Note
Hi! So sorry to bother you! I just finished 'If you ask me for my fire' and I really enjoyed it! However, it brought up a question that has been nagging me for some time when I read any Perpollo or Percy x god with a similar premise, and I thought what better to ask someone who has written a few fics with that theme - IF Percy got with a god and took the immortality route (whether forced or not) would that god be loyal? In the case of your fic would Apollo stay by Percy's side for all eternity, really? Would he never stray at all? - I know it's not the easiest question and I apologise but I'd love to hear some insight, especially since the fic I chose is so ambiguous in the end like yeah he absolutely forced him to immortality but only to have him by his side for eternity, to me the more important question is now Apollo has got what he wanted does he stay loyal? If forever is all that he has, then would he really spend it with Percy? At the end of the day he is a god - a Greek one at that - and they aren't known for Loyalty and pure singular devotion for their spouses.
Again, sorry about this question! I know its more nuanced than I'm making this poorly worded Tumblr ask to be, and I mean in general not just for your fic, but your fic is really good and a good example for the question cause in the case of your fic Percy says he doesn't know but loyalty is so important to him, he would probably stay out of that (and fear and sadness) and never ever stray but say it's a different situation where someone like maybe Hephaestus did something similar maybe forced, or maybe Percy chose it doesn't matter but would Hephaestus then stay loyal?
Honestly would love to hear the insight, your own biased answer not a generalisation, if you know anyone else that can give their own unique answers, please pass this along! I know you're close to mrthology and other big Perpollo writers, so all answers are good, but you don't have to! Sorry, that's kind of rude of me to ask.
Also, the second part of this question would be, If they do stay loyal through everything, what kind of message does that send? Is Percy really that more important that he could stop the biggest serial adulterers to stop completely? That's he can do what countless others have tried to do, and he wasn't even trying that hard. That he was enough when others weren't? - BUT that's not important, ignore that, I'm just being insane this is a children's book series.
I'm glad you enjoyed the fic!
So, if Percy were to become immortal and enter a relationship with a God, would that God stay loyal? You're right in that there's a lot of nuance to the question and that everyone is going to look at it differently. It's definitely a question I like playing around a lot with in my fics.
I get pretty long-winded in my response, but I have a feeling you won't mind lol
For the purposes of this conversation, we're going to assume loyal = monogamous (I could see Percy being polyamorous in a closed way, like percy/annabeth/apollo or the 7 or something, but not in a way where one or more partners are having casual sex with people Percy doesn't know, but that's not that important here). This point will be addressed later.
My gut instinct is no. With perpollo specifically, I do think there might be a short period of time where Apollo is loyal to Percy. But, I think that loyalty would be more incidental than anything. For a while, Apollo would be absolutely obsessed with Percy and during that time Apollo might be monogamous. But it's the same way he might become obsessed with some shiny new instrument and only play that for a short period of time. How long this era of loyalty/obsession might last is somewhere a lot of people might differ.
But, as time went on, their story would fall in line with every other pairing among the Gods. There might be a sort of constancy there, but there will always be dallying. Hell, within the PJO verse specifically, Demigods serve a purpose and Apollo's cabin is full to bursting at any given moment. I don't think it becoming empty would be something that's easily accepted, and to get demigods, you need infidelity.
Apollo staying loyal is something I've explored, specifically in Electing Strange Perfections. In that fic, Apollo tricks Percy into immortality and Percy becomes the God of Loyalty. Through Hera and a series of events, Apollo marries Percy. Consequently, Apollo cannot stray due to Percy's domain/powers/influence. In other words, it takes an outside influence.
Part of why I think this is due to how I see and write the Gods for the fics. They are inhuman, ancient beings who have lived on a scale the human mind cannot comprehend. I like to see the Greek Gods as feeling everything so intensely, with human emotion being watered down. It's fun to play with the idea of humans lives, love, and feelings being more valuable for being so short-lived rather than for their intensity. Rarity increasing value sorta thing. Also the idea that the Gods simply are their domains and what that makes myths look like in the context of human experience. Like of course Hades took Demeter's daughter, that's what death does (I'm referencing a tumblr post here I can't find to link).
Riordan's Gods are very humanized. I personally like to play with the idea of that being a result of changing with the times, but their core still being the same. Sure, they might soften themselves for modern demigods due to time and cultures changing expectations, but that doesn't erase the thousands of years that very much wasn't the case. It's a fun dichotomy to play with in fic where you can do whatever you want. I like the Gods being Gods tag.
In the world of Percy Jackson, myths are history. The morals of Greek mythology are different from what we're used to seeing, but that doesn't mean they're not there. The myths depict cruelties and horrors, but often these same cruelties were justified to the Gods enacting them. And those are the Gods we're reading and writing about when you're playing with PJO.
I do love reading and writing the softer moments between the Demigods and the Gods. Whether that's parental, friendships, or romantic. But Apollo helping someone heal doesn't erase the fact that he is also the God of plague; like the black plague, the spanish influenza, covid-19, cancer -- that's all him. With these softer moments, that doesn't erase everything else the Gods do and have done, and that they will forever look at their actions in a different way. I think there's a sort of obligation there too, as part of their domains. Ares will always be war.
And I think this obligation extends to their affairs. Ares has children with soldiers, Athena has kids with academics -- they're falling for their own domains. This isn't a hard and fast rule, but how can you fault the god of thieves for falling for a thief? And I do think there's love, it just looks so very different from what we might be used to.
All this to say, long-term monogamy is not in Apollo's wheelhouse. He's married to the muses by some accounts. Apollo is the God of so many things: music and healing just to name the few. I don't think he'll permanently change millennia of behavior for Percy, no matter how romantic that sounds. A musician who performs for the love of the song is going to catch Apollo's eye because that is to perform for the love of Apollo, even if the musician in question doesn't know that.
Earlier, I said for the purposes of this question we'll define loyal as monogamous, and I think that's part of the crux of the matter. I think Percy would see affairs and demigods as a sign of disloyalty. I don't think Apollo would if Apollo always comes back to Percy. This is a much more understandable difference in view point and one we see between people on the daily.
And definitely reach out to a few others; it's a super fascinating conversation! These questions are part of why I love reading and writing the Demigod/God fics so much -- Demigods have a better idea of what they're getting into, which makes all of these things stand out so much more when the God doesn't have to hide. I know @mrthology and I are definitely aligned regarding the Apollo and loyalty question, but I can't speak for anyone else!
#Ask#ashdevito#Percy Jackson and the Olympians#Perpollo#this is a lot of word vomit but I hope the point comes across lol#Much longer than I thought#but these questions are super fun to think about when thinking of god/demigod relationships
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
“I want to know what makes you happy.”
[ for annie ! ]
@xinxiins / "i want to know..." prompts
WHAT A STRANGE QUESTION TO ASK. Most of the time when people see her, they don’t ask her about her life. If they even ask them in the first place. She can always see it in their eyes, the prying questions: what happened, how did you get like this, will you ever be the same again, oh that poor girl-
The questions are never about her, so much as they are about what was done to her. The same difference between a subject and an object. Maybe that’s why he asks her this question instead. She doesn’t know what he’s been through and it is vice versa too, but like is attracted to like. The wounded have a way of finding one another, the same way rivers will always make their way to the sea in the end.
“...Water?” She offers, hesitantly. Is that too simple of an answer to say? Although perhaps it is not right to say it makes her happy so much as it calms her, silences the thoughts when she can’t do so herself. “The beach. I grew up with the sea and the sand at my feet. And Samchu– the neighborhood cat. She likes it when her chin is scratched.” She closes her eyes, remembering Samchu’s purring against her fingers. The calico cat would then rub her head against the back of Annie’s hand. A small smile.
“Chocolate. I like the dark ones and mint. I don’t like it when they’re in bars; the individual pieces have prettier wrapping.” Would anyone care if they knew? Annie doesn’t know, but if they would, would they go out of their to–
Oh wait, there is one person.
What makes Annie happy, Lí Chényǔ asks her, when sanity and coherence already feels out of of arm’s reach. Happiness? It wasn’t even, and still doesn’t feel like a priority for her. And yet, and yet-! In the midst of this chaos, she did find something. Or rather someone found her. She thinks of long hair and a stoic demeanor. Of a voice strong and controlled, but still chooses to call Annie’s name gently. Yes, that’s her north star, isn’t it? Annie’s light in this dark chasm.
“Ara.”
My best friend.
“She makes me happy.”
#xinxiins#( answered. )#buoy in the water ( annie. )#( verse: to match the color of god. )#answered ( annie. )#the darkness that gently leads by the hand ( annie & ara. )#thanks for sending this in annabel <3#i swear i will get back to you ooc sooner than later :'D#but also....yeah arannie is platonic....#but i kinda feel like their relationship has the same...intensity sorta??#equal to a romantic ship basically#basically this is all to say arannie is one of annie's most important dynamics in my interpretation <3#ara is crazy and honestly i tell annie like 'girl are you sure you want her she's nuts :| '#and annie vc: yes she's perfect :)#( except she isn't JFKLSDJFKL )#ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THIS CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE WITH YOU MORE :DDD
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Brother Is Also My Dad…?
(A Drabble Requested By @shacchou )
"It's time for my Final Phase and time to finish you off, Akatsuki! Impact Call! I pay 3 Gauge To evolve Bal into an Impact Monster!" Mokuba declares, three of the floating cards in his gauge meter turning into stars as their energy floods into the monster located to his right area.
"Bal…Bal will do his super best, bal!"
"Bal is now a Size Two monster, with 1100 attack and 6000 defense and a critical of five thanks to having Bal Knuckle equipped! And his attacks cannot be nulified, meaning that Art of Body Replacement card I know you have in your hand is useless!"
"Oh no! I knew I should have used that to guard your item's attack earlier, but with only one card left in your hand, I didn't think you could have possibly had your Impact Monster!" His ninja friend panics, realizing his mistake as soon as Mokuba pointed it out. Seems like he still had a long way to go to catch up to his brother in terms of Buddyfighting.
"Go for it, Bal!"
"Bal Burst Smasher!!!!"
And the attack succeds, the impact of Bal's attack reducing Akatsuki's remaining life points in record time. The young Kaiba had outplayed his opponent by anaylzing the situation and predicting what cards they may hold. Mokuba truly did learn a lot about gaming by watching his brother, and was using that knowledge even in a game his brother hadn't played. He was a Kaiba and a gamer in his own right, and his victory today was a showcase of why.
"Game End. Winner: Mokuba Kaiba."
The sound coming from Mokuba's Core Gadget, which took the form of a floating capsule akin to those found in Capsule Monsters Chess, signaling the end of the match. The effects of the fight vanished immediately as Akatsuki's Katana World flag shattered, and the proud Sun Dragon returned to his mini form in a flash of light.
"Mokuba and Bal won, bal!"
"We sure did! We totally kicked their butt! Up top, Bal!" The raising of his hand for a high five was soon met with the dragon's own palm, both winners giggling and celebrating their victory. Mokuba really had come to get good at Gao's Scorching Sun Dragon Deck that Baku had made not too long after he met Bal. In fact, some suspected if Mokuba became more than just a casual Buddyfighter, that Bal might have become his buddy instead of Gao's.
With the dragon now atop his fluffy hair, Mokuba moves to exit the Castle's Buddyfight arena to meet his opponent and his Buddy Monster, both understandably disheartened by the loss. Noticing this, the Kaiba approaches them, offering them a friendly handshake of good sportsmanship that Bal then mimics.
"Hey, don't look so down, guys! You both played well today. If I didn't have that Green Dragon Shield in my hand on the previous turn, Byakuya's Shadow Dive mulit-attack combo would have taken the rest of my life points! Besides, I had a lot of fun playing with you guys today!"
"Bal loves Buddyfighting with Akatsuki and Byakuya, bal!" The dragon adds, his innocence and sunshine smile, along with Mokuba's kind words, seeming to improve the other's moods rather quickly. Both monster and Buddyfighter return the handshakes, a confident expression now facing Akatsuki's face.
"Yeah…that was pretty fun! We did almost have you. But next time Mokuba, it will be us who are the winner! Big Z and I are going to go through a special training together soon! When we're finished, no one will be able to beat us!"
"I look forward to seeing the results of that training, Akatsuki."
The two boys and two monsters then both laugh together. Following his adoption, never did he celebrate a match with his opponent like this, win or lose. This change in his behavior was a sure sign that his friends, as well as Yugi Muto and his own crew, really had rubbed off on him. It…It felt good to be able to share games like this again with others. Now he just needed to get into doing them regularly with his brother, a task that seemed more impossible than one might realize.
"That was a great fight, everyone!"
The voice of Gao Mikado breaks through their laughter, Bal immediately waving to his Buddy and the others who were accompanying him. Among the group included Gao's other Buddy, Drum Bunker Dragon, in addition to Gao's two friends Baku and Kuguru. Mokuba may not be as close with the Mighty Sun Fighter's deck builder and analyst as he was with the Buddyfighter proper, but he had come to call the pair his friends in their own right.
"Gao saw Bal and Mokuba's fight, bal!?" The dragon asked, quickly jumping off from Mokuba to instead land right ontop of Gao's shoulder.
"I sure did, buddy. You two were totally in sync out there! It was so cool to watch, and I think I may have picked up a strategy or two by watching ya!"
"I'm surprised you played the deck I made to match Gao's fight style so well, Mokuba. Call me impressed, bro." Baku adds, the compliment being a high one from a deck builder of his caliber.
"I saw no holes in your strategy, either. You took advantage of the Sun Dragon's unique skills perfectly." Kuguru then comments, pulling up her tablet to then show Mokuba the statistics she took during the match that support her claims. "Your Impact Call in particular was perfectly timed. Your attack formation and demeanor threw your opponent off from using his defensive spell prior."
"N-No need to rub it in..." The young ninja says, his expression looking disheartened. That's when he feels Byakuya gently pat his back, offering his Buddy some comfort.
"If he's getting high praise from you two, then that just proves it! Mokuba, you're an amazing Buddyfighter!"
The wave of compliments hit him hard, elating the young boy's heart. It was, after all, not a common occurrence that he was complimented for his gaming skills. Seto always took the spotlight when it came to that, and while he certainly thinks his brother is deserving of such praise, it felt good to hear it for himself too. Mokuba was a gamer in his own right, and he took pride in that fact, a pride not too dissimilar to Seto's own.
"Keh. Would you expect anything less from me? We Kaiba's are Gamemasters, after all! Mastering multiple games is our trademark!" Mokuba says with a prideful smile and hands on his hips for a few moments, soaking in the attention. He then takes his now de-transformed Core Deck Case out of his pocket and removes the deck out of it to hand back to Gao. "But…thank you for letting me borrow your Scorching Sun Dragon deck, Gao. It's always a blast to fight with Bal!"
"You can use it anytime! You know Bal is down for it!"
"Bal wants to fight everyone with Mokuba, bal! That be the best day ever, bal! Everyone Buddyfighting together, bal!"
"Huh…" The youngest Kaiba speaks, his mind formulating an idea sparked on by the dragon's words. "You know? That isn't a bad idea, Bal. We should…We should do something to make that happen. Like…throw our own Buddyfight tournament, with the winner getting some kind of prize! That way, everyone will be playing seriously!"
"A tournament with all our friends, huh? Now that sounds interesting! I'm in!" Gao's signature grin appears on his face, matching the one Mokuba formed on his own.
"You'd invite Big Z to this tournament too, right Mokuba?"
"Of course, Akatsuki! Can't leave you or your brother out of this! Same goes for Tasuku and Suzuha too!" Mokuba would invite his own brother if he was interested in playing the game, which he no doubt wasn't. He was too obsessed with Duel Monsters to probably even think of trying it. Besides, this kind of thing was so not Seto's vibe.
"I'd wanna invite all the best Buddyfighters you guys know, too! Like your classmates and upperclassmen, Gao! It won't be any kind of official event or anything, but I'm sure it will be fun! Plus, we can have it at my house! If…If…"
Mokuba then pauses for a moment, his expression changing from one of excitement to one that looked slightly disheartened. He takes out his phone then, staring at his home screen which contained a more recent photo of himself and Seto he took at Kaiba Land.
"If what, bal?"
"If I can get permission from Seto, first. He needs to approve any and all social gatherings that happen at the house, whether it's something like this or even just having one person over to play games." That's why Mokuba often hung out with his friends in public places or in their own homes. The process was much easier. "On top of that, he'd probably want background checks on everyone who'd be coming over who he isn't familiar with, Buddy Monsters included. Not to mention just selling him on the idea to begin with…"
The idea did seem like it be a tough sell, considering it's size and scale. It's not like this was a promotion event or anything related to the business. This was just something he wanted to do for fun with his friends, and while Seto respected Mokuba's choice to pursue what he wished, this was…different. He would be agreeing to invite multiple strangers, a whole group of them that included monsters with supernatural abilities, into his home. It was a massive security risk, as well as a distraction.
He hates to admit it, but…as much as he wanted it to happen, he just can't see Seto agreeing to it. This reality is shown on his face, Mokuba sighing heavily in defeat before the battle even began.
"Man…That's…That's tough, Mokuba." Gao comments, gritting his teeth as he looks to the side. "He's stricter with you than my mom is with me, and that's saying something."
"Lord Seto's even stricter than Big Z is with me!" Akatsuki chimes in. "I remember when you told me he banned energy drinks from your house and at Kaiba Corp just because you drank one too many one day!"
"Never met the guy personally, but it really does sound like he's basically your dad, bro. And a very, very overprotective one at that. I think he needs to chill out a bit, if you ask me."
Baku's comment takes Mokuba aback a few short moments, his purple hues blinking in utter confusion at the deck builder. "What…What do you mean by that, Baku? Seto isn't…isn't my dad. He's my big brother, always has been. And the stuff he does…is just what big brothers do. He's looking out for me, that's all."
"Big bros look out for their siblings, sure. But…" He then sticks a lollipop from his pocket into his mouth, Baku always being one to snack on something during almost any occasion. "I don't think it's the norm for little bros to ask their big bro for permission for everything, or for big bros to ban things from the house or want background checks on people coming into their house. Those are things that parents typically do. Gao, do you do that kind of stuff for Hana?"
"No way, Baku! That's Mom and Dad's job! I just do my part to look out for her, that's all. Though, if anything, she looks out for me! We all wouldn't get up on time if she wasn't there." Gao says, Bal and Drum nodding their heads in agreement.
"And Akatsuki, does Zanya do that kind of stuff for you?"
"Sorta…Big Z does a lot of things for me, but…he more enforces Father's rules when it comes to discipline. He…He tries to be like him when he's not around."
"And Mokuba. Isn't your big bro your legal guardian?"
"Y-Yeah…B-But that's because…because…" The words stop coming from his mouth, Mokuba unable to find an answer. He was completely stumped here, despite always having some sort of line to say when it came to his brother.
"He's the one responsible for you? The one who is raising you? The one who goes to parent-teacher conferences? Just face it, he's essentially your dad too, bro."
Those words from the deck builder, ones that Mokuba could not understand but was unable to fight against, caused him to stare back at the picture of Seto on his phone again. To him, everything Seto had done since they were kids was normal sibling behavior. Sure, they were in different circumstances compared to other children, but all of it seemed normal to him. But…he sometimes forgets how different his life was compared to those around him, and how that shaped his worldview.
"I…I should get going. It is getting late. Don't want to cause my br-" He pauses for a moment before changing his word. "Seto to worry. I'll…I'll get back to you guys on the tournament idea. If…If it doesn't work at my place, I'm sure Suzuha can host it just fine. That girl has multiple Buddyfight arenas underground at her castle."
That's when he starts to leave the area, putting some pep in his step. His heart and mind were a bag of mixed feelings that he just couldn't comprehend right now. He only stops his exit when he hears the voice of Kuguru calling his name. Mokuba turns around then, his eyes glancing upon the analyst.
"What Baku dear said…He didn't mean it as a bad thing, right Baku?" Kuguru glances at the other with a sharpness behind her glasses, her gaze a signal that he better answer correctly.
"O-Of course not. I'm…I'm sorry if what I said upset you at all. My bad, bro. Sometimes I can be a bit too blunt…" Baku answers, taking his candy out of his mouth, his face portraying his regret. He wasn't too close with Mokuba compared to some of the others here, and if he had, he probably wouldn't have made this comment to begin with. Anyone who knew the Kaiba knew he was sensitive when it came to his brother.
"Your brother may be a bit overprotective like a parent, but what big brother isn't overprotective of their precious sibling?" Kuguru speaks, glancing over at Atatsuki and Gao.
"I can confirm Lord Zanya is very, very protective of Lord Akatsuki. Like there was this one time when someone tried to-" The words of Byakuya are then cut off as Akatsuki covers his mouth, no doubt trying to stop the chatterbox of a monster from saying something highly embarrassing.
"Yota…protected me in his own way. Even when he was in the hospital, he did all he could to help protect my spirits and…leave me hope for the future." Gao says, sunshine hues glancing up at his hat which was a signature part of his Mighty Sun Fighter uniform, the one his mother originally made for Yota to wear. "And I try to keep that hope alive…for Hana."
Drum then steps forward from Gao's side, walking over to meet Mokuba directly. "Listen, kid. Your brother may be one of the grumpiest humans I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, but…in a lot of ways, he reminds me of how we dragons are. Not all dragons…get to be raised by their parents. I'm one of the lucky ones who has, and let me tell you, my old man is worse than your brother could ever hope to be when it comes to discipline. He threw me across worlds to train because I didn't get his stupid riddle right!"
Mokuba, and the others for that matter, start to laugh a bit at the story. Normally such a display would upset Drum, but right now, he was clearly more focused on the younger Kaiba than himself. He certainly has matured since arriving to Earth, that's for sure. His father would be proud.
"My point is that what your family looks like or what you decide to call what they do isn't what really matters. What does is that you all care about each other, take care of each other, and your brother…cares about you more than most people, monster or human, I've ever met. That's something you should treasure, kid." Drum's words are followed by a nod and smile from everyone, Baku included.
The vice president, on instinct then, moves to open his pendent, staring at the picture of his brother when they were children. Waves of memories flood back to him, of the times Seto cared for him, did everything for him. Looking back, what Seto did for him did somewhat align with what he remembers his father doing for him back when he was alive. Deep down, Mokuba could have made the connection sooner if he wanted to, but it was clear he didn't.
His father was his father. His brother was his brother.
Those were what Mokuba knew them to be and that wasn't going to change. And even if in practicality, the roles of both of those individuals overlapped in Seto's behavior following his father's death, as his friends pointed out, what was important is that Seto loved him. His love was clearly shown through his actions, including the strict ones. He had always done all he could to look out for Mokuba, and if this conversation has reminded him of anything, it was to really appreciate everything his brother goes out of his way to do for him, despite the teen not initially understanding them at the time.
"I will." He says softly as he closes his pendant, gathering up his bag and preparing to head out. "Now, I better get going before my…big brother starts to worry about me. He can be quite the worry wort, and I don't want to be grounded! See you at school tommorow, Akatsuki! And keep an eye out for updates about the tournament, guys! I'm…I'm going to ask Seto, and maybe by some miracle, he'll actually agree to it!"
With that hopeful statement said, Mokuba takes his leave. He thought about asking Isano to drive him home, but he decided it would be faster if he ran. He…He wanted to see his big brother right now, to see him and give him a hug, a hug as a show of appreciation for all he's done for him…as a brother and beloved member of his family.
#💎 Crystalized Hidden Gems (Drabble)#💎 Vice Treasure (Mokuba Kaiba)#💎 President With A Blue-Eyed Lighting (Shacchou)#💎 Ninja Treasure (Akatsuki Kisaragi)#💎 NPC: Ninja's Showoff Of A Buddy (Byakuya)#💎 Sun Treasure (Gao Mikado)#💎 NPC: Sun's Baby Second Buddy (Bal Dragon)#💎 NPC: Sun's Drilling First Buddy (Drum Bunker Dragon)#💎 NPC: Sun's Always Hungry Deck Builder (Baku Omari)#💎 NPC: Sun's Always On Point Analyst (Kuguru Uki)#💎 Vice's Dark Side Story (Mokuba DSOD Verse)#💎 Ninja's Game Of Life (Akatsuki Yu-Gi-Oh! DM Verse)#💎 Sun's Game Of Life (Gao Yu-Gi-Oh! DM Verse)#tw long post#tw mention of death#(I THINK...THIS DRABBLE WINS FOR HAVING THE MOST CHRS IN ANY WRITING THING IVE DONE TALKING LOL#(BUT...LIKE MY BUDDYFIGHT BOYS MORE OFTEN THAN NOT GOT A MILLION PLUS ONES SO IT FITS#(AND HONESTLY BAKU BEING THE ONE TO BE BLUNT ABOUT THIS MAKES THE MOST SENSE LOL#(I wrote this over the course of two plane rides without spell check and I'm pretty happy with it LOL#(anyway i hope this answers your curiosity Ani and you enjoyed Mokuba and his squad interacting#(the more i write them the more i love them all the same ;;;;;
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
@uroborosymphony sent in: #15 for Patrick, the victor || when the unspoken is named ( things you said prompt. )
15. things you said with rage between your teeth
"You can hear it too, can’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, seeing that they’re the only ones in the room, this minimalist styled sitting room decorated with accents of black and gold. A room that the president has oh so generously decorated with them in mind. If not for the accents, Patrick imagines this would be a room that fit in the president’s own mansion.
A room that, if Patrick had any say in it, would burn down never see the inside of again.
He doesn’t remove his coat or deposit it on the rack as he usually does. But he does take a seat next to her on the couch. Deva is only a few inches away from him and perhaps in another life, the distance would make him wilt for fear of pressing on unspoken boundaries. However, he pays little regard if only because they have known each other for years on end and when they have watched the same spectacle, when they have served the pigs that revel in their suffering, when they have endured it all for years on end, an issue of decorum becomes miniscule.
“They’re not happy. The Districts.”
They never have been, the murmurs of disgruntlement having always been there for as long as he could remember. How those murmurs have always grown a tad louder when the reaping came around, followed by the mandatory viewings.
( Or maybe they’ve always been loud to begin with, only muted like a television with its sound turned to zero. Only muted by the propaganda and the soundproof walls the Capitol throws over them. Or even bitten back, tongue bitten. )
This year however. With the announcement of the condition of the Third Quarter Quell, they’re no longer murmurs of dissatisfaction. No, it’s grown into something louder, stronger.
Something like screaming.
Not even the walls can keep them out.
“As a reminder to the districts that their rebellion has robbed their children of a future, for this Quarter Quell, the male and female tributes shall be reaped from the existing pool of twelve years old.”
“I take it that One and Two aren’t happy about this either?” He can’t imagine they are; for even if they pride themselves on participation in the Capitol’s gleeful slaughterhouse, they would not dream of sending out A CHILD sorely untrained to represent them.
District Three for sure, isn’t. He’s seen it for himself too- the uprisings in factories all throughout District Three accompanied by the public whippings, the censorship of radio stations, and the taser sessions for those refuse to show up for work. And if he hasn’t seen it himself, then Hyuk would make sure he knew, most likely being one of the many of instigate much of the dissent.
“I’ve been thinking.” The words come out clipped. “All these years, we’ve been slaves to his whims if only to keep the ones we love safe. He tells us if we do as he says, he won’t hurt them, he’ll let them live another day…but that’s a lie, isn’t it?” He leans forward, mouth covered by clasped hands. “He was never planning on keeping them safe. He’ll dangle their lives to wring us of all our use and once we have nothing left to give, he’ll throw them away along with us just like he has with everyone else. We’re not any better than the other victors; we’re just pawns to his board. And now because of our complacency, the children will pay the price to give our president his checkmate.” His hands tighten. “…I’m sick of it. I’m tired of being someone else’s chess piece.”
Eyes turn to her. They’re burning. “…What are your thoughts on playing A NEW GAME in the Capitol this year?”
#the victor ( verse three. )#the victor ( answered. )#divinity is just another name for leader ( devora. )#LYNNIE!!!!....i hope this works??#honestly anger?? might be a tricky emotion for patrick#since he's more likely to go silent rather than express it#but i was thinking for this perhaps when the rebellion is in its embers stage....and this is the trigger#also!! i know it looks like he could be addressing anyone but really??#deva would be one of the first ( if not that first ) that patrick would reveal his thoughts to :'D#BUT LYNNIE!!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN!!! and i can't wait to see the power duo in action <3 <3 <3
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Columba
summary: It isn’t until you’re in his home that you learn it’s General Marcus Acacius who’s summoned you for your services—you’re not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.
pairing: Marcus Acacius/Plus Size f!reader (Courtesan)
rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today’s standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he’s a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, with hair like that he wants it pulled, some sweetness at the end)
word count: 4.8k+
a/n: I took one look at Marcus’ hair and immediately thought, that guy likes his hair pulled. I also decided that since he spends weeks to months with a bunch of men at a time, when he comes home, he really appreciates a curvy woman. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything for him until I saw the movie, but the trailer got me. This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
Masterlist
It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus’ atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium’s opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon’s light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.
General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.
There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite.
Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you’re curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you.
His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch.
"Do I frighten you?" His voice is a low, deep rasp that shivers down your spine.
"No, Sir," you answer.
His thumb strokes over the snake's head and along its body. "Why do you flinch?"
Raising your head, you see he’s wearing a white tunic with a gold pattern lining around his neck, down his arms, and along the hem, a belt securing it at his waist; golden cuffs covered his wrists. You’re met with dark eyes, a furrow crinkling between his eyebrows—his brown hair with a kiss of gray, curls like waves on his head, his facial hair dotted with a few silvery strands. It takes you a second to answer his question because the glimpses of him you caught during victory parades and the marble bust didn't prepare you for his beauty.
Mars and Venus have bestowed their blessings upon him.
“My apologies, Sir,” you finally reply. “It was simply surprise at being graced by your touch.” His expression is difficult to read, so you continue speaking, “I’ve heard of your prowess in battle that inspires songs and how your enemies tremble before you, but I do not believe I have reason to fear you—unless that is something you wish. Do you wish for me to be frightened of you?”
Some men liked it if you acted afraid of them to feel powerful. Some men, usually the big, tough ones, liked to bury their faces in your bosom while you held them. The slight show of relief on Marcus’ face when you said you had no reason to fear him made you suspect he’d be in the latter category.
“No.” His eyes are locked onto yours. “I do not need another to fear me. I wish for you to want my touch.”
“I wish for more than your touch,” you reply. “I wish to feel your lips on mine and your weight on top of me, I wish to feel your cock inside me and to hear the sounds you make when you peak, and I do wish for your touch; I wish to feel your hands claim my body as yours.”
His gaze turns to one of desire, and it makes you smile.
"You," he says. "Stay. The rest of you,” he announces, keeping his eyes on yours, “leave us.”
The invitation the messenger brought to your home the day prior did not state who requested your services; it simply said the person was a public figure, and the woman picked would be paid handsomely.
The servants, who stood as still as statues against a wall, scurried to assist each of the other women with redressing.
"Come," he orders, offering you a hand you accept. He leads you to a room you realize is his personal quarters when you spot his armor in a corner, Medusa's golden head on the cuirass shining in the candlelight—she wards off evil and offers protection. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, and he lets go of your hand, slipping off his sandals by the doorway before walking over to a thin table laden with a jug, cups, and a bowl of berries and grapes.
"Care for some wine?" he asks without looking at you while pouring himself a cup.
His body is tense, and you’re assuming you’re here to help him relax—he arrived home only days ago from war, and you got a chance to see him rolling down the street on a chariot as he waved to the cheering masses. It would make sense that he could use somebody with your expertise to get him to unwind.
“No, thank you, Sir,” you answer, and he faces you again, taking a drink. “It’s a great honor that you chose me, and I do not wish to forget a single moment.”
His cup lowers, and you're surprised to find he’s wearing a little smile. He twists to set his wine down next to the jug, and removes the cuffs from his wrists, setting them onto the table then his eyes are on yours.
"Marcus," he says, and it only takes a few strides to have him in front of you again.
"I'm sorry?" you ask.
His attention moves to your body, and he’s not looking upon you like an object or something he’s just purchased as most men do; his gaze is appreciative, the same kind of look you could imagine was on his face when he stared at art that pleased him. Your figure isn’t the ideal for most Roman women—your hips are too wide, your breasts are too large, your ass is too big, your thighs are too thick, and your stomach is too noticeable—yet, there are many men who sought you out and paid well for your time, and it seems the General is one of them.
"My name." He walks around you, his fingers sliding along your upper back from shoulder to shoulder. “Call me Marcus. I want you to be familiar with how my name tastes on your tongue.”
The touch and his words cause your nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on your skin.
"Marcus,” you say.
He’s in front of you again, his darkened eyes on yours. His big hands grip your waist, pulling you into him, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale deeply. “Gods, you’re the best thing I’ve smelled in months.” The words are said against your flesh. “Like a meadow of flowers in Spring, and I fail to remember the last time I felt such softness.” He squeezes the fleshy handles at your hips and goes lower to grab handfuls of your ass, then runs his hands up your back. “Upon hearing your description,” he says, “I knew you’d be perfect, but what I imagined has no comparison to seeing your beauty with my own eyes.” His admission catches you off guard as it sounds as though he always intended to pick you from the line of women. It’s curious that he even invited the others if his mind had been set beforehand. He straightens, meeting your gaze. “Take off my clothes.”
There's no need to reply; you just do as he ordered, getting his belt undone, the leather falling to the floor, then pulling his tunic over his head, it meeting the same fate as his belt.
He’s completely nude, standing at his full height before you.
You expected the scars etched all over his body, the evidence that he'd lay down his life for Rome without hesitation. There's a long, jagged one across his right pec, silvered with age, that has you forgetting yourself and softly pressing your fingertips to it.
He snatches your smaller hand, pulling it away from his marred skin.
"My apologies," you quickly say, bowing your head in submission. "I shouldn't have touched you without permission."
"You may touch me." Once again, he surprises you by putting the flat of your palm against the scar, his other hand grabbing your chin to lift your face.
From his reaction to your fingers on him, you think he hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time, and you hope you can make up for all the nights he spent alone.
It seems he's done with the pleasantries when his lips crush into yours. It's all of the encouragement you need, kissing him back while rubbing your palms up his broad chest, feeling his warmth. You snake a hand down his stomach through the trail of hair low on his belly to take his half-hard cock into your hand—he groans and twitches in your hold.
He truly has the Gods' favor—a talented General, handsome and well-endowed.
With his hands on your waist, he walks you backward to the bed, laying you on the mattress. He's on top of you, deepening the kiss with his tongue pressing into your mouth, his hand palming your tit, making you wet with arousal and your body heat.
It's fascinating how he's defying all of your expectations. The men who seek you out after spending months fighting are often rough and brutish, using you however they want to release their tension. There's never kissing or offers of drink; it's orders to suck their cocks, or to get on the bed in their desired position—and here's Marcus kissing down your body, along the skin of your neck to your chest. Most of his weight is on his knees between your legs while bending forward over you, and the only word you can think of to describe it is he's worshipping your breasts. He has them in his hands, moving from one to the other, licking, sucking, and nibbling on your nipples and soft skin, the sensations making your pussy weep with need.
“Gods, Marcus,” you moan. He has you squirming with how good it feels, your fingers pushing into his curls. He takes a pebbled bud between his teeth and gently tugs. “Oh,” you gasp, your hands tightening in the tousled waves on his head.
He releases your nipple. “Harder,” he rasps, then flicks his tongue against your stiff peak, and you do as requested, pulling his hair harder. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as he continues laving at your tits, skimming his hand down your stomach, your skin tingling under his fingertips, until he’s sliding two fingers through your wet slit. You tighten your hold on his head, your toes curling when he starts rubbing your clit, and the realization hits that he intends for you to have just as much enjoyment as him.
"Marcus," you whine.
He’s one of those men who has you praying that he’ll wish for your company again, and you wouldn’t even make him pay if you got another chance to warm his bed.
The push of his thick digit into your pussy makes your breath hitch at the slight stretch, his thumb pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving side to side—you know he’s going to make you come, and you silently thank the Gods.
His finger is pushing in and out of you, his thumb continuing its movements, and he lifts his face to look you in the eyes, his own are so black there’s hardly a sliver of brown remaining. "Come for me," he commands, slipping a second digit inside you—you’re so wet you can hear the slick slide of his fingers pumping into you. The muscles in your belly are tightening, and the fire in your core is building. "Come for me, sweet girl." His head dips to lightly bite your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. "Once you come, I'll do as you wish and sheath my cock into this perfect cunt."
The hot heat of his mouth envelops your pebbled bud, and he sucks—it's your undoing; your eyes close as you fall over the edge, coming with a moan of his name. His digits and mouth continue to extend your ecstasy while your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart pounds.
He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, his hand sliding from your pussy, up your stomach, leaving a trail of your release on your skin. His voice deepens, “You’ve done well for me, and I keep my word—turn over.”
He helps you to roll onto your front, and you get up onto your hands and knees—a familiar position. He takes a moment to admire you in front of him, his palms feeling the thickness of your thighs and hips. His fingers dig into your plump asscheeks as he spreads them and dips his head, hearing and feeling him spit between them, the hot saliva dripping from your asshole down to your opening. He shuffles up behind you, sliding his cock through the wetness of your come and his spit to lubricate himself, then notches it at your entrance—you both moan as he slowly starts feeding himself into you.
Gods, he’s big.
There’s a slight burn with how he’s stretching you, your inner walls having to accommodate his ample girth, and once he’s pressed all the way to the root inside you, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.
He has a tight grip on your waist and pulls out almost all the way, immediately pushing back into you hard enough there's a clap when his hips hit your ass. This was expected, Marcus setting up a rhythm that punches the air from your lungs each time he thrusts forward—he’s working out what he doesn’t wish to feel, and with how slippery it is between your legs, he's moving easily, and the brutal pace feels amazing.
Many times, you’ve had to fake your enjoyment to make those employing you think they’re talented lovers—the majority are selfish in bed and care little about your comfort but want their egos stroked. Marcus, on the other hand, earned your favor when he took the time to ready you with his fingers and allowed you to climax.
He's pounding into you, the collide of his body against yours making your asscheeks shake, and with how his cock is pressing into something truly divine, he’s also earned your screams of his name and whatever incoherent words are babbling from your mouth—he has you dizzy with pleasure, heat coiling in your belly, and there’s no doubting the Goddess of Beauty and Sex has given him her blessing.
Sounds are spilling unbidden from your lips, Marcus loudly grunting with each stroke, the wet slap of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, and you look over your shoulder—the candlelight around the room shows the glisten of sweat on his golden skin. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his jaw slack. Hair is sticking to his forehead, and a beautiful rosy flush has begun on his chest, rising up his neck to paint his cheeks. You can't think of another you've laid with who looked so breathtaking while taking their pleasure, and you could only imagine how glorious he’d look on the battlefield. You don't know what comes over you, reaching your hand back to touch his hip, and suddenly, he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust.
It’s as though he’s been in a trance, losing himself in your body, and now he’s come back to be in the moment with you. He falls forward, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you, blanketing your back and slowing his pace. His chin is on your shoulder, and he bites the shell of your ear; all of his weight goes onto one arm to free up the other that roughly grabs your breast and plucks at your nipple.
“You take me so well,” he says into your ear, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you. “Your sweet little cunt will milk me dry, and then I’ll have you again and again after that to keep you full of my seed.”
His words steal a moan from your lips.
“Does that please you, my sweet girl?” he asks. “You wish for more of me? Has another ever fucked you so good?” He gets his hand between your legs to circle the pearl of your pleasure, and your jaw drops, eyes closing—he’s going to make you come again. “Answer me,” he growls, lightly slapping your clit, and you clench around him.
It’s challenging to think, but you say, “No,” and push your ass back against him as he thrusts forward, fucking yourself on him to get closer and closer to your end. “I’ve never had such fortune.”
“You do now—by morning, I’ll have you ruined for any other man, and your cunt won’t soon forget the shape of my cock.”
He means every word that slips from his tongue, and it sets the fire in your belly ablaze. You’re holding yourself up on shaky limbs, the muscles in your stomach knotting up—you’re close.
“Marcus,” you moan.
His warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks into it: “I love how my name sounds from your lips. I know you’re close. Give in so I can feel you ascend to the heavens.”
His words, the fullness of his thick shaft moving in and out of you, and his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle at the apex of your thighs has you shattering—stars burst behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure erupts in your center, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough he slows to a stop, and groans in your ear.
You exhale panted breaths, your heart beating rapidly, and the blissful euphoria ripples through your body, slowly ebbing away.
Somehow, you find your voice, "Allow me to ride you."
He kisses your shoulder, his beard scratching against your bare skin. "You want to mount me?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Then you shall."
He pulls out of you, an achy groan leaving him as he lies beside you on his back, and you get up onto your knees. He draws your attention with how he’s splayed out on the mattress, his long legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his head. His cock is still hard, it shiny with your juices, and resting against his lower belly, cushioned by the tantalizing path of hair that led directly to it—and he’s looking up at you, his eyes dark with want that keep lowering to your bosom, and back up to your eye line, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, that you suddenly wish to bite.
There’s the common knowledge about Marcus all of Rome is aware of—the family he comes from and the military achievements that have led to him being the victorious General the Gods have blessed the city with, and now you’re versed in his more private attributes—he likes his women to be sturdy with sizeable breasts, he enjoys the pleasurable pain of his hair pulled, he’s a generous lover, he prefers to be in control unless you can tempt him enough to hand over the reins. It’s quite tempting for him to lie back and watch your tits bounce as you ride him.
Shuffling in place to face him, taking his hard length in hand—he didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer, yet you want to take care of him like he took care of you, so you scoot back enough that you can bend down at the waist, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.
The sound of Marcus’ loud moan and the way his back arches as if it were the string of a bow shoots straight to your cunt—you can taste the mix of your essence and his arousal that’s steadily dribbling from the sensitive head that you lick and suckle; your hand easily stroking up and down the sheath of skin on his shaft. The muscles in his thighs and stomach have tensed like it’s taking everything in him to hold back and not fill your mouth with his come.
“Enough,” he grits the order through his teeth, and his palm lands on the side of your ass with a hard slap that echoes against the walls, the sharp sting getting a moan out of you—your head lifts off of him to see he’s scowling. “I’m not spilling down your throat,” he continues and smacks your ass again. “Ride me, or I’ll have you under me.”
“Apologies, Marcus,” you reply demurely and sit up on your knees once more. Quickly, you move, throwing a leg over his waist to have your thick thighs hugging his hips. You rise, grabbing his cock, you press to your entrance, and you watch his face as you slowly start to impale yourself on him, relishing in how his mouth falls open and the tight grip he has on the meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough it bordered on painful.
The fullness is incredible when you sit flush against him, and you love how he fills you. Your palms find purchase on his broad chest, and you rise until only the tip of him remains inside of you, and you drop back down—the rhythm you set has you moving in his lap, up and down in quick succession, Marcus groaning, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your breasts.
Sweat forms on your skin, feeling it on your forehead and a single drop sliding down your spine, your eyes closed as you focus, your moans stuttering each time you sink onto him.
His hands are resting on your backside, rising and falling with you, his voice rough with pleasure, “That’s it, ride me, bounce on my cock.”
This isn’t about you, and though it feels good riding him, your goal is helping him achieve his own high, and you’re determined to do so—your hands leave him to press your tits together, and you gasp in surprise when he sits up and shoves his face into them. Your pace doesn’t waver, and you look at him to see he’s keeping himself up with an arm braced on the bed behind him, the other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.
Your fingers slide into the unruly curls at the back of his head, and you yank them hard to make him look at you, Marcus hissing while his cock twitches inside you. In this position, you’re taller, and he gazes up to meet your eyes.
“I want you to come,” you pant, continuing to fuck yourself on him. “I want to feel you flood my cunt with your seed.” The noise he makes sounds like a whine. “Then I want you to do it again, and again after that—I want you to fill me to the point I’m brimming with you, and you’re in me for days.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans out a long, drawn-out Fuck
With his beautiful neck on display, you duck your head and lick up the taut skin of his throat, wishing you could suck a mark into it to remind him of you for a while after you part ways. His free hand roughly grabs your chin to pull you close enough for him to slot his lips against yours, and you have to slow to a grind as he messily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth.
He breaks away to fall back onto the mattress, his fingers getting a tight grip on your ass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you enough to start thrusting up into your soaked pussy rapidly—he’s grunting while baring his teeth to chase his high, and all you can do is press your palms to his chest for balance while keeping yourself raised enough for him to pound into you.
The slick push and pull of him, moving in and out of you, has you chanting his name, and it sounds wet between your legs, hearing the clap of skin on skin of him plowing into you. Perspiration makes his tan flesh glint under the candle's light, his hair is a mess atop his head, and his expression is wild; it’s no surprise when his strokes get uneven and his eyes close. Marcus tugs your ass down to bury himself as far as possible in you as he gives in, coming with a guttural groan—you feel his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he paints your insides with spurts and spurts of his spend, wringing himself out until his body goes completely lax.
He pulls you forward to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, and turns you both onto your sides. There’s a hiss that slips from his lips when he removes his softening length from your cunt, and you smile at Marcus sliding down the bed far enough for his face to nuzzle in your bosom while hugging you tight. Your fingers stroke through his sweat-damp curls, his hums of appreciation sounding like the purr of a cat.
Minutes pass in silence as your breaths even out and your hearts slow. After some time, he says something you can’t make out.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” you reply.
His head lifts, and he kisses under your chin. “Stay,” he says again.
“I have no intention of leaving. I’m here until you send me away.”
“And if I don’t wish to send you away?”
His lips trail along your jaw.
Your eyebrows pull together. “As I said, I’m here until you request my leave.”
“And if I never request your leave?”
He’s kissing your neck now, the question making your eyes round. “You intend for me to be your mistress?”
It’s not uncommon for a courtesan to become one’s mistress. Some of you are from families of wealth and do this line of work for the powerful connections, while others are freedwomen who’ve worked their way up to earn their notoriety—either case, courtesans are respected and thought to make great mistresses.
“That is all I can offer since I have no plans to marry,” he answers. “You can stay here with or without me when I’m ordered away, and whatever is left of my salary and spoils of war after the household debts are paid, you may keep.”
He makes you frown.
“Why me?”
Marcus gets his arm out from under you and scoots up the mattress to look you in the eyes.
“You’re everything I desire in a woman with your beauty and intellect, and you can sate my needs in bed—you’re perfect, and I want you all to myself. I do not wish to share you with anyone else.”
It’s in this moment you realize you’re the one in control here—you don’t need him, you’re self-sufficient, and there are many who’d eagerly take his place, but your looks are rare in your profession, and he needs his deal to be enticing enough for you to take it.
“What if I decline your offer?”
“Then I pray you’ll allow me to keep your company until I receive my next orders.”
He seems to be a good, honorable man who wants to please you, and he had you tempted to accept on the merit of his skills in bed alone—there’s just something that won’t leave your mind.
“Before I make my decision, answer this question: if you believe me to be so perfect, why were the others here?”
He presses his large palm to your cheek. “It was in your power to deny me your company, and though the other women weren’t of my tastes, they were better than nothing.”
You see no flaws in his answer.
“I accept your offer on one condition.”
“And that is?”
You no longer find him intimidating, and you’re now comfortable brushing errant hairs off his forehead and sliding your fingers through the curls above his ears.
Your eyes lock onto his. “You return home to me,” you tell him. “You fight with the might of Mars, and you always return home to me.”
That earns you a small smile, and he takes your hand into his, kissing the center of your palm.
“I will, my Dove.”
Masterlist
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!
#pedro pascal#marcus acacius#general marcus acacius#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius/reader#marcus acacius x y/n#wheresarizona writes
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
—1-800-ʙᴀɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴏᴅꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ !
(Dark! Dbf! Anakin Skywalker x fem! Reader)
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: your parents leave you home alone to tend to the christian faith. It’s a good thing that your daddy’s friend is there to help you atone !
୨୧ Content warning . Dubious consent (reader is naive, but consents), blasphemy & strong religious themes, manipulation, baby trapping? age gap (reader is of in her 20s)// innocence kink, god complex, loss of virginity, size kink, oral, pnv, missionary + full nelson position
Disclaimer: I am not religious, though I do know there are people that are. pls block if it bothers you! This is solely fiction and not meant to offend anyone, and I don’t condone using religion as a way to manipulate or hurt others. Thanks! ⋆。˚ ⋆
Your parents leaving you alone is honestly a scary experience.
Although it’s fun (having the house to yourself means having the large flat screen tv in the living room), you’ve come to find that at night you’re quite afraid of the dark. And of course, your family has left on an adult-only Christian retreat and has left you home alone.
Sure, you’re more than old enough. But you haven’t been exactly… exposed to the world around you. So the idea of monsters and demons filling the dark corners of your home, it becomes even more prominent.
You try to concentrate on your bible, try to read through the verses where God tells you to fear no evil, but the paranoia is creeping in on your cold spine like a winter’s chill. You try to listen to music, too, to drown out the whispers you hear in the night.
But to no avail.
You decide that you have no choice but to call the only contact that’s available to you.
Anakin is your godfather, in the sense that he’s your father’s best friend. He’s always been around, and he’s always helped you with your studies. Anakin— Ani, as you sometimes call him, lives less than a few blocks away. He always tells you that if you need him, he’ll be there. So it wouldn’t hurt to ring him up, right?
Pressing the dial on your phone, you type in his number with ease. Biting your thumb nail you wait for him to answer. He picks up on the third ring.
“Y/N? Is everything okay?”
You smile at his voice, the one that always gives you that tingly feeling in your stomach. You suspect that it’s because he’s your favorite person.
“Everything’s fine, Ani. Are you at work?”
“It’s a Saturday, isn’t it?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Then I’m off work, sweetheart,” he replies softly, and then you get that tingly feeling again. “Why did you decide to call?”
It’s not in the sense that he’s annoyed— he’s genuinely curious. You nervously rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.
“Well—“ you start, embarrassed. “Mom and dad are out, ‘n— it’s dark.”
“Dark?”
“It’s—“ you can feel tears beginning to form in your eyes as the wind creaks outside. “I don’t like it, Ani. I don’t wanna be alone in here... Please come.”
Anakin’s cock presses against his zipper at the sound of your whiny, desperate voice. He palms his bulge through his slacks.
“Yeah, baby. ‘Course I’ll come,” he pauses. “Just gotta do something first, okay? Then I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
You sniffle, the tears beginning to fall now.
“Okay. ‘M sorry.”
“For what? Don’t apologize to me sweetheart. Just wait there.”
—
A good forty minutes later Anakin is there, and when you open the door for him you latch onto him like a leech— your hands wrap around his waist, your bury your face into his fit chest, and you whimper against him as he coos gentle reassurances to you.
“It’s okay, baby. Ani’s here.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
He brings you over to the couch, sitting you on the cushion beside him as he looks down at your pink bible. He notes that you use the wooden cross necklace he had bought you for your nineteenth birthday as a bookmark.
“Been readin’?” He notes, looking down at the opened pages. You’ve been highlighting some verses, and next to this book there’s another: Christianity for Girls.
“Mhm.”
Anakin picks it up with idle hands. He flips to the first chapter.
“C’mere. Want me to read to you?”
“Yes, sir.” You reply, and with a gentle flick to your hair you begin to climb into his lap. It’s not uncommon for you to do this— he’s so comfy and warm. Even though sometimes the things in his pocket tend to poke against your bottom, you don’t mind. It’s worth it if Ani has his big arms wrapped around you.
He grunts as you settle down on him— his cock twitches as he feels your panties hit his lap. Your skirt is covered just enough to not expose you, but it still rides up as you sit down. His hand grips your thigh, and with the other he settles the book in his palm.
“Chapter 1,” he clears his throat. “Rules.”
Well, okay. If you say so.
“Girls should always follow their faith in God.”
Fair enough.
You nod along, as he reads the next.
“Girls should go to church every Sunday.” He smirks, turning to you. “Do you go to church every Sunday?”
“Of course! I love church.”
Anakin chuckles, flipping to the next page and adjusting himself from underneath you.
“Rule number three,” he says. His voice hesitates as he reads the next line, then he awkwardly clears his throat. “No premarital sex.”
Your brows furrow, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. “What’s that?”
He sucks in a breath, his cock beginning to become hard for a second time today.
“Sex? It’s—“
“No, no,” you giggle, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I meant— I know what sex is, Ani. Sort of. But.. what is premarital sex?”
“It’s sex before marriage. Doing it with someone you aren’t going to devote yourself to.”
“Oh.” You twiddle your fingers, eyes averting down to look at the ink splattered pages. “But— if you do it with someone you’re going to devote yourself to, without being married anyway, isn’t that still non premarital? I mean, in a way, you are married…sort of.”
Anakin shrugs, resting his head on your shoulder. You try to ignore how the closeness of his breath makes you tingle.
“Dunno, honey. I guess so. Never thought of it that way.”
You nod, wiggling around on his lap to get more comfortable. Anakin’s fingers grab your hips with a firm hand.
“Have you ever done it?” You ask. “Premarital sex, I mean.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle. Something in him is breaking apart, all these years of pent up sexual frustration for you beginning to come to a head as his resolve crumbles.
“Yes. Many times,” he coincides. “With a lot of people I didn’t care about. I shouldn’t of done that. It’s bad.”
Your face fills to the brim with heat, as the tension in the room grows incredibly thick. Your eyes widen when you feel him hump against your clothed cunt.
“What about you, baby?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. “Have you done it?”
You stutter, hesitating, and that’s when Anakin gets his answer.
“Right. ‘Course you haven’t,” and then, quietly, as if to himself, “Too precious for those boys…”
You let out a small sound in the back of your throat, that tingly feeling growing evermore prominent. You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. Maybe it’s the heat in the room, maybe it’s your claustrophobia.
Or maybe, you think, it’s the devil.
White hot heat coils in your private parts, and you try to get off of Anakin to get rid of feeling. He tsks, grabbing your hips and shoving you back into his lap. You whine, hands gripping is in an attempt to get away.
“Ani.. c’mon—“
“Do you touch yourself?” He asks darkly. You let out a little gasp. “Do you touch your princess parts, sweetheart?”
You shake your head, almost too quickly, and can’t help but press your thighs together. Anakin is having none of it.
“Liar,” he hisses. “You have. Don’t lie to me. I know when you’re lying to me.”
“I’m sorry!” You whimper against his harsh grip. “I-I stopped! I did, I really did, and I’ve been meaning to repent and atone for my sins but I haven’t yet…please, Ani.”
Tears of shame begin to fall from your eyes, wet and salty. You let out a little cry. Anakin softens a bit, his grip on you loosening. He wraps his arms around your tummy and quietly shushes you.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, angel, I know you didn’t mean to,” he coos, as your hands move around to rest in the locks of his hair. “Sensitive baby. I know it’s hard not to touch yourself down there. ‘S okay.”
“Promise?” You sniffle, turning your head to look into his eyes. He smiles.
“I promise.”
Your eyes innocently move down to his lips, that feeling growing inside even more.
“Ani..” you whisper. “It’s.. I want to.. to touch myself again. I don’t know how to control it…”
He strokes your hair out of your face with his fingers, cooing again.
“It’s okay,” and then, after a moment, with his cock pressed flush against your cunt, “I can help. Do you want me to?”
“But.. isn’t that premarital sex?”
He presses a kiss against your earlobe.
“You love me, don’t you? And I know I love you. So isn’t that marital sex?”
Your brain has turned into a puddle. Softly, you whisper out, “yes.”
He smiles against your skin, his hands sliding up past the expanse of your thighs.
“There’s something they don’t tell you about sex,” he murmurs. “When you let the man you love inside you, it’s a way to celebrate god. You become one with god.” He quirks a brow, watching you listen closely to him. “And you atone. Don’t you want to atone, baby?”
Your doe eyes look up at him, and you nod. He grins, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. His thumb pulls the flesh of your bottom lip down and he watches it bounce back against your teeth.
“Why don’t you give me a kiss? Hm, pretty?”
And just like that, he’s got you. Your lips, ever so softly, come up to peck his. He smiles.
“Again.”
And you do kiss him again. Only this time, he presses hard into your mouth and it’s not long before his hands are tangling in your hair and he’s rubbing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s all surreal, this man below you, his cock hard. You don’t know that, of course. Pulling away from him, you have a confused look on your face.
“What’s always in your pocket? ‘S poking me.”
Anakin doesn’t say anything. He just laughs at you, and leans in for more of your kisses. You get too lost in the feeing of his hands massaging your inner thighs to press him for an answer. But you find out soon enough when you feel him push your hand down into the front of his pants. Letting out a small squeak you feel the warm skin of his cock, and something tugs at your lower tummy again.
“Oh.” you say softly, understanding. It was never something in his pocket— it was him.
“Feel what you did to me?” Anakin huffs out, as he guides your hand up and down on his length. “That’s my cock, baby. It’s what happens when I get really excited to see you.”
A small smile grazes your features at the thought of Anakin liking your presence. A whole lot, it seems, because his body is physically reacting. He grunts when you squeeze his length out of curiosity.
“Does it hurt?” You murmur, watching him.
“Not at all,” he coincides, adjusting you on his lap. “Feels good.“
And okay, that’s even better. Now you’re making Anakin feel good. Pride floods your chest. Watching him, you feel his precum drip down your fist.
“Can I see it?”
Your voice surprises him, and he’s nodding so quickly that it seems like he might break his neck.
“‘Course, pretty girl, can watch it all day if you want to…” looking at you hungrily, he mutters in a soft tone, “C’mere, get on your knees.”
Confusion muddles your brain, but not as much as the ache to please him. You crawl off of his lap, and he takes one of the couch pillows and places it on the floor.
“Sit.” He commands, and you rest your knees on the pillow and your small hands on his big thighs.
He unbuttons his fly, then his zipper. His bulge is straining against his briefs, a wet patch on the front from his arousal. Gulping, you watch as he pulls his pants and underwear all the way down and slips them off.
His length springs free, dripping with pre and insanely long. Your eyes widen as you watch it, wondering: where does it go?
Okay. So, you have a vague idea of where it’s supposed to go— somewhere in you, but you don’t know where. But either way, you know for for a fact that wherever that is isn’t adjustable enough for such a big thing. Your face floods with embarrassment.
“Where do I…” you start, quiet. Anakin furrows a brow, grabbing his cock into his palm.
“Where do you what?”
You avoid his gaze.
“Where do I.. put it?”
A smile quirks on the man’s lips, stroking himself to the sight of your pretty face peering at his cock.
“Your mouth, sometimes. But especially where you touch yourself, angel. Your cunt.” He tilts his head, not shaming you but trying to explain. “Do you know what your cunt is?”
You shyly nod, knowing that that’s what some of the boys around town called that spot where you touch yourself. And now, feeling this odd tingle inside you, it all makes perfect sense. It wants Ani inside.
But you frown at him.
“It won’t fit,” you say sadly. “‘S too big”
“It’ll fit, honey. Just have to stretch you first.”
Stretch you? That sounds painful! Fear courses through you.
“Stretch me?” You say worriedly.
Anakin seems amused by your reaction.
“It’ll only hurt a little, then it’ll feel really good,” he explains. “I promise. Don’t you trust me?”
Your head moves up and down, and you know that it’s true. He smiles softly, and then he’s tapping your lip with his finger.
“Open,” he says.
Your parted mouth falls completely open, pink tongue lolling out as he places the tip of his cock on it. It takes you by surprise, and your lashes flutter as his taste evades your senses. It’s an odd flavor— not too bad, but not too good either. Though, the thought of it being from Ani makes it all worth while. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, the wet muscle making a plopping sound as his stringy precum creates a small puddle in your mouth. He watches, proud, and he praises you in the most gentle tone he can muster.
“Good girl. Such a pretty mouth, can’t wait to cum inside it…”
And that makes your eyes shut tight as you let out a loud whine, knowing that his cum is another delicious fluid that you will happily drink up soon. His cock guides itself even more into your mouth, the cockhead disappearing in between your plush lips. You use your mouth gently, treating his cock with care, not wanting to hurt him. He grunts when you swirl your tongue around him.
“Mmm,” he breathes. “Lick it, baby. Like an ice cream cone… yeahhh. Just like that, sweet girl.”
You hollow your cheeks around his mushroomed head, your brain becoming fuzzy at the feeling of his length moving in and out of your mouth. Suckling him, he’s soft and warm on your tongue.
You do this for quite some time. Anakin’s thrusts speed up, and he makes you take more and more and more. When you choke on him for the first time he tells you that it’s okay— “just get through it, baby, don’t you wanna be good for me?” And of course you do, because it’s Ani, and he’s really handsome and he smells really nice and his hands are so big as they card themselves through your hair. You can’t get enough and you’re almost angry he hadn’t shown you this sooner. Your vision is dizzy as he uses your mouth.
On a particularly harsh thrust that makes your throat spasm around him, Anakin begins to make some very pretty noises. Drool leaks down your chin and chest, your mascara running, his balls slapping against your chin. He groans loudly.
“Gonna cum,” he mutters out. “Gonna fill up your throat. Do you want that, sweet girl?”
You can’t say anything, but you try your hardest to nod around his cock. He gets the message. And with stuttering hips, salty fluid shoots into the wet canal of your mouth. It fills you up until you’re choking, and as Anakin rides out his high his cock practically coats itself in cum as he moves in and out, in and out. He pulls you off of him after a moment, and with a mouth full of spend you gasp out for air. Anakin’s got this possessive stare in his eyes as he looks at you.
“Swallow it.”
You do. You gulp it down excitedly, and with a small “aaaaa” you stick out your tongue so he can see that you’ve consumed it all. Anakin looks down at you with a grin on his face.
“That’s my girl.”
—
“I want you to… to put it in me.”
Your voice speaks softly in the darkness of your room, rain pattering against your window as Anakin sits on your bed across from you. It’s been a week since your last… encounter. Your parents are out once again— and as requested, Anakin had shown up on your doorstep to keep you company. After a mug of hot chocolate, your favorite, you had invited the man into your room. A cross is around his neck, shiny with a silver chain. His hair is messy, his fingers clad in silver metal rings. You want to bite them.
Anakin smiles, pretty teeth shining.
“Do you know the story of the Virgin Mary?” He asks, out of context. Your eyes light up. Mary is your favorite biblical figure.
“Yes!” You reply to him. “She got pregnant by God.”
“And how did she do that?”
“By magic!” You say. “She gave birth to Jesus.”
Anakin chuckles, kissing your forehead softly.
“Such a smart girl. But sweetheart, magic didn’t give her a baby.” At the sight of your confused face, he continues. “Sex did. That’s how all babies are made.”
Heat creeps up your neck, your face puzzled. “So you’ll give me a baby?”
Anakin should be frightened at the thought of getting his best friend’s daughter pregnant, but he isn’t. In fact, he smiles, his touch leaving tingles against your skin.
“If that’s what you want. Just imagine, angel..” his lips brush against your ear, smoothing back a strand of your hair. “A beautiful baby. My nose, my lips.. those pretty eyes of yours.”
You bite your lip, your heart fluttering. Having Anakin’s baby would be your dream! Having a house with him, children running around, Anakin coming home from work everyday…
Oh, but daddy would be so mad.
He would never look at you the same again. He would be ashamed, he would damn you to the deepest pit of hell.
You think these things so incredibly, but once Anakin’s lips press against yours all of those things go away. He kisses you slow, sweet, gentle. His stomach presses against your tummy.
“I can’t wait to see it. Your little belly, all swollen with my baby..”
And daddy is out of your thoughts and replaced with a new, different daddy: Anakin.
It’s not long before he’s got you laid down on your ruffled pink sheets, your baby blue nightgown gone (“cmon, let me see that pretty body”), with Anakin’s lips trailing down your neck. He’s gotten you prepped, used his fingers and tongue in oh so many ways that had made you quiver, used your throbbing cunt for his own meal. When you spread your legs for him this time, it’s so he can rub his incredibly hard length against the lips of your pussy. Delectable and sweet as he remembers, Anakin watches the way your leftover cum and slick coat his length generously.
He’s never seen a cunt so cute, so fat, so swollen and precious. He taps his cockhead against your clit, listens to the desperate little pleas you let out as you look up at him with doe eyes.
“Please, Ani, want your baby.”
“Please, daddy, put it inside me. My cunt’s so tight and wet for you..”
You don’t say that last part, Anakin’s imagination runs wild, but he knows you’re probably thinking that— thinking that as his mushroomed tip pops inside your entrance, stretching, burning. Thinking that as you cry, your salty tears his most delectable meal besides the thing in between your legs. Thinking that as you grimace, give him that pained look as he fully sheathes himself inside.
And then, he begins to move.
It’s like a fire in your gut, at first. Hot, burning, grating. But soon it gives way to something else— something not even his fingers can create, something that’s absolutely out of this world. Your nails dig into his back, leaving red welts along the skin, and you should apologize but you can’t bring yourself to care. Ani’s whispering something in your ear, something dirty, filthy, and deprived; you enjoy it so much, you really do, as he speaks to you like this.
“Good girl, so tight. Daddy’s so happy when he fucks his little princess.”
“Look at that, how red and swollen your little pussy is. Is my cock too big for it?”
After harsh thrusts, skin slapping against skin, and curled toes, Anakin pulls out of you. You almost sob from the loss, but it isn’t long before he lays you on top of him and slips himself back into your sopping hole, pulling your ankles behind your head. This causes your eyes to flutter open again, a small moan leaving you. Anakin brings his hands around to hold your legs and head in a chokehold. He fucks you like that, all twisted and overstimulated.
Looking down, you watch as his length fills you to the brim and moves in and out of you.
“A-Am —“ you sniffle, a pleasured sob racking through your throat. “Am I being good, Ani? Is… Is god inside me now?”
Anakin groans, his hips pressing even harder against your raw fucked pussy.
“Yeah, baby,” He breathes, his hand pressing against the bulge poking out of your lower tummy. “God’s in you. Right in this little tummy.“
You mewl, understanding his words, the blasphemy in them. A blush coats your cheeks as you murmur out, “don’t say that.. ‘s bad. You’re being bad.”
“But I’m making you feel so good. Aren’t I, baby?” He taunts, with a hint of malice in his voice. “Isn’t this what you wanted? A thick, hard cock to fill up this little pussy?”
You shake your head, trying to deny yourself this pleasure you can’t contain. Anakin chuckles.
“Yes, it is. I can tell when you’re lying, little girl... oh, look at you. Little legs are shaking. Poor baby…”
You should feel guilty for all the dirty things leaving his sinful mouth. You should hate him and find him icky and push him away. Hes a dirty, filthy man.
But… he’s your Ani. The man who protects you, hugs you when you’re sad, buys you your favorite lip gloss and stuffed animals. And that cross is dangling in pressing against your back, cold and heavy like a burden but still turning you on and— he smells so good, and although you keep trying to move away from his harsh fucking, you know in your mind that you don’t want him to stop. Little sounds escape your throat with each thrust, moans and whines that sound like a wounded animal. But you are far from wounded— unless you count the soreness you’re probably going to feel tomorrow from Anakin pounding your guts.
Grunting, his arms flex on each side of you as he grasps your body with firm hands.
The man’s cock moves against your walls harshly, slick penetrating the skin of your thighs and making you shake. A smirk glazes his lips as he watches your face contorted in pleasure, and your neck is craned so you can see every facial expression he makes.
You thought you had never seen God. But right now, you might not be so sure.
“Good little angel,” he groans gently. “Such a tight little fuck hole for daddy.”
You want to be disgusted by the name, wanted to be disgusted since the first time he said it, but before you can think too hard the tip of his mushroomed head slams against a certain spot that has you sobbing out, “daddy, daddy!” against your own accord. He moans himself at the sound of your pleasure.
“Good fucking girl. Hittin’ that princess spot so good, yeah? Pussy feelin’ good?”
Your eyes roll back, your body going limp like a rag doll as you relax against his jackhammering thrusts. It all feels too good. The Bible always talks about heaven and you think that this is truly it: Anakin below you, holding you down, humping into you like an animal, as he spews disgusting phrases into your ears.
Maybe he isn’t the devil. Maybe he’s God.
You can feel something building up in your tummy, the familiar butterflies now turning dark like moth wings, scraping against that one spot over and over and over. God grins from below you, and bringing his hand up he forces your mouth open with his big fingers. His spit lands down on your tongue, wet and warm and perfect.
“Swallow.” He commands, and you do it greedily. Your voice moans for more, aches for more, and he does it thrice.
“Do you trust me?” He growls. “Do you trust me, baby?”
“Yes! Yes sir.” You whimper, and you know it’s true when it falls from your lips. He forces his fingers to press even harsher around your head. Your ears ring, a pressure beginning to form in your skull.
“God’s got you,” Anakin growls. “God’s got you and your life in his hands. And you know what?”
You don’t say anything, just shake your head as you try to catch a breath of air.
“He’s not gonna let it go.” He continues. “You’re gonna feel this, honey. You’re gonna get fucked like this all the time—“ your vision is blurring, his words making you spasm. He brings his fingers down to that swollen button on your soaked pussy and rubs in harsh circles. “— When daddy thinks his precious little girl is asleep, when he thinks she’s praying to god, she’s going to be praying to me. Choking on my dick, getting fuckin’ bred. Do you want that? Do you want my cum, you fucking slut?”
You can’t really hear him anymore; your body has gone completely limp, your eyes fluttering shut as you ride out wave upon wave of pleasure. You’re still breathing, you know you are, but you fall unconscious in Anakin’s harsh grasp.
And when he sees you like that, all fucked out and deadweight, he groans and begins to pound you harder.
#bunny spelling Anakin right for once?!!#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#anakin Skywalker#anakin Skywalker x reader#anakin Skywalker x fem! reader#dbf! Anakin Skywalker#dilf! Anakin Skywalker#anakin Skywalker smut#dom! Anakin Skywalker#star wars#Hayden Christensen#dark! Anakin Skywalker
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fuck it I'm bored so here's a ranking of different Peter Parkers by how Jewish they are
Dead last, obviously, is MCU!Peter Parker. This version of Peter is the farthest from comic canon to the point of being almost unrecognizable at times. Also, Tom Holland answered the question "is peter parker Jewish" in a Wired Autocomplete Interview a while back with a very baffled "no", cementing him forever as my sworn enemy. So he's actually the only peter parker who, at least by word of God, is canonically NOT Jewish. -1000000/10
Next up is Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker. I think this Peter is... fine, at least he's much closer to comic canon than MCU!Peter, but honestly that's not saying much considering how far the MCU strayed from comic canon or even the spirit of comic canon. But like overall, Sam Raimi's movies just aren't particularly interested in presenting Peter as Jewish, so, eh. 1/10
By far the most Jewish of live action Peters is TASM!Peter, also by far the most comic accurate of live action Peters. I'd be remiss not to mention the fact that Andrew Garfield is Jewish, and he understands the character so fucking well. He stated on record that he played Peter as Jewish and that he sees Spider-Man as an inherently Jewish character:
However, the Webb movies still do not textually define him as Jewish, and the best parts of Andrew's Peter's Jewish subtext are better when viewed in light of the comics. Overall, 6.5/10
Next up is the original, our beloved comic book Peter, pictured here saying Happy Hanukkah in a panel from Matt Fraction's Hawkeye. Comic Peter is one of the most heavily Jewish coded comics characters of all time, which is saying something considering how Jewish comic books are as a medium. Obviously he was created and often written and drawn by Jewish writers and artists, but beyond that his driving ethos and values are incredibly Jewish, and as a bonus he's constantly sprinkling Yiddish and Jewish phrases into his speech, alongside things like the above panel where he outright acknowledges Jewish culture in a scene where everyone else is saying merry Christmas. However, despite the extremely heavy coding, Marvel Comics are fucking cowards, and he has yet to be confirmed Jewish, so I must give him a measly 8/10.
Finally, the cream of the crop, the most Jewish of all Peter Parkers, Into the Spider-Verse's Peter B. Parker my beloved!!! Peter B. is voiced by Jake Johnson, himself a Jewish actor, and is a phenomenally accurate representation of comic book canon - but he also has the unique quality of being canonically, textually, in the actual movie Jewish! It's a bit of a blink and you'll miss it scene, but when we get introduced to Peter B. in his "one more time" segment, we see his wedding to MJ, where he steps on a glass. This is a Jewish minhag - custom - meant to represent the destruction of our Temple and Jerusalem, as well as remind us that sorrow and joy come intertwined, and is one of my personal favorite Jewish customs. It's a phenomenal moment in the best Spider-Man movie, and while this version of Peter would have been my favorite film version regardless, his Jewishness absolutely pushes him even further up. 13/10, no complaints
#jew tag#jumblr#comics#marvel#marvel comics#spiderman#peter parker#peter b parker#spiderverse#into the spiderverse#tasm#sam raimi#the amazing spider man#mcu#gail speaks#jewish superheroes
17K notes
·
View notes
Text
unfiltered y/n .
synopsis; two drabbles of y/n being the oldest of newjeans, yet arguably the most chaotic and childish. 21 year old y/n who's very gen z coded and borderline chronically online from a young age.
trope; platonic! newjeans x f!reader, just danielle + hyein bc im lazy
wc; 1.9k
cw; n/a
a/n; guys i think i fr forgot how to write erm so sorry this is dookie but i needed to write something lighthearted to keep my sanity even tho writers block is real rn thumbs up emoji ... also y/n is just me again LMFAO
Humming, your eyes glaze over the Phoning chat. You and Danielle sat comfortably within your practice room, the younger girl joining shortly after seeing you had started a livestream. There was no particular reason for this stream, you simply felt like entertaining your fans for the day. Throughout the livestream, you and Danielle simply talked, being some of the most social and extroverted members of Newjeans, it wasn’t hard for you two to popcorn different topics from one another.
“Did you ever read Warriors?”
“What, that book series about the emo cats?”
“They’re not emo– well…. Actually…”
Both you and Danielle burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to explain the lore of the Warrior Cats series, which then went into you making a powerpoint on why your company should allow you to have a cat in the dorms, which then went into a conversation about how you guys wanted to decorate your ideal home…
When you and Danielle were put into a room together, it almost seemed like you two fueled each other's energy in a never ending cycle. Still, as your laughter dies down, the pair of you decide to just chill, even for a moment. Your attention gets drawn back to the comments whilst Danielle aimlessly scrolled on her phone for a bit.
“y/n, who are your favorite kpop artists??” You read out loud.
Your eyes light up at this question. Before becoming a trainee, you were a die hard fan of many groups back when you were younger. Honestly.. You were a bit of a chronically online kid, despite your social tendencies. Back in the day, you ran a kpop stan twitter, and are well versed in the new vocabulary of online meme culture… as embarrassing as it was to admit the more you thought about it.
After reading the comment, the mischievous and playful glint in your eye was impossible to ignore, and Dani seemed to pick up on the shift in energy. Shooting you a suspicious glance, you decide to speak up.
“Ah there are so many groups I love… But.. I’d have to say Red Velvet and LOONA...!”
It was an innocent enough answer at a glance, but to some, the underlying message behind it was glaringly obvious.
Almost immediately after speaking, in the most obvious and not discreet fashion, you freeze, arching a brow making a curious looking expression at the camera as you pucker your lips. It was undeniable that you were referencing an all too familiar meme within the LGBTQ community.
Honestly, you were never one to shy away from your sexuality. You were lucky enough to know who you were from a young age. (All of your odd childhood crushes practically spoke for themselves. Rain from the movie Spirit, for example. The horse.)
It wasn’t long before the girls caught onto you, and they have been nothing but supportive since. Oftentimes they would tease you over your clinginess with your other members, or how you’d very publicly fawn over other female idols, while nearly all of the light drained from your eyes when approached by a man.
In hindsight, it was a surprise that they didn’t catch on sooner. The way you acted so stiff around male idols when forced to do Tiktoks with them, or how you never entertained their advances. However, it seemed like Some fans did seem to notice faster than your own members, and deemed you “Irene's daughter” as a result— a title in which you wear with pride, might you add!
That wasn't to say you didn't have your own hardships and struggles with your sexuality at the same time, though. Of course, being a part of one of the biggest kpop groups of your generation, you couldn’t express your sexuality publically. Not yet. It was too risky. A large chunk of your fan base consisted of straight men anyways… Potential backlash would be detrimental. You didn’t want to drag the others down with you. Not when you guys have so much ahead together.
So you keep your head low, put on your best smile, and focus on your members.
….Until moments like these, of course.
Eyes practically boggling out of her head, Danielle bursts into laughter, shoving your shoulder with one hand while she covers her face with her sweater sleeve.
“Unnie…!” she scream-whispers, baffled by your words. Of course she knew what you were hinting at, she didn’t live under a rock her whole life.
Seeing Danielles reaction only seems to egg you on though. What? You weren’t saying anything explicitly queer. Only the people that mattered would know. Worst case scenario, you’d be in some odd rumor or speculation that had no real evidence to back you up. Maybe you’d be seen as an ally. Humming once again, you pretend to think.
“Though if you want to know about male artists….” You take a significantly longer time to answer this as Danielle is left a giggling mess next to you. She seemed almost a little distressed through the laughter, but she trusted you.
“I would probably say I like EXO and Shinee the most.”
Once again, you make that damn face, and Danielle throws her head back in hysterical laughter. She grabs your shoulder and shakes you around, whispering quiet scoldings into your ear as you snicker, feigning an innocent look as the chat practically blows up.
[cha3wonz] – HELLO???? [kaheii] – y/n blow a kiss if u like women [luv__newjeans] – okay ally
Unsurprisingly, clips of your shared live with Danielle went viral. Many stan accounts on twitter began to speculate that you were queer, whilst others fully embraced it. Your favorite posts were the edits of you with the rainbow flag followed up by a question mark. It was all too good.
Honestly, you didn’t even think it was a big deal. You didn’t pay much attention to other male groups– you never did, really, but when you looked at the new incoming generation of boy group members… They practically had the whole pride parade following them.
There were a few minor articles about you here and there, but you were mostly off the hook.
Danielle lay sprawled across your back whilst you lay on her bed, scrolling through Twitter aimlessly as she laughs at the comments on your recent instagram post.
“It seems that your fangirls can't get enough of you, lovergirl,” she teases lightheartedly as you wiggle beneath her weight, giggling.
Maybe one day you’ll share the news to your fans, and maybe one day they won’t even be surprised. But you’re glad to have what you have now. Just you, your girls, and your ever growing folder of queer y/n memes off of Twitter.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
Hyein was in the middle of a solo livestream within her bedroom, lying comfortably in her bed as she showcased various articles of clothing she had bought with Hanni the day prior.
The livestream was going well, peaceful as Hyein makes her way through several t shirts, sweaters, pants, and skirts of all colors and styles.
Right when Hyein was about to reveal her favorite article of clothing from the haul, loud, almost desperate banging rings throughout the room. An almost pathetic sounding yelp of surprise erupts from the girl before she curiously glances at the livestream.
Leaning forward, she whispers to the camera, “I think… I think there's a creep trying to break in…”
Suddenly, the door bursts open, with a very flustered and irritated y/n tumbling in shortly after. iPad in hand, you collapse into the bed next to Hyein
“Guys, guy, GUYS. The theme was scene!!! What the hell is this?! Look at THIS versus MY outfit!” You exclaim almost a little too loudly as you shove the ipad in front of the camera. Failing to focus on your screen properly, the viewers simply saw a bright white square as you groaned.
Baffled and still a bit in shock, Hyein speaks up, “Unnie, it's really not that serio–”
“This is bullsh–” You cut yourself off as Hyein snorts loudly at your near slip up. Clearing your throat, you grip your ipad a little tighter than needed, trying to calm down.
“This is unfair. And you know what's worse? Its probably some nine year old with their friends voting for them behind the screen!” You whine out dramatically. With how upset you were getting, it wouldn't be surprising if this genuinely was the one determining factor that would either make or break your night.
Hyein couldn't bite back the amused laugh at your seriousness.
You took your games pretty seriously. Even if it was roblox. There was something familiar and comforting about it all, really. Lighthearted games like this played a major part in your childhood— which was, of course, abruptly cut short once you became a trainee at age 14. Now that you were an adult with a job as an idol, you could buy your own robux, buy your own gamepasses and items… and most importantly, stomp on little kids in-game. You were here first, after all.
“Unnie, aren't you like, 21 years old? Don't you think you’re a little too old to—“
“And don't you like— what, 12?!” You shoot back without even missing a beat.
A brief, yet suffocating silence passes as the both of you stare at each other, wide eyed. Never in your years of knowing the younger girl have you ever been so.. sassy to her. You were the oldest, after all. It was your job to take care of her.
Almost instantly, you drop your ipad and tackle the younger girl in a hug, crying out, “BABY HYEIN!!! IM SORRY…!!!”
Hyein on the other hand, was not as reciprocal to your attempts at apologizing. Upon being tackled, half of the air in her lungs practically got knocked out of her, and she finds herself tumbling backwards into the blankets below. Instead of accepting your obviously very real and very distressed apology, she began struggling to wriggle out of your grasp as she yelled out, “NO! LET ME GO UNNIE!! LET ME GOOO!!!”
Though the youngest towered over you by over half a foot, your grip on her was borderline deadly. Squeezing your arms tightly around her neck in an attempt at being soothing and sweet (you werent) you scream at yourself, rocking her back and forth.
“I'm so STUPID im SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY I JUST WANTED YOU TO PLAY WITH ME.”
Incoherent screams and movement was seen from the livestream for about 5 minutes before Hyein tapped your arm, giving in.
“Fine, fine..! I forgive you unnie, just let me go…!”
The moments following Hyein’s acceptance of her fate seemed to actually go by pretty smoothly compared to the chaos that had just ensued a few minutes prior.
Laying in bed together, the two of you played dress to impress while on the live, occasionally interacting with the viewers, but mostly focusing on winning the game. A comfortable silence passes, the only sound being nails against iPad screens.
The pair of you would proudly showcase your creations to the camera, and shared mutual frustration when neither of you would even place despite the immense efforts you put into your outfits.
“I swear to god Hyein, I’m gonna buy both of us VIP and we’re gonna leave these girls in the dust…”
As you prepare to go up for your final round of the night, Hyein suddenly perks up.
“Oh look, unnie! This outfit is actually pretty good…”
“Huh? Oh!! You're right! This is super pretty…”
“…”
“…”
“Two stars?”
“Two stars.”
#kpop x female reader#kpop fanfic#kpop#kpop x fem reader#gxg#gg fanfic#kpop gg x reader#kpop gg#newjeans x reader#danielle x reader#hyein x reader#danielle marsh x reader
522 notes
·
View notes
Text
it's a sign of the times
Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3.2K
Summary: request [paraphrased]: "Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian..."
the 'verse continues in "the train ain't even left the station" [AO3]
“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?” At once, the three of you freeze. “Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?” “I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”
“Can you please remind me again why I’m even a part of this harebrained scheme?” you ask for at least the third time.
You’re crouched around a small table in one of the far corners of the upper section of the Library. It’s well past curfew, but since you aren’t technically breaking any rules by avoiding the Restricted Section, you’re currently getting away with your loitering, as do most students who are caught studying after hours this close to final exams.
Only, you’re not studying. You’ve been summoned there by Ominis, who despite being your closest friend at Hogwarts is also a conniving, duplicitous liar who neglected to tell you that this whole thing is Sebastian’s idea.
You watch warily as he turns over a contraband Time-Turner in his hands, inspecting its impossibly small dials and knobs. The golden sands inside the hourglass hypnotically shift back and forth while he reads over its inscriptions and consults the guidebook he’d smuggled out of the Restricted Section earlier that same day.
You have no idea where he managed to get the device – perhaps in one of those vaults along the coast in Cragcroftshire that he’d been exploring during the summer term. However, now he’s got it in his head that perhaps the reason you haven’t been able to heal Anne is that the cure to her curse simply hasn’t been invented yet. Therefore, a quick jaunt several years into the future ought to reveal a way to rid Anne of her illness (and maybe even earn his way back into her good graces).
It’s not the first ludicrous and impractical idea he’s had in the past year, nor will it be the last, but it’s certainly one of the more radical ones.
“Merlin’s beard, I’ve already told you,” Sebastian sighs. “Since we’re going forward in time rather than back, this is an unauthorized use, and in case we get stuck in the future, we might need your ancient magic.”
“So I’m an insurance policy?!” you demand.
“Not so much for Sebastian as for me,” Ominis answers plainly. “He thinks he’s got it all sorted out, but I’m not as sure.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian interjects.
You huff and roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that using a Time-Turner to go forward is expressly forbidden by the Ministry? It’s only to go back.”
“Loads of people have done it, though,” he argues. “I’ve been reading all about it, it’s well-documented.”
“And they’ve all come back to the present?” you demand.
“Yes,” he snaps. “...For the most part.”
You scoff. Unbelievable.
“Do you two honestly think my magic is just an unlimited get-out-of-Azkaban-free pass?” you hiss. “I have no idea how to manipulate time and space. If we get stuck there, we’re stuck there.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out like you always do,” Sebastian mutters distractedly as he fiddles with the Time-Turner.
You glance at Ominis pleadingly and he just shrugs.
“You know we can’t let him go alone, we’ll never get him back,” Ominis reasons.
“Is that such a bad thing?” you grumble.
Sebastian shoots you a warning look before he holds up the Time-Turner for the both of you to inspect.
“I have it set to jump forward twenty years,” he explains. “We’ll have to get cozy before we go, as we’ve all got to be wearing it. Physically, we’ll land precisely where we are now, at the same time of day.”
“What if the layout of the Library changes?” you ask skeptically.
“The castle hasn’t changed in centuries,” Ominis points out. “Compared to its history, two decades is indeed quite short.”
“...Fine,” you finally mumble. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”
The three of you stand in a tight circle in a spot tucked away behind some shelves, hoping to remain hidden there after you make the jump forward in time. Sebastian drapes the thin gold chain connected to the Time-Turner around the three of you; it even seems to stretch and extend in length to fit. Then he murmurs a brief incantation to the enchanted timepiece and spins the innermost piece a whopping twenty times.
Your stomach lurches while it turns over and the world around you seems to spin out of control, almost like one of those Muggle carousel rides you saw once as a child. You can barely make out years and years of students and professors walking around you – through you, even – and countless books sliding on and off the shelves until everything comes to a sudden halt and you fall straight to the floor.
Ominis and Sebastian tumble with you, winded.
“That felt bizarre,” Ominis wheezes. “Where are we? Did we travel anywhere?”
“N-no,” Sebastian breathes. “Everything else just… traveled around us.”
You glance around the Library and see that as Ominis had suggested, it looks largely the same. There are some newer books among those you recognize on the shelves, their spines less creased and dyed with more vibrant colors than those of your time.
One title jumps out at you: Advances in Practical Conjuring, 1900-1910
We’re in the 1910s, you think bewilderedly. We’re in a new century.
Mercifully, the layout of the library seems to be largely unchanged. Rows and rows of dimly lit stacks stretch along the length of the grand room with two winding spiral staircases leading down to the lower level.
Once you catch your breath, the three of you cast Disillusionment on yourselves and huddle together to make your way downstairs to the Restricted Section. Ominis leads the way with his wand extended to search for any lingering students or restless ghosts, having long since proven that his spatial awareness bests both yours and Sebastian’s even without his sight.
Your trio makes it downstairs and past the first row of shelves before Ominis stops in his tracks. Sebastian collides with him and then you knock into Sebastian, causing you both to hiss some choice words at each other.
“What’s going on?” you demand in a whisper.
“Someone just came in,” Ominis explains. “The librarian is at the desk and she hasn’t noticed, but a student is coming down the stairs.”
Sure enough, across the room you see a faint flicker of light and can just barely make out the outline of a small student sneaking down the main stairs – must be a young one, you think, no more than thirteen.
“I think it’s a girl,” you offer. “I can see her just over there.”
“What’s she doing?” Sebastian whispers.
“I’m not sure yet,” Ominis says carefully. “She’s past the desk, the librarian didn’t see – oh, for Merlin’s sake.”
“What is it?” you breathe.
“She’s going straight for the Restricted Section,” Ominis mutters. “Just our luck, I suppose.”
The three of you remain crouched behind the shelf while you watch the girl creep ever closer to your hiding spot. You’re panicking inside your head, wondering what possible seams of the universe might immediately be torn to shreds if she were to spot the three of you, but thankfully she seems single-minded in her mission to gain access to the locked collection of books across the room from you.
“She’s tiny,” Sebastian snorts. “I suppose the young ones are even more bold in the future.”
“Weren’t you about her age when you first started to sneak into the Restricted Section?” Ominis reminds him.
Sebastian insists, “No, I was fourteen. I didn’t go in until Anne was attacked. She’s got to be twelve at most, maybe even a first year.”
“Will you two be quiet?” you hiss. “She’s going to hear you!”
Across the room, the Disillusioned girl pulls a key out of the pocket of her robes and starts to insert it into the lock. A girl her age wouldn’t have mastered Alohomora yet, you think, nor would it be effective on this kind of lock. You have no idea how she managed to get a copy of the key, however.
“Do you suppose we could just go in after her?” Sebastian proposes. “She’s nearly got it open, we should take advantage of that.”
“Are you mad?” you scoff. “We can’t be in there at the same time, we’ll get caught!”
“So what if some little girl from the future sees us?” Sebastian argues. “Why wouldn’t she believe we’re just students from her time doing our own research?”
But before you can further explain to Sebastian how astonishingly stupid that idea is, the girl across the room gasps softly and drops her key to the floor. In front of her, the lock is glowing red as if it’s searing hot.
That’s a new security development from your time, you think. It’s rather lucky the three of you didn’t discover that the hard way.
Immediately, the young librarian leaps from her seat and hustles across the room to the Restricted Section’s gated entrance much faster than Madam Scribner ever would have.
“Hang on…” you say under your breath. “Is that – that’s Sophronia!”
“Who?” Ominis asks.
“Sophronia Franklin, she’s a fourth-year in our time,” you explain distractedly. “She’s always lingering in the library, of course she takes over for Scribner once we finish school.”
“I know her,” Sebastian chimes in. “Tried to get me to play a game of trivia in exchange for returning a book on curse breaking I’d been waiting for. Rather precocious, I thought.”
You glare at Sebastian and he merely rolls his eyes.
“I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way, I was referring to her choice in books,” he grumbles. “Merlin, you’re protective of her.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” you murmur, appreciative of the fact that Sebastian can’t see you blushing. Truthfully, you don’t think much about Sophronia these days, other than that she absolutely cannot catch the three of you in her Library as she’ll easily understand what you’re up to.
Before you can try to convince the boys to call it quits and return to the present, Sophronia rounds the corner and the girl’s Disillusionment charm melts away in surprise.
“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
At once, the three of you freeze.
“Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?”
“I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”
“Apologies, Madam,” you hear the girl say with a cheeky lilt to her voice. “I was just looking for a book for my aunt, that’s all.”
Just then, Sophronia leans down to pick up the dropped key and all three of you catch a glimpse of the young girl’s face. She’s probably around twelve, like Sebastian had guessed, but her face… Merlin, she could be your younger sister.
Her slightly-upturned nose is nearly identical to yours, only she’s got a small smattering of freckles across hers. Then there’s her chin, which juts out just a bit like yours does, and you’re too far away to make out the color of her eyes but you’re positive that they’re almond-shaped just like your own.
Now that you think about it, her hair is tied back like you always did with yours when you were younger – braided with a green bow at the end, only her hair is a rich, warm brown color.
“...Is that you?” Sebastian asks softly. “How. How are you doing this?”
“That’s not me, I’m right here,” you remind him.
“Hold on, what am I missing?” Ominis whispers.
“That girl looks exactly like this one,” Sebastian insists. “She’s got her nose, her eyes, her face shape. It’s like there’s a second-year version of her, standing right across from us.”
“We’re twenty years into the future,” Ominis reminds you both. “...What if she’s your daughter?”
You feel like the room is starting to spin around you again, and you find yourself pitching to the side before Sebastian quickly tugs on your arm and pulls you back behind the shelf.
“Do not go daft on us now,” he mutters. “I don’t care if that is your daughter–”
“She’s your daughter too, you know,” Ominis chimes in. “In case you were wondering.”
“Wh… What?” Sebastian stutters, and Ominis gestures for the two of you to listen in.
“Goodness, Miss Sallow,” Sophronia sighs. “You really are so much like your father, always sneaking into the Restricted Section.”
You watch as the girl puffs up her chest proudly, a mischievous smirk on her face that doesn’t strike you as particularly like you at all – but rather Sebastian.
“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, Madam Franklin,” Anne-Marie says.
“While I respect that you are both voracious consumers of knowledge, he, like you, had little respect for the rules of the Restricted Section,” Sophronia continues. “I’ll have to ask you to leave until you get permission from a professor for relevant research or turn fifteen.”
Anne-Marie is still arguing with the librarian as she’s being escorted out. “Perhaps if you would just let me borrow the book for a while–”
“I’m afraid I’ll also have to give you detention this time,” Sophronia interjects. “I can’t keep looking the other way simply because I owe your mother a favor. This is the third time this term!”
Anne-Marie huffs and folds her arms. “But my godfather–”
“Your godfather is a very busy man who would undoubtedly appreciate it if you spent more time staying out of trouble,” Sophronia finishes, “than trying to emulate your father. In fact, I think Ominis would agree with me that one Sebastian Sallow in this world is quite enough!”
Well, that certainly clears things up.
Sophoronia marches Anne-Marie up the stairs and out of the library. The three of you, having already forgotten your original mission, put your heads together without a word so Sebastian can drape the Time-Turner around your necks and return you to the present.
You collapse in a heap on the library floor, but this time it’s fully empty – even the librarian’s desk light is extinguished. You sit in silence for a few moments, and you and Sebastian don’t dare look at each other. Eventually you force yourself to stand and offer Ominis a hand up, steadfastly ignoring the other boy.
“So,” Ominis finally says, barely concealing his smile. “When exactly is it, do you suppose, that the two of you fall hopelessly in love with each other?”
You both curse at him at the same time, and Ominis throws back his head and laughs.
“Shout at me all you want, but that little girl is proof that the two of you are destined for each other,” he crows. “Oh, how brilliant!”
“Come now, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh. “You don’t seriously think that girl is, what… our child or something?”
“That’s precisely what I think,” Ominous answers, smirking. “You said it yourself, she looks exactly like her mother.”
“Stop!” you interject. “I’m not anyone’s mother, in case you forgot.”
“Perhaps not yet,” Ominis agrees primly. “I imagine it will be several more years before Sebastian makes you one.”
Sebastian goes deeply red while you sputter indignantly.
“Thats – that’s foul, Ominis,” you insist. “It’s untoward to even be talking about this!”
Sebastian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re that offended by the very idea of us having a child together? I’m hurt.”
“W-well, I just meant that we shouldn’t talk about things that haven’t yet come to pass,” you explain nervously. “Besides, all that is years away. Decades, even.”
Sebastian glances sidelong at you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way he looks you up and down.
“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not like we know anything for sure, obviously.”
“Of course,” you agree. “...I don’t suppose you have any other family members named Sebastian? Distant relatives, perhaps?”
“Why?” he drawls. “Looking to snag a cousin of mine so I won’t be the one to father your children?”
You shove him right into one of the bookshelves, but he laughs like he doesn’t regret it one bit.
“Now now,” Ominis murmurs. “You ought to be kind to your future husband, you don’t want to damage his virility.”
“I have half a mind to put a dent in Sebastian’s virility right here and now to save me some trouble later,” you reply, casually aiming your wand at his groin.
“Have you gone mad?!” he stammers as he takes several steps backward. “Put that thing away!”
“Oh, will you please relax?” you sigh. “We just saw one of your descendants, your ability to procreate is in no danger.”
“You could still put me in the Hospital Wing,” he sulks. “Besides, it’s not just procreation that I use it for.”
Ominis snorts. “Unfortunately, I am intimately aware of that.”
You make a face while Sebastian grins cheekily, offering no apology.
The three of you start to make your way toward the exit into Central Hall, ignoring the weak protests of the prefects stationed outside. As you make your way back toward the Slytherin common room, you all fall silent again, lost in your thoughts.
You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to forget what you saw, you think. In the future, you have a daughter. Her father is Sebastian Sallow, and… and she’s brilliant. Beautiful, courageous, more than a bit headstrong, and as determined as you both are if not more so.
You catch yourself actually grinning, and when you glance over at Sebastian, you see the same expression on his face.
“Anything you care to share?” you ask him.
“I know we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he starts, “but there is one thing that girl said that I won’t soon forget.”
“What’s that?” you ask.
He’s quiet for a moment, and then he admits, “I heard her say she’s looking for a book for her aunt, and you haven’t got any sisters.”
You smile softly and reach for Sebastian’s hand. “No, I don’t.”
He lets you take his hand in his to give a reassuring squeeze.
“She’s still alive,” Sebastian says quietly. “She… she’s still sick, probably. But she’s still alive in the future. She meets my daughter, and she knows her.”
“She does,” you say. “And – and maybe we don’t quite know how that happens yet, but you can have a little faith, Sebastian. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, and Anne will be with us for a long, long time. There’s still plenty of time to make things right again.”
He nods wordlessly but doesn’t drop your hand.
Just before you arrive at your common room, Ominis stops in his tracks.
“Hang on… Her name, Anne-Marie?” he asks you. “That sounds like something Sebastian would have picked. How generous of you.”
“Aww,” Sebastian laughs. “You must be so in love with me by then to let me pick the name.”
You grit your teeth and ignore them as you murmur the password to the giant stone snake guarding the door, hoping to get some well-earned rest and be rid of these boys for the night.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian says as he ducks around you and slips inside the door. “I’ll let you pick the name for the second one, and we can duel for rights to the third.”
You go running off after Sebastian and holler, “You bastard Sebastian Sallow, how many damn children are you expecting?!”
Ominis quickly pulls the door shut behind him and shakes his head.
“Godfather,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll never know peace, will I?”
---
[Get to know more of the Sallow kiddos in "the train ain't even left the station" ❤️]
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fic#sebastian sallow#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian x mc#sebastian x reader#my fic#time travel#i tried to stick to time-turner lore as much as possible while completely retconning it#(future) dad!bastian
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.
AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT
pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…
“Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth.
The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.
“Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”
“My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod.
“Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated.
“And you? Catholic?”
“Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood.
Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place.
He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before.
“She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting.
He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date.
“I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment.
Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?”
The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you.
“So you believe it’s a man?”
“Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited.
It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time.
“Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open.
“If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty.
“To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself.
“A very shameful execution.”
You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.
And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.
“Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.
“Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.
The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.
The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.
You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then.
Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.
“Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.”
Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.
“Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”
“They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.
“Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction.
“Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation.
Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.
“Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.
“Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”
#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch scenario#flari: in nomine patris#lari writes sometimes
525 notes
·
View notes
Text
dogfighting 101: 05 - sugar and spice
wc: 1.6k
synopsis: hangman leaves everyone hanging... right?
main masterlist
athena-verse master post
a/n: absolutely loving all of your comments!! heres some hangman and then centric stuff which I KNOW people are waiting to see more of. the next update will be the final for dogfighting 101 but will feature an interaction between rooster and athena that probably (very honestly) wont answer your questions (yet)
“Howdy Miss ‘Thena,” is Hangman’s opening as you both enter the range.
“Hangman,” your greeting’s lacking a little luster.
Despite your early success, you’d only managed tone once and this was rotation four for you, and that’s not even taking into account the variations in which you weren’t flying and that no one else had managed to take your dad down yet.
Your arms hurt, your shoulders hurt, your back hurt, and you wanted to shower so incredibly bad. More than all of that though, you were emotionally exhausted. Flying with Bradley had been the gift that kept giving because even though you’d already gone through another rotation, you kept thinking about the blow out, about the before, about Bradley. As you stood on the tarmac again, you took in the little indents in your palms from the gravel being pushed into them during your push-ups, rubbing over one red mark and shaking your head. Safe to say, you could not wait to finish out the final few rotations, and then go home.
“What’s the matter, Honey?” the tease comes over the comms and even though you know he wants an answer all you can do is scoff.
“Getting tired of push-ups is all,” you say simply.
“I was hoping so,” Jake decides and your brow furrows. You don’t need to see him to know he was planning something.
“What are you planning?” you ask seriously, fully aware that your dad and the rest of the detachment was listening in.
“I was wondering, are you still made of sugar and spice and everything nice?” it sounds condescending, and you’re sure Phoenix and Halo are scoffing at the question, but you know better.
Sugar and Spice was a code, a reference to something you’d only ever talked through with Jake during some downtime on the carrier. Unlike Rock and Roll which you’d actually trained for with Harvard and Yale during Top Gun, Sugar and Spice was completely theoretical.
“You’re joking,” you deadpan, turning to glare at him through the canopy.
“You said you were tired of push-ups. I think it could work, especially since two highly decorated and competent aviators came up with it. Unless, of course, you’d rather continue the heavy set arm day you’ve got going on?” he says nonchalantly.
“Why does it feel like you called me a coward while also complementing me?” you scoff.
“Because you know me,” is all he offers.
“That’s a lot of chatter for two aviators who don’t have the bandit in their sights,” Maverick’s voice finally cuts through, interrupting your back and forth with Jake.
“Hangman, you got eyes?” you ask staring around and out the canopy after confirming your dad wasn’t on the radar.
“No, my guess is he’s coming from below the hard deck again,” the other aviator offers and you do a quick roll, inverting like you had on the first run.
“No contact,” you huff, rolling back.
And then all of a sudden you hear a boom and Mav comes zipping down in front of you. Breaking the sound barrier as he drops from where he’d been miles above you and Jake moving faster than you’d anticipated.
“Holy shit!” you shout.
“Oh fuck!” Jake’s curse echoes with yours.
“Fight’s on, Aviators, let’s see how your arms feel after, kid,” your dad teases as he circles around.
“Break left!” Hangman’s shout echoes.
And you do.
You break left and loop around, looking for Jake who’d gone int he opposite direction. He hadn’t ditched you, yet. Not like he had with Phoenix and Bob earlier. You know it’s not entirely fair a line of thought though, he was different with you, he’d yet to break a promise or leave you out to dry, not like he so flippantly seemed to be with everyone else. You hesitate a second longer before deciding, no, I do not want to do more push ups, and yes, I do trust Jake.
“Sugar and Spice,” you finally shout.
“Wait, really?” the surprise is evident, as if despite his cocky attitude he couldn’t believe you were agreeing.
“Yes!” you confirm, rolling your eyes. “Now move your ass, Hangman!”
“My fine ass, you mean,” he shouts back and you can hear the smirk as he loops back to meet you so you could assume the correct positions.
It’s tricky, you decide.
You always knew it would be, but you never thought you’d actually try it out. In theory, Sugar and Spice was supposed to create a gap that was a trap for the bandit. Where Rock and Roll was a distraction and attack, with each aviator having a specific goal, Sugar and Spice held more risk. Here both pilots act as the distraction, while attempting to get tone at the same time. When you’d initially talked it out with Jake there were three possible formations. Option A was the Side by Side, where you fly parallel. Option B was the Stack, where one pilot flies directly above the other. And Option C, which you had succinctly named, the collision course; in which one approaches from the tail of the bandit, and the other nose.
It seemed Jake had decided to run the collision course. It took a few maneuvers, some creative flying in order to lure Maverick into the right space at the right time, but then you were approaching form his nose, while Jake came in from the tail.
“What the fuck?” was your dads response when he realized that he had to make a choice, continue to attempt tone on you, move before Jake got tone on him, or move before you got close enough to get tone on him.
He feigned a left, which you followed, but then he made a sharp turn right.
What Mav didn’t anticipate was the height change. Jake had moved up, just enough to angle himself perfectly, and to ensure that if your dad didn’t move from the game of chicken you were playing with him, you wouldn’t just crash into your own teammate.
When Maverick flipped a hard right, probably hoping to get tone on you, Jake got tone first, having seen the move coming, and prepared accordingly.
It was silent for a moment, as the tone rang out.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Maverick’s voice crackles over the comms as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
When you land Hangman’s already on the ground by your ladder, having rushed out of his jet after landing first.
You’re not even all the way down when his arms wrap around you and he pulls you down, “Holy shit, ‘Thena, that was fucking incredible!” he shouts, squeezing you for just a moment.
This is Jake, you think fondly. You liked Jake, a lot. You liked him a hell of a lot more than Hangman. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone got to meet Jake, and that, you decided was a god damned shame.
“I mean, I always knew you were smart, ‘Thee but this idea really was something else entirely! And getting to test it out, I’m fucking ecstatic the height change worked….” he was rambling, and there was this twinkle in his eyes that made the green seem alive.
You hadn’t seen him ramble since before the announcement of the detachment, honestly not for a while if you’re honest. Maybe the last time you’d both had feet on solid ground instead of an Air Craft Carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He seemed younger, the southern drawl more evident as he talked too fast to fully enunciate each word.
“Seresin! Mitchell!” the shout from your dad forces Jake to stop, and you notice as his brain finally catches up, how he steps back from you and straightens out, how the excited gleam in his eye dies out a bit, and you frown at Jake, because you watch as he tucks the more authentic parts of himself away.
“Yes, Sir?” you ask, turning to your father who was approaching.
“Hell of a move, where’d you learn that?” he asks, looking between the two of you.
“Lieutenant Mitchell designed it, Sir. After a cat and mouse training exercise on the carrier between our squads,” and if your dad was shocked before, hearing Hangman of all people pay another pilot credit was the blackout on top of the bingo.
“It was a team effort, Sir,” you argue. “Then and now, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else,” you admit, and something in both your father’s gaze, and Jake’s softens.
“Keep thinking outside the box. It’s a good skill, and you’ll need it,” your father praises you, before turning to head to Hondo for his push ups, giving the next group a bit of a break.
“Hey Maverick!” you shout after him, “Always think the 360!”
A random sentence that no one else would understand, but he would, and based off of the near prideful smile he shoots you before turning back around, you know he understood.
While your dad did his push ups and the next pairing came down, you stopped in an empty hallway. “Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah?” he asks, pausing and then turning back once he realized you were no longer right beside him.
“I’m happy it worked too. Thanks for not leaving me hanging,” you say softly.
He looks down and then back at you, brows furrowed as if something wasn’t adding up for him, “Mitchell, you should know by now, I’d never leave you,” he says in response, green eyes swirling with emotion, too many to place, but his words feel like so much more than just talking as your wingman.
...
everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend
athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid
if your tag is striked it means i was unable to tag you.
#daisy’s fics#meet ‘thena#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun fic#top gun maverick fic#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#mitchell!reader#iceman#tom kazansky#pete mitchell#maverick#hangman#jake seresin#bradley bradshaw#rooster#phoenix#natasha trace#bob#robert floyd#yale#harvard#brigham lennox#logan lee#reuben fitch#mickey garcia#fanboy#payback#hangman x reader
162 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cookie Run: Facets of Knowledge AU
[pt: Cookie Run: Facets of Knowledge AU]
" The Virtue of Knowledge holds two sides to it; Truth and Deceit. Only together can they truly understand its depths. "
Not so much a complete AU as a likely canon divergence, this 'verse is set after Dark Enchantress's defeat. Her attempt to free the Beasts from their eternal prison by creating new bodies for them ended catastrophically. The only way to keep them all at bay was to seal them within the Soul Jams carried by each of the Ancients, as well as within their own bodies. This came with its benefits and drawbacks- after all, the threat has been tamed for as long as the Ancients remain uncorrupted. Not only that, but the reuniting of the Soul Jams' other halves magnified the Ancients' power beyond imagining- as its main holders, it's all in their control now, out of reach of the Beasts.
The complications, of course, come with the continued presence of the Beasts within the Ancients. They may not have any powers, no, but they can certainly be heard by the Ancients they've been sealed within - even seen as a projection of the Soul Jam's magic. Pure Vanilla Cookie knows he's in no danger from Shadow Milk Cookie as long as he doesn't mentally give in to his lies. However, that doesn't stop the comments, the perspectives, or the presence he brings. Sealed together, they have to learn to understand each other deeper than either expected, and slowly, each begin to open their eyes to the other's views and experiences.
More details & doodles below the cut! ⤵️
- Shadow Milk Cookie can project himself outwardly into the world using the Light of Truth, but in almost all cases, the only one that can see, hear, or feel him is Pure Vanilla Cookie. This leads to quite a few reactions to seemingly "nothing" from the outside, which took a long while for the other cookies around him to get used to.
- Shadow Milk gets bored very often due to not having a physical body or the ability to interact with most cookies, so he often resorts to pestering Pure Vanilla in one way or another. PV found that ignoring him only makes it worse, so he'll often engage in giving hypothetical answers to SM's ridiculous lines of questioning. This tends to result in either an absurdly niche philosophy discussion or a yes-and fantasy lasting on-and-off for days.
- Distrust is rampant between the two, of course, which is beneficial for neither of them. Pure Vanilla is convinced Shadow Milk wants nothing but to control Earthbread once more, and SM thinks PV wants nothing more than to lock him away somewhere dark and eternal. Both are partially right, but they are forced to learn the depths of the others' perspective and understand how their defining traits are reflections of each other, stemming from the same place.
- Because of this, they slowly begin to understand each other. To trust each other. To let down the walls, because really... Who else would ever be able to comprehend them like the other?
- Pure Vanilla still refuses to trust him enough to let Shadow Milk take control of the body, though. After all, control of the body would hypothetically mean control of the Soul Jam, and he can't let himself risk the fate of Earthbread once more. Sure doesn't stop SM from pestering, begging, bargaining, and more to try!
- Arguments are surprisingly rare, because if both of them get too deep into their heated debate, they get uncomfortably close to the reality of how similar they are to each other; this tends to make them back off.
- Both of them also feel this discomfort when the other is genuinely feeling mentally unwell, as viewing the other's complexity reflects on their own they wish to conceal. This can result in an awkward attempt to cheer the other up or help the situation, if nothing else to simply remove the shared disconcertion.
(If anybody's honestly interested in learning details for this AU, send in an ask! I might even draw doodles for the replies. this au is also where this sorta popular doodle comes from)
Bonus:
me too gingerbrave
#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#pure vanilla cookie#shadow milk cookie#cookie run au#cookie run art#shadowvanilla#deceitvanilla#vanilla milkshake#purelily will be implied but not the focus for now#hes polyamorous because i say so#digital art#fanart#our art#prism art#facets of knowledge au
414 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I please request any comfort fluff with Jiyan from Wuthering Waves if you're open to those requests?🙏😔 I need bro to comfort me
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m sorry?’ You asked, looking up to see Jiyan stood over your seated form with conceding lacing his golden eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ He repeated, sitting down next to you, ‘you’ve been acting differently as of late and I feel as though there’s more to it than just a shift in personality.’
You chuckled humourlessly, the jig was up and you knew it but were too stubborn to accept help from anyone, especially from one who had more important matters at hand than your slight decline in mental health. ‘It’s nothing, honestly, I’m just a little-‘
‘Tired?’ Jiyan cuts you off and suddenly your throat felt drier than a desert and he must’ve known that he caught you in your one lie as he levels you with a stare, leaning slightly towards you. ‘How often have you used being tired as an excuse because people in your past have proven themselves ill equip with handling a difficult situation, despite saying false promises of being there for when life gets hard.’
‘Way too fucking often.’ You replied. ‘It’s like they were only in my life to take something from me, why? I’ll never know because they’re all gone and fucked off, like they didn’t just tore my souls to shreds snd left me to pick up the pieces.’ You concluded and it wasn’t until then did you realise that you had started to cry when Jiyan wordlessly wiped one away with his thumb.
You had let your guard slip, the one thing you’ve promised yourself to never do again in the presence of another person due to how they made it all about them; not to mention how they gone on about how suddenly they couldn’t handle your baggage before ghosting you completely whenever you tried to reach out to them again. You didn’t deserve that type of treatment and you know it, but you’ve less yourself to believe that their reaction will be how others would perceive your situation, and so you never bothered reaching out for help and instead letting it bottle up inside until you cracked.
‘I’m sorry.’ You gasped as you began to violently wipe away at your eyes when Jiyan held your wrists in his hand and brought them away from your face.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he started, ‘never apologise for your own emotions nor the people who’ve made you believe that others would turn a blind eye to your plan, for that is simply not true, but I understand that this is a hard mentality for one to unlearn after so long.’ Jiyan wasn’t well versed in comforting others, seeing as how he spent most of his life in the frontlines of the battlefield as both a medic and general, but that didn’t stop him from recognising that a misdeed had been committed against you and that he wouldn’t allow; So for you, jiyan would try his best to provide comfort that you needed.
‘Oh yeah? And who’s going to change that then you?’ You scoffed.
‘Yes.’ Jiyan answered without hesitation and a seriousness you’ve only ever seen in battle and that alone had you choke on your own words.
‘Why?’ You asked, looking into his eyes in hopes of getting the answer you wanted, you wanted to look for a lie within his eyes but his eyes only told you that he was being genuine with his words.
‘I want to prove that if there is one person who’s willing to shoulder your burdens with you, it’s me.’ He tells you. ‘I will not allow you to suffer alone during you’re in pain. So please, allow me to lend you aid in these difficult times.’
You stayed silent for a bit and Jiyan thought that he may have overstepped a boundary or two but his own worries were put to rest when you gripped onto his hand just as he was about to pull away. ‘If it’s not too much trouble for you.’
‘I wouldn’t have suggested such if it was, which it isn’t.’ Jiyan cuts you off softly.
‘Then I guess it couldn’t hurt.’ You said, slowly beginning to grow hope for this seemingly small promise.
#wuwa#wuwa x reader#wuwa x you#wuthering waves#wuthering waves x reader#Wuthering waves imagine#Wuthering waves imagines#Wuwa imagine#wuwa imagines#jiyan x reader#jiyan x you#jiyan imagine#jiyan imagines
371 notes
·
View notes
Note
Actually in love with the Bayverse kiddo stories you’ve done they’re so cute!! I honestly can’t pick which one is my favourite but I think it’s a tie between the stories of Raph and Donnie catching their kids sneaking out of the lair/in the lab without permission - idk they’re just really cute to read I love them both so much!!
If you’re still taking ideas for family centred Bayverse stuff, if you’re comfortable with it how do you think the turtles would react to knowing their s/o is pregnant?? With how the turtles are mutant and their s/o would be human, would any of the turtles even think it was possible to produce healthy offspring?? Who would be very taken aback/take a while to come to terms with the situation verses who would adjust fairly quickly??
The Turtles Reactions To You Being Pregnant (Fluff)
Children Series
Bayverse!Turtles x reader
A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for. It might not be exactly as you described, but I hope you’ll enjoy it none the less💚
Warnings: Implied connulingus, talk of infertility.
Leonardo:
When you first learned of your pregnancy, you were in absolute shock. Maybe even horrified. Here you had married a mutant turtle, never taking the time to care much for protection, as neither of you thought anything would come of it. You and Leo had hoped. Even talked about it, allowing each other to dream about it for a moment. Children. Actually having children together. A dream that neither of you ever really believed would become true. But then, when you suddenly started noticing a few symptoms, you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a test. And then another because you didn’t believe the first result. And then one more. And another. You broke down, both out of happiness, fear and shock. But that would be nothing compared to when you told your husband about it.
At first Leo refused to believe what you told him. He almost got mad at you, thinking that you were playing some cruel joke on him. No way you dared making fun of something you both had fantasized about for so long, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it would never happen. But as you stood before him, teary eyed, holding up not just one but several positive tests, Leo could no longer deny what was true.
Leo felt every emotion within a few seconds. Overjoyed excitement and shock. So much, that for the first time in Leo’s well controlled life, he lost all emotional control. He cried, laughed, yelled, sang and at one point even did a little dance as he hurried out to the living area, in order to tell his family.
But then the fear and worry came crashing. Never had a human and a mutant turtle reproduce together. There was no way of knowing if the child would be born healthy. Or if it even was safe for you to carry a hybrid within you.
That unlocked a whole new side of Leo. A nervous rack that started fearing the worst, holding your hand tight and almost hugging himself, as the two of you awaited the test results from the various checks Donatello had made on you.
The wait for answers almost made Leo sick. He was fidgety, never leaving your side, fearing what would happen if he did. He laid awake most nights, holding you and your still unchanged stomach close. It got so bad that Donnie started worrying more about his brother’s wellbeing instead of yours, taking time out of your daily checks to check Leo’s vitals.
Finally came the day of answers. Nothing was out of the ordinary - well, other than the hybrid child inside of you. But there was no evidence that your health was at risk, or that the child was in any arms way. Donnie even found evidence that suggested that the mugaten you would have been exposed to through Leo, might even make the process smoother.
And with that Leo could finally breathe a sigh of relief, finally letting himself relax, feeling his much needed sleep rush over him, dreaming of the day you and Leo would be holding your first child out of many.
Raphael:
The revelation that a human could in fact get impregnated by a mutant turtle, was a game changer for you and Raph. You could still remember the exact moment you and Raph looked at each other, realizing what this could mean for the two of you.
Yet, children had never really been something you and Raph had talked about. But the moment Leo and his partner started getting ready for their first child, it was as if your thoughts started spinning. Well, Raph’s more than yours. Of course, Raph had felt the need for mating during mating season, along with the thought of offsprings, but it never went much further than that. Until now.
Raph started finding himself daydreaming about you, him and any future children quite often. You and him, mixed together in a cute little bundle of pure happiness.
The final trigger was when Raph’s nephew was born, and Raph could finally see how a reality like this might be better than his daydreams. And that was when Raph finally decided to tell you that he wanted a child, and just how long he had been thinking about it.
And much to you and Raph’s excitement, it didn’t take long before the bees and the flowers did their thing, and you got pregnant with you and Raph’s first child. And when you told Raph about it, his reaction showed just how badly he wanted this. Letting out a victory roar, Raph pulled you in for a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and showering your face with kisses, before throwing you over his shoulder, so he could bring you with the good news to the others.
During the majority of your pregnancy, Raph was cool. Even before you got pregnant, it wasn’t strange for him to smack your ass whenever he walked past you, but now he took it to a whole other level. It was pretty much impossible for you to walk around the lair, without Raph making some sort of spicy remark about your current situation, and how feasting it was for his eyes. Who would have thought that your husband would have a thing for your body parts growing due to child baring?
But the closer and closer you got to your due date, the more nervous Raph seemed to get. Any sound, any movement, and Raph was ready at your side, thinking that it was your signal that it was time.
But the day you finally went into labor, Raph was an absolute wreck, almost needing more care than you did, with you and the others reminding him to breathe while you pushed your first born out.
Nonetheless, the moment your daughter was born, and Raph realized everything was okay, he seemed to get some color back in his face.
Donatello:
You had for a long time wanted children. You had talked about it a long time before anybody even knew it would be possible, often letting Donnie know your thoughts on the topic. But Donnie, not so much. He had never really spent much time thinking about it, outside of his mating season. When he wasn’t in the middle of the most animalistic of his urges, the mere thought of having to take care of a child of his own, made him feel somewhat strange.
But then, seeing two of his brothers and their partners becoming parents, along with helping them through the process, made Donnie’s mind race. First it was an innocent small thought. A child. Then it turned into more. You and him with a child. But not just any child. Your child. His child. And then, before Donnie knew it, the baby fever had started taking over.
You noticed it before Donnie, seeing how he acted around his nephew and niece. It was like he had done a 180, from never really engaging in your conversations about children, but just letting you talk on your own, to actively helping out his brothers. He even started asking them questions about parenting. And at that point, pretty much everybody knew what was going on inside Donnie’s head, and there was no way he could hide it anymore. He wanted a child.
Donnie went into this, a little more well thought out than his brothers had. Taking account of your cyclus, along with his mating season, and all of the other factors he could find, Donnie found the perfect time for you and him to try to have a child. But all of that planning flew out the window the moment his mating season hit, and you found yourself pregnant within a short time.
Donnie was pretty level headed throughout the whole thing. He had wanted this. He had planned for this. Of course he was a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But he had to keep calm, for you and for the kid.
But then your water broke, causing Donnie to fly into an almost full blown panic, forgetting everything he had planned. It took a slap from Raph and a few good words from Leo, along with some encouragement from Mikey to get him back on track.
And back on track Donnie got. He guided you through, almost with more ease than he had with his brothers’ partners. For a moment he just switched off all emotions and focused on the task before him.
But as soon as your son was born, and was laying safely in your arms, Donnie broke under all of his suppressed emotions, letting out a few happy sobs as the two of you watched the little guy before you.
Michelangelo:
If there was one that wanted children, it was Mikey. He had been talking about it, long before his oldest brother and spouse figured out it was possible. So can you imagine his excitement, not just for his brother’s good news, but when he realized the two of you could actually make a family together? He was over the moon, talking about having a child as if he was asking if he could get a puppy.
But the world didn’t seem to think too fondly of you and Mikey’s wish to have children too. Days turned into weeks, and nothing happened. Then days turned to months, and you were still not showing any signs, all while Raph’s partner was heavily pregnant with their child. Months suddenly turned into years, and now Donnie was a father as well. Though you both were happy for them all, it was almost disheartening.
For a time you worried it might have been because of you. The fear that you might have been infertile creeping up in your head, until you finally asked Donnie to check you out. You even went to a human doctor to get checked. But both said the same thing - there was nothing wrong with you.
This left you and Mikey with one last option - maybe it was because of him. It had been known that human males were experiencing a lowering of sperm counts, along with a lower quality of said sperm, so who were to say it couldn’t happen for a mutant turtle as well?
And so, Mikey went to work immediately, trying to figure out what he could do. The conclusion from Donnie came much earlier than the two of you had expected, but his results were not surprising - a better diet, more training, no more alcohol on the weekends until you had a baby in you, less stressing video games and more vitamins.
Mikey took it all with no complaints. If he wanted a child he would have to work for it, and so he did. Even if he at times wanted to fall over when he couldn’t eat his favorite foods, play his favorite video games, or just do what he normally did as a creature of habit. But he wanted that child, so he could not just give up like that! No! And so he kept going.
And after a few weeks of non stop trying, you and Mikey finally saw the fruit of his labor, when your daily morning test out in the bathroom finally showed positive, altering the rest of the lair with your high pitch scream as you ran to Mikey, happy tears in your eyes as you showed him what the two of you had been waiting for, for so long.
Mikey was overjoyed, screaming louder than any of his brothers had done. Finally! After so long, he was finally going to become a father. He had worked so hard, but never once did he or you give up. And therefore, Mikey rightfully decided to celebrate the good news, with the first junk food he had gotten in a long while.
From that night, all up until you gave birth, Mikey slept, hugging your stomach, happy that it was finally happening for the two of you.
#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt x reader#tmnt bayverse#tmnt bayverse x reader#tmnt leonardo#tmnt raphael#tmnt donatello#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt raph#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt leo#tmnt leo x reader#tmnt leonardo x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt donnie x reader#tmnt donatello x reader#tmnt mikey x reader#tmnt michelangelo x reader#tmnt bayverse leo#tmnt bayverse leo x reader#tmnt bayverse leonardo#tmnt bayverse leonardo x reader#tmnt bayverse raph#tmnt bayverse raphael#tmnt bayverse raph x reader#tmnt bayverse raphael x reader#tmnt bayverse donnie
245 notes
·
View notes
Note
What do you think of possessive turtles with their s/o? What do you think they'de be like? Other than marking their s/o that is
Ninja turtles + possessiveness
Ah, the smell of toxic relationships!
18+ I Ninja guys are mind to late twenties I kind of dark!turtles, kind of what I think the toxic aspects of dating them would actually be like. I MDNI I General verses
Leo
This bitch is too cocky to even think you can cheat on him, or fall for someone else. Yet!! He's still a mutant turtle, what if you hang out too much with someone who changes your mind?
You haven't answered in half an hour? Calls you.
Oh, you don't answer? haha, funny
* proceeds to spam*
via text, via calls, via social media
He just has this controlling habit of wanting to know where you are, with whom, and what you're doing.
You hate it, but when you confront him about it, he's always like
:( What do you mean? I'm just worried!
The foot clan's out there, you know?
Passive aggressive, honestly
It's not that he's being possessive! he just wants to make sure you're safe. *coughs * gaslighting * coughs*
He's sore when it doesn't work.
Donatello
Yeah, I don't how to tell you this but, your phone is tapped.
Just as you are about to leave to hang out with your friends, he makes the century's discoverment. It's happening again — "Please stay; it's important!"
Just five more minutes! *263536 hours later he still isn't done showing you *
Tracks your phone (in case of an emergency, of course)
Scoffs at you when you point out he's being possessive
Raphael
Behold, the "I can take you there" man.
Do you need to go to the store? He drives you! Get on the motorbike, enjoy the city lights ;)
You're hanging out with your friends? Don't worry; he'll give you a lift! No? Why not? Hmm, are you really hanging out with your friends?
Well, if he can't take you there, he can pick you up. How's that? :D Really so annoying.
Oh, you're clubbing? Guess what?! He's patrolling just in that same area. Isn't that great? Now he can wait for you to finish and walk you home!
Stalks your Instagram stories knowing he'll probably get angry, and then confronts you about the most random screenshots. Why are you touching this friend on the shoulder in this pic?! >:(
Seriously nerve-wracking.
Mikey
Listen, listen, we gotta give Mikey all the coins!! All the points because he's so subtle you don't even notice he's being possessive until one day you're reflecting and * loud gasp * revelation.
He gives you a bracelet just like his own so you can wear it as a couple! In addition to many other things that are sometimes bought and sometimes handmade, the point is that they are all orange.
And you will say, how is that possessive?
BECAUSE, because, your friends ask, is orange your favorite color? And while it may be yes, it is an opportunity to mention that the color reminds you of your boyfriend.
In short, he gives you or does things that will force you to bring him into conversation with other people.
He is the first to comment on all your photos on social media, "How beautiful my angel!" which is a problem bc now your friends want to meet him * sweats * how the hell are you gonna explain? And what if someone in your group reveals the secret? * anxiety intensifies *
Everyone in your life knows that you have a boyfriend, which is not bad, but sometimes, Instead of his actions feeling genuine, it's more like he just wants everyone to know that you are taken.
#tmnt x reader#tmnt bayverse#raphael tmnt#leo tmnt#mikey tmnt#tmnt donatello#tmnt mikey#tmnt leo x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt donnie x reader#tmnt donatello x reader#tmnt raphael#tmnt 2007#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2k7#tmnt 2014#tmnt 2016#tmnt bayverse x reader#tmnt bayverse donnie#tmnt bayverse leo#tmnt bayverse mikey#tmnt 2003#tmnt 2k3#tmnt headcanons
797 notes
·
View notes
Text
also on AO3
===
"You ever thought of getting a tattoo?"
Midway through polishing his leather shoes, Tommy looks over at Evan leaning on the sideboard in the entryway. He's wearing a gorgeous teal sweater and sipping on hot chocolate in his Number One Ally mug, the very epitome of cozy fall. It's been a lazy day spent completing chores around the house, with changing out the hallway lightbulb the most exciting thing to happen that afternoon.
Honestly, Tommy loves these sort of days. And he loves that he has Evan to share them with now.
When Evan raises his eyebrows inquisitively, Tommy remembers the question. "Oh, I did, briefly. But I went to a parlor and, uh, the sound of the needle freaked me out." He chuckles self-deprecatingly.
Evan hums, thoughtful. "What did you want for your first tat?"
Tommy pauses, putting the shoe in his hand down. The verse comes to him easily; he has written out the entire poem perhaps more than a hundred times when he was on active duty, a means to remind himself why he was there in the first place.
Slowly, he says, "I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth / And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings."
Evan looks... kind of surprised? "Is that a poem?"
"Opening lines of High Flight, John Gillespie Magee Jr." Tommy resumes polishing the shoe. He doesn't give further details, knowing that Evan will look it up on his own. Instead, he says, "When I was in high school, I had... I didn't have plans for my future, other than 'get the hell out of here'. And the army came knocking, and I answered."
For a second, his mind flashes back to himself as a kid. Angry, lost, looking for a target. He takes a deep breath. The smell of polish is comforting, grounding. He is here at home with the man he loves. It's all behind him.
"I memorized that poem when I was training as a pilot," he went on. "I'm not... I never liked violence. Not even in retaliation. Signing on as a pilot was not about hitting back at the enemy, not in my case. It was just a means to get out. I didn't really understand what I was signing up for until... Going on tours gave me a chance to see how fucked up war is. That poem helped me on the really bad days when I wanted to throw in the towel, go AWOL or something."
He doesn't say that something is a permanent departure from the mortal plane. Eddie would've understood. Evan is blessedly innocent in this aspect, and Tommy will protect that with everything he can.
After another moment of rubbing at an invisible stain, he glances up once more, meets Evan's empathetic gaze. He smiles at the younger man. "Yeah. I actually, uh, have put down in my will that the poem is to be read at my funeral, if I died in an accident while flying." He flushes, ducks his head. It's too morbid for such a pleasant day.
Evan comes to him and puts his hand on Tommy's cheek, makes him look at Evan. Eyes the color of the open summer sky.
"If it ever comes to that," Evan says quietly, "I will recite it."
"I hope you never have to," Tommy responds, turning into Evan's palm and kissing it.
79 notes
·
View notes