#this is not a title forced onto him this is something he is actively choosing to call himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boxofbonesfic · 3 years

Text

Songbird (Chapter two)

Title: Songbird

Summary: When Bucky meets a young single mother with a hole in her life, he can’t help but try and fill it the best way he knows how—with himself.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Stalking, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Forced breeding/Impregnation, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Mating Cycles/Heat

A/N: Didn’t want to leave you all hanging on the second chapter and epilogue, especially since it’s all already up on A03 😅. I hope you all enjoyed the first installment! This is a work of FICTION, and it is Dark, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk!

Enjoy 😘

Bucky tailed her the whole way out of the city, following as many car lengths behind her on his bike as he could without losing her. She’d left late that morning—the baby had been fussy, and Jay had been difficult, but she’d finally managed to hand them off to a kind looking older couple he assumed were her parents, before taking off herself. Normally, his girl was attentive, observant. But today, she drove like a bat out of hell, and it took everything in Bucky not to force her to pull over immediately and let him do it.

He resisted the urge, staying two or three cars behind as she drove further and further upstate. They’d been on the road almost two hours when Bucky decided to make his move. He clicked on the tracker, glancing at his phone to make sure it was up and running. The EMP bead would overload her battery, but her engine would remain untouched. Lastly, the software he’d installed on her phone would kick in any minute now, rerouting all her calls to him.

Just before he activated the bead, Bucky pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, watching her zip away into the distance. He counted to thirty before pressing the indicator on his phone screen. He pulled up the tracker and watched as the dot began zig-zagging all over the road, before pulling off to the side.

And now we wait.

Bucky needed to show her what a good mate he would be—what a good husband and father. That’s all she needed—reassurance. And he would give that to her, even if he had to orchestrate it himself. He loved her more than anything, he’d never be able to bear if she didn’t choose him.

So he would ensure she did.

It took only a moment for his phone to begin buzzing, and Bucky let it ring twice before picking up.

“Hello?”

“Gretch, I’m—Wait, who’s this?” She began speaking quickly before she realized something was amiss. He could practically hear her cute frown through her tone.

“Bucky. James. Wait, is this…?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer. She huffed out a sigh.

“Great, my phone’s fucky too… I meant to call someone else, I’m sorry to bother you, James.” Buck could hear her shifting, getting ready to hang up.

“No problem—wait, you sound upset. Something wrong?”

She chuckled humorlessly before answering. “Well… my battery crapped out again. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, I thought everything was going to be fine, and now I’m stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere— ”

“Slow down, sweetheart. Where are you?”

“Somewhere off exit 145, I think. You can’t seriously be thinking of driving up here… it’s too far!” She exclaimed. I already did, baby. I already did.

“Don’t fret. I’ll be there quick, I promise.” He heard her sigh reluctantly.

“I… I feel terrible. Letting you drive up here, I mean… I… are you sure?”

“I’ll be there in a little while. Just stay by the car.” He instructed, before ending the call. Her phone would go back to normal now, it’s ability to call other people besides him restored with the software running its course. He gripped the handles tightly. Bucky knew he needed to wait it out, but the urge to go to her immediately was strong. Knowing that she was sitting in the car, mere hours from going into heat— perhaps less— was making him antsy.

Finally, after an hour, he started his bike back up and headed off the nearest exit. He found her shortly after, her old Jeep sitting dormant near a set of wobbly tire tracks. He cut the engine before pulling his helmet off and waving to her. She rushed over to him, her face flushed and sweaty.

“Thank you so much for coming… I didn’t know you had a bike,” She said timidly, peeking around him to peer at the motorcycle. “Was it too bad of a drive?” Her expression told him she truly felt awful for inconveniencing him, though his sweet girl had no way of knowing it had been him who’d done the inconveniencing.

“No problem, I couldn’t just leave you stranded up here. Besides, it’s not like I was doing anything important.”

She frowned deeper anyway, though she nodded. “It just… started smoking, and then the wheels locked up, and… fuck.” She threw her hands up into the air before kicking at one of the wheels. Bucky chuckled at her antics and made a show of rolling his sleeves up and getting her to pop the hood. He tried a bunch of things he knew might have worked if not for his own interference, having her press on the gas as he tinkered.

“It’s fried,” He said plainly after another pointless attempt, shrugging at her in apology as he frowned. Her face looked stricken.

“Oh no,” She moaned, resting her head against the dusty metal frame. “I… I have to be somewhere by nightfall, I can’t…” Bucky reached for her hand, running his thumbs over the back of her palm. She shivered visibly.

“Where do you need to go, sweet? I can take you. I came all this way, didn’t I?” I would take you anywhere.

“I… My folks have a cabin up this way. We use it for…” He nodded understandingly, rubbing her shoulder through the sweatshirt she wore. “James you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense.” He cut her off easily. “I want to help.” He gave her his helmet, assuring her that he would go slow. He got on first, and shuddered with pleasure when she seated herself behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso. “How far?”

“Another couple of miles,” She said, tiredly, leaning her head against his back. “Thanks for all this... I feel like crap.” Bucky squeezed her leg comfortingly.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you there, and get you all set up before you can say boo.” Her bags were easy to strap down, and they took off, with Bucky making an effort to keep it under 70.

The ride wasn’t too terrible in and of itself, but by the time they reached the small cabin, Bucky was practically salivating. He hadn’t counted on her scent affecting him just as strongly as his presence did her. She smelled so good, so ripe, it was all he could do not to pull off the road and have her there—all it would take was just a little convincing, he was sure.

Bucky carried her bags in, chuckling at the sheer amount of clothes she’d packed—Bucky doubted she’d be wearing any of them. “T-thank you, James.” She laid down heavily on the couch, stripping down to her tank-top, throwing the sweatshirt carelessly over the back of the old couch.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” It was even better than he’d hoped—secluded, no one for miles.

And she was here all weekend…

“Make yourself at home,” She said tiredly, and Bucky took that as his cue to explore, familiarize himself with his new surroundings. The cabin was two floors, two bedrooms. It was small, meant for a single family. There was one large bathroom, and outside he found a hot-tub, though it looked like it was in need of some maintenance before it could be used.

He scented the air—she’d been here recently, at least in the past two months. He wondered what her heat cycle was, and why the other man hadn’t mated her when he had the chance. Bucky grinned. His loss. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake, that was for certain.

When he came back inside, she was sleeping, curled up into an uncomfortable looking ball on the sofa. He watched her with heated eyes, and she moaned in her sleep, stretching. Bucky bit his lip as he watched her shirt ride up to expose the smooth skin of her belly. He’d already been so patient, but he was at the end of his rope. Since the car he’d been walking around rock hard and throbbing, shrouded in her scent. Her heat would be fully on soon, and then he wouldn’t have to test his own patience anymore.

Bucky let her sleep for a few hours—he knew she would need the rest, especially once he was through with her. He knew she’d intended for him to leave after they arrived, but she’d been so out of it, she’d forgotten to ask. He milled around until the sun set, and she rose with a sleepy yawn.

“James? Are you still here?” She called, and he poked his head out of the kitchen to meet her worried gaze. “I… I thought you would have left…”

“Of course not. If I leave, how will you get home? I’ve at least got to do something about your car.” He said easily, cocking his head at her as he schooled his expression into one of concern and sincerity. She nodded slowly, her tongue darting out to wet dry lips.

“I… it’s late, isn’t it?” She asked blearily, and he nodded. “It’s dark already… Dammit. This is bad,” She muttered, though more to herself than to him. Bucky continued to play dumb, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“I… I’m in heat, James. It’s not a good idea for you to be here with me, I’m already starting to feel… weird.” She shivered visibly, hugging herself. Bucky clucked his tongue at her.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll see, everything will be fine.” She stared at him as though he’d grown five heads as she shook her own.

“James I don’t want to… do anything we’ll regret later.” He clenched his fists at his sides, though his face remained calm. It’s okay. She’ll see. She’s nervous, doesn’t want anyone to hurt the kids. Bucky reminded himself of this as he hushed her and helped her up to bed. He heard the lock click, and fought back a laugh. Oh no, she would be the one to seek him out, he was sure of it.

Bucky settled himself into the guest room, his eyes rolling back to half mast as he laid his head back on the pillows, breathing her scent in steadily. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she was down there, begging him so sweetly—and like the kind husband he knew he would be, Bucky would oblige her. Just as her scent soaked the house, he knew he’d been leaving traces too, and they would drive her to seek him out.

He just needed to be a little more patient.

—

Bucky wasn’t sure how late it was when he heard her shuffling around outside his door. She was pacing, from the sound of it. Bucky scented the air and groaned audibly—she was practically dripping, he could tell.

Bucky wrenched open the door to find her there, staring wide eyed at him, running nervous fingers through her damp hair. “Couldn’t sleep, sweetheart?” He growled, reaching for her hand. She went to pieces instantly, whining and pulling at him as she pressed her face into his bare chest.

“James, it hurts,” She panted, locking her hands behind his neck. Bucky threaded his hands under her thighs, lifting her as he walked backward towards the bed. It seemed like she’d held out as long as she could, and as Bucky tore at the tie on her fluffy bathrobe, he groaned at her scent. Her entire body trembled, her nipples hard and pressed tightly against the thin fabric of her tank top. “You being here,” She panted, her mouth working against his throat as she spoke, “I ache inside.” She was whining now, and he grinned against her hair, his hands still squeezing the soft skin of her thighs.

“Oh sweetheart. See, I told you. I’m going to make everything alright.” He ground his cock against her, feeling the heat and dampness through both their clothes. He clucked his tongue pityingly at her. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner, sweet?” Bucky asked, tucking a finger under her chin to force her to look at him. Her eyes were wide and wild, her pupils dilated. She winced as another cramp made her double over against him.

“I tried on my own first…” She moaned as his large, warm hands traveled gently up her sides to cup her breasts, kneading them. “But it’s not working,” She said desperately, practically vibrating from his touch. “I don’t know why it’s not working…” Bucky laved the side of her throat, feeling the swollen gland at the juncture of her shoulder.

“Silly girl… your body knows there’s an alpha nearby. Poor thing,” He said softly, tugging aside the fabric of her barely-there sleep shorts to slide his fingers through her dripping folds. “You were upstairs playing with this pussy, weren’t you?” He asked, and she nodded helplessly. He removed his fingers from her, which was met with a disappointed whine. “Show me.”

“J-James I—”

“Come on, sweetheart… It’s just me,” He said, kissing her trembling mouth. He swept his tongue against hers, sucking it before releasing her. “Let me see.” There was a more stern note in his voice this time, and she nodded, leaning back against his arms as she widened her thighs. Bucky licked his lips—she was suggestable like this, he liked it. He watched as she slid her hands down the line of her body, pulling aside the shorts to expose the glistening folds of her pussy. His mouth watered. “Yes, sweet. Just like that.”

She parted herself with two fingers, using her middle finger to rub a slow circle against her engorged clit. He couldn’t have torn his eyes away even if he wanted to, and Bucky found himself wondering again how she’d managed to avoid being trapped on someone else's knot, though he was thankful she’d be his. He didn’t have many things that were just his and his alone, and he guarded them jealously. He would do the same with her.

“Did he ever have you like this?” Bucky asked, leaning down to leave a kiss on the other side of her throat. He sucked the skin hard enough to bruise, and then ensured it by leaving heavy bites in the same spot. She moaned, bucking as her fingers continued to move between them. “Answer, sweetheart. I want to know.”

“Y-yes.” She admitted in a small voice. “H-he hurt me sometimes…” Bucky hushed her with a growl. He already knew that. He already had plans for him, but first he had to ensure his girl was protected. Safe. And the best way to do that was to ensure that she was his.

“I’ll never hurt you. Oh sweetheart… I just want to make you feel good.” His fingers joined hers at the apex of her thighs, sliding into her tight, clenching center as she worked her clit with shaky strokes. “Let me take care of you, baby.” He crooked his finger inside her, and she went limp in his arms, quivering around him as she came. Her hand fell away, and Bucky wasted no time going for his zipper, undoing the button with fevered fingers.

His cock slid against her wetly, and a ragged groan escaped his throat. “Yesss….” She was so soft; wet. It was perfection. She tried to drive herself down onto his throbbing cock, but Bucky held her hips fast, shaking his head at her. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let m enjoy this, I waited a long time.” Bucky wanted her so badly it almost hurt—but there was nothing but time now. He had her all weekend, and there was no way she was leaving here not wearing his mark on that pretty throat.

He slid against her again, his cock throbbing hungrily. “You know, I wonder why no one’s ever marked you,” He said slowly, moving hotly against her. But then I think it just means we’re meant to be, don’t you?” She whimpered in response, and Bucky nipped her breast sharply, drawing blood. “If I wanted silence I’d fuck you in a morgue.”

“Yes!”

He grinned against her skin, laving at the wound and moaning at the taste of her blood. Bucky circled her nipple with his tongue, before sucking it into his mouth. Milk began welling on his tongue, and he groaned, his cock throbbing. She moaned loudly as his other hand came up to pinch at her other nipple. He thrust against her once, twice, before pulling away slowly, enjoying her irritated huff. “Stand up, baby.”

She did so on shaky legs.

“Take off your clothes for me. Please, I want to see.” He watched, enraptured as she began peeling off article after article of clothing; dropping her bathrobe to the ground, followed by the small, silky shorts he was certain they’d ruined. Last came the thin tank top she wore, and finally she was bare before him. “Beautiful.” Bucky traced his fingers appreciatively along her smooth skin.

“James please—” She moaned desperately, another trembling fit wracking her form. He took pity on her then, stroking a thumb across her swollen lips as his eyes traced the bruises forming on her throat with pleasure.

“Okay, sweetheart.” He kissed her, devouring her mouth hungrily. “Get on the bed.”

Bucky watched with heated eyes as she went to lay back against the mattress, but he shook his head.

“No. I want to see that pretty ass, baby.” He couldn’t quiet his groan at the sight of her presenting herself for him. The only thing that would have made this more perfect would be if this was in their new home, but Bucky let that go—there would be many more opportunities in the future for that. She spread her legs apart, and Bucky could see the obvious wetness glistening in her folds and on her thighs as they trembled. “Hold it open for me, sweet.” He said in a low voice, stroking his cock with long, measured movements, sweeping his thumb across the tip to spread the precum gathered there from watching her. “Fuck.”

He positioned himself behind her, rubbing himself against her as she let out a torn moan. She was so wet, her entrance sucking so desperately at him that he had to give in, thrusting just inside. “Oh fuck ,” She moaned, her voice low and raspy. “Please, please, please—”

“You’re so needy, baby,” He growled, tugging her hips back and seating himself completely inside her tightly quivering center. “This is better than your fingers isn’t it?” Bucky pulled out slowly, holding her in place as he thrust home hard and forced a sharp cry from her. She leaned down on her forearms, offering herself up for more. “Sweetheart…” He said in warning, snapping his hips against her again, eliciting another moan.

“Oh god James, so much better!”

He leaned down to nip at the flesh of her throat again, bringing their bodies together in an even tighter fit. Bucky groaned at the feel of her clenching around him—he’d never had it this good before. Not even the seasoned whores they sent through the camps had made him feel anything close to how good the omega beneath him made him feel. A wave of jealousy crested over him as he thought of the other men that had knotted her before him, though there was nothing he could do about it now.

Bucky slid out of her with a loud wet noise, enjoying the displeased, needy whine she released as a result. “Turn over, sweetheart.” She flipped quickly onto her back, and Bucky was on her in an instant, pulling her thighs apart and positioning himself between them. Oh yes , this was good—he could see her perfect breasts bouncing with every thrust, watch her eyes roll back as she bit her lip, trying helplessly to contain the noises escaping her.

He held her waist tightly with his metal hand, while the other slid between them to hold her folds apart so he could watch the length of his cock disappearing into her tight pussy over and over again. If not for the evidence of her children, Bucky would have thought her a virgin, her pussy molded so perfectly to his cock. She clenched around him wildly, and he could see she was getting close again.

“You want me to make you cum again, sweetheart?” He panted, grinning down at her as she nodded, whining.

“Please, James, please—”

“Okay, baby. And then I’m going to shoot my load in that tight pussy, okay? You’re not on anything, right?” He asked desperately. This was the best shot he had at getting her pregnant until her next heat, and the thought of her swollen with his seed was making him tighten his grip on her hips, his eyes wild and intense as they bored into hers. “Answer, sweet, I need to know!”

“N-no, James— Nnnh!— Not on birth control, bad for the baby—” His eyes rolled to half mast at her words, and he growled possessively, leaning over her.

“Good.” He bore down, pressing her thighs to her body as the shaft of his cock grew thicker in preparation. He wanted to see her as he flooded her cunt full of himself. There was no way she wouldn’t conceive, he decided. If that meant he had to spend the whole weekend with her locked on his knot… that was a price he was more that willing to pay. She moaned and writhed underneath him despite the weight of his body holding her down, her hands grasping at his shoulders and digging in as he went deeper, harder. Only mine , he thought fiercely, his tongue moving against his sharp canines as he eyed her throat with intent. Just mine.

She threw her head back against the bed, her curls framing her face like a halo as she came, her pussy seizing so tightly around Bucky’s cock it almost hurt. He too, came with a shout, pressing himself as far inside her as he could go, hot ropes of cum shooting against her cervix. She let out a groan as his knot swelled inside her, sealing them in place.

“Mmm, ah, oh god…” She mumbled incoherently under her breath, her eyes rolling as Bucky continued thrusting. He was still hard, and though he had little room to maneuver, he continued pushing his hips against hers gently. He wanted to make sure she stayed pliant, open and relaxed.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come here, love.” He said, sitting her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck obediently, allowing him to position her head. “You’re doing such a good job, we’re almost done.” He sank his teeth into her throat without preamble, and she tightened around him again, a weak orgasm making her body shake again as he held her. “Now you.” He bent his head to her face, tapping his throat. He felt her hesitate for just a moment and his grip tightened. She swallowed thickly and bit down, her teeth penetrating just deep enough.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back in pleasure—ah, he’d heard about post-mating euphoria, but this was his first time experiencing it. He continued rocking into her, wringing another, tiny orgasm from her tired form before he went for the lights—still holding her around his waist—and laid them both down to sleep.

It was dawn the next time he woke again, and she was still fast asleep, her skin hot and feverish. He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew she would need to eat. She needed to be healthy to get pregnant, and those takeout dinners weren’t doing the trick. He went to the kitchen, and threw together a sandwich for her. He grinned as he touched the throbbing bite mark on his throat. There would be no hiding that.

He wondered how long it would take to convince her to move in with him. A week? A month? Bucky could hardly wait to see her pregnant and hobbling around the house, having to take time off from working… Home all the time, available for him to cuddle and fuck and—his cock twitched. He shook his head. They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

When he got back into the bedroom, she was sitting up and looking around with a small frown, her hand on her throat. He grinned at her, brandishing the food. “I brought you a snack, baby. Thought you’d be hungry.”

“I… thank you.” She took the plate from his gratefully, but hesitated, looking up at him sorrowfully. “James, I know we… I just I can’t really remember…” She trailed off embarrassedly, looking away.

“No, no. Don’t do that.” He held her chin. “I loved you the minute I met you, and I’m… I couldn’t be happier it turned out this way.” Bucky replied earnestly, sitting beside her on the bed. She looked guilty then.

“That’s the thing, James. I don’t.. I don’t know if I love you. I mean, I really like you, and the kids love you, but I’m afraid. ” Bucky quashed the angry, hurt feeling that welled up in his chest. This was to be expected.

“That’s fine, sweetheart. You’ll learn to love me, you’ll see.” He smiled earnestly at her. “I will never, ever hurt you.”

Epilogue

“Dad! Didja see me? Didja? I hit the crap outta that ball!” Jay yelled, waving up at them as he jogged back to home base. Bucky chuckled.

“Oh you bet I did. That’s my son!” He cheered, standing and pointing. Jay was a starter in his little league team, and with Bucky’s coaching, he was one of the best players, even at such a young age. He grasped his wife’s hand, and she smiled at him, before turning her attention to Rosie. “Hey, you, no. No wandering. Stay by your father, please for the love of God,” She said sternly, directing the errant child back to her seat. Their youngest, Steven—named for his godfather, of course—bounced happily on Bucky’s knee.

Times may have changed, but he still loved baseball. Other parents hooted and cheered for their children around him, but Bucky could only focus on her , watching the way her eyes lit up as she watched their son play. He’d adopted Jay and Rosie just a week after they moved in with him—he’d started the paperwork early, with... help from Fury.

And their wedding day… If that wasn’t the happiest day of his life, he didn’t know a thing. Well, that, or the day Steven had been born, he supposed. He could still picture her easily, all done up and glowing because she was pregnant—though no one knew but them.

Her parents loved him—he never hit her, so to them he was about as far away from the kids biological father as he could get. Bucky hid the smirk that found his face at the thought of him. He hadn’t been hard to track down—he still lived at his mother’s old address, though she’d long since died. He’d replaced him in his children’s hearts, and in their mother’s bed, so there was no reason not to just… remove a single bad apple from the bunch.

No one would ever even know he was gone.

Bucky wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, his eye going to the ring glinting on her finger. That and his mark usually kept any stray males from going after what belonged to him, but he still occasionally had to set people straight. She was still just as beautiful and alluring as the day they’d met. His eyes strayed down to the bump that was just visible beneath her t-shirt, and he felt himself stir.

His hand traveling down her back to palm brazenly at her ass. “After the game is over, what say we drop the kids off at your parents?”

fin

#dark!bucky x reader #alpha!bucky barnes #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #bucky x you #bucky x reader #dark marvel #dark!marvel #dark!mcu #alpha/beta/omega au #a/b/o mcu #a/b/o #a/b/o fic #Brooklyn Girls series #Songbird chapter 2 #Songbird #Boxofbonesfic

849 notes · View notes

gemma-collins-ily · 3 years

Note

OMG I LOVED your latest Kaz fic titled "Crossing of His Fingers and Ankles"!!! If you would, would you kinda do a part 2 of them making the (attempting to) watching the sunrise together a once a month activity and the other crows catching them asleep on the couch together and teasing them?

Form of Love

a/n - awwww, this is a little shorter but I really love it as of now! The cutenesssssss! Thank you so much for the compliment, and the request of course! I really enjoyed writing it xoxo ❣️💝

Warnings: nothing???

Tagged: @mrs-brekker15 (released early for you xoxo hope you feel better!)

This is the part two of Crossing of His Fingers and Ankles!

It would always end the same way.

Kaz half-heartedly cursed you internally for the sole reason that he used to be able to get through an entire night with only cold, long since brewed coffee and his will to work.

Now, it was all he could do to stay awake for a few hours into the night at most.

But he could never truly be mad at you: partially because his predicament was both benefiting him and ruining his business all at once. See, now he could get a proper night's rest and the bags under his eyes were gradually fading, it was true, but he managed to complete far less paperwork, no longer powering through till dawn.

This would be no problem if he weren't so stubborn in deciding that he specifically had to do all that paperwork on his own. There were others in the Dregs who would jump at the chance, needing something, anything, to fill their days, but Kaz simply hoarded his workload to himself.

Every month, you would figuratively drag him to the sofa, and if he were to blatantly refuse, you would only smile knowingly. Long ago was it acknowledged that you could persuade Kaz to do almost anything, to your mass benefit, and his mass disadvantage.

You only needed to be there, words unspoken yet present in your mind and he would be won over before you even opened your mouth to speak.

Yes, you only watched the sunrise together once a month, but you would spend every free night you had with Kaz, scanning over documents and each of you holding them before your face, pretending to catch the light to read fine print, when really, you were sneaking regular glances at the other over the papers.

He appreciated you giving up your time for him, and often thought you should use it for anything else, but in the end, he wouldn't ever stop your evenings together voluntarily.

It could be selfish, but your excuse was that he was still working, to which he would raise an amused brow. You did work together, although he'd eventually have his gaze on you for minutes at a time, it being too tempting to resist.

You did the same of course, admiring the strong tea shade of his irises and the slope of his nose, or his fingers moving nimbly amongst the papers.

When he'd catch you directly looking at his glove clad hands, he'd swiftly whip out a pack of cards and preform a magic trick, never ceasing to adore the twinkle in your eye that showed how marvelous you thought it to be.

After a while, he could bear to do the classic trick of palming a coin and pretending it had appeared from behind your ear. That sparkle of amazement made it worth it for him. It always would.

You were the only one he would willingly give kruge to, no matter how big the amount. Kaz desired to gift you the world, believing you deserved it and you constantly reminded him he had already given you all you wanted.

Kaz would always smile genuinely and warmly at those words, that crooked smile, the one that slanted minorly to the left and the one you loved. More than everything.

Now, he could barely stay awake long enough for your scheduled sunrise observing. When the first light made itself known, you would plonk down onto the couch, Kaz following a moment later, and you would revel in the sun drifting across your skin, plus the colours painting the skies.

Ketterdam was truly beautiful. You only needed to know how to see it, and when.

Kaz never actually looked at the sunrise for long, instead choosing to stare at you, enjoying the look of bliss on your face.

He may break the usual promises he made, and you futilely agreed to, knowing Kaz would allow you to slumber anyway, but he would never stop curling up on opposite ends of the couch with you.

That was the one promise he would always keep.

Inej was the first one to discover you together, vulnerable as you slept away, Kaz too.

She was ever the early riser and had knocked softly against his oak door, hoping to drop off the knowledge she had gathered on the streets and leave early, not needed until the heist meeting later that day.

When he had not answered, she had rapped her knuckles against the wood a little more sharply, then pushed open the door a crack.

She couldn't believe it when she observed you and her boss limp on the sofa, your head facing his way, and his lolling in your direction because you had been looking at each other, slow blinks hindering your view until you had drifted off.

He had forced his eyes to stay open just a little longer, if only so he could appreciate you for a small increment of time more.

Her eyes had widened comically and she instantly knew what she had to do. She shut the door carefully behind her, and tiptoed to each of the Crow's rooms individually.

Jesper groaned and held his pillow over his head, attempting to block out the noise.

"Jes, get up, you need to see this."

For Nina, she needed a slightly stronger approach. She needed to get them up quickly, she wasn't certain when you would wake. So, the Heartrender was woken by a nice cup of water to the face.

She spluttered as she came to her senses and Inej hushed her before she could shriek in shock.

"Meet in front of Kaz's office. There's something you've got to see." She hissed.

Once Matthias and Wylan were awake and up, they met up and Inej put a finger to her lips as she opened the door.

Nina spotted you immediately and awwed breathily, Jesper and the others following her gaze before simultaneously gasping.

Nina heard your heartbeat quicken and ushered them out, your eyebrows furrowing as you woke to fragmented whispers from what seemed to be down the hallway.

You decided Kaz should sleep in so snuck out of the room and to yours, dressing before jogging down the stairs to breakfast.

When you entered, the chatter abruptly stopped and your head cocked to the side, curious as to if you were being left out of anything.

Suddenly, a snicker was heard and you snapped your eyes to Jesper, who continued to chuckle before speaking.

"Having a good time with the Boss, were we?"

You groaned audibly as you realised they must have witnessed your moment together, ran a hand over your face and sat on a chair, muttering to yourself all the while.

"Kaz will not like this..."

"Not like what?"

He sounded concerned, it flimsily masked and laughter broke out again as you blushed, embarrassed.

"It's too early for this, guys."

"Hmm, you could always take a nap in Kaz's office?" Was Nina's teasing response, no hesitation in her tone.

Kaz's face hardened into the one he used during business, and when he spoke, his voice was cold as stone, "None of you will speak of this."

"Ever." He reiterated, making sure they understood.

As soon as he left, the snickering restarted and now you too joined in, finding the soft Kaz from the evening before and early morning hours of that day so contrasting to the one you had just seen.

The Crows would consistently burst into his office in the mornings after that incident, and Kaz became more alert, although never able to stop himself from falling asleep under the sun.

Usually, he would manage and as soon as they left, he would drop the facade and his head would gradually drop toward his chest, then he would shake out his limbs in an attempt to stay conscious.

You would wake as it happened and would either call his name quietly, or prance downstairs to grab him a coffee. It would rarely be black, instead you added just a tad of milk to sweeten the liquid.

Your shared advantage with Kaz was that they did not know you fell onto the sofa together monthly, and had only caught you together a few times.

At every opportunity they had in the Slat, they would poke fun and jest jokingly about you and Kaz.

Jesper would wink at you suggestively and you'd only drop your head into the table, Inej sometimes placing her hand between before your forehead smacked down.

She teased you a lot less than the others did, so glad for Kaz after knowing of some of his hardship, but would still join in with her own little quips now and then.

Even Nina and Matthias knew not to bring up the situation in public or in the Crow Club. You could be used against Kaz, and he would never want that, believing it could be one of the only things to break him.

Almost daily, you would end up asleep, head and neck supported by a cushion on top of the table.

And almost daily, Kaz would find his heart melting at the sight of you feeling comfortable enough to sleep and be at your most vulnerable with him.

It was a form of love only you shared, and it was beautiful in its own way.

Most importantly, almost daily, Kaz found himself promising you to wake you, all while beginning the crossing of his fingers.

And ankles. Just in case.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse imagine #kaz brekker #kazzle dazzle

165 notes · View notes

butwhatifidothis · 3 years

Text

So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it.

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.”

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take.""

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”"

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior.

#anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard critical #o captain my captain #<- borrowing nilsh's tag for this lmao in case I do end up continuing this #but yeah from just the latest chapter there are characters that 100% cheerlead for the pure righteousness that is Edelgard #so yeah that's... gonna be fun lmao

110 notes · View notes

kitkatpancakestack · 3 years

Note

Hold up...your theory on all the season finales focusing on Buck and his love interests — Buck ending each season being left by someone he loved (he didn't really love Ali, but doesn't matter). Hold. Up. Not really a theory, but a keen observation of fact on your part! But what was different about season 4, hmm? He almost lost Eddie, but the episode ended with Eddie staying, Eddie choosing Buck. THIS SHOW!!!

911 narrarive parallels are rarely one-on-one, they are like fractals. What on earth is coming next???

(And I am now just remembering that that scene with Buck and Eddie was the final scene of the episode, before the montage.)

I don't know what I'm asking except I would love to hear more of your thoughts on this parallel (or anything else 911 that is on your mind...)

OHohoh be careful what you ask for, I will reach into my brain and splatter the proverbial canvas with every over-analytical triviality I can get my hands on.

@yramesoruniverse I am so happy to see you in my inbox, every time your url pops up on my dash I smile. I vibe with your vibes! Reading your tags on my posts and vice versa feels like we're sitting down with some popcorn to talk shit (affectionate) about this beloved weewoo show.

Okay okay onto the ask - naturally I have some opinions, 90% of my headspace is the weewoo and 10% is nonsense like bills, groceries, my job, school applications, etc. I've got thoughts. So here we go:

I've started realizing this on my latest re-watch, and I just got to the season 3 finale, and as I was shoving my face full of Wendy's I thought to myself, whoa whoa whoa, this is the third finale of this show and the third time I have to see Buck all forlorn and woe is me bc another LI is leaving him. And everything snowballed after that. Let's go in order, and then we're gonna talk about other character's arcs as they manifest in the finale, and then hopefully I can pull this mess together at the end so it makes sense!

Let's preface these analyses by saying that typically season finales are reserved for revisiting the main storylines of characters, and in the case of 9-1-1 which focuses on the personal lives of the first responders, the main storylines revolve around those characters' families. Buck's main storyline is his search for meaningful connection and having something that he can call his own.

1x10: "A Whole New You"

Abby leaves Buck. That's what this boils down to in regards to the theme of this post. After Buck prepared himself to "step into it with her" and "keep her company there," Abby's mom passed away and relieved her of the last thing tethering her in place, resulting in her deciding to travel the world and rediscover herself. I think the title of the episode is hilarious as it relates to Buck and Abby, because it's pretty obvious in Abby's case but in the context of the next season we literally start to see the transition to a "whole new Buck." I hate speaking its name aloud, but Buck 2.0 anyone???

Why Abby leaves: she was afraid she would lose herself if she stayed

What Buck learns: he is capable of a monogamous relationship and actually he might prefer this to the alternative

2x18: "This Life We Choose"

Ali leaves Buck. Her mere existence in this episode shows the audience Buck is actively moving on from Abby. He is trying to make this whole meaningful connection thing work, which feels more authentic to him probably because Ali is already established in his life (sound like someone we know from season 4 anybody??? sorry I digress), but we know how this turns out.

Why Ali leaves: she couldn't handle the inherent danger and unpredictability of his job

What Buck learns: people leave, but you know what will always be there for him? His job. Let's project our entire self-worth onto that, then.

3x18: "What's Next?"

Abby leaves Buck (again, and this time for another man!). It's more like the continuation and finalization of the process she started in the season one finale, but absolutely this gets its own mention. Never mind that Tim said the train was literally a metaphor for Buck. Abby isn't walking off into the vague unknown with this one. She is about to marry a single father (cough cough) and that is the deliberate cut-off to her and Buck's relationship, which leaves him in a bit of a freefall as is obvious during the first bit of season 4 (hello Dr. Copeland, better late than never I suppose).

Why Abby leaves: she found someone who she can be her authentic self with, who she doesn't feel will make her backslide

What Buck learns: everybody walks away, he is always the one left behind, maybe the problem is himself.

4x14: "Survivors"

Eddie almost left Buck. The difference? Abby and Ali both made active choices to leave him. Eddie had to literally get gunned down in the street, through no choice of his own, in order to even be added into this parallel. Considering the culminating events of Buck's story arc throughout the years and especially the plotline we get in season four alone, this is huge, don't you think? I know the writers do, because they literally put up a huge neon sign with the final scene between Buck and Eddie like, "We know Buck always gets left behind at the end of each season but look at this! He isn't! In fact, it's the exact opposite!" and then we're forced to go insane ruminating on the meaning of these choices for an eternity during the hiatus.

This is already obscenely long, and I have some thoughts about other characters and how their main plotlines play out during the season finales, but I'll leave this here for now. Hope this gave you something!

#yramesoruniverse #ask #the writers are insane #the writers are unhinged #season finale parallels #something about being left behind #something about eddie not leaving him behind #Im going insane I think #buddie #evan buckley #meta #season 5 boutta knock me over the head #meta by me

100 notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Of Academic Interest

Fandom: Indiana Jones

Collection/Series: Tribute to/Part of @alloftheimaginesblog ‘s ‘Secret’s Out’ Saga world.

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Plus Size Female History Lecturer Reader (Glasses are mentioned very briefly)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You’re one of the newest history lecturers and Indiana turns up to watch your open lecture on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead

Notes: I love Angela’s Secret’s Out Saga, i’m happy that I get to send her requests and see the amazing things she writes for it and lately i’ve been getting the urge to write something for the world/au/series.

This is a homage, a tribute, to it, obviously none of this is canon unless Angela says so.

This is set before Indy and the Reader are dating.

All facts come from an essay I did at university on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead, which I also did an hour long presentation on.

Comment and Feedback Form

Taglist Form

You were relatively new to the history department at Marshall College and were somewhat of a novelty to students and staff alike having only been there for a few months. Being one of the few female professors and on top of that specialising in some more taboo or ground breaking historical takes on the history of gender and sexuality, you had successfully caused quite the stir.

The majority of your colleagues were accepting, happy to have you and generally interested by your studies and research. Despite being relatively new to academic teaching they were supportive, although there was a small subsection of the humanities department who, in typical old man fashion, talked down to you, treated you like a coffee girl and disrespected your expertise. You had taken to stealing their students from their modules and attracting them to your modules instead as a passive form of fighting back.

Students were clamouring to be taught by you, to get onto the list for your modules or to get to see your open lectures. You were the only member of the faculty who talked about the more riveting elements of history such as prostitution, sexualisation, and even ghosts. In comparison to the same lectures on Anglo-Saxon England and the Civil War, you were significantly more interesting to the student population. That did not, however, remove sexism within the student population. While female students actively enjoyed your lectures, got involved more so than in other modules, and felt a sense of comfort in a more female friendly space, you found that a small portion of the student male population tried at every turn to either explain your own specialism to you or to discredit you. You had long since taken to finding it rather amusing, especially when most of those individuals were failing your course.

You had been asked many months ago to prepare an open lecture on the history of surgery and medicine, the faculty head had told you to pick any topic you wished so long as it was well researched and you could put on a good lecture for the student population. For some it might well be their first ever history lecture, for others it was just an addition to their usual workload, nonetheless you’d chosen a topic that was of interest to you and that you felt confident presenting.

Standing before a podium in a large lecture hall, you push your glass further up the bridge of your nose and flick through the pages of notes in front of you to temporarily distract yourself from the crowds of people that were slowly making their way inside and to seats. It was a large hall, one that could hold upwards of 200 people and despite years of public speaking under your belt there was always an anticipation, a sense of nerves, before you began a lecture or presentation.

You checked the microphone on the podium, happy to find it in working order and smiled at a few familiar faces in the front row, some of your students who had apparently decided to spend their free period listening to you talk some more. Checking the time you waited a few more minutes before choosing to start, letting the last stragglers find a seat or for those unlucky enough to stand at the back after all seats were filled. It was a large turn out and you could feel those nerves buzzing in the pit of your stomach as you cleared your throat and picked up your notes.

“Good morning, everyone! Thank you for coming despite your busy schedules to hear me drone on once more about dead people,” Light laughter and small chuckles filled the space as you began, your students looking at each other with a shake of their heads. “Today i’m going to be talking to you about something called the Cult of the Beautiful Dead in Victorian medicine. Specifically surgery.”

You find yourself drifting from the podium, pacing across the stage even as this requires you to speak louder without the microphone. There is a familiar energy in your body that demands you move as you speak, to expend it in some physical way. “The Cult of the Beautiful Dead pervaded the world of art within the 18th and 19th centuries. It has been defined as ‘a subjective fascination with idealised images of the deceased in such a way that permanently embalmed bodies and stable images displace and replace impermanent reality’, but I would characterise it within medical and surgical art somewhat differently.”

You stop briefly, give yourself time to breathe and them time to process your words, in that brief moment your eyes glance across the crowd and spot a familiar face that makes your cheeks warm and your heart stutter. Professor Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones Junior.

Professor Jones was known throughout the history and archaeology department for his digs, his finds, and his immense knowledge, that and his good looks and charming persona. He was friendly, enticing, handsome, and treated you as an equal. While you could not consider yourself friends, you did have a healthy respect and rather decent crush on the man. In fact, the only reason you weren’t friends, you suspected, was your inability to talk around the man without stuttering. He had no reason to be at your lecture, but he’d come anyway, in fact it looked as if he were the only member of the archaeology department present.

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away and continue, “It is the idealised image of the female body on the dissection room table or the surgical bed with her flowing hair, her soft, pale skin, her perfect, unharmed nature and her sexualised passivity which characterises the Cult of the Beautiful Dead within medical art. On your seats you would have found copies of a painting by Henri Gervaux and an illustration by Hasselhorst, I will be talking today about these pieces of art and how they fit in with the realities of the dissection room.”

You move across the stage again, wait as they find out their papers and find yourself looking over at Dr Jones again. He is intent in his observations of the papers in his hands, interested, actively engaged and that is a bigger compliment than anything you think. It would be heartbreaking, you decide, if he were bored by or disinterested in your lecture. While you don’t need his approval, you are an academic in your own right, you do desire it.

You continue on when he looks up, shifting your eyes away quickly, “In the 19th century women were less likely to be patients of surgeons than men and even when they were operated on they were by no means symbols of the Cult of the Beautiful dead. See Before the Operation by Henri Gervaux,” You wait for them to find the print of the painting, “It is a portrait of Dr Pean, a French Surgeon, and depicts the moment before an operation on a young woman and fits into the ideal of the Cult even though the woman is anaesthetised and not dead.”

In this fashion you continue your lecture, moving across the stage discussing the sexualisation of the female body in medical art and the realities of surgery in comparison. You’re highly aware of Dr Jones’ eyes on you as you move across the stage, to the point that you stumble at points in your oration. As time goes on you find yourself relaxing under his gaze, accepting that he is here purely out of interest, not to judge you or pass criticism. His active engagement with your lecture, the notes you can see him scribbling down in a notebook, is rewarding and reassures you that he is enjoying himself even on a topic so far removed from his own studies of ancient civilisations and centuries old artefacts and skeletons.

You reach the end of your lecture, returning to the podium and straightening your skirt, “Are there any questions?”

Hands pop up across the room, but it is one in particular that you are drawn to. You don’t expect him to ask questions, you don’t expect him to have any, but you are a little scared to hear what he has to say. It shouldn’t scare you, this active academic engagement, the meeting of minds, but you so desperately do not want to make a fool of yourself.

“Dr Jones?” You gesture for him to go on and ask and he stands in response. Tugging at the tweed waistcoat and adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He smiles at you as he begins, “Dr Y/L/N,” He addresses you by your title, formal and respectful. You are reminded, once more, that he has never failed to treat you as an equal. Unlike some of the other male professors, “I was just wondering what your opinion was on the eroticisation of death in this period?” You let out a little laugh, for no reason other than a little relief at the ease with which you can answer that question.

“Thank you for your question Dr Jones, well art such as Hasselhorst’s helped to eroticise death in the 18th and 19th centuries, death became equated with beauty, even if the reality of the dissection room failed to live up to the standards of the Cult of the Beautiful Dead. What we see is death portrayed often as a young woman. She is often portrayed as beautiful with long flowing hair, a fair face, a soft pale body, naked, open to the eye and most importantly passive. The dead woman in this period is a passive object, dead, yet sleeping, immortally captured at her most beautiful and unable to object to any sexualisation or objectification. She cannot talk back. Death is an obsession of the Victorians and it’s prevalence in medical art like Hasselhorst’s shows just how deeply connected death, beauty and the erotic became at this time.”

“Do you think we’ve continued that desire for passivity today? The way in which we expect women to act?”

“What do you think, Dr Jones?” You turn the question back on him, eager to hear his opinion, knowing that your own certainly sees the way 1930s society demands passivity from women even if death is no longer eroticised in the same way.

“I think we’ve perpetuated that desire for passivity from women within our society, demanded they hold their tongue, keep themselves in check and in place and as objects of desire, but not too much or else they’re no longer respectable. I think we expect women to be passively sexual, unknowingly so, innocently so, yet they must be attractive else their worth is diminished. An outspoken or intelligent woman is demeaned, pushed out from academics or workplaces. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.” You take a moment, give him a smile before answering the next question and the next and the next. You expect him to leave like many of the other members of the audience once his question has been answered, instead he stays, listens to your responses to each question and pays you rapt attention.

You find yourself even more interested in Dr Jones than you were before. His acknowledgement of the treatment you and other women have faced when attempting to make a name in a career or in academics is refreshing and his engagement with your lecture is enjoyable and endearing. You curse him a little for making your crush, your infatuation deeper simply by coming to your lecture.

You find yourself packing up your notes at the end, listening to the sound of feet leaving as you grab your notes and stuff them into your leather satchel. A tall shadow falls over you as you heft the bag onto your shoulder and you smile up at Dr Jones as he stands before the podium notebook in hand, he folds the glasses off of his nose and pockets them.

“How did you enjoy the lecture, Dr Jones?” You run an anxious hand through your hair and twist your wide hips in a nervous movement, always finding yourself a little flustered when one on one with the man. There’s a part of you that worries about coming under scrutiny from him, the part that has so often been judged in life for your gender, your area of study, and your weight. Years of nasty comments, suggested diets and family obsession with the size of your body had created a paranoia almost, a sense of expectation. You were just waiting for the scrutiny to be voiced.

“It was one of the most interesting lectures I've had the pleasure of watching. You should write a book, it might be a worthy next research project and please call me Indiana.”

“Only if you call me by name. I think we can both drop the doctor? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I...I didn’t think the Victorians would interest an archaeologist.” In truth the idea of Indiana Jones wanting to learn about people not long dead, a period which rarely requires archaeological excavation and has few true mysteries, had never crossed your mind.

“In all honesty?” There’s a pause as he looks away from you with a charming smirk before turning back to you, teeth showing through his smile. “You interest me. I’ve read all your books, all your papers, every time you lecture I stop at the door and listen. You’re a compelling orator.”

“You listen to my lectures?” You can feel warmth flooding your cheeks, your neck, your ears at his admission. Feel a familiar sense of butterflies flapping about in your stomach. You look down briefly, smiling at the ground before meeting his blue eyes again.

“When I have time, surprised you haven’t noticed me hovering in the doorway. You really are one of the best academics I've ever met.”

“I...thank you.” You’re a little lost for words, you have barely shared more than a few polite conversations with Indiana, too intimidated to talk in depth with him and yet here he is extolling your values and praising you.

“Don’t let Dr Carr convince you otherwise.” He taps his fingers in a rhythm on the wood of the podium, looking away from you and towards the door where you can see the much older Dr Carr standing waiting impatiently for you to leave the room for his next lecture.

“You heard...the other day.” You think back to the argument you’d gotten into with the old professor over his sexist attitude towards you, his constant demeaning comments. You had thought it had been a private argument, but it seems not. You were still rather angry about the whole thing in truth.

“Yeah, look he’s old school. Doesn’t think women should have degrees or PhDs, ignore him. You’re a better academic by far and he’s just angry that he’s been passed over for the chair again. He’s a washed up old academic, he’s only still got a job because the Dean feels bad for him.” He says the last part loudly, on purpose you’re sure, loud enough for Dr Carr to hear and turn a glare on him. You know he won’t say anything to him though, Dr Jones was the university’s prized archaeology professor, he brought in more artefacts than the other’s combined and more students. Dr Carr wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Couldn’t. It was enjoyable to watch the old fuddy professor go red in the face and huff at the doors.

“I don’t know what to say. I...Thank you. I know we don’t...we don’t really talk, but thank you, I. It’s been hard joining the faculty, it’s a very masculine environment and I...it’s nice to know there’s someone in my corner.” You think to your Grandfather telling you that academics would make you barren, cause you to go insane, think to your mother telling you to find a nice husband and settle down, that you should desire the life of a housewife alone. It has been very difficult simply getting this far and to know you have him in your corner, someone in your corner means a great deal, in a new city, a new job, a new career.

“Always.” The two of you stand there in silence, just staring at each other, despite the impatient noises being made at the door by Dr Carr. You grip the satchel strap tighter over your shoulder and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Now?” You don’t have any more lectures for the day, just your office hours later to answer any student questions, but the offer still surprises you.

“Yeah, I don’t have a lecture until later and...if you’re free I have more questions.” He holds up the notebook, little post notes coming out of the side, it’s thick from writings and usage. It flatters you that he’s so interested in what you have to say, in your mind. You think it might be more of a compliment than anything physical.

“So it’s entirely professional then, Dr Jones?” You’re not sure where the confidence comes from to cause the words to fall from your lips, to cause a little smirk to lift at them as you look at him over the top of your glasses. Flirtation is one area you are not confident in, despite it all.

“Well, I wouldn’t say entirely, sweetheart...I’d like to get to know you better.” He’s utterly too charming for his own good you think and too charming for your poor little heart, but despite any concerns you have, any worries about his intentions you still find yourself agreeing. You’ve wanted to get to know him better for so long, too scared to talk to him in more than passing that you can’t let this opportunity pass you by. Refuse to.

“That sounds...lovely.”

“Shall we?” He offers his elbow out to you and you take it, wrapping your arm through his and pulling yourself to his side. He is taller, broader, and warmer than you. He smells woodsy and a little like black coffee and everything about this moment has your heart skipping a beat.

“We shall.”

You take great pleasure in the dissatisfied sneer on Dr Carr’s face as the two of you walk arm in arm out of the lecture hall.

----

Taglists:

@charradelange @belfry-bat @gabile18 @beccaboo929 @trasheater

#plus size reader #secret's out saga #alloftheimaginesblog #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones #indiana jones/reader #female reader #female identifying reader #indiana jones reader insert #indiana jones readerinsert

179 notes · View notes

caught-in-the-filter · 3 years

Photo

My Bad, Bad Devil, You Put the Angel in You

—an angel!Killian/demon!Emma AU PWP for CSSNS21

A/N: A huge shoutout and thank you to ultraluckycatnd for beta-ing this for me, and to the mods of @cssns for giving us another year of this event!

Heads up that this has some sacrilegious uses of Biblical references, and I totally understand and respect if that's a big nope for anyone for any reason. Most of my life, it would've been a nope for me too. I mean no attack or mockery or other ill intent toward Christianity/religion or anyone who practices any form of it.

I grew up in church but I've been questioning a lot for a long time now, and this sort of became my own little personal rebellion. (I guess writing smut in general has been, but this one is on another level.) I kind of have a love/hate relationship with this fic; it was fun when I started it, but then I got frustrated and stuck, and now I'm not sure how I feel about it anymore. And maybe I'll regret it in the future if I ever see the light again or something, but for now, I've resigned to the fact that if I'm gonna go to hell (if I even believe there is one anymore), then I might as well have a little fun with it while I can.

So if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, dl,dr, and no hard feelings.

Also, I know the title is a little long, but I couldn't resist the Doctor Who reference.

Rated: E; Words: 2904; AO3

——

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Emma purred, closing the distance between herself and the angel standing before her. With a flick of her wrist, she cast him back against the window and commanded the curtains to cross in front of him, spinning him so that he faced the glass before wrapping themselves around his wings and arms to restrain him.

“A daughter of the damned, getting in over her head?” Killian quipped, testing the hold of the thick cloth keeping him in place without fighting it.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed. Taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t worn a shirt in favor of opening his wings, she reached around his waist and bent her arms upward so she could slowly rake her nails down his exposed chest. “You’re the one tied up, but I’m in over my head?” She twirled a few of his hairs around her finger and tugged, making him flinch.

“You make the mistake of thinking I’m not exactly where I want to be, love.” Killian glanced back at her with a devious smirk. “That is why you’re in over your head.”

“Oh, I know,” Emma smiled. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she lowered her hands and began to unlace his trousers. “I know you want to fall, don’t you?” She freed his hardening cock from its leather confines and slowly ran her hand back and forth along the length of him. “You want to rise and fall and lose yourself in the worst way.”

“With you?” Killian panted, already breathless under her sinfully skilled touch. “Hell yes.”

“Then you’re going to let them watch you fall from grace.” Emma gestured at the window in front of them, guiding Killian’s eyes to gaze out at the possibility of unwitting passersby spotting their activities, before taking him in hand once more. “You’re going to let them see you give all of yourself to a demon.” The guttural groan he made only spurred her on as she continued to pump him. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

Killian’s head fell back when Emma interrupted her stroking to grip his balls with a taunting squeeze, and he muttered under his breath, “God, forgive me,” as his eyes fluttered closed. Bucking his hips, he tried to coax her to go faster, “Yes, Emma, please yes,” but she smiled as she removed her hand and relished the whine that left his lips.

“An angel eager to sin.” She slipped her hands beneath the back of his trousers, kneading his ass for a moment before stripping off the leather, trailing kisses down his spine as she sank to the floor with the material. “Step.” With a tap to the backs of his knees, she removed the trousers completely and tossed them aside.

Emma ducked between Killian’s legs and twisted her body in one fluid motion so that she sat with her back to the window, greeted by his cock pointing right at her face.

“I want to taste you,” she said and lifted his cock so she could lick a slow stripe from base to head, swiping her tongue over the sensitive tip. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she cupped his ass and pulled him toward her as she took him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. The staccato sounds that left his lips convinced her to hold him there as long as she could, flexing her tongue along the length of him, until she had to lean back to take a breath.

“Delicious,” Emma sighed and took him in again, and again, this time guiding him back and forth, in and out, her tongue darting out to tease his balls with each plunge.

Killian panted her name amidst a slew of encouragements, lost in the way she licked and sucked and consumed him. Her grip on his ass tightened, and he bit back a moan when her finger made its way to the center and circled its find before dipping just barely inside.

“Ooh, sounds like you like that,” she parted from him long enough to tease, continuing her carefully intrigued prodding as she asked, “shall we sodomize an Angel of God?”

“It wouldn’t—” he gritted his teeth as she gave his cock a particularly strong suck, straining against the curtains holding him at her mercy, or lack thereof, “—wouldn’t be the first time, love.”

“Oh?” Emma raised an eyebrow at him, pausing for a moment before bringing him into her mouth once more, staring up into his eyes as he watched her intently.

“Aye. Though I much prefer to give than to receive.”

Of course you would, Emma thought, the pun of angelic nature not lost on her. She hummed her assent around him and sent a ripple of pleasure coursing through his body.

It was too much and not enough. As Emma relentlessly devoured him, Killian fought against the material holding him back. With one forceful downward motion, he tore the curtains in half and freed himself as he sought his glorious ascension.

His fingers laced into her hair, and for once, he allowed himself to take. His frantic thrusts were met with surprised and hungry moans, the vibrations of which sent him soaring over the edge.

“Ohh fuck. Fuck,” he cried as he spilled himself down her throat. He felt it when she swallowed as he held her still and his cock continued to pulse.

“Such a dirty mouth for such a pure being,” Emma remarked as she caught her breath when he at last let her go. She got to her feet and stood facing him, using her tongue to trace the lines of the cross tattoo on his chest as she rose, and she yelped when he pulled her flush against him, his arms tight around her.

“Oh, it can be much, much dirtier,” he growled, making her gasp as he gave a harsh tug to her hair and attacked the exposed skin of her neck with sloppy kisses and less than gentle nips and searing hot breath. She arched up into him, and it was his turn to pin her against the glass. His hand and hook frantically tore at her blouse while his mouth continued its expert assault as it made its way to hers and along her jaw until he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Would you like that, demon?” he asked, slipping his hand beneath her waistband and trailing his lips down to the swell of her breasts. “Would you like my mouth on you where you’re warm and wet and wanting for me? Teasing you as you’ve done me, making you long for my cock as much as I long for the feel of you around me?”

Emma suddenly couldn’t find the words, too caught up in the thrill of hearing him, an angel, her angel, talk like that. Hoping to get the point across, she threaded her fingers through the haphazard locks on his head and shoved him to his knees.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” he grinned, holding her gaze as he lifted her incredibly short skirt and ran his thumb along the already soaked strip of lace she considered panties before pulling it down to her knees.

Emma leaned forward to allow the remnants of her blouse to fall to the floor before reaching for the support of the window once more as he canted her hips toward himself with the curve of his hook pressed to the small of her back.

Killian’s wing curled forward to assist with holding up the material of her skirt, the feathers tickling the top of her thigh, so he could focus his efforts on her aching core. Too eager to taste her, he wasted no time, choosing instead to start right with his mouth at her clit. She jumped at the unexpected jolt of pleasure, and he steadied her with his hand splayed against her inner thigh, inching his fingers toward her center.

“How can you be from Hell when you taste so divine, Emma?” he praised. “I could spend eternity quenching my deepest thirst between your legs.”

“Then shut up and quench it,” Emma barked. She didn’t really mean it, not completely. She loved his silver tongue, especially when he used it to talk dirty, but right now she craved him putting it to a different use.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” As he gave one more suck on her clit, Killian plunged two fingers inside her, soon increasing it to three as he stretched her and coaxed out more of her arousal onto his expertly explorative tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that,” Emma sighed, tugging his hair as she rode his tongue and fingers, relishing the warm vibrations his pained groans and hungry moans ghosted over her sensitive skin.

“Oh no, love,” Killian said without relenting, looking up at her as he continued working her between words. “Don’t blaspheme. I’m not Him. I worship at your altar, Emma, and there’s no better place to be on my knees.”

“I like your Word better, anyway.” Emma’s head tipped back as her hips began to buck, but her moment of near bliss quickly turned into one of frustration. “No,” she gasped, shocked and almost offended as he pulled away with a smirk and stood to his feet, leaving her clenching on nothing and far from sated. “Come on, Killian, please! I thought you were all about giving! And how is this worship?”

“I meant what I said, love. I adore you, I do. But I am an angel, after all.” Killian chuckled. “We tend to enjoy when someone is brought to the edge before they’re granted their salvation. I need you begging for it.”

“Fucking tease,” Emma huffed, turning away from him with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Mmm,” Killian mused, “perhaps you are ready to receive more.” He nudged her legs apart with his own, a soft blow with the side of his foot kicking one out to the side, and Emma scrambled to reach her arms out in front of her for balance, her hands slipping on the window as her legs spread. Snaking his arms around her, he set his chin on her shoulder as he held her in his embrace and mused, “What do you think, love? Shall we bare you to them as I take you and show them what they can’t have, or should we keep this sinful skirt on and show them how eager you are to be ravished by an angel?”

“On, off, I don’t care which you’re into, just fuck me!”

“A bit of both then.” Killian pressed the side of his hook to her stomach and pulled her to him, holding her so that her back pressed against his chest. Lifting the front of her skirt, he handed her the bottom hem. “Hold this up for me, love.”

With a smirk, she took it between her teeth, stretching the waistband higher and pulling the material taut between her breasts as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and winked at him.

“There’s a good girl.” He smiled and raised the bit between them with the tip of his hook, taking himself in hand. “You pretend you like to rebel, but you behave so well for me. Now, tell me what you want.”

“I said, I want you to fuck me,” Emma answered, slightly muffled by her skirt, frustratedly trying to swivel her hips in the hopes of getting him inside her.

He draped her skirt over his hand and wrapped his hooked arm around her once more to still her. Her annoyance encouraged him to tease her all the more, and he brushed the tip of his cock between her folds agonizingly slowly as he said, “I need you to be more specific, love. What do you want?”

“Fuck, Killian, I want your cock inside me.” Emma almost dropped her skirt when he filled her in one smooth slide, her jaw instinctively ready to fall open, but she caught herself and clenched it instead, biting down hard on the material with a groan at the sudden stretch.

“Very good.” The tip of his hook dimpled her flesh, dangerously close to piercing her, as he held her against himself and slammed into her from behind. His fingers laced themselves between hers and he caressed up the side of her body as he brought her hand to rest on the back of his neck. Emma raised her other hand in kind, and Killian moved his to her breast, kneading and squeezing it as he lost himself in the feel of her.

“Fuck, you feel fucking amazing around me, Emma. Not even heaven compares to the feel of you.” Killian licked a stripe along Emma’s collarbone and clamped his mouth over the spot, digging his teeth into her flesh. She moaned at the thought of the mark she’d wear tomorrow.

Bringing his arm back, Killian pressed it across Emma’s shoulder blades, pinning her chest to the glass in front of them with an arch in her back that jutted her ass out at him, and this time Emma did drop her skirt as her mouth opened on a loud moan at the forceful change of angles. Killian grunted and tucked his hook beneath the waistband, ripping it apart with the sharp tip and watching it fall as he pounded into her.

“I told you to hold that,” he growled against the shell of her ear. “Perhaps you are a naughty little minx after all.” Killian swatted Emma’s ass with an open palm before grabbing the reddening flesh and massaging it, in theory to soothe the sting but so roughly that she thought he might leave a bruise if he continued, one she’d be more than willing to bear as a reminder of their time for several days to come.

“Forgive me?” she teased in a mocking tone as she met his thrusts with each backward roll of her hips, almost inclined to make prayer hands at him if moving them wouldn’t risk her falling.

“Not exactly a sincere repentance, is it, love?” Killian struck her ass once more before grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head backward. “But it is rather tempting to grant you reprieve nonetheless.”

“Ah, so why don’t you give into that temptation, angel?” Emma gritted.

“Don’t try to persuade. Ask me for it.”

“Please, Killian, I’m so close.” Emma couldn’t take it anymore. “Make me come, angel. Please!” Emma sighed through a string of curses as Killian moved the curve of his hook to her clit, pressing the brace against her flesh just above it as he rubbed quick circles over the swollen nub.

“What say you, demon?” he asked, breathless himself as he brought them both to the brink. “Shall we chance our own breed of Nephilim?”

“Yes please,” she panted desperately. “I’ve already tasted you. I want to feel you. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“I’ll give you what you want, demon, but I want to hear you scream my name when I do, not God’s.” Killian’s mouth travelled from Emma’s neck to her shoulder and back as he pistoned his hips with abandon. His teeth scraped her flesh before he moaned against her cheek as he found his release, “Emma, fuck yes, Emma,” filling her with it and pushing it deeper as it dripped down the length of his cock.

With his brutal thrusts and relentless teasing, Emma granted his request soon after, crying out, “Killian!” at the top of her lungs as her knees buckled beneath her.

He practically lifted her off the ground when he caught her with his arm wrapped around her middle, holding her tightly as he drew every last drop of ecstasy from within her before he slipped from her core and spun her into a lightheaded kiss, caging her against the window with his arms once more.

“Well, that was fucking hot.” Emma smiled against his lips as she pulled one into her mouth to bite it playfully, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Who knew you had it in you, angel?” One hand anchored in his hair as the other clutched at his ass, and she pulled him closer to her so she could rut against his leg, letting their releases spill down her thigh onto his and making him groan.

“It was the other way around, love,” he joked with a certainly devilish smirk, “but I concur, it was fucking hot.” Tucking his arms beneath her legs, Killian hoisted Emma into them and carried her to the bed, tossing her not so gently onto the mattress.

Emma giggled as she taunted him with one curled finger, beckoning him to her as she spread her legs wide, an invitation he happily accepted as he knelt between them and crawled above her body with a guttural growl.

“You might just convince me of the divine benefits of your side,” Emma purred, running her hands down his sides to grip his waist, “but I think I need to witness a bit more firsthand to make sure I believe, if you’ve got another miracle in you.”

“Angels are eternal, darling,” he said. “I’ll never leave you if that’s what it takes to really fill you with the spirit.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

——

A/N: "Glorious ascension" to describe an orgasm? Yeah, I'm going to hell.

——

Tag list ❤️: @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @wefoundloveunderthelight @xsajx @zaharadessert

#cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs smut #captain swan #angel!killian #demon!emma #cs ff #cssns 2021 #cs pwp #pwp #angel/demon AU #kayla writes #my writing

59 notes · View notes

riathedreamer · 3 years

Text

Zero is Null

A discussion of Zero’s love-hate-relationship with RvB and struggling independence; including a hotdog too big for the bun, tragic backstories, a single bow-chicka-bow-wow, and a cookie at the very end.

Welcome to what will be a lot of text. Basically, it will explore why Zero fails as an RvB (with emphasis on RvB) season. I will not be the first one to bring forth some of the points, and I promise to be fair and civil and fun. This isn’t supposed to be a piece of hate – in fact, I’m writing this because I love Red vs. Blue.

Okay, first of all, to increase your fun – take a guess on just how much of Zero is spent on fight scenes. You see, I’ve calculated the exact amount, and I will reveal it later, but for now, take a guess and remember the number. Maybe you are the winner!

Alright, time to share my thoughts. Wait! Since I suffer from anxiety and have this one annoying voice pretending to be all those critical statements my opinion could be met with, let’s give it an actual voice and address the points throughout this review.

“Why would I care about your opinion, Ria?” – I don’t know, you’re the one who clicked Read More.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter!” – Of course, it doesn’t! Geez. Do you think your opinion matters, though? Listen, we’re on Tumblr, the actual equivalent of screaming into the void. And it’s fun, too!

“If you don’t like it, don’t watch!” - *activates Uno Reverse Card* “You can’t talk about something you haven’t watched!”

“You’re just a Hater” – Actually, this is a point I’ll come back to. Like a cliffhanger. Also, at the end of this, there’ll be a cookie. But this will also include me talking about the stuff I like, because, surprise, Zero is not without talent!

“You just don’t like it because the Reds and Blues aren’t in it!” – Actually, that’s a good point, so instead, this review will start with a sole focus on Zero and discuss the problem that lies within that story. Then we can address why the lack of OG cast is understandable and problematic and weird.

But first! Backstory.

When the first 5 second teaser dropped back in spring (you know, when we were young and innocent and the world didn’t feel like an apocalyptic movie yet), I held onto that one image of what I thought (hoped) to be Grif and Simmons in the sunset, hopefully addressing Grif’s hateglue arc, but boy was I wrong because a) that’s not Simmons, that’s Sarge, and b) the image was from a PSA since the Reds are not in Zero.

Actual face-reveal of me below:

Admittedly, when I heard that the Reds and Blues were not going to be the main characters (or even show up), it felt like a gut punch. However, I actually found myself getting excited due to the creators’ hype. I want to praise them for this. It’s been a while since an RvB season was talked so much ABOUT before its release; it had advertisements, it had creators and voice-actors talking about it. Please. More of that in the future. Their passion rubbed off on me, and that deserves recognition. So it pains me that this was clearly a passion-project, and then when I gave it a try, I didn’t want to touch it again for weeks.

Here’s the thing. I cannot whole-heartedly say that Zero is bad. It’s not gonna melt your eyes. It’s not even so-bad-it’s-good. For me, it’s meh. It’s a Saturday-morning-cartoon aimed for a younger audience with a rushed plot and clichéd characters. The problem is that it calls itself RvB, and with that title comes something to live up to – but more importantly, something to continue.

My main issue is that Zero forces its story into existence by ignoring established content rather than adjusting to it. Let’s call this for the hotdog-too-big-for-the-bun syndrome solely for the sake of the bow-chicka-bow-wow that’s coming now. Bow-chicka-bow-wow. Many of the separate issues I will dive into all add to this hotdog-issue, so I will scream “Hotdog!” whenever this is the case so we can all keep track of my argument.

You can continue the story of Red vs. Blue without the Reds and Blues. While that would personally crush my heart, it can be done. There’s a story of Red vs. Blue that can be continued. The world can be expanded, the previous actions of the Reds and Blues can be explored from another angle.

So.

How does Zero do this? It doesn’t.

I just want to make it clear that new elements can definitely be added when it comes to worldbuilding. That’s literally the point of sequels. But Zero’s settings are presented with so little grace and with no connection to previously established worldbuilding. We get Alliance of Defense and GLASS thrown in our face as very big important organizations – yet we’ve never heard of them before. A big central plot point of RvB is the UNSC and Project Freelancers, and those were introduced naturally with the plot. We already have big established intergalactic organizations. What is AOD’s connection with those? We aren’t told. We are just told they exist and expected to accept it, no questions asked. If this was a whole new world and story – fine. But when you need to build on an already established worldbuilding, you need more grace than this. Chorus was a whole new setting, but it was explained, and it was connected to the previous plot. Same with Iris. Same with Desert Gulch. In Zero, it feels lazy. It feels forced. These organizations are just there because the story is built around them (HOTDOG).

This vagueness when it comes to wordbuilding is also reflected in the settings - we have a desert, a training base, a lab, temples, Tucker’s workplace, and we do not know if all those are set place on the same planet. If that is the case, what is this planet’s relationship with Chorus? Is it Earth? And most importantly, what is the deal with the temples? Why are they connected to Tucker’s sword if it isn’t the same planet. Are they made by the same aliens? Are people okay with this? Why haven’t these temples been explored before? Chorus makes sure to establish this, while Zero doesn’t, adding to a growing amount of confusion.

Okay, so no connection with previous worldbuilding. What about characters? I mean, we got Wash and Carolina and Tucker! So we have RvB characters, it gotta be RvB! Technically – yeah. But it feels dirty. These three characters are not here to be characters. They are here to be props to the new cast. They are not given any development. Their presence isn’t even that important, and if this was a whole new show, they could easily have been replaced with an unknown face. Worst of all, they feel miswritten.

Carolina and Wash are working at a new military organization? Leaving the Reds and Blues behind? To help people? First of all, fucking bad idea, Carolina, the last time you left the Reds and Blues alone, they changed the timeline. But most importantly – Carolina and Wash just joined this new super elite military organization? After being mistreated and manipulated by such an organization in the past?

Carolina is there to introduce the characters. That’s it. We are force-fed their personality by having her literally read out loud their personality. There is no gentle introduction to the new cast. We are not allowed to get to know them naturally. Why show when you can tell, huh? That’s Carolina’s role. That’s why she is there. To introduce the cast and explain their story. That’s it. (HOTDOG).

How about Wash? He is there to get beat up and be a damsel in distress so that the new cast has a reason to explore the plot. Oh, and that brain damage that was the consequence of previous seasons – gone now. The guy who literally has trauma from having an AI explode inside his head is fine with having a computer inserted into it instead. Because that’s needed. To explore his brain damage wouldn’t work now when his role is to be a prop to lure the new cast for one episode and then be put onto the bench for the rest of the runtime (HOTDOG).

And Tucker – he is there to die for a second and have his sword taken from him. That’s literally it. And for the few moments he is there, he feels like old super flirty Tucker, which erases the character development he went through in previous seasons. Okay, so Tucker dies, and then not dies, and then he is put on the bench with Wash where they can sit and talk or whatever (‘cause holy shit, the new cast is not allowed to that), because he isn’t important. The sword is. Tucker is just a prop, even more than his sword is (HOTDOG).

Damn. Wash gets beat up. Tucker gets beat up. Dies. Gets his sword taken away. Almost seems like a Red’s wet dream. Sorry not sorry, Blues, you were done dirty.

So there are miswritten old characters. Even worse is the retconning. The plot needs a “normal” Wash, so, bam, magic computer solution. Never mind Wash’s trauma and character traits. Never mind the logic of the new worldbuilding which also includes a character suffering for years to heal an illness. But the brain damage that was such a big consequence that it became the main part of the plot of the last two seasons – gone. I mean, a gunshot to the head can be healed by CPR. That’s canon. But no one gave Wash CPR so it’s a big thing, okay. It was canonically a big thing, and Zero erased that. This is not me saying that a Cerebral Enhancer couldn’t work in the RvB universe. Imagine it being done right. Wash struggling with the choice of getting used to his disability or accepting the possibility of help - at the cost of reliving his trauma. The struggle between what to choose - what should he choose when he wants to help as many as possible, the sacrifices he thinks he has to make, the way it could have been used as a part of his character growth. But in Zero, the enhancer isn’t a part of Wash’s character. It’s there so the story can work without having to deal with the previous plot’s consequence (HOTDOG).

Same with the sword thing. They sorta explain it by having Tucker flatline, but it’s weak. Honestly, I find it sorta offensive. What about Locus’ sword as well? It’s twisting previous lore to make the new plot work (HOTDOG). (Also, are we not gonna talk about the ultimate power being Spencer Porkensenson’s helmet? Have the writers forgotten Spencer Porkensenson? Have we as a community forgotten Spencer Porkensenson?)

If you have Red vs. Blue in your title, you cannot ignore what you inherit from it. You need to respect the worldbuilding, the established characters, and the previous plot. Zero does not do this.

Let’s talk about the Triplets. No, really, let’s do it. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about them before, because season 14 was a mixed bag for me (that I have now learned to appreciate. Thank you, Zero.) because I have heart at the size of the Grinch and can only love a few characters at a time, and that did not include the Triplets. Can’t even remember their names. Well, I can, but I can’t for the love of me remember which state is which, and my tongue is twisted every time I try to say Ohio, Iowa, and Idaho, and I know it’s on purpose. I know it is. And it got me good. That being said, the fandom actually embraced them really, really well! Seriously, I’ve seen more content for the Triplets than for Zero as a whole.

Why talk about the Triplets? (Was Iowa the lesbian? Or was it Ohio? Fuck.) Because like Zero, they introduced new characters with a story of their own. The Reds and Blues didn’t play a role. But here’s what I feel like the Triplets got right. They didn’t change the settings to force their narrative. They used stuff already established (Project Freelancer), added their own story as a continuation of that. They even included old characters in the beginning (Wash and some other Freelancers) but it felt natural and it didn’t feel like it happened at the expense of the old characters. Wash’s writing felt natural, and his presence wasn’t needed to tell these new character’s stories. He wasn’t a prop to them. He was there to establish the setting and to establish the relationship with these new characters, and then he and the other familiar faces (helmets??) left, and we as the viewers were left with these new characters. And the new characters told their own story by themselves. It felt like, hey, here’s something you know – remember Mother of Invention, and remember Wash’ lower rank, but now, try to imagine being even lower rank than him, aren’t you curious about those fates? Now let’s hear their story! It was new, it was something else, but it didn’t wreck what came before it, and it stayed true to the classic vibes of RvB.

As I said before, the hotdog-issue is my biggest problem with Zero. It infuriates me. I will return to this. But there are more issues, even if we try to look past the title-related problems.

If we try to imagine Zero as its own story and universe (as it should be, in my opinion), it still earns the meh review from me.

These isolated issues include awkwardness, the writing, lack of self-awareness, and pacing. First of all, holy shit, this is a tell, don’t show. Nothing is subtle, nothing is allowed to develop. It’s like the show thinks you are six years old with an attention span of a goldfish. You are not just led by the hand – they have literally pulled off your arm by the end of the show. We are force-fed every bit of information, every bit of personality from these new characters.

The voice-acting is a mixed bag for me. Sometimes it’s pretty good, sometimes it’s not. Some of the problems can definitely be blamed on the dialogue that you can only do so much with. It’s not good. I can’t remember any good jokes (the one joke I really appreciate was the cast on armor, and that was freaking visual humor. That was so RvB. Kudos to that. It was fun. More of that, please.), and RvB is known for having memorably good lines. This is a show built on good, clever, funny dialogue. Zero does not deliver. You have to sit through clichéd lines – “You’re not my dad”, “I trusted you”, “Come with me”, “It can’t be!”, “She’s way too powerful”, and “We have to do this together” – performed unironically. I cringed more than I laughed. Worst thing is that Zero could be a good parody. Sometimes, it feels like it is. One-dimensional characters, a villain wanting ‘the ultimate power’, very overpowered characters, bad one-liners, etc. But Zero takes itself seriously, and I was one of the people rooting for Jax to show up at the end and yell “Cut”. That would have been a funny-as-fuck twist. A spin-off parody. If I can’t have “Sarge the Movie”, I would have taken that and loved it. I would have forgiven everything. “We put so much info into finding that power, but we had no idea what it was” is really a line in the finale, and I cannot believe this is real in a show that somehow still tries to present itself as serious. What a plot.

We have to talk about pacing. God, first of all it should be stated that RvB is a mess when it comes to pacing. I honestly get what they were going for. Sometimes, RvB has come across as a bit boring when you get three episodes stretched over three weeks without much going on. I know season 11 did not have the warmest welcome because it was seen as boring until the finale. But when you see season 11 as a whole, as a movie, as a part of a trilogy, it works so well. Zero is more focused on being episodic. They want something to happen all the time so we will stay tuned. The thing that will happen – a fight. Oh god. The fight scenes.

I have done the math. I have run the numbers. I deserve a freaking cookie for this. Are you ready?

If you put all the episodes together, you have a runtime of 106 minutes. HOWEVER, with the introduction of credits in every episode, you gotta account for this. Removing the credits, this gives us 94 minutes of actual runtime. Out of that, 45 minutes are dedicated to fight scenes. That means 48% of the show is fight scenes.

If I wanted that many fight scenes, I’d watch Death Battle. Except the actual RvB Death Battle episode has a runtime of 20 minutes, and out of that, 5 minutes is dedicated to the actual battle. For the people who hate math – that’s 25% of the actual runtime.

RvB Zero has more fight scenes than a show called Death Battle. Take that in.

The pace suffers from this. Where’s the time to explore the characters? Where’s the time for good dialogue? All I can think of is this:

I get that RvB is a show that’s literally making fun of itself by acknowledging all their characters do is stand around and talk. I get that you want characters to do more than that. But for the love of Church, would it kill the new characters to stand around and talk? For just a minute? Stop fighting, I am begging you, stop fighting! Am I a pacifist now? Am I purple? Have I joined Doc’s team? What has Zero done to me?!

The good thing though is that fight scenes are very good. They’re entertaining. However, they seem to deconstruct themselves when we need to get a fight scene in every episode. Usually, the few fight scenes in an RvB season were in some of the most climatic episodes. In Zero, I can hardly keep up with the pace because they won’t stop moving. Fight scenes aren’t plot. They aren’t character development. You need more than just fight scenes. They entertain, but there’s a limit to that.

Noël Wiggins, the co-writer, stated the inspiration was a Saturday-morning cartoon. They nailed that vibe. If that was their goal, hurray, they have accomplished something! Because of the poor plot and constant fight scenes, it feels like you could just switch on the TV and drop in at any moment and let yourself be entertained by the cool and colorful soldiers punching and kicking each other. I will admit that the fight scenes entertained me. But they don’t make it a good season.

If I were the six-year-old with the attention span of a goldfish that the show believes I am, I honestly would enjoy it. The stiff dialogue and the constant tell-don’t-show makes you feel like an audience that’s not supposed to do anything else but admire the flashy fight scenes. I miss the cleverness of RvB. I miss the characters I get to connect with as I see them grow.

I miss the tone of RvB. Because this isn’t RvB to me.

It’s not that RvB hasn’t changed its tone before. Holy shit, I sorta do want to experience the absolute shock the RvB fandom went through when s6 aired and they were given new characters and serious plot. I would have loved to experience that, but I was too busy being ten years old. The Freelancers seasons also introduced a new tone and more fight scenes with very talented fighters compared to the Blood Gulch gang, but a balance was kept by having half of the season still revolving around the Reds and Blues. But Zero – Zero is so much change. And it’s on purpose. At least this has been made very clear from the beginning.

They constantly seem to appeal to new fans, rather than be directed towards older fans of the show. If you want an entirely new audience with a season with a new cast, new worldbuilding, and new tone, I’m confused as to why they don’t just make a new show. The hotdog-problem begs for this solution. This story and environment and characters feel so out of touch with the original RvB, that with a few rewrites and lack of Halo-armor, it could just be a new show. Problem solved.

If not this, then present it as a spin-off. In all ways, it feels like a spin-off (again, see everything marked HOTDOG). But the creators refuse to do this, and I don’t understand why. I could forgive many of these issues, had they officially separated themselves from canon.

Ah, what’s the idiom? You can’t both swallow and blow? (You can hear the Bow-chicka-bow-wow in the distance). Something about eating cake and having it. Forgive me, English isn’t my native language. POINT IS why are you calling yourself RvB while actively fighting against the core essence of RvB? In my humble opinion, you can’t be both. Marketing it as a spin-off would have granted it some defense when changing, well, literally everything, and I just, would someone please properly describe why it isn’t a spin-off? Isn’t this season marked by its association with the plot of RvB rather than a continuation of it? Zero presenting itself as not a spinoff feels like a toddler clinging to the hem of its mother’s dress while forcefully running away from her, ripping the dress in the process.

When they do connect with the original RvB, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. When they let Carolina, Wash, and Tucker appear for a moment, it feels like luring viewers in with the RvB title. Look at me. Look at me! I’m not saying this is the case. I say that it gives me the annoying vibes of being lured, rather than letting the characters be a part of the show for their own development, rather than having RvB in the title to continue its story. I should not be getting these vibes at all. But I am.

If you want to use RvB in the title, something from the core of RvB needs to be embraced. Things can be changed. They should. Something new should be brought in. But there’s a limit to how much you can change and replace and twist until it would have been better with an original show. As a season of RvB, it should tell the story of Red vs. Blue.

From my perspective, Zero fails to do so.

It pains me that the old cast has been replaced, but as stated earlier, a season could have worked without them. However, I do not like the take that one should be excited about all the new characters. That it isn’t a big thing that the OG cast got replaced. That we should just deal with it. Just, try to imagine another show suddenly replacing the main characters with characters we’ve never met before. Imagine RWBY suddenly only focusing on a new team of huntresses with the previous main characters reduced to an Easter Egg presence, or Camp Camp suddenly being about a new team of campers, no warning given. Can you imagine the outcry? So maybe let’s agree that a replacement of the main cast is a big thing and should be addressed and it’s valid to be upset about this change.

Could Zero have worked? It’s hard to answer this. How can I accept something as RvB if the season actively pushes away the core of RvB aside for an isolated story that could have been told in any other media? As a spinoff, I could have ignored it. To enjoy Zero, I have to fully separate it from RvB in my mind, and then it’s alright. S’not good. But it’s not bad. It’s entertaining enough. I really ended up liking Raymond and Tiny, and there were a few good jokes, and the fight scenes were admirable (but too much) and I love the creators’ passion. But it’s not RvB. I also wish that the new characters had been attached to previous worldbuilding, for example soldiers on Chorus or agents from Project Freelancer. That way we could build on familiar lore which would have decreased the confusion and added a much needed connection with the previous seasons of RvB.

God, the anxious voice is back (by the way, it sounds like Tutter from “Bear in the Blue House”).

“You’re racist” – I hope not. Literally, I do not want to be. Tell me if I’ve ever crossed some lines, because I swear, that is not my intention, I will apologize and most of all, change and do better. I included this because I’ve seen this take thrown around in the big ugly mess that is the fandom clashes regarding Zero. And racism is problem within RT community (this includes AH and RvB, sorry, I just use RT as an umbrella term for the latter), and I’m not saying it hasn’t been a problem with this season. Writers should never be harassed, and never-fucking-ever because of their skin color, and voice actors shouldn’t be treated like they are responsible for the choices of the show. But I was legit nervous to post this review, and I hope it’s been factual without feeling like personal attacks on the creators because that has never been my intention. I was delighted to hear about the diversity behind this project, and Torrian’s passion legit blew me away because it’s been a while since I’ve seen that for an RvB project. I’d hoped for it to be good, and when I feel disappointed, it’s for the reasons stated in this analysis. That said, Zero is made by a diverse cast and it’s made with love, and both of those things are so, so great, but it does not mean that Zero cannot be criticized. It can, and it should. It’s a product, just like all the other seasons, and fans are allowed to discuss it – both what they loved, and both what they found troublesome. And to repeat previous points, and be respectful, always, fuck racists, and never-fucking-ever harass the staff behind a season, what the fuck is wrong with you if you do this.

“Don’t you get it, it’s different because it’s trying something new!” – Hey, remember the philosophical question: if you replace all the parts of a ship one-by-one, is it still the same ship when you’re done? If it doesn’t include the Reds and Blues, if it ignores previous plot, if the old characters feel miswritten, if it values animation over dialogue, if it values fight scenes over comedy, if it wants to be Fast and Furious instead of Red vs. Blue – is it still Red vs. Blue? Because it doesn’t feel like it to me.

“It's been 17 seasons, it’s time to let the Reds and Blues go so someone else can shine!” – I simply do not understand us having been with the Reds and Blues for 17 seasons should be an argument to let them go, rather than be an argument as to why their absence hurt like hell.

“The Reds and Blues ran out of things to do!” – Did- did they, though? I mean, if we were discussing pretty much any other show, I’d probably agree that they were running out of content. But for the Reds and Blues… I think the PSAs nailed it this year! I’m not kidding, I had more fun watching the Reds and Blues discuss how to do laundry than watching Zero. You could literally give me an hour of the Reds and Blues trying to bake a cake or clear a gutter or simply settling down with an ordinary life, and I would trust them to make it worth the watch.

“The flaws were due to the fact it’s only 8 episodes long!” – Look, I can only judge a product the way it’s presented to me. I cannot come up with excuses for it. If they had 8 episodes to work with, they need to come up with a plot that works with this runtime. Seriously, this excuse cannot work when 48% of the season is spent on fight scenes. They could have used more runtime, sure, but the show needs to be able to pace itself and be planned accordingly.

“The OG cast couldn’t be a part of this year, hence Zero!” – That might be true. But. Would one year without RvB kill it? Is Zero necessary? Again, I just can’t judge excuses for the show. But trouble with the cast has been an issue before. Season 15 solves Geoff’s sabbatical by actually making Grif’s absence a part of the plot. Zero’s lack of Reds and Blues just feels like this excuse to tell a story that needn’t be a part of RvB.

Am I a hater? I guess? I greatly dislike Zero for the critique stated above. I do, however, not harass the creators and no one should ever do that. However, I have to admit that I feel there’s been this weird rejection of any critique of Zero where everything’s been brushed off as haters gonna hate, including the critique stated above. And I think that’s a problem because critique, as hard as it can be to hear (and I know this. I’m an author of original works. Weird flex, I know), is valid and necessary and shouldn’t just be shrugged away. As always, both sides of the fandom should always be respectful, but my own opinion is that addressing the flaws of Zero should not be controversial.

Does this super long rant/critique/whatever mean you cannot enjoy Zero? Gods no! I almost envy you if you enjoy this season, but holy shit, feel free to love it and tell the creators that you love it! Me pointing out the issues I have with the season shouldn’t be stopping you. I loved (and still love) s15 when it came out, and it was majorly rejected by the fandom. There were many, many critical posts, people were going on about how RvB should have ended with s13, and it evolved into the writer receiving death threats (me, once again: never ever harass the creators, assholes). But I didn’t tell people to stop being negative. I actually agreed with many of the flaws that were pointed out, and I enjoyed the season despite this, because that is possible. We, as RvB fans, should agree that RvB, is... I mean, it’s not the greatest, most flawless of shows, but we love it nonetheless. So go ahead and love Zero. This is not a stop sign. This is my opinion that you chose to read.

Wait, I promised you a cookie, didn’t I? Well, you’re not getting one. Why? Because I’m a Red and this is my chance to piss off a Blue. As Caboose wisely said: “Well, at least I don't go around... knocking on people's non-doors... and promising them cookies... and then NOT. GIVING. THEM. COOKIES!”

Blue Team sucks.

End speech.

#rvb zero #rvb #rvb zero critical #rvb critical #rvb0 #my rvb stuff #pls dont hate me for this #this is my honest opinion that people apparantly wanted to hear #as a standalone story zero isnt totally bad #as an rvb season it is

273 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

requests are open!!! what about a soft yandere fairy with a darling that accidentally wanders into their forest and won't let them leave? thank u sm!

I’ve never been able to resist a classic Yandere!Fae who can’t seem to understand why their lovely little Darling won’t give them a name and volunteer their free will without a struggle. It’s nice to be soft for a change, too, if only for the dialogue.

Title: Creation and Control.

TW: Imprisonment and Mind-Control.

You chose not to dance, tonight.

It wasn’t because you had anything better to do. The fae could hunt, they could harvest and maintain their make-shift homes and do whatever they wished once the sun slipped low in the sky, but as a human, a guest who’d been forced to overstay their welcome, you could only choose between joining one of the swirling, ever-growing circles or not doing so. For whatever reason, you’d picked the latter, taking a seat on a fallen tree-trunk and watching as strangers without names laughed and smiled and sobbed, some of them unfamiliar, and others prisoners like yourself, unable to leave because of magic or fate or in your case, a golden elixir you hadn’t known better than to drink. A goblet of it sat at your feet, now, but you didn’t pay it any mind. If only for the sake of protecting your pride.

Despite this, your attention dropped to the grail as a familiar figure started to approach, heavy footsteps muffled by the soft glass of the clearing. You didn’t have to greet him or be greeted in return, not when there was only one person who dared to speak to you. Who bothered to speak to you, really. It wasn’t like a conversation with someone else’s personal pet would draw much interest, not from a group that had already seen so many of your kind come and go.

You only looked up when a long, lean hand came to rest on your shoulder, pressing down for a moment before you gave in, tilting your head back and letting your eyes meet the swirls of green and gold just beginning to pry into you. Durin, although that was more of a title than a name. The warden to your prison of trees and mushrooms and enchanting, unnerving smiles.

He spoke first. He always did. You were an object to be addressed, here, rather than one expected to speak out of turn. “My dear,” He started, already sliding a thin wooden comb in your waiting hand. “Indulge me and I promise, you won’t be pestered again until sunrise.”

You didn’t need further instruction. You pulled your legs onto the trunk and Durin lowered himself into the space they’d once occupied, soon sitting outstretched in front of you. It was a mind-numbing activity, braiding a head of long, pale hair into whatever dizzying pattern its owner requested, but you had plenty of practice, both from the task you were currently performing and the less patient stallions you used to care for on your family’s farm. You wondered if anyone took up to responsibility, now that you weren’t there to carry it out. You wondered if anyone even noticed you were gone. “It’s not difficult,” You mumbled, running your comb through a series of non-existent knots. “You could learn to do this yourself, if you wanted to. It’d be faster than coming to me.”

“I could, hypothetically, but I’m afraid we monsters don’t share your talents.” He paused, letting out a pleased hum as your blunt nails scraped idly against his scalp. “Hunting braids, perhaps, but nothing so…” He trailed off, rolling two fingers in a vague, arbitrary gesture. “Nothing so pointless. The Gods blessed us with many things, but alas, no one thought to add ‘creation’ to that list.”

Your response was delayed. You’d heard of their curse before, in tales of the suffering that was said to accompany any slight endeavor into turning one thing into another, but you’d never quite believed it. You supposed it was fitting, though. Durin didn’t seem like the kind of refined soul who would dwell in the sparsely decorated cave he called a home for any reason less than necessity. “I hardly think brushing your own hair would incur divine wrath.”

“If you can break one rule, you’re bound to break the rest. I wouldn’t be reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but I doubt the consequences would be pleasant,” He explained, twisting to his side just enough to see you without disturbing the three tangled trails you were desperately trying to guide to an agreeable meeting point. “Are you trying to say you don’t enjoy my company, love?”

You didn’t answer him. With a particularly harsh tug to the strand you were holding, you forced him to wince, freeing you from his gaze with minimal effort. “And that’s why I’m here?” You asked, the words more a declaration of grudging recognition than a real question. “To braid your hair and tend to your every need, because you’re so tragically unable to?”

At that, he seemed to take offense, leaning back and into your lap, spoiling your progress as carelessly as he’d demanded it. You could see his face, like this, an expression of defined lines and pointed ears and traits that weren’t quite not uncanny. You might’ve said there was a hint of a collar bone beneath his loose tunic, but there could be no hints, not with Durin. He was the romantic interpretation of a man, something that got so close to being a perfect replica, but whose creator was too fond of embellishments to truly design something real. You could accept that you’d once thought of him as human, but you couldn’t forgive yourself for holding onto that belief for so long. Others in his entourage their otherness more obvious, decorating themselves with horns and hooves and whatever they liked, and while Durin was less apparent, he made no attempt to hide his wrongness. His grin, suddenly full of pointed, predatory teeth, was enough to prove that.

“You’re here because I want you to be.” He never looked away, never blinked, and abruptly, it occurred to you that he might not have to. “You’re here because I saw a young, vulnerable human wandering through my territory, following the calls of members of my court, and I decided to take pity on what should’ve been the main course of our next feast. And, because I’ve come to care for you despite your doubt, you will remain here. Allowing you to dote on me is just another privilege I’m kind enough to provide.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, and you knew that. As well as you knew the color of the sky and the time of day, you knew that. You knew it, and yet, you found yourself frowning, stiffening, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to shove him away. “If you were kind, you would let me go. You know I don’t want to be here.”

His smile wavered, then dropped. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t think I like being a hostage.” You didn’t try to stop yourself, pushing him off of your lap and fleeing from your informal, ruined haven. You had to force yourself to breathe, to inahle and exhale and make yourself calm down, but even that did little to calm your temper, only making you feel more like a child attempting to express their discontent. “You trapped me here. You took me someplace I don’t wish to be, and now, I can’t leave. How is that kind? How are you guiltless--”

“(Y/n).”

It was a silent command. You could feel it, something vile forcing its way into your veins and solidifying, rendering you speechless and paralyzed as Durin shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh before he bothered to raise a hand, gesturing for you to come to him. You didn’t have a choice, your movements rigid and your thoughts barely your own, but your body was quick to obey him, to stumble its way to its captor and fall into his lap the moment he expressed his desire for you to do so. His control faded as his arms wrapped around you, but Durin didn’t act to reinstate it, only reaching behind him and pushing something small and solid into your palm.

The comb. Sleek and wooden and so, so awful. You were tempted to cry, if only in frustration.

But, you didn’t try to resist.

Instead, you choked down your complaints and began working where you left off, attempting to ignore the contented, toothy smile now pressing into your skin.

1K notes · View notes

cognitivefunk · 3 years

Text

Title: Say My Name Rating: E/Explicit 18+ Fandom: Obey Me Pairing: M/M Solomon/Leviathan (sub-Levi) Warnings: Smut, Plot? What Plot? Noncon fantasy, consensual but also implied nonconsensual fantasy, light bdsm, one slap to the face, orgasm denial, dirty talk, degradation, light bondage, struggling, stalker fantasy, crying, sobbing, blowjob, anal fingering, anal sex, toys, dildo, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sub-Levi, dom/sub vibes, Solomon uses Magic, unprotected sex Summary: Leviathan has a very specific kink he wants to try out, where he is able to let loose and be a perfect victim and Solomon plays along. Word Count: 9575

It was just another night in Devildom, as Levi sighed in content, setting his headset down onto the desk before heading over to the other side of his room to pick up one of the drinks he had saved for later. The liquid was still cool as it reached his tongue and he smiled into the can, humming to himself as he shuffled around his room. It was a week ago he had shared a fantasy of his with Solomon, and every night before bed he secretly hoped that the man would finally act on it. He specifically told him he didn’t want to be warned beforehand, because it would only make the fantasy feel more real.

He let out another small sigh and decided to turn in early, not wanting to get too worked up. He brushed his teeth dutifully before climbing into his tub, feeling more comfortable on there than on the other bed they had recently set up in his room. That bed wasn’t really for sleeping; he flushed as the thought crossed his mind.

It wasn’t long before Levi drifted off to sleep. In his dream he was being held down by an unseen force, and it filled him with an exhilarating fear. A strange energy started to wrap around his body, giving an almost suffocating sensation as he felt himself grow weaker. His eyes fluttered open, blearily focusing on a shadowy figure in front of him. When he moved to resist, the man put a finger up to his lips, quietly shushing him as he closed the book in his hands with a gentle puff of air. “Don’t need you shifting into your demon form on me,” he purrs quietly.

It takes him a moment to realize that he wasn’t dreaming before he tries to move, tugging his arms only to realize that the glowing disks around his wrists and ankles were holding him firm. Panic set into his chest as he struggled against the bonds with more enthusiasm, “Mmph!” he muffled a scream as the tape over his lips stopped him from yelling out.

“Hey…” his eyes flickered back to the white haired man beside him, eyeing him warily. He was only a little surprised how seriously Solomon was taking his request, and he felt a flutter in his stomach as Solomon brushed a hand through his hair gently. “I’ve watched you from afar for so long…Left you unclaimed for far too long too,” he spoke in a low voice, leaning forward to run his tongue across Levi’s cheek.

The sensation left him feeling weak, and he fought back the moan that wanted to bubble in his throat at the feeling. Instead, he chose to continue to thrash his body around, trying to loosen the magical bonds that held his limbs firmly in place. He could only twist his torso in turn. Solomon let an unnerving grin spread across his face as he watched the show in front of him. “Struggle all you want, you’re at my complete mercy…” he whispered his hot breath against Levi’s cheek, rubbing his face against his briefly before pulling away. “It doesn’t matter either way, even if you escape…” he moved his mouth to the struggling man’s ear to delicately run his teeth over the outer shell, “I’ll always find you.”

Levi breathed in sharply, visibly shaking at both the wizard’s words and the way he ran his tongue along the curve of his ear. He let a pathetic whine escape his throat as Solomon sat back on his feet, chuckling. “My name is Solomon, it’s nice to finally talk face to face with my property,” he smirked. “Sorry about the binds, but you like that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Levi’s face flushed slightly at the implication but he stared back defiantly. He was completely immersed in the part of the captive and he was actively trying to figure out a way to break free of the binds and bolt for the door. He pushed himself up with his legs to the best of his ability, arching up in the tub, trying to work his way loose by sheer force.

Solomon whistled, eyes trailing over his body as he watched him struggle. He had to stifle a laugh at the sight, since Levi must have known he wouldn’t be able to actually break out of them. It was delightful to see actual panic cross his eyes as he fell back into the tub with an exasperated look on his face. “Oh, you’ll make such a fine pet,” he cooed, trailing his fingers over the edges of the tape before ripping it off. It didn’t actually hurt since he had used bondage tape but that didn’t stop Levi from wincing.

“Why are you doing this!?” he cried out, needing answers from the man. “Who are you? How did you get in my house?” he continued, slipping further into the part, letting himself feel the fear that simmered in his chest.

“I told you, I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he smiled cryptically, petting the side of Levi’s face as he watched the emotions swirl in his eyes. He was enjoying this far too much, lips twisting into a smirk as the man floundered beside him.

“W-What do you mean? N-nobody would want to watch me…” he breathed out, visibly shivering as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but never fell.

“Sssh, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you,” Solomon whispered, trying to console Levi with a comforting tone. He ran his finger under Levi’s chin, tilting his head to force him to make eye contact with him, seeing how his eyes kept flitting around the room.

“H-How can I trust you? You broke into my fucking house!” he retorted, his voice quivering as he tried to sound tough. He twisted away from Solomon’s touch, craning his head toward the other side of the tub as he pulled his eyes away from his heated gaze.

The man only continued to smirk, running a cold hand over his face, tracing his fingers down his neck, slowly and deliberately. “For such a cutie like you living alone, I thought you would’ve had more security. Ah…well I guess it doesn’t matter anyway,” he continued, “Nothing could have kept me from you tonight.”

“Stop it…” Levi breathed out a whine, his eyes starting to cloud over as the words started getting to him. He shouldn’t trust Solomon, he should keep his defenses up at all times. The look on his face was as inviting as it was enigmatic, and Levi couldn’t be one hundred percent he wouldn’t completely fall into his role either.

“Stop what?” he pressed on, feigning innocence. Levi’s eye twitched and he had to bite down on his tongue not to yell out in frustration. How could he feign innocence with a face like that?

He glared at him, twisting his body to try to worm his wrists out of the glowing circles, only for the magic to constrict around his wrists more firmly, nearly biting into his skin.

“Ah yes, struggle away!” Solomon laughed, clearly enjoying the role he was in, his eyes held a shine to them that set off Levi’s fight or flight warning as alarm bells started to go off in his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve had an opportunity to do this,” he carried on.

“Why are you doing this? What did I do to you?” Levi continued on as well, shouting at the shady wizard. ‘Been a while?’ he thought to himself. He couldn’t help but wonder if the real Solomon had done something like this before as well. The man had lived many years, and the magic he was able to wield was as impressive as it was unnerving.

He avoids the question, leaning forward so that his face was mere centimeters in front of Levi’s face, “You’re scared aren’t you?” he asked, the smile twisting into a cruel expression. It made Levi’s heart skip a beat as he swallowed, beginning to visibly shake again, “N-no, you don’t scare me.”

“You’re a liar. I bet you’ve been lying to everyone since you were little, haven’t you? That’s why you don’t have any friends.”

The words cut deeper than Levi could have imagined them to when he drafted this up in his head. He lurched forward, gritting his teeth as he glared daggers into the man. “Fuck you!” he spat, but his voice quivered toward the end.

Solomon let out a hearty laugh and shook his head, slipping into a confident smile. “I don’t understand you. You’re tied up, completely at my mercy, and yet here you are, trying to threaten me?”

Levi’s frown deepened as he shifted uncomfortably, an embarrassed expression contorting his face as the blush tinted his cheeks a light rose color.

“Tell me…how many men have you let fuck that pretty little face of yours?” he turned the situation around with one sentence, watching as Levi’s face took on a different form of embarrassment.

“T-That’s none of your business!” he cried out defensively, looking away in shame at the thought. He didn’t want to make the man angry, but this ‘stranger’ had no right asking him such personal questions. He huffed as he his face against one of his arms.

“Oh? I think it’s very much my business,” the man purred, sliding his hands down Levi’s arms as he looked away from him, drinking in the sight of how he was trembling beneath his gentle touches. “Or do you pleasure yourself to all that hentai you watch?” he breathed against his ear again, voice low as he took Levi’s sensitive ear into his mouth.

The otaku shuddered and gasped at the sensation, struggling to keep his face from contorting into something embarrassing. “Levi,” he breathed his name, tilting his head to make the other man look him in the eye again. “Answer my question…”

The blue haired demons lips twisted into a quaking frown as he was forced to look Solomon in the eye. He couldn’t work the words out of his mouth, instead, choosing to nod at the implication of the question. Solomon breathed out a tiresome sigh as he frowned at the other man.

“No, I need to hear you say it. You touch yourself to the thought of strangers doing this to you, don’t you?” he trailed his hand down Levi’s clothed stomach, ghosting his fingers as he pressed just hard enough to tickle the skin underneath. Levi let out a garbled whine as he turned his head away again.

“Yes! I….I touch m-myself to hentai,” he admitted. It sounded more humiliating saying it out loud than he would have anticipated, but it only sparked his arousal further. He hummed in response, carefully watching his expression. “And…do you have a significant other to help you with that? Hmm?” he pressed on, tilting Levi’s face back toward his. He loved the back and forth game of Levi getting too flustered to look at him, but he wanted to see his golden eyes fixated on him.

He had leaned down waving a hand and muttering something against Levi’s neck, breaking the bonds on the lower circles, letting Levi move his legs freely. He stretched them out with a swell of relief, feeling a rush of blood running back through them as the pins and needles set in. “Um…n-no, I’m single,” he replied timidly, feeling the pressure from Solomon’s intense stare.

“Hmm, I see. No boyfriend. No girlfriend. You live all alone…you poor thing,” he grabbed his shoulders in his hands, rubbing circles around them with his thumbs as he let another smile spread across his face. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Levi gulped as Solomon started to lift him out of the tub, holding the magic circles high in the air to keep his hands bound together as he brought him over to the proper bed and threw him down unceremoniously onto the deep blue sheets.

“Now then,” he started, his shadow looming over the man sprawled out onto the bed. “I’m going to untie you, but do not get up without my permission. Do you understand?” he asked, crossing his arms and tapping his chin with a mischievous look in his eyes. His smile never once faltered.

“Wha—yes…” Levi’s voice came out as a question at first but soon settled into compliance as he nodded his head at the man looming over him.

“Good. Very good,” Solomon replied. The bed shifted as Solomon crawled onto it, kneeling beside Levi to press his lips against his ear yet again. Levi squirmed as he felt the hot breath across his heated skin but he didn’t move away from him, choosing to close his eyes instead.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, and you will answer me truthfully. Do you understand?” he whispered, before moving his hand to squeeze Levi’s shoulder again, this time with more emphasis. The blue haired demon nodded, but kept his eyes closed.

“Answer me,” he warned, gripping his hand tighter.

“Y-yes…I understand,” he squeaked quietly in reply, taking in a shaky breath at the sensation of his grip on his shoulder. He wasn’t used to feeling quite so weak, with whatever spell Solomon had placed on him to repress his demonic abilities. It made him feel much smaller than usual.

He felt the squeeze of his shoulder release and he whimpered out but stayed put as Solomon placed a hand under his chin again. “Do you enjoy being tied up, darling? Completely at my mercy…” he asked quietly, his voice had an edge to it that made Levi’s stomach flutter.

“I…I don’t…” he started to respond but Solomon cupped his cheek with his other hand, narrowing his eyes as the smile on his face never once leaves. Levi swallowed hard, not knowing how to answer the question. He didn’t know how to get the words out, so he nodded hesitantly in return.

Solomon took it as an answer this time and reached up to pet his hair affectionately, “Good boy…” his voice was almost patronizing as he pressed his lips against Levi’s forehead, who in turn, breathed out a sigh of relief as his answer was accepted. He found himself leaning into his touch out of familiar reflex.

“Now then, I’m going to untie you. Do you promise me that you won’t run away?” he asked, eyes starting to drift over Levi’s body as he drank in the sight of him. He licked his lips in anticipation as Levi gave him a shaky reply. “I-I promise…” he was nodding vigorously

"I-I'll be good. I don't have anywhere to run...this is my house," he explained, giving him insight as to why he was agreeing with him. His eyelashes fluttered a little, out of nervousness, as he looked up at him as non-threateningly as possible.

He could have sworn he saw Solomon gulp for a moment before he continued. He tilted his head to the side, as though lost in thought for a moment, but he spoke once more, “If you’re good, I’ll reward you, but if you defy me, you will pay for it dearly. Now sit up for me,” he motioned with his hands, guiding Levi to sit as the binds circled above his head.

“Yes sir,” he replied, adding the formality hoping to earn more of Solomon’s good favor. He heard him take a sharp breath of air before he hummed to himself quietly. He waved a hand after murmuring another spell under his breath. Levi sat patiently, letting the man unbind him gratefully. He rubbed at his wrists gingerly once they were free, trying to loosen the stiffness from them by shaking them out.

“Now…where were we?” he murmured, pulling Levi’s arms around him as he held him in a close embrace, and Levi leaned into his touch willingly. He didn’t realize how touch starved he had been feeling up to this point and he tilted his head against Solomon’s hands as they cupped his cheeks.

“Are you trying to seduce me little one?” he asked, voice taking on a dangerous edge as another smirk twisted his lips upward. “How naughty of you…warming up to me so quickly when you were acting like I was your worst nightmare,” he feigned offense, letting himself frown as Levi floundered.

He bit his lip and swallowed thickly, looking away in shame. He felt his stomach flutter as the sensation of butterflies came back and he pulled his arms away to cross them over his chest in a protective stance. “I wasn’t trying….to se..to seduce you,” he stammered in his embarrassment.

“Liar,” Solomon cooed, winking at the man as his face started to light back up. He never got bored of Levi’s exaggerated expressions, and grabbed his chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb over Levi’s quivering lower lip. “Don’t worry darling, I know the truth. I know what’s going on in that filthy head of yours,” he laughed cruelly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” he stammered again, finally meeting his gaze. He wished he hadn’t as now he couldn’t look away again as Solomon locked eyes with him, holding him in place with the intensity of his stare.

“You’re attracted to me,” he replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, earning a huff from Levi who shut his eyes, since he was unable to turn his head away. He couldn’t deny that statement, and he brought his hands over his face, brushing past Solomon’s hand that still rested on his chin. He brought his knees up toward his face, trying to curl into a ball.

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

He kept his head down and stayed silent.

“How long have you wanted to see me naked?”

Still no response.

He was the man who ‘broke into his house’ after all. He was just feeling this way because he was scared. At least, that’s what Levi was telling himself. He didn’t want to admit how much the situation was turning him on. He buried his head further into his legs, hiding from the wizard.

“How long darling” he pressed on, demanding an answer from him. Levi shifted uncomfortably and answered from behind his hands, his voice coming out muffled, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he laughed mockingly, and Levi snuck a peek out from behind his legs only for his stomach to do another flip as Solomon’s face was right in front of his once more. He gasped, trying to scurry away further onto the bed.

Solomon grabbed his hands away from his face, forcing him to look at him once again. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You can’t even deny it, look at you. Admit that you desire me,” he breathed against his lips, not quite touching but close enough Levi could feel the heat from his breath.

“I…I’m scared,” he replied in a barely audible whisper, falling back into his role as he squirmed under Solomon’s touch. He knew he found the man attractive, but even under normal circumstances it was far too embarrassing for him to just admit out of the blue. Solomon knew this all too well, and liked to see how much he could push Levi before he broke.

"I know."

Levi started to scoot back, fear starting to win the battle in his head as he tried to work out why he was starting to get aroused by the man who was ‘holding him captive’ in his own room. Solomon took a deep breath, trailing his teeth over Levi’s ear once again, knowing it was one of his sweet spots. “You know what I’m going to do?”

Levi whimpered in response, unable to work out the words that were catching in his throat. “I’m going to help you…” he continued.

“H-help me?” he repeated, dumbfounded. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard he thought it was going to break out of his ribcage. He shuddered as Solomon bit down on his earlobe, letting out a small moan before closing his mouth again.

He chuckled at the adorable sound he made and smiled against his neck, “I’m going to help you become everything you were meant to be…” Levi shuddered at the implications, but was confused by the statement. The sound of Solomon’s chuckle made his stomach flutter again and he finally trailed his head up toward his again, snaking his hand up the back of his head to press his lips against Levi’s.

Levi froze for a moment, tilting his head to meet him halfway, his eyelids fluttering shut as he puckered his lips, moving them slowly against Solomon’s. The other man decided this pace was far too slow, however, and gripped the back of Levi’s hair, causing him to gasp as he delved his tongue into his mouth, kissing him so roughly he left the demon breathless.

He let his instincts guide him as he flailed for a moment before placing his hands on the back of Solomon’s head as well, threading his fingers through his hair as he pressed his tongue against Solomon’s. The wizard groaned into the kiss, his other hand trailing down Levi’s body until he was able to cup his ass, squeezing it as he pulled him closer into his lap.

His body was trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his body and he let out another moan in response to the almost animalistic noise that came from Solomon as the kiss deepened. He clutched the fabric of his sweater, pulling him closer as he kissed the man back passionately.

The kiss eventually broke off after a few moments, giving him a few seconds to process just what had just happened. Solomon’s eyes were still closed as his head was tilted back. Levi’s gaze softened for a moment as he took in the man’s expression. He looked blissful, and didn’t look as cryptic as he usually did.

The hand he had on his back moved up to the back of Levi’s head as his thumb stroked at his scalp. He shuddered a little, realizing that he was enjoying this. Levi swooned gently as Solomon scratched his nails against his scalp and shivered delightfully, relaxing into his touch.

"You shouldn't do that."

His eyes opened slowly and they bore into his soul.

“Why? Huh? Do what?” he asked, pulled out of the moment as he flickered his eyes back open to meet Solomon’s serious expression.

He frowned, "You shouldn't be enjoying my touch. It's dangerous, don’t you think?" he looked at him with a question in his eyes, watching carefully to see how Levi would react. The man responded by stuttering, “No..I mean, I was just,” he wrung his hands in his lap, balling up the fabric of his sleep shirt in his hands, feeling the need to fidget with anything to release some of the tension in his body. “I’m sorry…it just felt nice…that’s all,” his voice became quieter as he continued to speak until it was barely a whisper.

“Nice?” he responded, the smirk on his face returning as he shook his head, “Is that what you class it as?”

Levi moved his lips to speak as he croaked out an awkward sound, but before he had a chance to respond, Solomon had pressed his lips against his once more, silencing any thought he might have had. Levi was starting to feel more flustered as the kiss continued.

Solomon used the same trick twice, and it seemed to work a second time as well as he yanked on Levi’s hair, causing him to open his mouth in protest so he could slip his tongue back inside. Levi winced as his hair was tugged, but it sent an intense wave of arousal down toward his groin and he pulled his night shirt down to cover his lower half.

Solomon pulled away, and Levi could barely tell he was breathing a little faster than usual. “You’re overdressed,” he stated directly, and narrowed his eyes as Levi shook his head, unable to correctly form words as he made a whining noise at the man before taking a moment to collect himself. “No-no, I’m fine..” he managed to work out a small sentence, hiding his boner by bunching the cloth from his shirt into his lap. His pajama bottoms did little to hide the outline of his dick, and he was feeling self-conscious about it.

Solomon crawled over Leviathan’s lap, a playful glint in his eyes as he ran an index finger down Levi’s nose, across his lips, and down his neck, “Don’t argue with me. You’re not fine.” He watched as Levi shivered, his eyes crossing as he followed the trail of his finger down his face. The whimper that left his parted lips made Solomon’s pants tighten and he closed his eyes for a moment to reel himself back in.

“Aren’t you hot?” he asked, running his hands down Levi’s arms, playing with the hem at the bottom of his night shirt. Levi looked down at his hands, trembling as he placed his own hands over Solomon’s to stop him. “No! No, it’s cold in here,” he breathed, not wanting him to take off his shirt. He was afraid he was going to like it too much or do something he would regret.

He gave Levi a devious smile, leaning forward to blow his hot breath over Levi’s neck, watching as his body trembled and flushed. It was far too easy to get him worked up. He nuzzled his face against Levi before nipping at the crook of his neck, earning a loud moan from the other. He couldn’t hold back his chuckle as Levi’s hands flew to cover his mouth, turning his head away yet again. The heat from his face was radiating, and his breath had begun to quicken.

“You smell good, Levi…and you taste even better,” he hummed against his neck before moving to the other side to repeat his actions. He wouldn’t want him to feel neglected after all. His knuckles were turning white with how tight he was holding the hem of his shirt down. He fought back another groan, “N-no I don’t!” He wasn’t able to stop his body from reacting to the lewd, wet noises Solomon’s mouth was making as he sucked on his neck, leaving behind small marks of his affection behind.

Without warning, his hand shot down to grab Levi’s wrists in his own, catching the demon off guard. “What--??” he startled, staring wide eyed at his wrists. He was surprised that both of his wrists were able to fit in Solomon’s grasp, though if he weren’t under his magical influence he would normally be able to get out of his grip quite easily.

“You like this?” his voice was a mix between playful and mocking as he purred against Levi’s ear, watching as he writhed and struggled to get his hands free.

“Y-you won’t…you c-can’t…” he panted, finding it difficult to catch his breath as he continued to weakly pull his arms in Solomon’s grasp.

He bit his lip hard, leaving it swollen and red where he abused it. He tried to cross his legs together to hid himself further from Solomon’s knowing gaze, twisting his torso away from him. “Can’t what?” he asked in a low, guttural voice as his free hand moved up the demon’s thigh.

“W-wait!” Levi called out, fighting back another pitiful groan. “I don’t—aaah—not there…” he twisted again, trying to get away from Solomon. He was feeling exceptionally sensitive as the wizard pulled his thighs apart, revealing the tent that had formed in his pajama pants he had so miserably been trying to hide. Albeit it was glaringly obvious he was aroused in the first place, he had simply hoped it wasn’t as apparent to him as it was.

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding,” he tilted his head; his calm demeanor was beginning to infuriate Levi. He froze as a hand wrapped around his bulge, squeezing tightly. His eyes went wide again and he squirmed in his grasp. “AAAaaahhahhhhhhhhhh…” his voice was loud as the moan escaped from his mouth, tapering off into a pleasurable whimper as Solomon continued to squeeze the bulge in his hand. Levi panted harshly, twisting but with less fervor. He wanted to hide his face but he was unable to move his hands to cover up.

“Ngh…aghh…” he moaned again, tugging his arms only to find that Solomon would not let him move an inch.

“Mmmm, you like this, don’t you?” he mused. It was perhaps too obvious he was enjoying himself. But Levi wasn’t able to pick up on it as much, lost in his own rampantly growing arousal.

“I…I….aaah,” he moaned again, pitifully shutting his eyes to hide his shame. He couldn’t bear to look at him when he looked like he was going to swallow him whole like a damn predator. He trembled against his touch, shaking as he tried twisting away again.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to let go,” he explained, though his voice sounded more like a threat than a reassurance.

“I don’t …aah..it…it feels…mmmnng,” he panted out, trying to form a coherent sentence as Solomon continued to grope him through his pants. The thin material of the pj bottoms was both a blessing as a curse as he felt his thumb rubbing against the underside of his shaft. A small wet patch was forming on his bottoms as he began to weep precum.

“Oh, you’re going to enjoy this,” he groaned as he quickly pulled his pants around his thighs, slipping a hand underneath his underwear to squeeze at his supple ass.

Levi didn’t realize he was starting to drool as he started to move again. Solomon let go of his wrists to continue squeezing his ass and Levi nearly fell forward into him as he cupped his rear end in his large hands. “Hhh…I’m…wh..whaaa---“ he tried to question what was happening between the little mewls that fell from his lips. His mind was hazy with lust.

“Shut up and enjoy it,” Solomon ordered, giving another squeeze to Levi’s ass. “Ngh…” was the only reply he got, Levi having lost temporary ability to even attempt to fight back. Solomon took it as an opportunity to prod his finger against his exposed asshole.

“N-not there!” he cried out, face burning as his hands found Solomon’s chest, weakly pushing against him in effort to stop his actions. He shook against him, his head falling against Solomon’s shoulder as the man prodded his asshole with his finger. “Nnngg!” his cock twitched as Solomon continued to prod his vulnerable entrance and he couldn’t help but moan again as he wriggled his way in, muttering something against his neck as a wet sensation covered his finger.

Levi was going to question it but Solomon hooked his finger upward, pressing forward until he managed to get a second finger in. “Aaah…aahh..nng,” he moaned again, drool pooling around his lips as he held onto Solomon’s shirt while the man pumped his fingers in and out of him. He angled his fingers inside him, reaching for Levi’s prostate, and when he finally found it he was rewarded with a half yell, half moan as Levi shook against him.

“You think you can handle more?” he whispered, running his tongue along the nape of Levi’s neck. “I’m going to stretch you out so much, you’ll beg for it.”

Levi didn’t think he could shudder any more than he already was, but he couldn’t stop from trembling in Solomon’s lap. He was like putty, completely malleable to the wizard’s whims. He found himself biting the fabric of Solomon’s shirt to silence his mouth as he involuntarily began to rock against him, a high pitched whine sneaking out of his throat.

“Ah…ah…fuck,” he panted, but was cut off with a broken whine as Solomon pulled his hand away, guiding Levi off the bed before pushing him down onto his knees.

“I think I need some encouragement to continue~” he cooed, petting Levi’s hair affectionately as the man blushed under his touch. He quickly got to work at pulling down the man’s pants, but just enough to bring his dick out, pumping it a few times in his hand as he glowered down at Levi.

Levi poked his tongue out, tasting the tip of Solomon’s cock before bringing the head into his mouth. He could taste the salt from the precum that had been beading on the surface of his cock, and he moaned through his nose as he carefully swirled his tongue around the tip.

Solomon grabbed the back of his head, pushing him forward as he used both hands to hold Levi’s head in place. “That’s it…just like that,” he encouraged the demon, panting slightly as he looked down at the man.

“Mmph!” he had jolted forward as his mouth was suddenly filled, mindful of his teeth as Solomon’s cock pushed into his mouth. His jaw cried out at the sudden intrusion, but he took another shaky breath in, trying to will himself to relax and to stop tensing up so much. He moaned again, around the cock in his mouth as the man threaded his fingers through his hair, petting him tenderly.

Levi responded by sloppily moving his tongue around Solomon’s throbbing erection, teasing him with his mouth and earning a groan from the white haired wizard. “Suck it like a good little cocksucker,” he grunted before thrusting his hips in and out of Levi’s mouth.

The demon was starting to feel overwhelmed as Solomon started to degrade him. His breath quickened once more, through his nose, and he started to suck enthusiastically, finding the rhythm difficult as he kept thrusting into his mouth. He was using his face like his own personal fuck hole and that made Levi ache with need.

“I knew you were a little slut. I saw it in your eyes the moment I met you,” he continued to dirty talk Levi, who in turn, became more determined as he flattened his tongue along the underside of Solomon’s cock, gasping around him when he called him a little slut. Solomon thrust a few more times before pulling out, lifting Levi off of his cock by his pulling on his hair again.

Levi’s tongue was still out as Solomon looked down at him, though he was quick to pull it back into his mouth muttering, “I’m not a slut,” weakly as he blushed and looked away.

“Mm-hmmm,” he hummed, hooking his hands under Leviathan’s shoulders and helping him to his feet. “I see a different side of you though. I want to see more of that side of you,” he murmured against his face, pressing a chaste kiss onto Levi’s cheek.

He tossed Levi onto the bed again, who bounced as he hit the soft cushion, disoriented for a moment as he tried to regain his bearings. Solomon was quick to climb back over him, pulling at his pajama bottoms to completely rid the offending fabric alongside the man’s underwear. Solomon was growing impatient.

He pulled Levi back down into a passionate kiss, his lips were still swollen from his nervous biting from before, and he winced slightly as Solomon bit down playfully on his lower lip. He slid his tongue into his mouth and was surprised when Levi sucked on his tongue, a surprisingly forward approach. Solomon was the one moaning this time, as he ground his hips against Levi’s letting him feel just how worked up he was making him.

Levi pulled away with a wet pop at the feeling of Solomon’s cock rubbing against his own, and his mind felt muddy again. He gripped at Levi’s shirt, pulling it up over his head, and he willingly complied, wanting the fabric off his overheated body as well. Solomon smirked as Levi struggled to break free from his shirt for a moment, stifling back a laugh at his clumsiness before leaning forward to capture a pert nipple between his lips. Levi arched his chest toward Solomon’s mouth, while his words protested, “Aah..that’s..d-don’t,” he stammered, despite his body reacting positively to the attention.

“Don’t what?” Solomon feigned ignorance again, smiling sweetly as Levi struggled to speak coherently.

“Don’t do that..”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured against his chest, biting down on the nipple between his teeth just so he could hear Levi cry out for him. He wanted to hear him call out his name as well.

“K-keep..I mean..don’t do that…agh!” he wrenched at the sheets with his fists as Solomon continued to torture his chest with his tongue. He chuckled against him, the sound low and reverberating as it vibrated against his chest. “What do you want from me, little one?” he asked, stroking the side of Levi’s face.

He fell silent for a moment, his mind hazy from the sensations coursing through his body. Solomon spoke again, waiting for him to speak, “Tell me what you want.”

“I…I…” he floundered again, looking up into Solomon’s mysterious, stormy eyes. They were clouded over with lust and he found himself shrinking back from the intensity of his gaze. Levi trailed his eyes down Solomon’s body, still half clothed, as he timidly reached up to tug at his shirt. “I want to see you too..” he requested with a breathy voice.

Solomon chuckled once more, a sound of satisfaction, as he pulled his sweater off of his body, revealing his body for Levi to admire. It did not go unnoticed when Levi’s eyes trailed over him, his blush deepening as his eyes fell on his cock. It had only been a few moments since it had been in his mouth and he absentmindedly salivated at the recent memory.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice growing slightly husky as he smirked at the way Leviathan reacted by skirting his gaze to the side and covering his mouth with his hand. Levi felt Solomon’s hand on his face again as he tilted his head toward him for another kiss. This time, much sweeter than the last. He was gentle as me moved his lips against Levi’s, taking his time with the man.

“Tell me, my little otaku, where did you learn to suck cock like that?” the words left his lips far too easily for how filthy they were to Leviathan’s ears. Levi let out a squeaking groan as he shut his eyes, lips trembling as he fought himself over whether he should answer that question honestly or not. “I..I..practice on a um…a dildo,” he replied meekly, turning his head to the side, remembering all those nights he would watch hentai and then try to recreate the act on himself with the few toys he had in his room.

Solomon let out another small chuckle, laying down next to Levi and propping his head in his hand, looking at the man pointedly. “I see…”

“I-it’s not weird!” he was quick to defend himself, feeling mortified at the sound of Solomon’s laughter in response to such an intimate question.

“Oho, no…it’s not weird at all,” he says, stroking Levi’s cheek softly in with his hand. “I find it quite…arousing.”

Levi opens his mouth to retort, but quickly closes it, squirming a little before Solomon asked his next question. “Do you….have any toys here now?” he asked, eyes flitting around the room to see if he could figure out where he could possibly have hidden them. Levi covered his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth, wanting to deny their very existence.

“Can I see, Levi?” he asked patiently. He pulled his hands away from his face again, leaning forward to give him a peck on the cheek before meeting him with his intense gaze. Levi felt like he was pinning him down with his eyes alone, and he nervously responded, eyes scanning over Solomon’s face warily. “U-under the bed…there’s a box,” he admitted, shame creeping into his voice.

“Open it,” he ordered, moving so that Levi would be able to lean over the bed to retrieve the item. Levi did just that, rolling onto his side and feeling around until his fingers brushed the familiar box, and he brought it up onto the bed. He paused for a few beats before opening the lid.

Levi couldn’t meet Solomon’s eyes as he revealed a rather large dildo that was not in the shape of a human cock. He had bought it from a site Asmo had given him a couple years back because he liked the way it looked primarily. Next to it was a much smaller by comparison, normal appearing dildo that had a vibrator attachment alongside a small bullet vibrator and a bottle of lubricant.

Solomon reached out to touch the largest of the toys, fingers running gently along it as he seemed lost in thought. It was ridged and had several bumps along the sides. He admired the iridescent purple color, finally glancing back over to Levi. “I want you to fuck yourself with this.”

“Wh—huh?” he replied with natural confusion, thinking he might’ve wanted to see how he practiced blowjobs, but not for him to watch him…his mind trailed off and he flushed brightly. Of course he had picked the larger of the two dildos in the box. He had only ever actually put it in his mouth, however, finding that it was more intimidating in person than when he had bought it impulsively after masturbating to a particularly erotic hentai. He balked slightly at the idea and shook his head.

“I want to see you fuck yourself with this,” Solomon repeated, the look in his eyes not wavering as he commanded him a second time, his eyes taking on a serious expression.

Levi’s hands shook as he stared at the familiar toy, mind racing as he tried to reach for the much smaller one beside it. Solomon clamped his hand down on Levi’s wrist, pulling his arm back as he pinned him against the bed. “I said, this one,” he replied sternly, taking the larger dildo and placing it in Levi’s hand, not breaking eye contact with him as he reached for the lube in the box and popped the lid open. His smirk was growing as he took in the panicked look in Leviathan’s eyes as he swallowed thickly, taking the heavy demon dildo in his hand nervously.

“Please…I want to try the other one,” he pleaded, his lower lip was trembling as he was cut off again.

“No.”

The statement was so final. Solomon poured a generous portion of lube onto the tip of the toy, urging it toward Leviathan with an excited look in his eyes. Levi sighed in defeat, sizing up the dildo in his hand before leaning back against the headboard, not able to make eye contact with the man as he slowly rubbed the toy against his entrance, warming himself up.

Solomon sat back, watching Levi intently as he placed his hand on his own cock, stroking lazily as he watched as Levi spread his legs wide, lifting himself up before slowly working the tip inside of him. The demon managed to press the head of the toy in before his hips jutted forward, having a difficult time adjusting to the size. He paused, taking in a sharp breath as he felt his hole stretch, much farther than when Solomon had been using his fingers.

Levi’s fingers clutched the sheets with his free hand as he slowly slid down the shaft, biting his lip as he screwed his eyes shut.

“Yes…” Solomon sighed pleasantly, watching the sight unfold before him as he continued to languidly stroke himself. Levi didn’t move just yet, letting the toy fill him to the brim. He panted out harshly, feeling hot as he felt Solomon’s eyes all over his body. It was similar to the time he had jerked off on cam with some demon from across Devildom online. Only this time, it was far more intimate.

“Yes, continue,” Solomon urged him on.

“Nngh,” Levi let out a noise of sexual frustration as he spread his legs open as far as they would go, biting his lip as he realized he was giving Solomon an incredibly erotic view. He grabbed the dildo in his hands, slowly pushing it inside of him, the ridges sliding against his insides, making his head fall back against the headboard.

“Fuck, I want to be inside of you,” Solomon whispered as he began to breath heavily, and Levi’s eyes snapped open to stare at the man who had gotten close enough to sit between his legs. He was on his knees, with his hand on his cock, drinking in the sight of the demon trying to pleasure himself on the toy. “Do you want that? Hm? Do you want to feel the real thing?” his voice was thick as he locked his eyes with Levi’s, and Levi couldn’t look away. His hands froze around the toy inside of him, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Yes…I want it…so bad,” he eventually panted out, watching as Solomon continued to stroke himself.

“Then beg for it,” he demanded, his voice almost cold.

Levi stopped pushing the toy against his tight entrance, feeling far too overwhelmed to continue in the moment as he whined needily, “I want…please…I want you,” he choked out, choosing less lewd words than he knew Solomon wanted to hear.

“Keep still, you,” he suddenly grabbed Levi’s wrist, causing him to yelp as he forced his hand over Levi’s guiding it with his own. He moved his hand around the toy, making Levi push it in and out of himself more roughly, causing him to cry out loudly as his toes started to curl. “AAAAH! I want y-you! P-p-please!” he called out, arching his hips as Solomon continued to move Levi’s hand in his, the toy making squelching noises as it moved in and out of him.

“That’s right, squeeze it tight,” he breathed against Levi’s ear, and the man let out a pained whimper as the toy was twisted and turned in his hands, making him rut against the intrusion erratically.

He made a string of incoherent cries as it twisted inside of him, and his body began to shake uncontrollably. “I need it, I need you inside of me. Please, please, I can’t take it, please. I need you inside of me,” he started to beg more enthusiastically, rocking his hips against the toy inside of him.

“Do you want my cock? Hm? Do you want me to fill you up? Claim you as my own?” he breathed against Levi’s ear once more.

“Yes! Yes! I want your cock, pleasepleaseplease,” he struggled to keep his eyes open. His body was swirling with need as he begged Solomon, unable to stop himself from trying to fuck himself on the toy in his hands, needing more stimulation.

“Such a dirty boy,” he mocked as he placed a hand on his hip to stop him from being able to rut against the toy. When Levi tried to disobey him anyway, he gave him a quick slap across the face.

“Aah!” his eyes flew back open at the sting on his face and he opened his mouth to speak, choking on a moan as Solomon stilled his hand, not moving the toy at all. He wanted to continue to rock his hips, but Solomon held him firmly.

“Keep it there,” he ordered, his hand holding Levi’s hip firmly as he slowly started to aim the toy to directly brush against his prostate, earning a wordless cry from the demon.

“Aaahnnnngng,” his moan turned into a garbled mess of frustration as Solomon rubbed the tip of the toy against his insides, not allowing him to buck his hips as tears started to well up in his eyes.

“I don’t think you really want it yet,” he teased, continuing to rub it against that sweet spot inside of Levi with intent, watching his face as it twisted into pleasure and agony mixed as one.

“I think you want me to stop?” he continued as if Levi had protested, “Or if you beg sweetly…I’ll know you really want it,”

“No-NO!---I want it!” his words were dripping with both panic, and unbridled lust, as Solomon threatened to stop. “Please, please, I need you, please put your cock inside me, I—I can’t take it…” The tears in his eyes were starting to overflow as Solomon continued to grind the toy against his prostate, and he could feel the pressure building deep within his body.

“I want to see you lose control,” Solomon whispered, “I want to see you submit to me. But not yet..”

Leviathan whined more defiantly this time frustration starting to take over his self-awareness. “I-if you keep doing that…I’ll cum,” he warned, still trying to buck his hips as he was held firmly in place with Solomon’s freehand.

“Not yet, you’ve been a very bad boy,” he taunted, “when I say so, you won’t be able to hold back. So just hold on a little longer.”

“N-no..I’m telling you, I-I really can’t hold it m-much longer,” Levi explained pitifully. His face felt like it was on fire as Solomon continued to slowly torture him with intense pleasure. Levi snuck his hand over to Solomon’s thigh, trailing his hand up his leg, leaning closer to touch his cock.

Solomon froze for a moment, his breath hitching before he grabbed Levi’s hand away from him. “I want to hear you beg for it,” he insisted, “I want to hear you call my name, I want to hear you curse me.”

“P-please!” his voice broke as he pitched another crying wail, “I’m already begging you, please!” he felt the tears in his eyes start to stream down his cheeks as he trembled under the man’s actions. “I need you inside of me, please just fuck me already! Solomon! Please,” he sobbed, turning his head back and forth.

“Please what?” he asked sweetly, nuzzling into Levi’s neck, as his hand ran through his hair gently.

Levi screamed. His throat felt raw, completely frustrated as he started to sob openly. “It hurts so much, please, fuck me, I can’t handle this, I need you, I-aahng…” he trailed off into another half moan half sob as Solomon moved to rotate the toy inside of him.

“I believe I asked you to scream my name,” he whispered into Levi’s ear.

“SOLOMON!” he yelled out, ignoring the hoarseness in his voice. He chanted his name over and over, mixed with pleas and sobs as the man continued to slowly torture him with his sweet caresses.

“Please, Solomon, Please… Solomon. Solomon. Please. I need you, Solomon. Please, I want you, I want you SOLOMON!!!”

The man next to him chuckled, pulling the toy out of Leviathan’s body, which earned him another sob as he immediately regretted the loss of being filled.

“No darling, not yet…Soon,” he whispered soothingly.

Levi screamed again, his frustration unbearable, his voice breaking up as he continued to ignore his pleas for mercy. He balled his hands into fists and shouted at Solomon between sobs, “I want your hard cock inside of me so much it hurts, please, fuck me until I can’t see straight, until I can’t walk for a week, I don’t fucking care just arrgghhhhh----“ he growled out in frustration, “Just fuck me already!”

“What a naughty boy,” was his only response.

Levi let out a whimper, not sure what else to do.

“Tell me who you are then,” Solomon replied, as though reading his thoughts.

He gritted his teeth together, “I’m a filthy, disgusting otaku! Please! Solomon…I’m your little slut,” he panted out, too lost in the haze of his own arousal to care about the words that were falling past his lips.

“Good boy.”

With that Solomon finally pushed Leviathan back down onto the bed, away from the headboard, and lined himself at his entrance. He forced Levi to look him in the eyes as he slowly pushed into him, his hand firmly holding Levi’s jaw in place. He wanted to see every moment as Levi’s face twisted into an absolutely debauched expression.

“Solomo---ooh fuck,” he moaned, arching his back as he felt the man pushing into him. “Aaah, yes! Fuck me!” he begged, rolling his hips against Solomon to bring him further into his waiting body. He didn’t want to care about anything else in the world, other than him filling his body until he couldn’t think about anything ever again.

Solomon’s lips brushed Levi’s cheek as he continued to thrust into him. “That’s it darling, let it all out,” he whispered against him, sending a chill down Levi’s spine. He was sobbing again, tears staining his cheeks as he rutted against Solomon sloppily. He was too far gone to hold any sort of rhythm. His hands trailed down his body, desperate for release.

Solomon took Levi’s hands in his own, bringing one of them up to press a gentle kiss against as he chided, “No, no no.”

Levi threw his head back against the pillow, tossing his head from side to side as he was denied yet again. His cock twitched painfully against his abdomen and he knew he wouldn’t last long either way. Solomon was thrusting into him too hard for him not be able to lose himself in him. “Please, let me cum, Solomon, please,” he pled in his sweetest voice.

Solomon laughed in return, giving Levi a cruel smile as he teased him just a while longer.

“Solomon! I’m begging you!”

He pressed a kiss against Levi’s open lips, hushing his protests. “Please, darling. You have my permission. Cum on my cock my cute little slut…”

That was all it took to push him over the edge. He didn’t even have to touch himself as the words allowed his orgasm to bubble over. He clutched onto Solomon’s shoulders, digging his nails into them as he cried out hoarsely, shaking as his orgasm swept through his body. His toes curled and his abdomen clenched as his inner walls clamped down around him, causing the man to groan out as Levi rode through his orgasm.

He didn’t let him ride it out for long however, as he continued to thrust into him so roughly he left him gasping for breath. He felt lightheaded as he struggled to keep up with the man.

“Aah! Sol-aaahah,” he moaned out, trying to get his name out hif his mouth but he couldn’t think straight. His thoughts were scrambled as Solomon continued to thrust into him with abandon.

“I love this view,” he groaned as he thrust his hips back and forth, drinking in the sight of Leviathan, completely undone and debauched beneath him. His mouth was swollen from the rough kisses he had placed on them, Levi’s eyes were puffy from crying, his hair a mess both from sweat and from Solomon tugging on it and threading his fingers through it. He continued to moan as Solomon started to thrust more erratically, kissing Leviathan with passion as he chased his own high.

He pulled back just enough to look at his face again, noticing the string of saliva that broke apart as he leaned back and how Levi’s eyes were completely glazed over. Solomon shuddered, “So hot…” was all he could murmur out, breathing heavily as his hips stuttered. He moaned low as his orgasm eventually washed over him.

Leviathan mewled at the sensation of warmth as Solomon’s seed painted his insides, leaving him with a lingering sensation of bliss. Solomon thrust shallowly a few more times, reaching his hand down to the base of his cock, milking himself to finish pumping his seed deep within Leviathan’s body, making him blush in turn. “That’s right…take it all,” he whispered, his chest heaving as he stopped to catch his own breath.

After he had finished inside of him, he pulled out carefully to lie beside Levi, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close to his chest before placing a loving kiss on his forehead. He ran his hand through Levi’s bangs, brushing them from his eyes. “I love you…” he whispered.

Levi snuggled close to Solomon’s chest in return pressing a kiss against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around the man. “I love you so much, thank you for doing this for me,” he thanked him with his crackly voice, hoarse from all the screaming he had done. He was certain his brothers had heard him, burying his face further into Solomon’s chest.

Solomon hummed and stroked Levi’s hair as they lay together. They laid in silence, enjoying each other’s company before Solomon eventually moved them to the bathroom to get ready for the night. Levi was going to be tired the next day, but it had been worth it.

#usagiwrites #obey me #smut #obey me smut #solomon/leviathan #m/m fiction #I've never written Solomon and tbh I'm not 100% happy #but I did my best T^T

124 notes · View notes

thepageofhopes · 3 years

Text

Undertale Multiverse Classpects Part 1/??

It’s inevitable once I get super into something that I do this.

I will most likely do more characters but for now I started with just some of the biggest characters of the multiverse/underverse specifically.

Explanations will be under the cut. Long, long, explanations. (Almost 3k words!)

Error: Bard of Time Ink: Rogue of Space Nightmare: Knight of Doom Dream: Page of Life Cross: Witch of Blood XChara: Prince of Heart XGaster: Thief of Light

Most of this was done using the theories of 0pacfica, whose amazing classpect theory posts can be found on Ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960270

Though this was also cross referenced with bladekindeyewear’s older theories (particularly on the roles of the classes and active/passive pairs) and a sprinkling of the extended zodiac.

So this is another classpect where it’s actually easier to do in pairs for a lot of the characters due to how intertwined they are.

Error: Bard of Time

Ink: Rogue of Space

When starting with these two, it really was a giant debate between me and my friends about whether Ink and Error were time and space or hope and rage. It was very hard to move away from Hope/Rage when it represents unchecked creation and destruction which...is pretty much the entire backbone of underverse, but after lots of back and forth we found Time and Space fit better overall.

It’s useful to think of Space as Beginnings and Time as Endings. Ultimately what Ink does is facilitate a bunch of new beginnings. Ink is also all about the growth of the multiverse, which is the closest analogue we really have to Skaia. Hope may be creation, but it is creation as counter to the greater narrative, and often counter to Skaia and the reproduction of the universe. On the flip side, Rage, while being destruction, is generally destruction of anything non-fundamental. Error, by contrast, does not care what is being destroyed. His goal is ultimately the end to the multiverse itself; the end of the narrative. Time and Space are also the main building blocks of the universe and without them sessions become void. Ink and Error ultimately represent the core of the multiverse and are also key in most of the big multiverse spanning stories. As well, there’s really no escaping how similar Error and Caliborn act in both personality and actions.

Finally, looking at the extended zodiac, even their personalities fit decently well, though mostly Ink and Space. While classpect is actually much more about narrative arcs and roles than personalities, it’s still useful to look at the most personality based descriptions of the extended zodiac. Space has the description ‘They are patient, masters of the art of 'wait-and-see', and are inclined to take things as they come. That isn't to say that they're pushovers or willing to let injustice lie-they just choose their battles wisely, understanding that sometimes you have to let something burn to the ground in order to build it back better and stronger than before. To this effect, they tend to be innovators, concerned with creation and redemption.‘ and if that doesn’t describe Ink in underverse at least, then nothing else does. Time is a little less fitting personality wise for Error, but these few bits are pertinent: ‘Their lives are often marked by struggle, not so much because fate has it in for them, but because they are fundamentally incapable of just accepting things as they come.’ ‘At their worst they are ruthless, defensive, and impulsive.‘

So now that Aspect is out of the way, I can explain classes. Let’s start with the easy one first. There’s no way we could have Error as anything other than a destroyer class, so Bard or Prince had to be one of the titles. Then from there it comes down to whether Error is active or passive. While it may be easy to say ‘well he actively destroys things’ it’s useful to remember someone's powers can look very similar even if active or passive. My go to for this is Roxy who despite being a passive void class, ultimately can still actively steal nothingness from concepts.

And I have to ask- does Error really actively use his aspect? Because I don’t think so. There’s a popular fan concept of Error as a ‘Forced god of Destruction’ that I think really cements this. Time as an aspect tends to also represent Fate, and if there’s a character who has been actively fucked over by Fate, it’s Error. Even from his time as Genos, Error has been the butt monkey of terrible circumstances. 0pacifica talks about ‘Student’ classes (Thieves, Seers, and Bards) as one where the aspect changes the player, and if that doesn’t describe Error just.

Also it gives Error a codpiece and isn’t that just fucking perfect.

So onto the harder class to explain- Ink being a Rogue. Unlike the Destroyer class, there’s no ‘Creator’ class to nicely fit Ink into (although some suspect that the Heal class of Sylph and most likely Maid class can double as both Heal and Create) but even then, Ink doesn’t really actively create. Rather he tends to try and inspire creators to create. For Ink it made more sense to use 0pacifica’s chart to lower down the class, and then make sure the powers still fit from there.

To start with, there’s no way Ink is anything but a mutualist class. Both Ink and the multiverse benefit from Ink’s role in the multiverse. But even more telling that Ink is a mutualist class is the line in the flowchart ‘The story is not complete until I have accomplished what I have set out to do or found another way to satisfy my initial impulse.’ From the start of Underverse at least to now (though I also suspect to the end of Underverse) the story has been driven by Ink’s actions and motivations. There wouldn’t be a story without him, for good or ill.

From there using the chart, it was easy to lower it down to Rogue or Knight. Ink really isn’t changed or used by their aspect, unlike Error. So it really comes down to does Ink use his aspect or change his aspect. From here I really like 0pacifica’s one sentence descriptions. Rogue is ‘I change my aspect to a more useful form’ while Knight is ‘I use my aspect like a tool’. Eventually we decided on Rogue because Ink doesn’t really actively use his aspect- he’s much more about inspiration- allowing others to steal his ideas, if you will ;P. He ultimately changes other beginnings in service both to the multiverse and himself- squeezing them for paint so he can keep feeling.

Also Rogue just kind of fits Ink’s aesthetic with that cute little bandit mask

What’s really cool is these two classes are also on opposite ends of the ‘Reinvent/Change’ segment of the class chart.

Hopefully this is the longest segment..

Nightmare: Knight of Doom

Dream: Page of Life

Here’s another pair we really had to decide between Hope/Rage for and Doom/Life. But honestly there wasn’t actually a lot of debate. If Doom is Stasis and Inertia, then that fits Nightmare’s ultimate goal to a T. If Nightmare gets his way, the entire multiverse will be plunged into negativity, and with no contrast, everything would just be mired in the same. In contrast to both Nightmare and in particular, Ink, Dream is all about growth and making things better. Joku has specifically stated that Dream and Ink had a falling out due to this- Dream doesn’t care about creator intentions or their story. If there is someone suffering, Dream wants to fix it.

Another way these two fit is in something 0pacifica observes regarding Doom and Life players- Life players come from ‘the top of the pile’ with every advantage behind them, while Doom players come from the ‘bottom of the heap’ with everything working against them. From their beginnings Dream has always been put upon a pedestal, with the love and adoration of the villagers surrounding them, while Nightmare was always hated, always considered as a problem before he has any type of sway over negativity. In actuality, they were born equal, but the circumstances of which side they happened to represent tilted them in their respective directions.

For the extended zodiac, since Nightmare is such a terrible person, even more so than Error in a lot of ways, means that it’s not as useful. The descriptions ar emeant for people to identify with after all, and no one is gonna self-identify with being told they are a monster. There is a bit of the extended zodiac we can use though, and that’s Nightmare as a commiserator. In underverse he gains Cross’s trust by empathizing (in a way) with his negativity, and he surrounds himself with crew that have been in as bad circumstances as he has been. Life however, has a great section that fits Dream perfectly: ‘ Those bound to the aspect of Life are the universe's healers. They are concerned with the betterment of themselves and those around them, as well as the onward march of positive progress. Deeply empathetic, they have an intuitive understanding of other's suffering and the best way of righting those wrongs.’

When looking at classes, we considered the Commensalist sections for both Dream and Nightmare for a while. But we ultimately decided against that specifically with the line that ‘my accomplishments and failings are purviews of the fringes of the narrative’ which just can’t be true for two beings so fundamental to the multiverse. Indeed, you’ll actually see none of the characters in this post fall under this side specifically because I started with the most ‘important’ characters. We ultimately decided on mutualist for Nightmare- despite his ‘bottom of the heap’ status, he ultimately tends to take control of the narrative, and much of underverse and even a lot of fan works are centered around his actions, much like Ink. Dream, by contrast, is constantly fighting an uphill battle and for most of underverse is more a pawn than any true figure of movement in the story. Parasitic fits quite well for poor Dream who no matter what ending of Joku’s story you go by, always dies.

There really is no other character who quite wields their aspect and powers to their advantage like Nightmare. I really can’t find a lot to add here, it was a pretty unambiguous choice and had very little debate in our classpect talk. All his manipulations are steeped in death and decay and well, negativity, all which fall under Doom. Knight is theorized to be the active Exploit class which fits nicely into 0pacifica’s class descriptions. So, for Dream, looking under parasitism, Dream doesn’t really change his aspect, he’s pretty much defined by Life. This lowered it down to Prince and Page. Dream, unlike Nightmare, isn’t really an active manipulator of his aspect and of his positivity. It’s more a part of him, and thus Page, who in the flowchart literally uses the line ‘I am defined by my aspect’ seemed to be the perfect fit.

Like Ink and Error, these two are also opposites on the ‘manifest’ side of classes, and even better, Knight is the active Exploit class while Page is the passive exploit class.

Thank god this section was actually shorter

Cross: Witch of Blood

XChara: Prince of Heart

While these two characters aren’t opposites in aspect or class, it’s useful to talk about both of these two at once both because of how closely they are tied together, but also because how similar their goals and narrative journeys are in general.

Basically with aspect it came down to Blood and Heart for both of them. The more material aspects really have nothing to do with either of them, both of them are much more focused on narrative meaning. Light/Void is out of the question as when it comes down to it, through all their posturing, they ultimately are much more focused on themselves than any kind of big picture or big over-arching questions on the nature of reality. This also phases out Mind for both of them. And finally, this sentence on Breath is about as anti Cross/XChara as it comes: ‘what’s meaningful and important is discovering something new, expanding that perspective, broadening the meaning-horizon and rising above the mere material of the world until ‘tradition’ is a speck of dust on a marble’.

Ultimately we went with Blood for Cross over Heart. Cross is primarily motivated by the past in a way XChara really isn’t. Hell, one of the main reasons Cross decided to fight against Frisk and XChara in Timeline X was because the timeline they were currently in was a happy place for him and the rest of the monsters. Cross is also shown to utilize bonds- it’s a vision of Cross that stops XChara in his fight against Swap/Blue. XChara, on the other hand, is much more focused on the idea of control and being in control, because they know what’s best better than anyone else. Heart is appropriately labeled as ‘egoism’ in 0pacifica’s chart and if there’s one thing XChara has, it’s an ego. There’s also the line ‘Heart is the reading into and reading out of, the situating of what’s been read in the personal and the familiar, the reshaping and reinterpreting of the text outside of the author’s hands.’ If we see XGaster as an author, then what better describe’s XChara’s role?

Honestly the extended zodiac isn’t really great for these two, once again due to the fact they are largely negative and corrupted characters. Most of what’s there isn’t truly yet in the text but implied in the opening to Underverse Season 2 (Cross being a leader through inspiration) or something that I’ve basically already covered (Heart being self-obsessed). This is long enough already so lets just move on.

There’s no way either of them are anything other than a parasitic class. ‘I could beat myself bloody against the bars of the narrative and still get no closer to the form of success I personally desire’ describes both of their experiences in XTale and Season 1 perfectly. (’All my efforts were for nothing..’) As well, for how much these characters were corrupted and damaged throughout the course of Underverse, what changed them was much more outside forces than anything having to do with their aspect- they both tend to own their aspect.

XChara is pretty definitively a Prince- He is incredibly talented at utilizing his own personal potential and even his own ego to advance his own agenda, even as it actively fucks him over. And how do his overwrite powers manifest? A complete domination of others personalities and identity. He destroys others identities and personal narratives. Cross is a tough one because most of what we’ve seen of his powers and actions have been actively manipulated by XChara whose very aspect dominates identity. But one thing that we very much see in Underverse is how Cross actively forces other people to team up and form bonds to stop him. This forwards the narrative while being actively detrimental to Cross himself. And finally, one of the last moments we see with the new Cross at the end of season 1 is him actively changing his bond/deal with Nightmare to save Dream, which gives Dream the determination and ability to escape to the Omega Timeline with the other survivors. Unfortunately most of what is in the actual text isn’t super concrete but there is enough foreshadowing and implications of where Cross’s character is going to go that Witch just ‘feels’ like the right fit.

Whew I was afraid this was somehow going to be as long/longer than the first segment

XGaster: Thief of Light

This one should hopefully be fairly short as if there was a classpect title there was the least amount of debate and back and forth on, XGaster was it.

There’s no way XGaster isn’t Light. The literal second I saw the sentence of Light that says ‘There is one answer’ there was no way he could be anything else. XGaster’s entire storyline is about finding/creating the one true perfect universe. Essentially, in classpect and narrative terms, his entire narrative is about the Search for truth and meaning. Which is literally the sentence used to describe Light in 0pacifica’s writeup.

In the interest of wrapping. this. shit. up. I’m just gonna post this section from the Light part of the extended zodiac. It feels fairly self explanatory. ‘The Light-bound will go after knowledge with a fierce intensity that others may find distasteful. They aren't overly concerned with laws or norms, either. They often take rules as simple suggestions, instead searching for loopholes or work-arounds.’

Class is where I will probably actually have to explain a little more. I don’t think mutualist is anything I really need to extensively justify- the narrative of Underverse bends to accommodate the goals of Ink and XGaster, basically everything I said about Ink also works with XGaster with how closely they are tied.

The fundamental shift of XGaster’s narrative arc and even personality is all based around knowledge. He learns from Ink that other multiverses exist and in that instant it sets him on a new path. Thieves are all about acquiring more of their aspect to change and benefit themselves, and XGaster literally gathers ideas and knowledge from other universes to create and enrich his own. I know it’s cheeky to not have just one but two canon titles, but they undeniably fit.

Also he sure does have all the irons in the fire *shot*

Aaaaaaaaaaand we’re done! Look how fast that last segment went.

#undertale #utmv #underverse #homestuck #undertale multiverse

24 notes · View notes

chikaiomoi · 3 years

Text

take the fire from within, you won’t break me

characters: LOV, hawks (eventual dabi x hawks x female reader)

title: ‘take the fire from within, you won’t break me’ (lyrics from ‘tourniquet’ by breaking benjamin) | part one

words: 5k

warnings: dark themes, drug mention, guns, knives, gangs, shigaraki being... shigaraki, cops, suggestive themes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

synopsis:

it’s the end of the university semester and you’ve returned home for a break, excited to see your loving parents and your adorable younger sister, himiko. however, something is off with your sister. you follow her, only to be dragged into the world of underground criminals and gangs.

[quirkless au/modern au]

Fresh blossom and cinnamon — the scent of home. It greets you as you walk inside, returning to your family home after weeks away at university. Of course, it’s not the only thing that greets you.

“Welcome home, onee-san!” The voice of your younger sister chimes. Himiko bounds down the stairs, skipping every other step as if falling down was simply impossible. She jumps on you, throwing her arms around your tired form to embrace before you have a chance to drop your heavy belongings. She mewls with excitement, kicking her legs in the air as she hangs from your shoulders before finally letting go.

She looks the same as she had the last time you were home - blonde hair in messy buns on either side of her head. Still in her high school uniform, she must only have returned home recently.

You grin at her and pat her head whilst dropping your bag on the floor, shoulder thanking you for relief from the weight. “Missed me, huh?” you tease as you remove your shoes and slide on the slippers eagerly awaiting your return.

“Duh,” Himiko scoffs and practically drags you into the living room. She plops down onto the small couch, but so kindly left room for her big sister. “Who else am I meant to annoy when you’re away? Can’t you come home more often?” she whined.

Her golden eyes peer up at you with such a desperation that you’re almost tempted to say yes, but you know it’s pointless; you’ll only disappoint her in the future. Life as a medical student is hard and you’re busy studying so much of the time, as well as working part-time to support yourself. The least you can do is spend as much time as possible with her whilst visiting home.

“I wish,” you sigh and lean back, stretching out your legs, stiff from the train journey. “Why don’t we go to the convenience store, buy some snacks, then come back and have a movie night?” It’s a good suggestion, usually. Although you have different tastes in movies, the two of you always have fun.

But Himiko sighs. “Can’t tonight — gonna hang out with some friends.”

Friends? Friends?

Himiko has never been good at making friends. As much as you love her, she’s too forward and overwhelming. If she has friends, you can only imagine they’re of a similar calibre to her.

You might have pouted and begged her to stay if the thought of your sister finally having friends didn’t fill your chest with joy. You grin and poke her arm. “Friends, huh? What are their names? Are they from school? What are they like?”

The blonde rolls her eyes at the sudden barrage of questions. “They’re cool, that’s all you need to know.” Those are the only answers you’re getting for now — you’ll press for more later.

It’s then that your parents come down the stairs and greet you with bright smiles. Only, they’re dressed in fine clothes and your mother has makeup on, which she only ever wears when going somewhere fancy. You pout. “Are you going out too?”

Your father holds up his palms. “In our defence, you weren’t supposed to come home until tomorrow.”

Your mother squeezes your cheek as if you were still six years old. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, plenty to choose from.”

Wonderful. Your first night back and you’re spending it alone. At least you don’t have to cook for yourself.

Your parents leave before Himiko does, but once they’re gone, she hurries up to her bedroom to change. After sliding your feet out of your slippers, you curl up on the couch and grab your phone to flick through social media. Friends post pictures of their cakes from cafés, or snaps from their evening at karaoke, or even pictures of the evening sky. You could have joined along if you hadn’t come home a day early.

After half an hour, Himiko skips down the stairs, dressed in casual clothes, hair still as it was before. Dropping her backpack onto the floor by your feet, she goes into the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? I have stuff for tapiru,” she calls. “I’ll make you one before I go — a way to say sorry for abandoning you tonight.” She giggles and your lips curl up into a smile.

“Yes, please!”

Your legs spin over the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up and join her in the kitchen, but her backpack is slightly open and the ceiling light reflects off something that catches your attention. Glancing up, you make sure she can’t see before you peer into her bag.

You gasp, hand shooting to your mouth.

A gun. A silver handgun. It’s not a toy. No, by the weight of it, it’s real. When you push it aside, you see a sheathed knife too.

Why the fuck did she have these?!

It had to be these new friends of hers. Yes, Himiko had always been a little crazy and had a bizarre obsession with slasher movies. In this regard, the knife didn’t startle you that much. But the gun? No, no… Himiko hadn’t liked guns, would never use one if given the chance. Not personal enough, she would say.

Your first instinct — out of fear and concern and anger — is to yell at her and ask her why she had dangerous weapons. But a tiny voice in the back of your mind stops you.

If Himiko finally has friends, your concerns won’t be enough to stop her. Friends are all she has ever wanted; even the pleas of the sister she loved dearly won’t be enough to pull her from that friendship.

You must be pale when she returns with bubble tea, because she giggles as she hands the cup to you. “You’re not afraid to be alone tonight, are you?”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you shake your head and take the tea. “No, just tired. Thanks, Himicchi.”

The nickname makes a wide grin spread onto her face, revealing the two pointed teeth that always make her stand out from the crowd. Your mother has a similar shape of canines, but you inherited the blunter ones of your father.

Once you taste the tea and she knows you like it, she scoops up her bag. “See you later, onee-chan!”

Your stomach turns with uncomfort, twisting and clenching. Your little sister… with a gun.

When she leaves, you watch her from the window, and it takes all of your strength not to follow her.

Fuck that, you don’t have the strength to sit idle. You slip on your shoes, pocket your phone, and follow your sister.

When you were younger, you were always better at hide-and-seek than she was, which might be why you’re able to follow her through the streets without her noticing. If she has noticed, she hasn't said anything or tried to throw you off her trail.

The building she approaches is concerning – it’s old, abandoned, and derelict – but it’s not that which concerns you the most. It’s the group of men, all your age or older, hanging outside, greeting her as she approaches. Two are smoking, and from the shape of the piece in their fingers, you can’t tell if it’s tobacco or weed. One is sitting on top of a car, counting notes before handing a lump to Himiko. He pats the top of her head before returning to counting bills.

From the dark doorway, two other men approach. One is tall, easily the oldest of the group, wearing a waistcoat and a tie like a dodgy businessman. The other you can’t make out that well. His raggy blue hair covers most of his features. At their gesture, the others and Himiko go inside.

Your heart sinks into your stomach.

You ought to run in and shout at them. What do they think they’re doing hanging around a sixteen year old? And what were they paying her for?! You ought to rush in, grab your sister’s hand and drag her out of there.

But doing so might only push her away from you. It could do more harm than good.

So, instead, you go home and wait for the night to be over.

Eyes narrow as you glare at the run-down building, which only looks worse in daylight. It’s a Friday and Himiko is at school, giving you the chance to finally approach the scumbags. They’re in there – you watched them saunter in ten minutes ago.

You’re too concerned with your sister’s safety to think about your own, to consider that they likely have weapons with them, and you storm into the building, burning with fury. Your hands shake and your heart pounds at one million miles an hour, but you don’t care. They need to know just how scummy they are, how disgraceful it is that they’ve roped a teenage girl into whatever gross activities they get up to. You follow the sound of voices and slam open the door. Six heads snap in your direction.

“What the fu–” a blond man starts, but you cut him off.

“How fucking dare you,” you growl, fists clenched at your sides to hide the trembles. “Do you know how old she is?! She’s sixteen, for fuck’s sake! What are grown men doing hanging around a sixteen year old? She’s still in school! Are you fucking perverts or something?! And what are you paying her for, what sort of…”

You trail off when your eyes register the barrel of a gun pointing at your head.

The blue-haired man, who looks your age up close, holds the handgun, pressing the barrel against your forehead. A sickly grin spreads across his face, chapped lips revealing teeth. “You must be Himiko’s older sister.” He laughs and the sound shakes your bones – it’s dark, it’s unnatural, it’s predatory. Then, the grin drops and his crimson eyes bore into you.

“Let me lay this out for you,” he says. “None of us have even looked at your sister that way. We’re not that kind of criminal.” His words earn chuckles from the others behind him. “Pretty bold of you to storm in here like a trembling doe. If you know your sister has been hanging out with us, then surely you know how dangerous we are?” As if for emphasis, he releases the safety on the gun.

You swallow the lump blocking your dried-up throat. Your stomach turns, threatening to bring up breakfast.

“We’re not very nice people,” he continues. “Not very nice people with scary guns are very dangerous. If you say or do the wrong thing, you could end up with a bullet right between those pretty eyes of yours. I should kill you for trespassing, really, but I’m not that cruel.” Another sick laugh escapes him as he lowers the gun. “I can be nice when I want to be. So, I’m going to make you a deal.”

He holsters the gun and grabs you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your flesh. “There’s a job you can do for me. I’m sure you’ll say yes. After all, you don’t want to die, do you? And you certainly won’t want little Himiko doing it.” With a wave of his hand, he gestures another man over.

One of the smokers steps forward, holding up a tightly sealed package. You’ve seen enough crime shows and documentaries to know what it is – drugs. The dark-haired man smirks at the way your eyes widen, throat bobbing as you try to form words, but your voice fails you.

“I’ll forgive you if you deliver these,” blue-hair speaks again. You assume he’s the leader, even though he looks the youngest (aside from Himiko). “Take Dabi with you. I don’t want you running off to the police crying and begging for help. We’d know if you did, you see, and we’d make sure you were very, very sorry.”

Sucking in a slow, shaky breath between your lips, you nod. You couldn’t refuse. Refusing means a bullet in the head. Refusing means your sister will have to deliver the drugs instead. Although your body trembles and begs you to run away from it all, you allow Dabi to grab your elbow and drag you out of the building. He opens the door to a black Ford Mustang, decorated with blue flame decals by the wheels. It’s tacky and cringy and under normal circumstances, you would pull a face and comment on it. But not now.

Now, your life is in danger.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Dabi’s gravelly voice sounds as you both get into the car. “Don’t want you flying through the window if we crash.”

“Are you that bad of a driver?” The comment leaves your mouth before you have time to consider his reaction. The moment you hear the words yourself, however, you flinch and look away.

He doesn’t snap at you, though. He chuckles and ignites the engine.

“So… Thought you could burst into our hideout and actually frighten us?” he laughs, glancing at you from aside with those piercing blue eyes. “Where do you get that confidence from? I’d love to know.”

Your face heats up, cheeks turning red, and you roll your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking,” you murmur. “I was just mad. All I knew was that my little sister was hanging out with adult men. Do you know how suspicious that is?”

Dabi scoffs. “I get your point, but as the boss said, we’re not like that. I like women, not girls.” The corner of his lips curl upwards. “I like smart women. Independent women. Women who go out there and do what they want to do.” He pauses, then continues. “I like women who secretly enjoy reading manga. I like women who sing in the shower like no one is listening. I like women who come home to their families a day early.”

You narrow your eyes. “Himiko has mentioned me, hasn’t she?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes again. “Dick.”

“Thinking about that, huh?”

His words only turn your flush redder. “I’m not interested in men like you.” Even if he is pleasing on the eye, he’s a criminal, certainly not someone you want to take home to your family. He’s the sort of guy you’d fuck one night if confident from alcohol in your system, no the sort of guy you’d go on a date with.

The rest of the journey is mostly silent, save from the music playing almost inaudibly through the speakers. You don’t recognise any of the songs, and when you ask him who the artist is, he names someone you have never even heard of. Not that you have any intention of listening to it when you return home.

Eventually, the car stops by an empty alleyway, relatively dark considering how bright the sun is. “Here we go,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt. He passes the package to you and smiles. “Don’t be long. I’ll be here if something goes…” his voice trails off when he peers out of the window and down into the alley.

You shrug it off, grab the package, unbuckle your seatbelt, and open the car door.

Dabi grabs your wrist. “No, no, stay here. I know that guy.”

A brow on your forehead raises. “So? Let me go, I need to do this jo--”

“No, you’re not. I went to high school with him, he’s not the kind of guy to want drugs.”

You sigh. “Maybe he’s changed since high school. Himiko never used to be the kind of girl to join a gang, but here she is. I never used to be the kind of girl who would sing in front of others, but now I go to karaoke with my friends every weekend. People change, Dabi. Now let me get out to do this job.”

He looks at you, head tilting ever so slightly. “You go to karaoke every weekend?”

With a scowl, you shake off his grip and get out of the car. In a hushed voice, he tries to summon you back, but you ignore him and approach the man waiting.

He looks no longer than you, messy blond hair pushed back, headphones around his neck. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, which he drops and stomps out with his boot. “I wasn’t told I’d be getting eye candy too,” he chuckles, plastering a grin on his face. His hand thrusts out. “I’m Hawks.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Is that your real name?” You don’t shake his hand.

“Of course not. You think I’m going to use my real name for this?”

You hum and hold out your hand. “Money first, please.” You’ve never dealt drugs before, but you’ve seen enough crime shows to know that the dealer never hands items over without feeling the payment in their hands.

Hawks laughs at you but he doesn’t argue. He pulls out a wad of notes from his pocket and drops it into your open palm.

A fake smile finds its home on your lips and you hold the package out.

“Oi, get back here!” Dabi shouts from the car.

Hawks’s expression drops. He tosses the package behind him and grabs your wrist, spinning you around. He pins you to the wall just as you hear tyres screeching. Dabi’s car is no longer in sight when Hawks speaks again.

“You’re under arrest for the intent to supply,” he says, and reads out the rights to you, but his voice fades into nothing.

You hear nothing. You only feel the cold, metal cuffs clamped around your wrist. Your body doesn’t react as a police car pulls up and Hawks pushes you into the back of it.

Nothing. You feel nothing.

Numb.

Empty.

Until the police station comes into view and your body fills with fear. “N-no, you’ve got this all wrong, I’m not-”

“I caught you in the act, sweetheart. Unless you’re going to tell me that wasn’t cocaine in that package?”

You fall silent again, only speaking to answer questions when they register you at the front desk. You don’t even speak when they pat you down. Then, Hawks takes you through to an interview room, tells you to sit, then takes off the cuffs.

He sits opposite you and leans back, crossing his arms. “Detective Takami Keigo. Want to tell me what you were doing dealing drugs?”

Your throat dries up and you force yourself to swallow before you even try to speak. “I-I…”

“The front desk couldn’t pull up a criminal history because you have none. How did you get roped into this?” he asks.

“I was trying to protect my sister,” you mutter. So much for helping her… Now she was going to find out what you tried to do. It’s so easy to picture the face she’ll make when you return home; the way she’ll cross her arms, the downward turn of her lips, the crease between her eyebrows when she frowns.

“Protect her from what?” Keigo asks.

With a sigh, you rub your eyes. He’s a detective. If you’re honest, surely, he will understand and you won’t be in trouble? “Yesterday I found out that my little sister is hanging around men much older than her. So, today, I found them and I… Well, I told them what I thought of them. What else was I supposed to think they were doing? She even had a gun in her bag, she’s never had one before. But then the leader - I can’t remember his name - pointed a gun to my head and said if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d kill me. He said if I did this, then it would mean my sister didn’t have to.”

He studies you as you speak. When you finish, he leans forward. “The gang leader, what did he look like?”

Your face contorts into an expression of pure disgust. “Like he needs to invest in moisturiser. And needs to take a bath. His hair is blue and it hangs over his face so you can’t really see what he looks like, but when he gets close, he has the sickliest of smiles.”

Keigo hums. “Shigaraki Tomura. We’ve had our eye on him for a while. We know he’s up to something more than simple drug-dealing, but we don’t know what, yet. If we arrest him now, he’ll not be away for long enough. He’s tricky, though. Always goes under the radar just when we think we have something.”

“Detective Takami, please…” you say as you lean forward, hands flat on the wooden table between the two of you. “I just want to protect my sister and get out of there alive. I didn’t want to do anything illegal. I’m a university student, I want a good life.”

His lips grow into a faint smile. “Then I’ll make you a deal. You and your sister will be granted immunity… if you feed information on Shigaraki Tomura to me.”

Your chest squeezes tight. “H-how do I do that?”

“You’ll have to go back.”

“N-no, please, I can’t-”

“If anything gets too dangerous, then I’ll get you out of there,” Keigo promises. He grabs your hand across the table and squeezes it, his palm warm over your skin. “But if you help with my investigation, then I promise both you and your sister won’t face criminal charges for anything you’re involved in.”

You take the deal. Of course you do, you’d be a fool not to. This morning you promised to yourself that you’d protect Himiko. Then, you had only intended to shout at those guys, but now… Now you’re helping with a criminal investigation.

Fuck.

A police officer drives you home, but you ask that he drops you off several streets away from home. You don’t want your family to see you get out of a police car, so you walk the rest of the way. Your parents aren’t home yet, but Himiko is.

She’s waiting for you, arms crossed as she stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed, that crease between her brows. “Dabi told me what happened,” she says, her voice colder than you’ve ever heard it before.

“Himiko-”

“How could you be such an idiot?! You should have listened to him, you wouldn’t have been arrested if you had!”

You’re too tired to argue. Too tired to shout at her for joining a dangerous gang. Too tired to explain your reasons. You can’t, anyway, it would jeopardise your deal with Detective Takami. Instead, you apologise and go to bed. Himiko doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night.

Your plan is to wait a couple of days before returning to the hideout. Given how afraid you were, if you go back straight away, it might just look suspicious. It gives you time to psych yourself up for going undercover, anyway.

You wander out to the convenience store down the road, craving something sweet and overwhelmingly carbohydrate. You’re browsing the selection of sweet breads when an arm drapes itself around your shoulder.

You gasp and squirm away, only to come face-to-face with Dabi when he pulls you back to him. “Thought you’d be in a prison cell.”

Cheeks flushing bright red, your gaze darts around quickly to check no one heard him. “They let me go seeing as I have no other offences. I claimed I had no idea what it really was. Don’t think they believed that, but I don’t think I’m the type of person they’re after.”

His azure eyes pierce through yours, searching deep into your core. If he stares at you for too long, you might just crack under the pressure and blurt out the truth. Thankfully, he looks away and grabs two melonpan and gestures for you to follow him. Once they’re paid for, he guides you out to his car. “Get in.”

You do as you're told because, quite frankly, you’re too afraid to say no. He drives off and bites the corner of the plastic off the wrapper, then bites into the melonpan. The taste makes him groan, and you wonder if, beneath that tough criminal exterior, he’s a normal guy who likes the taste of good food.

“So,” he starts mid-bite, because obviously he lacks manners. “What exactly happened?”

“Like I said, they let me go.”

Dabi scoffs. “Bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

You huff. “I am telling the truth!”

He just laughs and shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t believe you.

Shigaraki doesn’t believe you when you tell him, either.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” he asks, glaring at you beneath thick blue hair. “They wouldn’t just let you go. Tell me what happened.”

“As I said-”

His hand drops to his gun.

“O-okay, okay, that’s not what happened…”

Shigaraki chuckles and moves his hand away from the gun. “Good girl.” He studies you. “They asked you to relay information to them, didn’t they?”

You start to wonder how he worked it out so quickly, but in all honesty, you’re not surprised. He’s probably more organised than your class notes.

He walks closer to you - so close that you can smell the overly-sweet aroma of his breath from the energy drink he downed when you walked in. “You’re going to feed the police incorrect information, do you understand? Because if you don’t…” His face contorts into a tormenting smirk. “I’ll break your kneecaps. Then, I’ll break your elbows. Once I’ve done that, I’ll put a bullet in that pretty head.” A bony hand caresses your cheek, brushing hair away from your face. “But not before I do the same to little Himiko.”

Your heart stops.

No.. No, not to Himiko.

Your sister’s smile pops into your mind and you can hear her laugh. Not your little sister.

“A-alright…” you mutter and clench your fists to hide your trembling. “I’ll do it.”

Shigaraki pats your cheek. “Good girl.” He moves away and waves his hand. “Take her home, Dabi.”

The journey home is so silent you think you’re going to suffocate on it. Yet, at the same time, there’s nothing you can bring yourself to say. Dabi doesn’t even play that shit music he had on yesterday.

When he pulls up outside your house, you both remain there, quiet, until he leans a little closer and his arm drapes over the back of the passenger seat. “I know this is frightening for you. Shigaraki can be overwhelming and intimidating and fucking sick and scary.” A heavy breath escapes from his nostrils and he reaches into your pocket, swiping your phone. You try to grab it back, but he holds it away and types something in. “There’s my number. I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

You look up at him with a frown as he hands back your phone. “Why?” you mutter. “We’re strangers, we don’t know each other.”

His eyes search your face as he chuckles, and you take the chance to do the same. Scars line his sharp jaw, although it’s not obvious we’re they’re from. His hair is dyed - you can tell by the hint of white at his roots. Well, it’s either that or he’s going grey early. His face is young, perhaps only older than you by a year or two. He’s handsome. Incredibly so. When you think of criminals, you think of rough-looking folk, but he is nothing of the sort. The bright blue eyes are incredibly charming, as is the smile on his lips.

The smile he forms because he notices you’re staring at him.

You look away, your cheeks turning pink. With a huff, you hold out your hand. “Phone.” When he gives you it, you type in your details, then shove it back into his hand. His fingers graze over yours, warm but calloused. The contact makes you suck in a breath, and you mentally scold yourself for reacting in such a way,

Dabi leans closer and his voice lowers in tone. “If you need anything, just text me, or call me. Anything.” He leans even closer and you think he’s-

Knock, knock, knock.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat as you snap towards the window.

Himiko glares as Dabi rolls down the window. “Oi, stop flirting with my sister.”

“H-he wasn’t-” you quickly say, but he just laughs.

“Aw, Toga… I’m just having fun.”

Himiko rolls her eyes and yanks the car door open, practically dragging you from it. “Goodbye, Dabi!” she says as she slams the car door shut. She doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both inside the house and she huffs, poking your warm cheek. “Don’t blush at his words. He’s a player.”

Maybe he is, but all you can think about for the rest of the day is the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leaned closer. All you can imagine is what might have happened if your sister hadn’t interrupted.

Lying in bed that night, you stare at his contact details. Maybe you should text him… Just to say thank you for driving you home, right? Your finger hovers over the screen.

Ping.

Remember, I said you can contact me for ANY reason. I don’t care what.

You roll your eyes and type back.

I know what you mean, you pervert.

You stare at the three dots that bounce on the screen whilst he types back. For some reason, you’re eager to see how he’ll respond to such name calling. Naturally, he lives up to it.

I look forward to receiving one of your late night texts, then, when you just can’t sleep because of the throbbing heat between your legs.

You pull a face at his vulgarity and set your phone down to close your eyes. But then… That throbbing heat between your legs disrupts your attempt to sleep.

You won’t text him. You won’t.

So, you don’t, and you fall asleep completely unsatisfied.

#dabi x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x hawks x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #i didnt proof read this skjdhfdkjshf #pls excuse any mistakes #i just wrote 3/5ths of this rn and i want it UP

72 notes · View notes