#Colossus oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peggyao3 · 6 months ago

Text

Kaleidoscope

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: In a fight for freedom or death against the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, his woman figures out how she feels about him, her poor devil wrapped in the skin of a beast.

WORD COUNT: 2,750

TAGS: Third person POV, AFAB she/her FMC, explicit sexual content, rough sex, PiV, Switch!Feyd, Switch!FMC, but mostly Dom!Feyd, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, blood and injury, pain kink, blood kink, extremely dubious consent, gory nasty smut, blood for lube, mutilation, very public sex, and they lived happily ever after

A/N: Happy FEYDUARY! 🖤 Pulling this one out of the archive (specifically the ao3) for the occasion.

I've been obsessed with trying to decode the Harkonnen language (even though there's just a snippet of it in the fic) and I've found this reddit post and especially this one extremely interesting. The user @/tharpi9145 on YouTube commented under this video that the Harkonnen arena chanting was translated in Chinese theaters and provided the translation, so here's where that's coming from in the fic.

The theme and some of the descriptions in this oneshot are heavily inspired by the RP I'm writing with my sweetest friend.

Reposted from Ao3 💕| Masterlist

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

"Ek te stroeng ge e deser xhakhing grul klaxhkseda de haun dau ek se en-Barun Feyd-Rautha!" ~ Our glorious, black sun welcomes you to these special festivities of our beloved na-Baron Feyd-Rautha's holy birthday! ~

The booming echo of boos and whistling from the crowd passes through her heart and soul as she stands poised at the center of the arena, a brutalist behemoth chiseled of coal-black concrete. With her hand wrapped around the chalky hilt of her double-ended spear, she lets the vibrations pass through her in waves, taking deep lungfuls of Giedi Prime's putrid air that gathers in the pit of the arena like a thick bog.

When the crowd begins to chant in Harkunnin, guided by the announcer's guttural timbre, she perceives the world as if through a filter.

sacrifice to House Harkonnen her mortal blood (give up her blood!) dedicate to House Harkonnen her faithful flesh (give up her flesh!) leave to herself the deadly fear (leave the fear!) leave to the mortals the endless fear (beckon to death!)

The halves of the oval doorway slide open, like a birth canal giving way to its hellish spawn, and Feyd-Rautha marches confidently into the triangular colossus. From the highest stand he is no bigger than a mote on the lens of the binoculars, yet his presence fills the entire arena, more god than man to the one million spectating fanatics.

What is she thinking, challenging their god of blood and rot? Everyone craves to see her fail, no one wishes for her to earn her freedom. No one understands how she could reject their idol who has chosen her - unworthy, unwilling thing - as his concubine.

A putrid breeze catches the fabric of Feyd's tunic as he saunters in a wide half-circle, like a snake drawing closer and closer, hypnotizing its prey with slow movements made of liquid. This is how the gladiators in the Empire of Roma on Old-Earth must have felt, she thinks, thrown into the ring with a beast to fight for life and death. Freedom or death, in her case. Feyd is the beast and she is the human. The only human, going by the fanatic crescendo of Harkonnen chanting.

"May my spear skewer you dead," she greets Feyd-Rautha when he stands before her, a smooth pillar of black and white, unfazed by the chanting and the radiation. The corner of his mouth twitches.

"And mine you." Feyd grins at the brief flicker of confusion as she glances at the weapons he holds so carefully. Blades, not spears.

The crescendo peaks, a beehive of frenetic anticipation, all eyes on who will launch the first attack.

She was never meant to win, she realizes the moment she lunges, soft sand shifting underfoot. The sand in the training pit is harder, more gravelly. Her balance feels off and Feyd knows it.

He playfully parries her attack, then the next and the next. The humor in his eyes is the worst thing, and the condescending gleam.

Months of hoping and training for her freedom are reduced to nothing and less than nothing within minutes. This is not the fair chance he promised her. All of their training together was a slight. The sweat, blood and tears she shed into the gravelly sand, those times when she scraped him bloody with her spear and made him laugh, made him praise her like he was truly impressed.

"You dishonorable dog!" She screams against the thick smog and the wailing background noise of the crowd. "You promised me a fair fight, you promised!"

Feyd's expression darkens momentarily, pouty lips turned downwards, a storm brewing in his eyes. A telltale muscle in his jaw twitches.

Yes, she's made him angry, good! Perfect!

Feyd's blades smack against her spear, a quick succession of tack, tack, tack. Then a thump as he aims for her fingers with the handle to shatter her bones. She dips backwards, thrusting the spear forwards at the same time. Feyd's shield prickles angrily, repelling her thrust.

Back into defense, quick, tack, thump, sksshhh!

The longer of the kukris scrapes unpleasantly against the spear shaft. She gyrates in a tight circle, piercing Feyd's shield with the lower end of the shaft pressed against his neck. She ushers him with her in a circular orbit until he ducks under the spear and aims for her thighs, slowing his attack just in time to penetrate the shield. Her trousers tear and blood hotly soaks the fabric. It's a shallow cut. He could have sliced her femoral artery.

"Why are you holding back, you motherless bastard? Kill me now!"

Disbelief slackens Feyd-Rautha's features as he takes a step back, blades dangling from his hands. He looks surreal in the glaring light, stripped of color, stripped of the soft hues that only show themselves in the artificial light of the glow orbs in her room. She is mad for provoking him.

The unbeaten gladiator roars - the birthday boy - he lunges and slams down, not with the blades but with the handles. With brutal force and precision, they hit the center of the spear's shaft, accomplishing the impossible.

A hairline fracture springs over the shaft, Sardaukar craftsmanship damaged by the ferocity of one apoplectic Harkonnen who laughs boyishly at her expression. Abusing her surprise (has her weapon been sabotaged?!), he tackles her to the ground.

Dust puffs up, momentarily obscuring her vision. Instinctively, she yanks up the spear, pressing it through Feyd's shield, shaft against his throat.

He sits on her thighs, blades sinking through her shield to kiss her sternum, tickling without killing. The pressure against his throat draws terrible grunting and choking noises from the na-Baron who laughs open-mouthed, spit dribbling off his teeth, an inky rivulet that penetrates her shield and slips wetly over her bare clavicles. She fights to shove him off with the full force of two hands.

The hairline fracture in the spear begins to branch out, crack by tiny crack. She stares awestruck and with horror as Feyd-Rautha's face turns grey, teeth bared grotesquely as he groans and salivates and laughs like a boy.

Aaaaaa-ooooohh!

The crowd bellows as the spear splinters right in the middle and Feyd's throat bursts through, marred by a fat bruise that stretches black and ugly just below his Adam's apple. His voice is hoarse and barely recognizable when his body pushes into her shield, chests coming flush, and his drooling mouth finds her neck, sucking a bruise as his breath rattles in his throat. His blade-wielding fists push harmlessly into the sand.

"Anything you'd like to feed the dishonorable dog?"

"I want you to choke on sand and die! I want you to- Ahhh!"

Feyd wrenches the spear halves out of her hands and throws them away. She screams into his laughing visage as he pins her to the sand, hikes up her tunic and tears off her shield generator, then slashes through the front of her pants.

When he reaches down to unclasp the armor plate that shields his crotch, she lunges and punches him in the guts, punches him again, only waiting for the crotch plate to come off so she can punch him there, but Feyd slices her hand with a flash of white metal. The lacerating pain momentarily knocks the breath out of her lungs and she falls back, clutching the hand to her chest, howling.

Gazing up, she is looking into a kaleidoscope of madness, a writhing mass of Harkonnens all around, an ensemble for a nightmare and she is the involuntary harlequin.

The heat of the black sun brings a second pulse against the inside of her eyeballs and she feebly lifts her lacerated hand, surprised to see that all of her fingers are still attached, though her middle and index finger stand unnaturally far apart, separated by a glistening, weeping gash diagonally through her palm.

A pale, writhing shape behind her hand catches her attention and Feyd-Rautha's disfigured voice penetrates her brain fog. "You thought you could ever make it off my planet, whore?" His eyes gleam with mania, bleached by the black sun. "Out of my palace, out of my arms, unless I allowed it?!"

His shield is gone, his blades lie next to him in the sand. This is his victor's feast. The crotch plate is gone too and he cuts through more of her trousers and underwear. Groaning, she feels for the spears or knives, hissing when sand grates against her injury.

The wailing crowd convulses like one entity, a parasitic hive mind that undulates back and forth, a sea of black and white.

(give up her flesh!) (give up her flesh!) (give up her flesh!)

She screams when Feyd's hand wraps around her thigh where he cut her earlier, squeezing and prodding until it comes away coated in blood. The hot liquid touches between her thighs, spread over her cunt by calloused fingers that even find the mercy in them to sink into her once, twice, lubricating her walls with her own blood.

Compared to the searing pain in her cut flesh, the ache of his blunt cock sinking into her is dull, almost comforting in its familiarity. How many times has he fucked her by now? It must have been hundreds. Humiliated in front of a million Harkonnens, this still isn't the worst way he's ever fucked her.

The thought makes her giggle and Feyd looks smitten when he crawls over her, fucking her with long, hard strokes. His eyes keep drifting to her lacerated palm, biting his lip at the sight of blood shed on his holy birthday. He supports his weight on his forearms, fingertips tickling her neck.

"Feyd…" she slurs and Feyd feels compelled to lean further down, anticipation on his features and a noticeable swell of his chest.

"I hate you."

Feyd's jaws twitch, serpent eyes becoming pinpricks while his hips roughly slam into her cunt. His hand wraps around her throat, but then he howls, open mouth turned to the sun, cursing, panting, eyes squinted. His own knife in her hand has slashed through his bicep, deep, deep, deep.

Feyd is unbalanced and she knocks him over. He hits his tailbone on the ground, dust billowing all over them. His cock is still buried in her cunt which has begun to warm up to him, offering slick to ease the glide of the thickly veined, velvety flesh.

She will give the Harkonnens something to boo at.

"Stay back!" Feyd laughs at the prowling picadors.

He is paralyzed by arousal, hips bucking on their own accord as she pins his arm down by the crook of the elbow and hacks the blade into the cut. Pieces of blood and gore splatter over his pale flesh and the armor plate covering his shoulder. His free hand clutches her hip, mind split between pleasure and agony, gripping her flesh to rut into her hard and fast, so he doesn't throw up into the sand.

There is a nauseating crack, hack, cchhrrkkk and Feyd bawls until her bloody hands come up to cover his mouth, knife victoriously planted into the sand. How is she covering his mouth with both hands when she's still holding down his arm? Feyd glances to the side and sees his severed arm being snatched away by a picador's hook.

The horned man-creature sprints away quickly, slipping into the bowels of the arena colossus. If the nerves are preserved, the arm can be reattached later.

"Will you be a good boy now and let me go?" She growls, drawing the attention of black and white glassy eyes back to her. Her pelvis rolls greedily against his. Scratchy sand is trapped between their bloody, sweaty bodies.

Feyd laughs through the pain, laughs and laughs and laughs to mask the raging insanity because his woman still hasn't understood that she will die on Giedi Prime one day and nowhere else. His arm stump twitches against the ground.

"I'm, haha, never a good boy, hnnng-hah!"

"Hah! Yes, that I know!" She blurts out, voice high-pitched. The tears in her eyes may be from laughter as well. She gives a half-assed punch to Feyd's chest. "Fine, then I'll have to make do with a filthy mutt."

Feyd nods, yes, yes, he will be her filthy mutt and it doesn't matter if she wants him or not, if she hates him or not, it is not important, no, it is not important.

"Release me or I'll kill you!" She reaches for the blade again, but Feyd's knee jerks up, slamming into her ribs so she is knocked to the side. Feyd scrambles, crawling on top of her. They're only connected by his plump cock head that is still squished by her wet hole. Feyd's vision prickles with black dots and he sways, trying to catch his weight on the phantom arm that he swears is still there.

He falls down on the stump, howling, howling, like a beast in a bear trap, fighting against unconsciousness. He is the unbeaten gladiator - unbeaten! The ghost of a caring touch prickles against his ribs, stabilizing him.

With his intact forearm pressed against her throat, he throttles her like she did to him with her spear earlier, except that his veined forearm will never shatter, unless she cuts it off too.

She regrets not accepting the contacts that would protect her eyes from radiation. She had been scared of getting sand all over them, but now she wants nothing more than for the burn to stop and the throb-throb-throb behind her eyeballs that somehow matches the drag of Feyd's cock against her walls and the pulse in her slashed hand.

"Why don't you close your eyes, my darling, pretend we're in our bedroom?"

She does close her eyes and the cacophony of chanting voices turns into a warped melody, like wind tearing on leaves and whistling through porous rocks.

Humm, hummm, hummmm.

In this waking nightmare, the vision of her home world is swallowed by the black sun, a ravenous maw in the good universe. She lightly gasps when she feels hot lips against her neck and hot blood dripping on her chest.

She wraps her arms around his neck, fingers tearing on the shoulder plate over the stump until it comes off. Softly, she caresses his shoulder while the rutting of his hips is anything but soft. Her legs wrap around his waist because at least he is familiar, an island in the sea of faceless, chanting monsters.

This is what happens when one listens to the voice of the devil. It crawls into the soul and rots you from the inside.

And suddenly the beast you've pitted yourself against is no longer a beast but a man and you're friends with the devil. The thought strikes her and she begins to laugh while tears track down her cheeks. Her poor devil has a severe bruise on his neck and she mustn't think about the arm — Oh, her poor devil!

Her laughter drives Feyd over the edge, pain, pleasure and humiliation, and he spills his rot inside her. Thick, lazy pulses of his cock that she finds oddly comforting. Her toes curl inside her boots and her pelvis happily grinds against Feyd's while the warmth of his seed sinks into her core.

Feyd's breath is heavy and strained when he shuffles away from her and stands, gritting his teeth. He is imposing even though a part of him is missing. The glaring light curls around his soft cheeks and full lips and touches his anemic eyes.

She wants to lie here just a little while longer, the sand is so nice and warm, but Feyd's hand cruelly wraps around her biceps and he drags her across the sand. She calls his name but he keeps marching, fueled by the mad cacophony of chanting and stomping. The hive mind salutes. Sand whirls up under his boots and dusts her face. Her shoulder joint screams in agony.

This was never a battle for death or freedom, it was death or rot.

(Flesh!) (Flesh!) (Flesh!)

They probably don't care whose flesh was given.

Feyd-Rautha maintains his posture for show, internally trembling from blood loss, but the people only see the inhuman strength of their idol, virile and unfaltering despite sacrificing an arm. Still unbeaten.

A black trail of seed and blood stains the white sand where the na-Baron walks and pulls his spoils of battle through the oval door, back into the womb of the concrete behemoth.

FEYD TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #dune fanfiction #dune part two #dune part 2 #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader

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lis-likes-fics · 2 years ago

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A Christmas Movie

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x spider!Reader Word Count: 5.4k exactly Kink: Size Kink Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, love vomits, Miguel speaking Spanish… A/N: This is a few hours late but I literally finished it five minutes ago. Miguel describes the reader as tiny a lot, but it is only meant in comparison to him, not as a physical description of the reader. Thank you! Also A/N: This can be read as a sequel to this oneshot, but can also be read as a standalone. Thank you and enjoy!

“Is this necessary?”

You rub your side as you lay on the floor, an ache in your muscles as you get thrown to the hard floor again. Looking up at him, you move to stand. “Yes.”

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest, his gray hoodie loose enough not to allow you the pleasure of seeing his muscles bulging through the material. “Why?” he asks, waiting patiently for you to recover before he advances again.

You stretch your arms over your head, feeling your back pop with a heavy sigh. “Well, you saw my attempt just then. You threw me like a fucking ragdoll.”

He shrugs. “Are you ready?”

You sigh, shifting back into your starting stance.

“Firmer stance. I shouldn't be able to move you.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Of course you should. Have you seen yourself? You're huge…in more ways than one.” You smirk at him.

He just rolls his own eyes in return. “It should be harder to push you. If I can use my finger to make you fall, your stance is flimsy.”

“You can use your finger to make me fall apart any day.”

He ignores you. He walks over to you, ignoring your remarks as he fixes your stance. He nudges one leg further from the other, widening your feet before pressing down on your shoulders to lower you slightly. He shoves you, you stay standing.

“Better. Do that,” he says.

“You're so grumpy,” you mumble.

A chill rushes up your spine and your right cheek flutters with heat. Ducking, you narrowly miss Miguel's fist to your face. “Dude, what the fu–!”

You backflip, landing in a crouch as he went for another attack, this time aimed at your feet. “Always be on guard. I could have knocked you out,” he instructs, still coming toward you.

His webs shoot toward you, and you act quickly as you jump up once again. You flip before planting your feet off a wall and jumping off just as fast to fly over his head. Another web threatens to wrap around your body, you block it with your own web.

Miguel bounds after you. When you land, you shoot your webs at him one right after the other. He dodges them all, nearing you like a colossus. When he's close enough, you flip back again and spring off your hands. Your foot almost makes contact with his face, but he turns just in time to step out of the way, grabbing you midair and throwing you away.

You're about to fly into a wall when you manage to change your position enough to bounce off of it. He isn't fast enough to catch you this time. You hook your leg around his neck and manage to wrap them both there quickly. You squeeze your thighs tight around him. He reaches up to grab you, and you web his face to blind him.

Miguel's hands grip your body, but you tighten your legs around him and lean back with as much force as you can muster. You shoot webs to the floor, gripping them tight to add some strength as you manage to flip him forward. He lands hard on the floor, and you land in a perfect crouch.

He groans at the impact, moving to rip the webs from his face quickly to an attempt to stay on the attack. But while he's distracted, you web his hands to his face and web his foot to the floor, shooting a few extra for good measure.

He rips the webs on his hands almost too easily, breaking free from the restraints. In one swipe, his foot is free. He comes for you immediately, pouncing at a surprising speed.

You roll onto your back, propping your knees to your chest. You manage to maneuver him so he flies past you. He rolls to avoid another hard hit to the floor.

The chill in your spine is just a second too late. His webs shoot at you. You lose your balance as you try to stand, and you fall back in the middle of turning to face him. In the next second, he's on top of you, a hand around your throat and your hands pinned above your head.

His face is inches from your own, his breath heavy and his eyes are nearly glowing red with exertion. “What were you waiting for?” His voice is insistent and rough, high on adrenaline.

A shiver blossoms through you, a rush of pleasantness prickling your skin. Your breath is shallow and quick. As you stare up at him, wide-eyed and also on an adrenaline rush, you smirk. “Do we always end up like this?”

He tilts his head, confusion finding its way to his face. Then he remembers. You're in the training hall, this is just practice, and you're you.

He rolls his eyes, and the adrenaline seems to fade. He doesn't get up. “You're smaller than me, which makes you faster. You can't let down your guard, and you can't slow down for any reason.”

You huff. “Okay, but that kick thing was impressive.”

He stares at you, debating. Then he shrugs, “Wasn't bad.”

Again, you roll your eyes. “Get off me. You're heavy.”

He does, moving to stand and give you room to do the same. “Okay,” you stretch. “Let's go again.”

“No. Go home.”

You straighten your spine immediately, surprise taking your face. “What? No!”

He peels his hoodie off, leaving his top bare as he walks over to the shelf of towels. “Yes. Go.”

You run over to him, blocking his way. “We don't have to train, you know. We could…” You pause to think, clapping when you have it. “We could watch the surveillance systems! I love the surveillance systems!”

He raises a brow, walking past you. You walk with him. “You hate the surveillance systems.”

You pause. “I do hate them. But you'll be there anyway.”

He stops, looking down at you, unamused. He brings his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Go home,” he says, looking at you now. “It’s Christmas. You should be…” he thinks for a moment, “out spending time with friends. Not here…looking at surveillance with me.”

You shrug. “Okay, then we can do something else together.”

“Isn’t there some Christmas party for you to go to?” He starts walking. You follow at his side, shrugging again as you nod your head.

“Hobie’s throwing one in his dimension, yeah,” you mumble. “But I’m not there. I’m here.”

He stops again, turning his full body to face you with a raised brow. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just go home?”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly as your gaze slips from his. You sigh, letting the silence stretch a moment too long as you come to terms with saying it. “I have no one waiting for me at home.” Miguel’s stare softens, becoming a little more sympathetic as he processes your words. “And, like you said, it’s Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

He looks at you again. With a sigh, he shakes his head gently. “You’re too nice to me.”

You smile, accepting his defeat. “I know. Go get your shower. I’ll see you after.”

One day, he'll tell you.

Miguel’s shirt swallows you whole as you pull it over your head. It’s huge and gray, and it hangs at your knees , sagging off your shoulder. Your fuzzy socks are pulled up to your mid-leg, silencing your steps as you walk to the side table.

Miguel’s room in HQ is small, almost like a mediocre hotel room—the tiny room with a single bed and drawer (minus the TV) that nearly takes up the whole space, a tiny closet, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny living room with an okay-sofa and a TV. He has a small area for a coffee maker, a fridge, a cabinet, and a microwave, but that’s as much of a kitchen he has. A mediocre hotel room. He has a house, but he doesn’t go there often.

He comes out of the bathroom, steam rising from his shoulders as his white towel hangs low on his waist, He’s still dripping with water, tiny droplets from strands of hair, little tears streaming down his skin. He’s beautiful. You look away from him.

You pick up two DVDs from the side table, turning the cases over in your hands to examine the front. “Okay, so I got these from Movie-Verse.”

“Movie-Verse,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as his broad body stands in front of his dresser. He opens the third drawer and grabs the first pair of shorts he sees.

“Yeah, the movie store next to the cafeteria. Has a ton of movies from all the ‘verses.” You wave a hand dismissively, setting one of the cases down and taking the other in both hands. “Anyway, I picked this up. It’s called The Nightmare Before Christmas by some guy named Tim Burton.” You use a mysterious voice when you say the title, stretching the drama. “I think it would be cool.”

He finishes patting dry the water from his skin, tossing the towel onto the bed to pull his shorts on. “Sounds like a Halloween movie.” His tone is flat. He seems almost bored, his face dropped into that grumpy expression he’s taken on.

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “but it says Christmas on it. Look.”

You toss the case to him. He catches it in one hand effortlessly, his gaze fixed on the drawer he was closing. He examines the front. “There’s a skeleton on it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you matter-of-factly. “Put it in. We’re watching it.” He does as he’s told. You go to his little kitchenette and pull open the fridge. “Do you like eggnog?”

He’s retrieved his towel once more, rubbing it over his wet hair. His muscles flex with every little movement. Part of you wants to make a sly comment, but you refrain.

“No.”

“Yeah. Me, neither,” you hum. You close the fridge, pulling open the cabinet to retrieve two glasses he has stowed away (one that had already been in his cabinet and one you’d put there for yourself months ago). “I just got wine and hot cocoa.”

He practically grunts as a reply. He sounds uninterested, unimpressed. Your pep sours, and you feel yourself physically deflate as you try and fail to brush off his seeming apathy. You set the glasses down with a gentle click and fidget with the fabric of the oversized shirt.

Your voice is small when you speak, almost embarrassed. “Do you want me to leave?”

He looks up at you then, directing his attention. His brows furrow as he holds the remote in his hand, which dwarfs the “tiny” device. “What?”

You shuffle from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. “I can go if you want… Hobie has that Christmas party, like I said, and… I can just go there if you don’t want me here.” The last part comes out choppy, your lips unwilling to form the words, your mouth reluctant to speak it.

There’s a long pause as he stares at you. His furrowed brows soften, and he takes in the sight of you. You’re wearing his shirt, and it looks huge on you. He can see the outline of your soft panties through the material of it. You’ve got on fuzzy socks, long ones that cover most of your leg and your hair is set free.

You look shy. It’s something he doesn’t see often. You relish in dirty jokes and confident suggestiveness. You’re sarcastic, and you thrive on the sass you hand to him. Even during the times where he has your body in his hands, off on another rendezvous to release stress—his and yours—you still hold that glint of mischief and wit.

You look sad. You look sad and small, and he hates himself for making you look that way.

Miguel’s shoulders fall. He turns his body to face you, taking naturally large steps to stand in front of you. You have to crane your neck just to look up at him, but your disheartedness only allows you to reach his chest before giving up.

He raises a hand to your chin and lifts it just a little more so you can see his face, which he tilts down this time to better view you. He sighs and speaks softly, earnestly. “I want you here.”

You blink once, searching his face as your gaze shifts between his plump lips and his russet brown eyes. “Are you sure?”

He leans forward slowly, giving you time (partially because it’s quite the journey) before gently pressing his lips to yours. It’s far too gentle and far too sweet, but you relish it anyway. They’re gone just as quickly as they came as he pulls away just enough to break the kiss.

“I’m sure,” he says.It almost sounds pleading when he says, “Stay.”

His eyes examine your face for another couple of seconds before he steps away from you, lets his hands fall back down to his side. “I have a blanket you can use.”

You breathe a tiny chuckle out of your nose, effectively reassured by his warm and gentle plea. “Is it big?” you smile, considering his offer.

He shrugs a shoulder, beginning to turn on his heel when he shoots a rare smile at you over that same shoulder. “For you.”

It makes you giddy, your courage slowly returning. “I’m not that small.”

His back turned to you, he continues. “You’re right. You’re smaller.”

You roll your eyes at him, turning toward the counter again. You unscrew the wine bottle to begin pouring. You shake your head as you chuckle a little. “Oh, fuck off.”

He opens his tiny closet and pulls out a cream colored blanket (basically a thin duvet). He picks the remote up again, sitting on the sofa with his legs spread wide. He makes the couch look tiny. “You look even smaller in that. Mujer pequeña.”

You move into a pose, pretending to be sexy. “You like?” You wink comically at him.

He licks his bottom lip. “Are you going to sit?”he asks, avoiding the question.

You giggle to yourself, pouring the dark wine. “You love.” You carry the glasses to the sofa.

He's already started the movie, not that you mind. The music starts, the billowing of wind whistling in the background to set a spooky tone.

“The first song is literally saying it's Halloween,” he comments, lifting his hand from his lap, your feet kicking up and resting on his lap as you pass him his glass. He takes it and spreads open the blanket.

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, “you make me sick.”

He lifts the glass to his lips. “You chose it.” He takes a sip from his glass, resting his hand on your ankle as his thumb strokes the skin over it.

You both sit and watch the movie in silence. You tuck the blanket closer. You sip tentatively at your cup as you direct your gaze at the screen. You miss the way Miguel's eyes linger on you, his gaze tracing the features of your face: the length of your nose, the curve of your lips. He memorizes the details of your face before he realizes he's been staring too long. He looks away.

Another little while passes of being hyperaware of you before he glances over again, noticing your glass go to your lips as you take a sip. He sighs silently. “Come here.”

You look at him, humming. He waves his hand invitingly, You move the blanket, setting your glass on the table. You sit next to him, snuggling into his side. He reaches over your body as his hand lands on your hip.

Miguel lifts you, pulling your body over his lap to straddle him. Your hands fall to his shoulders. He shows his affection the only way he knows how. He kisses you.

You hum lightly, pulling away from his lips and dipping your head, looking down at his chest instead of his eyes. You smile to cover your discontent as you lower your hands to his waist. “Is this why you wanted me to stay?”

His knuckles trace your cheek. “I want you to stay because, surprisingly, I enjoy your company,” he jokes.

You chuckle half-heartedly. “I'm like that.”

There's more quiet in the next pause as his eyes look over your face. “Why did you want to stay so bad?”

You look at him, biting your lower lip. “I told you.”

He rolls his eyes, chuckling lightly as his hands stroke your thighs, over the curve of your ass. “Yeah, ‘no one should be alone on Christmas’. But, like you said, Hobie’s got his party. You have plenty of friends there.” He glances over your face. “Why aren't you?”

You lick your lip, turning your head away. Another song plays quietly in the background, the sound of sleigh bells and horns and clarinets creating a holiday symphony behind you. You wanna gloat. “Ha, I was right. It is a Christmas movie.”

You sigh gently, the tips of your ears hot and the pit of your stomach fluttering.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

He takes a breath in, inclining his head just a bit as he considers your response. His eyes flutter as he stares at your face, seemingly entranced. You look back at him, unflinching.

“You're too nice to me.”

You smile. “I know.”

“You deserve better than me.”

Your eyes flutter at that and your heart stops beating for half a second. You're warm, and you laugh as you speak, “What's that mean?”

He glances away as he sighs, looking back at you with an expression that's almost pained. His heart is heavy in his chest, and he holds his breath a little when you lift your hands back to his shoulders.

“Don't make me say it,” he almost whispers, his eyes pleading. “Please don't make me say it.”

You hesitate, staring at him as your heart hammers against your chest. Your breath is thin. “Say what?”

“Corazón… I–” he breathes in, his voice reluctant, “–haven't said this in a long time.”

You move your hands from his shoulders to cup his face, making him look at you and taking away his option to turn the other way. If he's going to say it, you need to hear it. You need to be sure. “Said what, Miguel?”

He breathes, staring into your eyes and softening.

Tonight, he'll tell you.

“I'm in love with you.”

Silence strikes the room. The movie plays in the background, long forgotten in both your minds as the quiet and the tension drones on. Your skin prickles, your brain is fuzzy, your mouth is slightly agape.

Miguel stares at you, you do not blink. You stare at Miguel, he does not blink. The silence stretches. He's desperate.

“Please say something.”

“I love you.”

His heart pounds at the confession, but he doesn't believe it. This kind of thing doesn't happen. “N–”

“No. I love you, Miguel,” you promise, leaning closer to his face and holding him a little tighter. “I'm in love with you.”

His mouth crashes down upon yours, a clash of lips and teeth and tenderness and insistence. You moan lightly into his mouth, standing on your knees just enough to get some height on him as you kiss him back just as eagerly as he. Fire burns in your belly, in your face, licking at your flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair and fuel it.

He begins to turn you to lay you on the couch. You press on his chest, encouraging him back so he's on his own instead. His hands fall to your thighs as you straddle his waist, his shorts and your panties the only thing separating the two of you. You bend down against his body to continue kissing him with everything you have.

Miguel whispers your name against your lips, moreso when your hips grind against him. His hands smooth along your skin, dipping under his huge shirt on you to feel your waist with his gentle but insistent touch. Your hands roam his chest, feeling his soft skin over his hard muscles, enchanted by the way he feels under you. He relishes in your touch, hypnotized.

“Your hands are so small,” he mutters, his fingers lightly digging into your sides.

You chuckle lightly, losing your breath as you speak. “You’re just big.”

He smiles against your lips, his hands on your hips moving you slowly up and down on top of him. But, like you said, he’s big. Your hips grind over his belly, but the movement alone is enough to make you moan. You sigh heavily against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak as your brows knit together.

“Miguel,” you breathe. “I need you.”

He nods, reaching a hand to the back of your head to encourage you into another kiss. “I know, baby, I know,” he whispers. He opens his eyes to see you, and he loses his breath at the sight of you: disheveled with desire for him. You open your eyes to look at him, and he can see the way you gaze at him, like he’s everything to you.

His hand slips from your waist, down the length of your body until he’s dipping it between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as you moan at the way his fingers graze the thin fabric covering your pussy. Your whole body shudders at the feeling, and he just watches you react to him.

He rubs his finger teasingly over you, feeling as you slowly become more and more wet as he does. You grind your hips into his hand, eager to feel him. “You want my fingers in you, baby?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You want ‘em to stretch out this little pussy for my cock?”

“Please,” you mewl.

He's weak as he dips his finger underneath your panties and slips it past your folds, working it into you as he watches your lips part at the sensation. You grind against his hand, seeking more of him as his thick finger slowly moves in and out of your warmth. When you're slicked up enough, he slips another one inside. And then a third.

His fingers thrust in and out of you, slowly building in speed as he seeks out your delicious moans, the way your eyes flutter and your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

“So pretty,” he mutters. “Your little moans sound so pretty, querida. I love them.”

You breathe soundly, squeezing around his thick fingers as he curls them inside of you. “Fuck, Miguel,” you moan. “Mm, keep going.”

He does, spreading you open with his fingers as he gets you nice and slick for him. His cock is painfully hard now, restrained by his shorts as it tents them. He feels like he'll explode just watching you. As you continue to grind your hips down on his hand, he shifts his thumb over your clit and begins to rub circles over it. “Mírate. See how beautiful you are, mi pequeña cosa?”

Your breath blows heavily through parted lips. His words play over and over in your head. “I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you.” You moan and hold the sides of his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks as the pleasure rises within you.

“‘M gonna cum,” you shudder, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

He curls his fingers some more, massaging them inside of you against that spongy spot he knows you adore. “Cum for me, chiquita.”

You do, mouth parting and eyes squeezing as the wave of pleasure washes over you. He feels you tighten and untighten around his fingers, encouraging your spasms by pumping them through it. You moan his name, slowly coming down from the pleasure as your hips jerk at the feeling of his fingers.

He pulls them out of you, bringing you down into another kiss as his lips slide against yours. “You did so good for me,” he sighs, leaning into you as you hum against him.

You pull at his shorts, pushing them down his thick thighs to get them off him. He actually helps you, kicking them off and leaving him bare as you continue to straddle him with his shirt draping low on your body.

You go to take it off, but he stops you, his hand on yours. “No,” he says. “You look perfect in it.”

He set his hands on your hips once more, raising you to hover over his cock. He stops, waiting for you. You want to kiss him again, biting your lip roughly as you whisper. “Please.” You stroke his face, “I need you.”

He’s weak. He can do nothing but comply as he lines you up with him, letting you down just enough to squeeze the head of him inside you. You moan, closing your eyes at the feeling as he holds you steady with a grunt. It’s you who lets him sink deeper inside, grinding your hips against his cock as you make him lower you.

He stretches you out, a delicious stretch you could never grow used to as you moan all the way down. When he’s buried to the hilt with you sitting properly above him, he groans. “Fuck, I love this little pussy,” he grunts. “You always take me so well.”

You huff, catching your breath as you roll your hips slightly, shuddering at the pleasure. “So big,” you mutter, gripping his hips as you give yourself another moment to get used to his size before rolling your hips again. The feeling is electric, sets off a deep hunger in your belly that has you grinding down on him so desperately.

“You like that?” he breathes. “‘Course you do. My tiny girl loves it when I stretch her out like this.”

You roll your hips over him, moaning as his cock presses deep inside of you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, feeling your waist as he helps you grind down on him. Your rhythm is slow and measured, feeling everything. Every little roll, every little squeeze, every little ridge of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you moan again, relishing in him.

He smiles, continuing to watch as you fall apart on top of him. You feel him sit up, one of his hands wrapping tightly around your waist. You open your eyes to look at him, whimpering when he slips his cock out of you.

“Shh,” he says, flipping you onto your back as his massive body towers over you, his size that of a predator but the gentleness of his touch and the care in his eyes that of a man who loves a woman. “I’m gonna take care of you, mi corazón.”

His eyes stay glued to yours when he thrusts back in. Both your moans rumble in your throats as you watch each other. He rocks his hips back and forth inside you, thrusting so deep and pulling out so far before doing it all over again.

He holds onto your tight as he fills you with his cock, so wrapped up in you as you moan and squeeze around him. The pace, still slow, picks up as he thrusts deep within you, grinding against the deepest part of you with a groan in the back of his throat.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you bury your face in his chest. “Fuck, that’s good,” you whisper.

He manages to kiss your forehead, his hand slipping underneath you to encourage his steady rhythm as you continue to clench. His other hand finds your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he builds you up for another orgasm.

You tense, your walls fluttering around him at the feeling of his thumb on your clit. He grunts at the feeling of it, ready to fall apart as he watches you. “I love you, mi amor.” You shudder at the words. “I love your little body. I love your little smile. I love your little eyes. I love your stupid little jokes and the way…the way you care about me too much.”

You cradle his face in your hands, melting at his confessions. “I love you,” he says again, his voice spent and his breath speeding up as you squeeze around his cock and moan his name like a spell.

“Miguel, I…” you moan, the pleasure building into a knot in your stomach as you get ready to explode. You breathe in and you keep breathing in as he presses a little harder on your clit, circles a little harder as you clench him so tight.

Your eyes shut and your lips part as you come, moaning loudly as the ecstasy washes over you like a crashing wave. You roll your hips up into the pleasure, whimpering when he presses himself as deeply inside of you as he can go, grinding and intensifying every little feeling.

Miguel almost collapses on top of you when he cums, dropping his head down and grunting with a heavy breath as he spills inside of you, nearly fucking into you as he does. He moans something under his breath, all his muscles tensing as he keeps pumping his cock into you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

It’s a while before you both come down, catching your breaths as the pleasure wanes and leaves a pleasant buzz in your bones. He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He sits up to pull some of his weight off you, though you keep him down by his waist to feel his body still looming over you. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, your heavy eyelids fluttering open.

“Fuck,” you sigh, looking up at him with a sticky smile. You readjust yourself so you can see his face better, taking it in your hands and pulling him down to kiss his lips. The kiss is soft, a gentle embrace as you take your time to pour your care into it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back at him, kissing him again and then whispering it once more. He smiles. It’s a slow and small smile that spreads over his lips. For a moment, he forgets about all the fears and pains and dangers of love and just thinks about you. How much he loves you. He kisses you again.

“And I was fuckin’ right,” you smile, a gentle chuckle in your chest.

He hums. “About?”

“It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you were talking about. It’s just then when he remembers the movie still playing in the background, another slow song in the background from the one girl that was meant to be a play on Frankenstein’s monster. He doesn’t remember her name, he wasn’t paying much attention.

He laughs. It isn’t a small laugh either. He throws his head and closes his eyes as a loud, booming laugh erupts from his chest and fills the room. It’s so genuine and so electric, you can’t help your own as you join his excitement.

You both laugh for a while, calming down enough for him to kiss you again and say, “You are right.” He takes a breath, staring down at you with a wide smile. “It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

You giggle again, sighing deeply as you pull his weight down on top of you (though he still holds most of it to keep from crushing your tiny body). You hum, speaking in a quiet whisper. “I love you.”

Miguel wraps you in his arms and turns you both around so you’re laying on top of him. He pulls the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor and spreads it over your body, slipping his hand under your shirt so he touches your bare back.

“Merry Christmas,” he mutters, letting out a slow breath. “I love you.”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm Tag yourself here…

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

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the6thpaladinofvoltron · 5 months ago

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Please Stay-OoT Link x Sheik Oneshot

"Do you think Sheik will be there again?"

Link nodded in response to Navi's question. Of course, Sheik would be waiting for them at the Spirit Temple.

Sheik had appeared at every Temple following their first meeting at the Temple of Time. Show up, perform a song together, then Sheik would disappear.

And Link... didn't really like that. From the first moment, and he didn't know why, he felt like he knew Sheik, he trusted her, and he felt comforted by her presence in this harsh adult world. It was safe to say he was becoming infatuated with the mysterious warrior.

And said mysterious warrior jumped down from the stone arch she was waiting atop of.

"Past, present, future... The Master Sword is a ship with which you can sail through time's river... The port for that ship is the Temple of Time. To restore the Desert Colossus and enter the Spirit Temple, you must travel back through time's flow."

Ergo, both Child Link and Adult Link would have to conquer the temple.

Sheik takes out her harp, "Listen to the Requiem of Spirit... This melody will lead a child back to the desert." and plucks out a tune.

Link takes out his Ocarina and echoes the melody perfectly. Together they once again create a beautiful symphony that floats away on the wind.

"Link... It has been wonderful to follow you on your journey, a journey that will soon reach its end."

Link takes a step closer and Sheik takes a step backward.

"I shall see you again."

But to her complete shock, Link reached out and grabbed her hand before she could disappear again.

"Link, what are you doing?" Navi asked, confused by her friend's behavior.

Link opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out, but his body language and facial expression were clear to read. He was asking Sheik to stay. He didn't want her to disappear again.

"Link, I... I'm sorry." Sheik apologized. "I wish I could, but I can't stay with you. I have to leave for a very important reason that will become clear with time."

The brave Hero of Time more so resembled a sad puppy at this point.

Sheik moves even closer and gives Link a comforting hug, which he immediately returns.

"I will see you again. I promise I will explain everything once you have conquered the Spirit Temple and returned to the Temple of Time."

Link had to let her go, and he watched Sheik back away and disappear into the oncoming sandstorm.

"Wow, Link, I've never seen you behave like that before." Navi chimes. "This Sheik lady must be really important to you."

She is... More than he could ever say.

#inner thoughts #art #fanfiction prompts #oneshot #legend of zelda #tloz #loz oot #ocarina of time #oot link #oot sheik #link x sheik

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yennefer-of-vengerbergs · 7 months ago

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Writing Year in Review 2024

Thank you for the tag @andromedaancunin❤️

No pressure tags: @saucy-scribbler @judasiskariot

▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️

Words Posted: 38,270

Additional Words Written: 11,458

Grand Total of Words: 49,728

Fandoms: Baldur's Gate 3

Highest Kudos: 41 for Reflection

Highest Hit Oneshot: Reflection, with 712 hits

New Things I Tried: writing smut (nevermind that I decided to try that out for the first fic I wrote after more than 10 years of not writing😆but I did get possessed by the idea of Astarion and Syanna giving Bhaal the proverbial middle finger on an altar for him so...😆)

Fic I Spent the Most Time On: Elven Storm, simply because it is multi-chapter, while everything else I wrote was a one shot XD

Fic I Spent the Least Amount of Time On: I think it was either Reflection or "Let me take care of you" (looking back on them, I think they're also my least favorite fics of mine, they're among my first ones and they just feel really awkward to me now 😬)

Favorite Thing I Wrote: Elven Storm, with Masquerade and Elixir of the Colossus, if we're talking one shots 😁

Favorite Thing(s) I Read: I went with books in a previous tag, so for fanfic, let's go with Blood/Lust 😁(I love me some Astarion/The Dark Urge 😁)

Writing Goals for 2025: I'd love to finish Elven Storm this year 😁 Other than that, I want to improve my writing more and work on being more organized with it in general (like being more consistent with updates, trying to write in advance, that kind of thing)

New Works: I do want to focus the most on Elven Storm (and plan out a sequel for it), but I do have a one shot in progress, involving pre-game Syanna and Gortash, and I also have an idea for a small crossover between Baldur's Gate 3 and The Witcher 3 (naturally, Astarion and Syanna are in it 😁)

#tag game

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fuckyeahalisonblaire · 2 years ago

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comic suggestions for betsy and ali moments, please?

So, they hung out more during the Outback era. Honestly, if you want to read of their relationship, I would reccomend just reading the whole thing. Afterwards, their times together are very few and far between. Ali enters the era Uncanny X-Men 213-214. Check out Uncanny 218 as well!

There is a small moment in Uncanny X-Men 511 for the Sisterhood situation. It's mostly fighting, though.

Betsy's mini (Psylocke 2010) had Ali pop up in issue one, dealing with the aftermath the sisterhood situation. Again, a small moment.

Lastly, the end of Dazzler's oneshot (2010), Betsy is there for her and supports her . Unfortunately, not a lot of writers like to touch upon their relationship. Outback era wise, the relationships Alison had with the other women are rarely touched upon in modern comics. That mostly falls to Longshot [usually], but sometimes Colossus and Wolverine.

#dazzler #alison blaire #betsy braddock #psylocke #captain britain #Xmen #X-men

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novelmonger · 2 years ago

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🦈🌻🍬🚦

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

Lol, the last time I answered a question like this, I was accused of being racist for saying that Sam Wilson is funny and emotionally stable XD

But as I think about it now, I suppose the real answer is that the toughest characters for me to write are snarky geniuses. The main ones I've had occasion to write would be Sherlock Holmes and Tony Stark. For one thing, they're much more intelligent than I am, so that's hard to write, and also their areas of expertise are very far removed from my own. Then, at least in Tony's case, I always feel the need to reference pop culture in some way - but not the nerdy stuff I would actually know about. Tony's always dropping references to movies I haven't seen or bands I don't listen to or something, so it takes a lot of effort to figure out what to make him say, and both he and Sherlock have this mocking way of talking a lot of the time that doesn't come naturally to me. I don't feel like I've ever really gotten either of their voices quite right.

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

Less than I used to, I think. These days, I usually only read my own stuff when someone comments, "I love how you did XYZ!" And then I'm like, "Wait, I did XYZ?" and of course I have to go read it to see what they're talking about :P By the way, I'm not counting reading back over earlier portions of whatever WIP I'm in the middle of. That's just part of the writing process.

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

From my FFNet profile:

So yes, I would say so XD

I only have one fic apiece for Wolf's Rain, Castle in the Sky, Death Note, Prince of Persia, Oddworld, Lovely Complex, Tsubasa Chronicle, Professor Layton, Supernatural, Star Wars, WordGirl, Daredevil, Avengers, and Dororo, so that goes without saying. Here are the others:

Final Fantasy X - Someday the Dream Will End My novelization of the game. Please note the date this was published and realize I was sixteen the last time I touched this thing ^^' It is very far beneath my current standards, but it's what got me into writing fanfiction in the first place, and it taught me so much about how stories work, how to write novel-length works, and also a lot of my preferences when it comes to writing and posting fanfic, specifically.

Harry Potter - Change I don't actually like any of my HP fics very much, if I'm being honest. I wrote most of them ages and ages ago, so the writing isn't very good, and I don't think I handled the few good ideas I had with the delicacy they required. So I picked this one because I wrote it much later than all the rest, so it's at least fairly competent. It's just a little exploration of a headcanon about how the broken Hogwarts House system could be tweaked to not be quite so divisive and counter-productive.

Full Metal Alchemist - The Ultimate Sacrifice Oh my gosh, I've written so many FMA fics over the years, it's almost impossible to pick x.x Some of them are really old and not very well written, some have really good ideas but my skill at the time is holding them back, some are quite good but...are they my favorite? In the end, I decided to go with this oneshot because it was burning a hole in my brain for years before I finally got it written down, and I think it still holds up okay seven years later. Basically, it's an AU that explores what it would be like if Ed uses his love for Al as the toll to get Al's body back. Super angsty, lots of tears, it's great! :D

ICO - Piaculum My novelization of the game, written after the official one was published in Japan but a good three years before it was ever translated to English, so that's how I justified writing it ^^' I didn't really know what I was doing. Parts of it are still kind of good, and I like how I dealt with certain themes and drew in connections to Shadow of the Colossus. But yeah, if you want a book that contains the story of my favorite game of all time, just go read Castle in the Mist by Miyuki Miyabe instead.

Legend of Zelda - One Hundred Beats A 100 Themes fic centered around the friendship of Link and Navi. I wrote this whole thing during one of the busiest and most exhausting periods of my life, and I'll always be impressed by past-me for doing that. I also really like some of the stories I came up with for it, especially all the AUs. Most importantly of all, brainstorming one chapter led me to the headcanon that healed the pain of what they did (or didn't do) with Navi in the canon, and for that I will always love this fic.

Sherlock - Memento Mori One of my kidlock oneshots, an AU where John and Sherlock met as kids. This one deals with the death of Sherlock's dog Redbeard (needless to say, it's quite different from the canon). Personally, I think this is the best one of my kidlock fics.

Captain America - Make Me Whole Obviously! This is the fic that took over my life and changed me irrevocably. For the first time ever, after so many years of writing just to get the ideas out and because no one else was doing it, this time I had a story where, even if ten other people came out of the woodwork with the exact same concept who were much better writers than me, I wanted to be the one to write it. I really got the sense that God wanted me to write this story, and I've seen the fruit of that over and over again. And, of course, without this fic I wouldn't be writing the mammoth WIP I'm working on now.

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

You know, I've always said that bittersweet endings are my favorite. Endings like LotR, where the good guys win and evil is defeated, but not without great cost. But as I think through some of the endings I've been most satisfied about in my own writing, I think I need to fine-tune that. I think my favorite kind of ending is a particular brand of bittersweet, where it's not exactly "the Shire has been saved, but not for me." It's more like "we've been hurt, and we're not okay yet, but I think we will be." To me, that's the most realistic kind of ending you can get, because that's the way our lives are. (Not that I don't appreciate a good, completely happy ending where everybody lives happily ever after!)

Fanfic Writer Asks

#ask and you shall receive #a2on1break #ask games

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dracononite · 2 years ago

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if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

I can't think of any reading material so I'll replace that with "play"

Play: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time/Darkness, OneShot, Shadow of the Colossus, Digimon World DS

Watch: HTTYD trilogy, Death Note, Pokemon The Movie 2000, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

Listen: The Adventure Zone: Balance, Bodys by Car Seat Headrest, Live Like Animals by Nothing But Thieves, any song by Message To Bears, the entire HTTYD soundtrack

#mail #max talks #how did i not know that matt damon voiced spirit btw

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creativeimagination206 · 30 days ago

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My D&D Oneshot

Alright folks, you asked for it, so I'll answer it!

For the few of you that this post will spoil the experience for, just... don't engage, please, I'll be really sad if you read this and discover my deep dark secrets. For the rest of you, feel free to let me know your thoughts, as the session is a few weeks out and I am... not a very experienced DM.

Before I talk about my specific session, some background knowledge:

The player characters in the group were created on a Discord server my friends and I started in high school. A fifth character, centered around Rythm (because that was why we started the server in the first place), was adopted by the group once they got together.

When Rythm was taken down, we were all starting to get into D&D and decided it would be fun if we did in-person sessions focused on the goal of finding and rescuing the missing/kidnapped character. Each session, the role of DM shifts to a different person in the group, making each session both a one-shot and a step closer to finding Rythm again.

Now that Rythm has been brought back (but changed) the session after mine is gonna be the recovery of our beloved character.

My session takes place in two different cities -- Vervallen, which is on the surface and built on magical illusions that make every creature in town look like humans, and Antevortaria (I am open to changing that name, ngl), an underground steampunk city built totally out of machinery and clockwork.

The group starts out finding Vervallen, exploring the town to look for leads as to what a certain token (shaped like the Chrome symbol) means and where the headquarters is. Two of the residents in the town, the only two that can see through the illusion, have a message from the kidnapped character pointing them to the underground city, which seems to be a sort of sister-base for the Chrome gang.

I've only DMed once before, so I still don't really know how to balance roleplaying and combat and all that, but I really enjoyed the freedom of creating NPCs and random things the players can interact with and look at. A lot of the session will likely have little hints at classic pulp fiction characters (Sweeney Todd, Frankenstein, etc) as well as a mad scientist pretty much based on Doc Brown (with a bit of the Wizard of Oz mixed in too, as he's basically just a figurehead/distraction). I have opportunities for players to mix together drinks to make potions that will affect them in different ways (something that the players liked from my first session) and also probably have fliers and newspapers they can look at for random unrelated stories and history about the two cities.

When they reach Antevortaria, it's a whole different vibe (and they're greeted by a huge guard). There are two paths they can take -- either they defeat the guard and are now considered fugitives from the law or they get captured by the guard and brought onto a train to be brought to the palace, where the mad scientist "runs the city." That train scene can also see them either comply and wait out the journey, or they can initiate a chase sequence (which the mechanics I devised are... prolly shaky and half-baked at best, but I'm kind of excited to see how they handle it).

The castle is basically gonna be modeled on the Clue mansion (from the 1985 movie). The stairs to the basement will lead down to the scientist's workshop, where the final boss battle will take place. A key in the scientist's pocket glows at their touch, pointing the way toward the Chrome castle, which it unlocks (sort of like the Shadow of the Colossus sword/direction mechanic).

And that's how I'm planning on leading the group to their final destination, where they'll battle to get their boy back. It won't be the end of our sessions altogether, but it definitely marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next.

I know this feels kind of like a rushed/vague rant -- I can definitely add more detail or talk about various NPCs at greater length if people want, but I'm definitely looking for pointers, tips, and thoughts overall of the plot. I haven't quite determined how the two cities are linked yet, but I plan on writing up a backstory/history that even if I don't give it to the players directly/at all, it will at least help me make the environment more vivid and fleshed-out.

I do also have a ton of maps and props I have to make -- I bought clay and fusebeads to make character tokens, and I have some fliers, newspapers, and notes I want to make for the players to examine. And potions! Last time I hosted, I had a bunch of small bottles and stuff from Target that I labeled and everyone was hell-bent on drinking (and completely mixing together.)

I'm hoping their investigative and experimental nature will lead them to mix all of the elements together to see what they taste like combined -- my plan is that the potion created by that action will be a Jekyll and Hyde potion that makes a character act completely opposite to their normal personality until the potion wears off or they're cured.

I'm definitely nervous about running the session, since it's only my second time DMing, and my first time was very rushed and shoddy, but since it's all with good friends, I'm sure we'll have fun anyway. I just desperately want to tell a story that everyone gets really invested in.

#mid-week marveling #d&d #we've almost settled on a date and time #which is only a couple weeks out #and I have so so many crafts I want to do #I love making props even if I'm not great at it #creative projects #I took such a long break from working on it that getting back to it feels weird #I've literally been thinking about it for the past like year #wish me luck lol

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emma-frxst · 1 month ago

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The Omega

Pairing: Cable/ Nathan Summers x pregnant wife reader

Warnings: Language, pregnancy, birth

Summary: @severebirdpeace asked “Can I request oneshot: Nathan Summers/Cable x Wife Fem s/o whose mutation is that she is an omega level telepath; she is gentle and soft spoken, and she's carrying and later gave birth to his daughter please?

Authors note: im SO SORRY this took literally so long!!! This request is super cute and i hope I did it justice. I love love love this!!! Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading!

The mud stuck to Cable’s boots like glue, making every step a fight in itself. The mountain terrain was unforgiving, with slick mud, even slicker rocks, and tree roots the size of his arm sticking out in every direction. He wasn’t wearing much more than a t-shirt and cargo pants, but still the storm had soaked him through to the bone. The mission was only to gather intel. There has been reports of two omega level mutant children lost in the woods, but Cable hadn’t seen any evidence thus far.

Nathan followed directly behind Colossus, he tried to step in Piotr’s impossibly big footprints to see if he wouldn’t track as much mud.

It didn’t make a difference.

The heavy rain had lightened to a sprinkle, making now the time for the team to move.

Thick, heavy fog made crossing the terrain difficult so Colossus, being the careful soul he is, was moving impossibly slow.

Nate wished for nothing more than to be home. He knew those kids were long gone, no one would make these mountains home, even for a night.

“Alright. That’s it, I’m calling it.” Domino said, voice laced with exhaustion.

The rest of the X-Force agreed to head back to the jet.

Cable leaned back against the padded seat and closed his eyes; grateful that this was his last mission for a while.

Nathan smelled it before he saw it. The scent of sweet peaches. She was cooking again. Something good; peach cobbler he guessed. His favorite. With a watering mouth and arms aching to hold her, he hurried up the stone steps and into the kitchen.

You sensed Nathan’s presence getting stronger within the last ten minutes meaning he would be home soon. You figured you would surprise your husband with a welcome home present; his favorite dessert.

Cable knew better than to piss off his pregnant wife, so he took off his muddy boots outside and left them on the porch. She’d scold him for tracking mud through her kitchen if he didn’t.

He chuckled at the thought.

The sing-song way Nate called your name made warmth ripple through your chest, you and the little one rejoiced at his presence.

He greeted you with a kiss and a hug, you could barely get your arms around him due to your 8 month pregnant belly, but he made it work. He always did.

“Hey little girl.” He said, bending down to give your stomach a kiss.

“She missed you, you know. She’s glad you’re home.” You said, heading over to the oven to check the cobbler.

“Is that a mother’s intuition thing or a telepath thing?” He questioned, slinging his duffel bag down.

“Hmmmm…both.” You said, a cheeky smile spreading across your face.

“Hm. Of course it is.” He said, joining you at the oven.

He towered over you from behind, his hands coming to rest on your belly, his mouth pressed kisses to your neck and ear.

You giggled and informed him that he needed to shower before getting in your business. He begrudgingly complied with your request.

Now squeaky clean, Cable sat across from you at the small table that resided at the bay window in the kitchen. It was your favorite part of the house. The evening sun hit just right, sending soft rays across the house.

You and Nathan ate dinner in comfortable silence, neither of you talked a whole lot and that was okay- it was actually one of the things he loved about you. Your words were always spoken with a softness that made him weak in the knees.

He couldn’t wait to see you become a mom. Your gentle hands that so often held him would soon be holding a baby that was his and your creation. In fact, he was so ready for a baby that he took off from the X force a whole month before your due date to make sure everything was perfect for you and the baby.

The first project tomorrow was to finish putting the crib together, but for now, you and your love sat on the couch watching your favorite show.

You absorbed this moment in your memories, your head in his lap as he ran his hand up and down your arm, mindlessly drawing little circles on your skin. Just the two of you.

Soon to be three.

Another month had passed. Check ups at the doctor were good and you were feeling as good as you could for being nine months pregnant. Nate was an absolute rock through the last month; massaging your swollen ankles, making sure you had an endless snack supply, going to the store at all hours of the night for the foods you were craving, even watering the plants specifically how you wanted him to.

You had tried to read your little one’s mind to see when she would be making her arrival, but even given your talents for mind reading, it was difficult because unborn babies didn’t really have any thoughts- you could tell that she was there- that she existed, but that was about it. You could tell when she perked up upon hearing Nate’s voice. This was an experience unique to you. You treasured it. Your bond with her was already so strong; you couldn’t wait to meet her outside of your womb.

For now, all you and Cable could do was patiently wait for her to make her appearance.

You woke up to pain shooting through your whole body. You sat up in bed, waking Nate up in the process. He was a light sleeper anyways.

“Braxton hicks?” He questioned.

“No-“ another wave of pain hit. “I think it’s the real thing this time.”

“I got you.” He said, coming to help you out of the bed.

You practically threw yourself into his arms, walking was already difficult, but the contractions made it worse.

You didn’t think you could love Nate any more than you already did, but the way he whispered encouragement in your ear all throughout your labor and the way he held your hand and didn’t let go, only deepened your love for him. Nate’s love for you soared to new heights as he watched you literally bring life into the world, the things you were capable of continued to impress and inspire him.

But the thing that tipped your happy tears over the edge was the image of him holding your tiny, most perfect baby girl. He was cooing at her, making funny baby noises, telling her that she was beautiful just like her mama.

After locking that moment in your memories, you decided it was time for you to get some sleep. Baby girl was here safely and she was, quite literally, in good hands. You both were.

Tags: (tag list of open, send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

#cable x reader #Nathan summers x reader #cable fanfiction #Nathan summers x you #Nathan summers self insert #cable self insert #mcu cable #mcu Nathan summers #cable #Nathan summers #x men fanfiction #mine #xmen fanfiction #deadpool universe

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biomecharnotaurus · 5 months ago

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*oneshots colossus*

Ajax: "That was no easy opponent!"

Is him stupid.

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jimmawww · 2 years ago

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Fave Save Points

Resident Evil

Daymare: 1994 Sandcastle

Ico

Shadow of the Colossus

Silent Hill 3

Signalis

No More Heroes

Metroid Prime

Ape Escape

Nier: Automata

Dark Souls

Metal Gear Solid

Tunic

Kingdom Hearts 2

Cave Story

Tales of Symphonia

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

Little Witch Nobeta

Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones

GTA: San Andreas

Undertale

OneShot

Hollow Knight

Need For Speed: Rivals

Onirism

F.I.S.T.

Dust

Earthbound (worst)

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random-imagines-blog · 5 years ago

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All I Need {Colossus x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2494 Summary: After Piotr helps you get out of a humiliating situation, your best friend Beast advises you to come clean with your feelings.

‘You have got to be kidding me’, you thought to yourself. Enclosed in small spaces was uncomfortable under the best circumstances, but being in a cage that was made for a cat? You just hoped that someone back at the school was able to track you despite your animal frame. You walked in a circle, your four black paws balancing carefully on the metal bars that made up all sides of the enclosure. You weren’t the only one in the back of the van - there were a couple of dogs, other cats ... and what smelled like a ferret. The humane society was on a roll today. Normally you would applaud them for getting animals off the streets and trying to find them good homes - but they picked up the wrong cat today. You sniffed at the metal, picking up the scents of all the other scared and alone animals that had been in this cage - and then sat down to accept your fate. Having the power to turn from your normal human self to any animal that you wanted, as long as you had touched it, was amazing. The unfortunate downside was that you always had to turn back into a human before you could shift again.

Hence why you were stuck in this damn cage instead of turning yourself into a mouse or a bird and escaping.

When the van got to the shelter, a large man took hold of your crate gently and brought you inside. You smelt faint traces of honeysuckle on his hands. A gardener, perhaps, in his spare time. That was kind of cute. As a cat, you did have a good sense of smell, not as much as a dog but less overwhelming than one. You played the part, licking at the man’s fingers and he praised you for being such a ‘pretty kitty’. “I’d adopt you myself if I didn’t already have four of ya,” He sighed. At least you found a friendly animal-catcher, and not a brute like in the movies.

You were transferred over to a woman who started up water in a small bathtub. This was going to be your chance. They were going to let you out for a bath. You leaned forward, shaking your little behind and your tail when -

When she held onto you and didn’t give you a chance to change because you might hurt her. And you would definitely break the tub. So as grumpy as you were, you had to endure getting washed and scrubbed down by a younger woman. And then was the check for mites, for ticks, for fleas, for anything that might be on your body. But you were clean, thank God. You had caught fleas before, and they tried to stick on you, even when you were human again.

And then back into the crate you were, all shiny and ready for people to come looking at you. You paced back and forth, waiting for Hank or for Charles or for anyone really to come looking for you. You would even have put up with Logan if it got you out of here. But an hour later, it turned out so much better than that.

The footsteps were familiar, for you listened for them every dinner at time. They were heavy, in their boots, unmistakable. You ran immediately for the front of the cage, sticking your paws out, trying to get his attention. You waved them in a way that the animal shelter woman found adorable, and cooed over, and recommended you to him. Colossus - otherwise known as Piotr Rasputin; and the man that you had a huge crush on and turned into a wreck around - stopped and crouched down in front of you. You did your best to look into his eyes and scream ‘it’s me, it’s me!’ You even purred, but that wasn’t entirely voluntary.

“Yes, I will take this one,” He said with a nod. The worker was very pleased, and once more, you thought that you were about to get your chance of freedom but she put you into a little carrier bag for Piotr to carry with his shoulder, like a purse. This one was even smaller than the cage, but at least you were able to lay down on the fluffy blanket inside.

Everything was bright when you were brought back out into the sunshine, and then dark as you were put into another van. The backseat this time. Piotr unzipped the bag and you walked out of it, settled on the seat, then turned back into your human self. Usually this meant that you were naked, but thanks to the special suits that Hank had made, it was able to work with your mutation so you were dressed in it as you stretched out to your human form. You stretched out your legs and then your arms.

“We should petition them to make their cages more comfortable. I think Charles would fund it, what do you think?” You asked to Storm, who was driving one of the school vans.

“I think we ought to microchip you,” She said, only somewhat amused. “Like a real pet. How did you end up at an animal shelter again?”

“I thought I was being clever and chasing down a lead,” You mumbled. “I knew I should have turned into a squirrel instead. Or even a cute little chipmunk, it’s the right season.”

“But you went with the cutest black kitty-cat that was going to get all of the attention?” Piotr questioned.

“When you say it like that, it does sound stupid...” You sighed, looking out the window. “You thought I was cute though?”

“All cats are cute,” Piotrr said with a smile. Well, wasn’t that just enough to make your heart melt, and imagine a cat being the flower-girl for your wedding. Oh what a union it would be.

“Next time, don’t get caught. I had lend Piotr a hundred dollars to adopt you,” Storm said, making you look at her in surprise.

“I’m worth a hundred dollars, that’s sweet,” You said with a smile. It was a nice thought, knowing that you were worth some cash. She gave you a look in the rearview mirror that told you she didn’t think that was all that cute. “Alright, I’ll pay you back Ororo, thanks.”

“I hear you go caught by the humane society,” Hank said as you entered his lab. You took a seat in one of his chairs, extra large to fit his big, furry frame, and started to spin.

“Yeah, but that’s not the best part,” You said, biting down on your lower lip.

“I don’t know, I’d say that’s pretty funny,” He said, chuckling, pushing his glasses back up onto his face. He was doing something with a microscope. Blood samples, probably. Your blood fascinated him in particular, because when it was taken while you were an animal, it would show as animal blood. Everything, down to your very inner cells, changed.

“Okay, it was a bit hilarious. Though very claustrophobic. We should do some protests about that by the way. It is not fun to be in one of those cages.”

“They weren’t built with human comfort in mind. But go on, please,” He twirled his finger at you, as he peered down at some slides.

“I was a cat, and they didn’t even give me a damn toy. I feel clean though. Anyways - the best part was that our dear Colossus-”

“Your dear Colossus,” Hank corrected but you continued on.

“- said that I was the cutest kitty-cat. I wonder if he meant that. I mean, I know I make a damn cute cat but I didn’t really think that he was a cat person.”

“Wow. Something you don’t know about him. Shocking,” Hank said, sounding completely sarcastic. You stopped your chair from spinning by putting your foot on the ground, then used it to kick him.

“Don’t make me turn into a bee and sting you. I know you’ve got sensitive skin under all that hair,” You threatened. Hank sighed, looked away from his microscope, and took off his glasses, tossing them on the desk.

“You’ve been like this for over a year now, y/n. Why not just talk to him? What’s the worse that could happen?” He questioned. You tapped your finger against your chin, your mind going through the possibilities.

“Rejection is a pretty bad thing. Oh, and laughter. If he laughs at me, I’m just going to be a penguin in the arctic. It’s going to take a lot of ice to get rid of that burn.”

“Look, you’re torturing yourself. You’re torturing me. I even started to dream of him,” Hank grumbled which made you start to laugh. He didn’t mind that. He was just glad you were able to smile after thinking about rejection. “So just ... go tell him how you feel? And if you chicken out, just turn into the cute cat he likes so much.”

You flew back and forth in front of Piotr’s room, turning into a hummingbird because of how fast, yet quiet, it was. You didn’t want him to hear any pacing footsteps as you thought of what you were going to say.

‘Okay, what about ... I thought I’d quit Stalin? No, that’s ridiculous. And probably offensive,’ you thought, flitting back and forth. A couple of other mutants walked past you, looked at the floating bird, then continued on their business. There was enough madness around here without them having to stick their nose in more. ‘Do I just go Russian in? No, no, that’s probably racist.’

Hank walked by, looking at some papers and not paying much attention to where he was going. Not until you flitted by his ear, anyway. He looked around, noticed where he was, then saw you and sighed. “You’re welcome,” He muttered, knocking on Piotr’s door, then rushed away, leaving you awestruck. You had just enough time to turn into your human self before the door opened, and Piotr stood there with only his track pants on, and no shirt. Hubba hubba.

“Hello, y/n,” He said with a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. It might have something to do with just being a small bird, but you somehow felt very heavy as you stood there.

“H-Hi,” You said, smiling in return. “Do you think that we could maybe talk for a minute? I want to tell you something.”

“Yes, yes, come in,” He said, moving to the side. You took a couple of steps into his room and looked around. You never actually went in it before, though you’ve had the chance to turn into an insect and go through the ducts. He at least deserved his privacy. It smelled like him, you noticed. A bit like a gym. A tinge of sweat, of metal. “What do you need to say?”

You met his eye nervously. His eyebrows were lifted, anticipating whatever news you had for him. You put your hands behind your back, clasping them, trying to hide how sweaty your palms were getting.

“I just wanted to say...” You started, looking away from him. The pressure was mounting. You could feel your heart beating from your stomach. “Uhh.. thanks for picking me up from the animal shelter! Those cages sure were itty bitty.”

“You’re welcome,” Piotr said with a smile. He always made you feel so welcomed - which was why you were kicking yourself for actually saying the words ‘itty bitty’. “Is that all?”

“No, no, there’s something else. Something that I guess I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.” You bounced on the balls of your feet, and shook out your palms, trying to get the sweat off. You looked up at the ceiling as if trying to find the answer to a difficult test. You really couldn’t look at Piotr. “Okay, so... I think you’re really hot.”

“Hot?” Piotr asked. You could imagine his face, that adorable little confused expression. No, don’t look damnit, that’ll get you even more tongue-tied.

“Oh yeah. You’re definitely a babe. And I might have had a thing for you for a while. And I wasn’t going to tell you about it but Hank told me that I should. I should have known better than to take his advice, I guess. For a scientist, he can be real dumb sometimes. And now we’re never going to work together because you know that. So good afternoon, good evening, goodnight and good life.”

“Wait, wait wait,” Piotr said, blocking the doorway before you could make a motion to move. He put his arm out, making an actual block, with it turning metal so you couldn’t bend it away. “You have a thing for me? A good thing?”

“I mean, I think it feels like a good thing but that doesn’t necessarily mean...” You rambled on. “Can you just let me go? I’m already a prisoner of embarrassment, don’t need to be one of you too.”

“You are not prisoner here, you are always welcome,” Piotr said, standing right in front of you so that you could not avoid looking at him. “I have a thing too.”

“Well, yeah, have you noticed that a lot of us mutants are really attractive? Like Ororo is stunning, and Kitty, and then you got-”

“You talk too much,” He said with a smirk. “I have a thing for you. When you’re you and when you’re cute little kitty-cat.”

“Hmmm,” You said, attempting to play it cool, but you knew your mouth wasn’t going to go along with that plan. “Does that mean you want to go out sometime with me? Not to the animal shelter because if you need cuddles, I’m your kitty-cat.”

Piotr let out a large laugh at that, his hand going to his stomach to hold himself together. “My kitty-cat, huh?”

“I can be an elephant too, we can see how strong you are if I step on you.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you like me too much,” He said, putting his metal arm around you. It wasn’t as heavy as you thought that it would be. He probably wasn’t putting much weight on you. You were a shifter, not a super-strengther. “Is it almost dinner time?”

“Not even close, but I could make us a late lunch?”

“We’ll make a date of it.” Piotr grinned. And there went your heart again, flipping and flopping as if it were shoes on a beach.

#Colossus #Colossus x reader #Colossus oneshot #XMen #XMen oneshot #Marvel #Marvel oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #piotrr

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random-gamer1942 · 2 years ago

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One day i wanna run a oneshot where my players (and perhaps i as well) pick like a CR 20-25 gargantuan creature and have a literal battle of the kaiju

#would be cool right?#like imagine an elder brain dragon #an astral dreadnought #an elder tempest #an ancient gold dragon #and a warforged colossus just duking it out in a mountain range #dnd #dnd oneshot

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 4 years ago

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Hiding Behind Normalcy (Xmen X Reader)

Characters: Xmen X Reader

Universe: Marvel, Xmen

Warnings: Mild violence, swearing

Request: Request: The reader is a mutant (has a short temper.) They have same powers as Superman but to a lesser extent (think a demigod superman). That's because the r parents were aliens and abandoned them on earth. When the r arrive on Earth they decide to work as a freelancer. (Years later) Charles finds the r (restaurant) and tells them in a way "YOU MUST join the X-Men(Mandatory)." The r denies but colossus grabs the r arm and the same scene from deadpool 1 plays out. The r then fights colossus but Charles put the r to sleep. The r wakes up and there at the mansion as a student.

You were more than aware of the fact that you were different. When you were a kid, when you realised, you couldn’t stand it, and you hated the knowledge that you were different, even when your parents tried to assure you that it was fine, and as long as you hid it, no one would know you were different and that it didn’t have to define you. However, you knew better. You had so many unanswered questions- how did you get these powers? How old were you when your parents figured out you had powers? Did they consider giving you up? You asked them this, them answering you to the best of their ability. They told you how the family dog had woke them up barking, the bedroom lit up from flashing lights outside their window, and when your father went to investigate with his gun, he found you, a newborn abandoned and crying in the field. Apparently as he picked you up, and looked into your tear filled eyes, he saw them glow, but he still carried you into the house, your mother immediately deciding the roles she and her husband would play, and he didn’t complain. However, that left even more questions, like why your biological parents abandoned you here, and what exactly were they, and what were you? However, you were a young adult now, and you had grown to accept that these facts would never be answered.

You followed your parent’s advice, keeping your powers hidden and a secret, pretending to be another normal kid in the small town you grew up in. You went to school with other kids your age, had normal friends, had normal hobbies, and for quite a few years you never used your powers. That was until you were 16, and saw a girl getting mugged on your way home, and you felt the urge to get involved, and you listened to your gut. You had made your eyes glow, even flying in the air and throwing the mugger down the alley and away from the woman. Luckily the woman had been covering her face in case of another hit, and so hadn’t seen what you’d done. She’d thanked you, before she rushed home. It was that moment you decided that since you had these powers, you could at least use them for good.

You still had your normal life. You worked in a restaurant and as a server while also helping at your dad’s little business, but in your spare time you found yourself flying over to the busier cities where crime rates were higher, and just helping. Sometimes that was stopping robberies, sometimes it was stopping car chases, sometimes it was using yourself as a human shield, sometimes it was saving hostages. You weren’t surprised that the alter ego you created had shown up on the news, often praising you for your actions, though other conserative news channels called you a threat and a danger because of your powers. You didn’t care. You hid your identity, barely speaking when you were doing this hobby of yours to ensure no one would hear your voice, and turning down interviews when offered to you. You kept that part of you totally separate from the other side of you. Of course your parents knew- they knew your powers well enough to know it was you when it came on the news, and the first time it happened your mother asked you if you needed her to patch up your little costume and make copies, while your dad hit you over the back of the head with that morning’s newspaper for not telling him in the first place.

Everything was going fine. You were happy. That was until one of your fellow waiters came over to you to inform you that the Xmen were here, and they were asking for you specifically. You said you’d deal with it, and put on a brave smile as you headed over to the table, though you were already dreading talking to them. How the hell had they found you? They weren’t exactly subtle- I mean for gods sake, Colossus was one of the mutants sat at the table, along with a moody teenage girl and the infamous professor himself. “Good morning, what can I get you today?” You asked, looking down at your little notepad.

“Y/N? We’d like to speak with you I’d like to ask you to join the Xmen.” Charles jumped in immediately, not wasting any time in beating around the bush. You stepped closer to the table, keeping a smile on your face as you lent in a little bit.

“Please keep your voice down. I don’t want everyone knowing. And I don’t want to join. It’s just a thing I do in my spare time. I have no intention in becoming a full time hero.” You told him in a quiet voice. He leant in a little as well.

“You have remarkable abilities, and multiple. Flight, super strength, super speed, being bulletproof, energy release from your eyes, and who knows what else. You could save so many, change so many lives. We need people like you.” He insisted.

“Guilt tripping me isn’t going to work. It doesn’t mean much if at the end of the day I don’t want to do it, and I don’t want to do it. Maybe one day I’ll change my mind and want to do the whole hero thing full time, but right now I want to be normal. If I change my mind, I’ll come to you. Now, what can I get you?” You asked them, going back to your customer service smile. They begrudgingly ordered simple drinks, and after they were finished, they left, leaving behind a business card as a tip. Assholes.

You finished your shift, brushing off questions from your coworkers as to why they asked for you, claiming that they were looking for a certain mutant and they believed you might have interacted with them previously, though it turned out not to be true. After finishing your shift, you packed up, got dressed, and left the restaurant to go home. It was dark out, and you had been trusted to lock the doors behind you, leaving you totally alone. You weren’t concerned though, you knew you could look after yourself. You just needed to lock the doors and go home and tell your parents about your encounter with the Xmen trying to recruit you.

“Y/N-” The familiar British voice behind you immediately annoyed you. You should have known better than to presume that they’d just let you go on with your life.

“Will you fuck off? I said no!” You snapped, turning around to face them. They practically had you cornered.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. This isn’t a case of persuasion or letting you decide- you need to come with us, even if it is just temporary. I know you’re not like us either, and that you’re more alien than mutant, and information about you is starting to leak. You need to be apart of the Xmen before someone else comes to you and forces you to do things you don’t want to do, or try to imprison or even kill you.” Charles insisted.

“I can look after myself. I don’t need you.” You huffed. Colossus came forward, grabbing your shoulder to stop you, from which you shoved him back, him landing on his ass, and you started to levitate. “I tried being nice. Leave. Me-” Before you could finish your demand however, you saw Charles raise his index and middle finger to his temple, and everything went black.

You awoke in a bed. A bed that wasn’t yours. You could distantly hear people talking, noticeably young voices. You quickly pieced together where you were and why, and you huffed in anger. You sat up in the bed, looking around, before pulling the covers off and storming out the room, going to find an exit. You walked down the hallway, finding a staircase and heading down them, and as you reached the bottom, you heard the sound of a television. You listened in, starting to try and find the source, until you found it in what looked like a study with a fireplace, some students sat watching.

“-Authorities claim that they know who the masked vigilante is and are attempting to make contact, though they say they haven’t found them yet.” The reporter explained, a picture of you doing your little hobby on screen. You guess that Charles wasn’t joking after all.

“Y/N?” You turned, seeing Charles, who sent an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry that I had to do that, but I needed the piece of mind that you were actually safe and not manipulated or trapped into working as a weapon. I’ve already contacted your family so they know you’re safe, you can talk to them if you like. I don’t know how long you have to stay here, but here you’re safe and you won’t be imprisoned.” Charles explained to you.

“...What do you want from me?”

“Let me put you on my Xmen recruitment list. You don’t have to work with us, but it’ll officially put you out of the reach of other organisations. It’s a layer of protection, not just for you, but for everything. Wherever you like it or not, you’re a weapon in the eyes of a lot of people, and a danger. At least if you’re with us then it’ll give the illusion that you’re under control.”

You sighed, knowing that you didn’t really have a choice, but acknowledging that the professor was doing this for your own protection and wellbeing. “Fine… do I get an upgraded uniform?” You asked, Charles chuckling.

“I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

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