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dreamwritesimagines · 4 months

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The Eye of the Hurricane [6] - Drinks

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Rumors can spread fast.

Word Count: 3500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well, that night's argument hadn't stayed private as you knew it would not, and it had a hilarious consequence.

Usually, the underworld kept its secrets. The family business, money, alliances, they were all kept from outsiders and everyone who was involved in it was advised the same thing; never ever say anything to anyone unless you want to get killed.

That rule however, did not exactly apply to romance or the rumors of it.

So in the following days, almost everyone who was in the business knew about your very loud rejection of Bucky's marriage proposal, and the mere mention of it was enough to shock everyone. Bucky was the golden heir turned boss, he was basically the prince of the city while you two were growing up, and you couldn't think of one occasion where he got rejected. As if trying to show everyone that he couldn't care less about that rejection, he had spent the rest of the week being seen with a different girl at the clubs and taking them home but it still did nothing to stop the chatter.

Which would have been quite entertaining for you, if your father hadn't also heard about it and asked you to visit him at the company.

You huffed out a breath as the elevator doors opened and you stepped out to the hallway before making your way down the hall. You could probably find your way in this skyscraper with your eyes closed, you had spent nearly your whole childhood playing here so you didn't even stop by the receptionist before approaching the glass door, seeing your father behind his desk, with Ian sitting on the couch. You heaved a sigh, then opened the door to step inside.

“Daddy?”

“Y/N sweetheart,” he said and got up to kiss your cheek. “Welcome.”

“Hi,” you said. “Ian.”

“Y/N.”

“Sit down, sit down!” your father said. “Are we keeping you from your plans?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you sat down on the armchair across from his desk.

“Not really,” you said. “Me and Becca and Sarah are all going to this new club tonight, but that's it.”

Ian hummed. “Which one?”

“You're not invited,” you said calmly and Ian shot you a glare, then held up his hands.

“Don't worry, some of us have actual jobs rather than having fun.”

“Enough you two,” your father said. “Y/N my dear, I won't keep you long. I just wanted to ask you about Bucky.”

Your head shot up and you leaned back, trying to keep your expression completely nonchalant.

“About Bucky?”

“Please, everyone is talking about it,” Ian said without lifting his glances off his phone as he typed a text. “Did he really propose?”

“Ian.”

“Uncle, a possible relationship between him and her is more than just romance, you know that.”

“She can hear you,” you said, glaring at him and Ian rolled his eyes.

“Y/N—”

“I said enough,” your father said. “Ian, leave the room.”

You tried to repress the smile on your face as Ian let out a breath, then pushed himself off of the couch to walk out of the office. You gave your father a bright smile but he only shot you a disapproving look.

“Must you two snark at each other all the time?” he asked. “We're family.”

“The fact that he's family is the only reason why I haven't shot him yet,” you deadpanned as your father motioned at his assistant for two coffees, and you crossed your legs.

“So?” he asked. “You and Bucky?”

“There's nothing going on between us.”

“But he proposed?”

You paused for a moment, then cleared your throat.

“Not exactly,” you said. “It was a hypothetical argument really. Bucky is convinced he's quite the catch, I was just bringing him down to the real world.”

“A hypothetical argument.” he repeated and you nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“And you want to keep it hypothetical?”

You raised your brows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You two grew up together,” he said with a sigh. “I'll be honest, I'm nowhere near ready to see you get married, but Bucky knows the business, he's powerful enough to protect you—”

“I can protect myself daddy,” you cut him off. “You made sure of it.”

Your father ran a hand over his face and you tilted your head.

“You think it’s a good idea.”

He paused for a moment. “Well, it goes without saying that your opinion matters more here.”

“Well yes because thankfully we’re not in the 18th century anymore,” you commented. “But tell me anyway.”

“Hypothetically speaking, that kind of marriage would prove to be beneficial—”

“To all the psychiatrists in the city.”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you said with a grin as the assistant brought your coffees and you thanked him. “Go on.”

“Would it be without issues?” your father asked. “Of course not.”

“Me making myself a widow could prove to be an issue yeah.”

“It would change the balance in the city, bringing the two families together…” your father trailed off. “Ian has his doubts about it but—”

“Ian doesn’t like it?” you asked with a huff of a laughter. “If you wanted to sell the idea to me, you should’ve led with that daddy.”

“But overall,” your father continued as if you didn’t cut him off again. “He agrees it could be good for the family and the business.”

You clicked your tongue, then reached out to grab your coffee cup.

“I’m not in the business,” you pointed out, bitterness seeping into your voice. “You made sure of that also.”

That made your father hesitate and he heaved a sigh.

“Y/N, sweetheart…”

“Is that all?” you forced yourself to ask and your father smiled slightly.

“Does he love you?” he asked back and you rolled your eyes.

“Not at all,” you said. “Which is a good thing if you ask me. I wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on earth.”

Your father held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“If you say so,” he said and you took another sip of your coffee, then put it on the small coffee table and stood up from your chair.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Mm hm,” he said, letting you kiss his cheek. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Your bodyguards are coming with you to that club.”

You let out an annoyed groan. “Becca will have her bodyguards already—”

“No,” he said, pointing at you. “We talked about this before, and you have already beene attacked once.”

“The guy is dead though.”

“We still don’t know who he was working for,” your father said. “In any case, it’s not up for discussion.”

You huffed out.

“Fine, fine…” you murmured and walked out of the office to see Ian leaning against the wall, still busy with his phone.

“So?” he said. “Should I go pick a suit for the wedding?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said with a fake smile and he let out a dry laugh.

“You know,” he said. “If Barnes actually wants to marry you, he must be more stupid than I thought. Poor guy.”

You clicked your tongue.

“Ian I’d love to stay here and do this, but I actually have a life outside this building, friends who are not on my payroll and such, you know?” You pointed back at the office with your thumb. “But you can go back in now and pretend your opinions matter.”

With that, you walked away from him to the elevator, not even sparing him another glance.

“The love of Becca’s life” as Becca called her turned out to be a nice girl named Leila whom you decided would be your friend after spending about five minutes with her. Ethan was running late -some last minute issue at the company- but he said he would be there in half an hour, so you figured you could start drinking with Becca and Leila beforehand.

“I mean listen, if you want it go for it but all my friends who got back together with their exes soon remembered why they broke up in the first place,” Leila said as you sucked on the straw of your cocktail, then shook your head.

“We barely count as exes, and it wasn’t a bad break up,” you said. “And it was back at college, everyone is an idiot in college times.”

“I know I was,” Becca said and Leila grinned.

“Me too,” she said as her phone beeped, and she checked it, then raised her brows and held up the phone at Becca.

“Aw, she’s not coming.”

You tilted your head. “Who?”

“My friend,” Leila said. “That’s a shame, she was very excited.”

“To come to the club?”

“That and to possibly see her brother,” Leila pointed at Becca with an apologetic smile and Becca made a face.

“Ew!”

“What’s going on?” you asked and Leila shrugged her shoulders.

“She and Becca’s brother had a thing like three years ago apparently?” she said. “I’d say small city but it’s not, it’s weird.”

“Kind of the same circle but not really,” Becca said and you scrunched up your nose.

“Ah.”

“I mean you should have heard the way she was talking about him,” Leila said with a laugh. “I’d tell you but Becca needs to cover her ears.”

“I do not want to be traumatized thank you,” Becca said. “I already go to therapy once a week—Sarah!”

Someone pressed a kiss on your cheek and you turned to smile brightly at Sarah, then hugged her sideways when she sat next to you.

“You’re here!”

“Only because I promised you,” she said. “I’ll have one drink and go home.”

“I still take that as a win—Sarah, this is Leila,” you introduced them. “Leila, this is Sarah, our best friend.”

“Whom we can barely see because she’s literally saving lives,” Becca said with a proud smile and Sarah waved a hand in the air.

“Don’t. It’s very nice to meet you,” she told Leila, then turned to me. “What is this I hear about Bucky proposing to you? Are you two actually getting married?”

Leila’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit,” she said. “I’m so sorry Y/N, if I knew about you and him, I wouldn’t bring up my friend and him having…a thing earlier.”

“What? No!” you said in a rush. “It’s totally fine.”

“Is it?”

“Your friend could be here and the only thing I’d ask her is if Bucky put a mirror between them in bed so that he could fulfill his lifelong dream of—”

“Y/N!”

“It’s a valid theory that I have, and I’m genuinely curious!” you defended yourself as Leila started laughing.

“Oh God…” she said. “I apologize either way.”

“You really shouldn’t—your friend slept with him, who hasn’t?” you asked while Sarah motioned for the waitress, then ordered her drink. “I mean not me I have principles, but you get what I mean.”

“But he asked you to marry him?” Leila asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Ours would be a unity of minds,” you said solemnly while Becca played with her hair.

“Unity of two braincells, more like it.”

“And we’re not together,” you added and Leila stole a glance at Becca as if she was confused, and Becca mouthed ‘later’ while you tilted your head at Sarah.

“Who did you hear it from by the way?”

“Sam told me,” she said as the waitress brought her a drink. “He’s also very entertained by that whole thing.”

“We all are,” Becca said and your phone vibrated in your hand, Ethan’s name flashing across the screen. You looked around, then stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” you said and made your way down the stairs, then passed the dance floor and stepped outside with your bodyguards following you.

“Y/N!” you heard Ethan’s voice and you turned your head, then smiled at him as the bouncer immediately stepped aside.

“Miss Y/N, he didn’t tell us he was your friend.”

“Oh no worries,” you said as Ethan approached you.

“Hey,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You look amazing.”

“Aw thank you, so do you!” you said, then grabbed his wrist to pull him along as you walked back into the club.

“They’re not letting anyone in,” Ethan told you, making you shoot him a small smile.

“Just give my name the next time and they’ll let you pass,” you told him and he let out a whistle.

“Just how far does your reach go?”

“Very far,” you said with a wink, then led him up the stairs before walking into the VIP room. You quickly introduced Ian to the girls, and took your seat, Ethan sitting right next to you.

“You were my doctor!” Ethan told Sarah. “The uh…the other night.”

“I was,” Sarah said. “Feeling better I hope?”

“Much better,” Ethan said and ordered a beer to the waitress by the door. “Thank you again by the way.”

“Not a problem,” Sarah said and Becca smiled at him.

“So Ethan,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. Y/N says you’re a data analyst?”

“I am,” Ethan nodded. “I just moved to the city, and Y/N has been nice enough to show me around.”

“Do you like it here so far?”

“People are exceptionally rude,” he answered with a grin. “My neighbor looked at me like I’d grown two heads when I greeted him the other day.”

“I don’t think I know any of my neighbors,” Leila mused and before you could comment on it, a familiar voice reached inside the room.

“No Sam but I’m just saying—” Bucky stopped by the entrance the moment he caught the sight of you and he raised his brows.

“Hey,” he said after a beat, his lips curling into a smirk. “Mind if we join you?”

“Jesus…” Becca heaved a sigh and turned to Leila. “Do you wanna dance?”

“Sure!”

“Great, let’s go,” she said as she stood up and left the room with Leila following her. Sam and Bucky entered the room, a girl following Bucky right behind him, and you could see they were holding hands. You tried not to roll your eyes and smiled at Sam instead.

“Hey there.”

“It’s been a while,” he said as he squeezed at your shoulder, then sat next to Sarah. Bucky took a seat, and the girl sat right next to him, still not letting go of his hand.

“Look at that, you’re here too,” Bucky told Ethan. “Let’s hope tonight ends better for you than your other date huh?”

You held onto Ethan’s arm, leaning your head on his shoulder without saying anything and Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“Fingers crossed for that,” Ethan said. “But in any case, my awesome doctor is here so I’m prepared if it doesn’t.”

Sarah chuckled and Bucky leaned back on the couch.

“Sam, this is Emmett—”

“Ethan,” you and Ethan corrected him at the same time and Bucky’s smile widened.

“My bad,” he said. “He’s Y/N’s… friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ethan told Sam while you played with the straw in your cocktail, keeping your glances on the girl.

“And you are?”

“Allison,” she said and you exchanged glances with Sarah who shook her head at you as if telling you not to do what you were about to, but you turned to Allison.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. “Excuse my manners, it’s just that we don’t often see Bucky spending time with women vertically, so it took me a minute to shake off the shock.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you while Sam pursed his lips, trying to keep a straight face.

“But look at you Buck!” you told him. “You’re improving yourself.”

“At least one of us is,” Bucky stated, making you glare at him. Sam cleared his throat, shifting his weight.

“Ethan just moved to the city,” Sarah said in an attempt to change the subject and Ethan nodded fervently.

“Yeah it’s been less than a month, I’m pretty new here.”

“And he says people are rude, including his neighbors,” Sarah said and Sam chuckled.

“Let me guess, you grew up in a small town?”

“That obvious?” Ethan asked while you and Bucky glared at each other, neither of you averting your glances. Allison frowned slightly.

“Is everything okay?”

“Great.”

“Peachy.” Both you and Bucky said at the same time and the waitress walked inside with drinks. Bucky took his glass of whiskey, then took a sip while Ethan sat up straighter.

“I’m just saying, where I grew up, people liked helping others and making friends.”

“You grew up in Narnia?”

“Okay I know how it sounds,” Ethan said with a laugh. “But I mean I guess it’s what I’m used to. I want to go back eventually but…”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, grinning. “Look at that Charm. He wants to move back to a small town.”

“It’s a future plan, after decades probably,” Ethan added in a rush. “It’s just so peaceful there—”

“And Charm loves peaceful,” Bucky said. “She eventually wants to just leave this all behind and go live in a cute cottage or something, away from the family business.”

You gritted your teeth, putting your cocktail glass down and Ethan looked between you two while Sarah ran a hand over her face.

“You’d fit right in too,” Bucky told you. “I hear people in small towns never let anything go and can hold grudges for years.”

“You on the other hand wouldn’t fit in at all,” you shot back. “Ethan says people are nice there so I doubt they tolerate anyone who’s an arrogant asshole.”

“There it is,” Sam murmured. “They lasted longer than I thought.”

Ethan blinked a couple of times. “Uh, how about we all just calm down—”

“They won’t,” Sarah said helpfully and Sam heaved a sigh.

“I knew I should’ve left with Steve.”

“You really can’t wrap your mind around the fact that people can change, can you?” Bucky asked as you leaned forward, glaring daggers at him.

“Oh I can wrap my mind around that just fine; people can change, you however—” you started but your phone started vibrating on the table so you grabbed it, seeing your father’s caller ID flash across the screen.

“I’ll be back,” you said and pushed yourself off the couch, then made your way out of the club, your bodyguards following you. You took a couple of steps away from the building so that the music wouldn’t be as loud, then answered the phone.

“Daddy?”

“Y/N sweetheart,” he said. “You didn’t text me when you got there.”

“Oh I forgot!” you said, leaning back against the wall. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You and Becca are having fun?”

“Mm hm,” you said. “At least I was until Bucky showed up.”

“Bucky is there too?” he asked. “That’s good.”

You rolled your eyes. “Daddy…”

The amusement in his voice was clear; “I’m just saying.”

“I’m going to hang up now,” you told him and he chuckled.

“Be very careful alright? And don’t stay until the dawn.”

“We’ll see about that, love you!” you said and hung up before he could argue. You pushed yourself off the wall but as soon as you turned, your eyes fell on Bucky and you let out a groan.

“Jesus Christ, what is it this time?” you asked. “Let me guess, have my babies or something?”

Bucky shot you an almost reprimanding look.

“If you insist,” he said, making you scoff before you saw his driver stopping the car in front of you both and he opened the door for him.

“You’re leaving?” you asked and Bucky’s head shot up, a look of surprise crossing his handsome features.

“Did you—me and Sam are meeting Steve, something came up but do you want to come with?”

“Absolutely not,” you said quickly. “It was just a question.”

Bucky paused for a moment and cleared his throat.

“So now that you got your revenge, are you happy?”

“My revenge?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “What, I broke your heart almost ten years ago—”

“That’s kind of an exaggeration.”

“And now everyone knows you turned my proposal down.”

“Also kind of an exaggeration to call that nonsense a proposal,” you pointed out and he held up his hands, mocking surrender.

“So when will you get rid of him?” he asked and you pulled your brows together.

“Ethan?” you asked. “What makes you think I want to?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a smile.

“Because he will bore you,” he said. “And as much as you like to think otherwise, you don’t do boredom.”

“Oh right, because you know so much about me,” you stated, sarcasm laced in your tone. “Sure.”

Bucky’s piercing blue eyes held your gaze for a moment, making your heart skip a beat before he took a deep breath, as if trying to pull himself together.

“Let me know when you’re done with the whole poems and roses bullshit and want actual power,” he told you as he walked to his car. “Ready when you are, Charm.”

The driver closed his door and you glared at the car as it drove away, then rolled your shoulders back.

“In your dreams buddy,” you grumbled to yourself, then flipped the phone in your hand and made your way back into the club.

Chapter 7

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mrsnancywheeler · 5 months

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the lakes (11) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter/next chapter

midnight rain

4.2k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, gore/violence/death, poisonous fog, mental illness, paranoia, self-hate, terms of endearment, manipulation of someone's feelings, unedited, no use of Y/N

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Although his hands were sweaty and the last thing you needed was extra body heat, when Finnick’s fingers played with the ends of your hair and rubbed your shoulder you refused to let out a complaint. You would have rather died of heat stroke than rid yourself of his comforting touch. Especially since he'd insisted you needed to rest and this was helping you, even if the paranoia was going to keep you on edge. Your eyes stayed glued shut in an attempt to just listen to what he said, but it was too hot, and your thoughts were too loud.

The pain in your head had pretty much ceased, but the threat of infection was extreme. What would Finnick do if you died that way? Would he let himself die to protect Katniss, the rebellion? Even if in the hypothetical you would be dead, the thought made your heart still with guilt. It has consumed you more recently, the idea that like how you couldn't live without Finnick, he couldn't live without you. Of course, it didn't make any sense to you. He was him, so much to give, to offer, so beloved that there was so much more out there for him. Yet, the way he talked increased your fright that that's not how he saw himself. When his burning hand pulled its contact away from you, it snapped your head back into reality. Eyes opened as you watched Finnick walking away and heard the ringing sound of a sponsor gift.

Your hands, equally covered in perspiration, went to wipe your face of it, all in vain. “I think it's a spile." Katniss finally said, grabbing whatever item had arrived and walking to a nearby tree. You hadn't a clue what she was talking about. Were you losing it already? What was a spile?

“A what?" Finnick asked, following her. It was good at least to know you weren't delusional. Whatever it was must not be something of use back home if you both had no idea what it was. Peeta had raised from wherever he'd been laying to follow to accompany them as Katniss tapped the item into the tree. She looked at it expectantly and you weren't sure what had happened at first when they all gasped excitedly. Then Finnick was in front of you again, “Let’s get you up, angel, there's water.” Maybe that's what all this confusion was, dehydration. Without effort he had pulled you to your feet.

It was like a miracle to see clean water pouring out of the spile and Peeta pulled away to let you have your turn. The moment it hit your tongue it was so refreshing, you'd gone so long without a drink your body had almost tricked itself into forgetting how dry your mouth had been. But the water brought instant relief, you splashed some on your face before pulling yourself away to make room for Finnick.

Unexpectedly being hydrated and having the ability to drink more whenever needed calmed you more then you'd anticipated. Regardless of how exhausted your body was when Finnick urged you to lay down and try to rest once again, you were reluctant. Even if it was unlikely, part of you asked, what if you fell asleep and it was the last time you saw him?

“Finnick, I'm fine! I'll keep lookout too, you've been taking care of everything all day, you've got to be exhausted." He sighed at your refusal.

"You're so sweet, that it's infuriating. Please, angel, you need to rest. I will be less tired knowing you're not.” His ocean eyes begged yours, hand stroking your cheek softly.

“That's not how that works." He deserved rest, to lay down. You were perfectly capable of staying there with Katniss. The darkest depths of your paranoia asked you why he wasn't comfortable letting you watch over, if didn't trust you. However, the thought was gone as soon as it made its appearance, if there was one thing you knew it was that you trusted him.

“Please." He whispered and you sighed before mumbling an agreement, there was no way you'd win this argument.

“Will you lay by me?"

He stared at you for a second like he was contemplating, “I’ll just be a few feet away, just on watch.”

You wanted to ask him why he couldn't just do that while laying with you, but you knew he wouldn't say no if there wasn't a reason. Maybe he planned on trying to gain more of Katniss’ trust by staying up with her. Regardless it's not like you would be able to fall asleep if he wasn't there anyways, you couldn't remember the last time you had. It was as if the moment he was away you lost all body heat and couldn't rest unless he was there.

The idea of even verbalizing that made you feel guilty, so you just rolled your eyes and began walking in the other direction to lay down. "Fine."

You could sense his own eye roll at your dramatics and you found yourself a spot between the roots in one of the trees. Staring at the sky through the tree branches when Finnick’s voice reached you through the still air, “Your eyes are still open." You turned your head his way to throw him a glare which he simply laughed at before turning to walk closer by Katniss. It was easy to get lost in your thoughts, the sounds of insects chirping and buzzing somewhere. It was almost peaceful, if there hadn't been the looming fear of death.

This was interrupted when a banging noise cracked through the arena, you shot up, but there didn't seem to be any actual danger. You could see Katniss and Finnick looking up at the sky which quickly ceased. With no threat at hand you cautiously laid back down. Not long had passed before you heard footsteps coming in your direction, you turned your head to the noise.

“You're supposed to be resting." Finnick remarked, laying down by you.

“I'm trying." You scoffed and he raised his eyebrows with a knowing look in his eyes, “Aren't you supposed to be keeping watch, or did you feel guilty for refusing to comfort your wife?"

“If she's going to stay up and keep watch then I might as well sleep. Shows her I trust her too.” His warm arms wrapped around you as he gazed at you. The paranoid voice was back, gnawing in your brain, asking why he wouldn't let you keep a lookout with them. “You okay?" He asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah." You muttered, shaking away the intrusions. “Well that's good because I couldn't have slept without you anyways." Snuggling deeper into his arms as your noses touched.

“Glad I could be of service then, Mrs. Odair." Finnick pressed a kiss to your lips. Tucked into his arms you were finally able to push away most of the fears, to act like it was just you in Finnick’s arms, falling asleep under the stars. Like you were at home, just the two of you in love. Maybe if you thought about that long enough you'd find the few and far between relief of a sweet dream about the two of you. You tried to convince yourself that you were on the beach with him, that he was keeping you warm as the salt air grazed your face. That the moonlight would shine on the ethereal waters and brighten your face. Eventually you were able to drift into sleep thinking about those fantasies, or maybe they were memories, who knew your brain felt like it had been on overdrive. However, your comfortable rest was interrupted when Katniss was screaming in pain and urging you all, desperately, to run.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“We should start staking out the Careers, find a plan of attack." This was the beginning of the end, you told yourself, once they were gone the four of you would have to do the same to each other. But Marlowe was still right, as a team you needed to get rid of the biggest threat.

"How are we supposed to find them?” Birch asked, looking around incredulously.

"The arena can't go on forever, plus they'll be confident enough to start fires and be louder.” You sat on the muddy ground, throwing your knife into random spots. The arena had begun to warm up on day 5 and the rain had become progressively warmer until day 7. Although the lack of pouring rain was a blessing, it was also a curse since it made finding water a priority once again, and there wasn't much iodine left.

Besides natural causes you'd assumed the other tributes who's faces you'd seen in the sky at night probably died at their hands. It was almost harrowing to think about how you could very soon die at their hands as well, but you had to trust that your group could overtake their’s.

“They're probably at the Cornucopia, that'd be typical." Conway’s arm was resting lazily on one of your shoulders. Marlowe nodded her head in agreement. “We should eat and then head that way."

You pulled a backpack closer to you, “I'll get the net."

“Marlowe and I will go check on the snares if you guys try and get fish." Birch and Marlowe headed off as you pulled the net out of the bag. Rising off the ground to find the nearest body of water.

You listened to the birds chirping before Conway broke the silence, “I don't know if I can do it." His admission was quiet, like he was nervous to say something.

“Do what?" You turned your face to look at him, his eyes glued to the ground.

“Kill them, the Career pack."

“You had a higher score than some of them and you're plenty strong, I'm sure you'll be fine."

Conway exhaled, he looked at you incredulously, "Not like that. I mean I don't think I can kill them, let myself kill them.”

"You killed in the Bloodbath."

"Only once and it's eating me up inside."

You stared at him in silence for what felt like an eternity, but was really just a few seconds. Before you tore your eyes away from him to look at the scenery around you, "Then don't, I’ll do it.”

"You've changed a lot, you know.” This caught you somewhat off guard, but you kept a straight face as you walked.

"I don't think I have, really.” Except in matters of paranoia and distrust which had greatly expanded, it really felt like at your core you were still you.

"With respect, princess, I don't think you would be as willing.”

"At home we weren't in these circumstances.”

"Seems there's a lot about you I don't know then.” The sound of his footsteps had stopped, so you turned to look at him. The two of your stared at each other, he seemed to be coming to terms with something and that made you nervous.

“I'm not saying I want to, just that sometimes you have to do what it takes to survive. Even if it's difficult or-”

"Untrue?” Conway finished, your stomach knotted. What was he getting at?

You sighed," Yeah, I guess.” He stared at you longer before he nodded his head and walked forwards. His aura was all off and it made you somewhat panic. “I'm sorry if that upsets you that I'm doing what it takes to go home." Your voice was more frustrated as you followed him. Finnick would have understood, the longer you went without him the more you longed to be with him, to be with someone who really got you.

He stopped walking and grabbed your arms, “It's okay, I understand. It's just hard to come to terms with when you remember that this is all designed to bring that out in us. To see the other side, not through rose colored glasses.” It was like he was having a different conversation that you weren't being let in on. An echo in your voice told you were done with your facade, that he'd figured it out, but you quiteted it. You'd done everything you could think of, why wouldn't he believe you?

Conway leaned in and kissed you, it was soft, sweet, like he'd never be able to kiss you again. He pulled away and gave a small frown as he looked at you longer, “We should go, we’ll probably find a pond of something soon." He began walking off and you stood still for a few seconds, mind trying to grasp what was going on. But you followed and he fell back into conversation about home as you netted for fish.

Eventually you'd all returned with your goods to eat before setting off towards where you'd assumed the Cornucopia must be and therefore, the Careers. It was a long, boring, pain seeking them out, observing their moves, planning your attack.

“Maybe if we wait them out they'll just turn on each other." Birch was crouched down in the long grass. “We could hit them when they're already untrusting." His thoughts were interrupted by a piercing scream. Your heads all snapped to look across the opening where the noise had come from. One of the Career’s was running towards the two waiting, as she ran a cannon went off. You couldn't hear what she was saying, but she looked frazzled, like she'd been running for her life.

“Looks like our window now, then." Marlowe muttered as she began trudging through the mud. You weren't sure that would be a great plan, that any of this was, but everybody else seemed to agree. Hiding the bags in the grass as they followed her. This wasn't well thought out enough. You tried to appear as though you agreed as you walked behind.

“Come to kick us when we're down?" One of the boy’s, Otto, yelled out. You cursed everyone for not trying to be more sly, not waiting until they were more off guard.

“What happened?" Birch asked, hatchet firmly in his hand. He nodded his head to the girl from District 1, Satin, who was shaking, legs covered in mud.

“There's these horrible crocodile creatures in the swamps." Satin's voice was shaky, she was forgetting herself, that she could die, and you pitied her. You recalled seeing her volunteer, but here she was struggling to maintain composure due to some Capitol mutants, it was gut wrenching to think about the shift between the glory and terror that must have occurred. Finnick had ensured that any Capitol propaganda about the Games and their respect was uprooted from your brain the moment he could.

“They got Aulus." Arria, you believed her name was, the female tribute from 2, said. Her voice didn't even quiver, but you could see some sadness in her eyes, that would've been her last connection to home.

“I'm sorry." Conway was so sincere and everyone stared at him for a second. You didn't know what it was in, respect for his kindness, disbelief because he was just another obstacle in winning, anger because he was a threat.

“Thanks for not just attacking us though, I’ll remember to say how compassionate you all were when I'm on my Victory tour." Otto’s scalpel chain was lunging forward, and unassuming Birch who'd stepped too close by got nicked across his arm as he tried to move out of the way. Hissing as he threw the hatchet at Otto, who turned to miss the weapon. Regretfully all you could think about was how much of a coward the boy was when he made a run for it as Birch scrambled to gather his weapon back.

“Get him Birch!" Marlowe screeched out as he followed. Then Conway was groaning as Arria slashed at him with her sword. Insticinually pushing his spear forward which caused her to shriek as it planted itself into her leg. You hated how slow everything felt like it was going, usually the climax of a Game's felt more rushed to watch, maybe this wasn't the real climax though. She slipped a bit as she tried to pull the spear out and stab at him with her sword. He had the clear upperhand now, to kill her, but he wasn't taking it. Just staring at her with pity.

‘I’ll just have to do it,’ you told yourself and threw the knife into her head. Conway’s face was hit with the splatter of blood and he stared at her body with shock as the cannon went off. Looking at you as you pulled the knife out of her head. You were disgusted with yourself, but desperate time called for desperate measures and you were so close to being able to go back home, see Finnick, feel the ocean, give to your family, to let that all pass up because he didn't want to kill her.

“Somebody had to do it." You muttered out numbly and then looked away at the yells of Marlowe and Satin. A pitchfork had been used to create a nasty hole in Marlowe’s leg and there was a bleeding gash in Satin’s side. Marlowe was able to plug the machete in just deep enough before Satin had gone back to her with the pitchfork and there was that terrible canon again.

“Come on." Conway’s hand tugged at yours and before you could ask questions he was pulling you along as he ran.

“What are you doing?" You asked when you finally gained comprehension.

“We have to go, Birch is gonna kill Otto and then it's just us left." You were back in the long grass, “We'll prolong this if we go hide, here, put the knives in the bag and we'll go find a new place to camp." Conway said breathlessly.

“It would be more fair for us, too all just fight it out now, all together."

“I heard them talking, they were gonna gang up on us and they're so strong, especially together." Your heart was starting to race, maybe he was right this surely was starting to feel climactic. You couldn't help that you were looking at him with suspicion though.

He must have sensed this though because he kissed you, “Trust me." Conway whispered out, hands taking the knives from you to place them in the bag. You nodded, if he was still kissing you he must believe you, and the Conway you knew wouldn't kill someone he loved. Then another cannon went off, either Otto or Birch, “Let's go." His explanation still didn't feel right but you nodded and followed. Blindly following your childhood best friend, the man who loves you and you could love back that way, into the marshes to try and keep you both alive for just a little bit longer.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The screams of pain were instantly enough to stop you from being any sort of tired when you awoke.

“The fog is poison!" Katniss screeched and ran forwards. You could see the cloud of it rolling down towards you all and Finnick was immediately pulling you up, urging you forward.

You were all sprinting as fast as you could, eyes desperately searching for somewhere new to aim for. The fog seemed to be everywhere, like it was getting faster and surrounding any place you could have thought to sprint. You could feel your heart pounding in your skull as you scrambled. Willing yourself not to pause when you heard Katniss cry out quickly followed by Peeta. Your blurry vision is still able to make out their figures though which helps you keep going. Suddenly Finnick had tripped on one of the many vines and was yelling.

“Finnick!" You were screaming, trying to pull him forward out of the fog threatening to completely engulf him. He stumbled forward.

"Come on, angel.” Despite the searing pain he must have been in he grabbed you and then the fog hit one of your calves. You nearly fell forward as you howled out at the harsh, burning that blistered into your skin, enough pain to make you feel like you were going to throw up. Finnick yelled your name and forced you to keep running in any direction away from the fog which seemed to be in any direction you turned.

“Peeta!" You ran towards Katniss, Peeta was on the ground. Motionless besides the twitching muscles around the areas where the boils had taken over. “I can't carry him." Her voice was broken.

Finnick nodded, “Keep up." He looked at you somewhat sternly, but it was more coughing it out. Katniss and Finnick supported Peets and began moving forward as the looming cloud of death crept up. It was hard to move forward, your legs felt like they were going to melt off into a burning sludge. You felt guilty when you arm gripped onto Finnick's free one, trying to keep balance. Then the agonizing pain took over again, unbearable and shooting across your back. You swore that you could hear your skin sizzling in the fog, it was hard to keep your eyes from falling shut, from letting yourself collapse into the ground. Until you were rolling down a hill, the feeling was so harrowing that you let yourself tumble down and then lay dejected, waiting for the fog to consume you.

Katniss’ cries didn't even make you move, the fog must have got her, and this was all for nothing. We'll all die in the arena and the Games will go on next year and every year after that without incident. “The water, it helps!” She called out and you finally pried your eyes open, wincing at the excruciating feeling when you tried to move. Eyes trying to adjust as you crawled forward, trying to silence your whimpers, the pain felt nearly unendurable.

“Finnick." You croaked out, searching for him amongst the roots. Peeta and Katniss’ exhales of relief signaled to you where the water could be, but it wouldn't have felt right to help yourself before you could find him. Your eyes adjusted enough to see a figure laying not far in front of you, “Finnick!" Fingers clawing into the dirt as you pulled forwards not even wanting to think about what it would be like to try and stand again. Hands eventually landing on his chest, trying to shake him awake, he wasn't responding, and whatever pain you'd felt physically was somehow overwhelmed by the harrowing panic settling in. “Come on, Finnick, we have to go.” You tried to drag him towards the water, gasping out in pain as you tried to pull your own scorching body across the ground with his. “I can't get him." Your voice was hoarse and Katniss and Peeta was by you.

“Go wash yourself off, it gets rid of everything and Katniss and I will grab him." Peeta tried to reassure, crouching down. You tried to shake your head, nothing felt reasonable right now, you were too panicked, gripping onto Finnick tighter.

“Finn, you have to wake up. Please, I need you, please wake up." Hands were trying to grab your arms and you weakly tried to stop them. "I can't leave him.”

"You're not, we need to get you washed off and then we'll get him too.” Peeta said, pulling you up to lead you to the water.

“Get him first." You choked out, the physical pain, the emotional pain, all of it compounded was too much.

Then Katniss was pulling you forward from where Peeta had gotten you, she cupped her hands in the water, not dragging you in. She poured some of the water onto your arm and you could have sworn you saw steam leaving your skin as you nearly yelled at the increased pain before the relief.

“Come on, this is good, you can help grab him once you're better." She reassured, helping you pull yourself the rest of the way in. You nodded now and shrieked when the water overwhelmed each blister, the wisps of the poison leaving your body.

“Thank you." You stuttered out, but she was gone and Finnick was being dragged in by her and Peeta. He was screaming when he hit the water and you grabbed his shoulders as he tried to fight against it. “It's okay, it'll feel better, it's getting rid of it." You tried to reassure as he kept fighting back. “Finnick, Finnick, you're okay, this is helping.”

“We need to get our weapons." Katniss said to Peeta who ran off as you kept holding Finnick in the water. Finally Finnick’s eyes fully opened and you signed, letting yourself smile.

“I thought you were gonna die." You stopped holding down his shoulders to wipe away all the tears that had fallen from everything and the water itself.

He stood up, laughing, “Don't be too disappointed, I am in fact, still breathing."

You laughed in disbelief before wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, terrified that in a moment this could all melt away into a reality where he hadn't woken up. “Good.” Finnick kissed the top of your head and didn't think you'd ever be able to tear yourself away.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading, I'm so sorry this took so long to get out I've been swamped recently. all the support has been appreciated so, so much and I love you all 💕 feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are all greatly appreciated, my ask box is opens and I'll be getting to some of them soon to branch the time between the next chapter. thank you all so much and I hope you enjoyed this chapter 💋

taglist: @coriolanussnowswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastry @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x you #thg #finnick odair fanfic #finnick imagine #finnick x you #finnick x reader

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turtleblogatlast · 3 months

Note

after finding out he's trans from Draxum, Leo drops the news to his family with a joke and zero explication. The family wants to be a supportive as possible, but misunderstand and think that Leo just came out as transfem. The fact they didn't even consider Leo is biofem is surprisingly validating.

“Guess who just gave a new meaning to to word trans-portation!”

This is the first thing Leo says to everyone after going off with Draxum to who-knows-where for who-knows-what.

“Normally, I unfortunately understand the flow of logic for Leo’s puns, but I admit that I am blanking here.” Donnie says, looking at Leo with narrowed eyes.

Leo laughs - maybe a bit hysterically - as he saunters on over to the rest of his family. “Eh, just a little joke about my awesome portal powers mixed with- uh-“ He coughs into his fist, finding it difficult to keep his regular act up. “-a fab new finding about myself. Turns out I was born…a female turtle……?”

There’s silence for a moment.

Then- “Omigosh! Leo!” An orange blur rockets its way into Leo’s arms, making the slider let out and “oof” before steading both he and Mikey. “Thank you for telling us! Wait, is it still Leo? Or Lea now, maybe?”

The shock wheels its way out of Raph’s form as he comes over, eyes shiny, “I’m glad you told us, little sis.”

Leo blinks at them. “Wait-“

“Please note that if any of our enemies or allies refers to you incorrectly I can and will use deadly force to correct them.” Donnie states, with a grin that looked a little too excited about the idea.

“Same here!” April states, pounding one hand into another, “And- it’s cool to have another girl around.”

Leo thinks something got lost in translation. “Uh, guys-“

Splinter comes up to his side, patting his arm gently. “Oh, my Baby Blue, I’m so proud of you, my daught-“

“Okay, no, no, you guys got it wrong.” Leo laughs again, more uncomfortably than hysterically this time. “I’m- I’m not, like, a girl. I was-“ He looks away, feeling way too embarrassed about all this for his comfort, “I was born as a female turtle. Biologically.”

A beat.

“Oh.” Raph blinks down at him, surprise on his face, “Oh we may have jumped the gun there.”

“Well, this is embarrassing, though my offer of violence stands.” Donnie states.

Mikey rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “So…still Leo? Our brother?”

Leo gives a fond grin, “Yeah, yeah, still your brother.”

(April makes a noise of amusement, elbowing Splinter as everyone turns to her, “Hey, y’know what Splints? I think your DNA may have accidentally became some kinda HRT for Leo.”

Donnie thinks, “It does make sense, if a female red eared slider were to become mutated with a male human’s DNA then hypothetically it could create a mutant that takes on a more masculine outer appearance while retaining the female make up that was used as the base-“

Leo cuts in, “Okay, okay, no science-ing my gender, bro, let’s just order some pizza.”)

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #trans leo #writing blurb ask

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'

🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.

You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.

The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.

“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.

“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”

Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.

Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’

“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.

“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”

Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”

‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”

Your brows twitched irritably.

Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.

“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.

Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.

“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”

“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.

“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.

You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”

Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.

“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”

“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”

Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.

“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”

And then you were gagged once more.

The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.

“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”

You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”

He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”

You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.

You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.

Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.

“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose.

“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.

Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”

His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.

And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—

Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.

Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.

You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.

‘Wait,’ that look said.

And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.

The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.

You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.

There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.

Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.

“What’s going on?!—”

With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.

And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.

With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.

“Not so fast, you little cretin.”

And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—

There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.

Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.

“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.

“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.

“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”

“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”

“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”

“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”

“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”

You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”

“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”

The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.

“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.

“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.

You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.

You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.

The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.

He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.

From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.

And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.

You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.

He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!

And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.

But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.

It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—

You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.

“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.

You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.

Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.

“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”

The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"

“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”

You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.

“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.

Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.

“What white teeth you have?” you tried.

He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.

You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.

And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.

Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.

You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.

A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.

Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.

He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.

“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.

And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.

You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.

You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”

“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”

“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”

When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.

“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.

You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.

“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.

“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.

“A what?”

“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”

You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.

“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”

“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”

He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.

“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”

Then why—

You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.

“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”

“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”

You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—' was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you.

“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”

You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.

“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”

“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”

Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”

“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”

“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.

“Uhm, hello?” you tried.

“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”

“It talks,” you blanched.

“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”

“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”

“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”

Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.

“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”

Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.

“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.

On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.

“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”

Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.

The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.

The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.

Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.

One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.

And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?

“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.

“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”

You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.

“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”

Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”

However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.

“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”

Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.

“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.

You shrugged.

“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”

Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”

The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.

“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”

There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—

“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.

And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.

But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.

“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”

“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?

“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Silver Twst #Rollo Flamm #Slight Rollo Flamm x Reader #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 4

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 3 months

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i think it is very telling that the best documented case of women buying sex from men are white western women going on vacation in west african countries such as gambia to prey on impoverished and usually younger black men. it highlights that prostitution - any prostitution - is an exertion of power from a more privileged group against a less privileged group. that prostitution is a system that profits from and reinforces oppression and inequality. here, the axis of oppression is not sex, but race. its a symptom of neocolonialism, like most sex tourism.

nonetheless i always have to laugh when the articles, documentaries and research desperately try to act like female and male sex buyers are exactly the same - usually the argument hinges on the fact that the motivation is the same, companionship and sexual gratification. but male sex buyers are motivated by so much more: fetish, sadism, violence, domination. this does not tend to be the case with women. also, unwanted penetration is a different level of violence, having something inserted in you. female sex buyers dont request painful acts such as deepthroat or anal. there are no brothels full with men, the men dont have pimps, and usually in the case of female sex tourists, the arrangement is loose: companionship and sex with no fixed payment but pleasantries, gifts and such. additionally, women dont tend to be able to physically overpower men, or get off on enacting violence like hitting and choking. men who prostitute themselves for women are also less stigmatised than those who do so for men, or prostituted women. and more men sell themselves to other men than to women. and: women who buy sex tend to be single, while the relationship status of a man is no indicator of likelihood to buy sex.

female sex buyers highlight that besides sex, economic class and race determine who is prostituted and who buys sex. that prostitution is an issue of intersectional inequality. and that misogyny is still the key motor of prostitution: male sex buyers are any age, any class, any race, because any man can be a misogynist. but women only become sex buyers under specific conditions; for example motivated by racist fetishisation. another key factor here is gender. buying sex is considered masculine, but women buying sex break with gender norms. consider also the orgasm gap: most women are not satisfied by their male sexual partners. hypothetically it would make more sense for women to be the majority of sex buyers to enforce sexual satisfaction they lack in consensual sexual relationships. yet privileged women who lack sexual satisfaction are more likely to prostitute or otherwise objectify themselves than buying sex.

any form of female-on-male prostitution has its male-on-female (and sometimes male-on-male) equivalent that is more violent and more common. meanwhile many forms of prostitution dont have a female-on-male version, for example prostitution in brothels. men prostituting themselves for women are at a lot less risk for physical violence and abuse or being trafficked. there is even a phenomenon of heterosexual men having to prostitute themselves for men because there is just not enough demand from women. and female-on-female prostitition is almost unheard of, if anything this occurs in a male-female-female constellation. there are no gangbang parties with one or two men and groups of women.

people are so obsessed with pretending like women as consumers in the sex industry - whether that be as sex buyers, porn watchers or stripshow enjoyers - are just the same as men when there are clear differences. gender relations are always relevant in a patriarchal system and reversed roles dont produce the same outcomes.

#mine #anti prostitution #sex matters

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giorno-plays-piano · 8 months

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Broken Boy

Pairing: soft!yandere!Midoriya Izuku x reader

Warnings: obsession, manipulation, past bullying, violence (against bullies), unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied stalking, one mention of hypothetical noncon, Izuku being a cinnamon roll and a menace at the same time, hurt/comfort.

Words: 3.2k

Summary: "Is someone... giving you trouble?" You ask cautiously, actually afraid he's going to say yes. You can't stomach thinking someone is bullying Izuku again. Sure, he bulked up considerably and is now so tall he literally towers over you, but he's still that shy compassionate boy inside, and he doesn't know how to stop people from being mean to him.

P.S. Just giving some love to our best boi.

______________

When you see him, it's almost like every other Friday night when you grab a pizza from that corner cafe and come home to Izuku choosing a movie for you two to enjoy. It's been your favorite tradition ever since middle school, and you can't imagine spending the evening anywhere else.

Though maybe you should, given the circumstances.

Midoriya keeps chatting about work and the new equipment in his gym while you struggle to keep the conversation going. There are a lot of things on your mind, but your best friend's mental health is on the top of the list. Has been for a long time when you two had been younger, but you actually thought he got better with time. That is, until your work friend pointed out how unnaturally clingy he seems to the point when it's almost creepy.

He'd bark for you if you asked, she huffed, but, to your horror, you couldn't even find it in you to argue. In the end, she was right. When you look back at it, Izuku has been getting more and more possessive and insecure despite nothing seemingly changing in the relationship between you two.

Has something happened to him, and you missed it completely? You are confident it isn't his mom - your friend would often FaceTime with you around, and nothing at all hints at Midoriya's mom being distressed, you know her well enough to be sure. Is it work, perhaps? Personal issues?

Has someone started bullying him again?

You shiver from anger at the thought, clenching your fists. You would fucking end anyone who's troubling your ray of sunshine - like you had nearly done in middle school.

When you first met him, he was a new kid in your class, all skin and bones, awkward and shy and with no communication skills whatsoever. Took him about a day to become a target of delinquents you school was full of. They mocked him, drew on his desk, and threw a bucket of water at him once, but, as always, teachers didn't pay any attention to the bullying. You feel bad about it now, but since you had never seen it happen with your own eyes, you didn't think much of it either.

However, when one of the kids punched Izuku in the face to the point his nose started bleeding right in front of you, something in you snapped at the view of blood trickling down Midoriya's face. He was crying, hands up to prevent the kid from hurting him more, pleading the bullies to stop as if they'd listen. To this day, it infuriates you that someone would beat up a child this defenseless and lost: he was like an injured puppy, sobbing and trying to hide in the corner with his arms up to protect himself.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you flew to the bully and strated throwing punches at him like your life depended on it, repeatedly hitting him in the head and chest and everywhere you could reach before the other kids intervened. You were so enraged, though, you ended up fighting them, too, despite getting kicked in the ribs hard. The pain didn't stop you: it was like you turned into a whole different being whose only purpose was to hurt the bullies of a crying kid.

The teachers barely got a hold of you before you grabbed a chair to smash it against the back of one of the other children.

To this day, you wonder how Izuku awoke this raging beast inside of you: you had rarely gotten into fights, and, given your politeness and overall sweet demeanor, neither you nor anyone else had suspected you had it in you. Nevertheless, from that point on, there wasn't a day when you weren't there for Midoriya to kick the ass of whoever had the gall to torment him. Hell, the next time someone punched him, you went batshit crazy and almost pushed the guy off the stairs. Worse, you aren't the slightest bit sorry even now when you think of Izuku's swollen eye after he got punched again.

Gradually, it became better after you showed every stupid boy around what would happen if they did anything stupid to that awkward skinny kid, and Izuku was finally left alone. Naturally, it was no surprise he got so attached to you he spent nearly all his time somewhere around, going to the same after-school activities, picking same clubs, doing same things as long as he was able to stay close to you. You felt sorry for Midoriya: he was so nice it alone was enough for people to pick on him. How was he supposed to find friends? He'd stay a loner forever if you didn't do anything.

He wasn't hard to be around. Getting to know him better, you realized he was genuinely a very gentle and smart kid despite his antics and a weird addiction to superhero movies. Izuku was sweet and polite, holding a door for you like a gentleman, carrying your books, always laughing at your jokes, and even giving up his rice pudding he claimed he didn't like just to give it to you. How could you not like him?

It's been years since you both graduated from college, and he is still bringing you a rice pudding whenever you feel sad. You heart clenches as you think of him going through hard times again when you have no idea what's happening.

"Are you alright?" He suddenly asks, and you realize you've been staring at the wall for a minute, not replying to anything he just said.

God, this is gonna be painful.

"Are you alright?" Turning your head to face him, you ask, equally guilty and concerned.

Even though he tells you he is, giving you his brightest smile, you don't believe it. Izuku is very good at hiding his emotions when he's hurt.

"Talk to me," you ask, grabbing his palms in yours, and he visibly reddens at the sudden touch like a schoolboy.

You aren't fooled by this as you patiently wait for him to open up like always does when you want him to be honest with you, but Izuku just shrugs and says he's unsure what you're implying. Things are the same. Nothing has changed, nothing at all.

"Is someone... giving you trouble?" You ask cautiously, actually afraid he's going to say yes. You can't stomach thinking someone is bullying Izuku again. Sure, he bulked up considerably and is now so tall he literally towers over you, but he's still that shy compassionate boy inside, and he doesn't know how to stop people from being mean to him.

Midoriya smiles and shakes his head. "No. My colleagues and my boss are very nice. You don't have to worry."

"I can't NOT worry!" You exhale, rubbing his hands in yours like you always do when you get nervous. "You seem so... alone. I don't even see your gym buddies anymore. Has something happened? Did you have a fallout or something?"

There it is, this gentle, heartbreaking smile he always gives you whenever you are worried. Izuku has never once told you that you are pushy and overbearing despite the fact that you were all that many times in the past. He just smiles at you like he's happy someone cares, and it makes you tear up at the thought. How could he be so sweet and kind and yet so unaware of his own worth? It feels like the world is so freaking unfair to him.

"I just don't spend that much time with them anymore," he says as he gets a little closer to you, cheeks blushing because he's such a pure soul, unspoiled and shy, "because you are my best friend. I wanna hang out with you. I thought you'd be happy about it."

It's nearly enough to make you freaking sob. What did you do to deserve this sweetheart? How could he stay such a warm, kindhearted guy after the treatment people gave him?

You draw a breath and look him dead in the eye. "Izuku, come on, I'm not going anywhere. Why on Earth do you think if you have other friends, I'll stop hanging out with you? Having more friends is a healthy thing! We can hang out together if you'd like."

It seems Midoriya doesn't like the idea, giving how he shakes his head, his expression darkening. You don't know what to make of it until he starts talking, not meeting your eyes, "No. What if you'll like my friends more than me? I've always felt like you liked those gym guys more than me. I hated it. Like they're better than me, and if they ask you to stop spending time with me, you'll choose them over me."

For a second, you're unsure if you've just misheard him. It takes you a moment to process his words. What the actual fuck?! Did he just suppose you like his gym bros you only ever met a couple of times more than him, your best friend who's been with you for years?

As you blink, a thousand questions form in your head in response to his accusation, but one thought prevails over others: Izuku is battling some serious demons inside his head. There is no way a sane person would ever suggest anything like that. He's really, really insecure. Insecure in a dangerous way. You can't believe you haven't realized it earlier, just blaming it on his weird social skills when Izuku clearly hasn't been alright. When did it even start? Has it always been like that, and you simply didn't see the signs? Is it because of his childhood traumas?

Of course, it's his fucking childhood traumas. Why else? You were literally the only kid around him. Of course, he's terrified of losing you, and that's why he's still glued to you like a child.

It hurts you thinking your best friend is struggling that much. He's such a good person. He could have been so much happier if not for the things he had to endure as a kid that damaged him.

"Izuku, I think you need help," you whisper quietly, heartbroken, clenching his hands in yours as he watches you with that soft smile on his face that only makes you more anxious. "Things you say, they're just... wrong. I'd never abandon you for someone else, but it's not normal to depend on anyone that much. You need help. What can I do for you?"

You are completely honest with him when you speak, wishing to do anything it takes to help him get better. Clearly, Midoriya needs therapy. You'll have to ask around and find him an adequate specialist, maybe even pay if Izuku's low on cash, but you can do it. He's your best friend. Even if your colleague is right and he'd do anything for you, you'd do anything for him either. That's what friends are for.

When Izuku lights up, you hope he'll accept your help, but instead, he says, "Just stay with me like this."

You blink again and sigh in frustration. Of course, he'll pretend like he's ok. He has always had.

Reaching out to him, you envelop him in a hug and bring his head to your chest despite how much bigger he is now compared to you. Izuku doesn't fight, eagerly wrapping his hands around your core like he waited for it to happen. You're fairly certain touch is his love language because he used to hug you almost every day when he was a kid. Sure, he did become more self-conscious once you turned older, but it didn't stop him from occasional cuddles.

"I'm not going anywhere, ok?" You repeat again to reassure him. "I'm here. I don't know why you're so fixated on the idea."

"But what if you're gonna meet some guy you'll fall in love with? Get married, have kids?" He mumbles, his breath warming your neck. "What about me then?"

Gently caressing his head to calm him down, you ask, "Well, aren't you gonna do the same? Don't you want to fall in love with some nice girl?"

He sighs loudly, head buried under your chin as he keeps clinging to you. "I've already had."

Eyes wide, you silently stare at him, but Midoriya doesn't stop cuddling with his face hidden from you like he doesn't want you to see him. What the hell? Is this a prank or something? What sort of a fucking rollercoaster is this evening?

You can't even believe he fell in love with someone. Seriously? And didn't even tell you? Who on Earth is this girl? Do you know her? How did they meet? Your head is ready to burst from the number of questions that only seem to multiple again and again with each sentence Midoriya says.

"But you never even hang out with anyone but me..." You start, furrowing your brows until Izuku is groaning in your chest, and it finally hits you.

He is talking about you.

You are the only girl he's ever cared about. The only person he's been close to. And he has always been nice, but also sort of exceptionally nice? Even your mom used to comment on how much he likes you, hinting at the evident crash he had for you, but you always thought it was just wishful thinking despite how much you'd liked him to be in love with you. Given how open he was, he would've already confessed, you thought. By the time you both turned into adults, you were pretty much convinced he didn't harbor any romantic feelings for you or no longer had them.

When in reality he might have fallen in love with you years ago and never fallen out of it.

It freaks you out that much your face is on fire. Fucking hell. How are you supposed to react? What are you going to say? You don't even understand how you are feeling about this. Do you like him? Sure, you absolutely do. But do you love him? Can you love him? He'll surely ask you to date now that the cat is our of the bag. And what are you going to say to that?

Instead, you try to direct your thoughts elsewhere and ask Izuku, swallowing a lump in your throat, "When did you f-fall in love with me?"

He mumbles something inaudible into your chest, and you have to grab his face and make him look at you despite how much you'd like the earth just to swallow you whole this very moment.

"When you first hit that kid for me, I think," he mutters with his face so red he resembles a ripe tomato.

Oh my god, you almost say to his face but manage to stop yourself, drawing a shaky breath instead. He's been in love with you all this time. All. This. Time. You are never going to live this moment down. Ever.

Your best friend had a crush on you for years, and you just blindly thought he was clingy for no reason aside from his loneliness. That he was just being moody when you went on a couple of dates in high school and talked to him about it. That he didn't date anyone himself because he's simply a very shy person and struggles to start a conversation with girls.

Were you being a huge moron to him all this time?

"You weren't supposed to find out this way," he grumbles, burying his head beneath your chin again. "I was preparing for a big reveal in a nice restaurant, and then we'd go on a trip, just the two of us."

You are so abashed you don't even have anything to say. Maybe you're actually dreaming right now on Midoriya's couch because only then it would all make sense. What the hell are you supposed to say? To feel? Your best friend has always been in love with you, and you had no fucking idea.

Again, not that you don't like him or anything. You do. Especially after he manned up a little, grew taller, and hit the gym, although you'd probably like him even if he still was 5"1 skinny as a rail guy with a baby face. It just feels weird to rapidly start developing these freaking intense feelings for someone you nearly considered a part of you.

While you're trying to somehow get out of this akward situation, your brain gives you the stupidest idea to make a joke, "Well, aren't we confident! Already planned a trip after confessing."

You almost feel him smile, but when he breaks the embrace to straighten and look you in the eyes, he has a sad expression on his face. "I'd try to convince you by any means possible I'd do anything for you. I was ready to grovel at your feet. I still am."

His words alarm you, and you immediately place your hands on his shoulders, causing him to smile again. You want to tell him under no circumstances he should do that to anyone at all, but Izuku keeps going before you can stop him.

"I mean it. I'd do anything. I'd let you hurt me. I'd let you rape me if you wanted to. I'd jump from the roof if you asked me. Whatever you want, I'll do."

Normally, a love confession would have made you happy, but the words he say break your heart instead, and your eyes are instantly wet before you even realize it. How could he say something like that? How could be so nonchalant about these things? Has he no regard for himself as a human being? No pride? No pity? How can he talk about being alright with you hurting him if only it meant you'd date him? How could be genuinely be fine with a thing like this?

'I'm sorry!" He apologizes immediately when tears start streaming down your cheeks. "I didn't mean to upset you, I swear! I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

You are fully sobbing now, clenching his stupid Captain America sweatshirt you got him last Christmas. This is so fucked up. How could he be okay with you doing these things to him? Why would he even go that far?

You can't stop yourself from embracing him once more, hugging him tight as your head rests on his broad shoulder. Midoriya doesn't protest, his gentle, warm hands already caressing your back as you sniffle.

"Izuku, you need help," you sob, soaking his sweatshirt, oblivious to his smile growing wide when you don't see his face.

Gently rocking back and forth like he's trying to calm down a child, he whispers to you softly in response, "Then will you stay and help me?"

It's such an innocent ask you have no second thoughts saying yes immediately because you better fall down the roof yourself than leave your friend in this state, and you don't even think about Izuku manipulating you into being with him. How could he? He's a cinnamon roll to the core. He's so good and pure it's dangerous for him to be left alone. Besides, you like him anyway, don't you? It's not like everything will change so much in a heartbeat. He's still your friend, still the closest to you. He'll always be. He just needs your help, and you can't say no when he's been so traumatized and really needs help.

Izuku knew you'd say yes, anyway.

__________

Tags: @yanderetodorokishoto @minshookie29

#yandere #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #deku bnha #deku x reader #bnha deku #bnha #my hero academia

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cannedpickledpeaches · 2 months

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Insert Your Name (6)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Here's how they met, and also some other stuff. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-writes @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol

Things feel a little different between you and Jade nowadays. You can’t say you’ve gotten closer. But tentatively, you’re starting to let your guard down around him. You told him what you thought about trusting him.

“The only people who’d trust you,” you explained your theory, “are naïve fools, desperate people, or wary ones who have leverage on you or something to gain.”

He smiled enigmatically. “What category do you believe you fall under?”

“Naïve fool,” you answered without hesitation.

His chuckles in your ear felt like silk. “The fact that you can say that means you are not.”

A part of you still worries, but you’ve decided to give it a chance. No developments can be made if you refuse to take risks. Besides, you don’t have the brainspace to linger on this. The other mystery from his phone call that morning still hasn’t been addressed.

Why did (Y/N) forget you? Is it linked to the spell shielding Barry Moore’s memories from Shock the Heart? After some tests, Azul concluded that it’s not a defensive spell. Instead, it is a high-level spell locking specific memories. Only experienced mages can pull that off, even if it is someone’s Signature Spell. If it’s the same spell, why would (Y/N)’s memories specific to you be blocked off? Does it have to do with how you’re an extra in the book? By that logic, why were Moore’s memories locked, and not yours?

There is one path that has opened up. Jade consolidated a list of mages in the Carpenter Mafia. You’ve spent the past two weeks splitting the investigation into every mage between the two of you. Meanwhile, Jade has continued with advancing the plot. The story says he should be in love with (Y/N) by this point, but he still denies it to you. You have decided to take his word for it.

Your iced coffee tastes like frustration. You fiddle with the straw while observing a barrel-chested man across the street. He browses a luxury watch shop. You’ve been tailing him for a good few days, and you’ve already seen a few glimpses of his magic. His spells are crude and broad. Nowhere near the precision needed to lock specific memories. Maybe he’s acting, too cautious to show his magical prowess. You find it unlikely.

He is the last on your half of the list. Jade is done his half as well, save for someone who is a missing person the last time you checked. Not unusual for a mafia. You still think you should look into it when you return home. Other than that, did you not investigate thoroughly enough? Nobody matches the level of magical skill needed for that spell. You are starting to wonder if you are the one who is making a mistake. Maybe the one responsible is not a mage in the Carpenter Mafia. If not, who is it? The same person who wrote that manuscript in the first place?

Unanswered questions buzz around you like flies. You feel as though the more you investigate into this whole ordeal, the more questions you have. The man leaves the watch shop and you cannot find it in you to leave your corner of the café. It would be a waste of time to follow him.

Even if this investigation fails, not all hope is lost. According to Jade, (Y/N) recently won a raffle that allowed her on a certain movie set. The men you’ve planted amongst the staff reported that Vil Schoenheit took an interest in her natural beauty. The story is flowing onward without a hitch, so if all else fails, you can rely on her doe eyes. She should be able to tug on Vil’s heartstrings until he agrees to cure Jade and Floyd’s parents.

There’s no point in fantasizing about hypotheticals. If the story says it is so, it probably is. Things are easier this way. With that matter put to rest in your mind, your thoughts wander to home. With some free time in your schedule, you could make brunch for your mother. She might be sleeping in today.

Maybe you should take her back to your hometown sometime soon. Right now, you’re both living in your house in the capital of the Queendom of Roses, but you grew up elsewhere. Your hometown is on an isle on the far reaches of the Queendom’s territory, right next to the Coral Sea. That is where you met the twins, and later, Azul.

The memory of your first meeting is still vivid in your mind. You had been strolling along the beach that day on your way home from school. An odd shape caught your eye. Something distinctly green and long, half hidden behind the grey rocks of the cliffside. Loud voices of children your age filled the air. Middle schoolers, all boys. You figured it couldn’t be anything other than trouble.

But then you saw what caught their attention. And just like that, you were rooted to the spot. A long green tail with dark stripes and thin fins thrashed on the sand. Where you might have expected a fish or a sea monster’s head, you instead saw a boy’s upper body. Green, slimy, and snarling with gnashed, saw-like teeth and mismatched eyes, but a boy nonetheless. A boy who was trying his best to appear threatening while human boys stood around him in a circle.

As a child, you weren’t particularly righteous. You didn’t—and still don’t—care much about the livelihoods of people who aren’t close to you. The typical reaction for you would have been to walk away.

In fact, you were just about to turn around when you realized why his tail seemed familiar to you. Your favourite shops by the shore were owned by moray eel merfolk. When you asked your mother about them, she mentioned that moray merfolk weren’t too common. You surmised that whoever this unfortunate kid was, he was probably somewhat related to those rich business owners, and that meant you had something to gain if you helped.

It’s all very flimsy logic, now that you think back. You can forgive yourself for it. At the time, you were twelve years old. And without this incident, you wouldn’t be employed at this very well-paying job in the present day.

So you decided to chase away the boys surrounding the mer. They weren’t doing much other than talking out of curiosity, but they weren’t helping him get back in the water, either. Warning them should have been enough, but you lacked the factor of intimidation. When you yelled at them, they sneered back at you, telling you they wouldn’t listen to what a girl had to say.

In your defense, you were quick to anger as a child. Not that it excuses the five noses you broke under your fists that afternoon.

You stood next to that mer, hands dripping red with blood onto the thin layer of snow over coarse sand. The human boys threatened to tell on you or beat you up or whatever else they could think of, but after you threatened to break their arms too, they ran off. Once the coast was clear, you looked down at the boy beached on the sand. His skin was becoming dull.

“Thank you,” he said, his inhuman mismatched eyes peering up at you. “Can you help me back into the water? It’s a bit hard for me, and my skin is drying out.”

You squatted down a safe distance away from him so that you could see him at eye level. He sounded just like a normal boy. If you ignored the green skin, fins, markings, sharp teeth, and tail, he looked like a normal boy, too—although that was quite a lot to ignore. Well, a boy who looked normal could still be rich.

“Pay me.” You reached out a bloody hand expectantly. He looked at it with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ll be disappointed. I don’t have money on me.”

He wasn’t carrying any bags. But his hand clutched something shiny and blue. Before he could react, you snatched it away from him and held it up to the rays of the setting sun.

They looked like jewels, almost. But too thin, and the texture didn’t feel like any jewel you had ever held. Not that you’d held many. You could have been fooled into thinking it was something valuable based on how the boy bared his teeth at you.

“Give that back. You will regret it if you do not.”

“What is this?”

He held his hand out the way you did when you asked him for money. “Sturgeon scales. Return them.”

They were just scales, it seemed. Not particularly expensive. And your mother always told you it was bad to steal things.

She never explicitly said it was bad to extort people.

“I’ll give them back to you tomorrow if you come here at sunset to give me one hundred thaumarks.” You pocketed the scales. “I’ll push you into the water, but I’m not giving them back until you pay me.”

Begrudgingly, he accepted your help getting back to the embrace of the waves. A mer who looked exactly like him greeted him with a loud, cheerful voice. He even called out to you, asking you to come into the water and fight him, too. That was more trouble than it was worth, so you ignored him and went home with three sturgeon scales in your pocket.

The next day, you waited at the same spot after school. As promised, he arrived with a hundred-thaumark bill. As you exchanged items, he asked why you didn’t ask for more while you had the chance.

You blinked slowly. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Ya shoulda asked for way more!” A second, identical green head popped out of the water, startling you. You didn’t even know when he arrived. “A hundred thaumarks’s chump change.”

“Must be nice thinking that way.” You crouched by the shore, staring at the money in your hands. Your mother would surely ask where you got it from. You wondered what excuse you would give her this time.

“What do you need money for?” The first twin rested his hand on his chin, his torso propped up on a rock.

You fidgeted with the bill. “My mom needs to buy medicine. She isn’t dying or anything, but it would make her life more comfortable. I can’t earn money, but I want to help.”

“And ya extorted Jade for that?” The more boisterous one laughed. You thought it was a laugh, at least. You had never heard something so similar to crunching glass. “Ya got guts, Red Handfish!”

“Red Handfish?”

“Think of it as a term of endearment.” The first twin—Jade—flicked his tail lightly. “Anyway, if you need money, I have a proposal. If you bring us things that only exist on land, I’ll keep paying you.”

It didn’t seem like a bad deal. Little did you know that it would entangle your lives until the present day.

You’re still contemplating your good? Bad? Fortune of meeting the Leech twins when your phone buzzes, pulling you back to reality. A text from Jade that says: Come to my home office. I have something to discuss with you.

You didn’t think much of it until you arrived at his front gates. Unease flickers in your gut. The mansion is quiet, the courtyard empty. Where are the security guards who should be stationed at the front? It is noon. They can’t all be off work.

You enter the front yard. No movement except for swaying branches from the trees Floyd likes to climb. The sound of the doorbell meets dead silence. Your eyes rove over the massive glass windows on the double doors. The midday sun lights up the neighbourhood behind you, which casts a reflection of your silhouette on the glass. In that reflection, you catch a glimpse of a shadow behind you.

Instincts kick in before your rational mind. Your Signature Spell envelops your body like chainmail. The knife thrusted towards you crashes into invisible armour around your skin. With a flick of a wrist and a punch to the jaw, you disarm your assailant and knock him out. Fluidly, you transition into a kick, the sole of your shoe meeting the throat of another one. More jump out at you. Your body falls into a quick, effortless flow of movements as you knock them unconscious one-by-one. A strike to the temple. Throat. Jaw. Solar plexus. Heart. Groin. Repeat. You would kill them if you had a weapon, but you’re barehanded and doing it that way takes too long. Something is very wrong here. Assassins? Where is Jade? Was that message even from Jade to begin with?

You unlock the door and rush inside, heading straight for his office. It could be a trap. No matter. You are confident you can take care of yourself. Within seconds, you fling open his office door and step inside.

Nothing seems amiss here. In fact, Jade himself sits calmly in his chair. On your side of his desk, a woman stands in the uniform of the security under his employ. Jade gives you a smile.

“You seem out of breath. Would you like a cup of tea?”

You shake your head, confused. “A hot drink is the last thing I need right now. What is going on? Why’d I get attacked?”

Jade shoots a pointed smile at the woman. You’ve known his expressions well enough to tell it is a threat. She chuckles and extends a hand.

“Sorry about that. I told my men not to let anyone enter.”

You shake her hand warily, your Signature Spell still active. “Your men?”

“Yes. Pleasure to meet you. You may call me Walrus. I have been working undercover in the Leech brothers’ residence for . . . Oh, about a month.”

“Walrus” sounds familiar. You wrack your memory. It dawns on you—it was a name in the list of mages working for the Carpenter Mafia. The one who turned out to be a missing person. Was that fake? Your shoulders stiffen. If she’s from a rival mafia, then she’s in the middle of enemy territory.

“Isn’t espionage a little outdated?”

“Not at all. Especially when my Signature Spell is so well suited for it.”

You connect the dots quickly. “You’re the one who locked Barry Moore’s memories?”

“That’s me. He’s under me. I didn’t expect him to be so careless, so I cleaned up after his mistake.” Walrus beams like a teacher congratulating a student. She turns to Jade, talking as though you are not in the room. “She’s quick. And strong enough to incapacitate all my men. Won’t you please lend her to me?”

Jade’s smile borders on dangerous. “She is an essential member of my group. I would be quite burdened if she suddenly left.”

“Please think about it a little more.”

“My decision will not change.”

You hold out your hands. “Hold on. Just give me a second. What is going on?”

Jade’s facial muscles relax imperceptibly. He gestures for you to stand beside him, so you indulge him. Only when you are properly by his side does he answer your question.

“Walrus is not truly part of the Carpenter Mafia, just like how she was not truly part of my security team. Her true allegiance lies with a smaller group in the Queendom that aims to take over the Carpenter Mafia.”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst fanfic #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #mafia au #slow burn #multi chap fic

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blushweddinggowns · 2 years

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Part 2 to this!

Now that Max and Dustin were vaguely aware of what was going on, they weren’t going to stop until they knew everything. It took about ten seconds from leaving Steve’s driveway for them to start asking questions.

“Robin…” Max started, “What is he not telling us?”

“That Eddie’s a dick,” she grumbled, “But we’re not allowed to talk about it.”

Dustin crossed his arms against his chest, huffing, “No he’s not! Steve’s right, it’s not his fault he isn’t interested.”

“If that was the case than ya, sure Steve would be right but it’s not. He’s totally leading him on."

Dustin frowned. That didn’t sound like the Eddie he knew, “How so?”

“Well let’s see,” she lifted a hand, counting it out on her fingers, “There’s the fact he calls Steve shit like ‘pretty’ and ‘sweetheart’ when he thinks no one can hear him. He actively stops Steve from dating anyone else and has scared like five girls away from the store entirely. Not to mention they sleep together almost every night. He just loves torturing him in general! He gets off on the power he has over him, I swear.”

That…did not sound good.

“Well…maybe he likes him back?” Dustin said weakly, praying that there was some kind of misunderstanding and that one of his best friends wasn't being a massive asshole to his surrogate dad.

She shook her head, “I used to think that too until like a week ago. Do you wanna know what he told Nancy when she asked about it? I quote, ‘ Me and Steve? Seriously Nance? I’d rather die. ’” Robin said flatly, resentment heavy in her voice, “And Steve fucking heard him say that and hasn’t done shit about it!”

Max had been staring out the window, trying to rationalize why anyone would do things like that if they weren’t interested, when she froze, “He said that? About Steve? Our Steve?”

“He sure did. And that's why I'm saying it all needs to stop. He needs to fuck off now."

Dustin opened his mouth, so used to jumping to Eddie’s defense before snapping it back shut. He didn’t know what to say. If it was all true then he was going to kill Eddie for fucking with Steve’s feelings, for no good reason. But on the other hand, this was Robin they were dealing with, and her threshold for Steve-related violence was a lot lower than a normal person’s would be.

She pulled into the trailer park with a sigh, “I’m sorry I put all that out there, it’s just…I needed to get that out. And you guys have almost gotten me killed on more than one occasion so…now we’re even I guess. But don’t tell him I told you! Eddie can do no wrong in his eyes, for some reason.”

They both nodded, Dustin hopping out with Max. He’d bike home later because they needed to talk about this, without Robin there. They thanked her for the ride, standing there in awkward silence as they watched her go.

“Do you think he’d really do something like that?” Dustin asked as she led him inside, “It’s not that I don’t trust her, but she’s definitely biased.”

Max shrugged, looking just as conflicted as Dustin felt, “I don’t think so? But we should still be on the lookout. If it is true, we’re gonna have to do something.”

Dustin nodded, automatically on board for any hypothetical helping of Steve. They talked for a while longer, another hair-brained scheme forming. They would watch, see if Eddie really was leading Steve on, and if it was true, they’d intervene. The how was yet to be determined, but they would.

No one was going to hurt their babysitter and get away with it. Not on their watch.

They spent the next week spying on the two of them, which was kinda easy considering how often they were always together. And things were not looking good.

Now that they knew how Steve felt, they couldn’t help but be mad. Ya, ya, Steve said not to be, but it was bullshit! Because now that Max was paying attention, there was no way Eddie didn’t know how he felt about him. Not with how much time they spent together. And poor Steve was so obvious.

Robin had been right, he did things just to get a rise out of Steve, like whispering in his ear to see him blush, or calling him one of those dumb pet names, his voice all low and unsubtle. He would even hold his freaking hand! And he always looked so smug about it. Eddie would do one of his stupid antics and leave a stumbling, blushing Steve in his wake, a self-satisfied smirk on his dumb face, like getting Steve all excited and dopey was just so entertaining.

They were so annoyed that they bonded over it, sharing twin looks of aggravation every time they saw Eddie hang all over him, which was always, with Steve blushing and giggling all the while.

And they didn’t know what to do about it. Steve had made it very clear that he didn’t want anyone being mean to Eddie over something “stupid”, and he would actually get mad at them if he noticed them acting out against the bullshit. They would have just avoided him entirely if they could, but avoiding Eddie meant avoiding Steve, and that was something neither was willing to compromise on.

So they settled for being cordial whenever Steve was around, and then passive-aggressive when he wasn’t, if just for their own sanity, as they debated what to do about it.

And Eddie was not a fan of the new behavior. He didn’t know what the issue was with his two favorite little twerps, but they were pissed, and solely at him for the past week. Which, he did not need right now. He was still trying to figure out why Robin suddenly hated him, let alone Steve’s adopted children.

He racked his brain for anything he could have done, but he always came up empty. If it had been Mike, then sure, he’d have something to go on, making obvious moves to steal his sister’s maybe-boyfriend were fair grounds to be mad about, but he was totally fine. Mike, Lucas, and Will weren’t in on whatever the other two were up to, thank god. He was barely handling dealing with two angry teenagers, let alone five.

Luckily for him, they at least tried to pretend like nothing was wrong when Steve was around. Eddie may not be a genius, but he was pretty sure that having the three closest people to his potential boyfriend hate him, was not a good look.

Steve was the only one acting the same, thank god. If the three stooges had an issue with him, then that was fine, as long as it didn’t interrupt the long and arduous courting process he had started and planned on finishing. Sooner rather than later.

He sighed, lazily watching Steve get ready for work from his bed. Though it really was on the edge of just becoming their bed from how often Eddie stayed over. He was already in a hurry, mumbling about how he promised to pick up the two twerps from school today, almost guaranteeing his own lateness.

“You don’t have to always pick them up, you know,” Eddie whined, more than a little annoyed that his afternoon cuddle time was being interrupted.

“But I promised. And you know how they are with that kind of thing.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, Steve was too nice for his own good. He stood up, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist from behind, still pouting, “But wouldn’t you rather spend those last twenty minutes in bed?”

“ Obviously. But Keith’s going to kill me if I’m late again.”

Eddie rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, completely in love with the way the small touch made him blush. How he’d managed not to kiss him yet was a masterclass in self-restraint, “Baby, you’re going to be late anyway if you go. How about I get them?”

“Really?”

“Sure. Then you’ll only have to worry your pretty little head over getting to work.”

Steve smiled as he thanked him, in that soft way that felt like it was just for Eddie, and it never failed to make his heart do a flip in his chest.

Plus, Eddie could use the time to interrogate the two little shits and figure out what the hell the problem was. He pulled into the school parking lot, honking at the duo as they waited near the front steps. He rolled his eyes when they tried to ignore him, pretending like they were in some kind of deep conversation.

He leaned out the window, yelling over, “Get in, I’m taking you two home today. Steve called in a favor.”

They looked at each other, all conspiratorial before they made their way to the van, both sitting down with a huff, avoiding the passenger side. He didn’t know when the two of them got so close, but he wasn’t a fan if this was the result of it.

They were silent, they didn’t even talk to each other, just stared out the window with their arms crossed.

“So…,” Eddie tried, “Excited for the campaign this weekend?”

Silence. Eddie glanced in his rearview, both of them still staring out the window, acting like he wasn’t even there.

“Dustin?”

Silence.

“I know you can hear me man, come on!”

Dustin finally turned away from the window, shrugging, "I can’t make it. Have Erica fill in for me or something…"

Eddie could feel his eye start twitching.

Pretending that he didn’t exist? Whatever.

Purposefully slamming the door for any room that they were in together? Okay sure.

But missing DnD? Not uh, Eddie was going to get to the bottom of this now. He pulled off to the side of the road, turning to frown at them from the driver’s seat, “Okay, that’s enough! What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Max whipped her head around, glaring at him, and Jesus that kid had a hell of a glare, “What’s wrong with us? What’s wrong with you?”

Eddie raised a brow, drumming his fingers against his thigh as he stared at them, “What does that even mean?”

“We know okay?” Dustin hissed out, looking anywhere but Eddie’s face, “We know what you’re doing and we don’t like it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Max scoffed, “We’re talking about how you’re a dick! And Steve deserves better than that!”

Dustin nodded along, trying to glare at Eddie the way Max was, but he was starting to tear up instead. Like a complete overprotective loser. He wondered if this was how Steve felt when he worried about them. If it was, he was going to start complaining about his coddling a lot less.

It just wasn’t fair. Nancy, Robin, and now Eddie? When will the torment of watching Steve Harrington's failed love life stop? Why did someone who was nothing but good have to keep dealing with this crap?

Dustin wiped at his face, angry tears still falling, “You know that he likes you and you just mess with him! I don’t know if this is revenge for what he was like in high school but it’s fucked up!”

Eddie stared at them, slack-jawed as they both started to dress him down.

Max was digging around her backpack, handing Dustin a pack of tissues while she was giving Eddie the evil eye, "You couldn't have had a bit more tack for the guy that saved your life? I don’t know, maybe ‘He’s not my type,’ instead of “I’d rather die?’ "

She grabbed a few of them for herself, dangerously close to joining Dustin in the rage crying. She just…wanted Steve to be happy. Was that really so much to ask?

Eddie’s brain was still going a mile a minute, desperately trying to just catch up to what the hell they were talking about, but that brought everything to a halt. He remembered that, a throwaway comment to get Nancy off his back, considering he was in the middle of actively trying to date her ex (?) boyfriend.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew that Steve felt something for him, there was no other reason why he would let him do the things he did if he didn’t, but he never forgot just how infatuated he had been with Nancy. He remembered him trailing after her in the Upside Down, like some kind of love-sick puppy. Like recognizes like, Steve had looked at Nancy the way Eddie looked at Steve. He was going to let Steve go after that, acknowledge that it was just a simple crush that would never be reciprocated, and wait for the inevitable of them getting back together.

But then, he went and almost died, with Steve deciding to save his life. His little crush morphed into full-blown love, embarrassingly quickly during his recovery. Steve was just always there for him, and in a matter of days they became instant best friends, both obsessed with spending as much time as possible with each other.

They talked about anything and everything under the sun, all but one thing.

Nancy.

He never asked Steve about her, because he honestly never wanted to know. He had been too chicken shit to just ask, terrified that Steve would start confessing his undying love for her the moment he opened the door. And technically if he didn't know for sure, he could feel a whole lot less like shit for being all over someone else's hypothetical boyfriend.

He avoided her most of the time, out of pure jealousy for how she got along with Steve, and guilt from the fact he was knowingly trying to, maybe, steal him away from her. But once she moved to Boston, Eddie had been so sure it was his chance. The way Steve would look at him sometimes, the way he would touch him, Eddie knew he wasn’t alone in his feelings, even if Steve needed some extra time to get to where he was, he was more than willing to be patient.

So when Nancy had cornered him during one of her visits, asking him way too specific questions about Steve, he strategically lied, thinking that it would stop any upcoming jealousy or suspicions on her end, and most importantly, stop her from impeding on his ever-increasing Steve Alone Time.

But now, his genius plan of gently coaxing Steve into a bisexual awakening and subtly stealing him from his maybe girlfriend was the most moronic thing he'd ever thought of.

He finally found his voice, cutting right through the noise of two kids yelling at him, "Steve heard that?!"

“Yeah, he heard it!” Max hissed, “Playtime is over, you need to leave him alone.”

Oh no. Oh no, no no.

"I'm going to puke, I am actually going to puke,” Eddie turned in his seat, putting his head in his hands, suddenly feeling very, very, ill. The love of his goddamn life heard him say he would rather die than be with him?

Max and Dustin glanced at each other, confused at his reaction. They weren’t sure what they were expecting him to say, maybe a denial, or a warning to stay out of his business, but not this. Max leaned forward in her seat, frowning as she watched Eddie rub at his temples, looking like he had just heard the worst news imaginable.

“So now you suddenly care?” She asked, lips pursed as Eddie whipped around to stare at her.

“Of course I fucking care! I love Steve! I-he was never supposed to hear that!” Eddie was dangerously close to hyperventilating at the full realization that Steve was probably still under the impression that Eddie didn’t want him.

Dustin latched on to that, already hopeful that he had been right after all, and one of his best friends wasn’t a complete ass, "Then why the hell would you say that?"

He told them everything in a jumbled mess of word vomit, embarrassed and intensely mad at himself for being such an idiot.

And Dustin and Max seemed to agree.

Max still had her arms crossed, but she wasn’t giving him the death stare anymore. She glanced at Dustin, “He’s either lying or he’s the dumbest man on the planet.”

Dustin shrugged, “Well he was a super, super senior, so…”

They stared at each other, having some kind of telepathic conversation before Max turned back to him, “If you are telling the truth then you have to tell Steve.”

“Like now, ” Dustin added.

Max nodded, “In front of us.”

“Or else we will never forgive you for making him cry.”

That was another punch to the gut for Eddie, “He cried ?”

They told him the whole, horrible story, and Eddie was struck with the sudden urge to punch himself in the face. He was already starting the van back up when Max insisted they go to him immediately, u-turning to go straight to the Family Video. He was desperate to fix this stupid shit, and fix it now.

He parked haphazardly, speed-walking into the empty store with two growingly excited teenagers in tow.

Robin was reading a magazine at the front counter, eyes narrowing at the sight of Eddie waltzing in, “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Steve.”

Robin rolled her eyes, “Steve’s busy, you can be a dick to him on his off hours.”

Eddie almost flinched at her tone, still not used to how cold the usually goofy Robin could be. Which, okay, fair, considering just how bad he looked in her eyes, but he was not leaving until he talked to Steve.

Robin raised a brow when she saw Dustin and Max come in behind him. Max was flipping the closed side over as they entered, ignoring Robin’s protests, and Dustin locked it behind him, just as Steve wandered onto the floor, a stack of tapes in hand.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked as he set the stack down on the counter, “And why did you lock the door?”

“Eddie needs to talk to you!” Dustin nearly shouted , hopping from foot to foot with obvious impatience.

Now that Steve was in front of him, all of Eddie’s nervous energy was reaching a peak. He fiddled with his rings, heart pounding, “D-do you have a minute?”

Steve cocked his head, obviously confused, “I always have time for you,” Steve glanced around the room of wide-eyed spectators, “We can step outside if you want-”

“Nope,” Max shook her head, “In front of us.”

While Eddie was technically grateful the kids told him what was going on, he really wished he wasn’t about to risk getting rejected in front of spectators. He took a deep breath, deciding just to rip the band-aid off in one go, “I’m in love with you.”

Steve just stared at him, jaw slack as Eddie nervously prattled on, “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for months. But I’m an idiot, an idiot who loves you, and would certainly not rather die than be with the man of my dreams.”

Steve was still just staring at him, which, honestly, was probably the appropriate response for an impromptu love confession from his best friend. He didn’t know what to make of that face. He should have asked the kids if they were sure Steve felt the same way, how hard would it have been to ask if they were fucking sure?

At least Robin looked seemingly impressed.

The silence just made him keep going, even if his mind was desperately trying to tell him to shut the hell up, “A-and I thought you thought you were straight, or straightish, and I thought Nancy was after you, and -"

And then Steve was kissing him. He just…waltzed right up and grabbed Eddie’s shirt, pulling him down to crash their lips together.

Eddie stalled for half a second, in complete disbelief that it was happening, Steve Harrington was kissing him. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer to make the kiss deeper, already fully aware that this was a feeling he would be addicted to for the rest of his life.

He could vaguely hear Robin squealing in the background, and Max and Dustin gagging, but he was too focused on the sweet taste of Steve’s lips to care.

He tried to chase his mouth when Steve pulled away, giving him the pretty kind of laugh that made Eddie’s legs feel weak, “We’re both idiots,” Steve smiled, pressing chaste kisses to Eddie’s face between words, “Two idiots in love,”

Eddie blinked, heart still going a mile a minute, “You love me?”

Steve didn’t even tease him for it, kissing his nose like the adorable bastard he was, “Head over heels-”

Eddie was already kissing him again before he could finish, swallowing down his laughs with a happy sigh.

Dustin and Max watched as their favorite adults made out in the middle of the video store, both kinda grossed out and insanely pleased that they were the reason it was happening in the first place. They looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear, both firmly deciding that meddling in Steve’s life had definitely been worth it.

#steddie ficlet #steddie #these children know no boundaries #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #part 2!

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