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libraryofgage · 7 months

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Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

*slaps top of the fic* this bad boi has everything: mermaids, fluff, reunions, Eddie being a simp, protective mom Steve

Anyway, stick around to the very very end for a meme hot off the presses about this part lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

----

It takes Robin and the guppies three days to reach the ship Erica mentioned. They're all irritable, and the only thing that keeps them from snapping at each other is the idea that Steve might be hurt or in danger. Robin thinks they might have torn each other apart otherwise, and she can't even say for sure that she would have stopped the guppies from engaging in a full-on brawl.

So, to say she's beyond relieved when they finally catch up to the ship is an understatement.

But now they need to plan. The ship is way too close to a port city; close enough that any of the pirates could survive long enough to swim that way and spread the story of a murderous pod. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for keeping all mermaids safe and on good enough terms with humanity that regular humans don't hunt them for sport. It does nothing to stop the pirates, but still.

"We could just make sure to drown everyone," Max suggests, watching the bottom of the ship with narrowed eyes.

Robin almost agrees, but then she stops. Because she knows Steve. If even one person on that ship wasn't an asshole to him, he'd say to spare them, and that could result in the aforementioned spreading of murderous pod stories. But after he's been trapped for so long, Robin wouldn't be able to argue with any request. She's already imagined him dead and strung up like a trophy more than she'd like to admit. She couldn't stand to see him frown after that.

So, she shakes her head, a frustrated bubble pattern flaring from her gills. "We need to be smarter about this," she says.

"We didn't strategize before sinking the other one," Will points out.

"That one kidnapped him. This one might have rescued him, and we should show mercy if that is the case," El says, stretched out and floating on her back. She's the most relaxed of them, and Robin wonders if it's because of that sixth sense she's got going.

"El is right," Robin says, crossing her arms and studying the ship. "We should be more careful about this."

"We could try signaling him," Dustin suggests. "Like, uh, dolphin noises or something."

"If we do that," Lucas says, "we'll need to give him enough time to respond without anyone around."

Robin nods, agreeing with both of them. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'll swim closer while you guys stay here. We have that dumb screech system Steve made us memorize, so I'll use that to signal him. Then we'll wait until the sun rises tomorrow. That should be enough time for him to respond. If he doesn't, we'll sink the ship," she says.

"What if he's not on it?" Mike asks.

"We'll keep one human alive for questioning," Will says, looking at Robin and flashing a tiny, relieved smile when she nods in agreement. "We'll probably have to drown them either way, though."

"Well, we don't need to tell them that," Erica says, snorting as she reaches out to pet a fish that swims by. It's tiny enough to weave through her fingers twice before swimming on.

"Yeah, definitely won't be telling them," Robin agrees, trying and mostly failing to hold back an amused smile. "Okay, stay here. I'll be back after a few minutes. While I'm gone, Erica is in charge."

A chorus of protests chases after Robin as she swims away, heading toward the surface. The sun shines brighter the closer she gets, and she winces when her head finally breaks through the water. It reflects off the ocean, sparkling and blinding as the water shifts and flows.

Robin huffs and sinks down until only her eyes are above the water. The ship is a few yards away, and she can't see anyone moving around on the deck from this distance. She slowly moves closer, her ear fins straining as she tries to listen for any sign of life. Or Steve. Actually, she'd love to hear any sign of Steve from the ship.

Unfortunately, she doesn't.

Once she's close enough to touch the ship, hiding in the shadow it casts over the water, she circles it once. There are a few windows along the hull, but none of them are actually open. That could make it harder for Steve to hear her, but Robin will just be extra loud to compensate.

Robin clears her throat, rolls her shoulders, flicks her tail, and rises until her chin is above the water. She then lets out a sound that can only be classified as the dying shrieks of a dolphin and seagull's abomination of a love child. She makes this noise twice, but each one lasts a few seconds.

Robin can't risk any of the humans seeing her when they investigate the noise. If they are holding Steve captive, they might hurt him even more if they know another mermaid is around. So, she dips below the water, completely submerging and waiting anxiously for a response.

----

Steve has discovered the wonders of just sprawling on a solid surface, his arms thrown to the side and his tail stretched out as he stares up at the ceiling. It's oddly calming, and Steve can almost trick himself into thinking the bobbing of the ship is the ocean itself.

That's what Steve is doing now, forcing himself to relax and brace himself for telling Eddie that he has to leave for a while to find Robin and the guppies. His eyes are closed, and he's running through every possible outcome of that conversation. The second best case scenario (Eddie decides to come with him in a tiny boat) is playing out when he hears it.

The Emergency Shriek.

The last time he'd heard it, Dustin was desperately crying out for help as he struggled against the net that dragged him to the surface. Steve's reaction then had been the exact same as his reaction now. He jolts, his eyes wide and all of his fins flaring in preparation for the fastest swimming of his life, and his lips are pulled back in a vicious snarl to display his fangs and scare off the threat.

But he's on a boat, in the captain's cabin, and that window is way too small for him to climb through. Steve doesn't really think (he can't, actually; his brain has officially gone into Guppies and Robin In Danger Mode). He drags himself to the door of the cabin, digs his fingers into the space beneath, and uses all his strength to rip it off.

The wood groans and the hinges shriek and then the bottom half of the door comes off in his hands. Steve tosses it to the side and crawls through, his tail twitching and flopping in a vain attempt to move faster. If anyone were to actually witness this, they'd probably find it somewhere between utterly terrifying and unfortunately hilarious. A giant fish is dragging and flopping along the floor, but it's also exuding the most intense aura of bloodlust most creatures have ever encountered.

And that bloodlust only gets worse when Steve comes to the stairs that lead to the deck. He stares at them, anger building in his chest at the obstacle they present and just how long it will take to climb them. By the time he reaches the top, Robin and the guppies could be dead, and Steve will have wasted time by uselessly trying to climb some stupid stairs.

He grits his teeth, claws digging into the wood beneath him. And then Steve suddenly realizes that he doesn't have to climb the stairs himself. He takes a deep breath, his gills flaring some to pull in more air, and screams as loud as he can, "EDDIE!"

Steve is absolutely going to reward Eddie for his speed (later, after his guppies and Robin are safe) because he immediately hears something crash above him, followed by swearing and frantic footsteps that stop at the stairs. "Stevie, what the fuck?" Eddie asks, panting as he hurries down the stairs.

"On the deck," Steve says, pushing up onto his tail and wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck when he starts leaning down. "Right now, Eddie. Actually, two minutes ago. As fast as you can. And to the edge of the ship. The railing. Now!"

Eddie, his wonderful and incredible Eddie, doesn't question him. He just scoops Steve up and carries him back up the stairs, fingers digging into Steve's waist when he nearly trips over the final step. He finds his balance again, barely, and strides over to the railing.

Steve can't see anything wrong with the water, but he knows the surface doesn't actually tell him anything useful. He frowns and looks at Eddie. "I'll be back," he promises before letting go of Eddie's neck and twisting to place his hands on the rail.

In one swift motion, he launches himself over the side, grimacing when he feels the edge of his tail fin smack Eddie's cheek along the way. But Steve doesn't let himself linger and focuses on the rush of water around him as he dives below the surface. His gills flare and he breathes for the first time in a while, his hair and body familiarly weightless, and Steve fully realizes how much he fucking missed being in the ocean.

But he can't linger on that relief and joy either.

Steve shoots through the water, swimming to wear he thinks the Emergency Shriek came from, only to be tackled as he rounds the edge of the ship. He yelps, his breath knocked out of him as he goes careening, arms wrapping around his waist like he's going to disappear. It takes exactly one second for him to recognize Robin, her hair floating in front of his eyes and her claws digging into his back.

"You're okay!" she shouts as their momentum starts to falter.

Steve wraps his arms around her and holds her close, one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist. "Where's the danger?" he asks, scanning the water around them and frowning when he sees nothing.

Robin laughs and pulls away, grinning at him with relief clear in her eyes. "There isn't any, dingus. I was trying to see if you were on that ship," she explains.

Before she can say anything else or Steve can respond, several bodies crash into him from behind. "STEVE!"

They all go careening through the water again, and Steve can't help laughing this time. He tries to hug as many of the guppies as he can, running his fingers through their hair and over their shoulders to reassure himself and them that they're together again. They don't let up, though, and Steve is getting pulled deeper and deeper as they pile on top of him, each trying to get closer as Robin wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his nape.

"Okay, okay!" Steve says, a stupidly happy grin on his face, "I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurt."

"But you were!" Will shouts, managing to push forward long enough for Steve to see the red in his eyes from crying. "We saw your scales in the other ship."

"I healed," Steve promises, gesturing at his tail. This gets the guppies to back off long enough to inspect his tail, all seven of them circling around and inspecting for new injuries.

"What's this?" Erica asks, pointing at the new scar.

"That's the wound that healed."

"I'm so glad you're okay," El says, finishing her inspection first and grabbing Steve's hand.

"Yeah, now we can wreck that ship!" Max says, her eyes lighting up with a vicious glee as she looks at the Corroded Coffin in the distance.

Steve blinks. "Wait, what?"

"This has been healed for a while, Steve," Max explains, gesturing to his tail, "So, they must have been keeping you captive, right? Let's sink them."

"I bet they've got some great treasure on there," Dustin says, lingering closer to Steve's shoulder even as he looks at the ship, studying it with the same face he studies squids he wants to try trapping.

And, yeah, Dustin would be right. There is some great treasure in the Corroded Coffin. Steve's treasure. Eddie. "We are not sinking the ship," he says, his voice firm. It's his official Caretaker Voice, and it makes all the guppies stiffen slightly as they look at him. "The...humans there saved me."

A few seconds pass, and then Robin behind him gasps. "You fell in love!" she shouts, using Steve's shoulders to brace herself as she pushes up and leans over his head. "With a human!"

"Wh-how could you tell?!" Steve asks, looking up at her as the guppies start clamoring for his attention as well.

"Was it the captain?" Will asks, eyes a little brighter but also warier.

"Is he ugly?" Mike asks, his tone implying that he already believes the answer to be yes.

"Dude, how could you fall for a human?!" Dustin shouts, his nose wrinkled up in slight disgust.

"Have you been courting a human the whole time we've been looking for you?" Erica asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah! How long have you been healed, then?" Max adds, moving next to Erica and glaring at Steve.

"Wait, so we're not sinking the ship?" Lucas asks, failing to cover his disappointment as he gazes at the ship longingly.

"Congratulations, Steve. I'm sure he's very nice," El says, smiling at him, and Steve almost cries at her simple and accepting response.

"I want to meet him," Robin says.

And her words get the rest of the guppies to quiet down. They all share a few looks and then nod at Steve in sync. "Yeah, we need to meet him," Dustin says, apparently the spokesperson for the group.

Steve blinks, looking at the guppies and Robin. He wanted Eddie to meet his guppies and Robin, of course, but he's a little worried about what they'll do to Eddie. "Only if you promise not to drown him," he says, shooting each of them a hard look.

"I'm insulted you think we would," Robin says, scoffing as she swims to the guppies, facing Steve. "Now, go get your soft and very drownable human down here."

Steve rolls his eyes and motions for the guppies and Robin to follow as he swims toward the surface. He doesn't plan to let them out of his sight, and he knows the feeling is mutual.

----

Exactly twenty minutes and 13 seconds have passed since Steve threw himself over the rail of the ship, and Eddie hasn't moved. He knows his crew is a little concerned, especially when they notice the red cut across his cheek, but he waves them off when they try to pull him away from the railing to focus on something else.

He just can't risk Steve surfacing and not seeing him.

And his paranoia feels validated when Steve does surface and immediately smiles brightly at him, looking somewhere between relieved and ecstatic. "Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving like he doesn't always have Eddie's undivided attention, "Jump in!"

Here's the thing. When a gorgeous merman that Eddie has spent a bunch of time courting (and then kissing) tells him to jump into the ocean, Eddie is going to jump into the fucking ocean. "Just a second," he shouts back.

He kicks off his shoes, waves off Asher and Jeff when they try to convince him to not jump off the ship, and then launches himself over the railing. For a brief moment, Eddie feels weightless, and then he hits the water. His legs sting a little where they broke the surface, the cut on his cheek practically screams in protest, and a cascade of bubbles block his vision just as much as the salt that stings his eyes and makes everything blurry.

The blurriness does nothing to keep him from recognizing Steve when he swims closer, though. Steve is still grinning at him, and Eddie's grin in return falters slightly when he tries to kick to the surface and Steve stops him. Before Eddie can try to signal that he cannot, in fact, breathe underwater, Steve kisses him.

As they kiss, Steve's tongue pushes against Eddie's lips, carefully prying them open. Eddie leans closer to Steve, figuring he doesn't mind dying like this, and falters when he feels a bubble of air roll down his tongue and lodge in his throat. Steve pulls away, and Eddie inhales on reflex. The bubble in his throat gets a tiny bit smaller, and Eddie doesn't get any water in his lungs.

"Tug my arm when the bubble gets too small. You won't be able to talk underwater, but you won't drown." And then he notices the cut on Eddie's face. His smile drops some, and he leans forward, gently tracing his finger along the wound. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Steve says, his voice echoing and surrounding Eddie in the water.

Eddie shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. It's at this point that he notices some blurry shapes a distance away, but he doesn't pay them too much mind. He focuses back on Steve and takes his hand, squeezing reassuringly before kissing his palm.

"It doesn't hurt, right?" Steve asks, his voice a little softer and slightly muffled but still one of the most beautiful things Eddie has ever heard.

Eddie shakes his head again and wraps his free hand around Steve's waist, pulling him closer. This is much easier to do in the water. He kisses Steve again, tasting salt more than anything else, and Steve takes the chance to replenish the air bubble despite its minimal use so far.

When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed. "Promise you'll let me know if you need more air?" he asks, his tone insistent and firm. Steve waits for Eddie to nod before grinning. "Great, because my guppies and Robin want to meet you. And, uh, they're really disappointed about not getting to sink your ship, but don't hold that against them."

Eddie blinks, suddenly wondering if maybe he shouldn't have jumped into the ocean at Steve's beck and call. But then he notices the way Steve moves so naturally in the water, how his hair floats and moves around him, how bubbles rise from his gills as he speaks, and Eddie knows he'd jump without thought all over again.

So, yeah, he guesses it's time to meet some guppies and Robin.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #merman steve harrington #pirate eddie munson #robin buckley #the party #mermaid/pirate au #stranger things fic

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osleeplessflowero · 4 months

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Part 2 to Scares And A Sudden Friendship! - Reader goes by They/Them as always. - Bravery soul! 🧡 - Content Warning: Swearing - Horror goes by Sans because this is a Horrortale exclusive timeline. - Recommended to have context from the previous oneshot for this one! - posting while it's raining..hopefully it goes through-

You enter your apartment, tossing your costume aside the moment you enter your room and changing into some comfy pajamas. Looking through some albums, you put one of your favorite CDs into a small radio and let the music play in the background.

..You're not happy. But you also had a lot of fun with..what was his name again?

You hold up your phone, looking at the newly added contact.

'sans' is what it reads. Right, "Sans". Sans the skeleton. The skeleton who helped you scare the shit out of your shitty boyfriend..priceless.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a reply from your soon-to-be-ex. With a deep breath, you look at his message.

[him] (what do u wanna talk abt)>

[you] (you)>

[him] (tf did i do)>

There's a long conversation between you..his messages making you angrier and angrier until you abruptly break up with him, blocking him immediately after.

You don't realize you're crying until you see your teardrops hit the phone, hurriedly wiping them off to avoid possible water damage. You glare at your ex's name. FUCK him. And all of his friends he'd rather spend time with.

You let out a sigh. This might be the worst Halloween you've ever had..

You hear a ding from your phone, looking back down to see a new message, tapping it.

[sans] (heya)> (get home safe?)>

You can't help but smile a little, leaning back and replying.

[you] (yup)> (just dumped him, feelin like shit)>

[sans] (well we all gotta feel like shit at some point)> (its a part of life)>

[you] (thats true)

He sends you some random memes he had saved in his phone from someone he knows, letting you get some laughs.

[you] (so are we still up for getting coffee tomorrow??)>

[sans] (yeah if you wanna)>

[you] (hell yeah i wanna)> (this'll be fun)> (i wanna know more about you mr. skeleton)>

[sans] (mr. skeleton? cmon you can make a better nickname than that)>

[you] (gotta get to know you better first!)>

[sans] (fair enough)> (it's pretty lafe you should be going to sleep rn)> (*late)> (big hands)>

You let out a snicker.

[you] (yeah but i don't really wanna sleep)>

[sans] (if you sleep now you can wake up on time to go get coffee tomorrow)>

[you] (hmmm)> (fair enough- wait what time should we go? and the place??)>

[sans] (i usually wake up late so how does 12 sound? we can just go to that little coffee shop around the corner from the haunted house)>

[you] (perfect i'll see you then :])>

You pass out cold the moment your head hits your pillow, exhausted from the night's events.

Morning soon arrives, the sun rising as you do. You bury your face in your pillow before your alarm abruptly goes off, forgetting why you set it and frowning. ..Before you suddenly remember, jumping up in a tired daze. You rub the sleepiness away from your eyes with your hands, standing up and going to make some of your favorite breakfast.

Your morning routine goes as it usually does, you then approach your closet to figure out just what to wear. It should be something casual, yet warm..you look through your selection, picking out something that feels perfect, looking in a mirror and making sure nothing is out of place.

TIme to go! You rush outside, grabbing your bag on the way out and holding up your phone.

[you] (omw!)>

[sans] ( 👍)>

A cold breeze blows through the air, moving your clothes a little with it. You come to a stop as you reach the coffee shop, looking around for a particular skeleton and running up to him with a wave.

"Hey, there you are! Sorry if I'm late." You smile sheepishly, resting your arms at your sides. The skeleton simply sends a smile your way, shoving his hands in his now clean jacket's pockets.

"nah, you're early. i just got here myself." He shrugs a little.

"Sweet, looks like we're right on time then, huh?" You smile, holding open the door for him. He promptly replies with a "thanks", before walking in and holding the door so it doesn't shut on you.

You both walk over to one of the booths in the back at Sans' suggestion, sitting by the window across from one another. The sounds of cups clinking and very few people talking fills the air, a comforting sound. You can faintly smell the coffee beans in the back, taking a deep breath to take in the scent.

Sans taps his fingers against the table in a rhythmic pattern, his bright red eyelight turning from you, to the window, then back to you.

You sit your bag to your left, resting your elbows on the table and putting your head between your hands.

"So, Mr. Sans..consider this an interview of sorts."

"yikes, haven't had one of those in a hot minute." He puts his other arm's elbow on the table, resting his cheekbone in his palm to somewhat match you. "shoot."

"Alright- first off...why a haunted house?" You raises a brow, genuinely curious why he chose to work there.

"well, you tend to get used to spookin' people when you're a monster that looks like i do. so, why not take advantage of it? maybe get paid in the process. sounds pretty good to me. plus it can be pretty funny if you catch the right person off guard. just look what happened last night."

"Yeah..people shouldn't judge you based on how you look, though. At least, that's what I think."

"weren't you scared too?" He raises a browbone.

"Well, not as much as I could've been. But I've always been like that. Not a lot of things can scare me. Stumbling across you was more fun than scary. 'What will this actor do?', y'know?"

"huh..interestin'. would've assumed based on, ..well..you know. i tend to come across as big 'n scary."

"Not to me." You smile. His eyelight shrinks a little in its socket, before returning to its usual burning state as he smiles.

"Okay, your turn. You wanna ask me anything?" "why'd you end up with that scaredy cat back there? lemme know if that's too personal. i can change it." "No, it's fine," You sigh, lowering your hands so now your arms are fully on the table. "I dunno. We were fine at first, it seemed like he genuinely liked me back..but then he just grew really distant and ignored me a bunch." "well, it's a good thing you're not stickin' with somebody that's wastin' your time, huh?" "Yeah.."

A waitress walks over cheerfully, asking both of you what kind of coffee you'd like. You order your favorite, Sans shrinks down a little in his seat before replying with "black". She walks off, and he visibly relaxes.

"I'm..guessing you're not much of a people person, huh?"

"absolutely not. at least when i'm actin' i don't have to worry about talkin'. i just.. chase."

"I get that. I'm not the best with people myself. ..That's something we have in common." You smile.

"i guess it is, huh?"

A moment passes of comfortable silence between you. The waitress returns with your cups, sitting them down and waving goodbye before walking back over behind the counter.

"So..you have any family here?"

That question piques his interest, a fond smile crossing his face.

"yeah..my brother, papyrus. we're livin' together up here. he's a lot more..energetic than i am. kinda loud since his hearin's not all there. i think he'd like you."

"Really?"

"he's the kind of guy to wanna make friends with everybody, no matter who it is. he always.. sees the good in people." He looks down at the table, his smile still ever present. You can't help but smile too, about the fond way he speaks of him. They must be very close..you'd like to meet Papyrus sometime, if given the chance.

Maybe..

"You think I could meet him sometime? I-If that's too forward, I totally understand, of cour-" "..yeah. i'm sure he'd like to meet a new pal." "A..new pal?"

He nods. Your smile shifts into a grin.

"I'd absolutely like to be pals." "then i guess what's what we are, huh?" "Yeah..I like the sound of that."

The two of you finish off your drinks while you shoot more questions back and forth then exit the coffee shop, bidding each other goodbye. You can't help but feel a little pep in your step as you make your way back home, sitting on your couch and watching one of your favorite childhood movies.

Part 3 coming soon! Gotta love multi-parters-

#horror sans x reader #horror sans #genderless reader #continuation of the halloween oneshot #horrortale sans

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angleofmusings · 2 years

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ok danger days analysis. this starts with bulletproof heart because i was super feral about it and couldn’t wait until after look alive sunshine and nanana.

bulletproof heart. “too much talking with a laser blade” it isn’t about using violence as a form of diplomacy. it’s not that at all. it’s the opposite. there’s too much talking with weapons instead of words. insert that astronaut meme “it’s all anti-war?” “always has been”

sing. “sing it till you’re not / singing out for the ones that’ll hate your guts” well fuck okay. if that ain’t something that they sure as hell r living up to now.

planetary (go!). it’s saying, let’s fucking get out of here! “this is a letter / my word / is the beretta / the sound of my vendetta / against the ones that planned it”

the only hope for me is you. well. this is just. a letter to queer youth. it’s no accident that it’s right after planetary (go!) on the album. it starts with “remember me” and invoking imagery of nostalgia and shared history, then the fucking amazing lyrics “and if we can’t find where we belong / we’ll have to make it on our own / face all the pain and take it on / because the only hope for me / is you alone”

jet star and the cobra kid / traffic report. and then jet star and the cobra kid fucking die so. hello narrative foreshadowing

party poison. anygays this one is very interesting tbh it needs a whole analysis of its own. for this purpose tho it basically is the turning point in terms of like, no longer being able to safely play along with society even if you wanted to

save yourself, i’ll hold them back. the first fucking lyric: “right now, i hope you’re ready for a firefight / ’cause the devil’s got your number tonight / they say! we’re never leaving this place alive / but if you sing these words we’ll never die”

the “they” is evidently jet star and the kobra kid, which just. ough sobbing rn. but the interesting part is the first half, basically like, yeah this is about to boil over, i hope you’re ready.

“for all of us who’ve seen the light / salute the dead and lead the fight / hail hail! / who gives a damn if we lose the war? / let the walls come down / let the engines roar!” so these lyrics are linked ofc. “salute the dead” -> “hail hail!” and then “lead the fight” -> “who gives a damn if we lose the war? / let the walls come down / let the engines roar!”

so yknow. it’s about being okay with losing the war. as long as you lived life to the fullest. who cares what happens in the end as long as you live on the way to it?

“be a burning star if it takes all night” the night in the desert is when you’re safe from the sunlight that kills you. well you gotta leave your mark somehow! be a burning star, even though you gotta spend all that safe time getting there.

“i’ll tell you all how the story ends / where the good guys die and the bad guys win / who cares!” it doesn’t fucking matter what the ending is! we’re doomed to die but that doesn’t mean the story is lost! even if they win, that isn’t the point of the story. the outcome is irrelevant, what matters is the legacy you leave behind. the graffiti they write on your grave. i’ll hold them back so you can leave a mark on the world before we go. i can give you tonight, make it count, leave behind a memory of who you really were. be broken glass when the sun rises on the empty space we fled from.

s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w. now this song is talking to a child, coaxing them into shelter before the bomb hits, knowing that when society falls it’ll be devastating no matter how terrible that society was. of course s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w is like an actual BLI thing that is a very real threat in the zones and you have to hide from it, and they come out during the day in the sunlight, but you still gotta move yourself when that sunlight of BLI’s presence is gone, because if BLI dies then that means something worse is on its way. and not even love is enough to stop that from coming. no matter how strong or defiant or queer that love is, it won’t be enough. you have to run.

#yeah this was actually just a ‘‘contextualizing save yourself ill hold them back’’ analysis sorry. its still so feral tho #mcr #danger days #ddttlotfk #lyric meta #lyric analysis #angelofmusings lives up to their url

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tvrningout-a · 1 year

Text

ISSA MEME FROM A WHOLE BLOG AGO | @sozokami gets an old meme response!

i think the prompt was something like " your muse wipes my muse's tears. " i happened to think about this response today and went searching for it in the drafts of my old blog! at the time i started writing it, it got so long to the point that i had no idea how to end it, so i saved it for later... and then i went on hiatus and moved blogs asdf well, i hope you enjoy it, space! i couldn't just keep it to myself after re-reading it :' ) to anyone else reading, major spoilers lie ahead if you haven't read the entirety of the kny manga!

suma knew victory wouldn’t come cheap. she knew her family was lucky to have come out of the corps alive albeit a little roughed up. but they’re together nonetheless -- even as they wait for the sun to rise, even as they wait to hear news of muzan’s demise ( because suma refuses to think for a second that he’ll defeat the slayers this time ), the uzui family is together, and that is something of a miracle.

the kami only have so many miracles to give.

suma knew to expect heartbreak after the initial rush of triumph and relief, but there had been a part of her that remained hopeful that most of their comrades would come home banged up but breathing. she remembers an aunt once telling her hope breeds despair, that it is better to expect the worst than to be crushed by disappointment. as a kid, she thought it was a very pessimistic way to view the world and refused to take those words to heart. now, suma understands.

she cries a lot during the weeks following muzan’s defeat, and the retired kunoichi feels guilty each time because the others keep themselves together much better than suma can. they don’t ignore their grief, of course, and they all share their regrets ( words they should have told someone, a trip they promised another but never did get around to, missed opportunities they can never get back ), yet suma wonders if consoling her doesn’t become a little taxing. she’s always felt so deeply -- it isn’t easy to stop the tears once they start, nor is it easy to hold them back. to console her when they’ve all lost their friends... well, isn’t it a little unfair to her spouses?

so suma tries to keep her tears to herself, at least for a little while, until she doesn’t feel so sad when hinatsuru makes sakura mochi or when she sees a butterfly in the garden. as it would turn out, though, suma isn’t very good at hiding things from her spouses. in fact, she’s horrible at it, and the only reason they leave her be for a time is to see if she simply needs to be alone. but it’s hard, and eventually tengen has enough of waiting. to suffer alone and in silence isn’t suma’s way at all.

when he finds her, she’s holding a garden snake ( who would very well bite the kunoichi were it not for her careful grip of its head ) and openly weeping... but quietly. her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, looking rather red from the amount of pressure, and tengen calls her name only to startle suma bad enough that she loosens her hold on the snake.

she has a new reason to cry then, as the moment it has a little leeway, the garden snake bites suma’s hand.

after a lot of wailing and careful prying of fangs out of flesh, suma sniffles as tengen carefully tends to her injury. she watches his large hand so delicately clean her wound, feeling warmth blossom in her chest that helps ease the pain. why was she holding a snake? he asks. because a bird was eyeing it, she replies. her husband hums and finishes wrapping a bandage around the bite.

his magenta gaze rises to meet her eyes, soft yet firm when he finally asks, “ why were you crying, then? ”

there’s no lying to him, and truth be told, suma really doesn’t want to. tears spring to her already puffy eyes. “...it made me think of iguro-san. ”

tengen is already cupping her cheek when the tears fall. his thumb brushes away the traitorous drops as suma lets loose at last, crying and crying loudly. she misses everyone, she feels sorry for not spending more time with them ( she never even knew iguro-san’s favorite color! ), and she feels so sorry for being so much when her spouses are grieving, too. she’s sorry---

" i'm sorry i'm making it harder for you all! i'm sorry i'm always crying! " she hiccups, leaning into tengen's touch despite herself. her uninjured hand clutches at the material of his yukata, squeezes and squeezes as if that might make it all more bearable. " i wish i could be stronger, but i can't! "

please, don't hate her for it.

#sozokami #i also hope it's alright that i had to write tengen a little bit!#i tried to keep it to a minimum -- just what made sense to move along the response #and in general i hope it's fine i decided to post a really old meme! i just!! thought you deserved to read it uvu #there's no pressure to write a response but if you do there's absolutely no pressure to match my length either #bc i got carried away with this to say the least :' )))#interactions | suma

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crowtwink · 1 year

Note

Hey, happy new year! What about Timkon with “I’m not cut out for this.” :)

Thank you! This got rather long for an ask meme ficlet

"I'm not cut out for this."

Tim looks up at him with that annoyingly perceptive look that he manages to convey even behind the whiteout lenses of his mask.

"What makes you say that?" he asks.

"Come on, Tim, you've said it yourself."

"No names in the field," Tim points out, the reminder clearly automatic.

Kon gives him a look because, really, Tim's just proving his point. "I wouldn't ask you to join me on stakeouts if you didn't have something to contribute."

"If you just want me around to punch the bad guys when they show up, you could call me when the action starts so I'm not distracting you while you're trying to focus. Superhearing, remember?"

"If I couldn't work around your distractions, Young Justice would never have lasted. And as endearing as you're clearly trying to be, I don't just keep you around to punch people," Tim insists. "There are very few Gotham villains I couldn't take down myself."

"Then why am I here?" Kon asks.

"It's good to have someone with a different perspective," Tim says, as if it's obvious. He smiles, so subtly that Kon wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been friends with Tim for years. "And I like having you around."

Kon grins, because he’s totally figured it out.

"You're totally just trying to annoy the Bat, aren't you?"

Tim grins right back.

"He hates that I jumped through all his hoops to bring you in and he can't object to it without admitting he's a total hypocrite."

"Which, for the record, he totally is. We should invite Batgirl and really piss him off."

Tim's face does the thing where it goes carefully blank because he's trying too hard to hide whatever emotion he is experiencing.

"You still have a thing for her?" Tim asks.

Kon shrugs.

"Not really. She was never my type anyway."

"Not blonde enough?"

There's an undercurrent there that Kon can't quite read.

Kon shakes his head.

"Cassie was an outlier."

In a lot of ways, really. For one thing, she hadn't even been blonde when they first met.

Tim tilts his head questioningly, and Kon feels far too exposed.

A movement at the entrance of the club they've been watching catches his eye.

"Hey, is that your guy?"

Tim is immediately all business again, focusing his binoculars on the figure.

"That's him."

Kon is relieved to have that piercing focus off of him. At the same time, he can't help but wonder...

It feels like he and Tim been standing at the edge of some metaphorical precipice for years now. Kon doesn't know what's going to happen when they finally jump - when they finally stop ignoring this thing between them - but he's finding it harder and harder to stop himself, or even remember why he should. He's always trusted Tim to take the lead - even when he was furious at him - but it doesn't seem to be getting him anywhere in this particular case. And that makes him hesitate. Maybe Tim knows something he doesn't. Maybe if he jumps the gun, he'll ruin everything. So, he follows Tim's lead and waits for everything to make sense.

They spend the rest of the night following the suspect as he criss-crosses the back streets of Gotham. Kon still doesn't think he's helping, but Tim doesn't seem to mind his lame commentary and corny jokes. If the only thing he's doing is serving as a tool in whatever complicated game Tim is playing with his mentor, maybe that's enough.

As the sun rises over Gotham, their suspect returns to his apartment and Tim decides they're done for the night.

The two of them stand on a rooftop and Kon can feel whatever it is between them crackling like electricity. Somehow, Tim looks more rested than he did at the start of the night.

And suddenly, Kon knows exactly what to do.

He always thought kissing Tim would change things. And maybe it will, once they actually get to the point where they have to talk about it. But in this moment, it feels like an inevitability – like this was the only possible outcome of every interaction they’ve ever had. Tim’s fists in his t-shirt and his lips moving desperately against Kon’s.

Kon leaps from the precipice, and suddenly remembers that he can fly.

When they finally pull apart, both red-faced and gasping for breath, Tim looks up at him with a sort of undisguised awe.

“Oh…”

“We should have been doing that years ago,” Kon says.

“I never realized…”

“How did you not realize? You’re trained by Batman.”

Tim smiles up at him.

“I told you. Sometimes I need a different perspective.”

Kon can’t help but kiss him again.

#timkon #dc #ask meme #sinna's fic

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leviathiane · 2 years

Note

Ask meme? 👉🏼👈🏼 Don't rly know how i ask these >.<

26. tell us about an experience you’ve had that seemed unreal or supernatural. (doesn’t have to be scary)

ksahdsa hey hey! fun to see this from that ask post, tho it was a bit of a while ago now.

Last time i answered this i gave a scarier story, so here's a gentler one:

Every intense moment of my life-- one that is monumental, a shift in my world-- has been punctuated by a shooting star.

I don't see them a lot. Stars in general are kinda hard to come by–– the bay area in California is very well lit, surrounded by large cities that are always awake. I can see which direction they all are from my childhood bedroom window. It looks like the sun is always on the cusp of rising. The light pollution is bad everywhere unless you travel all the way to the desert. Kind of a hard ask, for someone without a license. Or a car.

From home, I can see a handful of constellations. Orion. Cassiopeia. scorpio. Sagittarius. The Big Dipper. Jupiter and Saturn. If I squint on a good night, sometimes I can locate Andromeda. Usually I can't.

In this kind of an area, where it's hard to see even usual stars, stars that are there, unchanging, every night–– it's kind of absurd to assume that shooting stars or comets or passing meteors are easy to spot. That even if they're there in the first place, I would be able to see them. The first time I saw true activity in the sky at night was in my senior year of high school, in 2019. I drove to the local mountaintop to be just far enough to have a chance of seeing anything. I remember it vividly. My mother was driving; we raced back down the mountaintop far too late at night, me standing up through the car roof and yelling to her every meteor that passed, her racing down the dark, winding mountain paths. The mountain isn't far. I see it every day. It is a part of my horizon; It's how I know I'm almost home.

By the time we came stumbling into our driveway, those glittering lights were gone. As if they had never happened at all.

Knowing all that... no one could expect to normally see lunar activity. Not where I'm from.

Yet the night I nearly killed myself, there it was. Bright. Long. Unable to be mistaken. I had been sitting outside for hours at that point. The only one awake. Laying limp on the concrete in the street outside, passively waiting for something and nothing and anything. I wasn't much of a person, at that point. Just waiting for something to finally rip the pain of choices out of my stupid, shaking hands. Laying flat on my back, gravel stuck in my hair and digging into my back. I remember it was uncomfortable. I remember shivering, unable to stop, but unable to dredge up the energy to sit up, much less get up and get a jacket.

On the night I nearly killed myself, there was a shooting star. It was all that snapped me out of whatever I was going through. I'd never seen one before–– it was even before the meteor shower. The shock and awe of it was enough. I got up, eyes wide, staring hard–– staring as if it would appear again, cheekily tell me what I saw was real. I've had my fair share of hallucinations, after all! Flashing lights and moving shadows was nothing new. I wasn't at a point where I could trust myself. Even for something so simple as seeing a shooting star.

Nothing happened, of course. It took the winds out of my sails a little. In the moment, I think I convinced myself I really was a candle, or a firework–– bright, beautiful, and brief. That that had been a sign to flicker out, already.

I laid back down. There was a second shooting star.

I've never been spiritual. God was something taught with fear to me as a child, and then eventually forsaken in a fit of bitter rebellion befitting an angry queer. No matter how much I'd love to believe in ghosts, I couldn't. When I stand at a grave, all I speak to is dirt. Recycled nutrients and engraved concrete. I'd break a mirror and bemoan the waste of money spent. Chant a curse and laugh. Pet a black cat. In general, not religious and not superstitious. I'd love to be. Sure would make life interesting, wouldn't it? Especially back then.

Despite everything, I cried that night–– and I lived to talk about it.

There's other important times I saw shooting stars–– when I graduated high school, when my grandfather died, when I moved out. But the first time I saw a shooting star, the time that probably saved my stupid life, isn't a very forgettable one. Maybe the real supernatural twist is that I've made it this long.

#depths' ask #suicide tw #no details really #but better safe then sorry aye?#thanks for sending this in!! i experience far less supernatural stuff than most i think due to not believing already #but its always nice recounting #you did just fine cipher dont worry kadbjvgjasbhd thanks for the ask fam #a bit rambling! im tryinng to write a submission piece rn djnabvjbads #cipher-wise

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’.

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered.

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet?

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia!

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76 @sra-verissimo

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Tender Ch. 3 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: As time passes,Loki and Reader grow closer.

Warnings: None. Cheesy, self-indulgent romance.

Words:

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @queenariesofnarnia @commonintrest @buckylokisimp @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay @nina1800

It was almost 8pm when the display of Loki’s cellphone lightened up, and immediately his heart dropped to his stomach.

Only recently the god had learned how to use this annoying tool, still refusing to take it with him all the time. But since it was easier for you to just text, he’d put up with it.

And truth be spoken, except for Thor sending him those silly ‘Memes’, there wasn’t really anyone eager to talk to him anway - so he knew it had to be you.

Thousand worries were made up by his mind, of you having realized this wasn’t a good idea and canceling your date. Holding his breath, he dared to unlock the screen and read:

“I’m so excited to see you tonight! 💘”

“Don’t raise your hopes” he thought to himself, now busying his mind with every possible way of him fucking things up - and still, your message made him grin from ear to ear.

“As you should be” Loki answered and put down the phone, just to pick itn back up and sending some random emoji’s so it wouldn’t sound so harsh. “💌💚💐😏“

You on the other hand felt as excited as a teenager on their first date, having occupied yourself for hours through trying on different outfits, as well as getting your hair and make-up just right. This was a special occasion, after all!

“I hope he’ll like me...” you thought as you assessed your silhouette in the mirror, debating wether this dress was too revealing or not. In the end, you decided to wrap a silken scarf around your neck - so he won’t have to see the scar.

A knock on your door made you jump a little. Had it already been this late?!

“Miss Y/N?” Loki patiently waited in front of your flat’s door, just for his whole expression to falter when you opened. “You- uh...look ravishing.”

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u!” You mimicked, trying to give him your most welcoming smile. Oh, how glad you were that he could at least read lips - but then, the most unexpected thing happened.

“You’re welcome” he signed, a little sloppy and unsure how to precizely use his hands, but still good enough for you to understand.

“When did you-” Loki answered before you were even done signing the whole sentence, and you were completely and utterly baffled at his skill. “Started a week ago. Needs some improvement, but I get the basics.”

Basics?! Since when was the God of Mischief so humble? Especially if he really only self-teached this at such an incredible speed, that was amazing!

Loki’s trademark grin spread over his cheeks, pretty satisfied with himself as he saw how your eyes were shining in excitement. “No big deal. Shall we?”

Much to your further surprise, the god even offered you his arm to cling on, before the two of you made your leave.

You couldn’t help but admire how handsome he appeared in that suit, his locks tamed behind his ears and golden accessory complimenting his look. The whole way to wherever he’d lead you was coated in pleasant silence, with both of you exchanging small smiles and joyful glances.

“There we are!” Loki declared proudly, as if you were not still in the Stark Tower - well, he isn’t allowed to leave, so we’d better make the best of it.

The compound was gigantic, having almost everything one could think about. To be honest, you had expected a restaurant, maybe a movie night or something classy - well, on the other hand you don’t know they do it on Asgard.

But this?!

You’ve never been at this part of the tower before, unaware there were such beautiful places in this rather boring, high-tech environment.

“I come here often” he signed and you nodded approvingly, “It eases the feeling of being imprisoned.”

Yes, one could truly forget that you were still inside of the tower while standing in that great botanical garden at the top floor, ceiling made completely out of glass and revealing the starry night sky.

"B-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l” your mouth formed silently, just as you felt a hand on your hip. Loki embraced you from behind, his lips gracing your ear as he whispered “Just like you.”

“P-Pardon” he cut himself off, his grip loosening much to your frustration. “I didn’t know what came over me.”

Yet you only clasped his hand, signalizing him it was alright. “Well then...let me lead you to the table.”

In midst of this beautiful garden was a festively decorated table for two, with Loki holding one chair out for you to sit down. It seemed like he had thought of everything, making you wonder just how long he had prepared for this evening to go well.

As a prince, he was not really used to cooking, so he had gotten something in advance, together with some fine wines. “Not to compare with Asgardian quality” he joked, insisting you’d only deserve the best, “But it will do.”

Loki Odinson was the perfect gentleman, and every second of this date you became more aware of how unbelievably you had already fallen for him from the very start.

The two of you would exchange tales about your respective homelands, impactful events on your life as well as your dreams and ambitions. Even without a single spoken word, this conversation was deep and so natural, you could’ve kept on forever.

He would be happy to show you some little magic tricks, such as making blossoms float or lights appear everywhere. May you want it or not, the prince showered you in small gifts such as a selection of his most favourite reads he thought you might like, or a bracelet resembling two snakes intertwined with each other.

Oh, how both of you wished time would stop, letting you revel in this evening just a bit longer...

Having forgotten about time completely, you only realized how much time had passed when the sun was already rising at the horizon.

“Oh my” Loki chuckled shyly, almost feeling guilty for you were probably exhausted. “Let me consort you to your rooms, my fair lady.”

Trying his best to ignore all the spiteful looks Tony’s coworkers gave him as they crossed your way in the hallways, the god wished he would’ve just teleported you back.

“I need to thank you, my love.” The nickname escaped his lips quicker than his mind could catch up on. “Umm, I mean, I really enjoyed myself today. Hopefully you did too.”

You bit your lip, trying to play down your nervousness from expecting him to make a move - yet there was no kiss. Not even a hug, or anything to bid you goodbye.

“Sleep well-” Loki blinked heavily as you clutched on his arm, fingernails digging into the fabric of his suit. “What’s wrong, little dove?”

He squinted his eyes together, racking his brain as hard as he could to decipher your ASL, hopefully not misunderstanding something.

“Do you want to come inside?”

"I-I-I...” Hel, that caught him off guard. But you only gave him a sleepy smile, expression as welcoming as always. “That’s considered bad manners, I mean-”

“Not that!” You huffed quite amused at him becoming all flustered. “I thought you may want to sleep here? Just sleep, nothing more.”

“Of cou- I mean, if you insist” he desperately tried to preserve the last piece of dignity left inside of him, trying to downplay just how needy he was for your affection. "If you insist.”

Sheepishly entering your wide, one-room flat, Loki walked close behind you as his glare immediately went to the sofa on your right - yet you confidently shook your head, pointing towards the king-sized bed.

“This is new to me.” You judgingly rose your eyebrow at his statement, knowing the stories about how he and his brothers were heartbreakers back on Awsgard very well. “Not like that, I mean...ah, forget it.”

Much to your displeasure, the prince would rest far away from you, lying stiffly on his back.

Thinking back about your relationship up until now, you didn’t feel like sleeping in the same bed would cross any line:

It all started very subtle and slowly, but not unnoticed by you and the others - how over time, the God of Mischief was craving your touch. Like his hand ‘accidentally’ brushing against yours, just barely noticeable. Or how he almost naturally cuddled under the blanket with you whenever you were sitting on the same sofa.

The more time passed, the more confident Loki became in his approaches, always wary of your reaction - which would be delighted every single time.

Hugs had already become a firm ritual whenever one of you two traumazized messes were in need of affirmation.

Even some innocent kisses anywhere but your lips were a permanent feature or your togetherness by now, and both of you cherished every second of it.

So you’d plainly crawl over to his side of the bed, pressing yourself against his back.

“I tend to experience nightmares...” Loki whispered, only to be answered with your grip around him depending. "Maybe I should leave."

You snug your head hard against his back, inhaling his scent - for some reason, Loki always smelled like freshly cut grass and old books, not that you'd complain though.

The sound of his heartbeat was like music in your ears, and without giving him a response, it would soon calm you into a sweet slumber.

Tonight, Loki's mind would find peace.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki / reader #loki x y/n #loki / you #loki odinson #god of mischief #marvel #dieney #Avengers #self insert #fanfiction #writing #loki friggason

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queenaeducan-writes · 3 years

Text

Apodyopsis

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Mature Warnings: Suggestive

Apodyopsis: the act of mentally undressing someone. Solas finds himself hoping something more will come of tonight, but knows his desires are not the only ones which count.

Canon divergent, featuring a non-Inquisitor Lavellan and a universe where Solas revealed the secret he had meant to that evening in the grove. Originally written for a meme prompt.

Read it on AO3 here!

Minutes pass in the span of a sigh, the passage of time unimpeded by their tryst. This world is apathetic to their affection, the stone floor beneath their feet the same as it was when they awoke that morning. Solas reminds himself of this in the gap between their kisses, centers himself in reality before he loses himself in Ian’s. They stand toe-to-toe in the center of the room– their room. The sun has set, their surroundings lit by candles that had gasped to life when he wasn’t looking. Everything is cast in warm colours, a halo glows around the crown of Ian’s head, through the wispy ends of his hair. When their eyes meet, he smiles, and the laugh lines around his eyes smile with him.

“You’re staring,” Ian says with a breathy giggle, his eyes fluttering toward the corner of the room before they return to him.

“Am I?”

Solas finds himself drifting, head bowing to brush Ian’s. He still smells of Skyhold’s gardens, of elfroot and sweet alyssum, and though the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, Ian’s scent carries its memory. Hands cup the back of his neck and pull him the rest of the way down, parted lips there to greet him. He sinks against him, forcing back the urge to smile at how eager Ian is to slip his tongue between his teeth. It is not always he is so daring, though it has been more often, of late. Perhaps Ian had at last noticed how his blood runs hotter, his whole body flushed pink. He strains against the fingers at the nape of his neck, just to feel them resist, drawing him deeper.

Their kiss breaks with two quiet gasps. The next is placed at the corner of his lip, a taste of where Ian’s affection may wander. Then, his jaw, then Ian sways forward on his toes to reach beneath the lobe of his ear. He giggles and sways forward, laughter tickling his neck, daring him to laugh. His mouth draws a thin line, hands moving to check his sides before Ian falls forward. Undeterred, the gentle lips at his neck turn to teeth, unafraid to pull.

The thumb at Ian’s waist slips beneath his shirt, stroking the outline of his hipbone. He shivers under it, pleasure warm against Solas’ throat. He contents himself a while with teasing forays just over his waistband, blindly exploring while Ian peppers his neck with nips that may bloom into purple flowers the next morning. Fingertips ghost over the fine trail of hair that grows up from below his waist, refamiliarising himself with the way Ian feels to the touch, without his eyes to aid him.

But Ian’s confidence is contagious, and inspires bold action. Fingers curl around the uneven hem of his shirt, the intention clear, but difficult to protest without words to couple with. He tucks his lips beside Ian’s ear, brushing the tip before he poses his question: “May I?”

Ian goes tense beneath his palms, though it isn’t the same as a moment ago. Gone are the short, breathy sighs, the tension that begs to be released, succeeded by a sharp intake of breath that finds no relief. “Solas–” he lets out half of it, speaking his name as if it were an apology. “I, ahn, I…” Solas waits, ears pushed forward to catch even the softest of refusals. “I’m–”

It is as close to ‘no’ as he fears he will get this evening, boldness fleeing from Ian. He drops his hand to his hips, smoothing down the wrinkled ends of his top. Once he may not have recognised it for what it was, now it is stark as night and day. “Say no more,” he says, straining a reassuring smile for Ian’s sake.

What he dreads is not the refusal, but the moment where all the warmth drains from the room, and Ian withdraws from him with an apology on is lips. They always come together later, his arms falling across his chest beneath the covers, folding over Solas’ heart, but he does not relish the uncomfortable in-between. It isn’t his fault, nor is it Ian’s, neither asked for this nor inflicted it upon the other. That knowledge, however, does not assuage the guilt that closes around his throat.

Tonight, no apology comes. Ian’s arms pull him closer, face pressing against his naked chest as he breathes in through his nose. Outside, Solas hears the sounds of Skyhold in the late evening, the distant prayer of the faithful from the gardens below and the rush of magic through the valley, racing the wind. The room’s warmth is not chased away, but nestled safely between them, nurtured by their heartbeats. Ian pulls his face away, lifting his gaze to meet his, soft resolve behind his eyes. “Can you–” He cuts himself off, teeth press into his bottom lip as he rethinks what he wants to say. “Give me a moment, please?”

A simple enough request. He nods, head bowing an inch to press his lips against Ian’s brow before he pulls away. The cool rushes in where Ian’s arms were wrapped around him, and a quiet longing steals over him as he pads towards the foot of their bed. He settles down, mattress sinking under his weight, naked heels flat against the floor. Ian angles his back away to the far corner of the room, elbows bending at sharp angles while his hands gather the bottom of his shirt together. It would be easy, Solas thinks, to summon the memory of undressing Ian, but even staring feels like an invasion he needs express permission to indulge, and so he averts his gaze, but he cannot mistake the sound. His shirt flutters to the floor, his pants follow shortly thereafter, whispering against his skin as he pulls them down his legs.

Bare feet move across the floor, hesitating for a step before they come to a halt between his legs. “You can look up, now,” Ian murmurs. He leans over, taking one of Solas’ hands and guiding it toward his hips. His eyes follow, skirting up naked skin to meet Ian’s eye.

Apprehension creases his brow, the unshakable feeling that Ian would push himself to stave off his disappointment creeps over him. “Are you certain?” His other hand find uneasy purchase upon his waist, thumb stroking small circles into his skin. He hopes to see not a trace of doubt in Ian’s expression, but then, that would not be who he fell for, would it?

Doubt aside, there is determination in his smile, a hint of confidence that had not left him yet. “Yes,” he says, “you can trust me.”

The response elicits emotion deeper than the pleasure he seeks in Ian’s body. Indeed it almost makes him cry, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. It hearkens back to lonely groves and tearful reunions, trust extended and accepted. Perhaps it was meant to. “Very well.” His head bows, brushing a kiss against the base of Ian’s ribs. “Tell me if I ought to stop.”

“I will.”

That is reassurance enough for him to begin in earnest. His grip tightens, taking Ian between his palms, skin bunching between his fingers. Ian is a different beauty from this angle, longer than his short stature might lead one to believe. Soft in the places he covets most. Solas reminds himself of how his heartbeat feels against his lips, hammering fast behind his ribs as the first quiet sigh slips between his teeth. He marks all the places upon him the sun has not yet kissed, pale skin shining pink where his teeth meet Ian’s flesh, pulling until he hisses with pleasure and pain. Where impossible freckles dust Ian’s sides he plants gentle kisses that ease small, delighted sounds from him.

He pauses, nose dipping against the hollow of his hip, his own breath hot upon his face. Bare hands settle against him, curling loosely across his shoulders. “Solas…” His name, spoken a second time, sounds sweeter upon his lips.

“Hm?”

“I didn’t–” He snorts, bemusement halting him, rather than discomfort. His belly spasms, pushing against Solas’ cheek. Laughter sends thrills through him more dangerous than his touch, a sound he had fallen for long before he knew. Ian breathes in, holding it a moment before he allows himself to speak again. “I didn’t ask you to stop.” There is pride in his voice, satisfied by his own remark, and joy, too, albeit tempered by his attempt to feign disappointment. His voice drops an octave, a low whisper above his ear. “Did I?”

Affection blossoms in the pit of Solas’ chest, rising up his spine, manifesting as a grin upon his face. He cannot help but hide it, face still buried against Ian. There is no hiding how his back flecks with gooseflesh, nor the sudden shiver that moves shoulders, steadied by Ian’s grip. The palms of his hands slide down to Ian’s thighs, fingers spreading to grip as much of them as his hands can hold. “My mistake,” he murmurs, punctuating the apology with a penitent peck to where Ian’s hips meet his legs. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

#solavellan #bi solas #solas x lavellan #solas #dragon age #fandom: dragon age #pairing: solas x iander #character: iander lavellan #character: solas #rating: mature

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vegalocity · 3 years

Note

Kisses 17 and 26 and Touches 15 with MKsdadshipping?

Affection meme

17. kisses as a promise

26. giggling while kissing

15. hugging each other

For some reason fluff wasn't coming to me for these, so I said to myself "how funny would it be if i managed to make this an angst fill?" and now here we are

this just in: three middle aged(-ish one of them's immortal) men in a polyam trio are completely blind to what they bring to the dynamic and all consider themselves as the 'awkward third one whose just kinda there lowkey ruining things'

It was more than he deserved.

All of this.

To the point where every so often he’d have to peer at the world around them and the two of them just to be sure he hadn’t somehow been fooled and was being left to rot in an illusion, or perhaps that calabash those silver and gold brothers still had about.

But no, the world was as it should be around him, unless whatever it was was so thoroughly good at crafting its illusions it could fool even the Monkey King himself. For all intents and purposes, he was in reality.

And in reality, he had his two greatest loves back. It wasn’t perfect of course. Neither of them remembered their pasts alongside him, sp as far as their own histories were concerned, he was in fact the interloper while they’d been around each other for years already. He was… an untested variable.

An interloper.

It wasn’t like this was as it was back then, when the three of them had slotted together practically as one despite the superficial dynamic of master and two eldest disciples.

But they didn’t have that anymore, and he was okay with it. It was probably just the echoes of Sanzang and Baije that made them decide to bring him into their little fold, and he was okay with it.

Besides, it made for a lovely view. The way Tang would tease and taunt Pigsy with that adoring glint in his eye just because he thought he looked cute when he was mad. How he was pretty sure Pigsy would purposely rise to the bait more than he actually was getting angry because that was simply how their relationship worked by that point. How before too long had passed the two would stop and begin to laugh. A sweet domestic peck shared between chuckles.

It was beautiful in its simplicity. He was glad he was allowed to peer in.

It was more than he deserved for how he'd failed them so long ago.

Look, here’s the thing.

Even before they’d found out about all of this reincarnation business, Tang had been possibly the biggest Monkey King fan in China (Though Xiaotian may have given him a run for his money if all of that successor nonsense hadn’t started up) and that was all well and good when he might as well have been just another historical figure.

And then he was a far more common figure in their lives and Pigsy had grown a bit… worried. Mostly that his husband would embarrass himself in front of his idol of course. Then… you know.. Sun Wukong proved himself to be a complete and utter dork and the mystique began to fall away, and Pigsy found he liked Sun Wukong a lot better than he’d ever liked The Monkey King.

And then… well.. Sometimes things really do just fall into place, don’t they?

Of course, nothing was without its bumps, and Pigsy was man enough to admit that sometimes he just couldn’t keep up with his husband and boyfriend when the two of them got rolling on something. Bouncing from topic to topic fired back and forth like a Ping Pong Volleyball match right when he realized he might have something to add to a topic of conversation they were already about three subject changes away from it. And he wasn’t about to be that guy that says ‘back on that earlier thing though-’ and derail the whole flow.

After a certain point he’d just feel lost, catching up let alone keeping up a far away dream. Sure once one of them noticed that they’d gotten carried away they’d both apologize and be all awkward about it, usually stay on a topic for quite a bit longer, but Pigsy could tell it was just to include him so he usually assured them he was happy just listening.

He’d watch as either of them got back into what they were talking about, and whatever historical document Tang had offhandedly mentioned he’d give a limb just to peer at Wukong would mention he had a copy off off-handedly. And he’d at least get a laugh out of the shocked/awed/excited look that only Sun Wukong seemed to be able to bring out of him, as the Monkey King promised to be right back, he just needed to pop over to his mountain to grab it. Gently peking Tang on the cheek and winking at him before shimmying open the window and taking off.

Tang was always practically vibrating when he’d get back and they’d go back to whatever they were talking about without skipping a beat and… you know…

Pigsy wasn’t stupid, he graduated with top marks from culinary school.

But he just wasn’t quite on the same level as his husband, and that had been fine when it was just the two of them, and he certainly didn’t regret bringing Wukong into their lives like this but…

He couldn’t help but feel like he just… couldn’t keep up.

Tang had always known he wasn’t particularly good at… people… he talked too much, didn’t understand the line between playful ribbing and outright bullying, allowed his passions to drive him to the point of making some pretty bad choices.

He’d figured Pigsy (and to a lesser extent Sandy) was probably the only person he’d ever really have in his life that didn’t mind all of that. That liked yelling about as much as Tang liked making him yell.

It had honestly been a dream come true to not only MEET Sun Wukong, but to realize he was cut from a similar cloth. His ‘fears no heaven nor demon’ attitude made anything and everything slide off his back, even some pretty nasty things said with the intent to hurt (though Xiaotian was a noticeable exception, he took almost everything their kid said to heart) But by that line Tang had been so excited that he actually COULD talk to him about almost anything. And so they did. They talked quite a lot.

But… the thing was… they debated and explained and dialogued, and flirt if the mood stuck (and wasn’t that trippy to experience for the first time) Tang just… couldn’t shut his damn mouth. He didn’t really realize it until he’d been coming home one of those rare days Pigsy had the shop closed but he had to give a lecture and had just been quiet enough to see what Sun Wukong and Pigsy got up to when he wasn’t around and…

It was quiet. Very quiet. Tang almost didn’t want to breathe. He’d been able to keep silent, but he was sure Sun Wukong had sensed his presence just as the doorknob had turned. He was just a bit… distracted.

Distracted by being curled up against Pigsy’s back as he threw together lunch for the lot of them. It occurred to Tang quickly that Pigsy never let him be affectionate while he was cooking. How he was ‘distracting’ and ‘always sneaking tastes’ and such, whereas Sun Wukong appeared to be content in just hugging his husband close as he cooked. And… it was a sweet scene really. Pigsy was always embarrassed over his more animalistic instincts around him, but every time he’d poke his head in on him and Sun Wukong he was getting more and more comfortable with them.

He was the only human in their little trio, and he was sure that came with its own baggage beyond being the one the other two had to protect when Mystic demon business came up, but he supposed what made him the real oddball was simply that he sucked at slowing down.

He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long enough to enjoy someone’s presence quietly. Sun Wukong and Pigsy probably didn’t talk near as much when he wasn’t trying to drag them into conversations or playing ‘topic volleyball’. Just watching the two of them doing their own thing, probably long since knowing he was there but waiting for him to speak first, it was so obvious how quickly they’d gotten comfortable around eachother. How quick their relationship had been to run deep.

It had taken Tang five years to worm his way into Pigsy’s heart. Sun Wukong did it in five months, and he was starting to think it maybe was because he’d never learned how to take a quiet moment for what it was.

And then the silence was unbearable and Tang made a teasing remark, because he was probably incapable of anything else.

Pigsy huffed and puffed in that cute way he always does, Sun Wukong pulled away from him and went to lean against the opposite counter, the moment thoroughly ruined by his big mouth. Again.

Seemed like he was more annoying than he thought.

He wondered why the two of them even put up with him.

Send me stuff

#the Pigsy Section really kicked my ass for some reason idk what was up with that #I tried to go for the usual 'Tang being a fanboy' angle but it kept looking too much like garden variety jealousy #and I was here like 'that is some early relationship bumps in the road bruv we working on 'well established' rn'#MksDadShipping #Vega Writes stories too #Letters to Vega #Affecton meme #lmk pigsy #lmk Tang #Lmk Sun Wukong #tigerseye46

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thedevilsmemes · 3 years

Text

PINTEREST QUOTES I USE IN MY MUSINGS BOARDS ~ A SENTENCE MEME - PART 2

Change pronouns as / when needed to preferred pronoun.

“I do not do justice, I do damage. I do not do empathy, I do damage. I do not do forgiveness, I do damage. I do not do mercy, I do damage.”

“Like, you can boss me around in sexual situations but you better not try to tell me what to do in regular life.”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m meaner than my demons.”

“If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”

“He was like a storm.”

“You want to play dirty? Fine, let’s play dirty!”

{ feels an emotion. } “Who the fuck authorised this?!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

“Judge if you want. We are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

“They wanted a monster; I decided to give them one.”

��Seduce and destroy.”

“What the fuck is intimacy? How does that work? Letting… people be close to you? What the fuck?”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried for one hundred years.”

“I’ll do this my way.”

“I am severely emotionally unstable.”

“What, from the bottom of the heart, the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take any orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“I send my best regards from Hell.”

“I like my coffee how I like myself: Dark, bitter and too hot for you.”

“Me and God, we don’t get along.”

“Be brave, Angel.”

“Self care is drinking three pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with God.”

{ takes gulp of vodka straight from the bottle } “My day was fine.”

“Have I stabbed you? No. Then I am being nice.”

“Holy Shit! I’M the demon living in my house.”

“Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.”

“I want an ancient elaborate dagger with my name engraved into the blade as a gift. The only romantic gesture.”

“ ‘Are you a top or a bottom?’ I'm a threat!”

“Stop being so defensive! I’m just trying to hit you with weapons.”

“The more knives you have the more valid you are.”

“She’s strong but she’s exhausted.”

“She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.”

“My darling, you can’t see it can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you are both full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.”

“Calm her chaos but never silence her storm.”

“She wears strength and darkness equally well. That girl has always been half Goddess, half Hell.”

“She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles.”

“She’s proof that you can walk through Hell and still be an angel.”

“She is both hellfire and holy water. And the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her.”

“Even the mountains can not hold all you have been carrying.”

“Storm with skin.”

“She’s thunderstorms”

“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“Sometimes it takes only one act of kindness and caring to change a person’s life.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“Butterflies are the Heaven-sent kisses of an angel.”

“She who is brave is free.”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.”

“Shut up. I wear heels bigger than your dick.”

“Girls who run in heels should be feared.”

“Family is everything to me.”

“She’s an old soul that believes in chivalry, romance, and love.”

“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”

“I run on coffee and grace.”

“I’m glad I’ve got boobs… the last thing I need is people making eye contact with me.”

“Tell me to put on my big girl panties one more time… and I’ll take off my thong and strangle you with it!”

“Please read all my posts in a sarcastic tone. You know, for full effect.”

“I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it, go away.”

“If I offend you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears, eating chips and working on my tan.”

“When she is happy, she can’t stop talking. When she is sad, she doesn’t say a word.”

“Music becomes my best friend when nobody else understands me.”

“Act like a lady, think like a boss.”

“I know I have friends but I feel I have no one to talk to about the shit that goes on in my head.”

“She was special. She combined a mean angel and a kind devil.”

“So much pain for someone so young.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

“Red lips and wine sips.”

“Brave girl, it’s time to love again.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Sometimes, when I say ‘I’m okay.’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not.’ ”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl guys fall in love with.”

“I fear I will spend my life, waiting for a love story that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a woman, use it; bring every man you meet to his motherfucking knees.”

“She denies it but, the truth is, she’s falling in love with him.”

“Hearing your heels click on the floor sounds like power.”

“She loves deeply, regardless of the love she gets back in return and it’s both her biggest strength and biggest weakness…”

“Experience raised her. Hurt taught her. Neither defined her.”

“She was not fragile like a flower was, she was fragile like a bomb.”

“Life is short; make every hair flip count.”

“I’ve always been someone who looks ‘too deep’ into something or someone. That’s because I realised from a young age that there’s always more than what meets the eye.”

“If I say ‘first of all’ Run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and will destroy you.”

“Underestimate me, that’ll be fun.”

“You think I’m sarcastic? You should hear what I don’t say!”

“She’s a combination of sensitive and savage.”

“Stay classy, sassy and a bit bad assy.”

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”

“Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?”

“I was told I was dangerous… I asked why? They said ‘because you don’t need anyone.’ That’s when I smiled.”

“She’s been through hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling, you don’t own that kind of power.”

“Watch me. I will go to my own sun and, if I am burned by the flames, I will fly on scorched wings.”

“Her messy hair is a visible attribute to her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles, knowing wild is her favourite colour.”

“She’s strong. But in the back of her mind she doesn’t think that she was meant to be this strong for this long. And she wonders if there is a man out there, somewhere, who understands this.”

“She’s not for everyone and she knows it. People find her different and strange. She dances in the rain, she laughs when she cries and loves through her pain. People fear the unknown and they never knew a girl like her.”

“Don’t tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn’t do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.”

“You provoke her until she roars and then get upset at her for becoming the monster you created.”

“Rip out his ego with your fresh nails.”

“She isn’t the sunrise; she’s the fucking sun.”

“You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.”

“Watch your tongue around her. She will bear her fangs and tear you apart with all the grace of a Queen.”

“If you won’t embrace her madness, then you’ll never taste her magic.”

“Beauty may be dangerous but intelligence is lethal.”

“She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.”

“Heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. There is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes and the will to survive resides within her soul.”

“I wish that I could say that I am a light that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time.”

“Spoil me with loyalty. I can finance myself.”

“Shoutout to all the people with brown hair and brown eyes! We basic as fuck but we cute!”

“I feel a nap coming on.”

“Is horny an emotion?”

“I just really like thigh-highs.”

“Even though she looks innocent, she is really a perverted demon.”

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her pain was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.”

“I don’t rise from the ashes, I make them. I’m the whole fucking fire.”

“Beautiful but destructive.”

“I’m aiming for the ‘she’s a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking’ look.”

“Loving me must be so fucking hard and I’m so sorry.”

“Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.”

“You glow differently when you’re actually happy.”

“She’s magic, that one.”

“Kicked out of Hell.”

“Red hair: the crown you never take off.”

“You’ve got a fire inside.”

“She doesn’t need a warrior, she is one. What she needs is a devout heart, and strong arms to hold her after her battles are won.”

“You are the love that came without warning: You had my heart before I could say no.”

“You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“True evil is, above all things, seductive.”

“The Devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”

“Haven’t I fallen far enough?”

“I’m not like them, but I can pretend.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Now I grow wings and rage, and learn how to kill.”

“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”

“Though she be little, she be fierce.”

“I know what this is; It’s just myself, talking to myself, about myself.”

“You underestimate my power.”

#roleplay memes #rp memes #roleplay sentence starters #sentence starters #rp starters #sentence memes

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years

Text

Inhale My Soul

am i reposting my favorites from the prompt meme from last night just by themselves? maybe

AO3 link in the reblog

Kisses 27: Desperate Kisses

Dissolving hadn’t felt like anything. Sam wasn’t sure he even understood what was actually happening. Maybe he’d thought it was just a trick of the reality stone. Maybe human minds weren’t meant to comprehend anything close to what had happened.

Coming back felt like dying.

He woke up on his back and he couldn’t breathe. It was like he had no lungs at all, just a trachea spasming in his throat without air, like a gills with no water. He grasped for the ground and the feeling of dirt was horrifying, a grave waiting to swallow him down into the Earth. The wind was knives on his skin. His suit felt like it was trying to pry his spine from his ribs. His legs ached like someone was trying to stretch the bones on a crank.

He must’ve screamed but there was no air to make a noise.

Finally sight came back and the first thing he saw were the trees falling over him, ready to crush him and hide him again.

Had anyone seen him disappear? No one was by his side. No one looked for him.

No, the trees weren’t falling. They were swaying in the wind. The sun kept gliding down through them with every shuffle of the leaves.

It was so quiet he felt like he could hear the leaves sighing as they grew.

It took him too long to realize the ragged breath that broke the silence like a gunshot came from his own chest. The hands digging his own grave shot to his chest, felt the rise and fall of his ribs and lungs, the proof that he was breathing. He was alive again.

He rolled onto his side and heaved until his ribs creaked, still firmly attached to his spine. There was nothing to come up, but the noise was comforting, the ache that he could name and handle was safe. Human. Living human.

His knees were in his legs when he leaned back on his haunches. They sank into the earth but the grave didn’t swallow him down. No unwilling sacrifice to be taken from him. He brought his dirt covered fingers--firm and whole and attached to him--up to his face. He found his cheeks, a beard with edges that were too straight for a man who had died and been put back together, his teeth. They throbbed in his gums like they were all about to fall out but they were there in his head. His tongue.

He could speak.

“Steve!” he shouted and his throat screamed in protest, the air in his lungs turned to fire. “Steve!” he called again and forced himself to his feet. His boots were tied. His pants were still tucked into them. There was no blood, which seemed wrong. He felt flayed open and left to soak into the ground. How could there be no blood?

“Steve!”

God, if Steve was dead…

Sam couldn’t lose more people. He couldn’t fight his way back. Not after this. Not while everything hurt so fucking much.

“Steve, please, God, where are you?!”

“Sam?”

Sam whirled around at the tired voice. The trees danced in his vision. The grass clutched at his legs, which still felt like they were being stretched out and sunk into the earth. The trees were going to take him over. The grass was going to eat him again. No one was looking. No one would find him. Why wasn’t anyone ever looking for him?

“Sam?” the voice called again.

Footsteps. Crushing grass. A metal screech in the bark of a tree. A colorful curse. “Sam, fuck, shout again!”

Sam stumbled forward, breaking free of the natural world trying to take him away again. He shoved himself away from a tree and crashed into a warm, solid, human body.

“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky breathed and wrapped his arms around Sam tightly. It hurt in the best way. Sam held him back, face hidden in Bucky’s shoulder. He didn’t even care about what gore he was smearing all over himself. Bucky’s hand came to the back of Sam’s head and Sam almost expected it to hit exposed brain but it didn’t. Instead his calloused fingers brushed over Sam’s short hair, smoothing over the natural lines and divots in it until goosebumps erupted over Sam’s skin.

Right. Things could feel good. That was part of being human and alive.

He had no idea how long they stood there. His shoulders were aching, but in a pleasant way that reminded him that there was something he loved right in front of him, in his arms.

Bucky was the first to move, stepping back half a step, a quarter of a step, barely any at all, just enough to bring his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. The cheeks and the mouth and the skin that was all there and new again. He tilted Sam’s head back, eyes intense and clear in front of Sam.

Had it not felt the same for him? Was he not grappling with his ridiculously weak claim to existence? Or, fuck, was this how he always felt after being frozen and woken up? Had he been going through this for seventy years with no one to run to? With no one to hold him and remind him that things could feel good?

Sam’s fingers tightened in Bucky’s vest and just as Bucky was starting to say something Sam couldn’t honestly answer--something about how he felt, if anything hurt, if he needed medical attention--Sam hauled him down into a desperate kiss. Their noses smashed together and pain bloomed across Sam’s face, made his eyes water, made him want to sneeze, made him want to lean into it all the more, like the pressed-on-bruise ache of Bucky’s arms around him.

He felt Bucky’s teeth notch a split into Sam’s lip by accident, crushed together with nowhere to go. Finally it softened. Bucky’s mouth pressed against his until Sam felt like he could actually breathe, until he could make his mouth do what he wanted, catch Bucky’s lower lip between both of his, wring out a noise he’d never heard the other man make before. Bucky’s hands on his face kept him close and Sam’s fingers tightened in his vest. He wanted to crawl into Bucky’s chest--felt like, maybe, he could after being unmade and remade. Their noses knocked together again as Sam tried to turn his head, kiss the other side of Bucky’s mouth, let Bucky bruise the rest of his lips.

Bucky pulled away, but didn’t let go of Sam’s face. Cool air flowed into Sam’s lungs until all of his bones and muscles felt like they slotted back into place.

“I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you alive,” Bucky breathed.

We should talk about this. That. Later.

“I thought everyone was gone. I don’t know… I didn’t know how I came back. I thought it was just me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. There’s hundreds of people. Not everyone, but at least half of us.”

Half of them.

“Oh my God,” Sam said. “Thanos won. He wiped out half of the universe.”

“I think that was us. I think...someone brought us back,” Bucky said. Pain flashed over his face as he looked at Sam and then pulled him in for another kiss. Sam tried to understand a second chance in it, but all he could feel was Bucky and relief and adoration. He wasn’t sure where that one came from more--him or Bucky.

“There’s still a fight,” someone said from behind them. Another magic shithead. Terror clutched at Sam’s chest like magic itself was enough to unmake him again, take him away again. “There’s still a world to save.”

Bucky’s hand found Sam’s between their bodies. Sam took a breath with lungs that almost seemed to work again. “What’re we waiting for then?” he asked.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fanfic

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shianhygge-imagines · 4 years

Text

Silver Rose [Vergil/Reader] [V/Reader] {Devil May Cry} The Mortal Half

AN: I apologize for the wait! The road of life took a bit of a wild turn, and my writing (along with a few other things) suffered for it.

On another note... anyone as excited for DMC5: Special Edition as I am :D

This chapter is a long one that I wanted to write and post as soon as possible (I was tempted to wait until all chapters of Visions of V were out). I will probably come back to re-explore V’s character at a later time because damn it, Visions of V really kicked my ass with the character development.

WARNING: As I have mentioned in a separate post, there is a section of smut in here. This is actually the first full smut scene I’ve ever written, so please excuse the awkwardness... and the kinks... and if it sucks.

So, yeah. It’s now a Vergil/Reader as well as a V/Reader story. Cheers!

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link| |First Chapter| |Prev. Ch.| --- |Next Ch.|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4th May 01:40pm

When you woke the next morning, Shadow was still curled into your side, its eyes closed and seemingly content despite the afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows. Though you’d slept peacefully through the rest of the night, it was rather strange having another presence in the same bed as you. After all, you hadn’t shared your bed with another individual since Vergil had started leaving on his alarmingly frequent trips away from your home in Red Grave City. And although it had been years since you visited that place, the mere thought of those nights brought a frown to your previously content face. Closing your eyes and exhaling slowly, you mentally gave the box of memories a rough shove away.

It’s best not to dwell on unpleasant thing, Y/N. You muse to yourself with the slightest tensing of your body.

Sensing your change in mood, Shadow shifted to rest a lightly dozing head on your stomach, cracking a single ruby eye open to check on you as a purr rumbles throughout its body in an effort to calm you.

Running a hand through the shadow panther’s silky ‘fur’, you hummed absentmindedly in response. “Just unpleasant memories, Shadow.” When the remnant of your husband’s memories merely huffs in a feline scoff, you turn to cuddle into the Nightmare demon. “I am 100% sure that V didn’t tell me the truth last night… but if there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, prying is generally not the correct course to take to learn the whole truth. Still though,” you sigh wistfully, “My life has been so chaotic and cryptic that there are times where I wish that I was born a normal girl.”

Although you wished to say more, your lips clam up the moment that you hear a knock at the door. “Y/N? It’s nearly 2pm. Are you awake, yet?”

You share a look with Shadow, “Well, speak of the devil, I guess.” You don’t bother moving as you call out to the moral man, “You can come in, V. I’m awake, but I sure as hell ain’t getting out of bed yet.” Even though you say this, you lift your head to peer over Shadow’s dark body as V enters the room with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you have any intention of leaving your bed, Y/N? It’s well into the afternoon.” V inquires with a furrowed brow as he closes the door and continues forward to the side of the bed with a limp.

“Oh…. Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” You remark cheerfully, settling back down into the sheets as you pet Shadow. “I don’t think I will any time soon, no.”

Unsure as to how to proceed with your blatant denial to rise from bed, V gestures towards the edge of your king sized bed. “May I have a seat?”

“Knock yourself out, V. This bed is too big anyways, so… ‘free real estate’ I guess.” You found yourself repeating the meme that a group of orphans in Fortuna City had taken the time to teach you… though you were unsure if you had used the meme in the proper context.

Your eyes shifted to meet V’s green once you felt the edge of the bed dip to your left. In the daylight, with the sun’s rays pouring into the room, V seemed… sickly. It was worrying how skinny and pale he was despite the hint of power you could feel in him. If it weren’t for his contract with Vergil’s remnants, you would not have any confidence in V’s ability to defend himself should you all take on Urizen. And once Vergil had been defeated again (though you found yourself in pain just thinking about killing your beloved), would the powers disappear and leave the young man before you weak and on the verge of collapse?

“There’s no need to worry, Y/N.” V’s gaze is almost gentle as he reassures you, “I promise that I’ll not suddenly collapse.” Not realizing that you had been staring, you blinked your eyes and mumbled an apology. “No, don’t apologize. It is only natural to doubt my abilities when I look like this.” The young man gestures towards his weakened body with a carefully bitter expression that would stick with you for days to come. “My powers are limited, which is why it is absolutely imperative that we stop Urizen before he grows too powerful.” When you don’t respond, trying to find a way to comment without offending him, V took it as a sign of sadness. “I couldn’t help but overhear you before I entered. That you wished that you were born to a normal life.”

Your face scrunches up as you force yourself to sit, “If I’m being perfectly honest, V… I don’t really know you well enough to pour my heart and soul out.”

V’s smile remains slightly bitter even as he pulls out the anthology of William Blake poems and hands it over to you. “Fair enough, Ms. Y/N. By all means, save your words. I only ask that you listen to what I have learned about you and your past.” When you reluctantly take a hold of the tome, V gestures towards it, “The note written on the back cover of that volume seems to imply that the person who gifted it to you was rather fond of you.”

The book’s cover was immaculate, but upon closer inspection, you noticed that the pages have yellowed from its age. Brows scrunched and curious, you immediately flipped to the back cover and withheld a gasp at the painfully familiar handwriting scrawled along the back cover.

To my beautiful silver rose,

Perhaps it is just the slightest bit vain that I gift this book to you. After all, an exact copy of this anthology sits on my book shelf in the study. But I noticed that you’ve taken a deeper interest in these old poems as of late, so I sought out a copy for yourself. Please do not think I turn a blind eye to your sadness when I am away, Y/N. I do my best to comfort you while I have you in my arms, but I must see my goals through. When I am gone, please read these poems and think of me. Just as I will think of you.

Rest assured that no matter how far I travel, Y/N, that I will always find my way back to you.

Your loving husband,

Vergil Sparda

“You were in that place, weren’t you?” You asked V as your fingers traced the note written into the cover. “There is no way you’d have this particular volume if you hadn’t been.”

V nodded, his eyes carefully watching as you caressed the book. “When I found Vergil’s remnants, they had been drawn to that book which had been left in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“I left it there when Vergil embarked on his quest through Hell.” You admitted, melancholic. “The book had been a constant reminder of an empty promise, so I tried to bury my past. Obviously it didn’t work, but I left the book in Vergil’s childhood room regardless.”

“Why the book?” V wondered, “Aside from the note in the back, the tome seems ordinary.”

Handing the book back to the younger man, you merely smiled a tame smile, “It was a symbol of hope that I didn’t want, as well as a constant reminder that the man I love abandoned me in favor of demonic power.” Slipping out of bed, you grabbed a robe and ventured into the bathroom, only a final statement leaving your lips before the door shut behind you, “And nothing’s worse than to be reminded that I wasn’t enough.”

22nd May 11:32am

You’re not sure if you should be worried or relieved by how easy it was to trail V through the city wreckage as you sprinted and jumped from one roof to another. The mysterious young man traversed the streets below with his Nightmare demons protecting him as low leveled demons appeared along the path. Over the course of the past few days, you and V had taken shelter within your home in Red Grave City. Although there were times where you interacted, V regularly ventured out into the city on patrols and supply runs, seemingly under the impression that you were still injured from the encounter with Urizen at the heart of the Qliphoth Tree. More often than not, V would leave in the afternoons and return in the morning.

Although you were touched by his care for your well-being, you still couldn’t but feel distrustful and suspicious of V. The names of his demon contracts… Hence your current trailing… and as it turns out, his actual hair color is white.

With how many demons there were roaming the streets, you were surprised that V had lasted this long. Though, from your spot seated on the roof above the corner where V fought to protect a small group of surviving humans, you could tell that the younger man was becoming weaker the more he used his abilities. You would jump down and aid him if he needed it, but only if he needed it.

Your initial assessment of V was that he didn’t care for humans in the slightest after watching him walk fast the human corpses without a care. The way the younger looking man had gazed upon the carnage with indifference… you remembered shivering and thinking that there was no way he was completely human. Though, after that night, you were pleased to learn that V had quickly taken up the role as protector while the humans evacuated.

Your attention drifted back into the present when V slumped over below you, exhausted as he sat upon a pile of demon corpses. The humans that he had protected were cowering against the wall opposite of V, and you frowned when none rose to offer aid to the sickly man, who had begun to pale more than he normally did.

You heard V heave a tired sigh as he asked Griffon a question, “How many days has it been?”

The demon summon flapped its wings and hovered above his master, “Three.”

V slumped over, curling in upon himself, his dark hair hanging to cover his face. “I’m not sure that I can even last a month.” Your frown deepened at that comment. That’s news to me… shit. Now I feel bad for not helping him. You rose from your seated position and removed your eyes from V to sweep the area with a vigilant gaze.

“You’re just going willy-nilly, spending all your strength like that.” Griffon squawked mockingly, “Nicely done, buddy. If you continue like this, you’re gonna croak before the kid even returns.”

So, V’s dying? You wondered, Who is he? What’s his deal? How is he involved in this mess to begin with? Your gaze also darkens when the humans call V and Griffon monsters. We have to protect humanity, yes. But this is one of those times where I understand Vergil’s distaste for humanity. Then again… nothing is perfect.

Your eyes sweep briefly back down to make sure that V was in the clear while searching for food just as you felt several demonic presences appear behind you. Stepping away from the ledge, you nodded and unsheathed the Totsuka just as several Hell Bats and a Lusachia attempt to ambush you.

Your steps are quiet as you slide under several fireballs and sprint across the rooftop to a less narrow roof. “Okay, folks. I’m going to have to ask you to be as quiet as possible during this entire transaction we got going here.” You chirp with a smirk, voice carefully lowered to just below your normal speaking voice. “I don’t want my friend knowing that I’m spying on him. Heh.” As expected, none of the demons respond, opting to rush you with fireballs and incantations.

Your feet are moving before your brain catches up with the attacks, running in wide arcs and tight turns to avoid the incoming fireballs and incantation circle. “Sorry, what was that?” Your grin is feral as you push off from the rooftop in a wide swipe at the Lusachia, striking it with a shallow cut before kicking off of it in a backflip, free hand pulling out your Silver Rose to shoot it in the face a few times. “I couldn’t hear what you were saying!” As you stick the landing, you shoot it once more before raising the same hand to your ears, “You’re gonna have to speak louder!”

Of course the Lusachia can only groan as it falls, dying from the wounds you’ve inflicted upon it. Around you, the Hell Bats screech and rush, swooping down in lines of fire as you duck and dodge. “No, no! I wasn’t talking to you guys! You’re a bit too loud, so imma have to ask you to shut up!” Just as two Hell Bats swoop down to attack you from both sides, you holster the Silver Rose and Totsuka, getting into a wide stance. When the bats are close enough, you unsheathe the Totsuka in a single movement, cutting down the demons before they could even touch you.

The remaining Hell Bat screeches and flies back towards the grocery store’s roof, but you only grin and follow, Totsuka sheathed once more. “No, no! I’m gonna getcha!”

You are probably a step away from killing the bat yourself, when you notice a giant meteor suddenly appear in the sky above you. “Ah! Nope!” You are just in time to kick off the grocery store roof and flip to safety when Nightmare crashes into the grocery store, completely decimating the building. Wincing at the loss of the area’s last remaining food source, you crouch down upon the ledge of another roof and scan over the wreckage below. “…that was overkill.”

It seems… from how loudly Griffon was protesting, that it agreed with your assessment. “You’re killin’ me here, V! Didja really have to take it that far? You could’ve just-oh, I don’t even know where to begin!”

You watch as a boy and his mother walk out of the wrecked grocery store before jumping down from the rooftop, casually strolling over to where V and Griffon continued to converse. You were about to speak when V crouched down and suddenly took a bite out of a demon’s carcass.

The only thing you could do at seeing the younger man eat the demon meat was dry heave loudly.

Both V and Griffon freeze before turning their heads to look at you. “Aw shit!” Griffon curses, “It’s the Lady Sparda!”

You hold back the gag threatening to escape as you approach the two, eyes trained on the blood staining V’s mouth. There’s unfiltered horror on V’s face even as you crouch down and wipe away the blood with a handkerchief. “Raw demon meant cannot be good for you.” The horror softens when you sigh and offer V a hand, “Come on. I still have canned food in the pantry back home. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You don’t see the grief and regret upon V’s face as you turn to lead him out of the wreckage, hand in hand.

~~~~~

V’s Point of View

V’s green eyes never leave your back the entire way back to the house that Vergil had bought you all those years ago. He is exhausted from overusing his abilities, his mind muddled and unfocused. V can tell that the silence bothers you. He’s known that the silence bothers you ever since you’d both fled from this very city when you were children. Still, the past few hours have rendered him too tired to speak. So the silence continues.

Even as you fix him a meal.

Even as you sit down with him to eat.

Even as you guide him to the bathroom.

Even as you place a set of his pajamas on the counter.

Even as you leave the bathroom with a comment that you’d be in the study.

Even in his mute state, V doesn’t fail to see the melancholy in your eyes.

As he undresses, leaving his demon blood soiled clothes in the sink, V laments his current situation.

The house that he’d bought for you is still very much the same as it was over twenty years ago. Aside from the changes in products and appliances on the inside, it is as he left it. There are signs that Y/N doesn’t live in the building as often as she should… canned and dried food products in the pantry… a fridge empty except for bottled water and frozen meals… untouched kitchen appliances… a vacuum that seemed to be over ten years old… dust gathering in the unused rooms where they had planned to put a baby crib… his old clothes packed into boxes and shoved into the very same dusty rooms…

When the overly large bathtub is filled with hot water, V forces himself into the separate shower to quickly rinse off the dried blood and grime coating his skin. In the back of his mind, he recalls a memory where you told him that it was gross to sit in filth when taking a bath. The memory brings a constricting feeling to his chest and he doesn’t care that he drips water everywhere as he leaves the shower in favor of the bathtub.

The soap used in the shower is the same scent you’ve always used. The brand has changed, but it seems that you haven’t. His chest constricts some more when he realizes that you haven’t changed much since the last he saw you aside from your overuse of snark and slang. Sinking into the hot water and wrapped in your scent, V laments that the melancholy in your eyes was nothing new. When he was Vergil… a young Vergil from over twenty years ago… the last year spent with you before Temen Ni Gru… there were times where he noticed your eyes fill with melancholy. V winces, visibly in pain as he forces himself to remember. Vergil had known you were sad and lonely… but he had chosen to ignore your pain.

And even now, when he was no longer that man, V continues to hurt you.

The mortal half slips under the water before he knew it, his mind running wild with reflection.

Strange.

I feel rather peculiar.

I’m scared because I am weak.

I’ve resorted to depending on others because I am afraid.

That is what the weak do.

I’m…

…ever since I got this body, all I’ve been doing are things that I don’t want to do.

All of my thoughts are things I don’t want to think about.

(Y/N. Mother. Dante.)

While I’ve always intended on reflecting on why I lost (to Dante… to Mundus),

The reality is, I’ve moved on a long time ago.

I always thought I could fill this emptiness with power.

Anything that I lacked could be compensated with raw power.

How ironic.

It was only after I was stripped of all my strength that I realized…

That it was always within reach.

Always.

Deep inside, the answer was always there.

~~~~~

Y/N’s Point of View

“V?” You knock on the door to the master bathroom after around ten minutes, intent on taking the man’s clothes in order to wash them. “V, I need your clothes so I can put them in the wash.” When there is no answer, you knock again, “V? If you don’t answer me, I’m just gonna come in.” Your brows furrow at the lack of answer. “… Well, I warned you. I’m coming in.”

There’s a distinct lack of sound inside the bathroom when you enter although the dirty clothes are in the sink, “Um… V?” Your gaze sweeps across the large bathroom to rest upon the filled bathtub, and you frown when you notice the bubbles rising from the middle of the large tub. Creeping closer, you can see V under the water, his gaze empty and melancholic. No more bubbles rise from his lips, and you suddenly realize that V might be too tired to notice that he was drowning.

You don’t notice the wet floor, and you don’t care that the man is completely nude. Something in you beckons you forward, and you practically sprint to climb into the bathtub, taking a firm hold of his torso and lifting V’s upper half out of the water.

V’s green eyes blink blearily as he stares into yours. “V?” You whisper, letting go of his torso once he’d sat up on his own. Your hands come up to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

The man lets out a shaky breath and ducks his head, nodding. “I appreciate the sentiment, Y/N. But I wasn’t in any danger. You didn’t have to climb in to save me.”

“You weren’t breathing, V.” You deadpanned, bringing up a hand to flick his forehead. “Nobody’s dying in my house.”

The two of you are quiet for a few moments until V turns to look away from you. “As much as I am grateful for you kindness, I don’t want to imagine what your husband would do to me if he finds out that you bathed with another man.”

You flush a deep red when you notice the position you were in… straddling a completely nude V in the bathtub while you sit in a soaked white nightgown that was becoming see through. “I… uh…”

You’re at a loss for words and continue to be at a loss for words when V turns back to stare you down with darkened eyes. He scoots you closer, pressing you against his body as he teases lowly, “Unless… I entice you…?”

You swallow hard when you notice that something hard is pressed up against you.

~~~~~~

Third Person Omniscient Point of View

“I… don’t…” The water is starting to cool in the bathtub, sending chills up your body even as you flush from head to toe. The only source of warmth is from V, who holds you close, his green eyes gazing at you with a myriad of emotions… Lust… Affection… Loneliness… Guilt… Mischief… Love… It has been over twenty years since someone has made love to you, and for all your faith and devotion, you want to feel that intense pleasure… that warm intimacy once more. You know that a demonic Vergil has run rampant across your home city, that what remains of your husband’s humanity has bonded with the man before you… You know that something within you call for V and beckons you to continue… to give in.

The moment that you pulled V out of the water, soaked from head to toe with concern in you eyes, V knew that he could continue this charade with you. He’d been cruel to you for most of your life, and he couldn’t bear to be cruel for another minute. He wants you to know him completely once more. As Vergil as well as V. What he wanted and need this entire time had been something you’d been willing to give him from the beginning, and Vergil had been a fool to cast you aside. Yet, with you pressed so close to him, your scent invading his senses, all V can think about is his love for you. A love that had never died, just stubbornly ignored. He’d neglected you for over twenty years because of his mistake. And now, if you are willing, he would make love to you until that melancholy has been chased away.

You gasp when V presses his lips to the crook of your neck, whimpering as he simply brushes his lips over your skin in light caresses. The mortal half smirks against your skin and whispers to you in a low rumble. “I’ve slacked in my duties, Y/N.” His hands trail up your bare thighs resting on either side of his hips, bunching up the material as his hands rise sensually to rest upon your waist.

“W-what are you…saying?” It would be remiss of you to not notice the same phrase that Vergil used on the day he asked you to marry him. When did your breathing become heavy?

V’s lips trail upwards along the column of your throat achingly slow as he kisses teasingly along the way. His thumb traces gentle patterns on the skin of your waist even as he lifts you from his hips to place you close to the edge of the bathtub. He’s on all fours, knelt before you with his arms propped up on either side of your head as he continues the kiss until he’s at your ear. “I’ll show you how much you mean to me, my beautiful wife.” V growls as he gently nips your ear.

Shocked, you pull away to stare at the man. “V…” you plead, voice weak from arousal and heartbreak, “Please don’t play with my heart like this.”

The dark expression softens as V leans forward to press a loving kiss to your lips before pulling back. “I’ve made so many mistakes in the past, Y/N. The greatest was leaving you in pursuit of power.” His green eyes are filled with guilt as he sighs miserably, “You were right. Power isn’t everything. And I was wrong to call you a burden all those years ago.” At the reminder, you flinch backwards, and suddenly it is no longer just guilt on V’s face, but self-loathing. “Because of me, we lost so much time. Over twenty years of sorrow and regrets, and I didn’t want this to be another regret.”

“So, you’re…”

“I am Vergil… but not quite.” V confirms, “I… made another mistake, and this is the result.”

V’s lip move to continue, but you quickly shut him up by pressing your lips firmly against his. Your arms are raised to drape over his shoulders, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss with a hungry moan. You part your lips before V can tease you, and heavy desire pools below when his tongue teases the roof of your mouth.

V’s hands find their way to the hem of your soaked nightgown, grasping the edges firmly and lifting when you separate briefly to assist him in undressing you. You hear your nightgown flop into the water as V tosses the article of clothing to the side, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You press yourself into V, hands rising to hold his face as your lips capture his once more. “Explanations can wait until tomorrow.” Your voice is thick with desire as you pull away just the slightest to leave the bathtub.

After casually slipping your soaked panties off, you turn back to V to beckon him after you. You can hear him leave the tub as you walk out of the master bathroom and into the bedroom.

(Smut Alert!!!)

You don’t make it to the bed before V catches up to you, his hand snatching yours and halting your progress forward. The air conditioning is on, and the cool breeze on your wet skin elicits a shiver through your body just as your nipples harden. Soon, your shivering is not from the cold air, but from the heat of having V’s naked body pressed into your back. His right arm moves to circle around your waist, pressing his palm flat against your pelvis while his left arm releases you in favor of cupping your left breast. You can feel him hard against the small of your back as V presses urgent kisses along your shoulder.

“Tell me, Y/N.” His voice is a husky growl between sensual kisses as his fingers tweak your nipple with a quick flick. “Did you ache for me while I was gone?” V’s right palm lowers to rest just over your mound drawing molten patterns just upwards of your clit. “Did you stay up touching yourself to thoughts of what I might do to you when I returned?”

You know your husband, and even if V wasn’t completely Vergil, the teasing was enough of a tell to know that he could play the long game. If you don’t answer. If you don’t let out the sinful sounds he’s looking for… V would refuse to continue. And after twenty plus years without, you didn’t want to wait another moment.

“Y-yes!” You moaned, body aching for more as your pussy gets wetter. “Every night that I’m alone.” The tortured whimper from your lips pleases V immensely as his hand dips lower to cup your sex, long fingers swiping just lightly before pulling away to show you just how wet you are.

“And when you thought of me during those nights, were you as soaked then as you are now?” His voice had been sinful as Vergil, but the deep airy whispers that V makes has you licking your lips in anticipation as his fingers play with your juices. V rests his chin upon your shoulder and brings his fingers up to his lips, “No, right?” You can’t reply, too entranced as he licks your juices off his fingers. “Hmmm.” He moans as you whimper, bringing his hand back down to rest exactly on your clit. “I want to taste more of you.” V growls, a finger toying with your clit while his remaining fingers dip into your slit, spreading your juices all over your lips.

Head tilted, you can only moan when V dips a long finger into your pussy before immediately pulling out. “V… please s-stop teasing me!” You beg, quivering as your hands raise to tug his arms close.

He hums and thrusts his hips into your back slightly, not enough for him to receive any pleasure from it, but enough so that you know how much harder he’s become. “Hmmm” V purrs into your ear, turning his hand so that it locks with yours, fingers intwined for just the moment, “Well, if that is what my love desires…” In a single fluid movement, he’d spun you around and gently guided you to rest upon your bed. “Then who am I to deny?”

Although sickly, you can’t help but salivate over how the black markings decorate his torso and arms. They trail in intricate patterns all over his torso and down to his pelvis, ending at… oh. Fuck. He’s longer than I expected. The part of him that stands at attention, partially curved up, draws your attention better than his beautiful green eyes and dark hair. You’re sure that V can hear how fast your heart is racing as he smirks, completely at ease as he saunters forward and crawls over you. There are whispers at the back of your mind telling you to touch him, but you only ignore them as V presses slow, open mouthed kisses along every inch of skin on his way up to your mouth.

He stops just shy of kissing your core, where an unbearable amount of heat has gathered.

He presses gentle, mournful kisses to the spot that Vergil and Urizen stabbed, his eyes briefly meeting yours with a silent plea for forgiveness.

He licks up the valley between your breasts, eyes closes as if he’s savoring the taste of your skin.

He issues a silent challenge by meeting your gaze as he pulls one of your nipples into his mouth while a hand plays with the other. You meet his gaze and stubbornly refuse to look away even as you feel his tongue flick and lap, even as the heat of his mouth becomes almost too much to bear.

When he finally makes his way to your mouth, V’s smiling, something that has always been rare even when he was Vergil. The slow kiss that follows is sweet and loving, but is interrupted as you gasp. V smirks smugly as his fingers circle your slit a few times before he presses a finger into you… then two. His green eyes watch you in adoration as he pumps his fingers in and out of your soaked pussy, taking in your moans as if it were the sweetest melody he’d ever heard.

You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips or that your legs spread to give V more space. You want more.

“V!” You whimper, even as he presses a third in. “P-please!”

He pretends he doesn’t hear you, continuing to finger fuck your pussy as his thumb plays with your swollen clit. It has been over twenty years since he’d had you beneath him. And with all the shit he’s pulled in the past, he wants you to cum at least once before he takes you.

After years without, you don’t last as long as you’d hoped. The rush of pleasure builds up faster than you expect. Your legs stiffen and your toes curl as the heat builds up to a climax, sending you over the edge of wild abandon and heavy breaths.

You come back from the haze to find V grinning triumphantly, licking your juices from his fingers once more. When scowl dangerously, V only continues to grin. It doesn’t take much more than a push to reverse your positions, but still V’s grin persists.

“Not satisfied, my love?”

“You know damn well that I’m not satisfied.” You mutter with a pout, throwing your legs over his hips so that you can press your soaked lips against his throbbing cock. Biting your lip, you stay still for a few moments as you look down at V, his dark hair sprawled upon the bed and lustful gaze staring up.

“And how would you have me repent, Y/N?” The words are out of his mouth before V realizes it.

You hum, tracing your fingers along the black lines adorning his chest before moving your hips to slid your pussy along his cock. “I want you to fuck me, V.” His body tenses when you continue to tease him, “I want you to fill me up. To make me cum so many times that I forget my name. To make me scream so loud from pleasure that fucking Urizen can hear it from his stupid demon tree.”

A growl is your only answer before V’s gaze darkens once more and you find yourself pressed into the bed, watching as V positions himself between your legs, lining himself up so that the head of his weeping cock is pressed to your opening.

“If Urizen hears the sounds of your pleasure, he might be compelled to take you as well.” He’s teasing you again.

“Urgh, V, jus-ah!” You’re interrupted when his hips snap forward, sheathing his cock to the hilt.

“I’ve never been one to share.” V gasps, holding onto your hips as he pulls away and snaps back.

All you can do is moan and move to meet his hips, lewd noises filling your quiet home as V sets a quick pace. After years of denying yourself the pleasures of the flesh, you can feel your cunt stretch around V. Already sensitive from your previous orgasm, it takes everything for you not to cum again just from being filled. Your soft moans and gasps of his name fuel V’s desire, and soon, as you cry for more, he sets a brutal pace, pounding into your pussy as your writhe beneath him.

His green eyes are wild as he pounds deep into your womb, something like determination in his eyes, “Y/N.” Your name is like a prayer upon his lips, “You asked me to fill you up.”

If it was possible, another jolt of pleasure shot through your body and straight to your core, and you found yourself tightening around him at what V was implying. “Yes.” You moan, throwing your hands up to wrap around his shoulders, “Yes, V! Fuck! I need you to cum in me!”

Unable to stop himself anymore, V let go of whatever control he had and thrust into you with wild abandon. He didn’t even know if he could impregnate you in his current state, and he knew that it was reckless to try, but fuck if he wasn’t going to try anyways. It was all you’d ever wanted with Vergil. A family. And if he could give you this, too…

God, you wanted to be filled. The thought of finally having a child leaves you wailing and on the edge of release. You could feel him throb as he abandoned rhythm, muttering ‘I love you’ as his body quaked with each thrust before abruptly stopping. The moment you feel his warmth spilling deep into you is when you finally allow yourself to fall over the edge with a wordless moan, pussy pulsing as you milk V of his release.

Coming down from the high, you find yourself entangled in V’s arms, the both of you breathing heavy as you both lay on the bed. Like all times before Vergil left, the two of you lay in silence, content with each other’s presence.

(Smut end… *fans self* as a side note, they absolutely cleaned up after an additional two rounds :P)

23rd May 09:32am

You woke up to the sounds of a struggle, bolting from the bed with light steps and snatching the Silver Rose from your nightstand. You heard something clank and clatter from within the bathroom just as you pressed yourself to the wall, gun raised as you peered into the room. What you saw in had you in a fit of laughter.

“Ahahahahaha! Oh my gosh! V!” Your finger leaves the trigger as you bend over with a laugh, , “I have a washer and dryer for a reason!”

V grumbled and flushed lightly as he wrestled his clean, but soaked pants from Griffon and Shadow. “…” The set of pajamas that you’d coaxed V into the previous night were thoroughly soaked through because he’d decided to hand wash and hand dry his only set of clothes.

“Guess we’ve been camping out too much, huh, buddy?” Griffon chirped after letting go of the black pants.

Shadow lets out a growl in warning, also letting go of the pants in favor of approaching you, rubbing its face against your side with a purred greeting. Though you raise a brow in question, you raise a hand to scratch behind the panther’s ears. “I have many questions, I’m not going to beat around the bush.”

V sighs and sets his clothes on the sink counter before walking towards to pull you into a loving embrace, “Let me change into some dry clothes, and we’ll talk over breakfast.”

His wet clothes feel cold against your nightgown, but you don’t mind, humming as you snuggle into V’s embrace.

15th June 06:00am

“Hurry up, Shakespeare! The Lady Sparda and I aren’t gonna wait for your slow ass all the time!” Griffon called back towards V from his perch on your right arm.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Griff. He’s trying his best.” You chide, turning to stare at V just as he closes the remaining few meters to stand at your side. The past month had been an ordeal, but here you were, about to meet up with your son to end this mess. Turning to V, you playfully nudge him, “Let’s go, V.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I will definitely be writing more about Reader’s time with V as chapters of Visions of V release.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

PS. Hi, yes, Tumblr. Please don’t eat up my chapter again.（╹◡╹）THanks

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cxmetery-gates · 3 years

Text

VALOR - DARTH MAUL

CHAPTER ONE: THE HUNTRESS AND THE HUNTER

SUMMARY: After attempting to kill a Sith lord unbeknownst to her, Ucilla Zykoff realizes she has made a grave mistake. WORD COUNT: 3.4K NOTES: Chapter one here we goooo! Love a couple who want to murder each other on sight. Sorry it took so long. I had so many ideas ready to go, then life got in the way. Anyway! I have a discord that my readers can use to discuss the story! It also let me share my silly memes and get to know y’all. Thank you for reading! WARNINGS: general sci-fi violence

VALOR MASTERLIST

AS THE SUN BENDS BEHIND the horizon, the cover of night encapsulates the city. With the rising of the moon, the mission is awoken.

Dusk phasing into night elapses with a stillness, but as a gust of sudden wind shakes the shutters as it passes, a chill runs up her spine. Startled by the sounds for a fleeting moment, a sigh passes through her lips before turning into a bemused hum. Cool air drifts over her skin, soothing yet awakening. With the seasons beginning to change towards a wet, flourish spring, the air is crisp and dry from a winter willing itself to create one last frost before retreating once more. She would be offworld long before the petals started to bloom.

Once the last of the day's shadows unite into one blanket of darkness, Ucilla Zykoff stands from the measly excuse of a bed to glance out the window through the slits of the shutters. Her icy blonde hair is pulled back with a tie resting against the nape of her neck, a few hairs escaping to try to obscure her sight. Her golden eyes watch figures tuck into their homes, counting down the seconds until their lights are shut until the next morning. It will not be long before the impenetrable sound of the night life masks her task from wandering eyes and ears. Tucking strands of hair behind her ear, the young woman leans back on the wall of her room. Cobwebs cling to the fabric of her clothes as she does so.

The establishment is nothing to rave about, though the dusty room and a firm cot above a noisy cantina is a luxury in comparison to other make-shift lodgings. The bounty hunter has grown used to rocks boring into her spine, cramped spaces, and days without sleep— typical for someone in this line of work.

Across from her, a sniper rifle stands against the opposite wall. The durasteel has seen better days, but so has she. Ucilla pushes herself off from where she leans, making her way towards her weapon. It is surprisingly light due to Ucilla's modifications. Positioning her sniper rifle in her hands, Ucilla now waits patiently for movement off in the distance. The barrel of the gun sits between the slightly ajar shutters, invisible to any bystander. Waiting was part of the job, and she has become very good at it.

Ucilla scans the rooftops of the city buildings using the scope attached to her weapon. The infrared colors become all too boring as the sight hardly changes over a period of minutes. The job is similar to any of the other hundreds she is taken: hunt, locate, go for the kill. All her missions become an identical cluster after a while.

The night carries on and Ucilla's eyes are beginning to sore from being trained on movement. All she wants is to get the job over with and allow herself to indulge in the reward. Bounty hunting is not a line of work that she believed would ever suit her, but with the hefty rewards for high targets, the comfort of credits is enough to keep her coming back. Even though Ucilla could buy a small house or decent apartment for what she currently has in Republic credits, settling down never seemed to work out well for the Scaki. She had not even returned to her home world, despite having every reason to do so.

Where once soft mummers acted as a hush over the city, now the lights and the noise of cantinas flood the dark alleys and streets. The city is preoccupied by dreams or by those wishing to live in dream, opting for late nights in hopes to escape from the trivial lives they find themselves in. As such, Ucilla would remain unbothered.

As the sound of drunken men and flirtatious women reverberate as echoes under her feet, Ucilla uses the increasing noise from the cantinas around the area to mask the sound of her ignited weapon. No one would hear a whirling buzz or the unexpected cry when a tankard had drowned out all their senses.

Ucilla is good at her practice. She must. There are many hunters who would not bat an eye in killing her if she stood in the way of an expensive bounty. Trial and error led her to where she is, and it did not take long before her use of stealth, accuracy, and efficiency turned her into a highly sought out freelance bounty hunter.

Though she would never admit to it openly, Ucilla has a slight advantage on her associates. One being evident by the cylindrical weapon always hidden at the bottom of her satchel that has not been ignited in years.

Ucilla learned long ago that studying a target is far more beneficial than making things quick and messy. After all, depending on the target, the price typically rises each week. For instance, in the scope of her rifle, Ucilla now spots the man who disclosed a long list of individuals working for one of the galaxy's biggest crime syndicates: his bounty doubled just two days ago.

Over the week and a half, she spent watching Jaro Linst, Ucilla had memorized the snitch's schedule. In the morning, he wakes early to have a large breakfast. He stays indoors during the days, but he typically makes a run to a shop or the market before noon. He seldom has guests, but when he does, their either men being paid to protect him from the Hutts or Twi'leks being led by chains. When night envelops the area, he is bold enough to bring his guests to the rooftop of his hideout. Linst's eyes are always shut as he takes the first breath of the nighttime air, absorbed in the taste of prolonged freedom.

Just as she suspected, Linst reaches the top of the building with a drink in his hand and his broad, tall body open to whatever blaster fire she could afford to waste.

However, unlike most nights, his face is turned downwards, and he is not entirely alone.

Trailing behind the man, a figure in all black has their face hidden by a heavy cloak with a hood. This offered no indication as to who this mysterious person may be. Not that it mattered. Her bounty was clear: kill Jaro Linst and get the reward, no matter what happens.

Her sniper-rifle is angled towards her bounty but, given the fact that Linst may have more hunters on his trail, Ucilla decides on removing the additional threat first. In the scope, the hood still conceals the face of the new target.

No matter.

She pulls back on the trigger.

The shot rings out near silently and in perfect alignment.

But it never reaches the head of her target. Instead, it ricochets off a familiar weapon and embarks on a mission straight towards her forehead.

Ucilla dodges the attack, rolling her back against the wall of her hotel room just in time as the red blaster fire digs straight through the opposite wall. Imagining if she had frozen for half a second more, Ucilla offers her blessing to the makers for her reflexes.

Clutching the gun to her chest, Ucilla finds herself now semi-frozen in fear. An icy feeling coursing through her veins offers no help in alleviating the shock. Instead, she releases the breath she was holding from stupor, blinking away the cloudy vision.

The brightly colored weapon that shot her fire back was one she had used long ago. This time, the blade was not lilac in color. Even the most uneducated creature could sense the danger that flows through the shaft, the deep dreadful color that exuberates caution.

A bleeding kyber crystal resides in that blade, crimson in color.

"Kriff."

Wasting no time, Ucilla lowers herself to the ground, carefully making sure the lightsaber wielder could not see her through the shutters. Cursing in every language she knows, Ucilla crawls on her belly until she finds the brown satchel at the foot of the cot. In haste, the blonde slips the strap over her head, hugging across her chest tightly, but there was no time to adjust. She flings the rifle over her shoulder before hurriedly skidding out the door.

On her way out, Ucilla pushes through drunken patrons to reach the bar to slam down a handful of credits on the counter in front of the inn keeper, continuing to walk towards the exit as she does so. The inn keeper raises his voice, calling out that she owes him more, but his voice is drowned out among the crowd and she is already gone.

Lifting her wrist closer to her face, the Scaki swipes through her holocom until Jaro Linst's bounty appears. Despite the large sum, Ucilla presses down on the option to forfeit. There was no chance she would go near a mission that was compromised by a Dark sided individual.

A Sith.

Ucilla could not calm her heart, the organ forcing blood to pump fast through her body. The reverberation echoes in her ears. But the headache is nothing in comparison to what the Sith could do to her.

She was almost to the heart of the city when an impeccable drought in the energy stifled her movements. The atmosphere is heavy, darkness tingling at her senses. Ucilla's hair stands on end at the sensation. Against her better judgment, she freezes.

Moments later, Ucilla's thrown off her feet, landing hard against a wall before crumpling down.

The blow had torn the breath right out of her. Gasping, Ucilla reaches for her chest, gripping the long, worn leather vest tight in her palms. From the inside pocket above her heart, she pulls out a circular object, yanking the pin out of place before dropping it to the ground.

Footsteps draw near. Instead of wasting her time, Ucilla prances from her crouch and bolts up the side of the wall, using rails and the closeness of the buildings as her foot and handholds. She forces her body to move swift and precise, just as she was taught years ago. By the time she reached the roof, the smoke bomb had gone off. All Ucilla can do is hope that the distraction is enough.

Ucilla is left without much of another option. The shingled roofs were difficult to adjust to at first, some coming lose from her added weight, but eventually her footing held on and she was off like a speeder. Running along the tops of the buildings, jumping to the next one with grace and stead, Ucilla knew when to dodge attacks and when to advert her direction. It was not the first time she was running away from a foe, and she had a feeling it would not be the last.

Daring to look back, Ucilla feels her heart drop. The man following her copies each step, leap, and now, he is close enough to claim her dead, for real this time.

With no other option, Ucilla calculates her jump. Instead of throwing herself far enough to reach the next building, she leaps down several stories. Thankfully, they had come across the hub of the city and a canopy breaks her fall, bouncing from the cloth and onto the ground once more. The moment her tall boots hit the earth, she is off running again. With so many people wandering the streets, Ucilla hopes she can blend in, even though she is seemingly the only one in worn clothes and dashing through the streets.

The city is vast and incredibly narrow— easy to get lost in⁠— but Ucilla had been here for quite some time, learning every back alley and corner shop during her weeks on the planet. With this knowledge in mind, surely, she has some advantage over her opponent. How likely is it that they, too, has memorized back alleys that leads to the shipyard?

Ucilla felt as though she could feel their breath on her neck, their fingertips just centimeters from gripping her hair. As if possible, her legs pushed harder than ever before.

Ducking into a back alley, Ucilla used her petite figure to maneuver through the garbage, boxes, and drunks that scattered the path. To her surprise, the person following was not prepared for the turn nor the obstacles in their path. They had fallen behind. She takes this moment to press her back against a wall between two strangers, pulling her hood further to hide her face.

It was not long after when Ucilla feels the dark ease away. She needs to know if he still lingers. Before she can make it safely to her ship, she will have to know how far behind the hunter is and if he can easily make it onto her ship or destroy it in some way.

Any normal foe would have mistakenly moved on from the area, never to find her again. Though she has never faced off against a Sith before, nor does she know anyone who has, what Ucilla does know is that there is no telling what a creature fueled by uncontrollable emotions with an unpredictable nature will do.

Before the drunken men could ask once more if she would like a drink, Ucilla pushes herself from the stone wall, cautiously making her way through street after street, back alley after alley. Her heart hammers in her chest no matter how she tried to stop it. Without knowing what kind of species the dark side wielder is, she has no conclusive answer if he can hear her labored breathing. As she sticks to the shadows of the city, Ucilla sends silent prayers to the makers to spare her this time.

With each step nearing the shipyard, the amount of people out and about grow less and less. By the time she was within blocks of her ship, only a few stragglers walked the streets. She felt lucky, allowing herself to walk faster even if the passersby gave suspicious looks.

Ucilla is no more than a block from the garage where her ship was located when she tumbled to the ground, a powerful blow toppling her, a wrestling match ensuing to determine life or death.

Kicking the figure off her, she throws a punch blindly. The huntress's punch misses the figure's jaw by a second, but that does not stop her from swinging again.

To her surprise, the saber is not ignited, nor does he go to reach for the weapon. The Force wielder instead copying her hand-to-hand combat. Maybe they thought she deserved a fair chance, or maybe they were simply trying to torture her into submission.

The hunter was the first to strike a powerful blow.

Ucilla's nose begins to bleed upon the impact of a fist, knocking her dazed for a moment. In the haste of her backing up and the figure coming forward, Ucilla did what any bounty hunter would have done.

Perhaps the cloaked Sith was not expecting the blaster to be drawn and the trigger to be pulled so fast, because the hunter is thrown off balance by a bolt embedding itself into their shoulder. A sound akin to a growl shakes Ucilla to the core.

When his head turns back, the hood from his cloak falls, just enough to give Ucilla a picture for her nightmares.

A male Zabrak. How interesting. Ucilla's eyes run over the intricate black tattoos on his face, trailing from where they start down to where they disappear beyond his dark robes. The red and black contrast is frightening to some degree, but Ucilla has faced worse. His appearance matches the fiery energy he exudes. Horns adorn his skull, several points wrapping around to remind Ucilla of a crown. Glowing, boiling amber of his altered eyes catch her attention.

So full of hate and anger; a storm that brings no calm in the wake of its destruction. There is a moment where Ucilla wonders what happened to this Sith, the journey that led him here to strike her down.

A Sith deals with the lust for absolute power, the destruction of the universe to make their strength known. To conquer is all they know, no matter who stands in their way.

He bares his teeth, and Ucilla can feel the rage coming from him. Rather than sticking around to anticipate his next move, Ucilla shoots several more times in the Zabrak's direction then begins to run to where her ship waits.

She can feel his decision, the way his anger directs his actions, how his natural rage bubbles over, destruction always existing, white-hot. There was no other warning before the Zabrak throws the dual blade at her. Instincts kick in. Ucilla turns on her heel to hold out her hand, something she has not done in years.

In midair, the blade is still. One entity aims to kill, the other refuses to let death take her.

The blade then falls, dust splashing along the steel. Both watch the unignited weapon on the ground. Simultaneously, both look up, their eyes meeting with new sentiment.

The tension is heavy in that street. Neither can predict what the other is thinking nor what moves they plan on making. However, there is something that Ucilla can read off the Zabrak. The squint to his eyes combined with wrinkles forming on his forehead tells her that his mind races with questions. After all, he most likely was not expecting the night to end with a woman one-upping him in the Force. Like a switch, Ucilla suddenly feels the anger exploding from the Zabrak; he is not going to let her get away.

But Ucilla is faster. Her secret is already out, and she has no time to waste. Reaching up, she uses the Force to bring down the archway, the stones and rubble falling on top of the tattooed Zabrak. She hears him cry out in anguish, but she does not stay long to hear anything else.

Ucilla is quick to slip into the cockpit of her ship. Her voice has once again resorted to curses in a number of languages as she flips various switches. A loud sigh of relief exits her when the sound of the engine roaring to life reaches her ears. As she activates all the right gears to get her off the dry planet, she takes one last look down to the earth: her blood runs ice cold.

There, close enough to stop her if he wanted with a single slash of his crimson ignited saber, is the Sith. His hood has now returned atop his crowned head, though it does little to obscure his glowing amber eyes.

His actions, or lack thereof, surprise Ucilla, the woman he had been hunting for a good mile through a city. And now, he stands there, seemingly unfazed, without care as she makes a successful escape. Escaping was certainly part of the plan, but the fact that the Zabrak has forfeited in spite of being so close to winning is annoying to some extent.

Before Ucilla has another moment to dwell on the Sith nor giving him another moment to reconsider, the YT-1210 lifts off from the ground. The Scaki's focus is drawn away from her foe despite knowing that turning her back on an enemy is a recipe for disaster. To her fortune, the Revenant makes it into the atmosphere and into hyperspace with ease.

The coordinates are placed. A safehold on Duro. Ucilla had not been there in quite some time and if she were lucky, an enemy-to-partner would be there, too. At least she would have someone to listen to her story.

The ship is set to autopilot, allowing for Ucilla to lean back in the pilot's chair, her leg bent to hold her knee against her chest. Though she is safe at the moment, Ucilla can not be sure for how long. What would she do if the Sith tracks her to Duro? Would he make her wait in anticipation as he had done in the shipyard?

For the first time in millennia, a Sith had revealed himself. At least to her knowledge: dead men tell no tales. Perhaps telling Bane about her encounter is for the best. If she becomes a successful mission for the Sith, at least someone would know what happened to her.

If anything, Ucilla knows of one plan that has not failed her yet. Just as she had done long ago, running has always been part of a good plan.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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randomingoftherandomness · 3 years

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Hi! Hope you're doing well. I posted this Booker/Joe/Nicky prompt on the TOG kink meme originally. No one claimed it, so I thought I might try asking you, if that is okay. Here:

"Porn with feelings is one of my favorite things, so: Five Times Joe and Nicky invited Booker into their bed and the one time they told him to stay.

You do not need to be explicit with the smut if you do not want to, although that would be lovely and much appreciated.

Just give me Joe&Nicky and Booker catching feelings throughout centuries worth of hookups while thinking that the other party is only interested in friendship and sex.

Angst With A Happy Ending, please.

Bonus for Bottom!Booker, but it is not a must.

Double Bonus for Exasperated!Andy dropping hints that they are too oblivious to understand."

Thank you for reopening your Ask Box and for considering my prompt. Have a great weekend!

A/N: Hope you’re well too, friend and thank you for the trust in my abilities! 😁 Feel free to consider your prompt filled if you’d like? It’s not as porny or as angsty as I think you were looking for but I hope it still satisfies.

one.

“I’m telling you guys,” Andy hisses, fingers digging into the soft dirt under her palms. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“And I’m telling you, Boss. We’ll be fine,” Booker grins sunnily, peering over the ridge to spy the military convoy transporting black-market arms and munitions. At the sight of the gleaming trucks and the stern-faced men with their faces focused on the road, the mischief dims a little.

Joe slaps him in the arm with a warm laugh. “If you get shot in the ass, you’re bunking with me and Nicky tonight. Let Andy have the big bed all to herself.” The man waggles his brows, brown eyes winking in devilish delight. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get front row seats to how Nicky makes love to me.”

Seeing that there were only two tiny Queen sized beds in their latest digs, Booker’s eyes blink in alarm, turning to her as if to ask, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you? He’s been with the family long enough that that was one knowledge he already has a too intimate familiarity with and not one he is keen to revisit.

If his reasoning hides the way his eyes always seek them out in a crowded room, that’s for him to know and only him.

Her only answer is the unsheathing of her hunting knife and the pulling of her scarf over her nose and mouth. “Better watch your ass, kid.”

two.

Nicky’s hand in his is what pulls him out of his thoughts. He must have been staring at the sea for longer than he had thought because stars dance in his eyes and he has to squeeze them shut to block out the sudden spinning of the world around him.

Slipping away from Nicky’s touch, he sighs as he slowly feels himself come back to his stiff joints and sun-beaten face. He’s lost track of time again.

Booker feels Nicky take a seat on the sand next to him and instinctively looks around for Joe, before raising an inquiring eyebrow at him. “He has run out of his favourite colour again,” Nicky chuckles, kicking out his legs and burying his bare feet in the warm sand.

“Ah.”

“Ah,” Nicky echoes with a smile. Their sympathies are immediate and resting solely with the poor salesperson who has to deal with Joe’s charm as he convinces them that one brand cannot be a substitute for another. They sit together, watching the tides kissing the shores in companionable silence before Nicky turns onto his side. “Are you okay?��

Booker considers the question, still keeping his eyes on the way the sunlight dances on the waves. This beach is too warm for this time of the year and the air is the wrong tang of brine. Next to him, in the space where his wife should be with her wild laughter and her windswept hair, is nothing but empty, foot trodden sand. His heart sticks in his throat when he opens his mouth to speak and only the sound of unspeakable grief steals out past his lips.

When Nicky wraps his arms around him, he doesn’t try to pull away. When he asks if Booker wants to come with him, unmistakeably to bring him to their bed - the one where he and Joe sleep in and not the comfortable guest bed in the spare room - he merely sighs, sinking into the warmth and strength of Nicky’s arms around him, and allows himself to be cared for.

three.

The camaraderie he feels amongst this new family is one he never thought he could have. He appreciates every new memory he builds with them and every new layer of life he lays down even if he cannot help looking behind him and long for what is no longer his.

Friendship and brotherhood are easy to grasp. What confuses him, however, is the way Joe, Nicky, and Booker have somehow developed something more than that. He isn’t unaware of the pleasures that brothers in arms share on a battlefront. Any shred of comfort and warmth to be shared in those moments of relief in finding yourself escaping Death’s embrace is one that was somehow tolerated when he had been conscripted to march for a madman.

What Joe and Nicky have is more than that, and Booker knows it, is in awe of it, and can hardly stop admiring it.

What they have in the moments where Nicky’s warm breath tickles against his neck as Joe presses in between his trembling thighs is one he cannot divine.

The easy way they three have fallen into the rhythm of kisses and touches, of shared quiet moments, lulled to sleep with the smell of sex on their skins confuses him and calming heartbeats. How, when he builds his first safehouse, he puts out a room for Andy but leaves the little touches for them in his own. The way he feels no jealousy when they go off on their own and nothing but elation when they fold him into the fabric of their being. And yet.

Yet, when they are together, Booker feels like his heart could stop from the guilty happiness he has coursing through his veins. When he is in the space between wakefulness and sleep held in their arms and sharing their space, it is the calmest, the safest he has ever felt since the day he walked away from Marseille.

And Booker can’t stop but to wonder. What does it all mean?

four.

Joe stops mid-sentence and it doesn’t go unnoticed. The sounds of the other guests in the hotel percolate into their room and he has to take a moment to look at the bed where just an hour before, they’d languidly been tangled under the covers. They had arrived two days earlier just to take advantage of the privacy of the room and the luxury of a King-sized bed where Joe had pressed kisses into the quivering corner of Nicky’s lips as he tries not to laugh while Booker is playfully nipping at his jaw.

God, has it just been an hour since he had to wrangle them all into some semblance of order so that Booker can catch Andy before she gets here?

“What’s wrong?” Nicky asks, clear eyes catching in the light when they gaze at him. His beloved’s hands move methodically as they make the bed. The same sheets that still carried the scent that he is sure now permeate every shared space the three of them occupies on a regular basis.

A whirlpool of emotions snake around his chest and all he is able to do is to reach out to Nicky; to the anchor in the storms of this strange life they live, to his true North. It speaks to the bond they share that Nicky comes to his side, kissing their clasped hands, patiently waiting for him to speak.

Joe thinks he can burst with all the love he has in him for this man. Then the quiet flicker of his mind to another face, another smile that he holds just as dear and he swallows down the maelstrom of words bubbling up because he knows that whatever he says now matters.

Love is not a finite source. Joe has seen enough and been through just as much to know that that is true not just for himself, but for Nicky too. Smiling at Nicky, he feels his shoulders relax, leaning into him.

“My love, I think we need to talk.”

five.

“Come here.”

Booker hesitates but Nicky does not allow him any room to escape. Taking him by the wrist, he drags him to the quiet of an out of the way spare room in Copley’s home, eyes cataloguing every scrape, bloodstain, and healed over wounds.

Sitting him down on the bed, Nicky begins to methodically push his fingers through Booker’s hair, brushing out flecks of dried blood and grime, bits of glass and debris. Neither one speaks for a long moment and the familiar silence is heavy between them. From this room, Nicky can pick out the quiet murmur of Copley and Nile speaking while Andy is being tended to by Joe. This moment won’t last and Nicky has to speak his peace.

“He’s hurt. We both are.”

Booker flinches but Nicky doesn’t allow him to rise from the chair, pressing him back into position, feeling some small relish when Booker obeys. “Why, Booker? Why couldn’t you come to us if you were hurting? Why did you hide from us?”

Blue eyes look away from him and down to where his leg is shaking.

“Aren’t you going to defend yourself?” Nicky asks finally, softly and feels his heart break a little at all the possibilities that are slipping away with every moment they leave this unresolved. He sighs when Booker doesn’t speak, fingers moving to cup him by the jaw.

“We love you,” He says. “But maybe that’s not enough just yet.”

“Maybe,” Booker murmurs. Moving to stand only for Nicky to take him by the hand, pulling him in for a kiss.

“One day it will be.”

and the one.

Joe can smell the sea on Booker from the other side of the room.

Andy had levelled him a heavy look, telling him not to fuck this up with a soft smile on her lips as she leaves with Quynh in the first cab they could hail down. Nile had laughed when they asked if she was staying, telling them that she’ll be in the next city over if they needed her for anything.

Which now leaves Joe, Nicky, and Booker in a small motel room with the dying sunlight stealing through the gaps in the curtains. Nicky’s knee knocks against his and Joe has to sigh. Looking over to Booker, it is clear that the man is in the middle of some fight or flee reaction and he is tamping it down to fidget in the chair by the television set.

Picking up one of the scratchy towels that came with the room, he tosses it at Booker, jerking his head at the bathroom door.

“Get cleaned up. We can talk after.”

Booker gapes rather unattractively at them and his look of incredulity grows into a frown when Nicky sighs around a snort. Joe can’t help but mirror Nicky’s amusement and feels his lips curl into a smile. Exhaustion clings to the way Booker looks from the towel between his hands and to them at the bed.

Joe feels a swell of affection cut through the need to clear the air before they go any further into this. He won’t make the mistake of not talking this through again. Walking over to him, he nudges Booker to his feet, pulling him into the bathroom. Brushing his thumb in an arc under his tired eyes, Joe says, “Maybe we can leave the talk for after we sleep.”

#booker x joe x nicky #the old guard fic #teentitantruefriend #thank you for the prompt!#gab writes stuff

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