

Lucy felt like someone poured a bucket of ice down her shirt.

Her father.

Her father hired a magical guild to deliver her back to Crocus.

He knew where she was, he knew and he simply sent someone to retrieve her. It shouldn't surprise her, not really, he was used to letting other people handle his business.

Backing up until her back was up against the wall, Lucy tried to put as much distance between her and the older man as possible.

"You attacked Levy, Jet, and Droy because my father hired you to bring me back?" Lucy's voice was trembling, heart sinking to her stomach.

It was her fault. They got hurt because of her.

"Causing pain to the pathetic fairies and Makarov was a bonus." He laughed cruelly, putting his hand in his pocket as if to retrieve something.

"But once Juvia brought you back, along with these-" The man held out his hands and showed her the chain holding her golden and silver keys in his possession.

"I realized your father was holding out on me. You are not just a runaway, but a genuine spirit summoner, and in Fairy Tail of all places. Who would've thought?" He let out a laugh before continuing his rant.

"Now that I know, I've decided to keep you. I will tell your father you were unfortunately killed in the crosshairs of a guild battle." He put the keys in his cloak pocket, the sinister smile never leaving his face.

"I'm sure you will be of great value to me, and if not, these will fetch a pretty price." He patted the pocket where her keys were and Lucy almost jumped him at his thinly veiled threat towards her spirits.

"I will never willingly help you, you twisted son of a bitch." Lucy spat at his feet, making the man furrow his brows in disdain and slap her across the face.

Lucy fought the urge to clasp her throbbing cheek as she turned her head back to look at the vile man in front of her. She will not show weakness.

"How dare you spit at me you ungrateful little tart. This is your reality now, as far as I'm concerned, you have two options."

He moved suddenly Lucy could barely react and a blast of dark purple matter was coming toward her, but instead of hitting her, it blasted the wall behind her, blowing a hole in the wall and revealing how high up they were.

Lucy jumped forward at the impact catching herself and, looking back she could see debris falling to the ground and shattering.

"You can stay here, or you can jump. The decision is yours, Miss Heartfilia." He said with a smug smirk on his face.

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

Natsu was never known for keeping his cool.

Maybe, it was because he was a creature of fire, or maybe because his instincts always lead him to triumph, so he never saw the need to stop and think things through.

He was the punch now, ask questions later kind of person, and having to sit around listening to most of Fairy Tail argue with each other about how they should handle Phantom Lord was close to tipping him off an already nonexistent ledge.

When he burst through the door earlier that day shaking with rage and announcing that Lucy was abducted, all hell broke loose with the guild.

The attack on their fellow nakama was bad enough, and hearing one of their own was taken had them ready for war.

The master was able to round everyone up, standing on the railing of the second floor.

"Shut it you brats, we have a serious situation on our hands." His voice boomed through the guild, immediately silencing everyone.

"Three of our own have been severely injured by Phantom Lord l, and they have now kidnapped Lucy!" Natsu could see the tension and anger radiating from the short man.

Makarov Dreyar was not an easy man to provoke, but if you hurt his children, you will feel his wrath.

"This was an unjustifiable attack and I will not have anyone hurting my children and getting away with it. Now I want you all to ready yourselves for battle. Mira, prepare a portal to Oak Town!" The master ordered before disappearing into his office, everyone cheered and scrambled to get ready for their upcoming fight.

All Natsu could do was stow in his anger, he couldn't stop thinking about Lucy.

'Was she okay? Why did they take her in the first place?'

He also felt guilty because she wanted to go to the guild, and maybe if he weren't so insistent on her waiting for him, she would still be here, still be safe.

Maybe if they were on the phone when it happened, he would've gotten there faster.

Unbeknownst to Natsu, the temperature surrounding him started rising turning the air humid, almost sticky, as he went around in circles in his head.

"Natsu?" He heard a voice call out, bringing him out of his head.

"I told her to wait for me. She wanted to come to the guild and see Levy, she was so worried when I called her." He turned to look at Erza as he spoke, almost trembling with the need to run.

To run to Oak Town, find Lucy, and burn everyone involved to a crisp. "But I told her to stay in her apartment because we didn't know how dangerous it was." He let out a depreciating laugh at the irony, the fire inside him burning to escape and unleash its fury.

"This is not your fault. We don't even know why they're doing all of this, so how could you have known they'd take her?" The armored woman tried to console him, going to pat his shoulder and almost dislocating it with her strength.

"I should have been there to protect her."

This time, Erza hit the back of his head, hard.

"Tch, idiot. She doesn't need you to protect her. Lucy can protect herself, I've made sure of it." She said proudly, tilting her chin upwards. "Her fighting skills, while still needing work, are sufficient. Though she is still hesitant when we spar, I am confident that if put on the spot against an enemy, she could hold her own." The scarlet mage lectured him.

'Jeez, she almost knocked my head off.' Natsu thought with a slight pout on his face as he rubbed his head where she hit him.

"I don't need ya to tell me that Luce is strong. I know that. It's just, I don't know, an instinct of sorts that is screaming at me for not being there for her." He tried to explain, turning his head to look at the side as he tried to regulate his emotions.

It was a difficult concept for him. He's never felt this way before. He loves all his Nakama and is willing to do anything to protect them. But there is something different about the way he feels about Lucy.

It challenged him and drove him in a way he'd never experienced before, and he couldn't understand it.

Looking back up at Erza, he saw a warm, understanding look in her eyes. She went to pat him on the shoulder, gentler this time.

"We will get Lucy back, and you will get the chance to raise hell on the people that took her." The older girl said with determination, leaving no room for doubt.

Natsu straightened his posture and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you." He told her.

She nodded back at him, squeezing his shoulder before turning to leave and prepare for the fight.

Natsu, feeling a bit better, went to find Happy, who will be staying back with Charla and some of the younger guild members with Wendy overseeing them.

"Hey Happy, we're about to leave, so I wanted to say bye. You're gonna be okay here?" Natsu asked his little buddy as he approached the table he was sitting at.

"Aye, we'll be waiting for you here when you get back! Maybe after, we can make Lushi come fishing with us again?" The blue exceed shot out, and Natsu smiled at his optimism, knowing it was highly unlikely that Lucy would go fishing with them in the middle of December.

"Sure thing buddy, you keep the guild safe while I'm gone, yeah?" Natsu stretched his hand to pat Happy on the head.

"Aye, sir!" The cat exclaimed nuzzling into his hand.

Natsu smiled at the blue cat and turned his gaze to where he could feel Wendy, who was trying to hide her trepidation behind a small smile.

He left Happy to his antics in trying to woo Charla and approached the younger girl, startling her as he put his hands on her shoulders, leveling her with a firm gaze.

"Don't worry Wendy, you stay here, look after Levy and the others. We'll get Lucy back and kick Phantom's ass, you'll see!" He told her, and some of the tension in her lessened at his words.

Giving him a form nod, she smiled.

"Go and give them hell!"

"Aye! I'm all fired up now!" He shouted, fist pumping in the air, and fire wisping from his mouth as he went to where the rest of the guild was gathering by the doors, readying to go through the portal.

Mira and the master at the front of it.

"All right ya brats, when we step through this door and attack, we violate the guild's treaty, but given what Phantom has done to us, the treaty is as good as void." There was a unanimous acclamation through the crowd at the old man's words as he continued with his speech.

"No one attacks Fairy Tail and gets away with it! Now get ready my children, for we are going to war!" Master Makarov exclaimed, and with the chants and roars from the rest of the guild, he stepped through the portal, everyone following behind.

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

Lucy was at a loss for what to do as she stood in her cell, cold wind creeping from the crater that was blown through the wall.

The vile man was examining her with a smirk on his face, knowing she wouldn't dare jump, and that he had her right where he wanted her.

"I'll let you mull your choices over, but don't take too long, or I'll have to resort to a more unsavory approach." Tipping his hat toward her, he left the cell, locking it on his way out and leaving Lucy trapped, between steel bars and a hundred-meter fall.

The moment the clacking of his heels was out of earshot, Lucy fell to her knees in despair, tears spilling down her face.

She didn't know what to do.

She was sure that by now Natsu knew she was missing, and maybe they'd put together who took her, maybe they'd even take down Jose and his guild.

But that still left her father.

The man responsible for all the chaos and pain caused to the people she'd grown to love in these short months.

He hired someone to take her back once, he'd do it again if they managed to take down Phantom Lord and she refused to go back to him, She would not go back to that life.

And if Fairy Tail fails, (she couldn't bear thinking it, but a contingency plan was always a good thing.) there was no way she was letting that man use her and her spirits, she would rather die than have that happen. Mind made up, Lucy straightened her spine, wiping the tears from her face.

She stood up, feeling slightly more composed, and waited for Jose to return.

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

The moment they stepped foot out of the portal door and into the clearing a little way out of Oak Town where the Phantom's building was located, all hell broke loose.

While there were the standard wards to keep out any curious humans, that could easily be taken down by a determined mage, there also appeared to be guards placed in front of the castle-like structure ahead who seemed to be expecting them.

All of Fairy Tail charged with a roar, handling the guards with ease before breaking the door down with a bang and storming the rival guild.

"Where is Lucy?" Natsu bellowed, body ablaze as he went around and bulldozed everyone in sight, not giving any of them a chance to answer his question.

The rest of the guild was fighting as well, everyone feeling the need to avenge their fellow guild mates and get Lucy back.

Erza was wielding her heavens wheel armor, a hundred swords raining down on her enemies.

The chill of Gray's magic was barely noticeable with how angry Natsu was, but he could still see from the corner of his eye the ice princess knocking people out left and right.

Elfman transformed into a monster, a mix between a bull and a bear, hulking his way through the guild.

Everyone else spread out, equally ferocious in their own way.

In his peripheral vision, Natsu could see the Master climbing the stairs, in search of someone. Leaving him be, he charged at another mage demanding once more to know where Lucy was.

The man was unconscious before he could answer and Natsu felt his anger rising, he tried sniffing her out, but there was an onslaught of magical residue and too many people for him to pinpoint anything.

There was also something pulling him out of the building, telling him Lucy wasn't there.

Like how he knew she wouldn't be in her apartment.

He was about to charge at another mage and demand answers when a steel rod appeared in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Gihi, the little fairy's all riled up." A raspy voice came from above Natsu, who tipped his head back and looked up to see a man with long dark hair sitting atop one of the ceiling beams.

The steel morphed back into an appendage and the mage jumped down to stand a few meters from Natsu, hands crossed as he smirked at him.

"That little blonde piece of ass isn't here."

He sneered at Natsu, who bristled in response and found himself at a crossroads, not knowing whether he should listen to the instinct yelling at him to run and search for Lucy or to stay and fight this spiky-haired bastard.

"Where the hell is she?" Natsu shouted at the man, who only laughed in response.

"Probably long gone, now that you're here." He snickered out, shoulders shaking.

Mind made up, Natsu sent a fire blast towards the insufferable mage and booked it out the doors of Phantom before the other man could retaliate.

He could hear several of his Nakama calling after him but he paid no mind to them, he didn't know where he was going, but he was certain it would be wherever Lucy was.

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

The chill was starting to get to Lucy as she waited in her cell.

There was a shockwave a few minutes back that went throughout the building, and she was certain it was Fairy Tail.

She had rushed to the bars, straining herself to try and hear any commotion, or if anyone would approach.

After a few minutes of silence, she heard the same clacking of boots and knew it was Jose.

Taking a few steps back, she mulled over her next course of action.

"It seems things have escalated quicker than I anticipated, we need to go." He told her as he unlocked her cell, sauntering toward her casually, acting as if she wasn't here against her will.

A sudden anger encompassed Lucy at his attitude, there was a boiling rage that didn't quite feel like her own flowing from her core.

Embracing her in a familiar way, making her feel warm. It gave Lucy the needed courage to go for the attack.

Moving suddenly, taking the amber-haired man by surprise, she grabbed him by the shoulders digging her fingers into his cape keeping a firm hold.

She used the leverage and kicked him between his legs as hard as she could, making the man yell out in pain and double over, clutching his crotch.

Lucy moved quickly, reaching into his pocket she took her keys out and walked backward and away from the keeling man on the floor.

"You little bitch! Get back here!" Jose shouted at her as he went to stand, and in a move of pure panic, or maybe stupidity she wasn't sure, Lucy found herself turning to jump out of the tower.

Her heart was racing as the wind whipped around her, hair flying everywhere, keys clutched to her chest as she fell, hearing Jose's screams on her way down.

'I can feel him, I know he's down there, I can feel him!' Lucy thought to herself as she plummeted to her death.

That anger, the heat that accompanied it, it had to be him.

"Natsu!" She yelled as a final precaution, mind flashing through the last few months of her life in Fairy Tail as she braced herself for the worst.

* ********* ********** ********** ********* *

Natsu realized he was running to the back part of the castle, where in the distance there seemed to be a tower of sorts with a wall blown through, he could see debris on the ground from where he was as he approached.

Knowing that's where Lucy was, Natsu increased his speed, dread filling his body.

As he looked up once more at the hole in the tower, he saw a figure throw itself off the ledge and his heart sank and he prayed it wasn't her.

A flash of gold glinted in the air as he watched her fall.

"Fuck!" Natsu exclaimed at the sight. 'The hell is she thinking?'

"Natsu!" He heard her scream and instantly increased his speed, adrenaline pumping through his body as he prayed to whoever was out there that he makes it in time.

As he watched her near the ground his panic arose, and he found himself strained as he sped up and in a desperate move used his fire as a boost.

Natsu jumped, managing to catch Lucy mid-air in the last second.

His arms wrapped securely around her waist, and her head tucked in his shoulder, he turned their bodies so he would take the impact as they tumbled to the ground.

"Lucy? Luce, are you okay?"

Natsu called out once they hit the ground, pulling his hands away and grasping her shoulders gently, trying to look her over for injuries, but she refused to budge.

He could feel her shaking in his arms, and the anger returned at the thought of someone hurting his Luce and making her cry.

Looking up at the hole in the tower he vowed to burn them all.

The sound of her laughter diminished any negative emotions from him as he turned to watch her lean away from him and throw her head back.

He watched, mesmerized by the way her hair cascaded down her back, glowing as the sun hit it, making it look like melted gold.

The way her eyes were shining with mischief.

His hand moved on its own accord and brushed itself through her hair, It was soft, a little tangled from the wind, and he was completely in awe. She looked beautiful.

Free.

He wanted her to always be like this.

"I'm sorry, I know none of this is funny." She wiped a tear from her face as she tried to reign her laughter, looking at him with mirth in her eyes she chuckled again.

"I just jumped out of a fucking tower, and, and you caught me." She giggled at her words and Natsu's smile warmed as he watched her.

Moving his hand from her hair, he traced the side of her jaw. "I'll always be there to catch you, weirdo." And he meant it. "But don't make a habit out of jumping off buildings, the fall wasn't kind to my back." Natsu told her, moving his other hand to rub a sore spot on his back.

Lucy winced at his words, eyes turning sad, and all the previous happiness was gone.

She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault!"

Taken by surprise, Natsu didn't know what to do, he was never good at consoling people.

He decided after a few beats to scoop her into his arms and rub her back comfortingly.

"Hey, none of this is your fault. Phantom Lord did this. They're the ones to blame."

He told her, but she only cried harder at his words.

"You don't understand, I don't want to go back!" Her voice was muffled by his shirt but he still heard her, heart dropping at her words.

"What do you mean you don't want to go back?" He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice but something gave him away as she lifted her head to look at him.

"No, no, it's not like that! I don't want to go back home!" She exclaimed through her tears, waving her hands in front of him, nearly missing his face in her haste.

"My father hired Jose to deliver me to Crocus."

Her voice was small and shaky, and Natsu felt the boiling anger returning with a vengeance at her words. "What?" Was the only thing he managed to get passed his teeth.

Lucy's tears were flowing down her cheeks, glistening in the sun as they fell. He watched her take deep breaths to calm herself before she tried explaining.

"They took me from my apartment, you know that already. I woke up in that tower and the master of the guild told me that my father was the reason all of this happened!" Her voice cracked and Natsu moved to clasp their hands together, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"He hired them to take me back home! I don't want to go home Natsu, please." She choked on a sob at the end of her plea, and Natsu felt like someone was crushing his heart as he watched her.

He was stunned by the fact that her father would hire thugs like Phantom to kidnap Lucy, the fact that he would hire anyone.

He moved slowly, not wanting to startle the crying girl, and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into his chest.

"You're not going anywhere you don't want to. No one's gonna force ya out of Fairy Tail, and as for these clowns-" he pointed to the tower behind them. "They've wanted to take us down for a long time, if this didn't happen they would've found another excuse to attack us. None of this is your fault."

He could hear her breathing steady and she looked up at him, red-eyed with puffy cheeks from crying.

"But, my dad-" She started but Nastu shot her down.

"You're not responsible for what he does." He cut her off, bringing one of his hands to wipe the tears off her cheek.

She offered him a strained smile but relaxed in his hold.

"Come on, let's go find everyone else and see what happened with the fight between Phantom." He told her pulling away slowly he helped her stand and took her hand in his.

They walked slowly and in silence, as Natsu let Lucy gather her feelings. Not wanting to push. He had a lot of questions, but they could all wait until she felt calmer and was safe in the guild.

As they neared the front of the castle, they could see the mayhem inside and outside of the building.

Unconscious bodies of Phantom and Fairy Tail mages alike sprawled everywhere, the rest were fiercely fighting. Amongst all the pandemonium they saw Erza calling for Fairy Tail to retreat.

They could see Lisanna crying as she looked down at Mira, who was holding Master Makarov's unconscious body.

He looked unearthly pale.

Picking up the pace, Natsu and Lucy hurried to where the guild was gathering,

"What the hell happened?" Natsu asked gruffly as they stopped a few meters from them, he felt and heard Lucy's gasp, her hand clutching his tighter as she looked at the old man lying in Mira's hold.

"We need to get back to the Guild, he needs medical attention fast!" Mira shouted, focusing on the man in her arms.

Someone opened a portal, and everyone started rushing through it, taking their fallen Nakama with them, leaving Phantom Lord behind.

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thesoulesscollection · 2 years

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Scenario 2 (the dancing one I think) and taunter 17 with Right and Henry. I am aware this is ridiculous

Hey, I really had fun with this one so thank you for sending it in. My ask box is always open for anyone to flood it.

I kind of did this outside the box with this one so I hope you'll don't mind and still enjoy it. It's not too serious here mostly comedic

2) Why are you taunting me? Stop— stop dancing. We’re in the middle of a fight.

17) “This is stupid. Goodnight.”

Right grumbles under his breath. Already annoyed as this wasn't going anywhere as he'd initially planned at the start.

"Why are you taunting me? Stop- stop dancing. We're in the middle of a fight" Announced irritably, Right couldn't believe his eyes at the outright goofiness of the clan's newest recruit, "As your trainer I need to make sure you're prepared for anything. So you can't be doing this"

"I'm not so don't be so uptight, dude. Just relax with me and have fun. That's what I'm doing and it's working for me?" All the while Henry chuckled out seemingly not caring in the slightest, "And this is a test trail 'fight' anyways. Nothing serious here. Besides, it's working in my favor, isn't it? You can't manage a hit on me"

It was true whenever Right attempted to throw a punch, the other man ducked out of the way in time with a quick, smooth move. The new recruit is an impressive dancer though his unique moves weren't Right's thing when it's being used against him it got annoying. Henry kept brushing up against him, hips swaying easily with the motion of the wind. Irritating as it was, Right impressed although wouldn't admit to it out loud when watching the man's body move like he weighed nothing in mildly peaked interest.

"Again. This is meant to be taken very seriously, Stickmin" Right exclaimed, eye twitching, frowning deeply when harshly jabbing his robotic finger into Henry's chest.

"'Ey. What got you so tense? Maybe I can do something then to help you out?"

"Actually listening to me and doing what you're been told would do me wonders. I'm trying to teach you how to fight"

Rolling his eyes, Right didn't notice that Henry was walking towards him, a wide, knowing grin on his face then he felt it. A pair of smooth cool hands firm on his hips finally caused him to still. It'd positioned him to lean backwards, eye wide in shock upon getting stuck in an unstable stance as the recruit stood him above.

"Hm. I could and I will. But this sounds so much better, dontcha think? I saw you were intrigued in how I moved back there. I can teach you if you want?"

Remaining stiff, awkward, his arms now glued to his sides, Right gulped, unsure to what he should do as he glared over at the other man brushing his auburn red locks from his face, "I. Uh"

"The look on your face is cute, Red. I like it" Henry complimented.

"G-get your. Hands off me" He says in a whisper yet he didn't make the first move rather stayed unmoving, "I. I'll make sure you regret it"

"Don't seem too confident there?" While running his hands on Right's hips though the recruit didn't plan to go further leaning in, suggestively wiggling his brows, "You're not saying no to it? I can show you some of my moves, yeah? May help you in the long run. Though I can pull back. Stop this if you don't wanna"

Turned silent, Right looked away, his sun-kissed, freckled face scrunched up in an unreadable expression. Almost like he was contemplating something he's unsure of. Henry's actions are subtle if politely asking for his permission to continue, to teach him to dance, and how to melt the pent up tension. His imagination then went crazy, Henry being soft with him, leading the way, nobody interrupting them as the thief would likely than not at the end pull him in which may lead to more. It made him want to relax for once, allow someone else to be there for him acting as a protective shield.

"You're thinking about it, huh?"

The one-sided, not too serious argument was seemingly forgotten about by the pair until Right can vividly remember he lightly pushed the man away. Henry wasn't hurt, allowing him to steady himself while he grinned, hands held up to appear non-threatening.

"This is stupid. Goodnight"

Feeling his scruffy cheeks, running his fingers down he noted the obvious warmth became unbearable so he hadn't mustered up the strength to face the newbie when making his way to the door.

"Alright. We can try this tomorrow. Night, love"

His whole face totally engulfed in heat at the pet name, Right immediately wiped his head around, opening his mouth to say something until deciding otherwise, he stomped out, melting into his jacket's collar he heard the man's roaring laughter in the background.

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ryker-writes · 10 months

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hey hey ! how you doing? hope you're doing good ,i just wanted to say that i really like your works and that it's really cool and nice

but i did want to participate in the flower event hehh

so describing myself : i'm an introvert,i te'd to be really shy and i wait for people to come to and not the opposite. i get anxious really easily,i overthink and bottle everything inside but the moment i'm comfortable i'm a real dumbass . i like to tease and just talk nonstop ! i like trying new stuff like : learning all the countries on the map, drawing , diamond painting, making necklaces... but get frustrated and stop when i don't get it perfect in the first try 🤡

i don't really know what to talk about but i guess this sums up how much of a handful i am 😅

thank you in advance if you end up doing mine and i wish you a good day :)

I'm doing well! Thank you! I've noticed you a while back when you've liked my posts and I've seen you over on Auburn's blog too! I actually still have a request from you that I'm going to get too soon! You actually sound a lot like me, and please don't think of yourself as a handful!

Anyway

Ryker's flower garden event

I would give you...

A hellebore!

This flower has a sort of double meaning to it. In the language of flowers, it means anxiety. But it's also a symbol of hope because it's a flower that blooms during winter and can withstand frost! Anxiety is tough to deal with, but like this flower, you can bloom and fight through it! I believe in you! The flower is a great symbol for fighting through the darkness. While it's a beautiful flower that comes in many colors, it also has a bit of a dark past with being used as poison, and yet we still put it in our gardens. But funny enough, it also means to tranquilize my anxiety, so it's a double meaning flower all around.

A bluebell!

Bluebells mean humility, which is something I can see coming from you. You're humble and your view of yourself should be better. Those traits you gave aren't the traits of someone who's a handful! While it's good to be humble, you should love yourself more and take more pride in what you do!

A yellow poppy!

Poppies are one of the flowers that the color changes the meaning. A yellow one means success and looking at the bright side of things. I chose this because of your willingness to try new things, even if you don't get it perfect. The fact that you're willing to try even if you don't quite get it right is amazing! I wish you the most success in your projects!

And of course, thank you so much for sending in a ask for the event! Also thank you for supporting me as a writer and I'm looking forward to writing your request!

#rykers flower garden event

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make-me-imagine · 1 year

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Congrats on 8k!!! Can I request ships for the boys and leverage please? I'm 5'6, hourglass with extra minutes as I like to say with natural auburn hair and even when i dye my hair it stays within the red spectrum.

I love writing, music and im tip toeing my way into archery. Pretty decent at baking, love full moons and thunderstorms. Playlist ranges from heavy rock to rap with pop and country sprinkled in. Dark sense of humor at times but always down to support someone if they need a shoulder and will fight for someone I care about. If I call someone a dork it is the highest term of endearment and I end up accidently calling most people honey or babe (thanks to being a southern girl that accent bleeds through with every word lol) firmly believe in the saying to be nice first because if you're an a-hole first no one believes the nice.

I hope you like the :)

They are under the cut

The Boys:

I ship you with Hughie.

Hughie is so kind and adorable, that he is drawn to your kind soul, and also attracted to your more bad ass side when it comes out.

Runner Up: Butcher (I think I shipped you with him before but I can't remember lol. Either way both work for you)

Headcanons:

Hughie absolutely melts when you call him honey or babe, especially with the accent, he LOVES it.

Hughie likes a broad spectrum of music as well, so he always enjoys the various artists you recommend, and he likes to recommend you his favorites as well.

If you were a supe, I think you would have an ability related to electricity. Like maybe you could create/alter electric currents (you could make your own lightning storms in your hands and stuff)

He is too afraid to try archery himself, but he thinks it's awesome that you are interested in it. And he enjoys the various nicknames he can call you. Katnis, Legolas, Arya, etc.

If you ever bake anything for Hughie, he is SO happy. And he will always try to return the favor. Though he is not the best at baking, so everything he makes always looks or tastes a little off, but its the thought that counts right?

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

Leverage:

I ship you with Hardison.

Hardison is a giant dork, and would find you intimidating, hilarious, and also the kindest person he knows. He was head over heels instantly.

Runner Up: Quinn (my slept on bae honestly)

Headcanons:

Hardison digs that you love so many different types of music, and is often introducing you to new styles.

He tries to get you to play video games with him all the time. And whenever you do, he hypes you up the whole time. (He is also a bit competitive)

He loves your curves, and is always wanting to cuddle and hold you. He is fine with PDA, but he respects your boundaries (depending on how you feel with PDA yourself)

Hardison doesn't bake, but he will gladly and gratefully eat anything you bake for him.

The two of you often go on random spontaneous dates. He will always drive you guys there in Lucielle. Your dates range from arcade dates, dinners, movies, festivals, etc. Anytime something cool is going on nearby, you two will make it into a date-night.

#ship #ships #8k ships #milestone ships #witchygagirl #ship request #leverage ship #the boys ship

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devilisln-moved · 2 years

Text

Okay, so I’m gonna talk about the Director’s Cut of the Daredevil movie cos it’s late and I’ve had a day or so to digest it. A caveat: It’s been a solid few years since I saw the theatrical cut on a cable channel and I was only half paying attention cos I tend to multitask while I’m watching things lmao. I didn’t muti-task while I was watching the Director’s Cut cos I was watching it on my laptop having rented it via itunes. Putting it under a cut cos idek how many people are gonna actually give a shit about a frankly mid (but by no way as terrible as its reputation) pre-MCU Marvel movie.

We’re gonna start out on positive notes, because there were quite a few little details that I liked:

— Highest regard goes to his eyes, because, as I noted on my head canon page, it’s a little too much suspension of disbelief to portray Matt with absolutely zero lasting visible damage to Matt’s eyes. Loved to see that he had cataracts and scarring around them.

— His costume was also much closer to how it looks in the comics and made sense. I liked that you could see how it would come off, like it’s believable, right? Now I understand the logic in the TV series version and that even though it looks like heavy armour (lmao I hear it actually was from some interviews with Charlie but I digress) it wasn’t because the material is special or whatever. Fine. I’ll take it. I’m very easy when it comes to in-universe explanations, you know? Aesthetically, tho, I kinda like the movie version a bit better.

— The little details were nice, too, the way he stored money, labeled his clothing and other things, even his collection of pain killers. The stuff matters and I’m a sucker for that shit. Hell, I even liked the fact that he seemed to use music to drown out the constant background noise (though the music choice was wild and I’m pressing ‘x’ to doubt that one).

— The banter with Foggy was good. It felt like they were friends and knew each other very well. No notes, aside from the fact that he didn’t seem to know he was Daredevil and yet did know about his powers to at least some degree. I know it’s not natural to put two and two together obviously, but it’s still puzzling to me. However, I’m not sure how long Matt hid it from Foggy in the comics and the confusion might be on me being a more aware of the TV series canon.

— He’s making a meal of the every fucking scene he’s in, but I gotta say, I loved Colin Farrel’s completely unhinged Bullseye. The amount of times I scream laughed at his nonsense is mortifying. I have so many question about his...head thing. Like is it scarification? Is it some kind of super unsubtle mutation to signify his otherworldly ability to aim and hit with dead accuracy? Very strange costume design there.

— The fight scenes were real nice. I still say every other fight scene ever will pale to the Daredevil TV series’ once a season big show stopper fight sequences, but they were quite good. The acrobatics were quite pleasing, even if they were vaguely uncanny. I can’t tell if Affleck’s stunt double(s?) were just very talented or if there was a little cgi happening there. Maybe a bit of both? Idek, I should have checked if there was any behind the scene featurettes included with the rental.

— There were some really interesting visuals. Like the one where he’s listening to that woman being attacked while about to turn in for the night, and the intensity of how sharp his hearing is was visualized as showing the woman crawl beside his bed (despite her being blocks away). I liked that, it was very eerie. Also noticed some nice homages to comic panels, covers, and the very cool title sequence. For as many questionable choices there are in the film, I sincerely think there was love put in. It wasn’t a shallow cash grab trying to take advantage of the post Batman and Robin Batman slump.

— There was an effort to give him red hair. It was a dark auburn and it only pops in brighter scenes, but nor is it as low key as the very faint, stand on your head and squint low lights that were in Charlie’s hair for the TV series. He’s very clearly a red head, and I appreciate the attempt.

Now the negative, and I know that’s what you’re here for. Cos some of you know I’m a pedantic petty ass bitch:

— Diversifying or going for more of a orchestral soundtrack would have been a massive improvement. Having it dominated by nu metal bands was really distracting and a very poor fit. Ages the movie like old, forgotten milk in the back of the fridge.

— That bed situation, tho. It’s like, I get the logic. It makes sense on a basic level. Man has extraordinary hearing, but needs to sleep, so get that man a sensory deprivation tank. I have so many questions though. Not how he acquired it. You can buy them and all he’d have to say is that he’s really into deep meditation or whatever if anyone asked any questions, but that’s the least of my queries. Okay, so first issue, they’re extremely expensive. I’m talking literally thousands of dollars, and I can’t imagine they were much cheaper to buy in the early aughts, if we’re thinking the movie’s present was the year it came out in. It’s very large, and while I could reasonably say that he bought it after getting a payout for his first successful (paid lmao) defense the way another person would buy a car, it begs the question...what did he do before that? Did he just suffer and barely sleep? If that’s the case, how did he manage to get through school as an insomniac zombie? Even more to the point, if it’s the last thing he tried that actually works i gotta ask....why? Assuming that his hearing is so acute that earplugs, noise cancelling head sets, and sound proofing doesn’t work why would a sensory deprivation chamber work? I understand it does what it says on the tin, but that’s for the average person. Matt is obviously not the average person. ALSO does he have a normal bed???? I can’t remember if we ever saw one but isn’t that what the girlfriend that was breaking up with him seemed to imply, maybe he doesn’t???? Which is absolutely wild tbh. Because again, he could have a story for having a sensory deprivation chamber and a bed, but not a sensory deprivation chamber and no bed lmao. Anyway, tl; just skimmed: Your local incredibly pedantic enby strikes again, and you have my deepest apologies.

— Yeah, the whole Elektra/Matt relationship kinda sucked. I really think it’s necessary for them to have a longer history (ie: The fact that they met cute randomly at a coffeeshop of all places instead of them originally meeting in college. I think it would have worked out better if they dated in college but drifted apart for normal reasons. You know, Matt got too deep in studies and maybe Daredevilling on the side, and was becoming kind of a shitty, flakey boyfriend and Elektra knows what she’s worth, so they broke up, no hard feelings, better off next time. Then they finally meet again years later. It would even explain Matt’s instant reaction to her when she walks in the door. Idek, I think that’d be a lot cuter and the angst make more sense as opposed to them having a few dates and snogging in the rain). The sudden, intense attachment seemed a bit much, especially since Matt was seeming to be in a very dark space mentally. He just didn’t seem to be in a state to be receptive for such a magical, intimate connection from the jump, you know? It made it truly laughable when Matt tells Kingpin that he killed the only two people that he loved. Like lol, my dude, you barely knew Elektra, settle down, m8.

— And speaking of Elektra, Jennifer Garner was a terrible casting choice. Never mind that her colouring was all wrong (ie: too pale, blonde), she just doesn’t have that femme fatale vibe. Too wholesome. It just wasn’t believable when she went into murder-death-kill mode. She just looked like....Well, an actress playing a role.

— Matt seemed...really depressed. Now I’m well aware that it’s something he struggles with. He’s no stranger to his sad boy moments, but as far as I’ve read and seen, Matt seems to put off less of a brooding vibe and more of a “I’m fine, no really, don’t worry about me :)” facade than anything else. Somehow I feel like Frank Miller is to blame.

— Speaking of edge lord bullshit I literally have not stopped thinking about the fact that MATT KILLS SOMEONE. Granted, it could be called indirect causation but he totally killed a dude. It was definitely not an accident. It was shocking. As far as I’ve ever known about the character, Matt is not a killer. Hell, it’s such a part of his character, much of the 2019 Daredevil story arc revolves around his horror and guilt over accidentally killing a man, implying that it was his first time. It’s even backed up by a doctor’s assertion that Daredevil is usually masterful in the way he incapacitated people. Anyway, poking around google as a half-assed excuse of research, the times Daredevil has killed was either in early comics, AUs, written by Frank Miller, or during the Shadowland story arc which duh. He was possessed. Anyway, final verdict, I have the feeling that Frank Miller’s influence may have been lingering around Daredevil given that he was still writing for the series up until 1998. When in doubt, if your characters are acting a bit screwy, it’s probably Frank Miller’s fault.

— Tangentially, that bar fight was also wild. Decent fight choreography aside, that was pretty crazy, too. It could be the vast difference in the portrayal of Josie’s in the film compared to in the TV series, but honestly, even without that, it was a little intense. Like a bit too slash and burn for Matt’s usual MO. He just fucked up and chased out everyone and used the fact that a pool table was on fire for a vibe check. Very dramatic, but I’ll accept it. Matt can be a dramatic bitch. It was just a lot. I think they were just trying to say that Josie’s was a crime guy place, but it still struck me as a bit much destruction for one schlubby guy that Matt could beat down with both arms tied.

— I had so hoped that playground fight would have hit the cutting room floor. It did not and how I suffered once more. I’m not anti-cringe. A little cringe can be good for the soul. Sadly, this fight was not it.

— I’m not a fan of the whole....rain thing. Like, I think the interpretation of Matt’s radar sense is just as poor as it was in the TV show (what with the whole world on fire bit), if not more so. Like, I really, really resent the way some writers verbalize it as “the way he sees”. It feels like this way of neutralizing Matt’s blindness and I really don’t care for it. I also don’t get how it was supposed to work; I understood he was saying that rain dropping on an object could give a better idea of what it “looks like” but I don’t see how it could inform him of anything aside from mass and perhaps shape. How does it help him envision a person’s visage? Honestly, just let him touch people’s faces.

— No Stick. Kind of makes Matt’s training a little odd. It’s not like he could just go get training from anyone. The whole point of Stick was that he was also blind and could teach him from personal understanding, you know? I mean, I know it’s deeper than that, but it still struck me as a very strange thing to omit.

— Too much cake. Idek if they didn’t think they’d get a sequel or it had always been planned as a stand alone, but there is way too much going on. The problem is, it’s also kind of cohesive. Like Kingpin hired Bullseyes to assassinate Elektra’s father, which turns her against Daredevil when Bullseye happens to kill her father with his baton. Then Matt and Elektra fight, she injures him gravely, so even when she finds out he didn’t do the deed, and Bullseye shows up, Elektra ends up fighting him alone and then she gets presumably killed, which leads to the fight in the church. One thing leads to another, culminating in a climactic event. So I guess much as I hate to say it, I think the Kingpin fight at the end was too much. It’s the iconic big bad, rival, and romance rolled up into one. Which is a shame. Micheal Clarke Duncan played the part well, but I think it would have worked better had he been simply the catalyst in the background. The puppet master, so to speak. Granted, I suppose it would have made his appearance more lackluster had it remained a one-shot film, but maybe if he’d just been a truly lesser villain to Bullseye, they could have teased out the possibility of more movies. .........like maybe instead of an Elektra movie that was so very much worse than this one, they could have had a proper Daredevil sequel that focused on the Kingpin conspiracy, instead of jamming it all into one movie.

I think that’s everything. Honestly, it’s not as bad as its reputation. I still think Affleck only took the role as second prize to Batman (and look how that all turned out. Truly a Greek Tragedy), and I’ve always tended to think that Affleck needs a director to have a strong hand to get a good performance out of him. This guy was not it, so I found his performance a little meh. I will say, he shone the most playing off of Jon Favreau’s Foggy. They had great on-screen chemistry. It’s just a pity you know? Another time, another place, an improved edit and screenplay, maybe this movie could have been what kicked off the MCU or at least been a true rival to Batman’s relevance in the cultural zeitgeist. This movie is objectively better than both Batman Forever and Batman && Robin. Leagues better, even. So I find it super fucking frustrating that Daredevil got shit canned for years while Batman got a second chance. Granted, reviewing all the changes between the director’s cut and theatrical cut and with my own vague memory of it (it’s on HBOMax currently and I might watch it this weekend to contrast and compare, but idek. I kinda wanna re-watch season three of Daredevil, cos I’m a sucker and it’s so good), the theatrical cut was a lot more incoherent. However, I can’t say for sure if it’s because it truly is a dumpster fire or if all the fandom references were going over my head cos I only knew Matt and Elektra from pop cultural osmosis.

Anyway, I still think the TV show is better, even with it not being perfect either (Matt could have used a love interest, dammit, his fighting style could have been more acrobatic, Matt and Foggy’s friendship crashed and burned way too hard and fast, and I think they were a little too afraid to fully commit to being a superhero show, just for example). Charlie Cox, even with the wrong hair colour, is a very good Matt. There’s a lot of heart in his performance and vulnerability which is about 85% of the reason I fell in love with the character. I would say the movie is worth a watch, particularly the Director’s Cut because it has a much more cohesive storyline, even if I think it’s a bit bloated and the Matt/Elektra romantic subplot is deeply, deeply flawed. Seriously? Colin Farell’s Bullseye is a thing to behold. He’s just a weird little goblin that likes to throw shit and kill people. So watch it for him at least.

#god I needed to get it out some how #i apologize too much but here i am #so very sorry #ahfhethfehe #;ooc

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shangchiswife · 2 years

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Hi! Could you do a doc ock x fem!reader where it’s set in nwh and she’s called in by Peter to help and Otto is enamoured with her from the start cause she has powers like Wanda. And it’s all cute and fluffy cause he cannot get over that magic is real? Like she might even do little tricks with her magic to help with the anxiety he’s feeling being in a new place.

so i kinda followed this and kinda didn't but sorry if this isn't what you wanted!

summary: you go over to peter's new place to help him out with the villains and you tease otto

otto octavius x gn!reader

warnings: none

word count: 754

....

When your friend Peter Parker called you telling you that he needed help you were immediately on board.

Even though you were a few years older than him, you had grown an attachment to Peter after you’d met through Avengers activities. He was so sweet, and he was like a little brother to you.

You remembered the first time you had met at the fight at the airport when the Avengers had split up because of their differences. You had come over there to try and resolve the conflict, but you ended up almost getting beat up. Peter had flipped over to you and yelled ‘Hey cool powers!’ and had given you a thumbs up.

The rest was history.

Smiling at the sweet memory, you met him outside Happy’s place which he now resided in.

He met you downstairs dressed in a large hoodie with the hood over his brown hair.

“You look comfortable,” you grinned as he waddled over to you and gave you a big hug.

“I’m trying not to get caught by the news. You know how crazy they are about me,” the boy mumbled into your shoulder as you laughed.

“Come on let’s go meet the others,” Peter pulled your hand and led you inside the building and into the elevator.

“Who are we meeting?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“These people that tried to kill another Spiderman in a different universe,” Peter offered you a toothy grin which made you ruffle up his hair.

“Tell me the real reason why I’m here,” you smirked while the boy gawked at you.

“I’m telling you the truth you’ll see!” he said as the elevator dinged.

Once you went inside of the penthouse, Aunt May swept you up in a hug.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to see you. Thank god you’re here,” the woman looked relieved as she patted your cheek fondly and breezed over to the kitchen where plates full of sandwiches were.

“I didn’t know we were having a party,” your eyes widened while Peter let out a loud groan.

“I just told you we have interdimensional criminals in the penthouse!” he ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey, we’re not criminals!” a deep voice grumbled making you turn and look in the living room where a bunch of men sat.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” you mumbled as you went over to the villains and examined them all.

The one that caught your eye the most was a handsome older man donning a trench coat and black turtleneck. Four tentacles came from his back.

“Oh, so you’re an octopus,” a smile played at your lips while the rest of the villains laughed.

“No, I’m not!” the man growled as he put his hands over his chest.

You loved to tease people.

“What’s your name then?” you tilted your chin up haughtily and offered him a smirk.

“Yes, come on say your name,” a man with auburn hair jeered from beside him.

“Quiet Norman,” octopus man hissed.

“It’s Otto Octavius,” he mumbled which made the whole room roar with laughter but an amused look to come on your face.

“Aww, so you are an octopus,” you chuckled as Otto’s cheeks turned bright red.

“Y/N while you are torturing our guests over there, mind if you get these plates?” Aunt May asked from the kitchen as you nodded and flicked your wrist, and the plates flew towards the living room with a lingering purple wisp behind the plates.

The villains’ jaws all dropped.

“Oh, I forgot to mention it, but Y/N over here has powers,” Peter gave a lopsided smile as he pat you on the back.

“Not to flex or anything,” you cocked your head to the side.

“What other abilities do you have?” Otto’s annoyance was replaced with curiosity as you moved your fingers and a purple ball appeared over your hand.

“Oh, you know the usual…telekinesis and mind manipulation,” you boasted as the older man’s eyes twinkled with interest.

“Fascinating,” he whispered.

“Trust me I know,” you said which made him roll his eyes at your antics.

“Can you show me your powers?” Otto questioned.

“Woah lover boy at least wait until after the first date for that,” you put your hands up as everyone laughed once again at Otto’s dispense.

“Oh, shut up,”

“Make me,” you challenged which made Peter let out a small “ooh.”

Otto brought up one of his tentacles and brought them over your mouth covering it making your eyes widen.

“Told you,”

#otto octavius x reader #nwh villains x reader #doc ock x reader #doctor octopus x reader #alfred molina x reader #otto octavius fluff #otto octavius imagine

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loving-bucky-is-easier · 2 years

Text

it's just the sun in your eyes

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Asgardian!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary:

She sat back, and he stifled another moan as her hips shifted over the growing bulge in his pants. Her chest heaved, but there was skepticism on her face. “You’re hurting.”

He shook his head. “Nothing hurts with you.”

Warnings: 18+, language, smut (we jump right into it below the cut, and there's more later as well), mentions of Reader being insecure, angst, a very vague suggestion of non-con (not by Loki, blink and you'll miss it), mentions of torture and past violence, sad Loki, melancholy ending (this piece is inserted into Loki's MCU timeline)

Minors–this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.

A/N: Trying out Loki again--thanks for the request @apocxlypticangel! I hope you're okay with some soft angst. Listen to Young God by Halsey here.

“That’s it, darling,” Loki groaned as you arched off the bed, your bare chest brushing against his. “You always feel so good around me.”

He thrust twice more into you, hands tight on your wrists pinned on either side of your head. You keened as he fucked you through your high, pleasure burning from your core until it tingled along your fingertips and your head lolled back on the pillows.

His eyes fluttered closed as he spilled into you, quiet curses you couldn’t quite make out falling from his lips.

Silence blanketed you both, interrupted only by soft pants and a moan from you as he slipped out.

He released your wrists, leaning his weight onto one forearm so that his other hand could trace along your damp hairline, slip down your nose, and thumb over your trembling lower lip.

“You cum like a queen,” he grinned.

You giggled, heat prickling across your already sweaty skin. “Gods, Loki, the mouth on you.”

He smirked, rolling to lay next to you on his back. “You weren’t complaining about my mouth an hour ago.”

You rolled your eyes, already missing the feel of him between your legs. “Maybe not, but if anyone else could hear how downright filthy you are–”

“That,” he chuckled, “is a privilege I’ve reserved for you.”

Your tongue flicked across your lips as you turned gingerly on your side to look at him in profile.

And gods, did he look every bit the prince he was, his skin glowing in the early morning rays of sun afforded through the gaps in the curtains. The soft light speckled along his dampened raven hair, drawing out faint tones of auburn. The blues in his eyes, often icy and unreadable, were softened enough to match the tones of the water along either side of the Rainbow Bridge.

It brought whispers to the back of your mind, of an afternoon spent laid beside one of the many palace pools, sunlight streaming in under stone arches, bending reflections off the water that bathed the stone in a spectrum of colors.

(“Loki,” you shrieked, your hands clutching at his arms held fast around your middle. “Put me down!”

He chuckled in your ear, walking you easily to the edge of the pool. “Darling, you did say you were getting warm,” he taunted.

You struggled in his grasp, a futile attempt to wrest yourself free. “You ass–”

The rest of your insult was lost to the splash as you plunged into the water below you. The cool was pleasant, but indignation surged through you as you pushed back to the surface.

“You asshole!” you spluttered, pushing hair out of your face. But again whatever tirade you had in mind died in your throat as your gaze focused on him perched at the edge of the pool.

The edges of his visage were lost to the sun, distorted and vaporous by the light behind him, as if he were dissolving into it. But the cocky grin on his face was not darkened to you, brought alight by the prismic reflections off the water. Rippling tones of pinks and blues played across his brow, his lips, his bare chest and shoulders.

He was fighting a laugh as he extended a hand to you, and you took it, pulling hard without a second of hesitation.

He let himself fall. You knew he let himself fall.

Even if you could somehow match him in strength, Loki could have easily magicked himself a support to keep him out of the water.

And still he tumbled in easily, submerging next to you and pulling you under with him.

You felt his arms around your waist before you opened your eyes, could feel him sending little sparks of heat that bubbled along your skin as he pulled you to the surface.

You broke with an unrepentant giggle, one that sorely tested the glare he’d schooled into his features. You leaned in, peppering watery kisses along his jaw until it softened.

He squeezed at the backs of your thighs until you wrapped your legs around his waist. You both stilled, a soft cushion of Loki’s creation supporting him so that the water just barely lapped at your shoulders.

He leaned his forehead against yours, and you closed your eyes, reveling in the stillness as the water quieted around you.

“My queen,” he whispered.)

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you stared at him now, in the bed beside you.

Loki Odinson was golden.

You knew it was his brother Thor who would always be looked upon as the gilded child. The older brother, the brazen hero, aureate from his flowing locks to the accolades that seemed to follow his every movement.

Loki was quieter, softer, and still gold poured from his fingertips. In the sparks of magic that flecked from his shoulders like rain when he was upset, and then again as you soothed the tension from his muscles. In the heat of his gaze in battle as he taunted his foes, luring them easily from you under the guise of confidence. In the sear of his kisses as they burned along your body like liquid metal, drawing gasps of pleasure from your lips.

And in the glow that enveloped him as he laid on the silken sheets, chest still heaving slightly, his lips swollen with your kisses, faint scratches from your fingernails puckering the tops of his shoulders that he could have magicked away with a flick of his wrist.

But he hadn’t.

“Do you think I’ll make a good king?” he asked quietly, eyes narrowed at the cloth draped across the bedposts above you.

You sidled closer to him until your head rested on his chest. “Of course I do,” you said, fingers tracing delicately down his sternum. Goosebumps raised in your wake.

His stomach tensed as you ran your fingers lower, skimming below his navel. You could hear his heart rate picking up again. “Darling–”

“Obviously, you’ll need a strong queen at your side,” you teased.

“I don’t need anything,” he muttered dismissively, and you stilled, a catch in your breath that he noticed.

He craned his neck, peering down at you, and the cocky smirk on his face was immediately colored with regret at the hurt that must have shown on yours.

“No, no, that’s not what I–” He scrubbed a hand down his face, then gently tucked your hair behind your ear with nimble fingers that you fought the urge to lean into. Instead, you shifted away, pulling the sheet to cover your chest as you sat up with your back to him.

You knew he didn’t need you. He never had. Not like you needed him. The sun did not need the moon. The warrior prince in his golden armor did not need the lowly Asgardian who basked in his glow.

But it didn’t hurt less when he said it aloud.

You felt the bed shift as he sat up behind you. “Darling,” he started.

“What, Loki?” you asked flatly, shoulders tense as his lips pressed to the back of your neck.

“Whether I need you is irrelevant,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over your ear. “I want you.”

You turned to look into his eyes, little pools of their own that you could’ve been content to drown in. He tucked a finger under your chin, and his thumb pulled at your lower lip as you melted into his grasp.

The moon needed the sun.

“I’m sorry, my perfect queen. My darling,” he assured, an arm wrapping around your shoulders and across your chest before pulling you back against him.

You sighed into the searing kisses he mouthed below your ear, your eyes fluttering closed. “Say more nice things,” you prompted. He smiled against you, his teeth grazing the soft flesh at the juncture of your shoulder.

“When I am king,” he said softly, “and you are my queen” – he paused at each breath to pepper kisses from the base of your throat and down your arm to your knuckles – “I will not stop until we rule the cosmos. The crown on your head will be that of the queen of the nine realms.”

He traced a circlet on the top of your head, then tickled at your sides as he added, “You’ll have the finest attire the universe is capable of producing, but you’ll rarely need it.” A wicked grin split across his face, and you giggled, squirming away from him.

But he refused to let you slip his hold, pulling you firmly back until you both laid atop the sheets again. The silk top sheet you’d pulled with you slipped down around your hips, and Loki’s fingers slid across your chest, circling at the peak of your breasts.

“We’ll properly christen every room of the castle, and every realm that is ours,” he promised lowly, and you sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to chase his touch. “And of course,” he chuckled, “the finest sheets and mattress to fuck you into.”

“Loki,” you breathed, “I don’t–” you choked as he pinched one of your nipples sharply. “I don’t need all that.”

He froze, and you turned to look at him, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled from your throat at the baffled expression on his face. “Calm down,” you giggled, “I didn’t mean the christening part.”

His face relaxed slightly, but there was still a pinch in his brow. You turned on your stomach and eased yourself across his chest until you could kiss the furrow away.

“I don’t need the nine realms,” you explained, your lips ghosting down the bridge of his nose. Just you was unspoken, but you thought he might have understood as his eyes searched yours.

A bit of frost crept back into his irises, but he caressed a hand down your cheek. “Nonetheless, you shall have it, my queen,” he promised.

You pursed your lips. “I don’t…” But Loki was undeterred.

“We deserve it all.”

Loki wondered if he was experiencing mortality as he shuffled back to his room.

His lungs burned in his chest, every breath feeding the flames that licked at his insides. His throat and mouth ached, and he couldn’t bring himself to close his lips as they cracked and bled.

The creatures escorting him were unphased as he stumbled, sending a ripple of stabbing pains through the wounds that sat just beneath the surface across his limbs and torso. He’d tried for far too long to conceal them, to not let Thanos see him bleed, and it had cost him dearly.

For half a moment, he considered attempting a weak healing charm just to take the barest edge off of his pain, but the notion was quickly dismissed. His reserves were depleted enough; he couldn’t risk the loss.

His escorts did not touch him as he approached the metal door, but there was no question as to whether he would be entering. Thanos may have given him private chambers on his ship, but never for a moment was Loki allowed the impression that he was a guest.

“A good tool needs forging.” The Titan’s promise echoed in the back of Loki’s mind as the door swung open and he stepped inside the dimly lit room.

A moment after the door closed, he slumped back against what he’d hoped was cool metal, only to draw back a second later with a frustrated cry as heat permeated his skin.

“Are you all right?” a timid voice asked from the corner. It tugged at a collection of memories in the corner of Loki’s mind, but he stifled them without hesitation, fearful of the pain they might bring.

“Just let me be, please,” he pleaded, his voice cracking on nearly every word. “What are you even doing here?”

“I was just cleaning, sir, I–”

But Loki didn’t care to hear the rest of her explanation, white hot anger blinding him as he strode angrily towards her. Everything was too hot and his body burned and the air burned in his lungs and his pride burned and he just wanted to be left alone and how could be a frost giant when his very soul burned and–

She shrieked as he gripped harshly at her wrists, scrambling to get away from him. “I’m sorry,” she cried, “please don’t…” She trailed off, and he could hear her breath catch in her throat. “Loki?”

Her tears dripped down onto his wrist, two little droplets of relief that all but sizzled on his skin. He finally looked her in the eyes, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Loki lurched backwards as if she was the one who had burned him, unable to believe his eyes.

“This–this is a trick,” he spit, stumbling over his own feet as he backed away. He landed hard on the stone floor, biting back a low moan as the coolness radiated through him, the relief bringing tears to his eyes. “You’re gone,” he choked. “You–”

“Loki, what are you doing here?” she asked weakly, stepping hesitantly towards him.

His feet scrabbled on the stones as he tried to escape her spectre.

It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real, he insisted over and over, eyes squeezing closed as his back collided with the wall and still she loomed closer.

Because fuck it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be her.

He had scourged the nine realms searching for her after she’d disappeared mere weeks before Thor’s attempted coronation. Every hint of her name. Every trace of her visage.

Had she been there, he might have grieved with her over the loss of the throne to his brother, the failings of Odin, the fear of his true parentage.

But those paled to how he grieved that even if the crown were his, she was not there to bear it with him. Bile burned at the back of his throat at the thought of ruling without her.

She still found her way into his dreams, haunting him with her voice, her touch, her moans, her very breaths.

And if he let himself believe she was real, only for her to slip through his fingers again, he might as well go up in flames. He couldn’t stand to begin to mourn her again.

Loki turned his face away from her, his cheek pressing into the wall as he shrunk as far as he could out of the grasp he was sure would burn, or worse, pass right through him.

Molten tears spilled over as he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact. “Just leave me be,” he croaked.

But when her fingers fell tentatively on the side of his face, they were cool. Soft. Dampened slightly by her own tears. A shaky breath wracked through him as she muttered, “Love, what’ve they done to you?”

His hand raised slowly, fingers shaking as they covered her own. Her palm flattened against his cheek, and he couldn’t help a low whine at the relief in her touch. “How?” he asked quietly, still unable to look at her.

Her other hand traced across his brow, and he felt his features soften. She hesitated. “Asgardian women were found to be… more resilient. There were plenty of ships paying scavengers to… collect them.”

Loki shuddered, finally turning to face her and allowing himself to look.

In the dim candlelight of his chambers, her features flickered in and out of shadow, and it was only her touch on his skin that half-convinced him she was actually there. There was a timidity to her posture that had never been there before, in the duck of her head and the slope of her shoulders. Anger burned in his throat as his gaze fell on scars littering her bare skin, evidence of the torment she’d endured as Thanos’ prisoner.

But her eyes were the same, bright and entrancing.

The quirk of her lips as she studied him. The pinch in her brow he knew all too well, whether from driving her mad or fucking her hard.

And her voice, which soothed almost as much as her touch. “Loki…” His name was like a prayer on her lips, and it ran a chill through his chest.

He pressed a reverent kiss to the back of her hand. “My queen,” he breathed.

More tears slid down her cheeks, and he rose on shaking legs to cup her face between his hands as he kissed them away. He winced at the dryness of his lips on her soft skin, but he couldn’t think to resist the feel of her in his arms again, and she didn’t seem to mind.

She leaned her forehead against his, but flinched back almost immediately. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up,” she said softly. His head chased forward to close the gap again, not caring if he went up in smoke so long as he could be close to her, but she caught his shoulders, stilling him.

He watched with tired interest as she scanned the room. A smile dared to pull at his bleeding lips as her concern and resolve played across her face. Even after years apart, he could read her all the same.

“Sit,” she said gently, dropping her hands to his elbows to help ease him down. “The floor is the coldest.” Loki allowed himself to be lowered, sighing heavily as the cool of the stone seeped through the fabric of his pants. He leaned his back against the bed, wincing as her touch left him, and his eyes fell closed.

Part of him was still convinced she was a trick, a parting shot from Thanos before his purpose was realized, to break any resolve left in him. But with the trace of her fingers on his skin and the sound of her voice in his ears, Loki didn’t care.

His eyes flew open as something cold touched his hairline, and a shiver ran through him as water droplets from the damp rag she held traced down next to his ear. Another memory tugged at the back of his mind, and as she continued to dab at his flushed skin, he allowed it to wash over him.

(“Loki, put me down!” she shrieked, and there were sharp pinches to the backs of his forearms as her nails dug into his skin.

He squeezed at her soft waist tightly, unable to resist a chuckle in her ear as he walked her towards the edge of the pool. “Darling, you did say you were getting warm,” he taunted.

She squirmed as he allowed her to hang over the water for a moment. “You ass–”

Loki let her fall before her insult had finished, allowing the droplets from her splash to wash over him.

She was back at the surface almost instantly. “You asshole!” she spluttered, shoving her hair back. But if she had anything else to say, Loki couldn’t hear it as he watched her, entranced.

Her eyes were alight in the reflections off the water, which seemed to move around her like it was making proper room for a goddess.

She had called him the sun once before. He’d laughed at that, asking sarcastically if she was the moon. He’d been baffled by the confidence in her “yes.”

But if she was the moon, then it was only in the sense that the best thing he could ever do would be to illuminate her.

A devious smirk crossed her face as he reached a hand out to help her up, and he knew without question what she was planning. He stifled a laugh, taking her hand all the same, and let himself fall into the water below, drawing her back beneath the surface with him.

He pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her waist, sending little sparks tingling on her skin that he knew would make her laugh.

Sure enough, she was giggling when she surfaced with him, although probably from the satisfaction of having pulled him in. He fought to keep a glare on his face, but it was futile as her giggles echoed off the stone columns and her kisses ran along his jaw.

Gods, he was a goner.

He pulled her legs up to wrap around his waist, supporting them both with a charm so that they rested comfortably.

He leaned his forehead against hers as droplets spilled down his hairline.

“My queen,” he whispered.)

Loki’s eyes fluttered open as she continued to draw the heat out of his skin. Her lips were pressed together tightly, and tears brimmed in her waterline. “What are you doing here?” she asked again.

He forced a swallow, and she pressed a glass of water into his shaking hands. He downed it before answering, wishing he had any other answer to give her. “Thanos,” he said finally. “He has plans for me.”

She pursed her lips, and her fingers trembled as she brushed a droplet off his brow. “Finally time for you to rule the cosmos?” Her smile was weak, and he knew she was remembering his promises from a lifetime ago.

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, my darling.” He pressed kisses along her wrist and up her forearm, drawing her closer as he went, savoring every touch of his skin on hers.

When he reached the inside of her elbow, he stopped, looking up at her with what could only be described as a plea. In answer, she ducked her head and wrapped her arms gingerly around his neck, and her lips collided with his.

Loki couldn’t help the moan that welled up from the bottom of his lungs, but she swallowed it down, her tongue skimming across his lips. She might as well have been healing his wounds as she tasted him.

He grabbed at her hips, pulling gently until she straddled his lap. Her hands slid up into his hair, and he leaned her back enough to mouth kisses along her jaw, her throat, her clavicle. Anything to draw those breathy gasps from her.

Her nails scratched along his hairline and traced down the back of his neck, and he choked as her lips landed soft kisses along the crown of his head. In what realm did he deserve something so delicate, so sweet?

Loki could feel himself growing hard beneath her. She had always made him this weak, and now after so long apart, her body in his arms, her lips on his skin, her voice in his ears… it was almost more than he could bear.

“Please,” he breathed, so soft he wasn’t sure if she’d heard him.

She sat back, and he stifled another moan as her hips shifted over the growing bulge in his pants. Her chest heaved, but there was skepticism on her face. “You’re hurting.”

He shook his head. “Nothing hurts with you.”

She licked her lips, and Loki’s heart rate quickened as she pressed her thighs together, happy disbelief coursing through his veins at the thought that she could want him half as much as he wanted her. He was locked in her gaze as she slid her tunic over her head and let it fall to the floor.

His fingers hovered above her skin, and he half-believed that they would pass right through her. But she took his hands in hers and guided them to her chest, and he was met with soft flesh. He sighed in contentment, thumbing over her nipples as she arched into his touch.

Gods, she was salvation.

“Loki,” she whined, and he leaned in, capturing one of her peaks in his mouth and drawing slow circles around the other. Her hands slid down his neck and rested on his shoulders, and he chuckled as the sharp pricks of her fingernails left traces on his skin.

Her other nipple received the same attention, a low groan in his throat as she rocked her hips over his. “Easy, darling,” he breathed.

“Forgive me for being impatient,” she panted, “but it’s been long enough.”

He nipped down her sternum, soothing each pinch with a swipe of his tongue. “We have all the time in the world,” he promised, but she stiffened, and he knew she was thinking the same as he was.

All the time in the world? They’d be lucky to have this.

“Well,” he corrected quietly, “we’ll make the most of the time that we have.” He kissed back up her chest before laying her back so she rested on the stone floor.

He quickly discarded his own clothing, but as he turned back to resume his attention, he couldn’t help but pause as he hovered over her. He sat back on his heels.

Her arms were splayed out next to her head, her body relaxed despite the cool of the floor beneath her. Slight discolorations freckled her heaving chest where he had drawn the blood to the surface. Her eyes were lidded but alight with desire and affection, her upturned lips swollen as her tongue slid over them. And a cast of candlelight framed her head like a crown.

“What?” she giggled.

He shook his head, swallowing back the emotion welling in his throat. “You’re everything.”

She rolled her eyes. “Would you get back over here?”

“Just…” He took another breath, drinking her in, carving her into his memory. Just in case.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, he couldn’t help the teasing grin on his face. “So desperate for me, darling?” he taunted, fingers skimming up the inside of her thigh.

She huffed, squirming slightly as he traced over the hem of her panties. “Loki…”

He hummed as he slid a finger over the dampened fabric covering her slit. He bit back another taunt, because gods, what was he doing teasing her, putting on this air? What business did he have giving her anything less than every part of him?

He pulled gently at her waistband, and she raised her hips so he could slide the last bit of fabric separating them down her legs. It joined the pile of his clothes, forgotten in the shadows, and he lowered himself over her.

She exhaled shakily as he probed over her slicked folds, dancing circles around her clit. His lips found her throat again, and he licked a stripe up to her jaw, then nipped at the pulse point below her ear as one of his fingers breached her entrance.

He slipped in easily, quickly adding a second digit and stretching her walls. Her feet skid along the floor as she writhed under him, and he wedged his knees under each of her thighs, pushing them back until she was spread open for him.

He pulled his fingers out enough to spread her slick over her folds and ghost over her clit, then plunged back in, curling his fingers over and over, tapping at the spot he knew drove her wild.

She keened as he held a steady rhythm, bending back down to kiss her. The new angle of her hips as he folded her back forced his fingers even deeper, and he could feel her clenching around him.

He kissed at her parted lips as she continued to grind against his hand, swallowing her gasps and moans. “That’s it, darling,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re beautiful like this.”

“Loki, stop,” she panted, and he pulled away immediately, eyes searching hers in a panic.

“Did I hurt you? What–”

“No,” she assured, both of her hands coming up to cup the sides of his face. Loki felt his entire being relax at her touch. “Just… need you inside me.”

A shudder ran through his body. He brought his fingers slowly to his lips, a low moan leaving him at the taste of her on his tongue. He ducked down to her again, certain he would never get enough of the contented hum she made as she tasted herself in his kiss.

Gingerly, he aligned himself at her entrance and began to ease himself in. She gasped into his mouth, and he ducked his head into the crook of her neck as continued to press slowly. A soft kiss to the side of her neck as she moaned, and he sank in the rest of the way.

“Shit,” Loki breathed, nearly losing himself in the feeling of being seated fully inside her. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as an onslaught of memories flooded his senses, and tiny sparks of gold flecked in the air around them.

Loki was suddenly hyper aware of the grit on the floor beneath his knees and his forearms on either side of her head, the cool of the stone that was starting to ache in his bones, the scream of his muscles that had spent days being tormented, the lurking knowledge in the back of his mind of who was on the other side of the walls.

And none of it fucking mattered.

It could have been the plush of the throne, the silk of the sheets he’d promised her, the warmth of early morning sun, the safety of Asgard, in sickness, in health, til death do them part.

None of it mattered as long as it was her.

“Baby,” she whispered, wiping at the tears that had spilled over onto his cheeks before they could drip down onto her. “I’m right here.”

His gaze slid into focus, and he found tears in her eyes, too, sparkling, startling against her smile.

“I love you,” he said, and he began to move.

“I–oh–” Her lips fell open, and he kissed at the corners of them, her breath fanning over his cheek. “I love you, too,” she whispered, but it dissolved into a whine as he dropped his head to her breasts again, lazy circles of his tongue in time with his thrusts.

Loki moved slowly. Forceful presses of his hips into hers, obscene sounds of their bodies moving together echoing off the stone walls. A growing tension in his stomach as he edged closer with every clench of her walls around him, every scrabble of her fingers on his back, every high-pitched exhale from her lips as he plunged into her.

He could feel her getting close, and he pressed his hand on her lower belly. “That’s it, darling. You feel me right there?”

She nodded furiously, bucking her hips so that his palm slid over her clit. He grinned breathlessly. “‘S that what my girl needs?”

If she had an answer, he didn’t wait for it. He rubbed circles over her clit, thrusting harder into her dripping core, and she fell apart under his touch.

“Fuck!” she cried, her back arching so that her chest brushed against his, her head thrown back, and Loki found himself entranced by the beauty in the curve of her throat, the cry from her lips, the shift of her body. He could feel himself losing his rhythm as she fluttered around him.

“C’mon,” she whined, barely able to make out the words. “Need you to… c’mon, baby.”

She clenched around him again, and he wasn’t sure if it was intentional or an aftershock, but it drove him over the edge. He spilled into her with a low cry of her name, hips still moving as relief and pleasure coursed through him.

He leaned down to rest against her forehead, the sweat on his brow mingling with hers. Her eyes were closed as she panted, and he reveled in every breath shared between them.

He licked his lips. “It’s worth mentioning,” he whispered as he eased himself out of her with a soft grunt, “that you still cum like a queen.”

She sputtered, eyes flying open, and he heard her laugh fully for the first time in years. It made his heart ache at how much fuller it sounded than the echoes in his dreams.

“Let me clean you up.” He sat back slowly, retrieving the washcloth from where she’d let it fall earlier. She watched him with glazed eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

“What?”

She sighed contentedly. “You’re still the sun.”

He chuckled, wiping gently at her inner thighs and up to her core. “And I still don’t know what that means.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to.”

He grinned. “My queen, you’re absurd, d’y’know that?”

She giggled as he dropped the washcloth, scooped her up off the floor, and carried her over to the small bed. He laid her down gently, then climbed on after her and rested his head on her bare chest. Her heartbeat pounded in his ear, as if to remind him that she was actually here and not a figment of his grief.

Loki wasn’t sure what they were both waiting for. The morning would dawn. Thanos would come for him, or his minions would notice her absence and come looking. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, just a momentary eclipse they could hold onto with both hands until it was wrenched from their grasp.

And yet it seemed the only right thing to do, to lay her in his bed and hold her close until he couldn’t any longer.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Whatever happens, it’s okay.”

His fingers dug into her soft hips a little more firmly, and she ran her fingers through his hair. Over and over, delicate scratches along his hairline and along his scalp that lulled him into a contented doze.

Eventually, her touches slowed and then stopped and her breathing evened as sleep claimed her, and Loki lay half-listening to her heart and her breaths and her voice in the back of his mind, stranded between the reality of the flesh of her chest against his cheek and the memories of their life together that had started to blur.

“You were right, y’know,” he whispered. “All I needed was you.”

She didn’t stir at his words, nor at the knock that sounded at the door sometime after.

He eased gently off of her, unable to resist a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my queen.”

He all but tore himself from her side, throwing his clothes on haphazardly as he made his way over to the door. Before he opened it, Loki couldn’t resist one more look over his shoulder at her sleeping form. What he wouldn’t give for another day by her side, watching the light dance in her eyes. A pit welled in his stomach, grief catching up to him before he’d even left the room.

Swallowing down the tears building in his throat, he cracked the door open, standing in the gap to shield her as much as he could.

“What?” he asked curtly, throwing his shoulders back in a weak semblance of authority that was quickly destroyed by Thanos’ minion grabbing his wrist and dragging him out.

“The Midgardian, Selvig, has completed his work on a portal for you. Lord Thanos instructs that you prepare to infiltrate shortly. Come with me.”

A/N: Additional credit belongs to @divine-mistake, whose piece helios, his modern muse inspired some of the gold/sun imagery surrounding Loki. Go give her fic a read--it's breathtaking.

#loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson angst #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x asgardian!reader #megs1kdrabbleparty #megs 1k celebration #thank you all for supporting me #kali 🍂

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cloudcountry · 9 months

Note

okay okay so first impressions on the ikevamp boys

Napoleon: oooo I can already tell he's going to be one of my favorites. On first glace I didn't think he'd be the type for our character to just trust??? But sure I guess. His hair reminds me of Belphegor from Obey me. I like his clothes tho and I like soldier characters so he's got that going for him. He gets bonus points because he tried to help us in the beginning but the image in my brain of hiding behind a curtain with him is so funny to me lmao

Mozart: pretty pretty pretty. That hair is so pretty and his eyes too and he looked even prettier when he looked directly at me. But he's very cold and gives me "it's not a phase mom!" vibes. Music is nice and all but idk he might be too cold for me

Leonardo: did this man just fall asleep in the hallway immediately after knocking??? He's pretty and interesting, but sir you are mysterious. I like his clothes tho and I would wear them if given the chance. Also no sir you can't study me for research-

Arthur: No. Just no. I've never been one to like the playboy and flirty types so no. At first I thought he would be cool but nah, he has nice hair tho. I don't trust people who are "instantly" attracted to me, so I don't trust him. He's sketchy

Vincent: omg so sweet and innocent boy! He's so pure and nice and I want to be his friend! Nothing more tho, just his friend. His scarf is a little strange to me but that's okay :)

Theo: ooooo another one I instantly like. He's very pretty and I like him. The way the game describes him with a sharp tongue, takes no prisoners in his ambition, and respects Vincent more than anyone, he kinda gives me Sebek vibes and I'm absolutely in love with Sebek. I want to pet his hair

Dazai: Another one with pretty hair, but his personality just isn't attractive to me. I could see him as a friend and we would have fun, but nothing more. Also this man came in through the window??? Chaotic but so natural about it that it's amazing

Isaac: When I first saw him my brain went "Omg there he is! That's Auburn's man!" lmao. He kinda reminds me of Azul and I can see why you like him. He's also pretty and I like his red clothing. But it's funny to me how he doesn't like being associated with apples. It kinda makes me want to just casually offer him an apple, but not say anything

Jean: Idk I haven't seen him that much but he's okay I guess?? The eyepatch reminds me of Kaeya from Genshin but his whole outfit and vibe is throwing me off. Idk I'm just not too much of a fan and I want to restyle his hair for him

Shakespeare: Heterochromia gang yeahhhhhh! He's pretty and I like his style a lot but he's another one that I think I would just want to be friends with. I also have trouble understanding what he's saying because my brain is smol and slow. He's like the kind of guy I would say I love in a platonic way

Saint-Germain: Sir??? Why??? He's okay i guess. When we first met him I thought it was a little strange he commented on our smell but whatever. And now we're just living with him and he explains everything so casually. Mans must really like the color brown from his outfit also the really long jacket over his other jacket is throwing me off. He has so many layers on. He gives me dad vibes tho like he's a father figure to the rest of them

Sebastian: Ah yes, one hell of a butler. In multiple ways he reminds me of Sebastian from Black Butler. I like him and he's pretty but he just kinda seems like a normal guy??? He's stoic and that's great but he's just kinda normal lmao

Vlad: omg another pretty boy! I really like his design and clothing and I'm going to steal his cape. I don't have much to say about him because I haven't seen him much but he seems kinda obsessive? Idk I'm wondering how he's a tyrant but also pure hearted

Faust: Another pretty boy! I like his clothing too and he kinda reminds me of my oc lol. I want to pet his hair. But he better not try any of his experiments on me or I will fight

Charles: Hello??? This man was an executioner??? But he's so cute and pretty?? Also what color are his eyes I can't tell. Are they pink? Are they blue? Does he have both colors in his eyes? If so then again. heterochromia gang yeah! Idk he just feels like a cute little gremlin to me

also why is our room so bright and pink?? I like how it looks better when it's dark with the blues but when the light is on oh no

anyway idk who I'm going to choose I'm torn between Napoleon and Theo

THANK YOU FOR THSI RYKER I WAS RAMBLING TO MY BEDROOM WALLS WHILE READING THIS JAHSGDJHASD MY THOUGHTS CAN BEST BE SUMMED UP AS THIS:

yes napoleon is like the face of ikevamp methinks??? he gives me very much "characcters the devs set up to be the first route" vibes because hes immediately super kind to the mc LMAO

MOZART IS SO GORGEOUS and whne he blew off mc in teh prologue i was like "oh wow fans must LOVE YOU" AGSHFDHGASFD

leonardo falls asleep everywhere he is so dad coded its insane. i bet he sleeps with his mouth half open and his head tilted upwards with his hands in his lap.

i get you. arthur is weird NEXT!!

STRAUGHT UP I WOULD KILL FOR VINCENT. HAVENT DONE HIS ROUTE YET BUT HE JUST GIVES SUCH WARM HEARTED, KIND, SAFE VIBES I WANT HIM TO HUG ME. I FEEL LIKE THAT WOULD FIX ALL OF MY PROBLEMS.

mm i hadnt thought about theo being sebek coded but i feel like youre right!! :O i dont know much about theo so i neitehr confirm or deny that BUT BASED ON VIEBS ALONE I FEEL LIKE YOURE ONTO SOMETHING.

DAZAI IS SO WEIRD AND I MEAN THAT BOTH IN A NICE WAY AND A ??????? WAY NEXT

okay ngl this made me embarrassingly giddy and i actually scrolled down to find isaac's name the second i saw you sent this in just so i could read his first. you had me giggling and kicking my feet and twirling my hair BC YORUE RIGHT HE KINDA IS AZUL CODED??? I HADNT NOTICED BEFORE BUT YK i have a type oops. AND I ACTUALLY BOUGHT AN APPLE HAIR CLIP SO I COULD MATCH WITH HIM HELP

i dont know anything about jean ajshdjasdg

I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SHAKESPEARE EITHER OTHE RTHAN HES FRIENDS WITH VICNENT AND HIS BUNNY HAS HIS EYES AND IS NAMED PUCK AND ITS TEH CUTEST THING

oh yes comte is definitely the father figure he is such a dad. him and leonardo are the dads. theyre kinda..................................................if yk what i mean. theyve got something going on JHGAFSDHG

SEBASTIAN WAS ONE OF THE CHARACTERS I THOUGHT WAS COOL IN THE BEGINNING but people have told me his route isnt exactly the best so yk,.,.., its lower on my list ajshdf

i know nothing about vlad except for the fact that he has a fox named marshmallow and he likes to garden and he likes strawberries and apparently hes an ANTAGONIST which makes no sense but okay

faust scares me tbh but hes the type of guy i would have thpught was attractive three years ago

CHARLES IS SO CUTE :(( I WANT TO HUG HIM AND GIVE HIM HEADPATS AND SHOWER HIM W AFFECTION RAHHHHH okay so MAYBE that would end badly bc he'd get super attached BUT STILL. also i looked into his eye color and dits a gradient greenish pink i think??? VERY PRETTY WAHAHAWHWA

PLS I WOULD LOVE A BLUE ROOM :(((( and if you cant make a decisison just spin the wheel tahts what i do C: KEEP MY UPDATED PLEASE <3

#🦚! ryker #THANK YOU FOR THIS I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING TRHOUGH THESE ASGFDAJSHFDJ #auburn talks ikevamp <3

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drabblemania · 3 years

Text

hunter x hunter

headcannons of you being friends with gon and killua!

a/n: bro i love my sons 😭

tw/cw: minor cussing

•What is this. . . normalcy you speak of?

•Because it’s not here, sweetie.

•Once you declare and solidify your friendship with these two, you all are now officially attached at the hip!

•Gon and Killua are both energetic and so I hope you can keep up with them lMAO—

•Seriously, one second they’re racing up a mountain for fun! The next they’re fighting some mole creature that decided it thinks children are it’s favorite meal.

•Though, it’s all fun and games as long as you guys fight and win together, right?

•Killua was a bit on the more distant side when you were first friends, and I’m sure you can understand why.

•Sure, he was social with you! Just didn’t share any major personal information.

•But as time went on and he came to know you better, he decided you weren’t bad at all!

•You start to notice that: Killua seeks you out more even if Gon isn’t around, starts to give you small puzzle pieces of his past, and, when he really grows attached to you, he outright declares you as one of closest friends!

•(Of course, Gon is the other.)

•Never say some “wE’rE nOt fRiEnDs aNyMoRe” shit with Killua 🙄

•Trust me when I say he will remember that, and take it seriously. Even if it’s a joke, he’ll take it personally.

•May even plot to kill you, lOOK I DUNNO KNOW CHIEF—

•Killua teaches you how to ride his skateboard! Makes sure you keep your footing and can’t possibly twist your ankles like a pretzel, but if you fall tHEN NOTHING’S STOPPING HIM FOR LAUGHING FOR THE NEXT TEN MINUTES.

•unless you start crying, then he’s by your side helping you up </3

•Already know how to skate? Great! Killua makes sure to get you your own skateboard and teases Gon about him being the only one without one.

•He’ll mess with you if you get a skateboard identical to his, but he thinks it’s kind of cool.

“We’re like epic fraternal twins!” Killua laughed, kicking the board up to compare it to yours. You let out an embarrassed chuckle. The paint job was a little messed because Gon had been trying to help you with it, but it seems he never learned how to color within the lines—

“Heeey!” The auburn-eyed hunter whined from behind you guys, “What about me?!” He huffed.

“We’re like epic fraternal triplets!” You clarified, sweat-dropping with the snow-white boy next to you at how fast Gon’s facial expression changed.

“You can’t be a twin without a skateboard, smart one!” Killua flicked Gon’s forehead, to which he responded with a loud: “What?! Why not??”

You just sit and let them go at it for a bit, but that wasn’t their plan.

“(NAME)! WHAT DO YOU THINK?!”

•Good luck!

•Killua has a decent amount of nightmares, and it’s just something he puts up with every now and then. He might mention it once, but if you remember it he’s kind of surprised.

•Like wow?? You actually listen to what he has to say???

•Make a ritual of drinking calming teas before bed with him. Sure, it may not help completely, but he’ll feel more relaxed and probably a little more at ease with his closest friends helping him.

•(Make Gon do it too, you’ll finally be able to get him in bed easier 😐. Probably snores louder though.)

•Killua also gets super flustered and embarrassed if you ever tell him how happy you are to be friends with him.

•He’ll tell you to shut up, but that’s just his way of saying it back!

•Gon probably instantly noticed you were a good person, even if you don’t believe it yourself. It’s just something he has a knack for.

•If you’re a person who has high walls, Gon doesn’t just break them, no.

•Gon obliterates them.

•He really wants to know you, so he doesn’t really care how long it takes to coax you into being more comfortable with him (and Killua)!

•(Also, y’all know how Gon has this look whenever he’s dead set on something? Best believe he had it if you ever distanced yourself cause you have trouble making friends or whatever, because he really wants to be your friend.)

•Has a tendency to pat you on the back!

•Except hard enough for you to cough up your liver.

•He doesn’t exactly pay attention to how much strength is going into the friendly pats.

•Gon is a very positive person, so chances are that all that positivity might rub off on you. Be careful, reader😤, only positivity in this area!

•Takes you out to fish with him! These are times where Gon’ll start to mindlessly chat about how he grew up and funny stories with Aunt Mito and his great grandmother.

•Play card games with him and test his resolve.

•If you’re a stay-inside person, Gon drags you out of your hidey-hole (Killua laughs shamelessly at your dismay) and makes you gon outside 😭

•He doesn’t even make you interact with people, he just doesn’t want you staying inside a stuffy room for too long!

•Gon is very in touch with feelings, so he can be in touch with yours too.

•Basically, you can’t hide from him.

•We all know Gon’s dad, Ging, is an asshole😐, but still encourage Gon and tell him that he’ll find his dad no matter what!

•When you tell Gon how happy you are to be friends with him, he’s a little taken back! Though, he quickly recovers and tells you that, “No, you’re wrong! I’m happy to be friends with you, (Name)!”

•You and Killua try and get Gon into video games!

•Killua always shamelessly puts his name down as “king_killua” and Gon’s is kind of just “hunter_gon.”

•You and Killua try and convince him to change it to something like— funnier? But he’s satisfied, so y’all should just give up lMAO

•You ask about Killua’s name and his response will just be “It was that, or “hoebitch_75”.”

•. . . what.

•If you’re a more quiet and/or shy person, your nickname is “mouse.”

•Tired person? They call you “tanuki” because of the dark circles around your eyes.

•Hot headed? They unironically refer to you as “firecracker.”

•Very energetic? “Pika.” Yes. That’s it. (It is 100% because Gon may have said this one.)

•It’s not to mock you or anything, but Killua probably started calling you a nickname after you first met him and the name just stuck.

•Gon, easily influenced, starts to also call you that.

•Don’t like it? That’s okay! They’ll just use the nickname when they’re trying to tick you off, then.

•You do like it? Then they call you by your nickname more than they say your actual name!!

•While you may have a designated nickname, they still pull out others like: “shorty” “tree” “sleepy” “sloth” “god usopp” “dummy(💛)” etc.

•They all mean well, I swear😭

•You guys spar and play fight a lot, but I think this might’ve been obvious already.

•When you’re sparring, everyone makes sure to keep an eye out for new techniques or weaknesses someone could improve on.

•If you’re having a bit of trouble with Nen, then Killua and Gon are more than happy to coach you!! (While they would just bring you to Bisky, she would probably make you throw up your heart with her gruesome training— So they volunteer instead!)

•As you know, depending on your personality, you have a different kind of Nen. Whatever your main section is, they’re willing to help you out, even if they don’t quite get it themselves—

•If you guys are just play fighting, then you’ve probably had blunt force inflicted head trauma more than once during a pillow fight😐

•THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT THE LINE IS.

•You could be fOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND THEY WOULD CONTINUE TO PUMMEL YOU WITH PILLOWS.

•Killua’s messed around and threw an entire mattress. It’s your job to make sure you dodge in time.

•Gon thought it was funny!! So he threw the entire base of the bed.

•Once again, your job to make sure you dodge in time—

•THANK KILLUA FOR STARTING TO USE NEN FOR THE LITTLE “GAME.”

•Needless to say, you guys had to pay for the absolute destruction and chaos let loose in the hotel room. (You’re not even sure they’re able to use that room anymore.)

•Rock, paper, scissors to decide incredibly hard decisions.

•Like who’s going to pay for dinner that night—

•See, you may think it’s just some silly dispute! But. . .

•They would both rather die.

•So rock, paper, scissors!!!

•But on the topic of dinner, I hope you can cook! Because these two can’t.

•So, unless you want to be paying for dinner every night (or at least, everytime you lose rock-paper-scissors), you should probably cook or even learn how to cook to save some extra money.

•Especially since Gon and Killua seem to have bottomless stomachs.

•(Other instances that call for rock-paper-scissors are: deciding who carries all the bags if you guys go shopping, who has to take care of Killua when he gets pouty, who has to take care of Gon when he’s getting sleepy because he sleep walks and has punched anyone who has tried to lead him to bed, who calls Kurapika at 2am to say that you guys can’t make ramen, who calls Leorio at 3am because Kurapika didn’t tell you, and who has to do chores. Things like that!)

•When it comes to physical affection, Gon doesn’t participate in it often but he’s certainly not opposed! The more you give it to him, the more he returns.

•(Careful not to get him addicted or smth tho, probably really fucking enjoys hugs.)

•Killua, on the other hand, needs time to get used to it. At first, he’s super embarrassed and’ll push you off a bunch, but once he gets used to it he’s completely unfazed and may even do it back(but not as much as Gon).

•So if you’re big on physical affection, then yeah you’re set here!

•Teach Gon multiplication and division! Seriously, his level is just bad. You and Killua quite literally set aside times of the day to tutor Gon so he gets certain concepts a little better.

•Like math.

•If you aren’t very good with math or fast multiplication either (or division), then Killua is retiring your role as teacher and is making you a student.

•(It’s not bad that you and Gon don’t know, but Kurapika secretly asked Killua to teach you guys just for his own peace of mind.)

•If you ask them to fix your hair or something, they’ll do it. Doesn’t even matter what hair type! Both probably like toying with your hair a little bit.

•Fear of Hisoka? Wow! Join the club.

•You may have to sit through a lot of their random squabbles, so be prepared to sit and hear them squawk for some time 😭

•The same way either one of the boys is able to focus and preform better when the other is there, when you’re there to back them up, they’re just as focused.

•Killua tends to downplay his injuries, so make sure to examine and attend to them yourself! Lord knows he won’t until his pride allows him to.

•Gon also is a little impulsive at time, so catch him if he starts to do anything too endangering, y’know? He means well, he just. . . is Gon <3

•In summary, Gon and Killua appreciate your addition to their friendship very much and they wouldn’t have it any other way :)

end

a/n: bark bark i’m so bad at writing LMAO sorry for any mistakes!!

thanks for reading!

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #gon x reader #killua x reader #killua zoldyck #kurapika #leorio #gon freecss #leorio paladiknight

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tonesplash · 3 years

Text

its thanksgiving get nasty (18+)

pairing: edward cullen x reader

summary: you get bored at thanksgiving dinner. unfortunately for edward you wore sandals

warnings: smut,brief footjob, thanksgiving dinner, edward kind of chokes on corn, reader doesn’t like their family, mild injury, fingering, innappropriate use of vampire speed, technically exhibitionism and public sex?? bad dirty talk, and cousin-shaming, reader is afab and might be described as female im not sure

a/n: i wrote this in 24 hours so any sloppiness is not my fault

masterlist

(c/n)= cousins name

When you told him thanksgiving with your family would be boring, you’d meant it’d be for him, looking forward to his reaction to being on the receiving end of your bloodlines ridiculousness while you’d get dinner and a show. But, as it turns out, your family just so happens to get along with Edward much better than they do with you.

The seating situation is a little unconventional, since because your boyfriend-snatching cousin stole the open seat next to Edward before you even made it back from the bathroom, leaving your only viable option directly opposite of him. On the bright side, you had the option of kicking his leg when he’d said something to embarrass you.

Bless his soul, he’d done his best to bring you into the conversation but apparently, anything you had to say about your relationship had been relayed verbatim to the family group chat you weren't even in by your mother. So, after the third time you’re talked over by the aforementioned horny cousin or some other nosy relative on you’re bored out of your mind.

Everyone had gotten over your piss poor table manners years ago, or were just completely ignoring you at this point because there were no protests when they’d brought the turkey out and you’d stayed slumped low in your seat like a child in church.

Twitter had stopped refreshing ten minutes ago, and when you finally resigned yourself to tuning back into the conversation, your mother was showing Edward your baby pictures again. Idly swinging one bare foot under the table, your bare toe grazes the drape of his dress slacks under the table when you get an idea.

You’d lost a sandal earlier after Edward had pinned it under his shoe in a vain attempt to stop your pinching and dirtying of his slacks with your filthy soles. You scoot a little further forward in your seat to reach out and press your arch flat against his shin.

Edward doesn’t visibly react, just shifts his leg away, leaving yours to slip to the floor until you reach up again to plant your heel on the seat of the chair. The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone says grace, and he uses the opportunity to grab your ankle and send you a warning glare over the top of your phone.

You meet his gaze and boorishly eat a spoon of mashed potatoes, shrugging as if he couldn’t read in your mind exactly what you were about to do.

Your cousin asks about his mom car again and when you roll your eyes Edward flicks the outside of your fibula, sure to bruise, and you crinkle your nose, pinching his marble thigh between your toes as best you can through the material.

“Well my father thought it was necessary for my siblings and I to-”

While he talks, he's soothing the spot he flicked, playing in the stubble leftover from your shoddy shave job this morning, and the absent affection gives you the final motivation to further push your luck. You tease the seam of his left leg with the very tips of your toes, coaxing the unnatural heat of the venom to build in the crotch of his pants, the coolness of the rest of him making it seem even hotter in comparison.

He inhales on a forkful of corn, almost taking it down the wrong pipe, and you fight a smile around the bowl of the spoon as he flawlessly recovers and finishes the thought. You idly wonder if you could be that smooth someday. For now, you press further, pressing a toe against the seam over his cock, stroking up and down as slowly and consistently as you can while stretched under a table because who would’ve thought that footjobs are kind of an athletic feat.

Edward taps insistently at your leg, harder than he normally would, and you have to hold back a laugh at the idea of him splitting the table because he can’t take a little footsie action. You press forward again, arch encompassing his hardness through the fabric, toes curling against his pubic bone when-

“Ho-oly shit!” Searing pain shoots up from your ankle, and you double over, using everything in you not to shout, Edwards dawning mortification going unnoticed as everyone at the table turns to you at your unexpected outburst.

“(Y/n)?” Your mother doesn’t seem that happy to have dinner interrupted, and you clutch your stomach as a quick cover.

“Uh, my bad.” You snicker nervously at the sudden attention, bravado gone. Your face feels red-hot. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I think,” you lick your lips and slide out of your chair. “Lady problems.”

The table erupts in a cacophony of gags and groans as the notion of a menstrual cycle is brought up in casual conversation, and it gives you the perfect cover to retreat to the upstairs bathroom. It takes you a minute to make it up the stairs without causing a scene, and just as soon as you close and lock the door behind you and settle down to weep in peace, he’s there, jiggling the doorknob like it’s a drug bust.

“Let me in.”

You’re apparently taking too long because as soon as your injured foot touches the floor, he forces the lock and slips in, shutting the door a little too fast to pass as human.

“Jesus! Edward, are you trying to lose our deposit?” You lean around him to check for a handprint but he doesn’t respond, wordlessly setting you up on the counter, kneeling to examine your injured ankle, cool fingers soothing to the sore skin. You sit in silence, idly swinging your other leg to distract yourself.

“How'd you make it out?” You can't imagine they’d let the guest of honor go so easily.

“You forgot your bag, I told them I’d just bringing it up to you.” He places your bag next to you as evidence. “Maybe you should start carrying menstrual products for when you actually need them.”

Of course, he breaks your foot and wants to lecture you on responsible uterus care. Edward sighs, taking your foot with the gentlest touch and whispering a kiss into the skin. “It’s only a sprain, but I’m still sorry.”

“S’Okay.” Your face burns, not expecting his guilt. “Serves me right, huh?” You titter, poking his side with your uninjured foot. He swipes it up before you can start again, halfheartedly laughing with you.

“Let me wrap it before you get any more ideas.” You hand him the compression wrap from the medicine cabinet, and he gets to work. The wince you give at the pressure is more reflex than anything, but the anxious expression on his face tells you he wasn't going to let this go easily.

“Y’know…” You poke at him again. The playful contempt in his golden eyes gives you the go-ahead to make your case. “If you’re really feeling torn up about it, seeing you wow my family like that got me a little riled up.”

“Really.” Edward kisses the secured wrapping and releases you, standing to frame you against the counter.

“I’m serious, impressing them isn’t easy, (C/n) is probably shaving in the guest room to steal you from me right now, just thinking about it has got me a little hot under the collar.” You run your hands over his back and through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his throat.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” His hands smooth over your exposed thighs sending a shiver up your spine. You think you've got him, but he's such a tease sometimes you can never really be sure.

“Depends. Is it working?” You still, bracing for some line about ‘responsibility’ and ‘your family waiting for you.’

But then his hands are under your skirt, hooking into the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, leaving them to free-fall to your feet. You clutch his auburn hair in your fingers at the shock of open-air against your cunt.

“Do you think I could let you go back to that table smelling like this?” His sweet breath washes against your ear as he huffs a soft laugh. “I’d rather not go downstairs and pretend to care about football when I know you’re here, hot and ready for me.”

You can’t resist him any longer, pulling him close and kissing him with the desperation of a woman who needs to be back downstairs before dessert. His thumb teases over your cunt at first, swirling over your swelling clit and teasing your hole before he finds a focus, using the thumb of his free hand to hold your hood back as his slicked fingers grind the bud into a frenzy while he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

It’s all you can do to hold your breath while he touches you, cool fingers building a knot in your belly, smooth and steady as they batter you up into a frenzy. He adjusts his hand, his ring finger pressing into you and bringing a low ache from rushed preparation, but you welcome it, thighs shaking with the effort to stay open for him as your mouth falls open in a shaky gasp. Edward breaks the kiss to let you breathe , seemingly unbothered until-

“(C/n) is coming.”

“Wha-” A particularly deep stroke has you biting your lip as you struggle to concentrate. “What the fuck does she want?”

“She’s going to ask you where I am.” His expression doesn’t match his words, still completely concentrated on ruining you despite the obvious issue.

“And what am I supposed to tell her?!” You hiss back right as she reaches the door. His mouth closes over your pulse point and you don't think you've clenched that hard before in your life.

“Hey (Y/n)? Have you seen Edward?” Her voice is enough of a mood killer that you have to shove your face into his throat to ground yourself in the moment. He adds a second finger, gaining speed, and you pray and hope to any god listening to this that she can't hear the squelches through the door.

“N-no.” You rack your mind for an excuse. His scent is making it harder to concentrate. “I think he went out for a smoke?” Nice one.

“Really? I didn't smell anything on him...” If all your blood flow hadn't been centralized below the waist at this point you'd’ve asked how the hell she knows what he smells like. He's fully abandoned your clit now, leaving it to pulse in the open air while three of his fingers push and pull at your pelvic floor.

“That's cause he unh-” You slap a hand over your mouth to stop the moan before it can be recognized for what it is.“-he vapes!” Edward pulls back from your throat to look at you incredulously, but it's a little hard to be ashamed when he's nearly wrist deep inside you.

“Oh… Well, let him know if you see him that they’re playing charades and I need a partner. You know how it is.”

You forget to reply, too enthralled watching him spit onto his unoccupied fingers and mash the coolness against your clit, causing you to nearly spasm off the counter, losing the sensation as he silently laughs at having to hold you steady. She seemed to have taken your silence as an admission, as you can hear the door at the stoop of the stairs swinging shut after her. Thank God.

“Rub your spot, Sweet, come on, we have to be quick.” He kisses your temple and laughs a bit maniacally at the little whimper that escapes when you bring a hand down to your clit. “Surprisingly, she’s having trouble picturing me in a vape shop.”

You whine around a bitten lip, too far gone to listen to his ribbing. You’re building up to overstimulation with the sloppy way you’re rubbing yourself, and he must feel it too, because in the next second, his fingers are vibrating.

“Come on, (Y/n), don't you want to finish up here and mop the floor with them?” You hadn’t even realized how hazy your vision had gotten until he grabs your chin and levels your lidded eyes with his and says your name again. You nod sluggishly for him, not hearing a word. He laughs again, smiles wide. His teeth are pretty.

“If you cum right now;” The buzzing grows stronger, your free arm spasming under you as you support yourself. “I’ll rub you raw after on the ride home. You just need to come right now and win charades with me.”

The buzzing inside grows too strong, and your vision goes white, pulsing in long pulls around his fingers as hot waves of sensation spread from your head to your toes.

Edward kisses you, soft and slow, swallowing any whimpers tempted to escape as you come down, abandoning the counter to clutch his sleeve as the twitching reduces to a tremor.

“Oh my god.“ You laugh, planting your face into his collar as you catch your breath. “I can't believe you used charades to make me come, I'm never gonna forgive you.”

“I heard the top prize is a ten dollar gift card to…” He squints and checks again. “The Google Play Store.”

“Ew, what could you even do with tha-”

“(Y/N) come help with plates!” Your mother shouts up the stairwell, totally fucking up any release you just had.

“I guess I should run down to the corner store;” Edward smiles, helping you to stand on wobbly legs and smoothing your skirt down. “Don't want to blow your cover.”

“(Y/N)! Plates!”

“Oh my god;” Your eyes may never return from the back of your skull. “Meet you downstairs?”

He kisses you sweetly one last time, pulling you close and wiping the sheen of sweat off of your face.

“Downstairs.”

With that, he heaves himself out of the narrow sill, and you busy yourself cleaning up as fast as you can.

You just catch him hopping off the roof, and coming around to the front yard. He'll hear you no matter the volume, but you still shout the warning;

“Stay away from my cousin!”

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Twilight FanFic #twilight smut #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight x you #the twilight saga #reader insert smut #reader insert fluff #reader #thanksgiving #dinner with parents

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