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aribeez · 2 years

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Shop Owner

pairing: childe x fem!reader

themes: some angst, smut, childe is a virgin and touch deprived, you own a sex shop lolol

Warnings: NSFW, anxiety, panic attack, swearing, sexual encounters (kissing, blowjob, unprotected sex, praise), spoilers for childe's real name, afab reader, NOT PROOFREAD

notes: everyone thinks childe is this flirty ass guy that is like super sexual but this man fell into the abyss when he was 14 and then became a worshipper for the tsaritsa you really think this man ever gets some? sidenote i literally have covid lol. i usually only like sub reader, but man... sub childe is something else... also i'm screaming over the fact that teyvat has a sex shop now and you own it teehee.

minors/ageless blogs DNI

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"I said, what can I get you." You huffed angrily, continuing to restock your shop. You dare not look the man in the eyes, instead standing your ground.

"As I said before ma'am," you hear the creaking of the wooden floor grow louder as the tall man slowly stepped closer. "I'm just here to collect your debt."

Hoping he would simply leave if you ignored him, you stayed quiet, your face growing redder by the minute. You were scared. This wasn't any old Fatui member, this was a harbinger. Removing the last of the supplies from the box, you straighten your back and held your breath as you walked past him into the back room. Business hasn't exactly been booming, but you thought you had more time. People just don't seem to understand what you sell.

You linger in the back room a few minutes, hoping the harbinger would leave if you didn't return. Anxiety bubbling, you carefully peered an eye past the door into your store, searching for the ginger man. "Hey! Watch it!" You yell, catching him peaking into your mora register. You briskly walk over to the front of the store as the harbinger snapped his hand away from the register. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

You obviously were not thinking clearly as you push the Fatui man off your front desk. Breathing heavily, you freeze as you stare at the man, his blue eyes first wide in shock that you would even touch a harbinger, then slowly piercing at you, his gaze heightening your anxiety. He was pissed.

"Sir..." You stood in place, your entire mind going blank. Never in your life have you been so violent. Ashamed and afraid, you step away from the register before he could hurt you. "I-I'm so sorry..." You stutter, looking down. You waited for a response, but no words came from the mans mouth, he just stood expressionless. "Please, I don't have much," you muster up the courage to say. "But you may take everything in the register."

Too afraid to look up, you thought the worst. This would be the end. He was going to kill you for trying to hurt him. Each step closer to you made you wince. You couldn't open your eyes, you couldn't watch yourself die.

You instinctively open one eye as you heard the register open. "Huh?" You breathed out, relaxing your frame as you saw him ignore you.

"I'm not a monster..." The man mumbled, shuffling through the limited mora you have. "Besides, I can't take this. I need to bring exact change."

You didn't realize the tears welled up in your eyes until one fell down your cheek and into the floor. "You're not going to kill me?" You choke up.

The man cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Why would I kill you?" He closes the register, his gaze falling back to you. "I'm honestly a little offended you would think I would kill someone as helpless as you."

Panic rose again. "Offended? No please, I didn't mean it like that!" You ramble. "Sir, please have pity on me." You beg, clamping your hands together over your head, not caring how desperate you look right now.

The man's face was clearly uncomfortable, as if it was hard to watch you in such a distressed state. "Ah- just. Please, stop crying." But you couldn't. Your big mouth couldn't stay shut and not only did you act violently towards a Fatui harbinger, you offended him.

The man looked around worryingly to see if there was anyone else in the shop to help with the girl in front of him who was just about to have a panic attack, but alas, you weren't lying when you said no one visits the store. "Okay, just stop shaking for a second." He put his hands on yours, lowering them.

You jerk a little at the unexpected physical touch, but you didn't pull away. You were too scared to tell him to move anyways. Your eyes stare into his hands holding yours, little sniffles still exuding out. "Okay." He breathed out in relief. "I'm not going to kill you. Here," He takes his hands off yours and holds it out. "My name is Childe."

You stare at his hand being held out and slowly bring yours into his to shake it. "I'm Y/N." You say softly.

"Y/N. Okay. Normally I wouldn't do this, but you seem in great distress, so I will come back in one week. Okay?"

You nod, trying to comprehend his words. "One week." You repeat.

He nods. "Yes. The Tsaritsa will be unhappy if I am late returning to Snezhnaya but..." He breathed out heavily. "Just- don't make me regret it."

You shake your head, a small smile forming on your quivering lips. "You will not regret it! T-Thank you sir!"

"You... Don't gotta call me sir." Childe shifted awkwardly. "Childe is fine." You nod.

"Sorry. Thank you, Childe."

"You're welcome." Childe lets his eyes wander around the store. "Sorry to ask, but what do you sell here? Most businesses in this area don't have trouble with customers..."

You usually don't feel embarrassed talking about your shop, it's a normal thing after all, but seeing an attractive man of authority ask about it made your cheeks burn. "My shop? Oh... You don't need to make conversation." You laugh awkwardly, wiping left over tear residue from your cheeks. "You must be busy anyways."

"Not really. This was my last stop." You silently plead for him to stop as he walked towards the walls of your shop.

"Oh, that must be nice." You rush behind him. "Sir- uh. Childe. I assure you nothing here is worth looking at so-"

"What is..." His head moves closer as he gets a closer look at what is actually on display. "Wait..."

"Childe."

"Oh... This store is a... Oh."

A few beats of silence fall among you two.

"I... Own an adult store." You mutter, your face showcasing the brightest shade of red you can imagine.

Childe did not move, simply mustering an "uh-huh" as his eyes wandered the store, his face matching yours in color. "I... Didn't know these existed..."

"Well, people do have sex believe it or not. It is natural. I just help people... Feel lively again." You nervously laugh.

Childe snapped his head back at you, quickly shutting you up. The way you talked about sex like it wasn't taboo was so odd to him. "Right..." he said, coughing nervously into his hand. "If you don't mind me asking... How did you come about owning this shop?"

You relaxed a little. You enjoyed talking about your work and why you do what you do. "I go to Sumeru Academy to study the mind and within my studies, I focus on humans and their sexual nature. This shop has many texts and... accessories that will help people in their sexual lives. A healthy sex life makes a happy person." You explained, hoping this made the situation a little less weird.

"Humans and their sexual nature..." He repeated lowly to himself. "How... Interesting."

"Well," You continue, still a little intimidated that a harbinger is in your midst. "As a thanks for being so generous with my payment, you may take anything free of charge. I'm sure an attractive guy like yourself has a partner that would love something from the shop. I'm here to answer any questions as well."

"Attractive?" Childe glances away from you, a soft blush forming on his cheeks. It was almost like it was the first time he's ever heard a compliment. "I- Uhh... Thank you, but I don't have a partner." He said softly.

You would be lying if you said you weren't shocked. He probably is one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. He towers over you, his height reaching at least 6'2 (188cm), and his hair falls effortlessly over his eyes. He isn't even trying and he looks like he's Teyvat's most eligible bachelor. "That's okay." You assured him. "No need to feel embarrassed, you can still take something for yourself." You shrug.

Childe laughs nervously. "I'm not sure how that would work..." He admits, staring at his feet and kicking dust from the floor.

You stare at him with questioning eyes. No longer is it you who cannot look at him, but it's him who cannot look at you. It pained you to see this grown man shut down at the thought of anything sexual. Has he ever done anything? You silently groan to yourself as you already felt your feet move towards him. You had to help him. "Childe?"

"Hmm?" He stared back into your eyes and for a moment, your heart stopped working. He was leaning on the front desk so you were close to eye level, and for the first time since he got here, you didn't feel nervous anymore. He looked near perfect.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

Childe gripped the edge of the desk as a feverous blush wore itself on his face. "No." He admitted, a little ashamed.

"Can I... Kiss you?" You asked quietly. You see him bite his lip nervously, his finger pads tapping the sides of the desk. "You can say no." You assure him.

He stared at you for a moment, this situation being entirely new to him. Did the Fatui handbook say anything about relations with clients? "Why?"

Why? You didn't know why. Maybe you were a little sexually frustrated yourself, and a hot guy waddling in here didn't help. Maybe you wanted to help him. Maybe you wanted his cock deep inside you, fucking you-

"Sure. Yes. If you want to, of course." Childe looked back at you helplessly, interrupting your lewd thoughts. "No one has ever asked me that, but I'm not opposed. You're quite beautiful." His lips were slightly parted and his eyes half lidded, making you nervous once again. His expression and compliment made your stomach flip. You swallowed anxiously, stepping closer to him.

"Okay." You breathed out. "Ready?" He nodded. Swallowing some courage into yourself, you leaned in slowly, giving him time to adjust as needed. As you close your eyes and lips draw closer to each other, you feel his breath hitch nervously. "Shh..." You say quietly. "It's okay." You whisper, just hovering over his lips, the warmth of your breath making him quiver. You gently bring a hand to his jaw line, gripping it softly to bring him closer to you. Your lips touch gently, melding perfectly with one another. You stay still a few second, letting his tenseness ease up. When he doesn't move away, you take this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself farther into him, your tongue and his slipping into each others mouths.

It didn't take long for Childe and you to have a rhythm going. His gloved hands tangled in your hair, gently tugging at it which made you quietly moan into his mouth. Childe suddenly pushed back, his face to the ceiling gasping for air, you doing the same. "Wow..." Was all Childe could say, a little smile forming.

"Yeah..." You breathed out, still amazed you just made out with some stranger.

"Can we... Do that again?" He asks, almost looking like a puppy dog. It was cute. He's cute.

You weren't gonna lie, between your thighs was a familiar tingly sensation. In a few minutes, if something didn't change, you were going to explode. You walk away to the front of your shop. "W-Wait," Childe watched as you walked away from him, his stomach dropping a little bit. Did he do that badly? You seemed to enjoy it though?

You lock the front doors of your shop and switch the sign to say 'closed'. "Calm down." You giggle, strutting back to him. "I'm not going anywhere, unless you need to leave."

Childe shook his head. "No. I-I want to stay here, with you."

You smile, trailing your finger down his jaw and past his adam's apple. "Good." You whisper, sending a shiver down Childe's spine. "Do you want to go further?" You ask, resting your hands upon his chest, bringing your doe-eyes up to meet his. Not knowing if it was a state of shock or just forgetting how to speak, Childe stayed silent, simply focusing on the fact that your dainty hands were touching his chest. You chuckle to yourself, leaning your soft lips to his ear, gently pushing his ginger hair back behind it. "I said," you whispered seductively. "Do you want me to go further?" You heard him swallow hard and the pace of his breathing speed up.

"Please..." He begged quietly. "Do whatever you want to me."

You smirked to yourself as you left a trail of soft kisses down his neck, your hands wandering to the area of his torso he keeps exposed. "You're so fucking hot." You moan into him as you feel his exposed abs, giving him praise and compliments whenever you could since you figured he doesn't get many often.

"Fuck," Childe groaned, his face growing red with embarrassment. "I... Umm..." He struggled to find the words as you try to unclasp his jacket.

"Hmm?" You look back up at him, becoming wetter by the second. His face was hot and sweaty as he looked at you with helpless eyes and his mouth slowly hanging open, it was like he was in a porno, and it was the hottest thing you've ever seen. "Use your words, hun. Don't be embarrassed." You cooed. "What you do want me to do?"

His breathing became deeper as he gently touched your hair, brushing it away from your eyes. "Please keep talking." He muttered shyly. "I like it... I like when you compliment me, I like when you moan, please just keep saying things." A whimper crawls out of your throat when he says that.

"Your wish is my command, master." You choke out, smiling, about to continue.

"Also," Childe stops you once more. "My name," He breathes out. "is Ajax. If you can call me that instead..."

"Ajax." You test the name out, bringing a blush to his cheeks. "Well Ajax, I need you to sit on the desk." He complied, no longer leaning on the desk. You wrap your arms around his neck. "Grab my leg." You instruct. He did so, and you hopped up onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Holy shit..." He breathed out as the tent in his pants grew tighter. Childe didn't know how he was going to last for the beautiful women who so graciously took him on. He had to try, though every movement made him moan embarrassingly loud.

"I'm going to move now, okay?" You said, positioning yourself to start grinding on his dick. He nodded hesitantly. You slowly grinded yourself on him, feeling his cock push through your folds. The skirt you're wearing draped along your knees, the only thing between him and your bare pussy was your panties, which were soaked at this point. You move your hips painfully slow as he winces. "You're doing so well, handsome." You moan out, grinding harder on his clothed cock. You study his flushed expression, adoration filling you up. You were doing this to a Fatui harbinger, you would be lying if you said you weren't proud of yourself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Childe gasps as he felt the pressure hitting his painfully hard cock. "Holy shit you're so good at this, Y/N." He moans out. You close your eyes, throwing your head back at the pleasure he was bringing upon to you. It has been too long since you've done anything with anyone. Fingers grip Childe's jacket tightly as you move faster and harder, his hands clamped on your waist, keeping you down on his cock.

Slipping your hand under your skirt, you start palming him through his pants, it was rock hard, and you could tell he was big just by palming him. "My love, can I help you with this?" Gasping, he nodded quickly, letting small whimpers out as you touched him. "Has anyone ever done this for you?" You lean in. "Or do I have the pleasure of being the first, pretty boy?"

You felt him grow even harder at the nickname, his cock twitching through his pants. "You, everything is for you." He moaned out, watching as you lifted yourself from his lap, and slowly dropped down to your knees and in between his legs.

"Mmm..." You hum, gently undoing the buckle of his belt. "Good." You gently grab ahold of his shaft, the length staring you in the face. You might have taken on more than you could handle, all this has to fit in your mouth? You swallow nervously, it was way bigger than you thought.

"Are you okay?" Childe asked, panic rising in his voice. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no!" You reassured him, still not looking him in the eyes. "You're just..." You gulp. "Really big."

"O-Oh," He felt a tinge of pride strike him. "If you can't do it-"

"No." You interrupted, tracing a finger gently on one of his bulging veins. "Let me do this for you." You whisper, teasing the head with your pointer finger. You slowly peppered kisses along his shaft, starting at the base and working your way up, relishing in all of the moans he was giving you.

You went slow, seeing how this was his first time, and it was prevalent it was due to the pre cum already spilling out of his slit.

You thumbed the pre cum off his slit to coat the rest of his dick, slowly pumping him as you kissed your way to the head, licking it teasingly.

"Shit!" Childe gasped, gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white. "Y/N. Fuck. Archons." Another swear poured out of his mouth as you took the head in, hollowing your cheeks to take more of his length in. His chest heaved up and down and his eyes rolled behind his head in pleasure. By instinct, Childe moved his right hand to the top of your head, unexpectedly grabbing your hair. You widen your eyes as he suddenly pushes down on your head, forcing your throat to open up and take his entire length.

Tears brim your wide eyes as he held your head down, the tip hitting the back of your throat painfully. You gag loudly, the vibrations making Childe grip your hair harder. You did not expect this from such an inexperienced person. Little did you know was all he wanted to do was face fuck you into oblivion. Your pretty mouth felt like complete bliss to him. His body tensed noticeably as you moaned on his cock from the hair pulling.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm so sorry!" Childe gasped, quickly letting go of your hair, a horrified look falling on his face. "Did I hurt you?"

Adjusting to his length in your throat, you wipe your tears and hum in response, indicating you're okay, causing him to tense up once again. You slowly lift your head up, your tongue gliding along him as you finally reached the head, letting him go with a 'pop'. You regain your energy, your hot, heavy breaths hitting his dick causing it to twitch. "You're an eager man aren't you." You breathe out, wiping spit from your mouth. Your lewd expression of drool dripping down your face was enough to make Childe cum. "Now," You stare up into his clueless face, twisting from the pain of not cumming. Cute. "You want to cum down my throat or inside me?"

Childe coughed loudly. Did he just hear you right? He knew better than to cum inside a woman without protection but the only thing on his mind was watching your perky tits bounce as your walls clenched his hard cock until he painted your insides white with his thick seed. Thinking of you moaning his name was enough to make Childe forget any sex ed he learned (which wasn't much to begin with).

"Ah!" You yelped loudly as he picked you up from the floor, laying you on your back on the desk. The wood was uncomfortable, causing you to squirm. "Ajax...?" You questioned, now staring up at the tall man. His eyes dulled down, looking at you with lust and desire. All you could do was guess what was about to happen.

"Let me... Please." Childe pleaded. You swallow nervously, but inside you were giddy. You were excited to see what he would do to you, especially when he was all hot and bothered like this. He throws off his jacket, the gray fabric being flung to the corner of the store. You stared at his toned torso, almost in awe. It was very obvious he worked out (Well duh, Fatui harbinger).

"Lift your legs." He commanded, and immediately, your legs shook like jelly. His voice became husky, which threw you off guard. He rests your ankles on his bare shoulders, the position a little uncomfortable, but his gentle touch along your chest made it worth it. "I want to see these, beautiful." He whispered, nodding to your tits.

"O-Of course." Your breath hitches, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, teasing the reveal. You feel Childe's hand wrap around your wrist, gripping it tightly.

"Today, please." He breathed out.

You nodded, knowing better than to tease a man on the brink of cumming. You undid your blouse quickly, revealing a lacey green bra with a cute bow in the middle.

"You're so sexy." He groaned, wasting no time going under your skirt and ripping your panties off, causing a yelp to escape your lips. He was quick. His warm fingers found it's way between the junction of your thighs and gently massaged the inner parts, watching your eyes intently. "I don't want to hurt you... Please tell me if I do anything wrong."

You groan at the feeling of his fingers being so close to your core. "Y-You won't." Becoming a stuttering mess, you blurt, "Please Ajax, fuck me."

The confirmation was all he needed to line up his head with your hole, and slowly push into your sopping core.

There's no pain as you're completely relaxed, only pleasure. He stops, his cock only halfway into your hole. You perk up. "Are you okay?" You bring a hand to his wrist, rubbing circles soothingly. Childe breaths in deeply. You knew he was about to cum. This was a lot for him to handle at this time.

"I'm fine." He swallows. "You?"

You nod, smiling. "Whenever you're ready, pretty boy." He let a small smile slip, the comforting nickname calming him as he continued to push into you, the duet of your moans filling the air. You loved the feeling of him inside you, and it's all you could think about until his first thrust comes, then only pleasure washed over you. Childe became fixated on your bouncing tits, mesmerized by the soft jumps they do every time his dick thrusts into you.

You were going to go feral if he kept this pace up. "Faster." You managed to moan out. He heard you, and moved his hips a little faster. It's not long before his dick was disappearing into your hole at a rapid pace. You felt every inch of his cock stretch out your core, and screamed when he found your g-spot. "Ajax!" you yell.

It was a beautiful sound hearing his name being moaned out in such a sexual manner. Both your heads fell back at the same time as his hands wandered all along your body. One finally found itself on your hips, the other on your breast. You clench around him, indicating you were close. He gasped at the sudden tightness, fucking you harder and deeper than before. The man had stamina.

He let out a low moan, falling as frequently as your own. "C-Cum together." He groaned, gripping your hips and breast as he rammed into you. "I'm going to- fuck." He hissed, his thrusts growing sloppier and faster. Your head goes foggy as his words echo inside.

"I'm- fuck- I'm gonna-"

Both of you react on command as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his forehead to yours as he pushed both his hands on either side of your face so he could fuck you even harder than he did before.

"Ajax, Ajax, Ajax-" His name falls from your lips in a lewd manner, your words becoming a babbling mess. "Please- Don't stop." You moan as he continuously thrusts into your g-spot. "Yes, yes, Ajax-"

"Y/N, I'm gonna, fuck- Ah-"

You moan his name as you cum around his cock, the lewd sensation now pushing Childe over the edge. He reaches for your hand, entangling it into his as he buries his face into the crook of your neck as he lets his thick seed spill inside you. You lie your head down, panting heavily as his hot cum breeds you.

Childe drops his head onto your forehead, matching your same heavy breathing. Neither of you move. Only the sound of panting could be heard as both your minds are clouded with pleasure. Childe finally breaks and pulls out slowly, stuffing his dick back inside his pants. You bring a hand to your hole, feeling the sticky cum leaking out onto your skirt. Childe looked at the sight of his seed as it fell perfectly from your pussy, and all he wanted to do was fuck it right back into you and breed you once again.

"H-holy shit..." You breathe out closing your legs, shaking as you prop yourself up on your elbow. "You're a virgin?" You question.

"Heh..." Childe awkwardly laughs as he helps you up. "Not anymore."

You slap him gently on the arm. "You know what I mean." Suddenly a wave of insecurity hit you. It's been so long since you've been with anyone, were you even any good? "Ajax?"

"Hmm?" He looks back at you, retrieving his jacket from the corner of the room.

"Did you... Enjoy yourself?" You blushed hard. You wanted to make sure his first time felt good, because you sure as hell did. Childe shot you a confusing look. "Uh-" You panicked. "It's been a while..." You admit, looking down at the ground.

"My love, I would do it all over again if I could."

#i love this man sm #he can have me idc #genshin impact smut #childe x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #childe #tartaglia #ajax

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lilbeanz · 3 years

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Have you been reading the brand new series The Importance of Being Draco Malfoy by @upon-poppyhills ? YOU HAVEN'T?! Well "Salazar's twitchy ferret" you NEED TO!!! it's by far the most hilarious fic I've read in a while!

this a scene from the second installment of the series The Importance of Charming Draco Malfoy.

#drarry #fic rec #ahhh i love this fic sm #harry potter #digital art #draco malfoy #fanfic art

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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

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tenacious trajectory

me: gonna take a break from trust au to focus on my play!

me a week later: so i started an empires superhero au-

anyways i saw a tiktok about the trope where the villain turns up on the hero’s doorstep injured saying “i had nowhere else to go” and collapses and. uh. let’s just get into it shall we

cw: being experimented on, needles, blood, use and description of medical instruments, restraints, kidnapping, violence

Jimmy isn’t exactly a hero.

He’s never been properly been a hero, never been like Major, or Gem, or any of the more localized heroes in Empire City. He’s not a villain, though—he’s nothing like Xornoth, Major’s nemesis. Jimmy’s more of . . . he’s more of an antihero, something in between.

And for some reason, that makes heroes and villains alike despise him. He’s not even the only antihero—FailWhip is right there, and people love him. But somehow, Jimmy’s picked up the reputation of a bad omen, and where before he had been neutrally acknowledged in the city, now he’s outright hated.

He’s gone through a few different rebrands over the years. For a while he was Solidarity, the comic book superhero, but being a superhero is difficult for someone who accidentally causes chaos. As soon as it was clear he wasn’t welcome among the hero ranks, he tried out being a villain as the Codfather, but after a little while the villains told him (rather politely, for villains) that he wasn’t quite fit for being a villain, that he was too softhearted and should maybe try being a hero. So he went back to Solidarity, but there’s something wrong with his old superhero costume in the way that it just didn’t fit who he’s trying to be now (He’s still wearing it, though, because he doesn’t really have the funds for a rebrand). He can’t be a hero, he can’t be a villain, so he has to take up the grey space in between.

Jimmy’s just not very good at it.

His power isn’t an envied one. Jimmy has the unfortunate ability to influence fate, but without any influence. Like, fate changes around him without his input. Usually for the worse. Sometimes he’s lucky—sometimes a building falls on Mythics so that Pearl has a chance to superstrength-punch him into the ground and knock him out. Most times, though, a tornado hits out of nowhere and disrupts a battle, a house catches on fire and Gem has to flee the fight to save the family within, or on one terrible occasion, a meteor rockets down from outer space and lands smack on top of Aeor.

And that’s probably why the heroes now despise him. One doesn’t just kill the oldest hero in the city, the one who has a parade in his honor, the one who somehow won a Tony last year, and get away with still being on good terms with heroes. Jimmy had tried to tell them it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t control it, it just happened, but it didn’t matter. Major especially hates him, threatens to arrest him every time Jimmy dares show his face around any intense fight.

He would love to just be a normal citizen. He’s always wanted to go to college, go on a date, just eat in a restaurant for once. None of those are options. He’s barely able to live in the apartment complex he lives in—it’s on the shadier side of town, and his landlord doesn’t ask where he gets the money from and why the building is considerably less structurally sound than it was before Jimmy moved in. It’s not like he can move into one of those superhero insured houses like Major and Gem and the new flower-type hero.

And he can’t get a proper job, either—it would blow his cover instantly. Which is why he’s still working on the antihero thing—he feels gross doing it, but robbing banks isn’t too hard and the few times a hero has tried to stop him the bank has just collapsed, so they don’t even try anymore. He doesn’t do much to try and help them anymore either—for the most part the villains leave him alone (unless he interferes with their scheme, in which case they make it clear to him that he needs to stay out of it), and the vitriol (and sometimes ice spikes or flying cars) that the heroes send his way aren’t always worth getting involved.

The other antiheroes don’t like him, either. FailWhip ignores him at every turn (when he asked why, the man had said something about Gem and leapt to the side as a car came barreling down the sidewalk), and the others don’t want to push their luck. Jimmy’s a dangerous partner in every situation.

Jimmy’s also a dangerous enemy, though, so he’s generally just. Left alone. He can’t stay in one place for too long, so he spends his days stealing around the city then returns to his trashy apartment, where he knocks on the door three times to make sure it won’t fall on him, then turns the doorknob (the key broke off in the lock forever ago) and lets himself in. He kicks off his shoes, leaves the lights off (which he’s done since the bulb exploded three years ago and he spent all night picking glass out of his arm), and fixes himself a bowl of cereal. Usually the milk doesn’t go bad, but on the off chance it does, he sniffs every bite before putting it in his mouth. He reads while he eats most nights, sometimes he scrolls through the news on his phone to make sure there isn’t anything dreadful going on that he feels the need to intervene in. Then he washes his dishes, makes sure everything is in order, and goes to bed on his mattress on the floor. He keeps his phone near his ear in case he receives an emergency alert late at night.

In the morning, he usually showers and throws on some jeans and a t-shirt and shoves his phone in his back pocket. He skips breakfast and does whatever chores need to be accomplished as quickly as possible, before heading home for lunch and eating whatever food he’s bought that day. He spends the rest of the day patrolling in his old superhero costume, mostly staying out of the way of anyone (and they generally stay out of the way of him). Then he heads home and the cycle begins anew.

He’s usually not interrupted. The evening it happens, he’s put out.

Then he sees who’s interrupting him. Then he’s scared.

He’s almost gotten to his apartment when glass shatters nearby. Jimmy glances around, already rolling his eyes. His apartment windows shattered about a week into living there and have been blocked with cheap blankets ever since. He keeps moving, sticking to the shadiest parts of the street. Hopefully nobody will notice that he’s been here and he can just move on without any trouble.

But then he hears footsteps. Jimmy turns around, about to apologize for whatever it is he’s broken, but before he can he’s being wrestled to the ground.

He’s still not panicking, not as the person pins him to the ground, not as his costume tears a bit on the sleeve. He’s still more put-out than anything; he’ll have to stitch that up in the morning, just another messy addition to his outfit.

He does start panicking, though, when a gruff voice hisses, “Here’s the chloroform, get him quick. We can’t have a building fall on us.”

That’s when Jimmy realizes he has to get out of there. He writhes, heart leaping into his throat, he has to get away—

A cloth presses against his face and he automatically breathes, breathes in something sweet and chemical-y and feels his brain go all fuzzy. He barely registers his body going limp before he’s out like a light.

When Jimmy wakes, he wakes slowly, groggily. His head is pounding, his mouth fuzzy. He doesn’t know where he is, what he’s doing, what’s happening. Within a couple of moments, though, he realizes that he isn’t anywhere familiar, and he’s tied to a chair.

Great.

He swallows a few times, trying to get rid of the numbness. He’s almost a little excited—he hasn’t been involved in a kidnapping in years, not since he tried to rescue the mayor’s daughter that one time. He wonders what the villain’s evil scheme is, who the hero they’re trying to bait is.

He blinks, clearing his vision. He’s in a classic basement set-up, a goon by the door. There’s no video recorder, but there are other ways to ask for a ransom. His stomach growls. How long has he been here?

The door slams open, and in stalks—

Uh-oh. Oh no.

Xornoth, the most dangerous villain in the country, let alone the city, enters the room. Jimmy feels the blood drain from his face, and where before he had been lightly testing the ropes securing him to the chair, he’s now tugging at them a tad bit desperately. Whatever Xornoth has in store cannot be good.

Xornoth stands before him, stares for a long time. Jimmy looks everywhere but their eyes, examines their weird antler things that may or may not be part of their costume, stares into their wide grin of teeth just slightly too sharp.

That grin opens, and an echoing laugh comes out. Jimmy flinches, eyes falling to the floor then back up in time to see Xornoth raise a hand.

The doors on the side of the basement open again, this time ushering in a handful of scientist-types in white lab coats. Jimmy gulps when they approach him, eyeing the syringe in the hand of one of them. He jerks away as that man nears him, but not soon enough. The needle jabs into his neck, and with a feeling washing through his body similar to the chloroform, Jimmy is gone.

He’s not gone for long, though, because he wakes up as soon as he feels a burning on his chest. His eyes snap open but immediately close, a bright light above him. There’s a low mumbling of voices, the smell of rubbing alcohol in the air, and something tickling his nostrils.

Then his chest burns again, and he forces his eyes open and down to see—

There’s someone, someone unfamiliar, a surgical mask on their face leaning over him. In their hand is a tiny pair of scissors, which is inside of Jimmy’s chest. In a shallow dish set on Jimmy’s stomach, there are small bloody squares that seem to be his skin. Another scientist is using tweezers to pick up the squares and put them in biohazard containers.

Blood is steadily pooling from where the scientist has scissors in his chest, until suddenly a bit of it spurts up and the scientist curses, pressing a pad of gauze over the incision.

And Jimmy screams.

He jerks his arms only to find them restrained, he moves his legs only to find them restrained, he tries to sit up only to find his waist restrained. His superhero mask is stretching over some lump on his face, and that lump is pushing air into his nose, which must be an oxygen tube of some sort.

Both scientists over him step back, glancing around fearfully. A third from the background (which Jimmy just now registers, processes the others watching and washing hands and taking notes) steps forward, prepping another syringe.

No. No no no, he is not doing that again, he is not going to lose time again and turn up in some dark alley missing a kidney.

“No!” he gasps, trying to roll away. The container on his stomach shifts, threatens to tip over. “No, please, I’ll be quiet, I’ll stay still. Please don’t knock me out again.”

The woman freezes, and even behind her mask and glasses, Jimmy can see that she’s fixing him with a sympathetic look. “Mr. Solidarity, I don’t believe we can do that,” she says. “You’re a rather dangerous patient when not sedated.”

“Please?” he begs, going as still as possible. “Or at least—at least tell me what you’re going to do?”

The woman sighs, but shakes her head, approaching once again. Jimmy can’t help but whine, a keen escaping from between his teeth, as he feels a cold square of soaked gauze rub against his inner arm.

“We may need to put in an IV,” the woman says, all clinical now that she isn’t talking to him. “I’m not sure how he’s resisting this stuff, but it would be easier to just flush it through his system every time he starts to wake up.”

“Jordan, want to set that up once he’s out?”

“No problem, I’ll just go grab the—”

Everyone looks in the same direction. Jimmy cranes his neck, sees a door. Sees Xornoth.

Xornoth comes closer, closer and closer until they’re bending down beside Jimmy’s face, their noses almost touching. Jimmy barely dares breathe (only breathes because the oxygen tube is forcing him to), eyes wide as he stares into Xornoth’s black eyes.

“Nothing unusual?” the villain asks, their deep voice echoing around the room and Jimmy’s head. Various scientists mumble answers, which seems to satisfy Xornoth as they continue to gaze at Jimmy.

“Good. Keep him awake, then. I want him to feel it.”

Jimmy can’t help but shudder. A man with glasses raises a pencil questioningly.

“Sir, if he starts—”

“I’ll handle it,” Xornoth says, straightening. One of their gloved hands falls to Jimmy’s cheek, where it rests, heavy and terrifying. A scientist sighs (can Jimmy really call them scientists, or are they doctors?), then the woman who had just been prepping his arm places down the syringe and instead removes the oxygen tube from his nostrils. Xornoth’s fingers straighten out his mask, patting his cheek once it’s properly in place.

Then they’re back at it, and Jimmy’s biting back whimpers and cries as they cut into him with precision.

He’s been locked up in whatever facility Xornoth has for what feels like forever. Most of the time he’s not really conscious. Most of the time he’s lying on the concrete floor of his cell, the hard bed that he has out of reach for his non-existent energy. He drifts in and out of reality during those times, body burning where they last peeled back skin, head aching and eyelids drooping. There’s no ransom, he’s realized by now—he wonders why he ever thought there would be. There’s no one to pay it.

He doesn’t even protest these days when they lift him onto a gurney and wheel him out of his cell, back into the sterile white room where everything goes bad and blurry. He’s not sure what they’re doing to him—sometimes he looks down at himself and sees tubes sticking out of every part of his body, some days they shock him and take notes on his reactions, sometimes they just take blood and skin and tissue and then wheel him back to his cell, where he’s dumped unceremoniously on the floor. The days blend together, the worst ones marked by Xornoth’s presence.

When Xornoth is there, fear bleeds through the room. They never say anything, though: just stand silently, a hand carding through Jimmy’s greasy hair. Jimmy keeps his eyes squinted shut whenever Xornoth is there, despite every instinct screaming at him to watch them.

Whatever they do to him, on whatever day, it’s always painful. The pain more than anything drains him, leaving him limp and aching. They give him food, stuff that seems like military rations, but most of the time he’s too tired and his hands are shaking too badly to unwrap them. He thinks they’ve been giving him supplements through an IV every once in a while, because otherwise he shouldn’t logically still be alive, but his head is hazy enough that he can’t think logically. None of this makes sense.

One day, as Xornoth massages his head and a scientist is peeling away a strip of skin from his calf, Jimmy whimpers, “Why are you doing this to me?”

It’s the first thing he’s said since . . . in a while, and he’s not sure why he’s saying it, just that the pain is so so much and Xornoth is touching him and he just can’t. He blinks back a tear, gasps when the skin from his calf pulls all the way off. The gauze that the man presses down on it stings.

“Oh, little bird,” Xornoth murmurs, and Jimmy flinches at the almost—affection in their voice. “You’re going to be very useful to me.”

That’s all they say, and Jimmy feels a drop of something cold sink into his stomach. He tried the villain life, it didn’t work out. He’s not sure what they’re doing, what they’re trying to achieve, but whatever it is won’t be good.

When he’s later thrown into his cell, he can’t fall asleep like he usually does. Every word that Xornoth said is repeating in his head, over and over until all he can hear is Xornoth’s voice.

The rations are on the floor next to him, and he can’t sleep anyhow, so Jimmy tears open the package with shaking hands and takes a bite of whatever the contents are. It’s tasteless, and dry, and takes far more chewing than he has the energy for.

He picks up the water bottle that always comes with the food, but he can’t manage to twist his wrist hard enough to break the seal.

He needs to get out.

He’s not sure why it’s this that gives him the realization—maybe being forced to accept the fact that he hasn’t got the strength to open a water bottle just breaks him. He has to get out of here before things get any worse. Not just for himself—Xornoth is the most powerful villain Jimmy’s ever heard of. If he achieves whatever it is he’s trying to do, it could spell the end for the city.

Jimmy’s lying on the operation table, slipping in and out of consciousness. He thinks it’s strange that bad luck hasn’t fallen upon him yet. Maybe he’s too tired for his powers to activate.

There’s a tube in his right side, under his arm, and he’s not quite sure what it’s doing. Every five minutes or so, a scientist adjusts it slightly and presses a button, watches as a bit of blood shoots up the tube, then presses the button again for it to stop. There’s an IV in his bruised left arm, which is pumping something beige into his body.

It’s a quiet day in the lab, broken only by Jimmy’s occasional dry sobs as the tube is readjusted and the once-every-five-minutes beeping of the IV stand.

He just wants to go home. He just wants to go back to his trashy apartment where the lights are never on (this room is far too bright, always too bright) and he can eat cereal and peanut butter sandwiches and instant mashed potatoes. He just wants some time alone without any pain and his lumpy mattress and his stained couch and his blankets that smell like cigarettes and no one touching him.

There’s a loud crash from elsewhere in the building. The scientist doesn’t seem to register it, frowning as he squints at his laptop. He shifts the tube, pointing it more downward, and presses the button. Jimmy bites the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.

Another crash. This one jostles the tube set-up, the IV stand rattling. At this, the scientist looks up. After several moments of nothing, he returns to his work.

When the third crash hits, the man sets aside his laptop and strides out of the door to the lab. Jimmy’s grateful; he gets a moment’s reprieve, it seems.

He lies there, eyes unfocused. The IV beeps. Something rumbles distantly.

This is the perfect time to escape.

He’s not sure how or when he realizes that, but it gives him enough of a burst of energy to sit up (they don’t restrain him anymore unless necessary) and peel the tape off his arm. Carefully, his vision blurring, he eases the tube out of his arm and stares dumbly at it as a rivulet of blood weaves down his arm.

This is the perfect time to escape.

The tube in his side proves a little more difficult to remove, blood spilling everywhere as he grits his teeth and yanks it from his body. He isn't sure what to do with the blood, so he ignores it in favor of pulling the scientist's stereotypical white lab coat around himself, too foggy to discern the sleeves and wearing it more similar to a cloak.

Standing is the most difficult task yet, but he ignores the shooting pains in his body and the wobbly quality of his legs and manages to remain upright. He can do this.

This is the perfect time to escape.

He leaves without another thought, shouldering out the door and stumbling across that first room that he'd found himself in so long ago. There's a door on the other side that he knows leads to the room he's been kept in; but there's a door to his right that he's never been through yet many people have come from. He chooses this door, blinking back the heaviness of his eyelids.

Beyond this door is a hallway, and he begins to make his way down to the door at the end when he hears a crash just behind him. He freezes, pressed against the door.

"Give me good news, Doctor, or you may not return home tonight."

"We're making progress, sir, but it's slow. What we have to do to suppress his powers limits any—"

"I don't want excuses, I want him to be mine."

One voice is Xornoth, one is vaguely familiar, but Jimmy can't stand here listening for any longer. He has to get out.

At the end of the hallway is a door, a solid door with no windows and a red sign that he can't focus on, but he knows somehow that this is a way out.

He's not sure how he makes it down the hallway, not with his small amount of energy flagging with every passing moment. He keeps trying to send adrenaline through his body, imagining what might happen if they find him escaping, but he's feeling worse than he ever has. The lab coat is stained red from his still-bleeding side, draining his resolve with it.

Still, he makes it to the door, shoves against the bar and pushing the door open, into darkness and a gust of wind and—

An alarm blares, loud and shocking and Jimmy jumps practically a foot in the air, and there's the adrenaline he was missing—

There's an empty lot illuminated by one streetlight, and it feels so insanely good to be outside again but Jimmy doesn't have time to focus on that, he has to run. Closing the door behind him doesn't make the alarm stop, so he limps his way across the lot as quickly as he can before—

The door slams open, and Jimmy looks over his shoulder to see Xornoth, the air crackling around them as red tentacles sprout through the asphalt, whipping around as they grow.

"Come back, darling," Xornoth calls, anger tinging their otherwise calm words. "You'll be happy soon, I guarantee."

Jimmy flinches at the way his voice echoes and hurries on, tripping over the curb as he steps out of the lot and onto the road.

Xornoth growls behind him, and before Jimmy can even think to move, a tentacle tears from the ground and wraps around his torso. It lifts him off the ground and Jimmy flails, dry heaving as the ground quickly falls below him. He pulls at the tentacle with scrabbling fingers, desperately trying to find some way to get free. The limb tightens around him, cutting into his wounds—he hears something crack—he screams, vision flashing red then black then back to blurred—

The tentacle releases him and he falls to the road, skidding a little bit, searing pain hitting his entire body full-force. He tries to breathe through the agony, but the breath is stolen from him as the tentacle tightens around his ankle and lifts him back up until his hair is brushing the ground. He can’t help it—a sob breaks from his mouth. He’d been so close, he was about to escape. . . .

A driverless car speeds from nowhere and rams into Xornoth, driving him into the wall of the building. The tentacle drops Jimmy, who falls on his face and crumples to the ground as it withers and shrinks into the hole it created in the asphalt. The night goes still.

Jimmy struggles to his feet, head whirling with agony. His nose is stuffed up, something wet pouring from it, but he doesn’t bother with it. He has to get out, because surely Xornoth isn’t dead, surely he’ll be up in just a few seconds—

Jimmy’s not sure how he’s moving, but he is. More shockingly is that he knows where he is. He’s in a part of town he never goes to, afraid of being arrested or attacked or worse.

He’s in the high-end, public-funded superhero houses neighborhood. It’s across the city from his dingy apartment, he’ll never make it home . . . Xornoth will be coming for him at any moment. . . .

There’s one superhero Xornoth is afraid of, his mind blearily supplies.

He can’t go to Major. Major . . . Major despises him, has ever since the accident with Aeor. Aeor had been Major’s mentor, had taught him to hone and control his ice powers and helped him grow into his wings. Aeor had been everything to Major, and Jimmy had taken that away.

But there’s nowhere else for him to go, nowhere else where he’ll be safe, and what if Xornoth’s implanted some sort of tracker into him. . . .

Major is the primary protector of the city. His house is the grandest, in the center of the neighborhood, so it’s going to be a bit more walking, but Jimmy thinks he can manage it before he passes out.

He makes it, just barely. It’s a long walk, longer than he thinks it should’ve been, but he doesn’t have the focus to worry about it. He doesn’t have the focus to worry about anything but the pain.

It’s a beautiful house, one that Jimmy has been warned to stay away from countless times, but he stumbles through the garden of peonies and keeps his eyes down, as if under the impression that if he doesn’t look at the house, it won’t count as trespassing.

He leans heavily against Major’s intricately carved doorway, reaching up one hand to knock only to lose strength halfway through and just sort of pat his door. His arm falls to his side and he slumps, despair flooding him as he realizes it’s been too long, Xornoth will find him, there’s nothing to be done—

The door opens and Jimmy collapses, knees hitting the porch, head leaning against something soft. He looks up to see that he’s pressed against someone’s legs, then further up to see Major’s distinctive glittering white mask and angry blue eyes.

“Solidarity,” he says, tone bitter. “What are—” his voice changes as he properly takes in Jimmy— “Is that blood?”

Jimmy swallows, speaks, voice creaky from disuse. “I—I didn’t know where else to go. . . .”

He blinks, and suddenly he’s in a well-lit kitchen, white tiles bright against the dark wood of the cabinets. Major’s there, wetting cloths in the sink, and there’s a table beside him with a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Jimmy blinks at it, then down at himself. He’s shirtless, only wearing the shorts that they’d given him once they’d torn his trousers to shreds. His various cuts and bruises and missing patches of skin are on display, some scabbed over, others weeping blood. His arm and side are still bleeding as well, though considerably faster than anywhere else. More confusing than anything, there’s blood utterly coating his chest.

When he looks back up, Major is staring at him. “You’ve broken your nose,” the hero says after a moment. “That’s where all that blood is from.”

Jimmy doesn’t say anything. Any words might split his aching head in half.

Major dips his damp cloth into the rubbing alcohol, then pauses, hand hovering over Jimmy’s body. He seems to assess the damage, then kneels down and reaches for Jimmy’s side, gently patting the spot where he’d yanked out the tube.

“These injuries,” Major says once he’s bandaged that point with some gauze and medical tape, moving to Jimmy’s left arm to clean the exit point of the IV. “They’re strange. Clean, almost. Precise. And your arms. . . .” He holds up Jimmy’s arm, tracing along the bruises with a soft finger. “Burst vessels. IV points. These aren’t from a fight, Solidarity.”

Jimmy swallows. Major doesn’t miss it, steps away for a moment and comes back with a glass of water. He presses it to Jimmy’s lips, waits until he’s drunk a few sips to put it down. He moves to his nose, mutters a warning—Jimmy barely has time to tense before Major grips his nose over the mask and yanks, shoves it back into position as Jimmy lets out a hoarse cry at the burn. More blood spills out, and Major pulls his hands away in disgust before scrunching up a rag and shoving it under Jimmy’s nostrils. He holds it there until the flow slows, then adds a few pieces of tape over the mask to keep Jimmy’s nose in place before turning to other injuries.

He moves quickly and efficiently, cleaning and bandaging with the skill of one who’s done this before. Jimmy tries not to move too much, but he can’t help but jerk his leg away when Major lightly swipes a cloth over a particularly wide skin graft there. Major mutters something, then holds his leg firmly in place. He lets go before Jimmy can start to hyperventilate.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Major asks conversationally. When Jimmy doesn’t speak, he adds, “I mean, I’ve every right to arrest you. I shouldn’t have even let you in, but I happen to be a nice person. So you might as well share, if you don’t feel like waking up in a cell.”

Jimmy’s had too much of waking up in a cell lately. He swallows again, hums to make sure his voice works. “I . . . they hurt me,” he says lamely. His head is so foggy. He clears his throat and tries again. “They—they took me. And cut me. And took stuff. I—” a thought strikes him— “what day is it?”

“Uhhhhh, late Monday,” Major says absently, sticking some tape to Jimmy’s side.

“Date?”

“The 30th.”

“Of?”

“May.”

May. That can’t be. He was—the last day he can remember is the 25th of April, and he knows it’s been longer than five days, but surely it hasn’t been an entire month.

“I was . . . I was ki—taken. Late April,” Jimmy says slowly, the words falling like molasses from his mouth. Major freezes, looks up at him.

“You were kidnapped?” he asks incredulously. “That’s impossible. And nobody got struck by lightning or mauled by a passing bear? How?”

Jimmy shrugs. There are too many words involved in the answer for him to formulate it. “Xornoth?” he offers eventually. Major’s mouth curves down. He returns to patching Jimmy up.

“What would they want with you?” Major murmurs, almost to himself. “What would anyone want with you?” Jimmy tries to hold back a shudder and fails, the feeling of Xornoth petting his hair all too present. Major notices, and his mask shifts as he apparently raises an eyebrow.

“He . . . he wouldn’t stop touching me,” he says, and out of nowhere his eyes are burning. A tear slips down past his mask, dripping off his chin. “While the. The doctors hurt me. I don’t—I don’t wanna go back. . . .”

Major’s hands still. When Jimmy looks at him, his eyes are wide, wide and almost scared. Jimmy doesn’t think he can quite comprehend why. He just wants to sleep. His limbs are immobile, weighing him down. Everything hurts down to his bones, an ache that he doesn’t think will go away.

“I’mma sleep, ‘kay?” he slurs, then his chin hits his chest and he’s out.

When Jimmy wakes up, he’s hungry. Hungry and thirsty and exhausted and hurting, but he’s also alive and doesn’t feel like he’s dead.

He’s in a bed for once, and this certainly isn’t his cell or anywhere else he can remember ever being. The room is plain, undecorated apart from a dresser with a TV atop it. The only light is the sun filtering in through the window, bathing the room in an almost grey-orange hue.

He’s under a blue duvet in a very nice bed, and his left arm that lies on top of it is wrapped in bandages. It’s tough to take a breath in, something constricting his chest. He tries to sit up, gasps and falls back when pain lances through his chest.

“Good to see you’re finally awake,” a dry voice says from his right. Jimmy glances over, sees an open doorway and Major standing in it. Right, he’d escaped.

He’s free.

Major leaves, comes back a few minutes later with a glass of water and a peanut butter sandwich. These he sets on Jimmy’s lap, then reaches under the bed and retrieves a few pillows which he props under Jimmy’s shoulders and neck, helping him to sit up.

The water nearly spills, but Major flicks his wrist at it and it solidifies into ice just as Jimmy’s knee bumps it. Once he’s completely sat up, ribs twinging, Major waves his hand over the glass and it returns to water.

Unfortunately, Jimmy’s hands are still shaking too badly to grasp the glass on his own, so Major rolls his eyes and steadies his hold, allowing Jimmy to tip the water into his mouth. It’s easier to hold the sandwich, so Jimmy takes the food into both hands and bites into it, eyes almost rolling back into his head at how heavenly peanut butter tastes after so long without proper food.

Major leaves again, returns carrying a chair that he sets down beside the bed and plants himself in. He props a hand under his chin, watches Jimmy with those icy blue eyes. Jimmy’s almost halfway done with the sandwich already, tearing it apart so quickly the sandwich might as well be a blur.

Major’s hand latches around his wrist and Jimmy flinches away, drawing his arms close to himself. He—he doesn’t want to be touched, it feels bad, it burns, it’s scary. Major draws away as well, hands in the air.

“Apologies,” he says after several moments of silence. “I meant only to stop you before you got sick. You—well, you don’t look as though you’ve eaten in a while.”

Jimmy manages a raspy chuckle. “They gave me food,” he says. “I just wasn’t strong enough to open it.”

Major looks away. “You said,” he says slowly, voice unreadable, “that they—that Xornoth touched you. May I ask details?”

Jimmy feels the blood drain from his face. He really doesn’t want to talk about it, and now that his head is somewhat clearer than it’s been in apparently weeks, he remembers it clearer than ever. He self-consciously straightens his mask, probably getting peanut butter on it. “I—um—”

“I just need to know if they’re presenting a different danger than before,” Major continues. “I understand if it’s difficult to talk about, but if Xornoth is now sexually harming others, immediate action must be taken.”

Jimmy blinks a few times, processing that. Was Major implying—? “No, not—not like that,” corrects Jimmy, setting the remaining half of the sandwich down on the plate. His hands are trembling, and he clasps them together in an attempt to stop it. “I don’t think so. They would just—I would be on the table, and the scientists . . . cutting into me, or—or taking blood, or something, and they would just . . . pet. My hair. Or cheek. I didn’t—I don’t like—” he cuts off with a shudder, stomach turning. The sandwich before him no longer looks so appetizing.

When he looks back up, Major is staring at him. Major’s not wearing his usual blue-and-white skin-tight costume, he notices, the one with the intricate M on the chest and the white knee-high boots. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a t-shirt and a blue jacket, like a normal person. And suddenly, despite the grand house and fame and power, Major just seems like anyone else Jimmy might meet on the street, and he wonders if the man has a layman identity like he does himself.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Major says, standing suddenly. “I don’t know when you’ll be well enough to walk—”

“Oh, right—” Jimmy fumbles with the plate, sets it on the mattress as he flips the covers back and swings his legs over the side of the bed, despite the pain that spikes through his body. “I really ought to—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” demands Major, gesturing for him to lie back down. “You’ve been tortured for a month, your stick legs barely look strong enough to not be blown over in the wind, you haven’t stopped shaking since I brought you in. Now lie back down and recover before I make you.”

Jimmy looks down at himself, at his bandages and hospital-style shorts. His entire torso is wrapped, but he can see how starkly his ribs stick out. He really has been slowly starving to death, hasn’t he?

Aside from that, he feels suddenly embarrassed. He’s practically naked in front of Major, who is the city’s foremost hero, two-time winner of the Nobel Prize, already has a documentary and four biographies written about him, and is ostensibly attractive to men and women alike with his tall, muscular frame and his windswept blue hair.

He really needs to leave. He’s getting antsy, anyway—now that he can be outside, he desperately wants to be. Not to mention, he’s regaining strength—slowly, but surely. At any moment, disaster could strike.

“No, I really—I’d like to be home, if it’s all the same to you,” he stammers, flexing his feet and holding back a wince. “Not that I’m not—I’m very grateful, thank you so much—I just don’t want to impose any longer, and I—my rent is due—yeah.”

Major seems to be about to protest, but he pauses, and then shrugs. “Fine, I don’t care. Let me get you something to wear.”

Major exits, and Jimmy bites back a whimper as he stretches his trembling arms. His various bandages pull, his nose burns every time his face twitches, every limb aches to the bone. He has to get out of here, though—he’s likely recovered enough strength for his bad luck to strike. He has to leave before he does anything to make Major hate him even more.

Major returns with a pair of jeans and a plain grey shirt. “We’re about the same height, but they might hang loose,” he says distractedly. “I burned the thing you were wearing, sorry. It was gross.”

Jimmy doesn’t even remember what he was wearing. Probably not his superhero-turned-antihero outfit, that had been pretty much torn to shreds over the course of his captivity. Major tosses the clothes on the bed and turns around respectfully.

Jimmy doesn’t bother taking off the shorts, bloodstained as they are. He’s not got anything on underneath, and he’d prefer to not be totally exposed in the house of someone who hates him. Pulling the jeans on is rough, and he has to take frequent breaks as his vision repeatedly goes fuzzy. The shirt isn’t as bad, but he can’t quite get his arms up without a grunt of pain as it pulls on his injuries. His vision fuzzes again, but when he blinks the world back into focus his arms are in the sleeves and he can just pull the shirt down.

“I might have some shoes,” Major says thoughtfully when Jimmy gives him the go-ahead to turn around. “And of course you can have a pair of socks. I once didn’t wear socks to a fight and my boots came off and everyone saw, so I had a group that gathered sock donations for me. I gave most of them away, but I’ve still got a few pairs.”

Major does end up finding him shoes, an old pair of gardening shoes that have a hole in the left toe. Jimmy’s more than grateful for them anyhow.

“What part of the city do you live in? I’ve got a car parked about a block away, I can get you near to your house.”

“Um, yeah, that’d be—that’d be way more than I expected, thank you so much,” Jimmy says with a yawn. “I—you really don’t have to.”

Major fixes him with an unimpressed look. “Right. Because you’re going to walk all the way home when you take eight minutes and forty-two seconds to even get dressed by yourself. And you’re going to manage to do it without getting kidnapped again.”

Jimmy looks away, his face turning red. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Major’s right. One step outside of Major’s protection and he would be whisked away.

It’s a long walk to Major’s car, one that has Jimmy gasping for breath and limping heavily. His head spins, his eyes squint in the evening light, his arms end up clenched around his body as he shivers. Major, walking casually, hair pulled up under a beanie, rolls his eyes and shucks off his blue button-up jacket, tossing it to Jimmy. Jimmy shrugs it on, a noise of pain slipping out as it rubs against a cut.

He stumbles over a curb and nearly falls, Major catching him around the waist before his face hits the pavement. The man rights him, helps him over the curb, then moves on without saying a word.

Jimmy’s about to pass out by the time they make it to the car. It’s older, nondescript, windows tinted so darkly that it’s practically impossible to see into. Major unlocks it with a click of a remote, and Jimmy seats himself gingerly in the passenger seat.

When Major turns the key in the ignition, the clock flickers on.

6:28PM.

It’s late in the day, then. Jimmy had slept all through the night and most of the day. Not that he’s surprised, but this is a huge change from his seemingly randomized hours in the cell. He can get up and go to bed whenever he likes now. He won’t be woken by a door slamming open and his body being lifted.

Once Major has driven to the main part of the city, Jimmy breaks the stifling silence by pointing out directions. He considers for a moment directing Major to the wrong place entirely, but his energy is far too low for that. He can let Major drop him off in the neighborhood, just won’t let him know which complex he lives in.

The quality and upkeep of the buildings deteriorate around them, farther and farther until Jimmy feels at home. They’re about five blocks from his place now, so he lets Major drive a bit more then directs him down the neighboring street, stopping outside a random apartment complex that looks to be in about the same condition of his building. Major looks up at it for a second, taking in the bags of trash in the side alley, the dead grass in the front yard, the multitude of potholes in the road, the kids in too-big shirts running up and down the roads with a football in hand.

“Don’t villains usually live more . . . underground? Metaphorically and literally?” Major asks slowly.

“Oh, I gave up the whole villain thing a while ago,” Jimmy answers, rubbing his eyes through the holes in his mask. “I don’t make a great hero either, so I’m trying out sort of an in-between right now.”

Major snorts. “Yeah, I think hero’s a bit out of your range,” he mutters. Jimmy once again realizes just how surreal this is: he’s in a car with the top hero of the city who also happens to be the man who hates him more than anyone, both of them wearing masks, him wearing the hero’s clothes. He starts to pull off the jacket, but Major waves him off.

“Don’t bother, I was about to retire that one anyway.”

Jimmy nods uncertainly, unbuckles his seatbelt. “Um. I’ll be off, then. Thank you, for . . . everything, I suppose.”

Major nods, his eyes following Jimmy as he swings open the car door and gathers enough strength to stand. “Oh, and, Solidarity?” he throws out. Jimmy leans forward to hear him over the engine. “Next time I see you, I’m putting you behind bars. This never happened, all right?”

“Right. Yeah. Never happened.” Jimmy nods to himself a few times, looks up at Major before turning away, easing the car door shut behind him.

When Jimmy enters his apartment thirty minutes later (the lock’s never worked so he doesn’t have to worry about lost keys), he kicks off Major’s shoes, stumbles to his bedroom, and collapses onto the bed. He needs to change his bandages, he needs to throw out his milk and eggs and bread, he needs to purchase a new phone, he needs to email his landlord and pay his rent. But he’s exhausted, he’s so bone-tired, and he hurts so much, and he just wants to sleep. So sleep he does, drifting away almost as soon as he’s pulled his covers that smell faintly of cigarette smoke over his chin.

Across the city, Xornoth steeples their fingers as they watch over the shoulder of a woman in a lab coat. The woman is excited, explaining something, a breakthrough, but Xornoth isn’t listening. Their eyes are fixed on the information on the woman’s laptop.

Their little bird will soon be caged once again.

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parkersbliss · 3 years

Text

My Reason | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x female reader

warnings: cursing? maybe slightly out of character?

wc; 2k

synopsis: kaz brekker makes a desperate attempt to protect you, but it backfires for both parties

prompts: 015: “You’re everywhere I go!” 020: “I just wanted you to be happy.”

a/n: kaz brekker: *breathes* me: I LOVE YOU YOUVE DONE NOTHING WRONG MY SWEET CHILD

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

You felt like crying.

Scratch that. You were going to cry.

You were going to cry and possibly throw something, anything. You wanted to grab a knife and chuck it at the wall repeatedly until there was a hole.

You wanted the wall to feel the same pain as you.

Like there was a hole in it.

Ironic.

Kaz Brekker, dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel, shattered your heart. And he probably didn’t even know it or cared.

Kaz only cared, for one thing, money. You couldn’t blame him for that. Money was something necessary in Ketterdam. You needed money to stay alive and above the rest.

But money also puts a sign on your head. A big red blinking sign that probably says something like “big kill, big money.”

You weren’t stupid. You were very well aware of how big of a sign Kaz had on his head. Plenty of people wanted his head on a spike. You almost want to add yourself to the list.

“What?” You asked, voice small.

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

Kaz doesn’t bother to look at you. His eyes stay trained at his desk, filing through paperwork for the slat. He scribbles on them, whether it be a signature or a check.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve made myself clear.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking.”

“I don’t want to.”

“(Y/N), this isn’t up for debate.”

“Well, it should be! I should be allowed to have a say in this.”

“You don’t get one!” Kaz said harshly, finally meeting your eyes. “Out.”

You want to refuse, sit there and scream at him for the rest of the night. But you can’t. Kaz Brekker won either way. It doesn’t matter if you sat in his office the rest of the night and argued. His say was final. You would only be denying the inevitable by fighting.

You stand up, blinking through the tears forming in your eyes. The words slip past your lips before you even realize.

“I hate you.”

You slam the door shut behind you, missing the way Kaz’s face drops, and his pen explodes from the force of his grip.

He had kicked you out like that. Stripped you of everything you are. One mission gone wrong, and you were booted back onto the streets of Ketterdam.

He had kicked you from the Dregs.

It wasn’t even your fault. You didn’t understand his reasoning. You got shot, and the next thing you know, as soon as you've recovered, you’re alone.

And honestly, if Pekka Rollins himself asked you to murder Kaz, you just might. The Dregs weren't a gang; they were a family. They were home to you.

A home that you hadn’t had in a while, but it wasn’t just the Dregs. It was Kaz Brekker. The bastard of the barrel was also the person that held your heart in his hands. He was the person you went to at midnight when you didn’t know what else to do.

He was the person that listened to you.

He was your person.

But you weren’t his.

You grabbed the knife off the table and throw it as hard as you can at the wall.

You miss.

You grab the knife, wiping away the tears blurring your vision, and aim again. This time it lands in the wall. You clutch it and throw it again.

And again.

…

The Crow Club is still as lively as ever as you walk past it. You contemplate going inside, but you know better. A shadow catches your eye behind you, but there’s no one out here but you.

And yet, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Then again, any member of the Dregs was constantly being watched.

You shrugged it off.

Work was easy to find in a place like Ketterdam. It was also easy as one of the top assassins. You busied yourself in easy missions with easy targets.

It was the one thing in your life that remain stable. It was after one of these missions while cleaning your knife, did you see her.

“Inej?”

The said girl steps out of the shadows, silent as ever, and pulls down her face covering. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you.”

You use your knife to gesture to the dead man on the floor, and she nods.

“Looks like I beat you to it,” You joke, tucking your knife away and rolling your shoulders.

“It would appear so.”

You want to ask how everything is, and despite every bone in your body, how Kaz is.

But instead, you turn around to leave.

“We miss you,” Inej blurts.

You freeze, letting your shoulders fall. “I miss you guys, too.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

Inej nods, stepping back into the shadows, and you leave, an aching in your heart.

But that wasn’t the last time you ran into Inej. You saw her everywhere after that and nowhere at the same time. At first, you didn’t mind, but then it became unsettling.

You felt like you were being watched in your own home, but there was no one. It was hard to explain. You always saw her in town, but the feeling of being watched couldn’t be shaken when you got home.

You didn’t know how to explain it. You wanted to call her out on it, but you said nothing.

Until you did catch her in your house.

You let her off with a warning by throwing a knife into her corner. It was never going to hit her, neither of you would allow it, but she stepped out after that.

You raise an eyebrow at her. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m just looking out-”

“You’re everywhere I go!” You shout, “Everywhere, Inej. If you wanted to look out for me, you could use the door and ask!”

“I’m sorry,” The Suli girl said.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. You feel bad for yelling at her. Inej was one of your closest friends, and she was only looking out for you. “Inej, it’s fine I just-”

“It’s Kaz.”

“Kaz?” You question, voice softening.

“He wants to know that you’re okay, and not dead. Every time you go on a mission, he sends me as unofficial backup.”

“I can take care of myself. If he’s so worried about my safety, he shouldn’t have kicked me out in the first place," You snap.

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

You turn to face Inej, but when you do, she’s gone.

Kaz? This was his doing? You didn’t believe her, but you also knew she wouldn’t lie. You sit on the edge of your bed, staring out the window. Kaz wants to know if you’re okay.

Kaz Brekker, the man that kicked you from the Dregs wants to make sure you’re okay. The thought should be comforting, but it’s more infuriating to you. At first, you thought maybe he had changed his mind, but this was worse. He didn't trust you to take care of yourself or respect you in the slightest.

You were angry at him. You didn’t understand why, and he refused to tell you. He was so stuck up, thinking that keeping his feelings from others would make him appear stronger.

But the strongest thing anyone can do is admit them.

You stand up, grabbing your knife from the wall and tucking it into your belt.

There was someone you needed to see.

It’s bitter cold outside, biting and chilling. It forces you to walk faster towards the Slat. No one questions you when you walk in; it’s normal to them.

In fact, they look happy to see you.

Jesper’s eyes light up, and he goes to hug you, but Wylan pulls him back.

“That’s her pissed-off face.”

“I would wear earplugs if I were you,” Nina warns, “(Y/N) doesn’t back down from a fight and certainly not with Kaz.”

You make no comment and step past them, making your way up to his office.

You don’t bother knocking and throw open the door, eyes blazing.

Kaz’s head snaps up from his work, equally pissed that someone dared to open his door without permission, but then his eyes soften.

“You’re supposed to knock first, you know that,” Kaz said sharply.

You roll your eyes, slamming the door behind you. Nina smirks as she sits with the other crows outside the door, all wearing earplugs to reduce the sound of your screaming that's bound to come.

“I don’t care about your petty rules, Brekker.”

Venom drips from your voice, and Kaz sets down his pen, leaning back in his chair. “Is there something you want?”

“An explanation.”

“I can’t offer you that.”

“Kaz, you promised.”

His lip twitches ever so slightly at that.

“You promised me this. We made a deal. And Kaz Brekker goes through with all his deals.”

Kaz is silent. He’s at a loss for words. Dirtyhands did not have the upper hand here, and it seemed he was finally stunned.

“You can’t just send Inej out to watch over me after you kicked me out, okay? If you don’t have an explanation, at least let me live the rest of my life without you watching over.”

Nothing.

You sigh, pushing the tears back, ready to make your way out of the slat for the last time, but then he speaks. His voice is raspier than usual but soft, almost like a whisper.

“I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Happy?” You scoff. “Why would that ever make me happy?”

“It was a way out.”

“Out of what, Kaz?”

“This!” He shouts, standing up and gesturing to the walls around you both. “This lifestyle of doing the dirty work to survive and always having a sum of money plastered on your forehead.”

“I don’t want out!”

“It was a way for you to escape…. to escape me.”

There’s silence as you process his words. You wanted to be angry at Kaz and continue to lash out at him, but you understand. He had given you your reason, and you're damned because it's a good one.

But you didn't want to escape him. Kaz was the only reason you stayed in Ketterdam; he was the thing that kept you grounded here. He was your person.

“Why would I ever want that?”

“You hate me.”

You shake your head, “Kaz-”

He cuts you off, switching topics. “This lifestyle isn’t meant for you.”

“It’s not meant for any of us.”

“I gave you a chance.”

“You gave me a reason.”

“A reason?”

Kaz waits for an answer, but you’re afraid to give it. The hardest thing anyone can do is admit their feelings. And you're unsure if you're strong enough to face them.

Kaz Brekker was stone cold, and you don't know if he'd drop the facade, even for you.

“You are the reason I deal with this lifestyle,” You finally said, voice barely above a whisper as you feel the weight lift from your shoulders. “Because it’s worth it. You are worth it.”

“I am not worth anything,” Kaz dismissed.

“Kaz Rietveld, you are worth everything to me.”

The boy freezes, and you take a step forward, placing your hand inches from his. Your heart beats madly in your chest, and you feel like you're suffocating as you wait for an answer, a reaction, anything. You expect him to pull away, but he doesn't. He stares at your hand inches from his on his desk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” You said.

His eyes meet yours, and you can see the fear in them. His hands are shaky, but he manages to take yours in them. He still wears his gloves, and your hands are just barely resting on top of his, but it means enough to you.

“You’re worth everything to me,” he repeats back to you.

Your heart bursts in your chest as Kaz squeezes your hand lightly. The action means everything to you.

Nina screams in triumph with the rest of the crows outside the door.

You and Kaz laugh, still holding his hand.

And at that moment, you know, you are his everything, and he is yours.

#AYE FIRST KAZ ONE SHOT #I LOVE IT SM #FREDDYS EYES 😩#this gif is my will to live #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #six of crows #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone #grishaverse #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker imagine #crooked kingdom

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wastefulreverie · 2 years

Text

don’t forget kudos

The camera pans on a shot of gray carpet for a solid three seconds. There are flakes of silver and green in the carpet, not obvious unless shining in the right light. The camera swivels up to reveal Phantom sitting cross-legged in a dim-lit room. He’s wearing a black hoodie over his usual HAZMAT suit, sleeves pushed up to his elbows so that his white gloves are peeking out underneath. Beside him, a black-haired girl enters the frame for a moment before skirting out of the way of the camera. The video is not in focus enough to make out details about her.

“Hand it here.“ Phantom holds out a hand to the camera. It wobbles a moment, and then Phantom is holding the camera with one hand. “Eyy, what’s up Amity Park! It’s your favorite ghost, Phantom.”

“My favorite ghost is Ember,” calls a male voice somewhere off-screen.

Phantom scoffs. “No one fucking asked. Anyways, I’m here tonight with some of my friends and we’re going to be reading uh. What are we reading again?”

“AO3!” calls a female voice, the girl from earlier.

“Right, that. Fanfiction about me, I guess. I didn’t know I had fanfiction until today. So thanks?”

“I wouldn’t be thanking them yet,” calls the guy.

“I appreciate my fans! Anyway,” Phantom hands the camera back to the guy from before, “there, that’s good. S—um, yeah. Hand me the tablet?”

“Got it!”

A tablet flies into the frame, and Phantom lifts off of the floor to catch it midair. “Hey, don’t throw my stuff! I got this for my birthday!”

“Tough, ghost boy.”

Floating back to the floor, he sticks his tongue out. “Whatever.”

Phantom swipes on the tablet, before frowning. He taps it a few more times. “It’s not going.”

“I did NOT break your tablet, I swear to God—”

“Take your gloves off, dumbass,” says the guy.

“My gloves? Oh. Yeah, my gloves.”

The guy laughs. “‘Oh yeah, my gloves—!‘”

Phantom pulls his right glove off and throws it somewhere behind the camera. His exposed hand pulsates with faint green light, traces of scars wrapping around his hand. Lichtenberg figures.

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

“No.” Phantom shakes his head. “You like Ember more.”

“Phantom!” the girl cuts in. “You pulling up AO3 or what?”

“Oh, don’t you get on my case.”

“We’re making a video here. Get it up!”

“Fine, fine. Celebrities and Real People... am I under Phantom or Danny Phantom?”

“Phantom RPF.”

Phantom taps the screen, before almost dropping the tablet.

“No,” he says. “That can’t be right.”

“What. You found porn already?”

“Huh? No. It says there’s like eight hundred stories about me. Eight hundred!”

“That few? Wow. Yeah, I thought there’d be more,” says the girl.

“More!” Phantom waves the tablet. “Eight hundred! Eight hundred and forty-seven stories about me. What the fuck...”

“You’re famous, dude. Not just in Amity, you’re Internet famous.”

Phantom holds his still gloved hand against his head. “Eight hundred... how are we even going to pick which ones to read? Seriously, this is more than I’ve ever expected. If you’re one of the people who’s written for me, like, thanks.”

“Pick the first one that comes up under recently updated,” says the girl, almost laughing. “That should be fun.”

“K.” Phantom turns the tablet around so that the camera can see his screen. “Our first fic today is... Danny Phantom Tickles in Bed by ghostdaddy30. Oh, Ancients. Alright.”

The guy holding the camera cackles so loud that it drowns out all other sounds.

“—slash Yin. Who’s Yin?”

The girl sighs. “Y/N. Your Name, not Yin.”

“My name?”

“No, the reader’s name. When you’re reading a fic, Y/N means you pretend that it’s your name in the story. It’s interactive.”

“So... for me it would be Phantom slash Phantom?”

“Yep! But Phantom slash Phantom is also a ship on its own.”

“Wait.” Horror dawns on Phantom’s face. “People ship me with myself?”

The guy snorts. “You can make duplicates, can’t you? Pretty sure duplication is a kink.”

“Gross! Like ew! I can’t even—” Phantom takes a moment to recompose himself. “Alright. They ship me with myself. That’s weird, but it’s the Internet and that’s expected on the Internet.”

“Got that right,” the girl agrees. “You don’t even want to know about Pompous Pep.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“It’s you and Vlad Masters.”

Phantom opens his mouth and then shuts it no less than four times. His voice is a high-pitched whine when he finally speaks. “It’s what.”

“There’s footage of you and Vlad assaulting each other on the dark web somewhere and now people ship it. Billionaire Mayor and Heartthrob Town Hero... supposed to be romantic or something. People justify it because you’re dead and could be older than him.”

Phantom still looks pained. “Why do you know this?”

The girl laughs. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t either.”

“I’m fifteen! I’m fifteen and he’s my parents’ age! That’s disgusting. I want to vomit just thinking about it. Actually, maybe I’ll beat the shit out of him again to drive the point home that I hate his guts.”

“No, that’s more homoerotic,” the guy points out. “Not that I’m against Vlad getting his ass kicked.”

Phantom’s eyes glow a brighter green.

“Fuck!”

“You heard it here folks,” says the girl, “Phantom is not infatuated with our creepy, perv mayor.”

“Hell no, I’m not! Now, back to Tickles in Bed or whatever.” Phantom clears his throat. “You had finally done it. You had finally confessed your love to Phantom, and to your ultimate surprise, he confessed his love back. The world didn’t feel real anymore, and you wondered for a moment if you’d died and gone to heaven. Nevertheless, you were here. Back in Amity Park with the ghost boy you loved.”

“That’s actually not that bad, fic wise,” the girl says. “I’d read this.”

The guy wolf whistles. “Oh, you would?”

The camera shakes and for a moment, there is a flash of dark-skinned hands and khaki pants. “Watch it!”

The camera is back on Phantom, unimpressed with his friends’ antics. He resumes reading.

““Y/N,” Phantom said, breathing cold ghostly air down your neck. “I wanna cuddle you tonight, my love.””

The room is filled with raucous laughter. “G—go on.”

“You blush, fire in your cheeks, opposite Phantom who was like ice. Two worlds that should never meet, but still, in love all the same. “O—o—Of course, Phantom! I’d love that SO much.”

“He swept you off your feet and into the air, flying, like magic. Was this what it’s like to be a ghost? Flying above the town, untouchable? He phased through the wall to your bedroom. With a flick of his fingers, the candles on your nightstand burst into green flames. They smelled like cinnamon. The flames danced like the longing look in Phantom’s deep opalescent eyes.”

“Mm, spicy!” the guy claps.

“Please, stop,” Phantom says, continuing. “Phantom leaned close and wrapped his arms around you again. He carried you, elegantly, like you weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, and sat you on your bed with him. “Y/N... I could say here forever with you.”

““Me too,” you said, brushing his snowy white hair out of his face.” He stops reading. “Snowy white hair? Really?”

“I mean, I see it. Glows like snow in sunlight.”

“No, that’s dumb,” Phantom says.

“You’re dumb.”

“Whatever. “I love you more than anything, Phantom. I want to be yours.”

““You already are,” he pressed his lips against mine. They were cool, like Antarctica. His touch was electric, and I knew nothing else but him. He laced his gloved hands through my hair before lowering them to brush my neck. I squirmed at the touch, ticklish.

““Oh,” he said. “Does that tickle you there?”

““Y—y—yes!”

“That got weird, fast,” says the guy.

“In fanfiction?” the girl scoffs. “Nah. This is tame.”

““You’re so cute when I tickle you, Y/N.” Proving his point, he tickled me at my neck again and I dissolved into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help it. But Phantom... he looked so beautiful, gorgeous. Enjoying himself. He continued to tickle me and—” Phantom lowers his tablet, shaking his head. “Aight, I’m done here. This has gone out of my comfort zone, reading about myself like this.”

There are two cries of protest.

“But that’s the point of this!”

“You try reading about yourself! It’s fucking weird!”

“Phantom... don’t be a wuss. Tell us what happens when you keep tickling her!”

“No. Nope.”

“You tickle fiend! I bet you tickle somewhere down south don’t you, Phantom?”

Phantom raises a fist, gleaming with soft blue light. “I will freeze your lips shut if you keep it up.”

“Bet.”

Phantom stands up from where he was sitting on the floor, and the guy with the camera scampers backward. “Wait, hold up—!”

The camera cuts to black. There is a card at the end of the video, asking viewers to subscribe to the channel. The video ends.

Maddie closed the YouTube tab. She often watched the ghost boy’s content to gain clues about him, to figure out his weaknesses. It wasn’t the first time he’d been with two anonymous human companions, but it was definitely the first video of this nature.

Fanfiction, huh?

Well, if that bothered the ghost boy... she and Jack might have found a weakness.

“Jack!” she called across the lab. “I’ve got a video to show you!”

It was worth a shot, after all.

#Danny Phantom #who doesn't love X characters read their own fanfics trope #but this time in-universe #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Maddie Fenton #fun fact the ending is inspired by a SUPER angsty cordria fic I aDORE where vlad makes maddie watch a video of him turning Danny #into a ghost except it isn't revealed that it's Maddie watching the events in the video until the VERY end and I LOVE IT SM ISTG #Fanfiction #Fic #Fanfic #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #wrwritings #Phicc #Phic

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theblacklupins · 2 years

Text

“I love you.”

“Hey.”

Remus looked up from his book. “Yeah?”

Sirius smiled, warm and mellow. “I love you.”

Remus stared at him for a few seconds, a pink blush darkening his cheeks before he looked down again. “Mm. I know.”

Sirius grinned.

—//—

“I love you, Remus.”

Remus merely hummed, sated and blissed out as his naked body slid under the sheets. “Mhm. I know. Now let me sleep.”

Sirius chuckled softly, carding his fingers through Remus’ soft, curly hair. “Okay. Goodnight, love.”

—//—

“I love you!”

Tears were streaming down Sirius’ face and his lips twisted into something ugly, trying to stop the sobs from ripping out. “I love you, don’t you see it? Why can’t you see it?”

Remus looked furious, face morphed into a snarl, but the tears dripping down his face were enough betrayal to show just how he felt. “I fucking see it, Sirius! I just don’t fucking love myself!”

There was silence, before Sirius’ resolve crumbled and he pulled Remus into a hug. The other man sobbed his heart onto Sirius’ shoulder, trembling hard enough to shake Sirius.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered the words, not knowing how else he could help. “I love you.”

—//—

“Remus, we’re married now.”

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

“..I love you too.”

#GUYS.#listen this.#this is one of my favorite works #i loved writing this one sm #remus john lupin #remus lupin #sirius black #sirius orion black #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #wolfstar drabble

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tittyblade · 3 years

Note

I mean...minecraft education edition just solved the "how did tubbo make nukes" problem.... also, because of soulsand, I never understood why people took techno's voices in his head the wrong way? He is a pig. From the nether. Where there is soulsand. Motherfucker just probably hears the voices of the souls from the ground he walked on when he was a kid and can still hear is. Who is to say piglins cant hear the souls of soulsand? - nony

WAIT I NEVER THOUGHT ABT THAT. we just hear random yells but PIGLINS...... i LOVE the idea of techno’s past relatives n shit communicating with him n making fun of him like he’s the avatar

#mcyt #dream smp #technoblade #NONY YOUR BRAIN IS THE BIGGEST IVE SEEN I LOVE THIS IDEA #AND LIKE. MAYBE HIS OLD FRIENDS TOO #BROOOOOOOOOOO. IF WE ARE STILL GOING WITH IMMORTAL TECHNO IMAGINE THE IMPLIXATIONSSSSSSSS #I WANR TO EXPLORE THIS IN FANFICS LIKE. ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT #you can make AMAZING angst as well as just literally any other genre #like fallen soldiers aiding him in war or sth BROOOO #nony i care u sm this is so so good #asks #nony anon

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tojisun · 2 years

Text

toji/reader

he says, “pretty thing, the prettiest of them all, why are you here, crying?”

you draw a stuttered breath, afraid of this man with scarred lips and eyes that spoke of old pain; afraid of how little he made you feel like finding the perfect corner to cower in as the sky rages outside.

“nothing, sir,” you tell him, careful of the way your words lilt. “just a bad day.”

he hums, pulling back and sliding feet away from you. he looks at the empty sky and you follow, as though a marionette whose strings he is pulling. “so even pretty people have bad days.”

you look back at him, blushing when you meet his eyes. “pretty, indeed,” he whispers.

you do not tell him that he is prettier; that you love the way the street lamps created majestic shadows on his skin, chasing the darkness if only to let him, and only him, shine. his hair falls in front of his eyes and you are prevented from seeing any more of his jewelled eyes.

and when he stands and says, “come,” you learn why sailors are weak to sirens.

#suns.f #alternatively: what the actual fuck is this #alternative to the alternative: i really am in love with this man #alternative to the alternative to the alternative: im sorry for my late responses to asks. my paper n work is just stressing me sm #might actually expound on this #ouuu new fanfic idea #idk maybe angst??? hmmmmm #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji x you #toji x reader #suns

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bbiemochi · 2 years

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Hiii since your request are open may I request Diluc with an s/o who is a kamisato? s/o also has the same personality with ayaka to^^

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 | diluc ragnvindr x reader

[an]: first of all tysm for requesting muwah, second of all—i AM SO SORRY IF YOU WERE WAITING FOR THIS REQUEST FOR FOCKING MONTHS 😭😭

summary: with the vision hunt decree still far from over in your country, you think about your lover from afar..

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x g/n!kamisato!reader!

warnings: spoilers ahead for inazuma archon quest!

***

“still no letters?”

“i’m afraid not, your grace…the tenryou commission is currently banning certain individuals from the yashiro commission household to send off letters for a while after one of our guards tried to seek help from others outside of inazuma during the vision hunt decree. due to suspicion, even letters for loved ones cannot be sent for a while…” you can hear thoma click his tongue before cursing under his breath after the samurai explained the situation.

opening your fan, you covered your mouth in order for others to avoid seeing yourself hold back your tears. this is insane. archons, how long as it been since you didn’t send a letter back for your lover…? almost a month. if it weren’t for this ceremony declaration going on right now you would’ve been knowing how diluc was doing there in mondstadt. was he well? did he somehow run into any problems that you didn’t know? was he stressed? did his hometown got into any danger perhaps after the stormterror incident? heck, he might’ve fallen for someone else now due to you not sending back any letters in months.

before you explained anything else, a hand was placed over your shoulder, drifting your attention. “fret not, dear sibling…” ayaka, your younger sister reassures you, a small soft smile adorning her cheeks. “i’m sure your lover is alright. i will find a way for this decree to be over in order for you to see your him once again…” she comforts, and thoma stood proudly by her side. you sighed, thanking the samurai for the information before signaling him to leave already. “thank you for the thought, dear sister. but i just can’t help but grow worried about diluc…i-i don’t even know what he’s doing right now, is he sick? what if he’s somehow injured and i didn’t even know? what kind of lover am i for not even checking after my love if he’s somewhat in a difficult state? oh archons i hate myself—

“your grace, please, take deep breaths,” thoma speaks, massaging your shoulders a bit. “milady is right. you shouldn’t fret much right now since he’s in mondstadt, a safe city. where freedom is well recalled by the anemo archon,” he explains with a smile. another sigh escapes your lips before swaying your fan around. “freedom…that sounds wonderful…if only the raiden shogun seeks freedom for us rather than eternity…then people in inazuma wouldn’t have to suffer from great loss because of their visions…” you murmured to the two underneath your breath. ayaka and thoma both exchanged glances…trying to figure how to bring an end to this terrible decree…

regardless, weeks and months (now turning into years) go by after the vision hunt decree was first landed into a new rule in inazuma, more people in the area started to lose their visions one by one, from head samurai masters to farmers losing their memories like the visions were some pieces of themselves that makes me them remember and lastly, forget. everyday you ask the guards from the tenryou commission if sending back letters are back on track to be allowed and yet again, still a no. it was like they literally banned your commission from sending letters. you’d think kujou sara is behind this. you wanted to send one of your guards again to ask and confront the general but something inside stopped you from doing so after you heard she took down an oni from keeping their vision. damn.

at this point, your negative thoughts started to take over in any sort of case during the decree; thoughts of diluc falling out of love with you and imagine him being in love with another person there who has more time for him and even cared more for the man you’re in awe with. no matter how thoma, ayaka, or even ayato tried to calm you down—the thoughts were so trivial, and they always had chances to pop in your head wherever you go.

ayaka and thoma both noticed how worst this was getting, and their concern for you was growing, as if you were a puppy waiting for it’s beloved owner to return. “oh, y/n…” ayaka mutters worriedly, as she watched you walk around the hallway with almost no expression on. thoma frowns, biting his thumb as be tried his best to think of an idea of how to send a letter to another place without the tenryou commission catching them. just when their luck was about to run out, ayaka remembered something yoimiya mentioned to her once after she helped the crux deliver a new batch a fireworks to head to liyue..

“beidou told me about a traveler from afar that saved liyue from drowning from a god…! it was amazing, now that i think about it, i would like to know how strong they are just by hearing her ramble about them…”

‘traveler from afar, huh..?’ ayaka was thinking statistically. thoma notices this. “milady, what are you thinking about?”

“thoma,” thoma glances to her, and ayaka looks back over him, a hint of a solution showing over behind her smile. “i think i know how to put an end to this decree.”

***

“paimon’s scared…”

“shhh…” the traveler hushes the floating pixie as a certain ruby haired bartender continues cleaning the same cups all and all over again. the traveler gulps, slowly lifting their finger up to call out to him, “uhh…master diluc..?”

“yes?” he answers calmly, but with that action on repeat he doesn’t seem to be calm. the traveler flinches, “uhmm, you’ve been cleaning those cups all and all over again, are you…doing ok?” they asked, paimon nodding furiously in the background. she was fearful of what he was doing right now. diluc raised a brow, “what do you mean i’ve been washing the same cups all and all over again?”

“master diluc you keep grabbing the same cups after you washed one done and it goes on repeat, you’re like a machine,” paimon says, and the traveler nods. bewildered much, diluc looks over at the place where they keep their cups storages and they were right, he had been grabbing them one by one all over again. tossing the other glass back inside, diluc sighs in frustration—making both the traveler and paimon exchange glances. “apologies, i don’t usually act like this on work hours…i’m just a bit stressed that’s all…” he explains, and paimon waves both of her hands around. “it’s fine, master diluc…! we understand…!”

“oh no need to ask why master diluc is all worked and pended up at the moment…” a familiar voice came out of nowhere— coming from the top floor of the tavern. just by making his appearance was already enough for diluc’s blood to boil and his fists to clench. oh the ever so charming captain kaeya of the knights of favonius—how original, diluc thoughts. “after all, he’s just missing a certain someone he yearns to hear for after a month of not receiving a letter from them…” kaeya says, which led to paimon letting out a loud gasp. “master diluc was only missing someone…?! that sounds way too unbelievable…!” the companion of the traveler says.

kaeya chuckles, “but it is, dear paimon. isn’t that right, diluc?” oh how much diluc wanted to punch his brother so hard in the face right now. with a sigh, diluc calms his nerves down and the action to punch kaeya right in the face, “none of your concern, kaeya. i think that we were taught not to put our noses in other people’s business, am i incorrect?” he says. paimon and the traveler both looked at kaeya, then right at diluc. on loop. kaeya shrugs his shoulders, a grin plastered on that cocky face of his, “but it is my concern, is it not? i’m just worried about the master diluc of angel’s share putting too much pressure on himself because of some thoughts. is it wrong for me to not care?”

“uhhh…we don’t wanna have an argument in here…” paimon spoke, seeing a spark of rage between the two brothers. traveler continued drinking their apple cider. kaeya’s grin, now turning into a smirk of a ceshire cat, “well, am i wrong?” he repeats. diluc, defeated, now let’s out another sigh. “no, you are not…” he answers. kaeya smiles. “it’s about y/n, they haven’t send any more letters after the vision hunt decree was announced.”

“you mean in inazuma?” paimon questions, and kaeya nods his head. “correct. the vision hunt decree still ongoing in the nation of inazuma ruled by the raiden shogun. after that was made into a new rule, every vision was planned to be confiscated in the name of eternity. for someone as myself here in mondstadt, i’m not really going to dive through much to judge what their god sees in that rule. but in total perspective, there seems to be a lot going on the shogun’s mind for far as i can say.” kaeya explains, and diluc ignores him, only crossing his arms. “diluc’s lover lives in inazuma, and they have yet to send him back a letter of how they are doing in that nation.”

“it’s making me worry even more…” diluc mutters. paimon and the traveler both exchanged looks. suddenly, an idea rushed to paimon’s head. with a beam, she looks over quickly to the red haired lad, “wait a minute! master diluc, this is a great opportunity! since the next nation for our adventure next is inazuma! which means we can send the letter for you there!” paimon cheers. the traveler grips their glass tight before smiling, “aha, yeah, of course we can, yeah…” diluc’s eyes lit up, hope showing in them. “you…you can…?”

“of course we can, no need to worry, master diluc!” the traveler had an aching smile as paimon talked out for them. with a gleam showing over his eyes, diluc brushed the dust out of his attire and cleared his throat before he once again spoke, “i…i don’t know how much i could thank you both…please, i just want you to check if they’re doing well…their name is y/n kamisato from the yashiro commission, please…just check if they’re alright…that is all i ask for…” diluc pleaded. the traveler swallows a lump between their throat, nervousness shallowing over themselves. as concern starts to crawl their face, the traveler sends diluc a beam. “don’t worry, master diluc. i will take care of that matter.”

“thank you ever much. let me try to think of a reward when you come back.” diluc replied, and paimon took over the conversation, “make sure that it’s a feast because paimon expects a huge huge feast from master diluc…!” she exclaims. the red head laughs, ignoring kaeya who was smiling over at him. “yes, i will try to invite you both some time over the dawn winery if i have the time.” paimon cheers loudly in delight, while the traveler is sort of having second thoughts… “come on, traveler! there’s no time to waste! let’s take a rest for the night and head over liyue the first thing in the morning!” the flying pixie says to the thinking traveler. they smiled as they nodded their head before paying diluc for the drinks, thus leaving without looking back.

***

the arrival. you heard the guards outside your area start to shift to positions once they heard thoma had return with the certain someone he told them about.

“lady kamisato, the traveler has arrived along with thoma,” you heard one of your maids announce to your sister as you both were having a conversation. ayaka stands in a hurry, opening her fan to cover her face along with your presence before you two headed out. faced with fans on your faces, the traveler began to introduce themself with ease along with a high pitched voice that belonged to their companion named paimon.

“traveler, lend us your power and we can—

“i did not come to start a rebellion.” you heard the traveler respond, quite coldly to your sister’s pleading. they sound tired. ayaka had an ‘o’ shape shift on her mouth, you slowly placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her down that it was fine. “i just came here to talk to the raiden shogun, and hand over a letter. kamisato y/n, it’s from master diluc, mondstadt,” they spoke. your eyes lit up with pure hope as you quickly closed your fan away from your face and stood up from kneeling. ayaka grasped your shoulder back for a moment, and looked over in your eyes. “hold on, y/n. i know you’ve been waiting for this moment but please…help me let them lend a hand to inazuma…our city is in danger.”

“it’s hopeless, ayaka. they’re never gonna help us out at this point when they sound like they’ve been through so much.”

“but—

“see milady, it’s just like i said…this will take us nowhere,” you both heard thoma imply to the atmosphere. you can spot ayaka’s face grow into a disappointed frown, that made you feel bad for your little sister. yes, you wanted to check how diluc; your lover was for a long time—but, you are a kamisato—a family that leads the yashiro commission for a long time in decades. mostly everyone in inazuma looked up greatly to your family, and so do you. even if ayato was currently the head and you are expected to be next once he passed, you had to do what’s best for your clan and not just for them but for also inazuma. you took ayaka’s hand, caressing her cheeks in worry before kneeling back down to sit beside her.

“i’ll leave master diluc’s letter over here. i’m going to leave now.”

you and ayaka gasped. “no, please…wait! please…don’t go…” ayaka pleads and you had to hold her back from her almost forming into a bow. concerned— you took over for your little sibling as the one older than her. a sigh escapes your lips, “traveler, thank you for bringing a letter here from my lover diluc. it really means much to me. but please, hear us out. tell you this, i will introduce you to the raiden shogun,” you explained, and you heard the traveler’s foot steps stop. “on one condition that is, you must fulfill three wishes on my sister’s behalf.” you added. and the conversation goes on…

the traveler managed to accept this offer as it was the only way for them to speak to the raiden shogun. ayaka was thanking you the whole time for helping her out, although you explained to her that it was the only choice left on your mind to talk to the traveler. thoma handed you the letter from diluc, and as quickly as the wind you rushed back to your family home and headed to your room to read the letter in private as excusing to leave. kneeling down on your table, a lit candle being your guide to the light, you slowly opened the letter from diluc…your heart beats in every word you red…

to my dearest y/n,

apologies if this letter came out ragged by the time this arrives, although i hope it doesn’t since i swore to use a proper wax seal for this letter to be delivered properly by our helpful traveler. in the dew of mornings, all my mind is focused on how your health is doing over there in inazuma. you ought to make me worry, my love. i heard a commission there that guards inazuma declines any of your letters to be sent back in any region here in teyvat, and that’s okay. as long as i hear you’re doing alright, then everything will be alright for me, darling. all i want to see is your smiling face again, hold your hand as we take a sip of on our favorite drinks. that sounds divine, doesn’t it? i hope that thing we call “dreams” get to happen one day, huh? reply back if you can, my love. i will always be waiting for you…this decree won’t be for too long in eternity, do not worry. i will see you again…-love, diluc.

a small teardrop smudged on the paper to take you back to reality for you to realize you started sobbing on your desk.

“your grace, i have brought you tea—your grace…!” you can hear one of your maids call out to you, almost dropping the tray of tea on her hands as she placed them neatly in the floor before rushing beside you. “your grace, what’s the matter?” she questions. rubbing the tears out of your eyes, you sniffed before hiding your face once again with your fan, “sora, it’s nothing to worry about. do not be concerned about me,” you told her. sora crossed her arms, “your grace i can’t just not worry about you, look…! you’re sobbing. what seems to be the matter, your grace? you don’t need to hide it in, i’m sure i’ll understand..” she replies.

the tears under your eyes were getting heavier. almost breaking you down. “i just…miss him…” you cried. sora frowns. “i miss my lover, sora. i want this decree to end…i want to see him again…” you continued on to rant. sora stayed by your side until you slowly fell asleep.

diluc was right. this decree wasn’t going to go on for eternity. not this decree, your love for each other will.

***

a/n: EWWW I HATE THIS/hj

requests: closed </3

#lucy works 🍕💗#genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #fluff #slight angst #genshin impact fanfic #diluc fanfic #i love him sm #diluc <33

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