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pisupsala · 2 months

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Hitchin' a ride

Or two times you told John Egan no, and the one time you said yes.

Part 1 of Are You Going My Way?

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader Words: 7k Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, hospitals

It gets dark early in winter in East Anglia. By the time you leave the ward, it’s pitch dark despite it barely being past dinner time. Huddled in your dark blue wool cape, you trudge along the side of the road, holding a small torch to light your way. There’s a cold, biting wind tonight, and it feels like it’s going through every layer you’re wearing, straight through your bones. Breath shuddering, you pick up your pace, the gravel barrier between the road and the grass crunching under your standard-issue brown boots. The faster you get back to the nurse’s barracks, the faster you’re out of this wind and soaking your sore feet and cold toes.

Thorpe Abbots sprawls strangely, but you usually don’t mind. The quiet walk at the end of the long shifts in the operating room, rounds on the intensive care ward, cleaning, and inventory is your moment of solace. A moment where you can finally let the smile fall off your face, where you can grit out the curses you've bitten back all day, the crinkle in time when you are allowing the tears to well up and drip down your face silently.

There is no textbook or training to prepare you for the horrific reality. Torn flesh, burns, and the blood. The fear and agony. The pained screaming. The blind panic.

You have never felt more that you are where you need to be, yet you are so completely and utterly powerless.

A light catches your eye, reflecting on the trees around you in a ghostly flicker. Glancing over your shoulder, the light floats through the darkness, gliding towards you. The soft ding of a bicycle bell pulls you out of your reverie. Turning fully, the light casting off your torch finally illuminates the figure on the bicycle.

“Major Egan,” You greet him, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. He has no reason to be here. There’s nothing down this road but the building with the nurses’ quarters. It’s not the first time you’ve encountered Major Egan somewhere he has no reason to be. But you, as an army nurse and merely a first lieutenant, are not about to question him on that.

“You shouldn’t be walking here alone at night, lieutenant,” He tells you, stopping next to you. You stop, too, taking a good look at him—because why wouldn’t you—as he gets off his bike.

A little too friendly, a little too forward. His bright, sharp blue eyes are contrasted by luscious dark curls and that devilish smile. Tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with a confident grace, he is hard to miss. And if you were to somehow overlook him in a crowd, he commands, demands, attention. There is something dangerously magnetic about him, something electric.

You best keep your distance.

“Don’t worry about me, please, Major,” You reply politely. “It’s not late, and I know the way,”

“Are you done for today?” He asks conversationally, smiling, his eyes crinkling happily. The tips of his ears are red from the cold. In the middle of a quiet road, in the dark, in freezing temperatures, it’s an odd place for polite conversation.

“Yes, I’m heading back to my quarters,” You smile. “Long day,” You add, hoping to cut the conversation short, desperately trying to suppress the full body shiver from the cold. You notice with some envy that Major Egan seems wonderfully unbothered by the biting wind in his sheepskin jacket. You nod at him, turning back in the direction you had been heading, gingerly taking a step. Hopefully, he gets the hint.

“I could give you a ride,”

You stop dead in your tracks, looking back at him wide-eyed.

“I’m heading in the same direction, so you’d get there quicker,” He beams at you with that brilliant smile, patting the carrier at the back of the bike. Instinctively, you start shaking your head, trying to keep yourself from vocalizing your thoughts.

You’d be out of the wind. You’d be in the warm faster. You’d have to get close to Major Egan and hold on to him. You bet that that sheepskin jacket is nice and warm. You bet Major Egan is nice and warm.

“Isn’t that the bike you almost lost an eye for?” Your sense of self-preservation is stronger, has to be stronger, than any magnetic force or joking flirtation from Major John Egan.

“Almost?” He seems surprised you brought it up but recovers quickly. “I remember it differently — it was a bullseye, not my eye,”

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to laugh with him, but you just blink in disbelief. That’s an awful joke. For a mere second, in the reflected light of your torch, you see his smile falter—he’s smart; he knew that was a dud. You purse your lips.

“I suppose I like my rides without stories of near-eye trauma attached,” You muse. It’s such a flimsy excuse.

“Do you think it’s bad luck?” It’s a chillingly honest question, and all cheer has suddenly disappeared from his voice. You pause to think. It hadn’t really occurred to you that Major Egan might be a particularly superstitious man; somehow, he didn’t seem the type. But in these times, superstition creeps up on even the most staunch rationalists.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Major,” you finally admit, eyeing him carefully. He frowns, suddenly unsure of the gravity of the conversation through his own too-candid question. “I would just hate to encourage any of that sort of behavior,” You add lightly.

“So, you would have accepted if I had a different bike?” He sounds on the precipice of hopeful, but the laughter in his voice is evident again. He changes so quickly and bounces back from everything in a mere second — it’s all a joke, after all. He’ll do you a favor and then jokingly ask for a kiss. And then maybe another. And then he’ll move on to whatever or whoever catches his eye next.

You wrinkle your nose. No. You’re not interested, you repeat to yourself. If you were, you might as well have stayed at home and practiced your good graces at dinner parties. You joined the Army Nurse Corps because you wanted to do something, mean something.

“I’m going now,” You clench your jaw to stop your teeth from clattering. “Good night, Major Egan,”

“Suit yourself, lieutenant,” He grins, undeterred, as he watches you turn on your heel, huddling into yourself to protect yourself from the wind. Truthfully, Bucky wasn’t expecting that you would accept his offer. If anything, he wanted to see how you’d react: your replies are always calm and composed, so very proper, but you have a bad poker face. From the way you scrunch up your nose in annoyance to how the corner of your mouth sometimes threatens to pull into a smile at his jokes. And Bucky notices that your gaze lingers just slightly longer than would be polite, although nothing coming out of your mouth would corroborate that. It’s adorable. It’s intriguing. And he knows you won’t make it easy on him.

But that’s not why he keeps thinking about you. That’s not why he goes out of his way to look for you.

You suddenly took root in his thoughts only a few weeks back. It had been a bad day. Worse than Bucky had seen in a while, there had been many bad days lately.

Being Air Exec has some perks, mostly that other people don’t really question why he’s wandering the halls of the infirmary at the dead of night. In the hallway, set up on provisional cots, medics are asleep, still fully dressed. They just collapsed on the first soft spot the moment they could. He can hardly blame them.

His footsteps echo through the dark rooms. The wounded men in the beds are fast asleep — it’s eerily quiet except for the occasional snore.

He’s not sure why he’s here. Maybe it’s to assuage some of the guilt he’s feeling — he’s fine after all. He didn’t go up with them, after all. Maybe because he needs to see the pain with his own eyes, afraid that he’ll forget.

The doctor on duty is doing rounds, his desk empty, when Bucky slips through the swinging double doors to where the heaviest casualties are put up. The air in the room feels different—heavier. It’s not quiet—labored breathing, raspy, sometimes gurgling, groans of pain in artificial sleep. He really shouldn’t be here.

All beds are full.

It’s been a really bad day.

It’s there that he notices you first: sitting on the floor, arms crossed and tucked up against yourself, head leaning against the wall, and legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. In the first second, he thinks someone fell out of their bed. But as Bucky gets closer, he recognizes you — the seersucker cotton dress, the matching cap now crumpled and skewed on your head, and the clearly scuffed and dirty white oxfords. You are one of the OR nurses.

He’s seen you around, just in passing. In chaos between casualties, just from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, you showed up at dances or parties, and Bucky had noticed your cute laugh from across the room, the way your entire face lit up when you smiled. And he knows he’s not the only one who has noticed the delightful sway of your hips as you walk, evident even through your dress uniform. But you made damn sure to make yourself unavailable by sticking with your girlfriends. He’s never seen you accept a drink or dance with someone.

Your mouth is slightly open as you breathe deeply, your form cast in the pale moonlight peeking through the sides of the blinds. Bucky wouldn’t let a woman sleep on the floor in normal circumstances, but in this case, waking you up would be cruel — there isn’t a bed free in the whole hospital. And even bad sleep is better than no sleep.

He moves past you carefully, mentally putting names to all the men here. Those that made it. That’s a good thing, right? They made it. Bucky doesn’t recognize the figure moaning in pain louder and louder, hands desperately grasping at the neatly tucked-in covers — his entire head is covered with a thick layer of white bandages, not even leaving a slit for his eyes, just a small opening for his mouth. He hesitates before his curiosity takes over and moves by the side of the bed to look closer. It’s a good thing, right?

He should do something to help him.

Bucky is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you brushing past him. He almost jumps out of his skin when your torch suddenly clicks on at the foot of the bed. You are bleary-eyed, blinking rapidly as your eyes fly over the patient chart.

“He is due for a new round of pain medication,” You state softly, voice still thick with sleep, before looking up at Bucky. “Major,” is all you say in acknowledgment of him.

“Nurse—lieutenant,” He mumbles in reply, increasingly on edge from the patient’s distress. “What are you—” Before he can start running his mouth in confused ramble, you trust the torch at him.

“Hold this, please, Major,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the noises easily in its steadiness and calmness. The small torch is now in his hand, your fingers brushing over his palm unintentionally as you move through the dark. It’s like a small spark burned the spot where your fingertip touches his skin. “Up, please,”

Bucky complies, shining the light from a high angle as you prepare a syringe. You look exhausted, but nothing in your movement betrays that. Clinical, precise, and so calm. He watches you speak softly to your patient, your free hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, a syringe poised in the other. But the patient is struggling harder, too panicked, and in too much pain.

It happens in a split second.

The patient sits up so quickly that Bucky almost stumbles back in surprise. The patient now has an iron grip on your lower arm, white knuckles, moving in a blind frenzy, pulling you clean off your feet, half over the bed. You yelp in as much surprise as in pain as your knee collides with the metal bed frame. Your face is contorted in pain as you struggle back, trying to regain your footing.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” You keep repeating patiently. Never let them know you are scared: they can’t calm down if you are not in control.

Your voice doesn’t waver one bit. Bucky clenches the small torch between his teeth, trying to free your arm from the patient’s grip.

“N- no” You breathe, clearly in pain now. “Please, Major, just help me to hold him still,”

You are still holding the syringe, poised to strike. Grabbing the patient by the shoulder and forcing him back against the pillow. In the struggle, the torch falls from his mouth. It clatters on the tile floor and rolls away. He is so focused on his task that it’s almost by surprise when the struggle ends within a few seconds, and the patient drifts off again. He never saw you give the injection.

You both stand there, breathing heavily. Bucky bends down to retrieve the torch from the floor. It’s still shining, although it flickers uncertainly with every move. When he straightens back up, he catches you looking at your arm, the brown sleeve of your vest rolled up messily. When you realize he’s looking at you, you pull the sleeve back down and busy yourself tucking the patient back in. But Bucky has seen the angry red fingerprints imprinted on your forearm.

“Thank you, Major Egan,” Not a quiver in your tone, although your breathing has barely slowed down. “It’s probably best you go now,”

“Are you alright?” He cannot help but ask, gaze traveling to your arm. He can’t help but notice you must have been issued a vest a size up, as the sleeves are a bit too long on you. It’s adorable.

“Please don’t worry about me,” You reply, smiling, but it’s clearly a deflection. The corners of your mouth are quirked up, but your eyes just spell tired. “You should try to get some rest, Major. The sun will be up soon,”

There is a certain sense of irony in you telling him that. At least he has a bed to go to, you think wryly. You start walking towards the ward exit, signaling he should follow you.

“Will you be okay here by yourself, lieutenant?” It’s not his place to worry about you, but you are just… you. And these men are in pain, scared, and -

“The doctor will be back from his rounds soon,” Your soft voice pulls Bucky from his thoughts. You stand at the door, holding it open for him. If he hadn’t just seen that chaos happen, he would have never guessed by your demeanor anything happened. As he passes you, you salute him. He salutes you back, gazing over to you. The tips of your fingers are shaking.

The thought is sudden and overwhelming: he wants to lace his fingers through yours, pull you against him, and hold you until you stop shaking.

“Goodnight, Major,” You whisper with a pointed look. You want him out of here so you can check on your throbbing knee and painful arm away from his prying eyes.

“Goodnight, lieutenant,” He replies, tearing his eyes away from you.

***

In early spring, it seems like the rain never stops, from semi-permanent drizzle to raindrops rhythmically ticking against the window pane to the torrential downpour you find yourself in now. The drab-colored trench coat is putting up a valiant fight to keep you dry.

You’re holding your purse over your head but to no avail. The cold trickle of water from your sodden hair travels down your spine. You’re trailing behind your friends, who are making good time through the storm. Water sloshes in your left boot, making it heavy, the drenched woolen sock rubbing painfully against your foot.

Then you hear it. The all too-happy ding of a bicycle bell.

You try to walk faster, gritting your teeth, but Major Egan has caught up with you in just seconds. You don’t stop to greet him, just glancing over at him with narrowed eyes. Gracefully, he jumps off the bike, matching your pace by foot easily. His dark curls are plastered to his forehead, his cap sagging under the weight of the water it must have absorbed. He shouldn’t look this good, sopping wet, especially when you feel so wretched.

“Lieutenant, I could get you where you need to be a whole lot quicker,” he calls out.

“No, thank you, Major,” Your tone is polite, but you keep walking, falling behind further and further from your friends as your left boot squelches with every step. You know he noticed.

“You’re really not going to take me up on the offer? Even in this downpour?”

“Most drops miss,” You can’t keep the scowl off your face as you march on.

“You are so unbelievably stubborn,” He laughs. You don’t think you’re stubborn; you just don’t like feeling like your hand is being forced.

“I don’t need you to save me, Major.” You tell him evenly, finally stopping and turning to him. You know your friends noticed you stopping but probably figured they were doing you a favor and kept going.

Bucky regards you carefully — you look miserable. The curl has long been rained out of your hair; rivulets of water running down your face, dripping on the collar of your trench coat. The steep downturn of the corners of your mouth pretty much just seals the deal. But despite all the evidence, you would never admit you’re anything but fine.

“Save you?” He sounds incredulous. Like the thought never even crossed his mind.

You bite your lip — you might have said too much. But you are afraid that he might ask you for something if you owe Major Egan a favor. He will ask you for something. And you won’t be strong enough to tell him no maybe because you want him to ask. Who wouldn’t?

You’ve seen him look at you from across the room before, and when you scrape together the courage to meet his gaze, it’s like electricity. Short, intense, and almost painful. And then he looks away, his attention turning so fleetingly. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Forget it,” You mumble, clearly embarrassed. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you wish nothing about this moment was happening right now. When you peek through your lashes at Major Egan, you note he looks concerned.

“For what it’s worth,” He clears his throat, not a trace of humor in his voice. “I never considered you to require saving, lieutenant.”

You keep looking at him sharply, finally shaking your head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

There is something deeply absurd about the whole conversation. Just tell him no. Just bid him goodnight and leave. Why are you even entertaining him with your feelings on this? And it’s clearly entertainment to him.

“I’m going to my quarters now, Major,” You state, feeling the need to be polite despite your increasingly impolite feelings about the situation. “And you’re going in the wrong direction,” You add pointedly as you start walking again. It feels like you have an entire puddle in your boot now.

“So what would you prefer, lieutenant? A more classic approach?” That devastatingly handsome grin is back on his face again as he walks beside you. How is that what he took from your last statement? Your shoulders sag when you feel the butterflies in your stomach. “At the next dance, I buy you a drink and sweep you off your feet on the dance floor?”

“I might be more agreeable when it’s not freezing or raining,” You sigh like it’s paining you to admit it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but Bucky likes to think he saw the shadow of a smile pass over your face as you say it, even though your voice is painfully neutral.

“Is that a yes?” Again, that hopeful edge.

“No,” You reply curtly, but you feel bad the moment you say it because you see his smile fall — he’s staring at you somewhere between confusion and growing frustration. It’s making you feel bad. A horrible little selfish part of you wants him to only smile at you. Major Egan could light up a room with that smile — he regularly does. The selfish little monster in you wants to be the reason that he smiles like that.

“Ask me again at the dance, Major,” You amend carefully.

The way his face breaks out in that broad, beaming smile makes you weak at the knees.

***

Bucky is on pins and needles tonight. Even Buck, usually so even-tempered, is getting irritated with him. Drumming his fingers on the bar, tapping his foot not to the beat of the music but to blow off some of the anxious energy. People are flittering in and out of the hall, but there is no sign of you yet. He’s going through his whiskey too quickly, and it’s doing very little to calm his anticipation.

After an hour of only half-listening to the conversation going on around him, constantly glancing at his watch, he finally sees the pack of nurses come in. Bucky’s heart drops a little because you aren’t with the group. You’re always with that group. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he resolutely makes his way to the table now occupied by five gossiping nurses. All eyes are on him as he approaches.

“Good evening, ladies,” He smiles, eyes searching the table. All chairs are occupied — clearly, your friends aren’t saving you a seat. A chorus of good evenings and giggles comes in reply.

“How can we help you, Major Egan?” A blonde nurse asks, peering up through her lashes.

“I’m actually looking for my favorite nurse,” He replies easily, holding his smile despite feeling mildly annoyed. When he mentiones your name, another chorus of giggles.

“I thought I was your favorite nurse,” One of the girls pipes up. The girls burst out laughing.

“She’s on the night shift,” An earnest, young-looking nurse cuts in, pushing up her glasses. Bucky doesn’t really recognize her — she must be quite new. “I asked to switch shifts because I haven’t been to a dance here before.”

“You should have found someone from the afternoon shift,” the blonde nurse sighs in a bored tone. “The poor girl is putting in a double shift now,”

“No one else would switch with me,” The bespectacled nurse defends herself with a small voice.

Bucky should be annoyed. Did you scheme this out on purpose? You run so hot and cold between your lingering looks and thinly veiled barbs. But then again. Of course, you would switch shifts with the new girl out of kindness. You slept on the floor to stay close to those most needed care. Doc sang your praises in the officer’s mess regularly for staying late to finish inventory, covering in emergencies, and keeping the OR running smoothly. Kindly caring for everyone around you.

He should be annoyed. But instead, he feels jealous. It’s a horrible feeling. But you cared more about the new girl than him? Is it really so bad that he wants your kind attention aimed at him? That he wants to be your choice? You wouldn’t even give him a shot.

It just won’t do. But now, at least, he knows where to find you.

At the end of the dark hall, a faint light. A lone lamp on a lone desk, with a lone nurse sitting at it. You hear him coming, of course. Your bright eyes look straight at him as he emerges from the darkness. You are already getting up out of your chair, ready to greet him, notes and medical textbook forgotten on the desk.

“Good evening, Major Egan,” you greet him, your voice soft. Your gentle tone carries sweetly through the quiet hall. You didn’t expect him to come find you. It feels far too serious, far too earnest. You haven’t seen or spoken to Major Egan for over a week now, and for your own sake, you decide that he hadn’t been serious—that you hadn’t been serious. It was just banter.

Truthfully, you were slightly relieved the new girl asked you to switch shifts. But as you sat at the duty desk by yourself, blankly staring at the pages of your medical textbook, your stomach twisted painfully with regret.

“Good evening, lieutenant -” you cut him off with a sharp shush, tapping your index finger against your lips. You step a bit closer to him, voice a sweet whisper. “Please keep it down,”

A beat of silence as you’re both clearly uncomfortable in the strange situation you have suddenly found yourself in.

“How can I help you, Major?” You whisper politely as your eyes nervously, guiltily, dart around the room—anywhere but him. He looks sharp in his dress uniform. He smells nice. He clearly made an effort. And you’re standing here in your day-old hospital uniform. Self-consciously, you try to straighten the standard-issue white and brown stripe wrap-around dress.

“I came looking for my favorite nurse,” Bucky replies sincerely, eyes boring into yours.

“Then you must not be looking for me,” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself. Bucky nearly bursts out laughing at the pained look that crosses your face as you clamp your mouth shut.

“I was waiting for you to show up at the dance,” He says with that same heavy sincerity. His stance is casual, hands in pockets and shoulders relaxed. But the way he fidgets — tapping and shuffling his foot — as he waits for you to reply hints that he is not nearly as calm as he’d like to appear.

“I had to stay,” You reply, still avoiding his gaze. It’s a half-truth. You could have said no. But the new girl seemed to want to go to the dance more badly than you did. It felt unfair. And you had convinced yourself quite thoroughly that Major Egan wouldn’t care or notice anyway.

Another silence falls. Neither quite sure where to go from here.

“How are the boys doing?” Bucky asks conversationally, reaching out to the large doors leading into the intensive care unit. On a whim, you grab his hand before he touches the handle, your fingers gently wrapping over the top of his large hand. He stills, and for a moment, you think he’ll shake your hand off his. But instead, he waits in acceptance.

“It won’t help you,” You whisper. It took you a while to figure out why Major Egan was in the hospital that night. When people spoke of him, they spoke of how much he cared for his men — a heavy burden to bear.

“Help me?” His voice is suddenly loud. He is offended at the notion that he’s doing it for himself and offended that you called him out like that. He opens his mouth again to argue with you.

Startled by the volume, your brain misfires fully, and instead of replying, your free hand reaches out to his face, your index finger landing on his soft lips to silence him. He stares at you wide-eyed. You are sure you look as shocked as he does. You try to gather your thoughts quickly.

“I - I understand,” You implore him in an urgent whisper, finally looking at him. Bucky sees his own sorrow reflected in your eyes.

Sometimes, you can only wait. There is no next round of medicine; there is no operation that will help. Waiting for the body to do its work can be frustrating and maddeningly slow.

“But there is nothing you can do now, so going in won’t help you or them,” You swallow. Why is your finger still on his lips, and why is he letting you do that? “They need to rest. You need to rest.”

His fingers lace through yours as he steps closer. It’s inappropriate how close he is standing to you. It’s inappropriate how the tips of your fingers caress the seam of his lips. It’s inappropriate how your hand has latched onto his, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the pulse point of your wrist.

“I don’t need rest.” His voice is soft and close. The intimacy of his lips moving against your fingers is intense, each breath setting your nerve endings on fire. He leans into your touch, trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. Finally, you look at him.

“Then what do you need?” Your question comes automatically. Always looking for how to help. Always so kind. He could melt into your soft touch, warm voice, and how you look at him so sweetly.

“I need to know when you’re done here so I can sweep you off your feet,” His eyes meet yours, keenly following your every move.

You want to take a step back and break the increasingly feverish connection, away from his oddly earnest confession, but Bucky pulls you closer with a small tug on your hand. Your head is swimming; your heart is hammering in your chest. You shouldn’t entertain any of this, but it feels like your heart is pouring out of your mouth.

“My shift ends at 0500,”

Bucky grins at you—not in a teasing way, but with that infectious broad smile—the one you cannot help but smile back. It gives you butterflies. You’re smiling at him now, beautifully, genuinely. It feels like a victory to Bucky.

“I’ll keep the party going if you promise me the last dance.” His voice is low and inviting; he is reeling you in further with every word.

“Don’t torture everyone on my account, please,” You feebly try to inject some levity into the situation. You know yourself well enough: you are no match for John Egan and his attentions. From sparks across the room, now it’s like you’ve touched the live wire, and the current has a hold on you. That’s why you always avoided him so.

“Torture? Darling, it’s a party,” He needles you gently, eyes glinting merrily. “Only you would equate that to torture.”

“Major -,” “Bucky,” He interjects. You blink at him, biting your lip.

“Bucky, please,” The moment you utter his name, so beguilingly, so breathlessly, he presses your palm against his face fully, his hand covering yours. He needs you closer. The golden buttons of his jacket brush against the front of your dress. His lips press against the soft flesh of your hand as he studies your reaction. The hitch in your breath is embarrassingly loud to your ears.

“Please, what?”

“Don’t torment me like this,” It sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud. And exactly as you’d expect, the admission of your weakness, the slightest chink in your armor, is an in for him.

“How do I torment you, exactly?” His voice is so warm, so encouraging.

“You take far too much pleasure in making fun of me, for one,” You try to play it off in a last-ditch attempt. But under his heated gaze, his breath brushing on the sensitive skin of your wrist, you falter. You frown before you utter in a small voice: “It’s not nice how you toy with me, Bucky, because it’s obvious that… that it’s just a joke to you, and your idea of a joke could get me dismissed, and sent home,”

You look down at your shoes, embarrassed. You want to pull away, but Bucky is not allowing you an inch of slack.

“It’s not a joke to me.” He sounds surprised. You look up at him, unable to keep the skepticism off your face. “It wasn’t a joke from that night I saw how calmly you handled that panicked patient, the moment you saluted me with those shaky fingers, and then every time you denied my help, you stubborn, stubborn girl,” His face is so close to yours now; a finger tracing down the side of your neck, down, just along the collar of your dress, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The way your hand rests on his cheek, you could pull him even closer if you wanted to. “I’ve wanted to grab hold of you, wrap you around me-”

Footsteps. You pull back from Bucky with a jerky movement, who mercifully releases you immediately, stumbling back two steps, almost hitting the desk with your legs. It’s strangely cold suddenly without his hands wrapped around yours, without him so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Blood is rushing in your ears. Bucky looks too collected, but to your relief, you spy a faint blush creeping up his neck.

So it wasn’t just you.

Hands folded, you take another furtive step back behind the desk, making sure there’s a respectable distance between you as the doctor on duty turns the corner. Bucky and the doctor start talking in low voices, but you are not listening. In your mind, you keep returning to his words, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

That night on the ward. That was the first time you spoke and saw each other in more than passing. That’s when Bucky suddenly formed this habit of popping in places he had no business of being. Places you happened to frequent. You really hadn’t been vain enough to consider that the common denominator in those situations was you. It had to be a coincidence that he had just turned into a joke.

“Nurse,” The doctor turns to you, handing you his clipboard. You nearly jump out of your skin, being so lost in thought. “Please update the log,”

“Yes, doctor,” You nod, trying not to look as flustered as you feel. The men start leaving, still talking.

“Good night, lieutenant,” Bucky turns to you, unable to keep the cocky smile off his face. Before he turns, he winks at you. It makes your knees so weak you nearly collapse back into your chair. Covering your face with your hands, you try to focus, but the smile won’t come off your face.

Seven more hours until your shift ends.

***

It’s a misty summer morning, dew covering every inch. The sun is just breaking through the clouds, and it’s promising to be a beautiful day.

When you leave the infirmary, you blink against the early morning sun. It’s still so early that few people are around. You hesitate. Surely, the party is not still going on. You wouldn’t put it past Bucky to actually do it. Rubbing your eyes and yawning, you’re unsure if you could even stay on your feet long enough for a dance.

Luckily, you don’t have to make a choice.

The sound of the bicycle bell makes you smile now. Bucky’s looking remarkably fresh and well-rested. The party clearly didn’t go that far into the night. He dressed for duty, his signature sheepskin jacket hanging open.

“Are you going my way, darling?”

You purse your lips because you’re fighting to keep the smile off your tired face. You don’t stand a chance. You dart over to him like you are pulled by a magnetic force, the live current arching between you.

Sliding onto the back of the bike, you grab handfuls of the thick sheepskin to steady yourself, trying to find your equilibrium. Bucky’s large, warm hands encircle your wrists and easily pull your hands off his jacket. Instead, he gently nudges you forward by your arms, tucking them under the side of his jacket, wrapping your arms around his waist. The side of your face is resting against his back. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm, resting just under his sternum; you move along with his every breath.

“Ready?” Bucky peers over his shoulder.

“Hm–mh,” You hum in reply, face buried in the folds of Bucky’s jacket. “Drop me off before the last turn?” You mumble, gazing up at him pleadingly. “Matron will be awake and on the prowl by now,”

“Don’t worry, darling,” His free hand wraps over yours, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “I’m not going to get you into any trouble,”

“I’m holding you to that,” You yawn, wrapping yourself around him tighter. You’re going to make the most of this moment — the quiet morning, the soft sheepskin, the smell of Bucky’s aftershave.

You drift in and out of sleep, even though the trip by bike is tortuously short. After almost twenty hours on shift, you should be allowed this comfort. Whining in protest as Bucky starts to unlatch your arms from him, you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it.

You slide off the back of the bike, ignoring where the metal was jabbing into your backside on the bumpy road, and rub your eyes, trying to get rid of the haze in your vision. A small yelp escapes you as Bucky tugs you against him by the tie at the waist of your wraparound seersucker dress. The bike lays forgotten in the grass by the side of the road. All the tension and anticipation from last night are suddenly back — you feel wide awake again.

Bucky’s fingers are resting lightly against your waist like he is testing the waters, slowly, gently guiding you closer to him until you are inches away from him. Automatically, your hands sneak back up his jacket, running up his sides to the front of his chest. He is so warm against the crisp morning air.

“Are you going to ask me for a kiss now?” It comes out almost naively as you look up at him. God, you hope he says yes.

“I promised not to get you into trouble,” He teases gently, grinning, inclining his face closer anyway, his lips just ghosting over the corner of your mouth. He is rewarded with a shuddering sigh from you — his grip on your waist tightens, prompting you to close the remaining distance between you.

“This, of course, is perfectly innocent,” Only you could be looking at him with those big eyes, full of want, your curious fingers roaming over his chest, and still speak so earnestly. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, shaking from laughter. You wrap yourself around him, head buzzing. It’s like you’re short-circuiting, sparks flying with every move, every breath.

Bucky nips at the sensitive flesh of your neck, hoping to elicit more of those small sounds from you. If it weren’t for the quiet morning, remnants of mist dissolving in the first light, he would have missed the softest moan of his name that falls from your lips. He could do this all day. Just explore every move of your body against his, every way you can say his name, every touch that brings you closer to him. You move in effortless synchronicity with him, purely on instinct.

“Then it’s trouble you want, darling?” Bucky murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw.

“It’s only trouble if we get caught,” You reply breathlessly.

His finger is under your chin, tilting your face up to him, and finally, Bucky’s lips find yours. For a second, it’s just that: his lips pressed softly, almost chastely, against yours. You push yourself up on your tiptoes to get more leverage, wrapping your arm around his neck. Your other hand stays pressed against his chest, fisting his shirt, feeling how his heartbeat speeds up as you open your mouth for him with a sigh. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, cupping your face. His other hand is roaming boldly over your back, applying light pressure on your spine so you arch into him, skimming just over the curve of your behind, playfully tugging at the ribbon of your wraparound dress. He knows exactly what he is doing and how to get exactly what he wants from you, and you’re more than eager to please.

Your mouth starts to tentatively explore the column of his neck as he whispers your name longingly, encouraging your little adventure. When your lips touch a particularly sensitive spot right under his ear, Bucky hisses — you can feel his muscles clench. It’s exhilarating; he feels the sparks as much as you do. Bucky doesn’t allow you to bask in your small victory too long, greedily capturing your mouth with his again, wrapping you around him, tucking you against him. His soft touch turns feverish, grasping at your hip. You match in kind, nails grazing the nape of his neck, just along his hairline — anything to keep the tension, the current arching.

You can feel the sunshine on your skin and see it through closed eyes. Breathlessly, you pull away just a fraction — Bucky’s lips are still ghosting over yours.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks so softly you’re unsure if you heard or felt the words against your lips.

“I have to go,” You mumble as you move to stand feet flat on the ground again. It’s like waking up from a dream. Time is getting away from you. You’re not ready to pull away from Bucky yet, wanting to stretch the moment out. You gently fix his collar, running your hands over his front once more, as much in an attempt to straighten out the wrinkles you left on his shirt as to feel him move under your palm again. When he steps away from you, you release a shuddering breath. You feel like you’ve just been hit by lighting.

“I’ll come find you,” He winks at you, grinning. Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture feels intimate, more personal, than you could have imagined.

It was everything you feared happening when you said yes to John Egan. It was everything you dreamed it to be. As you watch him leave, you know that you’ll have a damn hard time giving that up.

“I’ll be waiting.”

note: this was literally supposed to be a quick 2k words fun meet cute kind of thing, just a quick adventure Morty, but oh god I'm in too deep. forgive me for this detour from Of All The Stars in The Sky, but it was necessary, you understand.

#Or Mila can’t write drabbles #one shot most likely #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #john egan x nurse!reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months

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To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again.

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip.

“Munson!” he barks.

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes.

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.”

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!”

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.”

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic.

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-”

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“Oh, and that someone would be you?”

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound.

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-”

Steve roars and lunges.

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground.

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs.

And all hell breaks loose.

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek.

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!”

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book.

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow.

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips.

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?”

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?”

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-”

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.”

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth.

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath.

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through.

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips.

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.”

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof.

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles #phantom thief au

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ivystoryweaver · 1 month

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Decadent chapter 14: FINALE

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: An accident in the lab - and Miguel has missed what was right in front of his face (that's you)

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Content: nsfw, 18+ , some angst, unprotected p in v, grinding, scratching, biting, blood consumption, bondage, rough sex, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

“That’s why I want you to live here with me.” Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"

"Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..." Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."

FINALE

Spiderman 2099's unstable molecule fabric suit stretched itself across his defined muscles. His heavy cape unfurled behind him. With a sudden leap, he glided across New York - or at least this universe's version of New York, prepared to make sure this universe's timeline didn't somehow collapse.

"Uhhh, boss?" Lyla chimed, appearing in the air, near his head as he floated through the sky.

"Kinda busy, can't it wait?"

"No. You programmed me to let you know if your girlfriend were to ever be in danger, soooo she’s in danger," she fired back.

Miguel aimed for a low rooftop and came to a tumbling stop.

"Where is she? What's wrong?" Miguel had a timeline to attend to, but if you were in danger...

"There was an explosion in the lab - "

Lyla said nothing more before Miguel was quite literally tearing through the fabric of time to get back to you.

His virtual assistant may have overstated the danger you were in. When he arrived at the lab, he realized there had been a very small explosion. More of a misfire of sorts -

...which wasn't the major issue. The reason Lyla interrupted Miguel's mission soon became clear to him.

This was the part of the lab with the spiders. The explosion had destroyed some of the spiders and freed the rest. They must have scurried away. But you were lying on the floor amidst debris, unconscious, with a huge, angry spider bite on your hand.

You were bit by a radioactive spider.

"It can't be," he whispered, rushing to your side and checking you over frantically. Thankfully, you were breathing, but unconscious.

"Baby, what happened?" He gasped, pulling you into his arms and rocking you gently. Pressing a fierce kiss to your forehead, he murmured against your skin.

"This isn't supposed to happen. I'm Spider-Man here. I'm Spider-Man...how..."

Horrible dread filled Miguel's heart.

If this world already had a Spider-Man, that meant this spider bite wasn't going to turn you into a spider woman. It would most likely either kill you or turn you into a villain.

How could he possibly have missed this? How did he not see this coming?

First things first: he wanted to make sure you were okay. Which one of these spiders bit you? They were all radioactive, so in that regard, you were fucked. But it was nothing venomous...right?

Miguel placed you on a lab table and got to work, analyzing your condition and reaction to the bite, drawing your blood, watching you closely for signs of venom - rashes, difficultly breathing -anything to explain why you were unconscious.

He simultaneously had Lyla pull up everything on you - anything that could explain why you would have been bitten by a radioactive spider and he didn't see it coming, as some sort of canon event. Maybe it was just a freak accident. After all, you worked in a dangerous, experimental lab daily.

But Miguel knew the universe. The multi-verse, even. There were no accidents. Ever.

Your Aunt Jessina practically raised you, at least since your parents died at age 12. Miguel had even met Jess.

"Wait, what the hell?" Miguel gasped. Your Aunt Jess actually adopted you and changed your name. And her name.

As Lyla untangled well-hidden files, she discovered that Jess' name was Jessina May Parker. The sister of a scientist named Richard Parker.

Your last name used to be Parker?

Aunt Jess married a man named Ben, who also died. She took his name and completely abandoned the name Parker. You took Ben's last name as well. It was as if Jess wanted to erase any memory of her brother Richard, as well as the name Parker.

But Jess knew what she was doing. The paper trail was virtually nonexistent. One would have to know what to look for and exactly how to look, to find it. And Miguel simply wasn't looking for any spider-related canon events in this timeline because he was Spider-Man.

As Lyla dug deeper, the connections became obvious.

You were raised by your Aunt (Jessina) May. Your Uncle Ben died. Your parents - the Parkers, died behind a veil of secrecy.

Your friend's name was Gwen.

The guy with a crush on you? Jackson Watson. Mitchell Jackson Watson. He went by 'MJ' Watson as a child.

Your life read like a pretty common spider story. So...you were meant to be a spider. That meant he was the wrong spider in the wrong place. Typical. No wonder his entire existence felt...well, wrong. Until he met you...

Now he just had to wait for you to wake up.

You eyes fluttered weakly, struggling to open. You inhaled sharply - shakily, feeling like your skin was on fire.

"Corazón?" Miguel gasped, gently tracing your jaw with his fingertips. "Hey..."

"W-what happened?" you croaked, your throat parched and your lips dry.

"You were bit by a spider. Scared me to death- how are you feeling?” He gently questioned.

"Everything hurts,” you coughed out, struggling to sit up. "Was it poisonous?"

"Take it easy. Just lie still. Let me take care of you,” he softly admonished. "I’m running some tests but you don't seem to be having an allergic reaction. I don’t think that’s what’s happening here."

You moaned in agony, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. "My head is pounding- my skin hurts, Miguel please...”

“It’s okay, baby - "

“Please take me home,” you whimpered. “I-I don’t feel good.”

Miguel explained to you that he wasn’t quite done with the tests he was running in the lab, not to mention the headache of dealing with the accidental explosion and confidential cleanup. So you endured nearly an hour of waiting on an uncomfortable lab table until Miguel felt satisfied with your test results.

Then he carried you to the car, held you close in the back seat, and took you to his home.

Well...hopefully soon to be your home. Miguel had asked you to move in, but you wanted complete honesty from him first. This was way more than working together, sleeping together, or even being exclusive. Miguel loved you and wanted to start a life with you.

He had asked you for one more weekend and then promised to show you all his secrets first hand. This gave you pause, but he explained it would be easier to show you than to explain it to you.

The Spider Society was meant to be a secret, so Miguel honestly wanted to let a few people there know what was going on - how serious he was about you, and how much he trusted you.

Now, it seemed you would not only learn of the Spider Society as Miguel's girlfriend, but as a spider yourself.

Your transformation into a spider wasn't an easy one, but not atypical of other transitions Miguel had heard about and witnessed. Of course, his personal transition was a different type of lab accident, and he was quite the unique spider.

Still, your whimpers of agony tormented him all night as you clung to him, clenching his t-shirt in your firsts, begging him to hold you, to stay with you.

He groaned as you shifted against his body, pulling yourself on top of him.

"Why does it feel like this?" You cried, you lips brushing his throat. "Please make it stop, Miguel, please."

He must have whispered a hundred soothing Spanish whispers and pet names into your ear, promising you he was there - that you were safe, and this would pass.

As you drifted off into a fitful slumber, he wondered how you would ever forgive him for letting this happen to you - for not seeing it coming.

The next morning, you woke up in his arms, feeling much better. And bizarre. A trip to the bathroom later, and your new life started to make itself known.

You tried to brush your teeth, but accidentally snapped the thing in half. Next, you broke the toilet handle when you went to flush, which, made you flinch in surprise, sending your hand slamming into the counter's edge - taking the corner right off as it smashed to pieces.

"Oh my god!' you shrieked, "Miguel?" you called out, rushing back toward the bedroom, only to collide with his solid chest…

…which somehow sent him stumbling backward. All six foot, nine inches or your massive wall of a boyfriend almost lost his balance after you ran into him.

“Miguel? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He grasped your arms to calm you down Damn, you were strong. “Let me explain, okay?”

So Miguel info-dumped absolutely everything about the Spider Society, the multi-verse and your spider powers. He even explained that you getting bit was apparently a “canon event” - a life and story similar to so many other spiders.

To say your mind was blown was an understatement. The fact that you had super powers now? Like super strength, amazing reflexes and possibly something called a spider sense, where you could sense danger coming?

Not to mention a lot other people had these same powers too but they were from other worlds.

You started to understand why it took Miguel so long to tell you where he went on weekends. It would have been difficult to grasp if it hadn’t happened to you personally.

You couldn't believe your eyes when Miguel actually took your hand and led you through a portal to another dimension. A psychedelic, seizure-inducing, multicolored portal, which might have been terrifying if it weren't so amazing.

When you got to this so called Spider HQ, you clung to his hand as you passed by several other people in skin tight suits that looked like Miguel's blue one, but more of them were primarily red.

Each person knew Miguel and seemed to defer to him or acknowledge him as the two of you passed by.

Lyla was there as well, chirping away, updating him on all things multiverse.

The biggest surprise came when you got to what appeared to be the heart of the operation, or perhaps Miguel's...office, containing a rather dramatic elevated platform surrounded by several computer screens.

"So this is where you go every weekend?" You asked him, nodding around you.

"Nights too, sometimes. When we're not together." He winked down at you.

You made a face. "Baby, when do you sleep?"

"He never sleeps," a familiar voice resounded behind you. "That's why he's so damn grumpy."

The multiverse got a lot weirder when you turned around and saw your neighbor's lookalike standing there in a black and white spider suit.

"Gwen?"

Seeing your neighbor/friend's doppelgänger was shocking enough, but Miguel knew it was time to head back to your own universe when you discovered, quite by accident, that you were the proud, new owner of organic webbing.

You accidentally shot a long roped web out of your wrist and shrieked in surprise, inadvertently firing off a few more before Miguel could explain to you what was happening. He knew it could be a possibility - some spiders made their webbing in the lab and wore the tech on their wrists - while others, like you, had organic webbing as a part of your altered DNA.

There was really no way to know for sure until it happened. The thought of spiderwebs flying out of your skin freaked you right the hell out, so Miguel took you home.

After explaining things to you and making you some Mexican food, he noticed you hadn't spoken or even looked at him since he poured your first margarita.

"Mi amor?" He gently prompted, reaching for your hand. "Talk to me."

As if simply waiting on an invitation, you dove right in.

"Why didn't you tell me about all this - about the other spiders?" You whispered. "I mean...this is huge."

"I know." His gaze dropped. "I wanted to, but the Spider Society - we don't really...advertise."

"I get that," you nodded understandingly, "But I'm not just your girlfriend. I'm your research partner. Don't you think it's pertinent to our research - all those other spiders? Didn't you think maybe this information could help you?"

"There are no other spiders like me. No one had the accident I had and no one...drinks blood."

"But we don't know - there could have been something," you argued. "A-and the fact that I was working around radioactive spiders every day?"

"Well...you did know about the spiders, to be fair," he reasoned.

"Maybe, but not that I would turn into a spider-person - and that there were other universes with...us out there. And Gwen - there's another Gwen?" You pulled your hand away during your confused and impassioned speech, running your fingers over your wrists where your spiderwebs had shot out.

"And now like - I'm part spider and I am completely freaked out, Miguel, d-do you understand that?"

His scarlet eyes found yours and he nodded. "I think I do. I definitely do."

Your eyed him sympathetically, understanding his meaning. This was the whole point of your research together - the reason you met. Miguel didn't want to be part vampire spider anymore, and he never wanted to need to drink blood again. He'd spent most of his life vexed by his very existence.

"I didn't mean for this to happen to you, mi amor - you have to believe that."

"I know," you sniffled. "But what about me? Are you...friends with another me - somewhere out there? You and me - are we just carbon copies of - "

"No." Miguel's scarlet eyes swirled with uncertainty as his dark eyebrows arched pleadingly. "There is no one else like you. There never could be."

Seeing your hesitation and sensing your distress, he pushed off his barstool where you were seated at the kitchen island. Brushing his knuckles across your cheek, he struggled to find the right words as slivers of fear began to wind around his heart - a dread that somehow, he could lose you. "Corazon..."

"You're sure you haven't met a bunch of other me's?" You softly questioned, blinking up at him.

"Mi vida," he breathed, touching his forehead to yours as he stood between your legs - his hands spreading across your thighs.

With little effort, he lifted you off your barstool and set you on the counter top, easing closer until his body pressed against yours. Pulling your thighs around his waist, he shifted his hips before pressing his waiting mouth to yours.

You hummed against his lips, slipping your fingers around his neck to wind through his dark locks. He tasted you slowly, pushing his hands back up your spread thighs to grip your hips. Thrusting against you temptingly, he licked hotly into your mouth, but it didn't last long.

Touching his forehead to yours, the warmth of his breath enticed you closer, but he shook his head, murmuring your name. Miguel so often spoke through his body. Some of your wildest nights together stemmed from his anger and desperation.

One memory in particular came to mind - one Saturday in your apartment, when he admitted to you that his daughter had passed away. He tried to tell you more about it that day, but instead, he had pulled you against his body and kissed you so tenderly. You had taken him to your bed and that was the first time he was so sweet and deliberate with you.

Whispering his name, you brushed an errant lock of hair from his ruby gaze.

Shaking his head slightly, he inhaled, as if ready to speak, but somehow couldn't...stammering, instead, leaning into your touch. "I can't..."

"What," you murmured, twirling your fingers through the hair behind his ears.

"Lose you," he choked out, his gaze dropping to your lap.

Dragging your fingertips down his jawline, you lifted his face back up to yours. But you didn't answer - instead, sealing your mouth to his once more, pulling him closer still, and squeezing his torso with your thighs.

He responded hungrily, lifting you up to carry you to the nearest flat surface, which was the living room couch - his tongue tangling with yours urgently.

The two of you tumbled down, bodies pressed eagerly together as you rolled all the way down to the floor, grinding together for the friction you so desperately craved. So often, you searched for the connection needed through communication with your bodies.

It happened quickly - with both of you craving the intensity of your shared bond when your bodies joined. With only a few deliberate yanks of clothing off or aside, he pushed his way snugly inside you, the two of you a hopeless tangle of limbs and clothing.

But you wanted him closer stil. "Tear these," you pouted, pulling at your shoved-aside panties...

...but they ripped with the strength of your finger.

Before you could react, he obeyed your command, shredding the other annoying articles of clothing, easing down onto his back as your joined bodies continued a tantric rhythm.

He groaned as you worked your naked body over his cock, your tits bouncing, granting him his favorite view in all the universes he'd ever laid eyes on, or even imagined.

"Even if I met...another version of you somehow...it still wouldn't be you," he panted, running his hands all over your beautiful body.

Miguel had needed reassurance that he wouldn't lose you, but it was you doubting your uniqueness, and for the first time, you understood, even if only in part, why Miguel might feel like a freak or a monster.

A radioactive spider bite had altered your DNA and your body was a mystery to you now. You didn't know your own strength and the whole spiderweb thing really sent you...

But the biggest fear driving the vigorous use of his body beneath you was that he might discover another you somewhere.

"Tell me again," you whined, twisting your body down into his with brutal ferocity. "Tell me I'm the only one."

"F-fuck," he stuttered out - your newfound strength making his huge frame buck like a rag doll.

Wishing he could sit up and hold you while you came - to reassure you that you belonged to him, and that no one else ever could, Miguel instead found himself coming hard and instantly because he could not move - your strength rendering him incapable of lifting off the floor.

"Miguel, please," you gasped, digging your nails so hard into his chest that you drew blood, so close to your release but feeling that he'd already come inside you.

You kept on riding him even as he went soft, expecting his superhuman stamina to have him hard and ready for you soon, but you forgot one small factor:

He had to keep up with you now.

Your frustration and desperation came to a head and you finally stilled your movements, opening your eyes to find bloody streaks scraped into your boyfriend's massive chest.

Before you could even react or worry, Miguel trapped your wrists in his hands. "Está bien, cariño."

You gasped out his name, horrified, still unaware that you were literally pinning him down.

"I'm okay, it's okay," he assured you, pulling at your wrists. "Let me up."

"Oh god," you croaked, finally releasing him and staring at the angry red marks and trickles of blood. "I-I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize."

"Hey..." he caressed your cheek, readjusting as your bodies pulled apart. "Felt so good. I'm okay."

"But you're bleeding," you argued. "Look what I did..." You trailed off as he nodded, understanding, better than anyone, exactly how you were feeling right now. You hurt him - drew blood, surprising and horrifying yourself, only to have him come faster than ever, telling you how good it was.

Okay, so the tables had turned.

Miguel suggested the two of you go upstairs to clean up and get more comfortable, promising to clean up the Mexican feast tomorrow.

You were quiet - perplexed, mostly, but the tiny slivers of fear slipped back into Miguel's mind over what his lack of candor might ultimately mean for your relationship.

"Mi amor," he started again, just the way he had right after dinner. The two of you had showered and changed into pajamas even though it was hardly bedtime.

Gripping you by the arms, he ducked down closer to your height. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this."

"It's not your fault," you reasoned, resting your palms against his chest. "How could it be?"

He simply shrugged, pulling you close to his chest for a hug. "I promise there's no one else like you," he whispered against your temple. "There are other Parkers, and other spiders, but no one else is like you."

Easing back, he took your face in his hands. "Every single person I've met - other Peters and other Gwens - none of them are exactly alike - they're all unique."

Pressing a soft kiss to your mouth, he rested his forehead against yours. "You can't honestly believe I could love anyone else."

He kissed you again, slotting his mouth against yours as his strong arms wound around your back. Then he took you to his bed and made you believe it.

Six weeks later...

Miguel turned out to be quite the capable coach - helping you understand your powers and practicing using them. He even encouraged the use of your spiderwebs outside the lab, reasoning that you needed to get used to them domestically.

A few pillows lost their stuffing and you shattered a teapot and a margarita glass, but, with practice, you adjusted.

This was an absolute must before working in the lab. Flying spiderwebs did not mix with delicate test tubes and beakers.

Your favorite part of training was when Miguel insisted you use his body for practice - testing your strength, agility and your webs while he taught you how to fight. It took you weeks to unleash your full strength on him. Your kick knocked him across a rooftop.

But when it came right down to it, he actually was bigger and stronger. Not by much. Your advantage came from your more powerful webs and your precognitive spider-sense.

Work had completely changed for the two of you, since you started focusing your time less on a cure for Miguel, and more on the needs of the Spider Society.

Miguel started to feel like maybe being a spider wasn't so bad. He used to feel alone, despite all the other spiders in the society - constantly wracked with guilt over the blood he took from others simply to sustain his life.

Then you came along - brilliant, beautiful and so full of life - challenging him at every turn - in the lab, in the bedroom. You knew what you wanted out of a career and you definitely knew what you wanted from a lover.

What started out as a wild bit of coworkers-with-benefits gave way to a twisted relationship of sorts - he used your body for pleasure and for feeding and -miracle of miracles - you loved it.

Craving the dark things he did to your body - the scratches of his talons, the puncture marks from his fangs, the weakness from blood loss and paralyzation - all while he used your body for his pleasure - it was a mirror to him of how much of a monster he really was.

But you showed him that person deserved love as much as anyone else. Miguel finally accepted your acceptance. He allowed you to love him and heal his heart. He still wasn't comfortable with hurting you, however, and remained determined to find a cure for his condition.

At least until a couple weeks ago.

The two of you were sparring and Miguel was pushing you pretty hard. He was still superior at hand-to-hand combat, simply from years of experience.

Sparring with an absolute tank of a delicious boyfriend like Miguel taught you a lot, but it also made you feral. He usually insisted the two of you calm down and cool off - keeping your training separate from your personal life.

But this particular night, you were having none of it.

Miguel had you pinned on the ground between his thick, gorgeous thighs.

"Ready for a break?" He nonchalantly and almost smugly questioned.

"No way," you huffed, firing webs to bind his ankles together.

You could feel a slightly condescending chuckle rumble through his body, so you fired another web right at his mouth, silencing him.

Your face was right next to his crotch and, as you ordered him to stop fighting you, his cock started getting hard.

Certainly not the first time that happened.

He reached for your hands to try to stop all your spiderweb nonsense, but you stuck his hand to the floor with another web.

He only squeezed his thighs together harder, keeping you trapped.

"Have it your way," you purred, mouthing him through the thin cotton of his joggers.

He mumbled out a protest, through the web covering his mouth, reaching for you with his other hand. While teasing his cock with your lips, you managed to stick his other hand to the floor and start to wiggle free.

Miguel really was stronger than you, but lost his concentration just enough to forget to keep clamping down with his thighs.

You rolled away, laughing victoriously, but knowing he wouldn't stay trapped for long. So you straddled his waist, enjoying your few moments with him bound and silenced, rolling your hips over his length, grinding down temptingly.

"I wonder if I could make you come before you get free," you taunted, firing more webs to trap his entire arms - from shoulders to wrists - to the floor. You used more webbing to secure his legs as well, loosening his ankles just long enough to secure his legs all the way down, spread apart, just like his arms.

He didn't fight you.

Instead, his ruby irises flashed with lust as you pulled your sports bra over your head. He was already shirtless, so it felt incredible when you removed the web silencing him. You laid down, your breasts mashed against his muscular chest, grinding your core against his length as you kissed him hard.

You felt him shift and strain against the webs - he no doubt wanted to run his hands over your skin, but you nipped at his lips, tutting condescendingly.

"Be good for me," you teased, ripping his pants open with no effort. He groaned as you roughly pushed your own pants down and kicked them off, leaving you naked as you draped yourself back over him, rubbing your bare wet cunt up and down his stiff cock.

"Baby, please..." he panted as you undulated - your tits bouncing as you found the friction you sought for your clit, but left him desperate to push his way inside you.

You eased down again, lying on top of him, rolling your hips teasingly as your slid your tongue inside his mouth, purposely dragging it across his sharp fang.

Miguel moaned as the taste of your blood filled his mouth, sucking your tongue, drinking your sweet nectar as you kissed him and teased him endlessly.

You sat back up after a moment, licking your lips clean of blood as your tongue healed itself almost instantly. Bracing yourself with your palms on your boyfriend's huge chest, you locked eyes with him, smirking slightly as you continued rocking your hips just enough to rub your clit pleasurably but to leave him wanting.

"Fuck me," he panted, running his blood-covered tongue over his lips - his muscles straining against your webs.

Biting your lip coyly, you paused the movement of your hips. "Make me." And you continued the drag of your clit over his tip, panting as pleasure sparked up and down your spine.

You wanted his cock inside you as badly as he did, but it was just too fun to see him squirm. Back and forth you went, faster and faster, working yourself close to your release.

"I'm so close," you moaned, concentrating on your own pleasure and loving the flex of Miguel's muscles as he struggled. Soon enough, his warm laser webs, convenient talons and sheer strength freed his arms just enough to knock you off balance.

A bit of sparring ensued - the two of you hard and wet and naked - fighting for control and desperate to fuck.

You attempted to ensnare your boyfriend in your webs again, but he dodged you, rolling away and firing his own, which bound your ankles and made you trip. Before you could hit the ground, however, you ripped your ankles free and rolled to a stop...

...but Miguel was ready, firing his laser webbing to bind your hands. He grabbed you from behind, pushing you down to the floor and pinning you there with all his weight, pushing your bound hands up over your head.

You squirmed but he was pressing down on you with all his might.

"You're going to be still, little spider, while I fuck you."

"Doubt that - " You started, but weren't surprised at all as Miguel's webs covered your mouth. You wriggled against him, but were secretly thrilled that he was using his strength on you. He had shown some hesitancy bringing his powers and his full strength into the bedroom, aside from the way he would regularly drink blood from your tongue when you purposely sliced it on his fang.

Two strong hands gripped your hips, shifting you up just enough for him to thrust his thick cock into your dripping channel. Memories of him bending you over his desk flooded your mind - times when you would cry from how good he would fuck you.

And now, as he pounded into you, with all the power and speed in his beautiful body, you felt pressure but no pain. And he felt release with no guilt.

The webbing across your mouth muffled your screams of ecstasy as he shifted his hips to hit that spot so perfect.

"My beautiful girl," he breathed on the back of your neck. "You were made for me."

His fangs tore into your flesh and he fed - the feeling of his fangs inside your skin made you come instantly - your body convulsing with the wildest, hardest orgasm of your life.

Miguel's paralytic venom could no longer incapacitate you - it merely slowed you down for a minute or two, giving him just enough time to drink his fill, feel your body submit and give out, as he pumped his seed into you.

The two of you collapsed together on the floor, panting and spent. Miguel freed you from his webs, rolled you over to face him and pulled you against the warmth of his chest.

You melted against him, satisfied, accepting his lust-filled kiss.

He pulled back a moment later, amazed as the angry wounds in your throat closed and vanished as your body healed itself.

After two weeks of feeding on your new blood, and dozens of tests to make sure your blood wouldn't somehow hurt him, Miguel put to rest the idea of looking for a cure for his condition.

"I told you - you're perfect just like you are," you whispered one night, lying on top of his chest.

"Maybe I was just waiting on my cure," he murmured back, running his hands down the curve of your bare back. "You fixed me. You healed me."

"You fixed me too. I had no idea what I was missing before super powered sex," you teased him.

He playfully swatted your ass. "We're going to break everything in this house if we keep going like this, corazón."

You smiled to yourself. "I don't know. I think we're going to have to take it easy for a while."

"Why...did I hurt you?"

"No." You pressed a quick kiss right over his heart. "I'm pregnant."

END

Thank you for taking this wild ride with me! It was fun to explore unhinged, blood-drinking Miguel. xoxo - Ivy

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #marvel fanfic #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse au #marvel au #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader

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toulousewayne · 5 months

Text

Batfam and Batsis Headcannon: The Teams Part 1

Majority of DCU knows about the Batfamily and many work with them and have formed teams with them. However, while many have worked with Y/n she was never officially on anyone’s team. In fact a lot of the League have never worked with her but a select few have had the chance.

Superman and Wonder Woman have worked with her countless times, there were even times that had to fill in for Batman and she assisted them. It goes without saying Diana Prince loves all of the Batkids but Y/n definitely has a special bond with the Princess. While Barbara oversaw most of Y/n’s training she was trained by others. Her most worked with trainer was Diana herself.

Barbara had Y/n complete her training with Diana and she had to win in order for Barbara to give her final blessing for her to suit up.

“Remember never go for the obvious attack.” Diana swiftly block Y/n’s bow staff strike and shove her backward.

“Never let your opponent get your weak spot,” she attempted to strike the girl who backflipped out the way and block two punches,”You’ll face many who will not stop because you are a child, you must fight them with your all. And then,” she kicked the back of Y/n’s knee and she caught herself before hitting Diana in the chest.

“You give more. Never let your guard down.” Y/n smirked. Diana returned the smirk,”Good. Again child.”

She always worked with Clark, before Tim joined she had to protect the city while Batman and Nightwing were in England to find information about a Drug Lord who had recently smuggled weapons and drugs into the city and need to find him in London.

“Are you sure your gonna be okay, I can ask Wally to—“

“I’ll be fine mother hen.” She scoffed putting on her utility belt and cape.

“I know you will, but I’d rather be safe than sorry that’s why I’ve asked Clark to visit you throughout the next two nights.”

“What! So you don’t trust me after all!” She stocked over to him but he pulled his cowl up and hopped into the Batwing.

“He’s there as backup.” Nightwing joined him and with that they raced out of the cave.

Batgirl stood overtop of a building while listening to a group of armed men break into one of Black Mask’s buildings.

“Show time.” She threw smoke and glided down and began fighting them. She didn’t realize there was several more around the corner and soon she was surrounded by some armed and unarmed men.

“Where you gonna go now Brat-girl?”

“I don’t know yet maybe Amusement Mile,but you are so going to Blackgate creep.”

“You little bitch I’m gonna—“ before he could shot her his body was sent flying into a group of trash cans.

“Now that’s no way to talk to a young lady.” Superman smirked. The other goons looked like they were gonna shit their pants and Batgirl rolled her eyes.

“Go ahead pretend like I’m not here.” He quickly took all the remaining guns and crushed them into a ball.

Batgirl quickly started fighting the shocked and terrified goons until one managed to run but Superman met him around the corner and the goon passed out before he could do anything. He brought him back to the alley where Batgirl was tying up the rest of the goons.

“I had him.”

“Uh huh,sure you did.” Superman dropped the goon and Batgirl cuffed him to a dumpster.

She grappled to the rooftops where Superman was floating above as sirens could be heard in the distance.

“So,how about a pizza break. I can fly us to Sicily?” He offered.

Batgirl stood before the Kryptonite for a moment,”A Large Margarita?”

He grinned,”Scouts Honor.” She scoffed and climbed onto his back,”Dad’s right you kinda are a bit of a Boy Scout.” And he took off,”What’s wrong with that?” He asked innocently.

The other members of the league she did get to meet as well. She loved spending time with with J’onn while she studied as it was very quiet in the command room.

“So do all Martian have your powers, or are you just one of a kind?”

“While most of my people have gifts and abilities my were more advanced then those in my age group when I was younger.” He didn’t even turn in her direction as he continued to type away on the keyboard.

She tapped her pen on her Geometry textbook.”What was it like, on Mars before the invasion?”

He continued typing for a few minutes before stopping.” It was Home, many things here on Earth are alike. Such as bonds with friends and family, we had our customs and traditions as well. Many think we are so different and while yes there is a difference between an Earthling and a Martian may of us fiction the same in terms of daily living.” He was solemn for a bit before returning to typing.

“Well, I’m glad the team has as someone like you around.” The Martian grinned. “And I’m sure the Bat is lucky to have daughter so curious and eager to learn about different cultures.”

“He better be.” The tween smiled.

She had taken a liking to listening in on League conversations, many of which weren’t even about missions just chaos and disaster.

“Thats’s a bunch of bull!” Hal shouted as Barry and Dinah entered the canteen with irrigation painted across their faces.

Y/n was munching on cheese fries and reading a book Jason gave her a long time ago.

“Hey kid, how’s book going?” Dinah took a seat next to her. “It’s good, what is Hal whining about today?”

She smirked stealing a fry,”He thinks your father is a vampire or something because he’s never seen during the daytime.” She sighed.

“How did you guys even get on this topic?” She marked her book and placed it down eating her fries with Dinah.

“He’s human for crying out loud!” Barry whined sitting down with his tray of hamburgers, nachos, cheese fries and sandwiches.

Hal sat down to taking a large gulp of his Cherry Cola,”Look I’m just saying if we throw Holly water on the Bats he could burst in flames.”

Y/n rolled her eyes under her mask and muttered,”I see why John is the smart Lantern.” Hal turned his gaze to her and grinned.

“Hey kiddo, why don’t you enlighten us. You live with Dracula does he ever walk into the sunlight, does he ever run from garlic, does he ever state food on holy ground?”

“Only when it’s Lasagna night and you eat garlic bread too, But he doesn’t smell like a garlic plant like you do.” Dinah had to hide her face but Barry was doubled over laughing.

“Definitely the Bat’s kid.” He grumbled walking away while checking his breath.

Y/n spent many weekends at Titans Tower before and after becoming Batgirl. She enjoyed being dragged to new pop up shops with Kory or visiting the vintage camera stores with Donna.

She also would play video games with Gar and Victor or mediate with Raven.

“You know the garden at the Manor are great place for tranquility.” She opened one eye looking in Raven’s direction.

“Tempting, I may take you up on that offer Y/n.” Raven had a tiny grin on her face.

“RAVEN! You’ve Hogged Y/n ALL MORNING!” The two turned to Gar who had a annoyed look on his face. Y/n giggled at his antics but Raven sighed.

“We’re mediating, beside you just want her to rematch you in Mario Party and we all know she’ll beat you anyway.” She replied.

“Not True!”

Kori, Dick and Wally enter the room and watch the two bicker back and forth. Y/n slips away to the kitchen where Victor is making pancakes.

“Do they ever not fight?” She turned to Victor who placed two plate of chocolate chip pancakes down. Wally took the other seat and began to devour them.

“This goes without but I doubt they even like breathing the same air as each other.” Wally commented with his face covered in syrup and chocolate chips.

“YOUR ANNOYING!”

“YOU SNORE!”

Dick and Kori watch from the kitchen as Vic hands them plates too.

“Y/n there’s a new sale, would you like to join me after breakfast?” Kori beamed.

“Of course, besides Dick promised to take me to the bookstore next door.” Everyone turned their gaze to the one and only Flying Grayson with syrup now covering his face.

“What?” The girls snickered at Dick but soon the voices of the other two took back over.

“Get a room already!” Victor yelled, which caused them to start bickering with him and Dick covered his face while everyone else ate and watched.

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sergeantsporks · 2 years

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writing request: during kings tide Hunter gets stuck in the demon realm while the others escape

“Ooooooooooo a GRIMWALKER! I thought Belos was gonna get rid of you!”

Hunter felt a pull tugging him back, away from the portal. Willow grasped his arms. “No! No, no, no—”

Hunter held on tight with his good arm. “Don’t let go,” he begged, “Please—” tears pressed at the corners of his eyes.

He killed Uncle without even trying.

Willow’s feet started to slip out of the human realm and back to the demon realm, and a jolt of panic shot down Hunter’s spine as Gus grabbed hold, too, pulling with all his might.

He killed Uncle so easily, even in his cursed form

What will he do to my friends?

He pulled his good arm out of Willow and Gus’ grip, reaching into his pocket and pulling out Flapjack. He held the bird out. “Take it!”

“No—Hunter, no!”

Hunter pushed it into Gus’s hands, and the smaller witch was forced to let go and grab the bird before it could clatter on the ground. Flapjack sprang to life, struggling and screeching for Hunter not to go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

King shouted.

Luz, Amity, Gus, and Willow were all pushed through the door by the soundwave. Hunter was thrown backwards, too, but he was too high in the air and just slammed into the doorframe, crumbling to the ground as the door fell into pieces.

The Collector giggled, and Hunter floated up into the air with king. “A Grimwalker and a titan! Awesome! Well, you know, if we’re going to play owl house, we need an owl house! We also need a villain!” They grinned at Hunter. “You’re it!”

Hunter was dropped back down to the ground, and he felt his clothes grow heavier, a cape springing out behind him.

No, no, no, no, no!

King was set down in the ruins of the door, and he scrambled towards Hunter. “Hunter! I’m sorry, I tried to send you through, I—”

In a blur of blue and orange, the Collector was between them. “I’ll save you from the emperor’s guard, King!” he yelled, their hand slamming into Hunter’s chest.

The breath was almost immediately knocked out of him, and he was sent flying backwards, crashing into the wall. Hunter’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, just a wheeze as he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The world blurred, his vision spotty, and his whole body screaming with pain.

“Come on,” the Collector’s voice whined in a blurry, far-off kind of way, “It’s no fun if the bad guy doesn’t fight! You’re supposed to try to take King from me, remember?! And then I save him!”

King wriggled out of the Collector’s grasp, running to Hunter. “No, wait!” he yelled, standing in front of him, “That’s not how you play owl house!”

“Well, what are the rules, then?!”

Hunter closed his eyes, his ears ringing. He could feel something sticky beneath his head, and he slowly reached out, wincing as he touched a gash on the back of his skull.

Head injury… not good…

“In the owl house, we try to help the golden guard!” King yelped, “We try to convince him to be our friend, and to stay on our side! We try to get him away from Belos, and we take care of him!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yeah, that makes sense!”

Something poked at Hunter’s face, and he opened his eyes just enough to see the Collector crouching down next to him, a cheerful grin on their face. “Sorry! Wanna switch teams?”

Hunter let out a wheezing groan, and the Collector smacked their forehead. “Oh! Right! If we rescue you from Belos, we need a Belos!”

In the corner, Uncle’s robes and mask swirled up, held up by the Collector’s power. It glided over.

“Hunter, you get up right now!” The Collector ordered, his childlike voice seeming to ripple over with Belos’ accent, “Capture me some palisman so I can shove them in my dumb face and get even goopier!”

Hunter curled into a ball with a whine, putting his hands over his ears.

It’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him

“Didn’t you hear me, Hunter? Do you want to be replaced?! I can do that, because I’m a mean, mean liar who thinks he knows everything and can do whatever he wants! Now get up!”

Magic swirled around Hunter, setting him up on his feet. The pressure kept him up, kept his head from sagging forward to his chest, forced his eyes open. King stared at him with big eyes as the Collector made him march away. The Belos Puppet glided after him, yelling at him to move along, to get those palisman, the titan’s blood, and to capture the human, and a hundred other tasks that contradicted each other, or were just plain ridiculous.

Finally, the magic dropped him, and Hunter collapsed, gagging as his head spun.

“Stay away from Hunter!” The collector yelled in his own voice, nudging King.

“Y-yeah!” King yelled, “Go away, Belos!”

His voice echoed out, knocking the Belos puppet away. The Collector knelt next to Hunter, squishing his cheeks between his hands. “Hooray! We saved you! We’re the heroes!” He laughed, then dropped Hunter. “Man, you’re kind of a boring rescuee.”

Hunter curled back into a ball, tucking his head between his knees with a whimper.

The Collector scooped King up, the Belos puppet in the corner swirling back into shape. “Come on! Let’s find someone else to rescue! Maybe if he takes a break he’ll be more fun to play with.” He patted Hunter’s head, making him choke as it sent spikes of pain hammering through his skull. “Okeydokey, you can take a nap! I’ll come back later to see if you’re feeling better, and we can play some more!”

King reached out towards Hunter as the Collector floated up, but Hunter couldn’t even try to grab him, couldn’t do much more than try to breathe and not slip into darkness.

And then it was quiet. It was just him and the broken remains of the Titan’s skull.

“Hunter?! Kid!”

Someone crashed down on their knees next to him, a red dress blurring in his vision. “Do you know where Luz and King went? Wait—don’t answer, don’t move, you look awful, hang on, we’ll get help. RAINE! I found one of them! Find a healer, if you can!”

Hunter’s eyes started to close, and a cool hand patted his face. “Hey! Hey, stick with me, kid, don’t fall asleep! You’re going to be okay, just hold on a little longer!”

“I don’t… want to play anymore,” he whispered, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. “I don’t…”

Hey! Hunter, wake up! Wake up!

#toh #the owl house #asks #writing requests #toh hunter #the collector #king clawthorne #child harm #concussion

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aifolksongs101 · 8 months

Text

Super Mario Theme Lenormand

1. The Plumber - This card represents Mario, the main character of the Super Mario Bros. series. It symbolizes action, determination, and overcoming obstacles.

2. The Princess - This card represents Princess Peach, the damsel in distress whom Mario often rescues. It symbolizes love, beauty, and vulnerability.

3. The Mushroom - This card represents the iconic power-up item in the Super Mario Bros. games. It symbolizes growth, transformation, and unexpected surprises.

4. The Fire Flower - This card represents the power-up that allows Mario to shoot fireballs at his enemies. It symbolizes passion, energy, and assertiveness.

5. The Starman - This card represents the invincibility power-up that grants temporary invulnerability to Mario. It symbolizes luck, protection, and success.

6. The Coin - This card represents the collectible coins found throughout the Super Mario Bros. games. It symbolizes wealth, abundance, and material gain.

7. The Goomba - This card represents one of Mario's most common enemies, a mushroom-like creature. It symbolizes obstacles, challenges, and minor setbacks.

8. The Koopa Troopa - This card represents another common enemy in the Super Mario Bros. series, a turtle-like creature. It symbolizes resilience, defense, and slow progress.

9. The Piranha Plant - This card represents a carnivorous plant enemy that emerges from pipes in the games. It symbolizes hidden dangers, surprises, and unexpected threats.

10. The Hammer Bro - This card represents a recurring enemy that throws hammers at Mario. It symbolizes conflict, competition, and opposition.

11. The Lakitu - This card represents an enemy character that rides a cloud and throws Spiny Eggs at Mario. It symbolizes interference, disruption, and unexpected challenges.

12. The Bullet Bill - This card represents a projectile enemy that resembles a bullet fired from cannons. It symbolizes speed, directness, and unstoppable force.

13. The Warp Pipe - This card represents the iconic green pipes that Mario can enter to travel between different areas. It symbolizes transitions, journeys, and new beginnings.

14. The Castle - This card represents the final destination in each Super Mario Bros. game, where Mario must rescue Princess Peach from Bowser. It symbolizes goals, achievements, and fulfillment.

15. The 1-Up Mushroom - This card represents a special mushroom that grants Mario an extra life when collected. It symbolizes second chances, resilience, and renewal.

16. The Goomba Shoe - This card represents a unique power-up that allows Mario to wear a shoe-like creature called a Goomba Shoe. It symbolizes adaptability, resourcefulness, and unconventional solutions.

17. The Yoshi Egg - This card represents Yoshi's eggs, which hatch into Yoshis that assist Mario on his journey. It symbolizes support, companionship, and nurturing.

18. The Cloud Platform - This card represents the floating platforms found in the Super Mario Bros. games. It symbolizes elevation, opportunities, and reaching new heights.

19. The Warp Whistle - This card represents a magical item that allows Mario to warp to different worlds in Super Mario Bros. 3. It symbolizes shortcuts, escape routes, and quick solutions.

20. The Hammer Suit - This card represents a rare power-up that transforms Mario into a Hammer Bro, granting him new abilities. It symbolizes adaptability, versatility, and empowerment.

21. The Tanooki Suit - This card represents a power-up that transforms Mario into a raccoon-like creature with the ability to fly. It symbolizes freedom, creativity, and exploration.

22. The Cape Feather - This card represents a power-up that gives Mario a cape, allowing him to glide through the air. It symbolizes grace, elegance, and smooth transitions.

23. The P-Wing - This card represents a rare item that grants Mario unlimited flight in Super Mario Bros. 3. It symbolizes boundless potential, limitless possibilities, and ultimate freedom.

24. The Super Leaf - This card represents a power-up that gives Mario a raccoon tail, enabling him to perform special moves. It symbolizes adaptability, agility, and hidden talents.

25. The Boo - This card represents a ghost enemy that appears in various Super Mario Bros. games. It symbolizes fear, illusions, and things that go bump in the night.

26. The Thwomp - This card represents a large stone enemy that slams down on Mario when he passes beneath it. It symbolizes obstacles, delays, and feeling crushed by circumstances.

27. The Chain Chomp - This card represents a ball and chain enemy that lunges at Mario when he gets too close. It symbolizes aggression, impulsiveness, and being held back.

28. The Lakitu's Cloud - This card represents the cloud on which Lakitu rides in the Super Mario Bros. games. It symbolizes observation, surveillance, and being watched.

29. The Bullet Bill Cannon - This card represents the cannons from which Bullet Bills are fired at Mario. It symbolizes bombardment, overwhelming pressure, and feeling targeted.

30. The Warp Block - This card represents a special block that transports Mario to different areas when hit. It symbolizes unexpected detours, shortcuts, and sudden changes.

31. The Hammer - This card represents the weapon used by Hammer Bros. and Mario himself in some games. It symbolizes strength, determination, and the power to break through obstacles.

32. The Super Star - This card represents a larger version of the Starman power-up that grants temporary invincibility. It symbolizes extraordinary luck, fame, and being in the spotlight.

33. The Lakitu's Fishing Rod - This card represents the fishing rod used by Lakitu in some Super Mario Bros. games. It symbolizes manipulation, deception, and being lured into traps.

34. The Warp Zone - This card represents hidden areas in the Super Mario Bros. games that allow players to skip levels. It symbolizes shortcuts, hidden opportunities, and secret knowledge.

35. The Goal Pole - This card represents the iconic flagpole at the end of each level in Super Mario Bros. It symbolizes completion, achievement, and reaching one's destination.

36. The Game Over - This card represents the dreaded "Game Over" screen that appears when Mario loses all his lives. It symbolizes failure, setbacks, and the need to start over.

#WIP #Lenormand #mario

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traderdales · 1 year

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Part two sweetheart let's tackle the next ask:

cleric - what magic items would you give the party or any individual character?

Now there's a lot of magic items in DnD so I'm just gonna set this limitation for myself

The DMG says that around 5th level, players might get their hands on a Rare magic item. This is pretty much always up to the DM anyways but I'm gonna stick to that.

With that being said, I'll be answering both parts of this question, I'm gonna assign magic items to each member to the best of my ability and also give one that the party as a whole might enjoy!

Fenix - Magic items for Fighters are pretty hard to choose since unless you're an Eldritch Knight you won't really be engaging with spells as often BUT that doesn't stop us! I considered the Boots of Levitation for Fenix, because seeing her float would be incredible I think. But, I think I found something even better:

Chromatic Rose Wondrous item, rare Source: The Wild Beyond The Witchlight (2021)

Basically this is rose that can have a variety of different colours, each one providing a harmless little effect as you hold it (things like crackling lightning and dripping acid). While you hold the rose, you're able to gain resistance to it's associated damage type, and it might even negate the damage entirely! You can also blow the petals to have a sort of breath weapon effect creating a cone of damage (areas of effect baby we love those!) that does 3d10!

The main downside is the roses do get destroyed after being used, but maybe Fenix could get her hand on a few of these?Either way it would suit her in a lovely way.

Daezonik - You run into a similar scary place with the rogue when it comes to magic items, so many options, especially if you aren't an Arcane Trickster! But let's try it. We've gotten to see some fun things from Daezonik in play so I'm taking some of that into account when I suggest:

Cape of the Mountebank Wondrous item, rare Source: Dungeon Master's Guide (2014)

Now what we discovered a while back was that Daezonik can glide (help?). That is an AMAZING movement option and so I wanted to add a lil' umph with some more movement. The cape gives the wearer the ability to cast Dimension Door once per dawn which is incredible! Imagine Daezonik teleporting up in the air and gliding onto enemies with an aerial sneak attack y'all it'd be wild just nghhhh ok let me calm down.

Veks - Oooooh a magic item for a warlock could be anything. We still don't have confirmation for his patron, so it leaves more options but a magic item for a caster is always exciting. I mean ok like, I think I'm really funny for this choice guys please laugh with me... So we all know Veks' relationship with Cauliflower right? Well-

Ring of the Ram Ring, rare (requires attunement) Source: Dungeon Master's Guide (2014)

So listen the ring has 3 charges and you can use those charges to summon a spectral ram's head and deal 2d10 damage by having that head ram into enemies. Please guys it would be so iconic I'm begging you annnnnddd there go all my followers.

Seth - Yeah, you know that's right, Seth is next! Our sweet silent paladin deserves a magic item too. Paladins are pretty damn versatile so they can find some use with a lot of different items, and I found something that might just compliment his style quite a bit.

Crystal Blade Weapon (any sword), rare (requires attunement) Source: Fizban's Treasury of Dragons (2021)

Seth has expressed how important that Greatsword of his is so this coul be given through an enchantment or something of the sort idk babygirl there's so many options! But the sword let's you add 1d8 radiant damage and you can spend a charge to regain some hit points equal to that extra radiant damage! The mf can live longer which is great for what is the closest thing this party has to a healer (christ almighty save these poor fuckers). The blade can also shed some light in a pretty good area!

Alto - Our local Air Genasi Ranger is the last party member we're giving a magic item too. He's got a lot going on with his characters power but I thought this item should be pretty fitting for him as well (but just know there's a lot of damn options I could see).

Eagle Whistle Wondrous item, rare Source: Tales from the Yawning Portal (2017)

This whistle has three uses. For each use you can blow the whistle continuously, and while blowing it you can fly at a speed equal to twice your walking speed! You can blow the whistle for a number of rounds equal to 5 + five times your damn Constitution modifier holy crap y'all. Alto has a surprisingly high CON score too so he could get a lot of use out of it. Air Genasi belong in the damn sky anyways!

Party - For this I tried to think of something that basically everyone could benefit from which is a bit hard, but there were a few options that I liked. Here's the one I settled on:

Deck of Illusions Wondrous item, uncommon Dungeon Master's Guide (2014)

It's a simple item in it's essence, a deck of cards that casts the illusion of a monster. It's an item that can be used for a long time in very creative ways and I trust that the Arcanenites would find many unexpected ways to utilize it's power.

That's all I've got! I hope you enjoyed my suggestions for this ask! I've got some more asks but I'll get to them tomorrow because time flies by when you look up every rare and uncommon magic item in dnd 5e believe it or not. Rest well!

#we love magic in a fantasy setting #but also give them a deck of many things go for it #also idk if this got less coherent over time it's... 3am #arcanenites

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sidhedust · 11 months

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The sketches look better than the clean lines/coloring I was doing, but here they are altogether nonetheless. I don't think I'll finish the bottom one, and will instead restart the linework to make it match the sketch more-she looks much cuter and freaky like I envisoned in them than the final (ish) illustration!

Anyways, here are the design notes/intentions, in order from the top, left to right:

Neutral/Sleep version of the transformation. This is for when she's in an eh mood while transformed or transforms in her sleep-this won't appear for a while, since her transformation is mostly unwillingly/from extreme emotion, and is hard to slip into otherwise until she gets the hang of it.

Powered up and raring to go-she's in an extreme mood. This is the most common transformation in the novel and comic, as it is spurned by extreme emotion or excess magical power flowing through her all at once. Due to living in the fae realm, the magic in her is powerful and explosive-in this form, she can literally become a ticking magic bomb as a last result, at the cost of needing a long, long rest. Her magic manifests as a pale blue glow.

The last two are for when she's gathering magic, calling from within-pale blue light move through her fur/hair as she gathers it. This is basically how she looks when she's about to cast a spell, call on a spirit, drawing a sigil, etc etc.

It's worth mentioning that her transformations take a lot of magic-all shapeshifters use magic within them to do so. As a result, she doesn't always take this form when using magic unless the magic being used needs a somatic component, needs an extra oomph, or as mentioned, her emotions take over in a situation. And even then, often only one or two parts shift into her fae realm form, the rest resembling the form she was born in. It takes summoning a god, powering a large sigil, reciting a very long galdr/chant, or a very extremely taxing/joyful event for her to shift completely.

Lastly, her hair is split to help with gliding. She can float and fly, but she doesn't do it without an aid, like a broom, cape, or even a bike.

#sidhedust art #sidhedust rambles #oc artwork #oc tag: luana #<- going to start chara tags to keep their design notes and info dumps in once place

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sweetsweetlullabies · 1 year

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Swapped Slumber concept art

He can float like normal Slumber and he uses his cape like "wings" , imagine the batman games with batman gliding. He has a very good eye and is a sharpshooter. Currently his main weapon is a bow with bone arrows.

And, yes, he does have a tongue. Mostly since canon Swap Sans has one.

He's the same size as normal Slumber and "has an ego the size of our floating island home" -Papyrus

#slumbertale #swap sans #undertaleau #underswap #underswap sans #au undertale #sans au #slumbersans #slumbertale art #sans #sans undertale #sans underswap

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thailandtrust · 2 years

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Superpower 2 magic box

#Superpower 2 magic box cracked#

#Superpower 2 magic box full#

Moving around increases the rate at which coins are gained. Slowly gives Mario one coin at a time when worn, up to a limit of 100 (with no limit in Super Mario 3D Land). Super Mario 3D Land, Super Mario 3D World, Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury Transforms Mario into Cloud Mario, allowing him to create up to 3 cloud platforms (which are replenished upon collecting another Cloud Flower), make floaty jumps, and walk on clouds. Transforms Mario into Bunny Mario, allowing him to slow his descent or hover in midair. Transforms Mario into Cape Mario, allowing him to fly after building up speed, glide to slow his descent, and cape spin to attack enemies, similarly to the Super Leaf. 3 ( e-Reader-exclusive item), Super Mario Maker and Super Mario Maker 2 ( Super Mario World style only) Super Mario World, Super Mario Advance 4: Super Mario Bros. Cannonballs can be charged indefinitely, and will fly faster when released if charged.

#Superpower 2 magic box cracked#

Super Mario 3D World, Super Mario Maker 2 ( Super Mario 3D World style only), Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury ( Super Mario 3D World campaign only)Ĭontinually fires cannonballs when worn which can collect items and break cracked walls and Rock Blocks. Super Mario Maker 2 ( Super Mario 3D World style only)Īllows Mario to fly horizontally for a short period of time.Ī Buzzy Beetle's empty shell, which can be worn by Mario to protect him from attacks from above, and to destroy Brick Blocks in the same way as Super Mario. He is also able to stick to the ceiling with his horns. Transforms Wario into Bull Wario, which allows him to destroy blocks with just one Body Slam instead of two, and is able to do a ground pound that destroys any enemy or block directly hit and creates a shock wave that stuns any nearby enemy. Temporarily transforms Yoshi into Bulb Yoshi, allowing him to reveal and stand on platforms that would otherwise be invisible and intangible. Temporarily allows the player to defeat enemies or break blocks by tapping them on the GamePad. Transforms Mario into Boomerang Mario, allowing him to throw boomerangs to damage enemies, collect coins or activate Checkpoint Flags. Super Mario 3D Land, Super Mario 3D World, Super Mario Maker 2 ( Super Mario 3D World style only), Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury Transforms Mario into Boo Mario, allowing him to pass through fences and read Booish. Transforms Mario into Shell Mario, allowing him to shell dash, crouch in the shell to block most attacks, and swim faster with more control. New Super Mario Bros., Mario & Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story Temporarily transforms Yoshi into Blimp Yoshi, causing him to puff up and float, similarly to the Power Balloon. In Super Mario Maker, it also lets Mario destroy blocks by running into them, gives the screen a CRT effect, and changes enemies' appearances to be Mario-themed. Transforms Mario into Big Mario, allowing him to destroy Brick Blocks, Ice Blocks, ? Blocks, and Hard Blocks by jumping on or under them. Super Mario Maker, Super Mario Maker 2 ( Super Mario Bros. Transforms Mario into Bee Mario, allowing him to fly for a short time, walk on clouds and flowers, and stick to honeycombs.

#Superpower 2 magic box full#

The article for each power-up provides more information, including a full list of which characters can use it. While other characters, such as Luigi, may be able to use many of these power-ups identically, the description for power-ups that Mario can use only describes their effect on Mario. Below is a list of power-ups, including a selection of their sprites and artwork, and a list of their respective appearances in the Mario franchise. Most of their effects make defeating enemies or exploring levels easier. Power-ups are unique items that give special abilities to characters that use them. For the move from Minion Quest: The Search for Bowser, see Special Skill (Mario & Luigi series). For the status effect that means "power up", see POW-Up. For the space in Mario Party 3, see Power-up Space.

May be able to store magical energy only in certain objects.This article is about the power-ups found in different games.

User can store an amount of magical energy over their normal limit, allowing them to do a big scale spell in a short time. The user can capture/contain/trap magical energy inside a container, such as room, box, etc., and use later by releasing it.

#Superpower 2 magic box

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thiaquiche · 2 years

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Got super excited about @crunchy-pringles’ Subway in the Sky AU and had a whole bunch of thoughts about it lol none of this is like. Canon to the AU or anything, I just think this is all very neat :P

It all got started when I was thinking about how fun flying is, and I was wondering about how maybe Ingo would start to wish he could fly like the skykids after a little while and he stopped being quite so freaked out about it. It would certainly be more convenient than being lugged around like a sack of rocks, and much safer in the event of an accident which might cause him to fall, even barring any excitement about the idea of actually literally flying under his own power instead of being carried. The kids accompanying Ingo lead him to a Winged Light to explain how they get their wing energy, not really expecting anything special but for “because I said so” reasons (that I justify below the cut) Ingo is actually able to collect the Winged Light. He feels the warmth spread through his core to his extremities and settle, not uncomfortable but noticeably different, and it swallows and soothes the background aches and pains in his body. He feels young again, though his stature has not changed.

There’s a sudden itch in the back of his mind to shrug off his jacket that he justifies as being suddenly too warm in it, and he does, draping it across his shoulders like a cape instead. One of the skykids accompanying him points out how there’s a new icon on his jacket now, like there is along the back of their capes, it’s a symbol they’ve not seen before (Arceus’ little fence hoop) but that’s not unheard of, and they urge him to try taking off like he’s seen them do. He flaps his arms, his jacket flaps along with him, and he floats into the air several times his own height before gently drifting back down. The kids cheer.

Even before he has enough wing energy to fly very far on his own, the experience of gliding hand in hand with his child guides is completely different now that he can float along beside them. Flying gets a lot less scary when he doesn’t have to worry about plummeting forever should he lose his grip.

The experience isn’t all sunshine and roses, though. The first concerning thing to happen is when the buzz of his first proper flight has worn off, and he realizes that actually, his face feels rather stiff. When he reaches up to touch it, his hand is met not with skin, but with something harder and flatter. He beelines to the nearest body of water and sees in his reflection a skykid-like mask with glowing eyes and a cartoony, painted-on frown.

It takes a little while for him to calm back down after that, and the kids apologize for forgetting to tell him, they figured he’d probably have noticed his face transforming into a mask.

The next incident is when he runs into Emmet for the first time in this world. Neither of them can understand one another’s speech - Emmet’s words roll right past the part of Ingo’s brain that is supposed to understand them (though he recognizes the sound of his voice), and in another change the children forgot to mention, Ingo’s speech has turned into train whistles. Combined with Emmet being just as freaked out by Ingo’s new mask as Ingo was, there’s a definite rollercoaster of emotions during this reunion that is for once entirely unrelated to memories and amnesia.

Fortunately, one of Ingo’s companions has a chat table at the ready, and the kids teach Ingo how to gift candles if he hasn’t learned to do so already, so the communication barrier situation is resolved quickly.

Now, I’m a little less sure of what might come next. Emmet may also decide to start collecting Winged Lights, or he may not. He might decide immediately or change his mind later. There’s cool potential stuff for each possibility, but for now, for simplicity’s sake, I’m just going to stick with Emmet not collecting any Winged Light. I’m also going to put the rest of this post beneath a Read More, for spoiler reasons relating to later game content. There’s no more art below the cut, if that matters to anyone.

Content warning below for temporary death and injury.

Another consequence of Ingo’s transformation that he discovers later is his new and different vulnerability and resiliency. While Emmet finds the rain in the Hidden Forest and the greasy polluted water in the Golden Wasteland unpleasant at worst, Ingo has an absolutely miserable time with them. The rain and pollution are searing cold, cutting right to the deepest parts of him like they’re trying to drain every last ounce of warmth from his body. He avoids both to the best of his ability. While he’s vulnerable to some things, though, he thankfully also has the near-invincibility of a skykid. He can get the wind knocked out of him by a crab or be punted halfway across the boneyard by a krill and end up more or less fine in terms of not being injured like a human, however unpleasant the experience may be otherwise and how shaken he may be by the shock of it. Emmet is more fragile, as they discover when a charging crab leaves a nasty bruise on his thigh. They never have to find out what might happen if he were to be krilled, but it’s not hard to imagine that it would be nothing good.

I’d like to take a quick detour to talk now about Megabird, what it wants, and how it’s involved here. It was established that Megabird wants Ingo and Emmet, during the duration of their stay in the kingdom, to save the Children of the Light. I’m understanding that to mean the Winged Lights, which is why Ingo (and, if he tried, Emmet) are able to collect Winged Lights like skykids. Now that Ingo has undergone the transformation, Megabird won’t let him go home until he returns his Lights to the sky. Which, of course, means that he needs to go through the Eye of Eden. And die. Joy.

Of course he has his friends to escort him through the storm, but the experience is still quite frightening, and there’s no avoiding the fact that he needs to cross the point of no return. The red rocks knock him around as normal, but once he loses his last Winged Light, something inside of him cracks. Human sensation returns to his body, and all at once he’s as fragile and human as ever. He goes quickly, bludgeoned to death by the hail of rocks.

In the empty place, he is numb. His clothes are pristine. He knows that he has died, in the same way that one knows two plus two is four - it is a simple, unemotional, abstract fact. Before him is a glowing silhouette of himself, its clothes still torn and its face masked. He reaches out to touch it, and it shatters in a shower of light. Out of the darkness comes a gold and white bird the size of a manta. He climbs onto its back and it flies him into the light.

The Ascent is serene.

In Orbit, the Winged Lights wave goodbye as normal. He cannot collect their ascended candles. The thought-that-is-not-his that echoes through his head as he steps into the swirling light is not, “You are about to be reborn,” but “You have done well… you are free to go.”

He reappears in Homespace as human as the day he was born before a waiting Emmet in a shower of light, and then the experience hits him, and he realizes oh my god, I just died.

Okay that got a little dramatic and a lot long lmao anyways Prince hope you like it hfkjsdhf

#thia posts #submas #sky cotl #subway in the sky au #subway master ingo #warden ingo #subway master emmet #fan art #skidified ingo au

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anordinarymuse · 3 years

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Can I request a kaz brekker soulmate au? The colours when you touch your soulmate is making its way around again and I am a sucker for it.

ok i hope i did this right bc i had to look up the color soulmate au so hopefully google didn't do me dirty.

monochrome.

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Summary : literally always the requests now haha

Warnings : soulmate au; unedited.

Word Count : 706

A/N : alert alert i'm beginning to burn out rip

the masterlist.

request here.

Ketterdam was dark, extremely dark. It didn't help that everything you saw was in shadows and shades of grey and black.

You had already run into a few people, who cursed you out as they pushed past you. You were just thankful they didn't hold you to gun point, though you were prepared for that if it came to it. The metallic gun on your hip jabs your skin every time you take a step.

You knew that the sun had set and it was night since it was chilly. Your thin fleece jacket was doing nothing for you now.

As you stumble through the dismal streets of Ketterdam, a certain sign and building catches your eye. The Crow Club. You walked past it three times before deciding to finally enter the space.

You had been traveling to visit your aunt for three days now, you figured you could take a break in a club. Why not? Your aunt had convinced to you to visit her after she had gone on and on about some man who she was sure was your soulmate. You weren't as sure as she was.

You had met several men in your life, none of which brought the vibrant shades of color that your friends continuously fawned over.

"Y/N, it's life-changing, seeing colors. It's entirely different."

You did nothing but scoff when your friend had told you that only a day after she met her soulmate. How could something so drastically change ones life?

You navigate your way through the club to the bar, dodging drunk men who cheered much to loud when the won a bet or game.

Once seated on a mildly uncomfortable barstool, your order a drink. When you receive it, you swirl the grey shadow in the glass cup. When you take a sip, it has a satisfying burn as it glides down your throat.

When you've downed the drink you let it sit empty on the wooden tabletop. The bartender approaches and looks down at you expectantly. He doesn't speak to you so it takes a moment to figure out what he was trying to say.

Sifting through your pouch for any kruge, the bartender waits glaring you down. He taps his finger furiously on the wooden counter. When you've found your money you set it down, and the bartender inspects the coins before nodding and walking away.

You take a grateful exhale before whirling around in the stool. Instantly, you stand up, walking right into somebody's chest. Instead of leaning back, you lean forward, toppling on top of the person.

You scramble to stand back up and apologize, but your entire world flashes before you when you feel a sliver of skin rub against your wrist. All around you the grey shades begin to melt away revealing harsh pigments. The room was still dim and a bit dinky, but you could see color.

The man who's skin touched you holds a bitter glare while he rubs wrist.

His wrist must have touched my wrist.

It seems that it must've been faith your skin had made contact with his because he was covered with clothes from head to toe. He even wore leather gloves in the midst of the heat from the packed club.

His eyes flicker and his jaw is clenched, though, he doesn't look at you. He looks at your wrist.

Your head felt like it was spinning as you tried to regain your balance.

Before you get the chance to speak to the man, he quickly turns his heel. Leaning on the cane in his hand he, somehow swiftly, hobbles away. The cape of his jacket floats in the air as he speed away from you.

"Wait!" You shout after the man. Your head hurts from the blast of vibrance that now surrounded you. You could barely register anything around you, the colors swarmed around you, almost blurring. The man only stops when he's a good distance away from the center crowd, the perimeter of the building.

"What's your name?" You ask. The man doesn't turn to face you, but when he responds he does. A chill runs down your spine when you see his face, instantly attracted with allure.

"Kaz Brekker."

**********

taglist : @marimorena06 @missryerye @agirlwholovescoffee @nicole198205 @blackpinkdolan @gabitanaka47 @psychowanarchist @siriuspvdfoot @hufflepuffflowers @thatguppienamedbae @peachykeen3502 @missryerye @kaslupin @ayla-1605 @chazzyb73 @youngblood199456 @oranee @silly-little-bl0g @bobbyjohnsonbeat @jasgreen101 @will-to-live-who @erinblack003 @bellatrixscurls @krishavania @wh0re4blaise @thegirlwhocriedlupin @mrsaliciamalfoy @wwweasleystan @modernvellichor @westantheweasleys @lolaperezb @savagelysarcasticslytherin @zaraskyla @v4l3nt1n44 @sirisuorionblack @rinbyo @xdancinggurlx @lupinsravenclaw @hogwarts-boys @inglourious-imagines @siriuslyslyslytherin @losers-club6 @chewiethecatus @grishaverse7 @aus10-matthews

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shivada-jade · 3 years

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songs of a siren

characters: venti, beidou, kazuha, albedo ➡ mention(s): xiangling, ningguang, sucrose, timaeus, peepaw warning(s): yo ho ho me hearties

note: whenever i write venti, i always have 27 tabs of rhymezone opened up. my rhyming vocabulary will be unstoppable in a few weeks time. no one can stop me, it will be sublime

Venti:

Venti has seen many things in his free-spirited life. He's seen many different lives and creatures, but something he has never seen before are the fabled sirens of the sea.

"Beware of the sirens!" The old captains of Teyvat warned, "Their music is captivating and will drown you into sea."

"Music?" The bard asks with sparkling eyes.

The old sea captain squints her eyes. "Bard, do you have selective hearing? The sirens will drown you in sea."

Venti laughs, "But I've never heard of singing sirens! Just sirens. I wish to see one."

"Younglings these days," the captain shakes her head, tipping her chair back just enough so she wouldn't fall.

"I'm actually older than I look, you can see me in many books," he chuckles, hopping off the table right outside of Angel's Share.

"Thank you for your sea tips captain!" He says, tipping his hat in a bow with a hand behind his back. "I'll put it to jolly good use. With your knowledge, I'll make sure nothing bad will happen!"

Venti sneakily snatches an apple from a sleeping person's hand and saunters on his way, whistling a few notes.

"Sirens of the Sea will be my next tune!"

Everyday, Venti comes out playing his lyre to the sea, hoping he would be able to hear someone sing back. He made his winds carry his song to the deepest part of the waters, trying to catch the attention of sirens.

And everyday, he would return to the tavern, fruitless as the patrons pat his back singing a drunken song.

The young adults nearby would shake their heads, kindly telling Venti that sirens are not real. The grandparents' eyes would twinkle when they heard Venti playing the song for the sirens while kids would sit next to Venti who played his lyre at the docks.

His green cape flew back as he played a different style of music, one that's more mellow and calm compared to the upbeat kind he plays so often. There, he swears he sees the flip of a tail far beyond the ocean.

He bid farewell to the children and apologize for not being to able to play more music for them. "I'll be back if you bring apples!"

Venti waves goodbye and walks out the exits of Mondstadt.

His legs brush the long grass, reaching to touch his hand as he hikes up Starsnatch Cliff, until he remembers he can fly. Oops.

Swirls of teal lift his feet, representing the winds carrying him to the top. The blue of the sky reflected on the waters, and he decides today is the perfect day to sing for his siren again.

Letting his lashes rest on his cheeks, he plays the same mellow tune at the docks, sometimes peeking with one eye to see if the siren is there.

That's when he hears it. The sound of a loud splash ringing in his ear. His lyre playing turns quick and exited, when looking down to see a bobbing head, and a colourful siren tail behind it.

Venti waves his hand wildly, stopping his lyre playing momentarily.

"A real siren!"

The siren freezes, and sinks a bit deeper in the water. The green bard slowly floats down with a friendly smile.

"Did you enjoy my music?" He asks in glee, waiting for an answer. Venti hovers right above the water so his clothes won't get wet. He sees the siren's eyes look at the instrument in his hand and pushes it to their face, making them lean back a bit from shock. "Do you wanna try the lyre?"

"The lyre?" The siren repeats, gliding a finger on the wood of the instrument.

"Just don't sing okay? I can't drown yet, my pride is still high, and the kids there would be in dismay."

The siren laughs, now gripping on the lyre, "Do you always speak like this?"

"Yep!" He says, relieved you feel comfortable with him and seem friendly too. He scratches the back of his head. "Although... you're taking this lightly. Is it true your singing drowns people?" He asks politely.

The tip of the siren's finger touches their lip, thinking. "Well, in some cases, it does."

Venti's eyes widen.

"But not in the way your folktale mention it!" The siren continues, now clasping on the lyre that Venti let go of, playing a few strings. "Sometimes when our folk sing, the sailors are curious where the singing comes from. But the sailor that spread the story of the deadly, singing sirens is The Sailor That Can't Swim."

"The Sailor That Can't Swim? Now that's a tale I need to hear! Though, I must say, I do pity for him."

The siren splashes Venti, making him dripping in cold water. The berette on his head now droops to his eyes. He grins mischievously as he wrings the water out, showing the hair he hides. A strong gust of wind dries the siren's face, making them go back in the water to splash Venti.

"Right, so," the siren pops out their head again. "It was my great great grandfather that actually sang the song. The sailor was curious and fell off his ship, but he didn't know how to swim and drowned. His first mate blamed my great great grandfather's singing for making his captain drown. We're not bad actually. We stopped singing music so close to the surface."

"Wouldn't that be a sight," the bard hums, listening to the song you play on his lyre while looking at the sky above. "Say, Siren. What do you want me to call you? Let me know before the day turns night"

"You ask me my name before telling me yours?" The siren teases, giving his lyre back.

"Ah! My apologies, I'm Venti the bard!... Uh, I can't seem to get a word that rhymes with 'apologies' that go great with my sentence, so I hope you accept my repentance."

"It's alright." The siren says. "I'm [Name]. It's not everyday I can make friends with someone from the surface."

[Name] draws a figure in the air. "My first surface friends told me to be wary of others, but I think I can trust you," [Name] glances at the green glass, strapped on Venti's hip. "One of them even has the same looking glass orb as you. A vision he called it."

Venti shrugs with a smile, feeling like he knows the person the siren was referring to, "I would like to make a song for you, [Name]. Let's have others know what a wonderful siren you are."

Kazuha:

He sits at the side of the ship, playing his leaf like a flute beautifully. The crewmates on The Crux hum the same notes on repeat. They are broken records.

"Even the sturgeon and the ray, they get the urge and start to play!" A kid sings out loud, skipping behind Kazuha.

"Hmm hmm mmm" the kid hums, replacing the words he doesn't know with just the tune itself. "Under the sea!"

Kazuha sighs, letting go of his leaf for the ocean winds to take. His finger traces the lines of the ship, bored and somewhat annoyed. Beidou's crew had been singing the same song for hours after leaving Liyue, showing no signs of ever stopping. It was like a curse.

He looks over the horizon, the crescent moon shining on the ocean, making the ripples turn to satin sheets covering the water. The world is asleep, but not The Crux Crew.

He lets his hair free from the tie; snow hair moves with the breeze, waiting for his friend to appear.

A tall woman settles her hand on the boy's shoulders, sighing. "It's time to get rest. Your siren friend won't come, especially if sirens don't exist," she says saying the last part to herself.

"Beidou," Kazuha greets without turning his head.

"Come on, kid," Beidou insists. "It's late."

Kazuha stays seated, looking over the waters to find his siren friend. "I think I'll stay here a bit more. The ocean calls me as much as the wind."

He feels Beidou's hand leaving is shoulder. He silently thanks him for respecting his wishes.

"Good night, Captain. See you tomorrow," he says waving her off.

The sea captain lifts a hand while turning away, even when she knows Kazuha isn't looking.

Kazuha waits.

He waits some more.

Maybe Beidou is right. His siren friend won't be back today. He'll just wait again tomorrow.

He begins to stand until he sees a familiar figure in the ocean.

"[Name]," he breathes out gently.

A shimmering siren tail waves at him instead of a hand. Kazuha laughs and waves eagerly. He walks along the side, reaching one of the 'emergency boats' strapped on the ship and untangles its ropes, letting it fall to the ocean with a splash.

He gently falls down, the winds he summons cushioning his landing onto the small boat. His ruby eyes spot something in your hand and he asks about it.

"This? A weird green boy gave me this thing called a lyre. Said he had tons more so he gave me this one after making a song with me." [Name] presents it to Kazuha with both hands, grinning. "The boy even taught me a song."

"Oh?" He tilts his head, "Go ahead, play the song. Perhaps some day we may duet."

The siren sends him a thumbs up and start pulling the strings of a lyre.

Kazuha feels his eye twitch. "This song... what's the name?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No it's just... the crew was singing this song all day. I was wondering what song it is."

"Oh the green boy and I made it. I didn't know it would go that famous!"

"Hmm, keep playing."

Kazuha didn't mind the song the siren plays. After all, when [Name] plays the song, it sounds enchanting. He understands why people tend to fall overboard when hearing a siren play music. In fact, he almost drowned himself when hearing his siren friend sing for the first time.

...

He was preparing a boat to escape Inazuma by a secluded beach covered with sakura trees and many plants of nature.

Placing the planks in one spot, he hears a song in the sea.

Strange.

Enchanted by the singing, he walks out to sea. The water reaching his ankles, his knee then soon his chest to look for what was making the music. The sounds of nature call him back, desperately trying to make him safe, but he was too curious. The singing stops and Kazuha sinks under the sea to hear clearer, but instead his eyes widen and a few bubbles escape his mouth.

Glowing eyes stare at him.

A few scales pattern adorning their face. He looks behind the face and sees a tail, a fish tale. He knows it's a siren.

He sinks deeper, noting the details on the siren. How human ears aren't there, it's replaced by these webbed-like frills looking like a crown. He is amazed, and it seems the siren is too by seeing land legs for the first time so close.

Kazuha kicks his feet up, remembering he needs air to breathe, but a pesky seaweed wrapped around his leg, not letting go. The salt water stings his eyes, hurting more from every second. The lungs that need air start to fail him.

The siren in front of him flicks it's tail, quickly weaving their hands to untangle the boy from the seaweed.

The last of the bubbles escape Kazuha's lips. He shuts his eyes as he feels the drag of a current and the arms of the siren taking him to who knows where.

"So many... regrets," he thinks, letting himself be carried by a creature from only fairytales.

His head breaks the water tension and he immediately gasps for air. He coughs out water, chest heaving against the sandy beach, trying to calm himself. He stills, watching the siren lay on their stomach next to him, drawing flowers and fishes on the sand with the tip of their finger.

Sand sticks on Kazuha's wet skin and clothes.

"Thank you," he says weakly.

The siren perks their head up, hearing Kazuha's voice. "You're welcome!" They return to drawing on the sand and speak up without diverting attention from the drawing, "You're... the first human I've met."

Kazuha props himself up, his elbows acting as support. "Oh really? You're the first siren I met."

"No, duh. You had this dumb look on your face when you saw me," the siren teases, now looking at Kazuha. "All the other sirens say that humans are looking to hurt us. Why is it you don't want to hurt me?"

"Well- I was on the verge of dying."

The sound of feet stomping on the ground startles Kazuha and his new friend. Both of them sit up straight, feeling the ground shake.

"The Raiden Shogun..."

Kazuha flips his head to his unfinished boat and stands, quickly trying to complete it.

"Human," the siren calls, now back in the ocean. Kazuha looks at the siren. "Your broken boat will not take you anywhere. Just hold on to my back."

Kazuha chuckles and runs to the siren, knowing what they said is true. The guards will take him the second they reach him.

He trudges through the water, and clasps his arms around the siren's neck. "I know of a ship that can hide me for the time being." He says.

"So... what's your name?"

...

The song [Name] plays ceases, and Kazuha claps his hands lightly, careful not to wake the crew. He gives a small, "Heh" and leans on his small boat to be closer to the siren's face.

Their faces draw closer and [Name's] cheeks feel warm. Kazuha looks like a prince under the moon and stars shining on him.

Delicate hands make their way to cradle [Name's] jaw, making their foreheads touch. His thumb swipes [Name's] bottom lip all while gazing into their dilated eyes.

"I think your siren family are calling you," Kazuha says cheekily and quickly moving back away from [Name] after hearing the sound of other sirens calling for them.

"Oh, I- Well-" [Name] takes a deep breath before speaking, "Will you be here again?"

"Just as the moon awaits for the sun to rise once more, I will stay as well. I'll wait for your arrival once more at the same spot."

Beidou:

The well known Captain of the Crux Fleet does not believe in sirens. Dragons and the water form called Osial is one thing. Sirens, or better yet- merpeople are a kids' tale in her mind. Not even after Kazuha telling her he befriended a siren.

It's a child's tale; a myth not to believe in, which is ridiculous in Kazuha's opinion because they live in a world of myths.

She stands, sitting on a box of crates, peeking at her anemo wielding friend untangle the ropes of the emergency boat to get down closer to the waters.

Despite her crew telling her to rest at nights, she doesn't. As captain, it's her duty to keep watch after all her crew members, ensuring full safety on the fleet. She watches Kazuha always docking down from her ship to he his siren, but she never follows, only seeing his white hair descend from her sight.

Kazuha harnesses the wind to lift himself up back on the ship after hours being with the so-called siren. His hands move, controlling the wind once again to lift the boat, strapping it back on the ship. His ruby eyes glint to Beidou, who waves at him.

"Enjoy time with the siren?"

Kazuha sighs, knowing Beidou's doing this for the sake of it. "Beidou, they're real. My friend and every other siren in the waters." He says, trying to cover his flushed face by turning away from her.

"Right, right. Well, you only have one hour to sleep at most until the sun rises again."

"What about you?" Asks Kazuha, his back still facing Beidou. "Not even the bravest of warriors could stand their posts if they lack the energy to do so."

Beidou places her hands on her hips and laughs, "Come on, kid. I'll even tuck you in."

"Thank you... but I'm quite sure I can tuck myself in."

"Nonsense. You'll be tucked in."

She takes Kazuha to his own chambers in the ship, amused how he did not struggle against her.

After tucking him in, the tall captain stands at the figure of her ship and overlooks the sea. It is coincidental how when the topic of sirens came up the conversations, there was a song accompanied by it. The song will be the death of her.

Her chestnut hair weaves in the wind as she inhales deeply, enjoying the crisp air. She spots the seen peeking out from it's blanket of blue waves. She is blessed with another day.

One by one, her crew starts to file out. She greets them a good morning and with a surprise, "Crew! We're heading to Liyue. Chef Xiangling sent her kind invitation to eat for free!"

Woops and hoorays echo. Food made by Xiangling is the best.

The Captain lifts a hand and everyone quiets, "Set sail to Liyue!"

Upon reaching Liyue, Beidou swears something was following them, but every time she looks back, there would be nothing. She shrugs it off, thinking it was the lack of sleep getting to her and continues to lower the sails, preparing to land.

"I'll meet you there," she tells her crew. They accept their orders, already knowing were to go. They chatter their way to Wanmin Restaurant. She turns to Kazuha, seeing as he won't leave without her. "Kazuha, has something been following us?" She asks, knowing his sensitivity to things around him.

"Yes, but you won't believe me if I said what, or who, was following us."

Beidou groans, "Kazuha, sirens are just a folklore. I've spent years in my reckless teenage life looking for sirens. There just aren't any." She slaps Kazuha's back, "Let's go eat. You still look weary."

Kazuha purses his lips, looking at his Captain dead in the eyes. "[Name] is waiting below this ship. [Name] wouldn't follow us to Liyue unless something needs to be said." He waits for Beidou's reply.

"Alright, it's about time I met this siren friend of yours."

Surprised, Kazuha parts his mouth. "Wait, really?"

Beidou gives no answer, but instead unties the boat Kazuha uses to go 'meet his siren friend.' She waits on the tiny boat for Kazuha to join. When he takes a step in, Beidou releases the ropes she was once holding and falls to the ocean. This part of the ship is hidden from the people of Liyue, and Kazuha thanks his luck because who knows what people will do when they see a siren?

The small boat rocks side to side, balancing itself. Beidou lazily reaches for the water and splashes Kazuha's face who only tightens his lip in response. "Relax," the woman teases. "Your friend will be here if they're real, right?"

Kazuha summons a leaf, twiddling it with his fingers, waiting until he jumps in the water.

Beidou sharply turns to Kazuha, leaning over the boat to reach for him. "Kazuha!"

She jumps in after him with a smooth dive.

And that's when she sees that sirens are true.

The salt water stings her eyes as she looks at Kazuha making hang motions, pointing to her and up to the surface. The siren nods, understanding, swimming to Beidou. They wave, chuckling with the jaw-slacked face the sea captain makes.

Bubbles escape her lungs, so she treads up quickly, breathing in the air and then coming back down. Kazuha swims beside the siren and shows a smug face, as if saying "What did you say about sirens?"

Divine is the only word to describe Kazuha's siren friend. From the shimmering tale to the beauty of their smile, Beidou can only describe the siren as simply divine (a word Ningguang taught her).

The siren's webbed-like ear perks up to the surface. They tap Kazuha's shouder and cup their ears and point up.

Breathtaking.

Beidou notes how Kazuha and his friend communicate with each other so effectively with only a look in the eye and a few hand movements.

Kazuha nods, smiling then swims up to the surface, but Beidou stays, amazed by the tail of the siren.

"Up," the siren mouths. Beidou remembers the pain in her lungs for not having to get air in a while. She swims up, giving the siren one last look and breaking free from the water.

Strands of brown hair stick to her skin, looking at Kazuha with so much child-like wonder.

"Kazuha, is your siren friend single by any chance?"

Albedo:

Rumours of the singing siren spread through Mondstadt. Greeting Timaeus and Sucrose, he ignores the new song that spread around Teyvat called "A Siren's Tale," but he can't help but wonder if the tales are true.

On rare days Albedo isn't on Dragonspine or his office, he's sketching alongside the water and the marine life inside. It's a new interest he's taken in after learning everything above land. The ocean is so huge, there's an endless amount of questions under the sea.

He finishes the last stroke of a drawing. The Snapdragon and the crab next to it look realistic in his canvas. He sits on an isolated rock, a good distance away from the beach, enjoying the calming tunes of the ocean.

Wait- tunes?

He almost drops his canvas and charcoal, making eye contact with a bobbing head. Curious eyes flit from Albedo to his sketch in hand.

His immediate reaction is to create a flower to lift and up to glide back to shore, but he can't.

The stranger drifts closer to the rock Albedo sits on, revealing a tail that flickers behind it.

A siren.

"You aren't Venti, but I'll take it. I love someone of arts and crafts

Albedo tilts his head quizzically, charmed, "I am indeed not Venti, but thank you for the compliment." He takes a while, studying the details on the siren. "You're not what the song describes you as."

Lifting themselves onto the rock beside Albedo, the siren brings up their tail to wrap around what they sit on. "The song? Oh the one Venti made. I'm so sure we described myself perfectly, partly because I helped make it."

Albedo takes another canvas from his bag and draws circles to get the base of a face, "Well, physically yes. It captures your looks, but never did it once mention how enchanting you are."

The siren sputters, obviously not expecting a stranger to flirt. "What- huh?"

Albedo laughs, looking at the siren that sits next to him, analyzing their features before returning to his sketch. "I apologize. Socializing is not my thing."

"Yeah, I could tell. People usually tell me their names before saying things like that. Granted, I only met three other people before you."

"One being Venti?"

"Yeah. I visit him around this time everyday, but he said he's struggling to pay back a bartender so he's hiding with an old friend in Liyue. His friend's name is Peepaw. Should've been back by now, but he's gone."

"..Oh."

Two fingers push down the drawing and he looks at the siren, confused.

"Are you drawing me?" They grin. "It's fantastic, but why?"

Albedo explains, "I tend to sketch what fascinates me. Your beauty was surprising, I couldn't help but draw you." His charcoal grazes the canvas so swiftly, it's dancing on ice. The black tool turns to a stub, until it turns to nothing but ashes on his finger. His sketch is only half finished.

"Excuse this lousy drawing. I appear to be out of charcoal."

The siren jumps into the water and comes back up with rusted metal from a sword. "Will this work?"

"Ah, that's a sword. I can't use that for sketching."

"Oh..."

Albedo lifts a finger, a thought is said out loud, "I realize I have yet to ask your name. I'm Albedo, Chief Alchemist of The Knights of Favonius."

"Wow that's a long name." The siren takes a deep breath and speaks in one go, "Hello, Albedochiefalchemistofthenightsoffavonius. Pleasure to meet you, I'm [Name]."

"How charming." He says, putting his canvas in his bag. "I mean to ask another question, would it be alright to visit you again soon? You live under the sea, surely you know about the mysteries we have there."

[Name] looks at him like he was an alien. "Are you for real?"

"I'm pretty sure I am."

"You can just tell me you want to hang out. I know I'm fun," they say puffing their chest, proud of themselves.

"You certainly have high views of yourself," Albedo laughs, covering the bottom half of his face with his charcoal stained hand. "I'll be here tomorrow, if you would take your time to see me again."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin #venti x reader #genshin venti #beidou #beidou x reader #albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo x reader

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 3 years

Text

His hugs

A collection of mini drabbles of different types of hugs supplied by the King Among Crimson Lions

Pairing: Fuegoleon Vermillion x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

You stood in front of a window, looking out into the grey outdoors as you felt a pair of arms wrapping around you. One was warmer than the other, but you recognized them both; belonging to your beloved. And those strong, study arms pulled you close, as close as they possibly could.

His hair draped over your shoulder as he pressed his head next to yours; his silken, vermillion locks gracing your skin. And his broad chest, it felt is if a wall into which you could lean; for he was your rock. It felt warm… everything about it.

Rain… what rain?

There was only him. His warmth. And his breathing tickling your skin.

“Can I have a hug?” You asked as he was about to head out of the door and go off to work.

“Of course, my love,” he replied and opened up his arms, welcoming you in.

And you dived in there. His cape wrapped draped around you as his arms enveloped you.

You pressed your body against him, as if a moth flying to his flame. But this flame didn’t burn. This flame felt like home. This flame felt like every good thing that had happened to you, coming back to you at once. This flame… it melted away your worries and your sorrows.

The very same that you wanted to do to him.

But. For now, you needed to settle for squeezing him as tight as you could muster, and giving him a kiss before bidding him of for the day.

He was laying in his armchair with a book against his chest. He had dozed off in the middle of reading it. But you could hardly blame him. He had had a long day after all.

A smile crept to your lips as you picked up the book from his hands and placed it onto the table next to the chair. You brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, and as much as you wanted to admire the sight before you, you gave him a nudge.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you implored, making him move in his chair groggily.

But instead of opening his eyes he took a hold of you and pulled you onto the chair with him.

“Mmmm…” he hummed out. “In a minute…” he replied, barely awake while holding you tight against himself.

And as much as you wanted to protest in an effort of getting him to sleeping properly, and to avoid a sore neck in the morning. You couldn’t help but sink into the heavy, lazy, and yet firm embrace. His heart was beating so surely, so determinately.

“Alright… 5 more minutes,” you whispered against him.

“Mmm….” He hummed with a content tone, and while wearing a triumphant smile.

You opened up your eyes to see light filtering into the room. White speck floated through the air, making the sight seem ethereal; the twilight moment early in the morning before the world was fully awake. Or would be on most days.

You turned your head to your side to see your beloved Fue sleeping blissfully next to you. It was his day off, so he deserved to sleep in. And he did look so peaceful; his lips curled into a content smile, which became reflected onto your lips.

A faint chuckle escaped you as you couldn’t help but feel hoy fluttering in your chest at the sight of him. But, before you could react, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer over the sheets. And the distance he couldn’t close in with only pulling you, he snuggled. It was as if he was in search of your warmth. An idea which seemed absurd, since he was much warmer than you.

But little did you know, you made him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. So, he was, indeed, in search of your warmth. The kind that made his heart leap, and brought him comfort, unlike he had ever known before. And once having found it, his smile deepened, although it was in the crook of your neck as his breath glided over you.

And the quiet laugh that escaped you, was the sweetest melody to which he could have ever woke up to.

#fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover scenarios #black clover imagines #black clover drabbles #Happy Birthday Fuego!!!#I'll do something else too #but this before bedtime

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drainthehero · 3 years

Text

Superman’s Shame, Ch 1

Superman floated above a remote shack on the outskirts of Metropolis, his bright red cape streaming behind him as he hovered. He scanned the dwelling and confirmed the single occupant. A quick look with his x-ray vision confirmed that the man inside was indeed Kurt Fendall. Kurt worked at a bank by day and was relatively inconspicuous otherwise. But Clark Kent had been able to trace numerous leads and deals back to Kurt which involved a huge amount of illicit drugs entering Metropolis and flooding local streets.

Clark was confident that Kurt had managed to kill or buy over half the local drug dealers and he therefore had a stranglehold on the trade. By bringing him to justice, Superman would be able to disrupt drug trade for months and give the police a chance to reign in the recent explosion in drug sales.

Superman glided down gently, his bright red boots making a soft knocking sound as he landed on the porch. He was tempted to break the door down, but that was not really his style – and he had to leave open the possibility that Kurt was innocent. So instead he knocked.

After a moment, the door opened to reveal Kurt standing there. Kurt was the kind of person who would fade into any background, having no particular features that would stand out to an observer. When he saw the Man of Steel standing at his door, he initially reacted with wide-eyed surprise and disbelief.

“What… why…?” he trailed off, before saying. “Are you really… him?” The look of incredulity was almost genuine. Kurt stumbled a few steps back from the door into a fairly basic looking living area. “How, uh… how can I help you?” He further asked with a confused look.

Superman had to give Kurt credit for his performance. He was definitely pushing his act of innocence. He moved into the building, crossed his muscular arms over his large chest and said, “I have been watching your activities for a while now, Mr Fendall, and it is clear to me that you are operating a sizeable drug importation and sale racket here in Metropolis.” Superman had a very serious look which brooked no argument.

“I… err… no. Huh?” Kurt looked dazed, giving Superman momentary pause. “I don’t understand,” he blurted out. “No, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t.” He was shaking his head emphatically at this point.

“Come now Mr Fendall, the evidence is strong and I have prepared it all to bring along with you to the police. If somehow I have miscalculated then you will be free to go.” He paused for impact, “but I strongly doubt I am wrong.”

Kurt was shaking with nerves, “can I please just sit a moment?” he asked as he sank into a nearby seat. “I need to catch my breath.”

“Just a moment.” Superman looked around the room, wanting to avoid watching Kurt too closely, lest his confidence in his investigations waver. After about a minute, Superman could see that Kurt’s heartrate was returning to normal. “Ok now, I think it is time for us to head off.”

“Ok, ok,” Kurt nodded numbly. But then seemed to remember something and said, “Oh can I get my medication? It helps with my nerves.” Kurt gave the muscled hero a pleading look.

Superman thought for a moment before nodding slowly and saying, “Tell me where and I will get it?”

Kurt pointed at a cupboard in the kitchen area. “Just there, bottom shelf, my name is on a label on the bottle.”

Superman strode over and looked for the bottle but could not see anything. He moved a few things around searching but assumed Kurt had moved it without recalling. As he turned around to check, he felt a strange feeling wash over his body. When he turned around, he saw that Kurt was standing directly before him, holding a chain bearing a rock of a familiar green hue.

The effect on Superman was profound and rapid, as he felt a lump of dread form in the base of his stomach. “Ughh… ahh… how?” murmured the spandex clad superhero softly. “Ohhh. I… feel… so weak.” His breathing became ragged and he was swaying on his feet, his mighty muscles barely able to hold him upright. He put a hand out on the bench to steady himself. “Strength… all gone… can barely stand. Ugghh,” he repeated. He looked at the fearsome green rock, beautiful blue eyes wide and filled with fear. “No, please… get it away,” he begged, raising his other hand weakly.

He stood there in defiance momentarily, swaying on his now unsteady legs as he struggled to find strength in muscles which would normally be able to bend steel with ease. While he swayed on the spot, Kurt lifted the chain and draped it slowly and carefully around the muscular neck of the Man of Steel, leaving the kryptonite to nestle comfortably between the ample pecs of the superheroic hunk.

The play-acting was nowhere to be seen and Kurt was now a tower of confidence before the Man of Steel.

As the chain went around his neck and the rock sat against his chest, the Man of Steel sank slowly to his knees. There he kneeled before his captor, his head and shoulders slumped in weakness, the appearance of a supplicant. “Ugh, so… weak..” he moaned again. “Can’t… move… can’t… lift…” he trailed off.

Superman managed to lift one hand toward Kurt in a feeble attempt to push Kurt away from himself. But without his iconic strength his hand was batted away easily by Kurt, who instead planted one foot on the might chest of Superman and pushed him backward to land prone on the floor, the kryptonite sliding down the valley of his pecs to nestle on his neck. His calves were now wedged under his thighs, forcing his super groin and red clad bulge upward while his back arched down to the ground. “So… weak… how… why…” he moaned again. From this vantage he was able to see Kurt clearly.

“I wondered how long it would take you to work out my network and piece together my clues.” Kurt said from his position above the Man of Steel. He knelt down while he spoke to appreciate his prize more closely. “I was impressed at how quickly you worked it all out, so credit for that at least.” Kurt flashed a smile devoid of any humour. “Now let’s see what we have here.”

With that Kurt reached out and began to rub and massage the muscles of the Man of Steel, wanting to feel first hand just how magnificent he was. “No, please… you… can’t,” Superman uttered weakly. He tried to bring one hand up to ward off the approach by Kurt, but the attempt was as feeble as the previous.

“How weak you must feel, Superman.” Kurt’s eyes and hands explored every inch of the bright blue spandex covering the Man of Steel. “Those huge sexy muscles of yours, draping your arms, legs and chest – and what good are they now?” he taunted. Kurt took the hand Superman was using to defend himself and instead manipulated the weakened fingers of the Man of Steel to twist his nipple. Superman groaned in response to the treatment. “Can’t even stop an average guy like me from taking advantage of you, heh.”

Superman could only whimper from the pain and weakness caused by the kryptonite as he writhed under the assault on his nipple.

Kurt stood up and dragged Superman over the rug in the lounge, to have more space to play with his new captive. “I’ve always wanted to see more of you close up Superman. You are truly a magnificent specimen.” The lust was clearly evident in Kurt.

Kurt grabbed four 5kg dumbbells and quickly bound the wrists and ankles of superman away from his body. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you Supes. They are only 5kg each! Feel free to slide them out of the way whenever you want.”

The taunt from Kurt dug into the psyche of Superman. He looked at the dumbbell and willed his muscles to respond and throw it from him. Normally, he could easily handle weights many hundreds of times these, but now he could only thrash weakly as the tiny little weights held him effectively pinned. “Ughh… can’t even lift these weights.”

Kurt quickly arranged a camera to record the next events. When he was set up he returned to Superman and once again felt the mighty muscles of the Man of Steel. “Now Superman, I have many plans for you, but first I must have that super rod of yours.”

Superman looked even more shocked at the words from Kurt, but could only protest with words. “You can’t… I’m straight…” and as Kurt appeared to ignore his protests, “please… don’t. I’ve never been touched by a man.”

Kurt was indifferent to the pleading by the Man of Steel and used one hand to grope the package protected underneath those bright red briefs. With his other hand he removed the yellow belt and forced a liquid drug down the mouth of the Man of Steel.

“Thanks for the tip about being straight, Superman.” Kurt explained as he poured the contents down the throat of the Man of Stell. “This is an extremely potent and fast acting drug that will get you horny and hard for hours.”

Superman was well and truly powerless under the control of Kurt. His arms and legs were pinned by the tiny weights and he was starting to feel the effects of the drug. “Ohhh. Ahhh… what are you going to do to me?” Superman already felt his cock throbbing and hardening under his red briefs.

Kurt ignored the question and proceeded to lower the red briefs. For the benefit of the camera, he pulled them down slowly. First he showed the close trimmed pubes sitting just under the line of the briefs, then the shaft was revealed, before finally the briefs were lowered completely and the Cock of Steel was released in partial wood.

Kurt could not control his reaction. “Oh god. Wow.” He started laughing when he saw the puny size of the cock on Superman. “I did not expect to see that.” The stiffening cock was around 2.5 inches so far. Despite the wishes of the Man of Steel it kept growing until it was pointing directly toward the pecs of steel. At full mast it was maybe 3.5 inches long!

Superman blushed furiously as Kurt unleashed. “Oh wow. That is so disappointing. Here you are, the Man of Steel. Paragon of strength and all things manly. Who would have thought you had a tiny dick?” Kurt chuckled and reached out a hand to play with the little member while he continued. “Here I was expecting a monster befitting the name Superman, but this poor little thing would even embarrass a superboy!”.

Of all the gifts possessed by Superman, his tiny dick was the one thing about which he felt conscious. Lois regularly reassured him, but he knew that he was not able to fully please her with it. “You fiend, that’s… not… how dare…” he trailed off and then tried weakly, “the kryptonite.”

But Kurt would have none of that and revealed a milking tube he had brought for the occasion. “Well I guess this won’t be any good to me today!” And gave a hearty laugh. To ride home the humiliation Kurt placed the tube over the cock of steel and showed that he couldn’t even get a side to touch. Kurt shook his head, “I certainly expected more.”

This humiliation was definitely showing on Superman. He writhed weakly thanks to the kryptonite and dumbbells and was even fighting back sobs as Kurt mocked his manhood for all to see one day.

“Looks like I’ll need to do this the old fashioned way, hey Superman?” Kurt got a gleam in his eye and started to jerk off the Man of Steel.

Superman had not believed that Kurt would go through with this added humiliation and begged. “No, please… you wouldn’t.” Those big sad blue eyes begged for mercy from the criminal mastermind.

“Continue begging Superman, maybe I’ll stop. Tell me how weak you are. Tell me how I have defeated you.”

Superman looked a little confused, but he was desperate. “Ugh. I’m so weak. This kryptonite has sapped my strength. I can’t even move my arms. Please I’m begging you.” Kurt continued to jerk Superman’s cock and was being rewarded with pre-cum.

“Oh, yes” said Superman, losing himself briefly in the moment. “I can’t believe you’ve defeated me. I am completely at your mercy. Laid out, bound and unable to free myself. You can do whatever you want to me and I am helpless.” Superman hoped that this performance would earn his freedom from this terrible humiliation.

Instead, however, Kurt was more turned on than ever and he was determined to drag the seed from those balls of steel. “This little cock of yours is making my job more difficult Superman, but I’m determined to extract your seed,” he said with a glint in his eye.”

Superman finally realized the truly helpless situation he was in and that he would not be escaping any time soon. He felt the friction made by Kurt jerking him up and down and felt the throbbing in his cock starting to build to a crescendo. “Please, agh, urgh. Stop, please” the begging grew softer and more faint.

Kurt could see the signs building in the heroic muscle hunk. His balls had moved up, his legs were twitching and his eyes were glazing over. Kurt continued longer and was rewarded with several thick ropey strands of cum erupting from the mini dick of the Man of Steel. “Arghhh, oohhh, awwww,” moaned the Man of Steel has his cock spurted forth his seed.

Kurt kept jerking until he was certain there was nothing more for the balls to give.

Kurt then stood up and whipped out his own very hard cock. It was easily 7 inches and it was the first time he had been truly proud of any part of his body. “Superman, this is what a cock should look like. Not that sad excuse trapped in your briefs.”

With that Kurt proceeded to pump his own cock while standing over Superman. He was already very close so he knew it wouldn’t take long.

Superman could only choke out a startled plea as he understood what Kurt was about to do to him. On him. “No! No! Please,” begged the Man of Steel. “Why?”

“Because I can Superman. You’re my bitch now and if I want you to be my cumrag then that’s what you’ll be.”

At that point Kurt felt his orgasm explode from his excited cock. There was cum everywhere and it rained down on the Man of Steel as he lay there helpless, arms and legs pinned to his sides. Cum landed on the S on his chest, on his abs and dick. Some even landed on his face and mouth.

When Kurt was finally finished he looked at his handiwork.

There lay the Man of Steel, bound by weights which even a child could lift but unable to move himself. The glowing green rock now sitting beside him, sapping his strength even now.

And across most of his costume, face and hair, could be seen globs of cum, staining his once pristine suit. Superman had the look of a man defeated. Never had he experienced such defeat or known such humiliation. He could feel the still warm cum and it burned him with a deep humiliation. This was crowned by the still raging erection on the Man of Steel, highlighting his inadequacy.

#superman defeated #superhero defeated #defeated #superman #superhero

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