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frozenjokes · 9 months

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Signing Off - 2

Prev/Next

PEARL

When Scar had ordered her to the ship’s wheel on account of the fast approaching storm, Pearl had run as fast as she could. Anything to get away. Anything to avoid facing her reality. Mumbo was dead. If he wasn’t yet, he surely would be. What would happen to the crew? To her? This was all she had- how could all of that just be ripped away?

She couldn’t listen to Grian’s panicked yelling anymore. She couldn’t bring herself to defend him from Scar’s harsh rebuke. She could only run. Pearl gripped the wheel hard, grateful for the wind blowing at her back and carrying their voices elsewhere. She was even grateful for the rain that suddenly began to fall against her neck, cooling and calming her frazzled mind. It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t even been steering the boat.

She looked up for the first time, squinting as the rain began to pound down with increasing intensity. Everywhere as far as she could see was oppressive and dark. Was she supposed to steer out of this? Which way was even out ?

Gunshots shattered her focus. Her first instinct was to run forward toward them, to help with whatever horrible accident had just occurred, but something, fear maybe, kept her hands glued to the wheel. She ducked down. Waited.

Grian screamed, scrambling on the slick floorboards out from the direction of the crew’s quarters. His voice seemed to struggle and falter as it tried to form words, failing completely as another bullet ricocheted off the hardwood next to his feet.

“Geez, I’m really not as good of a shot as I used to be. Quit moving, will you? Captain’s orders!” There was joy in Scar’s voice, not unlike the carefree tones he usually sang, but today it held sickly undertones. Pearl’s brain short circuited. Adrenaline didn’t consider the people in front of her as who they were. Just threats and victims. She drew her sword.

Thunder and rain obscured the sound of her light footsteps, her dark cloak fitting neatly into the shadows. She had to be careful; gain information, but not recklessly. Move slow, but not too slow, or she’d be too late. Luckily, Scar didn’t seem to be in much of a rush.

“Grian! Won’t you say something? Personally, I would never want to die screaming. I thought we might be similar in that way. Are you really only going to run?”

Grian gaped at Scar, hair plastered against his face by rain, but could only scream as Scar shot again. Pearl ducked as Scar turned his head, almost looking sorrowful. Was he.. looking for her? Did he want to be stopped? But Scar didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, instead choosing to advance on Grian. Grian tried to keep distance, but slipped in his panic to stay away.

“Come on, Grian,” Scar growled, eyes lighting up with anger, “Don’t tell me this is the way you want to go. Where’s your fire?”

Grian’s legs shook so violently, he couldn’t even stand. He scrambled backwards until he hit the crow’s nest post, squeaking as he did so.

Scar raised his gun. Pearl leapt.

The shot fired into the ground as Pearl landed squarely on Scar’s back, clawing and biting like the sword in her hand simply wouldn’t be enough for the pain she needed to inflict. Scar yelped and stumbled at the sudden weight, nearly falling forward, but reeled his weight back suddenly, using the momentum to slam the butt of his gun into the side of Pearl’s face. She crumpled off of him with a screech almost inhuman, but was back up in moments, charging with her sword outstretched, back into battle. Scar was ready with his own, face alight with glee as metal clashed.

“So is no one going to ask me why? I had a whole thing planned, it was going to be great!”

“No. I don’t care,” Pearl spat, pulling her sword back into another heavy blow.

“Fair enough!” Scar blocked the swing at his neck, framing his wicked grin between their weapons. He turned his head for a moment, eying Grian’s shaking form, “Take notes, will you?”

He would pay for that arrogance, but Pearl knew from many years on this ship that Scar could never help himself. The taunting, the playing around; he never failed to make a bad situation worse. She and Grian used to joke about it. Scar was going to get himself killed! But he was crafty, always managing to slip out of a sticky situation, even if he had endangered everyone’s lives by causing it in the first place. There was a reason he led them. A reason they called him Captain. Well, not anymore.

Pearl landed a direct kick to Scar’s stomach while his head was turned, folding him over and sending him to the ground. Grian had to jump out of the way before Scar crashed into him, both men tumbling on the slick ground. Scar scrambled back, but was stopped short by the crow’s nest pole. He cast a sad glance to his sword, cast to the wayside.

“Oh! Well would you look at that,” Scar wheezed, holding his stomach. He reached for his sword, but Grian lunged forward to snatch it away, stumbling to his feet to join Pearl in pointing their blades at Scar’s neck.

“Suppose this won’t do,” Scar sighed, unsheathing the bloody dagger at his hip. He held it out to the rain, letting the blood wash down his arm. Pearl lunged forward to end it, but was stopped by Grian’s meek voice.

“Impulse..and.. and..”

“Mumbo’s still kicking, if that’s what you wanted to know. Well. He won’t be kicking anymore by the looks of it. He probably broke his back, if not worse. There’s no way he makes it back to land-“

“Impulse is dead?” Pearl’s voice cracked, broken from her focus for the first time. Scar looked happy to answer, but her sword in his shoulder shut him up. Well, at the very least he was whining instead of speaking. She ripped it out, turning back to Grian.

“I went to.. Scar was just standing over him on the ground.. Mumbo. I have to go see Mumbo. If he dies I..”

“Let’s go. I’ll finish up here,” Pearl turned back to Scar, curled up pathetically against the pole. Scar smiled at her. No fronting grin. No bright eyes. Just a closed-mouth, genuine smile. She could have puked.

A massive clap of thunder shook the ship, and lightning struck down on the highest point, splitting the crow’s nest with a massive crack . Pearl stumbled back with her hands over her eyes as bright flame bloomed through the sails, eyes stinging.

“Pearl!” Grian’s hands gripped her cloak pulling her backward as the massive post in front of her began to fall. Scar’s dagger came down on Grian’s hands, forcibly separating the both of them. Before Grian could hope to fight back, Scar sent him onto his back with one strong kick. Pearl leapt froward at his turned back, but Scar was ready, lunging past her outstretched sword to deliver a heavy punch to her face. Pearl’s hands flew to her nose as blood spurted forward, her weapon clinking to the ground. In her daze, it was easy for Scar to sweep her legs out from under her and hop backward. She screeched, clawing back to her feet to pursue him, but was rubberbanded back by the dagger Scar had left in her hood, fastening her to the floor.

“Let me go! Scar! Scar! Let me- Pearl!” Grian wailed, scratching at Scar’s arms against his neck. She met Scar’s eyes, staring intently into hers. She didn’t want to see the the pillar that was surely bearing down on her now. She didn’t have time to think. To escape. She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t give Scar the satisfaction of fighting.

#hermitcraft #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #pirates smp #p!scar #impulsesv #pearlecentmoon #mumbo jumbo #boatemghostsau

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amitlee · 2 years

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Comfort In The Big Things

Summary: George is sad and XD just so happens to be very good at cheering him up.

Warnings: Descriptions on sadness

Dear Mushie gifted me with this prompt

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George sighed and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. Even though he knew the feeling wasn’t rational, he couldn’t help the oppressing loneliness that had settled into his bones. The silence in his bedroom certainly wasn’t helping. It seemed the entire world had left; he heard no birds outside of the window, no rustling of leaves, not even the occasional creak of his house.

His expression soured and his vision went blurry with unshed tears. He turned to lay on his stomach in hopes of falling asleep, burying his head into the multitude of pillows and scattered blankets. He cuddled into one of his pillows, gripping it tightly in anger, fear, or maybe desperation. His inability to name the feeling only added to his frustration. He let out another sigh and closed his eyes.

He felt himself drift off into a world of fully colored shapes and sounds that weren’t really there. Just before he finally slipped fully out of consciousness, the air tensed and an audible ‘pop’ resounded. George tensed.

“George?” A double voice called. XD took a step forward as he took in his surroundings. Clothes and tools were scattered across the normally tidy room and it was entirely devoid of its usual golden light. It was cold, the type of cold that seeps into you and weighs you down. XD immediately knew something was off, very off.

The deity’s gaze landed on the lump on the bed bundled under the unnecessary amount of blankets George insisted on having. He supposed it came in handy in situations like this.

“George, what are you doing?” XD asked as he walked towards the bed, eventually slowly sitting down beside George so as to not startle him.

There was shuffling from under the blanket and George stuck his head out, even though only one side of his face was visible, the other side still being smushed into a pillow. His hair was sticking in every direction and a grumpy look was on his face. As adorable as it seemed to XD at first, he quickly noticed more signs telling him that his friend was in distress.

“You look strange.”

George huffed, looking away from XD. “Yeah?”

XD brushed his thumb across George’s cheek, something he used to do to Dream when he was little to sooth him. “You look sad.” He paused. “It’s strange to see you sad.”

George flushed, both at the attention and the fact that he was read so easily. “I guess.” He whispered, his voice not allowing for itself to be any louder. He rolled onto his back to fully face XD.

XD hummed, “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to make you feel better?” He asked, fully prepared to give George the world should he ask for it.

George immediately wanted to deny the offer, already feeling like he was taking up too much time and space. But his mind flashed to times before, when he and XD would sit together for hours in comfortable silence. Sometimes it wasn’t silent and XD would tell ancient stories, painting mental pictures of mystical worlds.

“Can-“ George took XD’s hand in his, “Can you stay?” He asked timidly.

XD smiled and accepted the request without another thought. He shifted into a more comfortable position and lifted George onto his lap. George was laying with his back against XD’s chest, both of them leaned back contently. They sat like that for a long while in peaceful silence until George spoke up.

“XD?”

“Yes?” The deity answered softly.

George lifted XD’s hand and set it on his own stomach. “Could you..” He trailed off, hoping XD got the message.

“Of course, George.” XD complied with the endearing request. He pushed George’s shirt to expose his tummy, sides, and a few ribs. The gentle swipe up was enough to make George’s breath hitch and a smile spread across his face. XD smiled and began to delicately dance his clawed fingers on the smaller man’s lower ribs.

Immediately, George felt fluttering sparks spread across his ribs and sides from the small buzzes of energy. He instinctively tried to wiggle away from the swirling sensations wracking his body as soft laughter poured from his bright smile. His laughter turned into high pitched giggling when XD drug his fingers with a featherlight touch in the divots of his ribs. Being between the bones and directly on the muscle amplified the ticklish feeling, George found it impossible to contain his mirth.

XD smiled fondly at the mortal, finding his reactions unbearably adorable. He found himself chuckling along with his friend and feeling a shared sense of glee. He chuckled again when he noticed George gently kicking his legs to dispel the new energy surging through his being.

“Where are you going, George?” XD purred into George’s ear.

The low vibrations caused George to gasp and have squeaks intermingle with his laughter. He scrunched his neck to his shoulder and sank in the god’s arms.

“Oh no,” XD tsked, “None of that.” He hefted George up back to his previous spot and resumed gently, yet diabolically, tickling his ribs. XD watched in fascination as his gentle touch left goosebumps and made muscles jump. He was in the midst of trying to comprehend the meaning of the reactions when George arched his back with a high squeal.

“EHehexdehEHE!” George shrieked as XD’s hands skimmed the backs of the sides of his ribs.

Noticing the change in George’s reactions, XD used the pads of his fingers, specifically the pointer and thumb, to pinch the small area around the back of George’s ribs he could reach. George made this especially difficult by pressing himself further back into XD’s chest. As XD’s arms were practically wrapped around the man in a loose backwards hug, he wormed his hands to wiggle his four fingers on both hands into George’s back, slotting each finger between a different rib and lightly digging into the front from where his thumbs were placed to stabilize.

George crumbled into barking cackles. The feeling on his rib cage was only broken up by the occasional tweak, but was otherwise a continuous, and extremely ticklish, massage.

George related the feeling to the time Sapnap and Dream took turns kneading and drilling into the most sensitive areas of his back, claiming they were giving him a massage and it was his fault for being so ticklish in the first place. In the end, he was a giggly puddle on the forest floor; he would never tell either of them that it had the same effect as an actual massage.

“Hehehey! HEHEY!” He squawked through his bright, boisterous laughter.

XD’s own small giggles rumbled through his chest, sending a soothing vibration into George and furthering his giggly bliss. “Tickle, tickle, Georgie~” He crooned. He brought his pace down back to a soft, never ending trace on George’s ribs; he occasionally strayed down to his sides and hips to see George squeal and wiggle.

“Thahat was cruel.” George spoke, a wide smile still sprawled out across his face.

“Yeah?” XD asked teasingly. “Is that why you liked it so much?” George blushed, spluttering out half-formed excuses. XD simply rolled his eyes and squeezed George tighter in their prolonged hug.

George felt his mirth fully subside, leaving him with a calm sense of content. He melted into XD’s hug and flipped his head onto the deity’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of the sunset falling across the horizon. He groaned to himself, his dull guilt returning at the realization that he’d definitely kept his friend from getting any other tasks completed. He drug his hand down his face, “XD, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten, shouldn’t you be going? I don’t want to cause more of a burden than I already hAHAhahave- StohOHOP WIHIhith thehe rihihibs!”

XD nodded and stopped his hands from where they had begun squeezing both sides of George’s ribs, his large hands being able to cover the entirety of the spot. He took a large breath and ducked his head into George’s neck and suddenly blew a rough raspberry in the crook, having gotten rid of his mask minutes before as he trusted he wouldn’t need it.

“You-” XD said between quick raspberries placed around George’s neck, ears, and collarbones. “-are not a ‘burden’.” Added air quotes to the last word, using the motion as an excuse to wiggle his fingers at George.

George roared with laughter, frantically nodding his head, “AHAHALRIGHT! IHIhihi geheHEHET IHIHIT–EXEX DEHEHE!”

Said god had begun to softly nibble the side of George’s neck, his sharp teeth dragging across the sensitive skin maddingly. He found it difficult to continue as he smiled at George’s boyish hysterics.

George went limp in the god’s hold, he was content despite the intensely ticklish feeling and uncontrollable laughter. His face felt hot and he was certain his blush had been noticed by XD, he was grateful that he was saved from the embarrassment of it being pointed out.

Finally deciding his friend had had enough, he stopped the ruthless tickling. He patted George’s stomach in a way that was meant to be comforting, but made the man jolt with a giggly yelp. “Calm down, little one. I’m done.” He said with a soft croon in his tone, openly showing his endearment.

“Ohohoh my gohohod-“ George said breathlessly. He felt floaty from the amount of adrenaline and joy flowing through his body. He looked up at XD with a dazed smile, just beginning to calm down from his remaining giggle fit.

“I mean it, you’re never a burden to me. I have eternity to spend doing less important things than this.” XD reassured. He took George’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back to help ground him.

George grinned wider, a pleased flush coming back to his face. He turned around so they were chest to chest and wrapped his arms around XD, hugging him tightly. He felt himself being weighed down with the pull of sleep.

XD ran a hand firmly on George’s back, easily lulling him to sleep. “Goodnight, George.”

XD knew he’d find himself in this position again. He knew George would have bad days. He also knew that he’d be there to help him through every single one.

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Hehehe I didn’t proof read this

1700 words and yet it’s such a quick one. DONT BE FOOLED IT TOOK ME FOUR DAYS-

#worked my ass off on it though #ticklecommunity #mcyt tickle #mcyt tickle fic #tickle fic #dsmp tickle #dsmpticklefic #dsmp tickle fic #Ler!XD #Ler!dreamXD #lee!george #lee!georgenotfound

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drowning-in-cacophony · 8 months

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it/thing

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 218: How Do You Use 'It'?

[Summary: a girl ignores her impulses and prepares for her new fate]

Her fingers are guaranteed to stay at her sides, even as the tips curve slightly towards her palms as if to stop a reaching she’d never permit. Instead it’s her eyes that rove, that graze and brush and take in the whole… thing.

She’s not too sure there’s actually a word to describe it.

The room, at least, she can: oppressive. Like a chamber blooming off a cave’s narrow tunnels, with a ceiling curving and pulsing, no windows in sight and the only light comes from the thing, a lacing pattern like veins casting over her skin. It’s like stepping inside a balloon, for some unquestionable reason, and probably she should be running back out. Places that feel like this are never going to be safe; things that happen here are never right. These are the places of lifechanging events, the sort the people making don’t live to see what change they create.

But like her fingers stay at her sides, her feet stay firmly pointed inwards. Away from the only exit she can see, because though it’s there, open and waiting, she won’t take it. Can’t take it.

“How do you use it?” Quiet. Serious. Two words perfect to describe her in the last five days; possibly the two words that made her perfect to get to this position. Deeper inside this thing, he turns, eyes glinting in the darkness. The thing’s light causes a water-like ripple, dropping down his forehead and colliding with his brows.

“It’s simpler than it looks,” he answers with a ghost of a smile. “Quite intuitive, once you’ve settled in.”

It’s not quite an answer, she notes. In service of his want to be mysterious a little longer – up to this point, he has been the only one to work it – or in genuineness that there is no way to answer. To drive a car, you sit in the front seat. For this, maybe first look rings true, that there is no front seat.

Still, she wants an answer. Directions, something to grasp and work with. She doesn’t want to step in only in his shadow, letting him be the only way to settle in.

“How’d you do that, then?” She can’t make herself take another step closer – what if she disturbs something? – but she can set her mouth into a hard, challenging line.

Once more, his mouth twitches. Not a true smile, nothing more than a whisp. Under these lights, it fits better than it would outside. Like the swirling dimness befits controlled looks, thin expressions.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Again, not an answer. This time her fingertips curl towards her palms with deliberate needed sharpness, to clench her fists in frustration. Is it not enough that she entered this place? That she’s gazed up and around at this thing, taken a breath and not turned and fled? She’d heard rumours that the two others they’d tried had done that. They’d looked at what she had, and chose whatever other options they could scrape, but she hasn’t. She’s still here, not running.

“Maybe you should trust our superiors. If they’ve let me in here, clearly they’re confident I want to know.” Her tone’s sharper, like the edge of her chin that she juts out. Can he see that, in this light? At least her voice is unimpeded; this whole thing doesn’t seem to emit any sound. It’s mostly a lightshow, pulses and waves that make her feel like there’s sound missing.

There’s no smile this time, ghost or not. There’s just a laugh, sharp as her tone, barking across the space. She jumps; controls it into a jolt of her shoulders, practically invisible.

“That’s more bite than the last two had,” he says with a wry shake of his head. “I think I might have offended you.”

Might?

“If you want to make it up to me, you should answer my questions.” She badly wants to fold her arms over her chest, a firm wall of steel, but it’s better keeping them at her sides. His eyes flick over her again – and how does she look, under this light? – before jerking his head at her. Gesturing her closer.

She doesn’t swallow, because she knew what she was getting into when she came in here, yet it does take a second more than she’d like to work her feet into the first steps.

“It works through here,” he explains as she slowly steps closer. It’s narrower, and it gets dimmer, further from the exit. The darkness swirls like a too-thick blanket; she doesn’t give into the impulse to breathe too quickly.

Instead she looks where he gestures, a part of the wall carved out, hollowed. It’s like a geode cracked, the thing bleeding in blunt chunks around the hollow, the place, she understands, that she is to control it.

Across, there is another hollow. His.

Claustrophobia rears to brush against the back of her neck, ignored like every other impulse she’s had since entering. Third time’s meant to be the charm, and she’s the third to enter. She’s the one who won’t let herself leave.

“It’s intuitive, once I settle in.” An echo, a questioning statement for confirmation. Either way, she glances at him, finding his eyes by the way the film catches the thing’s light. He nods, the ghost back on his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her, a sentiment that doesn't help at all. “It’s not as horrible as it looks like it’ll be.”

#flash fiction friday #flash fiction #short story #writeblr #anna's writing #word count: 916 #I'm calling this speculative #little sci fi/mysterious vibes here

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starbornsoulrider · 2 years

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Guardian’s Lament

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Summary: When Concorde vanishes into the night, B.B tries to find her and find out how she’s feeling with the current revelations. Takes place right after the “On the trail of Anne” questline.

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Author’s Note: writing this cuz 1. I don’t like the idea that Concorde is some “helpless confused baby who doesn’t understand any of this magic stuff uwu” (generally this is just me giving her more characterization than what we got in game) and 2. To explore how the Guardians feel about their immortality (it can’t possibly be easy, like they’ve must’ve lost so many people after so many lives) and 3. there’s kinda subtle OC development

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I was having a peaceful sleep, at least until a certain worrywart began nudging my face and whisper-yelling in my ear. With a groan, I opened one eye and glared at the old, chestnut stallion standing at my side.

“Hrrmmff… What is it, Meteor?” I grumbled as I lifted myself off the ground and stood back on all fours.

“Utter disaster!” Meteor cried while throwing his head back in distress. His ears were pinned against his neck, and his dark gray eyes were wide with panic. “Concorde is missing! Again!”

“Shh! Quiet down!” Starshine suddenly spoke up out of nowhere. I turned to see him and Tin-Can a few feet away, rustling through the bushes like they were searching for something. “Do you WANT to wake up our riders and send them into a panic?”

“Yeah, they’ve been through a lot today already,” Tin-Can huffed as he pulled his head out of a large shrub. “Concorde couldn’t have gone far. Let’s just keep our heads together and find her.”

“Ah, she disappears after we made such a crucial decision about her situation…” Meteor chatters on, pacing the ground back and forth, continuously flattening the grass beneath his hooves. “She isn’t mad at us, is she? Maybe we should reconsider… She might not be as ready for this as we thought.”

“Whatever the reason, let’s just focus on finding her first.” Starshine instructed, probably hoping his words would ground Meteor back to the situation at hand. “We can ask her then. Right now, I think we should be a bit more concerned about we lost a foal, in the middle of the night, in a forest that was just overtaken by some mysterious magic force yesterday!”

“Both of you worry way too much,” Tin-Can snorted, earning glares from both the Star and Moon guardians. “She is a Guardian like us. Nearly everyone has treated her likes she’s totally naive and clueless! Sure, she’s young, and she needs our guidance most of all. But sometimes it feels like you forget that she’s also a Guardian and underestimate how much she truly understands!”

“What?!” Meteor huffed, stomping up to Tin-Can. I couldn’t help but flinch when I heard one of the Soul Riders stir in their sleep. “We understand more than anyone how important Concorde’s role as a Guardian is! We even agreed to find a way to restore her into an adult! But as of right now, she is a foal and cannot defend herself! And how do we know for sure that-“

“Guys! Calm down, stop making a ruckus!” I butted in, their back-and-forth arguing starting to make my head ring. Once my brothers turned towards me, I pointed my nose in the direction of something I’d spotted on the ground long before they did. Small hoofprints were scattered through the dirt, leaving a trail deeper into the woods. “Look, she left tracks. I doubt she could’ve gone far.”

The three stallions seemed surprised by my observation, but I spoke up again before any of them could say anything. “If you two are done bickering, I’m going to go follow them. Stay here and protect our riders. I’ll be back with Concorde.”

Without another word to my brothers, I began to walk away from the camp, keeping my eyes glued to the faint circular tracks guiding me along Concorde’s trail. Night had long since settled over the forest, stars blanketing the dark blue skies above, their light pouring through the canopy and dimly lighting my way. It’s funny to think that just yesterday, that oppressive and dangerous force of magic was laid thick across the now serene and quiet Hollow Woods. There was always a slight fog that hung over the ground here, but it was nowhere near as bad as it was a few mere hours ago.

My hooves crunched over the fallen leaves, and acorns cracked under my weight. I took a deep inhale of the crisp, autumn night air as I decided now was a good time to sort out my thoughts.

We were really going to use the five-leaf clover and transform Concorde, huh? It’s a lot to take in, that the clover has enough power to achieve something of such a scale. When Anne explained everything to us, and her dedication rebuild the bond with her horse, I understood why. I did not know the old Concorde, but I could always see a solemn atmosphere hang over the two whenever they were together. Back during the Light Ride, Anne even seemed hesitant towards Concorde. It wasn’t just on Anne’s side, either. It was obvious Concorde was drawn to Anne, but I could always see it in the filly’s eyes. She was conflicted, confused at the sight of her Soul Rider. It’s obvious she doesn’t remember Anne, nor does she know what to make of all this.

Transforming Concorde back into an adult might provide her with more clarity about herself and her role. The other Guardians say they slowly began to remember their other lifetimes as they grew up. Concorde was still a long way away from that, though. Garnok won’t wait for her to remember and build her power naturally, I’m afraid. I know that. The longer we wait, the more we risk losing. Anne’s words echoed in my mind, and the image of five mourning riders kneeling before a grave with a rose placed atop it resurfaced. Oh, Aideen knows we can’t take another loss. If we’re all at full power, then we can better protect each other.

But does Concorde understand all of that? She may at least suspect she has a greater purpose in life, but I doubt she knows the full extent of it. Back when we reunited with Anne and Alex, Concorde seemed to stand so firmly and confidently beside Anne for the first time since I’ve known her. She seemed ready and knew what she had to do. But now, when she’s wandered off into the night… I’m not so sure. Does she want to grow up so fast? Does she understand why we feel it’s the best option? Oh, I pray we didn’t make her feel pressured into this. I don’t know her as well as the other three do. They seem to read each other so easily, after spending countless lifetimes together. I’ve never tried to pry too much into how Concorde felt about her brutal death and sudden rebirth. Whether or not she knows what happened to her, it seems like such a sensitive and heavy topic for a foal to handle.

We underestimate how much she truly understands the situation… Tin-Can’s words rung in my mind. I wondered if he was right. Concorde is an immortal spirit, there’s much more to her than a tiny, rambunctious filly. At the same time, though, I agree with Meteor that she might not be ready for this.

However, there’s only one way to find out, and that’s to talk to her and hear her thoughts on the matter. Up until now, I haven’t really talked with Concorde or spend as much time with her as Meteor or the others have. I’m like her brother as a fellow Soul Horse, so of course I try to look out for her whenever I can, but today made me realize I haven’t had a heart-to-heart talk with her yet. Right now, that seems like the thing she needs most. Maybe then we can both feel more at peace with how things are progressing right now.

“Good grief, she went further into the woods than I thought,” I murmured once I began to see the old, rustic streetlights of Valedale Village glimmering beyond the trees. I followed Concorde’s trail through a wall of bushes, greeted by the sight of the Silversong river. Flickers of reflected moonlight danced on the surface like silver fire, and the rushing water joined the quiet chorus of the night’s creatures. My eyes followed the trail of miniature hoof prints in the sand, until eventually I finally saw the small gray filly staring out onto the water, eyes glued to her reflection.

“Concorde,” I spoke softly, loud enough for her to hear me. She turned her head, ears flicking at the sound of her name.

“B.B? What are you doing out here?” she asked as I walked over to stand beside her.

“I should be asking you the same question,” I spoke a bit sternly. “The other three Guardians are panicking over you! Especially Meteor, he’s going to create a ditch with how much he’s been pacing. You should’ve said something before you wandered off.”

Her ears fell, and so did her gaze, back onto the water. I looked with her, meeting the gaze of my reflection. For me, that’s all I saw- myself. But the way Concorde looked at hers, I had a suspicion that she saw something else.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” Concorde sighed heavily, her head drooping more. “I couldn’t sleep, and I felt like I was gonna lose my mind if I stayed still any longer.”

“Let me guess,” I replied, turning my gaze back to her. “You’re thinking about the clover? About your transformation…?”

Her answer was clear with the way her eyes seemed to dim at the mention of the clover. “Concorde, if you need to say anything about it, then you should speak up. Yes, all of us being at our full power is important, but so are your feelings on all of this. Don’t feel pressured to go through with this is you don’t want to. Even if you can’t reach your full power yet, I’m certain you can still bond with Anne the way you are now. Yes, she pains over losing the old you… but I know she still loves you. If her decision to transform you makes you uncomfortable, then we can call all of this off and think of a better solution-“

“It’s not that,” Concorde interrupted me, squeezing her eyes shut. Silence hung in the air for a moment, as I waited for her to speak. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and turned her face to the night sky as she sat down on her hind legs. “I know what everyone thinks. That I’m not ready for this, that I’m only going along with this because everyone expects me to. That I’m fine just the way I am, and I shouldn’t be expected to change if I don’t want to.”

“Remember when I met Willow?” she continued after a moment. “I could see it in her eyes. After what Tin-Can told her, she must’ve assumed that Anne hated me or something. She told me that in time Anne will see me for who I really am… Back then, I tried to find that comforting, but every time I look at myself in the water… I don’t even know if I can see who I really am!”

Her words surprised me, but I gently urged for her to continue. “What do you mean?”

Concorde grimaced, her eyes closing tightly again. “I know what I am- I’m a Guardian. The others assume that I’ve forgotten my past lives… In a way, I have, but I also haven’t. It’s like some kind of confusing in between that I can’t stand, like my own existence is fractured… It’s not like I don’t have a clue what’s going on. A few months ago, maybe I would’ve been more hesitant to transform. But then everything changed, and I found my way back home. Yet I’ve felt so… lost ever since. Like there’s something I’m missing… It started with Elizabeth, when I saw her I knew she was connected to me somehow. And now it’s the same with Anne. This rift between Anne and I… With time, I’m sure she could get used to me being a foal. We were already on that road for a while. In a perfect world, I could grow alongside her. But even then, with the way things are right now, the rift wouldn’t heal. Not completely, at least…”

What Concorde was telling me right now… It was clear her pain went much deeper than I thought. I stayed quiet for now though, and let her keep speaking her mind.

“Ever since we freed Anne, I’ve had this lingering feeling- this feeling that I’m supposed to know her, to remember her.” My sister shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. I shifted closer to offer her comfort. “But I don’t… and it’s frustrating. Not only that, but I don’t have the ability to protect her. I feel so powerless.”

I nodded, my thoughts starting to come together again. Despite everything, Concorde was still a Guardian, who deep inside still knew of her ancient duty. That wisdom and power she gained throughout so many lifetimes, it was still there, as if the morning sun was struggling to rise over the island. It made me wonder if I had just been reflecting on her in a way… I may be a Starbreed, but as far as I’m aware, I’m not like the Guardians. They’ve known about their destiny and history longer than the Soul Riders have known theirs. But me? I was thrown into this world without a clue of what to expect or what to do. All this time, I worried that was how Concorde felt. But the Guardians- the way their multiple lifetimes all connect and blend into each other- it’s so much more than I can comprehend. My brothers won’t admit it, but I know that so much weighs heavy on their shoulders. They’ve lost riders, lost each other, so many times throughout the ages. The burden of immortality and reincarnation is something that follows them in every life, and now Concorde was at a point where it was starting to catch up with her, too. I guess that’s inevitable for them in every lifetime of theirs…

“I know…” was all I could say to Concorde. Although I didn’t carry the same pain as her, I had seen it in my brothers’ eyes countless times. However, was transforming really Concorde going to help? “But… do you truly think the clover will fix all of that?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Concorde bit her lip. “But… I’m so tired of feeling like the answers are being dangled over my head. My memories, what Anne meant to me… In my heart, this feels the only way to finally reach them. Whenever I see her, I feel like a crucial part of my life has been blanked out… Maybe in different circumstance, I would’ve wanted to stay like this and be a normal foal, patiently waiting for my time to shine. But right now, I don’t feel like I’ve been reborn and started a new life, I just feel like I picked up where I left off and I don’t even know what happened before. All of this is so familiar… and I want to know why. I want to feel complete again, but as long as I’m left clueless about who I was or who Anne was to me, I don’t think I can…”

I couldn’t help but be reminded of Halo by Concorde’s lament. A small, nearly forgotten moment from a while ago, not long after we saved Anne. Me and my rider were sitting underneath a starlit sky, in the fields of our home on South Hoof. They’ve always cast a longing look to the night sky. Just like Concorde, they know they were once someone they can no longer remember. They knew they were missing a piece of themself. But that night, it hurt more than it ever had before.

“I feel so lost…” The sound of Halo’s helpless sobs echoed through my mind, leaving a sting in my chest. “I know I’m not of this world. But every time I try to remember, I draw a blank. There’re all these lingering fears that just grow worse with time, and I don’t even know where they came from. They’ve been there from the start, but after everything we’ve been through, they’ve started to haunt me… I can’t look at the others without hurting anymore. Like… like something is going to come and take them away. I… All I want is answers… Maybe then, I could know what to do… I’m so tired of being scared… of feeling incomplete… What do I do, B.B?”

“I…” It took me a moment to find my words as the realization donned upon me- I’d seen this before with my very own rider. “…I understand. I… actually have a friend who’s in a similar predicament, now that I think about it.” I don’t think I’d ever told Concorde about Halo’s situation, but that could wait for another day. “Just to be absolutely certain- are you really ready to go through with this? There won’t be any turning back. There’s no shame in changing your mind. The others will understand.”

“I know,” For the first time in this conversation, Concorde smiled, her eyes locking with mine. “But I’m done waiting around for my memories and power to come back to me. I want to feel like myself again. If there really is a grave danger closing in on us, I want to be able to protect you all, especially Anne, and ride with my siblings and my Soul Rider once more. I’m the Sun Guardian- and I’m ready to embrace that title. And besides… I am getting rather tired of the other Guardians mothering me all the time.”

For a second, I could’ve sworn I saw a pair of translucent, feathery wings appear on Concorde’s back. Even though it was night, I could feel the sun’s power radiating off of her. Her eyes burned with the intensity of the sun’s surface. For the first time, I was truly witnessing the sheer power of the Sun Guardian’s spirit, bright and determined. I could only imagine how powerful she’d be once she achieved her true form.

Once I got over my shock, I smiled back at her. Yes, deep down I still had those lingering worries that refused to let go. But if Concorde was ready, I had to support her.

“Okay then,” I spoke with a firm nod. “I’m glad you told me all of this, Concorde. It helped me realize that there’s so much more to being a Guardian than I thought… You’ve really changed since we saved you from Ydris and his circus, huh?”

“Yeah,” Concorde chuckled. “It feels like it’s been years… Then again, maybe that’s just the Pandorian magic still messing with my head.”

With a deep breath, Concorde finally got to her feet. “Thanks for talking with me, B.B. It’s nice to finally get all of that out. Everything feels a little less scary now... It’s good to know I’m not alone in this. I’m lucky to have you as a big brother.”

“Even though I’m not a Guardian and haven’t lived as many lives as the rest of you?” I chuckled.

“Just because you’re not a Guardian doesn’t mean you’re any lesser than us!” Concorde argued, bouncing up and headbutting me in the shoulder. I coughed out in surprise and doubled back a little. “So no down-talking yourself! You’re a Soul Horse, therefore part of our family, and you’re stuck with us!”

“Yeah, stuck with a crazy, violent sun god,” I scoffed, but couldn’t hide my smile. “Just don’t go around tackling me like that when you’re big again! You might actually kill me!”

“I didn’t hit you that hard! Don’t be such a drama king!”

“Uhm, from what I’ve heard from our brothers, YOU were much more of a drama king in YOUR past life.”

“Whatever!” Concorde said dismissively as she began to run back up onto the grass. “Now come on slowpoke, I can feel the sun starting to rise! Let’s get back before the others wake up!”

With a smirk, I ran ahead of her, playfully kicking up a cloud of dirt as I dashed by. “You’re the slowpoke who needs to worry about getting back in time!”

“Hey!” she shouted, coughing before running after me. “No fair, if this was a race you should’ve said so! Ugh, forget what I said! You’re my least favorite brother!”

---

#sso #star stable #star stable online #my writing #concorde #babyboy #sso oc #tin-can #starshine #meteor #me? finally finishing a fic?#even though its just a oneshot im proud of myself #this isn't the BEST thing I've ever written but im pretty happy with how I conveyed the character's emotions

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Dirty Old Man

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Dubcon themes in the beginning (it’s later all consensual), Knifeplay (to remove clothing), Captivity/Kidnapping, Slapping, Daddy Kink, Some Assplay, Gagging (on fingers), Choking, One mention of blood, A little bit of bondage, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Age Gap, Kenny is a dirty old man.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It’s late, but it’s here! Here’s my part to the Smut Pile’s Western Collab! Please heed the warnings. Kenny is disgusting and I’m disgusting but here we are, fucking Kenny.

“I told you to stop running away. I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of chasin you down.” Kenny spit the words out like poison, crouching in front of you to place the tip-end of his knife against your corseted chest as a warning.

You attempted a protest, but the makeshift gag made out of a torn piece of your skirts kept you virtually silent. Your wrists were burning, the rope around them scratching against your skin behind your back. The inn he’d taken you to for the night was damp and dirty, the floor you were tossed into reeking of piss and sour bourbon.

He had come for you again. You’d had some wistful doubt that he wouldn’t, but like always, he’d tracked you down as easily as hunters do footprints in thick snow. He’d followed your trail and bound you with that thick rope of braided hemp he always kept at his side. Evading him was never easy, but you thought you’d gotten away with it this time when you’d found a meager orphanage to cook at. He hated children—you thought he’d never set foot in the place, but reckoning had come for you in the early hours of the morning, with a dark shadow moving in the corner of the kitchens.

“You never fuckin’ learn. Maybe this time I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

The sharp point of his blade dug into your clothes, the cutting edge purposefully situated between featherbone channels so it could slice at cotton threads.

You swore against the cloth in your mouth, your curses soaking into the spit-damp fabric. He hooked a finger under the gag digging into your cheek, pulling at the material with a smirk.

“Got something to say, kid?”

Slowly, he pulled the torn cloth from your mouth, your head twisting to shake away strings of drool that had attached to the textile.

“Maybe I like the chase, Kenny,” you hissed out his name, not bothering with the Mr. Ackerman bullshit you’d called him at home.

He had once been a rather removed presence in your life; he was just that outlaw in the corner who did the terrible things the rich families in your town had the money but not the gall to do. But now he’d become the bane of your existence, the dark thread that always pulled you back into the oppressive home life you were running from. He never seemed to care. If anything, he seemed to take a sick joy in finding you quicker each time you snuck out and ran in a new, farther direction.

“So we’re on a first name basis now, huh? Good, cause we’re about to get real intimate.”

“You could make this real fun and actually untie me.”

“I’m not untying you, ain’t fucking happening. I didn’t spend weeks tracking down a stupid maiden for her daddy for you to run off into the woods the moment I turn my back to piss.”

You winced a little at his harsh words, still very aware of the cold steel carefully skating through the middle of your chest. The threads of your corset were popping and curling back toward the bone linings.

“I’m not some fragile maiden.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you ain’t, what you are is a big pain in my ass. I don’t get paid enough for this shit, so I’m takin’ what I’m owed.”

The reality of your situation settled in when you felt cool air sweep across your freshly exposed breasts. Your initial thought was to kick him, but when you felt him dig the blade a little too deep into the clothes at your belly, you hesitated. One wrong move and he could be slicing you open accidentally.

Your wrists pounded with lack of blood flow as you painstakingly tested the knots for slack again. Of course, there wasn’t any. He’d probably tied up hundreds of unfortunate souls in his miserable lifetime.

A thrill raced across your skin as you heard the knife clatter into the floor, Kenny peeling away the layers of split clothes on your body like he was prudently opening the petals of a rare flower.

“Well, well, look at you, kid.”

Grey eyes swirled with mirth and mischief under the brim of his hat, a wicked smile curling across bearded cheeks.

You felt vulnerable and far too hot, the heat of embarrassment licking over your chest, up your neck, burning at your ears. Worse, blazing excitement was pooling between your legs, the dull thump of pleasure beginning to pound in your head.

A calloused hand began to paw at the fat of your breast, testing the weight of it in his palm.

“You’re a fucking pervert.”

“Never said I ain’t.”

He flicked your nipple with his comment, chuckling as you gasped. The slight twinge of pain sent a jolt of lightning down your spine, making your fingers dig into the thick rope at your wrists and your head tilt back against the wall. Kenny repeated the motion, rubbing his warm thumb over your nipple before flicking it again. You sucked in a quick breath, making your lungs expand and breasts inch closer to his hands.

“You like that?” He teased, a finger tracing the sensitive underside of your breast.

“No.”

He laughed, “Liar. Your pretty nipples are harder than my cock.”

Kenny proved his point by cupping both your tits and making you moan, back arching toward him instead of away. Seeing the opportunity, he moved in closer, making the remnants of your skirts bunch around your hips as he pressed himself between your legs. You turned your face away from him when he dipped down to kiss you, making his wet lips and wiry beard press into the curve of your throat.

He sucked at the tender flesh of your neck, teeth and growls gently scraping against skin.

“What’s my pa going to think about you taking advantage of me like this?”

You knew you made a good point—unless Kenny had decided to pack some petticoats and powder into his saddle bags, he couldn��t cover up the carnage he was creating.

“I’m your daddy for tonight, kid. Maybe if you’re good I won’t even take you home this time.”

“Really?” You knew your voice portrayed your enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help it. You’d do anything to be free of your family and go make a life of your own.

Kenny took his time thinking over his response, too busy licking and sucking at the delicate column of your throat. It felt good, too good, even the scratch of his beard had you holding back whimpers. His long fingers were still groping your tits, thumbs rhythmically petting over your peaks.

You felt like you were engulfed in flames, like the hellfire and brimstone that bible-thumpers warned about were taking over your senses. All because of fucking Kenny Ackerman, the dirtiest old man you’d ever come across.

Though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined something like this before, it was hard not to when most of your time had been spent tied up on a saddle with him. The pervert always had the audacity to have his half-hard erection pressing into your lower back as you shifted on the smelly horse. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel to have him inside of you when the horse’s trot had his cock sliding too perfectly against your ass. You’d spent a few nights imagining how he would manhandle you, rough and impatient, and far more skilled than the boys you’d fooled around with.

Kenny was a dirty old man, but you had no doubt he could fulfill every naughty fantasy women like you weren’t supposed to dream about.

You shifted forward a bit, draping your thighs over his so you could get closer, press your aching core against that familiar stiffness in his trousers.

“I’ll be a good girl, daddy,” you let the name roll off your tongue as you tilted your face down to his, “I promise.”

You sealed your vow by pressing your mouth to his, a victorious frisson tingling at your nerves when he groaned into your lips. His kiss was rough, one of his hands snaking up to your neck with a vice-like grip to keep you from changing your mind. It made your vision go blurry behind your eyelids, grey spots dancing in the corners of your lashes. He tasted like booze and smoke, remnants of his addictions tainting your tongue. But you kept up with his pace, eager to show him that you would be good, that you wanted this, that you’d let him have you. Even if he did take you back home anyways, at least you’d get a thrilling fuck out of this arrangement.

“You ain’t never been a good girl,” he rumbled against your lips, “daddy’s gonna have to teach you how to behave.”

You gasped when he used his leverage on your neck to push you farther into the creaking boards of the wall. Your wrists were trapped between your back and the floor, going more numb by the second. He caged you in completely, had you sitting in his lap with his cock pressed against your damp drawers and one hand tangling into the mess of your skirts.

“Women and all their fucking clothes,” he snarled down at your half-dressed body. Your eyes went wide as you noticed him reach back for the discarded blade, his other hand still content to press against the sides of your neck.

“W-wait, I don’t have anything else to wear!”

“You ain’t going to be needin’ em anyways, kid.”

Time slowed down like the creeping slush of molasses as you watched Kenny begin to slice through your dress and petticoat, each tug of his wrist sending cotton fibers spilling into the floor. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and sweat beading on the back of your neck every time the spine of the knife grazed the freshly exposed skin of your thighs. You struggled against the rope and the hand holding you back when he began to cut through the length of your drawers. The blade was too close to your intimate places, grazing against your sweltering flesh and making you whimper.

“I ain’t gonna cut you, darlin. As much as I wanna carve my name into your skin, I couldn’t stand hurtin’ you.”

You swallowed thickly and he must’ve felt it, his thumb petting at your neck like he was trying to soothe a scared animal. He stopped cutting at your clothing, lifting his pointed chin so he could look up into your face. He grinned, soft but still wolfish, wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Gimme a kiss, it’ll make you feel better.”

You complied, perhaps too happily, slanting your mouth against his and moaning at the rough feel of his black hairs against your cheeks.

Kenny ripped the rest of the threads from your body with his strong fingers, finishing the work that the knife had started. A weight was lifted off of you when your heavy skirts and the skeleton of your corset finally slipped into the floor to be forgotten. He took particular care in relieving you of your cotton drawers, the shadow of his hat obscuring his face as he marveled at the juncture of your thighs.

“Look at that pretty pussy, all wet and sloppy just for me.”

You cried out when he brushed a knuckle between your dripping folds, finger slowly uncurling so it could prod at your tight hole.

“You always get this wet when you’re around me?”

“Hard not to when you’re always groping me like some animal.”

His gaze flickered back up to you, the mixture of a frown and a smirk tugging at his lips. He pressed his palm more firmly against your windpipe, making you choke.

“Don’t know why I bothered to ungag your smart mouth.”

“I’ll be goo—” you didn’t have the chance to finish your plea, his long fingers uncurling from your neck only for two of them to abruptly slide past your open lips. Your eyes watered a bit from the thrusting motion of his digits and you could feel your moans vibrate against his skin. He started to push his fingers farther into your mouth, seeing how far he could go before your throat tightened, smirking the whole time. His skin tasted like rawhide and copper, like leather and blood, and you breathlessly traced your tongue along his slim knuckles.

“Your mouth looks better stuffed,” his other hand resumed teasing your lower lips, “Let’s see how many fingers you can take.”

You almost bit the knuckles in your mouth when he shoved his middle and index fingers into your tight cunt. You muffled out a squeal, eyes rolling shut when a wave of pleasure splashed over your body with the timing of his fingers pushing inside of you. He wasted no time in stretching you, spreading his strong fingers as he withdrew and pressed back inside of you over and over again.

Your tongue went still and flat in your mouth, spit pooling around slim fingers that still pressed farther back into your throat with every thrust of his hand between your legs. You could practically hear him grinning like a madman with both of his calloused hands pressing into two of your wet holes. You sucked around his fingers when he touched a sensitive, fleshy patch inside of you, fingers curling against your walls and stroking the spot repeatedly.

Weightless, you felt weightless in Kenny’s lap, like each thrust of his fingers into your mouth and pussy was sending you higher into the clouds. Even your own fingers had gone limp behind you, no longer clinging to their binds.

“Not bad, kid. How about another?”

You screamed around his hand when his ring finger stretched your opening wider, your pussy burning from its invasion. He laughed, a sadistic rumble from his chest that vibrated against your tits. At the feel of your cry, he pushed the fingers against your tongue even farther down to the back of your mouth, making you fight your gag reflex and sputter. Spit was falling from the corners of your mouth and you could feel your slick drooling down your thighs and onto his pumping wrist between your legs.

“Good girl,” he praised, picking up his already merciless pace, “daddy’s got a big cock, need you to be ready for it.”

Kenny groaned when you nodded your head, eyes fluttering open to catch his gaze. Some twisted pleasure brewed in your lower stomach as you noticed his lopsided grin, pearl white teeth bared over his full lips.

“I bet you look so fucking pretty when you cum. Think you can? Can you cum from an old man stuffin’ you full of fingers, darlin?”

You shivered at his words, your thighs shaking as you felt like you were being pulled apart. The three fingers inside of you knew exactly how to make your head go fuzzy and your nerves wild with pleasure, and it only got more intense when his thumb began to circle your already aching clit. You whimpered around his fingers, finding a momentary reprieve when he pulled them from your lips and admired the drool flowing over his knuckles. But he slid them back in after you caught a quick breath, pumping them at the same speed as the fingers buried into your cunt.

It was like you were brimming and boiling over with the taste and feel of Kenny. Your mind could barely keep up with the shots of ecstasy stemming from your belly, your toes curling against the cold floor, your wrists rubbed raw from rope. Your lower muscles were starting to clench, spasm, shake, and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re gettin’ tight. But I’ve got one more place to try.”

Your brows scrunched together when you felt his ring finger slip from your pussy, only to feel his slim pinky finger prod at the tight pucker of your ass.

“Kemmy, mf, umph,” you struggled to speak with his fingers stuffed in your mouth.

You finally bit against his skin when you felt the length of his smallest finger slither into your ass.

The new sensation rocked you, had you gasping and leaning forward and gagging on his fingers and cumming all at the same time. You screamed as you felt your asshole tighten around his digit, the pleasure of it sending you raring into bliss at full force like you’d just been slammed into a wall. It felt so fucking good, every hole stuffed with him, every muscle clenching and unclenching as he had the nerve to laugh at how easily you came from feeling a finger in your ass.

“Heh, seems you like that, don’tcha?” He let you ride out the remnants of your orgasm for a few moments, fingers still and just feeling you contract around him.

Finally, he worked on setting you free of his hold. He took his time with it, each finger sliding out of you painfully slow like he was slowly uncorking a pent-up bottle of champagne. With your mouth free first, you took your time breathing and gathering your wits, looking down into the floor as shame crept over your body. It was all so nasty and dirty, and when he pulled his fingers out from between your legs, you knew all you wanted was more of it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, surprised when he lifted your chin and placed a rather chaste kiss against your messy mouth.

“I take it you’ve never had somethin’ in your ass?”

“N-no, but it…”

“Feels good, yeah?”

You shot him a suspicious look, “How would you know?”

“I’ve been around, kid.”

Kenny groaned as he sat back, moving you off his lap.

“My knees are too fucking old for this. Get on the bed.”

You didn’t know how you could. Your legs felt like pudding and your hands were completely numb behind your back. Kenny walked to the corner of the small bedroom, pulling his suspenders down so he could toss his shirt into the floor. You struggled to move, eyeing the knife in the floor carefully so you didn’t accidentally cut yourself as you fumbled like a little fawn gaining her legs.

You enjoyed the feel of standing for a moment, leaning back against the wall in all your sloppy nakedness as you watched Kenny dip his hands into the wash bin.

This was the last thing you expected when you woke up this morning. You’d been free, ready to get started on a cornbread and bean breakfast, only to be kidnapped before you could even lace up your shoes. Now you were watching Kenny Ackerman get undressed and hang that signature bowler hat on the back of the door.

He looked better without the hat. In fact, he looked so much better naked.

He had sun kissed skin on his arms and neck from working in the sun, lean sinews of muscle carved over his chest, his thighs. He was dusted in wiry black hair, like someone had taken ash from a fire and doused him in it. And his cock was hard and proud between his legs, long and curved up toward his stomach. Your ego spiked at the thought that you’d made him that way; you were the reason his swollen head was leaking and twitching.

“Can I touch you now?”

“What?” He looked puzzled, running a hand through his dark, shoulder length hair. It looked longer than when you last saw him.

You moved toward him on still shaky legs, making a show of pulling at your hands bound behind your back.

“Shit, I forgot you were tied up. But you gotta promise me when I cut you loose you ain’t just gonna sprint out that door.”

“I don’t have any clothes, Kenny.”

He laughed genuinely at that, scratching at the back of his neck. He’d have to remedy that tomorrow, go out and buy you something to wear so he didn’t parade you around town naked as the day you were born.

You stayed still as he reached for that big knife of his on the floor, settling up behind you to start gnawing the blade through the thick rope. Your shoulders felt at ease when you felt the slack begin to set into your binds, the last bit of hemp audibly slicing away. You pulled your hands in front of you, immediately rubbing at the raw spots on your wrists. They’d be bruised tomorrow, scab over by the next day.

Kenny wrapped his arms around you from behind, hands first skimming over your shoulders and upper arms.

“If you didn’t have such a bad habit of runnin’, I wouldn’t have to do that to you, kid.”

“You’d run away if you had my life, too.”

You knew you didn’t need to fill in the blanks for him. He’d been around long enough to know the ins and outs of your story.

“Suppose I would.”

He kissed your neck as he walked you to the bed, turning you around so he could crawl up the naked expanse of your body as you laid back against the hay stuffed mattress.

“Someone as pretty as you don’t deserve someone like me chasin’ after you.” But his confession didn’t stop him from settling between your thighs and bending down to suck one of your nipples into his eager mouth. You moaned, elated to have your hands free so you could tangle your fingers into his long hair.

“I told you,” you gasped when he bit into your skin hard enough to leave marks, “I like the chase.”

He licked a long, hot stripe between the valley of your breasts before bringing his face back to yours. You kept your hands in his hair as he leaned down to kiss you, all brute force and greedy tongue like you’d gotten used to before. You were just as hungry for him, your body feeling fresh and ripe after your orgasm and ready to be filled again. You bit at his lower lip, smirking when you got a reaction from him. Your tongue began to map the insides of his mouth, letting the taste of him overwhelm you.

Kenny was impatient, gripping your hips and spreading you apart again.

“I like you better when you’re submissive.” He murmured into your mouth, skilled fingers spreading your pussy so the fat head of his cock could rub against you.

“I said I would be a good girl, daddy.”

His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan, “I can’t fucking handle you calling me that, kid.”

“Oh yeah? Is me calling you daddy going to make you cream early, old man?”

He slid his cock inside of you rough and fast to shut you up. Your head fell farther back against the pillow as you mewled, his fingers still having not prepared you for the feel of his stretching you open. Your walls were snug against him; you could feel every throbbing vein under his silken skin dragging against your insides as he pulled out and pushed into you slowly.

Each thrust had euphoria blooming from your stomach and spreading across all your extremities. It was like you could suddenly feel everything, the pleasure making the world around you sharpen. Kenny was breathing hotly into your neck, your nipples were painfully hard and sliding against the dark, downy hairs of his chest. Your fingers were coming back to life, your nails scraping against the greyed roots of his hair. Your toes were curling in the air, your thighs and hips burning from bearing the heaviness of Kenny between them. Both your heart and his were beating fast, blood pumping as if in the same drumline together.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he drawled, “s-so fucking soft, so tight.”

Little sounds were leaving your parted lips, eyes struggling to stay open as each plunge of Kenny’s cock was engulfing you with ecstasy. He was starting to get a bit punishing with his movements, moving hard and fast inside of you and making you forget yourself. His nails were biting into the fatty flesh of your hips, where half-moon marks would surely adorn your skin in the morning. You’d have hickies on your neck too, especially now as he sunk his teeth into the tender spot where your throat met your shoulder.

God it felt good to be used, to be wanted. And you knew Kenny wanted you, he’d even said he wanted to carve his name into your skin. Something inside of you told you that he’d want to own you, if you’d let him. You caught a lot of his longing gazes before, whether in the back of the saloon he frequented or the ridiculous dance halls your family drug you to. You’d often wondered if he would fuck you against a wall if you tempted him to, and now you had your long-awaited answer.

“Oh daddy,” you purred, both purposely and not, little oh’s and mhm’s following behind.

The name spurred Kenny into a new gait. He shifted back onto his knees swiftly, the same hand from before resuming its chokehold on your neck. You moaned at the familiar contact, the sound trapped behind his spread fingers. He had more power behind his hips from this angle, sending his cock deeper into your depths and into places his long fingers couldn’t reach from before. Your eyes squeezed shut, tiny gasps all that could be formed behind the wall of his hand.

“Who knew you were such a little slut, darlin. Might keep you around after all.”

Your tits were bouncing in rhythm with his relentless assault, your hands now fisting into the feather pillow next to your face.

“F-fucking shit, I—” you were going stupid, is what you were. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your brain felt foggy in your head.

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth on ya,” Kenny put more pressure behind the fist around your neck, the lack of oxygen making it even harder to think than before, “you really do need a daddy to teach you some, fuck, s-some fucking manners.”

All you could do was nod, completely lost to the feeling of him encompassing you, filling you.

His free hand pulled at one of your limp legs, hoisting it up and over his shoulder. He smothered your skin with wet kisses, nipping at your ankle and chuckling when he felt the bubbled squeal beneath his palm. The hair on his torso tickled the back of your thigh, adding a new layer of sensation that you didn’t think you could handle. It was too much—Kenny was too much, fucking into you like a feral beast that just got his first taste of sweet flesh.

“You’re never gettin’ away from me again,” he hissed out between gritted teeth, “you’re mine now.”

You couldn’t think to respond. Kenny unwrapped his hand from your throat, letting that blood flow return to your head.

“You hear me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All you could focus on was the drumming of his cock hitting your insides, the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy sucking him in.

The sound of him slapping his hand across your check registered before the pain did. You gasped as your head swung with the force, the side of your face smarting with a throbbing sting.

“Say you’re mine, kid.” Seriousness laced his tone, those dangerous, long fingers grasping at your jaw and pulling you to look at him. He leaned forward, curling your leg with him, making you groan at the pleasure and pain mixing as he tested your flexibility. He kept moving inside of you, pace never faltering.

“Fucking. Say. It.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline, a strange concoction of fear and bliss spreading over your consciousness.

“Y-yours,” you croaked out, wetting your lips with your tongue, “I’m yours, Kenny!”

You didn’t mean to scream it, but it seemed to please him, that lecherous grin of his spreading over his lips.

“That’s fucking right. I own this tight, pretty little pussy.”

He released your jaw only to slap you again, quicker and softer this time, and you moaned the moment he made contact.

“You like getting slapped around?”

You turned your face back to him, smirking through the sting, “yes, daddy.”

The devilishness that swirled in his eyes made your stomach flip. He paused the movements of his hips, letting your cunt flutter and clench at his stilled cock. Your breathing picked up as you registered what was about to happen.

Kenny hit you with the back of his hand this time, bony knuckles thumping with the quick flick of his wrist. Without his cock moving inside of you, all you could do was bask in the stinging pain left behind on your cheeks. It felt so wrong, but it made the coil in your belly tighten like never before.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, your balled fists releasing the pillow.

Without a second thought, you grabbed at his hair, jerking him down to meet your mouth.

“You better cum inside me after that, daddy, I think I deserve it.”

“Oh, you deserve it darlin,” he started pumping inside of you again, sending your head flying back and his mouth landing on the pulse of your neck, “gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

His movements were cruel, fast, cock ramming inside of you so harshly that you felt it all the way in your throat. Your hand slipped from his hair and found purchase on his back, nails scraping against sweaty flesh. You could feel his rough skin splitting, but you didn’t care, all that mattered anymore was the way his cock slid in between your gummy walls, the way he was moaning your name like a fucking prayer against your skin.

Kenny’s thumb found your clit, swirling quick, brutal circles over your swollen bud. You could feel yourself clench around him, the sharp pleasure almost painful. You were going to explode. You were going to topple over in ecstasy and it was all because of the wickedness of the dirty old man inside of you.

“K-Kenny, holy f-fucking god, I-I—”

He must have felt it before you did. Hot ropes of cum were seeping inside of you the moment you hit the high point of orgasm. Your nails slid down the entirety of his back, slim, warm rivulets of blood following in their wake.

It was like the bliss never ended. You were caught in the waves of it, each one cresting and falling over and over again as you milked his cock dry, slick and cum pooling between your thighs and soaking the linens.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Kenny placed a delicate hand between your breasts, like he was trying to slow it down for you. His small act made the world narrow in around you; the remnants of stinging pain and excruciating pleasure still hummed, but you fell into the quiet of just listening to the two of you breath for a few moments.

Eventually, your toes went numb. You’d fully forgotten the poor leg that had been curled over his shoulder. You shifted to move, and Kenny got the hint, finally pulling his spent cock from inside of you and rolling over on his back.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, hand reaching over his shoulder as he met the mattress, “you’ve got fucking claws.”

You had half a mind to apologize, but you didn’t bother, still basking in the afterglow of sex. Your body was tired, wrists still aching, thighs shaking.

“You alright?” A warm hand found your cheek, even hotter lips pressing to yours in a soft kiss.

“Mhm, more than alright.”

“Didn’t know you had that in you, kid.”

Kenny pulled you into his chest, long arm curling around your back. His fingers traced soft, swirling patterns on your hip, and you nearly shuddered as you remembered those were the same movements he’d used to abuse your clit. You curled one of your legs over his, needing to get closer, those pesky after-sex hormones and needs clawing at your instincts.

It felt oddly like home to be pressed up against him, your face against his chest, one of your hands mimicking his and drawing circling in his damp chest hair. He smelled like home, anyways, like earth and spices.

“You gonna take me home?”

He was quiet for a second, pressing his lips into your hairline.

“Nah, I’ll take you someplace safe. Maybe buy you a fucking train ticket so you can get out of this part of the world.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep me?”

“Now don’t fucking tempt me with that, kid.”

“I wouldn’t mind being yours, you know.”

“You don’t wanna be mine, even if I make you say that shit when I’m fuckin’ you.”

You knew he was right, but you didn’t offer him an affirmation.

Maybe you’d let him fuck you for a few more days before you ventured off on your own, maybe you’d convince him to chase you down a few more times just for the thrill of it. Maybe you’d wrap your fists around his suspenders and convince him to run away with you.

You did like Kenny, after all. Even if he was such a perverted, disgusting old man.

#kenny ackerman #snk kenny #kenny Ackerman x reader #kenny Ackerman fanfic #aot fanfic #smut pile collab #snk fanfic #attack on titan kenny #aot kenny #kenny x reader #kenny ackerman fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #snk

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therewasatale · 3 years

Text

his scars

On Ao3.

Summary: Each Lord had their own rules, and you have broken Lord Heisenberg's.

Note: I saw a bunch of fanarts with Heisenberg having a lot of scars, so I played with the idea.

Each Lord had their own rules. Which if their servants did not follow, they had to pay a heavy price.

Rules like that; you must not go to the lower levels of the factory alone. If Lord Heisenberg said something, you had to do it without question, especially for your own safety. And if you visited his private room, you always had to knock before entering.

You’ve always followed two of them. However, your attention slipped over the last one as you hurried out of the elevator to Heisenberg's room. At each step, you could feel the slow, rhythmic thumping of the factory from behind and below you as the various machines and tools worked non-stop. Every click, tap, or squeak has become as familiar to you as your very being.

Pulling closer the book you got from him a month ago, you tried to gather your thoughts about what you wanted to say. You'd have never thought a darker fantasy would appeal to you so much. It had a mystery, a bunch of different, but still interesting characters, and an oppressive background that the story slowly began to bring to light by the end of the first book. The ending was open for a promising sequel.

And you entered his room. Without knocking.

Inside, the smell of thick tobacco and oil rushed your senses.

"Heisenberg, I brought back the book! And imagine it's already-"

"WHAT IN THE LIVING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" He yelled.

You froze in place in the doorway. The sudden shout shook you up completely and you gripped the book tighter in your hand so you wouldn’t drop it.

Your gaze was immediately drawn to the man, as he was standing by the bed.

Heisenberg's shirtless upper body was covered in a myriad of thin scars, like cobwebs across his entire body. Starting at his neck, they ran down his chest all the way to his waist, and probably continued under the pants. The scars on his arms were gnarly, from long healed injuries, which were most likely the results of fights. However, some of those on his chest were too straight and clean to come from an accident.

"Get. Out." He didn't look into your eyes. Objects trembled around him. A knife rose into the air from his desk. "NOW!"

You didn’t look back when the door slammed close behind you. Not when the elevator was already climbed up a few levels. And not even when you got to your own room and threw your back at the door. You felt like a hand was wrapped around your throat and it began tightening its fingers, ever so slowly.

Long minutes passed and yet you still felt as if your heart was trying to break out of your chest. The only thing you could clearly hear besides the beating of your heart, was your own panicked breathing.

"Shit..." you slid down with trembling legs. You had to wrap your hands around your body to try stop the trembling.

It was over.

You broke his rule. And now he's going to kill you, if you're lucky, he will make it quick.

Each Lord had their own rules, and now you have broken Lord Heisenberg's. Like a stupid fucking kid.

"Shit!"

You were aware of the fact that the people in the Dimitrescu castle disappears and got replaced very often, and you were really surprised how different Heisenberg was from what you imagined. He shouted a lot and swore even more, but he never tried to hurt you, even on his worst days, he just grumbled impatiently and vented his frustration on his machines.

He was loud, but understanding in his harsh way. Impatient, but still a good listener on his good days. He was rough, but you knew he cared about you, in his own grumpy way.

You were happy. You enjoyed living here.

But now...

Now you had to get out of here.

The sudden thought helped to clear your head with such force that you have managed to get on your feet. You didn't want to die. You didn't deserve death for a complete nonsense.

You had to get away.

Heisenberg waited while as the elevator started upwards.

He didn't even have to move his hand. The knife spun around its axis then it slammed into the wall with tremendous force, then again and again and again. It didn't stop until the blade bent from the force. His fingers trembled, bolts and gears threw themselves around him in all directions. The legs of his bed buckled as the springs in his mattress straightened, pierced trough the material and then snapped and shot themselves into the ceiling.

"Fuck!" He grabbed his dirty-gray hair and pulled it hard enough so the pain would clear his head a bit. He needed to calm down before he smashed everything around him. The bed creaked behind him, as two of its legs finally gave up and fell to the ground with a thud. Then there was silence again. This snapped him out from his blind anger.

He shut his eyes tightly. Letting his shoulder sunk, he took a step back and threw his back against the cold wall. He needed to take a few deep breaths to slow down his pounding heart.

When he opened his eyes the first thing that caught his eye, was a scar running through his forearm. He clearly remembered getting it in a fight against a bunch of lycans. Years ago, when he started constructing his factory the territory of the lycans stretched all the way to the area where the main building would be. At the time, they didn’t even know who they were facing and sometimes they ventured through the fence. That evening, Heisenberg did not expect them in such numbers, let alone that they will attach wooden spears on their arm to counteract his powers.

With a sharp exhale he lowered his arm.

Those creatures became what they were thanks to Cadou. Technically, they were all related. He took a deep breath, knowing it well that these thoughts didn’t help and were not important right now.

He gave himself a disgusted look before he got dressed. When he buttoned the last button on his shirt, only then he let his thoughts wander again. An unpleasant feeling settled into his chest.

You saw him. And now you will run away.

It was over.

He knew that the body he had to live in was utterly repugnant. The body which was experimented on by Mother Miranda, conducting studies and surgeries until she was satisfied with it. The body she put the parasite in and which cursed him with this fate. He hated her for making him this way, and he hated himself for being her child.

He still woke up time to time drenched in sweat from nightmares where he has been implanted with the parasite over and over again.

It spread throughout his body and turned his existence into pure hell. His thoughts burned away by the eruption of the unbearable pain, he felt as if his chest would open up and his heart would tear itself out of its place. However, the worst part of it all, was the realization that something was trying to subsume his consciousness. Claws tore into his brain and tried to suppress part of his being. It was almost successful, but Heisenberg held on.

And when he woke up after the procedure, he found himself in a whole new hell.

You were the only thing, along with the constant building, that kept him happy day by day, and helped suppress his raging hatred. On the worst days he still could felt the Cadou trying to making its way into his head. But you always were there to help him, or at least, you tried and he was grateful, even when he didn't say anything.

He knew full well that this would not last forever. Because why would it last? In this godforsaken horrible place everything fell to pieces and rotted apart eventually.

He took out a cigar from the depths of his coat.

He didn't want anything; he didn't ask to being like this. And yet you stayed with him. He had you. But now, you saw him.

The bitter smoke slowly rose from his lips.

Everything was over.

Hours have passed. Night arrived, or just the tiredness told you that.

You thought about running away again and again trying to figure out how, and when you should do it. The first thing you thought was that you had to find a way to do it as soon as possible. The elevator was an option, but you would have risked running into Heisenberg, or, more dangerously, into his servants. He could send them after you at any time.

It was risky.

Or there was a ventilation system that weaved through the factory. You could use that, though you were afraid of getting lost inside of it forever rather than getting out. Escaping trough, the dumpster promised only similar chances.

You even started to think that maybe first, you should talk to the man. Or at least try to talk to him. Though your reasonable-self protested profusely against this emotional suggestion.

However, your pride also spoke up and somehow, it made you stay. You're not going to run. Not anymore. Not from him.

So, you waited.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you hoped you would have a chance to talk to him. You just couldn’t decide when to go to him. Every part of your body shivered as Heisenberg's angry voice echoed in your head. You had to go to talk to him, but you were simply unable to leave your room, at least for now.

Fortune was on your side for once.

Your door opened slowly. You felt your shoulders tense up and you swallowed dryly. You couldn’t look up at him.

"I thought you would have left already." His voice didn't sound as harsh, as you would have expected.

You glanced up at the man who was leaning against the doorframe. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his eyes were hidden behind his black sunglasses.

"Why should I leave?"

"Well," despite his words his voice sounded surprised "I yelled at you."

"You've yelled before."

Heisenberg snorted a little and rubbed his hair under his hat. This didn’t go as he thought it would. "Well yeah, but..." his words let him down.

"What happened to you? I mean your body…?" You got up from your bed. He was just a few steps away from you.

The man drummed with his fingers a couple of times on his arms. "I fell."

"Heisenberg..." you took a careful step towards him.

"Lord Heisenberg." He corrected you. "If my bitch mother is forcing this prestigious bullshit then we should keep to it." He sounded more annoyed than angry. He continued to drum slowly with his fingers, but you could also feel his eyes watching you from behind his glasses.

"I'm sorry that I didn't knock."

For long minutes, the only thing could be heard was the rhythmic thumping background sounds of the factory.

"Well...Yeah..." He scratched his graying hair slowly as he pushed himself away from the doorway. "Listen, if you want to go, then go. I'm not going to stop you, just don't ever comeback. All right? Have a nice life, or whatever. That giant trash is actually looking for new maidens," He turned around.

You managed to stand up and hurried after him stopping him in front of the elevator.

"What?" Heisenberg glanced down at your arms as you hugged him. "(Y/N)?"

"I'm sorry." You snuggled closer to his back, hiding your face in the fabric of his coat.

"For what?" His hands shook, he had to stop himself from touching your arms. The thought made him tremble a bit, but he realized that you were trembling too. You were so close to him, he could felt your body against his, your finger griped into his clothes.

"For not knocking. And not saying sorry. And for not trying to talk to you." His coat smelt like tobacco and oil, just like everything around him did in this place. For you, it felt like home.

When he didn't answer, you spoke again.

"I don't want to leave. I'm sorry."

There was another quiet minute. You were about to let him go when he finally found his voice.

"Are you sure? But you saw me." He carefully caressed your hand with his fingers. "You saw what that bitch did to me."

So, you were right, those wounds were too straight to be from some kind of accident.

With your eyes closed you enjoyed the gentle touches, as he run his fingers along the top of your hands, and then slowly moved up on your arms as well. He slowly relaxed between your arms and leaned closer to your body. Even his breathing became more even.

When he sighed, you let him out from your hug and stepped beside him, looking up at him "Come with me, Lord Heisenberg." You gently took his hand and pulled him after you. heading back to your room.

"Hm?"

"I need some rest, and you too. And I'm sure you've destroyed half of your room."

Heisenberg pulled down his hat into his eyes. Damn.

"Why would I have done that?" Oh, for the love of god, shut up you, idiot! He snorted to himself.

"Because you care about me, just as much I care about you. Come." You pulled him all the way to your bed. Turning towards him you took off his hat and glasses.

"Mh, what?" His tired eyes looked straight into yours.

"Your eyes are really beautiful."

"Oh shut up." Stepping next to you, he threw himself on the bed.

You never dared to ask why you got a bed which was big enough for two people. Whether someone owned this room in the past, or the man had some kind of plan for you. But right now, as he leaned back to the bed, you haven’t really found a reason to worry about that. Climbing next to him, you hid under his arm. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you sighed deeply.

"Well, I hope you're happy."

"Very much, thank you."

He snorted and listened quietly to your steady and calm breathing as he tried to ignore his own pounding heart. He fervently hoped you wouldn't notice this. This hope was unfortunately false considering that you were only a couple of centimeters away from his heart.

The redness spread through his face even more so than before.

He didn't imagine this could happen. You shouldn't have been here anymore. You should have gone to the village a long time ago and not looked back. You should have left everything...and everyone behind.

Instead, you were here. And you laid next to him so damn close. His skepticism struggled against the notion.

Like anything would just become magically fine after this.

"You know, you can't fix me with cuddling, right? I'm messed up in the head and even more fucked up in my body." He swallowed dryly.

"What are you talking about?" Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes.

"I just told you." He let out an impatient huff. "You can't fix me, I'm this fucked up. And it won't go away after some warm cuddling and snuggling. Sorry to ruin your hopes."

"I don't want to fix you, Heisenberg."

"What?" Every answer of yours caught him off guard.

"Why would I want to fix you when I like you this way?" You leaned closer, slowly kissing him. His body tensed, you could feel his grip tighten on your shirt, then his lips gently kissed you back. The kiss tasted bitter, like his cigar. He pulled you closer and didn't let go until you yourself pulled back.

Looking into his eyes you smiled gently. "Besides, I've been here a long time, so I'm pretty sure I'm just as messed up in the head."

"Damn." His grey eyes almost sparkled. "God damn."

You let him pull you closer, snuggling up to his shoulder.

"So, we're messed up together."

"Pretty much, yeah. But somehow it doesn't bother me."

Heisenberg was sure by then that you could feel the pounding of his heart, but he didn't mind it now. He gently caressed your face with his fingertips from your forehead through the line of your nose all the way to your chin. He spent a lot of time under your eyes.

"Listen, I know she did something to you." You placed your palm carefully on his chest. "But your body isn’t scaring or disgust me." You gently caressed around his heart trough his shirt. "It's your body, it belongs to you and I like it. I mean it's yours and it's fine."

"Mh," he replied tellingly.

His heart finally started to quiet down. Good. He needed to think with his god damn head and not with his heart. Everything happened differently. For hours he believed, no, he knew, that you have already ran away. He wanted to give you time, that was one of the reasons he didn’t come after you for so long. And yet, deep within him he felt he can't just let you go. Who knew what he would have done if you would have told him to his face that you are leaving him? He felt as if his whole world started to tremble.

It was as if you could feel what he was thinking you snuggled closer and rubbed your head against his shoulder.

The man sighed softly.

But you stayed. You were here, and you were honest. Maybe he could be a bit honest too.

"Sometimes, I dream that I'm just a machine myself." He gently played with your hair. It was a long time ago when he touched something this soft. "That I'm lying on one of Mother Miranda's experimental tables, and when I look down at myself I see nothing but gears and bolts that work together inside me. It's not my body anymore, I lost my real one. Then I start to lose my mind as well. And she just watches me, every damn time. Calling me his son. " He rubbed his face into his hands.

Raising your head a little you laid it back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"What are you-"

"Sh."

The man snorted, in confusion and embarrassment.

"Hm, all I can hear is your flesh heart beating in your chest. The rhythm is pretty fast but maybe because of the many cigars."

"Oh, shut up." He hid his face in his hands and tried to rub the crimson of his face away.

"All right, all right." You snuggled back to his shoulder. "Still, I'm not going anywhere."

"You can be a stubborn bastard sometimes."

You chuckled, clearly proudly and as you embraced him a smile remained on your face.

The room around you was filled with the sounds of the thumping factory. It felt comforting. Your heart started to quiet down as you let your consciousness relax from the rhythmic noises around you two. His hand drew gently circles on your shoulder.

"Can we stay like this for a while?" You asked, what he didn’t dare to ask.

"Sure." He pulled you even closer and buried his face into your hair. He seemed to relax even more. He raised a finger, and his sunglasses slipped off, levitated under his coat, and raising it up gently laid it on the two of you, before it landed itself on your nightstand with a small clink.

"Thank you." You muttered as you gently drifted towards sleep.

"Yeah-yeah." He kept his face hidden in your hair.

You won't leave him, at least not now. Maybe you will actually stay with him, maybe you were stubborn enough to do it. He ignored his worries about the future, instead, to his own surprise, he let himself be happy for once. He slowly fallen asleep with you on his side, listening to your breathing.

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg imagine #heisenberg x reader #reader #re village #copper #heisenberg x you #house heisenberg

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda X Reader - 10 Things I hate about you - Part One

Summary: Pietro Maximoff is handsome and popular, but he can't date before his twin sister. The problem is that no one can get close to his sister, Wanda Maximoff. To resolve the situation, a girl interested in Pietro bribes a colleague with a mysterious past to go out with Wanda and, who knows, try to win her over. Or The one directly inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You.

Words: 6.553K /// Read on AO3 too || Part Two

Warnings: PG, fluff, language; goth wanda is back thank god.

Notes: If English is your native language and I used slang that doesn't make sense at all, forgive me. It is really hard to translate many dialects from Portuguese to English. Anyways enjoy your reading!

You rode your skateboard to school today. Your mother was angry with you and took the keys to your motorcycle while yelling that you were difficult to raise, so you grabbed your backpack and skateboard while slamming the door on your way out.

It didn't take long to get to school, though.

You absolutely hate this place. Sometimes you get the impression that you are surrounded by completely mental people.

You walked across the parking lot and got off your skateboard, quickly waving to your friend Carol Danvers, who was smoking leaning against the wall of the school building. You would have to talk to them later, as you had a meeting scheduled with the school principal.

Shrugging off the students as you entered the building, you ignored the stares you received and headed toward Ms. Harkness' office.

You entered without knocking because the door was already open, since she was talking to another student, and when the stranger got up she almost tripped over you on her way out. The principal raised her eyes from her notebook to you, and smiled wryly.

- Well, well, Miss Y/L/N. - she said. - I see these encounters of ours are becoming recurrent.

- I like to be around beautiful women, Miss Harkness. - You stated with a charming smile and crossed arms. The woman laughed lightly as she returned her gaze to her notebook.

- Let me see what happened here. - She mumbled to herself, probably trying to find the notes. - Wow, top nudity exhibit in the cafeteria.

You scratched your head impatiently.

- They were melons, Miss Harkness. - You clarified. - I was making a little joke.

Harkness let out a wry chuckle as she stood up.

- How about you keep them under your blouse, huh? - She scoffed, pointing slightly at the height of your breasts and giving you a wink. You frowned. - Out!

You startled slightly, and Mrs. Harkness giggled, returning to her seat.

You blinked in confusion and turned away, mumbling wryly that she was an excellent professional before you left.

//-//

Carol was waiting for you outside the room, a few feet ahead in the hallway against her own lockers, and you greet her with a kiss on the cheek quickly.

- How did it go today? Did she say anything interesting? - Carol asked with humor in her voice. You leaned your back against the closet, letting out a chuckle.

- No way. - You replied. - She just told me to keep my breasts under my blouse.

Carol laughs lightly, while you check your cell phone. And then she touches your arm lightly. When you raise your eyes to her, she signals the corridor.

- New faces. - She nods, and you notice that it's the same girl who bumped into you in the Harkness room. Now she is accompanied by Bruce Banner, who was clearly showing her around.

- Wow, people keep choosing to come to this place. - You mock, making your friend laugh a little.Carol then checks the clock on her wrist and signals that she needs to get to her history class. You say goodbye to her, but get distracted by your cell phone again, and then the bell rings, and you have to run to get to the literature room on the other side of the building.

//-//

You stumble into the room, and all the students turn to look at you.

- What have I missed? - you ask, trying to normalize your breathing after running through the halls.

- The oppressive patriarchal values that determine our education. - replied a girl you didn't know.

- Nice. - You grumble with a slight laugh, as you hurry to sit in the back of the room.

- You must love detention, don't you, Miss Y/L/N? This is your third delay this week. - commented the teacher as soon as you sat down. Several giggles were heard, but you didn't pay much attention. You threw your bag on the chair and tried to pretend that you were interested in whatever Professor Fury was teaching.

- Professor Fury, any chance you could ask Wanda to take her Midol before coming to class? - scoffed Pepper Potts, one of the most popular and insufferable girls at this school. You rolled your eyes at the teasing, and leaned back as the rest of the class giggled.

- One of these days Mrs. Maximoff is going to punch you in the nose, and I'm not going to do anything to stop her. - Fury replied seriously, wiping the ironic smile off Potts' face. - And Wanda, I want to thank you for your point of view. I know how hard it must have been to overcome all those years of upper middle-class suburban oppression. It must be hard. - He sneered and then started walking toward the girl who was probably Wanda. - But the next time you protest about demanding better food, or whatever it is that white kids protest about, ask them why they don't buy books written by black people!

You let out a little laugh, and Professor Fury looked at you seriously.

- Do you find something funny, Miss?

You shrugged, straightening your posture.

- Sorry to interrupt your speech, Mr. Fury. - You say. - But you're blaming Wanda for something she has no control over. Wouldn't it be better to suggest books written by black women, instead of separating the fights?

Professor Fury blinks in irritation at you, while Wanda looks in your direction, looking surprised.

- Out. Principal office. - says the professor, and you blink in surprise. - Both of you, by the way! You pissed me off!

You grumble, and grab your backpack and leave the room, with Wanda following behind. But you don't speak to her, and when you leave the room, you go to opposite sides of the hallway, since you had no intention of seeing the principal at all.

//-//

You ended up skipping the last two classes of the day while sneaking a smoke with Carol behind the bleachers of the soccer field.

And then you accepted the ride home that she offered you.

- See you tomorrow, troublemaker. - She said good-bye, and you just nodded as you walked toward the front door.

Your mother was at home, sitting at her computer in the living room, and you thought maybe you could sneak past her, but as soon as you closed the door she turned around with her arms crossed.

- The school called. - She said as she stood up, and you let out an impatient sigh as you threw your backpack on the floor by the door. - Are you trying to get suspended?

- Oh yeah, that's my dream. - You scoff, walking toward the kitchen.

- You're going to be grounded.

- I'm already grounded. - You retort softly, and your mother walks over to the counter.

- You think I'm kidding? - She exclaims angrily, and then she's heading down the hall, and you're curious what she's going to do, so you follow her through the house to the garage. You look impassive as she glances around, but then she grabs a hammer and screwdriver from the cabinet and heads for her motorcycle. Your whole body tenses up, but before you can do anything, your mother is breaking your bike.

- You've gone crazy! - You shout as you run toward her, but she turns threateningly toward you with the objects pointed in your direction

- No more fighting! - she shouts. - You're not going anywhere on this damn motorcycle, do you hear me? You are grounded until college.

And then she throws the tools on the floor, and leaves the garage. You take a deep breath, trying not to break everything in front of you, and turn to your motorcycle. Some parts were broken, but you could fix them. The problem would be having the money to do it.

//-//

Tuesday started with biology. And you were really pissed off about the whole thing with your mom and your motorcycle. The professor asked the groups to dissect frogs, and the damn scalpel he handed out wasn't cutting anything. So you grabbed your knife hidden in your boot, and angrily pierced the animal.

- You've lost your mind, put that away! - ordered Carol sitting next to you as she looked around to see if the teacher had seen. You let out an angry sigh and put the item away.

You were bored, and you smoked when you were bored. So you turned the valve on the experimental flame on the bench while putting a cigarette in your mouth, and walked over to light it.

- Girl, what's the matter with you today? - Carol asked impatiently, closing the valve and taking the cigarette out of your mouth.

You mumbled without answering, and she let out a dry laugh before going back to writing. Your gaze wandered around the room and you thought that the new girl and Bruce Banner were looking at you from the table in front of you, but they looked away quickly, so you got distracted again.

//-//

The next class was better because it kept your hands busy. Mechanics with Professor Howard Stark was interesting as he allowed the students to experiment as much as they wanted.

At this moment you were welding a car part while trying not to burn your fingers when you heard a female voice next to you.

- Hi, how are you? - the girl said, and as you turned you realized that it was the new student. You frowned confused, you don't talk to anyone. You thought you should have an aggressive posture, because the girl's voice trembled a little, and then she quickly said good-bye and left the room. You shook your head and went back to concentrating on the lesson.

- What the hell was that all about? - Carol asked from beside you, and you shrugged.

- I told you there are only crazy people in this school. - You remarked with amusement.

- But we go here. - She retorted with a smile.

- Exactly.

Carol laughed and turned her attention back to her own activity.

//-//

In Gym class, the teacher took all the students to the outdoor field, where the rugby team was practicing. He was more concerned about the girls' performance, so he let the rest of the class do as they pleased. Then you and Carol sat down on one of the benches, while you shared a cigarette.

And you had about ten minutes of peace before Pepper Potts and one of her friends came to talk to you.

- Hey, what's up? - asked the blonde, and you looked at her with irony.

- Are you lost? - You replied aggressively, but she didn't seem intimidated.

- See that girl over there? - She said, pointing quickly toward the field. You followed her direction, and it was the same girl from literature class. - That's Wanda Maximoff. I want you to go out with her.

You laughed, shaking your head, and then took a drag on your cigarette.

- As if, preppy. - You denied it as you exchanged a look with Carol, who was grinning in disbelief.

But Pepper was not joking.

- Look, I can't go out with her hot brother until she dates. - She clarifies. - Their father is kind of crazy, he made a rule...

- Touching. Really. I'm moved. - You mock without patience. - But that's not my problem.

- Would it be your problem if you were paid a nice fee?

You let out a dry laugh, looking at her in surprise.

- Are you going to pay me to go out with someone? - you ask, and Potts has a smile on her face as she nods in agreement. You laugh again. - How much?

- Twenty dollars.

You raise your eyebrows, really considering this for a second. And then you look toward the field, and watch as Wanda fouls a girl to the ground, and you swallow dryly. This girl was going to eat you alive.

- Okay, how about 30 bucks? - Potts next suggests when she sees the foul.

You thought about the parts of your motorcycle that you would have to buy. And you licked your lips before you spoke.

- Let's take a good look at this. - You start. - If I take her to the movies, it will be fifteen dollars. And if we buy popcorn, it's fifty dollars. I like to buy candy for the girls, so it would be about seventy-five.

- This is not a negotiation. - Potts retorts angrily. - Take it or leave it, mutt.

You let out a humorless laugh.

- But I think it is, Potts. - You retort, smoking your cigarette again. - Or I'll go over there now and tell Wanda your whole touching little tale.

Potts blinks in irritation, and lets out a wry laugh. But then she relaxes her posture.

- Eighty dollars. - she says. You smile, throwing the cigarette on the floor and putting it out with your foot.

- Deal, Hollywood. - You tell her, and raise your hand in her direction. Potts rolls her eyes, but takes the money from her pocket and hands it to you.

She and her friend then leave, and you settle into your seat.

- You're crazy. - Carol declares afterwards.

- Yes, I know. - You say, brushing your hair out of your eyes with your hands. - But I need new parts. It'll be harmless, it's just a date.

- I hope you're right. - She comments with a laugh, turning her attention back to the field. And then practice ends, and you exchange a look with Carol before getting up and walking toward the players' benches.

You assume your most charming pose as you approach Wanda.

- Hey, pretty girl. - You greet her with a smile as she drinks water from a bottle. She frowns in surprise, and has a wry smile on her face. - What's up?

- I'm sweating like a pig, how are you? - She answers wryly, and you smile awkwardly.

- Wow, that sounds attractive. - You reply in the same tone, watching her put the bottle of water in her backpack on the bench.

- Oh, yes. My goal in life is to look attractive all the time. - She scoffs, frowning. - But I guess it works, since I got your attention. The world makes sense again.

She starts walking toward the exit of the camp, and you are a bit taken aback by the irony, but hurry to keep up with her.

- I'll pick you up on Friday, then. - You tell her, and Wanda lets out a laugh.

- Sure, Friday. - She wryly continues walking.

- Hey, it's the night I take you to places you've never seen.

- To a convenience store on Broadway? - She replies with irony. - Girl, do you even know my name?

You laugh.

- Wanda. - You answer, but she doesn't seem impressed. - And I know more than you know.

- I doubt it. I doubt it very much. - She said ironically and you stopped following her, biting your lip as you watched her walk off the field.

//-//

Your first attempt to get a date with Wanda had not gone well at all, but you are optimistic. And then, on Saturday of that same week, while you and Carol were at the laundromat on the corner of your houses, she nodded slightly outside through the window.

- Isn't that the car of the girl you're being paid to date? - She mocked, and you sighed.

- Don't talk like that. - you said as you put the coins in the washing machine. - It makes me sound like a psychopath.

She laughed without looking at you, kneeling on the waiting couch as she looked out the window.

- I think I should look for a new rejection. - You grumble, handing Carol some coins. - Take care of my clothes while I go talk to her, please.

Carol nods in agreement as you leave the establishment. Crossing the street, you look in the direction of Wanda's car. It is nice, and you are watching the tires as she arrives.

- Are you following me? - She asks with a mixture of aggressiveness and surprise.

- What? Of course not! - You deny it, but with the suspicious look on her face, you try to add. - I was in the laundry room, smarty-pants. I saw your car, and wanted to say hello.

She lets out a sigh, and shrugs her shoulders, heading for the door. You hurry to stand in front of her, a charming smile on your lips.

- I notice that you don't talk much. - You remark, and Wanda frowns, crossing her arms.

- It depends on the subject. - She says. - Talking about the tires on my car doesn't cause me a verbal frenzy.

- You're not afraid of me, are you? - you ask, and she looks at you incredulously.

- Why would I be afraid of you?

- Most people are. - You retort, and Wanda rolls her eyes with irony.

- Well, I don't.

You smile and move a little closer.

- Not afraid, but I bet you've imagined me naked, haven't you? - You tease and give a little wink. Wanda keeps her face almost angry.

- Wow, is it that obvious? - She retorts. - I want you so bad, baby.

She mocks last before bending down slightly and opening the car door, pushing you with the metal.

You let out an impatient sigh as you step back, and she gets into the car and prepares to leave. You stand with your arms folded trying to think how exactly you are going to make this work.

And then Pepper Potts parks her car right behind Wanda's, preventing her from leaving, while the blonde steps out of the vehicle with a smiling, arrogant posture.

- My God, is it idiots' day today? - Wanda complains from inside the car. When Pepper passes by her window, she shouts: - Do you mind girl?

- Not even a little, bitch. - Potts retorts without looking at her as she walks away.

But then Wanda is backing the car up, and the next moment Pepper's red Cadillac has a big bump mark on the side. You laugh in surprise, not believing that she had actually hit the car.

- My God, you are completely crazy! - Potts shouts as she observes the impact.

- Oops. - You hear Wanda scoff.

You laughed again, before going back to the laundry room.

//-//

It was Monday again, and you were trying to have a quiet day. But while you were putting your books away in your locker, Potts approached you.

- When I pay for something, I expect results. - She says, and you close the closet to brace yourself against it.

- I'm trying.

- Watching that lunatic destroy my car doesn't count as a date. - She retorts with mild irritation. - If you don't go out with her, I won't get Pietro. Then get something soon, okay?

That girl's audacity pissed you off.

- I just raised the price. - You tell her, and she looks at you in disbelief.

- Excuse me?

- One hundred and fifty dollars a date. - You say. - In advance.

- Forget it. - She said angrily, turning away.

- Then forget about her brother.

Potts lets out a grumble and then turns to you again, hurrying to get the money.

- Does this kid have a gold dick by any chance? - You scoff, and Potts gives you the middle finger, making you laugh.

- You better get the date, sister. - She says, and you just smile before heading off in the direction of the mechanics' classroom.

//-//

You were trying to find the correct melting point for one of the tools when you were approached by the same girl as the last time you had mechanics.

- I know what you are trying to do with Wanda Maximoff. - She announces, and you let out a wry chuckle as you continue your attention to the tools in front of you.

- Really? And what are you going to do about it?

- Help you.

You blink in surprise as you raise a large metal bar at your eye level to identify its features.

- Why? - you ask, and it is not the girl who speaks next.

- The situation is that my friend Monica, is in love with Pietro Maximoff. - A male voice speaks, and then you look quickly to identify Bruce Banner.

- God, this kid must really have a gold cock. - You mumble with irony as you place the iron bar on the table, and take off your protective gloves.

- Believe me when I tell you that Monica's love is pure, she wants to date him. - Banner explains as you walk to another table in the room, looking for your notes. - Unlike Pepper Potts, who only wants to use him as a trophy.

- Look, I'm only in this for the money. I don't give a shit who Potts is fucking. - You respond without patience, and Monica seems to get irritated with you, but Banner calms her down.

You make some notes regarding the lesson and walk over to the table to analyze the pictures of the tools as you organize them. Monica and Banner follow you.

- Listen, Y/N, we are the ones who planned this story so that Monica and Pietro could date. - Banner says. - Potts is just the go-between.

You laugh with surprise.

- And you are going to help me win Wanda over?

- That's right. - They both say in unison. You turn your attention back to the materials in front of you.

- We will investigate what she likes. - Banner says. - You need our help.

Bruce smiled amiably, and you laughed at the posture he assumed.

- Look, we'll start here. - He began by pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. - On Friday, Stephen Strange is having a party. It's the perfect opportunity.

- Perfect for what? - you ask, looking at him.

- For you to invite Wanda. - He clarifies, and you sigh impatiently, already tired of this conversation.

- I'll think about it. - You say finally and walk to the other side of the room, and this time, they don't follow you.

//-//

It was Wednesday, and you and your friends went to a bar to play a bit of pool shortly after school. Your mother had no idea you were here, but she was working, so she wouldn't know.

You got a text message from Bruce, wanting to meet you along with Monica, and you laughed when you sent the location. They really weren't the kind of people who hang around this place.

You were upstairs, drinking some beer when you saw them come in, and nodding slightly to Carol, you went downstairs and walked over to them.

- So, what do you have for me? - you asked, leaning against a wall.

- Before we get started, I have a question. - says Bruce. - Is it true that you are on probation?

You laugh in surprise.

- What?

- Bruce, shut up. - said Monica, tapping her colleague on the shoulder. And then she turned to you. - First thing, Wanda hates smokers.

- Okay, I hate them too.

You mock, but Monica and Bruce look serious, so you sigh, and take out of your pocket your cigarette case, handing it to the girl.

- There is another problem, Pietro told me that Wanda likes pretty girls.

They look at you for a moment and you frown.

- Are you saying that I'm not pretty? - you ask, straightening your posture.

- You are beautiful! Monica, she's so beautiful, what are you saying? - hurried Bruce almost in terror. You wanted to laugh.

Monica nods quickly in agreement, and you lean back against the wall.

- Look, I made a list. - She hastens to say, pulling a piece of paper from her shirt pocket. - Wanda's tastes are: Sokovian food, feminist poetry, punk and alternative music. And there is a list of the CDs she had in her room.

She says, handing the paper to you. You let out a sigh.

- So should I buy some soup, a book, and ear plugs for some really noisy concert?

They both shrug, smiling slightly.

- Have you ever been to the Skrull Club, west side of town? - Banner asks.

You chuckle.

- It's a nice place, but not really my style.

- Well, it will have to be. - says Monica. - Her favorite group is playing there tomorrow night.

You run your fingers through your hair, sighing.

- Come on, Y/N, it's only for one night. - says Banner. - We're sure she'll be there, Mon found the tickets.

- She also has a black lingerie set. - Added Monica and you frown with confusion.

- Why is this relevant? - You asked, and Monica looked away, looking embarrassed. You laughed lightly, but didn't push it. Then you looked at both of them. - Okay, I'll drop by.

Bruce and Monica both let out excited exclamations and then waved goodbye. You laughed and shook your head, wondering what you had gotten yourself into.

//-//

The Skrull Club was generally frequented by the punk crowd in town, many women from extremist feminist movements hung out here. But in general it was a pretty diverse crowd of rockers, punks, goths and allies. And the drink was cheap.

You received a few curious glances as you walked through the dimly lit corridors of the nightclub, but it was more because these clubs were generally frequented by the same people, and you’re a familiar face.

The place was very crowded, and you had to dodge a lot of people until you reached the main dance floor, trying to find Wanda.

You smiled when you finally saw her, in the first row, dancing with a girl who was also from your school. You thought she looked pretty, in her black dress and red jacket, plus a knee-length black stocking and dark boots on her feet. She might have looked intimidating, but she was still very pretty.

You don't quite understand why your heart races at the image of her dancing and smiling, so you think it best to get a drink, and turn toward the bar.

You sit there, trying to decide how you are going to approach her, but then Wanda is coming toward the bar, and you disguise yourself by looking the other way.

- You don't give up, do you? - She says as soon as she sees you. And walks over to where you are sitting. - If you're planning on asking me out, you can just give up!

- Do you mind? I'm trying to hear the music. - You hit back without looking at her.

-You're not surrounded by your typical cloud of smoke. -She comments after a moment, and you take a sip of the drink you ordered before answering.

- Yes, I quit. They say it's bad for your health. - You say it with a slight irony.

- Do you think so? - Wanda looks slightly surprised, and you give her a short smile before standing up.

- These guys aren't the Kree's, but they play well. - You comment on her favorite band before heading off toward the dance floor. Wanda hurries to follow you.

- Do you know who the Kree's are? - she asks in surprise.

- Why, you don't know? - You reply with irony.

She doesn't answer, looking mildly impressed. You smile briefly.

- I was watching you dance. - You comment as the band is finishing the song. - I don't think I've ever seen you so sexy.

And then the song ends exactly with your line, and the whole club hears you. Several people giggle, and you feel your cheeks heat up, but Wanda laughs too, and that relaxes you.

- Come to Stephen Strange's party with me. - You ask her. And she tilts her head slightly to the side, still smiling.

- You never give up, do you?

And then another song starts, and Wanda is coming back to the front of the stage.

- Is that a yes? - you shout at her.

- No!

- Was that a no?

It takes a second, but she shouts back.

- No!

You grin.

- See you at 9:30! - You shout to her before she disappears into the crowd.

You're smiling all the way home.

//-//

You were early. But you were so anxious about it that you left the house as quickly as possible.

And then you arrived at Wanda's door, but as soon as you went to knock, she opened it.

- What are you doing here? - she asked in surprise.

- 9:30. - You answer. - Yeah, well, I'm early.

- Whatever, I'm driving. - She says and then you look into the house and see Pietro Maximoff with a kangaroo baby carrier outfit occupied with a doll and frown.

- May I ask what that is? - You remark, and Wanda just rolls her eyes at the scene, then turns to you.

- My father is a little neurotic about this whole pregnancy thing. - She answers and walks outside. You both wait for Pietro.

- At least he doesn't use a real baby. - You joke and Wanda smiles. But then Pietro leaves the house, looking slightly annoyed, and you hurry to Wanda's car.

It doesn't take long to get to the party.

The place was packed. Probably the whole school was here. And as soon as Wanda found a parking place, Pietro got out and disappeared into the crowd.

You decided to accompany Wanda as she entered the house. You went toward the second floor, and you lost sight of Wanda when a girl jumped on you, completely drunk and trying to kiss you.

- Wow, slow down there. - You said, helping her sit up. You found several empty and sealed bottles of water in one of the liquor containers around the house and handed one to her. - I want you to drink it all, okay?

The girl whimpered in confusion, but you waited. She seemed better, but you handed her another bottle just to be sure.

- Hey Peggy, I found you! - said a skinny boy you didn't know, walking up to you. He frowned, slightly startled, when he noticed you.

- Are you a friend of hers? - You asked him with distrust, and he nodded, looking mildly frightened.

- Yes, he is. This is Steve. - mumbled the girl sitting up, looking like she had a headache. - Thanks for the water, by the way.

- No problem. - You say. - Are you feeling well enough to be alone?

She nods slightly as she speaks:

- Yes, yes. Steve will take care of me now. Thanks again.

And then you patted Steve on the arm, and left the two of them, walking back through the crowd.

It took you many minutes to find Wanda again, because the party is so crowded. And when you reached her, she was pouring a glass of drink into her mouth.

- Hey, I've been looking all over for you. - You announce mildly annoyed. - What the hell are you doing?

- Getting drunk! - she answers ironically. - Isn't that what people are supposed to do at a party?

- I don't know, you do whatever you want to do. - You retort, and Wanda raises her eyebrows.

- Very funny. You're the only one who says that. - She says as she turns away. - See you later.

Wanda leaves walking through the party, and you see her grab another drink glass on the way.

You think you heard someone yell fight while you were walking through the party, and then the crowd moved, but you didn't go toward the people.

You are very angry, and impatient, wanting to be spending this evening with Wanda, but she doesn't seem interested.

And then you were walking back the way you came, and you ran into the same couple as before, only now they were kissing. You laughed lightly, the boy looked shy. You decided to stay out of their way, and went downstairs, only to run into Wanda again.

- Hey, why don't you let me have this one. - You spoke up as you noticed what must have been one of the many glasses of booze she had taken, and you raised your arm to pick it up, but Wanda was quicker, moving the glass away.

- No! This one is mine! - she grumbled, clearly drunk, trying to push you away. But you managed to take her glass, and she let out an annoyed sigh.

As you put the glass on a small table, she walked away again, and before you could follow, Pepper was at your side.

- Girl, how did you manage to do that? - she asked, looking excited. You frowned.

- What are you talking about?

- You made a freak act like a human being. - She commented with irony, but you weren't even paying attention anymore. Your gaze raced across the room after Wanda, and then someone turned on the radio in the next room and the crowd screamed attracting your attention.

You exclaimed in surprise when you noticed Wanda dancing on a table, without the jacket she was wearing earlier. Pepper ran in the same direction, joining in the shouts of celebration from the crowd around the table.

Walking towards the table you were a mixture of irritation, disbelief and embarrassment. Wanda was completely drunk, dancing sensually to the music, while people whistled and watched intently. She had her eyes closed, not even seeming to notice her surroundings.

And then she made a badly calculated move, and hit her head on the chandelier on the table. You were quick enough to catch her when she fell.

- Okay, that was enough. - You grumbled, helping her to her feet. - Are you okay?

- I'm fine! - she replied, but she could barely walk. You kept her from falling while grabbing the jacket she had thrown to the ground.

- Yeah, you're not fine. - You said. - Let's get out of here.

- I just need to lie down. - She mumbled, letting you hold her around the waist as you led her through the crowd.

- If you lie down, you'll sleep. - You say. - You can't sleep after hitting your head.

Wanda giggled.

- So many words. - She complained, and you thought it best to sit her down somewhere.

You reached the outside, as crowded as the house, but you managed to find a space in the garden for her to sit, and helped her to the bench. Wanda put her hand on her head where she had hit it.

- Hey, I need to talk to you. - Called Monica, walking up to you suddenly.

- I'm kinda busy. - You retorted, looking at Wanda.

- Five minutes, it's important.

You sighed, and took one last look at Wanda before walking away with Monica.

- Look, the deal is off, okay? - she said, and you blinked in confusion. - Pietro never wanted to be with me. He just wanted to have sex with Pepper.

You really didn't have the energy for that right now.

- Monica, where did all this come from now, huh? Weren't you two sneaking around together?

- I thought I was having a good time, but I saw them both at the party. - She explained, and you sighed impatiently.

- Hey, you like this boy don't you? - you asked, and she looked away, nodding. - And he's worth all this stuff you're doing?

- I thought so but...

- Yes or no? - She swallowed hard, and you assumed a serious posture. - Listen, Pepper Potts is not half as good as you, and you never let anyone make you think that you don't deserve something. Okay?

Monica nodded, looking surprised. You turned your face toward Wanda quickly.

- Look, I have to go. - You said as you turned and helped Wanda to her feet.

On the way out you made sure to grab one of the bottles of water you found in the barrels.

You let her rest her arm on your shoulder to keep from falling, while your arm went around her waist. You dragged her across the street, and you ended up climbing a small hill in the mansion area that ended at a playground.

- Why are you doing this? - she grumbled.

- I said, you might have a concussion. - You retorted. Wanda broke free of you and started trying to walk ahead. You kept your attention to catch her in case she fell.

- You don't even care if I don't wake up.

You let out a chuckle, stopping her from falling next.

- That's not true.

- Why not?

- Because then I'd have to date girls who like me. - You respond with humor.

- If you could find one. - She retorts, and you have a smile on your lips when you answer.

- Oh, see. Who needs affection when I get hate?

- I just need to sit for a while. - She says, closing her eyes for a moment, and you help her sit down on one of the swings behind you. She falls off balance a second after you put her there, but you are quick to help her stay seated.

- Jesus. - You sigh as you stop her from falling, and then sit down on the swing beside her while Wanda laughs lightly. - So, why do you let yourself be affected?

- By whom? - she asks.

- Potts.

Wanda looks away, shaking her head.

- I hate her.

You let out a tired sigh.

- Well, you have chosen the perfect revenge. Intravenous tequila. - You joke, making her laugh.

- It's what they say.... - She begins to speak while you are looking away, and with the momentary silence you stare back, startled to find her asleep. You get up hastily, touching her face.

- Hey, Wanda! Wake up! Come on, open your eyes! - You called out, patting her face lightly.

Wanda blinked, opening her eyes, and you let out a sigh of relief. And then you took your hands away from her face and stood up, while she continued to look at you.

- I like your eyes. - She says with a shy smile. And you smile too, but then she throws up on your shoes the next second and the moment is broken. You laugh incredulously, but pat her on the back.

- Time to go home, punk. - You comment softly.

It takes a moment for Wanda to calm down, and you hand her the bottle of water you got. Then you walk to her car, and she hands you the keys.

Just as you are about to arrive at her house many minutes after, she speaks again:

- I should do that. - She comments still sounding drunk.

- Do what?

- That. - She says, pointing to the radio. A rock song was playing.

- Start a band?

- No, install radios in cars. - She retorted with irony, and you laughed lightly. - Starting a band of course. My dad would love it.

You then stop the car in front of her house.

- You don't seem to be the type to ask your father's permission to do things. - You comment as you take out the keys.

Wanda blinks in surprise.

- So now you know me?

- I'm trying.

- People only know that I scare them.

- Yeah, I know the feeling. - You comment with a wry smile. Wanda looks at you with an intensity that makes your stomach turn. - So, your father looks tough.

- No, he just wants me to be someone I'm not. - She says, shaking her head slightly.

- Who?

- Pietro. - She answers with a frown. You let out an understanding sigh.

- No offense, I know everyone likes your brother and all, but he's a pretty shallow guy. - You say and Wanda looks at you in surprise, but then she has a little smile on her face.

- You know... you're not as obnoxious as I thought. - She says, making you laugh slightly. And then she looks at you like that again, and brings your faces together, closing her eyes. You swallow dryly, ignoring your nervousness, and look at the steering wheel.

- I think we should do this another time. - You say, and Wanda looks at you in disbelief, as you twiddle your fingers nervously. She frowns and looks ahead, then opens the car door and gets out.

You sit there for several minutes, hoping that Wanda won't be even more irritated with you than she usually is.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #marvel imagines #high school au

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uelden · 3 years

Text

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

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mistressemmedi · 3 years

Text

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #i'm off to drink some wine lol

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I don't think I've requested anything from you before ( my memory is awful though)

Anyhow I was wondering if I could get some Izuku smut with a female reader.

The scene is youre out with your girls, ( mina, hagakure, Momo) at the club having a good time. You see this green eyed stranger looking at you across the room.

His boys hype him up to ask you to dance and it ends up turning into following him back home ( I LIVE for soft dom! Deku!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and answer this!

Ugh, sorry this took so long, nonnie! You sent this in just as I was being eaten alive by a fic that’s wayyyyy longer than it needs to be. But I’m here now and you said the magic words: soft dom. Yesssss. I went college!AU for this and I hate clubs (drinking, dancing, flirting, no thanks) so I projected that on the reader a bit. Oopsie! It was hard to keep Izuku in character for this, but I did my best. Anyway, hope you like!

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, Kaminari and M*neta leering, spanking, slight exhibitionism, alcohol (not drunk sex, though), dirty talk

rating: explicit, 18+

wc: 5k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Sometimes people looked at you, Mina, Momo, and Tooru and wondered how you were friends. People who had only known each of you as you were in college could never put it together. But the answer was simple: you’d been friends since high school. You were rapidly becoming different people, but those three were still your girls through and through.

That was how you, Mina, Tooru, and Momo ended up in the club that day. Two friends who really wanted to go—Mina and Tooru—and two friends who really didn’t—you and Momo. These things happen when you become friends years before you could be allowed in any club. Your college friends never would have invited you on an excursion like this—hell, none of them would ever be seen at a club either. But when Mina and Tooru showed up at your door begging you to go out and experience your twenties, you couldn’t say no. Now you were spilling out of the car Mina had called and walking on high heeled booties to a club you’d heard of but never been to.

“Obviously you actually wanted to go, Momo, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing a top like that.”

Tooru wasn’t hiding the fact that she was ogling Momo’s very prominently displayed chest, all but bursting out of the deep v-neck she had paired with a short skirt.

“It’s only sensible for me to wear a top like this,” Momo said, her voice firm despite awkward fidgets to put her breasts a little more away. “Places like these are so hot that a shirt with a higher neckline would be soaked with cleavage sweat in a minute.”

“Mhmm, right,” Tooru said, flouncing away in her own crop top and shorts, eager to enter the club.

You’d gone simple, just tossing on a bodycon dress that you’d ordinarily pair with a sweater and tights, but that Mina had convinced you to wear on its own tonight. You crossed your arms, the chill of the evening seeping past the thin fabric even just in the short time it took to get from the heated car to the sweaty bar.

Tooru had run to the door and was nearly bouncing, waiting for the rest of you to catch up. Mina jogged over to her, looking the coolest of all of you in her black mesh crop top with nothing but a bra underneath and shorts that had the lacy scalloped hem of her underwear peaking out the top of. You hurried after them, just eager to get out of the cold. Tooru whipped the door open and the three of you piled in all at once, flashed your IDs, and then you were in.

The sound of the bass had thrummed loudly even outside, but once inside, your senses were overloaded. The music was deafening, the smell of alcohol bitter and heady, and the heat of sweaty bodies oppressive as Mina grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the crowd.

Even with Mina clearing the way, you had to elbow your way to the bar. This was the easiest part of the night—a task, something to do aside from trying and failing to work up the nerve to dance. Over the music, you yelled, “Whiskey ginger, well is fine,” to the bartender and turned to your girlfriends.

Mina and Tooru were already swinging their hips as they waited for their drinks, shimmying against each other to the beat. You and Momo were a little stiffer, not quite having the nerve or confidence to let your bodies be taken by the music.

“Girl’s night!” Mina cheered once everyone had a drink in hand. Glasses clinked and Tooru took a healthy gulp of her drink

“Can’t dance if you’re worried about spilling your drink,” Tooru said.

“Not with that attitude!” Mina said. She thrust her beer bottle in the air and then grabbed Tooru’s hand and the two of them stumbled into the mass of writhing bodies.

“You gonna follow them?” Momo asked, chewing on the straw of her drink.

“Not yet.” You had to shuffle away from the bar to make room for other patrons, moving to lean against one of the walls. “Maybe a bit of liquid courage.”

“It probably would have been wiser to do shots.”

You looked around, noticing how many people were already sending glances Momo’s way. You could draw direct lines all around the room between men’s leering eyes and Momo’s partially exposed chest, already beginning to glisten with sweat. You pursed your lips. It was nice to have Momo around as a fellow shy dancer, but it was discouraging to always be the one next to the prettiest girl in the room. People were looking right through you.

“You’ll probably get some sent your way soon enough,” you muttered.

“What?” Momo asked, her voice loud over the music.

“Nothing!” you replied. You squeezed the lime wedge into your drink and swirled it, drinking thirstily.

You hoped for one of two things. For the night to pass by quickly or for, unlikely though it was, something exciting to happen. Bars and clubs were predictable. Just once, you wanted to be surprised.

“Woah, look at her.”

Midoriya tried and failed to follow his friend’s gaze into one of the dark corners of the bar. Mineta was a good foot shorter than Midoriya, so it was hard to tell exactly where his line of sight was taking him. Kaminari seemed to hone in right away, though, pointing eagerly at the wall near the bar.

“Good find, Mineta,” Kaminari said. “Damn she’s hot.”

Midoriya followed Kaminari’s finger and noticed two girls huddled close together, sipping their drinks and observing the crowd, occasionally leaning over to talk to each other. One was dressed in a top and skirt and the other in a tight dress. The second girl’s hips were moving to the beat just slightly, as though she might not even know herself that she was doing it. She laughed at something her friend said, smile opening wide and fearlessly.

“Wow,” Midoriya said, eyes locked on her.

“What, did Mineta finally find a girl to meet your ridiculously high standards?” Kaminari asked, clapping Midoriya on the back.

“Maybe,” Midoriya murmured, watching as she waved to some other girls in the crowd.

“About time,” Mineta said. “I’ve never seen more perfect tits in my life.”

That snapped Midoriya out of his focus and he looked down at his friend, whose eyes were unblinking, scarily locked straight ahead. “What?”

“That plunging neckline perfectly showing what it would look like if I had my hands on either side of them,” he continued, his voice distant. Luckily, Kaminari smacked him upside the head.

“If you’re saying it loud enough to be heard over the music, you’re saying it too loud,” Kaminari chastised. “Besides, if Midoriya finally found a girl he likes, you should give him first dibs.”

“What?” Mineta asked, turning towards Kaminari, outraged.

“Wait, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Midoriya said, waving his hands in front of him before his friends could have it out. “The girl I was looking at isn’t wearing a plunging neckline. Look there.”

Midoriya pointed in your direction as subtly as he could, smiling as he caught another glimpse of your beautiful laugh.

“Oh, her friend,” Mineta said.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Kaminari added, looking between Midoriya and you. “Well, you should go for it, man! Try your luck!”

Midoriya looked at Kaminari, brows furrowed. “Did you guys invite me just to get me laid or something?”

“Of course not,” Mineta said. “Your innocent face makes us look less like two fuckboys and the girls will trust us more. You’re our cover.”

“Purely selfish reasons then, okay,” Midoriya muttered. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Do it!” Kaminari said, giving you a thumbs up. He kicked the back of Midoriya’s calf and sent him tumbling into the crowd. Amidst a song of sorrys, Midoriya made his uncertain way toward you.

Three men had already tried their luck with Momo in as many songs. She’d kindly refused each advance—no level of drunkenness had ever led Momo to so much as a sloppy makeout and you weren’t sure how many times hell would have to freeze over for that to change. You joked about each of the guys and their sad pick-up attempts, but, still, it had you feeling low. None of the guys even pretended to be interested in you. They went straight for Momo, trying their darndest to keep their eyes on hers and not drift south.

“Hello, uh, miss…”

You nearly rolled your eyes as you looked up from your drink, half gone already, to find another sucker that Momo would have to reject. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you were struck by how different this one was from the others. He didn’t look like the usual meathead dude-bro who swung by. He had a round face and freckles smattered under the roundest green eyes you’d ever seen. He looked sheepish already, anticipating the rejection he’d get from talking to a girl so far out of his league.

You felt the jolt of an elbow in your ribs and looked at Momo who was giving you intense eyes, eyebrows raised. She looked at you and then at the boy with the green hair, tilting her head, and suddenly you realized that you were “miss.”

“Oh, hello,” you said, unable to hide the confusion on your face.

“I’m Izuku,” the man said, smiling softly at you. “Would you, um, care to dance?”

You smiled. It sounded like this boy was expecting a waltz instead of the hips that were grinding against each other in the middle of this dance floor.

“I’m… not sure,” you said, so unfamiliar with the procedure here that you were floundering. “You see, I don’t really dance.”

The boy breathed out what looked to be a sigh of relief and you suddenly noticed the muscles bulging under his t-shirt. His cute, innocent face was hiding a man who was seriously stacked. “The truth is, I don’t usually dance either. I was pressured into coming here by some friends.”

You looked over at Momo. “We know the feeling.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your names,” Izuku said, suddenly looking between the two of you.

Momo looked at you for a second then said, “I’m Momo and this is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.”

“You as well,” Izuku said to Momo before turning back to you. “You know, the thing about dancing is that if you just start and let go of everything, it can actually be kind of fun.”

This boy sounded just like Mina, the same argument she made every time she dragged you and Momo to one of these things. Sometimes you managed to let your guard down enough to enjoy it, sometimes not.

“It’s also more fun with someone else.”

Izuku was looking at you hopefully, and that just made his eyes even wider, such a dark forest green in the dim light of the club. You could feel yourself being pulled to him, like a string between you growing taut when Momo put a hand on your arm. “I’ll hold your drink and just come back when you want it, okay?”

Momo was giving you an intent gaze and you knew she was offering you an out. Try dancing with the boy and, if it wasn’t turning out well, say that you needed to go back to your friend. Easy.

“Okay,” you said, taking one more sip before handing your drink off to her. Then you extended you hand toward Izuku, who took it with his broadest smile yet, and led you into the mosh pit.

There was no sign of Mina or Tooru anywhere, haven fallen invisible in the throng of people. So it was just you and Izuku and a hundred strangers, all feeling the music sync with their heartbeats and then their hips, sending them moving.

You started facing each other, your hips moving from side to side, the rhythm slowly moving up so that your shoulders were shimmying, head bobbing. Izuku grinned, bopping along excitedly. He wasn’t a smooth dancer, not cool or rhythmic, but he didn’t seem to care. He put his hands lightly on your hips, encouraging you to move a little more. Asking you to let go.

You let your hips follow his touch and laughed when he rocked you from side to side, totally out of line with anything that might be sensual or suggestive. It was silly and you realized that maybe you’d been putting too much pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain kind of person. Music was for everyone, dancing was for everyone. Izuku seemed to know that already.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, giving yourself into the joy as the two of you rocked, free of expectation or anyone else’s experience. Before you knew it, the music had changed, the next song slightly slower, and your motions smoothed out to match. Izuku slid one of his hands back into yours and raised it over your head, initiating a turn. You went along and the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against his muscular chest, hips moving in tandem.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

You could feel all corners of him pressed against you and you couldn’t help but push back into him. His chest was broader than it seemed, and you could feel the crease of his pecs, of his abs. His hands were on your hips, strong arms brushing your sides. You brought one hand up to touch his bare bicep, feeling how hard it was even unflexed.

Suddenly, you could feel Izuku’s breath on your jaw, the flutter of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, exposing the long column of your neck to him. He took that as invitation enough and pressed a kiss to it. He kissed up to your jawline and just behind your ear. He gave the lightest of sucks before you pulled away and offered him your mouth.

He took it eagerly, your lips moving at the same pace as your gyrating hips. You lost yourself in the feeling, the anonymity of kissing, hidden in a crowd of people. The rhythmic dance of your hips lulling you into a kind of easy complacency as you felt Izuku’s hand on the back of your neck, keeping your lips against his. The other one crept forward on your thigh, awfully close to your center, to the hem of your too-short skirt. He never breached either line, though. Just kept his hand there, suggesting where it could go.

“Come home with me,” you whispered when you separated for breath.

“What?” Izuku asked, face flushed, voice just carrying over the music.

You twisted back around so that you were face to face so that you could press your lips right up against his ear. “Come home with me, Izuku.”

You called for a car and sent Momo a text saying that you were going home. You hoped that Momo, Mina, and Tooru wouldn’t want to come back to your shared home anytime soon—Momo was smart enough to figure that out herself.

Twenty minutes later and you were home, you were horny, and you had someone willing and able to solve that.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Izuku asked while you unlocked the door and ushered him in, kicking off your shoes as quickly as you could.

“Half a drink,” you said quickly. “You?”

“None.”

“Perfect,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around him once again, pulling him in for a kiss.

Izuku did you one better, grabbing hold of your thighs and picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your dress rose up over your hips and your center fell right against his crotch, grinding into it.

You were ready to give directions to your room, but Izuku didn’t carry you further than the living room before slamming your back against a wall and pressing his hips into yours. You gasped at the impact, but it was nothing painful—just surprising. Izuku dug his fingers into your thighs and said, “You seemed awfully eager for this. Desperate enough to handle a little roughness, princess? Or did you think this was gonna be easy?”

The epithet of princess send your heart plunging to your core, heat spreading throughout you. His voice was low, much lower than it had been at the club and your thighs clenched around him. “I thought…maybe…”

He’d been so sweet at the club, shy almost. You tasted his tongue on yours and he hadn’t been lying—no alcohol. The only taste passing between the two of you was the tang from your whiskey ginger. But now his grip on you and the low growl in his voice was telling you another story.

“Do you wanna be rough or do you wanna be a little princess? Or maybe both?”

“Both,” you keened desperately, breathlessly.

“I shoulda known, you grinding down on my cock like that,” he said, nibbling your exposed neck. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”

He pulled back so you slid an inch down the wall, but his grip was tight enough to keep you from falling any further. Then his hips slammed back into yours, as though you were fucking already.

“Shit,” you whispered as he bit down on your collarbone.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he said. “If you’re not, it’s going to be a very long night.”

That half threat was almost enough to trigger your backtalk, see exactly what he had in mind to turn this night into a long one. But, by the same coin, you wanted to see what he had planned already.

“I’m good,” you whimpered.

“You are?” Izuku asked. “Prove it.”

He pressed his chest into yours, and you felt your breasts flatten against his pecs, your ribs trapped from a deep breath by his thick forearms.

“Strip and suck my cock.”

You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he released you to the ground. Your dress was stretchy and off in an instant, thrown to the floor, panties soon to follow. Then you were on your knees undoing his dark jeans and pulling out his long, plump cock.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, stroking your hair.

Preening at the praise, you wrapped your lips around your teeth, and swallowed him as far as you could go in one go. You wanted to be a good girl, after all.

“Shit,” Izuku said, keeping a light grip on the back of your head, but letting you do what you want, setting your own pace. You wasted no time with playful licks and kisses, immediately bobbing your head up and down and stroking the rest with your hand.

The noises that Izuku made, little huffs and whines, were cute, showing glimpses of the shy boy who had approached you at the club. He took off his shirt and you could see his abs in all their glory, even better than you’d imagined. As you sucked him off, you brought a hand up to the ridges of his lower abs and rubbed lightly, enjoying the hard muscle. After a trip down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and you kept up your firm strokes, Izuku pulled you off, breathing heavily.

“That’s good. You’ve proven that you’re a good girl, princess.”

“I did?” you asked shyly, giving his cock a long lick just to make sure.

“Yes,” Izuku shuddered. “Stand against the wall.”

“Here?” you asked.

There were windows all over your living room, giving a clear view to the street and, more importantly, from the street into your apartment. More than that, there was no telling when your housemates would get home and, even if they knew you’d brought a boy home, they’d hardly expect him to be fucking you in the living room.

“Was I unclear, princess?”

“No,” you said, and you went to stand facing the wall. Izuku came up behind you and knocked your legs further apart, and then reached in front of you, rubbing two fingers from your slit up to your clit in a couple firm strokes. You gasped, your head falling forward, but before you could get used to the rough touch, he was gone.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” he asked casually.

“In my nightstand,” you said, moving to stand straight. He pushed your hands back against the wall, warning you not to move.

“Which room is yours?”

“The far one on the left,” you said, only turning your head to look over your shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Then he was gone, leaving you naked, legs spread in your living room. You could feel how drenched you were—Izuku had taken a whole globule of your wetness and spread it all over your pussy. Now, standing spread, you could feel the cold air from the room on you when all you wanted was heat.

Izuku took his time in coming back, slow footfalls making their way back to the living room. You saw a box of condoms drop on the couch next to you and heard the telltale sound of one of the packages being ripped open. The next thing you knew, Izuku’s hands were on your hips, just like at the club, only now his cock was free, sliding in the slick of your pussy.

You gasped, pushing harder against the wall and thrusting your ass back toward Izuku. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Oh, you don’t have to ask,” Izuku said casually. “I know exactly what your slutty pussy wants. I can feel it dripping all over my cock. And you’ve been very good, princess, but that doesn’t mean that you’re in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Izuku.”

You were pushed forward by the sudden force of a slap against your ass, then Izuku’s chest pressing firmly back into yours, his teeth by your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“That’s better.”

He went back to thrusting, one of his hands snaking around your front, through your curls to spread your lips. Your puffy clit was exposed to the air and Izuku’s fingers spreading the skin provided just the slightest bit of pressure, but not nearly enough. You whined, bending more into him, aching for more contact than the occasional brush of his cock skating across your clit. But you wanted to be a good girl too.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Izuku said, his thrusts coming to a stop as the head of his cock butterflied your opening. “You’ve been very patient. Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You groaned in relief as he split you open, sinking into you just as he pulled his fingers in a hard, slow stroke up your clit.

“You like that, princess?” Izuku asked, making his thrusts slow and deep, his finger’s strokes on your clit languid and intentional.

“Yes,” you moaned, rocking your weight back onto your heels as you met Izuku’s every plunge.

“You feel so good,” Izuku said, his voice becoming softer and more breathy as he got lost in the feel of you. His right hand began spinning circles on your clit, the left wrapped around your middle, fingertips rubbing almost tenderly along your side.

You could only pant, leaning your head back on his shoulder as Izuku’s thrusts sped up, your climax rising within you. “Fuck,” you murmured as his left hand fell to your hip, changing the angle so that he was now pounding your g-spot with every go. He continued like that for a minute, each hit bringing you higher and higher until he suddenly stopped.

“What?” you asked, and the next thing you knew, you were being pushed to the arm of your couch, a hand to the small of your back pressing your spine parallel to the floor, and—before you knew what was happening—he was back in you, going full speed.

You gasped, your head falling down, nipples rubbing against the fabric of the couch as your tits were sent swinging. That sensation caught you, sending fresh sparks through you.

“Are you close, Princess?” Izuku breathed, his quick thrusts breaking his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

“Touch yourself, then.”

You followed his instruction immediately, snaking your hand down to your clit and rubbing it with your practiced touch. The feeling of your cold fingers against your scorching clit, Izuku’s hot cock railing in and out of you, and the occasional spark of your nipples rubbing against the couch had you on the edge of your peak in no time.

“You gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the heat in your stomach burning, almost unbearable as you reached your cusp.

“I’m close too, Y/N,” Izuku whispered. “God, you’re so perfect.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder just as you shattered around him, keening as you rubbed yourself through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he said, and you felt his thrusts become jagged, barely leaving you every time before plunging balls deep back into you. He shuddered and, before long, he finished too, taking slow, easy thrusts in and out of you before falling fully on your back, wrapping his arms around your middle.

He stayed there for just a moment before pulling out, taking off his condom and knotting it. You’d collapsed onto the arm of your sofa, face falling down the side as you tried to get your breath back under you, the feeling back into your legs.

“Was that too much?” Izuku asked, his voice soft and gentle again as he came in front of you, gently putting his fingers under your chin to bring your face back to him.

“No, that was amazing,” you said.

Izuku smiled and brought your lips to his for a quick kiss. “I’m glad. Where do you keep your water glasses?”

“Cabinet above the sink.”

“Great.”

Izuku gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, and then he was gone. You stayed still for a few more moments, your breath back in both hands, the heat seeping from your face slowly but steadily. You pressed yourself up, curling your spine like a cat to fight against the deep sway you’d had against the couch and the wall and gave a little shimmy to work out the kinks. You took a quick trip to the bathroom, then you went around and scooped up all the pieces of clothing that had been thrown hither and yon and carted them back to your room. You’d just flipped on the light switch and dropped them in a pile on the floor when Izuku came back with a glass of water and a wash cloth.

“You got up,” he said.

“I just didn’t want my roommates to get home to find me fucked out against the couch,” you said with a smile, taking the glass he handed to you. “We have house rules.”

“That’s fair,” Izuku said as you took a glug of water. “Lie back on the bed.”

His voice was far less demanding than before, but you went along anyway. You set the water glass on the nightstand and then lay down, allowing Izuku to spread your legs. Some of the old heat returned to your face and you looked away from him as he took the washcloth to your center.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” he said.

“It’s just different,” you squeaked. “After we’re done…In the full light and you’re just down there looking at me.”

“It’s only for a moment longer,” Izuku said as he cleaned you. True to his word, he took the washcloth away after a moment, pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The washcloth was added to the stack of clothes on the floor, and then Izuku was back in front of you, running his fingers lightly along the outside of your thigh.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said softly.

You sat up, putting a hand on his arm. “Stay.”

“Can I?”

His eyes were wide and innocent, like he hadn’t just fucked you raw in plain sight of the neighbors. Like he hadn’t spanked you and called you princess.

“Of course,” you said.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Cuddling is kind of my favorite part.”

“Is it, now?”

“I’ll prove it,” Izuku said, flipping off the light and climbing into bed behind you as you settled in. Then he had you wrapped tight in his arms, pulled flush against his chest. He let out a deep, satisfied sigh into your neck and said, “It’s just the best.”

“It kind of is,” you said, snuggling back against him.

There were a few more murmurs shared between you two but, slowly, the words fell loose, eyes falling closed. Your breathing evened out, and then there was nothing but Izuku’s arms and breath around yours.

“There’s a box of condoms on the couch!” you heard Mina screech a couple hours later, jolting you out of your deep sleep. You felt Izuku’s arms tighten protectively around you as he too let out a sharp intake of breath. “Our girl fucked!”

“Ooh, what a surprise!” Tooru cheered.

“Out here?” you heard Momo groan, her voice much more tired than Mina’s or Tooru’s.

“Dammit,” you whispered, and Izuku giggled behind you.

“That was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, just go back to sleep,” you said. “If we wake up early, we can sneak you out before any of them are up.”

“So long as I get to see you again,” Izuku murmured, nuzzling back into your shoulder.

Your chest warmed and you pulled Izuku’s arms closer against you, gripping them tightly before your hold fell lax in sleep. Tooru was right—you’d gotten the surprise you’d wanted.

“Definitely.”

#ask ana #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #not/sfw #mha smut #bnha smut

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “Approaching Countdown.”

Had to write this at work today, so sorry it is short.

The GA chairwoman stood in the oppressive muggy heart of Earth. She really hated it, it made her skin itch and her eyes sting, there wasn’t enough water in their atmosphere to actually cause her any harm, but there was definitely enough of it to make her very uncomfortable. A part of her had hoped that it might rain, forcing her to stay off world for the weather formation, but these humans knew what they were doing and had scheduled the launch for a cloudless day.

She looked up at the yellow earth sun and sighed. The humans had been very excited to invite the GA delegations out to view the launch. Humans were generally very excited to show anyone they could their dangerous past, and looking at the thing that was passing for a spaceship, she could not see how it would get more than a few inches off the ground, much less out of orbit. Supposedly they had dipped into very rare rocket fuel reserves to even do this as it required fossil fuel.

Fossil Fuel!

Let that sink in for a moment.

Liquified dead plant and animal remains mixed with liquid oxygen and some sort of oxidizer. She wasn’t sure what that last part meant, she wasn’t a rocket scientist. She sighed again, personally she wished she didn’t have to be here, for she doubted the launch was going to go as the human expected. In all reality her nerves were shot and she wished that she could just pass out for the next few hours and forget where she was. Everything was out of her hands anyway. Her orders had been given and now all she could do was wait.

She stood in the heat not too distant from her array of human bodyguards,dressed in dark suits and wearing dark glasses to cover their eyes. Somehow they managed to look more intimidating than normal humans did frowning, missing the characteristic tooty smile she had grown to associate with humans.

Shehad spent far too much time with Admiral Vir it seemed.

She sighed at the thought of him and shook her head.

Every time she tried to think about something else, it just circled back around to him. She tried not to think about it, taking a very deep breath.

There was some shuffling behind her and she turned slowly on her knuckles feeling the concrete grinding below her hands as she did. Two Tesraki and one other Rundi stood behind her having been let through by the human guards, who still eyed them with some measure of suspicion.

“Everything is in place, Chancellor.”

She nodded her head once.

“How many?”

There are at least thirty patrolling the borders of the trajectory zone. They will know as soon as he breaches orbit.

“And our engineers?”

“We are having trouble gaining access, but we are still working on it.”

“You better hope that we can.”

She lifted her head towards the sky where she could see the faint line of the moon against the blueness of the sky.

“We better hope.”

***

Captain Richard’s palms were very sweaty. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his pants or more accurately a onesie the scientists were calling a “Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment. So like a Onesie with tubes in it. He glanced sidelong over to where Admiral Vir was sitting staring at the antique space suit equipment laid out before them.

He tried not to make it look like he was staring, but he totally was.

Admiral Vir wasn’t much older than him, maybe by a year or two, but that was part of what made being in the same room with him so strange. Every time he, or probably anyone, though of an admiral, they generally thought of some stuffy grey haired fat guy who sat behind a desk and gave orders. But…. this guy…. Well he was nothing like that at all. He was young and stupidly fit, and sure he had some white hair appearing at his temples, but his hair was blond enough you only noticed it in certain light.

And he was very personable, that was the first thing Richards had noticed.

The man knew how to work a room. He was funny, and despite being intimidated by his status, he found himself forgetting constantly that this guy wasn’t someone cool he had just met out at the bar.

As if he could sense someone looking at him, Admiral Vir turned around theappriture of his mechanical eye adjusting slightly. He grinned in a very un-admiral way, “This is so friggin awesome.” The man looked like he was about to jump out of his boots, “Just look at this stuff-” He grinned some more dancing from one foot to the other, “Happiest damn day of my life and I’m wearing a diaper.”

That got the rest of the shuttle crew laughing which then devolved into a discussion about the pros and cons of diapers versus the new suit catheters. There was a surprising split on the discussion as the group of men talked, a conversation that was only broken as a group of scientists stepped in to help them with their suits. The process was rather tedious, the suits were bulky and cumbersome, nothing like the neat, sleek and comfortable suits used on regular ships.

Stepping into the pants of the suit they had to hold their arms up as the upper portion was lowered into place over their heads while others hurried in to pull on their arms and then help them fit into the gloves. He ducked his head as the communications cap was placed over his head. They would be wearing the full suit into orbit, though they would be allowed to take it off on the journey over. A journey which would take roughly three days or more to complete. One of them would stay in orbit while Admiral Vir and Richards himself took the lunar module down to the surface.

It was all supposed to go very smoothly from here.

Once suited up he couldn’t help but be reminded of when he was a child ready to go sledding with his siblings, in his massive snow pants and puffy jacket, waddling across the floor with his arms held out to either side.

He honestly hoped he looked cooler than he felt.

Admiral Vir might have been able to pull it off if he wasn’t nearly skipping, which seemed pretty improbable in the massive ass snowman suit.

Glancing out the long windows and into the horizon, he could see crowds of people set up in the distance. Head was a teenager when the Enterprise Launched, standing in an awed crowd as the massive behemoth hauled herself into the sky. He remembered the thrill, and he remembered the fear as he watched it go higher and higher and higher.

He remembered that day as one that led him to where he was now, and couldn’t believe it.

***

The UN president stood at her lectern feeling a soft breeze blow through her hair. Today was a good day, or at least it was shaping up to be a good day. She had two folders sitting under the lectern like she always did during times like this. One of them was green and one of them was red.

The red one was sitting on top.

She glanced over to where the GA president stood and scowled slightly. She had always thought the little creature was kind of ugly looking like an ant. She had never liked bugs, or bug like things of any kind, which she found to be a common trait among aliens, Drev, Vrul, Gibb, Rundi, Burg.

She looked up at the sky neck stretched out sunning herself in the bright morning.

She could see the rocket in the distance held up on its platform. Admiral Vir would be moving into place now. Most people would see this only as some sort of historical recreation act, but PR analytics suggested that, if the Admiral succeeded, approval rating in the GA would go up almost 3 percent. Human and alien relations had been rockier than most people would like to admit. If Admiral Vir were to fail, the failure would likely shock the aliens senseless, and if he died. It could completely break down human/alien relations for the foreseeable future.

They were on the cusp of cooperation or war, and any single event could push them in that direction.

Relations might have already broken down if it wasn’t for Admiral Vir.

The president reached down a hand brushing the tips of her fingers over the red folder.

***

Jade examined the rocket from the inside of her decontaminated engineer’s suit. She was busy going over final checks before the craft was launched. Personally she thought it was a bad idea. There was no reason to go and do something so dumb when they had perfectly viable technologies available at their fingertips. Of course, she understood the value and importance of major historical events, but that didn’t mean they had to reenact them. I mean it's not like anyone ever wanted toreinaced the titanic or the Berlin wall, or burning down the library of Alexandria, but for some reason some yahoos wanted to strap themselves to a rocket inside a tin can and fly into space.

Using the same EXACT design from TWO THOUSAND years ago.

Might as well start using steam locomotives to get around.

She inched her way along the scaffolding catwalk just a few hundred feet in the air. She didn’t mind heights, butcher wasn’t stupid, and would enver risk herself unecissarily. She examined the bolts holding the ship together passing a critical eye over each and every one of them. If just a single one of them got loose, it might potentially pull the whole panel off. If that happened, the launch trajectory might destabilize and they could begin to spin into the ground and explode.

Off in the distance she heard an alarm calling her down from above.

She would need to leave soon, and so tucked her clipboard under one arm and began to climb down one of the ladders towards the distant ground.

It was then that she noticed something strange. She didn’t know why she noticed it, it was so small, and she was in a hurry but…. There was something…. Strange. She glanced over and squinted towards the strange reflection.

The siren continued to blare.

She should really go.

She started to descend but then.

“You might want to check that again.”

She nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice turning on the spot and pitching ackwards with wide open eyes nearly falling over the rail as she came face to face with a porcelain white face and wide black eyes like pools of onyx. For a second she almost screamed assuming she had gone insane, but then paused as she saw the figure floating before her a gravity belt around it’s waist, and hundreds of white ribbons streaming from it’s back.

A starborn!

She had seen a documentary mentioning them, even with a few images, so she knew who it was. She also knew that they could read minds.

It wasn’t supposed to be able to speak, but this one was wearing translation gloves, and spoke sign language rather fluently.

“You might want to check again.” It repeated

“But I-”

“The Admiral is expecting an attempt on his life, and the best way to do it would be to sabotage the shuttle. You will want to help me because if the Admiral dies, my daughter will be very upset.”

She opened her mouth then closed it, not sure how to respond but eventually turned back to the shuttle and leaned forward pointing to the side of the rocket, “That, right there, can you float over and take a look. The creature floated past her, billowing like smoke as he eased over. He pointed, “This?”

“Yes.”

He touched it.

“Can you feel it/” She wondered.

“It doesn't feel like the rest of the ship though I cannot say how.”

“Keep looking around, I need to call in-”

“NO!”

She frowned hand halfway to her mic.

“Don’t tell them, we don’t want them to know that we have found anything.

She wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t feel like pissing this thing off, so reached to her mic, “Mission control this is Engineering, i'll need a postpone on the launch while I finish off my checklist. This is taking longer than I anticipated.”

“Roger that.” mission control responded.

The sirens stopped a moment later as she urged the Starborn forward to prod at the spot. There wasa soft peeling noise, and after a moment, she watched as the creature came away with a strip of tape.

He floated over to her and she examined it. That shouldn’t have been there, this was not the heat resistant sort of tape they used, and it certainly wasn’t something they would have bothered to put on the outside of a ship. The only thing it seemed to do was match the paint color.

She leaned forward glancing at the side of the shi. If this had gone up during exit it would have burned off, and that would reveal.

The loose bolt underneath. Just like she feared.

She could fix it and ordered the starborn to do so following the instructions in her head. After that she ordered him to take her vest camera and fly around the outside of the rocket. She had noticed based on the way the light interacted with the tape as compared to the finish of the rocket’s exterior.

If only she had someone who was good at distinguishing subtle color, and then she remembered.

She called the starborn back.

“Go, get a Drev and hurry back here. I’ll try to stall them.”

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fenristheorem · 3 years

Text

New Era Lance Headcanons

I told myself I wouldn’t do this before episode 4 came out... but here I am.

I originally wanted to wait until ANE episode 4 was out to post any of my own headcanons for Lance, but I know they had a fire at one of their locations recently and that has delayed the release of the episode (my heart goes out to them), so I figured I should just go ahead and post some headcanons because I’ve been dying to do so.

~Headcanons under the cut because these are long~

General:

Twice a year, on their birthday and the anniversary of his death, Lance brings Floppy (because I theorize he adopted Floppy) to visit Valkyon’s grave. Really, this can happen at nearly any time of the year - but seeing as Lance is busy as Chief of Obsidian Guard, he can’t always make time to visit his brother’s grave. However, Lance always makes sure to find time to visit the grave with Floppy on these two special dates. He'll even specifically ask Huang Hua to try and make sure his schedule isn't too busy on these two days. He never says why, but it's not hard to guess.

Lance occasionally talks out loud... to his brother... distantly hoping that - despite the fact that he’s dead - Valk will somehow hear him and by some miracle respond to his brother. He doesn’t do this very often, only when he finds himself caught in a low moment where he feels truly isolated from everyone and the ache to have his brother by his side again echos through him like thunder through a mountain valley, but when he does it means he really needs the comfort. No one in the guard knows this about him; he makes sure that he never does this in public or where anyone could find him doing this. Valkyon’s death effected nearly everyone in the guard, but Lance was still his brother and doesn’t believe most people would understand the full extent of his regrets and, further more, his ways of coping with this great loss.

Lance never visited the re-formed crystal created by Leiftan and Erika. Not once - in all 7 years. He never felt he had the right to because this situation and all his pain was primarily caused by him and, therefore, he needs to bear the pain as part of taking responsibility for his actions. The crystal room became a symbol of hope and forging forward into a new era, and while Lance is grateful for being given a chance to redeem, he's aware that he has a long way to go before he has made up for everything he's done, if he ever could. He feels he needs to find his own hope from within and help guide the guard with it, not rely on the guard and the new crystal to provide him with hope for the future.

Romantic:

Lance is very used to being alone by now. Because of this, he keeps his romantic partner at a distance when they first start off. It’s not that he’s not interested - it’s just that he’s settling into the idea that someone actually wants to be closer to him after everything he’s done, especially the woman he threw off a cliff. He’s not entirely sure how to react to a woman finding romantic interest in him, hell he’s not even sure he deserves it. It's been years since he's allowed himself to consider romantic companionship, so he's widely used to being his own rock. However, once they’ve been together for a while, he’ll trust himself (and her) a bit more and actually allow himself to be a bit more comfortable and minorly impulsive around her. Slowly he’ll allow himself to throw a few jokes around, he’ll allow himself to share his opinion on things around her more, and he’ll find it a little easier to smile each day. Now he’s not one to hide his emotions, but he certainly keeps himself in check to avoid causing damage or pain as he's painfully aware that heavy emotions can influence people. However, this disappears when he begins to trust his partner more; he's less hesitant and more confident that she won't shun him for having strong emotions and opinions on certain things.

Once they’ve been together for a while and his romantic partner has effectively torn down the walls of isolation he built around himself, she’ll find he’s... a bit territorial. After all, he’s allowing himself to become attached to someone for the first time in years; why wouldn’t he be attentive and watchful with his newfound companion? He’s not openly aggressive towards others when jealous or feeling territorial (in the rare case that he is, as he’s learned later on in the relationship that he has nothing to be insecure about), he refuses to bring that sort of disruption to the guard, but he’s certainly not above throwing Guardienne over his shoulder (without his armor on, of course) when he’s reminded of a moment earlier in the day where another man seemed to be just a bit too interested in what she was saying. Pair that with a kind, naive smile from her and a few jokes, and perhaps an encounter with a Leiftan at some point, and you have the perfect combination for a semi-jealous ice dragon who suddenly craves attention from his lover. He’ll take her over his shoulder and saunter over to the nearby bed in who-ever’s room they’re in, lay her gently down and rest himself beside her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close to his chest as they settle in to stay like that for minutes to hours depending on how long they have together. She better not hope to leave anytime soon then. Unless they have somewhere to be, Lance is unlikely to let her go for any reasons; he wants her attention and he's going to get it.

Lance is an ice dragon. This is well known by now and he's proud of his heritage. However, with this also comes all the responsibility of being an ice dragon; specifically the instincts. This is also something his partner needs to learn to deal with if they hope to maintain a relationship with him, because he's certainly not about to rebuke himself for having natural instincts (unless it truly begins to become a problem or he accidentally hurts someone). These instincts can range from being very territorial and possessive at certain times and situations, to keeping a special watch on her to make sure she isn't hurt at times where she could be prone to it, or treating her like a living goddess merely because the mood strikes him and he wants to show appreciation for her presence. These are only a few examples. When do these instincts hit hardest? He's still trying to figure that out, seeing that he hasn't been with anyone for a while. However, they can effect him in different degrees. Some days he'll hold her for an extra five minutes longer before she leaves to hang out with Mathieu, Koori and Karenn, other days he'll request that Huang Hua allow him to escort her on a minor mission in the forests surrounding HQ because he wants to do everything he can to protect her and give them time alone together. If they're interrupted on their mission by someone else, Lance will be deathly quiet and still as his partner and the newcomer carry on their conversation, only speaking when spoken too, and he won't be mean, but internally he'll be quite irritated at the fact that their alone-time is being interrupted when he planned for them to be alone for a while. Ideally, his partner will pick up on his distance and wrap up the conversation, and once the newcomer leaves Lance won't hesitate to take his partner by the wrist (gently) and briskly drag her away from the direction of her conversational partner. When he feels they're far away enough, he'll abruptly turn around and press her against a tree, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck with a faint growl. The best thing his partner can do in this time is hold him. He doesn't need comfort or reassurance, he just needs time alone with her. However, that's one of the extremes of his instincts. Most of the time he acts on subtle instincts. He'll pull her into a secluded corner of the guard for a few minutes to talk privately and share a few kisses, or he'll be passing by and see something in the market that she said she needed, or perhaps he sees something he thinks she'll look good with or he knows she'll like, and then track her down after purchasing to gift his find to her. At the end of the day, he just wants her to know he appreciates her, and when the sudden urge to do something with or for her strikes he has a hard time letting it go. And while Lance is very independent and doesn't wish to oppress or suffocate his partner, his instincts can become a bit overbearing at certain times. All his partner needs to do is confide in him about this and he'll try and make them a bit more comfortable (after all, his instincts tell him to care for her before anything else) but she will need to try and tolerate this as much as possible, if it's even an issue to begin with. However, Lance is quite confident that she'll enjoy the intimate side of his instincts more often than the domestic instincts, no matter how she feels about the domestic side...

I’m considering making Lance headcanons a routine post on my page - maybe one or two posts every couple of days. I have a few more headcanons that I can post, and I’m sure I’ll have more after ep. 4 is out, but I’m always open to writing specific headcanons upon request.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #Eldarya Lance ane #fenristheorem writing #eldarya lance headcanons

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.” Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg)#sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

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jackfrostsander · 3 years

Text

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday little Robin! Happy birthday to you!

Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33374809

Friday August 20th, 2021

08:43

Robbe slowly woke up… With his eyes still closed his hand looked for the warmth of Sander’s body next to him… “San???” Robbe jumped up as his hand had felt nothing but cold bedsheets. There was no trace of Sander in his bed except for his intoxicating smell that still emanated from the bedsheets. Robbe jumped out of bed, took the first shirt he could find from the floor – Sander’s lightning bolt t-shirt – and went to check the bathroom… Nope, nobody there… Maybe Sander woke up before him and is already having breakfast downstairs?

As Robbe ran into the living room he got the surprise of his life… A large banner hang across the room saying “Happy 18th birthday!”.

As Robbe walked in Sander and his mum started to sing together:

“Long will he live… Long will he live… Long will he live in the gloria! In the gloria! In the gloria! Hieperdepiep hooray!”

Robbe ran towards Sander and jumped into his arms like a hyperexcited little child. Sander nearly lost his balance… But before he even got his feet steady again Robbe was already showering him in kisses. Sander allowed him to indulge and so for the next several minutes they did nothing but exchange kisses and ‘I love you’s’.

Eventually Robbe remembered that his mum was standing there patiently waiting to wish her son a happy birthday too so he reluctantly let go of Sander’s comforting embrace. Robbe turned towards his mother. “Happy birthday Robbe! No mum could be prouder of her son” Charlotte said. “I love you mum” Robbe replied before hugging her. She gave him three birthday kisses and then pulled back while her hands retrieved a gift from behind her back. She gave the box, wrapped in orange gift wrap, to Robbe who eagerly opened it. Inside he found a box of his favourite cookies. “Thanks mum!” Robbe said. “I have something else…” Charlotte added, “But I couldn’t wrap it… I bought you a licence for the video editing software you need for university…”. “Mum… You didn’t need to… OMG, Thank you so much…” Robbe said before hugging her again. The software was not cheap and since the breakup with his dad she had to pay everything from a single income and that meant that it wasn’t always easy… So, as happy as Robbe was with his present, he also was feeling somewhat guilty that his mum had spent so much money on his gift.

“First gift of the day” Sander said while handing a drawing over to Robbe. It depicted Robbe spray painting the garbage truck. A memory of the first time Sander had seen him and had instantly fallen for him… “It’s amazing San! Thank you!” Robbe exclaimed before pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. “Oooo wait… I am not done yet…” Sander said as he handed Robbe a long rectangular box that was wrapped in Sander's favourite Bowie gift wrap paper. "For me?" Robbe asked surprised. "For who else..." Sander teased. "Thank you San!" Robbe exclaimed as he started to unwrap the box. Inside he found a plain cardboard box. Robbe burned with curiosity for what was hidden inside this box. He opened the box and... "A skateboard!" Robbe blurted out in joy. "Check the bottom side" Sander instructed. Robbe turned the deck over and... Most skateboards have some kind of art decoration on the bottom but this one... This one had been spray painted by his artist... "Sander..." Robbe said with an open mouth as he admired the work of his talented boyfriend. Robbe put the board down, turned towards Sander and pulled his lover in for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Sander's neck while his lips never departed those of Sander. He could spend the whole day like this... Just being with Sander... Feeling his skin against his own... Feeling those soft lips and warm tongue... Inhaling Sander's mesmerizing smell... Oh, he didn't need anything more to have a perfect birthday...

Then Sander took Robbe to the kitchen where a pile of freshly baked pancakes was waiting for them… There was butter, jam, different sugars, chocolate topping, and whipped cream as complements to the pancakes. Robbe was instantly salivating at the delicious smell. How lucky was he that his boyfriend could cook… Because he didn’t get much further than instant noodles… But Sander could make all sorts of things. Not just croques but also spaghetti with homemade bolognaise sauce, steak frites, witloof with ham in cheese sauce,… and the fresh soup he made for Robbe when he was in bed with a cold. Sander nursed him for days until Robbe felt better again. For sure, Sander’s fresh soup and honey-spiked warm tea had helped to clear his airways.

“Are there any croques with cardamon?” Robbe teased his boyfriend. Sander made a disgusted face upon being remembered of Robbe’s little experiment at the sea earlier this summer… Sander had told him that they would taste awful but Robbe had stubbornly ignored his boyfriend’s advice. When the croque was ready it really did taste badly but Robbe forced himself to take several bites to avoid having to agree with Sander…

Robbe grabbed a pancake from the pile and added whipped cream and chocolate topping to it. Next, he rolled it up into a delicious sweet bite-sized roll from which he took a bite. Hmmmm, heaven… He wanted to share his creation with his boyfriend so he turned towards Sander and fed him another bite from the rolled up pancake. Sander closed his eyes as he enjoyed the food liking the chocolate sauce from his lips with his tongue… Robbe nearly combusted at seeing Sander act like this. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional on Sander’s behalf or if he was oblivious to the effect that his actions had on his boyfriend… Well… knowing Sander he probably was well aware of the fact that he was a massive tease by licking his lips like this…

Robbe couldn’t control himself and before Sander had opened his eyes Robbe’s lips were pressed against his. He tasted the chocolate/whipped cream/pancake taste from Sander’s lips mixed with the black coffee that his boyfriend must have had earlier today… This kiss quickly deepened and Robbe nearly forgot that he was in his mum’s kitchen… Luckily he remembered where he was before things got too far… He pulled back and looked deeply into those emerald eyes of his perfect boyfriend. How lucky he was… He could stare into those eyes all day and not grow tired off it. He was mesmerised by his boyfriend’s beauty… He started to caress Sander’s cheek while whispering “I love you soooo much”. And Sander melted into a puddle in front of him…

11:03

"Come" Sander instructed while extending his hand in Robbe's direction. "Where are we going?" Robbe demanded to know. "Surprise... Come" Sander repeated. Robbe smiled softly. The unpredictable nature of Sander was one of the things he loved the most. He loved the cute and special surprises that Sander regularly planned for him. He knew that with Sander by his side life would never be boring. So, he enthusiastically grabbed Sander's extended hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of his mum's home on the way to whatever adventure Sander had in stall for him...

Once outside Robbe wanted to grab their bikes but Sander stopped him. "Let's walk" Sander suggested. Robbe gave Sander a quick rub on his back before interlocking his hand in Sander's. And so, hand in hand they walked across town... Stopping regularly to take some artistic pictures or inspect some street art...

12:19

Robbe's stomach growled. "Getting hungry?" Sander inquired. "Fainting" Robbe replied. "Well, that's perfect on schedule..." Sander replied earning him a confused look from Robbe. "We're nearly at the restaurant where I reserved a table for us..." Sander clarified. "Not at the hospital, I hope?" Robbe jokingly asked. Sander was confused for a moment until he noticed that they were indeed walking past the hospital. Sander snorted. "Nope, something much better than under-seasoned bland potato puree they serve in hospitals..." Sander replied with a smirk.

Not even a minute later they arrived at Sander's chosen restaurant. Robbe had expected to eat some burgers and fries or pizza... Or maybe a steak frites at a brasserie... However, that was clearly not what Sander had in mind for today… "A one Michelin star restaurant!?" Robbe exclaimed in disbelief. "From the best dessert chef of Belgium" Sander added. "But... That's too expensive..." Robbe said. "Nothing is too expensive for you..." Sander replied before pulling Robbe towards the entrance gate of the restaurant.

"Good afternoon young gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?" the maître d' asked. "Yes, on the name of IJzermans-Driesen" Sander replied. "Ok, let me show you your table" the maître d' said as he guided the two boys to a lovely table at the terrace outside of the restaurant. It was the ideal weather to eat outside. Not too cold and also not oppressively warm… Just the perfect mild Belgian summer weather with a slight breeze. Only rain could be a problem according to the weather forecast but so far it had remained dry and the sky looked clear...

The maître d' handed the boys the menu cards and asked if he could already bring an aperitif. "Two glasses of champagne" Sander immediately replied. "Champagne?" Robbe said in disbelief. "It's your birthday sweetie" Sander said. Robbe's worries about Sander's spending become even worse when he opened up the menu card. "Any idea what you would like?" Sander asked. "Maybe just the brioche wagyu" Robbe suggested. "Sweetie, its fine. Ignore the prices..." Sander said, "What do you think of the tacos as a starter?". "Tacos... That's sounds nice" Robbe said. "Ok, and what do you think about sea bass for a main?" Sander suggested. Robbe quickly checked Sander's suggestion... 49.50 euro for the bass... Robbe felt so uncomfortable to have Sander spend that much money on him... Sander must have noticed... "Sweetie... You only once become 18... Just relax and enjoy... Sometimes one just should stop thinking about things and just enjoy the special moments..." Sander said. Robbe smiled. "You're special enough..." Robbe said, "I don't need fancy food... Just having you by my side...". "You're such a romantic..." Sander teased.

13:55

After a mind-blowing starter and an exquisite main dish the boys were waiting for dessert when... The chef of the restaurant, Robbe recognized him from his TV-show that his mother watches, walks out with two plates and comes over to them. He places a desert plate in front of Robbe with in chocolate glace "Happy 18th birthday" piped on it. "Happy birthday young man" the chef says, "I hope you have enjoyed your lunch?". "It was outstanding! A true delight for the palate!" Robbe complimented the chef. "Thank you. Enjoy your desert and the rest of your birthday" the chef said before returning to the kitchen.

14:22

After an astonishing gastronomic lunch the boys decided to use the restrooms before leaving the restaurant. As they walked in Robbe observed that they were alone there so in an impulse he changed plans and pushed Sander against the wall… Before his head could hit the wall Robbe inserted his hand. He pushed his body impossibly close to Sander’s and they started to kiss passionately… Robbe moaned… His body burning with desire… No matter how close their bodies were it would never be close enough for Robbe… Sander… Sander… Sander… was the only thing Robbe could think about. He was in a public space… He shouldn’t take things too far… But trying to constrain himself was soooo difficult… It felt like his whole body was screaming for Sander… He was slowly losing the battle that was going on in his mind… Until… Footsteps… Someone was approaching the door… Robbe quickly withdrew and went to the sink to wash his hands while Sander went to use the restroom…

21:15

"Come" Sander said as he pulled Robbe towards what looked like an abandoned factory. "San, what are you doing?" Robbe objected as Sander pulled him past the fence. He had no intention of getting arrested for trespassing on his birthday... But Sander didn’t seem to care. "Come..." Sander instructed again. He pulled Robbe towards the door and opened the door…

“Surprise!” dozens of voices shouted. Everyone was there… The broerrrs, his parents, Sander’s parents, his aunt, his grandparents, Zoë, Senne, Milan, Yasmina,… “Third surprise” Sander beamed.

The old factory was in fact a party venue and it had been completely decorated… All his family and friends were standing around cocktail tables covered in black spandex. The sealing was covered in various coloured spots, party lasers and mirror balls. There was a bar, dance floor and music installation. Hanging on the wall in front of him was “18” spelled out in silver Mylar balloons surrounded by floating black and white balloons. But nothing could have prepared Robbe, and also most of the people present, for what was coming next…

21:21

Suddenly, Sander got down on his one knee. In the background Bowie’s Wedding song started to play… “Robbe IJzermans… My angel… The love of my life… My soulmate… The sun who illuminates my existence… Would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?” Sander asked while he presented Robbe with a flat silver, satin-finish, comfort-fit, 7 mm wide engagement ring that had a lightning bolt engraved in it. It was a truly stunning ring, clearly chosen by someone with impeccable artistic taste…

Robbe was speechless… This wasn’t happening… Did Sander really just asked him to marry him??? Robbe’s heart skipped a beat or two and his brain went into a mild epileptic seizure as he was trying to comprehend what was happening… “Marry… you…” Robbe finally stuttered in a questioning tone. “Yes, I want to marry you” Sander replied.

Robbe was silent for another brief moment before he spoke: “On one condition…”. This must have taken Sander by surprise as he instantly gave Robbe a confused look. Robbe bended down and whispered in his ear: “I am not marrying nude”. Sander snorted at Robbe’s joke but also blushed a bit when he remembered the conversation from almost 2 years ago... “Condition accepted!” Sander loudly proclaimed as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and started to kiss him. Both boys were in tears now. Happy tears.

The beginning of their relationship had been a bit chaotic and Robbe struggled with his internalized homophobia and Sander with the demons in his head and the doubts about if Robbe would stay with him when all aspects of him got revealed… However, it didn’t took Robbe more than two months after first meeting Sander to be completely convinced that this was the boy he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Sander made him feel things that he didn’t even know one could feel… And those feelings have never changed… Every time Sander touches or kisses him still feels as special as that first time… Every single time Robbe gets butterflies in his stomach, chills though his spine, and Chernobyl in his head… A never ending honeymoon phase…

Their family and friends started to applaud. After making out for a few minutes the awkward position started to become uncomfortable enough to force them to stop kissing and get up. Sander quickly placed the ring on Robbe’s finger before pulling him in for more kisses.

After a few minutes of pure bliss… Making out with Sander… The boys finally broke apart ready to accept the birthday and engagement wishes from their family and friends. But first, Sander snapped a picture of his fiancée’s hand with the ring and uploaded it on his Instagram. As caption he added a fragment from Bowie’s wedding song:

I believe in magic

Angel for life

Robbe got a message from his mum. It was several pics that she had taken of Sander proposing to him. Robbe quickly looked through the pics and decided upon the best one. He was going to upload this on his Instagram to show the world that Sander was his. Robbe isn’t the boasting type of person but he can’t help to feel soooo lucky and proud to say that Sander is his and the whole world can know it. Sander is his… Even after all this time this thought was almost surreal to Robbe. Why did the universe grant him such happiness? “Nowhere as happy as we are…” Robbe remembered Sander’s words. How true this statement was…

"But where will we live?" Robbe asked Sander. "You and Sander can keep living with me... If you want at least... Until after you finish university and have the means to find a place of your own..." Charlotte interrupted. "I have the best mum and boyfriend in the whole world!" Robbe exclaimed while jumping around his mum's neck like the baby koala he is. "Fiancée" Sander corrected him earning him a playful push from Robbe back.

In the meantime Sander’s parents had walked towards them… “Happy birthday Robbe and welcome in the family” Isabelle said. “Thank you” Robbe said as he hugged Sander’s mum. “You’re the best son-in-law that any mother could imagine… And know that you and Sander can always count on us if you need our help” she said. Robbe smiled: “Thank you so much”. He felt Sander’s father’s hand on his shoulder so he let loose of Isabelle and turned toward him. “Happy birthday Robbe!” Charles said. “Thank you” Robbe said with a smile. “We have something for you that you will soon need…” Charles said as he handed over a box. Robbe opened the box and found… “A Nikon Z6 II!!!” Robbe exclaimed. Sander’s parents were quite well-to-do but that was exuberant even by their standards… “I… I… can’t…” Robbe stuttered. “We’ve only got one future son-in-law… And you deserve it Robbe. You really do. Look at Sander. We’ve never seen him this happy in his whole life. And I know you will make all of us proud with your movies” Charles said. Robbe blinked away a tear. Not only did he have the best boyfriend but also the best parents-in-law that anyone could wish for… Indeed, Sander’s parents had always been there for him and Sander… From the first day they had welcomed him with open arms.

Suddenly his dad showed up and grabbing him by the shoulder he lead Robbe a meter or two away from Sander and his parents. “Happy birthday son and congratulations with your engagement” Louis said. “Thanks dad!” Robbe replied. His dad took a little box from his pocket and gave it to him. Robbe unwrapped it… “A new phone!” Robbe exclaimed. “Your current one is quite beaten up… So, I think you can use this…” his dad explained. “Yes! Thank you dad!” Robbe smiled. Robbe was about to turn around when his dad hold him by the shoulder. “You know… I mean… You’re still young… You don’t have to rush into things…” Louis started. “Dad, what are you saying?” Robbe asked in a slight fierce tone as he didn’t like where his dad was going. “Your mum and I also got married at young age…” Louis added. Robbe didn’t like this conversation at all. He would like to tell his dad what he thinks about the fact that he cheated on his mum and then left her. But this was a happy day and he was not going to let his dad ruin it. So, he just turned around without saying something. “Robbe…” his dad yelled but Robbe decided to ignore him.

He didn’t get far before Sander appeared next to him. He must have noticed that Robbe was irritated after that short talk with his dad. His boyfriend is so observant. “Nothing, I am fine San” Robbe replied. Sander clearly didn’t believe it as he gave Robbe a ‘tell me what’s wrong’ look. “Just my dad… He’s annoying again… But I am not going to let him ruin the happy mood” Robbe said. He gave Sander a smile to let him know that he was truly fine. Sander didn’t seem fully reassured yet so Robbe added: “Nowhere as happy as we are”. This sentence had since become one of the reoccurring lines that they used to profess their love to each other…

Robbe and Sander spend the next half an hour going around to everyone to receive Robbe’s birthday wishes and presents and their engagement wishes. Zoë gave him a new beanie. Jens gave him two presents. One from himself and one in name of Jana who was back in New York. And then there was Noor… She had given him a lightning bolt earing. Robbe seriously doubted he would get the opportunity to wear it as his boyfriend would probably steal it… After all, Sander got his right ear pierced recently…

22:02

“DJ Sobbe!” Jens yelled. “Sobbe! Sobbe! Sobbe!” everyone started to chant as the boys made their way to the music installation. Robbe grabbed the mic and yelled: “Who’s in for a partyyyyy!” while Sander got the first song playing. Moyo came over and handed the lovers two beers. “Cheers!” Robbe said as he clinked his bottle against Moyo’s. “The first broerrr to get married…” Moyo said, “I am focking proud of you!”. Robbe beamed.

02:18

The party had ended about twenty minutes ago and Robbe at first thought that Sander was walking him home but he soon noticed that they were heading in a different direction… Now, they were walking down the ‘Keizersstraat’. “Could it be?” Robbe started to wonder. And of course… They halted in front of THEIR hotel. “Penthouse suite for the night? Large bed and nobody to interrupt us…” Sander asked. “Sander…” Robbe said in disbelief. There didn’t seem to come an end to the surprises that Sander had in stall for him… “Shall we repeat that night?” Sander asked. Robbe beamed. “I promise I won’t run away this time” he added. “You better don’t or I shackle you to the bed…” Robbe teased. “Ooooo… I like your thinking…” Sander replied with a smirk. Most often Sander tended to dominate in bed but he also loved to occasionally give complete control to Robbe… “Be careful what you wish for…” Robbe continued to tease.

#robbe’s 18th birthday #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sander ⚡️#sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfam #perfect love #soulmates #happy 21:21 #21:21 #fanfic: sobbe

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