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frostedfaves · 3 years

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Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier.

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #frosty's dark!fics

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shurisneakers · 3 years

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harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene || Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈 Find your solemate!

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you.

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.

“Okay, what now?”

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.

It never comes.

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”

He stares at you.

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that.

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.

Fuck, he really had only one option.

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?”

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated.

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.”

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?”

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.

Fucking finally.

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.”

“See you there.” Sam nods.

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry.

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.

Tony has an idea.

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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theepisceswriter · 3 years

Text

Doing dirty things w/ AOT characters while you two most definitely shouldn’t be (Reiner, Erwin, Zeke, Levi)

A/N: my faithful stoned thot anon, shoutout to you for this request and I hope this was something like you were imagining in your mind. I know you only asked for simple mundane tasks, but I wanted to be extra and include more situations. I can’t wait to work on the other ones you sent me !

Synopsis: Basically, you’re trying to do a task that requires a lot of your attention or you to be silent (like on the phone, out to eat with friends, etc), but your partner really really needs some attention in that moment. I suck at descriptions sorry 🥴 If you see any typos no u didn’t, but really I was too lazy to proofread.

TW: Modern AU, hehe naughtiness obviously, choking for Zeke, also embarrassment, fembodied!reader, 18+, MINORS DNI!

REINER BRAUN: Movie night with friends

Reiner just couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. The first sight of you in your silky pajama shorts and this man’s thoughts were going crazy watching you parade around the house as you grabbed the snacks and needed materials for tonight’s movie night with some of you guys’ friends. Luckily the fabric of his pajama pants were loose enough to hide the growing boner in his pants, but of course he made it known to you by approaching you from behind and pressing it against your ass so you could feel just how hard you had made him simply by looking pretty.

His hands began to roam all over your body, stealing a grope of your breast, and his mouth attached to your neck, taking breaks in between kisses to tell you how good you look and how much you riled him up. As good as it all felt, Pieck and Porco were only right down the street, so you took his hands off of your body with promises of making him feel better later in the night once they had left. You’re lucky he doesn’t like quickies like that and prefers to take his time with you or else he would’ve taken you right there up against that counter chile.

Pieck and Porco finally arrive and what was supposed only be one movie turned into two, and now here you were snuggled up under Reiner on a completely different couch than Porco and Pieck while they flipped through a catalogue on the television looking for a new movie to start up; Reiner growing more and more impatient as the minutes went on. The constant caressing on your thigh and pinches he would give your nipples every now and then giving that away completely.

You got tired of fighting his advances off a long time ago and part of you wanted him to continue, to see how far he would actually go, because truth is you wanted him just as much as he wanted you right now. You were just a lot better at hiding it.

It was halfway through the movie that he finally decides to make a drastic move, moving you to a position where your back was pressed against his chest and tapping your hips, signifying for you to raise them so he could pull your shorts down to your thighs.

“Sit still for the rest of the night and I’ll reward us both so good once they leave.” He’d whisper in your ear. The only warning you’d get before he’s slowly easing his cock into you careful not to stretch you out too much, but the wetness that accumulated between your legs all night long makes it so you swallow him completely. A shocked moan leaving both of your lips, but luckily being silenced by the action scene on the tv; both Porco and Pieck too into it to even pay attention to the two of you.

So desperately you wanted to swirl your hips up against you, create any sort of friction to make his cock hit that spot in your soft velvety walls that left you clenching and squealing and him growling into your ears, but instead you had to be as still as possible while cockwarming him. Not being too careful would surely draw the attention of the other two, but Reiner still tested the waters every now and then by shifting every so often on purpose to cause movement.

He was even able to draw a weird moan out of you once that had Porco and Pieck looking over at you like you were crazy, questioning if you were okay which you had no choice but to reply yes to. Barely able to get that out because the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you mixed with your walls clenching around him was a whole sensation on its own.

“Careful, you don’t want them knowing that I’m balls deep in you right now would you? Or would a slut like you enjoy that; them knowing that your pussy is swallowing my cock whole right now?”

Reiner is degrading during sex sometimes and you cannot tell me otherwise #sorrynotsorry.

And when he said the two of you would be staying like this the whole night until they left he absolutely meant it. After that little moaning incident he surprisingly acted normal the whole night, like the two of you weren’t even doing what you were doing underneath the cover. Knowing how torturous it must be for him to deny you the skin to skin contact and hip bucking you needed from him.

ERWIN SMITH: In a restaurant surrounded by friends

You never thought Erwin to be the bold type to try something out in public with you. The closest thing the two of you have done to it was a quick quickie in his office once with you pressed against the window of the skyscraper building it was located in, but even then you could feel the anxiety in his muscles as he pressed himself up against you; scared of an assistant or important business partner to come barging in on the two of you.

So you can imagine the shock on your face when you were spending the night out with friends at a restaurant, preoccupied with listening to Levi’s horror stories at his tea shop when you felt the ghostly tingles of Erwin’s fingers trail up on your thigh. A hand on your knee was nothing, something he had done plenty of times as a small sign of PDA, but this was different. You looked over to him with a questioned look in your eyes, but his kept his eyes straight and responded to you physically by pressing his thumb against the cloth that separated his finger from your clit.

Almost immediately you choked on the spit going down your throat which garnered the attention from everyone else at the table asking if you were alright. Everyone but Erwin turned to you and if they were truly paying attention that would’ve been a major sign that something was up, but your quick, “I’m okay!” Response had them off your back in an instance and only edged Erwin on more, fingers pushing your panties to the side as he continued on.

The food in front of you hadn’t been touched in around 10 mins since you found yourself full before you were able to finish it all, but you had to pick up your fork and abruptly take a bite of of it when you felt Erwin’s long fingers plunge into you with ease from your wetness and curl up into you; the metal between your teeth the best attempt you had at covering up your moans.

You swear you saw a slight smirk on his lips when you glanced over at him because he’s a menace to society like that.

His hands moved so languidly inside of you hitting all the right spots and pressing down on the sensitive parts of you that always guaranteed a reaction out of you. While also simultaneously still rubbing your clit with his thumb in wide circles, enjoying every twist and turn he saw your face do as you tried desperately to hold your moans in.

At one point, to mess with you even more, he leaned in and whispered into your ear, “You think all these people know that your cunt is clenching around my fingers about to cum?” No one else heard him but you, but it definitely drew the attention of Levi who threw a confused look your way. To which you could only reply to with a smile and awkward chuckle that almost broke out into a moan because Erwin thought it would be a good idea to speed up his fingers.

You didn’t care how obvious it looked anymore, your teeth found comfort in the skin of his arm to stifle moans and your fingers had a death grip on his thighs as your orgasm hit you like a wave. Leaving you with nothing to do but grind your hips down into his fingers slowly to not draw attention as you rode out his orgasm. His fingers were covered in your slick as he pulled them off of you and instead of being discreet and wiping them on his pants or even your dress, he picked up a small dessert off his plate and turned to you. Feeding it to you and sticking his fingers a little too far in your mouth so you can clean your own orgasm off of your fingers. His thumb going between his own lips once he took his fingers out of your mouth and sucking on it gently. “That was delicious.” He would state, never breaking eye contact with you.

The tent in his dressy slacks gave away all the excitement he was feeling on the inside as he watched you squirm in your seat while he did something so naughty to you in public. He couldn’t take it anymore, placing his share of the bill on the table and excusing the both of you for the night before going around and saying your goodbyes. No one seemed to notice anything, except for when you went to Levi to give him a goodbye hug and he whispered in your ear, “Next time get a room or go to the bathroom you freaks.” You totally weren’t embarrassed and didn’t leave the restaurant with warm cheeks.

ZEKE JAEGER: During a zoom meeting

First off, sexy time stuff aside, Zeke is a menace to society and always interrupting your zooms. Whether it’s him barging into the room and asking a question like “Did you eat the last bagel?” While you’re unmuted or walking behind you with his shirt off while you have you camera on. You will never know a peaceful smooth sailing zoom meeting with Zeke in the house.

But you were immune to it at this point and he was a little too immune and comfortable with messing with you while you were in them. But hey, you couldn’t blame him! You looked all too good to him while you laid in the bed on your stomach in one of his band tees and nothing else while you payed attention to the boring lecture happening on your laptop.

Once he realized that your camera was off his hands were on you immediately, rubbing up and down your legs to signify to you that he was in a mood while he made his way on the bed behind you.

“You can’t just be walking around the house all sexy like this and expect me not to pounce on you.”

You want to say something snarky and remarkable back, but a distraction from your boring ass class is exactly what you needed. So instead of protesting this time around, you arched your back so your ass was nearly up to his face to which he replied with playfully slapping you on it and even taking a nibble of your cheek. And because you’re a menace to society you run your own hand along your clothed slit and moving your panties out of the way to put it on display for him.

“I could really use some distracting right now.” Say less, this man’s mouth is on your clit in an instant, devouring you like you’re his first meal of the day. Your hips instinctively grinding down against his tongue as he moved his focus to sucking on your clit at a pace that left you ass up face down on the bed moaning like a pornstar. Never mind his beard scraping against your thighs and possibly leaving a rash there later for you to deal with. It adds a nice touch of pain to your pleasure.

So caught up into the pleasure warming up your lower stomach, you don’t even notice your teacher calling on you until Zeke reaches out and taps on the keyboard to move your attention back to the zoom in front of you, his mouth still working magic on your clit; a mixture of his spit and your juices trailing down his chin. The site is enough to make you cum but you’re forced to divert your eyes away from it as you unmute yourself, quickly asking her to repeat the question, going back on mute before they can hear the slurping noises that Zeke obnoxiously made louder once you unmuted.

“I’m going to kill you.” “Pay attention to school sweetheart before I stop completely. Education comes first!” What an asshole, but despite the joking tone of his voice you know he’d stop in a heartbeat just to mess with you and you’re too close to an orgasm for him to up and quit like that.

From the way your hips move sloppily against his face he can tell that you’re close, but once the teacher repeats the question at you to answer he pulls away completely seemingly to cut you some slack. But, surprise, he only moves his mouth away to replace it with his cock, sliding into you with ease and thrusting into you at a steady pace that has you moan loudly into the microphone on accident.

His face lights up with a smug expression and smile, the embarrassment on your cheeks making him pick up his pace and turning him on in a way. “Now your whole class is going to know that you were getting fucked by me. Too busy getting your hole pounded to even pay attention to the lesion. What a dirty little slut, they’re probably talking about you right now as we speak.”

You’re at a loss of words, not only because of embarrassment but because you can barely form a sentence from the way Zeke is pounding into you so ruthlessly from behind. His hand even coming forward and grabbing at your neck to balance himself against the bed while on his knees.

Your morning with him is far from over and the embarrassment from this zoom is going to last with you forever.

LEVI ACKERMAN: On an important phone call

I know Levi Ackerman with his hands around our necks really get us going and the thought of dom him fucking us from behind while on the phone with our boss makes us feel butterflies in our stomachs....BUT the thought of sub Levi whimpering and having to put his phone on mute while discussing business with someone because you have his cock halfway down your throat, is an equally as hot image.

He would glance at you from over his phone and let out a silent “What are you doing?” And make a faint shooing away motion in the air to make you leave, but he doesn’t want you to leave. You know that and he knows that which is why when you went to unbuckle his pants he gladly let you, hips even raising slightly so you can pull them down enough to let his cock and balls free from the restraints of his underwear and pants.

It was such a sudden and rash decision on your end that he wasn’t even hard at all when you pulled him out, but one lick from the base of his cock to the tip of it is enough to make it stand tall. Warranting a deep intake of air that has the person on the other end of the line asking if he was okay. Between the embarrassment from nearly being caught and the pleasure exploding in his lower half from how good you’re working your mouth, his cheeks are flushed with a bright pink color.

“Do you want me to stop” “no, no, keep going, please.”

He’s so needy and close to that sweet release already, the excitement from doing something so naughty while the person on the other end of the phone has no idea has his senses in an overload. Even the broken ‘Y-Yes’s that have to leave his lips every time he unmutes his phone strikes an excited nerve in him that he didn’t know he had; wishing he could moan as freely as he could to show off how good you make him feel, but he bites back those moans with his teeth. Instead opting for a number of praises when he can.

“You look so pretty on your knees in front of me with your cock in my mouth.” “You make me feel so so good, you don’t even know how good I feel right now because of you.” “Keep that up and I’m going to cum.”

Eyes closing shut and breath picking up the closer he gets. His hand even coming down to move your head at a pace that feels godly around his cock.

Usually you would tease and pull away altogether when he did this, reminding him that he couldn’t be too needy, but you would be lying if you said this didn’t have just as much of affect on him as it did on you, thighs clenching together with each bob of your head and moan that left his lips that he couldn’t quite bite back.

He’s an incoherent mess at the end, lips not even able to move together to form sentences and his hips bucking up wildly into your throat to release his load down your throat. His hips still bucking up slightly even after he came because it just felt that good. His mind was so clouded with pleasure that he didn’t even notice the person on the phone had hung up a long time ago, something he would have to deal with later but that proved helpful right now.

“I hope you don’t think that this was it.” Oops, now you awoke the dominant side of Levi’s switch personality and he’s definitely not letting you off the hook for this one.

#Stallion don’t say ‘menace to society’ a million times in a post challenge #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #aot imagines #reiner braun smut #reiner braun x reader #erwin smith smut #erwin smith x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #Spicy.#zeke jaeger x reader #zeke Jaeger smut

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waka-chan-out · 3 years

Text

Mine - June 6

minors dni

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2.3k

content warnings: fem!reader (they/them pronouns used), dom!kindaichi, implied past relationships with mattsun and makki, oral (f. receiving), exhibitionism, hair pulling, lots of dirty talk, praise, some teasing, lots of pet names, “good girl,” one (1) spank, masturbation, not really edging but brief orgasm control if you want to call it that(??), finger sucking, cream pie, technically cum play?

welcome to project gemini, where we’re celebrating the birthdays of our lovely haikyuu boys born between may 20th and june 21st. first up is kindaichi yūtarō, whose hair and demeanor have completely changed since high school. your former classmates have decided to share you for one night.

another shoutout to my darling @kitastowel for the banners because oh my god i love them

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kindaichi asked, stroking his thumb over your cheek. You raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“I’m not gonna back out now.” You inhaled heavily as his fingers trailed down to your throat, lightly squeezing. There was an intense possessiveness in his eyes, one you would have never expected to see from him.

“Are you two sure?” he asked, lifting his gaze from you to the men lounging on chairs against the wall. Hanamaki shrugged and Matsukawa rolled his eyes. Their faces were settled in a neutral expression, almost bored. Like their former underclassman wasn’t about to have his way with their best friend.

It was honestly a joke at first. Makki had asked Kindaichi if he was still a virgin, and the poor boy had turned bright red, the same way he did back in high school. He wasn’t able to answer before Matsukawa cackled and offered you to him.

“They’re good in bed. You’d have a great time.” You smacked him, but the subtle, almost hungry expression on Kindaichi’s face made you want to take him up on the offer. You had the sneaking suspicion that he was a completely different person than he had been in high school.

“Just get on with it,” Matsukawa said. Kindaichi leaned closer to you, grip shifting to your jaw.

“Let me know if you need me to be gentler,” he said. Hanamaki and Matsukawa burst out laughing.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll need to. Come on, Kindaichi, we’ve got shit to do.”

Kindaichi didn’t seem to even hear them, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your lips. You were surprised by the aggression. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving like he already knew everything you wanted and needed. Without thinking, your hands fisted in the front of his shirt and you pulled him down on top of you. He followed you easily, bracing one arm over your head and wrapping the other around your waist. He nipped at your lower lip and you gasped. He swallowed the breath and deepened the kiss. Heat rushed through your body and you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting him as close as he could possibly get.

It was . . . good. So good. You could feel the kiss in every inch of your body, coursing through you like electricity. You couldn’t believe this was the man that had stumbled over his words every time you offered to toss for him during late night practices and barely looked at you when he took water bottles from you during games.

“Man, I’m glad I invited you in here, Kindaichi. Are you just gonna kiss them the whole time?”

You broke the kiss and glared at Matsukawa.

“Are you gonna shut up? You set this up.”

“Geez, you’re defensive. He’s that good, huh? Better than me?”

“Miles.” Matsukawa rolled his eyes. Kindaichi chuckled and leaned down, moving his lips to your neck. You gasped as he left open mouth kisses along your jawline and stopped right under your chin, sucking harshly. You tugged on his hair and he hummed, nipping lightly at your neck.

“Kindaichi, let’s go,” Makki snapped. Kindaichi lifted a middle finger at the men and tugged at your pants. You helped him work them and your underwear down and he readjusted, pushing your knees apart with firm hands.

“Kindaichi, you don’t—“

You lost your train of thought as he buried his face between your legs and closed his eyes. He pushed your leg up and wrapped his arm around it, lapping and sucking at your clit with the aggression of a man starved. Your back arched and you buried a hand in his hair. The feeling was overwhelming, coursing through your entire body in the same way his kisses did. You couldn’t sit still, legs shifting and head tipping back as he hummed in satisfaction.

“Fuck, Yūtarō,” you breathed, carding your fingers through his hair. You felt him smile against you and he glanced up, hungrily meeting your eyes. The sight made you smile, letting out a shaky breath as you tipped your head back and leaned into the feeling. You were already close. You could feel your heart racing and your breathing picking up.

There was laughter coming from the other side of the room. Matsukawa and Makki were talking quietly, only offering you two the occasional glance. You rolled your eyes. This was their idea, so what the hell was the deal.

Kindaichi’s tongue circled your clit and his arms gripped you tighter. His mouth somehow knew exactly where you needed him, chasing your release with every movement of his mouth. Something about the way he glanced up at you, the way he hummed in pleasure at seeing you falling apart on his tongue, the way his lips moved even more enthusiastically, it all combined to send you over, back arching and legs shaking as you exhaled a groan. You could feel Kindaichi smiling against you as he rode it out, not slowing until your hand was jerking at his hair. He sucked on your clit one last time before sitting up and leaning close to your face.

“If they aren’t going to pay attention, I’m just going to fuck you now.” You smiled and he pushed up your shirt, warm hands sending shivers down your spine. As you scrambled to get it the rest of the way off, he shrugged off his. He leaned back down the kiss you and you fumbled with his belt, eventually getting his pants undone and palming him through his briefs. He captured your lips in a heated kiss and ground down against your hand. You whimpered and grasped at his clothes, trying to pull them down. He huffed a laugh and stilled your hands with his own.

“Shh,” he muttered. “Good girls are patient, right? You want to show them you’re a good girl?” You swallowed and nodded. He smiled, tugging his waistband down. “Good. Now let me take care of you.” You wrapped your legs tight around him once more and tried to pull him close to you, but he grabbed one knee and pushed it back against the bed. He glanced between his legs and dragged his cock against you, making you whimper. A sadistic smile crept onto his face.

“Louder, sweetheart,” he said. You looked up at him in surprise before he sunk into you. Your head tipped back and you let out a breathy moan. His smile grew. “That’s my girl.” He gripped your hips and rolled his forward, drawing another noise from your throat. You could see him glance over at Makki and Matsukawa, who were still whispering.

“I thought you guys wanted to watch me fuck them?” Kindaichi said. Matsukawa laughed.

“Well, you aren’t making much of a scene, are you?”

Kindaichi huffed in annoyance and looked down at you, still slowly shifting his hips. The look in your eyes seemed to make him smile, so he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. He whispered in your ear, quiet enough that only you could hear.

“Flip over for me, love.” He withdrew from you quickly and you sighed at the loss. You readjusted quickly, settling face down on the bed. Kindaichi shifted behind you so he was facing your two former classmates and patted your ass, seemingly encouraging you to do the same. You moved and looked up at the men, who raised their eyebrows at the new position. Kindaichi’s grip was gentle, but the movements asserted a dominance you wouldn’t have ever expected from him—at least, not before you had kissed him for the first time.

The pads of Kindaichi’s fingers sunk deeper into your skin as he sheathed himself inside of you again. He groaned and you buried your face in the mattress, bracing yourself from the sensitivity. You were still coming down from your previous orgasm, body humming with heat. He was so deep inside of you, so close to where you needed him that you couldn’t resist tipping back onto him a bit. He hissed and landed a sharp slap on your ass.

“What did I say about being patient?” You huffed a breath and dug your hands into the sheets. “Tell me what I said.”

“Good girls are patient.” Your voice came out much weaker than you wanted it to.

“Are you a good girl?”

You nodded.

“Then act like one.”

You looked back at him and saw his eyes were deadly serious. He held you flush against his hips with a bruising grip.

“Do you want my cock or not?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” you begged. Kindaichi tugged on your hair, pulling you back against his chest.

“Don’t ask the ground. Let them see,” he said, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up. Matsukawa and Makki seemed bored earlier, but the look in their eyes was nothing like that now. There was surprise, arousal, and a little bit of unease. They weren’t expecting this. None of you were.

“There you go.” Kindaichi’s mouth was right against your ear. You could feel every syllable to the tips of your toes. “Now ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me.” The words sounded pathetic coming from your lips. Your voice was strained and the very sound of it made the other two men sit up straighter. You felt Kindaichi smile.

“Good girl.”

He ground his cock into you, pressing against a spot inside you that made a sob leave your lips. It hurt, and felt so good, and you couldn’t believe that it was him, the little first year that Makki and Mattsun had teased for being shy.

“Look at them. See how hard they are?” You glanced down at their laps and, sure enough, Kindaichi was right. Each had a noticeable bulge in their pants and looked almost dizzy from the lack of stimulation. Kindaichi smiled against your ear. “You want them to stroke their cocks for you? Want them to get off watching you get fucked?”

You choked out a groan and nodded.

“Ask nicely,” he snapped. You swallowed and fixed your gaze on the other men.

“Please,” you said, voice unsteady. “Wanna watch you come.”

Matsukawa let out a shaky breath and Makki was undoing his pants before you finished your sentence. As quickly as you had spoken they had their hands wrapped around themselves, pumping at the same pace Kindaichi’s hips were snapping.

“There we go. Look at that. Three men getting off because of you. How’s it feel?”

Before you could respond, Kindaichi reached around you and began circling your still over-sensitive clit. You let out a strangled sound and your head tipped back against his. His breath came heavy and hot in your ear, harder now with the desperate sounds he was pulling from you.

“God, what a good girl. You’re gonna make me come. Do you wanna come with me?”

You nodded and Kindaichi immediately stopped moving, holding you close. You whined, but he shoved two fingers in your mouth and pressed down on your tongue.

“Use your words.”

You shook your head and closed your lips around his fingers. He shoved them deeper into your mouth, making your eyes water.

“Use. Your words.”

“Please. Please make me come.” The words were slurred and sloppy, almost embarrassingly so. Kindaichi laughed and slowly rolled his hips again, keeping his fingers hooked in your mouth.

“You asked so nicely,” he muttered. You could see him turn to the other men from the corner of your eye. “I want them to watch me come inside you. Do you want that?”

His thrusts found a new, steady pace, dragging all the breath from your lungs. You moaned around his fingers and attempted to nod.

“Yes,” you stammered, eyes closing as his other hand returned to your clit.

“Come here,” Kindaichi said. Your brows furrowed, but you heard shifting fabric and a handful of footsteps before Kindaichi’s fingers withdrew from your mouth. You opened your eyes to find Makki and Matsukawa standing over you, cocks in hand. They continued stroking themselves, looking tired and out of breath. Matsukawa reached out to run a hand through your hair, but Kindaichi smacked him away.

“No,” he said. “They’re mine. You can watch.”

“Are you serious?”

“Who’s the one with their hand around their dick and who’s fucking them?”

Matsukawa’s lips pinched together, but not before he let out a quiet groan.

“Fuck,” Kindaichi breathed, burying his face against your neck. “I’m gonna come. Ask me to come inside of you.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please come inside of me. I’ll be good.”

“You are good, aren’t you? My good girl. You’re gonna let them come on you too, right?”

You nodded furiously and bucked against Kindaichi’s hand. The hand on your clit was too much, but just enough at the same time. You were close, so close. You were sure when he came off push you right over, leave you shaking, make you—

“Oh, fuck,” Kindaichi groaned, arm wrapping tight around your chest as his hips stuttered and he spilled inside of you. He was hot and felt dizzyingly good, and it made you follow right after him, moaning in a way you didn’t realize you could. Your eyes squeezed shut and your hands flew to his arm, trying your best to steady yourself. Matsukawa came next, and Makki close behind, spilling over your face and chest, strained groans ringing in your ears.

When your body relaxed, Kindaichi’s grip softened and he withdrew from you, hissing a bit as he did. The only sound in the room was panting and you opened your eyes to see Kindaichi holding your shoulders, gazing carefully at your face.

“You okay?” he asked. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, through the mess the other men had made, and slipped the finger between your lips. You wanna tongue over the digit as you nodded, gazing at him with watery eyes. He smiled and withdrew his hand, pressing a firm, affectionate kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss he glanced up at Matsukawa and Makki, whose chests were still heaving. A grin spread across his face as he absentmindedly stroked a hand through your hair.

“Virgin, my ass.”

⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆✦⋆☆⋆

tag list: @ohno-otome @curapiikt @antiqueremains @stationery-store @tanzaniiite @imbearlythere @kitastowel @vminelove (it wouldn’t let me tag you darling :( i think you need to change something in your settings) @yougivemeglobalwarming

want to be added? send me an ask!

#yes it’s iwaizum i’d birthday. y’all can deal.#she’s late but she’s got the spirit #y’all will only ever catch me writing dom characters on my own time lmao #kindaichi smut #kindaichi x reader #kindaichi x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kindaichi yutaro smut #kindaichi yutaro x reader #cw: cream pie

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queen-ch3rry · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on Art - a small essay thing

This is something that has been going through my mind quite a lot since I've been learning ways to be better at my drawing, painting, and creation process.

How is it art seems to be the only topic where there is only “one right way” to do it? Have you ever noticed this?

A kind friend (shoutout @garnets-and-dragons!!) introduced me to an interesting art "hack," the “grid drawing method.” I literally never knew about it. For those unfamiliar with what this is, it constitutes drawing a grid onto a reference photography, then transferring the grid in proper scale to a paper or digital canvas. You draw what you see in each box however accurate you choose to, as the artist.

Personal opinion: this has brought a great deal of joy back into my creative life. Actually, that's nearly an understatement. As a perfectionist my nature (probably stemming way back to my childhood if I think long enough), I typically never love a lot of my art. Not an intense “I'm so very proud of this” type of feeling. Because I see everything I get wrong, the struggles, the lack of grounding an idea onto paper/etc. Combine this with the painful lingering headaches I've had as a side effect from my COVID shot last summer, and art very, very quickly felt like torture when it didn't go right.

Especially with cars. Unlike animals, which can be built up with a uniform concept of circles building on other shapes, cars are all different. As soon as I figure out how to draw one of my OCs, I want to draw another who looks entirely different (year and model playing hugely into this too) and it's back to square one again. This is what scared me so much doing commissions, and prevented me from accepting modern cars or body types I wasn't familiar with.

Back on topic… learning how to use even a rough, vague idea of a grid has helped me become happy with my art. I can plot exactly how I want the character to look and then build a background (yay, new skills!!) around it. It actually works together! I believe now I can tackle all of the major ideas for character scenes that have been rattling around in my head for YEARS.

Yet.

Even though quick research proves Leonardo da Vinci, ancient Egyptians, and many other highly respected classic and legendary artists used grids, plumb lines, and other methods to “short cut” a tedious, wholly freehanded, no guides at all, sketch… the internet is ablaze with controversy and I have seen equally positive and negative thoughts. The negative is very black and white:

“If you use a grid to draw, you clearly have no talent.” “Anyone good enough should never have to use this.” “This is cheating.” “You're not a real artist if you use this method. Shame on you.” “This is glorified dot-to-dot for adults.”

Let's take a step back… I'm not defending myself or anyone who uses any “guides” right now. This is just an unbiased view.

• Is using CTRL-Z when doing digital art cheating? (You can instantly remove a mistake!) • Is digital art itself no form of art because you can have potentially thousands of resources at hand that don't cost a fifth of what traditional art supplies can? • Are erasers in trad. art cheating? (You ought to be good enough to not use one at all. right? If we listen to the “grid and plumb line” critics) • Is using Photoshop cheating?? It can completely change an image to be unrecognizable from its former self. Action sets do all the work for you. Yet that's considered an art form.

Or, let's not look at art at all.

• Is using spellcheck cheating? • Is hiring an editor to comb over your manuscript cheating? • Does using a dictionary or thesaurus mean you have 0 literary skill if you don't know the meaning or synonym/antonym for a single word yet can construct a good story otherwise? • Does using a calculator mean you're an idiot with zero skills? Hey, even if you don't understand math, what shame is there in using a calculator?? None!

I would think the answer is NO to all of these things.

So, why is there this huge controversy with art? You can only do it ONE WAY which is deemed “correct” (by who?) and deviating means… you have no talent?

I have a bit of a hard time swallowing that using mathematical measurements to make art I'm truly excited about continuing for the first time in literally years means I'm not a “real” creative person. The grid does only one percent of the work for me.

• I have to fill it in however detailed I chose. It's not a preprinted coloring page, after all. • I have to transform certain areas to fit a cartoony look. • I have to remember what I've learned so far for value, saturation and hue to color it in a way that's either believable or at the least, appealing, to my eyes and a viewer. • I have to hand draw all of my background elements in (again using value, saturation and hue to look nice)

How does using one single tool make an artist a cheater? Using a grid as an aid is not tracing a photo line for line and passing it off as my own creation. A grid doesn't even equal a flawless result! Nor is it the way too common art theft that populates the world where someone steals someone else's art, recolors it (or not) and “now it's mine.”

End thoughts: I hope any creator that uses a tool (ruler, grid, plumb line, compass, French curve, etc.) to make them feel happy and satisfied for potentially the first time in their life with their work doesn't get beaten down by the critics. People who say you're a “baby” or “fool” because you can't do things the way they do it doesn't mean anyone's way is right or wrong. And being severe and hurtful in their opinions is the kind of insensitivity a person with a low self-esteem in what they do does not need to hear.

I wish everyone to create freely, in whichever way works for them (minus outright theft) and can understand there's a whole lot more to life than what one person says is right or wrong.

Oh, and about this one person who said “anyone who has to use a grid has no talent?” Someone asked them if they could draw. They said yes. They drew hyper realistically. Did amazing portraits, in their words. Next was inquired: “I want to see/Show me your art.” By 5 different people.

The person who cried foul about “tools equal cheating” oddly enough refused to share any art, any links, anything at all. Their account was completely empty.

Kind of makes you wonder if they were a troll just trying to hurt others, doesn't it?

— Ginger (V16ClassyCaddy.art)

#ginger speaks #v16classycaddyart #art stuff #grid drawing #art hacks #haters back off #art time art time

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

beyond the terror of the nightfall

4.5k || ao3

After everything, there is much healing to be done. But comfort can always be found in the ones you love. --- A (very late) 2x13 coda

Did this take me forever? Yes. But I got it done before the new episode and that's what matters. Shoutout to @justaswampdemon for helping me make sense of my own timeline, you’re the best!

(And am I insane posting this 6 minutes before the 911 episode airs? Probably.)

----------

Things looked brighter in the morning.

Not only because they had fallen into bed without drawing the curtains when they had finally gotten to a bed in the early hours of the morning, but because of the man laying beside Carlos; face still peaceful in sleep. He couldn’t help but stare; taking in the miracle that was TK’s rhythmic breathing. It was irrefutable proof that he was still there, that Carlos had not lost him in the chaos and fear of the night before.

He lay on his pillow, silently observing and resisting the urge to reach out and touch him for that extra layer of proof. He wanted to feel the warmth of his familiar skin beneath his fingers but he did not want to pull him from this blissful state where maybe he could forget everything that had happened, for a little while. He turned away to avoid the temptation and look around the room, taking in the details that had escaped him the night before.

Owen Strand’s guest room was sparsely but tastefully decorated and the warm browns of the room were as comforting as any place could be. The bright sunlight streaming in told Carlos that it was well past the time he usually woke up and for a brief frantic moment he thought he must be late for work. But then he remembered that at some point during the seemingly never-ending night one of his coworkers on scene informed him that their captain had ordered Carlos to take at least a few days off and that more leave would be ready for him should he need it.

He let his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh, closing his eyes as he tried not to think about all of the things that needed to be done. He and TK had nothing now: no home, no clothes, no wallets. Every bit of their life, no matter how important or trivial had been reduced to ash right along with their home. Carlos knew they were lucky to have even escaped with their lives; the very real fact that they almost hadn’t had haunted him since the moment the flames erupted. But now, after, he was able to see around that and consider their way forward; and he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

The sound of TK stirring beside him pulled Carlos from his thoughts and he rolled over to see his boyfriend slowly blinking open his eyes. He tried for a smile when those eyes landed on him and received an equally unsteady one in return.

“Good morning,” TK said softly, his voice almost a whisper as if he didn’t want the world to know they were awake yet.

“Good morning,” Carlos replied, matching the other man’s volume even as he moved closer and pressed a light kiss onto his lips. TK smiled into it, but once they pulled apart and he took a look around at their surroundings his smile faded.

“I remember it happening,” he said after a moment, his eyes on the sparse furnishings of his dad’s house, “I was just hoping that maybe it was a dream.”

Carlos hummed his agreement but he slid his hand across the bed to find TK’s. He squeezed it as soon as he found it and TK wound their fingers together in response before he pulled his mind back to the present and turned so he was facing Carlos again. They lay in silence, simply soaking in the presence of each other for a long time before Carlos finally sighed and ran a weary hand over his face.

“We have so much to take care of,” he lamented, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Me neither,” TK agreed, “but we can divide and conquer, I suppose. You’re not alone in this Carlos,” he reminded him earnestly, “We are in this together, 100%.”

Carlos smiled at him as warmth spread through his chest. Their home might be gone but he can’t help but feel lucky that they didn’t lose this, that he didn’t lose him. The tasks before them were daunting and he was already dreading the hours spent on the phone with the insurance company, but knowing that he has TK at his side makes it all just that much more bearable.

“We do make a good team,” he agreed, watching as TK’s smile grew.

They lay there for a few more minutes, soaking in the calm silence of the late morning sun and the soothing presence of each other. It’s eventually TK that moves, a groan coming from his lips as he pulls himself up.

“I suppose we need to actually face this,” he said wryly, “but I’m going to take a shower first. Care to join me?”

Carlos laughed at his suggestive eyebrows but shook his head, “As tempting as it is,” he told TK, “I don’t think I could knowing that your dad and Mateo are right down the hall.”

TK gave a light chuckle and leaned down to give him a lingering kiss. When he pulled away he took Carlos’s air with him as he stood from the bed.

“Your loss,” he told him as he disappeared out the bedroom door with one last suggestive grin.

Carlos watched him go, still trying to find his breath. Sometimes he was just struck by how much he loved the other man. It was a thought he had often, and a thought he had had last night as the flames had raged around them.

As he pulled himself out of the familiar bed and began to get ready for the first day in their uncertain future he knew without a doubt that no matter what came and no matter how difficult, it would be worth it. Because he still had TK and they still had each other and after that, nothing else really mattered.

-----

It doesn’t hit him until he is in the shower, of all places.

He and Carlos had both spent an extremely long time under the running water the night before, plying the soot and smell of smoke off of their skin with Owen’s myriad soaps and skincare products but somehow now this regular, everyday act of showering before he got ready was his undoing.

It was inevitable, he supposed. He hadn’t really processed it after all. There had just always been another thing to focus on: getting them out safely, answering questions about what had happened, supporting Carlos. TK had been a firefighter for the majority of his adult life; fire was nothing new to him. The sights and smells and sensation of being trapped among the hungry flames hadn’t affected him like it had the other man, for which TK was grateful. Carlos was the consummate pillar; always there to lend his support, always ready for TK to lean on and he was happy to be able to return the favor.

But eventually, he ran out the timer he didn’t even know was running.

It’s the smallest thing that acts as the catalyst. He’s just reaching for a shampoo when an idle thought drifts through his mind: he can’t remember the name of the shampoo Carlos used.

It had been a bit of a running joke between them that Carlos had been struggling to find a shampoo that worked with his curls. He finally had settled on one just last week, but TK couldn’t remember what it was. He needed to replace it for him, he needed to make sure Carlos had everything he needed but he couldn’t remember the name of his shampoo.

And it’s that thought that somehow brings the reality into focus. Everything they had is gone. They needed to move forward and they needed to do it completely from scratch. Everything they had built together was gone, and there was no bringing it back. The past month of living with Carlos and building a home together had all been erased; all proof of its existence reduced to ashes.

All their memories seeped into every square inch of the house were gone and there was no getting them back.

It’s just one tear at first, but the rest quickly follow. Before he knew it he was sliding down the wall of the shower; chest heaving and shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. He landed on the shower floor as the tears kept coming, mixing with the warm water falling around him as he put his face in his hands.

He hadn’t let himself feel this because Carlos had needed him but now, in the privacy of the shower with the sound of the water concealing his sobs, he let it come. He cried until he didn’t have anything left in him, until all the fear and pain was gone and he only felt numb.

Then he stood up, shut off the water, and stepped out of the shower; drying himself off and getting ready to face a new day.

----------

Carlos stepped into the kitchen to find Owen, fully dressed and bent over the counter writing something on a notepad. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he stepped into the kitchen, not wanting to startle the older man.

“Carlos!” he greeted cheerfully, Good morning! I was just leaving a note for you boys, I have to head out for an appointment in a bit. How’d you sleep?”

“The room was very comfortable,” he replied, carefully skirting around all mentions of sleep and dreams. The look Owen gave him told Carlos that he wasn’t fooled, but he didn’t press.

“I expected you both to sleep longer,” he said instead. “It was a late night and lord knows TK’s never really been a morning person. Is he up too?”

“He’s in the shower,” Carlos answered, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter. “We both figured we have a lot to get done so it would be best to get moving.”

“That actually brings up something I wanted to talk to you about - well, a few things actually,” Owen amended. “The first is simple.”

He followed his words by picking up something resting on the counter beside the paper he had been writing on. It was his credit card and when Carlos went to protest he shook his head, “Don’t even think about it. Unless one of you went to bed with your wallet last night and failed to mention that, neither of you has access to any of your accounts at the moment. We’ll get that all sorted out in time but for now I’m sure you’d appreciate having some clothes that actually fit. And don’t even think about trying to pay me back,” he added as he slid the card across to Carlos, “I can cover it, and it’s the least I can do.”

Carlos carefully picked up the card in front of him and looked from it back to his boyfriend’s father, “Thank you, Owen.”

Owen waved off his thanks. “It truly is the least I could do, given everything. But I’m not the only one who wants to help you two.”

Carlos opened his mouth, ready to assure him that the 126 didn’t need to do anything, that simply being there was enough (though knowing them he was sure his assurances wouldn’t stop them) but what Owen said next was not what Carlos had been expecting.

“I know TK talked to his mother last night and told her it was fine that she couldn’t fly down here, but if I know her she is kicking herself for that. Now, this is all up to you and TK. It’s your house and your insurance and it’s up to you how you want to handle it but don’t forget that you have a powerhouse of a Manhattan lawyer on speed dial,” Owen reminded Carlos, “don’t be afraid to call Gwyn if you think it’ll help.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to…” Carlos began but Owen shook his head.

“None of that,” he told him firmly before his expression softened. “She hates that she can’t be here for you two and if you would like to pass on some of the legal and insurance stuff to her I know she would be happy to do it. She would probably feel better about it, knowing that she was able to help you both even if it’s just a little.”

Carlos nodded, feeling the smallest amount of weight lift off his shoulders. There was still plenty left behind, but the knowledge that someone with a better understanding of the system could help them made it just that much easier to breathe in the face of it all.

“Thank you, Owen. I will.”

“Good,” Owen said with a nod. “It’ll mean a lot to her and I’m sure you won’t mind a few fewer things to deal with.”

Carlos nodded emphatically at that and Owen grinned. His expression shifted though as he caught sight of the clock about the stove.

“I need to go,” he said hurriedly, “I have an appointment at the hospital. Will you tell TK...I don’t want to leave before he comes down but…”

Carlos shook his head, “It’s fine, I’ll tell him. We’ll see you later.”

Owen gave him a grateful smile, “Count on it. If you need anything while I’m gone just call me, and don’t worry about buying whatever you need because I’m not letting either of you pay me back, I mean it.”

Then he was gone, out the door with a wave before Carlos could even open his mouth to argue. He picked up the card idly and was tapping it against the counter while his mind wandered when he heard footsteps behind him. He looked around and felt a smile spread across his face at the sight of TK entering the kitchen. It abruptly faded though when his boyfriend grew closer and he could see the telltale signs of recent tears all over his face. They were well concealed, but Carlos knew TK’s face better than his own. TK had been crying, there was no doubt.

“Babe?” he asked gently, rising from his seat at the counter.

“I’m fine,” TK assured him in a hearty voice that did not have Carlos fooled for a second.

“TK you are not fine,” he retorted adamantly, “talk to me.”

“I am Carlos, really,” TK repeated firmly and Carlos went to argue again but TK kept talking. “It just all finally hit me, I think,” he told him, “that’s all.”

Carlos could feel the panic that had sprung up at the sight of TK’s upset start to fade in the absence of any immediate threat or injury. “I’m not surprised,” he admitted softly, stepping forward to wrap his arms around the other man. “You’ve been a rock the entire time and while I appreciate it - really, I do - it was your home too.”

TK heaved a weary sigh and wrapped his own arms around Carlos, returning the embrace. “I know that,” he said softly into Carlos’s shoulder, “but I’m okay, I swear.”

Carlos pulled away enough to study TK’s face, to look for any sign that he was lying. When he didn’t see any he relaxed and took a breath. He knew that it would take some time for them to both move past this and that they were each going to deal with this in their own way. He also knew that this would be far from the last time they talked about this, or the last time one of them struggled. But if TK said he was fine, he was fine and Carlos would let it go - for now.

“Your dad just left,” he said instead, stepping away from his boyfriend so he could enter the kitchen. “He had an appointment but he said he would see us later.”

TK nodded as he crossed to the counter and pulled out two mugs before filling them both with coffee and handing one to Carlos. Carlos took it with a grateful smile and continued, “He also left his credit card and told us to buy whatever we need and was very clear that we were not paying him back. He mentioned that part twice.”

TK shook his head fondly and Carlos grinned before he moved onto the next part of their conversation. “He also suggested we call your mom to see if she can help us with any of the insurance stuff.”

TK looked up, surprised for a moment before his expression evened. “That makes sense,” he admitted. “If anyone knows their way around the system, it’s her.”

Carlos grinned at that, allowing himself a quick moment of enjoyment at the thought of an unsuspecting insurance agent trying to pull one over on Gwyneth Morgan. “I think we should,” he said a beat later, “I think it could make a difference because frankly, I have no idea where to even start with all of this.”

TK chuckled and shook his head, “Honesty, me either. I’ll call her in a little bit, see what she says.”

Carlos nodded but secretly he was sure the answer would be yes. He was fairly certain that Owen was right, that she would do anything that felt like she could help them, especially in a way that only she could.

“We should make some time to go out for a bit,” he says instead, “get some clothes to get us through the week, get you a new phone.”

TK grimaced at the reminder. “You’re lucky you still had yours in your pocket,” he told Carlos. “It feels so weird not having it. I feel so out of the loop.”

Carlos chuckled and reached across the table to place his hand on top of TK’s, “That’s okay,” he assured him sweetly, “I’ll make sure you stay in the loop.”

“My hero,” TK deadpanned, but he was grinning.

Any further conversation was halted by the dinging of the phone in question and Carlos fished it out of his pocket, swiping it open to reveal a new message in the group chat. He put the phone down on the counter so he could see the message from Paul: Status update: everyone make it through the night?

TK rolled his eyes fondly as messages from the others appeared, all confirming their continued existence. Carlos grinned at him before he pulled the phone closer to type out a message informing them all that yes, he and TK had in fact survived the night. The conversation quickly shifted from there and, TK reading over his shoulder as he sipped his coffee, slowly a plan began to form.

Paul reminded them all that they had scheduled a game night for tonight and that if there was ever a time they all needed it, it was now. Marjan was quick to agree and Mateo to wonder where they were going to meet. It was Nancy who suggested the 126, reminding them that it would be abandoned for the foreseeable future and that the building had been deemed structurally sound. It was at this point Carlos felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to meet TK’s concerned eyes.

“Would you be okay with that?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Carlos responded, baffled at the other man’s concern, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because we barely escaped from a burning building with our lives last night.” TK reminded him gently, “I’m just making sure you’d be fine hanging out in another one.”

Carlos considered, looking back down at his phone. The messages had paused and it seemed as if everyone was waiting on him. The idea of being surrounded by the work of the arsonist who had taken their home did seem daunting, but doing it with their friends and TK at his side made it seem far less so.

So he smiled at TK and gave him a nod before he typed his agreement into the chat. The others were clear in their enthusiasm and despite everything that lay behind them and what was still waiting, Carlos found another smile.

He had a feeling they’d be okay after all.

-----

Walking into his destroyed firehouse is like walking into a grave, again.

When he first started out as a firefighter he never thought he would be forced to stand in the ruins of the place that had come to be a second home (or even a first home, at times) and contemplate the loss and tragedy of the sight before him. But he had, twice. The first time it had been silence: the emptiness of the formerly bustling kitchen, the hastily made beds in the bunk room. The knowledge that the rooms would never be filled again.

This time it was charred walls and shattered windows; physical destruction scattered with the debris and clutter of their day-to-day lives. They were still there - still standing - but there was an illusion of safety that had been washed away, never to be fully regained again. A safe place had been violated and for that Owen was sure he would never forgive himself for being the cause.

His flashlight caught a glint of something in the debris of his office and he reached down to pull out the lump of melted steel. He turned it over in his hand as he sank into his chair, his mind fractured between a time nearly 20 years ago and this moment. He had once walked out of hell alone; filled with the grief of losing his brothers and the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again. But he had moved on and he had built new families and he had vowed to look out for them so he would never have to feel that loss ever again. In the minutes between his frantic call to Judd and the call confirming they were all safe he had nearly been toppled by the fear of that thought. He had thought that he might lose a family again, and that this time it would be his fault.

But he hadn’t; his luck had held again. It had even carried on late into the night, saving him from losing the one thing that meant most to him in the entire world. The pure, unrestrained fear he had felt upon making the connection between Raymond’s threat and the fact that TK and Carlos - the two people both he and Gabriel Reyes cared for most - lived together, making them a perfect target, was unlike anything else he had ever felt in his life. The helplessness had almost overwhelmed him as he and Billy had raced to the scene, the guilt still did even now.

But his luck had held once more and while he was beyond grateful - the thought of losing either of the boys was too awful for him to even comprehend - he was left now to once again wonder why. What had he ever done to make him deserve a happy outcome when Tommy didn’t get one. What made him better, more worthy of a long life, than Charles Vega? He may not have known the man for long, but he had come to know him well and he knew without a doubt that Charles had been a better man than him. Not just a better man: a better person, a better friend, a better husband, a better father. Charles Vega was better than Owen in every single aspect of life that mattered.

Yet for some reason fate had decided that Charles’s time in this life was over; that Tommy needed to face life without her partner, their girls without their father.

And Owen was still here, left standing once again in the ruins; wondering how to move on.

He turned the lump of steel - a reminder and a relic - over again in his hand. There were so many skeletons in his past and sometimes he was afraid that his present was trying to match that. It was a fear that he lived with day in and day out, it was one of the things that kept him up at night and kept him turning to the tequila. He didn’t know how to shake this feeling of dread that had become his constant companion and sometimes he was afraid it would drown him.

Sometimes he wished it would.

There was a list of people in his head; people he couldn’t save, people who should have lived instead. He was running through the list of names (Pullman, Rollins, Rosewater, Santiago…) when the sound of loud music erupted through the silent shell of a firehouse. He frowned, glancing around as if the source would reveal itself before standing and heading down to the first floor.

The sound of voices soon mingled with the sound of the music as he followed it to its source. He turned the corner from what had formerly been the kitchen into the skeletal remains of the lounge to see a small crowd. It was his team, and Carlos. He watched in awe as they took it in stride, as they made the most of it. He lingered off the side, beer in hand and more than content to watch and observe as they bantered and argued about foosball teams. They had all been deeply affected by everything that had happened; he had seen it in them in the immediate aftermath. He knew it had affected them each deeply in their own personal way.

But somehow, they keep moving forwards.

He wonders vaguely when he lost that ability as he stands off to the side, watching them jostle and tease each other by the foosball table as Carlos and TK watch fondly from the sidelines, quietly seeking comfort in each other. He is amazed at their fortitude, at their propensity for healing. They have all faced so much and yet they keep coming out on the other side just as good, just as strong. Just as whole.

He felt a smile find its way to his face as he saw TK gently rub at Carlos’s back; an almost unconscious act of comfort and support. They were fine because they had each other and as long as that was true he knew they’d be okay.

His new team had become a family somewhere along the way and he knew that together, they could make it through anything. It’s in that moment that he decides two things: first, that the news of Charles Vega’s death could wait. These people deserved one night unmarred by tragedy and he had the power to give it to them so he would.

The second, he decided as he watched them laughing with abandon and leaning into each others’ space - finding happiness in the literal midst of destruction - was that the best thing he could do for them is to make sure that they always had each other. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do anything and everything in his power to make sure that stayed true, for as long as he possibly could.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #userbones #tuserjamie #tuserpaige #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #jazzyjess #hierophvnts #buckybarnesalways #laelipoo #maizsnex

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 3 years

Text

there for you

summary: your best friend Bowen can’t help but draw some connections between you and your favorite show.

word count: 2k

warnings: heavy spoilers for New Girl. like, its basically the premise of the fic

note from the writer: here’s a link to a tweet with the scene im talking about in this fic, its from the episode “Oregon” (season 4 ep 16). shoutout to @bqstqnbruin for finding it for me

Bowen had long since stopped asking to come over before showing up on your doorstep. Usually, he’d send a ‘are you home?’ text to make sure you were around, before heading to your apartment for whatever reason he had in mind.

The latest text had come in twenty minutes ago, so you knew he was going to show up soon.

Like clockwork, you heard a knock on your front door and Bowen greeting your roommates before your bedroom door opened. He was grinning, wide as ever, and you opened your arms for a hug from your position laying in bed, under the covers and in the middle of a New Girl marathon.

“Scoot over.” Bowen grins, barely giving you enough time to react before dropping on top of you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You paused the show, not wanting to miss anything despite being on your third rewatch.

You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was beating. If he knew just how much his touch affected you, how many feelings you were harboring from him.

“What’s up?” You asked, pushing away any thoughts about your massive crush on your best friend as you tried to get to the bottom of why he showed up out of the blue. It wasn’t the first time he had done so, but he always had a reason.

“I wanted to see you. Practice was rough.” He mumbled in the crook of your neck. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, how they fell past his lips so easily. Those words made you think that maybe your feelings weren’t so one sided, that there was a chance for you to be even happier than you already were with your best friend.

“You’re going to make me blush.” You teased, downplaying the fact that he really did manage to fluster you. Bowen snorted, squeezing you tightly once more instead of responding to your comment. An easy moment of silence passed, one that wasn’t stifling or awkward and it reminded you once more just how much you enjoyed being around Bowen. Subconsciously, one of your hands threaded through his hair. “I like it when your hair is longer like this.”

Your words were punctuated by a tug on his roots and though he didn’t say anything, he hummed contentedly. You worried that maybe he’d be able to hear the hammering of your heart or he’d know that the smile on your face wasn’t because of your platonic love for him. You feared that he would know—know how much you loved him and know that you had been hiding your feelings for so long. But you couldn’t let yourself think too much about that, you couldn’t let yourself overthink and ruin one of your closest friendships, so you tactfully changed the subject.

“Are we napping or watching my show?” You asked, though you had a pretty good idea what his answer would be.

“Nap, please.” He mumbled, and you could never deny him, especially when he was acting so sleepy and adorable, so you agreed easily. You both shifted your positions slightly, you trying to find the comfiest spot and him climbing under the covers with you, but eventually you both melted into your mattress, Bowen’s head still buried in the crook of your neck.

Bowen tried to stay awake a little longer; to tell you about his morning and the practice he had just come from that had drained his energy completely. But before long, his words were slurring together and when he stopped mid sentence, you knew he had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your fingers carding through his hair.

You tried to stay up too, to relish in the feeling of being in his arms. But you knew that pretending like it meant something more than it did was only going to break your heart more, so soon after he dozed off you closed your eyes and followed suit.

You were the first one to wake up, a combinatin of Bowen’s weight on you becoming slightly uncomfortable and the need to use the bathroom, so you did your best to climb out from underneath him without waking him. You thought you had made it out clear, but the moment your feet hit the floor Bowen was stirring from behind you.

“Where are you going?” He mumbled, causing you to halt your movements. It was far from the first time you had heard his gravelly voice just after he woke up, but it never failed to make your heart race. You swore you could listen to him talk forever, which was a good thing, since he never seemed to be able to stop talking.

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You told him, finally standing to your feet. When you turned back around, Bowen was already watching you with tired eyes that made your heart clench. God, you were so gone for him.

You slipped out of the room without saying anything more, not trusting yourself to not blurt out just exactly how his smile made you feel. When you returned, he was sitting up against your headboard, your laptop open on his lap as he queued up the episode you had been watching before he arrived.

“New Girl again?” Bowen teased when he spotted you enter the room. You playfully rolled your eyes at him, climbing back into your spot beside him on the bed. You mirrored his position, though you dropped your head against his shoulder.

“It’s a good show. Plus, Jess and Nick’s relationship is my favorite.” You told him decidedly, like you had a dozen times before. The relationship between Jess and Nick truly was somehting you strived for—friends that were always in love with each other, no matter the problems that arised and even when they were broken up they did their best to keep the other happy.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, shifting slightly so that his arm was around you and he could hold you closer to his side. “What episode are we on?”

“Oregon.” You started, knowing you’d have to catch him up on more than just the episode name. “Jess, Cece, and the guys go to Portland because Jess’ dad is getting married. Jess’ boyfriend, Ryan, was supposed to show up but since he lives in England he said it wouldn’t make sense for him to be there. So, Nick’s trying to make Jess feel better because he secretly loves her and I just need them to get back together.”

“Don’t they end up together though?” Bowen asks, trying to recall as much about the show as he could. It might not have been one of his personal favorites, but he knew you loved it, so that was enough for him to try and follow along.

“Yeah, but they aren’t right now.” You confirm. Before Bowen could ask anymore questions, you pressed play on your laptop and continued where you left off. Jess and the group had just arrived at her childhood home, only to find her mom ready to greet Ryan, who wasn’t there. The scene played on, with Nick telling Jess the hard truth that Ryan bailing wasn’t okay.

You could feel Bowen’s eyes on you as the scene changed to Nick comforting Jess in her room. Giggling at the Jordan Catalano joke, you tried your best to focus on the screen and not the piercing blue eyed gaze that seemed to be studying your face. And, like you always did when you got to this scene, you bit your lip to supress a grin as Nick delivered his next line.

“The only thing that matters is that the guy is there for you when you need him. Otherwise, you’re dating a wall.”

“Are you even paying attention, Bow? That’s like, my favorite line. What I wouldn’t give to have someone love me the way Nick loves Jess.” You sighed, settling further against Bowen as the episode continued on. He didn’t say anything in response, other than a quiet hum, but for the rest of the episode you could practically hear the gears turning inside his head as he turned his attention to the screen.

Netflix automatically continued on to the next episode, but as soon as the intro started Bowen’s hand shot out and paused the show. You looked at him curiously; the two of you usually got through at least a couple of episodes whenever you hung out like you were then.

“You know…” Bowen started, trailing off before he finished his thought. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, and it was clear that what he wanted to say was on the tip of his tongue so you stayed silent while he found his words. “I’m always there for you.”

You felt your heart stop beating and skip three beats all at once. You weren’t sure where he was going with his train of thought, but if you had to guess you would be getting your hopes up. Because there was absolutely no way that he felt the same for you that Nick does for Jess.

“Yeah, you are…” You breathed, trying to get him to meet your gaze but instead he stayed focused on your comforter pulled over both of your laps. The hand that wasn’t around your shoulders was toying with the fabric, and in a bid to calm him down enough to get him to say what he needed you slipped your hand into his. Bowen drew in a steadying breath and finally met your gaze, a dozen and one emotions swirling behind his eyes.

“I love you, you know.” He said firmly, like there was no question about it in the slightest and not the very words you had been dying to hear from him for years. You nodded, unable to form words but not wanting to leave him hanging.

You supposed you did know that he loved you. He showed it in his blatant affection and the frequent texts about how his life was going. He cared for you, there was no doubt about it, but you had never let yourself believe that he meant anything more than friendship. And now he was offereing everything you’d ever wanted on a silver platter.

“Bowen,” You started, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him just how much you loved him back. Instead, you moved the hand that wasn’t wrapped up in his to rest on Bowen’s jaw, turning his head just slightly so that you could press your lips to yours in a long awaited kiss that stole your breath.

Kissing Bowen felt so much better than what you imagined. The angle was a little odd and your neck was craned to face him, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You’d share a thousand more awkwardly positioned kisses if it meant you got to be with Bowen.

You were the first to pull away, but you didn’t move far, wide grins on both of your faces as you took in the events of the past few moments. Your friendship was definitely changed, and in place was a relationship that you had been hoping for.

“I love you, too.” You finally mumbled. You wanted to tell him how you had loved him from the moment you met, how he made you fall in love with him with each and every day, but for the moment all that mattered was he knew you loved him just the same as he loved you.

“I hope, or else this is going to be awkward.” He mumbled playfully, leaning in again to close the distance between the two of you. You couldn’t help but chuckle against him, your hand slipping from his jaw to curve around the back of his neck in order to deepen the kiss.

Bowen was the Nick to your Jess, and not a day went by that you weren’t greatful for him.

#bowen byram #bowen byram fic #bowen byram imagine #bowen byram x reader #Colorado Avalanche #colorado avalanche fic #Colorado Avalanche x reader #Colorado Avalanche imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey x reader

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chroniclerdl · 3 years

Text

Seven Fundamentals to Writing Better Yu-Gi-Oh Duelfics

Ever wanted to write a duelfic just as good or better than canon?

Done right, duels are memorable action scenes.

Done wrong, duels shatter the suspension of disbelief. It’s already a big ask to imagine the world revolving around a card game.

You don’t want the tragedy where your readers yank the scrollbar past your duel, or worse, close your tab. Even the small pool of duelfic readers/writers like me will skip huge chunks of your chapters when the duels sag.

By implementing basic storytelling techniques tailored to dueling, you can hook your readers into following the play-by-play.

High Stakes

Consistent Rules

Sneaks Checked

“Balanced” Gameplay

Foreshadowing Victory

Engaging Description

Dramatic Tension

1. High Stakes

When you advertise your story as a duelfic, your first duel tells readers whether or not what you wrote is worth their time.

If your characters duel without a concrete reason to rip the opponent’s throat, readers already know the outcome:

You lose.

Why? The game is pointless. Who’s dropping whatever they’re doing just to read the equivalent of your characters sipping afternoon tea? If you’re introducing the setting and characters, why can’t you introduce exciting threats?

No reader expects your first duel to decide the fate of the world, but your characters still need to bet.

Characters wager life chips.

If your character loses, they suffer death or suicide-inducing despair.

Is it too much to start with life-and-death? No. Think of the life chip as the culmination of hopes and dreams.

As the story progresses, the stakes will rise, must rise. How? Others will entrust the main characters with their own life chips, and/or the life chips acquire additional meaning. Consider this loose analogy: at the end of a poker tournament, gamblers sit at the final table with stacks built from the chips of others.

Life chips mean different things to different characters. Let’s take the Duelist Kingdom arc.

Yugi’s life chip is the hope to save his grandfather (and later, his own soul)

Joey’s life chip is the hope to win the prize money to fund his sister’s medical operation

Kaiba’s life chip is the hope to save his little brother (and later, his own soul)

You don’t even need your final showdown to revolve around the fate of world; it just has to be one or more things that matter to your characters.

Also, make sure to communicate the stakes, or why the characters accept uneven bets.

If you have the chops, you can also play around with disguising the stakes. As in, your character thinks they’re wagering something small, but it’s actually their life chip. However, your readers still need a vague reason to believe that a defeat will devour the character.

Always make sure the characters stake one or more life chips!

2. Consistent Rules

If you watched the Duelist Kingdom arc and tried to understand the moves everyone made, your head exploded.

Ask yourself: will the clever scheme that your hero invented drive readers crazy?

If I write a magic system that requires a wand, this applies to all. I cannot become a genius and suddenly wave my hands to cast magic.

Demonstrate the rules early, preferably in the first duel, and keep them sacred.

If you must make an exception, establish it early. In that case, the exception becomes a well-defined branch of the rules that the readers can anticipate.

Can the players magically draw the card they need, whenever they want?

If you can establish the when and why, by all means. The readers proceed with the understanding that the players can reach into their deck like a glorified toolbox.

For example, Duel Links has a concept called “skills” that function like a player’s special ability. At the time I wrote this, Yami Yugi’s “Destiny Draw” skill lets the player take any card from their deck once per duel after losing 2000LP (and even if they stacked the top of the deck earlier!).

Card should also have the same, predictable effect. If the card prevents attacks, I doubt the text discusses physical properties or mentions holding things in the air. But you knew that, right?

The rules are the laws of the universe.

3. Sneaks Checked

I love duels. I also love getting what I want.

Why does getting what I want have to be through a duel?

If we talk, maybe we can come to an agreement. If I blackmail you, maybe you’ll give in to my demands. If I shoot you, I can loot your corpse. Give the readers a good reason as to why your characters would bother with the hassle of honest dueling and can’t wiggle from the consequences of losing.

Often, the duel takes place in the context of a tournament. Hopefully, the tournament officials are keeping a good eye on the players and cracking down on cheaters.

However, even that’s not a guarantee. What’s the key concept?

Power.

The competitors have equivalent capacity for coercion (usually violence) or have a neutral referee presiding over the match with the most capacity for coercion (shoutout to gambling manga Usogui).

Anyone who enters a game otherwise has lost before the first move.

In Yu-Gi-Oh, magical and sci-fi enforcement are common. The Shadow Realm can trap the loser in a desolate hell. In a digital world, the loser suffers deletion. Or just have good tournament officials.

Be vigilant when your duel doesn’t call upon these tropes.

Your amoral characters won’t mind blindsiding your other characters, and they won’t mind blindsiding you with a plot hole.

If you’re not careful, the readers will ask you why they played uncharacteristically fair.

4. “Balanced” Gameplay

Duels should be fair and fun…for the villain.

Ostensibly, everyone plays a balanced game, designed to give both sides a sporting chance. In reality, the villain tilts the field to their favor with one or more tricks up their sleeves. Why would your villain ever fight fair?

But that’s fine. We love rooting for the underdog and watching the villain get their comeuppance.

Overpowered ability to let the villain read minds? Deck full of unbalanced cards that makes the villain’s monsters invincible with no drawback? Creator who knows every strategy in the game? Readers will turn the page as they wonder how the hero will prevail.

The more obstacles you can throw in the hero’s way, the better.

Got custom cards? No problem, just follow a couple guidelines. After all, some duelists are more equal than others.

The hero’s deck is full of regular cards that have a cost to use. For every play they want to make, their cards insist that they give up their attack, discard to play, etc.

The villain’s deck is full of rare cards that power up their game for free. So long as you can justify why the card made it to print, the villain can play whatever they want.

For every step your hero takes, the villain gets two.

5. Foreshadowing Victory

How many times have you watched a duel where the protagonist comes up with this never-before-seen card that does exactly what the protagonist needs to clinch the win? In the final showdown, no less? It’s like the writers begged to be called amateurs and idiots.

No other genre tolerates such laziness.

However, readers don’t want an infodump of the characters’ decks. Show the cards in action. To cover the deck, you'll probably need multiple duels.

This also implies you have more freedom in how your character defeats their early opponents in the duelfic.

Does that previous statement contradict what I said about never-before-seen cards clinching the win as the mark of laziness? No, because here’s the rule:

Tolerance for the hero’s new cards decreases as the story progresses.

(Notice that I specify the hero’s new cards; your villains exist to make life harder by inventing unfair tricks.)

When you must include new cards for the hero late in the duelfic, at least find a way to make them first backfire.

Now, some writers have lots of knowledge about the card pool and metagame. Can they assume the readers a priori know the hero has access to any of the available cards in a given archetype?

I’d err on the side of caution and properly foreshadow the cards before they appear late in the duelfic. Not every reader is a walking card database. They have no reason to assume something exists unless you show the card.

Take the tolerance rule into consideration when planning your duels. If you know the awesome combo you want to use for the final turn in the duelfic climax, that’s your cue to scatter the cards into the earlier duels.

Plan the last duel first and your early duels last.

6. Description

Every reader wants a front-row seat to the action.

They’re paying you their time, so make it worth the admission: sleek combatants & budget-busting fights. Kaiba invented Solid Vision technology for a reason, so help readers envision your duels.

Who’s fighting? Describe the point-of-view’s impression of the monsters’ appearances. Red-Eyes Black Dragon should be self-explanatory.

What about a decorated monster like Time Wizard?

You could go into detail about how the red clock humanoid has yellow gears that form epaulets and purple, pointy boots and a green mustache made from clock hands and so on, but such a level of minutiae bogs pacing and invites skimming.

Readers just need to hear about a purple-caped, red clock humanoid with a wand to form an image. Their imaginations can handle the little details.

Paint appearances in broad strokes and one or two brief sentences.

How are the monsters fighting? Duel Monsters is a game where the target takes the aggressor’s attack like a champ. That doesn’t mean you can’t spice it up.

For example, my opponent’s dragon attacks my weaker knight with a fireball. My knight, interested in not dying, raises his shield. Unfortunately, he screams as the flames engulf him.

You wouldn’t just stand still with a straight face if someone armed with a knife lunged for your gut.

A fight scene is a string of action and reaction.

Most people also experience life in more senses than just sight.

A dragon’s fireball is a bright reddish-orange, hot, dries the air, smoky, and explodes with a boom on impact. I never tasted a fireball, and I hope I never do, but that’s still four senses: sight, touch, smell, and sound.

Include multiple sensory details.

Let’s spare a moment to talk about the heads-up display (HUD).

In Yu-Gi-Oh, cards have multiple stats and abilities. You’re free to mention whatever you deem necessary. No set formula exists. On one extreme, you can mention nothing to keep the narrative clean at the risk of confusing the readers. At the other extreme, infodumps about the monster’s abilities provide great detail but wreck the pacing. But there’s a cozy middle.

State only what you need from the card.

If your duels occurred before the era of Synchro, you don’t need details about levels. You can just display the basic stats to determine the stronger monster. If a deck has Pendulum monsters, just mention the scale numbers when they're played as scales. And so on.

You can also make an index of new cards at the end of a chapter.

BONUS TIP! Understanding show, don’t tell.

What is show, don’t tell? At its core, this concept refers to immersing your readers in the senses and feelings instead of exposition. Unfortunately, that definition is a bit vague to execute. After writing for a while, I had my lightbulb moment.

Don’t TELL the readers how to think or force-feed them a conclusion.

SHOW your readers the evidence.

Here’s a written example from Joey vs. Rex in Duelist Kingdom. See if you can spot what makes this prose telling instead of showing.

“Joey watched nervously as Two-Headed King Rex stomped Baby Dragon. He messed up his Baby Dragon-Time Wizard combo!”

You can see two failures: “nervously” and the second sentence.

Adverbs like “nervously” and other “-ly” friends get a bad rep because rookies tend to use them as telling crutches (especially beware adverbs after dialogue tags!). “Nervously” tells me how Joey reacts. But what does “nervously” look like? One character might bite their thumb. Another might fidget in their seat. The adverb in this context lacks nuance.

We also have the second sentence: “He messed up his Baby Dragon-Time Wizard combo!” When you’re explaining the “why” to something, you’re telling. It’s like talking down to your readers.

Contrast with the next example.

“A bead of sweat rolled off Joey’s face as Two-Headed King Rex stomped Baby Dragon. He stared at the Time Wizard in his hand.”

The first sentence shows me Joey’s physical reaction. I see him sweating, so I think he’s nervous.

We also see a second physical reaction: “He stared at the Time Wizard in his hand.” This comes on the heels of the first sentence, and I also have knowledge of when Joey used the Baby Dragon-Time Wizard combo in a prior duel. Combined, I think Joey is ruminating about a missed chance.

Readers are smart; they’ll catch your intention if you show the proof.

7. Dramatic Tension

I bet you know what it's like to draw a bad hand.

Imagine: The hero staggers into the arena, and the villain just needs to win one duel to take over the world. The villain draws a bunch of powerups with no monster, but the hero draws a one-turn-kill combo.

Anticlimactic. The readers throw that duelfic straight into the trash.

Don’t just write real-life duels. “It really happened” doesn’t mean it’s emotionally satisfying.

That’s why we have literary structure.

Success and setback pace together with progressive intensity to maximize dramatic tension and emotional payoff.

I’ll spare the nitty-gritty theory detail, but your duels should look like this on a basic level:

Part 1: Villain’s basic threats. Introduces the villain’s deck and style.

Part 2: Villain’s minor strategy. The villain’s first serious attempt to defeat the hero.

Part 3: Villain’s major strategy. The hero’s reversal! But the villain has worse in store.

Part 4: Hero’s imminent defeat. The hero must break through, or else will instantly lose!

Ideally, you’re also integrating the story itself into the duel; themes and duels synergize to create a stronger effect.

You may notice how the format resembles the three-act structure.

Act I is Part 1

Act II until the Act II midpoint is Part 2

Act II midpoint until Act III is Part 3

Act III is part 4.

I’ll use Yugi/Pharaoh vs. Pegasus in Duelist Kingdom as an example.

Part 1: Mind scan. Pegasus can read minds to counter combos.

Part 2: Toon World. Indestructible, cartoonified monsters attack.

Part 3: Shadow game. Toons destroyed! But playing a shadow game weakens Yugi.

Part 4: Yugi passes out. The Pharaoh must find a new way to stop Pegasus’s mind scan!

Figure out each part of the structure for your duels before writing the turn-by-turn plays.

By the way, modern real-life Yu-Gi-Oh duels don’t suit drama because the rules provide weak constraints to creating strong boards. A good modern deck usually establishes a scary turn one board and jumps straight into Part 4, whereas other card games like Magic: The Gathering and Hearthstone force the powerhouse cards to wait several turns until the player builds the mana to pay costs.

You can still write a good modern duel. Here’s a basic outline of Arc-V’s duel between Sora and Shay. Technically, “tragedy” is the structure of this duel, so I’ll make Shay the “hero” to flip it and keep matters simplified.

Part 1: Basic monsters. These clash before a monster appears from the Extra Deck.

Part 2: Frightfurs. They come one after another to crush Shay’s Raidraptors.

Part 3: Sora’s wrath. Rise Falcon survives! But Sora’s malevolent nature comes to light.

Part 4: Frightfur Chimera. Sora chomps candy and summons his biggest fusion horror!

If following the four parts is too difficult for you, that’s okay. They're just logical extensions of one basic concept. Keep the following in mind, and you’ll never go wrong:

The villain’s subsequent threats become increasingly overwhelming.

Conclusion

Much of writing a duel boils down to storytelling technique.

Let’s tl;dr the main takeaways.

High Stakes: Minimum ante is the life chip, worth a character’s hopes and dreams.

Consistent Rules: Everyone plays by the same logic.

Sneaks Checked: Characters can’t skip the duels with violence and coercion.

“Balanced” Gameplay: Villains enjoy advantages.

Foreshadowing Victory: Readers have a chance to predict the winning combo.

Engaging Description: Immerse senses and invite reactions.

Dramatic Tension: The villain makes progressively stronger threats.

As a duelfic reader/writer, I can gauge a writer's ability by measuring their duels with the fundamentals. Many fan writers struggle; even the canon writers struggle.

But writing a duelfic isn’t rocket science. With practice, minding the fundamentals will become second nature.

And don't forget to tag your story as a duelfic. It's a whole genre in fanfic, so sort it properly and help readers from the future find you.

May the heart of the cards be with you.

…

Want to see in-depth examples of my advice? I rewrote the Orichalcos arc to reimagine its untapped potential without the failures of the canon presentation. You can find it on FFnet and AO3.

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh fanfiction #yugioh fandom #fanfic writing #duelfic #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #how to write #listicles

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hurricanerin · 4 years

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Poise & Rationality Ch. 1: Chime

A profuse thank you to @hysteria87 for being a solid pal and beta and making me a bomb graphic. And shoutout to @liquor-belle for unintentionally signing on as my crisis management team and beta as well. Annnnd to both of them for handling my 7 week long neurosis featuring this story. Both of them are hardcore talented, please check them out.

Hi Dark!Steve Fandom! Thanks for your patience!

Pairing: HYDRA!Steve x OFC

Rating: Explicit. Always, always explicit.

Warnings: Rape/noncon/dubcon, smut, forced pregnancy, emotional manipulation, power imbalance.

Length: 5.5k.

Summary: Shield has fallen, leaving Eden at the feet of the villainous Steve Rogers, Hydra's newest recruit. She walks on eggshells, trying to survive in a new reality where she’s at the mercy of her closest friend, one where she can keep her heart locked away from this mess. The problem is that the ex-Captain’s flirting and gentle teasing has turned carnal and new intentions clear: she is his and he’s going to have her.

P&R Masterlist

Add yourself to my taglist.

It felt like a bad dream, really; the defunct Avengers held captive at the overtaken compound while the newly triumphant Hydra made themselves comfortable. Shock collars, laced with gamma radiation and programmed to trigger in the event of excessive exertion, kept the fallen heroes docile as their minds rotted with hate and failure. It would have been a kindness to use Loki’s scepter to cheat them into blissful unawareness as they knelt to their enemies.

The newest of whom was Steve Rogers.

Captain America was dead. The infamous shield rested amongst Hydra’s other freshly acquired treasures, his star spangled suit torn to shreds, and the righteous hero’s wholesome affect demolished beyond recognition. In his place stood a hardened, jaded man, lied to and taken advantage of ten times too many by the entity he had believed in with every ounce of his being. But, when government property and intelligence were held at a higher value than humanity again and again, when Shield repeatedly chose to prioritize the safety and preservation of weapons over the lives of civilians, Steve had finally walked away from everything: the scene, the victims’ bodies, Shield itself. Three days later, Hydra attacked the compound in upstate New York, led by the rogue First Avenger. All Avengers were taken alive and divided amongst the Hydra elite.

Some higher ups chose more practical uses for their new playthings. Hydra monitored Tony, even more volatile due to Pepper’s disappearance, with a team of twenty while they forced him to improve Hydra weapons tech. Bruce, clad in a collar unique to his makeup and under the watchful eye of fifty of Hydra’s finest, was stuck in the lab conducting heinous experiments on future super soldiers. Natasha, Clint and Thor also served in sectors reflective of their own talents. Steve stuffed down the guilt twisting in his stomach and instead focused on the satisfaction of knowing that Shield’s puppets were neutralized.

The Captain’s personal vendettas didn’t end with the five originals; he spread his bitter anger throughout the extended squad of heroes. Save for a smattering of team members he recruited, the Avengers as a whole suffered. He made certain that Eden, a recruit with only two years on the Avengers crew, endured a fate just as miserable as the rest. She was his protegee and had been attached to his side since her first day on the team. She deserved to be punished like the others, forced to watch the world they had worked so hard to protect fall to shambles.

Eden had had Steve wrapped so tightly around her little finger by the time he left for Hydra that when she refused to change sides, she had …wounded him. Badly. She deserved retribution, but Steve didn’t have time for petty discipline and the thought of anyone but himself marking or marring her skin made him see red. If someone were to physically punish Eden, it would be his fingers pressing bruises into her arms, his teeth leaving angry red imprints on her neck, his lips pulling purple marks to the surface of her chest.

No. The situation didn’t call for that. Not yet. For now, he was content humiliating her; keeping her close to his side, as she had been since her first day at the compound. Eden now served as his imprisoned assistant and glorified scullery maid. A combat-trained scullery maid capable of absorbing and neutralizing the energy of a nuclear bomb, but a maid nonetheless. Most importantly, she was his.

Of all the people in the world to be assigned, Steve Rogers was the last who required cleaning up after. Even as Hydra’s Captain, he kept his rooms immaculate. In doing so, he unintentionally maintained that air of humility that had made him Captain America, which infuriated Eden. He would be so much easier to hate if he weren’t still Steve.

Smoothing the surface of the flat sheet over his mattress, she exhaled softly. Like the disciplined soldier he was, Steve made his bed every morning, but he liked new sheets every other day. Changing his linens provided a brief reprieve from the boredom of being confined to his apartment all day, for which she was grateful. Humming absently to herself, she spread the slate-colored comforter over his bed. She honestly wasn’t sure which she preferred: solitude; time wasted alone in his giant space where she was plagued by listlessness, or suffering his company, in which she was tortured by watching the man she revered so ardently betray his own credo.

When a series of beeps and chirps sounded from the other room, followed by the thunk of reversing deadbolts, Eden’s heart pounded and she haphazardly dragged the bedspread over the mattress and tossed the remaining pillows onto the bed. Rushing from his bedroom, she didn’t bother with the lights as she hustled into the living room. Steve discovering her in his room rarely ended well. He would stare at her, pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates as he made no effort to conceal the erection growing in his trousers. He’d toy with her until the tension in the room grew unbearable, and then she’d break and find an excuse to flee. Though they hadn’t acted on their mutual attraction prior to his betrayal, the power dynamic between them was vastly different now. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to refuse his advances anymore, and she didn’t care to put herself in a position to find out. So far, he had been lenient.

Trotting straight to a cart filled with decanters of alcohol and snatching the scotch, she paid little mind as she nearly missed the tumbler, hastily pouring as the front door released and Steve strode into the room. Wiping her wet hand on the skirt of her dress, Eden silently approached him and held out the crystal glass, neglecting to make eye contact. Once in his grasp, she fled with as much subtlety as possible, taking refuge beside the antique cart.

A stack of papers muffled the clatter of his heavy P220 as he dropped them to the kitchen table. Gaze flicking over her, Steve took a long draw, disappointed, as always, at the alcohol’s lack of effect. Though Eden’s eyes refused to meet his, she did pay attention to the way his scruffy throat bobbed as he swallowed, which earned her a grin. Her attempts at feigned disinterest were endearing. Actually, at the present moment everything about her was endearing. Appealing. Fresh from a testosterone-filled debriefing meeting, an aching tension filled him from chest to groin, begging to be released. However, their tango wasn’t simple.

Licking a drop of liquor from his lip, he nodded in her direction. “How was your day, Eden?”

Her lip curled before she dropped her gaze to the ground, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. The simple act caused a pleasant throb in his lower abdomen. The more she hated him, the more he wanted her. There had been a magnetism between them before the takeover, before his ultimate betrayal. Back when he was good. As his altruism had faded while hers remained, as his world had darkened and decayed, Eden had stayed a small beacon of… not light, but comfort. Someone he returned to at the compound and used to soothe the festering rage and simmering disappointment Shield fostered.

It was Eden who had coaxed him into sharing his doubts regarding Shield’s intentions and she had never judged him for it. She had listened, challenging him with the occasional question or opinion. He had never doubted her fidelity, but everything changed during the takeover. The expression on her face when she saw him flanked with Hydra soldiers that day of the attack made his stomach sink. Steve had trained her, made her what she was. She was his confidante. He thought Eden’s loyalty would survive something like his transition to Hydra, but he was sorely mistaken. She had turned on him, just like almost everyone else.

Eyes flicking over her body, clad in his designated 1940’s tea dress, Steve rested his hip against the leather sectional. His face hardened as he drained the tumbler and tried again.

“How was your day, Eden?”

Once more, ignored him.

“Respond, Eden.”

Focused on her hands, she picked at the cuticle of her thumb.

Pursing his lips, Steve sighed and reached into his pocket to retrieve a slim remote. He saw Eden freeze in his peripheral, but she still refused to look up. With an exasperated exhale, he pressed one of the buttons, frowning as the woman cried out and crumpled to her knees, tugging at the collar around her neck and leaning into the wall for support.

“Damnit,” she panted.

“I don’t like it when you ignore me, Eden.”

“I don’t like it when you betray your family, humiliate and hold us prisoner, but here we are,” she grit.

Steve’s face softened as his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see.

Family.

The Avengers were his family. Had been his family. Hydra would never fill that void. He knew that going in. For as much as Steve Rogers had changed, that basal, primal need to create a family he could protect and provide for still ate at him. It was the one thing in the world he wanted. He had given everything to defend the earth and its inhabitants. Was he not due what he desired most?

Eyes focusing, they honed in on the seething woman bracing the wall. Even incensed and in pain, Eden made his thick cock swell. Family. He had entertained the idea featuring her, of course. It was impossible not to when they spent so much time together. He had briefly substituted several of the women he worked with, but he always came back to Eden. She fit all his requirements; wide hips, a hearty body, strong maternal instincts, and more than capable of defending herself. How her superhuman talents would factor into her offspring had yet to be determined, but he doubted the results would be adverse.

Natasha would kill anything he planted inside her just to spite him. She was self-destructive. But Eden… Eden was flawed in a completely different manner, in harmless ways, such as stubbornly insisting she was always right or that her way was best, but he had sway over her. She was headstrong with a temper, but both were easily tamed. In training, she yielded beautifully to him. Sometimes it took him physically besting her to get a point across. If that carried over to their relationship, then so be it.

He knew Eden may try to escape with his baby because she feared for his or her safety, but that did not concern him. He would prove to her eventually that once she submitted to him, there was nothing to fear.

With a tired, distracted sigh, Steve collapsed onto the sofa, discarded his glass on the cocktail table and absently rubbed his chin with a thumb. Frowning, he tugged at the hair on his jaw, feeling the length. He turned and examined himself critically in the mirror mounted on the wall behind him, running his fingers through the heft of his beard. He could feel the odd stray hair and the undefined neckline bordered on untidy.

“I want this trimmed,” he said without facing Eden.

Biting her cheek to keep from scoffing, she crossed her arms and raised a brow, only to be met with an austere glance in the mirror’s reflection. Steve nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

“My shaving kit is in the bathroom, bottom left cabinet. Go get it.”

Releasing an irritated sigh, Eden dropped her arms to her sides.

“Yes, sir.”

Her voice was demure but the ire in her eyes gleamed with disdain. Pushing off the wall, she slipped into his bedroom and to the ensuite. She knelt and rummaged through the cabinet, retrieving the worn bag. Steve watched impatiently from a kitchen chair as she dropped her prize unceremoniously on his kitchen counter.

“What are you waiting for?”

Gritting her teeth, she unzipped the leather pouch, fishing out its contents and laying them on the table: a plastic comb, a few guards, clippers, beat up disposable razor, and a tube of shaving butter.

Eying the pile, the corner of her mouth pulled upwards. Forgetting herself, she couldn’t stop the jibe from tumbling out from between her lips, “The traditional Captain America doesn’t have a straight edge?”

Steve’s body stiffened. He inhaled sharply, releasing his breath through his nose. Forcing his corded muscles to relax, he shucked off his long sleeved tactical shirt and held it out for her to take. “I don’t have time for nostalgia.”

“Seriously?” Eden muttered to herself.

His movements froze and his gaze met hers. Heat bloomed across her face and chest at the invitation in his eyes to provoke him further. She held his stare for a moment longer before he called her bluff, and Eden looked away. Suddenly very busy folding his uniform, she focused on her task until he stretched his arms behind his head. With a loud, satisfied groan, he extended his hands into the air, then rubbed a palm against the skintight material of the thin, white cotton t-shirt plastered against his chest.

Aware of the nearly irresistible temptation to stare at Steve’s body, Eden set her jaw as she delicately placed his still-warm shirt on the counter. Planting a hand on her hip, her eyes flicked back and forth between Steve, his beard, and his array of tools. She motioned at the table.

“This is going to make a mess. There will be trimmings everywhere. Let’s do it over the sink.”

“Here is fine. My maid will sweep everything up later.”

Gritting her teeth, she marched to the table, snatched the clippers and comb in one hand and wrenched his chin upwards with the other.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. It may not be good,” she warned.

“I didn’t expect you to have done this at all. Whose beard have you trimmed?”

She hesitated, running the comb down through the scruff on his cheeks to wrangle unkempt hairs, then turned on the clippers. If his arched eyebrow wasn’t enough indication, Steve clearing his throat made his desire for a prompt answer abundantly clear.

“An ex owned a barbershop,” she said over the noise. “I wanted to know what he did all day, so he taught me.”

At the mention of her being with another man, Steve visibly bristled.

“I see.”

Using her fingertips to angle Steve’s jaw as needed, Eden couldn’t fight the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes followed her everywhere as she guided the guarded clippers down in the direction of the hair growth on his cheeks. His pensive gaze was overwhelming, and given the amusement in his eyes, he knew very well the effect he had on her. She opted to ignore him.

Confident that she had trimmed enough without taking away too much bulk, she flipped the switch off to change the guard. She needed one that would leave more length for his neck and chin.

Steve cleared his throat, breaking her concentration.

“Do you want kids, Eden?”

She froze, almost dropping the plastic piece in her hand. A deeply personal question from Captain America wouldn’t have warranted a second thought. But, since the takeover and her accused betrayal, Steve had been cold, withdrawing from her completely. Her heart ached at the naïve hope bubbling up in her chest that the inquiry was meant as an opportunity to connect. That man didn’t exist anymore. Giving herself a mental shake, she cleared her throat and frowned in thought.

“Um, well—I guess—I—”

“It’s not a difficult question.”

Shooting him a nasty glare, she snapped the guard onto the clippers and flicked the power switch. With a huff, she positioned herself in front of him, yanking his chin upwards and running the clipper comb through his beard.

Eden pursed her lips. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom,” she admitted. “My career is so much more violent than I expected, I don’t think a child should grow u—”

“You’ll be a good mom,” Steve interrupted.

The conviction in his voice caused her to falter. With an uncomfortable laugh, she shook her head.

“I don’t know anything. While my friends had babies, I spent my early twenties learning how to control myself around sources of energy so I didn’t accidentally blow up a city. I learned to fight and devise exit strategies and collaborate with a team. If I have been around them, the children I’ve seen have been victims of awful circumstances. I wouldn’t know what to say to a kid I haven’t rescued.”

Steve was contemplative as she removed the plastic guard. Her thoughtful reflection only made him desire her more. The urge to claim her, before another Hydra member did, before an opposing force banded together and stole her away, clouded his vision. There was only one solution: He’d plant his baby in her belly now and tie her to him forever. Eden would never allow her child to be taken from her and if she ran from him with the baby, he would find her. No matter where she went, he would find her. She would be his by right. They would be his by right. Mother and child tethered to father forever. His indestructible family. Untouchable, with two gifted parents that would do anything to protect their children.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the chair, tugging at his tactical pants as his erection grew at the thought of her swollen with their baby. For their first child, her movement would be restricted to the compound. She couldn’t be trusted, not yet. But by their second, he’ll have trained her by holding their firstborn over her as leverage to obey him.

Oblivious, Eden used the bare clipper to clean up his untidy neckline, neaten his scruffy cheeks, and trim around his lips. When she brushed away clippings littering his mouth with her fingers, he fought the urge to take them between his lips.

Eden started to hum, and it was clear her mind was deviating from their future.

“I’ve seen you with them,” he noted. “If you can handle traumatized kids during missions, you can handle your own. Practiced or not, you have maternal instinct.”

Eden’s ears glowed as she finished his sideburns. Whether Steve allied himself with Hydra or Shield, she knew he wanted a family. His approval of her ability as a mother was significant, she just couldn’t figure out where he was going with it. Opting to ignore his comment, she gingerly placed the clippers on the kitchen counter, as if doing so with little noise would allow her to slip away unnoticed.

“All done,” she said softly, casually brushing beard hairs off her dress as she backed away.

Eden yelped when he snatched her wrist. It took everything in her not to react instinctually, the way Captain America had relentlessly trained her body to respond when attacked.

“You’re not finished,” he said tersely, lifting his chin and rubbing the pads of his fingers along the short, prickly hair at his Adam’s apple. “There is still stubble.”

“I’m not using that rusty razor, I’ll give you tetanus,” she nodded at the disposable in his bag. Though Steve was correct, using a straight edge or razor would give an even closer shave than the clippers, she was not going to be responsible for infecting Hydra’s newest member.

Steve noiselessly raised his pant leg and slipped a black combat blade from a hidden ankle sheath, then handed it to Eden handle-first. Not a straightedge, but just as sharp.

“I just cleaned it,” he nodded at the weapon. “Don’t get it dirty.”

Don’t make him bleed. It was the most impassive threat she’d ever heard, but as deadly as if he’d held the blade to her own throat.

Eden fingered the knife handle, watching Steve’s face uneasily. How could he careen from thoughtful parent to menacing so effortlessly? Was this a challenge? Did he want her to attack him? He had trained her; Eden’s uncanny talent for disarming enemies in place of killing them had always made Steve proud. He knew her every tell and every strategy in her repertoire. Besides, he’d never actually kill her; he found too much satisfaction in toying with her. He’d hurt her though. He had the self-control to dominate her physically without causing her bodily harm. The toll it would take on her heart was another story. Whatever he was planning, she wanted no part of it.

She held the knife back out to him, shaking her head. “It’s too hard to get the right angle. I’ll cut you. Do it yourself.”

Steve’s mouth twitched. He patted his thigh. “Sit. You can do it from here.” He leaned back, arms spread along the back of the chair, lap open. The epitome of inviting.

Eden’s face warmed as she set her jaw. Hesitating, her eyes flashed before she abandoned the knife on the counter and stalked further back into the kitchen. Immediately Steve reached for the remote, his thumb on the button to activate her collar. About to press down for blatantly disobeying him, he stopped when all she did was snatch a hanging towel and meander to the sink to fill a bowl with hot water.

When she turned to face him her eyes widened, brows furrowing into an expression of saddened anger as she saw the device in his hand.

“Can I keep going? Or should I put these down so you can zap me?”

Though he only felt a tinge of guilt, it was more emotion than he could afford. Hardening his expression, Steve dropped the remote on the table and raised his hands in the air.

“My mistake.”

Again, he had to display that wretched humility that had made him Captain America. Why hadn’t Hydra purged him of it? Why couldn’t he just be bad? Breath stuttering as she exhaled, Eden stowed her items on the counter next to Steve’s shoulder, swapping them for the weapon.

Flipping the knife in her hand, she squeezed her fingers around the handle, inhaled and gingerly padded forward. Her breath caught as Steve’s iron grip cupped her ribcage and hip, lifting her to perch sideways on his thighs. She caught herself, one hand grasping at the thin white t-shirt he wore, the other plastered flat against his pectoral, the knife sandwiched between her palm and the solid wall of muscle.

Her fingers tensed when his chest rumbled beneath them with a laugh, goosebumps rising on her arms as his nose found its way against the hypersensitive skin of her neck. Steve made no effort to mask his groan as he inhaled the familiar fragrance of her jasmine shampoo, mingled with the scent that was intrinsically Eden. When she stiffened in his arms, he guided a warm palm up the expanse of her back, pulling her even closer as he used a knuckle to brush her hair from her face.

“Things have always been easy between us,” he mused. “It feels good to be this close, doesn’t it?

Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes lowered, focused on his chest.

“Of course,” she shrugged. “This is normal. It’s no different than training,” she all but whispered.

Shit.

Between his voice in his ear and his hands on her body, her brain wasn’t functioning. Eden needed space. She hadn’t smelled his familiar Old Spice deodorant, that faint note of sweat, or the pure musk of Steve since before the takeover. Her sole mission had been to convince her brain that the man working for Hydra who looked like Steve wasn’t Steve, at least not her Steve, so she could make it through each day. If she did that, Eden could maintain emotional distance while interacting with his imposter. She doubted sleep would ever come easily again, not with him in the next room, but she could at least survive the daylight hours without a complete breakdown. But now he was touching her, talking to her like nothing had happened and she couldn’t ignore who he really was.

Steve’s thumb nudged her chin upwards to expose the underside of her jaw. Eden was caught so off-guard by act that the emotion bubbling in her throat froze and she sobered. She swallowed hard as she felt him lazily trace the tip of his nose along her jawline, before creeping lower and pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of her throat. She couldn’t breathe properly, but her head was painfully clear as his scruff burned her delicate flesh and his lips pulled gently against the tender skin of her neck, leaving a purple mark.

The sound of her breath hitching was deafening, and in case she weren’t positive that it was, feeling his lips morph into a triumphant smile against her throat confirmed it. Steve easily pried Eden’s clenched fist from his shirt and looped her arm around his shoulder. She was putty in his hands.

Neither of them missed how the position brought them closer yet, pressing her breast firmly against his sculpted chest. Aside from the minor shiver that racked through her, Eden ignored the sensation of her pebbled nipple rubbing against his solid mass. Steve, however, did not let it go unnoticed. He released a pleased grunt and nodded at the knife in her hand.

“You have a job to do, Eden.”

She hated when he said her name. All it took was hearing those two syllables and her lower belly tightened, flooding with heat. She clenched her teeth with enough pressure that something in her jaw popped. Taking a deep breath, she regrouped, then studied his face, analyzing the best way to proceed.

Truly, she did her best to maneuver herself with as little friction as possible. But in reaching to drag the shaving butter, steaming bowl and rag closer, she shifted and her bottom ground against the existing bulge beneath her, eliciting a hiss from Steve.

Eden froze in a mixture of terror, embarrassment, and arousal. When Steve repositioned himself beneath her, it was her turn to stifle a moan. She was fairly certain the way he ground his erection against her ass was payback. Unprepared for the retribution, the quiet gasp she uttered echoed in the silent kitchen. Eden swallowed back a whimper, closed her eyes as she collected herself. Straightening with mock confidence, she wrung out the steaming washcloth, smeared a dollop of shaving butter on the back of her hand and turned back to Steve with the utmost delicacy.

His harsh exhale puffed against her cheeks and she disregarded his smoldering gaze, stubbornly setting to work. It was impossible, however, to ignore the warmth radiating off his body. The contrast in their body temperature beneath her cool palms sent goosebumps rising up her arms as she twisted to face him. Keeping her face blank, she wet his cheeks, upper neck, and sideburns with the cloth, then worked the butter between her palms and applied it using as little bodily contact as possible. Unfortunately, she could only limit so much. Her task required her to run her fingers along his Adam’s apple, cheeks and the neckline of his beard to massage the product into his skin, ensuring there was a lubricating layer of cream between his flesh and the knife.

By all accounts, her hands should have trembled too badly to wield the weapon. She followed Steve’s gaze to the steady knife as she directed his chin once again with her hand. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smirk, but he couldn’t quell the regard in his eyes. She realized he was proud that she had stayed as composed as she had. Her lower half throbbed, trained like a dog to respond to pleasing him. At this point, it was a visceral reaction.

Cold blue irises tracked her every move as she lifted the blade, frowning at it before pausing to study his face. She had no more reason to dawdle. It was time to use the knife. Taking a sharp breath and holding it, she gently pulled the skin of his neck taut and dragged the edge of the knife through the layer of cream, only just scraping the surface of his flesh. It slid easily against his skin, slicing away the rough stubble until it met the edge of his carefully shaped beard.

Eden looked to him for permission to continue, but he only raised an expectant brow. Pursing her lips, she said a prayer to whoever was out there, thanking them for the fact that he was letting her work for the moment. She moved an inch to the left, and repeated the act. Mechanically she shaved Steve’s neck and jaw, moving towards his chin. As she reached the center of his neck, she scraped the knife across his skin, and he swallowed. The unexpected, fluid roll of his Adam’s apple beneath the weapon at an exaggerated degree hit the blade at just the right angle. The skin split, blood welling at the shallow broken seam. Steve didn’t so much as flinch, but Eden’s entire body froze, her breath leaving her lungs. Her brain felt like a fuzzy TV channel. She couldn’t think. Only her eyes moved, darting towards Steve’s face as she tried to gauge whether or not she had just signed her own death sentence.

When his only response was to clear his throat impatiently, she shook her head. Her thoughts were so loud her head was about to burst and her frantic inhalations sounded like those of an overheated dog.

“I can’t do this,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t. Please.”

He moved without warning, fortunate that she had the training to keep the knife steady this time. In a blink, she straddled him full on, her hands once again bracing his shoulders in confusion as he settled her body over his lap chest-to-chest, this time with her core positioned over the bulging hardness in his pants.

“Oh,” she gasped as his erection aligned with the soft cleft of her center, her eyes glazing over.

Steve groaned, his head tipping back and exposing his neck even further. At some level, Eden registered the dribble of crimson gathered at the site of the miniscule cut, but out of fear for her life, she only watched it gather idly.

After a determined exhale, Steve swiped at it, distractedly glancing at his thumb after he swept the blood away before refocusing his gaze on Eden. Unfazed, he confidently settled his hands on her hips, squeezing to gain her attention.

“Now, your angle is better. Finish the job.”

She started to position herself towards him, then stilled. Even the slightest pressure forward pressed her center against him. Fighting the urge to whine, she squeezed her eyes shut. With an uneasy breath, Eden shook herself. He wasn’t just going to allow her to leave his lap without finishing. Whether she was willing or not, he would make her complete the task.

Refreshing the used dish cloth in the bowl of water, she used it to dab at his wound and clean the knife of stubble and excess shaving cream. She hesitated for a moment before adjusting the tension of his skin, then launched back into her chore quickly, more concerned with finishing promptly than the risk of inflicting another nick or two. Her physical position was beyond precarious; the intimacy of touching his face was already overwhelming, but the feeling of his cock exactly where she wanted it when they were separated by mere barriers of fabric and fundamental ideological differences was unbearable.

Eden didn’t want to think anymore. Retreating into her mind, she went on auto-pilot. Scraping and wiping, she worked methodically until her assignment was nearly completed. It wasn’t until then she that realized that once she did finish, she would be left straddling Steve’s lap without an easy way down and no work to occupy her. Torn between the incentive of not having to endure the intimacy of touching his face and the dread of the unknown, Steve forced her hand when he started rubbing his thumbs back and forth against her thighs, buffered by the cloth of her dress. She stiffened, unable to squirm away in fear of upsetting or further arousing him, but incapable of staying stationary due to the threat of his wandering hands.

The look of amused satisfaction that came over Steve’s face frightened her. It also made her slick center throb. Certain she resembled a panicked deer with wide, leery eyes, she wet her lip, eyes flicking to the weapon in her hand.

“This needs to stop,” she warned.

Silently he dared her to break his gaze as his fingers traced the hem of her dress. Eden was keyed up on adrenaline, so focused on Steve and his predatory gaze that when his palms confidently made their way under the skirt of her dress and up her warm thighs, her reaction was instant. Clutching Steve’s knife in her fist, she made a lightning-quick move to hold the weapon to his throat. The clap of his palm catching her arm sounded before she felt his grip on her.

“Eden,” he sighed. “I’m disappointed.”

Ch. 2 What a Shame >>

Tag list: @whatsitgonnabeangelina @kakakatey @patzammit @maynay43 @readermia @the-kinky-friend @monarchofallisurvey @averyrogers83 @atthediscowithoutpanic @smollest-soybean @alexakeyloveloki @theofficialwifeeeofpietro @rania @suzieqsez @liquor-belle @sophiria @titty-teetee @mcudarklibrary

#dark!steve #dark steve x ofc #dark!steve x ofc #dark steve rogers x ofc #dark!steve rogers x ofc #mcudarklibrary

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blueberrypossum · 3 years

Text

Wounded Lover

I’M BACK!!!

No one tells you how much college takes up your free time but I’m back with my Mud Dogz content (especially Leonard, my boy). I’ve never posted much on Leonard and Nova’s friendship/relationship so this is how they bounce off each other’s personalities!

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There is usage of inappropriate adult words and sexual comments and insults.

(Shoutout to the lovely @ultra-gingerlotus for making me fall in love with the Snow Leopard from the Shiki x Danny reading! Also @greaser-wolf for drawing them on the motorcycle! Go check them out!!!)

“I’m not getting on that if you’re driving.”

“Then I guess you are just like other girls then, huh?”

Nova eyed the ogre in front of her as he once again offered his hand towards her, the motorcycle under him letting low growls of excitement rumble under their feet.

They had planned to go out to eat and get away from the other members of the Mud Dogz, Leonard explaining that the love flying between the couples was making him sick and he needed a little bit of excitement.

The mountain cat looked across the bike with her sunset eyes. She never knew that the ogre yokai had this stashed away, never once talking about it.

“I’ve never seen you ride this and then all of a sudden you have a bike? It’s kind of hard to believe, Leon.”

The feline walked around the bike as if it was an artifact on display, her fingers trailing over the front of the bike as she looked at her reflection.

“You never asked.”

“You never presented.”

The ogre leaned his arm against the handle of the bike and rested his face in his hand, sending a smug smile up towards the feline.

“I mean, if you’re a scaredy-cat-”

“....Scoot.”

The Mountain cat was hesitant at first as she tried to get herself comfortable behind her friend, he boots trying to find their footing as Leonard revved up the beast under them, causing Nova’s tail to spike up in shock.

“Titans above! I get it, it’s a motorcycle! Let’s just get there,” the cat grumbled, her arms snaking around Leonard’s waist.

The leader of the Mud Dogz let out a gruff chuckle at the feline’s reaction as his fingers worked on the handles, the soft paws around him distracting him for a split second before he brought the machine under him back to life.

“Whoa wait, no helmets?”

“No helmets.”

“Oh great, so that’s where you get it from. Nice to know.”

With that comment, Leonard pulled quickly out from the front of the orphanage and sped down the road, the gravel threading under the tires flying up behind them.

Nova let out a loud meow of alarm and tightened her grip around his leather jacket, the wind whiplashing her hair as she closed her eyes against his back. Usually dangerous things didn’t scare her, but she knew what was coming, she could predict what would happen, but not with this.

The ogre rolled his eyes as she shielded herself behind him and took a light left.

“Do you not trust me?” Leonard screamed at her, his voice carrying with the wind.

“I got on the bike, doesn’t that tell you?!”

“A little!”

Nova let out a gust of air as her curled up hands unclenched from his shirt and she opened one of eyes, the wind fluttering between her eyelashes as she took in the traffic around them.

The bridge they were crossing was pouring with life, with other vehicles passing by and yokai’s walking on the sidelines, the city lights sparkling over the outline of each individual. The feline couldn’t contain her gasp of wonderment as she steadily rose herself up to get a better view over Leonard’s hair.

She let the strong breeze push her hair behind her and her claws dug into the ogre as the bike wobbled a little bit, her face snuggling into his shoulder out a sizzle of panic.

“No wonder you have whiplashed hair!” Nova laughed out as she felt her brown hair tangle within itself behind her, more fits of laughter barreling out of her as the chill of the wind settled in her fur.

Leonard couldn’t help but feel beyond warm due to the feline’s face so close to his, even with the wind chilling him to the bone, he could feel the slightest bit of warmth against his neck and goosebumps traveled over his skin.

Her yellow and green eyes shimmered like a sun’s shadow in a pool, the curl of her smile almost causing the sun to set as she turned to look at him.

She was definitely different from most women he had run into. More brash and overly-confident, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew that there was some dark shit buried within the cracks of the mask she wore. But he didn’t push, he didn’t want to push and make her feel uncomfortable, when she was ready, he would be there.

He revved up the motorcycle and a squeal purred against his back as more frightful laughter came from his friend and for once the leader of the Mud Dogz felt the tension in his body go dull. The howls that parted from her mouth would make anyone laugh with her, even causing him to release a chuckle or two as he turned the corner and into one of the multiple towns of side door restaurants.

He parked the machine into one of the parking areas behind a building and he could still hear the upchucks of giggles come from the tabby, her claws brushing through her hair to undo the knots.

“You take all the girls and boys you meet for a ride?” She asked as she flipped her leg over the side and leaned into the bike.

Leonard could help but stare at the feline as she presented herself on the metal bike, her wine colored jacket edged over the black lining and her thighs jetted out from the tight leggings. Her leveled out hair was loose over her face and her bangs waved over her face as she looked up at him, a raised eyebrow motioned towards him to show that she knew he was eyeing her.

“Only those stupid enough,” he replied as he rose from his spot and awaited for the feline to follow him into the busy market, the fresh scent of meats and fried food wafted from the corners of the stores.

The streets that were decorated with food stands were brightened with lined lanterns and the air was warm due to the passing conversations of the animals and plants and the steam from pots and pans.

Nova felt her stomach grumble as her eyes darted between the different food stands, the engrossed horde of yokai buzzing around them as they tried to pick which stand to eat from. As Nova darted over to a stand on the far side to have a natural smoothie, she turned to see Leonard talking with someone, and by his face she could tell it was not a good someone. She quickly grabbed her drink and felt balmy rage hit the roof of her mouth as she caught who he was talking to.

The feline could feel her extended claws trying to push through her fingertips and she shoved them back as she came up behind the female that was talking to him, a slash of ease crossing the ogre’s dark eyes.

“How’s the cut in your ear, snow leopard?”

The white and grey cat yokai turned with a snarl, the long tear in her ear flicking as Nova recalled the fight, the tabby’s claws sinking into the grey cat’s face and then ripping into her small ear and creating the new scar.

The snarl dwelled in her white throat as she sent Nova a cocky smile as she turned herself to face both members of the Mud Dogz, her back up against one of the pillars holding up a snack bar.

“Oh, you’re here, too? I thought you would be off swimming with the fishes,” the female leopard cooed as she rolled her eyes and turned back to Leonard, her eyelids fluttering her sky blue eyes.

“The names Serena, by the way.” She purred, her fingers working to pull her shirt lower as if she had forgotten him knocking her out and giving her a bloody nose in their last encounter.

“Oh because you’re such a saint,” the ogre huffed back as he leaned away from the furry yokai and Nova’s tail flicked back and forth in irritation, her mind seeping with her feral instincts as she almost stalked over to her.

Sunset eyes and sky eyes met in a battle as Nova stood in front of Leonard, Serena only an inch taller than her and she took it to her advantage as much as she could. The sparehire’s in her head looked down at the tabby’s bruised knees that were light against her dark leggings and the pearly cat let out a chuckle.

“Are your knees always bruised? I’m surprised that so many men would pay for it from you.”

“At least someone wants me on my knees. Is it fun being a guy’s target practice?” Nova shot back, her finger pointing to the dark white spot on the snow leopard's shirt and she scoffed, but pulled her green jacket closer as Nova let out a chuff.

Leonard was a little taken aback by the women’s cruel words, as if it was a normal day to insult one another. Well, for Nova it was at least. But he had never seen her like this before, her form almost covering him as if trying to protect him.

Her tail was lowered but the fur stuck out of its ends and her shoulders were risen from their usually slacked posture. As they continued to slap slander at each other, the green yokai realized that if Serena would move to make herself an inch closer to him, Nova would move as well, her tail swishing side to side and her ears going flat against her brown hair.

The ogre didn’t know much about cat conflicts, but he wasn’t blind and he could scent the traction that vibrated between the two.

Nova was being territorial of him.

And Leonard could feel a feverish desire rise over his body as Nova’s tail curled into his chest.

“So, are you here to seduce yokai for your boss or to fight us?” Nova asked, snapping the ogre out of his thoughts.

Serena shook her short hair with a feral grin, as if she was trying to hide the fact she wanted to rip the cat in front of her in two.

“Relax, pretty kitty. I won’t make a scene with you two with the public around, someone here has to have some class.”

The tabby opened her mouth to report back but a strong hand was placed between her shoulder blades and she turned to Leonard, his face now leaning from her shoulder.

“Look, if you want to bother someone, go to the corner, you’ll find yokai’s there that are right up your alley, good-bye.”

Nova let a few snickers carry over to the snow leopard as the snow leopard’s face lit up like a stoplight, her black and white ears going back against her head as Leonard led Nova away.

“What’s up with you making everyone want to kill you?” The ogre grumbled as he took her over to one of the food stands they had chosen.

“Guess I’m just irresistible,” the cat purred, her once agitated tail now calmly swayed back and forth.

“More like irritable.”

“And you love it.”

His hand was still in the middle of her back when he looked down at her, her head barely passing his shoulders even with her boots on. The curve of her smile, the flicker of tease that pounced between her eyes, how she was jealous of Serena, it was a side of her he hadn’t seen before.

It made his heart go rigged in his ribcage as he moved his arm away from her, the warmth and the yearning disappearing as he went back into his own bubble.

Forget it, idiot, she’s just a friend. Only a friend.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After eating, both of them went back to where Leonard had parked his bike, the once lonesome piece of metal was now surrounded with other types of mobilization. Nova held her fist over her mouth to subside a burp as she crashed onto the bike’s seat.

“Uhhhhhh, why did I eat that fourth taco?" She groaned out as she bent into Leonard’s back as her stomach felt like it was going to bust past her leggings.

“Because you didn’t want to waste it.”

“Stilllll.”

The ogre started up his motor and took things a little slow as he drove from his parking spot and into the silent night of the Hidden City. The once busy streets were now barely rode on and only a few animals walked on the sidelines. The feline’s claws barely tugged on his jean jacket as the food that settled in her stomach made her almost fall asleep on his back, until the bright lights of a car behind them blurred past her eyelids.

The mountain cat turned around to find a dirty jeep speeding up behind them, the figures driving hidden under hoodies that somehow fought against the thrustful wind.

Nova narrowed her eyes as other jeeps started to follow the leading jeep, more hooded figures filling in the seats, and then past the yellow beams she saw the small tufts of white circular ears.

“Leonard, we got company,” Nova choked out as the ogre turned to look at what she was talking about.

“Shit, who is it this time?”

“Well, you did say that I make everyone want to kill me,” she nervously chuckled, and then gave him a nervous smile as he narrowed his eyes at her.

The first jeep was at the edge of the bike’s bumper now and Nova could see the snow leopard clearly now and the snow cat was sending her own confident smirk as the car hit the edge of the bike.

Leonard’s lips were slipping curse words as he sped up, his bike roaring to life as it gave it all it had and went further down the highway, the group of jeeps racing after them.

“Did she really send a whole army after us?!” He hollered as he took a hard right, cutting a car off as he intersected onto another road.

“She sure does want your number,” Nova joked as her grip on him tightened as the wind pushed against her.

‘Oh I’m so going to have a talk with her later,’ he thought as he opened up a secret compartment on the side of his bike.

“Here, take this.”

Nova couldn’t help but gasp as the gun was placed in the palm of her hand and she darted her eyes from him and to the gun.

“YOU HAD THIS THE WHOLE TIME?!”

“It’s for emergencies!”

“HOW LONG DID IT TAKE YOU TO REALIZE THAT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY?!”

“JUST SHOOT!!”

Nova let out a hiss of displeasure as she checked the rounds in it and then once he slowed down for the next turn, she flipped in her seat, her body now facing the rows of vehicles.

She took aim and shot at one of the jeeps on the left, taking out two of its four tires and watched as the ruined rubber rolled over in its spot and then caused the vehicle to crash into the side of the bridge, the large explosion giving a wave of heat over them as the chase continued.

“Alright, one down, four to go,” the tabby whispered to herself as she aimed at the next jeep, her eyes widening as she saw them take aim with their own rifles and guns.

“Len! They got guns as well! Bigger ones too!” She screamed to him as she shot at them to keep them from firing at them. The leader of the Mud Dogz let out a growl of frustration and turned the bike into a narrow alleyway, the closest jeep coming to a screeching halt before reversing and faded away.

The feline on the back of the motorcycle let out a sigh of joy as she leaned her back against Leonard’s, her free hand gripping the seat she sat on as they turned back onto a new street, not a jeep in sight.

And then one crashed right next to them, sending both of the friends screaming in shock as Serena’s jeep closed in on them, her handgun taking aim towards them.

“Alright, leader, got any plans?”

“Not really!”

“Okay, don’t wait up for me then!”

Leonard turned to question her but the feline had shoved the gun back into its box and lifted herself up into a crouch and once the jeep got close enough, she launched herself onto the hood of the jeep.

Serena pointed her gun at the feline but she quickly knocked it over, the driver receiving the bullet into his arm and a loud scream echoed through the night. Nova then lifted herself over the mudded window and slammed her boot into the snow leopard’s face, sending the white cat into the back seat.

Nova then punched the driver in his wounded arm and used the chair and the window panel to hold herself up and used both of her legs to kick him out of his seat, the male yokai rolling out onto the street with a thud.

In the span of five minutes the mountain cat had taken over the car and was then turning the wheel to strike the jeep next to her, causing the vehicle to rock and the yokai’s in it to lose the grip on their weapons.

‘I can’t tell if I should confess that I like her or am terrified of her.’

But the ogre swallowed and pulled the gun out she had put back, taking aim to the leftover jeeps and shot into their tires, redirecting the muddy piece of metal over the ledge of the new bridge they were on, the thunderous splash of water the only thing left of them.

They both turned and surprise watched as the last jeep turned off onto a different road as if giving up on the hunt.

Nova sped up until she was right next to Leonard, a smug smirk crossed her face as they turned a corner, the next bridge they would take would have them home free.

“You act like you’ve done this before!” Leonard laughed at her and she shrugged her shoulders with a confident flip of her hair.

“Mess with the kitten, you get the claws!” She joked as she tilted her head to laugh at her own joke and then white paws like snow were over her chest to hold her place.

“Now! Come now!” Serena screamed into a radio she held in her hand.

Both Leonard and Nova turned to see the last jeep come from its hiding place, like a predator staying in plain sight for its prey.

“Leonard!”

Nova elbowed the snow leopard in the face and sped up the jeep, the hunk of metal taking the hit as the ogre’s motorcycle got out of the way.

Nova held onto the wheel as the jeep t-boned in the passenger seat, rocking the car onto its side and then into a roll onto the bridge until it rammed up against the stone railing, the girl’s heads inches away from making contact with the rocks. Serena was pushed into the ground while Nova’s seatbelt held her in place, cuts now sliced into her skin and she had bitten her lip hard enough to cause it to bleed.

She could faintly hear her name being called out but it almost seemed like everything was fuzzy, her vision, her hearing, even the blood that was trickling down her throat was fizzy like pop.

The leader of the Mud Dogz had left his motorcycle on the side of the bridge and was racing over to the wreckage, but had to take cover behind a pillar as the last standing jeep started to fire at him.

The tabby released a groan and spat up a few drops of blood as she felt the spark of flame flicker next to her, instantly waking her to her full senses.

‘Come on, can’t I catch a break?!’

She lifted her hands up, her digits and elbows ached with pain but they weren’t broken as she undid her seatbelt, her arms barely supporting her as her shoulder slammed into the concrete. The snow leopard was motionless next to her and a big gash was bleeding from the back of her head.

The mountain cat grunted as she pushed past the wheel and watched as the fire started to creep around her like a nightmare come to life. Her now stained paw pushed the small roped door of the jeep and crawled her way out, the broken up cement tearing into her elbows and forearms as she made distance between her and the fire.

Leonard had taken out two of the yokai’s, the last of them ever so slightly getting closer with their larger rifles with more ammunition than his small handgun. He turned back to the rubble of metal scraps and raised his eyebrows in horror as the red hands of death started to consume the fire as its own, a barely breathing creature laid in a pile next to it.

Leonard felt strength and courage rise in him as he turned back to his two main targets, giving it all he had so they wouldn’t see her trying to get away from the burning debris.

Nova wheezed in the fresh air into her bruised lungs as she tried to get onto her hands and feet, but a pair of hands engulfed her hair into a bundle and had her rise to her feet.

“Hey, hey! Only my dominatrix can do this!”

“Ugh! Do you ever shut up?!”

Serena dragged the feline out into the edge of the bridge and threw her down, a few strings of hair pulled from Nova’s hair and hung off of the leopard’s nails. The leopard's face was painted with blood from her wound, the only white that shined against it was her fangs that gleamed in the city lights. She bent down and dug her hand into Nova’s skull and pushed her face into the ground, the red liquid dripping onto the side of Nova’s face.

“Y’know, your type always acts like they’re so strong and confident with themselves,” she snarled into her ear, her knee digging into the tabby’s scarred back to keep her in place.

“But we all see that you’re just sad and scared. That when moments like this come all you can do is joke and hope that your charm can save the day.”

“I didn’t know that villains actually monologue like this! What’s next? You’re going to tell me how mommy didn’t love you and daddy left once he knocked her up?!

Serena let out a fake roar and slammed Nova’s head into the cement, the feline letting out a wail, causing the other fight to look over.

In Leonard’s fight the guns had been dropped and there was nothing left but fists and kicks, his knuckles busted and split open, unfortunately the bad guys had gotten a few hits in his face and over his chest.

The snow leopard lifted Nova’s head up towards the ogre with a sinister smile as her nails dug into her scalp.

“Take a long look, ogre, because this pretty face will be at the bottom of this bridge before I’m done with it!”

Nova let out a cargled laugh as she looked up at the snow leopard and then back at Leonard.

“Hey Len, she’s got an extra stain on her shirt. Which goon do you think it was?”

“Really Nova?! Joking now?!”

“Well, it distracted her.”

The mountain cat had wrapped her claws around Serena’s ankle and used it to flip herself over and with her feet now placed into the snow leopard’s stomach she lifted her over her and straight into the gushing river below, the feline letting out angrish cries as she was swallowed by the dark liquid.

Nova rose to her feet and looked at her friend and then to the last standing bad guy, her large eyebrows raised in annoyance.

“Can you, uhh, finish your fight so we can leave?”

The ogre raised his fist and made contact with the yokai’s face, knocking her straight out as he came over to where Nova was limping, his arms barely coming up in time to catch her as she leaned into him.

“Did you know that snow leopards aren’t the best swimmers, so she’ll be at the bottom of the bridge instead of me,” The feline joked into his chest, the dots of blood that were spilled on her face smearing into his dusty shirt.

Leonard pushed her away with his hands on her shoulders and he brushed a few loose strands out of her face and Nova believed that the heat of the crash was making her sizzle like a fryer.

Why was he staring at her like that? The worry that burned in his face was unmistakable as the feline felt like she might pass out due to his comforting touch.

“Are you okay?”

Nova’s tail curled against her back as she couldn’t help but lean into his hand, his calloused and strong hand that seemed to hold her effortlessly. Blame it on all the adrenaline or the loss of blood, but she let him hold her as she finally let the throbbing pulse of her wounds settle.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. You?”

“One kicked me between the legs and I’m screaming on the inside.”

“Don’t worry, your future children will be fine. Somewhat if they turn out like you.”

The mountain cat hissed as weight was placed on her right leg, a long gash on her calf making her come to a halt.

The ogre turned to her and let her go from his hold, only to bend down and wrap his arms around her thighs and throw her onto his back,a smile breaking against his lips as she let out a small mew of surprise as she gripped his shoulders for support.

“You know the bike is only a few feet away, right?”

“You know you’re still irresistible.”

“What?”

“Irritable. I said irritable.”

#rottmnt mud dogz #rottmnt oc #rottmnt loathsome leonard #rottmnt loathsome leonard x reader #rottmnt

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hirvitank · 3 years

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Waste + 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 11, 12, 13, 15

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I knew Death of the Outsider was coming, and as the Outsider was my favourite character I really wanted to explore the theory of him becoming human—the game hadn’t been released yet so we had no idea how it’d actually end, just that Billie and Daud were working together to kill him. Since the Outsider functioned as a sort of moral compass, I was very curious to try and imagine how his canon characteristics and biases would translate into a human version of him; how would he experience the world? How would he come to terms with such a humbling existence? Where did he come from and who was he? How would he cope with his own mortality, human emotion, the consequences following his choices in the Void? And most importantly; how had his being the Outsider affected his humanity? There was so much I wanted to see explored, things I feel the previous games hinted at but never elaborated upon. I wanted to write a psychological sort of story where we’d really be able to feel and experience whatever passed in his mind, and I tried my best to use my knowledge as well as my own experiences—flaws I either observed within myself or others, ideas, thoughts and feelings influenced by bias, depression, trauma, etc. When in art school, most of my inspiration came from the transience of things; my fear of death. I really wanted to take the subject and explore it through the eyes of someone previously immortal.

2: What scene did you first put down?

I think it was the original ending I wrote down first. I was supposed to write towards a particular scene, but somewhere along the way I’d decided to discard the idea entirely and opt for a happier resolution. I originally intended for the Outsider to die in the end, both to explore the feelings of those around him, as well as his own emotions accepting such a fate. I wanted a way to embrace death, as well as an output for all my bitterness regarding the subject; my anger at the ‘unfairness’ of it all, as well as my own trauma. I wanted to express loss, and in a way try and reveal the beauty of it. In the end, I had already found a way to deal with grief, and I also felt these characters deserved more; the fairness of fiction

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

That’s a REALLY difficult pick haha (does this mean literally a single line, or like a paragraph?). I’ll just share one of my favourite parts, because I can, and because it’s even more difficult to pick a single line from such a long story and I’m honestly horrible at making choices:

I heard the whispers of rats all around me, tiny feet scampering through the pipes; Billie’s gift tucked inside my shirt. My bare feet light, making little noise—as if I wasn’t really there. Perhaps I wasn’t. Perhaps I hadn’t been anywhere for centuries.

Up the stairs, cold stones. The walls decorated, grand and lavish. Empty corridors and lingering traces of hushed whispers—the guards had left their posts. She’d be there. How would that have made me feel? How should that make me feel? Almost, getting closer. My heart pounded in my ears, lungs greedily begging for more air, more—more. I felt like running. Strong currents of energy coursed through my veins, vibrated through bones and tendons. If I lost control, would I explode in a million pieces? Would the energy burst out and take my body apart, like the Void tearing into reality?

Who was I?

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Honestly impossible to pick, I’ll just take this monologue:

“Anton Sokolov: sire to 14 children, but a father to none. A brilliant mind at a terrible cost, enlightenment in exchange for the dark depravity of the soul. Fingers that turn the times into a revolution of progress, the same fingers that touch upon women as they do the cold inventions they craft. Objects close to his heart—objects from his mind.

“The stench of alcohol in his bed, his clothes, his skin. Liquors and paints; on the canvas, dripping from his fingers, in the eyes of the beggar he found in the flooded slums of a place forsaken. The stench of rot still fresh on his teeth as he smiles at young Emily Kaldwin and tells her: ‘Don’t worry dear, here in the tower you are safe.’ Don’t worry dear, for I know the truest evil lies not within the high walls of Dunwall but within my hands and mind, within the flooded basement where a woman screamed and bled until she hung her head and closed eyes from which the dark paint still leaked—forever.

“The human body—like clockwork—taken apart in exchange for coin, for valuables. But those things Anton Sokolov values most lay outside of his intellectual grasp; for all the reasoning in the world he is but a cold, lonely man in search of a higher purpose that is but a lie of his own twisted imagination. A delusion of grandeur.

“How does it feel? One’s biggest regrets are but feelings of little consequence. The true disease is the sickness that allows one to enact true consequence on an innocent in the name of a self-prescribed fate. But I suppose that’s the curse of boredom. That, is the curse of your brilliance.”

5: What part was hardest to write?

The first chapter! There’s nothing more difficult than a set-up imo; establishing characters, pacing, setting and feel. I had a vague idea of where I wanted to go, but there was still so much I didn’t know that I had a hard time choosing how and where to start. I think it’s one of the most heavily edited chapters, just because I didn’t have a clear grasp on the characters or plot yet. (Also smut, oh lord help me)

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

There’s the original ending, and I did at one point start on a companion fic to explore Emily’s pov, but decided I better focus on finishing the original instead.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

The fact that it’s finished (hurrahhhh!!), and the themes and subjects.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

My own sense of humour, I always cringe reading my own jokes so I can only hope it hits with others—I genuinely have no idea, and it’s hard at times to figure out where to draw the line.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

WELL IM GLAD U ASKED!! I’ll try and keep this short, but these are some of the songs that carried this fic, not even exaggerating.

1. Lover Don’t Leave, Citizen Shade

2. Happy Life, Roland Faunte

3. Painting Roses, Dresses

4. ID, Charlie Allen

5. High Tops, Del Water Gap

6. Love Song for Lady Earth, Del Water Gap

7. Battle Cry, The Family Crest

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

EVERYTHING. I had literally no idea about writing, apparently. I’ve had no classes in literature, nor have I ever been taught the common rules when it comes to writing. I got to learn most of it thanks to my friends who helped edit (shoutout to @onewhoturns again), and through trial and error. I absolutely loved the experience of it, and I’m so grateful for all I’ve learned, and all I will continue to learn in the future. It’s given me the basis for my own original writing which I’m trying to pursue, and which I hope will someday become reality.

Thank you so much for these! I’ve thoroughly enjoyed answering every single one. ♥

#anon #ask #emsider #waste #my writing #it’s almost 4 am but i wanted to finish answering these #im gon sleep now byeee thank u so muchhhh

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